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wooismyuniverse · 10 months

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his muse ch. 2

pairing: collegeau!lee jihoon x reader

genre: slice of life, fluff, strangers to best friends to lovers

word count: 2k

after settling in music classes for about a month, it’s safe to say that this major is something not everyone can commit to. (y/n) is struggling just to find a nap or break time to get through her day.

luckily, she had her friends that would brighten up those days. it became an everyday routine for her to sit at the lunch table with jihoon, seungkwan, and some of the other non-music majors. she had almost every classes with jihoon and seungkwan and they were sitting together like glue. sometimes, the teachers would have to make group projects just to split up the cliques in class.

throughout this time, she was still getting to know her shy friend. she’s determined to crack the shell from him, and she could tell that he’s slowly opening up to her.

seungkwan had to rush out of the lunch break today. he said something about a rehearsal for his upcoming performance. it was just (y/n) and jihoon at their usual lunch table together.

“so, what made you want to choose composition?” (y/n) asked. jihoon thought about it as he was eating his sandwich. he has been doing it his whole life, it’s almost like his passion.

he grew up playing clarinet, but with his small figure, he felt that he reached his limit in it. so he transitioned to singing and fell in love with it too, which is why he chose vocal for his primary instrument. he self-taught himself piano along the way to sing with his chords, which made it his secondary instrument.

“there was one day where i was visiting wonwoo’s apartment. i needed to use his macbook, and was curious to see a music-making app. ever since then, i was hooked.” he smiles at the thought of when he first found out about that app. if he didn’t make that decision, he wouldn’t know what he’d be doing instead.

“wow, you must really be thankful for wonwoo for accidentally creating your passion.” she chuckles. jihoon chuckles with her as he feels his ears turning red.

“what about you? why did you pursue in music performance?” he asks her.

she hums, looking ahead as she started to think.

“ambitious, isn’t it? i could have done something more productive with music, like education or therapy to make some sort of money. but performing… it’s like my entire life. i just love playing music in front of people. the nervousness before i start to play— i love that each day, i’m constantly learning something new about music.”

as she was telling her story to jihoon, he couldn’t help but be entranced in her bright smile. her eyes are sparkling and her tone oozes with passion. he couldn’t help but admire that about her. he feels like he found someone who is just as passionate as him. it’s touching in a way to find someone who empathizes with him. his lips instinctively start to curl up while listening to her.

she noticed that he was staring at her and sheepishly stops. “sorry. i’m rambling, aren’t i?”

“no, no. keep going! i love listening to your stories.” he shakes his head. she smiles at him for the nth time before continuing. because of how engaging their conversation was, they turned their lunch break into skipping guitar class together. they could use a break, anyway.

months go by, and (y/n) would always pick up jihoon from his apartment and they would go to classes together. they admittedly call each other best friends now. despite their differences in personalities (bright vs. shy), they stick together like glue.

if jihoon had a problem with his composition, (y/n) would help him all night trying to figure it out with him. if (y/n) struggled to interpret a certain section of her piece she’s playing, jihoon would help her in the same way. when focusing in music, they work together in harmony. this didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else, though. particularly her roommates have been nosy.

“so,” jeonghan starts as (y/n) is sprawled on their shared couch. she’s flipping through the tv channels like there’s no tomorrow. “you and jihoon, huh?”

she raises an eyebrow at him, finally finding the channel she wanted. “what about us?”

“i’m just saying. you two have been super close ever since that bowling night,” jeonghan’s eyebrows wiggle at her teasingly. she stares at him back, unamused.

“yeah? i mean, we’re like in the same classes everyday. he’s a really nice guy.”

“he’s just nice, and nothing more?” joshua perks up from his eavesdropping. he walked out of his room to go to the kitchen. (y/n) groans in annoyance at her roommates.

“you too? guys, we’re really just friends!”

“it took us months for him to open up to us like that.”

“yeah, and he got close with you really quickly,” joshua opens the fridge. “if anything, we think he has the hots for you.” (y/n) shakes her head in denial.

“there’s no way. he wouldn’t like me like that..”

“why not?” jeonghan furrows his eyebrows. “you’re objectively smart, hard-working, and pretty. what more does a man need?”

“gee, coming from you, it sounds kind of offensive to me.” (y/n) deadpans, to which joshua starts cackling.

“you’re not exactly denying it either. i’d give it a shot with him. he hasn’t dated in years, and neither have you.”

that statement left (y/n) in her own zone for weeks. so what if he does like her? she’s too busy with school to even think about a relationship anyways. just thinking about it made her head hurt and she decides to sleep it off.

usually after music theory classes, it was coffee break time. jihoon and (y/n) had a head start to go to the famous campus cafe, light a flame. the cafe is known for handsome workers and the manager, chwe hansol. to be fair, they already are friends with him and don’t bat an eye towards the fangirls who would visit everyday just to see the workers.

“hey, ya’ll,” hansol greets them as he was cleaning one of his mugs. “you both look extra tired today. the usual?”

“yep,” (y/n) says, emphasizing the “p” sound with her lips. “busy today?”

hansol shrugs. “a little bit. since it’s almost finals week, i’d assume it’ll get worse soon.”

“don’t even bring that up,” jihoon groans, causing hansol to chuckle. (y/n) sheepishly grins at him.

“exactly why we’re here today, too. practice has been killing us.”

“put an extra shot in my drink, will ya?” jihoon could barely open his eyes as he asks, to which hansol shrugs off and does what is requested.

they paid for their drinks and hansol made it for them quickly, and they sat down in one of the booths. shortly after, seungkwan arrives to the cafe.

“your favorite boo is here!” he sits down across from (y/n) and jihoon with his iced americano.

“boo, it’s the morning. you’re excited for two reasons,” she crosses her arms over the table. “one, you just had the best rehearsal today.”

“or two, this is your second iced americano of the day,” jihoon finishes for (y/n).

“is it much if i say both?” seungkwan’s eyes widened at how exactly they could match how he’s feeling today. this caused all three of us to laugh down the halls of the cade. it took a second for seungkwan to see how baggy their eyes were today.

“speak for yourself, you both look awful- no offense.”

she shrugs. “none taken. barely could sleep because i was practicing for my recital. you’re coming, right?” she eyes him as he nervously laughs.

“right.. when was it again?”

“boo.” (y/n) glares at him.

“okay! i was joking! yes, i’m definitely going,” he made sure to confirm the date before putting it in his calendar. “are you accompanying for her, ji?”

“of course i am,” jihoon takes a sip of his coffee and sighs. “you should come to my solo recital too. it’s recital season already.”

“yeah.. the time when all hell breaks loose in the music building,” seungkwan chuckles.

as the time passed, more people started to fill up the table. some of the non major friends have time to come during our gap and would come as well. seokmin and soonyoung came ten minutes later and decided to chat.

“well if it isn’t the music majors!” seokmin shouts and sits down next to seungkwan. soonyoung squeezes into their row as well. “how are things going for finals?”

“awful,” jihoon deadpans. (y/n) chuckles at seokmin who starts to pout at jihoon’s straightforward answer.

“what about you? any big theatre acts or musicals coming up soon?” she asks seokmin. he immediately brightens up at the question.

“of course! we’re going to perform hamilton in two weeks!” seokmin gives them a thumbs up. “you all should come, i’m playing burr’s part so it’s going to be crazy!”

the others congratulate him for his big part on the musical. seungkwan puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it for support.

“minghao and i are also doing a dance duet real soon too!” soonyoung took this opportunity to promote his events as well. being able to meet up with the svt crew felt really nice is what (y/n) came to a conclusion to. they get to have their time to shine and promote the events that they’re working on. she could tell that everyone is ridiculously working hard on them, so watching is the least she could do for them.

as everyone finishes drinking their coffees, they start to bid each other farewells.

finals week was not going so hot for jihoon. he already is sleep deprived from the late night producing, and on top of that, he needs to study for his classes. he slowly feels his health deteriorating as the days go on, and he just wishes that the week would be over.

(y/n) could sense how tired he really is when he kept messing up on their rehearsal together. her recital is also in a couple of days, but the rehearsal wasn’t going as well as they hoped for.

“shit, i’m sorry,” jihoon curses after playing the rhythm wrong on the piano. “i’m letting you down, aren’t i?”

“not at all,” she stares at him, concerned. “let’s take a break, i think we need it.” to which he hesitantly nods. she put her violin back in her case before sitting next to him in front of the piano. they were silent for a few minutes before she speaks up first.

“are you okay?” it’s a simple question, but something that jihoon hasn’t been asking himself lately. he realizes this as he roughly sighs in frustration and stretches.

“honestly.. no. it’s bad enough that i have to cram for classes, but if i can’t even accompany you for your recital, i just feel useless.” she puts a hand on his shoulder.

“jihoon… we all feel this way. it’s inevitable,” she smiles sadly to him. “music.. it’s beautiful but it’s also time consuming. if we can’t put in the effort now, then we won’t be able to persevere in the future. i know it’s hard now, but we just need to push through these weeks. i promise that it’ll get better.”

he stares at the piano keys as he listens to her. he silently nods, processing her words. he knows that she’s right. she’s always right. at the end of the day, nothing will matter if there is no effort made.

“that being said, don’t push yourself too hard either. i’ve had burnouts before, and i never want that to happen to you. that in itself will kill our purpose in why we’re doing this today.” she says. he couldn’t help but look back at her again. everything she says, it’s almost addicting to him. these words of wisdom, filled with empathy and experience, is what has been picking him back up to place.

“i know how hard-working you are. and i’ll always be there for you. tell you what, when we get through this week, i’ll treat you out to dinner! how does that sound?” she gives his shoulder a squeeze. he smiles for the first time at her today. a lovely sight for (y/n) to see, to which she widely grins back.

“that sounds perfect.”

they finished off that rehearsal within twenty minutes with no regrets.

pt. 1 | pt. 3 |

a/n: slice of life is harder than i thought, honestly! if there are any scenarios that you would love with jihoon in this au, please let me know! i am open for ideas~

#seventeen #seventeen woozi #lee jihoon #lee jihoon x reader #seventeen imagines #woozi imagines #woozi x reader

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foggyparadisecandy · 6 months

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I had a lot of words to say but to stop myself from talking more than I need to.

I hope you heal fully, I hope it gets easier for you, I wish you nothing but the best in life. Sometimes there needs to be a forest fire to grow.

Thank you for sharing your feels, your writings. You're very uniquely human, I feel almost human reading what you write.

Be safe, it'll get better.

Thanks nonny. I guarantee you are human. The simple act of kindness by making such an ask proves it indisputably.

Words are always welcome on my blog - in comments, asks, or DMs. If you’ve read some off my trauma posts, you know I will even use the same words and repeat myself hundreds of times! Hahahaha

I think it will get easier for me. I appreciate the thought. Frankly, it already is easier.

In many ways, my current set backs are not really because of K any more. I got to a good place with her. So that is nice tbh. Relieving.

Admittedly, when she blocked me on discord, it was tough at first … it was so unnecessary imo. I had stopped plaguing her with messages of concern. (Although I don’t feel a bit of remorse for those messages. She was suicidal and going off to a long military deployment - fuck yes I was concerned for her and beside myself with worry - although looking back, I probably would have been more useful to her if I had stayed a strong place for her to reach towards instead of chaotic and emotional).

In the end, I feel that she did me a kindness and was telling me to move on. I choose to remember her as kind and good and I believe that with all my heart. She was horribly hurt by her trauma point. Yes - she could have (and should have) responded better than she did (she is a good person but oh it was so cruel how she acted) but it’s too impossible for me to blame her or hate her, knowing her as I do and knowing how much she has wounded herself. I forgive her completely. I wish her well and hope any who read my words take a moment to send good thoughts her way.

My current pain - and she is being swept up in it - is because I’m finally addressing the damages my shitty parents did to me. I know I’m not the only one with shitty parents and I’ve heard a lot worse stories than mine.

But pain can’t be compared and my damages are pretty awful. Worse is how long I’ve lived, miserable with life, never happy, always hating myself, and not figuring out until now that it’s because my parents taught me to be who I am. An awful realization. But … I’m dredging up ugly shit so I can do my best to smooth it over.

It hasn’t been pretty. Honestly … god awful pain. I have my ex to thank for this … and I’m not being sarcastic here. She cut me on the way out the door and opened these wounds to the air.

And I intend to heal them so I don’t have to spend the rest of my life hating myself even when I do good and achieve things in life.

Lots of work ahead. You can stop by anytime.

I hope my sharing gives others strength to consider working on their own issues. NGL, it has been fucking excruciating.

#catharsis #self love #self care

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vf-thompson · 8 months

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Book Review: Content Warning: Everything Will Fuck You Up and It Will be Your Fault

It seems odd that i'm sitting down to write a perfect review of a book that has, as far as a book can screw up a life, sent my own careening wildly off track.

My introduction to Emezi was the diabolical little YA spec fic Pet, which was assigned reading in my Transgender Literature class i took a few semesters ago. i was struggling with my academic workload, and admittedly only read pieces of that book, enough know what was going in class discussions, but shelved it to finish later. i did not realize at the time that i had one of the writer's other books in my possession already, a threatening little collection of poems that my best friend had gotten me for my birthday right before beginning the semester.

It sat on my shelf patiently, biding its time, dreaming its sick little dreams, until i needed it.

i can't tell you how the explosion happened, only that it did. Call it a gas leak, maybe. Entropy did as entropy does. i was separated, overnight, from everything smelling and tasting of home, born on Christian hands and pagan winds into the wild to be taught the true ways of the world. Apotheosis knocked for the third time in my heathen life, and this time i let the sonuvab!tch inside at last to make herself at home.

i found myself in a hotel room, on the other side of a bombing, stranded. This book was in my hands, had made it instinctively into my bag as i escaped the slithering fire that consumed my house and my life. i read the title, read the author's name, realized i had heard the name before. i ached for familiarity, and opened the book.

Everything was inside waiting for me inside, as Emezi warned. i blundered into the bloody-berry red thickets of their serpentine prose, joining them in their dirty, dismal trek up the Holy Mountain. i found, immediately, in her words, a kindred spirit, crimson as my own sin-stained soul. i can only be frankly honest: the poems in this collection seemed to resonate with my own life and its events to a degree that is uncanny, almost abject. The second poem, "christening", tore me open, and i understood, feverishly, wrongly: i too could speak the truth.

i took to my notebook, trying to put my frayed and desperate grief into words, grief at my sudden exile from Eden, using Emezi's words as model. i crafted my own imitative poems in the key of confession and launched them into the sky like a rocket, hoping to explain away the pain with meter and meaning. But like our viperous little narrator, the ouroboros sharing their tale with us, i swallowed myself with my own words, burned up in my own stomach acid, vomited myself out somewhere worse than before. My confessions did not cleanse me; they branded me Barabbas. My attempt to reach for the sky left me falling back towards earth, landing in a black muddy river, washing up somewhere by Bethlehem with venom in my eyes. As the book warns at the top, the urge to explain can often only make things worse when you see the world wrong.

It has since taken me five months to finish a book that is 45 pages long. i can't blame the book. It told me its mission on the front cover, warned me as well as a book can. It told me what was waiting inside: Everything, undiluted, unadulterated. This book blew my mind in the worst kind of way, which is of course the best way, which is of course the only way. Books are here to challenge us, to change the way we see. There is nothing comforting or safe about the work here, blowing past trigger warnings in a way that no edged-out Netflix comedian could hope to touch.

If you can handle it, allow Emezi to take a scalpel to your life, as they did mine. Inside you will find ruminations and meditations on what is means to be a pagan, to be spirit, to be of any faith or no faith, to be less than a man and more than a god and to do-se-do around the black heart of a dying, diseased brain. Big thanks to the bitch who bought it for my birthday, who read it and decided i should too. She's never let me down with a recommendation, and i'm happy to say this book continues that trend. It has been a campfire to sit beside in one of the darkest periods of my life, throwing shadows of hope against the wall even as the cave threatens to collapse down on top of us all.

#poetry #book review #poetry review #akwaeke emezi #religion #writing #bookblr #content warning: everything #queer poetry

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jiminrings · 3 years

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just wanna say: stemkoo + yoongs redemption arc. yoongi finally acknowledging jungkook as a love interest to oc and accepting it and jungkooks kinda confused because what now? is he safe alone with yoongi? are they brothers? and yoongis just "yeah kid you're here now and I see you but I'd still give you a knuckle sandwich anytime if u even breath wrong next to my baby soulmate"

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo has a breakdown over driving alone for the first time, and it just so happens that yoongi's the only one there for him. alternatively, it's koo and yoongs' redemption arc :-)

warnings: mention and descriptions of a panic attack

jungkook will not cry

not right here, in an emergency bay that's just five meters away from a bustling gas station where there's a convenience store and a couple of food chains and cafés he can go to in order to clear his head

not right now, in his brand-new car that his parents excitedly bought for him once they caught the news that he's already obtained his driver's license. he's admittedly already used to a lofty lifestyle, but somehow guilt settled in when he remembers telling his parents at night, and the next morning, his dad's calling him to come out of his dorm to see such a big purchase they didn't think twice in buying

jungkook already drove before. countless of times!!

tried it the first three times in his hometown with his dad on the front seat and his mom at the back, a little amused yet more frantic because this is perhaps the most frustrated state he's put his parents in

he's also took 30 hours in driving lessons during break and the happiest that he's been during the whole time is the part wherein he gets home by foot, relieved that he doesn't have to shared a confined space with his instructor that's far too chatty and intimidating at the same time

most importantly, jungkook drove endlessly and ultimately learned from you, jin, and yoongi!! he remembered mentioning in passing that he doesn't have a driver's license yet and he could distinctly remembering the three of you arguing about who'd teach him first

of course it was you whom he picked first, and it became a driving lesson that racked immense pressure and comfort from him

you taught him how to properly control his gas and brakes and then did jungkook only learn that he's a little too heavy-footed with the pedals, mistakenly thinking that he should press his wHOLE foot instead of just atleast a fourth of it

he learned how to accelerate without making the car jump and brake without making a god-awful screech!! also learned how to pull up the handbrake with ease because his wrist's too tensioned the first time around

seokjin taught him how to turn and park smoothly. how to actually command the wheel without his hands getting wrung and just nailing commando with like tHREE maneuvers max!!! max!!!

also jin taught him (reluctantly) how to reverse while looking back and holding headrest of the front seat bc jungkook read from somewhere that people apparently (read: you) find it attractive

and well... yoongi?

yoongi taught him everything

jungkook was a lil scared when he realized that it was yoongi's turn to teach him, but surprisingly, and uh well nO offense to his parents and instructor and girlfriend and girlfriend's friend,, but yoongi is the best teacher he's ever had

he taught him how to actually drive-drive if that's supposed to explain everything

he taught him how to not grip the steering wheel a little too tight and heavy. to be relaxed enough that he drives his car and not the other way around, but not too relaxed that the car feels too light in his command

yoongi taught him how to overtake and counterflow when necessary and how not to be a push-over and let every car pass even if it's him who has the right of way

jungkook was taught how to not squirm and be shy with honking because it's literally tHERE to be used!! yoongi taught him not to cower when there's a huge 4x4 with the truck horn that's aiming to squeeze in between lanes and just drive like normal

he learned how he shouldn't trust the mirrors at all times because it's not the accurate depiction of how far he is from backing into a tree and instead, open the window to see it for himself

yoongi taught him about the gearbox so eASILY that jungkook almost cried in realization that he finally managed to comprehend it fully without feeling the need to search in between stops

...

yes, jungkook did drive countless of times.

but this is the first time ever that jungkook drove alone and by himself; no company at all to tell him how he's going a little too fast or a little too near to the vehicle in front of him

he's alone. driving. in his own car. and now he's parked by himself near the gas station and the radio's playing a little too loud.

in second thought?

jungkook will cry

you're not there to console him as soon as you see his bottom lip tremble and his eyes freeze because you're someplace else

you're on a road trip with seokjin because it's his niece's first birthday and his whole extended family would be there and he doesn't know if he can actually handle that by himself ://

his family already knows you anyway and they're awarE of how their own relatives could be so now jin's immediate kim family is relying on you to be also their breather <3

the whole reason that jungkook decided to go onto this mini roadtrip by himself in the first place was to surprise you!!

he heard you over movie night once that you wanted to try these famous donuts from this shop that's an hour and a half drive away, and from your descriptions alone, yoongi and jin aND jungkook decided that they also wanted to try

and kook's just being a loving boyfriend and friend (?) that he made the collective decision that while you and jin were out, while yoongi's in the dorm — he's driving by himself for an hour and a half to get the donuts

but no, he hasn't even reached the donut place yet because he's an hour away still

he suddenly felt that his legs froze and he couldn't move at all because he realized that he's holding a wheel in his hands and the consciousness of it all makes his eyes widen, feeling the smooth leather go heavy within a blink

it was his sudden fear that the car's driving him and he doesn't have any control of it even if he has the means to do so, his mind too far in that he swerves to the right-most lane without his blinkers on and without checking his side mirrors

and even more concerningly, jungkook's still thinking about donuts even if he's in a state in which he's feeling a little dizzy and his chest is tight, having trouble breathing with his tummy aching that he feels he want to throw up

he can't think nor breathe straight and it physically pains him, the only thing registering in his hazy mind being his phone, the lockscreen that's set to you being the first thing that greets him

his fingers tremble as they move on their own and he doesn't realize it, only being jolted when his phone silently rings on his palm because even he doesn't know how nor whom he called

he's already removed his glasses to rub his eyes but they just blearily ache when he tries to see the name on his phone, his eyesight being blurred by the tears he's trying to keep at bay

jungkook's phone stops ringing until it finally connects, pressing his phone to his ear as confused as he is because he can't even remember who he called

"hello? why are you calling me, kid?"

it's yoongi.

jungkook breathes a sigh of relief that of all the people he's accidentally called — it's yoongi

he immediately welcomes the gruff voice, a sob racking through his entire body that he didn't even realize he was holding back

"y-yoongi! oh my god, yoongi! i-it's you!"

yoongi was merely napping when he felt his phone ring beside his pillow, an unfamiliar ringtone reaching his ears that he felt compelled to check it

his tone couldn't have been more abrupt but it's greeted nothing but warmly, the voice from the other side of the line making him focus concentratedly

jungkook greets him so eagerly and panickedly that it worries him, the large gulp of air convincing him that it's not just his airconditioner that's turned all the way up

"what happened to you? are you okay?"

jungkook whimpers at the question, stuttering over words that haven't even formed as he looks frantically left and right to see if his spot at the emergency bay is bothering anyone

there isn't anyone approaching him and-

"h-hazard! i-i need the hazard on."

all the red he's seeing reminds him of his hazard lights, remembering your words to keep them on if you're a potential hazard on the road

yoongi's remaining sleepiness dissipates as his eyebrows knot, overwhelmingly alert as he stands up from bed and find a shirt to put on before he even knows what's going on

"hazard?" he parrots, trying to see if he's slept through some urgent texts from any of you that could make him put the pieces together. "i need you to calm down for me, jungkook."

jungkook's busy eyes snap in one place at the mention of his name, blinking owlishly at the recognition of what yoongi's saying

"i-i forgot how to drive. the wheel — the wheel b-became too heavy on my hands," he stammers, looking at the circle that's in front of him that feels and now looks foreign to him. "i-i drove alone because-"

yoongi's heart pangs at the observation that jungkook's voice is breaking and desperate, turning off his fan before he scurries outside his bedroom and double-checks to turn off everything

"yeah, jungkook? come one, you can do it. you drove alone because?"

he once again affirms jungkook by reminding him of his own name to try and ground him, slipping on his shoes with a vague outline of a plan in his mind

"donuts. i-i heard — y-you all wanted these donuts and the uhm, t-the three of you had a bad day last week, right? i-i think. i'm not over there and you're the only who's home and i-i figured that-" his voice gives out at the end, unable to keep his tears from falling at this point. "help, hyung."

yoongi blinks once, twice, before he finds his voice

"i'm still proud of you, jungkook. good job," he rummages through the bowl of money the three of you drop your change into, dumping the entirety of it as he hopes it's enough to tip the cab driver he's gonna tell to drive as fast as he could. "now can you tell me what you see? can you tell me where you are? where you're parked? hyung will help you."

...

......

it takes yoongi a total of fifteen minutes to reach jungkook at the emergency bay by the side of the road.

his car's pristine and intact and it calms him to no end, immediately calling jungkook to tell him he's there so he wouldn't have to startle him with a knock

yoongi enters the driver's seat and his eyes immediately whip to jungkook who's already transferred to the passenger seat, his face teary and blotchy as he shakily grins at him through it all

"hyu — yoongi! h-hi!! oh my god, you're here."

he nods and softly smiles, adjusting the seat to accommodate his preferences that it makes kook put his seatbelt out of reflex

he's beyond happy to have another person in the car with him, enough to make him feel surrounded and reassured that he can't hear his breathing echoing in his vehicle

he's already mostly regained his breath but it picks up when yoongi doesn't drive straightly like what he thought he would — instead, yoongi drives five meters ahead and turns to the gas station, wordlessly finding a parking spot

"... b-but the donuts. y-you guys wanted the donuts, right?"

he purses his lips at the inquiry, shaking his head somberly

he can't even begin to gRASP why after all this, he's still focused on the donuts that he meant to get for the three of you — still beyond desperate to secure what was meant to cheer everyone up despite having gone through a new driver's version of hell

"how about we grab a bite first and then we could get the donuts after? my treat."

jungkook was about to politely say no and apologize for imposing, the words being caught on his mouth when yoongi reverses into a parking spot swiftly and gets out of the car before he can put a word in, already having him opening the door on his side

he looks up at him as if he's seen a ghost, a slow tick of a minute on his mind reminding him that yoongi's here for him

yoongi looks down to see the younger guy that still looks very much like what he's been through just minutes ago, making him spring into action

he wordlessly combs his hand through his hair like he does with you when you have a fever and cannot be bothered to keep up with appearances, pushing it back neatly

he grabs jungkook's glasses that are muddled with dried tears and fingerprints from the console, cleaning it with the end of his shirt before handing it back to him

"bite first, then we'll get donuts. i promise."

oh my god

is he having an out of body experience

jungkook can walk but he doesn't feel like it because now his steps are toO light, feeling as if he's gliding through air with ease

he follows yoongi's shadow and stares at the back of his head, the newly-dyed pink of it gleaming underneath the morning sun that he tries to focus on it instead of his raging thoughts

yoongi walks into a serene café that's only the calming kind of busy; people here and there in their own conversations, blenders humming and silverware clinking

it's not until yoongi tells jungkook to pick a spot as he lines up to order that it trulY hits him what's happening, picking the comfiest spot his eyes laid on

there's no build-up to the moment because unlike their previous interactions where it's only the two of them, there's no score in the background.

there's no tension nor ill intent and the only thing that's there between them is a comfortable silence, one that jungkook's insistent to break this one time

"i-i'm sorry i called you. you were probably busy. i didn't know what i was doing and-"

"no," he cuts him off, sheepishly putting a hand on his nape. "i called you, jungkook."

"huh?" he couldn't hold back the audible surprise that left him, making him backtrack instead of continuing his sentence

yoongi thinks that the truth wouldn't hurt, leaning to his chair as he relaxed to put the guy across him at ease somehow

"you did call me, but you dropped it in less than two seconds," he admits, drumming his fingers on the armrest. "i called you back."

jungkook visibly awes at that, head tilting as the confusion he has in his head doubles over and starts crawling on four limbs

"w-why did you that?"

was that it?

was that why he felt so confused when he could barely see a caller ID? it was ringing out for him to answer and not the other way around

yoongi's the one perplexed this time but he doesn't blame him, answering sincerely

"because i look out for you too."

there's a pregnant pause between them and yoongi could clearly see the way jungkook's shoulders slump, making him lean forward out of instinct because he thought he was gonna break down again

"i'm sorry," he looks up at him with glassy eyes, wide but not threatening to cry out of despair. "i'm sorry, yoongi."

he knows by that tone that jungkook's not talking about the call anymore, making him raise his hand to wave it off lightly

"we don't have to do this right now, kook. the both of us probably haven't even had breakfast yet."

the much-awaited talk between them has been set far enough for the perfect timing but the bulk of everything just points to now, only getting more strengthened when jungkook breaks the silence again. "but i mean it."

"i was so stupid back then and i didn't know how much i hurt you through y/n," he reflects back to how distraught and angry yoongi looked at him, not to mention the fact that seokjin told him how yoongi didn't sleep at all for a week because of how he was kept up just thinking and trying to protect you. "i-i know it must've hurt to see your soulmate hurt because of me and that she forgave me still. a-and made me her boyfriend, even."

his mouth dries because the younger boy recites his previous heartaches almost word per word, taking his time to digest each one

"i did hurt, jungkook."

there's no denying that. no cover-up of jin as he tries to boost everyone up can ever hide that. no lies to how tae, who barely even knows yoongi, felt his chest tighten when he came over one morning to deliver the cookies and see yoongi sitting outside your door with his ear pressed to it — trying to hear if you were crying while holds his own.

there's no denying either the truth that reflects why exactly yoongi made a cab driver break almost every traffic law to man just to get to jungkook faster.

"but y/n's not hurting anymore — i'm not hurting anymore," he enunciates. "i'm not mad at you anymore, jungkook."

the guy in question looks alarmed, sheepish even at the words he's been wanting to hear but couldn't believe now that they're being uttered

"you should be."

yoongi snorts because jungkook reminds him of you so so much, an uncanny resemblance between the guilt you've always tried to live with before trying to acquit

"i'll hold it over your head if it makes you sleep at night or remind you when you decide to act up again," he chuckles but he's met with jungkook's frantic no's, waving him off when he realizes that his egging's truly working. "but i don't have it in me to be mad at you for any longer."

it's the truth. it's the truth that yoongi always tried to refute because for the past weeks, all he's done is try to find the most miniscule flaw to try and make him hate jungkook

he's only thought once in his lifetime that he'd ever forgive jungkook, but now did it become crystal clear

"you've proved yourself enough, even jin said so," he admits humbly. "but i know you're not doing all of this to prove yourself to us or to me, kook."

he looks up at from his hands to train his gaze on his girlfriend's soulmate, listening attentively

"i know you do it from the heart."

he feels like crying but only this time is it for an entirely different and positive reason, a leap on his chest heightening tenfold

"as much as you rely on y/n — you can also rely on me too, jungkook."

the two of them hold eye contact and neither of them shy away from it, a silent fact in the air as they know that it's not only you who's linking them at this point, but rather because they're somewhat brothers at this point

"i forgive you."

"y-you forgive me?"

he feels his ears ringing in happiness as he tries to dodge the waiter who's blocking his view of yoongi with the way he's putting down the meals, frantically looking for confirmation

yoongi finds it cute, laughing as he throws his head back

"you're the one who does the quizbees. why are you making me spell it out?"

then he knows.

"you forgive me," he parrots, repeating it once more to himself

the two of them eat throughout thoughtful conversation, stemming from the inquiry of how yoongi made a thirty-minute drive into only half of it, until it bloomed to how kook claims to be forgetful but remembers a whisper about bread from a week ago

"tell me if you want to try and drive to the donut place," yoongi turns to him as he settles the bill, watching jungkook finish the last of his food as he throws him a sheepish smile — much like how you do

"i'll be watching over you, koo. don't worry."

how r we feeling bffs </3 i'll have to speak into the mic and say that this is perhaps the drabble i hurted the most while writing :O

as always, lmk what you think!! i love answering asks :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

#stem koo #stem koo misc.#jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #yoongi oneshot #jeon jungkook oneshot #bts jungkook imagine #yoongi angst

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

Text

Sword and Shield 10

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on

Part 9: Shatter

Warnings: very much 18+, minors DNI you have been warned, TW for trauma and PTSD, PIV unprotected sex (irl please be safe and use protection), everything is consensual, overstimulation, oral, cockwarming, dom/sub interactions, choking, subspace mentions, poly relationship. Also I swear Wrecker will get a chapter too, don’t come at me!!

I know it’s been a while but I hope this long chapter makes up for it!

10: Recover, Relive

Two more smaller missions later, the Bad Batch had been given a break. You’d pushed through the healing and the expected night of nightmares just fine thanks to being able to curl up to the warmth of Tech and Wrecker. The entire team had been pretty careful with you for the past couple of days, letting you have your space to recover while you continued to work alongside them for missions.

Crosshair hadn’t said anything, really, but his willingness to just let you quietly sit in his presence or in the back of his mind and polish your Rifle form was his way of showing support that you appreciated.

You'd been relieved for the break, knowing that you needed a moment to reset and devote everything to recovering. While you'd started to get over the worst nightmares and the last of your injuries had completely healed, you were still struggling with flashbacks and keeping your focus.

Sitting curled up on Hunter's bunk, you leaned your chin against your knees pulled up to your chest and sighed. Everytime you closed your eyes, you could see Skarla's maniacal eyes and bloodstained grin as she reached into your body and reveled in your pain. You could still hear your own screams echoing through your memories. You'd buried them so deep, the inhibitor chips having contributed to the suppression, and now... well, it was coming back and demanding to be dealt with.

The 501st had already helped you deal with so much of your past. But not everything. And this... these memories had been ones that you’d barely disclosed to even them.

“Shiv.”

You looked up to see Hunter standing in front of the bunk, carefully sitting down on the edge. “Oh... hi.” You smiled faintly.

He observed you carefully. “Are you doing okay?”

For a moment, the temptation to just say “I’m fine” hovered on your lips. But you remembered how disappointed all your Vod’ika had been when they discovered you’d been suffering and hadn’t told them. And the Bad Batch... the ones you loved, deserved better. You knew that.

So you looked down at your knees, then back up at him. “A memory for a memory?” you offered.

Surprise flickered through his eyes, then he scooted backward and leaned against the wall. “I guess that’s fair,” he admitted. Eyebrows furrowing, he thought for a minute before finally answering. “There was one mission,” he said slowly. “It was pretty early on. Everything... almost went wrong to the point of failure. In the end, it was my fault that I didn’t listen and got Tech nearly killed.” His chest heaved with a sigh, his head shaking. “It taught me a valuable lesson, and made me a better leader. Tech forgave me. But sometimes... I still hate myself for it.” Bitterness laced his tone. “I can still hear him screaming in pain, and remember how I felt when I realized what I’d done. I’ll never forget how my own stupidity and pride allowed me to fail the team. In some ways... what happened to you on our first mission reminded me of that.”

You sat in silence for a minute, mulling over his story. In retrospect, it would make sense why Hunter had seemed to loathe himself overmuch and take too much blame for your injury on that mission. Still, you knew that most of it had been your own fault for getting distracted and allowing yourself to get sidetracked from the mission.

“Skarla,” you said abruptly. You felt his surprise over the Bond before it faded away. “She...” Your lips twisted. “She is who she is for a reason. But she’s also... extremely cruel. I... I can survive and heal from wounds that most can’t, because of what I am,” you said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. “So my wounds sometimes— they seem a lot worse to others than to me because my scale of survival is different. Skarla has... well,” you said, shifting, “she’s well aware of that fact. Every time I would fail to defeat the Guardian, she would be allowed to punish me for fifteen minutes in whatever way she pleased.”

Fifteen minutes of Nine Corellian Hells. Fifteen minutes of begging for death.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve been torn open, ribs cracked, my guts rearranged,” you said, exhaustion lining your voice. “Honestly, I’ve forgotten a lot of it. My brain... couldn’t handle keeping the memories and still staying sane, I was told. I guess it’s better I don’t. What I do still remember... it haunts me. Just the memory of the pain, wishing for death. Staring up at the ceiling of the chamber and hearing my own blood splatter against the walls, hearing myself scream like a stranger. They’re some of my worst memories. Being back there... it was hard but...” You looked down thoughtfully at your hands.

“As hard as it was... it wasn’t unbearable. Not anymore. Knowing that- that all of you were there, and that— that you believed in me, trusted me... Even Tech: he trusted me. It gave me a strength to face not just my past but my nightmares and memories now because... because I have all of you.” You gave Hunter a small but genuine smile. “Being able to feel that strength... it helped me to defeat my past.”

Hunter met your gaze with a softness in his eyes that warmed you. He held out his hand, and you took it gratefully. “We’re here for you, Shiv. In whatever way you need.”

You nodded, then scooted closer to him and leaned into his side. “I’m here, too. I want... I want to return the strength you’ve given me.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “You do already. In more ways than you know.”

Despite yourself, you had to duck your head as heat rose to your face. Your mind wouldn’t stop supplying you with memories of Hunter thrusting into you, his hands gripped around your waist and siding down your back, pulling you into his hips. His face buried between your legs, fingers sliding into you— Crosshair’s lithe fingers wrapping around your throat as Hunter came inside you, moaning—

Hunter let out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, did you remember something else in particular, Shiv?”

Thoroughly embarrassed, you buried your face in your hands with a whimper, knowing he could feel the heat coming from you and probably even smell you at this point. But for some reason... the memories wouldn’t stop. You.... wanted it. Wanted him.

Hunter’s mouth brushed against your throat, even as he pulled you back and into his chest. “If you want to make new memories, I’d be glad to help with that.”

You whined, biting your lips. “I...”

He kissed your neck, sliding up to your jaw. His hand reached up and gently tilted your chin to his face. “Is this what you want, Shiv?” he asked it in a low, husky tone, his dark eyes darting down to your mouth with a flare of desire.

You swallowed, then nodded. Yes. You wanted Hunter.

He bent and kissed you. His kiss this time was a bit different. Maybe because this time you were alone, you didn’t know, but... there was something about his kiss that was more tender, more... slow, as though he were savoring you, memorizing the feel of your lips against his.

“Come here,” Hunter rasped, turning you towards himself. Reaching up, he pulled his shirt off and dragged you close again, his hands sliding down your back as he kissed you. His mouth was hungry, his hands taking yours and placing them against his chest. His fingers gently slid under your top, and he pulled back for a moment.

“Can I?”

You nodded shyly, letting him slide your shirt and bra off. His hands slid up, cupping your breasts in his hands and admiring them for a moment.

“Can’t blame Tech for being obsessed,” Hunter admitted after a moment, teasing your nipples with his fingers.

You whimpered, shivering under the touch as you bit your lip. His calloused hands were warm and firm, and the deft confidence in the way he touched you brought back memories of his hands effortlessly wielding you as a blaster. Hunter’s touch was one of a leader, confident and respectful of the power he held, knowing its limits and its capacities and treating it accordingly.

“So you feel that, too,” Hunter murmured, making you realize that his Bond with you was alight with shared sensation.

His hand moved down, splaying over your bared stomach. He paused, his eyes curious as he simply gazed at his fingers, his palm covering your navel. Your chest heaved with breath as you wondered what he was thinking. A little embarrassed at the intensity that had crept into his gaze, your fingers twitched on the waist of his trousers.

Hunter bent forward, then, and caught your mouth in a long, languid kiss that brimmed with appreciation. His hands swept down to your waist, settling on your hips. “You’re beautiful, Shiv,” he murmured against your mouth.

A little surprised, you pulled back to blink up at him. Hunter had never really struck you as one to pay attention to that sort of thing, so his soft, earnest comment surprised you.

He reached up, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know all of us love all of you, and admittedly some of us might be especially appreciative of specific things. But whenever I see you, all I think of is... you,” he said slowly, eyes trailing over your face. “Watching you interact with the team, seeing you get excited when you’re successful in Transference, or even just... sitting on a bunk somewhere. I think just your astral form is enough for me to know it’s you, mesh’la.” He leaned his forehead against yours.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to smile and close your eyes. The warmth curled in you, and you let your happiness spill over the Bond.

“Mm. Although I do think that you’re a different kind of pretty when you’re clearly enjoying getting fucked,” Hunter chuckled, his voice deepening as he leaned closer to your ear.

The filthy words accompanied by the way Hunter’s hands sensually trailed up your front made you bite your lip and flush, looking down. Despite yourself, a thought popped into your head and you suddenly giggled, reaching up to press your fingers against your lips.

“Something funny?” Hunter asked, amusement lacing his own voice.

“My Vod’ika,” you giggled. “They’d all be losing their minds if they knew that I—“ you burst into a fresh wave of laughter, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Maker, Kix is protective enough, he’d want to kill all of you- and Fives, oh, Fives—“ Tears of laughter welled in your eyes as you thought about it. Fives wouldn’t know whether to tease you or want to fight the Bad Batch. Hawk and Dogma would be in shock that you were with four people.

Hunter laughed with you, shaking his head. “Not sure if I should laugh or be offended that you’re thinking of other men while I’m touching you,” he teased.

You suppressed your laughter, grinning up at him. “Sorry, Hunter,” you managed. “I promise I’m paying attention to you.” You lifted his hand to your face, leaning your cheek into his palm with a smile.

His eyes darkened, and he tipped you back. Catching you gently, he lowered you onto the bunk and pulled the pillow under your head. Shifting himself above you, he bent to kiss you and pull your body against his. His fingers played against your shorts, and you had to squirm a little at the way your body sparked at the friction. Letting out a little noise into his mouth, you canted your hips up as he ground against you.

Hunter let out a quiet grunt into your mouth, nipping at your lips. “You want these off, mesh’la?” His hands tugged at your shorts.

You lifted your hips, letting him slide them off. To your vague surprise, he left your underwear on. He started to kiss down your neck and chest. His fingers slid around the thin underwear, and he grunted as he felt how slick you’d already gotten. His fingers found barely any friction as they slid into your core.

You gasped, back arching as he pressed his fingers up into you. He worked you in a way that had you whining, entirely at his mercy as he proved how diligent he’d been in exploring your body and leaning your curves and edges. He traveled down your body, kissing your thigh as he continued to work his fingers and stretch you. The way he stared at your drooling core sent a flush of heat through you.

Then his thumb pushed aside more of the underwear, and his face lowered.

You let out a strangled gasp, back arching as your hands flew down and found purchase in his hair. His breath was hot against your core, his tongue dizzyingly familiar with your body. He grunted as your fingers tightened and twisted in his hair, his fingers finding that spot that had you arching into his mouth with a moan.

“Hunter,” you moaned, trembling against him as you felt that coil tighten in your abdomen.

After one last, long lick, Hunter lifted his mouth and licked you off of his lips with a satisfied look. Shifting himself back up your body, he slid his fingers out of you and instead brought them to your mouth.

You let him slide his fingers between your lips, the flavor bursting in your mouth. His fingers pushed against your tongue, and he surveyed you with dark eyes and a lazy smile. After a moment, he pulled his hand away and slid his trousers off, bending to kiss you again. He settled himself between your legs, his cock resting heavily against your core and up your lower belly. Something slick dripped onto your skin, warm and thick.

“Is this okay, Shiv?” Hunter asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, reaching up to slide your hands up his shoulders. Over the Bond, you could feel the way his utter desperation to be inside you heightened. His mind, as he lost control of the Bond, kept focusing on the way your body melted into his hands, the way his body burned as he pressed against you, the way he gravitated towards you. He let out a quiet gasp as his cock slipped against you, his eyes squeezing shut above you.

He slowly, ever so slowly, eased into you. Every inch earned you another low groan, and you had to stare up at his face in awe. Hunter’s face twisted in pleasure, his jaw clenched and his eyelashes fluttering.

“Maker, mesh’la,” he choked, shuddering above you as he completely bottomed out, buried deep inside you. “I can’t— you’re so kriffing tight.” His eyes, when he opened them to stare down at you, looked practically drugged.

You abruptly remembered Hunter’s enhanced senses, especially as a wave came over his side of the Bond of his overwhelmed pleasure. Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands, trying to make sure he wouldn’t overdo himself.

“Just relax,” you whispered, feeling the way he trembled against you. You knew that the moment he started moving you’d be dangerously close to the edge thanks to his own pleasure he was sharing across the Bond. Not to mention the way Hunter was practically collapsed on top of you, his body pressed against yours, his low groans spilling into your ear as his mouth pressed against your skin. His arms braced himself on either side of you, your legs propped up against his hips.

“Gonna— gonna move,” he hissed, slowly pulling back out so only his tip stayed in you. “Kriff,” he mumbled under his breath.

You were already making sloppy sounds, and you whimpered as he pushed back into you. The way his movements were so precise and sure, the way his mouth pressed against yours with a burning need made that tightness in you start to snap. You whined, already so close to coming.

“You gonna cum, Shiv?” Hunter chuckled, his voice raspy. “You’re so kriffing wet around me.”

You moaned, eyes fluttering as he started to thrust, pitching into you smoothly. His hand reached down between you, and his thumb found your clit.

“You feel so good, so hot and wet and tight,” he murmured, beginning to praise you even as his hips started to stutter. “Kriff, mesh’la, you take me so well. So pretty, under me like this.”

You whimpered, reveling in the soft praises and touches that he showered on you. You could feel him starting to get close himself, his movements a little more erratic as he lost control.

“So lucky to have you, that you love us,” Hunter rasped against your neck, his kiss almost reverent. “Gonna— gonna cum, mesh’la—“

His finger twitched against your clit and you were arching, crying out his name as the heat washed through you, white hot. Pleasure burst behind your eyelids as you came, just as he slammed into you and ground, groaning your name. He spilled into you, filling you up, then shuddered and collapsed against you. His body leaned against yours, his face burying into the crook of your shoulder.

The heat that pooled in your belly as Hunter kept you plugged made your eyelashes flutter. Letting out a soft sigh of contentment, you reached up and gently drew your fingers through his hair.

His chest heaved for breath, and his hands ran down your sides appreciatively. “I love you, so much,” he whispered, his voice getting heavy.

You reached up and pressed a shy kiss to the corner of his lips. “I love you too, Hunter. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He fell asleep rather quickly, though you guessed it was in part due to the overstimulation. You waited until he was asleep before carefully sliding out from underneath him. You quickly adjusted your underwear to catch Hunter’s cum starting to run down your leg. You needed to make it to the fresher, but had to lean against the wall halfway there as your knees almost gave out.

You finally managed to go get yourself cleaned up, and went to go change underwear and fetch your bra. You made rounds to collect laundry, putting in a load and blowing out a breath. Pushing hair away from your face, you went to the common area to go find a T-shirt you knew you’d left in there.

Looking around, you finally caught sight of the large shirt and perked up, going to go grab it and slide it over yourself. Tech was the only other one in the common room, and you made a quick decision as you walked over to him.

“Tech?” you asked softly.

He looked up at you, blinking owlishly as he registered your presence. “Ah, Shiv.” He readjusted his goggles. “Can I assist you with something?”

You tilted your head, clasping the edge of the shirt in your fingers. “If... if you’re not busy, can I— can I talk with you?” you asked, suddenly a bit nervous.

He turned fully toward you. “Sure, Shiv. I was just working on a few odds and ends anyway.”

You glanced down at his legs. “Um, can I— can I sit?”

Some confusion flickered across his face. “Of course-“

You got closer to him and slid into his lap, facing him with your legs on either side of him and your hands twisted in the hem of your shirt. He let out a small noise of surprise, his hands coming up to your hips to steady you.

“I wanted to thank you,” you said softly, still not looking up at his face.

“Thank me? For what, Shiv?” Tech asked curiously. His hands tugged at you, bringing you a little closer to him.

“I know I said it before, but— but I really wanted to thank you properly,” you said, scrambling for words. “For how you trusted me, back during the... the ritual.” You made a little, nervous gesture. “I mean— it means more to me than I think you realize. It’s— the ritual is one that’s... that’s fueled by blood, whether yourself or your Champion. Skarla— she’s always been very powerful and- and she... she was very cruel to me, a long time ago. Going back there was...” your face twisted in misery as you looked down. “It was really difficult, and I— it brought back a lot of fear.”

Taking a breath, you made yourself look up at him. “But you trusted me, believed in me. You didn’t even question me when I led you towards dangerous places, and did everything I asked without hesitating. You trusted me to the point that when faced with something unusual... you readily gave your blood for me.” Your heart was in your throat even as you said it. “It— it meant so much to me, Tech,” your voice wavered, your eyes welling with tears. “The only reason I actually won that match... is because of you.” You met his eyes, trying to convey how much it truly meant.

Tech’s eyes widened as he gazed at you with surprise, his fingers tightening around your waist.

“You gave me the strength I needed to push through, and the way you believed in me...” You reached up and wiped away the grateful tears that had sprang to your eyes. “I fought a battle against my fear and the memories of my failure, too,” you whispered. “But your faith in me was what really gave me the power to win. And I wanted— I needed to thank you. So you know... know what it means to me.”

Tech leaned forward. Your eyes widened as he kissed you, taken a bit aback by the suddenness. But it felt so good, the way his mouth pressed against yours and the way his emotions started to spill over the Bond to you. Tech was... his kiss always made you lean into him, eyes fluttering closed as you melted into the gentle, desperate affection. His precise, clinical nature softened whenever he kissed and touched you.

“I am glad that you are all right,” Tech said, his voice quiet and earnest. “It was... frightening, to see you fight alone. I am pleased to know that I could give you strength in any way I could.”

You leaned forwards and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Tech.”

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he murmured back. He let out a sigh as you shifted, his hands gripping around your hips. “Shiv— could I ask a favor?”

You blinked, pulling back to look up at him.

He glanced down at the hem of your shirt, and an image flashed across the Bond. You, leaning against Wrecker’s chest, fast asleep, Wrecker’s thick cock buried inside you as your chest rose and fell with breath and your face flushed with the arousal. Color crept up Tech’s neck.

“I— um—“

You looked up at him with a shy smile, a bit embarrassed but also flattered that he seemed to be so enamored with your body as well. Leaning down, you grasped his hand and brought it up to the hem of your shirt, pushing his fingers up under it.

Tech swallowed, his hand trailing upward, sliding to the edge of your bra. He glanced at you for permission, and you answered by reaching down and unzipping his trousers. His breath hitched as you began to slowly pump him, your fingers playing a little with his tip. His hand slid under your bra, brushing over your nipple as you bit your lips at the stimulation. Your body was still a little sensitive after Hunter, and you were starting to feel the tiredness pluck at your eyelids.

Tech slid his fingers around your underwear, only to feel you dripping wet and still leaking a bit of Hunter. He brought his fingers up and didn’t seem to be surprised at the white, simply sticking it in his mouth.

“Shiv,” Tech murmured, bending to press a kiss to your throat.

You scooted forwards, letting him guide himself into you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you had to let out a soft moan as he sank fully into you, stuffing you so perfectly. Tech really was the perfect girth for this, you thought dizzily. He just hit every spot inside you as he stuffed you full and kept you sitting still on his cock. It almost made you feel torn between wanting to move and wanting it to stay there, resting perfectly inside you, lighting you up in the best way possible.

He let out a groan against your ear, his hands keeping your hips pressed against his, keeping you completely pressed into his chest, every curve of your body melting against his. Letting out a shuddering breath, he shifted and scooted forwards, beginning to resume his work.

Despite yourself, you had to open your mouth against the crook of his neck and shoulder, biting down gently and beginning to absently suckle. His skin had a hint of salt, but just the warmth of his skin comforted you, your eyes fluttering closed as you suckled a mark into his neck.

Eventually you fell asleep, happily cradled against him and stuffed completely full.

“Oh, hey, there’s Shiv! I was wondering where she was.”

Stirring, you started to wake up. Reaching up, you rubbed at your eye and felt the yawn build in your mouth.

“You woke her up, Wrecker,” Tech sounded a bit morose.

“Huh? Oh— sorry, Shiv.” Wrecker’s voice sounded closer.

You sat up a little, arms still flung across Tech’s shoulders. Stretching, you let the yawn stretch your mouth and your eyes flutter open. Sleep still sticking in your eyes, you blinked up at Wrecker, lips parted.

Wrecker grinned. “Did you have a good nap?”

You nodded belatedly, reaching up to rub the sleep out of your eyes. For a moment, you just blankly stared at Tech’s collar as you woke up more fully. Then shaking your head, you looked up at his face. He gazed back down at you, his hand lightly resting on your thigh. He brushed his thumb across your skin, and you suddenly realized why your lower body felt warm with a pulsing heat. He was still buried hilt deep inside you, his cock thick and hard as it pressed up inside you.

“You’ve been asleep for a chron,” Tech said, his voice surprisingly even.

Your mind fizzled for a moment. He hadn’t moved for a whole chron? He hadn’t cum, obviously, so... Then your lips parted, and you tilted your head at him. But your breath caught in your throat, and you instead shivered and looked down, your face blooming with warmth. Reaching up, you pressed the back of your hand against your mouth to suppress your whimper.

“Ah— th-thank you, I— I think I needed that nap,” you admitted, trying to scrape yourself together. “Um-“ You glanced up to see Tech’s knowing, little smile that he gave you. His hand slid down to your inner thigh, his fingers pressing into your skin. His eyes glittered with the knowledge that at the moment, the T-shirt was the only thing hiding the way your body was clenching around him, making a wet spot against his trousers, drooling all over him, coating your thighs in slick. Every time he pulsed, you felt his cock press up against your g-spot.

“Wrecker, can you hand Shiv her datapad? I think it’s still on the table,” Tech said, his voice still frustratingly calm considering how clearly desperate his body was.

You glanced up at him in a bit of despair, wondering if he was really going to still not move. Though it didn’t surprise you that Tech’s patience and endurance were so high, still. This was on the verge of being cruel. Your body clearly had been frustrated this whole time you’d been asleep, denied movement and friction.

Wrecker handed you the datapad, and you took it with a weak smile. “Thank you,” you murmured.

Tech’s hand squeezed a handful of your thigh. Stay still for me, cyar’ika. And because it was Tech, somehow the order was still coated with that enamored desperation that made you want to obey, just to give him whatever he wanted.

Leaning forward again, you rested your chin against Tech’s shoulder and propped your arms over his shoulders, opening up the datapad. You also realized that Tech had taken off your bra, though you wondered where he’d put it. Not that you cared, particularly. He leaned forward a little as well, reaching for a tool, and pressed your breasts against his chest.

You whined across the Bond, pouting at how mean he was.

He just chuckled, the loving affection pouring across the Bond a satisfactory compensation.

Wrecker sat across from you, beginning to chatter about how he’d been training. You listened, humming and nodding as you pulled up the schematics that Tech had uploaded to your datapad for Wrecker’s combat gloves. You’d been studying and modifying them so that hopefully Wrecker would be able to have them by the next mission.

Just then, Crosshair strolled in. “Hunter says there’s a bit of turbulence ahead,” he drawled, just as the ship jolted.

You let out a choked gasp as it made you rise a little and slam back down on Tech’s cock. Eyes widening, you tried to keep your composure as you gripped onto your datapad. Tech’s grunt had been lost, but the way he throbbedinside you was a sweet sort of revenge.

“Whoa.” Wrecker grabbed onto his seat. “What is it?”

“Asteroid belt,” Cross said, grabbing onto the nearest steady surface. “We have to manually fly through some of it.”

Your mind was already short circuiting. Tech had somehow gotten bigger inside of you, and you were almost on the verge of tears thanks to the way he was pressing into all your sensitive spots. At this point, you were just desperately trying to hold still while your body clamped down on his cock and inched so much closer to the edge. Tech’s hand on your lower back still somehow kept you grounded, reminding you not to move. You didn’t want to disobey. You wanted to make Tech happy.

“Hey Shiv, what’re you working on?” Wrecker asked, turning to you. The ship still dipped and swerved once in a while.

You fumbled with your datapad, connecting it to the holoscreen and transferring the data. “Your- your gloves,” you managed, trying to keep yourself at least coherent. But it was so hard when Tech’s warmth was engulfing you, his hand sweeping down your back, across your thigh, pressing your chest into his.

“I’m trying to modify them before our next mission,” you continued, highlighting the list of mods you’d created off to the side of the schematic. “These are the ones that have already been done, and these are the ones that I’d like to try to do-“

The ship jolted, taking a sharp turn up before coming straight back down and banking. This time, you barely managed to keep yourself from letting out a filthy, desperate moan. Tech had slid his hand down as though to brace you, but his thumb slid under the hem of the shirt and instead slicked up your clit.

You’re doing very well, Shiv, Tech’s voice puddled in your mind. You already came twice while you were asleep. You were so good for Hunter, do you think you could be good for me just a little longer?

So you bit back your sob and instead sank your teeth into your lip so hard you swore you’d leave a mark. You weren’t surprised that Tech knew about you and Hunter’s earlier session: Hunter always projected unconsciously once he was on sensory overload.

“That looks super cool, Shiv! I can’t wait to test it out.” Wrecker was grinning.

“Ah— sorry, Shiv. I need to grab this for a moment,” Tech said, just before moving forward and pressing his hand against your lower back. He grabbed something, then leaned back again and trailed his hand up your back.

Crosshair met your gaze across the room, his lips tilting up in a knowing smirk. His eyes swept over you, a hint of appreciation buried in his dark eyes. He said nothing, but you knew that he’d figured out exactly what was happening. You were past the point of embarrassment. Not only because your body was desperate, but also because the boys all quite clearly appreciated the projections over the Bonds and the sight of you being made a mess over and over.

The final jolt back into hyperspace proved to be too much for you. The way it pressed you wholly into Tech’s front and caused your clit to grind against his hip. The way your body clenched even wrenched a grunt from him.

The datapad fell from your weak fingers, clattering to the floor. Your head dropped down, your breaths quick and shallow as your entire face flushed, eyes fluttering closed. Lips parted, you peeled open drugged and teary eyes.

“Shiv? You okay?” Wrecker asked, looking at you in some surprise.

“Cruel, Tech,” Hunter’s amused voice came from the doorway. He jerked his head. “I’m going to go get some more shut-eye. Take care of her.” He disappeared down the hall.

“Huh?” Wrecker looked thoroughly confused.

Crosshair rolled his eyes. “Wrecker, she’s been sitting there for over a chron.”

Tech turned the chair to give Wrecker the full view. His hand slid up your thigh, bringing the edge of the shirt up as his hand traveled further up your hip and waist. “She’s been cockwarming me,” Tech said almost casually. “I wanted to see how sensitive she could get. A... pleasant experiment, if you will.”

You were shivering at that point, your mouth watering as tears slipped down your cheeks. The overstimulation was a pleasure you simultaneously wished would end and yet never stop. Your entire body felt like you were trying to completely melt into Tech, legs trembling.

Wrecker laughed, eyes lighting up. “Whoa Tech, I guess you really must have wanted it. A whole chron?” He shook his head, but his eyes trailed over you. “I mean, Shiv does look really pretty like that, though,” he admitted.

Crosshair approached, bending to tilt your chin up to his face with his finger. “Well, it looks like our little kitten is rather happy about your experiment. But also getting... desperate.” A smirk curled the corner of his lips as he stared at you through half-lidded eyes. “How... appealing.” He brushed a tear off of your chin, then straightened and walked back toward the door. “Take care of her, Tech. I’ll be back to talk to her once she’s... available.”

“Good luck, Shiv. I’m gonna go get a snack,” Wrecker said cheerfully, following Cross out the door with a wave.

“It seems as though we all liked the results of this experiment,” Tech remarked, sounding satisfied.

Your fingers curled in his shirt, nails scraping across his back. Lips parting, you breathed his name in a soft, half-drunk voice that dripped with pleasure. You wanted to cum, yes, but more than that, you wanted the satisfaction of hearing Tech praise you for not moving, for being good. Just his hand on your back and the steady affection that poured over the Bond was enough to make you seek more, whatever the means.

Tech shivered under you at the sound of his name spilling from your lips, and his fingers tightened on your waist. “You’ve done so well, cyar’ika,” he murmured, kissing your ear. “Thank you for being patient. Can I make it up to you, now?”

Your mouth watered at the idea, and you pulled back a little to be able to look up at his face. You knew you were a wreck, lips trembling and tear streaks down your face, but you wanted it. Wanted to ask.

“Can I-“ You swallowed thickly, feeling your face flush. “Can you...” You licked your lips. “In my mouth?”

Surprise flickered in his eyes for a moment, then he reached forward and cupped your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tear-tracks, and his eyes softened. “If that’s what you want, of course. But I’d like to make you feel good, first.”

Your mind fuzzed with confusion. Make you feel good? But that’s literally all you’d been feeling the whole time, wasn’t it? He was the one that hadn’t cum yet.

All remaining coherent thought flew out of your head the moment Tech’s fingers found your clit. He leaned forward, drawing you into a tender kiss that sharply contrasted the way he dragged his fingers against you. His hips snapped up into you once, and you broke.

You wailed.

The pent-up release that had been building as he edged you over and over had you seeing stars, fireworks, whole galaxies. It burst inside you with a heat that washed over you and stole your breath, searing into your bones and wrenching a shattered sob from your mouth. You hardly registered that Tech’s name was spilling from your lips in a litany of prayer, too wrecked to even remember your own name.

You slowly wound down from the devastating high, trembling, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your body sparked and shuddered, humming in the aftermath in a way that left a glowing ember of satisfied warmth deep inside you. Coming undone had never so intensely walked the line of pleasure just this side of pain.

Tech’s arms were wrapping around your waist, one hand coming up to cup your face as he pulled you to lean against him. You started to register his steady stream of praise as he kissed your cheek and trailed his lips down your neck and shoulder.

“You did so well, cyar’ika. You deserve to feel good. So pretty, cumming for me.”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you slowly recovered, your body all but boneless against his chest. Snuggling into him, you tucked your face into his neck and sighed softly. You just... wanted a moment. To just press against Tech and feel his presence, his hands gently skimming over you, soothing you.

“Are you okay?” Tech checked, his voice low and inquisitive.

You hummed and nodded against his shoulder, basking in the glow of the high. “Thank you, Tech,” you murmured shyly.

He coaxed your head back so he could press a soft kiss to your lips. “For what? You’re the one who had to put up with my experiment.” The words were half-teasing, but his thumb stroked over your cheek with a tenderness that showed his mild concern.

You shook your head, reaching up to delicately brush your fingers across his face, peering up from under your lashes. “You take really good care of me, even though you’re feeling it a lot too...”

He had to be almost on the verge of pain. The way he was still buried inside you at the moment gave you an acute knowledge of how much his cock was throbbing, straining inside you.

His breath came out a bit shaky. “You come first, cyar’ika.”

Reaching up, you pulled him into a grateful kiss. Before the 501st, and even then rarely, no one had ever put you first in anything. The way the Bad Batch had taken care of you even in the middle of war had been a first in so many ways. And even now, Tech had put your wellbeing and comfort first, before his own. You wanted to return the favor.

Tech leaned into the kiss, clearly growing desperate for relief. Still, the kiss was tender for all its hunger, and his hands smoothed over your waist gently.

Pulling back, you slid out of his lap and all but puddled to the floor, your knees completely weak after the force of your orgasm. Still, that’s all you needed. Scooting forward a little, you reached out and brushed your fingers against the swollen, almost purpled head of his weeping cock. He was straining, and he let out a hiss as your fingers dragged across him. A thought struck you, and you tilted your head.

“What do you want, Tech?” you asked, your fingers smearing with your own slick coating his cock. You looked up at him, wanting to please him in the way he wanted.

He lurched forward a little, then looked down at you and panted. “I— wh-what... I...”

You paused in your stroking, your thumb rubbing on the underside. “I want you to feel good, too.”

Before he could quite help himself or stop it, a thought rocketed across the Bond. Color burst in his neck, creeping up to the tips of his ears. Despite yourself, you had to stifle a giggle and instead smile a little, wholly unsurprised even if his reaction did amuse you.

Shuffling forward, you pulled your shirt up and over your head. You had to think about it for a moment, but you decided to just give it your best shot regardless of the potential awkwardness. For Tech... you’d try your best. You pushed yourself closer to his lap, letting his straining cock fall between your breasts. Reaching up, you pushed your chest together and felt the slick slide against your skin.

Tech let out a low, tortured groan that made your already-battered body pulse with appreciation. He shuddered, eyes squeezing shut as pure pleasure flashed across his face. His eyes peeled open in time to see you kitten lick the tip of his cock just peeking from between your breasts.

Readjusting yourself, you found a position that let you move a little bit while still having access for your mouth. Sliding lower, you took the whole head into your mouth. It had swollen to the point that it was almost a struggle to get it in your mouth. The moment the heat of your mouth hit his cock, he let out a strangled moan and lurched, shuddering.

“I’m not— not going to last, Shiv,” he gasped, his whole body starting to tremble.

You lifted your mouth. “S’okay, Tech,” you said shyly. “You can use me.”

You knew that he was close, but you really had underestimated the effect the visual was having on him. You’d just stretched your mouth open around him again when he let out a half-choked cry. It took you by surprise, not expecting it that quickly.

Taken off guard, the first burst into your mouth made you squeak. Every spurt of his cum kept gathering in your mouth faster than you could swallow, and soon your mouth was completely full. It started to trickle out of the corners of your mouth, while you braced yourself for balance by splaying your palm against Tech’s stomach. His hand reached down and tangled in your hair, twitching weakly as he groaned.

He was gasping for breath by the time he rode out his high. His fingers loosened, and your mouth popped off of his cock as you fell back onto the floor. Mouth still full, you whined in protest as it started to drip out of your mouth. Some splashed onto your chest, and you lifted your fingers to your lips as you swallowed. You still hadn’t swallowed all of it by the time you opened your mouth for breath, so more of it ended up on your chest.

You pouted a little, wishing you hadn’t wasted so much. Tech’s cum, for some reason, was just enough of that tangy-sweet flavor with a hint of salt to make you not hate it. Besides, now you’d have to clean yourself off more than you’d normally have to otherwise. Looking down, you smeared a bit over your chest with your slick fingers, sticking them in your mouth.

Tech had slumped over in his chair, getting his breath back.

You crawled up closer to him again, getting his attention. “Are you okay, Tech?” you asked, a little concerned.

Tech looked at you, and his eyes riveted on your mouth, trailing down to your chest. Swallowing thickly, he nodded. “Maker, yes,” he murmured, dragging a hand through his hair.

You smiled up at him. “I’m glad.” Looking back down at yourself, you hummed. “I should go clean up again...”

“Sorry,” Tech blurted.

You looked up, surprised. “F-for what?”

“I— I made a mess...” He glanced down at you. “Didn’t get to warn you.”

You giggled. “It’s okay, Tech. I don’t mind.” You gave him a smile, standing slowly to make sure your knees would get you to the fresher. Scooping up the T-shirt, you headed for the door. “I’ll be back.”

You cleaned up, pulling the T-shirt back over yourself before heading back to the common area. Finding your poor datapad, you picked it up from where you’d dropped it. Tech came up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you, Shiv. I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

You nodded back, giving him a smile. Turning back to your datapad, you decided to resume a bit of work you’d been doing. Taking a break from Wrecker’s gloves, you pulled up a series of footage you’d meant to assess from a recent mission. Hooking up the datapad to the holoscreen, you started to scrutinize the footage.

You’d wanted to see if you could better understand Crosshair’s personal preferences as far as vantage point and strengths went in order to better accommodate for him. Though you did know a few of his tells as a sniper, you still felt a little in the dark when it came to any patterns he had. You wanted to try to see if you could learn anything more, also wanting to see how he handled you as a weapon from an outsider’s perspective. Sometimes, it helped you adjust better.

As usual, you lost yourself in the familiar work and completely lost track of your surroundings. Hands wrapped around your waist, settling on your hips and bringing you out of your focused haze.

“Well, it looks like I found our little kitten doing something interesting,” a voice hummed into your ear, low and smooth.

Color leaped into your face as you gasped, pulled back into his chest. “O-oh, Crosshair...”

One hand anchoring your hip to him, his other hand started to trail up your front. “And what exactly were you doing, Shiv?” he drawled, lazy but not displeased.

You swallowed. “I— I was trying to analyze footage a little more,” you answered, voice pitching a little higher. “I just— I feel like I don’t know your preferences enough, and- and I wanted to see if I could do— do better for you—“

Crosshair’s fingers came up to your neck, tracing the side of your throat down to your shoulder. “Is that right? Don’t you think we should be the ones analyzing you a little more?”

The comment had something.... else to it. An edge that made you pause, tilting your head to look up into his face. Was he upset about something?

A soft sigh blew over your skin, the only way you even knew he’d done it at all. “We stood by and watched as you fought the Guardian and weren’t able to do anything. Didn’t even know you could fight like that. What’s the point in having you be our weapon if we don’t even know anything about you?”

You closed your eyes. “It’s not your fault if I didn’t tell you,” you pointed out quietly. “And I... I should have, I know. That’s on me, not you.”

Cross grunted. “You blame yourself too much,” he grumbled.

You gasped as his teeth sank into the crook of your neck, not hard enough to bruise but definitely enough for you to feel it. Your back arched automatically, though his fingers tightened around your throat and held your head back and neck accessible.

Your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers grappled against his trousers for some sort of stability. Everything seemed to be spinning, Crosshair’s mouth hot against your skin. His hand on your hip pulled you into him, and he ground against your ass in a way that left you squirming on the verge of embarrassment. He chuckled.

“Is my little kitten going to be good for me?” A hint of stubble rasped against your neck, leaving you shuddering.

“Yes,” you whimpered, already trembling. Cross may not have been physically as large or intimidating as Wrecker, but the lithe strength in his arms and the deft confidence of his thin, calloused fingers did something to you that left you utterly weak.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, voice slick. His hand slid under the oversized T-shirt, trailing up your hip. His fingers hooked on your underwear, playing with the fabric. His mouth moved lazily over the back of your neck as he tilted your head forward a little for access.

“Next time we make a stop, I think we’re going to have go get you some... things, hmm?” he remarked casually, just as his hand twisted.

The underwear snapped, slipping off of your hips and leaving you feeling oddly... vulnerable. You trusted Crosshair with your life, of course. But somehow... you felt so much more self-conscious around him than the others. Maybe it was the way you couldn’t read him as easily as the others? Or just the way he tended to not be as expressive as the others toward you? What was it that made you cherish his affection in such a different way compared to the others?

Crosshair nudged you forward, letting your hands land against the holotable for support. His other hand let go of your hip, only to slide your shirt up over your back before reaching back to unzip his trousers.

“You seemed to enjoy Tech’s experiments,” he noted, fingers sliding around your hip. His fingers spread you open, revealing how slick you were already. “And do you think you can take me too?”

You nodded faintly, then gasped as his cock slid against you. “I don’t think I heard you, kitten,” he drawled.

“Y-yes, I-I can,” you stammered, already shivering. Your body felt hypersensitive, both from your previous session with Tech as well as the way Cross somehow knew exactly how to touch you in every sensitive spot. Had he really observed you that much-?

He slid two fingers into your mouth, letting you suck on them as he kept a vise-like grip on your jaw. The movement was simple, but the way it made you feel so completely controlled, trapped between him and the table, made you go pliant. He handled your body as confidently as he did your Rifle form, tracing over you with a sort of muted reverence that you began to recognize as your memory drew parallels. The confidence was reassuring, as though he were subconsciously saying that you could trust him, that he knew how to handle you expertly, that you could leave it in his capable hands.

You whimpered around his fingers as your mind fully leaned into the reassurance, leaving you open and pliant to him.

“That’s right, Shiv.” Crosshair’s voice slid around you, through you. “Bend over.”

You obeyed almost without thinking, sliding down onto your elbows and then completely collapsing against the table. The cool metal pressed against your cheek, and your eyes fluttered closed as your breath shallowed. Your lips parted in a soft moan as you felt Cross start to slide into you.

For a moment, he only kept the tip in you, letting you flutter around him and adjust. Then he reached down and pulled both of your legs up, pushing them up on the table so you looked like you were in a sitting position, your legs both on one side and pulled against his hip. His fingers wrapped around your ankle like a vise, just as he thrust up into you.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the table as you choked.

It was the first time Cross had actually penetrated you, and it was already about to drive you over the edge. His cock was long, and while not as thick as Tech, it definitely stretched you in different ways. He pressed up inside you in depths you didn’t know were possible. You swore you could taste him in your throat, he was so far inside you.

Bending over you, Cross started to mercilessly fuck up into you, barely giving you a moment to breathe. The way he had your legs together and bent up put a pressure on your clit that spiked every time he bottomed out; and at the pace he’d set, you could feel yourself careening closer to the edge. He grunted, his iron grasp on your hips definitely about to leave bruises littered over your skin.

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling so he could lower his mouth back onto your throat. Every other thrust was punctuated with a sloppy kiss to your neck, a contrast that only made you moan louder. Your body rocked with the brutal pace, and you could swear that Cross was molding you around his cock.

Somewhere in the jumble of your mind, his name managed to slur off of your tongue. You weren’t sure how or why, but your mind was starting to blur and fuzz, focusing solely on the way Crosshair’s body was hunched over yours, his hands controlling you so deftly, taking control over your body, your pleasure. Everything else faded into the background, until all you knew was him, and the way his fingers wrapped around your throat as he fucked you into the table.

You weren’t sure how long you drifted in the haze, but when you managed to focus, you found yourself gazing up into Crosshair’s dark eyes. His thin lips tilted in a smug smile as he noticed.

“Looks like someone’s back.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well then. How about you cum for me, hmm?” a hint of amused indulgence laced his tone. “You want it Shiv, don’t you? To cum all over me like the cock-dumb kitten you are?”

You whined, the pressure around your throat grounding you just enough to keep you present. The pleasure kept flowing through your body like a steady, unrelenting stream, smothering you. You did want it. Wanted to please him.

He leaned closer, not letting up his pace as his hips continued to snap up into you. “Such a good kitten,” he murmured, “with my fingers wrapped around your pretty little throat. Cum for me, Shiv. Show me how good I make you feel.”

It drove you off the cliff. Your orgasm seemed to burst from inside you, rippling up through your veins, your limbs, arching your body. It sent a wave of white heat washing through you, leaving you weak and completely lax in its wake. A sob spilled weakly from your lips as you opened tear-filled eyes to focus on him through the pleasure.

Crosshair let go of your throat, his jaw clenching as he stared down at your face. His hips started to stutter, his chest heaving with breath.

Swallowing thickly, you reached up and traced the tattoo that ringed his eye and trailed down his cheek. “Please, Cross,” you murmured dreamily. “Please, cum inside me.”

His shoulders locked as he snapped his hips into you one last time. A low groan hissed between his gritted teeth as he came, still buried deep inside you.

The liquid heat pooled inside you, and your eyelashes fluttered with contentment.

Crosshair's breath washed over your ear. "You're ours, Shiv," he murmured, voice husky with the high.

"Yours," you repeated obediently, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt. Sleepiness plucked heavily at your eyes, the aftermath of three sessions tugging insistently at your consciousness.

"Mmm, fresher first, kitten," Cross chided. His arms slid around you, lifting you up as he slid out of you.

You whined in protest, leaning against his shoulder, even though you knew he was right. Everything was too comfortable, the sleepiness heavy and warm.

"I'll take you to Wrecker's bunk once you're done. Clean up." Cross stayed unmovable, his voice dry as he set you down on your feet in front of the fresher.

But you still clung to his shirt for another moment, looking up at his angled face and dark eyes. A wistfulness flitted through you as you wished that you could stay with him for a little while longer. But you didn't want to ask, didn't want to bother him.

He raised an eyebrow, his hand on your waist steadying your weak legs. "Unless you want to start dripping everywhere, Shiv," he glanced pointedly down at you, "though I wouldn't complain." He smirked.

You swallowed, then looked down. "O-okay," you mumbled, shuffling into the fresher. Even as you sluggishly cleaned yourself though, you had to swallow back a few tears. You weren't entirely sure why, but something in you so desperately craved to be near Cross, to just receive some form of quiet reassurance from him through just a touch or word that he... he cared.

Shaking your head and smearing away the tears, you sucked in a steadying breath and walked back out of the fresher. You'd slowly lost some article of clothing to each of them along the way, so now all you had was the oversized T-shirt. Wobbling back out, you found yourself a bit startled to see Cross still standing there by the doorway, a toothpick clenched between his teeth.

He jacked himself off of the wall and approached you. Bending a little, he picked you up effortlessly and began walking down the hallway of the ship. Ducking into a room, he walked over to the bed.

Wrecker looked up in surprise. "Oh, Cross, Shiv." He grinned. His head tilted as he observed you. "You alright, Shiv?"

You nodded faintly, not trusting your voice not to break. Cross set you down on the bed, while Wrecker shifted over to make room. Then Cross rolled his eyes.

"Move, Wrecker."

"Alright, alright, I'm moving," Wrecker whined, shuffling to the back of his bunk. Lying down next to you, he reached out and gently pulled your back to his chest, wrapping his large arm around your waist. His warmth pressed up behind you, easing some of the pain that curled in your chest.

Then, to your surprise, Crosshair slid into the bunk in front of you. Wordlessly, eyes half-lidded, he scooted closer and ran his hand down your side.

Hesitantly, you squirmed closer, tangling your fingers in the chest of his shirt again. You could feel the warmth of his body under your fingertips, and you bit your lip and glanced up at him tentatively.

Something flickered through his eyes as he gazed down at you, his hand gripping your thigh. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Your eyes widened, and you immediately shook your head adamantly. "No!" you blurted, your face crumpling despite yourself. "No-" your voice cracked.

Cross sighed, his thumb stroking over your bare skin. "You seem hesitant around me."

Tears welled in your eyes. "No— I-I'm just never sure if... if I'm bothering you, and-" You sniffled, the ache in your chest deepening. "I—I look up to you so much, Cross," you confessed. "Every time you let me Transfer with you and- and I can be near you or with you, I... it makes me feel so safe. I just-" your shoulders hitched, "I want to make you happy, but I feel like... like I never know if it's okay to get close to you. I don't want to bother you..."

Crosshair pulled you closer, tucking your leg up over his hip so you fit against him like a puzzle piece. "You don't bother me, Shiv," he said, voice low. "We've all been... worried about you."

You nodded, pushing your face into his chest. You decided to take the risk and reached out over the Bond, asking for attention. The Bond lit with acknowledgement, more subdued than the others' but still undeniably there. Crosshair's attention was quietly intense, making up for its more subtle nature.

Shyly, you pushed across your feelings. The way you felt safe around him, the way you looked up to his stern concentration of his craft, his diligence in working, his attention to keeping his teammates safe. The way whenever his lithe fingers handled you, whether weapon or body, it soothed and comforted you regardless of what was happening. The way you wanted his approval, his attention.

Cheeks flushing, you peeked up at him from where you'd buried your face into his chest. A hint of a smile crossed his thin lips, and his dark eyes softened as they observed you.

Reaching up, he brushed his thumb across your cheek. "Good girl, cod'ika," he murmured.

Relief burst through you as he accepted your feelings. Even though all you felt over the Bond was a soft pulse of acknowledgement and a hint of pleased affection, it was more than enough. Cross didn't need to say much to make his point, and you realized better than before that every word he spoke to you was deliberate, honest. None of his words even in the heat of pleasure were idle or empty. You clung to the knowledge, soothed with the reassurance that Cross did care, in his own unique way.

"Thank you," you whispered shyly, knowing that he didn't have to reassure you. But he cared enough about you to listen, to answer.

Wrecker grumbled behind you, scooting forward so he pressed more tightly against your back. "Share a little, Cross," he groaned, "Shiv is soft and warm and I wanna feel."

Cross rolled his eyes, the moment broken. "Selfish."

"Hey!" Wrecker protested, leaning his chin against the top of your head. "You're the selfish one here-"

You giggled, tugging at Wrecker's hand to drape over both you and Crosshair. "Let me take a nap, Wrecker, and then I'll let you cuddle more," you promised. Letting out a wide yawn, you snuggled into both of them. "Love you," you murmured sleepily.

"Love you too, Shiv!" Wrecker squeezed you.

"Kar'taylir darasuum, cod'ika," Crosshair murmured in your ear.

You fell asleep to warmth, content.

Taglist:

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@alis-gore

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@anoushe01

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badgirlcovenrep · 3 years

Text

The Goddess' Blessing (of a daughter)

Chapter One

(NOTES: the raylla adopts Tiffany fic everyone's been asking for

this is going on AO3 once I get home from my sister's but I wanted to post here first. If you'd rather read it there follow me and I'll post once it's officially in there.

Obs: Tiffany is six in this. Mostly because I wanted to write our witch moms carrying their baby and canonically she's like ten so..... and she's also like severely traumatized. We'll get to the healing soon enough though.

+ Edwin is the best papa. And Scylla has p much already adopted this kid, she just doesn't know it yet.

It's half past six p.m when their train screeches to a halt at the Chippewa station. In all the chaos of the last couple of weeks, Scylla hadn't realized Yule was well on it's way. It is still mid November, but the station has been prematurely decked in civilian Christmas decorations, and almost every wall and corner twinkles in golden speckles and fake pine.

Tiffany had been dozing in and out of sleep on the bench next to her, holding tight to her stuffed parrot as well as Scylla's coat sleeve with her restless small hands that spasmed in pure energy even as she slept. Since coming back from Nicte's mission, Scylla had been in a frenzy to get everything ready for their trip, and Tiffany had followed her around the (no longer safe) safe house, clinging on to her attention with wide blue eyes. She'd always liked kids. Before everything happened Scylla even used to babysit for dodger families.

It was never a lot of money, but she appreciated the levity and humor kids carried. They had hope Scylla prayed she could one day get back. Hope that could only come from the fleeting innocence of childhood. But even then, Tiffany was special, she still had all those wonderful, bright things, and she carried them in bulk, spilling out of her tiny little hands for anyone to see.

Yet she was also touched by things so horrible Scylla sometimes shuddered awake in the dead of night, when her mind conjured up terrible nightmares of being in her place. Of being squeezed into a tiny cage, fed dog food, strung up on a stage as masked psychopaths snickered and passed around stones bigger than fists. It showed, sometimes, in how every once in a while her expression became somber and reserved. How she stopped mid-sentence, and Scylla could see the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes.

It reminded her of Raelle - Raelle, who'd sat in her bed just yesterday and snacked on the stupid expensive popcorn her mother had bought - Raelle, who also carried so much darkness behind her strong, steady demeanor - those were the parts of her Scylla couldn't help but want to protect, and as a result, those feelings also extended to Tiffany. Scylla lost a lot of people in her life, and she'd decided the day she found the child's parents that she would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Just like she wished someone might have done for her. Because that sort of hidden, desolate pain could just as well transform itself into something entirely awful if exploited the right way.

People around her start getting up from their seats, reaching to the compartments for their luggage, there aren't many of them making their way up North this time of year but they still fill the cart in humming conversations, deciding on what to do next or where to get dinner. Scylla takes this as her cue to skim her fingers through Tiffany's hair, gently nudging her awake, "Hey, T, wake up, we're here."

The little girl sits up, bleary eyed, and yawns, looking around at the commotion, "it's already Christmas?" She asks, catching a glimpse of the boisterous decorations set up outside.

"Not yet, no." Scylla chuckles, getting up from her seat to retrieve their own bags - they had everything the two could think to bring, and yet were still not much. A duffel bag for Scylla and purple backpack for Tiffany, with unicorn stickers and colorful buttons sewn to the front. Scylla had retrieved it, along with some toys and clothes, from the girl's home, "People just love decorating early."

"Oh." Tiffany quips, as Scylla helps her fit her arms into the straps of her backpack, then takes her hand in a steady grip once they are done, pulling the young girl towards the door to leave the train, "The lights are pretty!" She exclaims happily, blinking in wide eyed wonder.

Outside, November has definitely made itself known, and Scylla is glad they are both warm in their coats as the wind bites her cheeks until they turn a dark blush. She looks around for Edwin, not sure she'll recognize him from the pictures she'd seen Willa scatter around the house, but still willing to try.

For a second, in that moment, she thinks this might not have been a good idea. When Scylla agreed to it, she'd admittedly not been in her full faculties, brain too preoccupied with seeing Raelle again after so long to completely comprehend what she'd been offered.

After everything that happened, she can't help but be a little nervous to meet the father of her ex (?), the same girl she still very much loved. The girl who had run back to her in that dark forest a day before and clung onto her face until all they could breathe was each other.

If she thought too much about it, Scylla could still feel the soft, almost painful impact of her lips as Raelle knocked her off her balance and breathed fire into her chest like molten lava. It'd been so long, she almost forgot the kind of power Raelle had when she kissed. Like she was always on the verge of tasting your very soul. Their whole day back together before was so very delicate and tentative, air fizzling with electricity like the tension of a bow, pulled tight with an arrow ready to shoot.

The time they've been separated her heart was squeezed tight under an elastic band. Whenever she stopped to think, even for a minute, she could feel it taught, so very strained, reaching from the very inside of her ribs. It was there from the very start. The tightness was what propelled her diaphragm into breathing Raelle in that very first night they spent together, even if she knew she shouldn't, and then, it was what kept them orbiting around each other like their very own solar system. Never too far apart. Always wishing to be closer.

When they kissed in the clearing, hairs messy with the wild strumming of the bat just a few feet away, for the first time, she felt like the band released. The invisible string, so very tight, loosening from under her heart to extend around the both of them and wrap them in what Scylla could only describe as exhilarating, shaking relief. The touch of Raelle's cotton gloves, that she never thought she'd feel again - the taste of her lips, like blood and rain droplets and a mouthful of just her.

It left Scylla running on a high since she walked away from Raelle just the day before, in the early hours of the morning.

It's not how she hoped she'd meet Raelle's dad. Deep down, no matter how much she tried not to, Scylla had imagined herself, more than once, coming to the Cession hand in hand with the blonde fixer. In love and together, going home to meet the parents. It's bittersweet to be here with Tiffany instead, and she has to squeeze the young witch's hand slightly to ground herself from the urge to run.

To just take the child's small body in her arms and run- leave the station in lieu of a cheap motel, one with vending machines, where they could hide from the world a little longer.

When the witch looks down, however, Tiffany smiles reassuringly back at her, squeezing her hand slightly in return, and Scylla can't help the wave of affection that washes over her.

"Excuse me? Are you Scylla and Tiffany?" A voice coming from behind wakes them back from the moment, and when they turn, both come face to face with Edwin Collar.

Scylla's sure it's him. If not because he does still look quite a lot like the pictures she's seen, then because the necromancer can definitely see the telltale signs of Raelle written all over his face. It's mostly there in the kind drop of his eyelids, and the way his mouth creates tiny wrinkles of soft skin when he smiles, but it's there, nonetheless.

"Yes, we are, nice to meet you, Mr. Collar." Scylla greets, settling down her bag to shake his hand.

"Of course, it's amazing to finally meet you. Raelle talked you up a storm," he declares, chuckling proudly, "only good things, I assure."

"Oh, I'm sure I don't deserve that." She let's out, hoping it sounded more playful than it feels for her.

"Nonsense. You seem like a kind girl." The man decides, with a solemn nod, before turning to Tiffany, "and you- Tiffany, I'm very happy to have you with me this week as well, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together."

"Thank you, Mr. Collar." The small blonde replies, half-hiding herself behind Scylla's pant leg.

"Let's go then. It's getting cold." Edwin finally declares, taking Scylla's bag from the floor without a question. The girl goes to complain, but he cuts her off before she can - "and don't fight me on this. Raelle also never let's me carry her bags, for once I'd love to help."

Scylla still wants to protest. Mostly because she feels that they have already asked so much - and she doesn't quite deserve the kindness - but he seems sincere, so she nods instead, and with the affirmative, all three begin their way to the parking lot.

"Is Raelle your friend?" Tiffany asks innocently, skipping happily over her boots.

"Uh- she- yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Well, you said we were going to a friend's dad's house." Tiffany notes. "Where is Raelle then?"

"About that-" Edwin stops in his step, "did you see her? How is she?" He asks, an uneasy tension settling over his demeanor as he studies Scylla for answers, "they told me she was alive but that was it-"

"She's okay. I saw her yesterday, she was well." The brunette assures, and that seems to send a wave of relief over the man, who breathes deeply before continuing their walk along the various cars.

"Oh, thank goodness." He sighs, "when those people took her I thought- I'm so glad she's okay."

"Yeah. We were all worried." Scylla declares. And this, she can relate to. The way he cares so much for Raelle, it spills into the very movement of his expressions. It's familiar, and it warms her heart. She decides right then that she likes Edwin.

"Did the bad people take Raelle too?" Tiffany questions, frowning in scared surprise as they reach Edwin's old truck.

Scylla sighs, not having revealed much of the mission she'd gone on the day before. She knew it'd be scary for her. Tiffany was still very much traumatized, and rightfully so, after everything she'd been through. But Tiffany was also very smart- and observant. She'd catch up eventually and Scylla feels stupid for not dealing with this before coming.

"Yeah. They tried to hurt her, but me and her other friends didn't let them." The necromancer assures, as she helps the girl into the backseat and clicks in her seatbelt, "she's okay now. We're all safe here."

"Oh- Okay." Tiffany nods, but Scylla can see the doubt shining under her eyes.

Scylla wishes she knew what to say, but words fail her, so she squeezes the girl's hand reassuringly once more, winking in what she hopes is humorous solidarity, before closing the door.

***

Raelle's house is just like she imagines- small, rustic - surrounded by a thick canopy of trees and bushes. It reminds her of the places she used to stay with her parents, scattered over random cities all over the U.S. Scylla likes it.

"It isn't much, but we always have warm dinner and pancakes in the morning." Edwin quips, humbly, as he leads the pair of witches to Raelle's room, "you can stay here. Hope it is comfortable."

"This is more than enough, Edwin." Scylla smiles gratefully, "it's too much, really. Thank you for letting us stay."

"Nonsense." He waves his hand with a half embarrassed chuckle, "It's good to have people here again. After Rae and Tally left everything feels a lot quieter." Scylla nods in agreement, as the man turns to leave the room, the two witches inside watching him carefully, "You guys should change and rest a bit- I'll call you for dinner.

Scylla thanks him, and waits until the door clicks behind his back to turn her attention to the luggage that had been settled over a random chair. The room is filled with so much Raelle, she can't help but notice the letters, pictures, memories and song lyrics, glued to every single wall, from a time before Fort Salem, before them.

The blonde used to leave notes on her dorm walls back at Fort Salem. Lots of silly things like "I'll be back after training" or "You fight people in your sleep. It's cute.". Scylla wonders if they are still there or if they've been taken by the army when she was captured. It doesn't matter anymore, the necro realizes, and she shakes her head in an effort to bring her attention back to the room.

"You should put on some pajamas." Scylla says toward Tiffany, who sat, grievously quiet, at Raelle's bed.

She looked thoughtful, in a way regular six year olds don't quite show unless they have to go through way too much. Her small, bright eyes hide barely concealed darkness as she shifts her looks everywhere but at the older witch.

Scylla sighs, finding this place - this relationship - so very painfully familiar. She'd been the scared little girl last time, feeling so very small and alone. And now, as the adult, she was definitely going to try her best not to fuck it. As difficult as it might be. The world didn't need another suffering witch.

After a few minutes of silence, Scylla realizes she was not going to get an answer, so she opens the girl's backpack and fishes out a pair of mermaid themed leggings and t-shirt, along with the small bag that carried her tooth and hair brushes along with some other toiletries. Scylla places the items by Tiffany on the mattress, kneeling in front of the young witch and studying her clear, soft little face.

"Hey. Are you feeling alright?"

"Are the bad men coming here to hurt us?" Tiffany asks, instead of a response, and Scylla frowns in worry.

"No, of course no-"

"They came and took Raelle too." Tiffany notices, tears escaping from her eyelids that Scylla dries up with her thumb, "and they hurt Miss Willa, the other kids' at the office and my mommy and daddy. What if they come here again? What if they really hurt us this time?" As the questions stumble out of her mouth, sobs begin to wreck across her throat until she's shaking, ever so slightly, with the force of her tears and heavy, panicked breathing.

Scylla sighs and rises from the ground to cuddle the girl close to her chest, squeezing tight until she can feel Tiffany's little arms squeeze her back. Scylla's afraid too - most of the time, if she allowed herself to be honest - Ever since watching Raelle leave her in that cell the year before, the girl could feel even more perfectly the path of death and destruction that marked their (the witches') way through the world.

One of the bad things about being a necro - Death didn't like not being known, and it showed itself insistently, to anyone able to notice.

"We don't know whether or not they'll come again." Scylla ends up responding, sincerely, as she squeezes her arms even tighter around the little girl, "but I won't let them hurt you, you hear me? I dealt with them before, I can deal with them again."

"No" Tiffany shakes her head, frowning up at her in teary-eyed fear, "You too. You're safe too. I don't want you to get hurt either."

"Hey." Scylla forces out a chuckle, trying to lighten up the situation for the young witch's sake, "don't be silly, ok? I'm pretty much invincible."

Tiffany doesn't laugh, her breathing having somewhat returned to normal. The girl just stares back at Scylla with a seriousness that's all too unfair, coming from a six year old, and she reaches out, her pinky finger lifted in expectation, "Pinky promise you'll be safe too? Please?"

Scylla knows she shouldn't. The truth is, she doesn't know what will happen. After their plan to capture Nicte was said and done, Scylla barely had any idea what she would be doing now. But Tiffany obviously needs the reassurance, from the way she stares ever so desperately at the necro's face.

"Okay, I pinky promise." Scylla smiles, trying to convey some calm toward the other girl as she let her pinky link with the smaller one. It seems to work, as Tiffany's expression softens and her tense posture falls, "now let's get you under a shower and into some pajamas, ok? You're a very smelly little witch right now."

"Am not!" Tiffany replies, and Scylla can't help but full on laugh this time, pulling the small girl to Raelle's bathroom as she mockingly protests.

Second chapter is almost done, just needs to be read over for mistakes. For C2, Raelle calls home, Scylla meets old dodger friends and she also has an important conversation with Edwin.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

#motherland fort salem #scylla ramshorn #raelle collar #raelle x scylla #motherland: fort salem #raylla #taylor hickson #amalia holm #mfs tiffany #tiffany mfs

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stupidfatpenguin · 3 years

Text

“Do you think it’ll work?”

Luke mulls over the question and watches Grogu by the pond where he skilfully stalks an unsuspecting amphibian, only occasionally halting his pursuit to look to where his father and Luke have escaped the heat in the temple shade, observing them with a hunter’s surveying eyes before returning to his prey.

Not for the first time Luke wonders just what kind of predator this species must be, if they have any natural enemies, and if all are so in tune with the Force as Grogu is and Yoda had been.

“It might.”

Din sighs when he hears the answer, even though Luke had given it with optimism. There is a sort of lingering desperation to him lately that he works hard to conceal, but which only serves to further endear him to Luke, like so many things about him do. But even the Jedi is starting to feel his patience wearing thin.

Grogu’s impression that the marks Din left on him in private moments were hurting Luke had been amusing initially, albeit a little embarrassing. He had thought the youngling’s protective impulse sweet, a reflection of his father’s own near self-sacrificing tendencies, but even Luke had failed to predict the extent of which they would be acted on.

follow up to ‘a healing touch’ read more below the cut, or read the rest on ao3

At first, it was like they had made a game of it: Din’s arsenal of experience and skills as a hunter pitted against Grogu’s stubbornness and control of the Force.

Grogu had quickly realised that the “harm” that befell him happened in the night-time when he could not watch them for any signs of their presumed fighting. Luke had laughed himself stupid when Din had told him about the night in the corridor, when his son had caught him on his way to Luke’s rooms and had consequently begun finding ways to sleep in them to ensure that his father wouldn’t lay hands on him, but the humour had begun to fade when Grogu’s insistence began testing his own restraint.

The other day, the tension built up from their days of unintended abstinence had snapped. They had retorted to hiding away in the hangar once Grogu was put down for a nap, finding each other in greedy moments stolen in Din’s ship and promises given with such fervour Luke could still feel it when he pressed the bruises on his hips that had lingered long after.

The marks had been left with more care, still red and vicious with the evidence of ardour and claim, but below the collar of the tunics and shirts Luke had begun wearing more rigidly—even on the days the heat and humidity was no less than choking.

Of course, even that effort had been in vain when Grogu, the very next day, had climbed Luke’s back to seek his attention, pulled the shirt just so and found the evidence of their rendezvous.

Grogu’s increased vigilance (and the aid of his abilities that he was gaining control over so rapidly Luke had begun to wonder if he drew some sort of motivation from his mislead scheme to “protect” him) had made it even harder to find any sort of respite.

It wasn't that he required the sex—the appeal of the Mandalorian he had invited to his bed went far beyond this after all—but it was, admittedly, nice. To feel wanted, and to feel desired the way he did when Din’s mouth and hands were on his skin, to feel so deeply and overwhelmingly loved the way he did when Din’s eyes stared into his in the aftermath, lax with devotion and bliss.

Now, this silly misunderstanding had made those moments scarce. Standing close was now a cause of scrutiny. A prolonged touch would be cause for distraction or interruption. They couldn’t even attempt to spar—Grogu was quick to pull Din away from him if he ever reached for a weapon. Neither he nor Din could tell how much longer this could go on for.

So he has to try. He will have to try and explain to Grogu that what is between his father and Luke is something good that he doesn’t need protecting from. Something that had over time become something strong and unrelenting, something so bright and infatuating that the only way to describe it with words would be… love.

He glances at Din, tripping nervously beside him, and feels his own love for this man swell in him then. “It might be best if you leave us alone for this. I have a feeling you will be too much of a distraction right now.”

Din looks like he wants to disagree, but his son meets his gaze then with a large, blue frog stuck in sharp teeth, and he thinks that Luke might be right.

“Alright,” he says to Luke. “I’ll be inside if you need me. I should get dinner started.”

He steps close to Luke, as if to kiss him goodbye as he would often do, but now he hesitates, nods instead and goes to do as he has said.

Luke watches him leave and feels an aching bitterness he hasn't really felt before at being denied such a simple thing, and vows then that he must find a way to end this silly misunderstanding—to free Din once more to the whims of his own wants that he had kept locked away so tightly under his beskar, until one day Luke had woken to lips on his shoulder and the helmet had stopped staying on when they were alone, the three of them… or even just the two of them.

He turns to his student and calls out.

“Grogu!”

The child turns to him at once like a magnet to its opposite pole and radiates an admiration and sense of belonging that never fails to make Luke feel like maybe he can be a teacher to this child in spite of all the ways he falls short.

“Come here! I want to ask you something.”

They sit down in the grass as if to meditate, but it is not the depths of the Force they’ll be exploring today.

Luke is suddenly uncertain where to start, wonders just how Grogu comprehends concepts such as family and love beyond his bond to Din… and that really is the key, isn’t it? As if a light clears away the cloudy darkness, it becomes obvious to him that this is one way to go about this.

“Grogu,” he begins, gaining the child’s unwavering attention as he reaches out to him, lets their thoughts and feelings mingle until a clear, unperturbed connection has formed between them.

Master, he senses the thought, laced with anticipation and excitement, but kept calm, as he had likely been taught on Coruscant. Grogu’s mind flashes to a memory that shows that this is indeed true, but before he can tell Luke more of this training Luke sends an impression of Din—of when Luke had first met the two, on the bridge of the Imperial light cruiser to which he had followed Grogu’s call.

“Show me.”

Grogu knows his meaning at once, and his presence fills with feelings and impression, something that had started small and uncertain but had grown and grown, a love so bright and pure and at the centre of it all is Din. The memories flitter by so quickly—some familiar, others are new to him—but in the mass of them is Grogu’s undeniable sentiment. Father. Clan. Safe.

Luke smiles, encouraging. “Yes. That feeling. Remember it well. It is the love that created your bond with him.”

Father. Warm, safe, love. Grogu radiates joy and content, and Luke reflects it, touched deeply by the love between the two, of all they have been through that had brought them together.

“Now,” Luke waits for Grogu to prepare, and then sends an impression of himself. “Show me our bond.”

What happens then is unexpected. It is almost overwhelming. The sense of belonging and gratitude and adoration and awe—and Luke is suddenly beginning to realise that Grogu’s depth of affection towards himself has grown far deeper than he had thought to anticipate.

Love? Grogu suddenly asks, and for a moment Luke is struck silent until it dawns on him that—yes, that is exactly what this is.

“Yes.” He breathes the word between them, but it rings loud and certain over their bond. “This, too… it is not so dissimilar to the way your father loves you.”

Grogu preens with this knowledge, is then a vast sea of impressions of moments between his father and himself, between Grogu and Luke, and they are all filled with such bubbling emotions of warm, safe, happy, love, love, love, that the Force itself seems to hum with them.

Luke stills a laugh that is ready to spill from his chest; he must reign this back onto the path he has set. Focus, little one.

I focus.

Luke marks his approval, and then heeds his own instructions.

“Now. Come search my feelings.”

He bids Grogu come into his own mind, and once he has Luke begins sharing his own impressions of Din up through their time together, careful to filter away any thoughts or feelings that he would not have his young student know, but the aching feelings he holds for Din remains, and his heart is light with them as he lets himself feel them, too, in their purest form.

Grogu, he finds, is focusing carefully, but there is something akin to confusion in him, even as the words in his thoughts appear clear and bright.

Master… love?

“That’s right,” Luke encourages, focusing on the feeling of relief that washes over him whenever Din’s ship enters the atmosphere, chasing away a lingering loneliness he sometimes still struggles to let go of. “What is between your father and I—it is a little different. But this, too, is love.”

The inevitable impression of himself, covered in bruises that seem far larger and more concerning than they do in actuality, flows through their bond.

Father hurt Master Luke.

Luke wonders for a long moment how to possibly go about this.

“He doesn't hurt me,” he says, truthfully. “It’s… it’s how he shows he loves me.”

Confusion continues to flitter through their connection, and Luke decides suddenly what might convey this the best.

He sends an impression of Din leaving. Of his ship breaking the atmosphere and of Grogu watching with his Mudhorn pendant grasped between his hands. Then, he shows an impression of himself, fingers touching the mark on his neck, and sends a pulse of longing and waiting through the bond.

So that I can remember him when he is not here.

The confusion gives way to a a slow dawning of understanding.

Luke wonders at his own resourcefulness.

Grogu retreats fully from his mind, and Luke lets him go, feels like something has changed in him. They sit bathing in the afternoon light, a serene sort of calm between them.

Grogu moves first, gets up and walks slowly over to Luke, who pulls him into his lap when he reaches for him.

“Do you see it now, Grogu?”

The child coos and emits nothing but affirmation, and he begins pulling on the sleeve of Luke’s left arm. Luke humours him, lets him touch and study the skin there… and is too late to stop him when he bites down on his arm with a chomp.

tl;dr: Luke explains love and relationships to Grogu. He succeeds--in a way.

#fic: a healing touch #dinluke #i'm sorry i can't stop #Grogu is too funny #I really just wrote 1.9k words to get to the punchline of this joke #deep sigh #salty writes

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nox-artemis · 3 years

Text

Kentaro Miura

It took me awhile to get my thoughts in order. Honestly, as well intentioned as they are, a constant stream of fan tributes on Twitter and Tumblr more-or-less telling me how to process “The End” of Berserk with Miura’s death didn’t do a lot to console me, so I had to take some huge steps away from social media and only conversed my feelings with my other close Berserk fan-friends.

It was very surreal waking up yesterday morning to a friend messaging me simply saying, “did you hear the news?” When shit like that happens, I go onto my Google stories app and scroll through. I didn’t find anything really worth getting too upset over (maybe a bit sad that Queen Elizabeth II’s doggo died?) so it hit me to check my Twitter feed instead.

And that’s when I saw it.

We all know death is inevitable, and life is pretty much spent prolonging the point to that inevitability as well as preparing ourselves for when it happens to us or someone close to us. Being part of the Berserk fandom was the only time we all collectively had this on our mind not only for someone else but for someone we never met or really knew that much about. We only knew Miura through his magnum opus – and that was good enough for us. And no matter how much we discussed the worst-case scenario – pondering how the story would continue and how WE would continue – it still wasn’t enough to prepare us for this amount of shock. Hearing Miura had died and that the Berserk we know and love under his direct supervision is over truly felt like losing a long-lost friend.

It wasn’t just that the Berserk we know of is “over”, but that Miura didn’t have to die. He was only 54: not a young age, but not an old age either, especially by today’s standards. He could have seen the end to his magnum opus the way he envisioned it, yet he died of something so avoidable but is only brought about by a great deal of stress (from what I’ve read). It was always a morbid open rumor that so many of Miura’s infamous hiatuses were actually mental and/or physical health breaks, so the older or more conscious of us fans, while always eager and anxious for a new chapter, learned to not take them so personally. Miura was a spellbinding artist and storyteller, but he was also a human with his own life and conflicts that he was entitled to address at his own pace. This isn’t meant to blame anyone (at the very least, maybe to address some societal/industry issues), but it’s troubling enough to remind everyone – as the story of Berserk has demonstrated – that you need to take care of yourself physically and mentally, and while everyone struggles in life, you don’t have to struggle alone.

I always despised this weird cult of youth that insinuates that life isn’t worth pursuing once you hit your mid-thirties, and how some people so engulfed in their youth insist that they wouldn’t mind dying by the age of 50 or 60. It’s a shame when people live by that because there’s so much to live for beyond your youth – as I’ve learned, I only started buckling down when I transitioned into my thirties. Miura could have had a longer life ahead of him, going beyond Berserk and into his other endeavors, professional and personal, but that will unfortunately never happen now.

Everyone knows I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on Berserk. Most of you found out about me through my blogging several years ago, and I’m pretty proud that I was never the sort of fan that groveled at Miura’s feet and treated Berserk as some untouchable holy book: there were things I disliked about Berserk and things that disappointed me about Miura’s writing, but there were SO MANY MORE THINGS that I loved about Berserk and was proud of Miura for, and I wished him to continue his advancement in narrative growth. He did so and we watched it happened.

And, by meeting so many friends and acquaintances through the fandom, we saw a lot in ourselves change too. It’s surreal how we always joked that it would be one of us fans who would die before Berserk ended or the worst-case scenario of Miura dying; maybe some of us secretly preferred for that happen. But when we weren’t waiting around for another chapter… look at how much we’ve done with our lives! We graduated high school, undergrad, grad school, started and advanced our careers, traveled the world, got together, popped out a kid or two!... And while we experienced a lot of downfalls and tragedies that coincide, can you believe how much we have accomplished together?

We were all personally inspired, motivated, persuaded by Berserk in different ways: a lot of us were inspired for the better and admittedly, some for the not-as-good (if spending countless hours on Tumblr has taught me, there were definitely some toxic fan takeaways that had to be confronted). I’m not going to go to the point of saying that I now live my life by Berserk’s philosophy to a T or live as a reflection of certain characters (because I’m pretty sure that Miura was trying to tell us to NOT live your life like some particular characters) but it certainly helped to brings some aspects of life and existence into perspective, through the lenses of so many characters. Berserk also inspired me to write more, an already favorite pastime of mine, and how I should go about writing and planning a story, taking cues from Berserk on how to and how NOT to write and approach things in my own way, which I think is for the best in the long run. I can only dream that I’ll be published someday – which doesn’t have to be a pipe dream because it’s still much more possible than impossible. And so many other have done the same, creating our own stories and works.

And OF COURSE Berserk inspired me to be a little bit badass from time to time in moments of frivolity and seriousness – but it reminds us all that being badass and being a kinder person who tries to become the best version of themselves are not mutually exclusive. We definitely need more of that in today’s world.

We all made our own little bonfires of dreams happen, and because of Berserk existing, there will be a lot more beginnings than endings, and I don’t see a lot of bonfires being extinguished anytime soon. Miura poured his heart and soul into Berserk and its characters, and while he has passed on, his characters and lessons will live on through us and everything we create and how we live our lives (hopefully for the better).

I was happy to share all of my thoughts with you all – and I’ll continue to do so, since the mythos of Berserk has been a major backdrop of my creative mind for over fifteen years now and there is still so much to dissect and speculate. Personally, I don’t see Berserk ending just yet, if only because I’d be surprised that Miura or his publisher didn’t have some Operation London Bridge type plan in place in the event that this happened (Berserk is, after all, a major title that most likely brings Young Animal a lot of revenue). Again, I never treated Miura or Berserk as divine untouchables, so if there are plans in place to continue Berserk without Miura (BUT with his permission) or just on how to wrap up the story to give it a fulfilling conclusion, I personally would be okay with it (as a friend of mine put it, it’d be more of a tribute than an imitation). Going beyond our lifetimes, works will continue to be interpreted and reinterpreted as they have since time immemorial; perhaps Berserk will reach that point someday.

Honestly, and many have thought so too, Berserk was also meant to be cosmic level in both scale and concept. The plot is so grand and Byzantine that, even under Miura’s direct supervision, I always had a hard time envisioning how a story of this scale would conclude. As much as we love to hate him, a final showdown between Guts and Griffith seems too simple, too “good vs. evil”-esque for Berserk. Maybe having a low-key, vague but optimistic and bittersweet wrap up is what is best for Guts, Casca, and their new-found family. But that’s just another one of my fan speculations.

Regardless or what is to become of Berserk now, I think it’s safe to give adulations. We all came across Berserk at different times in our lives and stuck with the story for different reasons. For some of us, it was just another series that our friend from the campus anime club recommended to us; for others, we were drawn in from a morbid curiosity of its dark notoriety in anime circles. A few of us read for the gratuitous violence and the clout (because we all know you’re so deep and hardcore [/sar]), but a lot more of us read for the journey and the characters that we became a part of. The heaviness of Berserk made us confront a lot of trauma and even relive our own. For some of us, understandably, it was not a good idea to dive deeper (and maybe somethings could have been handled better); for the rest of us, it helped us cope, if not entirely through the story itself, than through the support network we made for ourselves in this fandom and its many realms (some realms, I argue, are more caring and nurturing than others).

From time to time, I always wonder if I would ever “grow out” of Berserk. There were indeed several times I took a step away from fandom and have tried to reduce my exposure to the story - but I always came back in some way, because the essence of Berserk has never left me and never will. Humorously I envisioned myself actually forgetting about Berserk for several decades, decades in which I work at my career, raise my family, mourn my elders, but continue living my life, only to go on the future internet in my mid-50s to find out… Miura is STILL working on that ending, sitting at his desk in the same pose as that famous monochrome capture of him, only he’s grayed and wrinkled, like the great Miyazaki.

The possibility of that future is over, but there are so many others.

#berserk #berserk stuff #kentaro miura #rip kentaro miura

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bazzybelle · 3 years

Text

Magical Equality Within The World of Mages

I’ve been thinking a lot since I finished reading Any Way The Wind Blows, and there are SO many things that I still need to process. I took my time with reading it, I’ve listened to the audiobook and I plan on re-reading it several times, once I move into my new house and have THAT stress done and over with. I cannot wait to re-read it on my back porch with some iced tea and a notebook to annotate and comment on pretty much everything that gave me feelings.

But for now, there is one massive issue that I want to address, and it plays into the plot for all three books.

Warning for those who have not read Any Way The Wind Blows, this post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution. I am tagging this appropriately, but adding an extra warning just in case.

Huge thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for reading this over and making sure I didn't sound like a rambling mess.

The World of Mages is an incredibly toxic place! This is especially true for anyone who isn’t a magical powerhouse, or stupid rich.

I’m going to not focus on the obvious socio-economic bullshit, because I’m not familiar enough with the British class system to properly comment on it. But if anyone wants to add onto this with a whole meta like that, please do so!

Instead, I’m going to focus on magic use and how detrimental it can be to grow up in this world if you aren’t one of the few who are blessed with the RIGHT kind of magic (I say right kind of magic for a reason, and I’m going to come back to that). I want to focus my attention on three characters (two of whom were drawn into Smith-Richard’s fake promises, and one who was just fed up with it all): Martin Bunce, Daphne Grimm, and Agatha Wellbelove.

1) Martin Bunce: We first hear about Martin Bunce in Carry On. He’s Penny’s dad, a renowned scholar and is leading a team researching the effects of the Insidious Humdrum. He’s a highly respected individual, in his own right. Penny adores him, she only speaks his praises, and I get the feeling she gets along better with Martin, then she does with Mitali. When Penny needs help with Shep’s curse, she trusts her dad to help her after her mother flat out refuses.

While Martin is respected in the community, he isn’t a magical powerhouse. In fact, he isn’t very powerful at all. Baz makes a cheeky little comment about how he must have come from mundanity with a name like “Bunce”, and he doesn’t teach any magical classes at Watford, he focuses mainly on Linguistics.

Professor Bunce is one of the people taken in by Smith-Richard’s message, and I’m kind of glad he is. It shows that Smith-Richard’s message can reach anyone, even someone as scholarly and learned as Martin. Martin Bunce is intelligent, loving, devoted, and the apple of his family’s eye. But, when push comes to shove, all that does not matter because in the end, he isn’t as magically powerful as his wife and kids. How many times has Martin been compared to his wife? How many times has he been compared to his kids? What was it like going to Watford and having to hear about how you barely scraped by in the magical classes? His whole family is obsessed with magic, his daughter's best friend is the Most Powerful Mage. Martin is constantly surrounded by people making comments about power and magic and being strong enough as a magician.

That stuff stays with you... So when you see someone performing magic that can pull you to your full potential, of COURSE you grab onto it and hope that it’s a real thing.

Something interesting to note here; Towards the end of AWTWB, Martin casts a drinking spell, and Baz makes a comment about anyone who could cast that spell in quick succession doesn’t need a power-up. Now, was Martin truly not powerful, or did he just not have the right type of magic? Could he have been a better magician if he was able to find the right situations where his magic responded better? If he was allowed to learn in a way where his magic could have reached its full potential, without the use of a horrible curse?

I have a teaching background, and I’ve worked with a lot of kids in Inclusive Education. I’ve had to differentiate practically all of my lesson plans so that all the kids in my classroom would understand the lesson and be able to reach the goals outlined for them. Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve taught, but I look at stuff like this in the World of Mages and my teaching ear perks up.

2) Agatha Wellbelove: Another person who comes to mind, especially with not having the right kind of magic is Agatha Wellbelove. Agatha does not see herself as a very strong magician. She tells Simon that magic for her is like holding a muscle. Pair that up with a mother who is OBSESSED with magic and power and who’s got the most power, and which magical matches will bring about powerful children, and you get someone who becomes resentful of the whole effing thing! I’m not even going to touch the whole “dating the Chosen One” thing because that’s a whole other can of worms.

When we first meet Agatha, she’s already fed up with magic, and wants nothing to do with it, and I can’t say I blame her. She spends all of Wayward Son running away from magic, and meandering through life, being still so unsure of herself and of her place in the world. She calls herself a poor excuse for a magician, yet she manages to save both herself and Penny from the NowNext by summoning fire! That’s a huge flipping deal! Not everyone can do that, yet Agatha is able to summon the power inside herself to do so! Imagine the wonderful magic she could have done if she was taught in a way that spoke to her.

In AWTWB, she is the ONLY person who is able to get through to the Goats. Her magic seems to be connected to nature (if I had to guess). The Dryad, all the way back in Carry On, tells Simon that she and the others find Agatha “peaceful”. That’s her magic. Agatha was able to come full circle by finding peace with the magic she has. She was able to find a place for it. What’s sad is that she felt the need to run away and not want to have it in her life anymore. Her magic is beautiful, yet not enough.

3) Daphne Grimm: So, this is the character that stood out to me the most. Daphne is the reason I even wanted to write this commentary. Those of you who know me, know that I adore this character. Partly because, I’m obsessed with the idea that Baz has people looking out for him and who care about him.

Anyway, Ms. Daphne Grimm is the apple of my eye essentially. I love her, I adore her, and she is treated SO UNFAIRLY by the World of Mages.

What do we know about Daphne? She is Baz’s stepmum, and has four kids with Malcolm. From the first book, there are snarky little comments about Daphne’s lack or power and magic. Baz himself makes a shitty comment about how Daphne’s “blood is as thin as gruel”, even though Daphne goes out of her way to make sure he’s got food sent to his room. She’s extra careful in making sure Baz feels safe in his own home. She suggests to Malcolm that Baz should see a therapist for everything he’s been through, making her the ONLY parent who not only acknowledges her child’s trauma, but tries to do something about it!

She is a GOOD mom!

Ok, we know that Baz wears a ton of masks of indifference in Carry On, and he softens up tremendously in Wayward Son, calling her lovely while teaching him to drive a car.

We learn a lot about Daphne in Any Way The Wind Blows. Namely that Fiona has some pretty nasty opinions about her. (That comment about her kids not being legitimate, and that she’s as “thick headed as she is thin blooded”. Now, imagine you’re Daphne, and the widower of the Great Natasha Pitch asks to marry you. That’s already some MASSIVE shoes to fill. You accept, and you do the best you can, taking care of his son and being a positive presence in his life, meanwhile going to all these posh functions where EVERYONE talks about power and magic. Then to have the sister of your husband’s first wife make snarky comments about your level of power and magic.

That stuff sticks with you.

Daphne doesn’t want her kids going to Watford, the ONLY magical school in the UK (as far as we know). She wants her children to succeed and be known for everything they are capable of doing, instead of being ridiculed for all the ways they’ll come up short. According to Baz, the only reason Daphne graduated from Watford was because she was smart enough to pass every exam (yet, Fiona still makes snarky comments about her intelligence).

Daphne is well aware of how painful it can be to live in the World of Mages and not be a powerhouse magician. Like Martin, she takes matters into her own hands and seeks out a way to make herself more powerful.

It is heartbreaking to look at these three amazing, beloved characters, and think about the suffering they have had to endure by their peers. Both Daphne and Martin get frustrated when those around them question their choice to follow Smith-Richards, stating “you don’t know what it’s like”. Luckily for Daphne, Baz makes an effort to actually understand her, and doesn’t judge her. Even when Fiona mocks her, Baz defends his stepmum. When Daphne berates herself and compares herself to Natasha, Baz reflects on how Natasha would have killed him (something Daphne would NEVER do to any of her children).

We know that Watford did not allow magical creatures, or differently-abled magicians (I use this term for a reason) to study there until the Mage came around and allowed everyone into Watford. This was a great thing, because now, every magical child was given the opportunity to learn how to speak with magic.

However, it should not have stopped there. I spoke earlier on differentiation and on finding the right place for everyone’s magic. What if magicians like Martin, and Daphne, and Agatha are all powerful in their own right, and they just haven’t found their place where their magic fits? Instead of finding the right way to teach these magicians, they are left to struggle and ultimately resent their magic and the magic of the world around them.

Do I hear a social commentary on the state of standardized education? I can’t really comment on the British Educational System, nor the American one, as I am Canadian. What I can say, from my own experience in Canadian classrooms, is that for all the talk we do on making education inclusive, there is still a big push from higher ups for high grades and standardized testing. If any of my followers are British or American and care to share your two cents, feel free to do so. Let’s keep the conversation going!

I think this post might have gotten away from me. I think my point was to act as a defense for people like Daphne and Martin who found themselves fished into a scam all for the promise of feeling like they are enough in their world. I also wanted to defend people like Agatha, who did all she could to run away from all of it, only to find the place where she (and her magic) belonged.

I remember having this discussion on Discord, and one of the points that came up was that maybe The Greatest Threat to the World of Mages was this deeply ingrained prejudice over magicians with different sorts of magic. Magicians who need that extra bit of help to find their way.

We’ve seen in this series how these prejudices can threaten to split the World of Mages apart, and it looks like magicians like Penny, Baz, and Agatha are learning from these mistakes. Only time (and us fanfiction writers) will tell how they end up shaping their world for the future generations.

#any way the wind blows spoilers #awtwb spoilers #meta #is it though?#I mean I GUESS #the simon snow trilogy #the simon snow series #magical equality #the world of mages #this is really just a defense for Daphne

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mctherofdragons · 3 years

Text

A Sanctuary Heart | 3 | SR

summary / after her abusive husband lands her in the intensive care unit, y/n changes her identity and moves as far away as possible. upon starting her new life, she meets dr.spencer reid and his son, maddox, when she begins her job as a teacher. but can she keep herself safe and keep up the facade with spencer? can she be safe at all?

pairing / spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings / slowburn romance, fluff, angst, marriage, trauma, domestic violence/abuse, dad!spencer, wheelchair use, paralysis, injury, ptsd flashbacks, car accident/serious injury, bullying, mention of ableism, a singular mention of god.

important links / series masterlist + domestic violence resources

authors note / i absolutely adored writing this chapter, omg. we get more of spencer and maddox's backstory. and things start to get a little more exciting as the rest of the team makes their first appearance! thank you all for the great feedback so far, i'm so glad you're enjoying the series. also my tags are not working, so reblogs on this chapter would be insanely appreciated. Flashbacks are in italics!

Seeing the blood on your hand, Spencer instinctively reached out to grab your wrist gently. You snatched your hand back, bringing yourself up to your feet, wobbling. You grabbed your bag, wrapping your hand in your scarf that you had managed to take off in the cool October night.“Ivy,” he said the moniker one more time and you felt your insides reel once more.

‘I’m a liar, Dr. Reid, I wish you knew,’ you thought to yourself, stumbling to search for your keys under the warm glow of the moon.

“I have to go. Thank you for dinner,” you contended, making your way out of the side gate. Spencer watched in confusion as you made your way out quickly. He figured he ought to chose his battles, not wanting to startle you by following after you.

Once you were safe inside your car, you sat in the driver’s seat, hands gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life. You felt a sharp combination of embarrassment and frustration. You wanted the flit of light that came from the possibility of new love. But instead, the one before had taken everything from you. Even now, all these miles and a new name away, he was pulling you away from those little flickers of brilliance and back into the darkness of yourself.

_____________________________

2 years earlier.

“Maddox,” Spencer whispered, feeling his heavy eyelids open just slightly. He was disoriented, noticing that the once right-side-up roadway was now upside down instead. The loud blaring of the horn was constant. It sent a piercing sound into Spencer’s ears and head, which caused him to wince. “Maddox.”

Spencer tried to turn, but he couldn’t move. Something had him pinned in the driver’s seat. He looked into the review mirror, which by grace alone wasn’t entirely broken. Maddox was slumped in his car seat, blood trickling down onto his Toy Story tee shirt. Spencer let out a weak gasp, trying again with no avail to move.

Spencer noticed how cold it was. It had been snowing all night, and Spencer wasn’t sure how long they had been where they are now. The snow had fallen through the shattered glass, tiny flakes gathering anywhere they could.

Using all of his strength, he turned his head to his wife. Her eyes were half shut, a trickle of crimson come from her mouth.

“Baby,” Spencer whispered. “Are you alright?”

She began to speak, but began to sputter, her lungs sounding flooded. Her hand curled and uncurled, and Spencer could barely reach it. He was able to hold onto her fingertips with his. They felt ice-cold like she was already three steps into Eternity. Spencer knew that type of frigid touch. He had come in content with it a million times, and the person on the other end was never living.

“D-don’t talk, baby. Okay? The ambulance is coming. Do you hear them? We’re going to be okay.”

Spencer could hear the medics somewhere far off in the distance. The repeated echo of the sirens sounded like a band of angels to him. Spencer Reid admittedly didn’t believe in the Judeo-Christian God. He wasn’t sure what he gave credence to, in fact. But at that moment, inverted in the shattered glass, surrounded by the labored breathing of his dying wife...he prayed.

________________________________

Spencer walked into the Bureau, adjusting the brown satchel on his shoulder. His brow looked furrowed as he sipped from his paper coffee cup. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you left, trying to profile what exactly had gone wrong between the Merlot and you rushing out of his backyard.

“Penny for your thoughts?,” Emily piqued as Spencer sat down, tossing his bag onto his desk. Spencer let out an exasperating sigh, taking another drink of his coffee.

“Just trying to figure someone out.”

“Oh, oh, oh. Is this a lady someone?,” Derek queried, wiggling his eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning onto Spencer’s desk with a sparkling grin.

“Maybe.”

Spencer felt himself smiling despite his best efforts. Emily opened her mouth in surprise, giving Derek a playful shove.

“I told you he would get back out there, Morgan!”

Spencer smiled. “Yeah, she’s sweet. I just...don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

That morning, Spencer had put on his wedding band. He still did it when he was scared, or nervous, or needing to feel close to her. He would feel the cool metal atop his finger and feel less alone. For a brief moment when the metallic touched his skin, he could pretend she was still here.

Derek gave Spencer’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

“I hope you know me and Prentiss are just messing with you. We care about you, kid. We know these past two years have been hell for you. Just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah…I appreciate that. I just…,” Spencer paused, bringing his hands up as he spoke, as was so akin to him. His lip curled into the smallest smile. “Seeing this girl interact with Maddox. She...loves him for him..already?”

“Maddox is a great kid, Reid.”

“I know. I just don’t want her to find out---”

Spencer’s sentence was cut off by Hotch appeared, letting everyone know they had a case and to meet for Round Table. Spencer quickly shot a text to Maddox’s home health nurse, letting her know he’d need coverage for a few days.

________________________________

You sat in the front of your classroom, your eyes scanning from the test in front of you to the answer key. The students were working on a Social Studies project in small groups. Their task was to read a short story about colonial times and fill out a short worksheet. If they finished early they were permitted to color, which most of the children thoroughly enjoyed.

“Maddox can’t use crayons,” you heard a small voice snicker. You raised your eyebrow, hoping it wasn’t harmful, and rather just an observation.

You heard another child sling a slur at Maddox, who was sitting quietly with his aide, trying to ignore them. But as you looked up, you saw Maddox’s tiny bottom lip begin to wobble. One of the children picked up a crayon and threw it at Maddox, hitting him in the shoulder.

“He can’t even feel that! My dad said that’s why he’s in a wheelchair,” the bully jeered again, high-fiving his friend.

You stood up with a loud squeak of your chair against the linoleum floor.

“You two. Principals office. Now.”

The rest of the class erupted in a chorus of childish ‘ooo’s. You clapped your hands together - your universal signal to quiet down.

“I did not ask for comments from the audience,” you scolded. The children settled down, going back to their work, whispering amongst one another.

“Maddox, come talk to me in the hallway,” you offered. Tears were rolling down Maddox’s cheeks. His aide reached over with a tissue to wipe them, but he turned his face away, one of the only ways he could physically set a boundary.

Maddox’s aide helped him into the hallway and then left the two of you alone. You sat down on one of the small, metal benches in the hallway. At this angle, you were about Maddox’s height. He was blubbering, trying to take deep breaths as more tears came. You pulled a small, clean, cloth handkerchief from your pocket. He let you dab his cheeks, giving him a gentle click of the tongue.

“Buddy, do you want to talk about it?”

“T-they’re so m..m..mean to me,” he whimpered, closing his eyes as more tears fell. “And, and, and I can’t play with them even, that’s why. I can’t do anything!”

You nodded empathetically, gently catching more of Maddox’s tears.

“I hate school! My daddy wants me to like school. It’s all he talks about. I hate him!”

“Maddox,” you softly redirected. “That’s not very nice. You don’t hate your dad.”

Maddox looked a deep breath. You smiled, knowing Spencer must have taught him to do that when he was upset.

“You’re right. But I’m sad, and I wanna go home.”

You sighed, reaching up to blot the little bit of redness still present on Maddox’s cheeks. You adjusted his glasses, moving some of his curly brown hair from underneath the metal.

“Just a few more hours, okay? We have library at the end of the day.”

Maddox’s face lit up, his apple cheeks glowing beneath the rims of his glasses. “Library!”

“Yes, and just for this week, you can take home two books.”

______________________________

Spencer felt distracted the entire flight to Vermont. He knew he was going to be far away for a while, and that Maddox wouldn’t know until he got out of school for the day. The agent detested when he had to leave without Maddox knowing in advance, but it was usually impossible given the nature of things. Thankfully, Reid had a good setup of support through healthcare and respite so Maddox never went without someone to care for him.

Then, there was you. He couldn’t stop thinking about your reaction. He had seen it before in abuse victims. The way you flinched when he moved too fast, the apologizing like your life depended on it, even the way you looked at him with pleading eyes, desperate to avoid a blow. He bridged his fingers together, thinking to himself for a moment.

With that, he stood up, making his way to the back of the plane. He unlocked his phone while he chewed his fingernail with his free hand. Before he knew it, he was calling Garcia.

“Penelope. Hey, I need a favor. A personal one. If you could keep it between us, that would be great.”

“Anything for you, my precious string bean.”

Spencer laughed. “I need you to get all the information you can on someone. Ivy Porter.”

“Ivy Porter. That’s like a movie star name. What did she do?”

“Um..nothing, I don’t think. Just call me when you’ve got something, and email me everything you find.”

“You got it. Every in and out of Ms. Ivy Porter coming to you soon. Be safe. Talk soon.”

With that, Penelope clicked off of the call. Spencer sat back down, anxiously waiting for whatever information Penelope could find about you.

___________

series/criminal minds taglist: @hufflepuffhaze @omghufflepuff @txtdreamss @rainbows-dreams @bvttercupbby @k-k0129 @rexit-mo @britishspidey @graciehams @manuosorioh @shemarmooresfedora @big-galaxy-chaos @thatoneszesty13 @ssavanessa22 @awritingtree @sweetandsunny @rainsong01 @kuolonsyoja @taralewiz @bluelittleblackgirl @asexual-booknerd @the-wolfie

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series

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pirate-au · 3 years

Text

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 1)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Notes: @cheshirevalentine is the reason this au exists, they've done so much to help me create this story and so many others. I owe them so much, thank you for being my muse and letting me ramble constantly <3

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

The Captain swiveled around as soon as the first punch was thrown, watching from his seat at the bar as one of his crew and a drunk local quarreled on the other side of the tavern.

Roman glanced at Logan seated beside him, chuckling quietly at the look on his first mate’s face as the pair watched the drunken fight.

“I could break it up, you know,” Roman boasted, making a face as he took a swig of the drink he would never admit he loathed the taste of. It fit his image- the image of the daring pirate Captain that Roman had read stories of long before he’d gotten his own ship- so Roman kept the drink in his hand and forced down another mouthful. “It’d be easy. Easier than walking.”

“You will do no such thing,” Logan said, and Roman knew his friend would much rather be back aboard the ship, safe and warm with a good book. “Sit still and at least try to pretend you enjoy the taste of alcohol.”

Sit still? Roman had never sat still in his life, Logan should know better than to feed him such blasphemy. He let go of the retort on the tip of his tongue in favor of taking another uncomfortable sip of his drink, trying and failing to hide the way his face screwed up in disgust at the abhorrent taste.

Logan watched him, amused, before draining the rest of his glass with ease. Roman resisted the urge to gag. The price of having a reputation as a fearsome captain was, apparently, drinking incredibly shitty alcohol to look cool and tough. The life was exciting, and the bounty was worth the price. But by God, the drink was foul.

Logan rolled his eyes, swapping their glasses. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s for the image, Logan. You wouldn’t understand.” Roman retorted, though he didn’t protest the swap. He wasn’t going to finish it anyways.

Logan didn’t respond, just flashed his captain another deadpan look to which Roman responded with a bright grin before turning his attention back to the fight at the other side of the bar.

They were both clearly very drunk, swaying on their feet, their punches wide and sloppy, so Roman wasn’t particularly worried about anyone causing any serious damage.

Roman didn’t even particularly like taverns, and he knew for a fact Logan only came along to make sure he didn’t get himself into trouble, but bars like this were the best place to sit back and observe the most interesting people.

After weeks at sea in cramped quarters with the same faces, Roman couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night before they left again the next morning.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his ship. He did! He wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. He was the dashing and daring Captain Roman, fearlessly exploring the seas with a wonderful crew and his best friend right at his side.

And yet it never felt… complete. Something was wrong. Missing. It was never quite right, as perfect as it was, but for the life of him he could never voice exactly what was wrong.

A bell rang, barely audible above the commotion, and Roman tore his attention away from the fight to watch the newcomers open the door

Two strangers stepped inside, wrapped in dark cloaks that looked like they cost as much as Roman’s whole ship. They both looked a good two heads shorter than him or Logan, and judging by their clothes, a tavern like this was not the kind of place they frequented.

One of them had their hood draped over their head to conceal their face, the other holding the tavern door open and ushering their friend inside.

A disgruntled yell from the other side of the bar turned Roman’s attention back to the drunken fight, and he saw Logan give the newcomers a brief once-over himself.

Roman watched as the fight gradually slowed down, his crewman clearly a little less adept at handling his alcohol, eventually ending up sprawled out on the floor with a broken nose and split lip. Pity, he thought he taught his men how to hold their own in a fight.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Roman’s attention, and he watched curiously as a man from the other end of the bar got up from his stool and sauntered over to the table where the two cloaked strangers had settled down.

He was tall, about Roman’s height, smirking dangerously with a drink in one hand, the sword tucked into its sheath just barely visible underneath his coat.

He finished his drink as he made it to the table, his eyes on the hooded stranger. Roman could just barely make out what was being said from the bar.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he purred, leaning forward with his free hand resting on the table. “You new here or something?”

The stranger didn’t respond, and while Roman couldn’t see their face from where he was seated, he could see his companion visibly tense, reaching over to touch his arm.

“Yes, I’m talkin’ to you,” the man continued, his smirk growing as he looked the stranger over. “Prettiest thing in town, why wouldn’t I be talkin’ to ya?”

The stranger lifted his head, just enough for Roman to catch a glimpse of a pale face and dark hair, before looking back down at their lap. “I...uh. Thank you?”

“So you’re new here, then?” the man asked again. “You seem so nervous. Let me buy you a drink, it’ll mellow ya out.”

Both cloaked strangers tensed, and Roman’s wariness grew along with theirs. He knew that look, knew that tone of voice, knew exactly the intentions a man like that had.

“No thank you,” the hooded one said, barely audible, his friend’s hand still on his arm. “Sorry, I’m… not interested.”

“You don’t have to be so shy.” The man tilted his head as he leaned in closer, and Roman found himself already getting up from his stool. “Come on, handsome. Let me buy you a drink, it’ll loosen you up. I promise.”

Roman started forward, ready to remind this asshole that no meant no, only to stop with a hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him to a stop.

“Roman.” Logan already looked exhausted, and Roman hadn’t even done anything yet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Roman grinned, pulling his arm away with a wink he knew would only annoy his first mate further. “Saving a damsel in distress, of course.”

“But we agreed to avoid any confrontation—”

Roman waved him off and made his way across the bar, all his attention back to the man who still hadn’t left the table alone.

“I said no thank you,” the stranger said, and his voice made it clear he was trembling. “I don’t want a drink.”

“Oh, come on. I—”

“Pardon me,” Roman interjected, sweeping the man’s hand out from under him on the table. “I believe he said no. If you would be so kind as to leave now, that would be wonderful.”

The man gave him a disgruntled look, to which Roman responded with an even smile. “Piss off, prissy. No one asked you, he’s just being coy.”

“He said no.”

The man shoved Roman’s shoulder, scowling when he refused to stumble back. “And I said piss off.”

Roman could almost picture Logan’s eye roll as he squared his shoulders and shoved back, admittedly with a bit more force than necessary. He thought briefly back to what Logan always said, about how his Captain never backed down. And about how it was going to get them all killed one day.

And yet here his first mate was, standing at his elbow, stiff and unmoving as Roman stared his opponent down.

He was a bit bigger than Roman, the alcohol in his system clearly making him a bit unpredictable, scowling at Logan before narrowing his eyes at Roman, who simply smiled again, a cold warning.

“You need to learn the difference between coy and not interested, scoundrel. Leave him alone or I’ll be forced to remove you from the area.”

It was all a show, hopefully enough to get this drunk asshole to see reason and back off before someone got hurt.

But if a fight was what he wanted, then a fight was what he would get. Roman wasn’t one to chicken out of a confrontation, as much as Logan would like him to, from something silly like a little fear. Fear was a secondary emotion! It didn’t rule him.

Besides, he had someone to protect this time. And with Logan at his side, he was unstoppable.

Logan was going to kill him, of course, but that was a problem for later.

The man scoffed and set his empty glass on the table, looking back at the hooded stranger with another smirk. “Give me a second to handle this, alright? We’ll talk after.”

He winked, before winding back and swinging, his fist connecting right with Roman’s jaw. The Captain jerked backwards, stumbling slightly before he threw himself forward, tackling the man to the floor.

The tavern erupted into chaos, drunk bystanders cheering and shouting as the fight became the center of attention. Roman thought he saw someone start towards them, probably one of this asshole’s friends, only to smile when Logan immediately intercepted.

No matter how tired Logan pretended to be of Roman jumping head first into danger, he knew his friend would always be right there with him.

He wrestled with his assailant, blocking a punch to the face and grabbing the man’s arm, pinning it firmly to the ground. The surrounding bystanders continued to cheer as Roman got the upperhand, suspecting that his opponent being a little drunk helped the Captain overpower him.

Roman managed his way on top of the man, straddling him and pulling his gun from his belt. He cocked the weapon and put it to the forehead of the assailant, watching with a satisfied smile as he froze.

“If you dare come near this young man again, I’ll make sure I have a bullet saved just for you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

The man glared, scowling as he looked away from Roman’s cold stare. “Crystal.”

“Good.” Roman stood, wiping the blood from his nose and rubbing his jaw, his pistol trained on the man as he struggled to sit up. “Up now, I’d like to see you and your wounded pride leave my tavern.”

He struggled to his feet and spat blood at the floor, glaring daggers at Roman as he limped towards the exit, the crowd parting.

As soon as the tavern door slammed shut, Roman turned to Logan and the young man he’d saved with a smug smile, twirling the pistol on his finger.

“It’s not even loaded,” he stage-whispered, turning back to Logan with a playful pout when the stranger’s eyes widened. “What? Not even a ‘good job?’ Anything?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, ever unamused. “You were reckless.”

“You have no appreciation for your Captain, Logan,” Roman said. “Truly. My splendor would be a waste if I had not been saving a pretty man.”

The resident “damsel in distress” was watching Roman with wide eyes, turning only when his friend took his arm again, leaning in close to whisper, “Can we go now?”

Roman realized he hadn’t even bothered to check in, too busy flaunting his victory to his first mate. He turned back to the table and forcibly relaxed his shoulders, hoping to come across as non-threatening as possible.

“I’m sorry about all that,” he said, cocky smiling softening to something more gentle. “Are you two alright? No bumps or anything?”

Roman had meant to address both of them, it was the polite thing to do after all, but he found himself meeting the wary eyes of the stranger with the hood. His chest felt light, his smile easy and a little excited, ignoring the way Logan was probably motioning for them to leave as quickly as possible.

“I’m fine,” the stranger said, still visibly nervous. He was much smaller than Roman, and definitely the most cleaned up person in the bar. “We’re… both fine. We’re ok. Uh, thank you for… that. Thank you.”

The Captain pressed his sleeve to his still slowly trickling nose bleed, quickly wiping away what he could. “I loathe to say it, but that sort of thing happens in bars like this all the time. Are you two not from around here? Travelers, maybe?”

“I… uh, yes. I’m- we’re travelers. We’re just passing through. You’re… uh, you’re bleeding. A little bit.”

Roman broke his now probably uncomfortable eye contact to glance down at his sleeve, blood splattered on his wrist and knuckles. “It appears I am. A small price to pay, I suppose.”

Logan was suddenly beside him again, and he beamed when his first mate handed him a neatly folded handkerchief. He always seemed to have something on him to clean up cuts and scrapes since his Captain always seemed to get into fights.

He took the cloth and pressed it to the blood flow, turning back to the table with another sweet smile. He should politely excuse himself instead of making conversation but… well, he wanted to keep talking to the cute stranger he’d saved.

“Where are you two heading, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The stranger blinked, glancing briefly at his friend before answering. “Uh, we’re not… really sure yet. We just wanted to see the city, you know?”

“Sightseeing?” Roman echoed, brightening. “Oh, this city is so beautiful, especially at night! Perhaps Logan and I could accompany you before we set off for Deigh in the morning?”

“That’s… really nice of you to offer,” the stranger said, eyes bright. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, of course! Where are my manners?” Roman smiled warmly, extending a hand to shake. “Roman. It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”

The stranger accepted the offered hand, his touch a little cold and timid. “Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Roman repeated, smiling brightening as he took Virgil’s hand and gently raised it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “A beautiful name. How about that trip around the city, Virgil?”

Virgil’s face went red, much to Roman’s delight, and he gave a small nod. “I’d like that, Roman. If you have the time.”

He was sure his own face was flushed similarly, even as he unfortunately had to let go of Virgil’s hand. “For you, darling? I have all the time in the world.”

He led Virgil outside, watching as he sent his friend a reassuring smile before exiting the tavern, Logan following close behind.

“Any requests before we head off?”

“Wherever you want to go,” Virgil said, hesitating outside the tavern doors. “You’re the expert, right?”

Roman offered Virgil his elbow, like a gentleman should, his smile widening and Virgil accepted the gesture. "Well lucky for you two, you're partying with the best."

He’s full of shit. He doesn’t know this city, he’s not from here. He’s only been here a day and a half.

It was fine, he’d figure it out despite having absolutely no idea where he was going. It didn’t matter anyway, because Virgil smiled at him as the Captain led the small group down the street, and Roman’s heart had never felt so full.

“I’m not exactly the best navigator,” Roman admitted. “But I’m sure the city can’t be that difficult to walk around.”

All he could do was hope Logan would know the layout of the city and jump in to help. Roman didn’t know where they were or how to get anywhere.

His first mate never did offer any assistance, and Roman suspected it was some kind of petty revenge for starting a bar fight. Logan and Virgil’s friend (whose name Roman soon learned was Patton) fell a few paces behind to talk, leaving Roman to guide Virgil around the city, improvising a lavish tour.

He was fairly certain Virgil could tell everything Roman was saying about the city was absolute bullshit, and that he had absolutely no idea where they were, but he seemed to enjoy the show the Captain was putting on.

Virgil was laughing and smiling, genuinely lighting up with each joke and story Roman told, eyes widening whenever Roman would mention his adventures out at sea.

By far, this was the best time Roman had had on land in a long while. Virgil was a little jittery, sure, but he was slowly relaxing, his smile never faltering. Roman adored being able to make someone smile like this.

But, of course, all good things must come to an end. Eventually, the moon high in the late night sky, Roman led the group right back to where they’d started, his heart aching as he slowed them to a stop outside the tavern.

“It really was wonderful to meet you, Virgil,” Roman said, his playful smile softening. “Thank you for allowing Logan and I to accompany you around the city.”

Virgil hesitated, fiddling with the cloak around his shoulders. He glanced at Patton- who had been giving Roman a harsh side glare nearly the entire tour- before turning back to the Captain, visibly nervous.

“Where did you say you were heading?”

Roman smiled again, ridiculously relieved Virgil wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to get away from the Captain. Roman knew he was charming, sure, but people often found him a bit...obnoxious. It had been a while since someone besides Logan had really enjoyed his company.

“My crew and I set off for Deigh first thing tomorrow morning,” Roman said. “It’s a ways away, so I thought it was best to give them a day to rest before we head off.” It was starting to feel more like polite small talk now, but he’d take whatever would let him talk to Virgil for just a little longer. “And you? Any idea where you plan to go after this?”

Virgil met his eyes, and Roman left breathless at the beautiful brown and gray. He seemed to steel himself before answering. “I was…actually thinking of visiting Deigh. Is there any way you could give us a ride? I’d pay you, of course. I have the money.”

Roman brightened, his face splitting into a grin, but Patton spoke up before the Captain could answer.

“Well, hold on now kiddo. I thought—”

“It’s a far journey, you know,” Roman interrupted, too excited to let him finish. “And we aren’t exactly a passenger ship. But I’m sure we could work something out for you!”

He glanced over his shoulder at Logan, his first mate staring with a displeased frown. This was a terrible idea, of course. Pirates don’t take passengers. They’re pirates!

But not only was he offering to pay, he was also incredibly cute and sweet and funny and he made Roman’s heart do somersaults. And he made that quiet, sick sort of feeling of missing something go away. So really, it was an all-around win.

“That's really kind of you,” Virgil said, soft and just as excited as Roman. “Are you sure it’s okay? I know it’s last second and everything.”

“It’ll be fine,” Roman assured. Oh, Logan was going to murder him. Logan was going to smother him in his sleep tonight. Which would be easy, considering they’d be rooming together. Not that Logan knew that yet. “I assume you’ve been on a ship before. You’re not going to freak out two days in because you can’t see land, are you?”

“Of course I have!” Virgil matched Roman’s excited grin as he rushed to his own defense. “I’ll be fine.”

“Perfect!” Roman stepped back, sending the small group a dazzling smile. “We’ll get you to Deigh, traveler. I’m sure the crew will love you.” He turned towards the direction he and Logan had come from, the docks just a short walk from the tavern. “Shall we be off, then?”

He glanced between the two travelers, determined to avoid Logan’s stare. Virgil glanced at Patton, his friend shifting on his feet a bit, fiddling with the sleeves of the sweater he wore under his cloak, just barely visible through the dark cloth.

“Patton?” Virgil asked, turning away from Roman for a moment. “You’re… good with this?”

Patton startled, quickly plastering on a bright smile. “I’m good to go kiddo, don’t look at me. Where you go, I go. I’m just… a little worried, is all. I know how you get… seasick.”

They seemed to be having a silent conversation in their stares, entirely separate from what Roman and Logan were hearing, and the Captain quickly averted his gaze, watching his boots as he waited.

“Right,” Virgil said, quiet and hesitant. “I’ll be fine, but I- I know you don’t love… boats. And you really like this city.”

Patton laughed, the sound weak and full of deflated cheer. “I like you more than I like the city, Virgil. And it’s another adventure! Where you go, I’m going too. Always.”

Roman remembered having a similar conversation with Logan more than once, and his smile had turned soft and almost wistful by the time Virgil turned back to him, his own excitement rapidly returning.

“Okay,” he said. “I think we’re ready, if you’re sure there’s room for us.”

“There’s plenty of room! Come on, I’ll lead the way.”

Roman started down the street, fairly certain he knew where he was going, forcing himself to slow his excited pace when he realized no one else was able to keep up with it.

Apparently, he did not know the way as well as he thought he did. It became clear he’d gotten them lost when they passed the same building twice, and Logan took the lead with a quiet sigh, bringing the group to the docks.

Roman’s excitement only grew the closer they got, practically jogging by the time the water came into view, the temptation to bound up the gangplank and reunite with his beloved ship nearly overtaking him.

Flooded with adoration as they approached, Roman turned to face the group with his arms swept out, motioning towards his ship.

“There she is!” he announced. “The Calypso, in all of her splendor! Isn’t she gorgeous?”

She was, of course, but he felt a swell of pride in his chest when he took in Virgil’s wide eyed, almost starstruck stare.

“She is,” Virgil said, sounding a bit breathless. “Wow.”

The Calypso had been his home for many years, sanctuary from the wind and rain, from the waves and the land, every moment on her deck an adventure waiting to happen. Roman occasionally felt the pang of homesickness in his gut, but he’d been content for a long time.

He beamed at Virgil and Patton, still carefully avoiding looking at Logan, who was being oddly quiet. “I’ll show you two to your room and let you get settled.”

He offered Virgil a hand, and the other young man didn’t hesitate this time before taking it. Roman felt like Virgil’s hand belonged here, entangled in his own.

He led the four of them onto the ship, careful to make sure Virgil kept his balance when he first stepped on board, easily falling into stories of his adventures, eagerly telling his guests about the exciting life of a pirate- and probably overselling it. Just a bit.

Roman brought them below deck, stopping in front of the door to the Captain’s quarters, realizing he really should have at least mentioned this part of his last minute plan to his first mate.

“And, uh… this is your room,” Roman told their guests, motioning at his own door. “Logan and I will be right across the hall.”

He could practically feel Logan staring at him, just inches away where he stood quietly. His first mate was going to flay him alive for this.

Well, they’d talk about it later. In detail, seeing as how they’d be sharing a room for the foreseeable future.

Virgil reluctantly let go of Roman’s hand, seeming to pick up on the unspoken tension. “Thank you, but Patton and I can really stay anywhere if this is inconvenient. I know this is all spur of the moment.”

“Not at all,” Logan spoke up, to Roman’s surprise. “It makes more sense for you to be comfortable than staying with the rest of the crew.”

“A room change won’t kill us,” Roman added, grateful Logan was at least pretending not to be furious in front of Virgil. “And spur of the moment is my specialty, I can assure you.”

Virgil still hesitated, clearly worried and a little overwhelmed, but he relaxed just a bit when Patton reached over to squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” Virgil said again, and Roman knew even Logan couldn’t resist someone so genuinely grateful. “I… I really, really appreciate this.”

“It’s no problem,” Roman said, placing a reassuring hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “But it’s getting late, we should all turn in.”

Virgil relaxed under his touch, tension seeping out of his shoulders as he nodded. “Goodnight, then. And… thank you again. I mean it.”

“Goodnight, you two,” Roman said, lifting his hand from Virgil’s shoulder. “Sleep well.”

He turned, swiftly making his way across the hall and letting himself into Logan’s room without another word, leaving the door open for his first mate to follow.

Roman heard Virgil and Patton step inside their room and close the door behind them, followed by Logan moving to stand in the open doorway, hesitating a moment before stepping inside.

His friend sighed, and he sounded exhausted. “What the hell are you doing, Roman?”

“I’m just helping!” Roman turned around to face him, hands wrung in front of him. “He said he wanted to get to Deigh! It’s not like it’s even out of our way, I’m not changing course. We'll still be on schedule and on par for where we should be."

Logan sighed again, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, and Roman started to pace the length of the cabin. “Roman, we do not take passengers. You just met this man in a bar.”

"And he needed to get to Deigh! He's paying us to take him, Lo!” As he walked, he fidgeted with the (still unloaded) gun on his hip, starting the process of taking it apart. “This isn't the end of the world."

He watched as Logan closed the door behind him, moving to sit on the edge of his bed and watch Roman move. “I don’t understand. We never take passengers, and you insisted on giving these two your room.”

After years of practice, Roman could dismantle his gun with ease by now. His hands were constantly moving, taking things apart and putting them back together, especially when he was nervous. As he walked, he disassembled it, turning every few paces to walk in the other direction, his eyes downcast towards the weapon.

“I just… they needed a ride, Logan. I wanted to help them.” Roman started, his voice making a valiant attempt to catch in his throat. “I know I… should have talked to you first. I can sleep on the deck, it’s not an issue.”

“You’re not sleeping on the deck,” Logan said. “You're sleeping in here. I'm not angry with you about the rooms, I just want to know why you were so willing to change your plans for a stranger.”

Roman didn’t respond for a moment, steadily reassembling his gun and tucking it back into his waistband. “I didn’t change my plans, the plan is exactly the same as it was. The passengers were simply an added surprise.”

“An added surprise you usually would never allow,” Logan pointed out, and Roman resorted to fidgeting with his collar as he paced. “And giving up your room? Logically, you would put them with the rest of the crew. Why do Virgil and Patton get special treatment?”

Roman paused for a moment, his back to Logan, but he was back to moving almost instantly. “They… seemed like they wouldn’t do well with the crew. And I’d rather not cause a disrupt right before we leave. Too much trouble.”

Roman was quickly running out of excuses, but Logan didn’t seem inclined to drop it. “They seem polite enough. I’m sure the crew wouldn’t have had any issues.”

The Captain just shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Roman,” Logan said. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m pacing, Logan,” Roman retorted, quickly buttoning and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. “Come on, four-eyes, you aren’t that blind.”

He heard Logan sigh, his first mate clearly biting back his own rising frustration. “The Captain of my ship just gave two complete strangers his room, and I cannot understand why.”

Roman finally stopped pacing and turned to face Logan, eyes on the floor as his hands dropped to his sides, shoulders falling. “I just… I want to take care of him. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable, Logan. I don’t want him to have to stay with the crew, he should have a space.”

A beat of silence, and he glanced up as Logan blinked at him. “Why?”

“We do this every time I have a crush,” Roman said, going right back to pacing, his hands running through his hair. “You’re so smart and you really can’t see that I… he… you saw him! Did you see him, Logan? Christ!”

“I… saw him,” Logan said slowly. “And he is here, in your room, because you… have romantic feelings for someone you just met in a bar tonight?”

“Yes!” Roman stopped again, face buried in his hands. “Thank you, Captain Obvious! I'll pass you the reins- you're the captain now! You got it! It only took you forever—”

“Roman you know nothing about Virgil. His name might not even be Virgil. Besides, you’ve just given up your room. If you decide to pursue him—”

“Pursue him?” Roman whirled around, eyes wide and face burning. “Logan I’m- that’s not… I’m not pursuing him! I just think he’s cute!” He glanced towards the door, lowering his voice to a whisper. “And keep your voice down, I don’t want them hearing us.”

Logan tilted his head, studying his Captain’s face. “Why? If you have romantic feelings for someone, isn't the best case scenario for them to be made aware?”

Roman groaned and lowered himself to the floor, covering his reddened face in his hands once again. “No, it’s not.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan said again. “He’ll be staying on your ship for an extended period of time and you… don't even plan on mentioning your feelings? That doesn’t seem logical.”

Feelings were never logical, especially love. Roman just didn’t know how to explain that out loud. “I don’t know, Lo. We aren’t even one night in, just… give it time, ok? I just let him on my ship and I don’t… I don’t want him to feel like he owes me something for it.”

The room was plunged into heavy silence, everything achingly quiet, but at least Roman knew Logan understood now.

“Ah.” he said after a moment, clearing his throat. “Apologies, I’m not… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Take your time, Roman.”

“I know, it’s ok.” The room was silent for another moment before Roman pushed himself to his feet, brushing himself off. “It’s late, you should get to sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

“You’re the one always talking about your beauty sleep,” Logan said, watching as Roman made his way to the door. “Where are you going?”

“I just need some air, that’s all. I’m always beautiful, a little lost sleep won't change that, I promise.”

“Roman—”

“Get some sleep,” Roman said, aware he was being uncharacteristically closed off. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

He turned the handle and slipped outside, quietly closing the door behind him, the quiet deck and crisp night air waiting with open arms as he left the rooms behind.

Taglist: @i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers

Masterpost

#pirate au #ts roman #roman sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #prinxiety #logicality #fanfiction #writing #alcohol tw #chapter one

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honeyhan-123 · 3 years

Text

The (Mission) Plan ~Part iii

Summary: Two and a half months after that fateful night when Steve and Bucky took you from your home, the golden opportunity to escape reveals itself.

Warnings: Dubcon, anal fingering and sex, very brief mlm (like squint and you miss it), basically pwp.

Word Count: 3.7k

AN: So this is legit 95% porn and 5% plot. Enjoy!

You awoke to the door slamming shut and groggily opened your eyes. You watched still half asleep as Steve stripped, throwing his clothes haphazardly around the room. You had been in this situation enough times to know he was angry. At what, you weren’t quite sure but you hoped it wasn’t because of you.

For a moment you tried to think back, to figure out what you could have done to make him so irate. Your botched escape attempt had been nearly two weeks ago and you had been on your best behaviour since. Admittedly your best behaviour did occasionally include sassing back at the Captain or even screaming and throwing things but Steve hadn’t reacted like this. No, it must be something unrelated to you.

You had known what he was here for as soon as he had slammed the door behind him but you were still startled as he yanked the bed sheets away and hastily crawled on top of you. A grunt of approval came from him as he saw you naked and ready. He flipped you over so you were lying on your stomach and you didn’t dare protest as his fingers wedged themselves between your thighs.

He pushed your knees up beneath you and you lifted yourself up onto shaky arms, following his silent cues. He grinded his member against your ass as he slipped a finger into your entrance. You were dry and it hurt slightly at first but over the past few months Steve and Bucky had conditioned your body to respond to their touch.

In no time at all, Steve deemed you wet enough for him and his fingers disappeared only for a prodding sensation to follow. You gritted your teeth as he roughly sheathed himself in you. The initial stretch was always more than you thought.

Steve wasted no time at all in starting his punishing pace. Each thrust sent a jolt of pain up your spine but you kept your mouth clamped shut. He wouldn’t care for your whimpers. If anything, you suspected they would egg him on.

His hand buried itself in your hair, tugging at your roots while the other left bruises along your thigh from where he gripped you painfully hard. His balls slapped against your ass and his low groans echoed in your head as he used your body.

Your arms shook beneath you and you were almost thankful when Steve pushed you down onto your chest. The bed sheets rubbed against your nipples and his chest rubbed against your back as he fell on top of you, his arms caging you in. The new position allowed him to fuck you even more vigorously and you moaned as he brushed against your g-spot.

‘God Honey, that’s it. C’mon Honey.’ His husky words filled with his desperation only added to your own. Your depravity reached new heights as he hand dipped down your stomach to your clit. His nimble fingers rubbed a flurry of circles around your bundle of nerves and left you begging.

‘Please… Please, I need-’ Words failed you as desire overtook your mind. Your only saviour was his purr of approval.

‘Yeah Honey. Cum with me. That’s it. You can do it.’ Your body convulsed as it obeyed his command, pleasure filling your veins as his own filled you. His grunts echoed through your mind as he lent his head against your back, his hot breath whispering along your neck.

You were prepared for him to pull away, for him to leave you just like he always did but the movement never came. Instead, he flipped onto his side, pulling you with him as he remained sheathed inside of you. You couldn’t allow yourself to relax in this new territory but he seemed perfectly content. His earlier anger gone for the moment as his fingers drew patterns along your swollen stomach.

The silence felt suffocating and you only started to relax as you felt him harden again. This, you could deal with. You knew what he expected of you.

Without a word, you pushed yourself back into him and raised your left knee, allowing your walls to pull him in deeper. You felt his lips pull into a smile against the back of your neck.

‘Such a good girl for me.’ You keened at the praise but tried not to show just how much it affected you. But he knew. Steve always knew. Although he may not show it as openly as Bucky, Steve knows you inside and out as well. He knows what makes you tick, what to do to get you begging, and what you truly want, even if you might not know it yourself.

His pace was slow, almost lazy as he moved his body against yours. His lips constantly brushing against your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Despite how soft the moment felt, it didn’t deter the fire kindling in your belly.

It was almost too much as Steve let his hand dance back down to your sensitive nub and you let him know with a strangled ‘Steve…’ But he just shushed you.

‘I know you can take it Sweetie. You’re such a good girl and good girls take what they’re given. I know you want it, just give in to me.’ His fingers were unrelenting as they swirled in smooth circles, eliciting moan and moan from your lips. ‘See Sweetie? I know best. I know you best.’ You couldn’t help but agree in your daze.

The hand that wasn’t dancing along your clit reached up to grab your tit and Steve moaned in awe as you filled his palm perfectly. Although it was still early days of your pregnancy, you knew your body had begun to change and both Steve and Bucky had made it clear just how much they both adored those changes. Steve toyed with your sensitive nipples, pulling them taught one moment and gently kneading the flesh the next.

The constant stimulation was beginning to be too much and it was only a matter of minutes before you felt your toes curl. Your walls clamped down around him as he pushed you over the edge once more. You smothered your face into the pillow as your body thrummed with pleasure. Steve’s own grunts sounded like a symphony as he followed you, filling you to the brim once more. You felt so full of him that it was a wonder you could take any more.

Once more you were left dazed as his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer in his warm embrace. You didn’t question it as his palm once more spread across your stomach, his fingers tracing invisible patterns. You could feel the steady thump of his heart against your back and you wondered what was going on in his mind.

The silence stretched on for what could have been minutes or even hours as his breathing and your own returned to normal. It was only as your heart rate started to calm down when he spoke his voice so soft that you might not have heard it.

‘I hope it’s a girl.’

Your body stilled as he spoke and being too afraid to say anything contradictory you merely responded, ‘A girl?’

‘Yeah. I’ve always wanted one. Even back before the ice. I wanted a way to remember my mother, and now,’ His hand spread itself over your belly. ‘I might just have one. But what do you want?’

Your body tensed once again. You knew that if you said what you truly wanted, this kind, soft Steve would be gone in a heartbeat. Instead, you reflected back on that moment in the greenhouse, where that unwelcome picture of a blue-eyed boy running around the isles had implanted itself into your mind.

‘I’m not really sure. I guess I haven’t really thought that far ahead. But I guess whenever I picture the future, it’s always a boy. He… he always has your and Bucky’s eyes.’ Steve hummed in approval of your answer.

‘Yeah. Bucky told me about that. But tell me this, does he normally have brown or blonde hair?’

‘I… I don’t know.’

‘You do know.’ His tone wasn’t accusatory or even angry. It just seemed sad and he was right. You did know.

You wanted to scream as the guilt the wrecked it’s way through you, twisting up your insides. He shouldn’t be able to do this, to make you feel this way. Not after everything he’s done but here you were. Feeling guilty over some unborn child.

‘I’m sorry.’ The words were a whisper just like his lips brushing against your shoulder.

‘It’s okay.’

Somehow your body had calmed down long enough in Steve’s embrace for sleep to creep over you once more. Just like earlier you were awoken by anger, though this time none of it was directed at you.

Harsh tones filled your ears as your eyes were met with darkness. The only light in the room came from the hallway where you could see the door hadn’t fully closed.

You slithered out from under the covers and began creeping to the door. You couldn’t quite make out what they were saying but they were definitely having an argument. A big one.

Your feet brushed against the soft material of Steve’s shirt from where he had let it fall to the ground earlier. Without pausing to think, you bent down and scooped it up, pulling it over your naked body.

You crept towards the door, barely daring to breathe as you pressed your ear to the crack.

‘It’s not my choice Steve! I’ve been given orders.’

‘Oh, you’re seriously going to pull that card? I was given orders too but I chose to ignore them. I chose my family over some stupid mission.’ Steve bit back at Bucky and you cowered against the door. You had been on the receiving end of his anger far too often and the urge to go out and comfort Bucky was almost overpowering, but you stayed put as Bucky fired back.

‘It’s different for you and you know it. They don’t need you like they need me. I know these Hydra lairs and I’ll be able to keep our team safe.’

‘You’re just doing this because you’re so desperate to prove yourself, Bucky. I trust you and so does the team. You don’t need to keep on trying to earn their forgiveness for things that you had no choice about. You weren’t you back then and we all know it.’

‘That’s not what this is about.’

‘That’s bullshit.’ A gasp escaped you as you heard Steve swear. While it was quite common in the throes of passion, you had never heard it outside the bedroom so to speak. He often chastised you for your potty mouth and the idea of spanking him like he did to you brought a smile to your lips. You could barely imagine pulling his hulking frame over your lap.

The smile quickly faded as you heard Bucky’s next words though. ‘Steve, I already said yes to the mission and you know there’s no going back now. So as I see it we can either spend our last night together for a while fighting and arguing or we could have a nice time.’ Bucky pleaded.

‘It’s hard to have a nice time when my boyfriend’s being an idiot.’ Steve grumbled but you knew the fight was over and that Bucky had prevailed.

There was silence for some time and while the open door was tempting, your ass was still slightly too tender for you to even dare try and creep out. So instead, you padded back to your bed grabbing a book on your way. You didn’t doubt that your soldiers would be in your room soon enough to give Bucky a real farewell.

You had barely read a chapter of your novel before the door was pushed open as your soldiers came in. They both looked tired, and slightly on edge but they were putting on a good front for each other. You weren’t sure if you should address the tension in the room, or even let them know that you knew but Steve solved that issue for you. ‘How much did you hear Honey?’

You paused slightly, deliberating your answer before settling for honesty. ‘Not much. Just that Bucky’s going on a mission.’

‘That’s right.’ Bucky chimed in, coming over to sit on the edge of your bed. ‘I shouldn’t be gone for too long, a week or two at most. So I’m going to need you to be an extra good girl for Steve while I’m gone, especially because he’s so pissed at me right now.’

It hardly seemed fair that you should be suffering because of Bucky’s choices but that was your life, and life wasn’t fair. So instead you nodded your head a meek little ‘I understand,’ spilling from your lips.

‘That’s a good girl Honey.’ Bucky scooted up your bed so that he was sitting against the headboard too. Turning to Steve he reached an arm out. ‘Come on Stevie.’ You could see the ghost of a smile as Steve crossed the room and came to sit on your other side, his arm sliding around your back.

Before you had time to say anything, Steve had your book in his hand and placed the slim metal tab between the open pages before discarding it on your bedside table. Meanwhile Bucky had twisted you towards him, his hand coming up to cup your face as he pulled you in for a kiss. His tongue slipped in easily and mixed with yours. He tasted musky with a light sweetness and your eyes closed in bliss.

You could feel Steve’s hands wandering, pulling his shirt up over your hips and breasts. His hands came up to cup the mounds, playing with your perky nipples as his lips brushed against your shoulder. ‘You look spectacular wearing my clothes Sweetheart. Maybe I should take away your wardrobe and only give you my own clothes from now on.’

Bucky chuckled against your lips at Steve’s murmuring. ‘I think you mean our clothes punk.’

You smiled despite yourself and briefly parted from Bucky as Steve tugged the shirt over your head. A part of you suspected that Steve might be serious in his suggestion but you pushed it from your mind, leaving it to be a problem for future you. Right now you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone one concerning your wardrobe.

There was a nudge at your back and you shifted as Steve pushed your over, onto Bucky’s lap. He climbed up behind you and briefly pulled your lips away from Bucky’s so he could kiss him too. You watched as the two men kissed, your thighs clenching in response to the way they devoured one another.

You double checked, making sure that neither of them were paying you any attention before you let your hand drift down to in between your thighs. A surge of shame washed over you as you discovered just how wet you were but it was quickly dismissed. There was nothing you could do about it now and so you began coating your fingers in your slick, sliding them up and down along your lips.

Your middle finger found its way inside you, slowly pumping in and out and before long your index finger joined it. A groan of dissatisfaction tumbled from your lips even as you added a third finger. Your fingers just weren’t as thick or as long as your soldiers and you longed for more. Yet you pushed it aside and began to rub your palm along your clit with every thrust of your hand.

You were still a little sensitive from earlier with Steve yet it just added to your pleasure. In what felt like no time at all you could feel your walls begin to pulsate around your fingers as your impending orgasm to build. Moans fell freely from your lips as you got yourself off. The slow burning fire erupting over your body and flowing through your veins as you panted. ‘Oh god.’ Any sense of keeping quiet and secret had completely disappeared from your mind as pleasure washed over you.

‘Isn’t that the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen Stevie? Our girl, getting herself off for us.’

‘Oh yeah it is Buck. I would’ve preferred if she asked first though.’ Steve’s tone was admirable, yet also teasing and you squealed as he gently smacked your ass.

‘I’m sorry Captain.’ You tried your best to sound demure yet the wanton goddess within was anything but.

‘It’s okay Honey. Bucky and I both know how cock-hungry you are. How desperately you need us.’ You nodded your head eagerly as Bucky discarded his shirt and shifted his hips to pull down his jeans. ‘Why don’t you show me how much you need the Sergeant and I?’

You needed no further prompting as you crawled further up Bucky’s legs and situated yourself right over his pulsing member. You gripped it tightly and gave a few gentle tugs as you raised yourself up on your knees before lowering down onto it. An involuntary moan fell from your lips as he filled you so much better than your own fingers had.

‘God, she’s so wet, so freaking tight.’ Bucky’s hands gripped your hips and began rocking them against his. You could feel Steve move around behind you but paid him little attention as Bucky brushed against your g-spot. Your fingers dug into the scarred flesh of Bucky’s shoulder just as his did on your hips.

Bucky alone was already more than enough for you but when Steve slipped a lube covered finger into your tight hole you lost it. You walls clamped down on Bucky and he continued to fuck you through your second orgasm of the night.

‘Goddammit Steve, hurry up. She’s already trying to milk me dry.’ Bucky grunted out below you and Steve slipped in a second finger. Sweat started to gather on your forehead as Steve moved his fingers in time with Bucky, scissoring and curling them every now and then. A third long and thick finger was added just for long enough for you to grow accustomed before all three were removed, causing a whimper to fall from your lips.

Steve’s chuckle brushed against your lips as you felt his warm chest press against your back. ‘You’re just so desperate to get fucked in the ass aren’t you?’ Words failed you as his degrading tone washed over you and all you could do was desperately nod your head as another whimper left you. ‘Fuck, your begging for it. But don’t worry Honey. I’m gonna give it to you. I’m gonna give it all to you.’

‘Please.’ It was desperate and needy and should have made you want to crawl under the bed but when Steve pulled your ass cheeks apart before sliding home all thoughts of leaving disappeared. ‘So much. Too much.’ The stretch was borderline painful but you wanted it.

‘You were the one begging for it just before Honey. Just give it time, you’ll get used to me.’ You nodded your head, words seeming to be too much. Bucky thoughtfully also slowed his pace as you got used to your soldiers cocks filling both your holes.

There was a cold digit pressing against your clit and looking down you saw the flash of silver of Bucky’s arm. The cold was welcome at first but soon the ministrations of his nimble fingers just added to the heat that was consuming you.

Steve’s hand pushed you down, onto Bucky’s chest as he began dragging his cock in and out of your tight hole. You were astonished everytime they did this at how in sync your soldiers were. They managed to play your body like a fiddle, as though they had been learning the instrument their whole lives.

You were helpless to desire as their pace picked up. Both of your soldiers thrusted their hips with rough, pure strength and you weren’t sure how much more you could handle. Already the familiar tightening of your belly was warning you of your impending orgasm. Neither Bucky nor Steve seemed to care what you could or couldn’t handle though as they used your body, forcing pleasure onto you.

‘I know you’re close Honey. Be a good girl for the Sergeant and I and cum for us.’ Steve’s words were like a blessing to you and you gladly followed his commend. Your walls pulsated around their members and you felt them each fill you soon after.

Steve eased out of you first, and you shuddered as his cum dripped down your thighs. You felt the bed dip beside you as Steve lay back, his hands behind his head, a lazy and rare smile on his lips. The sight caught you so off guard that you couldn’t help but stare. Your attention was soon brought back to Bucky as he also slipped out of your warm heat, a hiss falling from your lips involuntarily.

‘I’m sorry Honey.’ He manoeuvred your body so you lay next to Steve, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. ‘I know it hurts, I’ll go grab you a cloth so you can wash up.’ You nodded in a daze, all the fucking of the day seeming to catch up with you at once.

By the time Bucky had returned your eyes were already closed and while you weren’t quite asleep you were very close to it. You could feel the bed lift as you assumed Steve excused himself before Bucky came back. You could feel hands, one soft and warm and the other cool and metallic dance along your thighs for a moment before the bed dipped and Bucky crawled in beside you, his arms wrapping around your body and moulded you to him.

The last thing you noticed before sleep pulled you under was the final dip of bed and another warm body pressing itself against you.

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barbariccia · 3 years

Text

it’s time to talk about Hydaelyn.

i’ve been sat on this theory for a long time - i’m pretty sure i didn’t come up with the original idea myself, but the more i think about it the more it makes sense to me. i’m not sure HOW it’ll come into play in the story, necessarily, but the new year’s eve poem posted last night has me rubbing my chin even more. so:

Hydaelyn exists under Silvertear Lake and i won’t hear no for an answer.

(please note there'll be spoilers for 5.0.)

we have known since 1.0 that there’s Something Under Silvertear. admittedly, in 1.0 it was likely just Midgardsormr, because the times have been a-changing and while the dev team has done a truly admirable job at building on what lore remained from the 1.X days, they couldn’t and didn’t keep everything intact. i do not at any point consider this a downside, just something worth noting!

the Garleans, headed by Gaius van Baelsar (acting under solus-selch’s orders), after the invasion and successful annexing of Ala Mhigo, pushed into Mor Dhona as the next part of their “invade Eorzea” project as a central location that would make continued pushes into the land easy. not only that, but Mor Dhona is noted as being (and has been since 1.X) the center of aetherial connections in Eorzea, if not the whole world, though Eorzea is particularly topped up with aether compared to other landmasses. Cid Garlond in his 1.X iteration suggests that Mor Dhona is where aether returns to rejoin the Lifestream. Quote:

Cid nan Garlond: All aether would - should pass through Silvertear Lake upon returning to the Land, but it now appears that something is bending the energy's course - drawing it away.

in 1.X, Nael van Darnus was originally drawing Dalamud down to fall on this area, where Castrum Novum (now Castrum Centri in ARR and beyond) was built, until adventurers put a stop to that and the transmitter was relocated to Coerthas, where the Rivenroad was ripped from. I’ll accept it as a happy coincidence - the castra was built in this area, it makes sense for plot events to happen there - but it does strike me as interesting, especially where the parallel between the Garlean’s Meteor Project and the original Meteor from FFVII is concerned. Sephiroth wasn’t just calling down a giant slab of asteroid for shiggles; he was doing it specifically to create a wound in the Planet that would require an immense amount of energy to heal that he could siphon off of and become a god. If XIV’s Meteor had hit (and not hatched like an egg), a similar thing might have happened.

And there’s no better place to call a lot of aether to the fore than somewhere entirely rich in it. Almost like there’s a great being in that area dependent on aether that directs the Lifestream through itself to preserve not only itself, but all life on the planet.

The second the Garleans got too close to the lake, Middy burst out with a whole host of Dravanians and the Battle of Silvertear Skies began (and ended with Dravanian victory at great cost). This sequence from 1.X is notable as being one of those things that has to have been changed from ARR onwards considering what we now know about primal summoning (they weren’t just ‘let loose’ into the world, they’ve been actively taught to certain peoples (though why only ‘now’ and not ‘before, too’ is still up in the air)) - not to mention we know that the Echo started manifesting after the battle, too, almost as though something felt like it was in danger and needed thralls (1) to protect itself - but Middy came out to protect something. He’d been known as the great protector of Silvertear Lake for a very long time, since he first appeared to the source. Quote The Rising Chorus, from patch 2.5:

Minfilia: [...] an unlikely ally came to Eorzea's aid that day─Midgardsormr, legendary guardian of Silvertear Falls, burst forth from beneath the waters of the lake and led a host of dragons against the Garlean airships overhead.

Minfilia: Midgardsormr was once worshipped as the guardian deity of Silvertear Falls [...]

Minfilia: One of the ancient myths regarding Silvertear Falls states that when the waters came into existence, so too did the great wyrm. Althyk and Nymeia, Brother Time and Sister Fate, decreed that Midgardsormr ever watch over the source, from which all water─and magic─was said to flow. I wonder... What if this was the covenant of which he spoke, and 'twas not the gods with whom he treated, but Hydaelyn Herself?

minfy and ourselves can only guess as to the nature of the covenant forged between hydaelyn and midgardsormr. Following the Omega questline, we know that Midgardsormr fled the Dragonstar with his seven eggs to get away from Omega, crossing the vast expanse of space at great cost to his own personal strength. We don’t know at what time Midgardsormr appeared to the Source - whether it was before, during, or after the time of the 13th Reflection being turned into the Void as we know it - but it would have been post-Sundering of the Ancient world, considering he was able to make a pact with Hydaelyn at all (2) (not to mention there’s no dragons on the First; if there were dragons everywhere we’d know they were reflections of the First Brood! i’m still angy there’s no Azdaja and Vrtra. fucking PLEASE squenix i’m DYING for info on them).

(1) this is a good a place as any to mention that in 1.X, Minfilia - then known as Ascilia - witnessed the Battle of Silvertear Falls with her father Warburton and her Echo awoke a few years later. interesting to think that the primal that tempered Ascilia in potential desperation would later scour her clean and use her for its own purposes, though i know this wasn’t intentional from the devs at all as a plot-point.

(2) the nature of Hydaelyn and Zodiark’s battle makes me doubt that there was much time between Her summoning and the Sundering of the world

There’s an interview from 2014/15 with Koji Fox where he notes, quote,"There's a presence [at Silvertear]. It wasn't just Midgardsormr there, it was more of a force[...]". There’s definitely something there that isn’t just the dragons. Something big. It’s Hydaelyn!!! It has to be. (highlights in the excerpt mine.)

My interpretation of this event is that Midgardsormr agreed to protect the physical ‘body’ of Hydaelyn in exchange for the safety of his eggs - the First Brood - which is what he’s been doing for potentially upwards of 10,000 years. The battle at Silvertear is pretty explosive otherwise for what’s effectively a non-event. There might not have been dragons in Gyr Abania, or in Ilsabard, or Othard or anywhere else they’ve been pushing into - but there’s never been any indication of the dragons being particularly territorial. The Dravanians shared their space with proto-Ishgardians back in the day, and their issues with the elezen of the Source was due to some choice eye-vorage, not encroaching on lands like the sahagin and kobolds.

As for Hydaelyn’s physical form - well, it’s known that Zodiark has a physical form which was sealed directly into the moon. The true moon, known to us colloquially as Menphina (3) (is there another name for it? i haven’t seen anything). It stands to reason that Hydaelyn has a physical form as well, then, hidden away somewhere safe, because as we known, primals can be defeated and their essences scattered to return back to the Lifesteam.

(3) Hey, it’s worth noting here that Menphina, the Lover (whose divine stone is parked right where Haurchefant’s grave is) is said to be the younger sister of Azeyma, the Warden! and boy, while we’re thinking about the misremembered names of the Convocation coming back as names of gods in modern day, what significance does that have?

The Antitower: In all of creation, what greater mystery could there be than the fate of this very star? To sound the deepest depths, to study the aetherial sea itself─for these purposes and more was the Antitower built. Abandoned by her Sharlayan caretakers following the exodus, it has since been overrun by the magical guardians they left behind. Yet were one blessed with Her gift to brave these dangers and descend to the furthest reaches─to hear, feel, and think at the heart of this world─what would they find?

(emphasis mine.)

in the cutscenes following the Antitower, we meet Hydaelyn in the aetherial sea, and Her mouthpiece, the Word of the Mother. and by using the Antitower, something specifically Sharlayan-built, no less. I’d be very interested to know if you can reach the aetherial sea from only the Forelands, where that dungeon is, or from anywhere. I’m gonna make a stab at anywhere.

It’s been brought to my attention that in the cutscenes post-Antitower, Hydaelyn mentions in the quest The Word of the Mother (patch 3.2), and Ardbert echoes later in Shadows of the First (patch 3.4) that “across ten and three were [we] then divided, reflections of the source, each possessed of a shard”, which seems to imply that not only the people of the world and Zodiark, but also Hydaelyn Herself was sundered and became weaker in so doing. which is FANTASTICALLY interesting, all things considered! maybe She wasn’t just becoming weak (and finding it harder to take mouthpieces and the like) because of the land’s aether being drained by primals (and other sources).

The just-released (as of time of writing) New Year’s Eve poem makes me think that the “last chapter of this story” might relate back to this in some way.

[EN]

Our progeny may never know Wherefore we look unto the sky Nor why we dig for truth below; We bear their scorn or watch them die.

[FR]

With our mouths closed, we pile stone upon stone, To form a staircase leading to the lands of knowledge, As well as another pointing to the heavens of existence. Our children will remember it, no matter how angry they are.

[GR]

Committed to our silent office We seek wisdom in the deep earth. Put tomorrow in starry hands, Sung by children's lamentations.

[JP]

By staying silent and saying naught, we will not accumulate the crystals(?) (4) To gain knowledge, we climb into the earth, To survive, we climb to into the heavens. Even if our progeny resent us, it is all for their sake.

(4) 石 meaning stone rather than ‘crystals’, 水晶 meaning ‘crystal’ (and used in the JP title of the Crystal Exarch).

*** translations from THIS reddit post and THIS tweet for the EU and JP translations of the poem, respectively.

something something 6.0 is looking more likely to be Sharlayan than anywhere else, something something big tower something something learn stuff from within the earth. c’moooon, i wanna go beat some answers out of crystal mom. walk freeeee indeed.

Getting away from the poems again and back to Stuff On The Source, we can take a look at the First, a much more pristine reflection of the Source due to having no Calamities happen to it ever. The Source (not to be confused with the Source), the equivalent of Silvertear, is being presided over by none other than... Bismarck, a member of the fae (and BOY i’d like to know more about whaleboi in this world!!!!), in exactly the same position Midgardsormr is, presumably protecting something of equal importance. Having said that, I don’t know if by splitting the world, Hydaelyn also split Herself.

Having said that, there’s an environmental anomaly in that area. Fly out to Bismarck’s (5) nose, and then dive under the waves. There’s a crystal formation coming out of the ground that can’t be found anywhere else on the First - there is nothing else similar to this formation - that has patches of light emitting from bits of it. A friend of mine noted that the way it seems to be coming through in only this location is almost cancerous in origin - that is to say, uncontained and Wrong in some manner, more complex than we have words or knowledge of. The only way you can interact with these crystals is in the level 78 mining levequest Crystal Meds, which notes that you can yank salt crystals out of that formation... but it seems a little too suspect to leave as ‘just salt’.

(5) Speaking of Bismarck, from that earlier interview with Koji Fox, he also has this to say, which... what else have you been hiding in plain sight... (highlights again mine.)

Or the Crystarium’s just going around seasoning their meals with primal mama, who knows.

Eep, this post got away from me. Anyway, i’m not really sure what to DO with any of this information. as many of my friends know i’ve been harping on about this for years at this point, and i’m not the best at speculation and guessing accurately where stories end up going - but it feels more right than ever to talk about it now after that poem was release.

hells, maybe they’ll give us another tower. say... a tower of bab-il, to take us to the moon? 6.0 FFIV expansion pretty please??

#ffxiv speculation #ffxiv #hydaelyn #final fantasy 14 #ff14

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