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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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I don't know if you ship ChengXian, but maybe a soul mate au for them with a happy ending please?

They figured out that Wei Ying’s parents had died, and Wei Ying left alone, when Jiang Cheng’s fingers started scabbing over.

After all, that’d been the agreement: Jiang Fengmian would consent to his wife’s proposal to engage his eldest daughter to the Jin sect’s heir, and in return she would agree to allow him to bind his best friend’s son to his own the way he and Wei Changzhe had once been bound, before the latter dissolved it in order to marry.

A soul binding contract, allowing the wounds incurred by one to be shared with the other – a life-saving panacea, halving the severity of the injury by splitting it among two people’s bodies.

It was supposed to be for Jiang Cheng’s benefit, or so Jiang Fengmian had said, but the more his father went out to search for the missing Wei Wuxian – because it had to be his fingers that were so cold that they nearly froze, his nails that were breaking off as he scrabbled for food, his palms that were scraped raw by landing too-hard against the earth – the more Jiang Cheng thought that it was actually for him.

The other persons’ child.

Jiang Cheng didn’t mind, though. He forced himself to eat twice as much as he needed at meals, thinking about how the way he still lost weight he couldn’t spare, but his father forced him to eat even more than that, more and more until his mother threatened to beat him with Zidian if he even suggested another spoonful. He carefully bandaged his fingers and stayed inside, not risking any injury that might spread to Wei Ying’s body, anything that might be the difference between life and death for him. He took warm baths and wrapped himself in blankets to try to pass along what warmth he could in winter, huddling in his bed with Jasmine, Princess, and Lovely so they could add their warmth, too, licking his fingers whenever they hurt.

When his father finally came back with Wei Ying in his arms, Jiang Cheng was so happy to finally have a chance to meet the boy who was going to be his best friend, just like their fathers had been.

It was nearly all ruined when Jiang Fengmian sent Jiang Cheng’s puppies away, citing Wei Ying’s fear – the contract couldn’t survive hatred, would break at once if one of them ever really hated the other – but in the end Wei Ying came to him and whispered that he remembered little tongues licking his fingers, that maybe these dogs weren’t so bad, and maybe they could go find them again…maybe even together?

That was when Jiang Cheng knew that every bit of effort he’d put in all those years was worth it.

It was hard to tell which one of them got into more scrapes when they were younger, Wei Wuxian in his recklessness or Jiang Cheng in trying to keep up with his friend, so they got into the habit of patching each other up as quickly as possible before either Jiang Fengmian or Madam Yu could see – depending on who they encountered first, one of them would get blamed, and neither of them wanted to see that.

Madam Yu sometimes talked about arranging a marriage for Jiang Cheng so that he wouldn’t be burdened by the soul-contract any longer, but Jiang Fengmian refused, insisting that his son pick his marriage for himself, and Jiang Cheng was quietly relieved: he didn’t want to trade in Wei Wuxian for some girl he didn’t know.

Even when Wei Wuxian began to outpace him, being more skilled, more talented, more charismatic – even when people started saying he understood the Jiang sect motto better, that he would be a better sect leader, that he was Jiang Fengmian’s true heir –

Jiang Cheng didn’t care. Wei Wuxian would stand by his side, always, and that was worth a sacrifice.

A little pain in the body, a little pain in the heart, it was all the same.

They were by each other’s side in the Cloud Recesses, they were by each other’s side in the Nightless City, they were at each other’s side as they fell into the cave and came up against the Xuanwu –

And then Jiang Cheng had to be the one to go, while Wei Wuxian had to be the one to stay.

Jiang Cheng clutched his bleeding arm and ignored his burning chest as he hiked back to Yumeng from Qishan, running as far as he could and walking the rest until his feet started bleeding and then he stopped, because he couldn’t let Wei Wuxian face the Xuanwu with bleeding feet, could he?

“Don’t listen to your father,” Wei Wuxian told him after he’d been rescued, when Jiang Fengmian had praised Wei Wuxian and ignored everything Jiang Cheng had done. “I know what you did for me.”

He touched his ribs, which had ached with the exertion, and his feet that were so tired, his stomach that been filled with ill-tasting weeds from the side of the road, that old concern about Wei Wuxian starving rearing its head again, filled and filled until the point that Wei Wuxian had tasted bile that wasn’t his own –

Yes, Wei Wuxian knew that Jiang Cheng loved him.

One of the Wen guards slapped Jiang Cheng in the face when he captured him, laughing at their newest prisoner, and only a few streets away Wei Wuxian coughed up blood in response. He didn’t realize then what had happened, but when he returned to find Jiang Cheng gone…

Jiang Cheng would never in his life tell Wei Wuxian what he had done for him, but Wei Wuxian touched his jaw, thought of the timing, and put two and two together.

“It was supposed to be for you, idiot,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes as he made his way back towards the Lotus Pier as quickly as possible. “It was supposed to protect you – why do you always insist on protecting me?”

Wei Wuxian went as quickly as he could, but he didn’t have his sword and didn’t dare try to find another; his progress was slow, and slowed further by the night he spent screaming up into the stars as the discipline whip fell on Jiang Cheng’s shoulders and chest.

By the way Wei Wuxian suddenly felt terribly sick, empty inside, and didn’t know why until he rescued Jiang Cheng.

(Wen Chao, Wang Lingjiao, Wen Zhuliu…Wei Wuxian vowed that they would all die horrible deaths, every one of them, for what they did to his shidi – to his Jiang Cheng. How dare they..!)

“Remember not to fidget too much,” Wei Wuxian called with a fake smile on his face as Jiang Cheng started his way up the mountain in Yiling, blindfolded and hopeful and believing in Wei Wuxian’s words the way he always had. “Don’t forget: when you get back down, we’ll have matching scars.”

“I refuse,” Jiang Cheng said, and turned away from Wei Wuxian. “I will not kick you out of the Jiang sect. I don’t care if Jin Guangshan is angry over what you did – I will not do it.”

“Be sensible for once, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said. “This is shijie’s marriage we’re talking about, and the Jiang sect’s well-being! The stupid things I’ve done are on my head – they shouldn’t drag anyone else down.”

“It’s not a matter of dragging it down – you wouldn’t say that I should abandon the sect because of my failures, would you?”

“What? No. Of course not –”

“Well, the Jiang sect’s as much yours as it is mine.”

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes. “Jiang Cheng –”

“It is,” Jiang Cheng snapped. “And if you don’t know that by now, you’ll never figure it out, will you?”

He stormed off.

Wei Wuxian stared behind him for a long time, twisting his fingers together. “Oh,” he said, thinking about how Madame Yu would often declare that she was every bit the mistress of the Jiang sect as Jiang Fengmian was the master. “Oh – Jiang Cheng –”

But in the end, what had to happen had to happen.

“I’m his uncle. Do you have any last words?”

Wei Wuxian turned around, back going cold – that voice was Jiang Cheng, his A-Cheng, A-Cheng who he’d left behind and all alone.

Jiang Cheng who had run straight to him in secret as soon as the siege of the Burial Mound was planned, still clad in mourning clothes from the Nightless City and covered in the dust of burying Jiang Yanli, whispering in Wei Wuxian’s ear desperately that he had to run, he had to escape, that if he could only get out of the encirclement that Jiang Cheng hide him, he’d find a way, they’d find a way, I can’t lose you too –

Wei Wuxian had looked his lover in the eye and lied to him again as he’d lied to him before: he told him to go gather up his Jiang sect cultivators, as many as he could, and join the siege, told that he’d be able to claim Wei Wuxian for his own sect and demand the others stay out of his family business, told that it would all work out all right.

All lies.

The cultivation backlash had already begun at that point, building deep inside Wei Wuxian’s dantian that no longer had a golden core to help hold it back, and he knew there would be no escape for him. Better that his death serve some purpose in clearing Jiang Cheng’s name.

Now, back in the present, Wei Wuxian slowly turned on his heel.

Jiang Cheng was even more beautiful than he’d been when they were young. He had finally settled into his adult body, well-proportioned and strong; his entire being sufficed with an aura of power – with Sandu at his side and Zidian on his hand, he was every inch the sect leader he had always been meant to be.

But that wasn’t what took Wei Wuxian’s breath away.

Jiang Cheng’s clothing was high-necked and his sleeves were worn tight to his wrists – but there was still enough flesh visible for Wei Wuxian to see the silvery scars that were peppered throughout his skin, little flecks that shone in the light of the moon from every meridian he had.

As if his body had been torn apart by a thousand fierce ghosts, a cultivation backlash fierce enough to kill no matter how much it had been divided between two bodies.

Jiang Cheng must have refused to release the soul-binding contract until the very end, even as it nearly dragged him into the abyss at Wei Wuxian’s side.

“A-Cheng…”

“Who are you to call my uncle that?” Jin Ling cried out, furious, and he flung out his sword; Wei Wuxian was so shocked that he barely remembered to dodge in time, the sharp end of the blade cutting a thin line in his cheek as it passed him by. “You madman! I can’t believe I was nice to you once –!”

Jiang Cheng held his hand.

At first Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling both thought he was calling for silence, but then Jiang Cheng moved his hand to touch his own face – his cheek, where a thin line of flesh had opened up, and blood dripped down.

“…A-Xian?”

“I’ve heard so much about you, shishu!” Jin Ling said later, when they were back in the Lotus Pier, his eyes shining as bright as stars. “Jiujiu’s told me all the stories – I even know how to make Mother’s soup, he said that was your favorite! Do you want to try some?”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure how he’d manage to eat soup, even his shijie’s special one, given that Jiang Cheng showed no inclination to release his hand now or forever, but he smiled and nodded and watched as Jin Ling ran away to the kitchens.

“You’re not angry at me?” he asked, not for the first time. To think that Jiang Cheng had never released the soul-binding contract, even when Wei Wuxian had been a ghost, even when his soul had been recalled into a body not his own…

“I’m furious,” Jiang Cheng replied. “The only way you can make it up to me is to stay with me forever.”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #jiang fengmian #jin ling #my fic #my fics #worst possible soulmate au for these two #Anonymous

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

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Uh, is there still an angst break? Ignore this ask until your ready if so 👉😎👉

What was the au where Jekylls pushed down the stairs and experiences a skull crackening again? Oh well but I've been thinking of a branch of that where Jekyll doesn't know hes dead like all day. I also cant remember if that was already discussed or not

The lodgers patch him up, he complains of a headache, and goes on his merry way! He's confused why all the lodgers are so nervous and being nice to him all of the sudden, why creature is looking at him with a stange mix of empathy and pity. He was told he fell down the stairs, fell unconscious, and obtained a bit of an injury. He cant fathom why Frankenstein is "The only doctor who can treat him" why he has to constantly go to her for checkups. Why Maijabi is suddenly following him practically everywhere.

Hyde squeezes back control for a moment and tries the potion but it doesn't work. Maybe a bit of pain but certainly no transformation. Jekyll assumes his injury or whatever medication they're giving him to treat it somehow negated the effects

Jekyll complains about "suddenly blacking out" the lodgers know its because his soul is slippery. They tell him it must just be a side effect of the injury and not to worry

How long can they keep it secret from him? When does he find out? Does he? Does it get to be years only for him to realize that he hasn't aged? That he still needs checkups from Frankenstein? Does he learn sooner? Does a lodger crack and say it? Does he rot? Does he notice how so very cold he is. How animals act around him? It's all very interesting,,

I actually did think a bit of Jekyll's kidnappers for the amnesia kidnapping au! When drawing that lil sketch of Henry and O'Leary meeting Robert I had considered making it so O'Leary was suspicious of Lanyon like "Oh theres no news anywhere of someone matching Thomas' description who's missing. But some random people walk up claiming to know him? Begging to take him back with them?" And he'd think they were the kidnappers. But ultimately I decided against it as I felt Lanyon and Rachel were pretty clearly, genuinely concerned for "Thomas" :p

I tried playing assassins creed once, the first(?) one. But the controls were confusing and everything was sorta thrown all at me at once, and I got bored of it quickly

But! I went to the store the other day and just so happened to notice Syndicate was being sold for 15 dollars 👀 So I bought it because funky Victorian assassins and your influence! It's a bit less confusing then the first ac game I tried but why is going down or dropping so hard bdksnks. I'm having quite a bit of fun! If you dont count my rage and annoyance-, the B button refuses to cooperate with me unless I'm looting corpses >:(

The b button being the bane of my existence aside, I AM having fun! I like the funky outfits and I want to play as the girl twin (evie?) forever because her clothes are good and shes better at attacking than jacob(?) For some reason. Probably the stun her weapon has? Oh well! I have not unlocked any new outfits yet, nonetheless I wish there were more.

Also! I was thimking, and my current quests are taking place at 1868? Did I get that right? And Jekyll is like 35 in 1885. So in game he'd be 18! An au like I believe you mentioned sounds very interesting 👀 but I must play more to know what's going on and daydream about it

That would be the resurrection au <3

But god, I really like that branch! Especially combined with the hc that he can't feel pain bc the HJ7 and the transformations made him immune. Frankenstein patched him up and made fleshweaver to heal the crack in his skull but it still has to be bandaged, he surely broke a few bones, yet all he has to do is to be careful because it doesn't even hurt. He doesn't even realize how severe the injuries are because it doesn't hurt, it very well might just have been that he accidentally slipped at the bottom of the staircase and accidentally hit his head on the railing during his fall, rather than getting physically pushed and flying down the stairs, shattering his skull upon impact with the marble floor. Y'know what would be extra fun? If he only starts getting a bit suspicious about how severe the injury was once he realizes his lungs stop breathing for minutes at a time when he gets distracted, or his heartbeat stops dead in his chest. I know that that's not how biology or even creature works but lets say the HJ7 is funky, Zombie Jekyll my beloved. Perhaps he would only fully grasp what had happened once he blacked out too much and 'passed out', but his soul slipped out enough to leave his body unconscious on the floor while his soul/ghost was just... Watching. And it's not until Maijabi (who, as you said, follows him everywhere) immediately calls for more Lodgers saying that Henry's soul is getting unstable and Frankenstein's lousy job is starting to shine through that he fully understands that it was not a mere hit to the head. Or maybe it is when days, weeks, maybe months has passed and the headache never goes away, he only feels how his body starts feeling so much more... Fragile and delicate, that the guilt has eaten Helsby up alive and he corners him and spills everything, knowing he is going directly against what the group agreed to but not being able to keep it a secret much longer-- or maybe Creature would tell him immediately, once Henry is, for once, alone perhaps days after the initial accident. He cannot see Henry struggle to understand what is going on when he already knows what's happening to Henry, his mind, and his body. He doesn't listen to the plan that Frankenstein and the Lodgers has set up and immediately tells Henry the first moment they are alone. That would certainly be horrifying, I can only imagine how the Lodgers would find Henry after that, once he actually knows and manages to process everything. He would be so mad, not only to have been killed in the first place, but also because he was robbed of an afterlife because the Lodgers were selfish and could not accept the consequences of their actions. He would be mad, he would be so pissed and I have no doubt he might actually be mad at Maijabi too for even agreeing to help Frankenstein and the rest of the Lodgers. That anger would not stay long, though. That anger would soon turn into misery and sadness and paranoia so even as Henry has tried to push Maijabi away, Henry still ends up on his doorstep begging him to help him make sure he is not rotting, because no matter what anyone says, he is sure he can see rotten spots and patches on his skin and he is just so scared and jdhfjsdfdsfsfs... <3

Ooooooohhh, I was actually daydreaming about this just this morning! Granted, I woke up at 5 and began to daydream to fall asleep quicker but I still like the thought of O'Leary being suspicious of Robert/Rachel/Jasper/the Lodgers bc he is protective of 'Thomas' and doesn't want anything bad to happen to him and especially with the idea that Henry still has hallucinations and they both think he was abandoned by his family, left to rot at a mental asylum. O'Leary might very well think that it might be Henry's friends and family that dumped him that Henry had 'escaped' the hospital and that's why they knew he was missing since the Asylum itself obviously wouldn't have posted the news... I really liked Jeks idea, okay? Like a lot, I absolutely love it <3

Oh, the oldest AC game I played was Unity bc it was free after the Notre Dame fire, and I can confirm, I played 15 min and could not get through it even if i would have wanted to, it absolutely sucks so i have no doubt the older games are just as frustrating <3

BUT!!!! I'M SO GLAD MY CORRUPTION IS SPREADING AND YOU BOUGHT AND PLAYED IT AND ARE ENJOYING IT SO FAR!!! Trust me, Syndicate truly is an absolutely amazing game and is definitely one of my top 3 games of all time. I sometimes play it w my friend watching me play and trust me, I know that rage of trying to do smt but the character does smt else... or you try to do smt but the game doesn't react and you miss your chance... Oh well, still a wonderful game <3

My friend loves to play as Evie as well but I'm definitely playing Jacob every chance I get and I honestly get a lil pissy when I have to play as Evie bc I always prefer to play male characters, plus, I just like Jacob better bc he is a sweetheart. He is also canonically bisexual as hell!!! Have you met Abberline yet? The police officer? Him and Jacob together is one of my fave ships for the game. I also bought the ultimate/golden/whatever name it was edition so I had a bunch of extra outfits, I love the sherlock holmes outfit for Jacob but my friend keeps bullying me for it </3

Honestly? The time difference is the bane of my entire idea for the au bc if it's during their time Henry hasn't even graduated yet, and definitely not well-known enough for them to actively meet for whatever reason, and if you use the timeline for the jack the ripper dlc (in 1888) a lot of... Less than pleasant things happen so it wouldn't really make a lot of sense for a crossover to happen at that point but maybe it's just bc im a pussy and refuse to play the dlc. Rn, while imagining the au, I just imagine the 1868 timeline to be the same as the TGS timeline. I like to imagine the Frye Twins hearing about Henry and the Society and promptly breaking into his office to ask him to make poison and stuff for them. I also have a feeling that Jacob would flirt wildly with Henry and that Henry would be less-than-amused. It would also be a very fun thing with the fact that there would be two Henrys, with TGS Henry Jekyll and AC Syndicate Henry Green, soo... XD

#Man I really want to hear your journey through syndicate!!!#Oh man I cant wait until you meet Maxwell #and Crawford for that matter #he was the guy I based the crawford in the fic off of bc i had no idea what else to do <3 #OHH there would also be a lot of mixup with Lucy Thorne and TGS Queen Lucy #oh i can imagine them being rivals #that would be fun <3 #ask #darling-dolly-darlene #banshees au #resurrection au #amnesia kidnapping au

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twstdreams · 4 years

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I've loved your non-romantic/platonic content that you've done so far! Adding on to that list, could I please request a short story surrounding MC, Ace, and Deuce? An accident occurs which ends in MC turning into a little kid and now it's up to the two boys to put their differences aside and babysit their friend until she's back to normal. Girl pronouns plz! Lol I can only imagine the chaos that would ensue. If you don't feel comfortable with this ask you can skip it! Thx for reading :)

I am always up for platonic content and shenanigans! Long story, so the rest is under the cut!

Warning: Minor spoilers for side stories (briefly alluded to)

Length: ~2.3K

“It’s this one!” Deuce declares with unfounded confidence.

“No, it’s not!” Ace rebuttals despite not making it past page 10 in his textbook.

“It’s mine!” Grimm shouts even though he most definitely does not understand the experiment at hand.

The magicless student can only sigh. Deuce and Ace suck at potions. So when the two bicker about what to add to their cauldron, the prefect doesn’t even blink an eye. Deuce mispronounces an ingredient, Ace corrects him, but neither are even talking about the right thing. She can practically sense Crewel’s glare despite her eyes remaining on the cauldron, cautiously waiting for bubbles to appear so she could add the indigo milk cap mushroom.

What is added next to her cauldron is not the mushroom in her hand but a random root Grimm throws in. In Deuce’s haste to catch the gremlin, he spills over his own cauldron and some of their potion spills into hers.

“What are you doing?” she asks, but it’s too late. The mixture in her cauldron is boiling profusely and suddenly envelopes her in a cloud of smoke.

“Funya! MC, are you okay?” Grim inquires. Deuce and Ace also call out her name but there is no response. When the smoke clears, everyone in the room is left speechless.

The potential beast tamer hasn’t moved but an inch but she’s at least two feet shorter and with rounder cheeks and wide eyes.

“WHAT?” she screeches in disbelief, suddenly too short to even reach the cauldron, “Fix this!”

And this is how the group’s long catastrophic day begins.

Adventure 1: The beginning

“What?!” Grim shouts. If looks could kill, Crewel’s glare would have toasted the monster.

“Yes, it is hard to predict when MC will return to normal because you carelessly threw together that potion. It should wear off in a day, but there’s no guarantee,” the teacher explains through gritted teeth. The bell rings but the quartet barely registers it.

“Go to the headmaster! It’s not my problem anymore,” Crewel declares.

Unfortunately, as most meetings with the headmaster are, the conversation is fruitless.

“Hah? We’re supposed to babysit her?” Ace asks.

“Yes! It’s your fault, is it not? Take care of her until the spell wears off,” Crowley declares.

“Isn’t there any way to break the spell?” Deuce inquires while nervously glancing towards MC.

“It’s hard to tell because you added in unknown amounts of various ingredients,” Crowley answers before muttering, “It takes too much time! I need to know what happens next in my novel.”

“Tch, what a lazy adult,” MC comments with a bored expression. She figured this would happen. She can’t even recall a moment when the headmaster had actually been helpful.

“What did you say?” Crowley demands. Deuce immediately picks up MC and heads for the door.

“Nothing! We’ll take care of her! See you later headmaster!” Ace explains while the two boys dash out of the office. They book it out of the hallway and then set her down on the ground.

“Hey! What was that about? It’s usually Grim saying stuff that gets us in trouble, not you,” Ace comments.

“Don’t tell me…Now she acts like a little kid too?” Deuce wonders.

Adventure 2: Stranger Danger

“Oh? Ramshackle prefect, you seem to be caught in quite the predicament.” MC glares at the Octavinelle dorm leader in return. Ace and Deuce are in the midst of calling Cater and Trey to ask for advice, giving Azul the perfect opportunity to approach her.

“I have an offer for you,” the second year begins.

“No.” MC is firm in her answer and has no intention of making any deals.

“Are you sure? I treat children well,” Azul adds but it only results in her frowning. There’s suddenly a glimmer in her eyes but before Azul can deduce what it means, MC begins shouting.

“STRANGER DANGER! STRANGER DANGER!”

“Stop that!” Azul insists but his wide eyes give away his flustered state. With a smile that looks a little too much like Chenya’s, MC continues her call for help. Soon enough, Deuce and Ace rush to her side.

“Stranger? That’s Prefect Azul! Have you forgotten him?” Deuce inquires with a look of concern. MC decides this is the perfect time to practice her puppy eyes and simply looks up at Deuce, wide eyes and with a pout.

Azul silently admits defeat as he forms a tight-lipped smile accompanied by some false pleasantries before exiting the area.

“I’m hungry!” she announces before anyone can question her further.

“Yes! Let’s go eat!” Grim agrees.

Adventure 3: Sweet Dreams

Getting lunch is a surprisingly painless affair. Though Night Raven College students could be quite self-centred, even they balked at harming a little girl. MC easily orders her favourites before sitting with her friends, though she has to sit on her knees to be at a comfortable height compared to the table.

“Wow! It’s true!~” Cater chimes while taking a seat at the table.

“How are you feeling?” Trey asks.

“Okay! It’s kinda weird but at least it was easy to get lunch,” she replies while taking a bite of her food.

“Now you really look like my minion!” Grim declares. MC shoots the monster a glare but doesn’t give him a response.

“You’re actually a little kid, huh? So, what do you wanna do when you grow up?” Ace teases.

“I want to control all the ghosts and have an army,” MC answers nonchalantly as if she had been discussing the weather.

“What?” Trey asks, slightly taken aback. Wasn’t this the person who was gullible enough to think that oyster sauce went in tarts?

“A ghost army,” she repeats confidently.

“Anyway! Aren’t you lucky? You get all these handsome guys to help you today!” Cater interjects, not wanting to unpack why the prefect wanted an army of the dead.

Her gaze scans the table before looking up at Cater, eyes wide and expression void of malice, and asks, “Where?”

Grim howls with laughter while the four Heartslabyul students try to recover from the blow to their ego. It’s definitely going to be a long day for them.

Adventure 4: Smiles and stares

“Hey wait!” MC whines. One disadvantage of becoming short is that her stride decreased accordingly, thus her struggles to keep up with her classmate’s pace.

“Just walk faster or we’ll be late for class!” Ace retorts, glancing up ahead to see how far away the next building is.

“AHH!” Ace turns around to see MC a couple of meters behind him face-first in a patch of grass.

“Uwah! Are you okay?” Grim asks while flying above the fallen girl. Ace groans at the predicament. Deuce ran ahead to warn the other teachers of MC’s unfortunate condition so the redhead was the only babysitter at the moment.

The situation only worsens when MC begins to sit up, knees scraped, eyes glistening with tears, brows furrowed, and lips pressed tightly together. Ace’s eyes widen at the sight.

“Please don’t cry,” he mutters under his breath before trying to think about how to soothe kids.

“Oh my, that was quite a fall. You’re okay now though, right?” Jade asks while extending a gloved hand. His face is calm, showing no signs of concerns or worry with only a placid smile to demonstrate any emotion. MC stares at his face, analyzing his expression for a few moments. After finding the answer to her unsaid question, she accepts his hand and quickly sniffles before nodding.

Ace watches in amazement as all signs of pain and panic vanish from her expression. He decides not to question her mood change before ushering the prefect to their next class.

Adventure 5: What came first? The egg or the chicken?

“You have to!” Deuce insists.

“NO!” MC shouts back, sitting firmly on the ground. Deuce is startled by the force of her words but stands his ground.

“It’s for your own good! Kids need exercise!” Or at least that’s what Cater told him before going to light music club.

“You can’t move me an inch!” MC retorts.

“I’m older, you should respect your seniors,” Deuce adds, doing his best to retain some level of patience.

“At least I know where chickens come from!” she rebuttals and Deuce feels at a loss for words. It is certainly not honour student behaviour to yell at a young girl but the first year is at his limits. He came to NRC to learn about magic, not dealing with children!

“Let’s play tag,” Jack suggests. Being the only one with little siblings, he is quickly enlisted to help. While disappointed in Deuce and Ace’s carelessness, he didn’t want to risk MC’s safety by leaving her in their care. Thus making him a reluctant member of the babysitting team.

“Tag?” MC echoes before a bright smile forms on her face. “Can it be teams?”

“Sure,” Jack agrees nonchalantly.

“Jack and I are on the same team! We get to chase Deuce and Ace!” she declares gleefully.

“Huh? I didn’t agree to this,” Ace interjects.

“We need even teams!” MC responds with puffed cheeks.

“Too bad, so sad!” Ace replies without remorse.

“This is our fault Ace. Plus we promised the headmaster to take care of her. As Heartslabyul students and men, we can’t go back on our words!” Deuce declares. Jack’s firm gaze and Deuce’s blazing spirit give little room for negotiation and Ace sighs in defeat. Ace really does hate alchemy class from the bottom of his heart.

Adventure 6: Idiots, all of them

MC closes her eyes and enjoys the breeze while resting. Deuce and Jack had gone to the cafeteria to get drinks for everyone after several rounds of tag while Ace lay on the ground to catch his breath. It was quite entertaining to see the fastest first years engage in a game of tag and even more fun to watch Ace try to avoid his inevitable fate. Agile as he was, Ace couldn’t run fast enough to outdo Jack with his insane stamina and speed. She giggles at the memory.

“Bonjour petite princesse!” Rook looks down at the little girl with a shining smile. Her eyes snap open and follow the source of the cheerful voice.

“Isn’t it delightful to see a new side to your friends? Like escorting someone on their first dance, like watching a lazy lion transform into a beast for the sake of the hunt, like observing night flox bloom under a full moon!” Rook beams but MC merely shrugs in response.

“Yeah but I’ve also seen Ace fall off his broom, Deuce compliment plants, and Jack mistake onions for a chemical leak.”

“Oh? Is it not like having several princes tend to you?” he inquires.

She scrunches her nose in thought before replying, “If my prince got stuck in a tree and I had to go save him.”

“Dear me, and I thought you were une petite princesse mignonne [1]! Perhaps that was a misunderstanding,” Rook remarks though he doesn’t seem displeased with the discovery.

Adventure 7: Mandatory nap

“Let’s go to the infirmary,” Ace suggests, “MC needs a nap and it’s the closest building with beds.”

“I’m the one that needs a nap?” she asks while side-eyeing her tired friend.

“She hasn’t even run for 3 hours,” Jack comments.

“Kids need naps! Plus, who knows what the side-effects of the potion are?” Ace adds, “We shouldn’t take any chances with her health.”

“You do need proper sleep to grow strong!” Deuce concurs.

“Sure, sure,” she concedes. When they arrive at the infirmary, there is no staff in sight. Ace guides her to a bed with an expectant smile.

“Well, go to sleep now!” Ace announces.

“It doesn’t work like that. I’m not sleepy,” she responds.

“Just lie in bed and close your eyes!” Ace insists with a huff.

“Shut up. You’re so noisy,” a voice growls. Leona appears on the other side of a room divider. Jack lets out a sigh, disappointed but not surprised by his dorm leader.

“I was having such a nice nap and now I’m… hah?” His sentence trails off as he eyes the little girl before him.

“Well,” you launch into an explanation of what happened, Leona shooting a judgemental look towards Deuce and Ace midway, before concluding, “It should wear off by the end of the day.”

“Tch, what an annoyance. I’m going back to sleep, don’t be loud,” Leona warns before flopping back onto the bed.

“How do you fall asleep so fast?” MC inquires. Leona glares at her, lips pressed together to form a thin line, but he lets any threats die in his throat.

“It’s nap time. Count sheep like a good herbivore until you fall asleep,” he instructs before turning his back towards the group. More than she’d like to admit, her small body requires rest and what better excuse than this? Besides, it’s not like magical history homework was particularly appealing, so she plops onto the bed to rest.

“I’m exhausted. Taking care of kids is tiring,” Ace says before falling onto another bed.

“It’s been a long day. I’m glad MC is okay, though. Haaah…I’m sleepy,” Deuce murmurs before resting on a different bed. Jack doesn’t comment but quietly begins his homework while keeping watchful eye on the little girl, not that he’d admit it if asked.

Adventure 8: The End. For now, anyway

She stretches after waking up, pleased to find her body back to its normal size. Ace snores lightly, Deuce’s mouth is agape, and Leona is nowhere to be found.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jack asks.

“Yeah, I actually feel pretty good!” Their conversation awakens their friends.

“You’re finally back to normal! I’m relieved,” Deuce interjects.

“You’re a lot of work for a minion, ya know? You’re lucky I’m so great,” Grim comments.

“That was a pain! You owe me big time!” Ace adds. MC shakes her head and wonders if she has the greatest or most chaotic friends.

[1] une petite princesse mignonne = a cute little princess

#writing Rook and Deuce are hard #Rook is so extra #and Deuce's speech pattern is something I'm not used to #hope you enjoy #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #deuce spade #ace trappola #leona kingscholar #jack howl #rook hunt #cater diamond #trey clover #wow I cannot believe this is 2K

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canonicallysoulmates · 3 years

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🎃Halloween themed wincest fic rec🎃

This fic rec is, primarily, Halloween themed but you’ll also find some horror as well as just in general autumn themed fics all to, hopefully, get y’all in the spirit of the spooky season!

There’s all sorts of ratings, some weecest, a non-related Hocus Pocus AU, hopefully you’ll find something to your liking among all of these fics.

As always please head all warnings and tags as some of these fics do contain graphic and heavy topics.

Happy reading, and Happy Halloween my fellow wincest shippers! 🎃

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Halloween

Eight-Legged Freaks. by anniespinkhouse

Sam/Dean (Wincest) Outsider POV. Takes place early in season 8 but no particular spoilers except for Sam’s hair. Biddy owns a candy store. She also talks to spiders. When FBI agents Sam Smith and Dean Jones investigate a possible haunting, on Halloween evening, the consequence of Dean eating too much candy is disturbing. It’s a race against time for Sam to find a way to return Dean to normal.

The Rocky Horror Sam Show by RockSaltandCherryPie *

Sam goes to a Halloween party and dresses up like Frank N. Furter but ends up looking more like a girl than anything else.

the one that lives behind his heart by Addie_D_123 *

Dean is the spark, Sam is the fire.

The Witch's Dance by brimstonegold and virtualpersonal *

It's either coincidence, or irony, but Sam and Dean find themselves hunting for a witch at The Witch's Dance, a party being given at the local haunted mansion on Halloween. What they find is not the kind of dance they expected.

hell is empty; all the little brothers are here by bellaaanovak

Dean just wants to make the rundown house they’re squatting in look cool for Halloween, but Sam isn’t so excited about strangers in corny costumes knocking on the door for candy. Not when there’s a gang of ghouls wreaking havoc in the neighborhood, anyways.

Greaspaint and Fairy Dust by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)

It’s Halloween. Sam’s least favorite holiday, and what should be the investigation of a simple salt and burn goes awry when Dean gets caught with his hand in the candy cauldron.

Here is where you’ll stay by belyste

Sam, Dean, and haunted hayride. Halloween!fic.

A Winchester Halloween by ello_kitty *

A short story about how the brothers spend the holiday.

Triple XY Or The Hunter, His Bitch And Their Offspring by mpregloveranon

This is the answer to this Halloween!Prompt over at the spnkink_meme. Without reveal to much already I’ll just keep the summary really short. After being cursed Sam is knocked up by his brother. On Halloween he is heavily pregnant with triplets and completely miserable. Dean feels sorry for his baby brother, especially because he pissed the witch off who cursed Sam, and takes good care of him. Throw in raging hormones, some schmoop, some angst and cute little kids and you’ll get the idea what this fic is about. ;)

Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) by Ignited *

It’s Halloween, and the locals aren’t clued in to the fact that those things going bump in the night are much more than fabric and latex. Sam and Dean learn this fact the hard way as the clock winds down and a town’s about to be overrun by monsters.

The Witches of Salem by Revenant

There's a legend in Salem, of three sisters accused and hung for the crime of witchcraft, but not before they had killed several of the local children and placed another under a terrible curse. It is said that on Hallowe'en night, when the moon is full, the witches will rise again when a virgin lights the Black Flame Candle.

A little over three hundred years later, Sam Winchester is passing through town trying out his newly awarded independence on what he suspects will be a simple salt-and-burn; why can’t things ever go like he plans?

Why not stay and be caught? by deirdre_c *

Sam wishes to go to The Palace.

Pretty Princess by orphan_account *

Sam is excited to go to a Halloween Party… And then his first heat hits.

Take a Good Look by BewareTheIdes15 *

Sam, Dean, and a haunted house with a mirror maze - sounds like pwp to me!

Kids These Days by Magz (sparklepocalypse) *

Halloween parties are never simple when there are Winchesters involved.

Thy Back to the Forest (and Thy Front to Us) by PetraPan *

For the last three years in Stillwater, Oklahoma, children have disappeared—always five young girls, always on consecutive days, and always during the week of Halloween. By the day the Winchester's pull into town, Sam is enrolled for school, he’s stuck once more on research duty, and Dean already has a date. Sam juggles his new schoolwork, the case, and the ever-growing bitterness at the desire he feels for Dean as best as he can, but at some point he can no longer manage all three. With their father constantly absent and a nasty time constraint, Sam and Dean struggle to figure out who—or what—is taking young girls, just as they struggle to find the balance between brothers and something more.

Sugar Sweet by fallingintodivinity

“What’s all this stuff?” Sam asks warily. He gingerly picks up a bottle of red fluid and squints at it.

“Fake blood!” Dean says cheerfully. “It’s cherry-flavored,” he adds helpfully.

“But why,” Sam says, bewildered.

“Dunno,” Dean says. “It was on sale. Tastes pretty good, actually. Here, lemme show you.”

Halloween by EasyTiga *

Sam and Dean go to a Halloween party for a case and at least one of them can't keep their mind on the mission because of the outfit choice.

Hush Little Baby by hellhoundsprey *

Together with his friends, Sam visits a haunted house. It's Halloween. (Sam is 16, Dean is 20.)

Halloween and High Schoolers by onesillygoose *

I'm realizing how bad my summaries are. Anyway... Sam gets invited to a Halloween party. Dean tags along. Things never go as they should for the Winchesters.

Pumpkin Patch by KissingWinchesters

It's Halloween and Dean decides to steal a giant pumpkin.

VII - One candy left by KissingWinchesters

There’s a piece of melting, sticky caramel pressed into the centre of Sam’s back.

Candy, Pumpkin Spice, And Orgasms by KissingWinchesters

Dean takes Sam to a quaint town on Halloween. Their relationship develops.

He Never Saw the Look by orphan_account

Sam's got a secret. He's in love with his big brother. Little does he know, Dean shares the same dirty little secret.

Pretty Little Thing by Miss_Lv *

Teenager Dean goes to a Halloween party for some fun, he spots a pretty little thing and chases her all evening, flirting, and eventually cornering her. Once his got his hands on her though he realizes she is actually a he, but he's fine with that. Sam snuck out after Dean just because he could, he picked a costume he knew Dean would never recognize him in. After spending the evening being chased by his brother Sam ends up in a semi public place with Dean all over him. Sam's stupid crush on his own brother is not helping matters either.

this way comes by estrella30 *

Written for spn_halloween based on prompt #127: Sam goes to a Halloween party his first year at Stanford and gets dragged off by a guy in a mask who makes out with him. He discovers it's Dean, and the making-out continues with a vengeance.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Horror

Diamond Dogs by kassidy *

Prompt: Supernatural, Sam/Dean, werewolfism - one turns and takes the other down (interpret as you will) for dark_fest LJ comm

A Silent, Creeping Killer by lily rose (annabeth) *

Not long after Dean picks Sam up from Stanford, Sam and Dean go undercover as an engaged couple to investigate the murder of a lesbian hockey player in small-town Connecticut. Along the way, they meet dedicated lovers, frightening ghosts, and the possibility that their ruse might be becoming all too real. How will they handle their changing feelings for each other? Who will protect the lovers and tenants of the Windsor boarding house? And what does all this have to do with the play 'Arsenic and Old Lace'?

darling by allwellandgood

Dean is dead. Sam has a theory that nothing will ever hurt again.

I Wonder as I Wander by dollylux

Bobby sends Sam and Dean to investigate a strange town.

Let Me Take You Far Away by orphan_account *

Season 10. It's exactly what they need. A vacation. That's how Dean can make everything else go away. Cas was right. That's all they need. A nice, little vacation.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Fall/Autumn themed

Death of the Petals by doctor__idiot

Dean has always thought that fall held some sort of magic.

Where You Are [Is Where I Belong] by non_tiembo_mala

Sam is stuck in class on a beautiful fall day. His mind wanders and it always ends up on Dean.

Hazy Hunter's Moon by GhostlyVoid *

Sam saves a hunter who got attacked by a werewolf, knowing exactly what trouble he's inviting into his home. The hunter, Dean, is predictably less than thrilled owing his life to a witch.

Delicious Autumn by sammichgirl

Dean just wants to give Sam a great day full of some favorite things.

Autumn Leaves by dragonspell *

In the weak light of early morning, the autumn leaves are starting to paint the woods in reds and golds and a burning orange. On some level or another, Dean knows that it’s beautiful; he does. He's just got to find Sam first.

#wincest #wincest fic rec #mine #this was supposed to be up on monday but life hapened #so...it's still halloween in places it's fine #this is probably the longest fic rec i've done

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

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Stay Safe Part Ten: Shereshoy

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! Rejoice my step-children, for today is prime indulgence hours. You've waited long enough. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @huliabitch @toxiicpop @renegademustelid @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @hoodedbirdie @fioccodineveautunnale @thyestean-feast @kateb013 @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @oh-no-who-am-i @crownofmanga @talesfromtheguild @robbinholland @kylolover96 @lukesrighthand @lackofhonor @lightan117 @misssilencewritewell @theorderoffallenstars @iwantsethrollinstohitmeintheface @fan-g0rl

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

Part Six: Go Alone

Part Seven: Like A Ghost

Part Eight: Savior At High Noon

Part Nine: Swan Song

Interlude: How He Sees The World

Shereshoy [pronounced sheh-REYSH-oy]:

"Lust for life and much more." "Hanging onto life and relishing it." A uniquely Mandalorian word meaning the whole-hearted enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as living to see the next day. Unrestrained, unrestricted, wild and eager.

...x...

Waking up with the clammy chill of bacta all over your body was not an experience that bore repeating. Somewhat like being Shanghaied. You weren't sure how you could feel both sticky and slimy, but the sensation was managed with flying colors.

You had only been in the Nevarro med-center once before, when you had accidentally degloved your fingertip in a rivet hole. As you were an independent contractor (who normally prioritized trades of goods or food over credits in exchange for your labor) the best you could get at the time with your limited funding was a bacta patch. Your left index finger still bore a faded ring of scar tissue around the first knuckle.

So when the droid nurse in the medbay informed you of the fact that you had been healing in an actual bacta tank for a little over half a cycle, the blood loss and internal damage having nearly done you in, you were thrown for a loop.

"You organic lifeforms are so foolhardy, always pushing your bodies too far." It scolded after removing the basin of lukewarm water that you had scrubbed your face and hands with. The artificially warm tone of its vocoder took some of the bite out of its words. "You have been cleared for removal from the tank, but I would advise against strenuous activities for several days."

You nodded from the cot, still staring down at your legs. You were a bit dazed, a bit fuzzy on the details of how you had gotten here in the first place. Your last intact memory was of tilting your head back to watch Moff Gideon's ship soar through the sky with the Mandalorian attached. After that, there was nothing but vague flashes, more sensation than visual. "How...how much is this going to cost me?" You asked, trying to remember the conversion rates for liquids and solids and whether bacta counted as a liquid or a solid. Was it sold by the pound or by the liter? Maker, this would be a hell of a debt to work off.

The droid tittered strangely, patting your arm. "Oh, I suppose you would not recall being delivered to us. The man who brought you in paid the deposit for the tank, and then returned three days later with the rest of the credits. You are very fortunate to have such a good friend!"

The man who brought you in. "Was...w-were they a Mandalorian?" You knew you sounded a little too desperate, but you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment.

"You do remember! Yes, that is correct." The droid affirmed cheerily.

"Do you have any way to get in touch with a man named Greef Karga?" You rushed to inquire as the bot turned to roll back out the door. You had been about to ask for Cara, but decided against it at the last second. You were uncertain if she was still...at odds with the law.

"The leader of the Nevarro Bounty Hunters Guild? Of course, everyone knows how to contact him! But you rest, rest rest. If I can get ahold of him and if he's not busy, I'm sure he'll be along shortly." The droid assured you.

You flexed your hands with a soft yawn after it left, and then you settled back against the pillow. Every muscle in your body felt a bit stiff, likely from lack of use. Half a cycle. Two weeks. Maker, you had nearly died. What a horrible scenario.

He had nearly died. Your throat ached with an unnameable emotion, you hand sliding down to graze over the new scar on your side. It was larger than you expected, and you flinched when you actually looked at it. Better scarred than dead, you thought pragmatically, even while tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, biting your lip.

You only meant to close your eyes for a moment, but when you opened them again, it appeared to be much later in the day. Afternoon sunlight was pouring in via the small window over your bed, the tiny fan doing little to combat the heat seeping through the sheet that covered you.

You heard someone clearing their throat beside you and you turned your head, eyes landing upon the visage of one Greef Karga. Posted up beside him was Cara, her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to doze off." You apologized, floundering to sit up.

Greef waved off your words. "Relax, we've only been here for a few minutes. You looked so peaceful, we didn't want to interrupt." The older man jibed.

"You gave us a hell of a scare, rookie." Dune scolded, sharply contrasting with Karga's lackadaisical opening statement.

"How did...what happened?" You asked nervously.

"Well, it was all very dramatic. Mando blew Gideon's ship clean out of the sky with one of those fancy gadgets he's got, then he gave you a quick burner patch on the spot." Karga mused, "Your Mandalorian caused quite the stir when he came back here with you. Damn near kicked the doors down."

"Not mine." You corrected him automatically.

Cara scoffed and Karga raised an eyebrow. "Are you entirely certain about that, my wayward little friend?" You gave him a confused look and he shrugged, adjusting his body in the obviously-uncomfortable folding chair beside your cot. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Really, I ought to thank you. If you hadn't dragged that metal-plated moron off the battlefield, I'm certain we would still be under ex-Imperial control. I got my best hunter back, and a new enforcer to boot." Greef said with a smirk, gesturing up and down at the sturdy dropship trooper alongside him.

"Glad to be of assistance." You informed him dryly.

Karga chuckled at your wry tone, and then folded his hands in his lap. "All joking aside though, it's good to see you out of that tank. I think...I think it'll do him some good as well." The older man sighed, "For lack of a better word, he's been inconsolable since the big brouhaha. Gonna' run the Guild out of bounties if he keeps it up."

You cocked your head, asking, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Mando has an interesting way of coping with his emotions." He elaborated dryly. "I get the feeling he's one of those people that, if he wasn't a Mandalorian, he'd probably resort to panic baking."

The idea of the armored man in a bakery somewhere (probably using his flamethrower to carmelize the top of a crème brûlée or to dispense justice to unruly customers) sprang into your mind unbidden and you burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just--that's such an image, I-" you wheezed helplessly.

Greef chuckled again, taking your hand. "Do me a favor, alright? I promise it won't be difficult."

"Absolutely." You agreed quickly. After all, Greef was probably the one responsible for feeding the Mandalorian the bounties that had funded your healing time. Stars, the debt you owed the armored man seemed to be climbing higher by the second!

"He's due back in two...maybe three days, if his hunting track record is anything to go by." Karga squeezed your hand gently. "Go to see him." The serious tone of his voice caught you a little off-guard and you shook your head at him after a moment of silence.

"I doubt he'll want to see me." You mumbled. "I mean, I left the ship because he told me he didn't want me involved. He said...he said it was Guild business. Then, I ended up getting involved anyway and...well, almost killed in the bargain. I guess he was right to try and keep me out of it." You rubbed at the scar on your side nervously. It sat just above where you had landed on Calican's buckle, puckering the skin slightly where it had once been smooth. You weren't certain you would get used to the odd sensation.

"That's why you left?" Cara sputtered. "He said he hurt you. I gave him an earful and everything!" She grimaced. "Now I feel like an asshole."

"He...what?"

"Yeah, he said that he 'lost control' and hurt you, and that it was better that you stay as far away from him as possible. He sounded all kinds of fucked-up over it." Dune pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "If he didn't believe that he deserved it, I doubt he would have just sat there and taken the tirade I unleashed. I uh...I lit him up pretty good." She finished with a wince.

You stared up at her, somewhat dumbfounded. "O…Oh." You replied weakly.

"I think...well, it's not my place to say, but I think he'll be happy to see you. As happy as a Mando can be, anyway." Karga said quietly.

You thought back on every instance you had heard the smile in his voice, the precious times that you had made him laugh--

And you nodded firmly. "You'd have to knock me out with beskar to keep me away."

Cara grinned and thumped her forehead against yours. "That's the spirit!"

Greef's laughter was raucous (and a little sheepish) and you couldn't help joining in.

...

Getting back into the Crest was the easy part. The worst issue you encountered was that it was raining softly, making a humid haze rise from every surface and ensuring that you would leave footprints.

After two members of the Guild offloaded the carbonite plaques and trotted away with their hoverskiffs, you slunk out from behind the crates and bolted forward.

It only took one try to get the combination this time. He hadn't changed it. He usually changed it once every three days, so that was strange.

You entered the cool, dark hold with a small amount of trepidation, tiptoeing towards the ladder as the hatch slid shut behind you. Soft sniffling from behind the bunk shutter met your ears faintly and your heart broke. Almost before you could think about it, you hammered your fist down on the controls to raise the barrier.

The kid was sitting in the bunk, little hands pressed to their eyes while they snuffled and whimpered. They looked up at you in panic and it was so strange to see the second that they recognized you. They stumbled forward into your arms, those tiny claws scrabbling at your damp tunic as they sobbed.

"Oh sweetheart, sweetheart…" you whispered, cradling them close to your chest. "I'm right here with you, it's alright now. Everything will be fine." You stroked the back of their head, blinking away your own tears.

They started hiccupping, their little body jolting with the force of it, and you toted them into the refresher. With a bit of cajoling, you got them to hold still while you swabbed over their face with a warm cloth, cleaning off the grime of the day and those tear tracks.

They were still sniffling slightly when you pressed a cup of water into their little hands. "You're probably thirsty after all that hard work, huh?" You asked softly, sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of the bunk. "I wonder how long he's been gone for." You continued, thinking aloud. The child hurriedly gulped down the water, holding the empty cup back out with a little whine. "Ha! Of course, as soon as I sit down." You teased, hauling yourself back up to refill the paper cup. "Alright, slower this time. Don't want you getting a tummy ache." You instructed, holding the cup for them so you could moderate their sips.

You watched as their huge ears began to perk back up. They looked for all the world like a freshly-watered plant, and the mental comparison made you snicker.

"My favorite little mudjumper." You sighed, straightening out their teeny robes. At least they were clean and dry, not that you had anticipated the Mandalorian letting the kid's health or hygiene fall by the wayside. Knowing him, he was probably more likely to forget to wear his helmet than cause the kid to suffer.

You sat there peacefully for a while as the sky outside darkened, just listening to the rain beating on the hull and stroking your fingers over the kid's head. The child sprawled out on your chest, their eyes slowly sliding shut as you continued to console them.

You were eventually roused from your staring contest with the floor by the sound of the ramp extending and then heavy footsteps. The cargo bay was almost pitch-black now, the only light coming in from the now-closing boarding ramp. The rain was still beating down, though. It had picked up while you sat, drumming a tattoo on the roof high overhead.

There was a faint click and machinery hummed to life, the hold becoming softly illuminated by the orange running lights beneath the floor grates. Your heart lurched in your chest when you spotted the Mandalorian fiddling with his gauntlet by the loading ramp, obviously focused on it. Your heart now felt like it was about to beat out of your chest. It was a miracle you didn't wake the child with the frantic motion alone!

You couldn't move. You could barely breathe, your nerves threatening to strangle you. All you could manage to do was sit there in silence and just...wait.

How would he react? Would he be angry that you were here? He had paid for the bacta tank, would he require you to pay him back? The thoughts bounced around in your head frantically, making your stomach drop out with apprehension.

He grunted something, sounding upset as he dragged a hand down over the front of his helmet and sagged against the wall. Maybe you shouldn't have done this, maybe...maybe you should have waited to see whether he sought you out first.

Your brow furrowed. No. You had done enough of that. It was your turn now.

You heard his breath hitch and you realized belatedly that you had stopped paying attention to what he was doing. Clearly he had noticed you, if the tilt of his head was any indication. His hands fell slack at his sides, like he had forgotten about his gauntlet entirely.

"Didn't mean to startle you." You said quietly, not wanting to rouse the child that was still slumped over on your chest.

He didn't move. Didn't respond. Hell, you weren't even certain if he was breathing anymore. He just stood there, his cape dripping a small puddle onto the grating beneath his feet.

The kid yawned, smacking their lips and snuggling back down against your collarbone.

"Put the...put the kid in his crib. Please." The Mandalorian requested. His tone was even, giving you absolutely nothing to go on as far as gauging his thoughts.

Stars, you had missed the sound of his voice. You almost didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth.

You carefully got to your feet and turned, laying the child down in their bassinet. Your hand hovered over the controls to close the protective shielding, silently waiting for confirmation.

"Yeah. I...yeah. Please." He muttered.

Once you had done so, you shifted back to face him. You kept your eyes on your boots though, unable to look at him just yet. Anxious nerves wrung the life right out of your voice, making it crack when you finally began to speak. "I-I'm sorry. I know you didn't...I know that I went against what you told me to do, b-but--" You heard him swear and then a sharp clatter met your ears. He must have lunged across the hold because abruptly, a set of gloved hands were cupping your face and dragging it upwards.

You had shut your eyes and tensed up on instinct when you saw the hands coming, so the mouth that pressed to your own was a bit of a shock. You froze, then sighed with relief and leaned hard into the kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, greedily pawing the familiar beskar (and the not-as-familiar way that it pitched under your touch). He groaned against your lips and pressed your back to the wall, his own hands grasping for purchase on your shoulders.

He had missed you. Or at least, it certainly seemed that way! Any other thoughts you had at the moment fled under the assault of his desperate mouth.

He exhaled raggedly and then buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn't say anything for the longest time, one hand falling to clutch at the fabric of your tunic over your side. His shoulders heaved and you realized he was crying, breath wheezing through his teeth from where he had bitten down on his glove to stifle the sound.

You kept your eyes closed and cautiously, carefully, you slid your hand up into the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm here." You whispered. You felt his knees buckle and he swayed, forcing you to grab a handful of his soaked flight suit to steady him.

"M' sorry, I-" he rasped. "I'm getting you all wet. The rain, I..."

"Yeah...I don't know what they call it on Mandalore, but here, we call it crying." You teased him softly.

He actually laughed at that, pulling back a little. "Guess now I know why Karga and Dune told me to take the day off. I went to the medbay and you weren't there, I-I figured you'd left Nevarro for good. Why…" he swallowed hard, then continued, "why are your eyes shut?"

"I uh, it was mostly a reflex." You admitted. "Should I…" Your throat had gone bone dry. "Sh-Should I open them?"

"I…" He hesitated. "You already know my name."

Din Djarin, the words tripping over one another as he struggled to get them out through a mouth that barely worked--

"Well yeah, but that doesn't give me viewing privileges." You retorted. "Hell, that doesn't even give me permission to use your name. Knowing it is only a part of the equation."

"Do you...want to use my name?" He sounded breathless.

"I mean, I wouldn't--I wouldn't mind it." You admitted weakly after a few seconds of hemming and hawing. "Only if you're okay with it though!" You rushed to add, feeling as if you needed to make sure he knew he could retract the offer. "I know that it's got a lot of weight to it." He wasn't angry at you. He wanted you to say his name and see his face.

"I'm terrified." He replied bluntly. "I haven't shown anyone...well, ever. You're the only one that's--I-I mean, you're the...you're it." How could someone make you weak in the knees while also simultaneously being absolutely, entirely, outrageously awkward?

"I can start with your name, and if you still want to...I mean, you make that choice, okay?"

"I want you to see. I just don't know if I…I mean, the idea of you...I thought you were going to die, all because I screwed up, pushed you away. I want--I need to make sure you don't...that you don't…" He struggled with his words, gloved hands wrinkling your tunic beyond hope when he tightened his grip. "I can't, not again. I'm so sorry." He finally muttered. His mouth pressed to your neck, kisses trailing wet and hungry over your skin. "Please, please say my name."

"Din." You whispered, again struck with the sensation that you were breaking a multitude of rules as you felt him shudder bodily. "Din...Djarin."

"Shit." He groaned, tilting his head back. "That's...that's nice." He sounded a bit faint.

"Please don't pass out." You murmured. "All the beskar would absolutely crush me and I don't think you want to try and scrape me up out of the floor grates."

He choked out another laugh, wet gloves smoothing over your hair. "Sorry. M' just tired. This feels like a dream." He sighed heavily. "I have to wash up. Get out of this suit so it'll dry."

"I'm all for getting you out of the suit."

He smiled against your neck, "yeah?"

"Mmhm." You nodded, blindly reaching for the clasps on his gription harness.

Between your sightless fumbling and his hungry kisses, it took much longer than normal for him to get out of his armor. He couldn't seem to stop kissing you, seeking your mouth again and again.

"Making up for lost time." Din grunted, finally managing to divest himself of his flight suit altogether and then jerking the liner shirt off over his head. He pressed his body to your own and you flushed wildly. Last time he hadn't even fully removed his flight suit, and he had kept the liner shirt on. It was surreal to be able to touch him like this.

He seemed to agree, if the helpless noises in his throat were any indicator. You trailed your fingers along his chest, sliding boldly down to stroke through the thick curls that started right above the waist of his compression leggings. "Pare, wait, I need…t-to shower." He pleaded, his hands fumbling on your shoulders. "H-Have to do this right." His forehead bumped against yours. "Have to do this right." He repeated, now grinding himself down into your palm instinctively. You easily found the thick arch of his cock through the leggings and you couldn't resist giving him a gentle caress before you pulled away.

His breathing sounded distinctly shaky. "Okay. Go ahead." You urged him, making a shooing gesture in what you hoped was the direction of the refresher.

"Hang on," he protested. "Wait, ch-changed my mind, come here."

"Mm, nope! Go shower." You cupped his jaw, feeling him swallow hard. "Get cleaned up. I'll be here when you get out."

"Stay...stay at the sink?" He bargained. You could hear him fumbling with something, probably his leggings.

"Absolutely." You kissed his nose. "Now go shower, you smell like wet Wookie."

He embraced you without warning, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pressing his cock against your stomach. "Wait for me." He requested, the kiss that followed absolutely voracious. You clung to his shoulders, rendered helpless under the attack of his mouth.

"Y-Yeah, 'course." You stammered when you could think again.

He took your wrist and led you forward until you could touch the sink, and then he got into the shower. "When did you wake up?" He asked after he had keyed the shutter closed.

You opened your eyes and leaned back on the sink, tapping your chin. "It's been about...three days?"

He swore under his breath and you heard a metallic rattle. "Shit, c'mon, stupid-" The water abruptly burst on and he yelped. You couldn't stifle your laughter, though you did try. "So glad my pain amuses you." He groused through the divider. "Here I was, coming back to my ship all torn up, thinking that you were gone forever and that I'd never see you again."

His words were annoyed but you could hear the soft sadness in his tone. "I think I've made it abundantly clear that I don't know how to leave you behind." You replied gently. "Plus, bacta tank time isn't exactly cheap."

He scoffed, "Yeah, we need to talk about that. Later. Once we're in a proper headspace for it." He was silent for several minutes, the only noise the running water of the shower and the thunder of the rain overhead. "I don't...look, the bacta doesn't fucking matter. I'm just...I'm glad you came back," he muttered finally. "Glad I didn't ruin everything like I thought I did."

"You've got an uphill battle ahead of you, Din." You luxuriated in saying his name, though your words were ultimately serious. "Why didn't you tell Cara the truth? She said she yelled at you pretty bad."

"I did tell her the truth." Din sighed. "Look, I hurt you. You can't say that I didn't. Physically, emotionally...wounding happened. You didn't feel welcome to stay anymore and I sure as hell didn't give you a reason to." There was a quiet thud. "I knew she would rip me apart and honestly, I think I needed that to parse everything. But stars, that woman took the paint off."

You grimaced. You could only imagine the awful things she had (probably) shouted at him. You heard the shower turn off and you shut your eyes again, tilting your head at the sound of the shutter sliding.

"Mm, I could get used to this." He murmured. All you got for a warning was the rustle of a towel and then, he was on you. His mouth claimed your own and he chuckled when your hands immediately found his damp hair. "You really like that, huh?" He commented, sounding amused.

"Listen, I've been through enough. Let me have this." You complained, yanking playfully at his shaggy locks and laughing when he grunted.

"You keep it up and I'll let you have a lot more than just that." He threatened, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He then grabbed the hem of your tunic, stripping it up off your body to leave you there in your breast wrap. The breathy noise he made was enough to have you flushing hot; you could almost feel him looking at you. "Maker, I don't deserve this." He whispered as he pressed his palm to the faint scar on your side. "Any of this. Over this...half a fucking cycle, I kept thinking that I must have made you up. That there's no way someone like you could even be real."

He sounded reverent again and it made your head spin, it had you gripping his shoulders while he slid down your body to peel your pants off. The mental image of him naked on his knees in front of you--

Stars, you wished you were brave enough to open your eyes.

One large hand slipped between your thighs, urging you open with the gentle press of his other hand hooked right above your knee. "Let me see you, let me see." He breathed, his fingers groping forward until they encountered your slick. You squirmed a little, hoping that he wasn't put off by how wet you already were. You couldn't really help it, of course. "Oh, fuck, you're s-so--you're dripping for me, fuck."

"D-Din…" Your fingers were in his curls again, and you gave a gentle tug.

His tongue-

You felt the inquisitive, flat press of it against your cunt and you gasped out, quickly tilting your face up so that you wouldn't see him if you accidentally opened your eyes. Wait, if he's not supposed to take off his helmet--

Your thoughts ground to a halt when he moaned from between your thighs, wedging his shoulder in to keep your legs apart. "Taste--t-taste so-" he mumbled, laving sloppily over your clit. "Good, fuck. Good." His fingers spread you wide, allowing him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts. You knew you ought to be embarrassed about being splayed open like this, but you couldn't seem to muster up the feeling over the sensations you were being gifted.

Din was clearly spurred on by your enthusiasm if his sounds were any indication, his already limited words dissolving into soft growls and rumbles as he ate you out.

That wasn't exactly the correct term for what he was doing, really. He was devouring you, his nose clumsily bumping into your clit with every other motion, his hands trembling as he tried to keep you still under his ministrations. You thought it couldn't get any better, but then his tongue licked inside of you and you couldn't help the way your voice broke when you cried his name, one hand flying up to cover your mouth. Having your eyes closed did nothing but intensify the feeling of surrender, you were his prey and he was hungry.

The snarl that he let out in reply had you quivering, his tongue fucking your cunt almost lazily. He was teasing now, drawing it out. "Beg me." He slurred, smiling against you. "Beg."

"Please--oh f-fuck, please, please-" you whimpered, almost in tears when he backed away.

"Please…?" He trailed off and you abruptly understood what he was waiting for.

"Please, Din, p-please make me come." You begged pitifully, your hips twitching as they sought out his mouth.

"One more time?" He implored, groaning after you fisted your hands in his shaggy curls again.

"Please, Din, please let me come, p-please, please--" Your voice cracked when he hitched your leg up over his shoulder and buried his face in your cunt. He locked his hot, wet mouth around your clit, rubbing his tongue down on it in a focused attack that had your knees buckling, chest heaving, nails digging into his scalp and-

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was not a man who did anything by halves.

You fell apart, soaking his tongue with your orgasm as you sobbed out his name again and again. He moaned hungrily, the noise sending vibrations through your sensitive sex and making you shudder while he continued to move his mouth, continued to gently lick at your cunt and lap up your come.

"Are you alright?" He asked cautiously once he finally took pity on you and let you catch your breath.

"'Am I alright', like you didn't just take my soul out of my body with your tongue." You panted.

"Yeah?" There was a smile in his voice. "Alright." With a quiet grunt, he got to his feet. "Wasn't sure if I'd be any good at it, but-" You cupped his jaw, delving your tongue into his mouth to catch a taste of yourself. He choked a little, obviously startled when you bit down on his lower lip and tugged it gently. "You...more?" He queried, sounding hopeful.

"Yes, absolutely yes." You answered breathlessly. He hesitated for a second, his arm brushing your shoulder on its way by.

"There. Turn around and open your eyes."

You did so, stumbling a little on your still-unsteady legs. When you blinked your eyes open you realized that he had opened the tiny mirrored cabinet over the sink, effectively rendering the reflective surface harmless. You wanted to feel disappointed, but you knew that he would do it in his own time, on his own terms.

His hands roamed up your body, unraveling the binding that you had to support your breasts. They fell into his palms and he exhaled harshly in your ear, the heated air making you shiver all over as he pressed himself to your back. He toyed with your breasts inquisitively, squeezing them and teasing your nipples with his calloused fingers until you were writhing back against him, wordless pleas making their way out of your throat. "What? I didn't catch that." He murmured in your ear, roughly sinking his teeth into the shell of it and making you keen loudly. "Something you want?"

"Din-" you protested, leaning a little further forward in obvious invitation. He fell silent and the head of his cock rubbed against your pussy, coating the shaft with your slick. Agonizingly slow, he pressed in until his tip was inside you.

"Hah, f-uck, you're…" His forehead hit the space between your shoulder blades and stayed there as you squirmed, trying to push back onto him. "Mmfuck, I have t-to be...y' tight, cyar'ika, breathe-"

"Sorry--" you whimpered, startled when he nipped at your shoulder.

"Don't f-fucking apologize, don't y' dare--" Din stammered indignantly, "gripping me like a f-f-ucking vice, don't want to hurt you." His hands smoothed down over your hips and he clumsily repositioned you, arching your back a bit more to open you up.

You exhaled and you heard him grunt in what sounded like relief. He then penetrated you fully in one long, smooth thrust, the mass of him punching the rest of the breath out of your lungs and leaving you grasping blindly at the sink for something to anchor yourself. His cock was so thick, you felt like it was searing your insides and branding you as his forever.

Your Mandalorian.

You shakily pushed yourself up and wrapped your arm around his neck to support your body as he began to stroke into you against the sink, your eyes sliding closed before you could glimpse him in your periphery.

His lips pressed to your cheek and one hand groped over your stomach until his palm ground down on your pubic mound, sending stars across your vision and making you whine out his name. You tilted your head back down to stare dazedly at his arms around you, watching the way his musculature coiled and bunched with every thrust. Maker, he was strong.

Din kept your back pinned tightly to his chest, giving you his cock without mercy as he rambled disjointedly in your ear about how much he had missed you, about how much he craved you, how much he needed you-

"I-I love--" His voice faltered, then he gritted his teeth. "I l-love you, y--you know that, r-right?" Din blurted out desperately.

"I--" the breath caught in your throat, due in no small part to the man currently fucking you into sweet oblivion. "-love you." You managed to say, closing your eyes and knocking the side of your head into his.

He made a pained noise, one hand reaching forward. "Open--open your eyes. P-Please, please open 'em." He begged.

"Are you-"

"Fuck, fuck fuc-k-k I need it pl-ease," Din cried, his voice rasping and then cracking. "Need you to see, need you to see, need it need it need it--"

The sound of his breathless, sobbing entreaty was more than enough to convince you to oblige him, and so (eventually) your eyes fluttered open.

It took a minute, but you managed to focus on the now-closed cabinet in front of you. The mirrored surface revealed the man that you had saved, the man who had, in turn, saved you.

He had his eyes downcast, no doubt transfixed by the sight of his cock splitting you open again and again. His hair was shaggy; brown, a few grays peppered in here and there. Heavy, furrowed brow, square jawline, full lips currently pressed together in a concentrated grimace. Several fresh-looking scrapes and bruises littered his face. His nose was a little crooked, like it had been broken several times, but that wasn't surprising. Mandalorian helmets, for all their protection, did sport incredibly flat fronts.

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was devastatingly attractive even beneath the armor.

"Hey," You breathed and he jerked his head up, dark, dark brown eyes meeting your own for the first time. You were abruptly breathless, and not simply because his cock felt like it was making itself at home in your chest cavity. You curled your fingers weakly on the nape of his neck, the motion almost a wave. "You could have w-warned me that the helmet was for my protection, not yours."

He tilted his head to the side, illustrating his confusion even without the helmet to mask his expression. His hips pressed to your rear almost idly, rutting his cock as deeply in you as it could possibly reach.

"Didn't expect you to be so h-andsome." You gasped, a guttural cry leaving your lips when he shifted his weight to drag his cock back out of you.

His smile was incredibly shy, an awkward little tilt of his lips before he buried his face against your shoulder blade again. Maker, was he...was he blushing?

You had made a Mandalorian blush. While he was pounding you into the next cycle, no less. You could feel the temperature difference of his face and you giggled, your breath hitching.

"Don't--don't laugh at m-me, dammit." He grunted. "Not while...I'm f-fucking you like this--"

"Not--at you," you panted. "I j-just love you, that's all."

He choked on his next breath and his tempo stuttered, that thick cock throbbing inside you. "Who do y-you love?" He whispered, his hands fondling your breasts.

"Din Djarin." You replied quickly, arching your back a little more.

"Ah--a-and I love--I love you." He groaned. "So...so much." He slid his hand down again, spreading your cunt open so he could play with your clit. You could hear how wet you were, and it filled you with a delight that was borderline shameful. "Come on me. Want you t-to...f-ucking soak me, soak my cock, c'mon." He demanded hotly in your ear, making brief eye contact with you in the mirror. His look was smoldering, burying itself in the hungry tension that teemed in your groin. "I can feel you, fucking squeezing me every t-time I talk, so come, come on me--"

Your clit was unbearably sensitive from your earlier orgasm, every motion of his body sending shockwaves through you. You squirmed and writhed but he had you trapped, safe and secure and begging you to submit to the pleasure he wanted to give you. It was almost too much to bear; you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes when you finally succumbed with a primal growl.

Din didn't stop, though. He fucked you through your orgasm, fucked you into the blinding delight of overstimulation and pressed the heel of his palm down onto your pubic mound once more. You could feel his cock twitching, could feel how tense his thighs had gotten, Maker you could feel everything and it was a blissful torture. Thoroughly strung out, all senses ablaze, you begged him to come.

"I want to, I want to, gedet'ye I w-want to so fucking badly, I want--" Din chanted. Without any ceremony, he thrust his fingers into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue, urging you to extend it and lick his fingers. You obliged almost automatically and he dragged his now wet fingertips down your chest to roll and tweak your nipples hard.

You clenched down on him without conscious input, your pussy in spasm around his cock as the cool air combined with his rough little tugs to rouse and torment your breasts. You sobbed out his name again and again, pleading for relief and praying it never came all at once.

He met your eyes in the mirror, pupils blown wide and his mouth just barely open, and-- "Oh, fuck." He choked. "I love you." And then he came, wrapping an arm around your midsection to keep you firmly planted in the shuddering cradle of his thighs. He bucked into you over and over and you knew you were dead weight but you couldn't bring yourself to move, moaning helplessly in his trembling grip. "Ner, mine." He grunted.

"Mmhm." You breathed, too beyond words to function at this point in time.

He let out a breathless chuckle, threading his fingers through your hair. "You're mesh'la, beautiful. My beautiful little mudhorn." He sighed.

"Again...with that name." You replied haltingly, the air slowly returning to your lungs. He slung both of his arms around your waist, holding you tight to his chest once more. You were bewildered by your body's reaction, aftershocks hitting hard enough to make your legs shake. "Couple of things that come to mind when I think of a mudhorn." You continued after a few deep, deep breaths. "Beautiful and little are definitely not among them. I tend to think big, and dangerous. So you know. You."

"I remember the first time I thought of you like that." He murmured in your ear. "You had just killed seven raiders. I came into the hut and you were ready to kill me too."

"Oh...oh." You trailed off, flushing slightly. "I-I wouldn't have, you know I wouldn't."

"Mm, I'm not so sure." He exhaled into your ear, making you squeak. "It was intense. I...I'm pretty sure that was it for me. Fought for so long, y'know, but it was useless. You took my heart with that look, cyar'ika."

"You really...I mean, you thought about me like that?" You asked shyly. And it was an insane thing to be shy about, considering the fact that his cock was still inside you. "You mentioned some things the last time we...uh, got involved, but I assumed you were just saying stuff to get me excited."

"I don't know how to talk like that." He answered you bluntly.

"That's a lie." You retorted. "You told me you fucked your hand thinking about me!"

"Mmmultiple times." He drawled the 'm' out in a self-satisfied manner, kissing down the side of your neck.

"That's not you just trying to say something...y'know, to get me worked up?"

"I said it because it's true." He muttered, "should I...should I not say things like that?"

"No, no, you definitely should!" You backtracked quickly. "It's just...it's nice to know that you were thinking about me even before I was...well, masturbation material. It's nice that you saw me, I guess I should say."

"I always saw you." He breathed, his fingers sliding up the side of your neck to tilt your head so he could kiss your cheek. "Saw you play with the younglings. Saw how you took care of the kid. Saw how you protected him. Saw how you took care of me."

Your flush was a raging inferno at this point.

"I don't remember a lot about the...whole situation with Ran's group. Xi'an's poison threw me off my track pretty good. But I remember…" Those brown eyes half-lidded as he collected his thoughts. "Remember you singing to me."

"You asked me to." You whispered.

"I don't mind that memory. Out of all the ones that I have, it's one of the few that isn't shit." Din mused, adding, "today's nice too, don't get me wrong. No deadly neuro-toxins to take the edge off either." He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying you gently back and forth as you watched him in the mirror. Stars, you were still a little tongue-tied at how handsome he was. "I need you to promise me something, stowaway."

"What is it?"

"Don't you e-ever try to fucking die on me again." His voice cracked, "okay?" He dropped his forehead against your shoulder. "Please."

"Din…" You said softly, stroking your fingers through his hair.

"Just...just promise me that." He choked out. "If you get hurt, fucking tell me. If something happens, if…shit, if something goes wrong, please--please, don't hide from me. I'm sorry f-for...I'm sorry that I...I fucked everything up. I'm so sorry. All I've been able to think about is how much you m-must hate me. You were almost killed because you were pulling my stupid, stupid ass out of the fire."

"Hey, hey. You literally told me to stay out of Guild business. You can't blame yourself for my inability to follow your instructions." You protested, nudging your head against his. "I'm an adult and I take full responsibility for my own stupidity when it comes to you, okay?"

One large hand trailed down to skim the scar from the blaster wound and he huffed, sniffling quietly. He pulled your hips back more firmly into the seat of his pelvis, shifting his weight a little. "All heart and no fucking armor to defend it." He managed to say.

"You've got more than enough for the both of us." You replied gently. Then, you whimpered as he palmed over your breasts again, his fingers tugging your nipples mercilessly. "How are you still-"

"Missed you." He rasped, his words husky with longing and unshed tears. "You're so warm. Sensitive. I love...I love you. Don't want to stop touching you."

"Din--" Your voice broke as he rolled his hips, his cock hilted in you deliciously.

"Mm, one more? Maybe?" He begged.

"I don't know if my legs are going to last that long." You confessed. "Or the rest of me, to be honest."

"If it's too much for you, I'll stop." He breathed in your ear. "Can tell me to stop and I'll stop."

"I don't want you to stop, but I'm just-"

"'But' means you need me to stop." Din interjected softly. "I'll stop."

"Wait, wait, it's just that--I'm-!" Your orgasm struck without warning as he attempted to withdraw, the drag of his cock over your spot making your vision briefly white out from the overload. You shuddered and writhed, the pleasure nearly to the point of pain as your inner walls clutched at his cock. You couldn't help the way your nails raked into his arm, clawing for purchase.

You vaguely heard him moan, "oh, f-fuck--" the words nothing but a gravelly rumble. He struggled to keep pulling out, rambling about how tight you were like he couldn't even help it. "Easy, easy cyar'ika--relax, relax relax. You grip me so--f-ucking-"

"Sorry, sorry-" you sobbed, your words catching in your throat as you felt the head of his cock finally leave your cunt with a lewd, wet sound. It was like a breath of relief and anguish all at once; you were too sensitive to handle more but you had missed him so much-

He tipped your chin back with one hand, kissing your forehead clumsily as he dragged his other hand over the inside of your thighs. "Mm, shh, no apologies. Gonna' come." He slurred through gritted teeth. "Right here, just l-like this, using your come to fuck my hand. You ready? Ready for my come?"

Your words failed you at his declaration and all you could do was nod, drowsily meeting his gaze in the mirror. His breath hitched again, like he was startled. It was wildly endearing to know you had that sort of effect on him. "Love you." You whispered, propping yourself up with your elbows on the sink to enjoy the show.

"Hnn, f-fuck, fuck-" he panted, "that's not fair. With the eyes too? N-Not--not fair, you can't do that."

You just smiled sweetly, arched your back and he lost it. His release hit the small of your back and you listened to him gasp and grunt his way through his orgasm with an exhausted tremor of delight. He came for what seemed like an eternity to you (and him as well, if his voice dissolving into a broken, raspy growl had anything to say about it).

"You make the nicest sounds." You complimented him once he seemed to be able to breathe again.

"Wh...What?" Din croaked after clearing his throat several times.

"Your voice. It's nice. I like it."

"Um…huh." His fingers absently smeared the come on the small of your back. He appeared to be at a loss for words. "I should...uh. Get a...something. Gotta' clean. Don't move. I...yeah, don't move." He said finally, awkwardly clearing his throat again and avoiding your eyes in the mirror.

"Helmet back on?" You suggested. He froze, looking a little guilty. "Hey, no. It's part of your life. It's who you are. Don't ever worry about putting it back on, okay?"

"I'm sorry." He mumbled.

You swatted his leg. "What did I just say? Listen to me when I talk!" You chided.

"I know, I just-"

"Nope! Nope. You're more comfortable with it on, right? You're used to it. That's how your world is and that's fine." You assured him. "I'm a new addition. That's only if you want to keep me around, of course."

"Don't you dare say something like that." He grumbled, obviously bashful. "'Course I want you around. I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight for at least a week."

"Is that...possessiveness I detect in your tone, Djarin?" You asked in mock surprise. "I didn't think you had it in you!"

He scoffed, shaking his head and then walking through the bay to pick his helmet up from its forlorn place next to the loading ramp. "More like soul-crushing anxiety over your wellbeing, but that too I guess." He grunted after donning his familiar headgear. He padded back over to the fresher, reaching into the shower and scooping up a washcloth.

The water was cold and you yelped, making him flinch. "Fuck, what, a-are you alright?" Din stammered, palms cupping your hips gingerly.

"Could have used warm water." You squeaked, wriggling a little in an effort to shake off the chill.

He breathed a sigh. "Maker, don't...don't fucking scare me like that." He muttered, obligingly running the cloth under the hot water tap. "I thought I hurt you."

"No no, it was just cold. Sorry." You apologized, feeling a little sheepish. The cloth was barely lukewarm when he laid it back on your skin, but it was absolutely better than it had been the first time.

His motions were clumsily tender, like he wasn't used to being careful. When he moved lower to run the cloth over the inside of your thighs, he slowed to rub circles on your still-trembling muscles. "Maker, I...you're shaking."

"Yeah, you kind of gave me a workout." You teased, turning your head to smile at him over your shoulder. "Also, I think I'm still supposed to be taking it easy. According to that nurse, anyway."

"You're what."

"Supposed to...uh, you know what? Never mind." You tried to brush it off, but he rose to his full height and wrapped his arms back around you.

"If you're supposed to be taking it easy," he growled in your ear, modulated voice sending that familiar tremor through your body, "I shouldn't have just railed you against the fucking sink."

"Hey, I needed that. You did too. Don't act like you didn't, Djarin." You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry at him.

Din shook his head, tapping the helmet against your temple. "I wouldn't have made you stand. Would have...would have laid you down or something." He eased your full weight against his chest. "Are you sore?"

"Not really. A little achy and stiff, but that's okay." He hummed disapprovingly in his throat, tugging you back a step from the sink. You flung your arm around his neck, clinging to him as your legs tried to dump you on the ground. "Not hurt!" You insisted when you heard his breath hitch. "I promise. Just well-fucked."

"Still. You can barely stand. We need to lay you down." He murmured, smoothing his palm over the top of your head. "You want the bunk?"

"No, we can't both fit in there." You tightened your hold on him without meaning to. Don't go.

"I don't want you to be on the floor if you're hurt." He protested.

"I don't want to be alone." You hated how your voice cracked. "Please, Din. Not right now."

"Oh. Oh. Alright, I...alright. I didn't mean...I just didn't want you to--the floor isn't comfortable." Din fumbled to say, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

"I lived with it before, I can definitely manage it now."

The jaw contour of his helmet gently pressed to your cheek like a kiss. "Okay. Give me...I'll get some more blankets together or something. You stay still." He ordered sternly, patting your hip. "Stay."

Your laugh was a little shaky. "I'm not the kid, y'know."

Din grumbled something under his breath, sounding exasperated.

…

You had no idea that he even possessed this many blankets. You blinked down at the pile, certain you recognized a few blue ones from your stay on Sorgan.

"Something most people don't know about Mandalorians is that we build nests." Din informed you, his voice utterly deadpan.

"You are...a liar." You sputtered, giggling when he nuzzled his helmet into the crook of your neck. You had taken a quick shower while he was distracted by his nest building, so your skin was still warm and a little damp. His beskar squeaked slightly at the moisture.

"I could be lying, yes. But I might also be telling the truth." He reasoned, tugging you down to settle on the floor.

"This is the Way, right?" You teased, cupping the sides of his helmet. He stilled and your smile slipped a notch as you remembered the way you had thrown the phrase in his face, how heartbroken he had sounded when he begged you to wait.

Hesitantly, his hands raised to cover your own. "This is the Way." He intoned quietly, pressing his forehead against yours before continuing, "With you. I'm never leaving you behind. Ever again."

"My Mandalorian." You whispered, relief making your eyes slide closed. "Thank you, Din."

He breathed, "Thank you for loving me," his tone unbearably soft even through the modulator. "Thank...thank you for saving me, my little mudhorn."

Your chuckle was a bit more watery than you would have liked. "That pet name is going to take some getting used to." You stroked the sides of his helmet. "Luckily, I'll have plenty of time to do so." You proceeded to press your thumb to his sternum, drawing it downwards. He did the same to you and you could feel the affection he had for you radiating through the delicacy of his touch when he softly tapped his fingers to your lips. "I promise." You whispered, your own fingers making a dull ringing sound on his beskar helmet.

He just...stared down at you for several long moments. Long enough for you to half-lid your eyes again, lashes sweeping down as you focused your gaze self-consciously on his knees.

Slowly, slowly, his hand extended, and you could see it shaking ever so slightly in your peripheral for a second. "I share my name with you." Din slid his index finger down your jaw. "I share my face with you." He trailed his hand across your visage from temple to chin, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. "I share my body with you." He cupped his palm tenderly over the top of your left breast (no doubt feeling the way that your chest heaved excitedly under his touch). "I share...I share my heart with you." He murmured, threading his fingers through your own and raising them to his chin. "This is a riduurok bond. An oath that I swear to you. It's...it's very important." His sentence dissolved into a bit of a mumble, but you still heard him when he stammered, "s'a marital...l-love bond."

"Oh." You replied dumbly, before erupting with, "oh! Oh, you're--oh wow, stars, okay. What...uh, what do I have to say in return? To say yes?!" You rushed to ask, certain your eyes had gone glassy with tears.

"If...um, if you accept, y-you just...repeat what I said, and the gestures." Din seemed flustered by your enthusiastic reply, his hand trembling in your grip. "You...you really-?"

You tapped your index finger to the apex of his jaw contour and he fell silent. There was no possible way he could feel your touch through the armor, and yet you were still incredibly careful. "I share my name with you, Din." You breathed, your finger gliding over the beskar without so much as a sound. You then gently, so gently, rested your palm on the flat front of his visor. "I share my face with you, Din."

"Maker, yes." He sighed, knocking his forehead roughly into your palm before you swept it down over his face like he had done for you.

Your fingers splayed above his left pectoral, digging in a bit more than you needed to. "I share my body with you, Din." He shifted restlessly under your touch and you could feel your cheeks ache with how hard you were smiling as you took his hand in your own. Turning it over, you scrutinized his bruised knuckles with a soft noise of distress. Then, you raised his fingers to your lips and kissed every bruise, every battered knuckle, every scar that crisscrossed his olive skin.

"Please," Din begged brokenly, his voice nothing but a breathy groan. "P-Please."

You obliged him without hesitation, tapping your joined fingers against your chin with an air of solemn finality as you stated, "I share my heart with you, Din."

From his spot on his knees facing you, Din all but fell forward, cradling the back of your head with one hand as he pressed you down into the soft cocoon of blankets with his weight. "You precious...mesh'la...stars, you mean so fucking much to me." He gritted out, his voice almost pained while he framed your hips with his thighs. "So much, so much I don't know enough Basic for it. You are fucking healing, mirjahaal, you are rain, pitat, you are soft, pel, you are fucking stunning, kandosii'la, you a-are--you are dral, ner cabur, ner haal, you are...haar'chak, osi'kyr, I always lose my words." He growled in frustration, resting his forehead against your own. "My mouth can't even try to whisper what my heart screams. M'not used to talking so much." He admitted, sounding defeated.

"I hear you anyway." You assured him softly. Din raised his head, leveling that visor with your eyes.

"How?" He asked desperately.

"I hear you when you speak with your hands. I hear you when you speak with your concern. I hear you...I h-hear you when you speak with your body." Your breath hitched and your eyes closed as he rolled that body against your own in one long, sensual grind. "I don't need you to talk if you can't. I hear you just fine, I promise." You managed to finish, even with his deliciously-distracting form stretched languidly over you.

"Then," Din hesitated. His hand sought out the scar on your side yet again, fingers caressing the marked skin. "I…I love you." He mumbled.

"I know, Din." You smiled warmly up at him. "I love you too." He ducked his head against your shoulder, like he was trying to hide his face despite already wearing a helmet. "Don't be shy!"

"I'm not shy, I-I'm…"

"You're not used to this. It's new. That's okay." You cupped the back of his helmet. "I'll be here to help you figure it out. The kid and I."

"You are my aliit, my clan. I'll...I'll keep you two safe, I promise. K'oyacyi." He choked out, his hand trembling when he drew the circle on your chest and rubbed his knuckles gently in the center. "My armor for you and the kid. My whole body. Anything you need."

You slipped your legs out from beneath his thighs and opened them a little wider, letting him relax down into the sheltered harbor of your embrace. "Shh," you soothed, running your palms up and down his tense back. "Everything is fine. All we need is you. We're safe. You're safe with me. You can rest, sweetheart."

Din sighed, digging his hands into the blankets beneath your back. "Safe." He slurred. "Can't lay on y' though. Too heavy...lemme'..." He clumsily grappled with your body, somehow managing to roll the two of you over without accidentally braining you with his helmet. "Better." He grunted, threading his fingers through your hair and resting your head on his chest. "Should...put my suit back on."

"Five minutes." You bargained, stroking down the line of his visor. "Would you like me to sing for you?"

"...mmhm." He agreed through a yawn, his head drooping when he nodded. "Five...f-ive…"

You smiled as you listened to him struggle against sleep to try and talk to you, his breathing finally evening out after a few more minutes of incoherent mumbling. You pressed a careful kiss to his forehead and then snuggled down against his chest. "Stars fading, but I linger on dear...still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger 'til dawn dear, just saying this…" You half-whispered, your words petering out as you too succumbed to the allure of slumber.

The future was uncertain but, if only for this brief moment in time, the two of you found solace in the other's presence.

Stay safe, sweetheart. K'oyacyi, cyar'ika.

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theheartsmistakes · 3 years

Text

The Last Night Part XXIV

Parts I-XXII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

Part XIX

Part XX

Part XXI

Part XXII

Part XXIII

XXIV.

(Author’s Notes: I noticed a slight mistake in my last post. Thomas would be Lucie’s second cousin, not first cousin, because he’s the cousin of her cousin. They are not in fact related at all, only Anna and Christopher would be related to Lucie, James, and Thomas. Ugh, it’s all very confusing. Anyway, Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays! I hope whatever you and your family celebrates, it was wonderful and special. Thank you for being patient for this update. Next update is coming Jan 3.)

James pushed their horse and carriage through the streets at a blinding speed, taking corners on two wheels at times that had Cordelia gripping the sides of the carriage and bracing herself at the velocity; filled with too much concern for Lucie that fear for herself could not fit. Once Magnus had successfully removed the block on her memories, a flood of terrifying images filled her mind.

The demon that had attacked their carriage.

Alastair bleeding on the brick pavement.

Lucie running towards her through a cloud of orange sand and Belial greeting her with a malicious grin.

Lucie could see ghosts. No, not only see them. She could command them. Conjure them. And he wanted to use that ability to command an ultimately unbeatable army.

James took a turn up on the sidewalk, nearly removing a postal box in the process. Luck be it, Magnus glamoured the carriage so that as they flew by and around the crowds of people moving through the congested streets of London, all the pedestrians felt was a harsh gust of wind that gently scooted them out of the way or immediately stopping them so that James could maneuver around in time. When James had begged him to come along, Magnus insisted that he needed to find James’s parents and tell them of Belial’s interest in their youngest child. It was imperative that they find Lucie and bring her back to Magnus’s cottage where he could form guards around her.

Somehow Cordelia knew that if Belial wanted access to her, he would find it. For he had somehow found Cordelia in the middle of London and held her life and her brother’s in his hands.

Alastair. The warmth evaporated from Cordelia’s face as she reached for James’s wrist to look at his watch. She cursed when she found that it was already thirty minutes past three. Alastair would be on his way to look for her now. This would not help James’s standing with him, but she didn’t have enough time to concern herself with her brother at the moment. She’d deal with him once Lucie was safe.

James had barely brought their horse to a slow trot before he jumped from the driver’s seat of the carriage at the front of his Aunt Cecily’s manner.

He ran around the carriage to assist Cordelia, but she was already on the ground and ahead of him.

The garden door was open. There was a chill in the air that was usually absent in the presence of Cecily Lightwood’s quaint cottage. It felt as if it’d been cloaked in darkness- the way she felt when she’d been dragged to the shadow realm by Belial. She wouldn’t allow herself to think of it. Perhaps it was just fear for Lucie that she was allowing her worst thoughts to enter her mind.

James stayed beside her, taking the stair two at a time in a way her skirts wouldn’t allow her. She heard a terrible rip and suddenly her legs had more room to stretch. She didn’t slow or care even as her hair spilled from the delicate coronet her maid had done her hair in as she kept pace with James.

They barreled down the hallway just as two figures stepped out from the room at the end of the hallway.

“Thomas!” James yelled as he skid to a stop. Cordelia behind him reached out for the figure beside Thomas.

“Alastair!” She screeched, nearly colliding with him when she noticed a dark patch across the front of his shirt. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” said Alastair and glanced between her and James. “I was, but I’m not anymore.”

“What happened?” asked Cordelia as James pushed his way past Thomas into the bedroom. “Where is Lucie?”

Thomas and Alastair looked between each other and before either one of them could say a word, Cordelia felt the warmth drain from her body. “No.”

“He was going to kill Alastair,” said Thomas, shame filled his voice. “She gave me no other choice. She nearly broke my nose escaping.”

“He has her?” asked Cordelia as she moved past them into the bedroom to see for herself.

James stood in the center of the room staring wildly at Grace and a boy, no older than the rest of them, kneeling on the ground besides Tatiana Blackthorn. Cordelia’s hand went to her mouth as she realized the woman was dead.

“What did you do?” James demanded of Grace who hunched over her dead mother. “What did you do!?”

“Don’t speak to her in that way,” said the boy.

“Who are you?” asked Cordelia, coming beside James.

The boy slowly rose to his feet. He stood nearly as tall as James, with dark hair and eyes the most beautiful shade of green. “My name is Jesse. Jesse Blackthorn.”

“Impossible,” said Alastair with a hand still clutching his chest. “Jesse Blackthorn died a long time ago.”

Grace sobbed into her mother’s corset. “Yes,” said Jesse, “I was— I was brought back through a bargain my mother had with Belial. An exchange of sorts. My mother thought she was only bringing him the items he needed to resurrect me, and she was so desperate to achieve it she never suspecte what she was actually doing was collecting exactly what Belial needed to create himself a temporary physical form. It didn’t last long, just long enough for him to take Lucy and leave.”

“Why bring you back to life then?” asked Alastair. “If he got what he wanted then why bring you back?”

“To keep Lucie compliant, I suppose,” said Jesse.

“Why would you keep Lucie compliant?” asked James, tightening his grip on a knife Cordelia hadn’t seen him draw. “Did you have something to do with this? Were you working with Belial too?”

“No,” said Jesse. “No, I was trying to protect her. She— she was the only one that could see me; could talk to me.”

“And you took advantage of that,” said Alastair.

“No,” insisted Jesse. “We formed a friendship. We helped each other. I saved your life James, I gave away my last breath after the first attack with Belial, and because of that Lucie made it her mission to bring me back to life. I didn’t realize until it was too late that she had formed an alliance with my sister who was under the control of my mother and Belial.”

James looked down at Grace.“Do you know where he’s gone?”

“There is no getting to him,” said Jesse.

“I’m not asking you,” whispered James in a way that sent a chill down Cordelia’s spine and fear that if he were to ever use that tone on her, even she might cower. “Where can I find him?”

Cordelia felt as if she might faint. She took several steps backward until her back hit the wall.

“I don’t know,” shuttered Grace, still clutching her mother’s mink coat.

James stood straight and dragged his hands through his hair until tuffs of it were sticking out from between his fingers. He turned to Thomas and the two began whispering to one another in low voices. Cordelia felt Alastair come to stand beside her, but couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge him. The memories of him lying on the brick ground bleeding were too fresh in her mind, confusing the way that she felt about him when she left the Institute earlier that day. She’d been so angry with him; she hadn’t known that they were moments away from losing each other.

She couldn’t think about that now. There’d be time for forgiveness later, for now, she needed to help find her friend.

Grace pressed her mother’s hand against her cheek. Her tears poured over her mother’s rings, one on nearly every finger. A memory flashed before Cordelia’s mind of Belial twisting a ring around his finger while he spoke to her. A thick, silver one on his boney thumb.

“Grace,” said Cordelia, pushing herself away from the wall and stepped towards the mourning girl who looked so much like a child curled up on the floor. She dropped onto her knees and brushed Grace’s lovely soft curls that she’d once envied away from her face. “I am so terribly sorry for the loss you’ve suffered.” Grace closed her eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “I cannot pretend to imagine how you feel, nor will I, and I want you to know that no one blames you.”

She heard a scoff over her shoulder.

“They’re going to blame her,” said Grace. “She was just trying to save me and my brother. She didn’t want to be alone, and they’re all going to vilify her for it— and me.”

Cordelia understood all too well wearing the sins of one’s parents. Her father tainted their family name long ago. A stain that she’d have to shoulder and battle everyday.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” said Cordelia patting her gently on her back. “Your mother trusted you over everyone else. Did she ever tell you how she conversed with Belial? There had to be some way that she contacted him or he contacted her and if you can help us learn this information and save Lucie, perhaps we can restore some honor back to your mother. Perhaps she can leave this earth having saved your brother and helped to defeat Belial.”

The room grew quiet around her and Grace sniffled. “She never told me directly.” Cordelia held her breath and Grace lowered her mother’s hand and held index finger. “One day, I saw her playing with this ring and thought it peculiar because I’d never seen it on her hand before nor have I ever noticed her playing with it. She dismissed herself from the room and went to her study. I heard her talking rather loudly with someone inside, but when I tried to open the door it was locked. When I mentioned it later, she suggested that I must have been hearing things, but I know that I heard a voice with hers. A male voice. The kind of voice that you do not forget.”

They all stared down at the ring on Tatiana’s finger; everyone too fearful to touch it.

Thomas was the first to speak. “Should one of us put it on?”

“No,” said Alastair. “No one touch it. We should wrap it up and bring it to the adults.”

“We don’t have time for that,” said James and reached for the ring, but Cordelia slapped his hand away.

“Alastair is right,” said Cordelia. “We don’t know what this ring could do if one of us puts it on. It could kill us or something worse.”

“But Lucie,” insisted James.

“Lucie would not be much better if the ring kills one of us and our one chance of finding her is ruined,” said Cordelia as she ripped a piece of her skirt and used it to carefully remove the ring from Tatiana’s stiffening finger. “We’re taking it to Magnus and we’re going to pray he knows what to do with it.”

#The Last Night #the last hours #chain of gold #chain of gold fanfic #jordelia fanfiction #james x cordelia #Lucie x Jesse

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lets-imagine-fanfics · 3 years

Photo

Prompt: "Why Me?" at a Destroyed Factory in a time when Time Travel was widely available with Arthur Morgan. [Arthur Morgan x Reader] [GN]

Words: 2.5k

A/N: This is an odd one but I like it :D, thanks for the request! I hope you all like it.

~~~~~~

With the alarm blaring by my bed, I roll over with a groan, just another day working at home in my PJs... and not seeing anyone... again—damn pandemic. As I was going about my day, I heard a knock at the door; curious about what or who it could be I, opened the door.

There stood a man wearing suit pants with a pocket watch at my front door, a slightly brown shirt with the sleeves rolled up and braces. He carried only an envelope that he held close to his chest, it had browned with age, and the corners had had a beating it was that old.

The man paused for a second, leaving me to stare at him while in my pyjamas - which I had just remembered. "Your name, it wouldn't be (y/n) (l/n) would it?" the man asked, curiously.

"It is, and what's your name?" I replied, not understanding why this man was here if he was a postman surely he would have just posted the letter.

"I work for the post office," so he was a postman. "and I've been waiting to deliver this letter for the past 30 years, it is our oldest letter..."

"That's nice..." I say, not sure where this conversation was going or why it was even happening.

"It's addressed to you," the man says as he hands over the letter "and it had been originally sent more than a century ago."

"Is this some kind of joke?" I ask, unsure as to whether I want to take the letter or not, "A prank?"

"No!" The man insisted "No, I just wanted to deliver the letter personally, to see who it's addressed too. Good day, (y/n)" at this the man turns around and leaves, heading back to his rather fancy car.

I watch him leave before I shut my door, looking at the envelope, it was indeed addressed to me, and it had pages and pages but on the very first page was a note, a single note.

"Meet me here, at 04/01/2021 at 4 pm.

Coordinates: 53.4814195, -2.22865000000002"

I was curious for a moment, but as I scanned the next page of the letter and accidentally saw the last page, I instantly knew I had to do as the letter asked.

The letter said I could only read one page at a time; it was more like instructions and as much as wanted to read the next page, I followed the letter's instructions.

~~~

On my second train journey to get to the coordinates, I quickly looked up where they were leading me again, it was an abandoned factory. I suddenly fell into the rabbit hole researching the factory - there's an old ghost story were workers would disappear, there were even eye-witness accounts saying they would vanish into thin air.

I read through the next page again; there was information that only I should know so I was still freaked out but the curiosity of why a person from over 100 hundred years ago, can know me so well.

As I carry my backpack off the train, I follow the phone as it takes me down side streets through the town centre. The anticipation is KILLING me, so it feels like I have been walking around for an hour now.

~~~

Eventually, I get to the abandoned factory, The road to it was surrounded by overgrown grass and trees that covered the sky, and there are several gates padlocked. I needed to climb over one of the fences with brickwork that had slightly crumbled down - just enough to get a leg up.

After rereading the next page, I take a quick look around, I've read that they don't even have a guard here, but the house down the street sometimes would ring the police if they spotted anyone trespassing - but if you went down the side further into the trees they can't see you.

When I got to the inside of the building, I followed this letter that the postman had given me,

"Second Floor, East Wing, Room 204"

I head in there, and I can feel the energy off of something that I couldn't see anything- in fact, I could barely see anything anyways the room was so dark, soot on the walls from cent, I walked closer into the room.

~~~

"I wouldn't move any closer if I were you."

I freeze, heart racing, I didn't think anyone else was in here, I certainly couldn't see anyone else.

All of a sudden, a match was lit, showing me dark eyes under a 'Ten-Gallon' hat as the stranger lit a cigar.

"I... I didn't think anyone else was here" I say honestly. "Just me and my friends" I lie.

"It's okay, friend, I ain't gonna hurt you," said the stranger, he spoke as if he was from an old western.

'friend?' I think as I squint through the dark to get a better look.

"You address me like you know me, do I know you?" I ask, unsure whether I want to keep talking to the stranger stood in the dark, abandoned warehouse - No, I do not.

"No, but I know you." The stranger replied.

"Is that so, well, I'm just gonna find my friends, I'll be back in a sec" I lie again, finding a polite excuse to leave.

"You don't need to lie to me. You haven't read the next page of the letter yet have you?" the strange cowboy said more than asked.

"You...How... You know about the letter?"

The stranger walked closer, walking into a patch of sunlight, I could see them more clearly. They wore a scruffy beard, a blue shirt and... gun, they had a gun, 'god I hope it's a prop' I thought, maybe I had walked onto a film set.

"You should really read the next page of the letter." They could sense my hesitation to take my attention away from the stranger. "It's okay. I'm going to stay here where you can see me."

~~~

I read the next page, which told me to read the page after too, this page explained that the stranger in front of me was a man named Arthur Morgan. A man who was not going to hurt me told me I should trust him since he is a friend, a good friend that I just hadn't had the opportunity to get to know yet.

As I read the pages, I kept looking up to make sure the man-Arthur kept his promise; he did, he was watching me as if he had seen me read this letter a million times before.

"As I said, I'm not going to hurt you" Arthur spoke up.

"Yeah, I know... I just read it." I felt like I wasn't really here.

"Yeah, that pesky letter. I bet ya have a couple a questions?"

"A couple? Yeah, more than enough" I replied, getting frustrated. "Why do I have this letter? Who Sent it? Why did it lead me here? And not that I'm judging but why are you dressed like a cowboy? And plea---se tell me that's not a real gun" I realise my voice had gotten louder and louder. This letter I had received had been weird from the start, but now it was too much.

Arthur chuckles, and I oddly find comfort in it but at the same time get more annoyed. "Okay 1) It is crucial that you got this letter and that's all I can say on that, other than..." Arthur contemplates his words. "it's gonna help some people, maybe even save some." Pause. "2) ain't gonna tell you tha', just tha' it's from a good friend, is all. 4 and 5) Because I am, and it is, is that a problem, darlin'?" Arthur says with a smirk as if he had won in some way.

"You missed 3" I reply smugly, "You missed question 3" I repeated, completely ignoring his comment.

"I was saving the best 'till last is all," He said with a roll of his eyes.

'the cheek of this man' I think as Arthur walks closer to the window, wiping dust and soot off of it, just enough for us to see in the room. He finishes and walks towards me, as he does, he gestures to the centre of the room.

"You can feel it, can't you? like a pull and a push all are the same time." Arthur asks. I can only nod, wanting to hear the explanation, Arthur continues, "It's a time..." He paused "oh what did they say it was again?" This time, speaking more to himself than me. "A time rift, it's a time rift."

"Okay... and what does that mean, exactly?" I ask, trying to understand.

"Listen, I don't know this crap okay, they just told me what to say, beyond that I have no idea. It basically means that... that time is weakest here."

"Meaning... what?"

"Meaning... Well, meaning we can go to one time and then to another... Not very frequently though, It can take a lot outa ya."

Suddenly we heard the gate outside creek open, scraping against the concrete. Arthur quickly grabbed you and dragged you to the closest wall, both of you ducking down underneath the window.

The police officers were chatting outside and weren't going to be there for a few more minutes; the letter explained that I should have enough time - if I did everything correctly and listened to Arthur, that pesky neighbour must have seen Arthur at the window before.

~~~

"What do we do" I whispered to Arthur, panicking slightly.

"It's okay, darlin', we hav'ta go through the time rift" Arthur whispered back.

"Why?"

"To get away from the coppas, to help the.. the people, like I said"

"I mean, why me? if you need to help people maybe get a doctor or nurse."

"It has to be you, okay and I can't explain why just yet, only with time will you understand, okay."

"Will I be able to come back if I go into the time rift thing, will I be able to come back?"

"Darlin', you won't ever wanna come back," Arthur said smugly despite the circumstances.

"Arthur," I said in a rather fed up voice.

"Okay, yes, you can come back... if you wanted to."

"And people need help?"

"Not just people, erm, ma friends, my team - if you will, even me."

I looked at him for a moment; I believed him wholeheartedly for some reason.

"I'll help you," I said in whisperer as I heard the police officers enter the building. "What do I do?"

"Well, you gotta think of the date and the place that you are going too, I brought a photograph with me." He said as he pulled out the picture, "You can keep that, jus' give it back to me later. So you gotta think of this place on this date and walk into it... It's that simple."

"Okay, come on then," you say as start walking toward the centre of the room, closer to the rift.

"Sorry Darlin', I'm not going to the same place as you."

"What, but you... you said I am going to help you, how am I supposed to do that if you aren't there" I argued.

"I'm gonna be there, just a few years younger, more arrogant and much more dashing." The police started walking through the second floor, having cleared the first floor. "You gotta go now; I'll be seeing ya, don't worry. Now go"

I stare at the cowboy again, he seemed sincere, and he was. He did mean it when he said that I could come back if I wanted, and I visited my family once a year for a month or so, but the wild west has been more home from this day forward.

He was also right about being more arrogant too.

~~~

As I landed on the firm grassy hillside, feeling as if every atom had been broken and put back together, I cautiously stood up. Turning around, I hear muttering from just over the hilltop.

I looked over the hill; you saw a giant campsite for at least 20 people; it was like a small town.

"Looks like we got a nosy one," A familiar voice said from behind me "what's your name darlin'... and why are you dressed so.. Unique like."

I turned around recognising Arthur Morgan as he sat atop his horse, a hide on the back. "Erm, hi" I reply as I realise this Arthur doesn't know me. "it's a long story, but if you're willing to listen and maybe read this..." I say as I show the letter that went on for pages and pages.

Arthur slowly warmed up to me; he didn't read past this page that I had yet to read myself; he was respectful of that at least.

Arthur spoke to his friend and gang leader 'Van Der Linde' about let me stay, "They'll be my responsibility." was all Arthur had said, with a nod and a grunt his friend walked off before following with...

"Get 'em some clothes, they look ridiculous."

~~~

Arthur was rather sweet to me, he showed me how to hunt and gather food - also how to cook it, just wait for the stew it is rather good.

I helped Arthur redeem himself and his name - which took a lot of work, but it was worth it.

As I said, Arthur took me in, and we grew close, years later we settled down on a farm and lived an honest life which we're both happy with.

After about a decade together we realised it was time... We had to send me/my younger self through the Time Rift. We travelled day and night for a week in order to reach the old factory, which at this point was just a few years old and bustling with people.

We snuck in through the back exit and said we are health inspectors on a new programme, here to check the disappearances. As soon the factory was being built, people started to go missing - no one had ever been that tall before, and so no one had managed to go through the rift before.

They let us in instantly and even walked us up to the rift, we were left alone for a moment as I said goodbye, he would be back I wasn't sure when, and he would see a me that didn't trust him, that didn't even know him.

After he went through the rift, I headed back to our home, where I hoped beyond hope he would make his way back home - he does.

So as I write this letter to you, hoping that you won't cheat and flick through the pages as time travel can be a tricky subject - I know you read the last bit of the last page.

I am you, from your future and I need your help.

#LIFics #Prompt Subway #Red Dead Redemption 2 Imagine #red dead screenshots #red dead x reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead 2 imagine #arthur morgan imagine #gender neutral reader #gender neutral!reader #arthur morgan x female!reader #arthur morgan x male!reader #male!reader #female!reader

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crystalstar8 · 3 years

Text

Knights of the Night (ch.3)

Chapter 3

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,905

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

The following day found Catalina following Jungkook to the campus library. They had gotten their tests back in French class that day and they both got Ds. Their professor set them up with a tutor, whom they were on the way to meet.

“I can’t believe we got Ds,” said Catalina. “We studied!”

“Yeah! We totally studied and it didn’t help us at all,” said Jungkook. Catalina thought back on their study session at her apartment; French textbooks open, bottles of wine scattered about, two full glasses, and the Twilight movies unironically playing on Catalina’s laptop.

“Yeah we totally studied!” she said.

The campus library was a huge, old building with towering bookshelves and dark wood furniture. They went down one of the halls where there were tables and chairs set up between the aisles. At the first table was a ridiculously handsome man, who stood up when he spotted them.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Look who’s failing his class already in the first week.”

Jungkook frowned and stopped in his tracks. “You’re our tutor?”

“Hey! Why are you saying it like that? You should be more like, ‘Oh, Jin! Thank goodness you’re helping me pass my French class, how can I ever repay you?’”

“I’m assuming you guys…know each other?” said Catalina.

Jungkook sighed and said, “Catalina, this is Jin. As you can see he’s very old and his dementia is setting in, making him talk nonsense-“

Jin rounded the table and swatted at Jungkook, yelling, “Hey! I’m tutoring you out of the kindness of my heart and this is what I get?”

A librarian stuck her head around the corner and shushed them angrily. Jin apologized and gestured to the two chairs across from his.

“Yeah, I’ve known Jungkook since he was a child,” said Jin. “I practically raised him.”

“He used to live next door. He babysat me and my brother like, two times,” said Jungkook.

“So, are you two dating?” asked Jin. “Because I have some wonderful childhood stories to tell.”

Catalina laughed and said, “We’re not dating, but I’d love to hear them.”

“Jin,” said Jungkook. “Jin.”

“What?”

“I’ll kill you.”

Jin laughed for several seconds, then sobered up in an instant. “Anyway, let’s get to work.”

He flipped the French textbook open and began.

“So, what are you guys having trouble with?” he asked. “Let’s see your tests.”

Catalina left the tutoring session feeling a bit better about her French class. As they walked out of the library, Jungkook said, “So, I’m having a party at my house tonight and you’re invited. My parents are out of town for this healthcare conference thing so everyone’s gonna be there. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“And what do you mean by ‘everyone’?” asked Catalina. She’s always kind of wanted to go to one of those cliché house parties where a bunch of unwanted guests show up and the host is freaking out about their parents’ china cabinet or whatever. Her friends back home were pretty boring, so she never got the party experience.

“I mean, like, everyone. Like, a bunch of people from my classes and from high school and stuff,” said Jungkook.

“Okay, I’ll go. It sounds fun,” said Catalina. “Do you think a lot of people will show up despite the people going missing in the neighboring town?”

“I mean, it’s not happening in this town so…” Jungkook shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s probably fine,” said Catalina. “Anyway, I’ll come over late tonight. I have homework I need to finish.”

“It’s okay, the party doesn’t start until late anyway, if you know what I mean,” Jungkook said with a wink. “It’s gonna be lit.”

“I’ll see you later JK,” Catalina said, laughing. The two of them parted ways, Catalina wondering with trepidation, and also excitement, what the party was going to be like.

The party, as it turned out, was not lit. Catalina arrived around ten, after getting most of her homework done with minimal procrastination. There was only one car in front of the house besides Jungkook’s, and no lights on inside. Catalina texted him to make sure everything was alright. He answered, telling her to come to the back yard.

The backyard was small, a tall wooden fence along the back separating it from the woods. In the middle of the yard were two people sitting in lawn chairs around a bonfire. Jungkook stood up and waved.

“Hey, you made it!” said Jungkook. He gestured to the bonfire and said, “I told you it’d be lit.”

Catalina cringed.

“I’m sorry, that was terrible. I can’t believe I just said that,” he said.

“I think Jin is getting to you,” said the other person sitting at the fire. Catalina realized that it was Jimin.

“Jimin! I didn’t know you’d be here!” said Catalina. Jimin stood up and they hugged. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other.”

“Yeah, we grew up together,” said Jimin.

“Does everyone in this town know each other?” asked Catalina.

“I mean…” Jimin started.

“Kind of,” said Jungkook, setting up a chair for her. They all sat down. “Not really, but this town is pretty small. There’s only one high school so…”

“I see,” said Catalina. “So, what happened to the party? I imagined like, a big house party with a bunch of people we don’t know, getting drunk and tossing vases around like footballs.”

Jimin laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair.

“What? Did you get that from Mean Girls?” asked Jungkook. Catalina nodded. “I don’t know, I guess everyone is “scared” of the “serial killer”, or whatever. They don’t know what they’re missing, because I plan on sharing some great horror stories around the bonfire tonight.”

“Jungkook, I just want you to know how irresponsible this is!”

Jin came into the backyard and stood there with his hands on his hips. Another man joined him, equally as handsome. This man was blonde, built, and wore a bomber jacket with patches all over it.

“There is a serial killer on the loose and you’re throwing a party!” said Jin.

“Well, you showed up so you’re just as bad. And you brought your boyfriend,” said Jungkook.

“We are not dating and I am just here to tell you that you should end this right now. We are going to get kidnapped,” said Jin.

“Catalina, this is Jimmy K, the local bad boy who is all of a sudden mysteriously hanging out with Jin all the time now,” said Jungkook.

“Local bad boy, I love it,” said Jimmy K. He held out a hand to Catalina to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a wink.

“Oh,” Catalina blushed, caught off guard. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Soon, they were all sitting around the bonfire listening to Jungkook begin his scary story.

“This is something that happened to me when I was kid, and I never told anyone this before, because I was afraid no one would believe me. When I was nine, my brother and I were staying at our aunt’s house in the mountains while our parents were out of town on a relief mission. One day, I went out to explore the woods and do some climbing. I found a big rocky crag, which I climbed, hoping I’d end up at the top of the mountain. It wasn’t the top of the mountain by far, but I did find something else: a mossy trail leading deep into the woods,” Jungkook said, lowering his voice dramatically.

“When is this supposed to get scary?” asked Jin.

“Shut up. So I followed the trail. The sun was beginning to set and I knew I needed to head back to my aunt’s house soon, but I needed to see where the trail led to. I wasn’t disappointed. The trail opened up to an old cobblestone driveway, and at the end of the driveway was a huge house. It was old, one of those gothic Victorian houses, all dark brick and carved wood. I could see the sky from the clearing, which told me I had about an hour before it fully got dark. I went to the front door anyway. It was unlocked, so I went inside. There were cobwebs everywhere and sheets over furniture, a real classic haunted house, but I wasn’t afraid, because I knew ghosts weren’t real. So, I went deeper into the house. All of a sudden, the front door slammed shut behind me. I was thrown into darkness. Then I heard a voice somewhere in the house say, ‘Don’t you know trespassers get eaten, little boy?’ I was terrified, so I turned around and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The voice was laughing. Finally, the door opened and I ran from the house as fast as I could. I ran back through the trail, climbed back down the rocks and ran. It was dark now and my lungs were burning. Eventually, I made it back to my aunt’s house. She was waiting outside for me, angry. She said, “dammit Jungkook! I told you not to go too far in these woods. There’s monsters out there who eat reckless little boys like you!’

“And that’s the story of how I found out ghosts are real,” Jungkook finished.

“That was more like listening to a trauma story than a scary story,” said Jimin. Jungkook took his shoe off and threw it at Jimin, who actually fell off his chair laughing this time.

“I thought it was a good story,” said Jimmy K, who was listening with interest.

“Thank you,” said Jungkook.

“That didn’t actually happen to you, did it?” asked Catalina.

“Yeah, it did. Minus the cobwebs, sheets, and locked door. But my aunt definitely did say that when I got back. Actually, I remember the real life house being really pretty and not dark, which made me realize that I had just broken into someone’s house. That’s when I ran away. So, who’s next?” said Jungkook.

Catalina was running again. They were right behind her. Her heart was pounding in her aching chest as her bare feet thudded against the forest trail. It was close, just a little farther and she’d be safe. The footsteps behind her were getting closer. They were heavy and fast, much stronger than she was. Finally, the house came into view and she threw the front door open. She tried closing it behind her, but the door was too small for the frame and it wouldn’t close all the way. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes. They were going to catch her and she couldn’t do anything about it… Catalina turned around and ran deeper into the house. As she rounded the corner, she found herself in a den, running right into someone. But she wasn’t afraid of this person. She knew she was finally safe here.

“They can’t get you here,” the man said as he held her against his broad chest. She looked up at him. He smiled down with his dimples and perfect teeth. She felt herself melt against him.

But it didn’t last long. Soon, he disappeared and the fire went out in the fireplace, leaving the room in cold darkness. An unfamiliar voice chuckled, the laughter bouncing off the walls to taunt her.

“Don’t you know trespassers get eaten, little girl?”

Catalina jolted awake that morning, a scream lodged in her throat.

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

Text

Bring It On Home..

Summary: The battle against Thanos is over, and the Avengers are the winners. Those gone for the past five years have returned home, including Bucky. But what changes have taken place in the reader's life since she lost him, and can things go back to the way they were? Or do they have to find a new normal?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! Reader

(Reader is able to see bits and pieces of the future, can understand all languages, and process information at an abnormal pace, as well as being a super soldier)

Warnings: mild angst, fluff, maybe a hint of smut (blink and you'll miss it) mentions of the events of Avengers: Endgame, strong language

*************************************************

She knew it would happen before it did. Her damnable knack for seeing shards of the future let her know that Tony Stark would get the stones, and what’s more, sacrifice his life for both friends and people he had never met, but there were so many screams on the battlefield that day, when her agonized cry escaped her as she rammed her knee into the groin and her knife into the jugular of one of Thanos’s goons (the same one who nearly killed her five years ago, actually) no one heard.

She’ll carry that secret to her grave. Goodness knows Pepper doesn’t need the worry of wondering if it somehow could’ve been avoided (it couldn’t have), if she somehow could have saved him (it wasn’t possible). She briefly thinks about telling Steve once the dust settles, but then she catches sight of a familiar flash of silver, and what’s more, the man in black attached to it.

She’s not sure if he’s seen her before she takes off, running the fastest she ever has, but there’s no way he could miss the sound of her footfalls once she’s nearly on top of him, and he manages to catch her when she nearly topples over from stopping so abruptly in front of him. He looks the same as last time she saw him, her Bucky, but she’s sure she looks much different. Her mind rapidly runs through everything she could say to him, everything she should let him know, but what comes out is five simple words:

“You came back to me.”

He doesn’t get the chance to reply before heart-wrenching sobs echo from the woman in the Iron Man suit, who nearly keels over next to her dead husband. She’s not sure who reaches Pepper first, her, Steve, or Rhodey, but as Rhodes pulls her up to lean against him and Steve shields them from prying eyes, she’s the one to remove the helmet from Pepper’s head and dab at the tears.

She doesn’t see him again except for briefly passing in coridors for several days after that. Steve’s patching up holes in what’s left of their forces, explaining that they’ve been gone for five years, and here’s how they were brought back. Rhodey’s putting out publicity fires. Pepper doesn’t have the huge circle of friends she enjoyed in the days before she and Tony ran off together to start a family, and although they don’t know each other well, she stays with the grieving widow and along with Happy and Peter, entertains Morgan.

Since she hates to leave Pepper for more than an hour at a time, remembering her own grief years earlier, Steve has taken to dropping off fresh clothes for her every day and taking what needs to be washed home with him. That’s who she’s expecting when there’s a knock on the door of the room she’s been staying in for the past week and a half.

That is, until the door opens and her heart skips a beat. It’s him.

He offers her a smile, but it’s nervous.

“Hey. Steve said he was gonna stop by and drop these off for you, but I was in the neighborhood, so I thought-” Stopping short, he holds out the brown paper bag she assumes has the sweater she asked for and the workout wear.

There’s so many things she wants to say to him. So many things he needs to know. That she missed him so much she thought cutting out her heart would be less painful. That not a day has gone by when she hasn’t woken up, expecting to see a good morning text from “Barnes” as he’s still listed in her phone. That she hasn’t deleted any of the voicemails he sent her. That she’s kept moving forward because she had to, but it felt like she was hollow, just a shell of herself.

Instead, she ignores all logic and reserve, and goes with her gut instinct; wrapping one arm around his neck, grabbing a handful of hair to bring him down to her level, and kissing him the way she used to, like no time has passed and no changes have occurred. It’s only when a “thunk” from the bag hitting the floor reaches her ears that she realizes what she’s done or has a moment of doubt. But then, he’s pulled her closer, and she’s not the only one going for broke.

She manages to break away long enough to gasp out,

“Sorry. Is this-”

“This is okay. Yeah. This is good.”

That’s all she needs to hear before dragging him into the room with her and kicking the door closed.

___________________________________________________________________________________

This is stupid. It’s the thought at the forefront of Bucky’s mind. They dated for three years, and he even worked up the courage to ask her if she’d marry him before Thanos attacked. There’s absolutely no reason to be nervous over a simple dinner date. It’s stupid. But he is nervous. Sure, for him, it’s been a grand total of two weeks since the battle where he turned to dust, but for her, it’s been a long five years. Who knows what’s happened in that time?

All of those concerns are put on pause as he catches sigh of her stepping through the diner doors. At the time, when he changed into one of Steve’s nicer button downs, blazers, and a pair of slacks (he’s pretty sure all of his clothes are still in Wakanda… or possibly thrown out by now, since it is five years later), he felt stupid, but now… yeah, he’s still underdressed. Of course, that would be true if she turned up wearing a potato sack, because it’s her, and to his mind (which he can’t guarantee is objective, but dammit, he can’t be far off) she’s the most beautiful creature to ever walk the face of this earth.

He’s barely stood up from the booth (no nicer places were available since literally everyone is trying to catch up with long-missing loved ones, and besides, he’s fairly certain they don’t take Wakandan currency in New York) before she catches sight of him, and that smile that could rival the sun peeks out again as she makes her way over. Does he hug her? Does he shake her hand? What’s the protocol when you’re meeting up with the woman who may or may not still be your fiancee for the first time in five years for her, and a few weeks for you? Who you’re sure as hell, absolutely, head over heels in love with, but who knows if she still feels the same way?

He doesn’t get to do either because she pecks his cheek, and before he can recover, slides into her side of the booth.

“You clean up just as nice as I remember.” He needs to say something in response. Words. He knows plenty of them. It’s just the using them that’s the problem.

“You too.” Did part of his brain disappear in the dusting and not come back properly? Is that why he’s completely tongue tied around her?

The situation definitely doesn’t improve when a waitress comes over to take their order and, as they fold up their menus and hand them over, he gets a good look at her left hand. Oh.

“Hey-” He doesn’t realize he’s been just staring until she reaches across the table and lightly grasps his arm. “-you alright there, Buck? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Maybe he has. Maybe he’s hallucinating. Or maybe-

“You kept it on.” She looks confused for a moment, and then a flush rises to her cheeks.

“Of course I did.” Her eyes lower to study the table, and her hand drops away. “Of course.”

“For five years.” Why is he saying this? Can’t he just accept anything at face value?

“Yes, um-” She clears her throat nervously. “-it wasn’t on my finger the entire time. I had a scare around four months in where I thought I’d lost it, and after that, I wore it on a chain around my neck, but yes. I kept it on.”

He wants to tell her how amazing that is, how he’s floored that it meant that much to her, he meant that much to her. But again, she’s the one to speak before he can.

“You can have it back. That is, if you’d rather…” She stumbles over her words, then sighs. “If you’d rather it not mean what it used to mean anymore.” Wait- “I know it’s only been a little while for you, but it’s been five years for me. I’ve gotten older, and I’m rough around the edges in places I didn’t used to be. Plus, I’ve changed a lot, and you might not to be tied down to who I am now-

“Keep it.” Her mouth falls open at the interruption, but she quickly snaps it shut. “That is, if you still want it to mean what it used to mean.”

She frowns slightly.

“I do. You wouldn’t believe how much… it’s only… are you sure?” Of course he’s sure. “If you wanted to take some time to think about it, or if you didn’t want to try at all, I’d understand. No hard feelings.” She laughs sadly. “I mean, who knows? You may not even like me anymore.”

That’s what finally pushes him past embarassment, past any worry about making her uncomfortable. Damn being eloquent. He just needs to say it.

“I don’t need time. I’d already thought about it when I gave the ring to you in the first place.” This time, he’s the one reaching across the table, taking her hand in his. “Doll, I knew we were both gonna change eventually. That’s just what happens as time passes. And my mind’s still made up that I’m gonna love each person you change into. I just wish…” Should he say this? Now or never. “… I wish I’d been there so we could’ve changed together.” She doesn’t look convinced. Alright, time to make things a little ridiculous.

“Are you still the girl who uses the humane mouse traps, has terrible taste in music, and drinks tea because coffee gives her the jitters?”

“Yes and no.” That’s not the answer he was expecting, but at least she’s smiling now. “I still use the no-kill traps, my taste in music was never terrible, excuse you, but coffee doesn’t give me the jitters since the super serum.”

“The what?!”

“Oh, right. You missed that part.”

It’s a long explanation, during which he has to almost completely shut down so he won’t show how much it’s affecting him, hearing how close she came to death that day, but by the end he’s even more certain of his decision.

“Then it’s just as I thought. You may have changed here and there, but at the core, you’re the same girl I fell for in Romania. And I’m still sure I want to marry her.”

Before she can stop it, a tear runs down her cheek. As she wipes it away, she asks,

“Really?”

“Really.” He nods. “But hey, from the sound of it, you’re a bad-ass now. You sure you want to marry an old man?” It works, and she laughs.

“Well, every bad-ass needs a sidekick, and you’ve got the credentials.”

He’s not sure why he asks, because it doesn’t matter, he wouldn’t blame her if there was someone else, but he needs to know just to put it to rest in his own mind.

“What, there weren’t any other applicants?”

“Nope. I held the position open for you.” He’s never been more excited to start a job in his entire life.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“Did you know it was going to happen?” They’re in the back of one of Stark’s (or rather, Pepper’s) SUVs on the way home from Tony’s memorial service. The only major difference from the trip down is that Steve’s gone. He’s gone. Traveled back in time. She doesn’t know for certain, but she’s pretty sure he went back to live his life with Peggy. And now Bucky’s asking her if she had a vision, saw it coming.

“No.” That’s not entirely true. “I saw…” She sighs. “Something confusing, and I still don’t think it’s happened.”

He doesn’t say anything, but she knows he’s waiting for her to explain. Still, she takes a few moments to arrange her thoughts in a way that’ll make sense to someone on the outside. Finally, she thinks she has it figured out.

“I saw you sitting on Steve’s bed, and you were upset. I saw myself sit down next to you to try and comfort you. I didn’t know it would be because of this, but-” she starts to take his hand, but stops herself. What if he’s angry? “-I knew it would be sometime today, because of what we’re wearing.”

It’s quiet, deadly quiet, then-

“When?” It’s one word, but she knows what he means.

“Right after Bruce pushed the button.” Maybe she should’ve mentioned it, but she was hoping she was wrong, that Steve wasn’t going to die going back to return the stones to their proper timelines. Turns out she was indeed wrong. He’s not dead. In fact, he got a life.

“Okay.” She frowns. Surely that can’t be it.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “It’s not like we could’ve stopped him, and I can’t blame him, ‘cause if it were me, that’s what I’d do. But-” He sniffs hard, and that’s when she realizes she’s not the only one trying not to cry. “-I’m gonna miss the punk.”

This time, she gives into her instincts and entwines their fingers, metal against flesh.

“I know you will. I know.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Even if they’ve lost their leaders, the world doesn’t stop spinning, and work doesn’t stop for the Avengers. Sooner or later, they have to regroup, take up the mantle of protecting Earth again. Bucky is surprised when not just Sam, but Rhodey as well asks him to be part of the team. Not just him, he mentally adds. No, they want her too.

“Is this gonna be an issue? You two working together?” She turns in his direction, an eyebrow raised in response to Rhodey’s question. He thinks he knows the answer.

“No. The plan already was to work together until one or the other of us drops.”

Sam cackles.

“Thought that thing on her finger looked familiar. Man, you couldn’t come up with a diamond? Not even a little one?” He catches her rolling her eyes, and fights back a laugh.

“How dangerous do you want her left hook to be, Sam?”

“Good point.”

It’s easily decided that he’ll be part of the main force, and she’ll be in the reserves. That means she’ll keep her job at an upstate community college, teaching English to adults, and he’ll… be doing a lot of paperwork.

What’s not so easily decided is when and how they’re going to make things official. His suggestion is they wait a year for the dust to settle and then do things the old fashioned way, white dress, church, and tux included. Hers is that they walk down to city hall and sign papers. In the end, it’s Pepper who makes the decision.

“Of course you’re having a real wedding. Don’t be silly. And you’ve already waited five years. Why would you want to wait one more?”

She makes polite protests on both their behalves that courthouse weddings are quick and easy, or if they waited a year, they could save up, sort more things out, but Pepper’s not having it, and in the end, they’ve set a date six months in the future, and the widowed Ms. Potts as elected herself the wedding planner. Bucky’s not at all sure about this (Pepper’s a multi-billionare after all, her tastes are probably a little on the extravagant side, and their idea of a “fancy” date has for the most part consisted of “not wearing sweats or pajamas and going somewhere that’s not the sofa in your appartment or mine” y’know, since they’re broke and have been in hiding), but then she pulls out the,

“Please. I need a project to concentrate on that doesn’t have anything to do with… you know. And, I’m paying.”

So of course, neither of them can say no. And really, if the options are wait a year or wait six months, he’ll take the shorter option any day.

He’s been staying in Steve’s apartment (knowing that he’s the one who killed Stark’s parents, he couldn’t bring himself to stay in Avengers H.Q.) since his best friend payed through the next month, but eventually, he has to figure out something else. He may be working for the good guys now, but the price on Brooklyn apartments has just gone through the roof since most people want their old places back, and it’s more than he makes.

He tries not to let on that he’s starting to get a little worried about things (is there anywhere even remotely nearby available at a price he can afford), but eventually it does come up that he’s apartment searching. She has an immediate, rational response:

“Then just move in with me.”

His poker face really must’ve gone to shit (at least around her), because she laughs and, catching a piece of popcorn on the edge of her tongue, asks,

“Come on, Buck. You’ve signed up for the rest of your life. Do you really think we’ll be sick of each other in five months?”

That’s not it, not by a long shot. It’s just that back in his day, moving in together without a trip to church and the exchange of both vows and rings was a way to guarantee whoever the unlucky girl was would be painted as a scarlet woman. It’s archaic, and logically he knows no one bats and eye now, but he still has to ask,

“You sure, Doll?”

She nods.

“Yeah, I have a couch that pulls out into a mattress. Or, if you promise to be a gentleman and keep your hands to yourself, you can have the empty side of my bed.” It’s a joke, and he knows it.

“Sorry. Can’t promise that.” His own smirk matches hers.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll just be charitable and offer it to you anyway.”

#marvel #avengers #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x oc #bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #captain america #fluff #angst #series #standalone

29 notes · View notes

anotherhawk · 3 years

Text

Second Chance Ghost ch 2 (Star Wars Prequel Fanfiction)

Obi-Wan Kenobi is sent back in time to the fight in the Naboo reactor. This time he dies in Qui-Gon’s place.

In this chapter Anakin gets several hugs and Qui-Gon does not.

On AO3 here or under the cut.

It only took a moment for the universe to change. One moment he'd been having the time of his life, being carried aloft by the jubilant Naboo pilots, grinning from ear to ear as they recounted the battle – the battle he'd been a part of, that they'd won – and then, in an instant, he was crying, great, uncomfortable sobs, forcing themselves up from somewhere deeper than himself, and there were tears streaming down his face – he was wasting water and he didn't know why.

Somehow he'd been sat down and people were talking at him but he couldn't seem to understand, and someone was hugging him, but he didn't know who it was, and he wanted Mom and he wanted...and he wanted... “Something's gone wrong,” he said, trying to explain what he didn't understand. “It wasn't supposed to be this way.”

He was hugged tighter, pulled against the pilot's chest. “It's alright, kid. It's alright. Just let it all out. You're safe now.”

“He's in shock,” a woman said. “Battle stress. We should take him to the medics – poor kid should never have been up there.”

That wasn't fair, because he'd stayed in the cockpit, just like Mister Qui-Gon had said, and besides “I blew up the ship,” he pointed out, between gulping sobs.

“Yeah, you did,” the pilot said. “You were very brave, and you saved our butts so now it's our turn to take care of you, okay? Let's get you someplace quiet to rest, get you some water and something to eat, and see if we can find your Jedi friends, okay?”

That did sound good, and he still couldn't seem to stop crying, so he just nodded and even though he was perfectly able to walk by himself – he wasn't a baby – he let the pilot carry him through the corridors to the medical wing. The feeling of wrongness didn't fade, exactly, but it seemed to spread out, like ripples through the dunes after a bad storm.

The medics were very busy and after a quick check over he was given a big glass of water and a protein bar and left in one of the offices. He guessed he'd been sort of forgotten, but it wasn't a big deal right now – the door was open and he could see into the clinic and he could see them all running around taking care of people that were much worse off than he was. Mister Qui-Gon or Padmé or someone would come and get him at some point, and in the meantime if he couldn't be useful he should just stay out of the way.

Except then Mister Qui-Gon did come into the clinic, and he wasn't looking for Anakin at all. He was being carried on a stretcher, even though he was wide awake and arguing. One of his hands was holding a robe tightly and the other one was...the other one was gone.

He felt a stab of fear – had the red and black creature done that? Where was it now? If it had beaten Mister Qui-Gon, was it going to come and kill the rest of them? And where was Obi-Wan?

A woman wearing a security officer and carrying two lightsabers followed the stretcher into the room. Judging by the expression on her face she was the one Mister Qui-Gon was arguing with. And then following her was another Jedi. He hadn't known there were any other Jedi on Naboo, and he wondered why this one hadn't taken part in the battle. He was an old man, though, and he didn't look up to much, so maybe that was understandable. He wore robes like all the other Jedi Anakin had met, but his were worn and patched, and they looked to be made of a coarser material, more like the stuff you got on Tattoine than the beautiful soft fabric everyone else seemed to have. He was watching Qui-Gon with a frown of concern, even though he wasn't saying anything.

“I'm telling you to let me go and organise a search party right now! I was holding him and - “

“ - you said he died, Master Jedi. Forgive me, but sadly I don't think a search party is going to be of any use in this case. I grieve for your loss.”

“He didn't just die, he vanished,” Mister Qui-Gon snarled, angry in a way Anakin hadn't thought he was capable of. He always seemed so calm, so nice. He shrank back a little from the gap in the door. Were they talking about the sith? Or...no. They'd been talking about grief and loss. They must be talking about Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had died.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, his hand pressed to his mouth, and no one knew he was there and no-one could have heard him, but the strange Jedi looked over to him immediately, and his face did something strange when he saw Anakin, like he was incredibly sad and unbelievably happy, all at the same time.

Jedi were weird.

He turned back to listen to what Mister Qui-Gon was saying. “...I don't know what happened, but I can assure you that I've seen more than enough Jedi die before today. Our bodies decompose like the rest of the galaxy, we don't simply vanish. Something strange is going on, and if there's even a chance my padawan could be alive somehow, I must find out.” He tried to stand up off the stretcher, but his knees buckled immediately and he toppled forwards, and only the quick action of the security officer stopped him from hitting the ground.

“Honestly, Qui-Gon,” the other Jedi sighed, and he hadn't tried to grab him, but he had held his hand out, and Anakin wondered if he had done something in the Force. Qui-Gon didn't so much as look at him anyway, which seemed fair. He hadn't sounded very sympathetic, and that wasn't right – when someone died, even if you didn't like them, you should be nice to the people who did. Someone should clearly be looking after Mister Qui-Gon, and maybe that someone should be him.

He took a hesitant step forward but then the door was opening again, and one of the handmaidens – Rabé, he thought – was hurrying straight towards him, concern all over her face. “Ani! Are you alright? The Queen was very worried about you, she wants to see you as soon as possible. She asked me to find you a room in the royal apartments in the meantime.”

Now everyone in the room was looking at him. Or...no. Everyone in the room was looking at him except Mister Qui-Gon who was looking down at the robe he was holding again.

“Um,” he said, biting at his lip. “That's very nice of you, but maybe I should stay with Mister Qui-Gon?”

Qui-Gon still didn't look up. He didn't even say anything. Maybe he hadn't heard.

“Mister Qui-Gon?” he tried again.

The strange Jedi sighed. “On you go, Anakin. Go with Rabé and get some rest. You've had a very long day and you've done very well. Now get some sleep and let me worry about Qui-Gon.”

“Okay,” he said, relieved, and he was surprised to see the Jedi turn to look at him as if in shock – was it really so surprising that he hadn't argued? He wasn't that bad, after all.

Rabé was looking at him strangely too, but she held out her hand and he obediently followed.

It was dark when he woke from his nightmare, and for a moment he was sure he was alone, and he wished he'd never left home, wished he'd never left Mom, but then he realised that there was someone sitting at the foot of his bed, someone who felt like a bonfire on a cold night, like warmth and light and love, and he scrambled forwards, and Obi-Wan's arms came up and wrapped around him, keeping him safe as he cried.

“There you go, Ani. You're alright. Hush now, dear one. Hush.”

Presently he managed to calm down, at least a little, but he chose to stay in the hug, clinging on in the darkness.

“That was some bad dream you were having. Would you like to talk about it? Or would you like to be distracted from it?”

He thought of the desert, and the sandstorm, and the lonely man walking through it with thousands of dead voices in his head, and he shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it, not ever. And as for distractions, he was beginning to realise - “You're dead,” he blurted out and immediately he wished he hadn't said anything, because everyone knew that if you told a restless spirit what it was then it would be driven back into the desert.

Obi-Wan stayed exactly where he was. “Yes.”

“Oh. Am I still dreaming?”

“Do you think you are?”

He rolled his eyes. “Do all Jedi answer questions with more questions?”

He received a light poke to his nose. “Well, if they do you'll fit right in, won't you?”

“I'm not going to be a Jedi,” he pointed out grumpily, pulling away. “The Council said not to train me.”

Obi-Wan sighed and settled an arm lightly across his shoulders. It felt nice. It felt like they'd done this a thousand times before, even though they'd hardly even spoken. “The future is always in motion. You may find things have changed.”

Right. He swallowed hard. “Because you're not here anymore, yeah? Mister Qui-Gon said he would train me, and the Council said he couldn't because he still had to train you. And now...I don't want to take your place! That's not fair.”

“Perhaps not. But is it fair for you to lose an opportunity just because I got myself killed? And you would not be 'taking my place', Anakin. That isn't possible. One person cannot replace another. We can always make room in our hearts to love new people without rejecting the people we loved before. My time with Qui-Gon is over. Your time may just be beginning; we shall see.”

“Maybe.” He shuffled his feet. “I'm scared. I know I'm not supposed to be, but I don't know what's going to happen to me now, and I'm scared.”

“Not knowing what's going to happen next can be very frightening,” Obi-Wan agreed. “And it's alright to be scared. It's how you handle the fear that matters. Now. There are any number of things that could happen next, so let's start by considering what you want to happen. What do you want, Anakin?”

It was a big question and he thought about it earnestly. “I want to be a Jedi. I want to help people, and I want to come back to Tattoine and free my Mom, and everyone else.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Ending slavery is certainly a worthy goal to work towards, as is freeing your mother.”

He couldn't let that go. “But Mister Qui-Gon said that Jedi don't end slavery.”

There was a pause. “I think you may have misunderstood him. Between you and me, Master Qui-Gon doesn't always consider his words as carefully as he should. We were not on Tattoine to fight against slavery, it's true, and for political reasons the senate has to be careful not to provoke the Hutts. What that means is that the Jedi Order cannot be seen to be fighting to end slavery.” He gave Anakin a slow wink. “Fortunately there are many Jedi missions which go completely unseen. But more to the point there are many ways in which you can work against slavery, Ani, whether you are in the Jedi Order or outside it. Several planetary governments seek to end slavery in Hutt space by diplomatic means, there are many organisations which combat slavers operating within the republic, and there are programs on quite a few planets that offer refuge and retraining to the freed, however that freedom may have come about.”

Oh. “Is Naboo one of them?” he asked, leaning in close, and whether he was a ghost or a dream, Obi-Wan felt alive.

“Not at present,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “But the Naboo are a compassionate people, and that compassion is examplified in their Queen. I think that, perhaps, if someone were to talk to Queen Amidala about the horrors of slavery she would listen, and she would remember what she witnessed on Tattoine, and she would choose to help where she could.”

That sounded almost unbelievable. “I could help....by talking?”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Oh, Anakin, you would be amazed what can be accomplished by talking.” He grew serious again. “And...remember, Naboo considers you a hero for destroying the control ship. A Jedi would never accept a reward for doing their duty, but whatever happens next you were not a member of the Order when you did that, and it certainly was not your duty. If you were offered a reward then I am certain that Padmé would understand if you requested something that could be easily exchanged for wupiupi.

Oh. He swallowed hard. “I could free my Mom. Now. Not when I'm grown up, or when I finally become a Jedi. I could really go back and buy her and bring her somewhere safe.”

“Yes. You cannot end slavery by buying slaves. But you can free your mother.” There was a pause and Obi-Wan glanced towards the door. “It would seem Padmé can't sleep either. She's drinking hot chocolate in the courtyard. Why don't you go and join her?”

He nodded. Suddenly the future seemed full of so many more possibilities.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars prequels #star wars prequel fic #Obi-Wan Kenobi #anakin skywalker #qui-gon jinn #star wars time travel au #my writing

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brucewhite · 3 years

Text

Blood On My Hands | White Winter (BHG)

Bruce and Gliss confront their histories and find they share more than they had thought

TW: Discussions of violence, murder, descriptions of injuries (blood/cuts/burns)

@frcstedkiss

BRUCE

The world was hazy to Bruce, from his vantage point in the distance.

He was sitting there, staring at the pool. There were fish in there, deadly, flesh-eating fish. He was thinking about how many of the tributes they had already taken. They didn't care. They had to eat. They had to survive. That was their job.

It was supposed to be Bruce's job. But they weren't human. Bruce was.

So he barely noticed the screams. He barely noticed the struggle. And then, piercing through the noise: BRUCE! PLEASE!

Something caught in Bruce's throat. He was human. Being human meant being connected to other humans. And for a while, this week, he had slowly severed every bond he made here. He betrayed everyone he trusted. He even betrayed Gliss, disappearing right as she put herself in a three-against-one fight.

It wasn't the strategic thing to do. But Bruce couldn't stand feeling like he wasn't human anymore. Gliss needed him. Someone needed him. Maybe she was kind of scary, and maybe she wasn't all there, but maybe she was just a broken, grieving human just like Bruce was, and she needed someone to treat her like she was.

And so he stood up, and he ran. "GLISS!" he shouted hoarsely, grabbing onto her arms just as she hit the water. He looked around at the scene-- blood everywhere, grief everywhere, everyone ready to kill him and Gliss. He had to get out of there.

He scooped Gliss in his arms and ran, as fast as he could, and he could already see the bites blooming on her. "Hang in there," he muttered, as he tore across the landscape, as far away from that scene as possible. They didn't need to stick around there and deal with the aftermath. The vengeance of Drakken's friends. And the horrors that they had committed.

GLISS

Gliss was tired. She was still covered with blood and she was tired. With her luck, Drakken would live again and they’d find her. They’d find Bruce. And he’d suffer for her choices.

Still, she curled into the comfort of having him with her. There was another human that actually cared about her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, sniffling. “I’m so sorry... Is your head okay?”

In the arena, she knew where they were. Close to where she and Tigg spent their last moments. “Wait, watch— watch the vines,” she said between sniffles. “Tigg and I built a fort in the trees around here. We— we can stay there. It’s safe.”

BRUCE

Bruce was tired, too, his head throbbing from that rock. He would be okay, but it was going to be a long night.

He had never been to this part of the arena before. It looked surprisingly hospitable. No deadly animals, or mind-bending magic, or natural disasters. Just vines everywhere. Bruce almost reached out to touch one when Gliss told him not to. So he didn't. He should know better than to trust anything in this arena.

"Just show me where..." Bruce looked around, and then he saw it. It was pretty impossible to miss.

His heart dropped into his stomach. It reminded him of the shipwrecks he and his pod used to stumble across in the ocean, the shell of a life that once was. Bruce always thought they were haunted. This place certainly seemed so... and not the magical or technological ghosts the Capitol could think up. Just shattered dreams. Broken hearts. It was fitting, really, for the way Bruce was feeling. The Games cut everything too short, and all that was left were hollow husks where people had once tried to carve out a little bit of joy.

He set Gliss down gently by the little shelter and then sat down next to her. Maybe he should be worried about her turning on him, too. But he wasn't. Bruce understood, now, that Gliss wasn't evil. She was just in a lot of pain. It didn't change what she had done. But it made Bruce ache in a different way. And it replaced any fear he might have had.

"...How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

GLISS

Gliss pointed out their fortress and before she knew it, she was back where she started. Only this time, she was with Bruce rather than Tigg. It broke her heart in a way, but to look up and see such a kind face when she felt like no one cared about her— it meant everything.

She knew he killed Winston. She didn’t know why, but it hadn’t really bothered her either. To her, he would never be a monster the same way the girl she loved would never be a monster. He saved her and she trusted him.

As they sat in the fortress, she curled up into a ball and shook her head, tears shedding silently down her cheeks. “My Mom was right, I’m a monster,” she said, sobbing loud. “Everything hurts and I’m so thirsty and guilty and I miss her so much.”

BRUCE

Bruce had expected a lot of things, but not that. And it cut right through him, her screams and sobs, because it was exactly how he felt. A monster.

The first thing he was supposed to do was look at her cuts, clean them before they got infected, but Bruce just couldn't stop himself. He had never been very good at comforting people-- he would sit and listen to them, and then he would feel awkward and inadequate about it. But it was like watching his own inner demons play out in front of him. Bruce felt a surge of affection for this girl, this kid, who just lost the person she loved and wanted someone else to hurt as much as she did.

He didn't have an excuse. He was a different kind of monster entirely. A selfish one.

Nevertheless, Bruce wrapped his arms around Gliss and held her tight, as if he could hold all of her grief in himself, replace his own, so he could feel that instead of his own guilt. He wanted to say something comforting, but he found himself crying, too. "So am I," he choked. "So am I."

GLISS

Gliss fell into the embrace of yet another person she would choose to care about. In the end, she was just a girl that was chosen by some higher power and forced to go into a killing arena with the person she loved most in the world.

She bled too. She cried too. She was someone’s child. And she just wanted some other person to hurt like she was. It felt like someone had been squeezing her heart, bleeding her dry.

So, she gripped onto his shirt and she sobbed. Especially so in knowing he understood what it was like to be a monster. She didn’t think that of him, but that bond was something only two very broken individuals could share.

After some time, some silence…

“I— I don’t have anything to give you for saving me,” she muttered, pulling away only slightly. “I— I have iodine to… To replace the rubbing alcohol? I don’t— I really didn’t know it was yours.” Her lip quivered, her mind a jumble of thoughts as she tried to do something to make it up to him. “I’m sorry.”

BRUCE

It wasn’t smart to get attached to someone. But Bruce couldn’t control it at this point. Gliss’s grief had buried itself somewhere deep in him, because he felt it, too. Different, but the same.

When she mentioned the rubbing alcohol, a chuckle slipped from his lips, a real one, in spite of all the reasons not to. The rubbing alcohol. That goddamn rubbing alcohol.

“It’s a gift,” he said, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve and opening the bottle. “Don’t be sorry. When I... when I was growing up, it was sort of a ritual, after you went on a hunt. Everyone got together and patched each other up. And ate food, but we don’t have much of that...”

For once, the memories of his pod weren’t painful. They ached, but in a way that reminded him that he was real, that he was a person.

“Show me where it’s bleeding,” he said, offering the bottle. “It’s what we do.”

GLISS

Gliss hadn’t even processed the thought that they would be forced to try to kill each other. At this point, she wasn’t sure if she could anymore. He’d been so kind to her. She felt like she didn’t deserve it.

When he laughed, she was a bit taken aback but then, at the same time, it felt like her sanity returning. He had such a nice laugh. It fit him.

She smiled. The first real smile in awhile as he talked about home and hunting. She never had that experience before. She never really had a father or mother for rituals. “It sounds fun, actually. Having a family like that.”

She wanted to know more. Anything she could know. It was a good distraction from the Hell they were in.

“My— Leg. The most.” She showed him her wounds, the burns, the small bites…

In that time, she rummaged through her bag to find the antibiotics to prevent infection and stopped in her tracks as she found a small ring… The ring she got Tigg. She realized right then that she had left it with her before Tigg ran off. “She’s so stupid,” she said, smiling and laughing through the tears. “I can’t believe it.”

BRUCE

Bruce didn’t have a bandage, but the tarp would do fine, he supposed, until maybe the next sponsor felt kind enough to send something more. Gently, knowing it would sting, he tried his best to clean the cuts. His mother and father would have been better at this. Bruce had been left before he really had the chance to learn.

He was thinking about his pod a lot lately. Huh.

He peered at the ring. He wasn’t sure why Gliss was laughing, but he supposed something equally ridiculous had made him laugh just earlier.

“That’s... nice,” Bruce said, only seeing the way the ring caught the fading light. “Was that... hers?” He was hesitant even to say her name.

GLISS

The pain was something Gliss could handle. It stung, definitely did, but her nerves were shot after the day’s events. She didn’t even mind.

At the ring, Gliss nodded, still smiling as she dried her tears with her sleeves. She felt like a little girl. Snotty and teary faced but smiling.

“I bought her a promise ring a long time ago… She bought one for me too,” she showed him the matching ring and sighed. “When she ran off, and um… died… She must’ve left it in my bag.” The smile was fading slightly as the reality sunk in. “She wasn’t a bad person. I know she did really terrible things… But… Growing up all we know is training and violence. She was so alone when we first met. Just— consumed by rage. But then I got to know her. She was funny and witty and a goofball… She lost when she had a weakness and that was well— me. She stole things for me… That’s why I just— That’s why I’m so sorry.”

She let out a breath. It felt nice to talk about her grief. “If I know she’s watching over me, she’s grateful for you. I know that may not mean much but— that’s all I have. You will always have an ally in me.”

BRUCE

Bruce listened, focusing on taking care of Gliss’s wounds because he wasn’t sure if he could meet her eyes. And his head hurt, anyway. It was kind of painful to look up with the sun where it was.

He didn’t know if he could promise Gliss that he would always be her ally. Right now, he didn’t think he had it in him to betray another friend. But he got the sense that there was something breaking down in him, that if it really came down to it, he might still make the selfish choice. So he stayed silent.

“I... you don’t have to apologize anymore. We all did things we regretted,” Bruce said simply. He didn’t want to deal with the thought of what Tigg might think about him. He had hurt Tigg, too. “I’d been training for this, too. My parents found me when I was fifteen. Tangled in a fishing net. They didn’t have a lot of money and they never had enough food, so I was their only hope. I thought if I won, it could help them. But it’s a lot different, training and being actually in it. When you’re training, everyone’s your enemy. Here... it’s complicated.”

GLISS

“They don’t really tell us what’s happening in other districts… The families, the stories. Money was just— never really a problem for us.” The winnings were hardly even a thought in her mind. Now she was beginning to feel guilty about that too.

“Hey, um, I know this sounds awful but… If something happens to me, even if it’s you that did the awful thing, can you go to our mentor John and get Tigg’s letter for me? When and If you win? Just… Leave it with my body?” She let out a breath. Her mouth was dry. “In turn, if I win, I’ll give your family 50% of my winnings. I just… Want a little for Tigg’s home she wanted for us. But that’s— way beyond now. I hope.”

She really wanted to give him something. If that was reassurance, that’s what she wanted to provide. They had a lot more in common than she had originally thought.

“And I hate to ask but— you have something to drink from the tree, right? My sponsors must despise me.”

BRUCE

Bruce stared at her.

He knew that she knew that he might. If it came down to it. It was a horrible thought, but it was a real one, and Bruce knew that he was capable of it. Winston had been someone he cared about. That wasn’t something he had done lightly.

But if it came down to it, and if he had to kill more people, there was a part of Bruce that really wondered how he would ever go through life like this. With all these people haunting him. People celebrated Victors and held them up, but everyone knew they were deeply haunted people. So it scared him, to hear Gliss say that. He wanted to survive. Obviously. He wanted to make it home, for his family’s sake. But it was occurring to him that he really might die here, and it was a small comfort that someone else might take care of them. If that was even allowed.

He had been in the process of taking the spile out of his bag when he dropped it. Shaky hands. Bruce picked it up and put it in the tree silently, still not sure how to respond.

“I promise,” he finally said, because there was too much there for him to really unpack right now. “Do you want some water?”

GLISS

Gliss wasn’t stupid. She had spoken with Winston just the night before he was murdered. Their alliance was solid. The only way it could’ve been broken was if Bruce had killed him in a betrayal. Winston was kind, Gliss less so. It would be a lot easier to kill her.

So she stared back at him with sympathy. If she had to die, she was happy to die by his hands at least. And honestly, she’d take him to end at this point. If only because she thought he deserved it.

She’d come to terms with death being inevitable, it was only ever a matter of when. Maybe she’d make it out, maybe she wouldn’t. And life would go on.

She laid her hand on his shoulder, comforting him because she knew how uncomfortable it all was at the moment. Still she was so incredibly grateful for that promise. “Thank you and I promise too.” Another deal, another day. It was what it was. But she was still comforted by it. “Please?” she leaned forward taking a few sips and using some excess to wash her hands and face. “Thank you so much… How… How’s your head by the way? Do you need me to look at it?”

BRUCE

Bruce shook his head, though the pounding was getting worse and he really wanted to sleep. He knew you weren’t supposed to sleep with head injuries, even when you wanted to, at least until you could get it checked out. Bruce couldn’t get it checked out. He could only try and remember what he knew, from the sailors on smaller vessels who came back from storms having been tossed around by them.

But Bruce was doing okay. He wasn’t seeing double. His vision wasn’t blurry. And his mind felt clearer, at least, since earlier in the day. Still, as the sun slipped below the trees, Bruce thought he ought to take the first watch.

He didn’t trust himself to make any promises. He just didn’t think he was a good enough man not to break them, not at this point, with his track record. But he could, at least, try and show with gestures that he hadn’t completely lost his heart. That the Games hadn’t taken all of that from him yet. He had to, or otherwise he didn’t know how he was going to survive these next few days.

Maybe he wouldn’t. But he was going to try.

“It will be better in the morning. You should go to sleep. I’ll take the watch,” Bruce offered. There was more to say, but he couldn’t. It would have to be enough, for now.

#gliss #bhg #blood on my hands

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