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kill-the-feels · 7 months

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the most dangerous thing is to love ~ ch. IV

a/n: hey besties!! it's been a hot minute since i've been on here and even longer since i updated this, but i come bearing a fun chapter so i hope you'll forgive me! i've also got the next four or five chapters plotted out, so the next few updates should be quicker in coming! thanks to everyone who's waited and loved it so far! <3 (previous part) (master list)

warnings: language, lots of snark, references to past injuries, slight horror vibe at the end

word count: ~4.9k

You crouch behind Fett as he lays flat against the edge of the cliff, eyes squinting in the blistering sunlight.

The crystal water all around you shimmers in the distance, the dark forest and cave system between you and the shore.

“I don’t see anything,” he says. You creep up beside him, mirroring his pose, lest you fall over the side.

This is the highest point on the island, a rocky hill that left the both of you winded on the climb up.

“Nothing?” you repeat. He gives you a wicked side-eye, the kind that gives a blaster bolt a run for its money, irritation at your questioning evident.

“Nothing. You’re positive it was bones you found?” You clench your jaw, his skeptical tone grating. This is the third time the two of you have been over this.

“Unless sticks are shockingly white and humanoid. And carry ancient med kits.” He snorts beside you, wiggling himself back away from the ledge.

“This little island is clearly uninhabited. And there are no signs of life. Which makes the presence of another human-”

“Disturbing, to say the least,” you interrupt. He glares at you.

“And unlikely.” You glance at the horizon. Empty, same as it has been.

“Or like us — unlucky. Who’s to say they weren’t like us? Survivors who washed up here, survived as long as they could, then died.” You paint a morbid picture, and Fett makes a face.

“This cannot be the only island on the whole planet. Someone has to be out there.” He's trying to be logical about this whole thing, but you remain unconvinced.

“Maybe. But I don’t like our odds.” Fett fiddles with a button on his wrist, and you watch as it blinks red twice, then shuts off.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, hurrying back the way you came before you can ask any questions. ~~~ The climb back down takes the rest of your afternoon, and the two of you retreat back into the caves as night sets in, building a fire and sitting closer to it for warmth.

“We need food,” you say, halving a ration bar and passing him half. He scowls at it.

“These taste like shit,” Fett says bluntly. You nibble on the edge of it, trying to make it last, so you can trick your stomach into thinking it’s more food than it is.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have the chef prepare something else for next time,” you say, and he glares at you, his favorite pastime.

“If someone hadn’t tossed my helmet, it’d be easier to find things to eat.” You make a face, sticking your tongue out at him like a three-year-old. Always about that damn helmet.

“We could also fish," you suggest. "Got to be plenty of those.” Fett pokes a stick in the fire, ignoring you.

“Tomorrow you’re showing me where you found the bones,” he says instead. Unease slithers down your spine.

“I’d rather not go back there.” He finally glances at you, disdain barely masked on his face.

“Afraid of the nexu?” You clench your jaw, grabbing your own stick to poke the fire with.

“No.” It’s the truth. It’s not the nexu that leaves your skin crawling. It’s the idea of being back in that spot. Everything was so still and quiet, and you can’t shake the sensation that something else was there besides the nexu, watching you.

“If you found the med kit there, odds are there are other supplies. We’re going back.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and you bite off another corner of your ration bar, gathering your courage to poke the proverbial bear again.

“Why are you the one calling all the shots?” You interrupt the silence, unable to let it go. Fett doesn't respond at first, instead twisting his stick in the flames, burning a neat circle around the end. His silence is worse than his caustic arguments, because you can't argue with silence.

“I thought this was a truce.” Bitterness seeps into your voice as you try again.

“If you with your infinite knowledge of survival would like to be in charge, then by all means,” he says calmly. A small flame grows on the end of the stick, steadily climbing up its length to his hand. Fett smudges the stick out in the dirt.

The side of his mouth tilts up, just barely, and you gape. Instead of arguing with you, meeting your anger with the plenty of his own that he's got stored up, he does that.

“Did you just make a joke?” Your own stick burns, and you toss it in the fire instead of extinguishing it.

“I don’t make jokes,” he says, stretching out on his back, one hand resting behind his head. You stare at him as he throws the other arm over his eyes.

“You made a joke.” He gives you a noncommittal hum.

“Some of us are trying to sleep,” Fett says. You snatch up another stick, letting it catch fire. When it burns, you hold onto it, torn between smudging it out and burying it in Fett’s ribs.

In the end, you put it in the dirt beside his stick, pillowing your hands under your head and shutting your eyes. ~~~ “Get up.” The foot to the ribs doesn’t feel any better than before, and your eyes fly open, glare ready.

“Good morning to you too, ass,” you mutter. The sun is barely peaking over the hills but the morning is already hot and steamy, with distant creatures calling out in the jungle.

The waves crash against the rocks as you eat the half of the ration bar Fett passes you on his way out of the cave. You’re scrambling to follow, still half-asleep and vaguely confused.

“Easy,” you huff, sliding on loose rocks as you make your way up the hill. “Do you know where you’re going?”

In your haste to follow him, you put your foot down on the wrong rock, and it twists, sending you sprawling on your knees. Fett catches hold of your upper arm before you can slide too far down, hefting you back to your feet.

“We’re meant to be walking, not sliding,” he says. Blowing hair out of your eyes, you watch where you step, until the two of you reach the top of the hill, just outside of the tree line.

“Where do we go from here?” He's looking at you expectedly, like you should just know where to go. You hesitate, trying to remember.

“I was trying to head to the beach, where we washed up,” you say. “And I know I headed downwards, pretty much straight in.” You bite your lip, unsure how to tell Fett that you basically stumbled onto the spot.

He glances at the sky.

“You have no idea where we should be going,” he says. It isn’t a question.

“I know the general idea. Just… be quiet and let me think.” After the nexu attacked you, it was a miracle you managed to make it back. The green all looks the same, and you have a feeling that the less you try to navigate, the more the your instinct takes over. Plus, the cave is next to the water, so you were able to follow the sound of the waves as you got close enough.

But as you walk forward, the jungle starts to look a little less confusing, certain landmarks seeming familiar. Fett follows silently behind you, shoving leaves and branches out of his way with more force than is probably strictly necessary.

He says nothing, but gradually his breathing gets heavier, like he’s struggling to keep up, still recovering from being sick. You round the corner, into a small, open area littered with rocks.

“Let’s stop for a minute,” you say. Fett glances around, eyes tracing the line of the trees.

“Is this where you were?” he asks, leaning on a waist-high rock. You shake your head.

“No, I don’t recognize any of this. But I need a breather.” The look he gives you is not amused.

“So we keep walking.” He starts off, headed in what feels like the complete wrong direction. With a groan, you hurry after him.

“We can keep walking all you want, but I’m telling you, I need to take a breather, and so do you, and I’m not sure which way I-”

Fett takes another step forward and something clicks under his foot. He freezes and you react on instinct, holding your breath.

“What was that?” He glances back at you without moving, then looks down, lips set in a grim line. Slowly, he crouches, keeping his feet in the same position, until he can brush the leaves and detritus of the jungle away.

His spine stiffens, ramrod straight, and more telling than anything he could say with his words.

“It’s a mine,” he says, voice flat and without any emotion. He's way too calm for the situation, in your opinion. You squint at the ground, just able to make out the top of a durasteel circle.

“Why is there a fucking mine?” you ask, voice a horrified whisper. Fett looks around as he carefully stands back up.

“I don’t know. But there are probably more. Are there any under your feet?” You crouch, maintaining your position the same way he did, and carefully clear away the leaves covering the ground around you.

“I don’t see any.” Fett’s jaw clenches.

“Go back the way we came,” he says. “Watch your feet, trace your steps as best you can.”

“And you?” He eyes the distance between you two.

“Just go.” You shake your head.

“No, we can come up with something. We’re a team now, remember?” He rolls his eyes.

“As if you’d ever let me forget.” Instead of stepping away, you step closer.

“For once in your fucking life, can’t you listen?” he says, angry. “If you step on one, at best we’re both screwed, at worst, we both die.” You stop moving.

“Okay. Since we’re stuck — for now — let’s discuss: why are there mines?” You add the “for now” when he glares at you.

“You’ll be happy to know this counts as a sign of life,” Fett says. “And is one hell of a disturbing way to find out.” Thunder rumbles above the two of you.

“It definitely ranks above the bones,” you say. The wind whistles through the trees, brushing over your skin, leaving chills in its wake.

“Bones can’t kill you.” He looks above him, at the way the clouds are steadily thickening.

“What do we do?” Fett looks behind him, at the way the two of you came. He sighs, rubbing his hands down his face.

“I don’t suppose you have secrets skills with defusing bombs hidden up your sleeve.” You’d almost believe it was a joke, except you know Fett and find it hard to believe he’s joking right now. You’re certainly not laughing.

“Sorry, fresh out of that one,” you say, wiping the sweat off your forehead. Fett closes his eyes, seeming to gather himself before he looks at your fingers.

“Alright. Do exactly as I say.” He reaches for one of the pouches on his belt, pulling out a tiny blade and a little pointed rod of durasteel. When you hesitate, he shakes them at you, drawing you closer.

You move carefully, examining the ground before you shuffle your feet forward until you’re right in front of him.

“What now?” Fett crouches a little, trying to get a good look at the mine.

“Clean it off some more — carefully — so we can see what we’re working with. There should be a place to unscrew the casing. That’s what the pointed piece is for. Tell me when you’ve done that.”

Gently, holding your breath lest you breathe too hard and set the damn thing off, you scrape away dirt and leaves until the muddy mine stares up at you. There’s a raised circular section, with dirt caked into what looks like a tiny X.

“Unscrew there,” Boba says, and you flex your fingers to try and work out the shakiness.

“No problem. Anything else while I’m down here? Some refreshments, maybe?” He scoffs.

“Cut the shit and focus on what you’re doing.” You save the choice words you’ve got for him because it takes too much of your concentration to make sure the little rod is fitting correctly in the corroded X of the screw.

Slowly, it gives way and starts to twist.

“Wait until it’s almost all the way free, then switch to your fingers and twist — slowly. When you get it out, put it to the side and pry the casing open just enough to see what’s inside. Try not to disturb any wires.” He makes the instruction sound like something as simple as baking.

“How am I meant to pry it open and not disturb any wires?” The screw loosens dangerously and you quickly grab at it with your fingers, giving it the final few twists it takes to pull it all the way out. You set it and the rod to the side. Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself for the hard part.

“Get at an angle where you can see down inside without moving it too much. Tell me what you see.” You make a face, the angle required putting your face right next to his leg.

The proximity is weird and makes the situation even worse. Squinting, you try to make out what’s under the dirt.

“Bunches of wires,” you mutter.

“I know that,” Fett says, and you can hear the eye roll. “What color?”

Your head is fully pressed against his leg now, fingers trying to delicately crack open the side some more.

“Brown,” you say finally. “And a blue and white one. Maybe a black one under all that? Or a dark grey?” He huffs.

“Which? It’s important to know.” And really, it shouldn’t surprise you that Fett knows how to disarm a mine. He is the Boba Fett after all.

“Black,” you say decisively, because either you’re right or you’ll be dead wrong and blissfully dead so you don’t have to hear about how you were wrong.

“Cut the brown wire.” You look at the blade in your hand.

“Uh, not to question you, but that was awful quick. Are you sure, buddy?” He looks down at you, where your head is still pressed to his leg.

“Cut the brown wire,” he says through gritted teeth.

Slowly, you stab the blade into the gap, trying to not to touch any other wires. Your heart is racing, skin buzzing with anticipation.

Ever so gently, you turn the blade, watching in fascination as it severs the brown wire.

It is a win, you suppose, that you don’t immediately blow up.

But Fett still has to move his foot.

“Is it cut?” he asks. You nod, already carefully backing away.

“Get back here,” he says, “and cut the blue and white one.”

“I have to cut more?” You’re not proud of the way your voice whines. He glares at you, not even dignifying you with a response.

This time, you’re less careful, slicing your way through it.

“And now the dark grey one?” you ask. He jerks his gaze down to you.

“You said it was black!” Is that fear in his voice?

“I meant black, calm down.”

“Don’t touch the last wire. Back up.” You hold your breath, watching.

Your heart bangs against your rib cage as Fett slowly inches his weight off.

There’s a click and you squeeze your eyes shut. Waiting.

It doesn’t blow.

“Fuck,” he hisses, resting his palms on his thighs, catching his breath. You sigh in relief and he pins you with an unamused stare.

“Some thanks for saving your life would be nice,” you say, and he ignores you. The thunder is louder this time, vibrating against your bones.

“Let’s get moving,” Fett orders, as a few fat raindrops start to fall on your heads.

“Back to camp?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“It’d take too long. Let’s find somewhere to hunker down.” The two of you set off in the opposite direction, moving as quickly as you can as the rain picks up. ~~~ He’s damn lucky.

Squinting through the curtain of rain, Boba follows you as the two of you try to find somewhere to take shelter.

It makes him wish he had his helmet, but he’s not complaining, because he’s damn lucky.

Even now, his hands are still shaking so badly that he keeps them clenched into fists, ignoring the way his legs feel weak and wobbly. He’ll take that to his grave, thank you very much.

But still, being forced to confront his own mortality twice in less than a week is not doing great things for his mental space, especially when he has to deal with you, instead of having peace and quiet to process everything.

“Up ahead,” he calls, seeing a rocky overhang that juts out enough to offer some cover.

Cold rain runs down the back of his neck, slipping underneath the collar of his flight suit and sending shivers down his spine.

It worsens his mood, his frustration making it hard to concentrate. You slide underneath the rock, the space just big enough for the two of you to sit shoulder-to-shoulder, heads brushing the rock above you.

“I hate the rain.” Boba blinks at you as the words slip from the both of you in unison.

“Ha,” you say, nudging your shoulder with his. He shoves back, disliking the contact. “Figures we’d have something in common.” Boba scowls out at the grey curtain cutting the two of you off from the rest of the world.

Rain makes his bones ache, makes him feel cold and clammy, and it’s just so loud.

“It’ll pass,” he says, not sure if he’s reassuring himself or you. You glance at him.

“I know. But if you get sick again, I’m going to be pissed.” He rolls his eyes.

“Not gonna get sick.” You don’t look convinced, your hands twisting in your lap. Rainwater that must have been collecting above him gushes over the side of the rock, running down his side, soaking him. Boba glares, biting back the groan and unintentionally shifting closer to you.

“Easy, big guy,” you say, and he looks down to find your hand in the center of his chest piece as he ends up nearly in your lap.

“It’s getting too wet over here,” he says, glad that his brown skin hides the way he can feel his cheeks getting hot.

With a long-suffering sigh, you scoot over, towards the edge on your side, and he moves closer, hating that his options are touching you or sitting in the small waterfall.

“If it isn’t raining, it broiling hot,” you say. “I wish we could just have one day with moderate temperatures and nothing trying to kill us. No cliffs, no killer cats, and no fucking mines.” Boba snorts.

“I dunno. Mines and cliffs are easy enough to avoid. If there wasn’t any challenge, we might get bored.” You roll your eyes at him, and Boba looks away, momentarily distracted by the strange jump in his chest.

It’s the physical contact, he decides. He hasn’t had something like that in years, not since Jango died. Obviously, he’s had lovers. But it’s different, a quick release that ends just as soon as it’s begun.

The last time he sat this close to someone? And didn’t do anything else, but just sat? He couldn’t say.

“What if it doesn’t let up? Do we camp here?” You make a good point, but he’s not exactly sure where the two of you are, and the rain makes it hard to see where you’ve been. Trying to navigate your way back to camp could prove fatal.

“We don’t have to make a decision yet,” he says, giving you a non-answer that has you rolling your eyes again.

“Sure thing, boss,” you mutter, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. Your brow stays furrowed, like you’re thinking about something that’s troubling you. Boba stares at the rain, willing it to stop. It doesn’t work. It never does, but it didn’t stop him from trying when he was a little boy and it doesn’t stop now.

“How does a person like you end up on a bounty hunter’s radar?” he asks, hating the silence. You open one eye, glancing at him, unamused.

“You know how. It’s the same as it always is.” Objectively, he knows the answer. Jabba put the bounty out, so it has something to do with the Hutts. It’s why he took this job.

But he wants to know what exactly you, of all people, did to merit being hunted down, other than being a wise-ass.

You clench your hands in your lap, twisting your fingers around each other. There’s a barely contained anger there, simmering just below the surface. He recognizes it because he sees it in himself, an odd realization to have.

“That can’t be the whole story,” he prods. “You weren’t worth the fuel it took to find you.” Your jaw clenches and you stare pointedly into the rain.

“And yet, it is.” You don’t offer anything else, just take a few measured breaths in and out, calming your temper. It’s a little impressive actually, to see that you are capable of reigning in your blistering comments. ~~~ You know what he’s doing. He’s probing, trying to learn more about you. What you don’t know is why. You two might be allies, but you’re certainly not friends.

He scraps a spare blade over the side of the rock, sharpening it.

Most likely he’s asking because he still can’t believe that the Hutts are really that petty. Regrettably? They are.

Fett shifts beside you, his knee brushing yours, and you resist the urge to shove him away. You’re cranky right now, back stiff and stinging with the stitches.

And just when you’d started to dry out from the last afternoon thunder shower, here you are, soaking wet again.

Your head hurts too, most likely from dehydration and hunger, and you’re to the point where you just want to tear into something with your hands. Fett’s looking more and more like a solid target, especially if you have to keep sitting in close quarters like this.

“Something is jamming my fucking signal,” Fett says, breaking the silence. Slowly, you turn to look at him.

He shows you the same button on his wrist he was messing with when you climbed to the high point on the island. Once more, it blinks red twice, then shuts off.

“It’s not just dead?” you ask, unsure how it works.

“No, it’s not dead. This thing is meant to be used in emergencies. It’s powerful and can pick up any frequency. When it can connect. Even if there’s no one in the area, it should let me transmit something out, to be heard if someone gets near us.” You hear the unintentional emphasis on “if.” Not knowing exactly where you are in the galaxy makes this ten times harder.

For all you know, the two of you could be in the far reaches, where people rarely — if ever — make it.

“Have you been trying it out this whole time?” He gives you his signature side-eye, before slapping it a little harder.

“When I’ve been awake and able, yes. I’m not an idiot.” Your mouth opens of its own volition, the scathing reply poised to leap off your tongue, Fett unintentionally setting you up perfectly.

And just like that, it quits raining, saving you from most likely putting your foot in your mouth again and starting another fight with Fett.

The last remnants of rain drip down the branches of the trees, soaking into the ground, filling the jungle with a quiet hush. You peer into foliage, watching as a steamy mist rises up from the warm ground.

Now that the rain has stopped, it’s humid, everything around you clammy. Fett wastes no time brushing past you, slicking his hair back, the curls unruly and wet.

He peers into the jungle around you, eyes scanning the foliage.

“Does any of this look familiar?” he asks, and you’re tempted to say yes, just so he thinks you’re more useful than you currently are.

“No,” you say honestly. “I think we made a wrong turn.” Fett rolls his eyes.

“There is no ‘we’ in this. You got us lost.”

“Ehh,” you say, face screwing up. “Maybe technically, but really I told you from the beginning. I don’t know how I got there.” His scoff is filled with contempt, and he shoves your shoulder.

“That way. That’s the direction of the caves. We’ll try again tomorrow.” The prospect of spending another day hiking through the jungle in the broiling heat and inevitable rain does not fill you with joy, but you figure it’s in your best interest not to argue right now.

So you stomp forward, crashing through the foliage, generally being as loud as you can, because you’re learning that the creatures who inhabit this island dislike the noise and tend to run from it.

You round the corner of another large boulder, and freeze.

The tree.

In the misty steam rising from the jungle floor, it’s not as clear as it was the last time, but it’s definitely the tree, the same moss covering it as last time. There’s the pool beside it; you're unable to see the waterfall trickling down, but able to hear it in the hushed stillness all the same.

Fett rams into your back, nearly knocking you over, and you don’t even protest at the sudden sharp pain from your stitches.

You just keep staring at the tree, the mist moving all around, like another entity.

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, unwilling to break the silence, even to tell him this is it. The sun is still overhead, and if you look behind you, you can see it peeking through the trees. But in front of you, this tree and its little haven, remain shrouded in shadows.

Your eyes fall to the base of the tree, where you know the patch of grass rests, housing the long-forgotten bones.

You force your foot forward, having difficulty picking it up, like you’re slogging through layers of mud.

You shouldn’t be here.

The words come unbidden to your mind, whispered as clear as day, like someone spoke them into your ear. Fett hasn’t moved either, looking between you and the tree. He squints at something, resting on a root beside the tree. The dark shape looks familiar, and you’re fairly certain it wasn’t here last time.

A cold wind whistles through the trees above your head, stirring the mist and rushing over your arms, like two cold hands.

You back up a step, bumping into Fett again. Something is wrong here. You shouldn’t be here. There’s a pregnant pause, the anticipation nearly killing you, everything in your body telling you to run.

You blink. Once. Twice.

The mist fades away. Gradually, the sun seeps into the clearing, the cold wind replaced by the same balmy breeze everywhere else on the island.

In the absence of the mist, you can see what the shape is.

“Is that my fucking helmet?” Fett speaks first, disrupting the silence and causing you to jump. He charges forward before you can stop him, and you have no choice but to follow, feet no longer stuck to the ground.

He snatches it up and spins on you, finger pointed in accusation.

“Is this why you didn’t want to come here? Why you’ve been leading me in fucking circles? Real funny.” You’re shaking your head, genuinely afraid, but not of him. It feels like he’s disturbing something, being too loud when he should grab the helmet and get the hell out of here.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper. “It wasn’t here last time. I swear.” Your eyes fall to the patch of grass, the bright green almost unnatural against the dark moss.

Is there—? Yes, just there, the white of the bone. Only, it looks like it’s been rearranged, because you definitely left that thing sticking up more.

“Fett, we need to go,” you say softly, and he must hear something in your voice that your words are not saying, because he blinks and looks around for the first time.

The leaves brush together above you, sounding like a crowd whispering. Debating something. The sun shifts again, slipping out of the clearing, and you watch as the mist starts to swirl back up. The cold returns, and you take a quick step back, as shivers race up and down your spine.

Fett tugs his helmet on and reaches for a blaster.

“Don’t,” you risk calling. “Let’s go.” You take another step back, out of the clearing, into the sunny jungle. Fett looks back at the tree one more time, before he follows you.

Neither of you speak for the entire trek back to the cave.

When the sun sets, Fett tightens his grip on his blaster, and you notice the way he stokes the fire higher, until it lights up every corner of the cave.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #reader insert #listen I know mines don't work like that but this is SW so we're pretending #I wrote this and then let it percolate over the summer while having an identity crisis #but here we are finally and doing much better <3 #thanks for reading!! <3

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animefreak1145 · 3 years

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The Brilliance of Break On Through

Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War Mission Break on Through—An Analysis

I have replayed the campaign of COD:BOCW numerous times—too many times truly. Did a whole playthrough where it was Hardened and soon I’m sure I shall do Veteran(something I have never done for any COD game. Not even Hardened.).

All missions have their own unique qualities—parts where the player gets a little rush of adrenaline depending on the kind of mission and how they choose to play it (Nowhere Left to Run just a plain shooting match while Brick in the Wall you can choose to remain stealthy like the good spy you are or go crazy like an eager homicidal maniac).

Even within the safehouse, there are plenty of little details to discover if you take the time to look around and observe everyone. Or, everything. (The radio if turned to a Russian station/correspondence, Adler changes it back immediately before Da Nang mission. Watching Park’s body language, as you talk to Adler and she periodically looks over to you two. Adler suspicious when you go to the Red Room or the locked room with the arcade. The T.V. being turned on in the Red Room)

But the amount of details, details, in the mission Break on Through is outstanding. I have played this mission more than any other due to me wishing to look at all the details. There’s so many, I think I may miss some. And I can’t show them off all to you cause I suck at creating gifs and don’t know how to transfer that from Xbox to my phone.

To lighten it up a bit, I won’t focus on the four different scenarios you go through—at least not each one. That would take too long and I do not have gifs/pics to show it off since Tumblr limits it to ten anyways.

I will, however, try to guide to what parts of the game you all can explore if you choose to do so. As well just how detailed they did this mission.

I am going to start with the different statements Adler says to you throughout all the Scenarios(17, 6, 11, 1). We only go through four in the actual game—but the fact it goes up to 17 or possibly more shows just how far they went in and messed with Bell’s mind.

Now, Adler seems to be a bit bipolar on how he talks to you whether or not you listen to him and all his directions. Either totally blasé and cold to giving you and pumping you up with more MK or meds, or actually a tad concerned and patient as he guides you through.

If You/Bell Stands Still/Does Nothing:

Example 1

“So you did nothing? What were you, in shock?”

He throws the words callously, mocking. As if Bell isn’t confused and lost at what is going on. He even sounds irritated that you might actually be in shock due to these memories that are just fake—not even real. Not like what he has.

Example 2

“What’s wrong with Bell?” -Adler

“I’m not sure. . .” -Park

“I guess we’ll just wait on you to proceed, Bell.”

The contrast is dizzying. He sounds concerned when he asks Park on what could be wrong with you. If he pushed you too far and now you’re just frozen. And, instead of rushing you due to how the fate of half of Europe is at stake, he decides to give you space. Just wait for you and you’ll come out of it soon enough.

He does these sort of reactions numerous times. Jumping from intimidating to the Adler we knew as the player, as Bell—kind and always in your corner that believes in you. He switches tactics based on what he believes will work really—or he just felt really on edge at times and threw the farce that you two were friends out the window.

Other examples include:

Scenario 11–Napalm Strike-in the lab in the room where you were brainwashed

“Christ, what’s happening with them?”-Adler

“A mild seizure. Sims, past me a benzodiazepine.” -Park

Again, concerned. Worried. Almost…at unease?

In the lab—tripped up on drugs. If you run through the tight shrinking hallway back and forth like so(I suck at making gifs, I’m sorry):

“Why is Bell repeating themselves?”

“Bell, stop speaking in circles.”

Now, as others may have suspected, Bell is talking to everyone as they’re stuck in this horrible loop of mental torture. Most likely muttering, hands clenching and arms pulling against the straps of the gurney, moving their head back and forth depending on what they’re seeing. I always saw Bell as muttering quickly in Russian as they go through all of this—their mother tongue where it may comfort them as they’re panicking and speaking to Adler.

It’s just a nice detail showcasing how exactly Adler knows that Bell is on script—Bell saying what they’re seeing and doing and what’s going on. It shows also just how hard they put Bell through the ringer(badum tss. I’ll leave now).

All the details too when the game shows how the drugs they put in Bell affects you. Like so. The hallways appearing long. The lights looking yellow. You feel so fast—look how quick you can run. Run towards the Red Door that Adler so desperately wants and maybe this can stop. Ah, why is it running away from you? What’s going on?

I don’t know about you, but I was so lost and confused at what was going on my first playthrough. For the majority of this mission, the possibility of me being brainwashed didn’t reach the BACK of my mind till probably I actually saw the flashes of scenes about Vietnam and calling Bell a subject. So like right here.

I personally thought that I had a repressed memory or something due to me going through the Vietnam War. That whatever I saw with Perseus, I—or rather Bell—repressed it from our mind due to how violent or horrible what we saw or experienced was. And that Adler suspected and just really wanted to know about it.

I didn’t expect for the man to actually brainwash my character—us—Bell! The game made Adler your mentor, who always defended you from Hudson and believed in your skills very highly. How he and Bell were basically perfect partners when the two of you were together.

It’s amazing—cause I think that’s what the developers were going for. The absolute trust. The loyalty. The denial that ‘maybe Adler is being a little harsh but hey, this is to help Perseus so it’s okay?’ It’s perfect. Because I’m sure that is what Bell actually felt in real time.

Yet, if you go through the total rebellious choice of not listening to Adler, some thing’s make sense. The Rebellious Side shows you way more than if you just listen to Adler like a Dutiful Soldier.

You go through this room if you choose the rebellious route, the T.V.’s automatically turning on the closer you get. Of Vietnam. And now, all those T.V.‘s that turned on by themselves(the Red Room, Lubyanka, Cuba) make sense. You were actually being brainwashed. Poor Bell probably can’t ever have a turned off/broken T.V. again. The trauma.

Said trauma being shown multiple times too. Not just the T.V.‘s. But the absolute terror that Bell felt, before they became Bell, with Adler.

Like do you see this? This terrified me when I saw it at the end of the hallway. I just saw a red shadow in the distance and I legit thought I was about to be chased. Call of Duty became a horror game(I also went through the door to the ground too my first playthrough, so before this I went through zombies and I think my heart was going to jump out my chest) I thought. I didn’t want to get closer. I had to, with each step I see that it’s not a shadow but a body. And than I see the familiar jacket, the sound of whirring in my ears and see it’s Adler’s head being twisted back and forth, side to side, up and down, in a speed that in inhumanely possible.

Makes one wonder if Bell themselves sees Adler as inhumane. Not human. Adler seeming to just be a god in their head. All the Adler shaped rocks/boulders you go through and see. Even one point the V.C. becoming Adler and you killing him over and over and dead bodies of Adler being everywhere.

The man has entered Bell’s head and won’t leave. Just like Adler won’t leave Bell alone.

Heck, there’s one point in my playthroughs of this mission I was by the bridge yet there were parts of the lab by it. I jumped towards it, noticing down below there were different floors of the lab that eventually reach the ground. I jumped to reach the next floor and missed and I died.

And Adler mocked Bell committing suicide.

That was the kicker really that Adler truly is indifferent towards Bell. Like complete disregard. I know it’s fake. We know it’s fake. Adler knows it’s fake—but to Bell, it felt real. That’s the crazy part. All of this—this whole sequence feels real to Bell so each time they die they actually feel it. It’s insane. It’s cruel.

But we all know that Adler isn’t known for his kindness. Still like his character though, he’s layered.

I don’t have the exact quote he said, didn’t wrote it down like the others. I was shook he said it at all.

Moving on to the final details I’m going to talk about.

When you go through the room, I believe this comes out for both rebellious and dutiful, really depends. You see it filled with post it notes, articles, plans, and newspapers. And you see once more just how Bell has been scarred.

I don’t know Russian or German, but I imagine the notes are similar to what the English one’s say. If I’m wrong, please point it out.

There’s also post it notes which I believe is in code as well due to all the numbers—I’m not sure what those could mean since I am no decoding expert.

Poor poor Bell. And with all these pictures and plans—of Adler included—it begs the question that Bell may have been warned about the famous America’s Monster beforehand. Had to have—since Adler is basically Perseus’s adversary due to how stubborn the American man could be. It just adds more to the story, despite Cold War having quite a short campaign, they made it up somewhat with all these details everywhere.

When you finally and actually reach the room.

As you grow closer to the table, to your chair in the conference room while everyone else seems to have their own spots, there’s something I noticed.

There’s glasses. As well as a hat. And it’s Bell’s. Or at least, it used to be. Why else is it on their side of the table? By their chair? I believe it might be reading glasses due to all the decryptions Bell does, whether on paper or through a computer, it’s hard on the eyes. (I’m sure I’m not the only one who noticed this. For look at @second-vtoroy ‘s Bell)

I believe through the brainwashing, Bell might not need glasses anymore. After all, apparently they were a smoker like Adler before too but they took that out of you. What else they changed of Bell? It makes one wonder how far they truly went into molding a person.

Which just adds onto how mind boggling this mission is—this game is. This is my favorite COD game, despite how short it is. The details and choices and interactions with everyone and able to create your own character(albeit it’s very standard and not specific but it’s good enough for me) is AMAZING. I’ve always been a sucker for RPG’s and able to get that even a little in a COD game? Truly wonderful.

I couldn’t touch on everything because it would’ve gotten long, but the fun of the Break on Through mission never gets old. It’s genius multiple ways you can do it. All the details. The feelings you feel as a player as you go through it.

They truly did a unique job with this and I hope they continue with this type of game storytelling. Hopefully longer as well.

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this rant basically!

Gifs made by me and used the video down below to help.

https://youtu.be/t6QkmkGGHSQ

youtube

#russell adler #call of duty #cod #black ops cold war #call of duty cold war #cod cold war #cod bell #cod analysis #cod:bocw #call of duty analysis #bell call of duty #Adler and Bell #Cold War

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

The Traveling T-Shirt

No Pairings

No Warnings

It's just Morgan's t-shirt traveling through the BAU one person and story at a time

It starts with a coffee spill in Seattle. With Aaron, startlingly enough.

Six days in the rain and it seemed even their cleanest, driest clothing was damp with the chill from the constant downpour. Though, six days on their feet with clothing they’d already worn at least twice that week on their backs, they looked more and more “rag-tag” as the hours bore on. Even Hotch had lost his cookie-cutter charm. His white t-shirt crumpled where it was typically pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. His hair wouldn’t stay gelled into the style he liked it in, leaving it fluffy and soft on the top of his head. He looked significantly less like SSA Aaron Hotchner and a lot more like Aaron.

Maybe he had lost SSA Hotchner somewhere along the days and victims because SSA Hotchner would never spill coffee on himself. But Aaron would and Aaron did.

Derek watched the whole thing take place, unable to take his eyes off of Hotch since the second that he walked in. Something about his tired zombie-like lurches just couldn’t break Derek’s curiosity and he had to know what would come out of Hotch’s current state. Despite the far-away look in Hotch’s gaze, the tired bags of discoloration under his eyes, Derek would not have predicted this as the outcome. Hotch is so out of it that all he can do is stare at the mess he’s created, glaring at the mess of coffee grounds across his less than pristine white dress shirt.

“Here,” Derek shakes his head, has to manually clear the fog occupying his brain. He pulls at the loose clump of napkins someone had left atop the coffee table for this exact situation, presses the mass into Hotch’s stomach. It feels akin to something else, distinctly deja-vu. Like he’s pressing into a wound, holding him together with nothing more than cheap napkins.

The physical contact brings Hotch back to the Earth and with a few blinks of his blood-shot eyes he sighs irritably and mumbles, “I don’t have any more clean shirts.”

Derek would argue the one he’s currently wearing is not clean either. It’s got a few dots of red expo marker on the left elbow where Reid bumped into him, rambling quickly about his map and the geographical profile. On the cuff of his right sleeve, there’s something brown or black which could be something from a pen or an expo marker or something else he’s just stuck his hand in. God knows what else is on this shirt.

Hotch puts his hand over Derek’s, holds the napkins himself. Derek pats his shoulder, “it’s alright, man. I’ll get you a shirt.”

They could go just about anywhere and just buy him a shirt. It could be some looney graphic t-shirt from the boy’s sections of some store down the street or another white dress shirt to replace the one he’s wearing but Derek just gets one of his. It’s a light grey, the color worn down by how frequently Derek wears it. Where it fits Derek snugly, hugs his chest and back tightly, it fits Hotch oddly. Displays to them all just how right they were in the assumptions they have held about how his recent divorce is affecting him.

He’s lost weight.

Too much.

One thin grey Hanes t-shirt can’t fight off the chill and overtop it, covering his visible bones, Dave throws him a sweater. He stays buried in that sweater and shirt all day, long into the night as they go hunting out in the streets with flashlights. Rain comes down heavy and thick.

Dave gets his sweater back. Folded neatly and smelling of the distinct fabric softener Hotch uses, it makes his whole office smell nice and Dave nearly can’t bring himself to wear the thing again. Doesn’t want the scent to fade, every inch of that sweater is now stitched together with something more.

The t-shirt gets left at the bottom of a drawer, to be discovered months from now.

Emily finds it six nights after Foyet left Hotch in Saint Sebastion’s hospital held together by sugrical staples and the stubborn will to live. All of his clothing has been hunted through, his shirt drawer is nearly empty. JJ and Penelope had undertaken the job of finding Hotch clothing for the hospital -- anything that he could just slip his arms into without having to lift them above his head. The only things left in his drawers are regular t-shirts and jeans, meaning Emily doesn’t have a whole lot to pick through right now.

She hadn’t anticipated this need and as much forethought as she put into staying the night was assuming Hotch would have clothes she could steal. She hadn’t really thought she’d be here tonight but she doesn’t think she can leave him alone. Doesn’t think it would be kind of her as his friend to see him like this and still choose to leave him for the night.

She decides on a thin grey shirt that she finds, turning her nose up to his university t-shirts (as if she’d wear those) and a pair of sweat pants on his floor that she thinks are clean or at least don’t smell bad. It’s not the best but she came unprepared and she’s not going to complain, both are comfortable even if the pants are giant on her.

To her surprise, he’s still fighting off his meds. Hazy brown eyes blink open when she steps back out into the living room, following her as she comes to the couch. She’s careful, even if she does it nonchalantly, as she moves his legs a little so that she can sit down beside him. He’s stretched across the couch, too big so he’s pinched up in places, but he doesn’t want to sleep in his room. Stubborn like a child being asked to take a nap -- “but I’m not tired”.

“T’as not my shirt,” he mumbles into his blanket. He’s got the heating blanket pulled up his nose, wrapped tightly around his shoulders and hands.

Emily looks down at it and frowns. “Well, then who the hell else’s is it?” She reaches for the TV remote on the coffee table, turning it on without waiting for his answer. Clearly, she doesn’t care who’s it is, she’s not taking it off now. His grunt, muffled by the blanket, means he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care enough either to figure out who it is.

He doesn’t last much longer, falls asleep with her squishing him on the couch (though, arguably, he’s squishing her). She’ll brush off his timid embarrassment at having to need her around the next morning, for waking up in the middle of the night having to be held down. Sobbing incoherently about something, neither of them really sure what. Only calming down when she put his head in her lap, stroking his hair back until he fell back asleep. Which is how he wakes up, his head in her lap and his hand holding her’s hostage.

But she shrugs it off and says she only did it for the free shirt, “don’t worry about it.”

She keeps the shirt, uses it several more nights as they graduate from sleeping on the couch to him finally going back to his bed. To being mentally present enough again to fight her about taking meds, to walking her to the front door every night, and watching her leave.

She buries the shirt too. It feels too tight on her skin, wrong. She touches the material and remembers seeing him hysterical, writhing in pain, and unable to be comforted. Can smell the antiseptic from his skin. Can hear the doctor warning her about his heart. That shirt feels like losing her best friend but she can’t bring herself to get rid of it.

JJ uncovers it a year later (before Emily has done the unspeakable, the unimaginable, and died and come back to life). It’s a girls night gone wrong but not impossibly so.

“Just grab one of my shirts,” Emily says, still laughing.

JJ glares back at her. She’s covered in water from the sink -- Emily sprayed her with the faucet. It’s revenge, payback for the pasta sauce JJ swiped down her cheek.

“You two are devious,” Penelope insists, waving her fingers at them. She’s still chopping up mushrooms, trying to size them as best as she can so that they are spread evenly throughout the alfredo sauce. “Behave before you ruin the sauce and I have to tell Dave that I not only shared his recipe but that you two ruined it.”

JJ has to search for a shirt from Emily’s pajama drawer. She doesn’t want any of the old college shirts and certainly doesn’t want any of the dopey graphic t-shirts Emily is so partial to. She ends up on a grey shirt, worn and old and soft.

Emily knows the shirt the second the JJ comes out and it takes her a moment to hide and stifle the anxiety that its presence gives her. Hotch’s health is better, he’s got a routine down with the medication he’ll be taking for the rest of his life because of that attack, but he’s smiling again. It’s harder than it was before to win one out of him but he can do it, they happen.

“Which one-night stand is this?” JJ asks, plucking the shirt with her fingers and raising an eyebrow.

Emily shakes her head, clears her throat of the residual guilt, and smirks, “trust me, you don’t want to know.” Hotch would be mortified at the insinuation but it’s funny and what he doesn’t know (and what they don’t know) can’t hurt him. She’s sad to see the shirt go, it’s a door closed, but relieved of its burden she can breathe again. Feels Foyet leave her completely.

JJ goes unburdened.

That old shirt is a comfort. She nurses Henry through fevers in it. Uses its edge to wipe his tears from his face. It’s always at the top of her laundry basket, the first thing she puts on when she gets home from a rough case. Will isn’t sure where she got it from because he knows it’s not his. It’s not the first time JJ’s stolen someone else’s clothes (he’s picked up enough of them to know that Reid wears a size small, that dark shirts sized medium are Morgan, and that white t-shirts in a medium are Hotch’s). He thinks it’s cute, she’s been stealing his shirts for as long as he’s known her.

In October, the fall of the same year that Emily leaves for Interpol, JJ gets held up in a meeting with Hotch. Something to do the with Department of Justice and all she manages to get out over the phone is that she’s absolutely pissed and Reid can just faintly hear Hotch offering her a coffee before she thanks him and the line goes dead. Will is on night shift and he can’t come home. So Reid fills in, their impromptu babysitter for the night.

It’s fine, calm… for the most part.

Reid lasts about an hour and a half before he finds himself in need of a change of clothes. He’s got pumpkin all over him and his fun little idea to let Henry carve a baby pumpkin was obviously a bad idea. He just didn’t know that in advance. He’s watched Jack enough times to feel fully confident in his skills but the age gap between Henry and Jack is severe. There are a lot of developmental differences in children only two years apart in age, Reid was not prepared for that.

He feels weird about stealing a shirt but his own is soaked in pumpkin guts and Henry’s bathwater.

JJ doesn’t notice the shirt exchange. She just grins at the sight of Spencer and Henry curled up on the couch, Will sitting beside them eating popcorn while “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” plays softly.

Three days later Morgan sees his shirt on the back of the couch. It’s been washed and is waiting to be returned to JJ but he knows damn well that it’s his. “How the hell did you find this?” Morgan asks, lifting it up. Reid had called him over to fix a leaking pipe (Reid is supposed to call his Super who has a mechanic who can do it but he’s too anxious for that) and Morgan was less than prepared to find his missing shirt.

Reid frowns, confused, “that’s JJ’s. I borrowed it Thursday night when I babysat.”

Morgan shakes his head, no this is his shirt. He’s sure of it. It’s been gone for years. He thought the washing machine ate it. He couldn't remember where else it would have gone off to. That or he left it in some hotel but here it is. Grey and worn and soft, it’s his.

He takes it to work in his go-bag and all but rolls his eyes into the back of his head when he watches Garcia stumble and drench herself in cold, left-over tea. He stands from his desk, sighing hard, “it’s alright, baby girl. I’ve got a shirt you can borrow.”

He’s never getting this shirt back.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #dererk morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #penelope garcia

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kaeyasaki · 3 years

Text

— ❝ MISCOMMUNICATE! ❞

— LEORIO PARADINIGHT X GN!READER :; NSFW

❝ skirt off, fuck in the backseat, take that shirt off, baby, put it on me, got me like “yeehaw”, ride it like a horsey, kinda like see-saw up and down on the d ❞

warnings :; unprotected sex, dirty talk, sub!reader, slapping, fingering + degradation -> +4K words

an :; hello hi i don’t know why the fuck i’m actually writing for leorio because i don’t fw him at all, but we checked and the leorio nsfw tag is literally dry and i felt bad for leorio stans so consider this my one time gift for leorio because this will never happen again LOL — NOT PROOFREAD I’LL GAG IF I DO SO

Leorio is a man of tolerance and he’s rather neutral in the sense of liking and disliking things. Of course, he’s open about things that bother him, but he’d rather resolve issues than allow them to stew and worsen over time.

One thing he didn’t like and couldn’t solve however was you.

Leorio couldn't stand you. You were always outdoing him in every test or exam your class took and it was even worse when the professor had insisted upon seating the two of you together in order to ‘keep up’ with one another as the pair of you were far ahead of the rest of the class.

Attending med-school was already stressful enough on its own, but Leorio was certain that being seated next to you only caused that stress to multiply by ten each class he attended. Still, he refused to let you get the better of him after all, your finals were fast approaching and that’s exactly when he’d shut you up for good.

“Leorio!~” He cringed at the sickenly sarcastic tone of your voice from behind him as he walked through the classroom doors. “What?” His tone is sharp as he has no means to entertain you in the slightest, only replying out of common courtesy.

“Why so uptight? Can’t I just say hi to the second best in class?” You hummed, teasing grin tugging at your lips as he scoffs at your comment. “Second best?” He repeats, eyebrows raised and brows twitching. “Second best.” You nodded, a provocative glint in your eyes as you were left satisfied with irritating him before class.

One thing you had learnt about Leorio during the months you’d spent sharing your classes with him, was that once agitated, he had a hard time concentrating. He was easy. Too easy in fact. Every lesson you played the boy like an instrument, pulling all the right strings for all the right reactions out of him.

You weren’t certain as to what it was about him that drew you in to provoke him at every opportunity, but you were certain that every opportunity taken would leave you satisfied. Perhaps it was his desperation that kept you hooked onto him. His constant need to beat you and gloat anytime he could. It was cute almost. But despite his somewhat annoying nature in that sense, you’d be a liar if you were to say you found him unattractive.

You weren’t stupid. Whether he was aware of it or not, Leorio was more than pleasing to look at. His broad shoulders forcing the threats of his crisp white shirt to hang on by thread. His torso was slim but certainly defined as you’d caught yourself eyeing the clearly chiseled muscles which would sometimes be left exposed through the thin white material on particularly hot days. You already loved the summer months, and Leorio’s appearance only becoming more obvious to the eye due to the lack of clothing he’d wear in the warmer weather only added a reason to your list of things to love about summer.

Class was boring to say the least. Your professor's voice drowned out completely as the sun peaked in height and forced waves of heat through the glass windows. You sighed and laid your head down on the desk, eyes catching sight of Leorio scribbling down whatever the professor was droning on about. You’d never paid much attention to the boy other than when it came to annoying him and stealing glances at his handsome form. You knew he worked hard but not to the point where you knew how hard. A small smile had formed on your face as you spent the rest of the class peacefully watching your rival take down all the relevant notes, completely uncaring to the fact you had done nothing productive in class yourself.

“Good work today.” Your voice rang through his ears as the two of you packed up. “Me?” he questioned, puzzled expression wiped across his face as you giggled. “Who else?” He shot you a confused scowl before packing up the rest of his things. While you had attempted to compliment him, he had taken it as mockery. The fact you knew finals were approaching but you still gave no effort to revision in class seemed taunting to him. Were you mocking him for having to try hard? Did the whole course just come naturally to you? Leorio didn’t even want to bother finding out. As far as he was concerned he was in med-school for his own reasons and them alone. He hadn’t the time to fool around with pretty things like you, especially not now. You’d only slow him down whether that was your intent or not. He couldn’t afford to lose sight of what he’d been striving for since the start.

“Whatever.” He huffed refusing to take anymore of your constant bothering. He slung his briefcase off the desk and began to head towards the door where the rest of the students were filtering out before you called out.

“Wait!” He halted his steps, body slowly turning to face you as you stood still behind your seat he’d just left you at. “I… I didn’t get the rest of the notes from today, could I get them off of you later?”

Leorio was a little taken aback, but yet he couldn’t see or sense any signs of mockery from you as your earnest eyes held contact with his. “Fine. You know where I’ll be.” He gave in sighing before turning back around and waving you off before exiting. Previous annoyance distinguishing just slightly. He hadn’t a clue what your intentions were, but he could distinguish between the real and the fake, and nothing about the way you looked at him and almost pleaded seemed ingenuine to him.

Leorio was certain he hated you, yet he couldn’t bring himself to deny you either. Walking back to his apartment, he thought back to times where you’d interacted. Majority of them being times you’d gone out of your way to get a rise out of him, but there was something endearing about the way you did it. Leorio felt almost special that you’d pay him and only him attention. Thinking back to it, you’d never bother anyone else, your sole attention aimed directly towards him and him alone. Leorio wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be special, but as any young man would, he did feel a sense of pride over the fact he’d somehow caught the attention of someone like yourself; someone as pretty as yourself. It didn’t matter to him that it wasn’t the typical type of attention a man of his age would prefer to enjoy, but nonetheless he enjoyed the jealous stares of others as you openly teased him and arguably borderline flirted.

Refusing to give into you completely though, Leorio swore he’d keep these thoughts to himself. Admitting how desirable he found you would be stupid on his end. You’d only make matters worse for him, tease him louder in class and gain a dreadful type of attention from others towards the two of you. He found you attractive, but not to the degree where he’d be willing to make a fool out of himself in front of anyone including yourself. It was best to keep you just at arms length and put up with this childish rivalry until you’d graduate and part ways.

A few hours had passed until you had rung up his apartment to be allowed in. Permitting your entrance, Leorio tapped his foot nervously as you made your way up the complex, notes on the coffee table nearby ready for you to borrow and leave. Opening the door upon your knocking, his face warmed at the sight of you dressed down a little more.

The pretty skirt you were wearing short enough to leave little to the imagination as to what was underneath. The cute top you were wearing clung to your figure and hugged all the right places. The only thing covering your modesty was the oversized jacket you’d left hanging off your shoulders so it technically had no other purpose than a poor attempt at covering yourself.

You smirked as you felt your classmate practically eye-fucking you before even entering his apartment. “Your notes.” you spoke suddenly catching him off guard. He sputtered a few times before straightening his stance and inviting you in, a string of incoherent mumbling leaving his lips as he remained flustered due to you catching him in the act of staring. You could only laugh lightly before sashaying in, the clean apartment scanned by your curious eyes.

“Is this them?” you questioned, fingertips dancing over the paper as Leorio joined you by the coffee table. “Indeed they are. Feel free to copy them I-”

“Is that it?” You cut in, flipping the sheets over to see if he’d written more on the other side of the paper. You could've sworn he’d written more, but supposing from the position you’d been watching him in class in, you'dn't hadn’t been able to tell just how much he was writing.

“It’s more than what you’ve done.” He retorted, nerves already stricken. “True,” You mused as you invited yourself to sit on his couch. “But I would’ve expected more from you.”

“Weren’t you just praising me for my work in class?” He huffed, tips of his ears warming up from agitation. “Yeah, I thought you’d generally worked hard though, I didn’t know you’d done so little though.” Sighing, you read over his pristine notes and decided the information was somewhat useful though. “I’ve done so little? Sorry not all of us are naturally gifted and don’t have to work for our grades!” Leorio snapped, temper teetering nearer the edge with each passing second. “Naturally gifted? I do more than enough work thank you!” You hissed back, sharp edge to your voice as you took slight offence to his claim. “Maybe you’d notice if you weren’t so busy staring at my tits in class all the time!”

Leorio was shocked. You’d noticed that? He thought for sure he was less than obvious but sometimes he’d have to admit he’d lose self control and shamelessly stare. You’d never say anything or react though, so he just assumed you hadn’t noticed. That didn’t matter though, because while he’d hold his hands up in guilt for staring at you, he’d caught you on more than a few occasions staring at his arms and then let your eyes trail down below towards his belt. He never said anything though, certain it’d cause him more of a headache than anything.

“Rich coming from you.” He scoffed as you glared right back at him. “With the way you stare at my belt, you would’ve thought the mark schemes written on there.” Heat rushed to both your face and core as his temper triggered something inside of you.

Leorio’s annoyance was nothing new to you, but this bolder and snappier side to him certainly was. It was hot to be blunt and you’d be damned to give up this chance to get rid of the building tension between the two of you.

Months and months of unspoken desires had been piling up between the two of you despite the fact neither of you had openly voiced them. You unknowing acted upon them though, your hungry staring contest in play for as long as you could remember when it came to classes together. You wanted him and the feeling was certainly mutual, but neither of your prides were weak enough to give in; not yet anyway.

The silence was unbearable, your frustrations growing worse by the second until you giggled. His eyes widened at the sudden sounds of your ringing laugher as you smirked up at him. “Fine then, just admit it, you wanna fuck me as bad as I want you to.”

Leorio’s face twisted in disgust, a mask to wear while he thought of a reply. Of course he did. He couldn't count the amount of times he’d taken care of his own frustrations at night imagining it was your throat around his length rather than his hand. He wouldn’t tell you that though. Not just yet at least.

“You’re disgusting.” Yet he doesn’t move when you press your chest up against his, arms looping around his torso battering your eyelashes up at him. His eyes are heavy with a mix of lust and neediness and sharply fixated on you, awaiting your next move. You almost laugh at his pathetic attempt to deny you, afterall you could easily ridicule Leorio to nothing more than a horny young man which was exactly what he was. He might've been a respectful student and aspiring doctor to the eyes of your classmates, but you knew from the start he’d be down bad for anyone willing to offer just the slightest ounce of attention to. He was just too easy. That’s what you had concluded anyway.

“Why haven’t you kicked me out yet then?” You questioned, index finger trailing up his chest as you cupped his cheek, taunting eyes gazing up at his panicking expression. “You could’ve easily given me your notes and hurried me away, but you didn’t, this is what you wanted isn’t it?”

“N-no.” Leorio choked out, flustered state worsening by the second. You were right, he did want this, but if he was going to do this, there was no way he was letting you take charge. Your presence was already dominating enough in the classroom, but you were in his territory now.

“So I’m wrong?” your finger trailed up to his face to cup his cheek as your taunting eyes flickered up towards him.

Tension and patience finally snapped, Leorio grabs your wrist and pulls it away from his face, his own hands reaching up to hold your neck and pull you in. “Just shut up already.”

He’s kissing you. Just like that. His lips are warm and the kiss is a little messy, but you expected this from the start. Both of you are too desperate to care at this point. You’re sure he’s bruising your lips at this point, he’s kissing you like he can’t take it much longer. All intentions of hiding desperation now forgotten, Leorio forces you to see just how badly he did in fact want this, despite his previous denial.

Your hands reach up towards the back of his neck, fingertips beginning to entangle with the short roots of his har, pulling him impossibly closer. He obliges, grunting in response and slotting his thigh between your legs as he groans again.

Your frustrations spike once more when you feel his free hand hikes up your skirt, long fingers dragging along your thigh. Tracing the outline of your practically useless panties, Leorio lets his finger wander along your wet slit, arousal already soaking the material through and through and you feel him smirk. “And the audacity to play coy with me, you wanted this that badly slut?”

You can hardly register what he’s saying to you as your only focus as of now is having his fingers somewhere a little better than on the surface of your heat. “Take them off.” He demands, voice stern but smile teasing with hints of pride. Not caring to bicker back, you whine but oblige to his wishes not wanting to wait any longer. “So you can follow orders then? Good to know.” He hums in approval, rewarding you with his middle finger dragging over your clit leaving you squirming in his grip. His thigh still firmly between your thighs, you’re denied of clenching them together. He��s staring at you intensely, eyes fixated on your twisted expressions as he teases your cunt a little more before adding his thumb.

With his middle finger tracing up and down your core and thumb drawing small but firm circles on the top of your clit, your mind goes blank. You’d fingered yourself plenty of times, but not as well as your classmate and biggest rival was doing right now. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you at night.” He sighs, demeanour completely unreadable as he almost looks as if he’s pitying you as he gazes down at your struggling face. You shake your head vigorously, wriggling in his hold in attempts for at least a little more friction. “Most nights.” He confesses with no shame as you let out a gasp as he adds another finger. He’s cautious, but obsessed with the way your walls clench down in his fingers, your arousal coating his fingers each time he pulls out. “M-me too.” You blurt out as his wrist snaps a little faster. He hums satisfied, his suspicions confirmed. He picks up the pace a little more; a reward for your honesty.

You sigh out shakily and whisper small chants of his name. The way your squirming against him has him painfully hard as he grows a little desperate himself. He begins to scissor his fingers in hopes of speeding up the process just a little more, because while he’d love to spend all night holding you in his grip, edging you to the point where you’re begging and crying, his own personal will wouldn’t hold that long, and he absolutely needed to be inside you sooner rather than later.

Arching your back slightly, you whine as he slows down taking in your pretty face. “Please just fuck me already.” You complain, eyes clenched shut as Leorio’s fingers continue their slow work. Grunting in response, he tugs his trousers down, his length springing free against your torso. “Shit.” You breathe out looking down at it.

Leorio’s dick isn’t the prettiest you’ve seen, but he’s definitely the most desirable in both girth and length. He was big, but you would guess that from the start when taking his frame into consideration. He had a few veins running down his dick too, and while he wasn’t the thickest you’d seen, the proportions matched well and you were even lucky enough to notice the slight curve which confirmed the fact you know he’d make you feel good.

Leaving you no more time to admire, Leorio pulled away from you to which you whined at the sudden loss of contact. Sitting down on the couch, he looked up at you and patted his thigh as you quickly stumbled over to him, desperation at its limit. Stopping you before you could sit down, Leorio had you over his lap as he lined his dick up to your entrance. “Sit.” he demanded as your mouth dropped open. He expected you to just sit? So casually too? He must’ve been mad. “I was already nice enough to prep you so why am I waiting?” He scolded, lustful eyes piercing through yours. “-ts too big.” You mumbled, head hung low in shame as Leorio tutted.

“It’s not, you’re not even trying to make it fit anyway.” He scoffed, tensions beginning to build up between the two of you again once more. Nodding your head, you shakily sunk down, eyes flying open as tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes. Crying out, Leorio takes a grain of pity on you as he allows you to recollect yourself. “Last chance before I do it myself,” He warns. “I’ve been generous today, inviting you to my home, letting you borrow my notes and then entertaining your needs, give a little back won’t you?”

Your teeth grit as you prepare yourself to attempt once more, but not before getting in one last snarky response. “Wasn’t it you who was eyefucking me as soon as you opened the door? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you wanted this more than me.” A harsh slap is stricken on your ass as you yelp. “Stop being such a brat, especially after you begged me to fuck you.” He hisses, frustration turning his tone almost angry. “You aren’t fucking me!” You cried out, tears of pent up needs becoming too overwhelming. Your fists are clenching the hem of your skirt and tears are streaming down your face as Leorio looks up at you.

His hands move quickly to his hips as you gasp upon the feeling of your body being pulled down. “You want me to fuck you? Fine, have it your way.” His grip on your hips is firm and you know there will be marks left later, but none of that mattered as of now. The only thing you cared about was having Leorio finally claim you as his in ways you’d imagined while pleasuring yourself most nights. Tears continued to drip down your face as you screamed out Leorio’s name as he plunged his entire length inside of your dripping cunt. It was painful, but slowly, your hips began to move on their own grinding up with his assistance until the two of you built a steady pace turning the pain into pleasure sending your head spinning.

Your tits are fully out and exposed by now, your flimsy top hardly stopping them from spilling out as they bounced at the same pace of your thrusts. Leorio’s eyes stayed focused on them for a while. His pupils gazing up and down at the same rhythm of your chest. He’d experienced the wonders of a female body before, the hunter exam he’d taken over a year ago giving him his first taste of what it really felt like to touch a woman, but this was different. This was a more personal experience, and the fact that he was the one making your body react like this only fuelled his movements as well as his pride.

“Shit- you feel so much better than I thought you - fuck - would!” You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. The praise is sent straight down to his groin as his thrusts are a lot deeper now, hitting against your cervix multiple times over as you start to see stars.

You cry out when he finally hits the right spot, your vision going white as your head tilts back, tongue dropping out your mouth. “There!” You sob. “Right there again!”

Seeing no reason to deny you when you’ve done such a good job of taking him so well, Leorio tightens his grip on your sides as drool begins to pool in your mouth. He leans in close and licks a stripe up your neck before taking a nipple into his mouth resulting in a loud moan to leave your lips. He sucks the sensitive bud as his thrusts show no relent, adamant on hitting the same spot as before.

You’re closing in towards the edge, the knot in your stomach unbearably tight as Leorio continues towards his goal of throwing you over the edge. Pulling away from your chest leaving a prominent bite mark from where he’d had his mouth attached to your nipple, he leans back in to gently lick over the mark. The gentle gesture contrasting the hard thrusts of his hips as he continued to assist in the shifting of your weight up and down his length.

A few more thrusts and you’re crying out his name, a thin line of drool streaming from the corner of your mouth as you come hard all over his cock. You’re so caught up in your own high, you miss the way he smirks at you, but with a gentle twinkle in his eyes. You coming undone is easily the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. The way your lashes cast a faint shadow over your cheeks as your head tilts back and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

While Leorio would love to keep you like this, stay inside you with your expression in place and cum dripping down him, he loses his own self control as just the sight of your fucked out face alone is enough to send him off the edge as he follows suit, loud groan as he fills his load into your dripping hole.

The warmth of his seed spreads through your entire body as your hands drop down from off his shoulders and rest of his chest, the two of you left to catch your breath. The two of you stay like that for just a few more moments. The blissful silence proving all tension, pent up frustrations and emotions had been resolved, the air now perfectly clear.

You flutter your eyes open again, your breathing returning to its regulated pace as you return back to reality. Leorio’s still inside you, his sweaty forehead resting against your shoulders, his breathing returns from ragged to regular.

“Shit.” You breathe out, realisation finally sinking into your head.

“Yeah, shit.” He repeats, tone a lot gentler from before as he lifts his head up to look at you. “And to think you only came by to pick up my notes.”

You laugh a little, his comment stirring not irritation, but genuine happiness through your chest as he offered a gentle smile your way.

“Well,” he spoke, as you gazed back into his now endearing eyes. “I suppose it’s too late for you to walk home.” “If I can even walk at all,” You mused. “You were a lot rougher than anticipated”.

He laughs. thumbs drawings gentle circles on your sides over the harsh marks he’d left on your skin from his tight grip. “What sort of business man would I be if I wasn’t just the slightest bit deceiving?” He hummed. “I thought you wanted to be a doctor.” You humoured back, your hands now finding home around the base of his neck.

“I do, that was a joke,” He said, forehead now resting against your own. “But alongside being a doctor, what I really want,” His voice quiet, barely above a whisper as you nod for him to continue. “Is for you to give us a chance rather than fighting it any longer.”

You smiled and pulled away from him. Head nodding firmly as he gently squeezed your sides. Leorio was right, while the two of you may have had your clases from time to time, there was no denying that there was mutual attraction from the start. Something drawing you into him and that same thing refusing to let him leave.

While the two of you had wasted so much time with petty competitions and arguments, you were certain that now you’d communicated properly, things would be smooth sailing for the two of you from here. Although, you thought to yourself, miscommunication had led you to this very situation. So while you nodded your head agreeing to give the two of you a shot, maybe you’d just have to be a little difficult every so often. Just for the sake of reminiscing and no other reason of course.

#bye no because i’m never writing for him again #i hc him as gen musty and just.. sweaty #i had to imagine someone else while i wrote this sobs #l:eorio stans #this is my pity piece to you i’m sorry your tag is so dry #i’m also sorry i lied #your man doesn’t have the dick i described in the fic #but rather a skinny limp one IM SORRY #i also don’t think he cuts his fingernails even though he’s a doctor #maybe he does idc but they just feel.. yuck to me #ALSO HIS BREATH PROBABLY STINKS IM SORRY #okay.. i’ve got that out my system #followers my beloved.. pls forgive me i’m never writing for him again i promise #i swear on it actually #IT WAS HORRIBLE 😰#BUT I HAD TO SAVE THEIR DYING TAG #leorio smut #leorio x reader smut #hxh smut #hxh x reader smut #🗯pussytalks #hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader

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candycityy · 3 years

Note

51. "I'm your husband. It's my job."

Based on @levetras' super old headcanon.

(You can also read this on AO3!)

It's only when Levi strides into the med bay for the third time that week, looking none worse for the wear despite his self-proclaimed "flesh wound", when she finally catches on.

In her defence. The captain has always never been the type to admit to weakness of any kind, injury and sickness being no exception. So when he'd limped into the med bay earlier that week, claiming that he'd fallen off his horse, she'd actually been concerned. And when she'd failed to find any real injury on his person, she'd chalked it up to her own ineptness as a medic; after all, her medical experience extends only to the six months of training she'd gotten at the local medical school before joining the Survey Corps as a teenager.

She'd eventually discharged him, with only the slightest hint of suspicion emerging when the doctor had pronounced him in the pink of health, and he'd left without protest. The suspicion had grown slightly two days later, when he'd come in complaining of a stomachache, but point-blank refused to take any medicine.

"I just need to rest here for a bit," he'd insisted, and spent the rest of the day interrogating her about her pregnancy symptoms and honest-to-goodness taking down notes, quite as diligently as though he were in the middle of an inter-regimental strategy meeting. In fact, maybe more.

"Again?" she asks shrewdly, as her husband flops unconcernedly into his usual bed. "A flesh wound, really, Levi?"

To his credit, he looks at least a little bit abashed when he pulls up his pant leg, revealing nothing more or less than...a grazed knee.

It's so shallow, a toddler could probably walk it off.

"It might be infected," he tries, when Petra just stares at him in speechless incredulity.

"Infected." Her tone is flat and affectless, and she momentarily wonders if she's been spending too much with him.

He shrugs candidly. "You never know. Anyway, I'll be back in action tomorrow. Eld's taking over the cadet training today, no harm done." He swings his supposedly injured leg back over the edge of his bed with an easy grace, cracks open his notebook, and looks at her, suddenly alert. "So. How are you feeling today?"

Honestly. "Who's the medic here?" she demands, swabbing at his not-particularly-injured knee with a kind of aggressive impatience. He doesn't even flinch at the sting of alcohol, just flips through the notebook and mutters something under his breath.

It sounds, suspiciously, like "mood swings". Petra's temper flares.

"You don't have to babysit me, you know," she says, sweeping to her feet imperiously. "I am perfectly capable of handling myself. I'm pregnant, not an invalid, and I'm not even in the field. The cadets that you ditched today—"

"I didn't ditch anyone, I was injured in the line of duty."

"Ditched," she repeats with a ringing finality, "they're most definitely more in danger than I am."

"You never know," he drawls, "the ceiling might cave in on the med bay...there might be an epidemic. Hanji was just predicting one last week, something about bat-borne viruses..."

She pretends not to hear him.

"So, as your doctor," she says, signing off on his medical excuse form with more force than strictly necessary, "I declare you medically fit. Now get off your ass and back—into—the field." She punctuates each word by prodding him, hard, in the forearm, with her index finger.

He catches her hand mid-prod, ignoring her irritated exhale, his thumb brushing the silver ring that sits at her fourth knuckle. When he looks at her, his eyes are uncharacteristically soft, and she feels the indignation drain out of her, despite her best efforts.

Damn this man. She unsuccessfully tries to pull her hand out of his grip—to be fair, she doesn't try very hard—and eventually settles by muttering grumpily, "I can take care of myself. I don't nees to be protected, like some sort of china doll."

"You don't," he agreed. "But I'm your husband. It's my job."

Even after a year of marriage, Levi's words still occasionally have the power to strike her dumb. This is one of those times. She counts to ten in her head, and then leans over to gently rest her forehead against his, their hands still interlaced.

"I know," she murmurs. "And believe me, I'll keep you posted, okay? If I even feel the slightest hint that anything might be wrong. I promise I'll tell you, even if I have to strap 3DMG onto the doctor myself and send him running into the middle of a drill." Her lame attempt at humour is rewarded with a snort and a reluctant quirk of his lips, and she feels a small, pleased thrill.

"Fine. I'll stop ditching." He sighs; his breath is warm on her face. "But you better keep your promise, you brat."

"I will." She smiles at him, sweet as honey. "Now, get your malingering ass back to training before I tell the commander."

Drabble challenge!

#rivetra #levi x petra #attack on titan #levi ackerman #petra ral #aot fanfiction #candycity writes #thank you for the prompt!!#i had a long day and this was so much fun

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slutsofren · 3 years

Text

Danger Days Chapter 6: Look Alive, Sunshine

summary: the three of you find more questions than answers and the start of a whole new fuckin' problem im so so so sorry

warnings: tw for gore, bloodshed, hurt/little comfort, angst, gunfight, etc

word count: 4,166 she’s a big bitch lol

read on ao3 here / masterlist

“Let’s look around,” Ellie said dejectedly.

Joel walked off on his own, giving the three of you some space. Ellie went through a door and walked down the hall to her right, following it.

The halls and rooms here were void of your previous allies, not a single soul seemed to be here but you could still make out traces of equipment and feel a semblance of sentimentality from your memories. Damned memories tickling at the edge of your mind.

You picked up some papers and read them quickly, hearing Ellie somewhere in another room asking if anybody is there and Joel off to your right in some other room shuffling around. There was still quite a bit of medical paperwork on the hopes of a cure, of somebody like Ellie coming by.

Unfortunately the research was only bits and pieces but you could catch an idea of a project involving infected monkeys. Suddenly you were startled as Ellie shouted, “Yoo-hoo! Fireflies! Cure for mankind over here! Anyone?”

Before you could tell her to stop, Joel reprimanded her. “Let’s keep it down until we figure out what’s going on.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw him savenging around, picking up remnants of med kits, gears, even forgotten bullets and tools. Idly you think hJoel has the right idea and go off searching around too, pocketing the rest of the papers to finish reading them later.

The three of you continue looking quietly until coming to the conclusion there’s not much here.

“You sure this is where they’d be,” Joel asks you.

“Positive. That room over there was my uncle’s office,” you pointed towards an open door. “They must have pushed back further into the building.”

Ellie was the first to walk down a hall, finding it leading across to a landing with elevators and stairs. The man stayed behind for a beat, eyeing you. Likely second-guessing your motioves. Eventually he turned and walked away, following the teen. At the center of it all were large black containers and she kneeled in front of an open one and began to read, Joel joining her in flipping through the papers.

“Nothing useful,” Ellie states, throwing the papers down a bit more harshly than necessary.

“Ain’t nothin’ here but a bunch of medical mumbo-jumbo.”

You reach for some of the books and a binder and flip through them quickly too, noting some words about failed specimens and subjects not surviving an experiment until ultimately being harvested. Whatever they were doing wasn’t going well and they seemed to be feeling the weight of morality on their shoulders. There was an entry logged by some Doctor Anderson about feeling conflicted about torturing humans and questioning if it was worth it.

Shutting the binder quickly and throwing it in your backpack to finish reading it later, your mental dialog cut short as Ellie sighed heavily, “I don’t get it.”

“Looks like they all just packed up and left in a hurry, unless you got a better idea?”

Before you could answer, a loud metallic bang hit from the floor above the three of you. Ellie and Joel looked at each other before she said a bit grimly, “Maybe not all of ‘em left.”

“Stay close,” Joel commanded.

The stairs up to the third floor was behind Ellie and she went up first as you finished zipping up your backpack and tossing it on.

The floor above was more or less the same, open to the central garden in the middle of the building, objects in disarray, out of use vending machines that you’re pretty positive you used to pry open to steal sodas from. All this, but no Fireflies.

Joel went through a door on the left, probably scavenging for more things to find whereas you and Ellie went the scenic route on the outside corridor.

“What do you think happened?”

“Considering they had enough time to pack up research,” you pointed at some boxes, “they must have left willingly.” You shuffled through some more papers, looking for a clue. “But the question is, why leave?”

Ellie walked inside a door and followed the path of some wires that lead to an old flood light, “There are no bodies. That’s good, right?”

“If we find out where they went,” came Joel’s voice from behind you two.

You followed Ellie down the hall, peering into rooms and broken windows to your left. Suddenly there was another noise coming from behind and when the three of you turned, the very same flood light you’d all passed knocked over, lying prone on the ground.

“Shit,” Joel whispered.

“Um… So it’s probably clickers, right?”

You flashed Ellie a look, “Not the time.”

“Right.”

You all held your breath for a few moments, trying to listen until Joel broke the silence, answering Ellie. “No. Clickers don’t hide.”

He looked at you, giving you a once-over, likely weighing the possibility of you betraying him. You responded in kind expression, silently telling him to give whatever plot he has in mind a try.

Wary old bastard, you thought. As if you’d pull a stunt this far into your mission together, even after he began to act lukewarm to your presence.

You took the lead down a tarp covered hall, not really remembering this area much. They probably did push up to these higher levels judging by all the lab equipment left behind.

Digging in your memory, you recalled everybody keeping to the first and second floors in this building to make bailouts quicker. The militia men were on the rooftops to keep an eye out for any stray hunters or other unfriendlies.

Whatever happened on these floors were not from when you kept around.

Your trio came to a corner room that looked as if it were being used as an x-ray exam area, there were large black television-like screens on the wall that had some mangled imagery on them. Whatever it was put a shudder through you. Along the back wall, Joel found an x-ray abandoned on the counter and picked it up, when you and Ellie looked over his shoulder it looked like a skull with fungal growth on it. Like somebody who was infected for quite some time.

“Gross.” Ellie pretended to gag when she saw the photo.

Joel tucked the x-ray away and went on to look around, you followed by looking in the cabinets for alcohol disinfectant. “They had to have left something behind,” you mumbled to yourself as you began to feel the inklings of irritation slip into your bones.

Joel went to another door, this time leading to some room to the right but as he opened it, a screech came and he jumped, “Jesus!”

You drew your pistol from your hip and pointed it outwards, pushing Ellie behind you until you could hear chittering.

Fuckin’ monkeys , you think as you put your weapon down, faintly seeing three monkeys jump out a window on the opposite side of the room.

Ellie walks next to Joel, peeking into the lab he was stepping into and he leans towards her, “Well, at least it aint clickers.”

“Yeah. No Fireflies either,” she steps into the room. She throws her arms open wide, “Well, maybe in all that research they turned into fucking monkeys.”

You try to stifle a laugh but fail, a light giggle leaves your lips. “At least they’re not flying monkeys.”

“Just keep searching, we'll find something,” Joel says, shooting you a pointed look about your banter with Ellie.

The room looked like it used to be a science lab, naturally. The left and back side of the room were lined with metal cages, likely the ones that originally held the monkeys. Otherwise, there were large black countertop tables around, probably where students listened to their lecture and did hands-on assignments. Joel approached one of the tables in the middle, picking up what looked to be a recorder and pressed play.

A male voice clicked on. There were sounds of shuffling and screeches from the monkeys in the background. “That’s four palettes of lab equipment all packed up and ready to go. Now - big question is what do we do with all you guys. They say the tainted batch needs to be put down. You know what I say? I say screw that. Who made a bigger sacrifice than you, right? If anyone deserves to run free out there it’s-. Hey, easy! Agh. Shit. Oh, no. It bit me. Oh my god,” his breath gets heavy and the recorder stops abruptly.

Holy fuck, they were purposefully infecting animals , you think in horror.

“I’m sure glad we didn’t mess with them monkeys,” Joel says. “Did you know?”

You look at him wide-eyed and slack jawed. “Not a fuckin’ clue. I know my uncle was running blood tests and cell regrowth experiments but nothing like that.”

“He didn’t say where they went,” Ellie said, eyeing the two of you. The tension was minorly palpable, whatever small victory you gained in the camradiery field was now likely gone between Joel and you.

“I know, let’s keep looking,” Joel responded.

You fixed your composure and tried to reassure her, “We’ll find them.”

Your small trio followed the room into another, searching that one but finding nothing of interest in the drawers or on the tables. Not even another research binder. There was another door to the right and Joel approached it, trying to push his way in but there was a green metal object keeping it closed. He looked to you, “Hey, come help me.”

Stepping beside him, the two of you pushed against the door, throwing yourselves against it repeatedly to open it until it gave way. Joel gave you a tense nod, a silent thanks as he walked in first, Ellie close on his heels.

It wasn’t until you entered the room did you see it- the body. It looked to have been dead for quite a while, the bones were very obvious but still held together by the clothes wrapped around them. The person was sitting at a desk, facing the window, where Joel loomed over it as if it didn’t bother him and he picked up what looked to be another recorder.

Click. “If you’re looking for the Fireflies, they’ve all left,” a voice said grimly. You recognized it as the same one from earlier.

Ellie looked up from a binder she was flipping through, “Yeah, no shit.”

“I’m dead,” the man continued, “Or I will be soon. Got me some time to reflect.” Joel fast forwards through the tape, “...been years that felt like we were…”

He fast forwards again, “...fucking thing was a giant waste of ti-...”

And again, “...not gonna do this anymore…”

Ellie sighs while you pace, wishing to listen to the tape in more detail later. “Come on,” Joel grumbles as he fast forwards it yet again.

“...looking for the others, they’ve all returned to Saint Mary’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. You’ll find them there. Still trying to save the world. Good luck with that.”

Ellie sounding mildly hopeful looks to both of you, “Do either of you know where that is?”

“I know the city,” he nods before turning to catch you chewing on your fingernails in thought. “You?”

“I- I remember Marlene mentioning it to Regan on occasion but they talked about it like it was abandoned. I’ve never been there.”

“Is it far,” Ellie asked.

“It ain’t close. I mean on horseback-,” he stops abruptly, something catching his attention out the window.

“What?”

Out of the corner of your eye you see it too. Flashlights peeking through the windows. Just as Ellie asked if they were Fireflies, the light shines on them as they stood by the window and Joel pushed her down, ordering her and you to hit the deck just as whoever was on the other end of that light took a shot at you all, shattering the window.

“Shit,” you shout, ducking down to avoid the coming onslaught of gunfire.

Ellie looked at you, “Who the fuck are these guys?”

He looked at you angrily, “Did you lure them here? Is this some kind of trap?”

“Fuck you, Joel Miller! I didn’t.”

He stared you down. “Fine, It don’t matter,” Joel argued, “We know where to go. Let’s get the hell outta here.” He jerked his chin at you and spit, “Lead the way.”

You wiped the initial shock from your system and went into mission-mode, keeping yourself calm and alert. They followed you out of the room, the three of you crouching to avoid being spotted by the new threat through the windows.

Making your way through the anteroom to the office then through the lab as silently and rapidly as possible while crouching. It wasn’t until you reached the x-ray exam room when you were hit in the chin with something hard, knocking you down, dizzy.

Your mind and vision were in a haze but you managed to catch the vague shape of Joel rush somebody, likely the person who knocked you over, through the newly forming tears in your eyes. Fuck , you thought, your face hurting like a bitch.

Ellie yelled something as she went to help Joel, apparently getting the bright idea to take Joel’s machete from his backpack and swinging it wildly at the stranger.

As they fought the man, you shook your head and rose on your haunches, still dizzy. You could make out the faint shape of a second man running up to attack but through your shifting vision, saw three of him. It didn’t stop you from raising one of your dual guns from your thigh holster, taking aim. Breathing in, slowly breathing out, you took the shot when the three men formed a single one.

The loud bang reverberated through the halls, momentarily distracting you from the brawl happening somewhere to your right but soon that silenced.

“What the fuck was that,” you asked nobody in paricular.

“Don’t look like Fireflies to me,” Joel mumbled in reply, hinting you must have been telling the truth.

Together, you all walked down the tarp covered hall from earlier but saw four shapes run past some red smoke on the only way out of the building, likely trying to cut you all off. “Stay back,” Joel said as he flung one of his makeshift bombs at the intruders. After a moment, it went off and sickly screams were either cut short or continued onto a deadly moan.

Each of you hid behind random turned over tables, guns drawn.

Although six of these strangers were down, it seemed there were more as another came in through the right side, taking a shot at Ellie. Joel responded in kind and shot him square in the neck, the blood splattering a nearby wall.

You followed suit and took aim at somebody ducking below a desk much like you. Your aim was a little off because of that damned kick to the head but you got the guy nonetheless. It was messier than you’d like, the newly forming headache was making things much more difficult.

Together with Joel, you took two more men down until you reached the small lobby where the stairs were only to find another flare emitting red smoke. “What the hell,” you wondered aloud.

“Probably to tell the others how to get to where we were, building is like a maze.”

With that, you and Joel look off, making sure to keep Ellie behind you as your group traversed down the steps, finding another flare. Joel heard them before you and raised his gun. You followed as two more men rounded the corner, both being taken down by the bullets you both expelled into their bodies.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears at the adrenaline rushing through your veins, no matter how much you remained focused at the task at hand. You took a breath in an attempt to ground yourself, following Joel closely behind as he was about to round the same corner, stepping over the two dead bodies when you grabbed Joel, pulling him back as a bullet whizzed by. “Fuckin’ hell,” he gasped.

Taking to the wall you peered out and quickly aimed, letting another bullet rain free. It clashed into the wall behind your target, narrowly missing as the man ducked behind the poor choice of the glass railing. Joel put his hand on your waist, pulling you close as he leaned back around taking his chance on the guy. He must have made it count because soon you heard a soft thud of the body collapsing.

If you weren’t so preoccupied trying to stay alive, you might have noticed Joel kept his large hand on you for a few moments longer than necessary.

Joel left the relative safety of the second floor lobby, nearly running to the exit. You grabbed onto Ellie’s hand as you shoved your nearly empty gun into it’s holster on your thigh, following him. He came to the closed door that led to the next area of classrooms to get you all down to the ground floor but just as he went to open it, it banged open from the inside starling all of you. The force was so strong that it pushed Joel to the glass railing behind him, his body teetering over the edge.

“Joel!”

You dropped Ellie’s hand as you ran to him, trying to get the other man off of him as he choked your companion. By the force and chaos, the rail gave way underneath Joel. As he fell, he pulled the stranger with him.

A scream surely left you as you watched in horror as the two men fell to the ground but it grew louder when you noticed a sickening metal bar poking it’s way through Joel’s stomach, staining red in the sunlight. Beside him, the attacker lay dead in a mangled heap of limbs, his neck at an unnatural angle.

You began to shuffle onto your stomach to drop the distance from the balcony walkway to the ground floor, Ellie close behind you copying your maneuver. Together, you both landed on the ground awkwardly and unbalanced. It was so unbelievably impossible to stay focused as you watched Joel writhe in pain from the impalement as loud banging seemed to invade your senses.

Ellie jumped straight to Joel asking in a rushed panic, “What do you want me to do?”

You couldn’t hear what he said when the double doors burst open, two men with a baseball bat and machete appearing. You grabbed both of your guns, unleashing lead into them with a little more force than necessary.

When you turned back around, you saw Ellie trying to lift Joel. “Don’t!”

You ran to him and dropped to your knees, removing your backpack and began to scrounge around for clean gauze. “You’re only going to create more damage, you old bastard. Stay still.”

With the gauze in hand, you motioned for Ellie to put as much pressure as she could on the frontside of the wound. You tried your best not to jolt him around so much as you tried to assess the entry wound on his back, only to find it was buried in cement beneath him. He groaned, calling out a string of curse words.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t need to if you had good bedside manners. Goddamned brat.”

His small jab at you could have made you cry if you weren’t so invested in keeping the old man alive and with no other alternative to removing the rebar safely from him, you had no choice but to lift him away from it.

You reached into your backpack once more and grabbed a strap of leather you usually kept close by, mostly to fiddle with, and shoved it into his mouth. “To keep you from biting off your own tongue,” you explained while adjusting your position to be directly behind his upper body to prepare and stanche the blood flow from his back. “Although I think we could all use the peace and quiet.”

Whatever comeback he had was cut off as he yelled, muted by the bit. While he was distracted by your words, you had nodded to Ellie to lift Joel straight up. He quickly fell to his knees as he tried to stand, probably ready to pass out from the pain and you padded the entry wound with gauze, holding it tightly.

His words came out weak as he told Ellie, “Just get to the damn horses.”

She looked at you and you nodded, removing one hand to give her a gun. “Do whatever it takes, kiddo.”

She walked in front of you both, her arms held high with the gun in her hand, ready to take on anybody else. She led you both to a classroom and knocked over some wood panels that barely covered a broken window.

“Do you think you can handle it,” you asked him.

He didn’t answer, instead choosing to throw his body over the edge, finding himself on his back once more. “Come on, move,” Ellie demanded of him as you jumped through the window after them. Just as she got him sitting up against a table, another man burst through the door across the classroom, gun ready to fire.

Seeing as you were getting rather low on your own bullets, you reached for Joel’s revolver and threw yourself out from behind the lab table, firing two shots and hitting him in the torso.

“Come on, we gotta get you outta here,” you told him. One look at Ellie and you saw her hands and sweater covered in Joel’s blood, you likely looked the same. Brushing those thoughts away, you and her flanked him on either side, trying to walk him out.

“No, I’m okay,” he moaned. Trying to push you both off him.

“Like shit,” Ellie threw back, “You’re not okay, Joel. Now come on! Fucking walk!”

You kept your free hand up, gun drawn, and Ellie matched your pose to his left. “Down this hall,” you directed, “To the left is the main entrance, we can leave through there.”

Don’t die on me now, Joel Miller , you silently wished, hoped, prayed.

Joel began to sway between you two, his feet were failing beneath him. His body in your arms grew heavier and sluggish with each step making it harder to walk straight. You really tried to keep the gauze at his back secure against the wound but it was hard to do that while also trying to keep him balanced. As you were distracted by assessing the man, he moaned out, “Up.”

You and Ellie looked up the stairs that were against the wall in the lobby and saw two men coming towards you all, “There!”

Ellie raised her gun first, taking shots at random and you did too. It was difficult to do while doing everything possible to not drop Joel but somehow, they too, fell dead along the stairs. On his other side, the teen poked at him out of breath, “I swear to god, I get you out of this, you’re so singing for me.”

You decide to jump in on the joke, trying to lighten the mood, “I think you mean ‘for us’, Ellie.”

Joel coughed a laugh, “You wish.”

Slowly the front entrance inched closer. Ellie left to pry it open and let you two through and Joel let go of you, shoving his body and burst through the secondary doors. He lost his balance and fell down the steps only to see as some other hooded figure with his hands on Whiskey and Callus’ reigns.

Before the straggler could even draw a weapon, you and Ellie took shots at him. Joel’s revolver clicked, notifying it was out, just as the man let go of the horses.

You ran to Joel, lifting him up to his feet. He groaned in pain, “I know, I’m sorry. Just a little longer, alright, cowboy?”

He gave you an odd look as Ellie appeared and she asked him, “Can you get on?”

Whether or not he can is entirely different than if he will, you thought. You were proven right as he jumped up on Whiskey, not even noticing he was getting on the wrong horse.

“Ellie, get on Callus,” you told her as you also swung your leg over Whiskey, saddling in front of Joel. “As for you, don’t bleed all over my goddamn horse. Hold tight.”

A part of you was worried that he didn’t even bother to jab, you kicked Whiskey’s underbelly and Joel’s body slouched against your back, passing out. The fact the warmth that seeped through your body was likely his blood was gnawing against the corners of your mind but you shooed the thoughts away. Together with Ellie, you filed out of the university as fast as you could, not looking back.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel (the last of us)#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel tlou x reader insert #joel tlou x reader #joel miller / reader #joel tlou x you #joel (the last of us) x reader #asher's writing #danger days fic #pedro pascal joel miller #posted on ao3

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crystaljins · 3 years

Text

River lead me home | 08

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 8.5k

Synopsis: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: WOw. Second last chapter! Who knew we’d get this far.... I said last chapter was the emotional climax and now I’m looking at the word count of this chapter and I’m a bit like... wow... ok... you had a lot to say, didn’t you?

Anyway, please enjoy!!

Tags: @blue1928 @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

The three of you decide to make camp in the ravine that night with only minor hiccups. The Psittanurans had kindly provided you with two extra bedrolls, both far more comfortable than your own, and since the three of you hadn’t anticipated the addition of a third human-sized traveller, you had foolishly left your old bedroll behind in favour of travelling lighter. Of course, Jungkook, used to the comfort of sleeping curled up in your pocket, refuses to sleep without a bedroll. You cheerfully offer to just sleep on the soft, slightly damp sand that comprises the riverbank, but you’re quickly met with protests from both of your male companions.

“Just share with me.” Jin mutters, only slightly grumbly. The two of you had shared the single bedroll multiple times throughout this journey, and he doesn’t enjoy the idea of you attempting to rest uncomfortably with the state you’re in. Particularly because you’re only in that state because of him.

You’re about to nod your agreement when you are yanked back several steps into Jungkook’s torso. He throws a heavy arm across your shoulders and grins at Jin in a way that lets Jin know that Jungkook is fishing for a reaction.

“Oh no, no, no, loverboy.” Jungkook scolds. “We can’t have you taking advantage of our dear, naive (Y/N). She can share with me!”

You yank at his forearm more out of annoyance than an attempt to dislodge his arm.

“It’s not taking advantage.” Jin grits out between clenched teeth. He’s not even sure why Jungkook’s insinuation irritates him so much, but it does. And with the way Jungkook’s grin widens, Jin realises it was the exact reaction Jungkook was hoping for.

“If you insist.” Jungkook gives in. But then his expression turns faux-innocent. He drops his gaze to the top of your head and you tilt your chin back so you can gaze back up at him. “I can only assume that means that (Y/N) wants to share with you as much as you do with her and well, no judgement but I-“

“I’ll share with you!” You cut in, and Jin doesn’t need good lighting to know your cheeks are aflame.

Jin’s jaw drops. Jungkook just completely played the two of you. And he knows it- he shoots Jin a smug look as you clamber into the luxurious Psittanuran bedroll alongside him.

Jin is utterly floored by the red-hot flash of irritation he feels at the sight. He glares for a moment longer, as if it will change the outcome of the situation, but when it becomes clear that it won’t, he sighs and resigns himself to attempting to sleep for the night. It doesn’t take long for you and Jungkook to settle into a slow, steady rhythm of breathing that tells Jin you are both asleep.

Unsurprisingly, sleep doesn’t come easily to him that night. It’s not even that you’re lying a metre away wrapped in Jungkook’s annoyingly bulky arms, something Jin didn’t even know was irritating until now. No, what keeps him awake is the way his mind absolutely refuses to stop replaying the way you had looked at him when the arrow had hit you.

It was easy, in the adrenaline rush that had pushed him through the events of today, to ignore any pesky emotions. He didn’t have time to process or understand his emotions in the onslaught of disasters. But now he has nothing but time as the night slowly passes and he’s lost. He’s so, so lost.

It’s been a common topic on this journey- how you make him feel. Initially the answer was easy. You’re annoying and pesky, like an untrained Labrador puppy, but you’re also family, like an untrained Labrador puppy. Someone he cares for greatly, but is also annoyed by beyond belief.

But for some reason, the longer this trip has gone on, the harder the answer has become. Does he still care for you? Absolutely. Do you still annoy him? Beyond belief. So if that hasn’t changed, why does that answer feel so incomplete?

He sits up with a groan, realising he’s not going to get any sleep any time soon. The shore of the riverbank is cold and damp and the sand gives way beneath his bare feet. On the edge of the river like this, he can gaze straight upwards and glimpse the jagged strip of starlight visible between the imposing walls of the ravine. The stars in this realm really are something else- bright, sparkling pinpricks on an indigo canvas, high overhead. So much brighter and more intense than the muted, dusky black of the sky in the human realm. When he’d first moved, he’d actually missed the brilliant glow of the stars above, and he’d bought little glow in the dark stickers to attach to his ceiling. It had been during the time where you used spend a lot of time with him and his parents because your mother was working a late shift. He’d come home, overjoyed at the little stickers he brandished, and then he’d noticed the way you’d eyed them. You’ve never been very good at voicing your thoughts- every admission of yours has to be coaxed out of you. But he’d known straight away that you wanted the stars. He hadn’t hesitated, that night, to grab a ladder and spend the evening attaching the stars to your bedroom ceiling in a pathetic imitation of the constellations of Magregnum.

The young teenager who had cheerfully attached glow-in-the-dark stickers to the ceiling of his friend’s room seems so distant and far away now. So much has happened since then- so much has gone wrong and so much has gone right. Briefly, he wonders if you’d liked him back then as well. Maybe he’d mistaken the longing glow in your eyes as being for the stickers when it had actually been for him. Jungkook had made fun of him for never noticing your feelings until now, but it’s not like anything has ever changed between the two of you. You’ve always gazed at him like he’s someone amazing and special. He’s always given up everything for you without a moment’s hesitation. If anything, the only difference between then and now is that you keep drifting further and further away no matter what efforts he does or doesn’t make. What can he do? How can he solve the problem of you slipping through his fingers like water?

“Can’t sleep?” A voice sounds, and to Jin’s credit, he doesn’t scream. He does start so violently that he nearly tumbles forward into the water lapping at his feet, though.

Jungkook settles beside him, hugging his knees to his chest and gazing up at the stars above.

“Something like that.” Jin manages, when his heart rate finally settles back into something that is conducive to life. Jungkook snorts and folds his arms across his knees, resting his cheek on his folded arms so he can peer sleepily at Jin.

“I can’t either.” Jungkook admits. “The bedding isn’t as comfortable as I thought it’d be.” Jin glances at Jungkook, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Not as fun sharing as you thought?” Jin questions, unable to keep the slight sneer from his voice. Jungkook grins, a flash of white in the darkness.

“On the contrary, I’m very comfortable.” He asserts, and something about the way Jungkook says it has Jin bristling in irritation. He’s about to snap a retort, when Jungkook drops the cheeky front he has on, quite rapidly. Like a balloon deflating. “It’s just... I thought that as a human, everything would seem smaller. Less big and threatening. Everything was huge to me as a pixie. But for some reason...” he trails away before swallowing. It’s the most vulnerable Jin has ever seen him- he actually looks like a young boy, lost and afraid. “Instead everything seems bigger.”

Jin is silent for a moment, mostly shocked by this side of Jungkook. He should know better than to be surprised that Jungkook is more than a pesky troublemaker, after all the revelations of this journey. There’s always more to Jungkook.

The thought makes him smile for whatever reason. Jungkook, fearless, pesky Jungkook, is afraid of the future. Who’d have thought it? In response to the sudden fond feeling in his chest, Jin reaches out a hand to affectionately ruffle Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook makes a noise of protest, pushing Jin’s hair away.

“Hey!” He cries. “I open up to you and this is how you treat me?”

“I can’t help it.” Jin teases. “You’re surprisingly cute.”

Jungkook huffs for a moment, clearly outraged at the sentiment, before the fight slowly drains out of him.

“I’m serious.” He mutters. Jin shakes his head and mirror’s Jungkook’s pose, hugging his knees in close to his chest.

“That’s how everyone feels.” He informs the former pixie. “The world is surprisingly big and huge, and life can sometimes feel like a puddle and sometimes like an ocean. Welcome to being a human.”

Jungkook is silent for a moment, contemplating what Jin is saying.

“I... never imagined this would happen. There are all these things I wanted to do, if I were human, but I never thought I’d actually get to do them. And now, I finally have everything I wanted, right at my fingertips and I’m... I’m scared.” Jungkook confesses.

“I get that.” Jin offers in sympathy. “I was scared when we first came to the human realm too. And then I was scared when I first got into med school. And I was scared when I first got to this realm again. The things we don’t know are scary.” He confesses. “But hey. Sometimes the best things to happen to us are the scariest things to start. Look at you- if you’d never overcome your fear of granting the wish, you’d never have become human, right?”

That silences Jungkook for so long that Jin begins to think he’s fallen asleep. But when he glances at Jungkook, he’s wide awake. The stars overhead reflect in his round eyes as he gazes thoughtfully upwards.

“The best things... are the scariest things to start.” Jungkook echoes at last. He frowns and squints at Jin. “I think you’re a hypocrite.” He accuses suddenly. For a moment, Jin merely smiles stupidly, not fully comprehending the sudden turnaround. But gradually Jungkook’s words register and his jaw drops.

“I’m sorry?” Jin answers in offence. Jungkook stares evenly back at Jin and even tilts his chin defiantly upwards.

“You heard me. You talk all big and wise like that, and yet you’re too scared to start the most important thing to you.” He reminds Jin. “Why else are you sitting out here, glaring at the sky instead of sleeping?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jin mutters, digging his fingers into the sand. It’s kind of satisfying, the way it gives way and crumbles beneath his palm.

“I’m talking about her.” Jungkook says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to where you are currently snoozing peacefully. “And how you’re in love with her but you’re too scared to tell her.”

The words seem oddly loud and booming around Jin. For a second, he can’t seem to form words- like his tongue has frozen to the roof of his mouth.

“I...” he tries, but he doesn’t really have any follow up. “I...” he tries again. The air suddenly feels warm and his shirt feels uncomfortably tight around his throat.

“Ok, wow.” Jungkook says, releasing a low whistle for good measure. “So, you’re still doing the whole “in denial” thing? Really? Even after that whole desperate “what would I be supposed to do?” anguished kdrama lead monologue you had in that burrow?” Jungkook tsk’s and shakes his head and Jin feels his face flush with heat when he realises Jungkook had been eavesdropping on that particular conversation. “Girl takes an arrow for you and you’re still gonna deny you love her? Dang.”

Jin swallows past the dryness in his throat. But Jungkook cuts him off before he can offer any words.

“Save your denial for someone who might believe you. I’m not even going to force you to say it out loud because it sounds like (Y/N) is going to have to do something more impressive than taking an arrow for you and jumping into a ravine with you to finally admit it out loud. I’m just going to say that I get it. I didn’t before, but now I do.” He offers Jin a weak smile. “The things we don’t know are scary. And starting anything with her is probably terrifying given all your history. But maybe when you start to believe the whole “the best things are the scariest things to start” spiel, then I’ll follow your lead. But for now, I’m cold and tired.”

He gets to his feet and dusts sand off the back of his trousers, before padding over to where you’re fast asleep.

Jin is rarely speechless. He prides himself on often having lots to say- to some of his friends he’s famous for the speed at which he can spit out words. He’s even heard you refer to them as “jants” when you think he isn’t listening.

But he’s speechless now. Jungkook’s good at that- taking impossible, scary, confusing feelings and making them seem so simple that Jin feels like a fool.

The best things in life are the scariest to start.

The words echo in his head as Jin comes to a realisation, in that moment. Why he’s been feeling so lost... why every moment with you feels like sand slipping through an hourglass...

It’s because he’s absolutely terrified. Terrified of what you mean to him, of the risks he would have to take to keep you in his life... and terrified of the cost if he doesn’t take those risks.

But at the same time... the best things in life are the scariest to start. And Jin is more scared than he’s ever been.

This time when he settles into sleep, the soft, steady sound of your breathing and the gentle lap of the river against the sandy banks is enough to lull his stormy mind into a surprisingly restful sleep.

When you awaken the next morning, it isn’t hard to tell that there is something bothering your two travel companions. There’s a multitude of things that could be the reason behind their stormy moods. The three of you are still trapped in a ravine together. There is still the long journey back home. The Saishtas likely think you are dead, but they still linger out there and if you aren’t careful, you could expose your presence to them. So, you don’t blame them for being quiet and a little standoffish, but you wish you knew the exact reason for it. After all, you had kind of expected a more festive atmosphere after Jungkook became human. You certainly feel lighter and more joyous- why do your companions not mirror the sentiment?

“Is everything ok?” You finally ask Jin as he assists you with packing up the bedrolls. He looks at you, a little startled like he has been lost in thought.

“Yeah.” He says, just a beat too quickly. “Everything’s... fine.”

Funnily enough, you aren’t convinced. But you decide you won’t push your luck. After all, there’s a long walk back to the portal, if you can even escape this ravine. They’ll come to you when they’re ready. There’s lots for you to sort through yourself, anyway. You still have to work things out with your mother, and you’re still unemployed, and now you know you’re in love with Jin as an added bonus. If they’re feeling even a quarter of the nerves you are, then it’s no wonder that they’re subdued.

It takes most of the morning to find a path out of the ravine. Jungkook is confident there is definitely one, but he’s just unaware of where. When he had been born here, he had just flown up and out. But since guardians used to come in and out for these journeys, there must be something.

It’s Jin who finds it, albeit accidentally. He’s lost in a haze, thinking deeply about whatever it is that’s bothering him, and the sand crumbles beneath his feet. He cries out, grabbing your and Jungkook’s attention from where you had been scrutinising the various carvings from past guardians.

It all happens so quickly- Jin flails, stumbling a few steps. He reaches out, grabbing onto the side of the ravine to stabilise himself.

But he just keeps going. He crumples into the wall. And it folds around him. And just like that, he’s gone from view.

It takes a moment of you and Jungkook staring stupidly at each other before you both realise what has happened. Crying out in horror, you stumble over to the section of cliff where he vanished. You reach out your hand to press against the wall and find that rather than firm rock, it has an unusual spongy texture that gives way.

You wave Jungkook over, who mirrors your action and digs his hand into the wall. It seems to suck his arm in slightly, and you both nod at each other before pressing your way through the odd, spongey section of rock wall. It spreads around you and clings like quicksand. For a moment you feel a flash of fear, but then the rock springs away from you like an elastic snapping back into place and you and Jungkook are standing in a darkened, open cavern. You can still make out the darkened path, but you doubt a human would be able to make out a thing.

“Ow!” You hear a voice cry when something warm but firm catches your leg and you lurch forward, landing flat on the cavern ground. Whipping your gaze over your shoulder, you find Jin sprawled across the ground.

“Well...” Jungkook observes, gazing around the tunnel. His new, human body did not have the enhanced abilities that you and Jin do (as they had arm wrestled the night before to check) and so likely he is completely blind in this tunnel. “I’m just going to assume this is the way out. Are you gonna get a torch out, (Y/N) or are we going to hold hands the whole time?”

“She’s getting the torch out!” Jin snaps, scrambling over to you and snatching the bag off your uninjured shoulder before you can do anything.

He plunges his arm all the way in and pulls out the familiar yellow torch. It lights up the tunnel, highlighting the long, winding route ahead of you.

And then the light stutters and blinks out, leaving you in the once more in darkness. Jin whacks the bottom of the torch a few more times and plays with the switch, but no light returns. The three of you remain silent for a moment, perhaps a shared moment of memory for your torch, who had fought long and hard for you on this journey. And then Jungkook breaks it.

“Well, hope your hands aren’t sweaty.” He sighs, and his fingers barely brush yours before he’s yanked away with surprising force.

“I have better eyesight.” Jin explains, perhaps a little too sweetly. It’s in contrast with the way he squeezes Jungkook’s hand perhaps a bit too tightly. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall over, Jungkook.”

Jungkook whines in protest.

“You’re hurting me!” He complains.

Jin doesn’t dignify him with a response, and instead sets a rapid pace forward, strolling confidently through the cavern despite the meagre lighting.

It doesn’t take long for the sombre mood that had plagued them that morning to return. This time, you’re a little less willing to let it slide- Jin has proven himself prone to these strange, moody fits on this journey and you know he’s eventually forced to admit what’s bothering him, but for Jungkook to be just as quiet has you stressing. What’s wrong? Why are they like this? You’d gone to bed joyous and content and had awoken ready to face the world and the multitude of challenges ahead. But for some reason, Jin and Jungkook don’t share in your eagerness, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt a little.

It’s not like you expected things to be easy, or simple after reaching the river. You hadn’t even known that message from your dad existed prior to this, so it’s not like everything would just click into place and you’d ride off into the sunset. It’s just... you’d thought you were all on the same page, after everything. You and Jin had plummeted off a bridge together, for goodness’ sake! And it’s stupid, but the way he’d held you, cradled your head protectively as you fell, you’d thought...

Well, you hadn’t thought he was in love with you, or anything. You’d just thought it was something, at least. Yet here you are- for every step forward you take with Jin, there seems to be another three steps you take backwards. And now Jungkook is joining in on the whole brooding-confusing act too.

You haven’t even realised you’ve stopped walking until Jin stops to look at you over his shoulder. Jungkook, still completely blind in the dark tunnel, stops when Jin tugs on his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Jin questions, gently. As if he hasn’t been ignoring you all morning.

“That’s what I want to ask you.” You’re surprised at the soft, tentative way the words come out. They echo slightly in the cabin, and there’s a clear, confused waver in your voice. “What’s going on? Why are you...” you trail away, searching for the words, but you come up empty. “Like this?” is what you finally settle on. “Why aren’t you telling me what’s the matter? Why the silence and the brooding? Haven’t we had enough of that?”

Even though your eyesight is better than Jungkook’s, it’s still difficult to make out Jin’s silhouette. It’s impossible to make out his expression, which makes the tense silence that follows all the more nerve-wracking.

“There’s nothing wrong.” Jin finally says. “It’s just something stupid.”

His words aren’t meant to be hurtful. He’s trying to be dismissive so that you don’t worry. You know this, and understand his reasoning perfectly, but it still feels like a slap in the face after everything the two of you have been together. You’re so sick of this endless, perpetual cycle. If it’s not him, it’s you- someone is always holding back, too afraid to say the truth. To crush the fragile eggshells that you’re tip-toeing on.

“Friends are supposed to share the stupid things.” You say softly. You can’t see his expression, but you watch the way his shoulders stiffen. “Did you know that Jungkook’s biggest fear is the washing machine? He’s afraid he’ll be asleep in one of my pockets and my mum will throw my clothes for the wash.”

“That was private information-“ Jungkook protests, but you cut him off.

“I know that sort of thing about him.” You tell Jin. “Because Jungkook and I are friends. When I went through that phase where I wanted to be a warrior and started enrolling in all those different self-defence class, I told Jungkook. It was a stupid phase, but I still told him. Do you know why? Because I trusted him. Yeah, we make fun of each other, and we fight, and we call each other names, but I still tell him everything because that’s what friendship is. It’s trusting each other to stick it out through the ugly.” You don’t know where all this is coming from. All you know is this- you just trusted Jin enough to follow him over the edge of a bridge, but he doesn’t reciprocate. And that’s been the problem from the start. It’s always been uneven between you. You shared all your ugly, all your insecurities. You went to him when things were hard. But he hid it- he masked his insecurities and he held back the things he wanted to say and now the two of you are here. Two strangers in a dark cave.

“I trust you-“ Jin protests but the words are empty and ugly.

“You don’t.” You finally say. “And I can-” you voice cracks, so you clear your throat and try again. “I can try until I’m blue in the face to be the sort of person who never needs you and never makes you worry and it still won’t fix whatever this is between us because the truth is, you don’t want me.”

Your words hang in the darkness between the three of you. You’re pretty sure Jungkook is even holding his breath.

“You don’t want me, Jin.” You say again. “You just feel like you’re obligated to be with me. And I... I don’t want that. I don’t want you doing anything out of obligation for me. Not anymore.”

Despite the fact that your throat feels raw and painful after your tirade, you feel oddly lighter. You take a deep breath and move to push past Jin, but a hand shoots out and grabs your wrist.

“That’s not true.” Jin protests, and his voice wobbles. “Don’t... You’re not an obligation.” He asserts.

And you want to believe him. You do. But you just can’t. You’ve had a whole trip- no, a whole friendship of him treating you like the most inconvenient creature in existence.

“I sure feel like one.” You say softly, and Jin’s grip on you goes lax enough that you’re able to start walking forward. “It’s fine. Let’s just get out of here already. The sooner we get back home, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair.”

The sun stings your eyes when you finally reach the end of the tunnel- a similar spongey wall conceals the exit. You tell yourself it’s the sudden influx of light that causes your eyes seem to water as you enter the last phase of your long journey.

Jin has an ugly, gurgly sensation in his chest. It’s close to guilt, but worse- darker, and more painful. He watches your back from where you walk, maybe ten metres in front of him. Jungkook walks close to you, clearly mumbling something. But since it’s Jungkook, it’s just as likely that he is comforting you as it is that he’s pointing at random lumps of dirt and noting the resemblance to your face.

You haven’t spoken a word to him since stepping out of the tunnel. The exit had brought the three of you out at the northern edge of the Golden Plains- a direct walk east through the forest would bring you to a village where you could stock up on supplies for the journey home since the Psittanurans hadn’t given you enough for three human-sized beings, and buy a third bedroll for Jungkook.

It’s an easy fix, really. All Jin has to do is apologise. Assert that you are not an obligation to him and that he does trust you. But every time he plucks up the courage to cross the few metres you walk ahead of him, something stops him. Because, if he tells you that, that you’re not an obligation, then that begs the question: what are you? As much as he loathes to admit it, he’s beginning to see the truth in Jungkook’s words; he’s a hypocrite. A cowardly, pathetic hypocrite who isn’t even brave enough to admit to himself what he’s feeling.

An unholy screech interrupts his commiserating and he has just enough time to think here we go again to himself before he is greeted by the sight of a terrified Jungkook held bridal style in your arms. You look equally shocked, as if you hadn’t expected Jungkook to leap into your arms like that. Jin rushes forward, ready to offer aid should disaster come but he cannot locate any immediate threats.

It is only once Jungkook stops screeching and cowering in your arms like a distressed puppy that Jin is able to see what has him so terrified- a small group of mice, standing up on their hindlimbs and wielding tiny little swords.

It takes a few incredulous blinks and a good rub of his eyes to convince himself that the scene before him is real and not something’s he’s hallucinating after watching too much Ratatouille.

The little grey mouse, whose tiny nose twitches in fear as he edges forward, is the first to speak.

“You are guardians, are you not?” The little mouse demands. You and Jin exchange a concerned glance across Jungkook’s hulking figure. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged him for hours.

“Not!” Jungkook squeaks, still terrified. You, to your credit, have not dropped him, but you are starting to look impatient with having to carry him. “Just leave us in peace!”

“Jungkook!” You snap. “You could literally squash them with your boots please stop being ridiculous.”

“You know I have a phobia! They always bully me back home!” Jungkook grumbles, but reluctantly drops from your arms onto the ground. Only for one of the mice to brandish its sword. Jungkook screams and leaps onto Jin’s back.

With a resigned sigh, Jin doesn’t even bother to throw Jungkook off. He just lets him hang there, like a terrified koala.

“You fit the legends! Hulking beasts with terrifying aura!” A little soft brown mouse declares, though the tip of its sword shakes as it squeaks. “Giants who offer aid to all who demand it of them!”

Jin closes his eyes and inhales deeply, willing himself to be calm.

“I think you have the wrong-“ Jin begins, ready to brush aside the little troupe of mice and continue with the seven day hike home, but the smallest mouse, a little grey and white one with a soft pink nose, stumbles forward.

“Please!” It begs. “You are our last hope! You must help us! Forgive us if we startled you- we have been following you since you came to this realm and we are running out of time.”

This gives Jin pause. He’s not sure why- it’s not like he knows how to read the expressions on their tiny faces but something about the desperation in the little mouse’s words makes him unable to leave them.

“Our people are suffering from a plague.” It admits. “And there is only one cure for the illness.”

“A good mousetrap?” Jungkook suggests from over Jin’s shoulder. Jin glares at him just to make sure he knows the comment is unwelcome.

The little grey and white mouse ignores Jungkook and focuses its attention on Jin.

“The starshine fungus.” It explains. “It grows in abundance on the riverbanks just on the other side of this forest. But few of our people are well enough to gather and transport it back home. We need as many as we can gather, and yet we were the only ones healthy enough to make the journey. But the demand for it far outweighs the ability of just the four of us to transport it alone. We are too small, and too weak.”

Jungkook has gone eerily quiet at those last words- even his breathing has seemed to cease. That almost never bodes well.

“I’m really sorry, but we-“ you begin, on the verge of rejecting them.

“We’ll help.” Jungkook says, cutting you off. He pushes his way off Jin’s back and drops back onto the ground. He crouches before the four little mice and smiles. The expression on his face is almost gentle. “You guys don’t know what it’s like, to be small and helpless. We can’t leave a whole colony to die just because Jin wants to make it back in time for his dinner date with that cool engineer guy.” He says to Jin and you. Jin bites his lip, and you look momentarily guilty. But then your expression clears, and you nod your head. Jungkook’s expression brightens and he shifts his gaze to Jin, clearly waiting for approval.

With a sigh, Jin offers a nod. Why did he become a doctor if he’s just going to let an entire village die? As much as he loathes to admit it, Jungkook is right.

“So, you’ll help?” The grey and white mouse asks. Jungkook nods.

“Show us the way and we’ll carry the fungus back for you.” Jungkook promises.

On cue, all four of the mice bow deeply.

“You have our deepest gratitude.” The largest mouse, the grey one that had spoken first, says.

Jin swallows deeply. He has no interest on yet another detour on this ridiculous journey. He just wants to go home. At home, he can fix his Apple watch. He can have dinner with Joon. Maybe, in the safety of home and what he knows, he can even work things out with you, and himself. Here, in this realm, there is nothing but danger and the choked knot around his heart that he can’t seem to untangle in your presence.

Still, it’s a pleasant walk. You let the little mice perch on your shoulders since Jungkook hasn’t fully shaken off his fear of them. They direct the three of you on a march southwest, towards the seaside. It takes nearly the whole day to get there. The lazy afternoon is warm but not sweltering although the air is heavy with the promise of rain later on.

You all reach the river before the rain comes. The forest opens up into a wide river. Northwards, the river extends towards impressive cliffsides where the fabled dragon kingdom is said to be, and southwards it rushes out to meet the sea on the southern coastline. Here, though, it is a lazy flow. Dragonflies dance on the banks and the river reflects the silvery clouds back up into the sky.

“They grow along the banks.” The oldest of the mice, the soft brown one, explains. Her name is Phrosia, and she has lost all her children to the plague. She has no family and the only thing keeping her going is the thought that she can’t let anyone else face what she had. She points at where the bank meets the river edge. Small plants and reeds grow along the edges. “They are bright blue and quite large. They’ll grow just inside the water. They should be easy to spot.”

“Well,” Jungkook says, sighing as he sheds his jacket. “Let’s get looking.” He rolls up the edges of his jeans and sheds his shoes and socks before wading into the mouth of the river and sifting through the grassy tufts on the banks.

Jin meets your gaze, which is a surprise because he didn’t realise you were looking at him. He offers you a tentative, awkward smile which has you looking away quickly. The action has that ugly, gurgly sensation from earlier returning. He sighs to himself before rolling up his sleeves and following Jungkook’s lead, wading into the river.

Sure enough, as the afternoon settles into a thick, muggy heat that signifies an oncoming storm, Jin begins to spot patches of bright blue amongst the reeds that line the riverbank. It’s mindless work- sort of soothing against his stormy mind. At least while he’s focused on adding to his growing pile of fungus, he’s not thinking about you, a few metres away, and the weird ache in his chest.

He’s so engrossed in his task that when he feels the delicate tap on his shoulder, he nearly has a heart attack. The handful of mushrooms in his hand goes flying, catching the current and zooming away. He stares in horror at his lost fungus, before turning to the perpetrator.

He’s expecting Jungkook to be standing there, looking smug from a prank well done, so when he sees you before him, looking uncomfortable and strangely guilty, he’s reduced to staring dumbly. The silence draws out for an uncomfortably long moment before you clear your throat awkwardly.

“Can... can we talk?” You ask hesitantly. “Jungkook offered to keep looking for more.” You gesture down the river to where Jungkook and the mice are working together- He plucks a mushroom and they carry it over to his pile for him.

Jin feels a nervous and uncomfortable sensation clog the back of his throat, but he nods nonetheless. You smile weakly and lead him away from the riverbank and back past the tree line. When you’re out of earshot but still within sight of Jungkook, you stop and turn.

This is it- the moment Jin had been waiting for. A chance to set things straight, to clear things up, to make it right.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts, at the same moment that you blurt the exact same words as him.

For a moment, the two of you stare blankly at each other in the ringing silence that follows.

You’re quicker to recover.

“I went overboard.” You explain. “You don’t owe me an explanation for when you’re upset. I shouldn’t get mad over that. And even... even if you see me as just an obligation, I’m grateful you’re in my life at all. So, I’m sorry for getting upset and I don’t want to ruin the rest of this trip home.”

It’s certainly a heartfelt apology. You wring your hands in distress and you won’t meet his gaze. He can tell you’re genuinely sorry for what happened.

Maybe that’s why he’s so angry in response to your words. Because, even if he lets this happen, accepts your ridiculous apology, the original problem still remains.

“Obligation?” Jin tests the word and even just the shape of the word in his mouth is annoying. “Obligation?” He tries again and he feels his blood pressure skyrocket.

“You serious think after all this time that you’re just an ‘obligation’ to me?” Even Jin is surprised by the volume of his own voice. The area around you is deadly silent in response to his outburst, but now that it’s out in the open, he can’t help but keep going. “What kind of idiot would risk his life on a ridiculous trip like this, just because of an obligation? Why would I give up dinner dates and drive to your place late at night to make sure you’ve eaten? What, you think your mother slips me a little allowance for babysitting you? Newsflash, (Y/N), I’m a literal doctor!!! I don’t need an allowance! I own my own apartment! I’m thinking of buying a maserati! You don’t have anything I need and I don’t have any obligation towards you! You’re minimising everything I’ve done for you and for what? So that you can play poor pathetic victim? How dare you belittle my feelings like that!” He’s out of breath by the time he finishes his rant and to be honest he’s not one hundred percent sure of the furious words which had poured out.

“Well what am I supposed to think?! It’s not like you ever explain yourself! You just sit there, and stew and I have to find out how you really feel by overhearing conversations you have with friends behind my back!” You explode in response. If Jin weren’t so angry himself, perhaps he would have felt alarmed by the vehemence of your answer. Instead, he just sees red, because here you go again! Making assumptions about him and not letting him get a word in edgewise!

“When have I ever done that?” He demands. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so angry in his life, not even when Jungkook filled his shoes with pudding because he had nothing better to do.

“You always do that!” You cry. “I know how all your friends speak about me! There goes (Y/N), the leech! And you just agree with them- after all, aren’t I just like an untrained Labrador puppy?”

Jin falls silent at that. He doesn’t have a comeback for that. After all, for the longest time, that is what you were to him. He doesn’t even know why he’s so upset that you would think otherwise.

“No answer?” You accuse. “If I’m not an obligation to you, what am I supposed to think?”

“You’re supposed to think about how I feel!” He shouts back. His throat feels raw with the shout.

You fall silent. You stare at him like’s he’s grown a second head.

And then, in the ringing silence that bears down on the two of you, you ask softly “How do you feel?”

There’s that question. That terrifying, loaded question. The one that makes him feel like he’s dangling on the edge of a cliff by his fingertips. He feels the fight drain out of him as he opens his mouth to struggle through a half-assed excuse. Anything to escape that question.

This realm apparently reciprocates his feelings of hatred, however, for he never gets the chance to respond. The muggy heat that had plagued the afternoon transitions into stormy humidity; overhead the stormy clouds that had gathered burst and immediately rain begins to pour down.

The two of you flinch in the sudden onslaught, and a loud peal of thunder has you both skittering for shelter.

There’s a small, hill like structure where the soil between the roots of an imposing tree has been flushed away; what remains in a shallow alcove that has just enough room for you and Jin to squeeze beneath the roots and shelter from the rain. He doesn’t know what Jungkook or the mice have done but hopefully the large pile of starshine fungus is being managed and not washed away in the onslaught of rain.

You rummage in your tattered hello kitty bag and produce a small, dry towel. Who knows what enchantments are cast on that stupid bag that the towel is still dry, but Jin isn’t complaining when you wordlessly hand it to him.

He towels off his hair, and an almost comfortable silence follows, in stark contrast to the prior conversation. Only the background of rain falling and the occasional rumble of thunder hangs between you. In the silence, Jin registers your proximity. You crouch beside him, with your thighs pressed to his. The dampness of the rain makes hairs along your hairline curl and droplets of water cling to your lashes. His eyes catch the movement of one droplet as it traces a line down your cheek, across your jawline and down your throat until it vanishes beneath the collar of your shirt. Glancing away quickly, he’s suddenly aware of the muggy heat in the air and the way the space beside you just seems to radiate warmth.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You comment. It’s so soft that the words are almost lost to the steady sound of rain breaking through the canopy overhead. “How do you feel?”

But he hears the words, and he knows in that moment that this is it. There’s no time or room for running or pushing it down. He can’t keep avoiding that question forever.

“I feel overwhelmed. When you look at me.” He admits. You turn to look at him, awaiting an explanation. Something about the look in your eyes makes that weird gurgly sensation from earlier return. But this time, it’s less ugly- it’s actually almost pleasant. Like the fizz of champagne in the back of his throat or the tickle of butterfly wings against his skin. New, delicate, effervescent. His heart swells as he finally gathers his courage. “Did you know you always look at me in a certain way?”

He turns to look at you, and he doesn’t see that look now, but it’s not hard to recall. Eyes, sparkling with admiration and hope. In spite of all the ways you’ve changed over the years, that look has never changed.

“How?” You question. When you’re facing him like this, the tail end of your breath catches against his skin. The fizzy feeling escalates to a nervous rumble in his chest.

“Like I’m your hero.” He admits. “It’s a little scary- it’s so much to live up to. But it’s kind of exhilarating too. It makes me want to be the person you think I am.”

You stare at him in confusion.

“But you are-“ you protest.

“I’m not. I’m no hero. I’m a coward.” He admits. “I mess things up all the time and I always say the wrong thing when it comes to you. And I’ve been trying so hard to be that guy. The one who has it all together and knows exactly what to say when you’re upset and can fix problems with a flick of his fingers.” It’s weird to finally be voicing this all aloud. He’s thought it a lot- that the real him doesn’t live up to expectations. But he doesn’t think he’s ever had the courage to tell you. Perhaps this is what you meant- if you are his friend, he should have told you all of this long ago. “But I’m not that guy. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to be that guy. And if I open up… If I tell you all those things… don’t I seem so much less than that cool hero?” He confesses. “And I guess this whole trip has made it worse. Every time I think I have a handle on things, we get kidnapped or shot at or have to jump off a bridge. I haven’t had a spare moment to even pretend to be that guy.” He looks at you. “And then you come along, and you’re sneaking into enemy camps and taking arrows to the shoulder and defeating evil forest spirits. How am I even supposed to compare? And if you can do all of that on your own, what am I meant to be? What am I supposed to be to you? How can I be your hero?” He wonders.

You stare at him in confusion. The rain starts to clear and a blade of sunlight cuts through the forest, catching the side of your face. It highlights the slope of your nose, the line of your cheekbones, the brightness of your eyes. In that moment, you aren’t his friend. You’re some ethereal, mystic being that feels a thousand miles out of reach.

“I... I don’t want any of that from you, Jin. I don’t want or need a hero.” You finally confess. Your gaze softens as you shuffle forward, and the mood between the two of you shifts a little bit. Something intangible thickens the air and Jin feels strangely short of breath. “I just want... I just want...” you trail away, breaking your gaze but the tension in the air doesn’t dissipate. Instead, it seems to thicken when Jin realises that he desperately wants to know what you’re going to say. What do you want from him? What is he to you? What do you want him to be to you?

“You.” The word is barely above a breath and Jin feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

“M-me?” He stutters and he feels like a teenager with a crush with the way the tips of his ears go red and his face flushes hot.

“Yeah.” You say, nodding shyly, before meeting his gaze with determination. “I want my friend back, Jin. I like the guy who stuck glow in the dark stickers on my ceiling when I was homesick but I also like the guy who gets scared of bugs and can fit an entire slice of cake in his mouth in one go. That guy is better than any hero because he’s here with me. And that’s what you do, Jin. You’re always here with me, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.” You admit.

The space between you is minuscule now- if Jin tilted his head just slightly forward, your noses would brush. This close, he can make out each individual lash framing your eyes. Every contour of your face is both familiar and unfamiliar; the air is electric. He recalls the way you had looked at him what feels like a lifetime ago, when he had realised your feelings. Are they still the same? Do you still like him even after seeing the pathetic person he is throughout this trip? If he tilted in and up and closed the gap between your lips, would you pull away or press forward? “I don’t want the guy who can fix things with a flick of his fingers. And I don’t want a hero. I want Kim Seokjin. It’s more fun to work things out together anyway.” You promise.

It’s weird that those words are so liberating. Like a huge weight he didn’t know he’s been carrying all these years has been lifted. He’s fought and run and panicked for so long. Perhaps even longer than this trip. Long before you started avoiding him. Because all this time, he’s been trying to live up to an image he doesn’t fit into. He thought that’s what he had to be, for your sake. If you were struggling, he’d have to be strong enough to pull you out. But, with the words that hover between you, he realises he doesn’t have to be all that. He just has to be himself. Here the two of you are, after facing every imaginable danger, and yet you think no less of him. You’re looking at him with that same, admiring look. The brightness has not dimmed despite your awareness of his vulnerability, of his weakness.

And in that moment, Jin knows. There’s no more denying or running. He can’t keep it up- you’ve meticulously dismantled every stone in the fortress he built against you. He stands alone in the battlefield of his heart- you’ve conquered and won. He remembers earlier, when he’d tried to assert that he’d only ever see you as family, and the thought is laughable now. A pathetic, desperate excuse to avoid admitting the very thing that terrifies him to the bone. But, now he’s ready to admit it- ready to acknowledge what you are to him.

“You’re not an obligation to me.” He blurts. “You’re not a duty and you’re not just some un-trained puppy. You’re so much more than that, (Y/N), and everything I do is because I care about you so much. I’m sorry if it didn’t come across that way. I’m just..” He pauses and swallows. “I.. I lo-“

“There you are!” Jungkook’s voice sings out, and Jin winces. “I was starting to think you’d left me! Don’t worry guys, I’ve saved the fungus.”

You blink over Jin’s shoulder to where Jungkook has gathered the small little mushrooms into his jacket, which he’s folded into a little makeshift sack, the mice trailing behind. And then your gaze shifts back to Jin and you smile.

“Guess it’s back to work.” You say, and your words are awfully cheerful considering Jin is currently considering murder. Jungkook doesn’t have a human identity yet- he could bury him in this realm, and no one would ever know. “Shall we work together?”

It’s a loaded question, Jin knows, and despite everything, he finds himself smiling as well.

“What other choice do I have?” He grumbles. “Let’s get home already.”

#castlebangtan #thebtswritersclub #kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #writing

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lost-in-the-80s · 3 years

Text

Winter Memories pt. 2

Pairing: Axl Rose x reader

Words: 3,156k

Summary: The pressure of making a new album is finally hitting Axl. To get rid of some stress he decides to take a trip to Norway, however, he did not expect to meet a mysterious woman there. (smut + fluff)

A/N: I am back with part two!! Let me know if you liked it! Sorry it took me so long! There will be some lines in norwegian again, the translations will be below in italics.

Warnings: Mature content, swearing and unprotected sex. (Use a condom, guys!)

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @normatural add yourself to my tag list :)

Tagging who showed interest for a second part: @sugwinter @vinylvintage @fosterchild-3203 @littlemisscare-all @ultrabithc

Part 1

A year passed after that weekend. December arrived and Y/N got ready to spend another weekend at Anna's cottage.

As she packed her bags, she couldn't stop thinking about Axl, the mysterious redhead she had met the year before. He never left her mind, not even for a day.

But finding him would be impossible, so she ignored her heart's pleas that begged her to go to the United States to look for him. Her best chance was to hope he was in the cottage.

During the flight to the mountains, anxiety washed over her body. It was the longest two hours of her life. Her stomach was full of butterflies, as the memories of that night filled her mind.

Taking a taxi she asked the driver three times to go faster, ignoring the fact that the track was slippery with snow.

As soon as she reached the cottage she strode toward the front door, hoping to see him already waiting for her. But he wasn’t there.

After asking Anna she was sure, he wouldn’t come. His name wasn’t on the schedule list, nor had been since that weekend in December.

Han må ha gått videre med livet sitt, og du fortsetter å tenke på ham. She thought to herself.

He must have gone on with his life and you silly keep thinking about him.

Y/N tried to stick to her routine schedule, but spending twenty minutes on a bus to go skiing seemed too tiring. So she spent the entire Friday in her room, reading and whining about her life.

The next morning she woke up late and walked slowly down the steps. She had decided to have breakfast and go back to the airport, catch a flight to Oslo and try to forget all of that. Staying at the cottage brought too many memories to her mind.

“God morgen, Anna” She said calmly.

"Good morning, Anna."

“God morgen Y/N" The lady replied smiling.

"Good morning, Y/N."

Looking at all the breakfast options, she just couldn't feel hungry, so she took a big mug of coffee and sat at a table, sighing when she realized she had sat at the same table he was at the previous year.

After a few minutes, Anna came over, pulling the chair across from her to sit down.

"Hva skjer, Y/N?" The lady asked, touching the younger woman’s hand on top of the table.

"What's going on Y/N?"

“Det er ingenting, Anna, du trenger ikke å bekymre deg.” She gave a weak smile.

"It's nothing, Anna, you don't have to worry."

"Det er ikke gutten?"

"It's that boy, isn't it?"

Y/N looked out the window, avoiding the lady's gaze.

"Han så veldig trist ut dagen han reiste."

"He looked really sad the day he left."

She looked at the lady, seeing compassion in her eyes.

“Ikke bekymre deg, Anna. Jeg klarer meg. ” She smiled, trying to look convincing.

"Don't worry, Anna, I'll be fine."

----

During the next two years, she improved. She focused on work and was able to be distracted from her own thoughts.

She had a few boyfriends during that time, but she couldn't help comparing them to the redhead, and given his color and brilliance, all the others became gray and opaque.

During the nights, his face appeared in her dreams, they were always together and happy and she hated waking up every day and knowing that it would never go beyond that, a dream.

Sometimes she could even go a week without thinking about him, but then something simple reminded her again. Like when she wore the sweater she was wearing that night.

She felt stupid, it was ridiculous to feel that way after so long, especially for someone she only met for a weekend. But every time a rock song played on the radio, she remembered him.

He had said he worked with rock and she always wondered what he meant by that. Was he a band manager? Or was he a member of one of the bands that had already crossed her ears? She would never know and maybe it was for the best.

"Y/N!"

The sound of her name made her look up from the papers she was signing.

It was Hanna. She had moved from the United States to Norway the previous year, working in the office's accounting. The two became close very fast and today they were best friends.

"Hanna..." She looked up smiling.

“Guns n Roses will be playing here in June!! I can't believe it, I thought I would never see them live again! ” She gave little leaps of joy.

"Hmm that’s great, I'm happy for you," Y/N said, smiling at the girl one more time before going back to work. She didn't listen to much music so going to concerts and festivals was not quite her style.

"Come with me?" She crouched down in front of the table.

"Oh I don't know, you know I don't like these crowded places."

"Please. I don't want to go alone. ” She made puppy eyes, staring at Y/N.

"Do not look at me like that!" She pointed her index finger, but Hanna was persistent. "Ah, fine, I'll go with you!" She gave in.

"Yess!!" Hanna celebrated as she stood up doing a victory dance.

Y/N started laughing, making the girl stop.

"What's it?"

She pointed with the pen. Looking back, Hanna saw her boss shaking his head as he looked in her direction.

"Shit!" She scratched the back of her neck, sitting on the chair in front of Y/N’s table. "Do you think he's going to fire me?"

"No ... but he'll think twice before inviting you to the Christmas party this year." She giggled a little.

"Thank God..." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"What day will the concert be?" Y/N asked, going back to signing papers.

“June 10th. I'm going to buy tickets today after work, I'll bring yours tomorrow.”

Hanna looked like a child when she was happy, which always relaxed Y/N's serious mood.

"All right." She prolonged the first word, writing the day on a post-it note.

---

June 10th arrived and Hanna made sure they arrived two hours ahead to get a spot close to the stage.

Wearing denim shorts and a black T-shirt, she accompanied Hanna across the field until she reached the edge of the stage. At least she would be able to see the show up close.

The hot afternoon sun went down and a cool breeze came with the night, but Y/N's irritation didn’t fade away. The band was almost an hour late for the concert and every few minutes someone was bumping into her, making her wish she had stayed at home.

The stage lights came on and a guy with black curly hair came on stage, playing a riff that sounded wonderful to her ears.

Kanskje jeg vil glede meg over denne konserten. She thought to herself

Maybe I’ll enjoy this concert.

Soon the rest of the band members appeared and she became convinced that it would be a good show. That's until the vocalist entered the stage.

He was wearing tight white shorts and a leather jacket, his hair in a red bandana and her heart missed a beat.

Her mouth was slightly open and she put her hand on her chest, to make sure her heart was still beating.

It was him. Axl. The guy from the cottage.

He funnily ran and danced around the stage and his voice sounded so different from what she remembered. But there was no doubt, it was him.

"What's it?" Hanna screamed near her ear when she saw that her friend was not moving.

"It's him!"

"Who?"

"The guy from the cottage!"

She had told Hanna about the event, although she had never mentioned his name.

"Axl Rose??" Hanna's eyes widened, looking from Y/N to Axl and to Y/N again. "Holy shit!"

For the rest of the concert, Y/N couldn't take her eyes off of him anymore. But he hadn't noticed her. They were on the side and he spent more time in the center.

But then the guitar solo started and the same guy from the beginning took over from Axl, who started to leave the stage.

He was smiling, laughing at something and then his eyes shifted to the right and he saw her. The smile disappeared completely from his face and stopped walking.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds before he walked over to the edge, making the fans next to Y/N scream out of control.

"Good to see you." He smiled, lowering himself in front of her.

She nodded, smiling, not being able to form words.

Fans around her started trying to push her to get closer to him, the screams making it impossible for her to understand what he had said.

He could tell by her face that she didn't understand, pointing sideways with his thumb and making a sign with his fingers that meant later.

"Backstage later." He spoke again and she could read his lips, finally managing to assimilate the information.

She nodded quickly, giving him a thumbs up.

After the solo, the band played a few more songs before finishing. At every chance he got, Axl came over to her, singing while looking into her eyes, making a huge smile come over her lips.

When the show was over she pulled Hanna by the hand, heading backstage. Where a security guard at the entrance made her stop.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, Axl is waiting for me." She said with a small smile.

"Identification, please."

"She showed him the concert ticket."

"This is the common ticket, I’m sorry Y/N, but you can’t pass."

"Wait! Y/N? ” A man in a red button-down shirt appeared behind the security guard. "Are you Y/N?"

She nodded.

"Let her in, Axl wants to talk to her."

"What about this one?" He pointed to Hanna.

"She’s with me!" Y/N said, taking her friend's hand.

"Let her in too."

The security guard made room, letting the two pass.

"Come, this way." He started walking down several corridors. "I'm Doug Goldstein, by the way." He turned for half a second offering them a small smile.

"We're here," he said after almost a minute of walking.

Opening the door there was a spacious room with several couches, all the members of the band were there, except him. There were other women in the room, some on the lap of the band members.

"They are groupies." Hanna whispered in Y/N's ear.

"What is it?"

"They like rockstars, travel with bands and sleep with them."

Y/N nodded, understanding what she meant. "Lucky for them, they are very cute."

"Aren’t they?" She laughed softly.

"Hey, I saw you two at the gig!" A tall, blond guy said getting closer.

"Oh my God, Duff McKagan noticed me during the gig!" Hanna said, putting her hand on her forehead as if she was going to pass out.

Duff laughed.

"And you are?" He offered his hand for them to shake.

"My goodness!!" She gave a little squeak. "I'm Hanna and this is Y/N." She shook his hand. "I shook Duff McKagan's hand!!" She looked at Y/N. "Do you believe? Me?" Hanna pointed to herself.

Y/N and Duff laughed.

"Is she always that excited?" He asked as he shook Y/N's hand.

"She is a huge fan." She said laughing.

"I am! I am! I even have a T-shirt signed by Slash. I paid

200 bucks on it.” She said the last part with a little remorse for the money spent.

"We can get you another one, I can ask the guys to sign it for you." He smiled a little and Hanna smiled, nodding quickly.

“So you are the famous Y/N! Axl has talked about you for years! ”

Before she could answer she heard his voice saying her name.

Looking to the side, Axl was standing in the hall, wearing only his shorts while a towel was slung over his shoulder.

Det forblir varmt. She thought.

He’s still hot.

He nodded, indicating that she should follow him, so she did.

After a few steps, Axl stopped, opening a door that had his name written on it, and letting her in first. As soon as he closed the door, her lips were glued to his.

Their kiss was hot as summer rain and urgent as if they only had a few seconds to do it. Her hands touched his face, bringing him closer, while his hands infiltrated in her hair, gently pulling the strands at the top of her neck.

A small moan left her lips and he smiled during the kiss, pulling away just long enough to say, "God, how I missed that sound."

He moved his hands to her waist, starting to walk farther into the room, taking her with him.

"Axl." She sighed his name when their lips parted.

He moved away from her a few inches as he stroked her face with his right hand, the left one remaining on her waist, keeping her close.

"Fuck, you haven't changed a thing." He looked at every detail on her face, as if he wanted to memorize it.

"I missed you." She smiled, touching his face.

Axl closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her touch.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea." He opened his eyes, kissing her again.

The kiss grew hotter and when she realized Axl's hands were on the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms, breaking and kissing and allowing him to remove the garment.

He let out a small growl in the kiss when she pulled his hair gently and he lowered his hands to her ass, squeezing her flesh before he propelled her upward.

Y/N intertwined her legs around Axl's waist and he started to move towards a sofa in the living room. He laid her down gently, removing his lips from hers just so that he could make a trail down her neck, slowly going into the valley between her breasts.

She moved her hands to her back, unclasping her bra and allowing Axl to enjoy her nipples. He took one of them to his mouth, sucking lightly by biting the skin while his fingers played with the other, causing a small moan to come out of her lips.

Y/N moved her hand towards Axl's shorts, feeling his already rigid erection over the fabric, making him moan and look her in the eyes. His gaze was filled with lust with a touch of malice, his pupils dilated.

Continuing his kisses to the south, Axl stopped at the waistband of her shorts, unbuttoning the garment and removing it from her body. His fingers caressed her core over her panties, making her gasp.

He slowly removed the last piece of clothing from her body, applying soft kisses to the extension of her leg, until the material was finally free and she was completely exposed to his gaze.

He stood up, removing his white shorts, tossing them on the floor before removing his sneakers in a hurry. He wore no underwear and the sight of his free and throbbing member made Y/N bite her lower lip while she sat down.

Axl climbed onto the couch, kissing her again. She moved her hands to his shoulders, pushing him to sit on the sofa, his back against the armrest when she climbed on his lap, making him smile mischievously.

Y/N touched his member, running its length a few times before collecting some of her juices with its tip and positioning it at her entrance.

Slowly she started to go down, keeping her gaze fixed on Axl's, she felt him fill her completely, letting a small moan leave her lips with the sensitivity.

She started with her movements, going up and down. Axl's hands found her hips, squeezing them firmly and guiding her movements until she reached a steady rhythm.

"Axl" She moaned his name, throwing her head back and allowing the sensation of pleasure to take over her mind.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He moved his lips to her now exposed neck, making her moan even more.

After a few minutes, Axl started to move his hips, meeting her movements, hitting her G-spot with strength and precision, making a loud moan leave her lips.

"Yes, moan for me, baby." He moved his thumb to her lips, allowing her to suck it, and he grunted at the sight.

"Axl ... I’m going to ..." Her breathing was rapid when she uttered the words between moans.

"I know baby. Cum to me. ” He said, moving his right hand to her clit, applying precise movements that made her moan even louder, if that was possible.

A cry with his name filled the room when she reached her peak, rolling her eyes and feeling her legs tremble with the wave of pleasure that spread through her body.

Axl's hands cupped her face, bringing her close to him as they continued to move. He enveloped her in a deep kiss and her hands tugged at his hair, knowing it was his weak spot.

"Oh, fuck." He groaned after a few minutes, parting their lips, but staying close enough that their noses would bump up every few seconds. "I love you." He said looking into her eyes, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

"I love you." She whimpered due to sensitivity, she could feel her walls tightening for another orgasm and she scraped his back with greed when a long moan left her lips and she closed her eyes.

“Fuck… Y/N.” It was all that Axl could say before they could both be hit by another orgasm, his jets filling her while her walls tightened his member, their juices mixing inside of her.

Sweaty and out of breath, all that could be heard in the room were their heavy breaths.

She leaned her forehead against his, holding his face with both hands as he hugged her.

"You don't know how much time I spent looking for you." He whispered.

She opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

"I hired a guy, but he never found you."

She removed some locks of his hair away from his sweaty forehead. "I went back to the cottage the following year, but you weren't there."

"Shit, I was on tour." He giggled a little.

"When I was told we were going to play here, I couldn't help but hope that you would come."

"Well, I'm here now." She smiled sweetly, kissing his lips.

“Come to America with me? I don't want to be away from you anymore. ”

She stopped for a few seconds, thinking about his proposal.

"Please." He pleaded in a whisper.

Slowly she started to nod. “Yes, I will go with you! I don't want to be away from you anymore either. ”

The two smiled at each other before engaging in another passionate kiss, glad for finally being together again.

#harley writes #axl rose #axl rose fanfic #axl rose fic #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses x reader #gnr #gnr imagine #classic rock imagine #axl rose smut

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dredshirtroberts · 2 years

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Today's been...tough.

it's only noonthirty and i'm just like "okay we're done now. we've been done for four hours and only been home for two, we're done."

days like today make me wish i were able to just like... shrink down in size to be lap or pocket sized (like a cat or a particularly cuddly pet rodent of some description) and just curl up with someone i could trust and not...do anything. just sit with them while they do whatever they want to, and just exist but not have to be like...responsible or...or have to take care of myself for the day.

I need to check out that list of primary care doctors my coordinator sent me and choose one and make an appointment. I need to have a checkup and I need to establish care with someone so I can get my whole...everything looked at.

I can't keep on like this. it's exhausting. it's too much.

i work 4 hours a day 5 days a week and I can barely do that. it's not enough to keep up with bills, not long term - i'm okay right now and for a bit (my family apparently has no idea what "hard times" actually means and I'm really irritated by the fact that they're willing to just let me struggle because I gotta earn the right to exist or something. not my fault i got born but fine whatever - this only makes sense if you know things, sorry. i'm keeping it vague on purpose because reasons) but there's no way to sustain this. i'm not qualified for the types of jobs i should be doing and i'm not capable of doing the jobs i'm qualified for because my body doesn't fucking work.

Had a total breakdown because I couldn't lift the oil for the fryer. i've been a huge bitch all fucking morning and i feel bad about it because like... sure Dingus (one of three of the gus'es at work: Dingus, Dangus, and Dongus) deserves a little ribbing but he doesn't really deserve my Extra Ire just because he's inconsiderate. He's like 20. And it's management's job to put him back in line when he fucks up, not mine.

I cried at work again. I hate crying at work. I don't like crying in front of people as it is, and in a place where i'm supposed to be professional i just...

i go to sleep tired, i wake up tired, i go to work tired, i drink my energy drink tired, i come home tired, i sit around the rest of the day tired. and that's just if i'm not also in really fucking awful amounts of steady, all-encompassing pain. It's been a long time since I pinged anywhere lower on the pain scale than a 4 - which is my baseline and i can ignore it most days. well "ignore." i can push through it. bad days spike up to an 8. I've had a lot of bad days.

It's exhausting. It's overwhelming. I just want something to blame it on so I can start maybe at least...taking the edge off. OTC meds aren't cutting it. Weed helps but like. I can't afford that shit lol. I'm just...

I'm so tired. and I hate that being so tired, feeling so badly, all of the time is my life. And that it makes me an absolute *nightmare* to work with. Because i know it does. It has to. I'm awful when I'm not feeling okay. and i hate it.

I hate everything about it. Is there like...chronic pain body dysphoria? cause i don't have trans body dysphoria but goddamn do I hate my body.

i just want answers. I don't want to have to fight a doctor to get them. I just want to know what's going on and try to make everything less more often.

I just want to curl up into a ball and cuddle with someone and not have to deal with *anything.*

#i hate that all of this also explains so much about my mom #i don't want to understand her better because I don't want to be her #but like... a lot of things are clearer if i look at her with the idea that maybe she was dealing with all of this too #and maybe that's why she never picked up on it #if you do it and your family does it and then your child does too well then it must be normal #and thus nothing to worry about #annoying and inconvenient but what can you do? *shrug emoji*#it doesn't make this any better or easier to deal with #but it's definitely enlightening #the captain rambles #chronic pain

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disagigglebilities · 3 years

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So my Dr is sending me to gi even though I'm not having anything that is obviously a gi problem and what is is probably from rectal suppositories for chronic pain that's likely ehlers danlos, basically I'm asking you if what I'm describing matches endo, if you aren't comfortable telling me just ignore this. Ever since I've gotten my period it's been horrible for most of them at least on day one my vision blacks out, Aleve, Advil and Tylenol do nothing, the only thing that has helped is progesterone bc and 100mg of Diclofenac which is no longer manufactured so I'm just using multiple pills. I have the horrible abdominal pain but also vulva pain, like if I try to pee I started crying and as someone with chronic pain you know that's really bad. My neck feels swollen and it sometimes hurts to breathe. It's been in my record for 5 years that I've been saying that something is wrong and the only thing done has been done are iron tests (above average) and hormones (fine). The reason I'm being sent to gi now is that twice in the last 8 months because because my mom has thought that I have appendicitis because of constant lower right side abdominal pain getting a lot worse, I can feel and kinda see an inch bump but nothing show up on cts or ultrasounds, I'm always bloated and stuff. Basically I want to know if know is the time to start getting mean and push to get tested for endometriosis.

I won't diagnose you with endo because im no doctor but I can say that I also went to the GI doctor for abdominal pain (and chronic constipation which oddly or not got a little better after my surgery for the endo lesions) did the whole colonoscopy and endoscopy which all came back fine besides some hemorrhoids.

I have also talked to others with endo who have gone to GI doctors, some of who have been misdiagnosed with irritable bowel syndrome. I think it'd be a good idea to go just because some people with endo can have lesions in their bowels (tho it probably won't be) and I also think its a good idea just to check that the abdominal pain is only caused by the possible endo (it will also be easier to convince a gyno to do a surgery if you've already seen someone else for the pain).

Some people do black out on their periods with endo. Whether its from the pain or blood loss, i can't say. Personally the worst I've done is fall asleep on the bathroom floor. Also, I wonder if they've checked your iron levels while you've been on your period because some people bleed a lot and experience low levels on their periods

Most people with endo experience some sort of lessening with progesterone BC pills. I can't say much about that because im one of those that experiences the opposite (which isn't too common for people with endo). I take max relief midol or pamprin for pain meds and all it does is take an edge off.

Endo can also cause problems with urinating tho I know little about that because the only problem I have there is that I go too much on my period. This might be because of how tense I hope my abdominal muscles and I suppose the contracting in your bladder could be pulling on some lesions. It might be good to get checked out by a urologist too

I did used to get knife like pains into my vagina tho so maybe thats similar to your vulva pain? I dont associate that with urinating tho.

I dont know anything about the neck pain. I do sometimes get pain in the neck but I dont associate that with endo but instead with being stressed/holding too much tension in your body

I'm not sure what the bump could be but that sounds scary. Bloating is really really really common with endo. Look up endo belly. I have it to some extent and it drives me crazy whenever it happens.

Also fun fact a lot of endo suffers have at one point in time wondered if their pain is appendicitis. I have been to the ER for that reason a lot. Another fun fact is that appendicitis can actually be less painful than the pain people can get with endometriosis. Haven't had appendicitis personally but I find it interesting

Endo is hard to diagnose without surgery as you've probably realized since all your imaging keeps coming back normal and some of your symptoms could definitely be because of it. You definitely have to make the doctor believe you are serious about wanting to pursue the path of a diagnostic surgery because it isn't always easy to get them to do it.

If you have any more questions or anything, you can totally ask. I'm more than willing to talk and have very little shame when it comes to my or other's symptoms

#long post #endomtriosis #endometriosis #endo belly #ask

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

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Warriors in Red Armor

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Chapter Five

Kai II

"Does everyone understand the mission?" Ransom stared hard in Kai's direction.

Kai scoffed. Just because her attention had drifted off a time or four didn't mean that she was going to be totally lost. "Who needs a debriefing? We're going to do the same thing we always do. I'm going to flirt with everyone until they give me information or get distracted. Ark will slice into their systems and get hard copies of the information we need. You'll be here, masterminding the whole thing."

Ransom stared at her hard for a moment, but Kai met her gaze with ease. Eventually, Ransom gave a little sigh and said, "Yeah, that's pretty much it. But be careful. We've got to get this job right. The merchant's guild has paid us a lot of credits for the information we need. Plus we stand to double our profit if we complete the mission on time. Maybe we should go over the plan again."

"Nah, I've got it," Kai assured her.

Ransom's eyes were like a med-scanner as she used her gift. Kai had always said that Ransom could spot a lie from five klicks with strangers and twice that with friends. Eventually, Ransom must have decided that Kai was telling the truth and nodded. "Fine, but be careful. Are you sure these layout schematics are up-to-date?"

"I'm insulted," Kai jokingly scowled. "Are my schematics ever outdated?"

"No," Ransom begrudgingly admitted. "Even I don't know how you find some of that information."

Kai beamed at the rare praise from her boss.

"You know," Ark started. Kai tensed - there was only one subject that could put that tone in Ark's voice. "We could really use you out in the field on this one, Ransom."

In half a heartbeat, Ransom was as on-edge as both of the other women. "You know that's not an option, Ark." She gave a forced-looking smile and shook her head. "Besides, you don't need me. You're both the best in your respective fields. This mission will be a total success."

The drastic change in mission outlook warned Kai that Ransom was ready to snap. All antics should be cut off immediately.

"Ark and I better go get ready, huh?" Kai said. "Sounds like we need to look the part."

"Comm me when you're ready and I'll activate your earpieces," Ransom said. She always could snap back into professionalism as naturally as taking a breath.

"We will," Kai promised, pulling Ark toward the door. "Ark, bring your outfit to my apartment, would you? You're better at doing hair than I am and I could use your help getting mine to look right."

As soon as they were in the turbolift, Kai puffed out a breath, trying to sound as non-judgmental as possible. "I don't know why you bothered asking her. She never reacts well to it."

Ark looked a little embarrassed. "I was going back over some of her old case files and I just- I got carried away. She was a legend. An actual one. There were stories about how good she was, and she didn't need to divide jobs like we do. She could flirt, slice, get everything she needed, and get out before anyone even realized there was a breach."

"I know, I've read the files, too," Kai reminded her friend. Ransom had been incredible back in the day. Granted, she was impressive now, but before she had stopped going out on jobs? She could have easily run Red Squad alone and made ten times what they were earning now... And then she would have no one to split profits with. "But you're starting to be a bit of a legend yourself… Ghost."

Ark's pale cheeks reddened with the compliment. "I don't even know how that one got started. And it's not good that people know about me at all."

Kai huffed out a breath at her friend. Ark was slender, pale in every sense of the word, and silent. She was also one of the fastest slicers Kai had ever seen… the fastest if they weren't counting Ransom. 'Ghost' was a natural nickname for her. Kai was only jealous that the nature of her designated task meant that she could never get notorious enough for a nickname. Being recognized would be the end of Kai's usefulness to Red Squad.

"Enjoy it, Ark!" Kai encouraged, squashing her own jealousy. "It's a compliment. Speaking of compliments, how is your trooper?"

"You mean Thire?" Ark asked, blushing a bit darker.

Kai chuckled. "Do you have another?"

"No!" Ark shook her head, smiling despite her apparent exasperation. "We talk a lot. Thire is a great guy."

"Are you going to see him again?"

"I'd like to," Ark admitted. "What about you and Thorn?"

"Thorn?" Kai asked, a bit taken aback. "No, nothing going on there. I had fun with him - you know, drinking, watching people on the dance floor, so on - but I don't think there's much of a future in it."

"That's disappointing," Ark said with a frown.

"No, 'disappointing' will be when we aren't ready on time and Ransom kills us both."

A little less than two hours later, both women were ready to go. There was a strange sort of line they had to toe in order to do their job well. Ark had to be dressed to blend in while Kai worked to stand out. All the attention had to be on Kai so that Ark could get in and do her job before anyone noticed what was happening. They had to arrive separately as well. Kai called two different speeders to her apartment, scheduling the second to arrive later than the first.

"So, who hired us again?" Kai asked when she was ensconced in a droid-piloted speeder.

Ransom sighed heavily through the earpiece. "Seriously, Kai? This is why you need to pay attention during briefings."

"The Bespin merchant's guild hired us to find out if the Felucian merchant's guild is spying on them," Ark informed her. Judging by the muted background noise from Ark's earpiece, she was just leaving Kai's apartment.

"They hired spies to see if the other guild hired spies?" Kai asked, chuckling.

"Merchants," Ransom said simply, sounding as if the word had been accompanied by a shrug.

"Arriving at location now," Kai reported. "Estimated entrance: two minutes."

"Two minutes, mark," Ransom replied.

Kai straightened her clothes and took a deep breath before she stepped into the guild hall. It was ornate and overdone, but that was fine: it matched everything she had done with her appearance.

There was a noticeable lull in conversation when Kai stepped inside. She wrestled her smirk into a pleasant smile as she accepted a glass of expensive wine from a serving droid. The form-fitting, low-cut dress floated around her, revealing shapely legs and the most delicate high heels she owned. Her versatile hair was done in a flattering updo. While her makeup was bold, it was tasteful enough that it didn't look overdone.

If Kai was honest, the hardest part of every mission was the pretending. She had to avoid all of the things she actually enjoyed in favor of appealing to onlookers as a sexual fantasy. She had to sip delicately at wine rather than guzzle hard spirits, she could only eat small bits of food that would be sure not to stick in her teeth or ruin her lipstick, and the tightness of her dress meant that she couldn't take a full step… or a full breath.

Being the bait was a nice ego boost, but everything else about it was kind of awful.

Even as Kai mentally tallied the negative aspects of her task, an older, orange-skinned Felucian gentleman sidled up to her. Kai vaguely recognized him as Ollo Set, the head of the Felucian merchant's guild. She continued giving her pasted-on smile.

"Good evening." Considering the height of Kai's towering heels, Set only just reached her chest. Undaunted, the Felucian put on a smile he clearly meant to be charming. "How can such a lovely woman be here alone?"

"Oh, I'm here with someone," she said, doing her best to sound both flirtatious and confused. "He was supposed to meet me here, but I haven't seen him yet."

"Well, whoever the lucky man is, he's a fool to miss even a moment of your radiant company," Set oozed. He took her hand so he could bow - very shallowly - and kiss the back of it.

Kai felt a rush of revulsion. She hated when they touched her. Still, she was a rather incredible actress, if she did say so herself, so she pasted a delicate smile on her lips. "Thank you, sir. It is comforting to find such kindness here, even if my date is later than I would have hoped."

Set patted her hand in a way that managed to be both fatherly and lecherous. "If he does not arrive shortly, I shall show you around myself. Your careless date should not cause you to miss meeting these incredible people."

"I may take you up on that offer! I'm Saro," Kai lied.

"Ollo Set," he returned, adjusting the jeweled cuffs of his jacket. "Leader of the Felucian Merchant's Guild. Pleasure to meet you, Saro. I must leave for a moment, but ask anyone to point you in my direction and you'll have no trouble finding me."

"Oh," she murmured, trying to sound impressed as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. Set watched her for a moment, looking stunned, then turned to meet with a group of well-dressed Felucians. The whole gathering shut themselves in a side room, leaving the party raging on without them.

Under the pretence of adjusting an earring, Kai activated her earpiece. "Meeting of the big guys - metaphorically big, anyway. Ark, what's your ETA?"

"Speeder trouble," Ark said, sounding irritated. "ETA: four minutes."

"Four minutes, mark," Ransom confirmed.

Kai circled through the room, chatting and picking at morsels of food while she kept an eye on the entrance. At least she didn't have to be subtle about it - her cover story allowed her to openly watch the new arrivals without looking suspicious.

"I'm right outside," Ark's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Are they still in the meeting?"

"Yes," Kai breathed, managing to work her answer into the conversation she was having with a drunk Felucian female.

Ark made her entrance seconds later. She wore a mousy brown wig and a tan dress tailored to disguise her slender figure. Carefully applied makeup had lent her colorless skin the appearance of more life. As a result, she didn't stand out overly much from the other humans in the room. Ark glanced at Kai, who subtly tilted her head toward the still-closed door.

With that, Ark made her way toward a hallway. According to the detailed schematics Kai had provided, the hall held both the refreshers and several data access points. At the last moment, a serving droid moved into Ark's way, intending to offer her a glass of wine. Ark, busy double-checking the door, tripped on the droid and flailed to recover her balance. Her small bag fell to the floor, spilling her slicing materials onto the carpet as the service droid beeped around frantically, trying to offer help. Kai watched with more than a little horror as the door to the guild meeting swung open. Ollo Set stepped out first, then paused and frowned over at the commotion caused by the serving droid.

Kai rushed over toward him. "Mr. Set!"

His pale orange gaze swung toward her instead, for which Kai was forever thankful. She had seen Ark starting to gather her tools, any one of which was recognizable as being part of a slicing project. Now, Kai simply had to hold the attention of Set and the other guild members, and she knew exactly how to do it.

Tugging at her dress in apparent distress, Kai revealed a bit more of her chest than she had previously been showing and forced tears to well in her eyes. When she reached Set and the accompanying guild members, she leaned down to speak with him. Her posture allowed the best vantage point for Set to see both the tears and the cleavage.

"What's wrong, my dear?" Set asked, looking first at her chest, then the tears, then her chest again.

"I just received word that my date isn't coming after all. He's stood me up!" she told him, letting one of the tears slip down her cheek. "Is there any chance you're still willing to accompany me this evening?"

"Why, Saro," he oozed, "I would be absolutely delighted. May I introduce the other leaders of the Felucian Merchant's Guild?"

Kai chanced a glance backward as she straightened up once more - leaning down in such a tight dress was killing her spine - and was pleased to watch Ark disappear safely down the hallway. Kai relaxed slightly and put a tearful smile on as she turned to be introduced to the other Felucians.

"Wait, I- I recognize you," one of the Felucians, this one a yellow-skinned female, said haltingly.

The smile slipped from Kai's face, but she had rekindled it a moment later. "Are you sure? I don't think we've ever met."

"I've seen your face somewhere before," the female insisted.

"What are you prattling on about, Ethoda?" Set asked, striving for a tone of boredom and achieving one of irritation.

"She's someone I know, and not in a good way," Ethoda insisted. Kai's stomach gave an odd little twist at the thought that someone had finally recognized her. The Felucian female at last said, "I'm fairly certain she's a prostitute!"

Well, that was unexpected. Kai gaped. "What? I'm not a- I am not a prostitute!"

"That's just what a prostitute would say," one of the other males muttered.

"Which is more likely: a beautiful human woman being interested in Ollo or that she's a prostitute?"

"That makes more sense than anything else I've heard tonight."

"I'll notify the Coruscant Guard," Ethoda offered, rushing away.

And that was that. Admittedly, the mission had been to keep attention away from Ark in whatever way was necessary, but Kai had never expected this to be the outcome. It wasn't the proudest moment of her life, but Kai sat quietly and waited for the Coruscant Guard. The only move she made was to 'fix her hair' and activate the earpiece.

"I can't believe I'm getting arrested for prostitution," she muttered. Ark and Ransom's frantic questions and sounds of outrage provided entertainment until the Coruscant Guard arrived.

A clone trooper in red and white armor marched into the room. "Commander Thorn. What's going on here?"

---

Thorn I

"This woman is a prostitute!"

Thorn was always the first to admit that he wasn't a lighthearted trooper. The laughter and jokes that came easy to his brothers weren't part of his repertoire. Still, even Thorn had gotten a kick out of the accusations that were being thrown Kai's way. It had taken him a minute or so to recognize her - especially with a group of Felucians insisting that her name was Saro - but her look of dread at his entrance had been a solid clue.

He had taken down the eyewitness details of the incident with care. Keeping his voice level was tricky, but no one could hear the mocking he knew was clear in his expression. When the long-winded Felucians finished talking, Thorn closed the document so he could place binders on Kai's wrists and lead her to his cruiser.

"I'll take her to the precinct," he told the Felucians.

He had to shut down the external speakers on his helmet when the leader of the group - an orange-skinned male who had introduced himself as 'Ollo Set', followed them outside. As he fixed Kai with a stern gaze and he said, "Let this be a lesson to you, young lady: there is no substitute for an honest day's work", Thorn laughed aloud.

Rather than risk reactivating his speaking and giving away the game, Thorn had nodded to acknowledge Set's thanks. He steered Kai into the back of the cruiser as soon as he could and settled into the front seat himself. They were in the air waiting to enter traffic when he finally thought it was safe to remove his bucket.

As he reached for the familiar plastoid curves, Kai snapped, "This is ridiculous. You know I'm not a prostitute."

Thorn broke the seal that had formed between his blacks and his helmet before answering. "Of course I know that. Do you think I leave the code to my binders in the backseat with every perp?"

"Oh," she said, ire deflating as she grabbed the scrap of flimsi and awkwardly typed the written code into the binders. "Then why-?"

"If I hadn't brought you in for a false claim like prostitution, they may have come up with something more difficult to fight." He met Kai's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Like industrial espionage."

There was no answer from the backseat and Thorn abruptly found the whole situation less amusing than he had previously. Industrial espionage was a nasty business, and he wasn't thrilled to find that Kai was wrapped up in it.

"Care to explain what you were doing at the headquarters for the Felucian merchant's guild?" he asked.

She sighed, looking conflicted. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. As long as it's the truth. I don't like listening to lies."

"Hey," she said, leaning forward with an offended look on her face. "I don't lie."

Thorn snorted. "You want to try feeding that line to the crowd of civvies back there who told me all about 'Saro'?"

"I lie at work because it's literally my job," Kai snapped. "I don't have a choice there, but I do everywhere else. I am not a liar."

"So your job is to lie and you wear revealing clothing while you do so," Thorn mused. "Are you sure you're not a prostitute?"

"I'm on an information securities team called Red Squad," she told him irritably. "We were hired to get intelligence from the Felucian merchant's guild."

"And they sent you in alone?" Thorn asked with an unfortunate chuckle.

"No, I wasn't there by myself," Kai admitted. "But I couldn't stay, not after having attracted that much attention. I don't even know if the mission was a success or not."

"Another private sector success, then," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "I take it that jobs don't always end this way?"

She snorted. "Believe it or not, this is the first time I've ever been arrested under suspicion of being a prostitute."

"It's a small and glorious club," he said. "It also signals the need for a career change. Ever thought about doing anything else? This espionage thing may not be your strong suit."

She grew quiet and Thorn saw her turn to stare out of the window. His heart skipped a beat. Stars, don't let her start crying... He felt an unusual wave of pity wash over him. Kai's day had clearly gone wrong and here she was being taken away from a formal event in the back of a police cruiser. Plus, Thorn's vode had always told him he could be abrasive, so chances were good that he wasn't helping matters.

"Hey, I'm not going to charge you with anything. Why don't you give me your address and I'll drive you home?"

"You can just drop me off here," she said frostily. "I can find my own way home."

"The kriff you will," he shut down immediately. "It's almost midnight. Coruscant isn't safe for civvies dressed like you are at this time of night."

"Maybe at the next intersection," Kai suggested, pretending she hadn't heard him.

"Maybe I'll take you to the precinct after all," Thorn threatened. "That way, I won't be responsible if you end up attacked or killed for walking through dangerous parts of the planet at night, looking like a-"

He cut himself off and Kai leaned forward, a challenging look on her pretty face. "Like a prostitute?"

Actually, he had been about to say that she looked like royalty, but her tart response knocked some sense back into him. "Yeah," he agreed instead. "Something like that."

"You're impossible," she told him, sounding tired. "Just… take me home."

She gave him the address, but Thorn could hardly hear it over the pounding of his heart. Kai probably hadn't meant for her words to sound inviting - far from it - but they had caused a pang of something long-buried in his memory. The feeling of home hadn't been one emphasized in flash training or any day since, but he had always imagined it would be the way he felt when he had heard Kai's request.

Still, he forced his mind back to his duty and plugged Kai's address into the navicomputer on his cruiser. Shortly afterward, they had arrived at a plain-looking building. Kai still hadn't said another word to him, which frustrated Thorn for some reason. They may not have exchanged comlink info like Thire and his girl had, but Thorn and Kai had gotten along at 79's. He couldn't remember a time he had laughed harder than when she drunkenly told an equally drunken Nikto that he had "scored a perfect 30" on the dance floor.

Deciding to make things right once and for all, Thorn shut off the cruiser and got out to open Kai's door.

"Thank you, Commander," she said stiffly. "Drive safe on your way back to the precinct."

"Hold on, let me walk you inside," he offered, injecting enough suffering into his tone that she would think it was a punishment. She didn't say anything to encourage him, but she didn't say he couldn't accompany her, either.

So Thorn found himself following Kai down two flights of narrow stairs to her housing unit. When they arrived at the door, he noted an odd lock keeping it closed. Still, he thought little of it until Kai also frowned and made a confused little sound.

Every instinct Thorn had demanded that he act. In half a second, he had grasped Kai around the waist, spun to place her behind him, and drawn one of his blaster pistols. He ignored Kai's questions and focused on the area, but his HUD wasn't showing any signs of potentially hostile lifeforms. More importantly, the strange lock wasn't bringing up any warnings.

"What's on your door?" he demanded, still scanning their surroundings.

"It's a lock," Kai explained slowly.

"I figured that," Thorn's response was dry. "What kind of lock and who put it there?"

"How do you know I didn't?"

"Body language, tension, and observation, now focus," Thorn commanded. "Who put that lock on your door?"

"Probably Ark," Kai admitted with a sigh. "It's for me to practice slicing."

The answer was so far beyond anything Thorn had been expecting that he actually let the barrel of his blaster drop toward the floor as he turned to face her. He repeated, "Slicing?"

"Yeah, I'm over-" Kai stopped her sentence halfway through. "You know what? I don't want to explain this to you."

"Do it anyway," Thorn advised. "Because I'm not leaving, otherwise."

She crossed her arms, kicking up her chin. Right as Thorn thought he would have to press her again, Kai said quietly, "I'm sick of being the bait. I want to do something useful, like slicing, but I'm not very good at it. Ark is trying to teach me and she's big on practice. She bought me this lock and said it would give me motivation to learn."

"So, she put a practice slicing lock on the door to your apartment. You would have to use your new skill to get inside," Thorn summarized. It sounded like something that his vode would do. He silently supported the endeavor even as he mentally noted the implication that Kai and Ark worked as some kind of team.

Still, Thorn holstered his blaster and gestured at the door. He took a step to the side so she could access the lock. "Well, go ahead. Slice."

Kai looked at him, eyes severe. "I'm not any good at it and I'm tired. Do you know anything about slicing?"

"Not a thing," said Commander Thorn of the GAR, official head of the department overseeing arrests and difficult extractions that often included slicing.

"I could get a hotel room for tonight…" she mused.

Thorn rolled his eyes. She was as dramatic as Hound. "Or you could just try it. Your friend wouldn't put an unsliceable lock on your door, would she?"

"Probably not," Kai agreed with palpable reluctance. She sighed and pulled a small set of tools out from behind a potted plant in the hallway as Thorn watched with growing amusement.

Kai placed the scramble key on the back of the lock, but it was backwards and wouldn't work. "What are you doing?"

"Unlocking the door? I'm pretty sure," Kai told him, poking at the lock. "I don't know why the key isn't registering, though."

"Explain the process to me," he invited.

She turned to stare at him, seeming shocked. "You want me to teach you how to slice?"

"Why not?" Thorn asked. "Teaching a skill is one of the best ways to see if you've learned it."

"Fine," Kai huffed. "First, you attach the scramble key to the back of the lock… oops. That's definitely backwards. Anyway! Once the system has registered the key, it can start running possible combinations. Then your only job is to keep the security systems from booting you out."

Thorn watched the process, trying not to smile as Kai clumsily shut down security checks and shutdown attempts. Her methods weren't pretty, but they were effective, and the lock dropped from the door after a few minutes of work.

He retrieved the lock and the scramble key for her, taking a moment to study the key close-up. Thorn hadn't seen anything like it before. That was impressive, considering how much of his job revolved around slicing attempts. The key was homemade, like all the best scramble keys were, but on a level that told him how well the maker understood the process of slicing.

"Interesting key," he commented, hiding his interest. "Where did you get it?"

Kai glanced at it, unimpressed. "Ark gave it to me. She said it was trustworthy."

So Ark was a slicer. If she had been the one who made that key, she was kriffing good at it, too. Thorn made a mental note to ask Thire about the woman he had been spending so much time talking to. A moment later, that and all other coherent thoughts left his mind as Kai turned back and asked, "Do you want to come inside?"

He stared at her, dark brows furrowed. "You don't like me."

"I don't like when you mock me," she corrected. "But I like you just fine. Plus, you aren't arresting me when we both know you could. I think that's worth a cup of caf. Maybe even a cookie."

"Maybe even two cookies," he joked, following her into the apartment.

Kai gave a teasing scoff over her shoulder. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

---

A/N - Poor Kai. That would have to be a pretty hefty blow to your ego! Good thing Thorn was the one to respond - even if he did lie about knowing how to slice. On that note, do you know who knows nothing about slicing? Me. So if anyone is an expert about the process and this reads poorly, I'm sorry! I just started playing Republic Commando and did a lengthy skim on the Wikipedia page about slicing, but that's the extent of my knowledge.

#Warriors in Red Armor #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #tcw #commander thorn #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander thire #sergeant hound #clone troopers deserve better #more to come

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visionsofus · 3 years

Note

Hey I just wanted to tell you that your writing is really great. I love reading your fics. You are doing a really great job and I hope you continue and enjoy writing as much as we all enjoy reading. I was wondering if you still take requests because I think that the song Remedy be Adele would maybe fit wanda and vision between cacw and iw really good. Thank you for your time. I'm off now re-reading all you fics. Have a great day :)

hello anon! gosh this has taken me a while, I hope you don't mind :) I really loved your song prompt and I hope you like the direction I have gone with it (though it is more post AoU than post CW sorry :')

Track #25: Remedy by Adele

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Wanda comes back injured from a mission and Vision has to come to terms with her mortality, and the limits of their relationship. Tender touching and the intimacy of tending to wounds.

Ten minutes into his pacing Vision grew worried that he might wear down the carpet. Instead, he rose a foot off the air and took to floating back and forth before the third-floor windows. It was the perfect vantage point to watch the empty drive leading from the gate to the compound’s front door.

Ten minutes quickly lapsed into half an hour, yet he had still heard no update from his teammates since the foreboding message which marked a start to his anxious pacing.

Everything went well. ETA 1 hr – stopping at hospital first.

Vision had sent something back along the lines of – if everything is okay then why the hospital? But was yet to receive a reply. The compound was equipped with a certified med bay extensive enough for most simple injuries, for Steve, Nat, Sam and Wanda to stop at a hospital meant they thought it something beyond their capabilities.

An ounce of the tension in his shoulder dissipated as he watched the front gate slowly open, and the hulking SUV begin down the drive.

Vision reached the driveway below just as the car pulled up beside the front door. From what he could see, the team looked to be in good spirits. There were smiles all round despite the soot across their faces and some general wear and tear.

“Is everything alright?” Vision demanded as Steve reached the door.

“All fine, just a little more fire power than we were expecting.”

“Who was hurt?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, then glanced over his shoulder. “Wanda.”

Vision started forward but Steve placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Easy,” he said quietly, “don’t smother her, all things considered, it wasn’t too serious.”

Vision held Steve’s gaze a moment longer before shrugging the captain’s hand off and heading for Wanda’s side of the car. She was being helped out by Nat which Vision quickly saw was owing to the white cotton sling tied around Wanda’s neck.

When Natasha had Wanda steady on her feet she let go and left them alone, giving Vision an all too knowing look as she passed. He held his arm out for Wanda to hold as she started towards the front steps, but she ignored it.

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, a hospital trip is absolutely fine.” It was a challenge to keep the sarcasm from his tone.

“Don’t,” Wanda said holding a hand up and Vision wisely stayed a step behind her.

A few moments of silence later and Vision felt he were able to ask her properly. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” There was an earnestness to her voice that he couldn’t help believing. “It was just a bit of a burn and Cap was worried about treating it ourselves, because of scarring and stuff…” Wanda trailed off as she turned away from Vision.

So, it wasn’t quite as bad as he had feared but it scared him nonetheless. These sorts of accidents hadn’t been uncommon in the year since he had joined the Avengers. But the fear, no matter how synthetic, never failed to unnerve him. His teammates readily accepting such risks to their fragile human bodies was even more scary. For Wanda especially, he always worried. Not because she couldn’t handle herself, Vision had seen and experienced her force firsthand. Rather, he dreaded the idea of anything bad happening to her. Vision had first been confronted with her mortality as he’d watched her suspended in mid-air, her city hurtling to the ground. It was an image that had often occupied his thoughts since.

Vision hadn’t noticed the takeout that Sam had retrieved from the back of the car, so he was surprised to see the full meal set out on the table when they arrived upstairs. He frowned with concern noticing just how much slower Wanda’s steps were as she took her seat at the dining table.

Vision sat next to her, taking the glass of water that Sam passed down to him and onto Wanda. Next came a plate loaded with three different kinds of pasta dishes which he set in front of Wanda.

He watched as she stabbed a few pieces of pasta onto her fork, turning purposefully to him and pointedly shovelling it into her mouth. Vision looked away sheepishly, practically hearing her satisfied smile as he did. Don’t smother her, he reminded himself.

He stayed quiet throughout dinner, half listening to the team recounting their mission, only really paying attention when they described Wanda’s injury. He was grateful to hear that the burns weren’t bad, though he noticed Wanda’s barely concealed winces when she bumped her arm against the table every now and then.

After dinner they all migrated to the television, a regular routine when it was just the five of them in the compound. Vision leant against the living room wall, his eyes flickering between the last light of the sunset which was casting the sky in shades of violet, and Wanda, who had settled into the couch for the evening news.

Steve had said that the doctors hadn’t seen the need to prescribe any pain medications for Wanda besides simple aspirin and Vision knew that Wanda had a higher pain tolerance than most. It didn’t mean she should deal with the pain though – so he set about researching the best options for helping with burn pain.

The evening continued on smoothly though Vision’s mind was far from the television that occupied his friends. It was always like this when someone get hurt, everyone acted like it was normal even as they all harboured secret concerns – he saw how everyone’s eyes followed Wanda as she moved to the kitchen for tea.

“You don’t need to hover, Vis,” Wanda said, not looking over her shoulder but having heard him follow her.

“I—” he meant to say he wasn’t hovering, but that would be something of a lie. Wanda smiled and raised her eyebrows as he leant against the kitchen island, the kettle boiling noisily about them. “I’m sorry, I was just worried.”

“It’s alright, thank you for worrying about me,” Wanda said pouring the water, keeping her sling carefully out of the way, “but I promise, I am fine.”

He didn’t reply, following her back to the living room and allowing himself to sit when she indicated he should join her on the couch.

Vision was pulled from his mind, and the rabbit hole he had fallen down regarding burn rehabilitation, when Wanda yawned and stretched gracefully beside him.

“I’m off to bed,” she said to the others, getting to her feet and waving good night to them over her shoulder. There were noncommittal murmurs of ‘goodnight’ in return from Steve and Sam, Natasha had since gone to bed herself. Today’s mission had worn them all out more than usual.

Vision shifted in his seat, fingers tapping nervously against his knee. He lasted a minute and a half before getting to his feet and following Wanda off down the corridor. Her bedroom door was closed. They had something of an open-door policy at the compound – if your bedroom door was open, you were open to company, if not – well…

He resumed his pacing from that afternoon, walking up and down the corridor outside Wanda’s room and weighing up his options. He could risk irritating her further by knocking on the door to see if she wanted company, or he could trust that she was okay as she claimed and go to his own room.

He had just resolved to return to his own quarters when she called his name from behind the shut door. Without hesitating, Vision phased through the wall, arriving swiftly in her bedroom, a space he was more familiar with than his own room.

What he saw before him had heat crawling up his neck and sent him spinning around. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry I thought you said my name—”

He tried to rid the image that was currently burned into his mind, even as his heart beat wildly in his ears.

“No, I did call you,” Wanda said, he heard the sound of her struggling, “I need help.”

When Vision didn’t make to move from where he was, Wanda spoke again. “Vision you can look, it’s not that big a deal.”

Vision swallowed, turning around but keeping his eyes on the floor, nonetheless. When he finally looked up, he was able to confirm what he had seen upon entering her room. Wanda was – well she was stuck. Her slinged arm was raised above her head, caught on the edge of her top as she had seemingly tried to struggle out of her clothes.

“I think,” Vision said, speaking quietly, “that you’re supposed to undo the sling before you change.”

“Yes, well,” Wanda huffed, “I only have two hands and one of them I can’t use.”

Vision glanced up to her face, refusing to acknowledge her mostly bare torso, the slope of her back, her waist, her chest.

“A little help, please?”

“Oh – of course!” Vision said starting forward, unsure where to begin. Wanda watched him approach and turned, nodding her head to the knot tied at the back of her neck.

Delicately, Vision untied the knot, letting her injured arm free of its sling, his eyes firmly focused on not looking below her shoulders. Wanda turned around to him and he held his hands out to help lift the top off, waiting for her invitation before he touched her.

“Go on,” she raised her arms to the best of her ability, the top hiking higher up her ribs as she did.

Vision pulled her top over her bandaged upper arm, freeing it from the thin material before doing the same on the other arm. With the utmost care, and desperately trying not to think about the tense quiet between them, Vision laid his hands on the hem of the top, pulling it up and over her head. He let the top fall onto the bed, unable to keep his eyes away from her as she shook her hair out of her face.

Vision started and quickly turned around again, the intimacy sending his eyes back to a spot on the wall which he bore into intently. He listened to the rustling of fabric as Wanda pulled a sweater over her head. When she was done, she tapped his shoulder, her other hand extending the sling for him to support her arm with again.

Vision leant in, looping the fabric around her shoulder, taking care to not jostle her wounded arm.

“Do you not fear getting hurt?” He asked hesitantly, his chin brushing against her forehead as he finished the loose knot.

“Of course I do,” Wanda murmured back, her eyes closed contently as Vision pulled back a little and set about readjusting the fabric to make it more comfortable.

“How do you manage it?” Vision asked. “The fear.”

“I don’t.” Wanda’s reply was a harsh confession that had Vision’s own heart clenching empathetically.

He finished with the sling, gently brushing her hair over her shoulder. “How do I manage it?” He hadn’t really meant to speak it aloud, but it was an honest question. He wasn’t sure how long Wanda would still want to be around him if he hovered like this every time she got the smallest injury. Vision would do anything not to jeopardise their current relationship, this thing that was something and wasn’t at the same time. Anything to reinforce the line between friendship and whatever was on the other side that they both seemed intent on keeping to.

“We manage it together,” Wanda said softly, shrugging with her good shoulder. “We take it one day at a time, one accident at a time and we help each other.”

Vision smiled at her, reaching out to cradle her hand gently. “I suppose we can manage that.”

#wanda vision #wanda x vision #scarletvision #soft fics #visionsofusfics #post AoU #wanda maximoff #the vision #domestic shit #tending to each others wounds

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mason-knight · 3 years

Text

follows X (but before X lol)

Every now and then, the universe gives you a gift, Mason has the barest wherewithal to think. It hands you everything you never knew you wanted - wrapped up in a stylish suit, a gold flecked eyes and six little words that change everything.

He stares at Ethan, his breath sharp on an inhale and held… held tight because he can’t have this so close, handed to him on a platter and have it taken away. Maybe it’s not real, maybe he is really just asleep on his bunk dreaming this while the stars pass outside, maybe Ajax had made good on his thinly veiled threats or maybe the fury finally wholloped him hard enough to hard to send him to the med bay-

But no, there’s no mistaking this reality or the tortured look on the face of the man in front of him. There’s no fight in Ethan now and Mason has never seen him so shattered, so weak but to Mason, he’s never been more beautiful.

“Ethan, I…” He shakes his head, raises a fist to his mouth and tries to blink back the sudden wetness in his eyes. His voice is so rough, tight through his throat when he tries to speak. “Ethan, I swear to god, this had better not be one of your games.”

There’s a flash in Ethan’s eye that Mason immediately regrets.

“If it was, do you really think I’d be here? I had to beg my way onto this ship. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life, Mason, and that’s saying something.”

“You have to know…” Panic makes Mason’s hands tremble. It’s right there. Everything he’s never let himself dream to want. It’s right there in front of him for the taking. And suddenly he’s terrified. “You have to know how I feel about you. You do know, that’s why you broke it off and now? Coming here, saying this… god, Ethan, you have to know what this is going to mean to me. What I want out of this-”

Ethan’s mouth twist twists ruefully. “Kind of counting on it, actually… If you don’t hate me.”

“Hate you? Hate you?” Mason laughs incredulously, shaking his head. “You mean too much to me to ever hate you, god. I was pissed, yeah, but don’t… don’t fucking say it if you don’t mean it, Ethan. I don’t care if you don’t, I can live with that, but don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I swear, Mase. I love you,” Ethan says it again, like a levee has broken and he can’t keep the words inside him any longer. Like he’s desperate to make Mason understand. “I’m in love with you and I-“

The rest of Ethan’s words are lost under the crush of Mason’s mouth.

He doesn’t remember moving. He doesn’t remember crossing the tiny space between them, only that he couldn’t hold back from touching the man in front of him after being apart for so long - not for another second, not with those words and all that they mean hanging in the air between them. He grips Ethan tight, hands around his waist and in his hair, running over the muscles of his back until they settle against Ethan’s jaw – and hold him there. Ethan returns in kind, hands up to grasp at Mason’s face, with a strangled sound that vibrates up his throat into Mason's mouth.

The need that burns through him, the feeling of Ethan against him is like coming home. The shuddering of Mason’s universe settles and shifts and clicks back into all the places it should be.

Home. Here was his home.

“Ethan,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against Ethan’s when they’re finally forced to draw apart for air. He's not sure if it’s him that’s crying or if the sounds are from the man he’s about to offer his heart to. It doesn’t matter anyway, not when he finally has Ethan’s skin under his palms and his whiskey sweet breath on his tongue. “I love you too. I’m in love with you,” he whispers, peppering kisses between each phrase. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Mase-” Ethan’s hands are on him then, hungry and insistent, like he’s been starving for too long. The grip on Mason tightens, hard enough to bruise but Mason welcomes the bite of pain, hopes there will be marks left behind even through the dermal weave of his skin to remind him of this moment. So he can trace them and watch them bloom and know that it’s not just a fantasy and that this is real, that Ethan is really here and not just a phantom of Mason’s unacknowledged wishes.

Mason tears his lips away long enough to suck in air and catch Ethan’s gaze. He cups Ethan’s head and presses their foreheads together. His heart is beating so fast, like it might burst out of his chest at any moment and his cheeks feel damp. He’s sure he tastes salt in their kiss. “God, I missed you.”

Ethan pulls him close and Mason tucks his face against Ethan’s jaw, breathing him in. “I missed you too. I couldn’t breathe without you.”

The wave is intense when it rolls over him.

“So, why?” Mason whispers helplessly then, the one thing suddenly plaguing him. Maybe it’s not the time, but he has to know, even if a little voice inside of him tries to scream its doubt. A small shudder ripples through him and he pulls back to search Ethan’s gaze. “Why did you break it off- If you knew I loved you, and you feel the same…” Mason thinks about the last few painful weeks. That they could have been avoided.

“It may come as a startling surprise,” Ethan drawls tiredly, but Mason catches the weary smile in his voice. The relief. His own heart becomes light with the knowledge Ethan is his now and the last of the secrets between them are gone. “But sometimes I’m not always the smartest person in the room.”

Mason’s lips suddenly twitch with mock suspicion as he leans back and eyes Ethan critically.

“Alright,” he says teasingly. “Who are you really and what have you done with the real Ethan Sinclair? Did Cynthia send back a clone? Are there more of you? Because I might be into that-”

Ethan’s brows snap together in irritation and Mason finds himself pulled into another smothering hug to stop him talking. He swallows down his laugh, almost giddy now, high on life and and unstoppable, like a kid at the candy bar at party indulging in too many sweets and not even caring about the inevitable crash later because he knows Ethan will be there to catch him.

“Not even remotely funny, Huntsman.”

Mason allows himself to be stifled, just for a moment, before nuzzling against Ethan’s jaw and brushing his nose against the stubble there. He breathes Ethan in, reminds himself once again he’s not dreaming. He recognizes the struggle it took for Ethan to be here and takes comfort in the proof of it.

He presses a kiss to Ethan’s mouth in a silent apology, serious again.

“You were trying to protect me, I get it. But I never wanted protection from you, Eth. Never needed it until now. But fuck, promise me you won’t go back. Promise me you won’t ever go back. That’s not your home anymore.”

Ethan brackets Mason’s face with his big hands and stares into his eyes. “I know that now.”

“Good,” Mason lifts his chin, wanting another kiss but there’s a flicker of hesitation in the gold flecks he loves so much. “Ethan, what is it?”

Ethan glances away. “Mase, I can’t promise I won’t fuck it up-“

“One day at a time, Sabre,” Mason gives him a rueful smile, presses another kiss to the side of Ethan’s perfect jaw and grips his hips with his palms. He pulls Ethan against him, grinds slightly so Ethan knows just the effect he’s had on him, not that he could ever doubt it. “We’ll just take it one day at a time. Like we always do. It’s all we can do.”

Ethan’s eyes drift closed. “Marie could only get me forty two hours. Forty one now, probably.”

“It’s enough.”

“Is it?”

“Enough for you to show me just how much you mean it.”

Ethan’s eyes go dark like Mason knew they would. The secret thrill that it only takes a few words to ignite the embers in the man in front of him. He hopes it stays like that between them always.

Mason draws Ethan close once again, cupping the back of his head as he sweeps his lips over his first in a gentle kiss that belies the heat already starting to spark inside him. He revels in the familiarity of Ethan’s embrace, the way their bodies align flawlessly to each other as though they had been created with the other in mind - perfect counterparts to a single whole. Even their biotics hum and flow in bone deep harmony around the edges of their skin. It’s Mason’s world made right, the equilibrium that had been so shaken until now settling and solidifying into something perfect and real and eternal.

There’s one, single fundamental truth that settles into his bones: He has everything if he has Ethan.

Their kiss deepens, and Mason shivers as fingers of desire walk up his spine and greedy hands pluck at clothing and tongues and lips hungrily sweep over skin. He’s inching his hands up under Ethan’s shirt when Ethan suddenly draws back, a frown on his face, like he’s heard something in the distance he can’t parse. Mason senses it too, a fraction of a second before the door hisses open.

“What the hell?”

Ethan blinks at the small whir and click of metallic feet. “Mase, is that a Loki mech with a plant stuck to it?”

The drone toddles in and Mason wants to groan. “I’m gonna kill all of them,” he mutters, gritting his teeth instead. “I finally get you back and now I’m being cockblocked by a plant with legs?! The fuck.”

He peers around the door, Ethan at his shoulder and of course, they’re all there, even the engineer, despite Nico’s valiant efforts to herd them all away. There’s a final holler from Ben at the end of the hall before silence descends and they’re left alone again.

Mason catches Ethan’s eye, a silent exchange travelling between them before their lips twitch. Ethan laughs then, the first real laugh in weeks and Mason catches the way it lights up Ethan’s face, savours it and files it away to turn over in his mind over and over for when their forty two hours are up.

His own smile is light when he reaches for Ethan’s hand and rubs a thumb over the back of his palm. Ethan’s fingers entwine with his and grip him back tightly.

“I suppose you’d better go say hi, or Ben’s timing might be a lot worse next time.”

#mason knight #ethan sinclair #scooter roosevelt #holy shit im exhausted this was draining but im so glad its out #mason voice: wait are we boyfriends now?#lol idiots

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hockeysweetheart · 4 years

Text

I was thinking about Katniss saying she never wanted to have children. I noticed most of the time she said she never wanted kids Gale was involved. Yes there are points fear yes if her and Peeta had kids with Snow in power. Her children would have a one way ticket to the games. But after the Peeta’s baby bomb she was like okay didn’t expect then then very shortly after she’s like well the damage is done thank god I had no say in this. and Then a few chapters later she was like it’s not my plan to have kids with Gale your crazy. 2 seconds later oh I dream of a world Peeta’s child is safe.

Okay Katniss who knew Gale better but Peeta longer. She is totally like me Marry Gale ahahaha your so Funny Me Have his children pfft not a freaking Chance. But when it comes to Peeta she could of denied it but she didn’t. sure she said “it’s for an act” but she knows she was fooling herself saying that because of the sheer fact that she was like well he’s not that bad... blushes... plus she never worked up any excuse for Hey Peeta we over. Because I truely beileve she had feeling for him the whole damn time. and when it came to Gale she’s like were friends. Peeta it’s like oh my god you saved my life I can’t live without you. ( without admitting shes in love with him). becuase lord knows how long that took. anyways I got off track a bit.

I’ll say this again she wanted to be with Gale because it would be the biggest slap in the face to the Capitol but she couldn’t let go of Peeta. without Fail every single time she had sparks with Gale her Feelings for Peeta were not far behind. Plus she totally burned that bridge when Gale came out as a player. but It’s Gale confusing Katniss when they kissed. Because not once before the games did he say btw I like you any sign of it that Katniss caught on. Whereas Peeta is flirting with Katniss the whole freaking time. and yes Katniss is a little slow to catch on so slow in fact it took Peeta to tell the whole world that he’s madly in love with the world before she realized that he was just a boy in love with me. ( in fact it took her longer to realize that).

Okay Katniss is a bit slow to show it. But some kisses were for I couldn’t do this without you. That beach kiss was all love sweetheart ( at that point we all knew that Peeta won Katniss’s heart.) But like Gale literally almost got whipped to death and her reaction was like was like just give him the meds to knock him out let him slip away. and for Peeta when he hit that force field it’s like oh my god I cannot live without you. Don’t ever do that again. and like later without Peeta I’ll never be truely happy again. I do I need you. I’ll be damaged beyond repare with you gone.

Below are some refences I pulled up of The whole “ not having kids or marrying to doing both” subject...

chapter 1 the hunger games

"We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly. "What?" I ask. "Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale. I don't know how to respond. The idea is so preposterous. "If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly. They're not our kids, of course. But they might as well be. Gale's two little brothers and a sister. Prim. And you may as well throw in our mothers, too, because how would they live without us? Who would fill those mouths that are always asking for more? With both of us hunting daily, there are still nights when game has to be swapped for lard or shoelaces or wool, still nights when we go to bed with our stomachs growling. "I never want to have kids," I say. "I might. If I didn't live here," says Gale. "But you do," I say, irritated. "Forget it," he snaps back. The conversation feels all wrong. Leave? How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I'm certain I love? And Gale is devoted to his family. We can't leave, so why bother talking about it? And even if we did. even if we did. where did this stuff about having kids come from? There's never been anything romantic between Gale and me. When we met, I was a skinny twelve-year-old, and although he was only two years older, he already looked like a man. It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade and begin helping each other out. Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won't have any trouble finding a wife. He's good-looking, he's strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.

the hunger games chapter 3

Finally, Gale is here and maybe there is nothing romantic between us, but when he opens his arms I don't hesitate to go into them. His body is familiar to me - the way it moves, the smell of wood smoke, even the sound of his heart beating I know from quiet moments on a hunt - but this is the first time I really feel it, lean and hard-muscled against my own.

the hunger games chapter 10

I don't know what to think. "I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid." "No, your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real," says Portia. "She's just worried about her boyfriend," says Peeta gruffly, tossing away a bloody piece of the urn. My cheeks burn again at the thought of Gale. "I don't have a boyfriend." "Whatever," says Peeta. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?" The words are sinking in. My anger fading. I'm torn now between thinking I've been used and thinking I've been given an edge. Haymitch is right. I survived my interview, but what was I really? A silly girl spinning in a sparkling, dress. Giggling. The only moment of any substance I hail was when I talked about Prim. Compare that with Thresh, his silent, deadly power, and I'm forgettable. Silly and sparkly and forgettable. No, not entirely forgettable, I have my eleven in training.

the hunger games chapter 23

Four of us left.

For the first time, I allow myself to truly think about the possibility that I might make it home. To fame. To wealth. To my own house in the Victor's Village. My mother and Prim would live there with me. No more fear of hunger. A new kind of freedom. But then. what? What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I'm not really sure who I am, what my identity is. The idea scares me some. I think of Haymitch, with all his money. What did his life become? He lives alone, no wife or children, most of his waking hours drunk. I don't want to end up like that.

"But you won't be alone," I whisper to myself. I have my mother and Prim. Well, for the time being. And then. I don't want to think about then, when Prim has grown up, my mother passed away. I know I'll never marry, never risk bringing a child into the world. Because if there's one thing being a victor doesn't guarantee, it's your children's safety. My kids' names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone else's. And I swear I'll never let that happen.

catching fire chapter 2 ( this was what katniss was gonna say to gale after he kissed her)

That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened.

Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way.

catching fire chapter 4

In my room, I remove my sodden slippers, my wet robe and pajamas. There are more in the drawers but I just crawl between the covers of my bed in my underclothes. I stare into the darkness, thinking about my conversation with Haymitch. Everything he said was true about the Capitol's expectations, my future with Peeta, even his last comment. Of course, I could do a lot worse than Peeta. That isn't really the point, though, is it? One of the few freedoms we have in District 12 is the right to marry who we want or not marry at all. And now even that has been taken away from me. I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. If we do, they'll have to face the reaping each year. And wouldn't it be something to see the child of not one but two victors chosen for the arena? Victors' children have been in the ring before. It always causes a lot of excitement and generates talk about how the odds are not in that family's favor. But it happens too frequently to just be about odds. Gale's convinced the Capitol does it on purpose, rigs the drawings to add extra drama. Given all the trouble I've caused, I've probably guaranteed any child of mine a spot in the Games.

catching fire chapter 18

There. He's done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him. Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna's talents, whereas Peeta needs nothing more than his wits. As the bomb explodes, it sends accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying out in every direction. Even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthirsty person out there can't ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is. I am pregnant. The audience can't absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help. And me? I know my face is projected in a tight close-up on the screen, but I don't make any effort to hide it. Because for a moment, even I am working through what Peeta has said. Isn't it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future - the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now, couldn't it? If I hadn't spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family?

The moment we step off the elevator, Peeta grips my shoulders. "There isn't much time, so tell me. Is there anything I have to apologize for?"

"Nothing," I say. It was a big leap to take without my okay, but I'm just as glad I didn't know, didn't have time to second-guess him, to let any guilt over Gale detract from how I really feel about what Peeta did. Which is empowered.

catching fire chapter 24

Peeta won't let him, though. "It's too dangerous," he says. "I'm not tired. You lie down, Katniss." I don't object because I do need to sleep if I'm to be of any use keeping him alive. I let him lead me over to where the others are. He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. "You're going to make a great mother, you know," he says. He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick. His reference to the baby signals that our time-out from the Games is over. That he knows the audience will be wondering why he hasn't used the most persuasive argument in his arsenal. That sponsors must be manipulated. But as I stretch out on the sand I wonder, could it be more? Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if that was it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that's never been part of my plan. And for another, if only one of us can be a parent, anyone can see it should be Peeta. As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe.

mockingjay chapter 3

I skim my list. "Gale. I'll need him with me to do this." "With you how? Off camera? By your side at all times? Do you want him presented as your new lover?" Coin asks. She hasn't said this with any particular malice - quite the contrary, her words are very matter-of-fact. But my mouth still drops open in shock. "What?" "I think we should continue the current romance. A quick defection from Peeta could cause the audience to lose sympathy for her," says Plutarch. "Especially since they think she's pregnant with his child." "Agreed. So, on-screen, Gale can simply be portrayed as a fellow rebel. Is that all right?" says Coin. I just stare at her. She repeats herself impatiently. "For Gale. Will that be sufficient?" "We can always work him in as your cousin," says Fulvia.

"We're not cousins," Gale and I say together.

"Right, but we should probably keep that up for appearances' sake on camera," says Plutarch. "Off camera, he's all yours. Anything else?"

I'm rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I'm in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I'm devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. "When the war is over, if we've won, Peeta will be pardoned."

Dead silence. I feel Gale's body tense. I guess I should have told him before, but I wasn't sure how he'd respond. Not when it involved Peeta.

mockingjay

They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much.

The questions are just beginning. The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they teach about them at school, and the girl knows we played a role in them. The boy will know in a few years. How can I tell them about that world without frightening them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted:

My children, who don't know they play on a graveyard. Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver. But one day I'll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won't ever really go away. I'll tell them how I survive it. I'll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away. That's when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years. But there are much worse games to play.

#thg #Katniss #katniss everdeen #Peeta #Peeta Mellark #gale hawthorne #gale #Hunger Games #The Hunger Games #CatchingFire #catching fire #mockingjay #katniss and peeta #everlark

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detroitbydark · 3 years

Text

Title: Play With Fire- Part 2

Characters: Migs Mayfeld/”Pockets” (OC)

Rating: T

Summary: First Impressions

Warning: Blood? but not gore

A/N: So apparently Pockets is now and OC and I have more ideas then I care to admit for this pairing. Thank you to @crimson-dxwn for being my beta extraordinaire and listening to my rants and raves. Anything ya'll wanna know about these two crazy kids? let me know and I might explore it. Also, 3 ABY is approximately one year before the battle of Endor and the second Death Star and their reunion ( the first part in this) takes place about 9 ABY sometime after the second season of The Mandalorian.

3 ABY

Sometimes you made the shot of a lifetime. Sometimes you didn’t.

Sometimes you made that once in millennia shot as Rebel artillery was destroying your nest and you went tumbling ass over blaster down a ravine with half a ton of loose debris and rocks.

You couldn’t win them all.

Migs got this. He understood it like he understood his unfortunate short stature or the hairline that had receded for too early in life. Those were the breaks.

You either lived with it or died with it and he was fully set on living until he was old and shriveled.

Some days it just sucked.

Today was one of those days.

“We got a live one coming through. Clear a table, will ya?”

The voice of his squad mate, Crikes, was too loud on his right as his weight pressed heavily into Smitty on his left. The rough outer rim accent bounced around in his bucket like a stray blaster bolt.

Kriff his head hurt.

Everything hurt actually, from his head to the tips of his toes. The slide hadn’t been that bad. Seven meters? Maybe ten? It was the sharp obsidian stone that had come down with him that had done him in. The razor sharp black stone had bludgeoned and gouged his armor, weaseling its way into the cracks and under the plastoid plating. It cut at his skin with each move he made. If the stims hadn’t helped numb him up he’d probably have passed out when the assault droid had helped yank him from the rubble. His gauntlets were both cracked and he could feel a cool breeze coming through the cracks in his back plate. He’d liked his armor. Command wasn’t gonna take to kindly with having to replace it.

It was nice to pretend his biggest concern was getting a new set of plastoid requisitioned.

“Hey medic!” Crikes’ voice cuts through his thoughts, “I said we need a hand over here!”

“Maker… do you have to yell so fragging loud? I mean-“

“What are you going on about?” Looking back he’s never sure what it was that he noticed first, but he likes to think it was her voice. Like an holomodel fantasy out of a good spice trip, she shuts that Hutt humping Crikes up, marching over with her hands on her hips and scowl on her face.

“We got an Imperial war hero here.” Crikes sounds chastened, but Migs doesn’t bother to look over to see if his face matches what he’s hearing because he’s in the presence of a fragging angel.

“Yeah? Look around. Got a lot of heroes here.” Sarcasm flows from her pretty pouty lips like water from a fountain. She sweeps her arm toward the other beds and the piles of bloodied plastoid littering the small field hospital. “This one ain’t any better or worse.”

Migs frowns under cover of his helmet. For a while he’s been wondering if he might have some bleeding going on somewhere. He feels a bit woozy when he turns his head too quickly to follow the angel as she grabs a datapad off a nearby cart. He was better then a majority of the scum around him. He was a sharpshooter, best of the best, and the bastard who single-handedly brought down the pair of x-Wings decimating their ground troops.

He tries to tell her as such but the words don’t come out of his mouth in any coherent thought. Angel freezes, looking up from the datapad she barks to his squad mate and Migs suddenly feels his bucket being pulled from his head.

“Designation number trooper.”

It’s an order not a question. He didn’t like orders, even from his own superiors but she’s damn pretty and his head hurts…

“Trooper? A number?” Angel looks up from the datapad. There’s concern on her face. She’s scanning his injuries. The ones she can see. Were they that bad? Migs reaches up and feels something warm and sticky against his temple.

“FO-593” Smitty offers for him.

“593… got it…” she takes a step closer, setting the datapad down and pulling gloves from her pocket. She’s got the prettiest hazel eyes, long lashes. Migs wonders if she’s seeing anyone. It’s probably one of those civvie doctors that signed on…

“593-“

“Mayfeld. It’s Migs Mayfeld.” He clarifies, ‘cause a pretty girl like her should be saying his name.

“Alright, Mayfeld, what happened?”

“He saved our asses is what he did!”

Crikes again. Maker, if the bastard kept stealing his glory he was going to deck him. Once the room stopped spinning.

“You know what?” The Angel looks about as amused with Crikes as

Migs felt. “I think it’s high time you two go get some rations in you and leave Mayfeld and I to our own devices.”

Smitty elbows Crikes, the plastoid of armor clattering as he tips his head toward the entrance.

“I’m good boys,” Migs offers the other two field operatives, “Let me get some alone time with the pretty girl.”

He ignores the raised brow directed his way and the crossed arms that follow. Nausea rolls through him as his buddies wander back the way they came.

“Frag… I think I’m gonna be sick.”

She does well. Manages to miss the first splash of vomit. The second retch hits her shoe.

“Son of a bitch… Maker fragging-“

The angel has a mouth on her. He could get used to that. Migs uses the sleeve of his under armor, exposed by the shattered plastoid to wipe his mouth.

“Sorry about that, Sweetness.”

Her eyes narrow as she reaches behind him. “My name is not Sweetness. I am FM-111 to you trooper. Specialist Coronette if you're lucky.”

The words slip out, some verbal diarrhea to go along with what he was starting to think was a concussion. “I am lucky and you’re beautiful.”

“That’s it-“

“Pockets? Have we got an issue?”

Wait- was that a-

“No Coric, I’m good.”

The older man looks at Migs and Migs looks right back. No shit. A clone. You didn’t see that everyday. Guy’s got a head of close cropped salt and pepper hair, looks real dignified. He’s also… glaring? Ok yeah, that wasn’t good.

“If he’s giving you trouble I can-“

Angel’s…. Specialist Coronette’s face softens as she looks at the clone. Migs feels a little jealousy percolate deep down - accompanied by the occasional flip of his stomach. She pats the other man’s cheek fondly and he gives her a soft look.

Some guys had all the luck.

Migs closes his eyes as the world takes a big spin. He doesn’t mean to groan but the axis has tilted and the poles have just flipped and… Fek… he really is starting to not feel good.

“Hey… Mayfeld?” The voice is soft and Migs focuses on the sweet, silvery words. Slowly he opens his eyes and notes that Coronette, is at his side looking more concerned then she has the entire time he’s been in the damn med bay. Over her shoulder the clone medic gives his own appraising look.

“You got this Pockets?”

Migs sees irritation flash in sharp green eyes, not just green but, like, Endor. So bright and alive there wasn’t any way he could think to describe them other than the greenest Kriffing place he’d ever seen in his life.

“I’ve got it, Sir.” Her tone is sharp but the clone, her superior, doesn’t seem to take offense to it. She must not just be blowing smoke. At this point he doesn’t give a wamp rat’s ass. He really just wants to call it a day, catch a cycle worth of sleep and lay in bed til the gut-rending nausea goes the fek away.

“Uh-uh,” she tuts, irritation melted away, “can’t fall asleep on me just yet. You haven’t even shown me a good time yet.” She teases and Migs wills his eyes wide open.

“You’re flirting.”

“Maybe… or maybe I’m trying to keep you awake because you’ve got a concussion. You’ll never know.”

Specialist Coronette pokes and prods, shuffling him toward the edge of the gurney. “Wanna go somewhere more private?”

“Trying to get me all alone, beautiful?”

She huffs. It sounds half amused. He can work with that.

“I’m trying,” she grunts, looping his arm around her shoulder and manhandling him into standing, “to get you in a private room so I can assess your wounds without the whole battalion seeing you stripped down.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His head spins at the sudden change in momentum. “I’m not that kind of man. You gotta wine me and dine me before-“

She twists under his arm and sharp pain shoots through his side cutting off his words more effectively then any shushing ever could.

“Easy Mayfeld.” He hears a familiar voice but can’t place which slimy barve he knew it came from. “You can’t handle that one.”

A pair of voices, masculine and feminine, grunt in agreement as he and his medic slowly hobble past and to a clean, empty ‘room’.

It’s a room about as much as a room as a troop transport is a luxury yacht. Four ceiling to floor curtained walls block it off from the other rooms and the larger, open floor of the hospital. He manages to collapse onto the exam table as the world takes another vicious whip around. This time he manages to spew in the bucket shoved under his nose.

He apologizes after he finishes. “Thanks. You know, you keep showing me basic human decency like this and you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Coronette is pulling clean gloves on and hunting in a shallow drawer. She arches a pretty brow in his direction as she finds a pair of shears. “I have to clean up whatever mess you make. Don’t confuse decency with laziness on my part.”

“Whatever you say, Pockets.”

Her shoulders tense for a moment and then she takes a deep breath and lets the bait he’s laying out go to waste.

“I’m getting this armor off you. ‘Fraid it ain’t doing you any good anymore.”

Migs glances down at the cracked plastoid. His pauldron is long gone and both pairs of vambrace and gauntlets are thrashed. There’s so much under armor and skin showing, Migs isn’t really sure how they're still even on him. Pockets manages to get them off without much to it and little input from the guy wearing them. She begins on his cuirass and Migs thinks of half a dozen smart ass remarks about getting his clothes off, but there’s something going on under the armor and each time she begins working at the cracked and twisted chest piece it steals the air from his lungs.

“Karking hells,” he curses lowly.

“I’ve almost got it…”

Migs takes a deep breath and holds as still as he can. It kriffing hurts, burns hotter than two suns over Tatooine. Just when he’s sure he can’t handle a second more of it, the plastoid falls away in two pieces. It’s like a pressure he hadn’t realized was on his chest has finally been removed and he can breathe-

“Son of a mudscuffer-“

Migs doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong. He can feel it. Warmth spreading and staining the under armor across the left side of his chest.

“Karking thing was putting pressure on-“ she trails off again as she retrieves the shears from her pocket. She’s efficient and wastes no time slicing up the front of his under armor. The black fabric falls away from one side and clings to blood staining his other. Coronette doesn’t stop moving, flowing from one spot to the next. She doesn’t stop talking either.

“Fek. Fek. That’s not gonna fekking come out in the wash-“

He could laugh but she’s pulling the clinging fabric away from his chest and pressing bacta soaked gauze into the laceration. If that didn’t burn like the wrong end of a burner’s incinerator he didn’t know what did.

“Damn it! Is your kriffing processor pickled?! Warn a guy!” He's all bark and no bite at the mercy of the medic who continues to press hard on the wound.

“Shut it 593.” It’s grunted out as she continues to press with one hand and reach across him with the other for Palps only knew what. Sharp words fizzle on his tongue as he catches a glimpse of pale flesh down the top of her scrubs. Fek. He really loved a pretty pair of tits and judging by the rounded tops he can see and the slight jiggle as they move, Coronette’s were perfect. It’s better then any painkiller he could imagine… until she’s leaning back and catches the cast of his eyes.

“So are so kriffing lucky. You slimy little nerfherder- if I had two free hands.”

He should feel bad about being caught but Migs has had a day and he really can’t find it in him.

“Not my fault, maker gave you a gorgeous rack and Imperial uniforms don’t hide it.”

He winces as she yanks the bacta soaked gauze away, blood beginning to well up again immediately. She doesn’t warn him before pressing the gun into the open wound and squeezing the trigger. Bacta foam fills in the area as he hisses, sealing the laceration. She doesn’t stop to make sure he’s ok before she’s spinning and grabbing more supplies. A bacta patch gets slapped over the quick dry foam.

“Weasly stormtrooper scum…” she continues under her breath.

“Aww come on now, I’m sorry.” He tries to offer a weak smile but her back is turned as she furiously enters data onto a pad. “I really am. When’s the end of your shift. I’ll buy you a drink?”

The anger that flashes in those forest eyes when she whips back is the sexiest thing he’s seen in a standard cycle. If the stims weren’t beginning to wear off and his body beginning to hurt to Malachor and back, he’d be getting stiff in what was left of his armor.

“You think I’d have a drink with you?”

“Come on sweets, what really matters is if you think you’d have a drink with me.”

Her eyebrows skim her hairline. “Are you kidding me? Give up already. Karking little-”

“Not the size of the aak in the fight but the fight in the aak, Sweetheart.”

“Not in your life, Buckethead.”

Her ass looks almost as good in her scrubs as her tits but she doesn’t give him a chance to say so before she storms out.

#migs mayfeld #migs mayfeld/oc #the mandalorian

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