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lendeah · 5 months

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After the Weave 1.

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Summary:

After defeating the Nether Brain, Gale makes a promise to Tav: he will move to Waterdeep and marry her. However, he breaks his pledge when he feels the pull of his former goddess, Mystra, and leaves to forge the Karsus Crown and become a god, which leaves Tav feeling betrayed and alone.

Astarion, now fully consumed by the shadows, offers Tav a new mission. Together, they try to rebuild themselves and move on from their past. As they rely on each other in unexpected ways, they find a new sense of purpose and meaning, and realize that fate will always lead you back to where you belong.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, language.

Also on AO3

Being with him was like being enveloped in a warm, golden glow; his presence adding vibrancy and light to every moment. Even in the bleakest moments, when I felt lost in the chaos of battle, he remained a constant beacon of hope and love. His strong arms always provided support and comfort, our souls intertwining in ways I never thought possible. But every now and then, when the chaos around us subsided and we had a moment of peace, Gale would pull me away from the rest of our troop. We would find a quiet spot, away from prying eyes, and just be together. In those moments, it was like the rest of the world didn't exist. It was just him and me.

"With you, I forget my goddess. I love you" he had whispered in my ear, under a sea of stars. And in that moment, it felt like all of my doubts and fears disappeared. Gale's love for me was real and true; it was something worth holding onto amidst the chaos of war.

So as we stood victorious over the defeated Brain, I turned to the wizard with a triumphant smile and tears streaming down my cheeks. This was what we had risked our lives for, what we had fought and bled for.

"Beloved," Gale whispered, his voice brimming with emotion. "We have faced countless perils together, defying fate itself. Our love has withstood trials and tribulations that most would crumble under. I cannot fathom another day without you by my side."He took a step closer, our bodies gravitating towards each other as if pulled by an invisible force.

The crashing waves and salty sea air filled their lungs as they stood on the decks of the city, overlooking the ocean. The sun was setting in a blaze of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over our faces. "Let us leave this place," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We should go back home to Waterdeep. We can build a life together, away from the battles and the constant threat of danger. We can find solace in each other's arms, and create a haven where love and peace reign supreme." he took a deep breath, mustering the courage to add, "Let's get married." His words resonated deep within my soul, stirring a longing I hadn't realized was there. Yes, Waterdeep, the city of wonders and dreams, seemed like the perfect place to start our new chapter.

"Yes," I whispered, the word escaping my lips like a fervent prayer. "I'd be honored to marry you, Gale Dekarios."

He took me that same night, slow and deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world. As we laid in each other's arms, the the warm body next to mine, our intertwined hands, and synchronized breaths felt like an unbreakable bond, our future stretching out before us like an endless summer day. And through the days following the battle, it did. Helping reconstruct buildings, tending the wounded, and giving food and shelter to those in need; everything was keeping us so busy that I didn't notice the faraway look in his eyes. He still held me close at night, his touch as loving as ever, but something seemed to be weighing heavily on his mind.

One morning, exactly one week after the last battle, when my hand reached out instinctively to the side of the bed where Gale used to lay, I felt coldness that wasn't there before. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, but the silence revealed a very different reality. A heavy feeling settled in my chest as I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. My eyes scanned our small tent frantically, searching for any sign of him, but all that remained was a single letter addressed to me. Its edges were slightly crumpled, evidence of many folds and unfolding during long nights. With trembling hands, I opened it and read every word carefully, trying to hold onto every piece of him that I could.

To my love

The crown is somewhere in the Chionthar. If I salvage the stones I can reforge it. Only then can I attain the power to protect us from all harm, my love. We could rule together, you as my goddess by my side as I ascend to godhood. I know I pledged to forsake my past for you, but now I must break that vow. The weight of this curse is too heavy for me to bear alone, and I cannot bear the thought of living with it forever. I need to confront her, to stand as her equal this time. I will do everything in my power to surpass her, to make up for all the wrongs she has done, even if it means leaving you behind. But you must understand that if I am successful, I will return to you and make up for all the time we have lost. Please hold onto hope and know that my heart aches with every step I take away from you.

Farewell, my love, until we can be reunited once again.

My tears turned into a relentless stream, blurring the words on Gale's letter as I read it for what felt like the hundredth time. Each phrase cut deeper than the last, carving painful wounds that would never heal. How could he do this to me? Betrayal and rage consumed me as I struggled to understand how the person who had asked me to marry him barely days before could turn their back on it for the sake of power and vengeance.

After that, everything became a blur. I found myself falling into a rhythm of constant busyness. I would wake up at the crack of dawn and immediately begin tackling the tasks that awaited me. And while it brought me some sense of fulfillment to help those in need, it also served as a convenient distraction from Gale's absence and his quest for power. If I kept myself busy enough, I wouldn't have time to dwell on my shattered relationship with Gale, on the nightmares that plagued my mind with the blood and death I had been through in the last year.

I had become known as the go-to person for any problem, big or small. I made sure to accept every task that came my way, no matter how difficult or time-consuming it may have been. Whether it was helping someone mend their broken roof or comforting a grieving family, I threw myself into each task with determination and purpose. But it wasn't just physical tasks that occupied my time. Many villagers would come to me seeking advice or simply wanting someone to listen to their troubles. And so, in addition to being their physical savior, I became their emotional support as well. For that brief moment when they smiled or thanked me for my help, all the weight on my shoulders lifted and for just a moment, everything felt okay again. Yet, behind my forced smile and empathetic words lay the reality of my shattered existence, haunted each night by the memories of my past as the darkness enveloped me.

Each night, I awoke drenched in sweat, my mind haunted by visions of cruel emperors, slaughtered gnomes, and fallen tieflings. The stench of death clung to me, as if the blood was still fresh on my hands. And the nightmare continued, as I woke up alone in a dirty basement, with no one to turn to. So it became my mission not to sleep; if I was busy and distracted, I didn't have time to think about Gale or death. And if my actions were making other people happy in the process, then everyone won.

However, as the days passed, I could feel myself becoming more and more distant from my friends. With Halsin, Wyll and Karlach gone, Lae'zel busy settling her people in the city, Shadowheart tirelessly rebuilding Selûne's temple, and Astarion retreating into the shadows, I felt completely alone. I found myself longing for their company, for the familiar banter and laughter we used to share. But every time I even attempted to reach out to them, something held me back. Maybe it was fear of being a burden or just not wanting to face my own emotions by confronting theirs. And even on those few occasions I did meet with Lae'zel or Shadowheart, I couldn't bring myself to tell them about Gale's letter or how much it hurt me because I couldn't bear to see their pity or judgment.

"He's just traveling. You know him, always seeking knowledge!" I lied through gritted teeth.

But deep down, I knew that the lie was eating away at my soul. The truth was too painful to voice out loud, even to my closest companions.

So, I buried my agony in feeling helpful, as I always did. I worked tirelessly to provide aid to those who had lost their homes and loved ones. I took on more tasks, stayed up later, and pushed myself beyond my limits. But it seemed like the harder I tried to deny my emotions, the louder they screamed for attention. My exhaustion finally caught up to me, both physically and mentally. One day, as I was helping a family rebuild their home after a devastating fire, I collapsed from exhaustion. The family helped me, of course, but word quickly spread that I had fallen ill. People began to avoid me, their once-welcoming demeanor turning cold and distant. They no longer sought out my help or accepted any aid I offered. This only added to my mounting frustration and despair, until finally, I reached my breaking point.

With nothing but time on my hands, the memories of Gale flooded back with a force that knocked me off balance. All those moments we shared flashed before my eyes in vivid detail – our first meeting on the portal, our adventures in the underdark, where we had first kissed, him asking to marry me... It was like ripping open an old wound that never fully healed. But even worse were the memories of slashing, cutting, severing flesh, of fresh blood and dead bodies. I needed another distraction; and that distraction came in the form of wine and rum. But even as I drowned my sorrows in ale, I knew it was a temporary escape. The sweet burn of alcohol numbed the pain for a little while, but it always came back tenfold once the drinks wore off. Before long, I found myself frequenting taverns more and more often. It was my new coping mechanism, my escape from reality. With each passing day, I could feel myself spiraling deeper into despair and self-pity.

One night, as I stumbled out of yet another tavern, swaying on unsteady legs, the piercing sound of my name being called cut through the fog of alcohol-induced numbness.

"Elara, what-?" The voice was familiar and filled with concern. "Oh gosh... he has left for good, hasn't he?" the tone was gentle but firm.

My dizzy eyes can make up a silver updo and tan skin. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I glance over at Shadowheart. Her usually warm and welcoming expression was replaced by a mix of concern and disappointment.

I let out a bitter laugh before taking another swig of rum. "No shit," my words are slurred and barely coherent. "I can't believe you really bought into that whole traveling bullshit."

Shadowheart's expression shifts from concern to irritation as she leans closer to me. "Don't you dare mock me," she hisses. "You know as well as I do that something is wrong with you."

I smile grimly

"Oh, so now you care?" I say, trying to glare at Shadowheart through bleary eyes. "You have been away for months and it's only now you decide to play the savior card."

Shadowheart's expression darkened at my words, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. But I am too angry, too drunk, to care.

"Well, I'm doing just fine," I continue, taking another long sip of my drink. "So why don't you return to your temple or whatever shithole you came from and leave me alone."

She rolls her eyes.

"Yes. Of course, you're doing fine. You're so fine that I found you lying in a tavern, wallowing in self-pity, drunk off your ass. Clearly the picture of good health and sound mind."

I scoffed, staring at Shadowheart with glazed eyes. "What do you know about me? About what I've been through?" My words slurred together, fueled by the mixture of anger and alcohol coursing through my veins. "You think you can just waltz back into my life and judge me? Well, you can't. You have no idea what it feels like to be abandoned by the person you love."

Shadowheart's brows furrowed, her normally composed demeanor faltering for a moment. "I do know" she snapped "In fact, the person I love is all the way down in the freaking avernus!"

The word hung in the air between us, the weight of its significance crashing down on me like a heavy stone. I stare at Shadowheart, the alcohol dulling my senses but unable to numb the pang of guilt in my chest. She's right - I hadn't even considered what she must be going through, separated from Karlach.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, lowering my eyes in shame.

Shadowheart's expression softens slightly.

"It's alright. I know you're hurting." She pauses, choosing her next words carefully. "But drinking yourself to death won't make the pain go away. It will only make things worse."

I struggle to keep my mouth shut, but my stubbornness gets the best of me and I shake my head defiantly. "I don't care," I mutter through clenched teeth, taking another long sip of my drink. But deep down, I know that's a lie. All I want is to forget, but part of me knows that I can't just push these feelings away so easily.

Shadowheart sighs and reaches to grab my hand.

"Listen to me," she says firmly, looking me in the eyes with a determined gaze. "I know how hard this is for you. But you can't give up like this. We need you - your friends need you."

A surge of anger rises within me at her words, and I jerk my hand away from hers.

"Don't talk to me about friends," I snap bitterly. "Where were my friends when I needed them? Everyone left." I choke "Everyone always leaves."

Shadowheart's face creases "We were all dealing with grief in our own ways."

I scoff and take another gulp of my drink.

"Grief? Is that what you call it? How convenient."

Shadowheart's eyes narrow slightly at my accusation, but she keeps her composure. "I never abandoned you," she says firmly."None of us did. We were worried about you."

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Sure, you were all so worried."

After a long moment, she lets out an exhausted sigh, seemingly coming to terms with the fact that I will not budge on my decision. "You know what? Fine. Drink yourself into oblivion," she says with a resigned tone. "But just know that when you're ready to face reality, we'll be waiting." Slowly, she turns and leaves the dimly lit street.

----------------------------------------------

Several days later, I find myself in a similar situation, but at a different place. I wanted to ensure that none of the others will attempt to track me down. While Shadowheart's words still hangered in my mind, I couldn't help but feel shame at the person I have become. It was hard to admit that I needed their help. Accepting it would mean admitting defeat and acknowledging that I hit rock bottom. But the hardest part was accepting that Gale would never come back to me, enduring the nightmares without any ale to numb them.

I sit alone at a table in the corner, watching the other clients as they laugh and drink with their companions. I envy their untroubled attitude and wish I could join in on their happiness. But deep down, I know that my grief is consuming me.

A group of rowdy half-orcs stumble over to my table, clearly drunk and looking for trouble. I try to ignore them, hoping they will just pass by. But instead, they stop right beside me and leer down at me with malicious grins.

"Looks like we found ourselves a little present," one of them slurs, gesturing towards me with his mug.

Another one takes a step closer and smirks at my face, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Look at her, all alone and pathetic."

My hands grip the edge of the table tightly as I feel a surge of anger rising within me. If I had my magic... But I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice steady as I respond,"There is nothing here for you."

The orcs, however, don't seem to care about my words as they continue to make crude comments about my appearance.

"All those scars, what are you? A mercenary?" one of them snorts, taking another step closer.

I feel a lump form in my throat as I struggle to hold back tears. Normally, I would have stood up for myself or even fought back, but tonight I am too lost in my own misery to even react. Suddenly, one of them reaches out and grabs my arm forcefully, causing me to flinch in fear.

"Come on, babe," he slurs. "I'll make you forget all about your troubles."

I start to panic, my mind racing as I search for a way out of this situation.

But before things can escalate any further, a strong hand grabs one of the men's wrists and forcefully pulls him away from me.

I look up to see a familiar face - For a second, I think it's going to be Shadowheart again, a flash of ivory hair aprearing in the corner of my eye. But then I realize it's someone much, much worse.

"Leave her alone," he growls, his voice full of authority.

It seems like they want to replicate, but once they take a look at his bared fangs, the half-orcs hesitate for a moment before backing off and leaving the tavern with grumbles and curses. When he turns his head back to me, Astarion has his usual smirk plastered over his face.

"Hello, my dear" His sharp features and piercing eyes send a shiver down my spine. "I see you've fallen quite low since our last encounter."

"What do you want, Astarion?" I spit out through gritted teeth, still shaken. Yet another companion to make fun of my state. Great.

Astarion sits down across from me, still wearing his smirk. "Just curious to see how you were coping without your favorite vampire comrade," he taunts, taking a sip of his drink. "Not very well, by the looks of you." he comments, gesturing towards my disheveled appearance. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I try to smooth out my hair and straighten my clothes. This is not how I wanted to be seen by any of my friends, let alone Astarion.

"Whatever" I reply nonchalantly, "Did Shadowheart tell you to come here?"

Astarion smirks, knowing exactly how to push my buttons. "No, no, she didn't. I just happened to be in the area and thought I'd check up on my dear friend." His words drip with sarcasm.

I scoff and take another swig of my drink, trying to ignore him.

"But really," Astarion leans in closer. "What happened? One minute we're all fighting side by side, and the next, you're drowning yourself in ale."

I glared back at him, feeling defensive. "None of your damn business."

He leaned back with a smug grin. "Ah, but I think it is."

I let out an exasperated sigh and take another swig of my drink, hoping he'll get the hint and leave me alone. But as usual, Astarion seems to enjoy getting under my skin. He reaches across the table and grabs my drink before I can protest.

"Hey!" I try to grab it back but he holds it out of reach.

"No more drinking for you," he says with a mock stern expression. "Now tell me what's going on."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine." I say, trying to dismiss the conversation.

Astarion's eyes narrow as he studies me intently. "Fine? You look like you've been through hell." he states bluntly.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair again, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. Maybe it's because of everything that has happened in the past few days or maybe it's just the alcohol finally catching up to me.

I glare daggers at him and finally relent with a heavy sigh. "Fine. Gale...he's gone."

"Gone?" Astarion's eyebrows raise in surprise. "As in dead?"

I shake my head sadly. "No...just...gone." My voice cracks on the last word and I have to take a deep breath to compose myself.

A look of understanding crosses Astarion's face and he nods slowly. "Well, it looks like he really went all in on his illusions this time."

I sigh, in no mood for jesting.

Astarion, sensing my lack of humor, leans back in his chair and adopts a more serious expression. "I'm sorry for your loss," he says sincerely, sliding my drink back across the table towards me.

I reluctantly take the drink and give him a nod of acknowledgment, appreciating his rare display of empathy."Thank you," I reply, my voice softening slightly. "I appreciate that."

He nods, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before speaking again. "Although, you know, at the end of the day it's Gale we are talking about, so is it really that big of a loss?"

I roll my eyes at Astarion's insensitive comment. "He was still a good boyfriend, despite his flaws," I reply pointedly.

"Hmm..." Astarion seems to be pondering this before shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, if you say so."

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down before continuing. "Anyway, what do you want from me? You always have an ulterior motive for your visits"

Astarion smirks again, leaning back in his chair. "You know me so well," he drawls sarcastically. "I actually came here with an interesting proposition."

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "What kind of proposition?"

He smirks, "You see, even though I excel at pretty much everything, it appears I'm struggling with the... spawn issue, if you know what I mean." He pauses dramatically, waiting for my reaction. "And being the hero that you are," he continues with a hint of condescension, "I was wondering if you could grace me with your whole knight in shining armor wisdom and help me out. Not that I actually need it, mind you. I just think even someone as skilled as myself needs guidance in this kind of situations." He leans back in his chair, with a relaxed smile.

"No"

His face falls dramatically. "What? What do you mean no?"

I roll my eyes.

"I mean exactly what I said," I reply firmly, not breaking eye contact with Astarion. "I have no interest in being your 'knight in shining armor' or helping you with any spawn issues. Find someone else to pester."

Astarion's face falls at my immediate rejection, but he quickly composes himself and leans forward with a suave smile. "Come on, darling," he purrs, reaching out to touch my hand. "Think of the thrill, the excitement of facing such a challenge together."He pauses and adds "just like the old times."

A wave of emotion washes over me at the mere thought. Memories of the past flood my mind, when Gale's presence provided a comforting weight on my side. When our group was at its strongest and most united, standing together against all odds. When everything seemed so easy, so at reach.

I reply with a bitter tone, "Those days are gone for good."

Astarion groans "Gosh, will you stop being so dramatic."

I raise an eyebrow at that. He is one to talk.

Astarion chuckles at my eyebrow raise, a playful glint in his eyes. "Touché, my dear." he admits. "But I'm serious about this, you know. We make a great team, you and I. And who knows, maybe hunting down vampire spawn will help distract you from your... sorrows."

I sigh, torn between the desire to wallow in my grief and the possibility of finding some kind of purpose again. I will admit, weeping and drinking myself to sleep every night does, while comforting, sounds sad. Plus, Astarion's proposition is tempting. At least that way I will have something other than ale to distract myself with.

"Fine," I finally relent, surprising both him and myself. "But Just because I'm agreeing to this doesn't mean I have forgotten you haven't reached out in months."

Astarion's smirk widens as he raises an eyebrow mockingly. "Oh, I would never dream of such a thing," he says with exaggerated sincerity."But let's just say, I did save your sorry behind from those hideous orcs. So I'd say we're even now."

I roll my eyes at his theatrics but can't help feeling a glimmer of anticipation deep within me. Perhaps there is still some fight left in me after all.

With a clap of his hands, he exclaims triumphantly,"It's decided then, dear Elara. You'll join me at the Crimson Palace tomorrow. I've already arranged for a room for you here," he says smoothly. "And trust me, it's much more luxurious than any tent or tavern room you've ever stayed in."

My brows furrow

"Absolutely not. I refuse to live in that sinister place." I say firmly. "Much less if it's with you"

Astarion lets out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, of course not. Because living alone in a moldy, cramped basement beneath the barracks is much more appealing."

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. It almost sounds like he's been planning this for a while now.

"Wait, what? How do you even..." And then, I know. "Shadowheart told you, didn't she? Is there anything she didn't tell you? That damned snitch."

Astarion chuckles at my outburst and shrugs nonchalantly. "She may have mentioned it," he admits with a sly grin."She has always been keen on gossip, after all."

I let out an exasperated sigh and shake my head.

Astarion grins, his red eyes sparkling with amusement "You can't expect me to trust you to do a good job while out of my sight. I mean, from what I see now, you could scape at any moment to get drunk and pass out in the street. And then, what good would that do to our poor spawn?" He says, pretending to be deeply worried.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms defensively. "Fine," I huff. "You win. I'll stay at the Crimson Palace, but only because it's the best option for the spawn."

Astarion raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh, so you do care about the spawn after all? I'm touched," he says sarcastically.

I shoot him a glare, and he relents with a smirk.

"Alright, alright. Enjoy your drinking session then. But don't forget, tomorrow we have important responsibilities."

"Ah yes, the joys of parenthood" I say sarcastically.

And to my surprise, I don't even finish my drink before returning to my basement, finally having something to look forward to.

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websterss · 8 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄 𝟐/𝟒 — 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Your plan to get the group's attention becomes too difficult of a task especially with Ethan leaving your bracelet in his dorms, forcing you to be stuck in his dorm until he returns. You start to wonder whether he'll keep you locked up forever until he presents you with the idea of going to a party for the night.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): A bit graphic, mentions of blood and dying, angst, implications again but no smut, sad flashback

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4,005

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ethan Landry x fem!Ghost!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you enjoy it! I based this off the song by Lizzy McAlpine - Doomsday

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Perhaps you had overestimated Ethan’s true intentions that night. Being pinned down both alive and dead brought on stress, pain, and ptsd, that wretched night scarred you. Flashes from the night he killed you remain true and gory. The color red turned into your most hated color of the rainbow. The second worst color; was brown. It was the color of his eyes. You used to adore having his attention, wanted nothing more than for him to swing that gaze on you with that charming grin he bore. Now you just wanted to erase every touch, conversation, and his whole existence. You knew the repercussions of attempting to bring justice for yourself, the whole obstacle of being invisible to the human eye; to your friends mostly. They couldn’t see you, and try as you wanted, they would not be able to hear you plead and beg for their attention, which you craved and yearned for the most. Anything but Ethan’s, anything but the heavy reminder of him stabbing you over and over with his knife.

You were oblivious to his attack. You saw him coming, and you let him into your home, but you never saw his intentions. You would have guessed what the night would have potentially led to had it gone the way you hoped. A kiss, maybe even more, but not this. Not him, and the war he was battling behind his eyes, as he stared at you with a lost expression.

“Hey Eth, do you want anything to drink? There’s water, and juice, a few sodas that I haven’t drunk yet. I’m not much of a beer person, but we can go to that bodega on the corner to get some if you want. I’m kind of craving some chips honestly.” You called out to him. Ethan had excused himself to use your bathroom. He needed to go after a few hours of trying to absorb every painstaking word from his econ textbook. You teased him for his class requirement. Why would anyone put themselves through such a class? Cause it was required for his degree of course. You shook your head as you opened your fridge up. The bright light from inside illuminates your face. Your brows pinch together when you get no response from him. Do guys usually take long to pee?

“Ethan?” You glance at your fridge one more time before closing it. The second the door was closed you turned, and you wished you never did. “Ethan you okay in ther–” You cut yourself off seeing him stand there at the door of the bathroom. A black robe was now thrown over his clothes, and his hands dawned gloves; also black, but what made your heart sink was the knife he twiddled in his hands. His gaze was solely on the weapon. All you could see was his dark brown curls. “Ethan?” You take a small cautious step back. You kept trailing your eyes up and down his entire. Trying to find the butt of this really fucked up joke. There didn’t seem to be one though, just cautionary fear tingling up and down your spine. You had never really been in a flight or fight situation and you really didn’t want to be. You cringe when he tosses the mask onto the island between you both. The mask revealed all you needed and everything you were afraid of. Your breathing picked up as you stared down the all too familiar ghost face mask your friends warned you about. Your watery gaze rose to meet his detrimental stare. One look at his stance, the way his eyes burned with hate. The tight grip he had on the hilt. It screamed a man with the intent to do harm. And he would because your sweet dorky Ethan was gone. You didn’t recognize the intensity of the man before you. “W-What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna give you two options okay?” His voice was shaky. His jaw clenched. You sucked in a breath as he continued. You were on the verge of sobbing. “You can run, and you might get away with some injuries, or I can get it over with so you won’t suffer as much.” How generous…You look away, walking over to the farthest counter and placing your hands on it. You eye the pan you had left on top of the stove, before looking over your shoulder in distraught.

“W-What’s the third option?” You cry softly.

“There isn’t one baby…My dad…” His eyes glistened. “He wouldn’t change his mind. He couldn’t be swayed, Y/n. I tried…” He looked down at the knife. “Believe me when I say that I tried. He wouldn’t let up though, he wants you dead.”

“What?” You shook your head confused. “You tried? What the fuck does that mean? Why would he want me dead? W-We were just studying a few minutes ago Ethan. For your Econ exam. If you wanted to take a break you could have just said so, you didn’t have to go to such extensive measures!” You gesture to the robe hysterically. “Why are you doing this? I-I haven’t done anything to you. I haven’t done anything!” You breath hitches and cracks with every exhale and inhale of your cries. “I-I don’t wanna die Ethan…” You cower back against the door of your refrigerator. “Please, y-you’re my friend. You’re supposed to be my friend...”

“I know baby…” He closes his eyes shut. Then looks back up at you. “But I don’t have a choice. It was either you, or me.” He tilts his head. You go still, terror overtaking your face. You straighten, balling your left hand into a fist. The small pan was hidden behind your back, out of his sight. If he did notice you grab it, he didn’t mention it, maybe to allow you some peace of mind before everything went to shit.

You walk over to him slowly, cautiously, hoping not to trigger his fight response. “Will you give me something then, before you start?” You let out shakenly.

“What?” His brows furrow.

You slowly reach up with your left and cup one side of his face before bringing his lips onto your own slowly. Your hand slid behind his head and curled your fingers into his locks, tugging him closer. Ethan nearly dropped the knife then and there. You caught him off guard. Might as well right, you thought. If you were going out then you’d go out believing and dreaming of what could have been. Maybe someday, somewhere right? Yeah right. Your breath hitches as you pull away, a tear slipping down your face as you pat his cheek gently. Then you swing the frying pan you grabbed into the side of his head before bolting down the hall to your room. Ethan's stance faltered. He stumbled back into the bathroom door, before falling onto his side. You had barely rushed past him when he tried to reach for your leg, but he missed. Not so safe to say he didn’t appreciate the sudden whack across the head since he thudded heavily towards your locked door. It took him about three powerful kicks before he got it open. You flinched by the window having it halfway lifted by the time he got in. He stood at the entrance, his eyes narrowed. He sighed heavily, as he shook his head.

“Option one then…” He cracked his neck before he stormed towards you. You cried and fought him off, but the knife still got lodged into your stomach. You cried out in pain as you felt a sudden pinch snip at your wrist before he threw you across the room, you fell to the carpet, doing a horrible job at staying upright. He had gutted you well and efficiently enough to cause you to bleed tremendously. One thought and one thought only ran through your mind then and there. The door. The front door was the goal. The dream really. It was wishing thinking at this point honestly. But you began your crawl in agony. You grunt and whimper as your limbs and organs hurt with every movement and push you force your body to move forward. You couldn’t stay here, you had to get out, You just had to.

Ethan begrudgingly sat at the edge of your bed. He rubbed against the side of his temple, his fingers drawn back with blood now smeared across his tips. Fuck, he thought. He looked over at you pushing yourself out the door with a struggle. How long he would let you do this for, was the real kicker. He thought it best to let you hope for a little longer. To let you continue ‘escaping’ as he assumed that is what he was looking at. He knew he said he wouldn’t let you suffer, but for some fucked up reason, he couldn’t let you die just yet. He wanted to enjoy a bit of your drive, your determination, and the sound of your voice regardless of the fact you were crying out in pain. He wanted to save it to memory for a few more minutes. You, just being alive. Just a little bit longer, he thought. He couldn’t get your kiss out of his head. Had you wanted to kiss him before? He hadn’t known, nor would he after this. He looked up again to find you out of his sight, had you moved that quickly? He strained his ears to be able to hear your faint grunts. You were slowly dying and he was only dragging it on further than he needed to. He placed his hands on his knees and stood up. He glanced around your room, letting his eyes roam over everything that screamed ‘you’. To the lights, to the fun colors on your bed, to the wall of pictures, to the now bloody carpet. He looked away, feeling a tinge of sadness for turning your most sacred place of comfort into a horror scene in the span of only a few minutes. He’d been in your home for over an hour, and it only took him minutes to ruin everything good in this little home you created for yourself. He walked over to the door, shifting his eyes to a picture you hung on the wall. It was of him and you. Bemused and silly is what he would describe the vibe he felt when he looked at it. Maybe someday, somewhere. That’s what he’d hope for. With one last glance at the pictures, he tapped it with his glove and moved into the hall. You had made some distance, but it was never going to be enough. He couldn’t keep watching you attempt to crawl your way to what you hoped would be your best chance of survival. He had to put you out of your misery. It would probably be the one good thing he could grant you.

Any future attempt at trying to gain the attention of anyone other than Ethan was a no-go. The first few times he hadn’t suspected much when he brought along your bracelet. Your one and only means of transportation to and from places. He threatened to leave it in his room when he caught onto your intentions. You hated how much you begged and pleaded to be let out, be ‘taken out for some sunlight’ if you will. You had become reliant and dependable on Ethan as much as you despised it. He really had been your only source of sanity, without him as he smugly liked to remind you, you’d be stuck in his room. He even went ahead and left the bracelet under his pillow just to prove a point to you. You beat on his chest when he saw you storm up to him as he entered his room. You wanted nothing more than to slap that stupid smirk off his face, so you had, and he kissed you roughly, pinning you to his door.

It was routine, and he seemed to enjoy every minute of it, and you, you just had to go through with it or you’d end up cooped up in his room again waiting for him to return, just like today, on all the days. Halloween has been your absolute favorite and the asshole left your bracelet on his night stand. It mocked you as you sat on his bed staring off into space. You thought back to your Princess Diaries costume that was gonna be awesome, but now it sat in your closet, in your apartment that was covered in blood, your blood, which was now also a crime scene, so now you had nothing to wear but the clothes on your back. You lift your head as the door to his room opens. The devil himself walks in. Ethan approaches you, leaning down to give you a rough slow kiss. His hands cupping the back of your head to bring you closer. You sigh as the kiss goes on longer than needed. A scowl paints your face as he pulls back and bites back a smile. He straightens up and looks down at you with adoration.

“Get off your cute butt, we're going out.” That made you perk up.

“Out? Where are we going?”

“A party. It’s Halloween remember, let’s go have fun.” He smirks seeing your face contort with confusion. You should have been thrilled, ecstatic even, but his sudden mood shift put you on edge. You noticed that after days turned into weeks. How he’d be nice and touchy feelings with you, then be an absolute sociopath the next. His sudden emotional outbursts scared you. Even dead he could still hurt you. “Come on, get up!”

“I-I don’t get you.” You shook your head. You knew better than to fuel the flame he had tucked away at the moment, but you didn’t know how to deal with his change of emotions anymore, it was exhausting when he out of nowhere felt the need to play ‘Mr. Nice Guy’. You were over it.

“What do you mean?” He stopped looking for a long sleeve to look back at you.

“You’ve kept me trapped in your room for five days, and now, all of a sudden you’re kissing me again, and being sweet? I don’t get you, Ethan.” You look away from him. Shrinking in place when he draws near.

“I wanna take you out, what’s wrong with that?” His shoulders slumped. “You wanted out of here, you’re getting that.” He walked over to his nightstand and picked up the small gold chain. Mocking you with it as he dangled it out to you. Then proceeded to tuck it into his jeans. “Now get up, I’m supposed to meet Chad there. Unless you want me to leave you here.” You immediately got up from his bed.

“I don’t even have anything to wear.” You gesture to your shirt and jeans that you’ve been wearing since you showed up. The red sneakers are your signature trademark. The group used to find it endearing. You wondered if they were missing you right about now.

“Why should it matter, no one can see you anyway?” Ethan immediately tensed seeing your face fall. “I didn’t mean it like that…look how about we- we could ya know…” He trailed off then met eyes with his white bedsheets then stilled. You watched wearily and then curiously as he stripped his bed of his flat sheet. Who the hell owned a flat sheet?

“What's with the sheet?” You raise a brow in question.

“Would this even work? I mean you couldn’t even touch your bracelet. It just went right through you.�� He eyed the sheet and then walked over to you. “Can I?” He gestured to you then the bed linen in his hands. He took quick notice of your hesitance. “Just trust me.” He waved your doubts away. His words made you laugh out loud causing him to grow still.

“Says my murderer…” You roll your eyes.

“Humor me then.” He grunts then before you can protest he throws the linen over your head and watches it drape over your frame. When it remained over you, his heart began picking up. “Holy…shit!” He backed up, his hands frozen in mid-air as he surveilled you from head to toe. “No fucking way that worked. Holy shit!” You heard him breathe out aloud. What was he so shocked about?

“I can’t see anything.” He couldn’t see it but he imagined you were pouting.

“Oh right, sorry. Here take it off!” He pulled on the sheet until you came back into his view. Your hair was in disarray. Wild and full of static. A cute pout on your lips as you stared at him. Observing as he dug out a pocket knife and cut into the fabric. Two eyes holes from what you could tell, and then he was turning back to you, reaching forward to fix some crazy strands. The kiss placed on your lips caught you by surprise. He smiled at you and then went to throw the flat sheet over your head again. He adjusted it until your eyes were directly over the two holes he made. You could see out of it now. “Oh my god, you look fucking cool!” He ushered you to his thin mirror. What you didn’t come to realize soon enough was that the linen over your body did not go through you. Your eyes slowly widened as you began to grasp what this would mean for you. People would be able to see you.

“Holy shit…” You gasped as you stared back at your reflection. You had a reflection. You couldn’t see your eyes, but you could see the very visible bed sheet that was placed over your frame. “Holy fucking shit!” You exclaim, excitingly. You knew what this entailed, but you realized that Ethan had yet to understand why you were so excited about the sheet being placed over you and why it didn’t phase through you like the bracelet had. You figured that he figured you were only freaking out because he thought you thought this was cool. It was, that was no lie, but you were hopeful again.

“No one will think twice about it.” Ethan laughed at your reaction.

“It worked!” You extend your arms out and do a little spin.

“It’s fitting honestly going as a ghost, I mean who’s gonna question the girl with a sheet draped over her head?” He chuckled. He nodded in agreement. You were though, a ghost and all. Dead or costume didn’t change that. Not one bit. You hadn’t known why you let your intrusive thoughts win in the moment. Perhaps you rushed towards him because you wanted to express how you were feeling and needed an outlet. Needing to show Ethan just how happy you felt, though you knew you had acted in such a way because your plan to try and find a way to communicate with your friends was back on track, and Ethan was none the wiser about it. You had shed the sheet and brought his lips onto yours. This had been the second time now that your initiated kiss had caught him off guard, but he welcomed the affection nonetheless. He walked the both of you backward until he fell back onto the bed, taking you down with him as the kiss grew heated and rougher. You stayed on top until he had flipped you both. The hungry gaze behind his eyes knew you were gonna be a little late for the party, but you hadn’t really been too worried about it.

The walk to the frat house had been interesting. You kept turning your head towards every wandering eye that landed on you and Ethan. You bet you both looked like quite the pair. A sheeted ghost and a cardboard knight. You had judged Ethan’s look with love and some honesty. You still didn’t get it when it had to explain to you who he was. He went into detail about his inspiration from the movie Murder Party. A movie you had no idea existed until he showed you a scene in which the character Ethan was being tonight wore said costume. It felt like trivia.

When you both walked through the door. You were both immersed in the chaos and music blasting through a speaker somewhere in the house. Bodies, bodies, and bodies all around, grinding, talking, drinking, and of course the occasional hookup. You were feeling a bit better than you and Ethan had your own pre-hookup before arriving. You knew better than to let your heart lead, but you couldn’t help the swarm of butterflies in your stomach when he reached behind him, extending his hand out for you to grab, and you did, allowing him to lead the way around the various of party goers fully and barely intoxicated. It wasn’t long until Ethan had found Chad. And boy were you not prepared for him to finally see you. See your ghost costume.

“And who is this unlively thing?” Chad joked but teasingly nudged Ethan over and over. You had barely registered Chad’s faint words of ‘That’s my boy’ and ‘I told you, full snack baby!’ before he turned his attention back onto you. “What’s your name sweetheart?” Oh his smile, his beautiful grin that you had missed having be directed at you.

“This is Wyen!” Ethan introduced you. You were glad they couldn’t see the questionable expression you gave under the sheet for the very questionable name he gave you. What the fuck Ethan?

“Wyen?” Chad's brows pinched together in question as well. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such a unique name.” He shook his head.

“Yeah…she gets that a lot, just think of her name as the letters Y and N and you’ll be fine.” Ethan waved it off.

“Why would I–” Chad sputtered in confusion. Then turned to you. “What? Is he messing with me? Please tell me he’s fucking with me?” Chad laughed your way. You shook your head and said.

“No, if only you knew though.” You said. Ethan eyed you, but Chad hadn’t heard you one bit.

“Is she good?” Chad leaned over to Ethan, as he took note of your lack of responses. “She's not…you know.” He gestured to his ears.

“Deaf? Oh no, yeah she’s fine, she’s just staying in character tonight. Halloween is kind of her favorite holiday.” You wanted to slap him right then and there, so you did. You reached forward and smacked him. Chad found your interactions amusing.

“Ahh okay. Well apologies, ole friendly ghost. I was in the dark of such information, but I respect your wishes to continue to haunt our youth in silence!” Chad placed a hand over his naked chest. You breathe a laugh aloud, but you realize your laugh didn’t reach his ears. It made you tear up a bit, but you concluded that the shake of your shoulders was enough for him to register you did in fact find his teasing funny because his head was thrown back as he laughed. God you had missed him. You tipped your chin down and curtsied, adding to the bit he was doing. “She’s funny too. I like you already.” He pointed at you. “Well, Ghostette and Mr. Landry, enjoy yourselves, not too much of course, but get drunk, and make out. I’m gonna go see where the girls are alright, find me if anything goes wrong okay? Anything. That goes for you too Wyen. Find me for anything!” With that, he tapped Ethan’s cardboard chest in what you assumed was approval and walked in the opposite direction. You scoff knowing that Chad considered you to be Ethan’s conquest for tonight. It looked like trying to gain their attention was going to be harder than you expected...especially since Ethan was hesitant to let you out of his sights now.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry series #writings by juls #my gif

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alexxncl · 1 month

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‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 33 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | lesson 32 | lesson 34

slight og lesson 16 spoilers

normal and hard spoilers

see i knew he wouldn't rat them out completely. he completely left out the details of the pacts and feeling used and would've taken the blame if mc and solomon hadn't stepped in to fully explain the situation

(i made a whole post about time soup here)

omg in-game name drop the devs remember the lore

i hate mephisto. have i mentioned how much i hate mephisto? bc i hate him /j

in all seriousness, we love a petty bitch. but why is it his WHOLE personality. that, and ass kissing. like we get it, you love diavolo and wanna date him and kiss him and hug him blah blah blah STAND UP

satan :((((

i wonder if he feels remnants of homesickness that he can't recognize as homesickness bc of the way he was formed. what if he's feeling homesickness right now in the timeline mc is from and is now able to understand how his brothers felt after the fall?

what if this is the first time the boys in the og timeline have felt homesick since the fall? yes, mc has left before, but there was always a guarantee that they'd return, or at least a possibility that mc could summon them. but now? there's no guarantee, and there's a time crunch

ASMO 😭 they're so unserious i love them

levi thinking he was gonna die trying to apologize and dia standing there like 🧍🏾

oh they definitely know. and if both dia and barbatos don't know, barbatos obviously knows. bc why else wouldn't barbatos suggest portaling mc to the human world himself? and i bet lucifer's wondering the same thing given his confusion on how fast the conversation came and went

got to see my wife, i can die happily now

WHY IS THERE NO AFFINITY FOR HER GODDAMN IT

or the other side characters ig but i care about her more

SEE SEE I TOLD YOU!!! nightbringer you sneaky bitch

oh that's scary...real scary. if belphie's got lucifer this fucked up, how strong are his powers ??

WAR FLASHBACKS

also this means he didn't lose control of his powers, he's choosing to only subdue his brothers, which is even scarier imo. like there's no way mc doesn't have some kind of ptsd from what happened in lesson 16 of the og game

imagine seeing your best friends, your found family, your partner(s) sobbing over your dead body while someone you thought you trusted is maniacally laughing at the scene, proud of murdering you

and then imagine the same person lunging for you to try and kill you after he already killed another version of you

and then imagine this

what if he wants to hurt them again? what if he wants to lock them in the attic he claimed to know nothing about in the earlier lessons? what if he feels some strange connection and sense of familarity related to it, some strange invisible force pulling him towards it and making him do the very thing that happens to him in the future?

and then BAM, they get dragged into his mindscape against their will, unsure if they'll make it back out alive, if they make it out at all

as a certified mammon lover ofc i had to put my 2 cents in

i really, really wish we got more moments of him in big brother mode. we know he cares about his brothers and will do any and everything to protect them and give them what they need, even if it means being the butt of every, and i mean every, joke

but i'm also scared that the devs are gonna use this as a way to paint belphie's breakdown on him like they did with levi's, and like they do with literally every other inconvenience or negative incident that happens in the game. every time mammon does something good, every time he tries to help, he still ends up being the butt of the joke. i just hope we can move past that with the end of belphie's breakdown

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teyamsatan · 1 year

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Synopsis: You were one of two kids stuck on Pandora after the war took all the Sky People back to Earth. After a series of events left deep scars behind, you are now forced to deal with your trauma - and your lingering resentment towards your once-best-friend Neteyam - head-on.

Pairings: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 88k words (finished on 23 feb 2023)

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, mental illness, ptsd, description of panic attacks, injury, blood, slow burn, swearing, smut (18+ , minors DNI)

“You showed me colours you know I can’t see with anyone else And you know damn well for you I would ruin myself a million little times”

CHAPTER I: Willow

CHAPTER II: Right Where You Left Me

CHAPTER III: Exile

CHAPTER IV: Evermore

CHAPTER V: All Too Well

CHAPTER VI: Death By a Thousand Cuts

CHAPTER VII: Hoax

CHAPTER VIII: My Tears Ricochet

CHAPTER IX: Seven

CHAPTER X: Invisible String

Oneshots:

I: The Moment I Knew

II: If This Was a Movie

Sequel series The Archer is here 💕

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — first loves + bkg.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff + sfw, fem + black-coded!reader, post war, implied bnha spoilers, hints of ptsd/panic attacks, first loves, loverboy bkg, idk what this is guys they’re just kids in love and i wrote this listening to the new(ish) 5sos album bye.

they say you never really get over your first love, katsuki bakugou can attest to that.

in the summer after his eighteen birthday, his parents take him on one last family vacation before he breaks into the hero industry. they go abroad, somewhere far away from the trail of heartbreak left in japan— it’d been a hard year. he’d lost a lot. bakugou’s vision shakes a little in his grey-pinkish eye, his skin is bumpy with scars over his eyes and under his shirts. he’s a little more afraid to go in public in fear of being recognised.

so, katsuki takes that venture abroad. where no one knows who he is and what he’s been through.

katsuki’s parents like to explore, they drag him under a sun that’s a little foreign and not like japan’s across a strange city to try new foods that expand his horizons and makes his tastebuds a little happier. they force him to take photos in front of old bridges and historic monuments— though his dad snaps a nice one of bakugou walking through the bustling streets, a backwards baseball cap resting on his nest of hair.

on the last night, they have dinner at a beachside restaurant— bakugou excuses himself when the noises get a little too much and remind him of a time where nearly he lost his life. he stumbles out, down the steps and along the vast stretch of sand looking for the space to breathe along the waterfront. waves crash hard against the shore like the anxiety attacking his brain and katsuki has to crouch down to get a hold of himself before the world tilts too far and he falls off the invisible edge.

“are you okay?”

when he looks up, red eyes narrowly avoiding the glare of the sunset— he sees a girl. her skin looks like it’s been kissed by the solar system, beautiful brown tone glowing under the golden night— accompanied brown doe eyes boring deep into his own, reading his soul as if it were only made up of the constellations beginning to dot themselves in the sky. she has these braids he’s never quite seen before but they frame the roundness of her cheeks perfectly and…he’s never felt love before, aside from the kind you have for friends and family and bakugou doesn’t believe in fate. everything happening for a reason and shit.

because that would mean what happened to him…well, it would mean he deserved it.

but in this moment, the moment this girl offers him her hand and crouches down to see if he’s okay. he feels it. love, filling the blood that pumps through his beating heart. slowly, tenderly, his calloused and marred hand takes her own— the girl making a small noise of content as they sit together, bottoms wet from the sand.

they stay there, together for a while. katsuki and this strange girl he’s only just met— listening to the seagulls call for one another just metres above their heads accompanied by the waves that roll along the shoreline as if they were made to be together. it calms him down, and sure enough bakugou’s chest stops it’s heaving and the scary noises in his head back off for the minute. his mother screams his name in the distance and the girl looks over the blonde’s shoulder with her lips in a pout and brows furrowed— quizzical as if she’s putting together pieces of a puzzle.

“oh, you probably didn’t understand me earlier, right?” she speaks suddenly yet hesitantly, her voice filling his ears like cotton, in broken japanese instead of the fluent english from earlier. “a-are you okay?”

bakugou hums shyly, cheeks flashing red. “‘m fine now. couldn’t breathe before.”

“i’m glad—“ she starts to reply but bakugou’s mother has always been persistent and irritating especially at the worst times— yelling his name again. the pair’s shoulders rise like cats on the prowl and the girl let’s out the cutest laugh he’s ever heard in his life. “i think your mum’s calling, katsuki.”

“s-shut up!” bakugou scrambles to his feet just as the girl does, brushing the sand from her warm skin.

“you should go! i’ll see you around, kay?”

she’s gone before he can even blink, as if she were never there. the only way he truly knows that the girl was real is all thanks to his mother— mitsuki pestering him with questions about the girl all the way back to the restaurant. who was she? did you know her? are you okay? they all go through one ear and come out of the other. all bakugou can think about from then is how she thought she would see him again.

which wouldn’t happen, since he was leaving tomorrow.

for the next ten years, memories of the girl with honeyed brown skin and darling chocolate eyes haunt katsuki’s every waking moment. he tried everything in his power to forget her, his first love— even if they moments they shared together were brief, they’re all he thinks about when the world gets a little too ugly and a little too heavy to sit on his shoulders.

no one had ever been that gentle with him, treated him so kindly at first sight— after seeing all of him, scarred and all. no one has ever compared to her since.

that is until the warm tones of your voice echo through the dynamight agency one day— your japanese a little stronger than it was almost a decade ago when it changed the trajectory of katsuki bakugou’s life.

“h-hi, i’m here for the assistant role for um…dynamight?” you say, still shy and hesitant, still quiet and cute.

and only the heavens know how thankful katsuki is for not forgetting his first love— for remembering the way you talk, the way your eyes shimmer as he rounds the corner and reveals himself to you. taller than you remember, older and wiser than in your head— but still your first love too.

“you’re okay!” you squeak upon his reveal, clutching your bag in one shaky hand— voice wobbling as if you’d been worried about bakugou this entire time.

the blonde nods simply, trying to remember what it was he said to you all those years ago when you’d first asked him that.

“‘m fine, feel like i can breathe again.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabbles #bakugou imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugou x black reader #bakugou fics #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted #IDK WHAT THIS IS #was inspired by the new 5sos album lol

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theetherealbloom · 2 months

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THE SILVER LINING — CH. 5

Chapter Five: Closing In

Summary: After aiding the Republic and the fall of the Empire, you left the Jedi Training Clan on Bogden 3 to help families needing medical care with the call of the Force. You are a kind, warm-hearted healer on Nevarro, treating the citizens and the bounty hunters. Imperial remnants still linger in the shadows, waiting to strike at the perfect moment. Leading you to assist the Mandalorian with rescuing the Child has led you to your biggest adventure yet.

Paring: Din Djarin x Empath!FemReader

Warnings: Violence, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, People pleasing, Flattery, Blood, Blasters, War, Religion References, Aliens, Sith, Character Deaths, One Bed Trope, Awkward, Plot Holes

Word Count: 10k

A/N: I swear I don’t mean to take months to update! I get sidetracked so often by random things and other obsessions. I’m at a point with this story where I get lost with the timeline so then I have to reread what I wrote (try not to cringe at my writing) and then continue on writing the next chapter. Usually, I’m very organized with my outline so I don’t lose track of where I am plot-wise, but Star Wars is— it truly is something else. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! We’re one step closer to the season finale. Love you guys :>

Song: De Selby (Part 2) by Hozier

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES, 9ABY – EVENING

It had become apparent to you that Din was touch-starved, even though he never openly admitted it. You could trace the progression of his need for physical contact, starting with subtle gestures like a comforting touch on your elbow or a gentle squeeze of your hand in public. These small interactions held unspoken messages of affection, revealing a side of Din that he rarely showed to the world.

His tactile expressions of intimacy grew more pronounced over time. Your heart skipped a beat the first time he cupped your face, his gloved hand warm against your cheek. The tenderness of that touch spoke volumes, carrying a depth of emotion that words couldn't quite capture. It was a silent promise, a reassurance that you were not alone in this unpredictable universe.

One memory stood out vividly: a day when the three of you found yourselves in a cantina on an outer rim planet. The credits Din had earned were put to practical use, securing supplies and a decent meal for all of you. While Din went to order drinks, you focused on the child, ensuring he was comfortable and fed.

Amid your care-taking, an unfamiliar man appeared, his presence casting a shadow over your booth. You regarded him with skepticism, raising an eyebrow as his words dripped with overconfidence.

"Can I help you with something?" you responded, your tone laced with a mix of caution and annoyance. The stranger's attempt at flirtation was as transparent as the space beyond the cantina's windows.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone in a place like this?" he purred, his words dripping with unmistakable intent.

Suppressing an inward sigh at the sheer predictability of his approach, you let a subtle, sarcastic smile curve your lips. The galaxy had taught you to navigate these situations with a mix of wits and composure.

As the child cooed beside you, curiosity evident in his innocent eyes, you shifted your gaze back to the stranger, his overconfident demeanor oozing from every pore. Your reply was measured, tinged with a hint of dry amusement, "Clearly, I'm not alone and occupied, so if you could leave, please."

Undeterred, the stranger continued with his advances. "C'mon, baby, don't be such a priss. I'll show you a good time."

You were on the cusp of rising from your seat, ready to firmly reiterate your point when a sudden shift in the atmosphere seized the cantina's attention. It was as if the air had changed, thickened by an invisible tension. The chattering voices seemed to hush instinctively.

Amid the palpable silence, Din materialized like an imposing guardian. His presence radiated authority and raw power, his Mandalorian armor reflecting the ambient light, turning him into an almost mythical figure. His voice cut through the stillness like a blade, sharp and unyielding, "She said leave."

The room held its collective breath as the stranger's bluster crumbled in the face of Din's command. The confrontation became a silent battle of wills, one that spoke volumes without the need for further words. The stranger's retreat marked a victory for the indomitable force that Din embodied, leaving the cantina in stunned silence.

Your gaze shifted from the defeated stranger to Din, who stood there with an intensity that both reassured and electrified the room. His unspoken declaration of protection wasn't lost on you, a testament to the bond forged through shared trials and unspoken connections.

And then, with a swift shift, Din's demeanor transformed. His grip on patience loosened, and his actions spoke volumes where words had been unnecessary. In a heartbeat, he had seized the offender, the loud crack of bone echoing through the hushed cantina as the stranger's resistance was brutally halted.

Your breath caught, a sharp inhale of surprise and a hint of awe, as the resounding crack of bone filled the air. It was a stark punctuation to Din's swift and decisive intervention, a thunderous echo of authority that cut through the cantina's previous cacophony. The clatter of utensils and the discordant symphony of bowls added to the jarring chorus, a testimony to the power that had just been unleashed.

The stranger, once so assertive, now resembled a scurrying insect, his escape marked by a trail of spilled drinks and overturned stools. He disappeared into the crowded haze of the cantina, no longer a contender in this silent duel.

Throughout this confrontation, Din's gaze remained unyielding, a force of nature that had momentarily swept the establishment into a hushed reverence. As the patrons bore witness to the unassailable might he wielded, their earlier bravado had crumbled into hushed awe.

With the situation resolved, Din's attention shifted back to you, and that deep, unspoken connection that had been nurtured through shared challenges seemed to shimmer in the charged atmosphere. His gloved hand gently found yours, prompting you to rise from your booth. You cradled the child securely in your arms, his innocent eyes bearing witness to this display of protective strength.

“I could have handled it,” you spoke, your voice soft and understanding, and Din nodded, a faint hint of gratitude in his voice. “I know.”

A beat passed between you, the atmosphere laden with unspoken words. Then, Din continued, his words tinged with vulnerability, "I could not just stand there and do nothing," he said, “I would... the things I would do to ensure you and the child are safe.”

His voice trailed off, leaving the weight of his unspoken commitment hanging in the air. It was a promise forged in the crucible of their shared experiences. A vow to protect and cherish, even if it meant confronting the darkest corners of the galaxy.

You blinked, your gaze filled with understanding and affection. With a gentle hand, you reached out, placing it over his heart, and whispered, "I know. I would too."

To your surprise, he was the first one to initiate the hug. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you into an embrace that felt surprisingly warm beneath the cool, unyielding exterior of his beskar armor. You still held the child in your arms, creating an intimate tableau of unity. Surprisingly, the hard plate of his chest was comforting, the armor a symbol of his steadfast protection. In his embrace, you felt safe, secure, and trusted, as if nothing in the galaxy could harm you as long as you were in his arms.

Maybe that's why you two ended up where you are now. In the passing days and nights, your connection deepened, communicated through silent reassurances by the simple touch of an elbow or the light squeeze of his gloved hand. Din seemed to always find a reason to be near you, seeking excuses to touch and hold you, even if only for a brief moment.

There were times when you would prepare food for the three of you, and Din would just watch from a few steps away. Despite the helmet, you could feel his gaze as he observed you move around the small workspace, heating the food. You would glance over your shoulder to smile at him, and his heart would flutter wildly.

In those moments, you could see the shimmering outline of his silver aura mixing with shades of reds and maroons, a silent testament to the emotions he kept hidden behind the beskar helmet.

The nights in the cramped bunk leave you no room to move, but you find it surprisingly comfortable, curled up together. The baby sleeps soundly in his hammock nearby, his tiny breaths filling the small space with a sense of peace.

During those nights, Din often surprises you with unspoken acts of service. He'll quietly slip out of bed, leaving you wrapped in the warmth of the blankets, and return with a cup of hot caf. He never says a word, but the gesture speaks volumes, warming not just your body but your heart as well.

Sometimes, he'll softly hum a lullaby, a hauntingly beautiful tune that you've never heard before. The melody dances in the air, soothing both you and the baby, creating a bond that goes beyond words between the three of you.

As you lie there, nestled in his arms, you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you've found something exceptional in the vast, unforgiving galaxy.

The peace the three of you had found seemed almost too good to be true. It was a fragile tranquility in a galaxy filled with chaos, and you knew deep down that it wouldn't last long. Still, you couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, you could carve out a small sanctuary for yourselves.

But as you entered the flight deck one day and saw the look on Din's face, you knew that the serenity was about to be shattered. Concern etched your features as you asked, "What's wrong?"

Din didn't immediately reply. Instead, he pressed a button, and a flickering hologram message of Greef Karga materialized before you. His gravelly voice filled the cockpit, delivering a message that sent a chill down your spine.

"My friend, if you are receiving this transmission, that means you are alive," Greef Karga's hologram began. "You might be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown."

The weight of those words hung heavily in the air, and you exchanged a knowing glance with Din. It seemed that your past had come back to haunt you again, and the peace you had briefly tasted was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand from Tatooine.

Greef Karga's hologram continued to flicker as he outlined the dire situation on Nevarro. His gravelly voice held a tone of urgency as he explained, "They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out. If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize."

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on you and Din. It was clear that this was no ordinary mission; it was a perilous gambit that carried immense risks. Karga's proposal hung in the air, the unspoken words echoing loudly in the confined space of the Razor Crest.

"So, here is my proposition," Karga continued. "Return to Nevarro. Bring the child as bait. I will arrange an exchange, and provide loyal Guild members as protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. If you succeed, you keep the child and I will have your name cleared with the Guild, for a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism."

The concern in your eyes didn't escape Din's notice as you voiced your doubts. "This has to be a trap, Din," you asserted, your voice tinged with worry.

Din nodded in agreement, his thoughts mirroring yours. "Possibly."

A small, determined smile graced your lips as you continued, "We're gonna need help... from our friends."

As you glanced at the sleeping Child, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on both of you. It was a decision that would determine the course of your future and the safety of the innocent life in your care.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Din made his decision clear. Without uttering a word, he steered the Razor Crest toward the coordinates Greef Karga had provided, the ship leaping into hyperspace. The die was cast, and a treacherous path lay ahead, but the bond between you and Din, and the allies you had made along the way, offered a glimmer of hope in the darkness of uncertainty.

SORGAN, 9ABY – DAY

The Razor Crest soared over the lush tree canopy of Sorgan, its engines humming like a contented beast. As the forest gave way to an open area, Din carefully brought the ship down, landing with the grace of a seasoned pilot.

Exiting the ship, you and Din followed a worn path that led to a common house in the distance. The atmosphere was different here, far removed from the cold metal of your ship. It was a place where the rustic charm of Sorgan had found a home.

Inside the common house, the commotion caught your attention. A sizable crowd had gathered, their voices mixing with the clatter of glasses and the low hum of conversation. At the center of the room, a makeshift boxing ring had been set up.

You and Din approached the ring just as Cara Dune, faced off against a male Zabrak fighter. Cara’s movements were swift and calculated, her strikes a testament to her combat prowess. The Zabrak, equally skilled, proved to be a formidable opponent. Each of them tethered to a laser that crackled with energy. The makeshift boxing ring suddenly felt smaller, the tension palpable as the combatants engaged in a fierce battle.

As the bout reached its climax, Cara executed a flawless maneuver, pulling the Zabrak in with the tether that connected them. The Zabrak, caught off guard by her sudden tactic, found himself unable to escape her grasp.

With a swift and decisive motion, Cara forced the Zabrak to tap out, his admission of defeat ringing through the air as the laser tether fizzled out between them.

Cara's triumphant grin illuminated her features as she basked in the adulation of the crowd, her chest heaving with exertion from the intense match. With a playful twinkle in her eye, she extended a victorious finger, punctuating her declaration to the assembled spectators.

"Pay up, mudscuffers! Come on. That's mine, thank you. All right, thank you," Cara exclaimed, her voice carrying over the din of the cheering crowd. In response, several patrons begrudgingly reached into their pockets, producing credits to settle their wagers.

You, Din, and the Child entered Cara's line of sight, drawing her attention away from the crowd. Din's voice, deep and commanding, cut through the noise of the common house as he addressed her directly.

"Looking for some work?" Din inquired as he broached the subject with Cara and you all decided to take a seat and have a drink as you discussed the situation.

"It's a straightforward operation," Din elucidated to Cara, his voice low and measured. Leaning forward, he rested his left forearm on the table, his gaze unwavering as he outlined the details. “They're providing the plan and firepower. I'm the snare.” Meanwhile, you tended to the Child who fussed beside you, keeping one eye on the conversation.

"With the kid? And her?" Cara inquires, casting a glance your way.

"That's why we're reaching out to you," you respond softly, meeting Cara's gaze.

Cara sighs, weighing the risks. "I don't know. I've been advised to keep a low profile. If anyone runs my chain code, I'll be in a cell for life."

"I thought you were a veteran," Din remarks, his silver helmet catching the light as he speaks. The defeated Zabrak fighter drops a credit on the table and nods at Cara, who offers a smile. "Come back soon," she calls after him.

"I've been a lot of things since. Most of them come with a life sentence," Cara explains, her expression serious. "If I so much as board a ship registered to the New Republic, I'm—"

"We have a ship," Din interjects, his voice firm. "I can take you there and back, and there'll be a handsome reward waiting. You can live free of worry."

"I'm already free of worry, and I'm not in the mood to play soldier anymore," Cara says, taking a sip from her cup. "Especially not for some local warlord."

"He's not a local warlord," Din interjects, his voice low and with a growl. You finish the statement, your tone was distant, eyes glazed. "He's Imperial."

Cara takes a deep breath and offers a small smile as she nods. "I'm in."

INSIDE THE RAZOR CREST

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES, 9ABY – SPACE

"Does your contact need to vet me?" Cara leans against the side of the cockpit panel, her arms crossed. Din shakes his head. "Doesn't know you're coming."

Cara raises an eyebrow. "Really? That could be a problem."

"It won't. But if it is, that's his problem." Din shrugs before exiting the cockpit. You give the Child a gentle pat as he sits beside you, then follow Din down the ladder and to the weapons locker with Cara.

"Is he alright up there alone?" Cara asks, nodding towards the cockpit.

Din nods. "Yeah." He opens the locker, the doors hissing as they slide apart. Gesturing to the array of weapons, he adds, "Pick one."

"Do you trust the contact?" Cara inquires, brows raised as she sifts through the locker's contents, a grin playing on her lips.

Din lets out a sigh. "Not particularly," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of wariness. "He and I had a run-in last time I was there on some Guild business."

"So then why are we going?" Cara questions, her tone laced with curiosity as she glances over at Din.

"I don't have a choice," Din responds, his voice carrying a weight of resignation. He pauses, then reaches out to pull you closer to his side, anchoring you against him as he leans against the ship's panel. "You saw what happened on Sorgan. They'll keep sending hunters," he continues, his gaze steady. "The kid and her... they'll never be safe until the Imp is dead."

"And you're okay with bringing them back there?" Cara asks skeptically, a hint of concern coloring her tone. You frown slightly, your expression conveying a sense of determination as you respond, "I can take care of myself."

"What about the kid? We need someone to watch that thing," Cara remarks, gesturing towards the Child above in the cockpit. Din nods in agreement, acknowledging the need for a trustworthy guardian. "Yeah."

"You got anyone you can trust?" Cara inquires further, her gaze shifting between you and Din.

You feel Din's thumb brush over the exposed part of your hip, a comforting gesture that sends a subtle warmth rippling through your body. He hums softly, his presence enveloping you in shades of silver and grey, a reassuring aura amidst the uncertainty of the moment.

Suddenly, the ship begins to rumble, Cara stumbles, her hands reaching out to brace herself against the wall. Meanwhile, Din swiftly pulls you closer to his body, a protective instinct evident in his actions. With a gruff huff, he releases you and heads back up the ladder.

You and Cara follow Din up the ladder, only to find the Child meddling with the controls, causing the ship to thrash and rumble. Din takes charge, settling into the pilot's seat to stabilize the Razor Crest once more.

"We really need someone to watch over him," you remark, holding the Child securely in your arms while Din nods and agrees, “Yeah.”

MOISTURE FARM, ARVALA-7 — SUNSET

The Razor Crest settles on the desolate planet of Arvala-7, its rocky surface bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. As the ramp lowers, you step out alongside Din and Cara, the hovering pram carrying the Child trailing close behind.

Your eyes fall on the Ugnaught Din mentioned, a figure named Kuiil, who greets you warmly as you make your way to his home. With a nod, you duck your head to enter the tunnel-shaped structure, eager to get to know Kuiil.

"It hasn't grown much," Kuiil remarks, his eyes fixated on the Child.

Din nods in agreement. "I think it might be a Strand-Cast."

Kuiil shakes his head slowly. "I don't think it was engineered. I've worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly."

"I had a dream recently," you begin, your voice soft but earnest. "A creature like him named Yoda appeared to me… this little one is likely to be one of his kind."

Din listens intently, his gaze underneath his helmet fixed on you as you speak.

"It’s why I followed you, at first," you continue, turning to face him. "Because the last time the Empire had Force Sensitive children…" You trail off, overcome with emotion. "I just couldn’t leave him there."

Din's gauntleted hand gently clasps yours, emanating a comforting warmth that sends a tender sensation coursing through your veins. You feel a soft flush rise to your cheeks as you meet his gaze, the visor of his helmet lending an air of mystery to his expression.

Kuiil clears his throat, his gaze shifting between you and Din. "You and Din make a formidable pair," he says with a nod, his tone carrying a note of respect. "A union like yours brings strength and unity in uncertain times."

A flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks, prompting you to avert your gaze momentarily. However, Din's firm grip on your waist draws you closer to where you sat, anchoring you in his reassuring presence.

Meanwhile, Kuiil turns to Cara with a playful glint in his eye. "This one, on the other hand," he remarks, "looks like she was farmed in the Cytocaves of Nora."

You gesture toward Cara with a smile, introducing her to Kuiil. Cara responds with a nod, her own smile reflecting the camaraderie in the room.

Kuiil's eyes settle on Cara's arm, where the telltale tattoo of a Dropper catches his attention. "You were a Dropper," he observes, prompting Cara to raise an intrigued eyebrow. "Did you serve?" she inquires the Ugnaught.

Kuiil settles onto a stool, his expression taking on a thoughtful cast. "On the other side, I'm afraid," he admits. "But I'm proud to say that I paid out my clan's debt, and now I serve no one but myself."

As Kuiil speaks, the room is suddenly interrupted by the mechanical steps of an approaching figure. You glance toward the entrance and see an IG-11 droid entering, carrying a tray of steaming drinks. Instantly, both Din and Cara spring to their feet, blasters are drawn, their defensive instincts kicking in. Meanwhile, you remain seated, a mix of confusion and curiosity etched on your face.

The IG-11 droid, its metallic voice crisp and clear, breaks the tension with an unexpected offer. "Would anyone care for some tea?"

Kuiil, ever composed, raises a calming hand towards Din and Cara. "Please lower your blasters," he urges, his voice steady and assured. "He will not harm you."

"That thing is programmed to kill the baby," Din asserts, his voice tinged with anger as he keeps his blaster trained on the IG unit.

Kuiil interjects calmly as IG-11 places the tray on the table in front of you, "Not anymore. It was left behind in the wake of your destruction.”

“I found it laying where it fell. Devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remained of its neural harness.” Kuiil recounted to you and you listened intently.

"Reconstruction was quite the challenge, but not impossible," Kuiil reflects, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "It had to learn everything anew. This is not a task for mere machinery. It demands patience and repetition. Day after day, I nurtured its growth with care and affirmation. And as its experiences expanded, so did its personality."

Din remains skeptical, his tone betraying his doubt as he inquires, "Is it still a hunter?"

"No," Kuiil replies firmly, "but it will defend."

As the IG-11 droid offers, “Tea?” Cara grabs the cup and takes a sip while you exchange glances with Kuiil, sensing the sincerity in his words reflected in the warm hues of the sunset. With a reassuring touch, you rise from your seat and place a hand on Din's outstretched arm, gently guiding down the blaster. "He speaks the truth," you affirm softly. "It’s okay. We’re okay."

Reluctantly, Din secures his blaster back into its holster, his tension easing slightly as he acknowledges the reassurance in your words.

"I've encountered some difficulties," Din admits as he approaches Kuiil, who is tending to the Blurrg.

Kuiil emits a thoughtful hum. "Seems like you've been managing quite well. Especially with her support," he remarks, nodding in your direction. You're engrossed in play with the Child, introducing the little one to the droid, while Cara observes with interest.

As Din watches you, bathed in the warm glow of the setting suns, he can't help but marvel at your radiance. Your smile outshines even the brightest stars in the galaxy. In that moment, he feels a profound sense of gratitude for having someone like you by his side.

A warm sensation stirs within Din as he watches you laugh at something the Child finds amusing. The primal urge to claim you as his own surges within him, an instinctual longing he struggles to suppress. Beneath his helmet, his jaw tightens as he fixates on you, momentarily lost in the intensity of his emotions. When you glance his way and offer a smile and a wave, his heart swells with longing, yearning for a world where he could have you all to himself, free from the burdens that weigh upon you both.

Swallowing hard, Din tears his gaze away, attempting to regain his composure. "That's not... that's not why we're here," he insists, his voice tinged with an edge of determination.

"I assumed as much. There must be another reason for your return," Kuiil observes with a knowing hum.

Din's voice carries a low, earnest tone as he addresses the Ugnaught. "I need your services."

"I'm retired from service," Kuiil responds, his voice measured.

Ignoring the subtle refusal, Din presses on, his words tinged with a hint of desperation. "I can pay you handsomely, Ugnaught.”

The Ugnaught, displeased by Din's persistence, harumphs. "I have a name. It is Kuiil."

Din's gaze remains unwavering as he makes his request clear. "I require someone to protect the child, Kuiil."

Kuiil shakes his head, his resolve unwavering. "I am not suited for such work. I can reprogram IG-11 for nursing and protocol duties."

Din's voice grows firmer, his tone resolute. "No. I do not want that droid anywhere near him."

"Why are you so distrustful of droids?" Kuiil asks, his tone curious yet skeptical.

Din's response is matter-of-fact. "It tried to kill him."

Kuiil nods, understanding. "It was programmed to do so. Droids are not inherently good or bad. They are neutral reflections of those who imprint them." He looks to Din, hoping to impart some sense to the Mandalorian.

Din's voice carries a distant gravity as he speaks with a serious tone. "I've seen otherwise."

"Do you trust me?" Kuiil's gravelly voice breaks the silence, his gaze steady on Din.

Din nods thoughtfully. "From what I can tell, yes."

"Then trust my work. IG-11 will join me," Kuiil asserts, his tone resolute. "And we do it not for payment, but to protect the child from Imperial slavery."

A weight seems to settle on Din's shoulders as he exhales softly. Kuiil's continues, "None will be free until the old ways are gone forever."

Din takes a moment to consider, his mind churning with the implications. Finally, he meets Kuiil's gaze and nods. "Okay."

"The blurrgs?" Din queries, a hint of confusion in his voice as Kuiil starts to walk away.

Kuiil pauses, turning back to face Din. "And the blurrgs will join me as well," he affirms, his tone carrying a sense of finality.

Kuiil turns once more and continues on his way, leaving Din standing there with a contemplative expression. As he disappears from sight, his parting words linger. "I have spoken."

INSIDE THE RAZOR CREST

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES, 9ABY – SPACE

After securing the blurrgs in the Razor Crest's cargo hold, Din takes control of the ship's controls, steering it towards Nevarro. With the ship set on autopilot, you and he descend the ladder into the cargo hold, where the Child sits in his hovering pram, eyes wide with curiosity as he emits a soft cooing sound.

As you assist Kuiil with feeding the blurrgs, your attention is drawn to the sounds of grunting nearby. Slowly turning, you find Cara and Din engaged in an arm wrestle, their muscles straining against each other in the dim light of the cargo hold. Despite the intense competition, they appear evenly matched.

As you observe Din's impressive display of strength, a flutter of excitement stirs within you, mingled with a hint of something more intimate. His determination and power are undeniably captivating, igniting a subtle thrill that courses through your veins.

"I got you, Mando," Cara declares with a huff, her voice laced with determination.

Din's response is confident as ever. "Care to double the bet?" he challenges, his voice resonating with a subtle intensity. You catch a glimpse of his gaze behind the visor, sensing his determination.

Intense heat rises to your cheeks at the sound of his gruff grunt, the raw energy of the moment heightening your anticipation. You’ve been buzzing with anticipation for weeks.

But the heat fizzes out as a moment of panic grips you as Cara struggles, her hand dropping abruptly from the arm wrestling match. It startles both you and Din, prompting him to rise to his feet with urgency.

As you rush over to the Child, you hear Din's firm voice addressing the little one. "No! No, no! Stop! We're friends, we're friends. Cara is my friend!" he asserts, his tone authoritative.

Stretching out your hand, you tap into the Force, attempting to gently ease the Child's grasp on Cara. Gradually, the tension dissipates, and you release your hold on the Force, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Eager breaths escape your lips, leaving you slightly winded from the unexpected exertion.

Cara gestures toward the Child and voices her concern, "That is not okay!"

"Hmm. Very curious," Kuiil remarks, his gaze shifting to you and the Child.

"Curious? It almost killed me!" Cara exclaims, her alarm evident.

"The story you told me of the mudhorn now makes more sense," Kuiil adds.

"Mudhorn?" You interject, your curiosity piqued. You glance over at Din, who has now moved closer to you, checking to ensure you're okay as you still catch your breath from the ordeal.

"What is it?" Din inquires Kuiil while keeping you close by his side.

"What it is, I don't know. But what it does, this… This I've heard rumors of," Kuiil replies.

Cara shoots the Ugnaught a skeptical glance. "What? When you worked for the Empire?"

Kuiil stands his ground, his tone resolute. "When I was sold to the Empire, in indentured servitude."

"Yet somehow, you walk free," Cara retorts with a scoff, rising to her feet. But Kuiil remains unfazed. "I bought my freedom through the skill of my hands and the labor of three of your human lifetimes. Do not cast doubt upon what I am nor whom I shall serve."

As the swirling colors of intense emotions overwhelm your senses, you feel a surge of turbulence within. It's a challenge to maintain composure, especially given your empathic abilities.

Sensing your discomfort, Din's demeanor softens, a rare glimpse of tenderness shining through. In a voice touched with kindness, he addresses Kuiil, "Tell you what. I could really use your craftwork right now. Can you pad this container so the child can sleep better?"

Kuiil acknowledges the request with a nod, his expression solemn. "I shall fabricate a better one. Then perhaps this Dropper can see how one can win their freedom with the skill of one's hands."

With purposeful movements, Kuiil sets to work, the hum of machinery filling the space as sparks fly from the welding gun. Meanwhile, the Child observes with wide-eyed curiosity. Feeling Din's comforting touch on your lower back, he guides you back up the ladder toward the cockpit.

You move to take a seat on a nearby chair, but before you can settle, Din swiftly pivots from his pilot chair. His strong hands encircle your waist, pulling you onto his lap in a single fluid motion. You emit a surprised yelp as you find yourself seated sideways, legs draped over his, and your head nestled against the cool surface of his beskar pauldron. Instinctively, you loop your arms around his neck to maintain your balance.

"Din! Cara could walk in any second," you whisper urgently.

He responds with a nonchalant hum. "She won't mind."

"But—"

"You seemed winded earlier, using your..." Din's voice trails off as he adjusts a few controls, and you finish his thought, "The Force?"

"Yes," he confirms.

You release a sigh and reach up to lightly touch the side of his helmet, wishing you could see beyond the reflective visor. "Din, I'm alright. It just took me by surprise. Later, I'll speak with the kid about using the Force responsibly. It's something we need to ensure he understands."

As you utter the word "we," something ignites within Din's chest. The notion of you wanting to stand by his side, to be integrated into his clan, strengthens his need to claim you as his own, to initiate the formal courtship.

With a gentle movement, he leans his helmet closer, as he uses his left gloved hand to hold the back of your neck, bringing your forehead to rest against his. The warmth of your skin contrasts with the cool touch of his beskar armor. You instinctively close your eyes, sharing a moment akin to the gesture known as the keldabe kiss.

You emit a soft sound, unable to suppress it as you sense him gently squeeze the back of your neck, expressing his desire to draw nearer. Din gruffly murmurs, "Soon, Cyar'ika. Soon."

"You better be fully clothed in there, I'm coming in!" Cara's voice echoes through the ship before the doors hiss open and shut, signaling her entrance. She finds you still seated on Din's lap, a sheepish expression on your face.

Wide-eyed, you attempt to slide off Din's lap, but he pulls you closer in a tighter grip. Your embarrassment intensifies, your cheeks burning as Cara smirks at you. Wanting to hide, you bury your face between Din's neck and shoulder, the heat of the moment igniting a mix of desire and embarrassment throughout your body.

Cara meticulously cleans her blaster as she addresses both of you, "So, we're heading to Nevarro?"

Din, still seated with you on his lap, engages in the conversation, "Have you been there before?"

"No," Cara responds, settling into her seat with the blaster and a rag in hand. "We lost a lot of our forces there. The city's dug in pretty deep. No cover when you drop in. It stayed in Empire control 'till the end of the war.”

Din nods in acknowledgment. "The warlord we're taking out was an Imperial officer.”

Cara's curiosity piques. "What station?"

Din turns his chair, keeping you snugly in his hold, as he explains, "Hard to tell. No insignia anymore.”

You attempt to wriggle out of his grasp once more, but his arm around your midsection keeps you firmly in place.

"We took out the safehouse when we snatched the kid." Din continues, his tone grave. "More Imps have reinforced since.”

Apologies for the oversight. Here's the revised text, retaining the original dialogue:

"There's something more going on," Cara remarks as she begins to clean a different rifle.

"Maybe. We'll find out more when we land," Din replies, his gaze fixed on the controls.

The doors hiss open, and IG-11 steps inside, its robotic voice announcing, "I have prepared second meal. Would you care to be served here or below?"

"I'm not hungry," Din says flatly.

The IG-11 leaves.

Cara's chuckle echoes lightly in the cockpit. "You got a real thing for droids, don't you?" she teases.

Din's voice remains monotone as he responds, his helmet reflecting the dim light. "I got a real thing for that droid."

"The Ugnaught said he rewired it," Cara mentions, her tone casual.

Din shakes his head, his expression hidden behind the helmet. "That droid was designed to kill things. I don't care how much wiring he replaced. It goes against its nature."

Cara's departing words linger in the air as she heads back down to the cargo hold, leaving you and Din alone once more.

A hushed quiet falls between you, the hum of the ship's engines filling the space. You break the silence, the words catching in your throat. "We need to get ready..."

Din's voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "Just let me hold you a little longer, Cyar'ika," he murmurs, his tone laden with affection. You meet his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you, and with a quiet nod, you reply, "Okay."

NEVARRO, 9ABY – DUSK

The Razor Crest descends into a desolate corner of Nevarro, the distant hum of its engines fading as it settles on the uneven terrain. Your pulse quickens, the rhythm echoing in your ears as you adjust the cloak robe to conceal your lightsaber, keeping it out of sight.

The four of you dismount the ship, perched atop blurrgs, and spot Greef Karga approaching, accompanied by three other bounty hunters including a human, Nikto, and a Trandoshan. He strides toward your party, a mix of urgency and caution in his steps. "Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando, but things have gotten complicated since you were last here,” he says, coming to a halt a few paces away.

As he surveys the group, Greef Karga remarks, "It appears that introductions are in order. It seems we've both provided a security detail," His gaze shifts to Cara. "I'd suggest the shock trooper stays back to guard the ship. These lava fields are swarming with Jawas."

"She's coming with us," you assert firmly.

"But the town is now run by ex-Empire. If a Rebel Dropper is with us, they'll all get their hackles up," Greef Karga argues, attempting to dissuade you.

"She's coming," Din insists.

Greef Karga grudgingly relents. "Fine," he seethes, then relents once more with a resigned sigh. "Fine." Gesturing to Cara, he adds, "Just cover your tattoo. No need to draw unnecessary attention."

"Now, where's the little one?" Karga inquires. Din activates a button on his bracer, causing the hovering pram to glide forward, its hatch hissing open. Greef Karga leans in to inspect the Child, drawing uneasy gazes from the group. Fingers hover near blasters as tension mounts, and you clench your jaw.

"So, this little bogwing is what all the fuss was about. What a precious little creature. I can see why you didn't want to harm a hair on its wrinkled little head," Greef Karga remarks, lifting the Child briefly before returning it to the hovering pram. Din swiftly closes the hatch with another press of his bracer, bringing the pram back to his side.

As the group prepares to embark on their journey across the lava fields of Nevarro, Greef Karga lays out the plan. "Well, I'm glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all. The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell, camp out at the riverbank, then make our way into town at first light," he explains. You nod in agreement as your group rides the blurrgs, ready to traverse the treacherous terrain.

NEVARRO, 9ABY — EVENING

As the group settles in for the night, a campfire crackles, casting flickering light on the surrounding faces. You find a spot on the ground, seated cross-legged like the others. Positioned between Din and the Child, Kuiil patiently feeds the young one while you quietly finish your meal.

Across the fire, the three bounty hunters sit, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. With a keen sense, you observe them, your empathic force powers awakening to perceive shades of darkness and red, hinting at hidden motives and deceit.

As you unconsciously shift closer to Din, preparing to whisper your observations, Greef Karga's voice cuts through the quiet night. He gazes at the Child, remarking, "I guess the little bugger's a carnivore. Never seen anything like it. They were ready to pay a king's ransom for that thing. Must be for some kind of highfalutin menagerie."

"Let's go over the plan again," Din interjects, brushing off Karga's comments.

“We three enter the common house. We show the client the bait. We join him at the table. And you kill him,” Greef Karga explains matter-of-factly, as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

Din quickly follows up, “Tell me about his reinforcements.”

“They're all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck, poof, they'll all scatter,” Greef Karga replies nonchalantly.

“And what if they don't?” You press further.

“They will,” Greef Karga asserts confidently.

Din shakes his head, “That's not good enough.”

Greef Karga sighs heavily, “If, for argument's sake, a few of them don't realize that I'm their best path to alternative employment and they elect to react impulsively, then these three fine Guild Hunters, along with that battle-hardened shock trooper, and your Jedi will cut down anyone who bucks.”

“I’m a medic, not a Jedi,” you mumble with a clenched jaw.

“How many will there be?” Din asks Greef Karga.

“No more than four,” Karga replies as he rises from his seated position, heading over to the large piece of meat roasting over the campfire. He reaches out to grab a piece, confidently stating, “He travels with, at most, a Fire Team. Trust me. Nothing can go wrong.”

However, his confidence is shattered as a large beast emerges from the darkness. It's a species of winged, predatory reptavians native to Nevarro. With a large wingspan, scaly and dry skin, and a dragon-like appearance, these reptavians have a pointed snout, a mouth filled with sharp teeth, and two brownish eyes.

One of the reptavians swoops down, sinking its teeth into Greef's arm, eliciting a pained grunt from him. Chaos erupts as blaster fire fills the air, echoing against the rocky terrain. Each member of the group takes aim, firing at the winged assailants with precision.

With swift movements, the Mandalorian secures the Child in his hovering pram, shielding the youngling from harm. Meanwhile, you ignite your lightsaber, its vibrant purple hue casting an eerie glow in the dim light. Swinging it fiercely, you fend off the winged creatures with determined strikes.

Amidst the commotion, a blurrg and a Trandoshan bounty hunter fall victim to the creatures' relentless onslaught. As one of the reptavians swoops down to snatch another blurrg, it meets its demise in a barrage of blaster fire, falling lifeless to the ground. Unfortunately, in the chaos, a blurrg is accidentally struck by friendly fire.

After the Mandalorian's flamethrower repels the winged creatures, a tense silence settles over the group, broken only by the occasional groan of pain from Greef Karga. As the dust settles and the smoke clears, everyone remains on edge, waiting to see if the creatures will return.

Moving swiftly, Kuiil rushes to Greef's side, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "He's hurt badly," Kuiil announces, his voice tinged with worry.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. Ow!" Greef insists through gritted teeth, his bravado failing to mask his discomfort. You kneel beside him, your focus on assessing his injury. The deep bite mark left by the reptavians catches your attention, and you speak with authority, "Hold still."

"They got you good," you murmur, your focus still fixed on the deep wound.

"How bad, Cyar'ika?" Din's voice comes from behind you as you work.

"Bad. The poison's spreading fast," you reply, urgency lacing your tone as you inject Greef Karga with a pen, hoping it will slow the venom's progress.

"So this... This is how it happens," Greef Karga says between labored breaths.

Cara rolls her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."

"I need another medpac! Got any other medpacs?" you urgently call out.

“Anyone? I'm guessing that's a ‘no’,” you say with a huff, frustration creeping into your voice. You glance back at his arm, noting the venom's continued spread. “It's still spreading. This isn't working.”

“Get this thing outta here,” Cara exclaims, prompting you to realize that the Child had approached unnoticed.

Observing the Child, Kuiil interjects, “Wait.”

The Child extends his tiny green hand and places it atop Greef Karga’s arm. With a wince, Karga cries out, “He's trying to eat me!”

You sense it too—the subtle hum of the Force emanating from the Child. With each focused use, the Child begins to harness his abilities, channeling them to gradually heal Greef Karga’s arm, leaving no trace of a scar. Witnessing such skill from one so young fills you with awe; Force Healing of this magnitude is exceedingly rare. A collective exhale fills the air, each member of the group seemingly sharing in the astonishment of witnessing such a miraculous feat.

NEVARRO, 9ABY – DAWN

As the sun begins to ascend, casting a dim light across the rugged landscape, the group presses onward. Smoke billows from the small volcanic vents scattered throughout the rocky terrain of Nevarro. An uneasy silence envelops the group, with Greef Karga's companions forging ahead, leaving you, Din, Cara, and Kuiil to tread quietly behind on foot, the Ugnaught trailing along atop the last remaining blurrg.

Cara speaks softly, directing her question to both you and Din. "You think they're having second thoughts?"

Din responds in a hushed tone, his voice barely audible. "Could be. I need your eyes."

"I'm watching," Cara confirms with a nod.

An hour later, your group arrives at the outskirts of Nevarro, with Greef Karga leading the way and you, Din, and Cara close behind. "I guess this is it," Greef Karga remarks, gazing out at the view. But something tugs at your gut, a feeling that something isn't right.

Before you can react, Greef abruptly turns around and fires at his associates, sending them collapsing lifeless to the ground. The sudden violence startles you, Din, and Cara. They swiftly unholster their blasters, aiming them at Greef Karga, while you grasp your saber hilt, activating it in readiness to deflect any blaster fire.

Din and Cara keep their blasters trained on Greef Karga, who raises his hands in surrender. "There's something you should know," he confesses as he ensures that both the bounty hunters are truly dead and kicks away their blasters. "The plan was to kill you and take the kid. But after what happened last night, I couldn't go through with it."

Your brow furrows as you listen to Karga's plea. "Go on," he continues, "You can gun me down here and now, and it wouldn't violate the Code. But if you do, this child will never be safe."

Cara grits her teeth and shoots Karga a scowl. "We'll take our chances," she asserts firmly.

"The Imperial client is obsessed with obtaining this asset. You tried to run, but where did it get you?" Greef Karga reasons, causing Cara to grow more agitated. "This is ridiculous," she tells Din.

"Perhaps you should let him speak," Kuiil interjects calmly, while you maintain a steady gaze on Greef Karga.

Karga points out, "Listen, we three need the client to be eliminated. Let me take the child to him and then you two…"

"No," Din interrupts firmly.

Cara clenches her jaw, her blaster aimed at Greef Karga. "Let's just kill him and get outta here," she suggests, her frustration evident.

You feel the Force connecting you through your empathic powers, sensing the true colors of Greef Karga. Taking a deep breath and deactivating your saber, you speak up. "He's right."

Din lowers his blaster, while Cara hisses in disbelief, "What are you doing?"

"As long as the Imp lives, he'll send hunters after the child," Din explains to Cara, who responds with a warning, "It's a trap."

"Bring me," Din suddenly interjects.

"What?" you exclaim, taken aback, while Greef Karga echoes, "Bring you?"

"Tell him you captured me. Get me close to him and I'll kill him," Din states with determination, and Karga nods, “That's a good idea. Give me your blaster.”

As Din hands over his blaster, it prompts you to protest as you take a step closer to him. "No! Hold on, it should be me. Bring me instead," you insist.

Din begins, "Cyar'ika—"

You sharply turn your head to face Greef Karga. "Do they know?"

Greef Karga begins to respond, but you cut him off, your voice tense with urgency. "Do. They. Know?"

"Yes," he confirms.

"Okay," you swallow, your mind racing through the options and landing on a decision. "You bring me in. Say that Cara captured me and convinced Mando to trade me instead of the Child." You then hand over your saber hilt to Greef Karga who pockets it.

"No. Absolutely not. You are going back to the ship with Kuiil and the Child," Din interjects, his tone firm.

"But without her or the Child, none of this works!" Karga exclaims, trying to reason.

"I’m going with you," you assert, stepping closer to Din. As he meets your gaze through his visor, you see the conflict in his eyes. He starts to protest, but you cut him off with a whispered plea, "I am going with you, and there is nothing you could say to convince me otherwise. We face these things together." You reach out and touch the side of his helmet, feeling the cool metal beneath your palm as you press your foreheads together. "Let me be there for you, like you were for me. Please."

Din hesitates, visibly conflicted. Finally, he lets out a shaky exhale. "Maker help me. Fine, fine. But you listen to me, alright? When I tell you to run, you run. Got it?"

You nod, determination in your eyes. "Okay."

Din grunts out his plan. "Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with the child and seal yourself in. Once you're inside, engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors."

"Here's a comlink," Kuiil says, handing Din the device. "I will keep the child safe."

Kuiil looks at Cara and advises, "Don't forget to cover your stripes."

"Let's go," Din nods, prompting everyone to prepare. He turns to you, offering a pair of silver binders. You secure your hands in front of him, feeling a flush of embarrassment at the familiar sensation of the cuffs.

With a click, your hands are bound, and he asks softly, "Not too tight?"

Feeling playful, you respond with a cheeky grin, "You could make it tighter."

There's a warmth in his chest, almost like laughter. His mouth quirks into a smirk. "Cyar'ika, you are going to be the death of me."

You freeze, sensing the shift in his demeanor beneath the helmet. It's almost like awe or something.

"What?" he asks, catching your reaction.

"You're smiling, I can tell by your voice," you note, smiling yourself. Your eyes meet the visor of his helmet, and his skin prickles with awareness.

Suddenly, he wants you a lot closer. In his lap. Straddling him, maybe. Your hands in his hair, and his in yours. But there's no time for that. You clear your throat, breaking the moment, and gesture toward Greef Karga, who is waiting for the other pair of stun cuffs to restrain Din.

Din regains his composure, walking over to Greef Karga to be cuffed. As he does, Cara conceals her tattooed arm with a cloth, and Kuiil picks up the Child from the hovering pram. With your group heading in opposite directions, you hope fervently that everything will go according to plan.

NEVARRO, 9ABY — DAY

Greef and Cara escort the bound Mandalorian, you, and the hovering pram toward the town. At the gate, they come across two scout troopers riding 74-Z speeder bikes.

"Chain code?" one of the Scout Troopers demands, eyeing Greef Karga suspiciously.

Greef nods toward you and Din. "I have a gift for the boss."

The Scout Trooper repeats, "Chain code?" with insistence. Reluctantly, Greef retrieves his card and hands it over.

The Scout Trooper scans Greef's card. "I'll give you 20 credits for the helmet," he offers, eyeing the Mandalorian's helmet.

Greef lets out a fake laugh. "Ha-ha! Not a chance. That's going on my wall."

Din leans in to Karga, whispering, "On your wall?" Greef shoots him a pointed look. "Go with it."

"Go ahead," the Scout Trooper says, returning Greef's card. The group proceeds forward into town.

Cara gives Greef a sharp look. "You said four. There are more than four troopers."

Greef explains quietly, "Four guarding the client. Many more here in town. Things got really heated once Mando crashed the safehouse."

Cara suggests, "Slip him his blaster."

Greef shakes his head. "Not yet."

You approach the cantina's entrance, Greef Karga announcing, "Here we are." As the door slides open, the once bustling space is now eerily empty, save for the watchful eyes of the stormtroopers stationed inside, their presence unsettling.

Greef nods towards the troopers. "You see? Four." He then leads you and Din towards the Client, gesturing towards both of you. "Look what I brought you. As promised."

The Client moves closer to Din, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns of Din's beskar chest plate. "What exquisite craftsmanship. It's remarkable how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans."

Your expression twists in disgust as you watch the Client touch Din's armor. Then, the Client's attention shifts to you, his hand reaching out to grab your face. You meet his gaze with a defiant glare as he remarks, "Ah, the Jedi. Word travels fast whenever your kind is spotted." His tone drips with disdain. "What a waste."

As the Client releases your face, you feel a surge of revulsion. Sensing Din's simmering anger, you brace yourself.

"Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?" the Client proposes to Greef Karga, who accepts with a nod.

An RA-7 protocol droid sets to work at the bar, preparing drinks for Greef and the Client. Gesturing towards a nearby booth, the Client invites, "Please, have a seat."

As you take your place, the Client begins, "It's regrettable that your people suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable."

He turns his attention to Din. "Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire enhances every system it touches." You let out a derisive scoff, prompting the Client to continue, undeterred. "Judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside." He gestures towards the window. "Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos."

You grit your teeth and suppress a retort, sensing the Client's emotions swirling before you, a dark maelstrom of black and red hues.

"I would like to see the baby," the Client requests.

Greef Karga clears his throat. "Uh... It's asleep."

"We'll all be quiet. Open the pram," the Client insists, narrowing his eyes. You swallow nervously, feeling a sense of unease. But before the situation can escalate, a stormtrooper approaches the Client and murmurs something discreetly. The Client stands abruptly. "Don't think me to be rude. I must take this call."

A stormtrooper sets up a holoprojector as the Client strides over to it. Under the table, Greef Karga discreetly unbinds his restraints, while Din swiftly does the same for you, his hands deftly removing the cuffs. "Give me the blaster and her saber hilt," he instructs Karga, his tone firm.

"You get one shot," Greef Karga reminds Din as he hands over your saber hilt. Din passes it to you with a determined nod.

Cara leans in close, her voice barely a whisper. "This is bad. You said four."

"Well, there are more. What can I tell you?" Greef Karga replies quietly.

A tense moment hangs in the air, and you sense a shift in the atmosphere. Before you can react, gunfire erupts from outside the cantina, catching everyone off guard. The shots strike the Client and his stormtroopers, sending them sprawling to the ground. Instinctively, you, the Mandalorian, Cara, and Greef dive behind a nearby table for cover. Amidst the chaos, the RA-7 protocol droid is caught in the crossfire and falls to the ground, incapacitated.

Taking cover behind various pillars, you, the Mandalorian, Cara, and Greef cautiously assess the situation. Through the shattered windows of the cantina, a line of death troopers becomes visible, their ominous presence sending a chill down your spine. As if that weren't enough, an Imperial Troop Transport rolls onto the scene, unloading a squad of stormtroopers, further escalating the situation.

"Four stormtroopers?" Cara scoffs, her expression darkening. "This is bad."

The Mandalorian quickly contacts Kuiil via comlink, his voice urgent. "Kuiil? Are you back at the ship yet?" After a tense moment of silence, he presses, "Are you there? Do you copy?"

"Yes!" Kuiil's voice crackles through the comlink.

Din wastes no time. "Are you back at the ship yet?"

"Not yet," Kuiil replies.

"Get back to the ship and get the kid out of here. We're pinned down!" Din's command is sharp and resolute.

The roar of engines interrupts the chaos, drawing your attention outside. An Outland TIE fighter swoops into view, its retractable solar collectors gleaming in the sunlight. The Imperial officer emerges from the cockpit, clad in full black attire, his cape billowing dramatically in the wind. His voice carries over the commotion as he declares, "You have something I want."

"Who's this guy?" Cara asks, her confusion evident.

"You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not," the officer asserts ominously.

"Kuiil, are you back at the ship yet? They're onto us!" Din urgently tries to reach Kuiil through the comlink.

No response.

Din attempts again, growing increasingly desperate. "Kuiil, come in!"

Still, there's silence.

"In a few moments, it will be mine," the officer threatens, his tone dripping with menace.

"Kuiil! Do you copy? Kuiil!" Din's voice echoes with urgency.

"It means more to me than you will ever know," the officer adds, his words sending a chill down your spine.

"Kuiil! Are you there? Come in, Kuiil. Kuiil, come in," Din pleads desperately.

"Kuiil? Are you there? Do you copy? Kuiil? Kuiil!"

TAGLIST: @wastingspaces @avengersheart @lunatic1012 @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @mxltifxnd0m @syviiss @luckyzipperscissorsbat @avengersheart @dins-riduur-anthe @lizlil @n7cje @scoliobean @ofmusesandsecrets

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x empath!reader #din djarin x forcesensitive!reader #ethereal writes #thesilverliningch5 #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian rewrite #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #the mandaloria/reader #pedro pascal x reader

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mandos-mind-trick · 11 months

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Summary: After a tragedy leaves you scarred, you're afraid of what your soulmate might think. He's just glad you're alive.

Pairing: Jesse x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW smut, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, first time sex, lots of discussion of scars and body dysphoria, reader is very insecure, reader is disabled and scarred, some pretty intense scenes, angst, panic attacks, PTSD, reader is injured in an explosion, war, violence, some brief gore, reader has nightmares. This one's kinda heavy, but it has a happy ending, Jesse is an absolute sweetie, may make you giggle and kick your feet.

A/N: Just kidding, you're getting two in one day. This one is pretty intense and has some pretty heavy subject matter. Please heed the warnings as it deals with some sensitive subject matter. There is a happy ending I promise. It's just a bit rough to get there. Jesse is a body positive king in this one and we love him for that.

Special thanks to @star-trekker-0013 for giving me the idea for this particular soulmate link. I decided to give it to someone else, but I still wanted to use it.

MASTERLIST

It happens fast.

You’d gone to work that morning after watching news report after news report about the war. It’s been waging for over a year now, and it’s not slowing down any. It seems like every day there’s news of an attack, another planet being devastated, more and more people dying. Your planet has remained largely unscathed, but you know that’s no guarantee it’s going to stay that way.

There were warning systems in place, protocols for if an invasion or an attack happens. What to do to give yourself the best chance of survival, because the best you can do is hope you’re lucky enough to survive.

Even the best laid plans can’t protect against something no one sees coming.

You’re sitting at your desk, typing away as usual when everything goes red. The bang is loud, eardrums popping as you’re thrown from your chair. It’s the shock that keeps it from being worse than it is as your body hits the far wall with a crack.

You’re dizzy, the world spinning around you as you lay there. You can’t move. Pain is burning through your side, your left arm completely numb. You can’t move it. All you can hear is a ringing in your ears, your vision red and black spots. Breathing hurts. Your chest is burning, every breath like agony.

You turn your head slowly, looking over to your left. Where your desk, and several others had been, is a giant hole in the side of the building. Smoke is billowing from the hole, choking you as you try to breathe. You’re stuck, unable to move even if you wanted to.

War has come to your planet finally, and you’re stuck in the middle of it.

***

Jesse doesn’t think much about his soulmate.

Or, he tries not to.

Since he can remember, he’s heard stories about soulmates. They never spoke about them freely, but in the few precious moments they were alone, in the freshers or tucked away in the barracks, the clones spoke about their soulmate links. Marks, dreams, color blindness, writing on the skin, all sorts of ways links may be formed.

Of course, from early on they knew attempting to contact soulmates, or engaging in the links was forbidden. If anyone was found to have initiated the link, they would be forced to reject their soulmate. If they refused, they would be decommissioned.

They also knew, if they were careful enough, they didn’t have to follow this rule.

Most of them didn’t.

It wasn’t fair to them, or to their soulmates, most of whom had been waiting a long time for their links to show up.

Jesse doesn’t know what his link is.

That doesn’t mean much, as there’s plenty of links that are invisible until they happen, or you actually meet your soulmate. He’d heard of a trooper once that had teleported to his soulmate. Disappeared right in the middle of a training exercise. They never found him.

He’s glad they didn’t.

When the war starts, he has far less downtime to think about his soulmate, but still he finds the thoughts plaguing his mind. Who are they? Where are they? When will they meet? How will they meet? How will he know?

The war keeps him busy, but not busy enough.

It’s just over a year into the war when he finally gets his answers.

They’d just finished another campaign, resting on the short journey to the next one. He’d been restless all night, something in the back of his mind keeping him from settling. He can’t pinpoint what it is, what it could be. He feels on edge, like he’s waiting for something to happen.

Maybe he needs to jog around the ship, or do something to help settle his nerves. He climbs from his bunk, heading back into the fresher to splash some water on his face.

The artificial lights flicker on when he enters, and he heads to one of the sinks, looking in the mirror.

A shout of surprise leaves his lips and he stumbles back. He looks down, tugging off the top half of his blacks. His entire left arm is grey. Fingers to shoulder, every inch of his skin is a dull grey color. There’s more grey across the left side of his chest, splattering outward towards the center of his chest, and down onto his abdomen. There’s a long line of grey stretching from his chest up his neck, and splits into two lines at his jaw up to his cheek.

He lifts a shaky hand, touching the two lines. It’s still his skin. It feels no different than the tanned skin around it.

The door swishes open, Rex standing there in his blacks with a blaster in hand. Of course his shout would have woken his lightly sleeping brothers.

“Rex...” He croaks out, his hands shaking. “What’s happening?”

“Jesse,” Rex says, taking a step forward. “I think you’ve found your soulmate link.”

Rex puts a hand on his shoulder, easing him down onto the floor. He’s panicking, the dread that had been in the back of his mind suddenly overwhelming. His soulmate link? His skin suddenly turning grey is his soulmate link?

“Whenever your soulmate gets an injury, it shows up on your skin as a grey mark.” Rex explains. “And any injury you have, would show up on them.”

“Rex...” Jesse croaks out, the panic not easing any.

An injury like this isn’t something you just walk away from. He knows it, his brothers know it. He’s seen injuries like this before, and most of them didn’t make it.

“Easy.” Rex puts a hand on his back. “They’re not dead. You would know if they were. You can’t do anything right now. Just breathe and trust that wherever they are, they’re getting help as we speak.”

***

You’re choking. The smoke is thick, making your eyes burn.

You’re not sure how long it’s been.

The pain is horrible, burning through your shoulder and side. Your right arm is throbbing and your legs have gone numb. You’re stuck in an uncomfortable position, but you can’t move at all.

You’ve tried screaming for help. You’ve been screaming for help, yet nothing. No one knows you’re here. No one knows you’re still alive.

No one’s coming.

You jolt awake, sitting up in bed. You try to breathe, putting a hand on your chest to try and ease the ache there. There’s no smoke. The air is clean and clear. You’re in bed, safe in your temporary home on Coruscant.

You had been saved.

Someone had come.

It had all been just bad luck on your part. The attack on your planet had come out of nowhere. You had been at work, at your desk when it started, right in the path of the first bomb that had been dropped on the city. It had hit a few floors below, and blew upwards just feet from your desk. You had been far enough away to avoid instant death, but too close to come out unscathed.

Getting thrown by the force of the explosion had saved you a lot, but had broken your right arm when you’d hit the wall. Your left side, which had been facing the explosion wasn’t so lucky. Your left arm had been severely burned, along with part of your shoulder and chest. Pieces of shrapnel had lacerated your neck and face, and down along your abdomen, many more buried in your flesh.

Almost two days you laid there, thinking no one was coming. No one was going to save you.

Then they appeared.

Like angels in white coming through the smoke. You’re sure they spoke to you, but your ears had still been ringing, ear-drums perforated from the proximity to the explosion. Moving had been excruciating, even on the stretcher, every step towards freedom was like another explosion hitting you.

You had cried when the rebreather was placed on your face, when the rush of cool, clean air hit you. You remember the green stripe on the helmet of the medic that had injected the pain medicine. He’d held your right hand as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You’d woken up some time later in a medical facility. You were sticky from bacta, a long soak in a bacta tank, the medical droid had explained. Your broken bones and most of the lacerations had healed. Your left arm, however, had been beyond repair. From your shoulder joint to your fingers, the left arm was gone.

They’d been kind enough to replace it with a cybernetic one.

You’d spent a lot of time afterwards, staring at yourself in the mirror. Covered in scars on the left side, leaving your skin warped and streaked with lines. Most of them would never heal beyond what they were. Even repeated bacta treatments wasn’t guaranteed to help any. Some damage was too great, even for the miracle of bacta.

You try not to let it bother you.

Your home, your job, your entire life had been wiped out by the droid army that invaded your planet. Most of the inhabitants of the city that survived were brought to Coruscant as refugees, and put up in communal housing while the Senate endlessly debated what to do.

You’d met a few of the Senators that had pushed for the aid and assistance, chosen practically out of the crowd when you landed with a couple others. After all, who better to show just how ugly the war they sit and debate over truly is than someone like you? Someone who lost everything, including body parts.

It’s only been a few weeks, but you’ve slowly been adjusting to your new life. Your temporary home is more of a hostel, and you share the room with three other women who had been displaced by the destruction of your planet. A couple of them already had jobs on Coruscant, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that yet. You barely left the room, much less the hostel.

The hostel provides food, and there was a donation center on the first floor for clothes and other necessities. It’s nothing like your life previously, but you’re still alive so that counts for something, right?

You spend your day as you usually do, back and forth between the room and the dining hall. You clean a bit, in exchange for your lack of ambition to do much else. You think of it as good practice to get used to your cybernetic arm. You often used it as an excuse to get out of doing things. Lingering pain, the adjustment to a new limb.

The adjustment hadn’t been very hard. The cybernetic limb worked just as well as your flesh one had. In fact, you sometimes forget about it, until you glance at the grey steel and get reminded that it’s not in fact your actual arm.

Of course, the cosmetic side of things was a bit different. Cybernetics aren’t that abnormal. Plenty of beings have them for one reason or another. Some even get them as enhancements. You’ve never considered yourself a vain person, or someone who cares about their looks, but still, people stare. They stare more now.

That’s partly why you’ve avoided going out.

You don’t want people to stare. You don’t want people to ask.

You’re scared of meeting your soulmate. What will they think? Of course, they already know. You shared a link with your soulmate that left a mark on your skin for every injury. You’re littered in grey marks where your soulmate has been cut and injured. The first ones hadn’t shown up until much later in your life than you would expect them to. You hadn’t thought much of it, maybe your soulmate was just that careful. Then more and more had shown up, increasing in number over the last few years. With the war, though, it wasn’t hard to figure out that maybe your soulmate was involved somehow, or perhaps they had been a victim of an attack like you.

It gives you hope that your soulmate might not look at you in disgust and want to reject you because you’re scarred and broken.

***

“We’re going out.”

One of your roommates drops a bag on the end of your bed. You’d been enjoying the quiet while the other three were out, reading a holonovel on your datapad.

You hadn’t known this particular girl before, but you were both from the same planet. She was one of the types to make everyone her friend, regardless of if they wanted to be or not. She had made it her personal mission to help you, despite your obvious disagreement. Her entire apartment building had been destroyed in the attack, but she had been lucky enough to be away from home when it happened. While she could understand some of the loss, she couldn’t understand it all.

“We’re going to 79’s.” She says, beginning to unload the bag onto your bed. “And you’re coming with us.

“The clone bar?” You ask in disbelief. You know about the clone bar a few levels down, a favorite spot for members of the GAR to visit on shore leave. Some of the girls frequented there, but you hadn’t seen the appeal.

“Yeah,” She says, holding up a dress, obviously brand new. “You should get out, get some air, and what better place than a bar filled with trained soldiers?”

You swallow thickly, turning back to the datapad. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on,” She says, sitting next to you. “You have to go out eventually, and besides, maybe that medic will be there. You know, the one you talked about? Maybe you can finally thank him in person.”

You know she’s not going to take no for an answer. Maybe going out will be good for you. If nothing else, you can turn around and sneak out while she’s not looking and return home. It might even get her to leave you alone for a while.

Your shoulders slump, knowing what you have to say. Even if you really don’t want to.

***

79s is busy with several battalions on leave at once.

You’re instantly overwhelmed as you weave your way towards the bar with your roommate. So many bodies, so many people all in one place.

You tug nervously at the sleeve of your dress, glancing nervously around the bar. You’re glad she was at least considerate enough to buy a dress with long sleeves. It’s a bit shorter than you would have liked, but your arms are covered. You need to get a job so you can start saving up to get synthetic skin put on your cybernetic arm. Then maybe you won’t feel so awful about it.

You begin to panic a bit as your roommate loses her grip on your hand, disappearing into the crowd. You feel as if the small grip you had on sanity has fled, the bodies around you suddenly seeming to close in around you. It’s getting hard to breathe, smoke filling your lungs. You’re choking on it, imobile and unable to get away from it.

You’re stumbling through the crowd before you even realize it, desperately trying to get back to the door. You push through a group of clones coming in, mumbling apologies as you nearly tumble into the night air.

You stumble away from the door, away from the groups milling about in front of the bar. You find a secluded corner, pressing your back against the wall. You’re gasping for air, pressing a hand into your chest like it might keep your heart from beating straight through the mangled scar-tissue.

“Excuse me?”

A soft voice pulls you from the racing thoughts in your mind. You snap your head to the side, wide eyed and probably looking like a frightened wild animal.

It’s a clone, unmistakably, that’s followed you. You wonder if he’s one of the ones you bumped into in your desperate escape coming to berate you for bumping into him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, taking half a step closer.

You can see his face clearly now. He’s bald, but has a bit of a five o’clock shadow across his cheeks. There’s a Republic cog tattooed across his head and face on the left side, and below it two grey lines running down his neck until they disappear under his armor. You recognize those marks.

They’re exact replicas of the scars on your face.

You continue to stare at him wide eyed. You had considered once that your soulmate could be a clone, but you hadn’t thought that much about it.

And here he is, your soulmate, watching you have a panic attack outside a bar.

“Are you alright?” He repeats, taking a step closer. “I saw you running out of there.”

“T-Too much.” You stutter out, trying to get air into your lungs. You’re not breathing smoke. You’re breathing dirty city air.

A sympathetic look flashes across his face for a moment. “I get it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it that full. It’s not usually this busy.”

“I haven’t been out in public in months.” You say, slowly getting your breathing to calm down. “And my roommate has the genius idea to bring me to a bar.”

“I know someplace quieter. A little cafe not far from here. Unless you’d rather go home. I wouldn’t blame you.”

You look at him for a long while. Here’s your soulmate, right in front of you. You’re close enough to touch. He’s offering to get you out of here, go somewhere quiet.

Or go home.

You can tell what he wants you to say. You should. You may never see him again. You may never get a chance to talk to him before he ships out again. Next time, he may be the one in the explosion. He’s a clone soldier. He could easily die at any point.

So could you.

You nod slowly, your heart still pounding in your chest. “Y-Yeah. Somewhere quiet would be nice.”

The corner of his mouth turns up in a smile. “Okay. This way.”

He leads you away from the bar, his hand hovering against your back as you steady yourself. You’re glad to be away from the crowds, even the people wandering become less and less as he leads you down a level.

“My name’s Jesse.” He says, leading you towards a small cafe. “Lieutenant of the 501st.”

You tell him your name, and your current status as a refugee. Much less exciting than him.

“That’s how it happened, then.” He says as you sit in a back corner booth with steaming cups of caf. “The injuries.”

You swallow nervously. “My home planet was attacked. We didn’t have any warning.”

“You don’t have to tell me the story if you don’t want to.” He says. “Not if it’s still an open wound.”

You nod, taking a sip of the caf. “I still have nightmares about it. What if no one had come looking? What if no one found me?”

“I thought the worst when it first showed up.” He says. “I’ve seen injuries like that many times. I’ve seen many die from them too. I kept waiting and waiting for the inevitable, the pain of losing your soulmate.” He grins at you. “I doubted your strength, and I was proven wrong.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it strength.” You say, looking down at your cybernetic hand hidden under the table.

“You’re a survivor.” He says. “Sometimes that’s harder than dying.” He slips his gloves off his left hand completely grey. “Can I see it?” He slides his hand across the table.

You hesitate for a moment. What if he thinks it’s ugly? What if he thinks less of you because of it? What if he rejects you right here, right now?

“Lots of my brothers have cybernetics.” He says. “Losing limbs is a hazard of the profession.” He smiles at his own joke. “Always better to lose a limb than a life.”

Of course he’s probably seen quite a few cybernetics. When you’re at risk of injuries and constantly being blown up, it’s bound to happen eventually.

You take a breath, slowly lifting your arm onto the table, sliding it into his waiting hand. He closes his fingers around it, the touch feeling exactly like if he had been touching your skin.

“It’s not a bad one.” He says, looking it over.

You shrug. “The Republic paid for it. Can’t complain about a free arm.”

He chuckles quietly at your statement, pulling up your sleeve a little to run his fingers across the wrist joint. “Are you going to get synthetic skin?”

You nod. “I’d like to eventually.”

He releases your hand, leaning back in his seat a bit. “I think it looks good either way. Makes you look badass.”

Your cheeks warm a bit at his compliment, and you let your hand fall back down into your lap.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.” He says, his eyes soft as he stares at you. “Most people aren’t going to care. They’re too worried about their own lives to pay much attention to anyone else.” He leans forward again, resting his elbows on the table. “I certainly don’t care. I’ve seen a lot of ugly things, and a cybernetic arm and some scars is so far from the top of that list.”

Your face heats up even more, your gaze dropping bashfully. It’s been so very long since someone complimented you so honestly.

You spend the night talking and getting to know one another in the cafe. You stay out until early morning, until Jesse has to get ready to return to GAR headquarters to ship out. He walks you back to the hostel, holding your hand in his. You kissed his cheek right over the grey marks before he left. He gave you the number to his private comm, promising to talk and let you know when he’d be on shore leave next.

You head back up to your room, a smile on your face. You can’t stop smiling, feeling something other than distress and numbness for the first time in a long time.

***

The weeks go by since your fateful outing. You go out and manage to find yourself a job, a quiet job with little contact with people. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s a start to things.

You manage to save up enough to find an apartment. It’s a few levels further down than you would have liked, but you’re ready for your own space again. You’re ready to be alone. Well, not totally alone.

You talk as much as you can with Jesse. He’s busy, understandably, but every little moment you get, you’re sending messages back and forth. He had warned you about the need for secrecy. You thought it wasn’t fair, but that’s not something you can change. You just take advantage of the little time you get, and plan for the next time he gets shore leave.

It comes quicker than you thought it might.

You’ve sent him your address, waiting for him to arrive. As much as you’d wanted to go and meet him, you knew it was too risky. He’d have to come to you to try and keep things as inconspicuous as possible. His brothers, and even his General didn’t care, but others in the GAR were not so lenient.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest at the knock on the door. You check through the viewer before pushing the button to slide it open.

“Miss me, mesh’la?” He grins, leaning against the doorway with a bouquet of flowers.

You grab him by the chestplate, pulling him inside. The door closes, sealing you into the semi-private apartment. The walls were thin, but most of your neighbors were gone during the evening.

“These are for you.” He says, handing you the bouquet.

“They’re beautiful.” You say, taking them. You head to the small kitchen, grabbing a cup to use as a vase.

“Nice place.” He says, looking around.

You snort. “It’s okay. It works for now.”

He smiles as you place the flowers on your small table. You step up to him, reaching up to cup his cheek with your cybernetic hand. He presses his own hand against it, kissing the metal palm.

“No synthetic skin yet?” He asks.

You shrug. “I guess it’s not really been a priority recently. I kinda like it this way. Makes me look dangerous.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You lean your head against his chest. “How long do you have?”

“A couple days this time. General Skywalker has some Jedi business he has to take care of.” He kisses the top of your head. “You can have me the whole time.”

You smile up at him. “Good.”

You spent the evening relaxing with takeout and watching holofilms on your datapad. Jesse removed most of his armor, leaving him in his blacks. You rest against his strong chest, quickly getting distracted by him. You knew he was big and strong, but you hadn’t thought he was this big. A broad chest and thick thighs. You want to press yourself as close to him as you can.

You want to feel all of him.

“You okay?” He asks as you shift against him once more.

“Yeah.” You say, pressing your face against his chest. “Just missed you.”

He smiles down at you, tilting your face up. “I missed you too. I’ve been feeling it, ever since that night. The bond, it’s been driving me crazy.”

You trail your hand down his chest, feeling along his pecs. “Would it be weird if we...”

“No.” He leans closer to you. “I think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

You lean up, meeting him halfway, pressing your lips against his. They’re slightly chapped, but gentle as he kisses you. His hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, holding you.

You hum as his tongue invades your mouth. He tastes like the desert you had finished not too long ago. His hand slides down to your hip, starting to move under your shirt but you grab it, pulling away.

You hadn’t thought about this, nerves starting to bubble up. You’ll have to get naked. You’ll have to reveal the scars. Sure, he had said he doesn’t care, but he’s never actually seen them. What if he changes his mind? You’re not sure you can handle it if he changes his mind.

“What is it?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. “What’s wrong?”

You wring your hands nervously, avoiding his gaze. “I-I just...” You trail off, biting your lip.

“Talk to me.” He says, brushing your hair back. “Is this too fast? You can change your mind at any time. I’ll stop.”

“No, no.” You shake your head. “I just...no one’s...seen me since, well, no one’s ever seen me like that. But...no one’s seen me since...” You gesture at your left side.

A knowing look crosses his face. “Mesh’la, it’s alright. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you want to keep your clothes on, that’s fine.”

Tears prick your vision. He’s so good. He’s so sweet and kind and understanding. What had you done for fate to bless you with someone like this?

“I want you to be comfortable.” He kisses your hand. “Do you want to keep your shirt on?”

You do want him to see you. You do want him to know, you do want him to see what he’s getting into. You want to know before you commit fully if he’s going to reject you.

You take a deep breath before shaking your head. “No, I-I do want you to...just...I’m scared you’re going to reject me because of it.”

He stares at you in shock for a few moments before pulling you into his arms. “Hey, I’m not going to reject you at all, okay? You’re the best thing that’s happened to me and the thought of losing you terrifies me. It terrified me before I even knew you. I don’t care if you’re covered in scars or hair or weird tattoos. You’re alive and you’re here with me now. That’s all that matters. I mean, look at me. I have a cog on my face.”

You can’t help but laugh. It was true dedication to tattoo the Republic’s symbol on his face. It was endearing too, though. If he’s that dedicated and loyal to the Republic despite all its faults, despite how it’s treated him and his brothers...why are you worried a scar might turn him away from his soulmate?

“Here,” He stands offering his hand.

You take it, letting him pull you up.

He leads you to your bedroom, shutting the door. He closes the curtains before sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s just you and me. No one else.” He tugs his shirt over his head, revealing his sculpted chest, marred by the grey spots where your scars are on your skin. You can also see his scars, little marks in spots where his armor left him uncovered, and larger ones from training. You have all of them on your own skin, little grey marks representing him.

You shift nervously as he stares at you, hands curling around the bottom of your shirt. He had said he wouldn’t reject you because of it. You trust him. He hasn’t betrayed you yet. You slowly peel your shirt over your head, keeping your gaze down as you reveal yourself to him.

He’s still for a moment before he’s reaching towards you and you let him maneuver you in front of him. His fingers trail over the skin, feeling every bump and ridge of the uneven scarring. His hands drop to your hips as he leans up, pressing a kiss to the very top of the scar on your cheek.

You hold still as he kisses every inch of the scar, working his way from your cheek, down your neck and chest. He shifts off the bed, kneeling in front of you as he kisses your side and your stomach, down to your hip where the scarring ends. He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your stomach.

“I’m so glad you’re alive.” He breathes, kissing your stomach. “You have no idea...I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you. What I’d do...if you weren’t here.” He stands up, keeping his arms around you. His skin is warm where it’s pressed against yours. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him closer. He’s so big and warm, enveloping you in him as he holds you.

You stay like that for a long time, just kissing and holding each other. So many unspoken things flow between you. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. He really doesn’t care about the way you look, about your scars or your cybernetic arm.

You feel a bit silly. Why would he care? A battle-hardened soldier who’s seen horrors you can’t even imagine balking at a scar? You suppose it could be believable, but Jesse isn’t like that. He’s not like that at all. He’d rather have you alive, no matter what you look like, than have you gone. He’s already lost so much. He shouldn’t have to lose you too.

Jesse’s hands slide down your waist, gripping the backs of your thighs. He lifts you easily, turning and dropping onto the bed with you. You laugh as your back hits the mattress, the frame squeaking a bit in protest.

“Your neighbors are going to hate us.” He says, rolling on top of you.

“Thankfully most of them aren’t home.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I live around a bunch of night owls.”

“Good.” He says, leaning down to kiss you again. “I can make you scream as loud as I want.”

You shiver in anticipation at his words.

His lips blaze a trail down your body, his fingers making quick work of your pants and underwear. He looks at your face as he parts your thighs, slotting himself between them. His gaze drops downward, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stares at your glistening folds.

“Already excited for me?” He says, trailing his thumb along your slit.

You nod, watching him. “Have been for a while.”

“You should have said something sooner.” He says, laying himself down. “We could have been doing this instead.”

He leans forward, licking at your clit. You gasp at the sensation, lifting your head to stare at him. He meets your gaze, sucking and licking your clit. He shifts slightly and you feel a probing at your entrance, one of his fingers working into you. You moan at the sensation, your body alive just from his touch.

Your very nerves feel alight as he eats you out, working a second finger into you to prepare you. It’s almost too much, but at the same time you’ve never felt more grounded. You know if you fall, he’ll catch you.

“Jesse,” You moan, hands gripping the sheets. “Feels so good. Don’t stop!”

You can feel it building, everything rushing through you all at once. Your fingers have never made you feel like this before. You know it’s the connection, the bond between you. You were made for this, you were created to be perfect together. Two halves of the same soul. This is where you’re meant to be.

You cum with a cry of his name, body writhing as he works you through your orgasm. He finally pulls away, face and fingers wet with your release. You’re breathing heavily, staring up at him.

“You alright?” He asks, stroking your thighs.

You nod, finally gaining enough control over your body to release the sheets from your fists. “Yeah. Better than alright.”

He grins. “Good.”

Your gaze drops down his body to the prominent bulge in his blacks.

“You sure?” He asks, following your gaze.

You nod, licking your lips. “Yeah.”

He stands from the bed to peel his blacks off, his hard cock springing free. He climbs back on the bed, wrapping a hand around his length. He’s thick and long, your eyes widening a bit. You didn’t think he’d be that big.

“That’s not gonna fit.” You say.

He laughs. “I’ll go slow. Just tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop, alright?”

You nod, bracing yourself.

He smooths his hands up your legs, rubbing at the muscle. “Relax. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You do your best, wincing a bit as he lines up, pressing the head in. He pauses, laying his body against yours. He wraps his arms around you, holding you as he slowly works his way in. He peppers your face with kisses, only moving when you tell him to. It burns, the stretch, but the more you relax, the easier he slips inside.

He stops once he’s fully seated, still holding you. You feel so stretched around him, so full of him. He breathes against your neck, pressing soft kisses every so often. The burn begins to lessen, your body relaxing more and more around him. You shift your hips a little, his cock moving inside you.

“Jesse?” You gasp, clinging to his shoulders.

He grunts against your neck, pushing himself up to his elbows above you.

“Move.” You gasp, shifting your hips again.

He slowly begins to pull out of you before sliding back in. You stare up at him, holding his gaze as he thrusts in and out of you, deepening the movement every time. He grunts quietly as he moves, dragging his hips against yours.

Your eyes roll back in pleasure, your quiet moans gradually getting louder. He watches your face, shifting his hips just slightly to angle his thrusts differently. You let out a loud shriek of his name, your legs tightening around his waist. He smirks, continuing to hit that spot. You tremble under him, that heat building once more inside you.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as his hips brush against your clit, the sensation too much. You cum with a scream of his name, arching off the bed. He works you through your orgasm, your tight pussy dragging his orgasm out of him with a loud moan. He spills inside of you, stilling his hips.

You both stay there for a few moments, breathing heavily. You open your eyes, staring up at his face. He’s looking at you with such love and adoration you almost can’t handle it.

He slips his arms under you, rolling you both over so you’re laying against his chest. You share soft kisses, eventually moving the blankets over your bodies as you rest for a moment. You’re glad he has a couple days off this time, knowing full well you’re likely not going to leave this bed.

You do have one thing you have to do, one burning question you need to ask.

“Jesse, how did you know how to do all that?” You ask purely out of curiosity. You don’t really care if he’s had other girls before you. You know you’re the only one he needs now.

He looks a little sheepish. “My brother Fives has quite the collection of, uh, holofilms. I may have grabbed his datapad accidentally at one point during this last deployment. I wanted to make sure, in case things happened, I wasn’t fumbling around like an idiot.”

You stare at him, open mouthed for a moment. “I wouldn’t have cared if you didn’t know what you were doing.” You lay your head back on his chest. “But remind me to thank Fives later.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You love his laugh. You’re never going to get tired of hearing it. “He’ll be thrilled to meet you. All of them will.”

“Good. I want to meet all of them.”

“All of them?” He asks. “There’s probably over a million now.”

“That’s fine.” You say, yawning. “I’ve got time.”

He chuckles, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Love you.”

You smile sleepily, snuggling against his chest. “Love you too.”

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons, @ladytano420, @spicy-clones, @dangraccoon, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @stunkbiggu

#star wars #star wars fic #clone wars #clone wars fic #clone trooper jesse x reader #clone jesse x reader #clones

208 notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 7 months

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Fic Finder

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1. Looking for a smut fic I remember reading. WWX was testing an invisibility talisman and ended up in the jingshi in time to watch LWJ masturbating, and rode him after he fell asleep. LWJ woke up and made WWX get rid of the invisibility after a bit. I think it was a roleplay between the two but I'm not fully sure

FOUND! Clinomania by malkinmalkout (E, 6k, wangxian, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Somnophilia, misuse of talismans, PWP, Riding, Oral Sex, binding, Happy Ending, canon typical non-con)

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2. Hi! So I'm looking for this one fic, I remember that it was set in post-canon & Wangxian go to help this village, I remember that the Juniors (all four) followed them without their knowledge & the village had a barrier preventing people from leaving, the village had a curse where they got to see their close-ones negative memories, the juniors learnt of what actually happened to WWX & the villain turns out to be a "god" like on Dafan, it had 4 chapter (I think) & was finished. @i-like-snakes-and-spiders

FOUND? Down comes the night by danegen (E, 67k, wangxian, Alternate Universe, Canon Era, inspired by From, Horror, Sharing a Room, POV LWJ, no jiangs, a whole village of OCs, tiny mention of past wwx/omc, Happy Ending)

FOUND? unhappy stories with happy endings by Last_for_Hell (M, 30k, WangXian, Memories, Memory Fic, Kinda, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, sexual content maybe, References to Torture, PTSD, Characters Watching Their Series, kinda, but not entirely, very light consensual non-consent)

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3. good day! 😊 I read this fic before and I know that I've bookmarked it but I can't find it in the list. So the story is after wwx fell, baoshan sanren and lan yi rescued him, nursed him back to health, and waited for him to wake up. I remember that when he woke up, they also taught him cultivation (he got a new sword). He also hid his face (i think he also wore a different name and different voice(?)). There's a yi city scene where xxc asked them who they were because he cant see, then bssr is also with them at that time. thank yoooooou! 💓💓💓

FOUND! Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, war changes people, resulting to OOC, no pinning, Established Relationship, Mpreg, Good Uncle LQR, a little grey LWJ, a bit of JC bashing from LWJ, BAMF JYL, 16 years of yearning, mainly CQL verse but has scenes from the novel as well, LSZ is WangXian's Child, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Canon Rewrite, Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts)

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4. hi, I hope you can help me find this fic I've been looking for, I'm sorry I don't really remember much, just that WWX can cook non-spicy food but he does it on purpose, it might have been because of his time in the streets? or because someone would take his food? (maybe JC???)

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5. I cannot for the life of me remember anything else about the fic but I think it was cql based with lwj as chief cultivator? wwx returned to cloud recesses and the first thing he did was beat someone up for saying horrible things about lwj. I can't remember if it was multichapter or not so it might have been in the middle of a longfic?

FOUND? 🔒make this chaos count by devotedbones (E, 15k, WangXian, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, canon compliant until the very last scene of episode 50, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Chief Cultivator LWJ, a flute used as a melee weapon, Fist Fights, Gossip, Self-Worth Issues, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Canonical Abuse, Minor Misunderstandings, [podfic] make this chaos count, by devotedbones by inkpens)

~*~

6. this may as well be an itmf for its general nature, but it's actually a ficfinder! except. i only remember a single detail LMAO, and it's that wwx and lwj consider all four juniors to be their children, blood relation be damned. I'm so sorry i have literally nothing else to go on 😅 i think there's a similar theme in 'tragedy is not the end' specifically with zizhen, but not the exact detail im looking for... thank you for the help!

~*~

7. Hi, first of all I want to thank y'all for the hard work, and I wanted to know if a fic has been deleted or if anyone has it, I don't remember the name but it was a time travel fic where Qishan Wen win the sunshot campaign and asked for war prizes (?) Zewu-Jun goes instead of his brother, Yanli is alive, they all have them captive, Meng Yao betrayed them and ultimately sided with the Wen's who were winning the war, and I think no one remembers Wei Wuxian, something like that, it would be great if someone could help! Thanks so much 🩷🩷

FOUND? The Way It Wasn’t by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

~*~

8. Hi!!! Its me again!! Thanknyiu so much again!!! This time im looking for a time travel fic with lan qiren as the timentraveller. Pretty sure him and wen ruohan travelled together and MAYBE involved with each other??? Im not so sure but i do know that lan qiren time travelled. Sorry its not much thats all i remember hehe @sirius-bus1ness

might be one of Nirejseki's works. They wrote several on that subject (including in a big anthology work, so finding it might take some time)

FOUND? Cursed Couple by shorimochi (M, 121k, LQR/WRH, CSSR/WCZ, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Out of Character)

~*~

9. Hello, I am looking for a fic but I only remember a scene from it

It was a fic wwhere wwx died and there was a scene where a-yuan was crying while laying above wwx's grave in the burial mounds. Thank you!

FOUND? To Offer a Heart by WhiteCrane (M, 111k, wangxian, major character death, Sad WWX, Hurt WWX, YLLZ WWX, soft wangxian, Cinnamon Roll WN, WWX Whump, WQ is a good sister, WN is a good brother, everybody loves wwx, yunmeng siblings, Triggers, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Taking care of WWX, Give WWX a break, Canon Divergence, Disturbing Themes, Changing Perspectives, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Getting Together, Redemption, Sibling Bonding, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brother-Sister Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Sad and Sweet, Tragedy, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF JYL, BAMF WQ, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Everyone Needs A Hug, WIP)

~*~

10. Hi Mods (＾◡＾) I really hope that you can help me find some fics I've been looking for! (＾◡＾) if you can't that's ok, if you can then many thanks in advance! y'all are awesome!

A) this one is set during CR studies, and wangxian go on a date? in Caiyi and I think WWX gets emotional about something they are talking about? and I know they hug, and WWX don't want to let go.

B) this one wangxian gets married, WWX marries into the Lan, and there are a lot of rules specifically for married people/how to be in a relationship, I'm pretty sure that is a very big part of the story

10A)

FOUND! 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 712k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) The scene described sounds like something that happens pretty early on

10B)

NOT FOUND! Into the Oubliette by Ruixx (M, 124k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, graphic depictions of violence, underage, Growing Up, Fix-It of Sorts, Arranged Marriage, Time Travel, Sibling Bonding, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canon Divergence, Light BDSM, Breathplay, WWX protection squad, Sunshot Campaign, War, Politics, Hostage JYL, Visions, LXC Redemption, general LWJ, Internal Sect Politics, Good Uncle LQR, Lan OCs, No Golden Core Transfer, Empire Building, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence)

NOT FOUND! seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 25k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, or rather Arranged Betrothal, followed by Weapons-Grade Thirst)

FOUND? Wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave by failedcharismacheck (M, 15k, WIP, WangXian, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Protective LWJ, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, POV LWJ, Hair Brushing, Implied Sexual Content, soft horny)

~*~

11. Noncon tw. Looking for a fic where when the wens burn lotus pier, they threaten to rape yanli but Wei Wuxian offers himself instead. So the wen soldiers rape Wei Wuxian in front of the Jiang sect,l. Yanli cries

~*~

12. Looking for a specific fix where Wei Ying is dead and the sects come together to watch through his memories and end up finding out for selfless he was. @aviidaviibiitchboii

FOUND! Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

~*~

13. Hi, I'm looking for a modern au where Wei Ying is a grad student in an orchestra and A-yuan is dropped off at his door by his cousin Mo Xuanyu. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get together while caring for A-yuan and end up getting married. A-yuan has a fear of airports in this fic because of his abandonment issues. This was on AO3 but I can't seem to find it. @amindonbreak

FOUND! The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental baby acquisition, Kid fic, Green card marriage (but not really), Slow Burn, Endless Pining, Happy ending, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer, Translation into Русский: Самый Простой Путь Вперёд (The Simplest Way Forward) by grand_R, Spanish Translation, Turkish translation )

~*~

14. hello! im looking for specific fic, where after burial mounds wwx thinks he's dead. instead of joining sunshot campain he storms nightless city and kills all cultivators without anyone knowing it was him (exept meng yao who survived but is wounded)

he then "haunts" yumeng for a while until he runs into wen quing and takes wens to burrial mounds

eventually ppl find out and together with meng yao they outsmart jgs to pardon all wens @chellsky

I can't find 14, but I do remember reading it; they ended up pretending Wen Qing was the one controling the dead and killing the Wen, and they faked her death

FOUND! can't find a way home by KouriArashi (M, 109k, WangXian, XiYao, XuanLi, ChengQing, Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Family Feels, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Developing Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical political bullshit, Mental Health Issues, Eventual Happy Ending, Descriptions of suicide, (caused by dark magic))

~*~

15. Hello! I'm looking for a fic where Sizhui's bio parents are alive and come to Cloud Recesses looking for him (post-canon, iirc)

Hello! I'm #15 from the latest fic finder. I'm quite sure that the fic was on ao3. It may have been inspired from the angstymdzsthoughts posts but it was a proper fic posted on ao3

NOT FOUND! This Post by angstymdzsthoughts Mad idea, could 15 be from angstymdzsthoughts?

~*~

16. Hi! I was reading a really interesting story about LWJ being cursed and WWX helping him and I lost it! Arg, now I'm so curious to know how it ends, I hope you can help me!

The story is about LWJ being cursed with a change in his private body parts. (The curse changes his p to a v). Then WWX notices this and decide to help LWJ and the way to revert the curse is that LWJ has to have an org@sm.

Can you help me? I'm dying to know how to continues!! 🤗🤗 @wangxiansgirl

FOUND! Coming Back to Yourself by acernor (E, 21k, wangxian, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Pining, Gender or Sex Swap, Vaginal Sex)

~*~

17. Hi! Looking for a fic wherein wangxian married and suddenly Mo Xuanyu woke up again in his body, he fell in love with Lan Wangji but Lan Wangji just ignore or formal with him. Mo Xuanyu heartbroken tried to bring back Wei Wuxian Soul on his body

I feel like this might be in the angstymdzs collection, since I think it's was inspired by one of those asks?

~*~

18. Kind of random, but I’m trying to find a fic I read awhile ago that featured hagfish? My memory of it is kind of vague, it was a college au and wwx was some sort of biology major i think and there were hagfish. Compelled to read it again because of hagfish reasons.

~*~

19. Hello! I'm looking for a specific fic which I've seen in a few people's bookmarks but for some reason neglected to even mark for later. It's a modern AU where LWJ is looking for a pet sitter for his bunnies and is recommended WWX's pet sitting/walking venture (no dogs allowed ofc). Can you help? 🐇 @linderel

FOUND! A Single Note by airinshaw (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Kissing, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub)

~*~

20. I search a fic where Jiang Cheng tries to ask Lan Xichen to marry him and Lan Xichen is super offended by it. Nie Huaisang may have done something to make JC fail even more in his proposal.

FOUND? To Take A Wife- Or Perhaps A Husband by Admiranda (T, 2k, one-sided LXC/JC, one-sided NHS/JC, JC's canonical homophobia, JC's canonical inability to get married, Decides to solve his problems with spite, not JC friendly, We all love NHS in this household, JC's canonical blind spots, Post-Canon, JC's canonical classism)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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toska-writes · 1 year

Text

“Safety in Numbers”

Summary: A huge thunderstorms strike the air, and it’s hard for someone with heighten sense and someone who spent their whole life in a war.

Pairing: Hunter x GN padawan reader (ok guess what.. I bet you don’t know. It’s Platonic!

Warning: hurt and comfort. PTSD mentions and such. Blood but it’s only mentioned once and nondescript. We love dad Hunter here!

Word count: 942

Notes: if you want to be added to my tag list comment or message me! Also feel free to suggest any ideas!

BOOM.

Thunder struck the ground as you tossed back over in your bunk. As silly as it was your blanket formed a protective layer between you and the storm.

You’d been awake for hours. Thunder struck since the early hours of the night making sleep vacant.

BOOM.

Every time you closed your eyes the noise echoed through your skull, it sounded a little too familiar and the memories it brought back weren’t pleasant.

You saw their faces flashing across your vison, the horrific scenes played out over and over again. If you really concentrated you could smell it as well.

Smoke, sweat, and blood.

Lighting flashed and the whole ship shook with the force of the invisible thunder. You couldn’t take it anymore. Someone else had to be awake right? Maybe a walk would help clear your head.

You’d never wake a sleeping member of the crew you were currently stationed with, which was Clone Force 99. They needed just as much sleep as you were missing right now.

You stumbled from your bunk, every time a new sound was made you froze making the journey to the cockpit ever so slow. Clearly the walking idea was out.

Breath in 1 2, breath out. Nothing can hurt you. Nothing can get you. You thought over and over once again.

But with every loud noise that thought slipped further and further away from you.

BOOM.

Coming to the cock pit you weren’t necessarily surprised to see the sergent of Clone Force 99 still awake.

Hunter sat in one of the front seats facing the dark scenery where rain banged against the glass. Hunter leaned slightly into his arm that propped him up, both hands were cupped around his face.

Without giving his unfortunate circumstances you’d almost think he looked at peace watching the rain, like he enjoyed it.

He still picked up your steps over the loud noises raging outside as he quickly turned to look at you spinning in his chair.

You gave him a small smile, by no means did it reach your eyes. “Hey.” The words barely slipped past your teeth and you stood there wondering if you said them at all.

“What’s wrong kid?” Hunter spoke softly, clearly he saw your tear stained face and best attempt at a comforting smile. Nothing could get past him, even in the dark.

“Nothing,” You shook your head slightly. “Just… couldn’t sleep is all.”

He gave you a slight look but didn’t press further, he didn’t need his heightened sense to tell him you were on edge and uncomfortable. Scared even.

Another bolt of lighting strikes the ground creating a huge boom right along after it, suddenly Hunter was on his feet and met you in the middle of the cockpit where you stumbled too.

“Shhh kid it’s ok, I got ya. I don’t like it either. It’s ok ” Hunter rambled into your ear. He held you tightly to his chest rocking back and forth for a moment.

You looked up at him, the pain on his face and the wavering of him in the force told you all you needed to know. “I got you too Hunter alright, Safety in numbers am I right?” You tried to joke but all you felt was numbness.

Hunter held you tighter walking back over to the seat he just vacated. The two of you squished in together. “Don’t worry about me kid, been dealing with loud noises and such for a while.”

Hunter looked down at your huddled form, he could feel the racing heartbeat in your chest.

This was wrong. “I’m so sorry kid.” He spoke into your hair. “You should be playing in the rain, watching it fall, be scared of it if you want but it shouldn’t be like this.”

BOOM.

Hunter wasn’t sure why he was angry or at who but seeing you now experiencing fear and hurt of this level sat wrong with him.

Another boom came, the noise rang in the skull of the trooper. Why him? He understood Crosshairs own struggles sometimes knowing his brother if he were here with you instead would have a problem with the lights that flashed across the sky. But as his head throbbed he almost could admit he was jeoulse of his sleeping brothers.

The duo sat in the chair quietly, muffled tears and whimpers were lost to the raging storm just outside.

Hunter looked down now after a while, the rise and fall of your body wasn’t perfect but it meant that you were asleep hopefully having a dreamless sleep. How could something like this happen to a kid like this? A good kid.

Hunter stood now with you still tightly bundled in his arms. He made is way back through the ship trying not to jump when the thunder struck yet again.

Setting you in his bunk he watched you for a moment in the dark.

“I’m sorry for this life vod’ika.” He whispered “But we can have safety in numbers if you want.”

He slowly climbed into the bunk after you, making sure some part of him protected you from the storm on the exterior of the ship. An arm of his draped over your shoulder and chest pulling you closer.

Sleep never welcomed Hunter that night, not as long as you were asleep. Knowing you too well that you’d wake up while the storm would still be going, disoriented from sleep and scared.

If he could stop that and comfort you for just a second making you feel safer. In Hunters book that’s worth losing a little sleep.

He felt you shift beside him, grasping firmly to his arm.

Safety in numbers, it always works.

—————————————————————

Taglist: @arctrooper69

#star wars clone wars #clone wars #the clone boys #my writing #star wars #the clone wars #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #hunter x reader #clone force 99 #the bad batch #bad batch #clone x reader #jedi padawan #toska-writes #reader insert

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vasito-de-leche · 4 months

Note

hello!! your writing is so good i am perceiving it /pos. i'm not sure if you do familial/platonic requests so ignore this if you don't but may i request click with a reader who he sees as an older sibling? it can be headcanons or like general thoughts i don't rlly care. thank you!! <3

;R1999 CLICK - Familial Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis about Click and an older sibling figure.

ty for the ask, nonnie <3 and yes, I do write for familial/platonic stuff too, not just romance! check the rules if you have any questions!

As far as I know, there's no information about Click's family nor their dynamics, and he doesn't seem to fit any of the stereotypical youngest/middle/eldest child labels. So, going by personality alone, I'd say that for Click to consider someone as his very own older sibling figure, they'd have to be somewhat similar to him!

Not necessarily a carbon copy of him, mind you - they don't have to share his passion for photography nor agree with him 24/7! Just someone who he can relate to and who brings him a sense of security. Perhaps someone like Zima! Insightful, with a strong core and sense of self, aiming to broaden his horizons.

Someone who has also seen the darker aspects of life, lived through tragedies and come out stronger - Click is proud of his job, but he knows that talking about heavy subjects isn't everyone's cup of tea. So he'd like to know that his older sibling figure can understand or is trying to understand where he comes from, that he doesn't mean to bring the mood down whenever he happens to bring up the subject of war. It's part of his life and his experiences, and pretending that it didn't happen would be a disservice to all the things he's witnessed.

Alternatively, Click would gravitate towards anyone who shows extreme passion for their craft, regardless of what it might be - creative people who are dedicated and who experience the world through different artistic mediums are a big inspiration for him. Someone who drags him into all sorts of situations, allowing Click to capture many different points of view that he would've otherwise missed. Someone like Regulus or Diggers!

Click tends to wander and disappear a lot. It's always up to you to find him.

Younger siblings tend to either follow after their older siblings all the time like puppies, or disappear off the face of the Earth and mind their business (I'm the youngest of 6 siblings, I can vouch for this). Click fits the latter!

It's common for him to just wander around and disappear for days on end to focus on taking the best pictures across the Wilderness, with nothing but his camera and his thoughts. Somehow, he always seems to know whenever you call out to him - he'll manifest beside you right away, hoping he's not gotten into trouble. It's a weird feeling, knowing people expect him to keep in touch and come back safe and sound, that no matter where he goes, he'll still hear your voice calling out to him because he's going to miss dinner (not that he even needs to eat). But it's a very nice, warm feeling, so he doesn't mind.

I like to think Click - and pretty much any ghost within the universe of R1999 - can just become invisible to the human eye at will, with arcanists (especially those of Spirit and Intelligence afflatus) being able to sense their presence. During particularly bad days, where PTSD might be giving Click a hard time, he'll just fade away so that no one can see him. And then, he'll pick a spot to sit and wait for it to blow over.

Sometimes, you find him anyway, no matter how much he tries to hide. Sometimes, he lets you know where he is. Either way, he lets you know that he'd like for you to stay and keep him company - I imagine there's a system you two come up with, should he feel too overwhelmed to talk. Knock once for yes, two for no. Tug on your shirt if he wants to lead you somewhere quieter, pat your hand to sit down with him, etc etc.

Everyone begins to see you as Click's guardian.

On a less sad note, whenever someone needs Click for anything, they always go to you first and foremost! Either because you're the only one who can figure out where he may be, or because they want to run their plans through you first.

Vertin specifically makes sure to know if you'd like to accompany him during missions that require his presence, or if you'd like to know the details of his next solo mission. It's something she does out of politeness and as a a formality - and because Click just seems to perk up just a tiny bit if she tells him that you expect him to do a proper job. Whenever Lilya is planning to give Click a ride to take better pictures, she always jokes around, saying that she'll bring your precious brother back in one piece. Pavia always jokingly threatens Click to snitch on him and tell his "big scary sibling" that he's been taking pictures of people when they sleep.

From an outsider's point of view - those who do not belong to this group - it feels like everyone is infantilizing Click. He's 19 and a war photographer! But one has to remember that everyone in this suitcase has lost family and friends to the "Storm".

Aside from being displaced and forced into unfamiliar waters, everyone is dealing with so many things on their own, like losing their lives and all the people they once knew and cared for. So knowing that Click was able to form such a strong bond with you, to trust and see you as family, despite everything? It really brings them hope for a brighter future - Vertin's goal to create a place for those who have nowhere else to go starts to make sense for them. And hey, most of them are willing to stop with their little jokes and such should they bother you or Click!

This specific point comes from me seeing Vertin's group as one huge found family - there's no way everyone will get along, but at the end of the day, everyone trusts and relies and takes care of each other. The dynamics within this found family are much too complex for me to get into right now and for people outside of it to even understand, just know that it's a thing!

Click picks up on your mannerisms and speech pattern unconsciously.

Click isn't very talkative outside of the usual photography or artistic talk, he's more of a listener. And while he does become a little more talkative around you, opening up and whatnot, you tend to do most of the talking. And that's how he ends up picking up your mannerisms!

It's especially funny for everyone if you happen to have a very different and contrasting way of speech- the way Click just casually drops an F bomb in that soft-spoken voice whenever he fails to get the perfect shot will NEVER stop funny.

I like to think that, because of how observant he is, he also ends up picking up on your unique gestures. It's all an unconscious thing he does - if someone points it out Click won't even know what they're talking about, entirely oblivious to the fact that he now emotes and makes the same facial expressions as you do, the same gestures (at least when his hands are free, instead of clinging to that camera of his) and using the same phrases and whatnot.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 headcanons #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 click #im a relationship anarchist so you have to understand. talking abt found families makes me go DERANGED #i kept it to just general familial stuff tho #see if it were up to me. click would call you the english equivalent of kuya or ate but. no one does that in english apparently #calling your siblings sis or bro??? is apparently weird??? but its so natural to me. like yeah thats my kuya!!#sorry i shortwired thinking about pinoy pavia again #i also have a lot of thoughts about click and war PTSD and whatnot but thats for a different post

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 11 months

Text

Still beating

What - dealing with grief as the dust finally starts to settle. Dealing with grief regarding one specific character's death in particular. You know the one.

Genre - heavier, but we get devoted husband/father Daryl out of the mix. And we don't end the chapter on a bummer, never fear. This ain't a French movie, slowpokes

Relationships - wife Reader and husband Daryl as well as your baby. Familial affection with Rick, and that balance between friend and clergy for Father Gabriel.

Perspective - 3rd POV Daryl, and 2nd POV You

Pronouns - she/her

When - time jump! we've briefly hopped to post season 8, pre season 9 (but before The best kind of damn weird). This chapter takes place during the earlier phases of recovery and rebuilding after the war. The previous chapter, Scary as a sleepy kitten, took place during season 2.

TWs - grief, PTSD (including after SA), depression, self-loathing, and some cussing. This chapter is also kinda lengthy, friends, and had to have exposition. (Might should've sliced the chapter in half, but then we'd have another two-parter on our hands :P)

But how long though? - ...20 minutes or so?

Story references and Masterlist link? - under the cut

And is there a pic at the end as a prize for finishing? - yes :D

Have fun and happy reading!

References to other chapters - what we learned in The Interview. There is also grieving/anger as seen in The first Christmas 'without' Part 2 and its conclusion in I don't hate you, a happy reference to Happy 8th of July!, reference to those lovely tugging strings as found in Invisible Tugging Strings, Part 1 and Part 2 (Part 2 I reckon is still glitched and showing as labeled mature, the poor thing's been cleared about 7ish times via help ticket XD ).

There are a lot more details you might recognize, pop on by to the Official Masterlist here, or for those who prefer linear over non-linear, the Chronological Slowpoke Masterlist here

-----------------------

Still beating

She was doing real bad. The past few days had been especially bad. Grief has nasty ways of settling in and rearing its ugly head.

He didn’t know too much about what to do to help her, he’d never been good at that stuff. And there was no fixing all that happened, especially not when the last thing that happened was the worst thing that could’ve.

Other than if TJ or Judith died, it was the worst thing. And part of his wife died right alongside Carl.

Hell, she’d been the one to wait after Carl died, then turned, to pull the trigger.

Now, she felt dead, too.

Gabe had to suggest that she check her pulse when it got bad enough.

Just then, TJ started to wriggle and hum in an attempt to root at Daryl's bicep, which pulled him out of his worry for a second.

Gently, he began to bounce to try and keep his baby lulled. He knows Y/N wanted to breastfeed only to get her production up (and so TJ’s suckle could get stronger after the surgery), but Y/N was finally asleep.

Beginning with when Denise was killed, Y/N hadn’t been making as much as she first had. Then, the Saviors stopped the RV and surrounded them, and Negan did what he did. Then Daryl himself got taken away, then there was all the fighting.

And then Carl died.

Getting her milk to come back had been proving damned hard.

A handful of not-very-good times, they’d supplemented what milk she did make with watered-down formula and/or watered-down goat's milk.

One very bad time, they’d used sugar water to fill the babies’ bellies until Jesus got back with goat's milk. Just the one time they had to use sugar water, everybody made damn sure of that.

For now, Daryl could crack into what was still left of the goat's milk in the cooler, right? The two women in the Kingdom who had little guys had sent over actual breast milk with Carol a few days ago, but it was used up yesterday. That stuff had been a God-send, he couldn’t thank the ladies enough.

Between the two babies in Alexandria, TJ and Gracie, everyone had to be smart about using what formula was left. And given that the power got cut, keeping the goat's milk fresh was another problem, hence the cooler.

There was still a shit ton of clean-up had since the Saviors nabbed Alexandria’s storage, then firebombed the town. To make things worse, those assholes had their own compound destroyed, and Hilltop and the Kingdom got screwed, too. Even the beach women took another beating. Hell, and them junkyard people were literally all fucking gone except their leader chick.

So, Y/N breastfed the two babies as much she was physically able because there was no other option right now, all while working as the only other doc left standing in all five communities; she was running herself into the ground.

And with Carl gone…

It ain’t fair that she couldn’t make enough — it was Negan’s goddamned fault.

Which leads to what just went on: so Mich had told him, Y/N’d lashed out at Negan and the new doctor kid with the facial hair, what was his name, Sidney?

Daryl hadn’t been at the infirmary when it happened, but, according to Mich, she’d had to pull her out of the room. Once out, Y/N asked her about TJ, Judith, and Gracie to make sure they were safe, then disappeared after Mich had turned around. Straight up and bolted.

Daryl had checked the escape-closet first, but she wasn’t in there or the attic it connected to, wasn't on the roof that lead to.

He’d then checked the burned church. She’d been there, he recognized her boot prints, but she'd moved on. From there, he was able to follow her sooty tracks in the direction of the place he should’ve known to check first.

Sure enough, Y/N'd been at Carl’s grave.

His wife could barely look at him when he approached. He'd simply kissed her on the head and quietly walked her back home. Once home, he'd cleaned and bandaged her hand while she, again, tried to pump enough for TJ and Gracie.

Mich had told Daryl she’d get Rick for her, so he’d be here soon.

Daryl wracked his brain, he even prayed to learn what do to try to help carry Y/N through this shit.

At first, Y/N’d been pacing around the room, crying but trying not to, arms wrapped around her picture frame with a photo of Carl in it as if it was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He'd been able to persuade her to lay down, and ended up laying in bed with her and holding her tight, TJ next to them in little bassinet.

Initially, him holding her and pressing kisses to her neck had made her feel worse. More guilty, that is. A handful of days ago, something got into her head that she needed to give him a damn "annulment."

Nah, for real, she’d even said (to Gabe) that the two of them not having ever done the deed yet was "grounds" to give him one. “Grounds to free him,” were her exact words. It was a whole thing, and the couple of failed attempts at trying to do the deed after getting hitched some months back probably made her feel worse.

Father Gabriel had Daryl's back the whole time during the conversation, though, decent dude.

And no, Daryl wasn’t angry or even real hurt that she’d thought she had to ‘free him’ and shit, he knows it was the grief and physical exhaustion that got her to that point. His woman had full-on blacked out and hurt herself that day, which is why he'd brought her to Gabe in the first place.

But the, um, the walls were thinner than Daryl had expected, which is how he overheard from the person that he was gonna love and stay with and stay faithful to until he dropped dead softly confess that she was “selfish” to keep him “stuck” with a “batshit m-mess” like her and “a baby that ain’t his.”

The fact that Y/N kept maintaining how much she loved him and how she didn’t want no annulment helped it hurt less when she’d sounded just about convinced that it was “loyalty to me ’cause we’re close, loyalty to Rick,” and because of “he’s got so much shame. He feels responsible for what the Claimers did,” that made him marry her those months ago. "He loves our ch—my child, and might love me, but it's not fair to him. He deserves better, h-he needs better, the man's been trapped all his life. I-I don't want him trapped, I want him happy!"

Gabe never played into her fears. He been no nonsense about all of it, told Y/N that she needed a damn rest, and asked her to tell him what she thought about it when she woke up.

The good thing was that after a 5 hour period of uninterrupted sleep (during which they used some of the goat's milk for TJ and Gracie), she woke up in a daze at why she’d thought an annulment was something Daryl needed or wanted.

The bad thing was, she was then socked in the gut with more unearned guilt for it, then with worry that she was too far gone, or crazy, all that.

Been a bad, bad few days.

Been a lot of Daryl showing her love that she felt not worth being shown. So that she fell asleep in his arms today was such a damn win!

After getting up to take a leak and finding that Y/N was miraculously still asleep, he thanked whoever was up there, then tried to figure out what else he could do to help her get through today…and right at that moment, TJ started to rouse, so he got his answer: keep their baby comforted. More shut-eye could only do his woman well.

Deftly lifting the little bundle into his arms, he'd kissed the scar above the baby’s upper lip and tiptoed out to the hall, where he was now.

Lightly he bounced, softly he shushed. He held TJ like a football and moved back and forth, back and forth. Babies smell so damn good, and make the cutest damn noises!

After a couple minutes, through the open door, he peeked at his Y/N.

Shit. She was already sitting up and blinking off the sleep.

Whatever it was she did and said today, she felt low as hell about it, that much was clear. Without looking, she grabbed the now-broken picture frame and clutched it to her middle.

"You're supposed to be asleep, slowpoke," he tried to tease.

Her clothes had ashes from where it looked like she’d knelt down then sat down in the burned church. There was some dirt on them, too, from when she’d been at Carl’s grave. Daryl made a note to shake the sheets out later and pick the tissues up off the floor.

That's when the front door opened downstairs.

Was that Ri—good, that was Rick’s voice, he was finally there. There was a second voice, too, was that Father Gabriel’s? It was soft like Gabe's voice was.

Daryl looked downstairs.

Yup, it was Rick with the rev.

He waved them upstairs, but it must’ve been the clunking of the Gabriel’s new cane that got Y/N stumbling out of the room.

“Rev! I would’ve come to you, y-you need to be takin’ it easy.” She hugged the picture frame in one hand, gripped the banister in the other and started to go downstairs, asking Gabe how he felt, urging him to sit down, had his vision worsened, all that stuff.

“Y/N, more rest won’t stop me from losing sight in this eye,” Gabriel responded in his quiet way, remaining on the second step, not going up or down the stairs. He smiled. “You could say I’m the one making a house call to a patient this time."

She held back a sob and bowed her head. Then, she subtly slipped two fingers around the inside of her wrist…

Rick stepped the rest of the way up the stairs and put his hands on her shoulders. “What's going on, weirdo?”

“Ricky, I'm s-sorry."

He leaned closer and took her in for a hug. “Heart still beating?” he murmured.

Her inhale was shaky. “Mmhm. Yours?”

“Beating strong.”

TJ perked up and began to whimper upon hearing her voice. Y/N unzipped her hoodie to—she still had a gun on her?

Okay, that'd been stealth as fuck, it hadn't even been printing. He'd been literally holding her, how had he not noticed?

Daryl shared a glance with Gabe. Minus her screwdriver, she'd turned in her weapons after what happened the other day.

Y/N handed the small gun to Rick, who looked wary, but accepted it without question. She hesitated before reaching into her boot to hand over her screwdriver, too.

Daryl slid his hand around his wife’s waist to guide her back to the room. Without looking him in the eyes, she cupped his cheek and told him he was a good father. Then, frame still gripped under one arm, she took the baby into the other.

“Let’s try havin’ a snack before I go with Uncle Ricky awhile, okay, chickpea?” she murmured, then unbuttoned the top of her shirt.

Daryl took off his vest to give her some more coverage. When he draped the vest around her, she turned her head to kiss his hand. He felt his cheeks warm when she did that.

Walking into the room again, she softly told Daryl that he and Rick could sit on the beds. First, she placed the picture frame on one of the mattresses. Next, she took TJ and went beside the end table at the window to sit down on the floor beside it. The way she sat, it was kinda as if she were using it as a shield.

“Rev, please take the chair,” she mumbled to Gabriel with a glance at the only piece of furniture in the room at the time, other than the bassinet, a nightstand, and the end table. Negan had specifically left the rocking chair as a 'gift' for her. The piece of shit...

Anyway, Daryl had got them their two twin mattresses back (hey, squish them together and you get a big-ass bed) the first trip to and from the Savior’s compound after the war ended, once the Alexandrians had begun to move back from the Hilltop. Only, no bed frames yet.

“And sweetheart, I’ll-I’ll take the pumps with me for while I’m in there. Wanna make sure you and Aaron have enough for them,” she said to him, voice still raw. Y/N turned to him and gave him a wobbly smile. “Sorry I used up so much of the tissue supply,” she tried making light, but got close to tears again, so stumbled through asking “Can I, um, Rick, m-might can I bring my pillow? Is that okay?”

Go with Rick where, and take the breast pumps and her pillow, why? He made eye contact with Gabriel, who looked just as puzzled. So, he turned to Rick.

Rick lowered his eyebrows as if he didn’t know what she meant, either. He squatted to sit down on the mattress beside Daryl, and looked at his sister. “Y/N, where are we headed?”

Glancing up from the baby to him then to Daryl, she adjusted TJ’s position on her breast while she figured out how to answer, by the looks of it. Another glance at her husband as if she were worried about his reaction...

“Rick, I thought you was here to…escort me?”

Daryl had no clear idea what she meant, it was the rev who understood first.

“No,” Father Gabriel told her gently. “Y/N, you aren’t under arrest.”

Under arrest? Daryl fought between the urge to get angry or dead-ass laugh. 'Under arrest??'

It was for real, though. His wife’s tears started flowing again as she turned her attention to Rick and began to stress, “There can’t be no special treatment—”

“—Is this why you handed me your weapons? Why would you be under arrest?” Rick cut her off to question.

She stared as if he’d grown antlers. “I s-struck a patient, and, and—”

“—And I slit his throat open, which is why that 'patient' is in there in the first place,” he cut her off again, firm.

Thankfully, TJ let out a wail the same time mama wailed, “Ricky, y-you weren’t his medic!” pausing any further arguing.

Y/N gulped, pressed down on one breast, then the other. “I know there’s not much in ’em, Teddy-bear, but it-it’ll get better. It’ll come back,” she shushed, lifting him up and tucking herself back in. With a few kisses, she shushed, “You’ve gotten so much faster at drinking, babycakes”

Daryl got on the floor with her and took TJ back.

She avoided eye-contact again, and her lip wobbled again as she pulled the top of her shirt higher. That told him there’d been not much milk in there. And he could see all over her face that it was switching her on the legs with more false-ass, unearned guilt.

The familiar string in his chest suddenly tugged in her direction—next thing, he was resting his forehead on hers. “Hey. You’re makin’ more every day, angel,” he whispered in her ear. "And you're a damn good ma."

The way her expression softened and her body relaxed toward his felt better than fireworks going off on the Fourth 8th of July.

And as if he were back in that Georgia-in-July heat, Daryl just about melted right there on the floor when he saw his TJ, neck lifted high, making a face-scrunching, gummy smile at him. "Look how strong your neck is getting, ’lil badass, you’re rockin’ it!”

Shit, their kid was the best damn thing.

Y/N leaned against him and reached to lightly fluff their baby’s hair and rub their baby's teeny feet.

Gabriel sat in the rocking chair quietly, hands resting on his cane. He caught eyes with Daryl and nodded his head toward Y/N, glad to see her no longer convinced she needed to ‘free’ her husband.

Absorbed in the photo, Rick exhaled, then spoke up. “Y/N, how about we start from the beginning? What happened at the infirmary?”

She pressed tighter against Daryl as a pained noise left her throat. “Did you talk to Siddiq yet?” sounded very small.

“I want to talk to both of you.”

“And Michonne?”

He nodded. “She told me some.”

The big watch she’d kept from Dale tick-tick-ticked on her wrist. Then came the sound of light metallic clinking. Daryl didn’t have to look to see that she must’ve pulled out her brother’s necklace and was tugging on it.

“What I did ain’t excusable,” came out raspy and thick.

“It is," Rick answered.

“It’s not, especially not what I said to Sid—” a sob choked her response. She used Daryl's leather vest to hide her face before hugging it around herself like a blanket.

“Walk me through what happened first, kiddo, before you hit Negan with this?” Rick subtly gestured to the broken picture frame.

So she had smacked Negan in the face? Hot damn, Daryl was more in love with her already.

Y/N swallowed and shook her head. “They’d been lookin’ at it, the both of 'em.”

“At the picture?”

A tiny nod. “I’d left the room, and when I got back, they was looking at it. Siddiq brought it over to him. Tried to make like Negan was sad, too. Fuck that!”

TJ started rooting on his bicep again, but Daryl was on it. “Sorry, pipsqueak, I don’t got the right parts for that.” He started to massage the baby’s belly, and TJ quieted.

“It’s okay to let ’em cry a little, it-it helps restock these,” his wife tried joking, nodding down at her chest.

“Y/N.” Rick was delicate about coaxing her for more details. “You got back into the room, Siddiq and Negan were looking at the picture.”

“Negan’s filthy hands were on it,” she grit. "Lookin' at Carl and me, you with Shaney." The sounds of the pendant being pulled across the chain filled the room along with TJ’s soft cooing.

“Is that when you hit him with the frame?” Rick asked.

“No. I told him not to look at it again or touch it, and if he did, I’d hurt him.”

“Angel, slow your breathin’,” Daryl interjected at the same time that he figured out why those words sounded familiar: it was similar to how she'd warned the last Claimer fuckhead, the one who’d had Carl pinned down and was gon——Daryl shut down this brain for a sec, it was best not to think about that night.

He turned his head to see Rick, red-eyed, tracing his thumb along the photo of Carl, Y/N, Shane and him. Seems as if Rick had recognized her words, too.

“And when was it that you did hurt him?” Rick pressed on.

Y/N swallowed. “About half a minute later when he tried to act like it wasn’t his fault.”

Rick’s composure staggered and collapsed. His voice was hoarse when he managed to say, “It’s not his fault.”

But Y/N was fast to shut it down. “Don’t for one more second make like it’s yours, Ricky, you get that monkey off your back,” she comforted and somehow scolded both at once. “Negan was doing what Negan does when he, when he told you that. It was manipulation, nothin’ real. How C-Carl—” another choked-down sob, more tears.

Daryl noticed her press her fingertips to the spot under her chin, beside her jaw, checking her pulse to prove it was still beating.

“Negan had nothing to do with how Carl got bit,” Rick whispered. “You know it’s true, kiddo.”

“No—our boy wouldna ended up out there, w-with-with Siddiq, if it hadn’t been for Negan.” Her tone got louder and angry, her stress stutter became more noticeable, the way she tugged the necklace turned rougher. “He and his followers was why we weren’t able to trust no n-newcomers like Sid, which is why Sid was still out there alone, and, and, and why Carl went to him! It, it was because of Negan and his, and his, his-his cult!”

TJ seemed freaked out by the louder voice, the baby’s dark, blue-black eyes grown big.

Daryl spoke Y/N’s name to try and bring her back to herself, but she seemed to have very suddenly calmed.

She was blinking at her hand.

Daryl looked, and then saw the two halves of her brother Shane’s chain, broken.

“How many times did Carol warn me that this would happen when I tugged it,” she muttered to herself. "Good thing I didn't decide to tug on the rosary, huh?"

Inhaling, she leaned her head against the wall behind her, staring into space, fingers to her wrist to check her pulse again.

From beside her, he covered her hand in his. Then, pressing his lips to her fist, Daryl took the necklace from it. He could fix it.

“I lost my temper again, I’m sorry,” she spoke to all in the room, her hand cupping Daryl's cheek a moment. Then, more quietly, she looked at Rick. “How many days’ll I be in there?”

Which sent Daryl straight back to disbelief he was hearing those words, what absolute bullshit. “Y/N, you ain’t going nowhere.”

“You’re not going to a cell, Y/N,” Rick echoed.

“No special treatment,” she softly repeated. “If I were anybody else—”

Rick interrupted her “—It’s not about who you are.”

Father Gabriel had gotten up and was making his way to Y/N by then.

Y/N shook her head at the conversation, tired. “If I were anybody else or had any other orle, and if he were anybody else,” she caught her breath, “there’d be reper-re-rep—” a few more tries, and she had to choose a different word, “consequences. Assault and battery on an un-unarmed person—a patient—from their medical provider, that’s serious.” Her hand was back to covering her face. She sat pressed against the wall, knees at her chest.

“You and Siddiq are the only doctors left. We couldn’t just put you in a cell even if you had earned it.”

“I ain't a doctor, at best, I’m a medic,” she grunted. “And I did earn it, just ask him and Michonne. As for my,” she made a shaky inhale, “my duties, I can be escorted out.”

“And TJ? Gracie?” Daryl put out there, hoping to guilt her out of insisting she get jail time, like, what the fuck. What kind of conversation was this?

Screw this, he couldn't even sit. He stood, shaking his head and pacing around the room, still holding TJ.

The expression on Y/N's face should’ve been enough to calm him down, along the defeated, quiet way she reasoned, “I’ll pump and y’all will visit. It’s—no, sweetheart—it’s only for a few days,” when he started to dead-ass leave. As if her being in there ‘only for a few days’ would help this bullshit make sense.

But that’s when he ended up snapping, “This is goddamn bullshit! You bopped a sick fuck on the nose with a picture frame, who the fuck will care? Rick, why you even entertainin' this shit?” and he regretted doing so as soon as he barked it out.

The old, invisible knee rammed him in the nards harder when Rick cautioned, "Brother," and Gabe finally opened his mouth, and louder than Daryl had ever heard him speak. “She cares, Daryl. So do I.”

And to make it all worse, their baby had given a start in fear when he’d shouted, and now the poor kid was screaming—and TJ doesn’t scream, shit, shit, he blew up while holding his child?

“M’sorry! M’sorry," he hushed to his baby, "I love you so much, kid, I’m so sorry I scared ya. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” With a kiss on TJ’s wild head of hair, he murmured, “Pipsqueak, your old man is an idiot.”

Y/N rushed over when TJ screamed, but she didn’t take the baby away from Daryl. Instead, she caressed her husband’s forearm and the tricep and spoke to their child. “Your daddy’s got you safe,” she soothed.

He knew she was trying to look him in the eyes, but he couldn’t return it. He’d just scared an infant because he couldn’t check his temper. Their infant.

His wife’s quiet assurance cut through the rushing in his head. “Daryl? TJ ain’t hurt, sugar, and you’re not a bad father. Do some skin to skin, okay?” She pecked a kiss on his cheek. “And that's a dollar for cussing, pay up later.”

She then sat back down on the floor next to where the rev had made his new seat. Daryl took the now-empty rocking chair, unbuttoned his and TJ’s shirts, then nestled the kid on his chest.

Y/N then told the room the rest of what happened, how after Negan croaked out with what voice he had left, saying it 'wasn’t his fault Carl was dead', that she’d turned around and whacked him across the face with the frame.

Siddiq had reacted by grabbing her shoulders from behind to pull her away from Negan — so she had shoved back and kneed him in the dick plus rammed her head against his, dropping the frame in the process. The frame broke as a result—and when it broke, she'd lost her cool, said some shit, and threw some shit. Mich heard the hubbub and intervened, then Y/N hid herself away cause she 'knew' she was 'gone crazy.'

As far as Daryl was concerned, the new doc was lucky all he got was a shove, a knee to jewels, a clunk on the head, and some words and maybe a clipboard thrown at him, because Y/N could fight damned well. She'd had it drilled into her how and when to do it. Freely taught others moves, too.

When she’d showed Carol some techniques, way back, it was one of the things that sent him falling for her.

And…Y/N might’ve not said it out loud, but when she described how Siddiq grabbed her from behind to pull her away, everyone in that room got why it caused her to react strong.

What she described herself as doing would’ve been instinct.

Siddiq wouldn’t know why. Negan might, the fucker had watched the tape of her Deanna interview.

“See?” Y/N blew her nose again, sniffed, and stared at the floorboards. “It’s not right to Sid or the community to, to have what I did go unchecked. And what I said to Siddiq was so cruel. What’s worse is I meant it. Fuck, I still do.”

What she'd said was basically that she wished he’d gotten bit instead of Carl, and that it was just as much Siddiq's fault that the boy was dead as it was Negan’s. That 'he should be dead.'

She grimaced, then caressed the watch on her wrist. Must’ve been thinking of Dale. “Ain’t fair to…Negan, neither. If there’s anything Carl taught us, it’s that,” she whispered.

Rick lifted the frame to kiss his son’s picture, wiped a couple tears away. “When I talked with Sid, he was…alarmed. Worried. He thought it was off-character.”

Y/N went rigid where she sat. “Siddiq wasn’t there two years ago.”

Daryl lifted the baby higher on his chest and snuggled closer.

Rick shook his head. “You wishing someone dead, or, dead instead of another, is very off-character, it’s not you. No—don’t shake your head, Y/N.” Her brother maintained, “Even back then, after what happened, you didn’t wish me dead. You wished that Shane was still alive, not that I was dead instead. Even if you did say those things, it wouldn't have been the truth, just the hurt speaking.”

“I attacked you and told you I would kill you. And I-I meant it at the time, you know that.”

“And for a couple days, you left, because you didn’t actually want that. You knew it was wrong.”

“Which is why I need to get put away for a couple days. I decided to hurt a patient and his doctor, my own fr—” She wasn’t able to say what was probably the word ‘friend.’ Y/N bit her lip, and continued, “Then hurled words at him what nobody should get hurled at them.” She swallowed a cuss and grabbed another tissue.

“You’re exhausted, Siddiq knows that.” Rick pointed out. “We’re not ourselves when we’re—”

Y/N wasn’t having it. Probably too exhausted, to tell the truth.

“We’re all exhausted. C’mon, man, you just lost your son!” A sob left her and she tried to breathe through her nose. Checked her pulse again.

“You were also reacting to how he yanked you back, kiddo. That's not nothing.”

Daryl gave Rick a warning glance.

Rick saw, nodded, and held up a hand, which made Y/N turn to see what Daryl was doing. But Daryl simply kissed TJ on the head, not saying nothing.

She wasn’t fooled. When Y/N looked back at Rick after giving her husband a look of it’s okay, Daryl gave Rick another warning glare, then a nod.

“You didn’t react like that without reason, Y/N. There’s no shame to admit it was a trigger.”

She grumbled at the word. “Trauma ain’t an excuse to traumatize others.” After exhaling, she ran her hands over her face and took a moment. Hardly louder than a whisper, she challenged, “Ricky, not all my problems stem from the rapes. I’ve always been too hot-headed.”

At that moment, Daryl wanted to scoop her and TJ up and drive them away from everything, keep the two of them safe and unbothered for a month or two or four.

“Getting grabbed like that m-might, y’know, might could’ve reminded me of it—when they—" She ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, it did get me going. But, I,” she paused. “It wasn’t that I saw red or blacked out, I chose to keep goin’ once I’d started. I threw stuff because I was raging, I didn't want to stop because I thought he deserved it.”

Y/N fiddled with Dale’s watch, and turned to Father Gabriel beside her and almost smiled at him, close to the way she used to smile at Glenn, as if he were in on a joke. “Here I’d hoped I was re-domesticated by now.”

“Let us give thanks that you’re still housebroken,” he responded, taking Daryl by surprise. "You're...still housebroken, are you not?"

The way Y/N then cracked up and grinned woke up the butterflies in his stomach.

“Y/N, you’ve come miles since I first met you,” Gabriel told her softly, smiling back.

“All the way from Georgia,” she joked back, then grew more serious. “You’ve grown a whole lot, too.” She wiped her eyes, and Gabe closed his.

“And Y/N,” he shook his head. “You aren’t losing your humanity. I know you’re frightened of that, after what you told me happened to your other brother.”

It hadn’t even registered in Daryl’s mind that Shane’s memory would be scaring her. She loved her brother like hell, but she was always terrified of going down the same path he did.

He looked to Rick to see what his reaction was. His reaction was tear-rimmed eyes and a nod of his head toward TJ, silently asking if he could hold the baby awhile. Daryl nodded, Rick stood, and returned Y/N the frame as he walked by to pick up the little one.

Hands empty, Daryl took out his army knife and the broken chain from his pocket so he could fix his woman’s necklace. Wasn’t gonna be hard.

He heard Y/N whisper, “Hey, punk. Miss you. Miss you, too, loser.” He let his eyes travel to where she sat under the window, and watched her kiss the picture and well up. It was the old one of her and preschool-age Carl photobombing Rick and Shane, after one of them got some kind of cop award.

Clutching it once more to her belly, she and Father Gabriel then started to talk in low voices with one another.

“The red haze in your right sclera is so close to begin' clear. Did you talk to Rosie today? She’s been seeming less depressed.”

“I thought this was me visiting my patient, not the other way around,” Gabe gently hinted. “Y/N, please talk to me.”

Daryl heard her sniffle. “Rev, but I don’t want to have meant those words. I’ve been workin’ on it. It-it might be his fault, but I know he’s innocent, he’s humane—Sid even counts walkers like I do, man, yet still, I—” her breathing shuddered. “After whatever this mess is kicked in, every time I see him now, I hate him. Why do I hate a decent person?”

“Grief,” he offered simply. He gave her another shrug and small smile. “Keep doing what you have been. It will get easier every day, the same way your, um,” he was careful about his wording regarding her tits, “that you have more for the little ones every day.”

She huffed but didn’t raise her voice again, she stayed quiet as could be. “It don’t feel like none of that’s happening.”

“Our perception of things doesn’t always equal the truth, Y/N.” Gabe seemed to take a moment. Maybe he was praying.

Y/N’s fingers found her pulse again.

“We are all healing,” Gabriel next said, and smiled again. “Your heart is still beating, is it not?”

Y/N stared for a few moments, caught in the act. Eyes meeting Daryl’s for a moments, she removed her fingers from her neck, and inclined her head at the reverend. “What about yours?” she asked softly.

“Still beating. And that’s the proof,” he assured her just as softly. “Y/N, as for the way you understand your actions and your emotions toward him as not being right, I would like you to take it as a comforting sign. And, you just handed over a weapon you plainly wanted to keep concealed, you didn’t use said weapon to hurt Negan, either,” he pointed out, for which Daryl was grateful. “Perhaps, if you begin to make excuses, begin to feel no sense of having done wrong when you have, I will worry.”

Weirdly enough, he next grinned up at the ceiling. “But I am not, because you are simply broken and in need of healing. You’ll get there, as will I,” he held his hand out to the room. “As will your brother, your husband. All of us.” He sighed. “So long as our hearts are still beating.”

Daryl looked back at his wife in time to see her bit her wobbling lip and nod. Her gaze turned to Rick with the baby. He was kissing TJ’s scrawny little feet.

Her face softened seeing them, and as Daryl’s stomach fluttered again, she turned to look at him. His stomach full-on did a happy flip (and, yeah, he lost his grip on the necklace’s broken link and dropped it).

Y/N said to Rick, “Well, we still need to show ’em that Alexandria—that you—are accountable and fair. How many nights will do, you think?”

Rick shook his head. “Zero. But, because you have a point and won't take 'zero' as an answer,” he quickly added, “how about one?”

“For a piggy, you’re actin’ awful chicken.”

He was unmoved by the cop joke. “Bawk, bawk.”

And Y/N laughed, for what it was worth. And it was worth everything, hot damn was that laugh the best sound.

Daryl figured he might as well check, “What about bail, that still a thing?”

“Not with you owing a whole dollar. That’ll take weeks to pay off,” she said, back to doing her best to lighten up things. He loved her so fucking much, goddamn.

“Supervision when outside the cell,” she stated to Rick.

He shook his head again. “I have a better sentence in mind. When I saw you wearing Lori’s belt earlier today, it reminded me of it. See, and you left this at the infirmary.” He reached into his jacket pocket.

Recognition swept across her face when he held it out. “Do you think he’ll feel safe?”

“The headphone cord is too thin to choke him with, it’d snap.”

“Ricky, that joke was very dark,” she lightly chided.

He squinted, kissing TJ’s feet one more time first. “I hereby sentence you to one night—”

“—Three.”

“One in lock-up,” he spoke over her, then was fast to tack on, “with Daryl and this one as guards.” He motioned to the baby.

"Women shouldn't have male guards," she dryly droned.

"Overruled. You'll also get supervised outings for your duties tomorrow and the day after, including the trip to the Hilltop for Maggie’s prenatal visit. And,” he held up the music player, “you’ll need to listen to music with Siddiq on this. We know it works.” He cocked his head. “Let’s start with 20 minutes per day, like you and I had.”

Some tears slipped out even though she was smiling. She mouthed I love you to him, then asked out loud, “How many days?”

Rick squinted. “Fourteen.”

---------------------------

You

“You pick the songs. Whatever you like,” you told him, staring at the photo and rubbing the ‘22’ pendant over your lips. Daryl fixed the chain for you shortly after you’d broken it. You really love him.

Sid accepted the mp3 player out of your hand.

You and he each had one earbud in, one apple beside you, and Michonne sat nearby with Judith. Supervision was your stipulation, yet being proactive about ensuring it had done nothing for how humiliating it was.

Still, you took an objective look and figured Siddiq should know that his safety mattered, that your people were fair and held themselves to standards.

Just looking around the place, it looked as if standards were a given here. That Alexandria’s power grid and some panels were already repaired within three weeks of Negan’s razing was almost unbelievable.

Sucks for the Saviors Cult that the community had been built to withstand up to magnitude 4.1 earthquakes and be fairly fire-safe as part of its self-sustaining (and for-politicians) model, so in the least, a good number of the homes were still standing.

Carl's gazebo was another story, as were other similar structures, like the church, but the ash had been washed off by the rain, and the communities' walls were back up.

Next to you, Siddiq asked you how to work the mp3, citing, “Carl had been the one to…”

Had been the one to work it when he borrowed it to visit you out there, in order to show you some kindness. Before he got himself bit because of you.

The words festered inside of you. Whatever. Let them fester, you felt dead anyway.

As you went to point to show him, the picture hung from your outstretched, bandaged hand. The pic you'd chosen this time was another older one from the before-times, not one of the newer polaroids. You'd been the one to take it, actually, using a disposable camera about five and a half, maybe six years ago.

It was blurry, Lori and Carl had been being silly and stopped posing, Rick was mid-comment. You loved this one.

It felt so unreal now, felt fake.

Felt dead.

You checked your pulse. Still beating.

“The, um, just use-use those two buttons there for up and down to search,” you mumbled, tucking the photograph into your shirt pocket. “That one is for back, that one for options. Press down on the middle to click.”

He went huh. “Here’s the Indian music playlist,” he chuckled. Appears he’d found the Desi Party! playlist. Carl told you he’d played it for him.

Before he’d gotten fucking bitten.

How could your heart rage and ache so much if you were dead?

“It’s got all sorts on it,” you replied blankly to Siddiq. Remembering your oldest sister who’d made all the playlists before handing her mp3 down to you, it felt like she was made up. Felt like everyone was made up, fake. Dead.

“My mother was a big filmi fan,” he shared.

But you simply repeated, “Pick to whatever you like, you’re in charge of the songs.”

There was no emotion in your voice. You didn’t want to chat with him, didn’t want to nerd out about Bollywood music, and also didn’t want to face him after saying such awful things to him early today.

Hating him felt right. It felt "deserved," which is a word you'd learned to not use, thanks to Dale.

Granted, hating Siddiq felt wrong, too, which invited shame to take a seat on your lap.

So, you followed the rev’s advice and took comfort in the shame because it meant your conscience was still ordered in a good direction. It meant you weren’t fully dead yet.

You checked your pulse again to remind yourself that it was still beating. Life was still going.

Father Gabriel had also told you that feeling dead didn’t make you a bad mother or a bad wife or bad person, it simply meant you were broken and grieving.

“Y/N?”

“What?” you growled — and immediately wished it hadn’t come out that way. In your head, you told Carl you were sorry, you’d do better next time. Then, you prayed to stop hating the sight of Siddiq, the sound of his voice. Wished Dale or Hershel or T-Dog or Deanna or Denise or Sasha were there for, for—advice, support, you don’t know…

And because the rev has enough on his plate and needs to rest, maybe later you’d risk everyone’s ire and sneak away to visit Mr. Jones at the junkyard. At least he wasn’t dead yet, too. Maybe visiting him would convince him to move back to Alexandria.

“I never apologized for pulling you backward like that,” Siddiq said to you, a little short. Couldn’t blame him.

In truth, you had done all you were going to do to Negan after smacking him the once, but Sid wouldn’t have known that. Wouldn’t have known how grabbing you like that would flip an alarm, either.

No use moping, if your positions were reversed, you’d have wrangled him back, too.

And yet, you just caught yourself licking your teeth and sneering in response to his apology.

But it wasn’t out of anger or hatred so much as…you still aren’t certain what the emotion was. Grief, depression, shame, all three. You supposed it didn’t make a difference. Didn’t feel like much of anything.

Briefly, you put two fingers to your neck to check your pulse again. Still beating. Still alive.

Alive, and needing to eat some crow, as it were.

“Don’t apologize, you were protectin’ our patient. What I did was wrong,” you recited. “I-I threatened a patient and then whacked him across the face.” Your conscience then prompted you to apologize again for what you’d said to him. “And, just—Siddiq, what I said to you was bullshit and lies and m'sorry I said it. Cruel bullshit, naught else. Don’t go believing a word of it.”

He wasn’t clicking through the playlists and songs anymore.

Appearing uncomfortable, he peeked at you before he put his attention back on the mp3. “Michonne said pulling you like that was a trigger, which is why you, um…I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t know.”

First, you relaxed your jaw. “Ain’t your job to know. It’s mine to learn past it.” Next, you spackled on something of a smile and added quietly, “It’s good that you, that you stepped in. Thank you.” You did mean it, for what it was worth.

How many minutes until the twenty was up, you wondered, and tried to not be obvious about checking the time on your wrist. Eyeing Michonne, she seemed more preoccupied with Judith than with being punctual regarding your penance/sentence.

“PTSD is serious. That’s why I’m sorry, I, um,” Siddiq faltered. He went back to clicking through the music choices.

“We all have at least a little PTSD, bud.” With a light nudge to try and convey camaraderie or something, you attempted to tease, “C'mon, you chosen at least one song, yet?”

“Sorry, let me just, uh…” and with a few more clicks, the first song started. It was Bohemian Rhapsody.

“You chose the playlist ‘Songs Everyone Likes.’”

He chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, figured I couldn’t go wrong with that one.”

The memory of belting out this song with Carl, Glenn, Beth, and Maggie before your group even found the prison whooshed back and you started to smile—until you remembered that Carl was gone now. He was dead.

You’d forgotten all of that for hot second, but your Carl was dead. So was Glenn. So was Beth. So was Lori, who'd joined, so was T-Dog, so was...

Maybe you were dead, too. You felt dead—so, you pressed your fingers to your neck to feel for a pulse.

Still beating.

The lyrics of the song began to register. You know, the early parts like ‘I don’t wanna die,’ and ‘carry on, as if nothing really matters.’ Sounded a little too personal, tell you the truth.

And just like that, the song was skipped. You glanced at Siddiq.

He shook his head. “Not the right mood for it.”

“Mm.”

The intro to the next song in the shuffle was very bouncy, and ‘Dance to the Music’ started to jive through the earbuds. You didn’t sway along like you naturally would have. No urge to.

The song played, finished.

“First time I heard this was in Shrek,” Siddiq made small talk while munching on his apple. “Love that movie.”

You might’ve hummed in acknowledgment, you aren’t sure. He handed your apple to you, you took it. Held it.

The next song started, ‘Young Hearts Run Free.’

The song played, finished.

Siddiq made more small talk. “I remember that one in Romeo + Juliet, the one with, um, Leo DiCaprio. We watched that version in high school after we finished reading it.”

You hummed again. Pressed your fingers to your wrist, just in case. But no, your heart was still beating.

The next song started, ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash.’

“A lot of oldies,” he commented once the singing began. He took the final nibble off his apple.

“But goodies,” you responded, willing yourself to sound less stiff and monotone. “Modern stuff is on this playlist, too, don’t worry.”

The song played. Finished.

The next song started. ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’ Siddiq promptly skipped it once the refrain started and the lyrics sank in.

“Good call,” you grunted.

The next song started. ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.’

“Oh n—please skip this one, too." You loved that one, but you’d queued it up for Glenn at his and Maggie’s wedding, and it was not the time to go reminiscing. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Checked your pulse. Still beating. "Please skip 'Thunderstruck' if it comes on, too?”

The mp3 player clicked as Siddiq skipped the song. Next on the shuffle was ‘Under Pressure.’

He adjusted his seat and coughed. “This one fits.”

A combination sigh/groan was your contribution, because he was right. The two of you were the only doctors major medical personnel left standing.

The song played. Siddiq’s knees and wrists bounced to the rhythm where he sat beside you. You stared at your boots. Where’d all the soot and dirt on them and your clothes come from, you couldn’t remember…

…

It was when a strong gust of cold wind blew that you noticed that the music had stopped, your earbud was out, and the sky wasn’t as cloudy anymore.

When did that happen?

You sat up and blinked a few times, your apple still in one hand, Shane’s necklace in the other.

“Hey,” you heard Siddiq call.

What, why were your cheeks wet? “S-sorry, I,” you dropped the necklace, wiped your eyes with your sleeve, and put the apple down, “must’ve, um, checked out.”

“I’m not sure how long it was after it began when I noticed the change,” he let you know. “Is…this what happened earlier?”

You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Earlier was somethin’ else. This was just—” ‘Dissociation,’ was a misunderstood word, so Denise taught you. And you didn’t want to use the word for that reason.

You really wanted to keep a shred of dignity for yourself in the eyes of that guy. He didn’t even know that you’d hurt yourself when you’d ‘blacked out’ the other day…so, you decided upon a white lie highly euphemistic layman's term. “I spaced out.”

He nodded, but his brows sunk, as if he weren’t buying it.

And when he did that thing where someone slightly opens their mouth because they’ve put together a response, you changed the subject. “Listen to anythin’ good while I was in space?”

Siddiq wasn’t swayed. “Do you still feel detached?”

“A little,” you answered truthfully, breathing deep and checking your watch to try gauging how long you’d been out. Except, you had no recollection of what time it had been earlier, so it was a bust. God save you, you were a mess.

“Sid. I’m sorry you’re trapped dealin’ with this shit, it ain’t fair to you. If, if you wanna bounce early, don’t feel obligated to stay, and, and—like, if you don’t wanna do this whole music thing, it’s fine. W-we don’t want you feelin’ unsafe.”

“Unsafe? Y/N, I…” he paused. “I forgive you for what you said earlier. And I’m not scared of you. Hitting Negan wasn’t okay, but…” another pause. “Compared to the way most others are baying for his blood and how you defended saving his life, I mean—you helped me save him, Y/N—” He lifted his hands, palms to the sky. “You’re my friend, we work together, it’s not like I can’t see that you’re drowning.”

Nothing prepared you to hear that.

He was calling you a friend and was still trying to be understanding, after all that…

You wanted to slam your head on a hard, rough surface and cry from the shame and simultaneous relief. You also didn’t want to accept it, and so pushed back: “You were alone out there too long. Friends d-don’t tell friends they wish they were dead.” And mean it, you did not confess.

But of all things, he merely raised one shoulder and snorted. “I’m a really good friend?”

Tears spilled at the same time that you almost laughed. No, it's true, you almost laughed. Things felt a little unreal again, but in not a bad way. The most you could do right then was send up thanks for the mercy that came out of the mess. You pinched your wrist first, then felt for your pulse.

“Compared to a few minutes ago, do you feel more like yourself now?” Siddiq made sure.

Huh. You used to ask Shane a very similar question, when he was forgetting his goodness.

You kept feeling the small beats at your wrist, reminding you that you were indeed alive, therefore capable of healing and growth.

“Heart’s still beating,” you sniffled, making yourself smile at him. The hatred and disgust you’d felt earlier seemed to you less like a fact and more like a bad dream.

Then, from the far right of the oak tree, you heard Aaron’s voice saying, “Not yet, man, they’ve got four minutes left.”

Aaron and Daryl then came into view. They waved to you as they walked by with the babies, another reminder that you that you weren’t fully dead inside. Gracie was in a stroller, TJ was bundled in Daryl’s arms. Your husband lingered behind, eyes on you as he absently pecked a kiss to your baby’s covered head.

Something stirred, and your chest fluttered and tugged in their direction, reminding you again that your heart was still beating. So was Maggie’s, so was her and Glenn’s baby’s, so was Rick’s, so was Aaron’s. Life was still going. You had a child, a husband; lifelines. Their hearts were still beating, too.

The unexpected wink and the way Daryl’s gaze softened as he looked at you made you feel as if you’d been freezing and someone just handed you a cup of cocoa with mini marshmallows. The way he next moved his lips to pronounce ‘troublemaker,’ however, you ought to have seen coming a mile away.

The heaviness in your body eased a bit. A smile started prodding the corners of your mouth. Shyly, you returned the wave and mouthed ‘mangy hick,’ your wrist bumping against the photograph sticking from your shirt pocket.

Aaron noticed him acting like a dope lagging and gestured for him to keep up. “Four more minutes and we’ll come back to get her.”

Daryl called out "slowpoke," and waved your baby’s little arm to the two of you as they walked away. He kept peeking behind him, too, it warmed you. When they reached far enough, you once again took the photograph out from your pocket.

With a final peek at Carl’s picture, you sent up a prayer and reaffirmed the promise that you’d made to him. That you’d live for him, do him proud.

So long as your heart was still beating, you’d try to do him proud. “Seems you and I got four more minutes, Sid. What’ll we pick?”

-------------------------

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chimcess · 10 months

Text

Birdie Shoppe || pjm (XI)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 12.1k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the north and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Birdie, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the 123rd Birdie, a young girl who was given her position too early and asked by the goddess herself to fulfil a task none had ever done before- become the Grand Witch of the Foxglove pack. Now a woman, Y/N is revered as the most loved and powerful Birdie of all time, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: Long-hair Jimin (yes, this is a warning), Strong language, Violence, Mentions of blood, Descriptions of blood, Descriptions of death, Blindness, Talks of abuse, ANGST, PTSD symptoms, Sexism, Misogyny, War talks, Talks of possible death A/N: We’re officially at the beginning of the next act. I have many, many plans for this universe of mine and I’m so happy to share this world with you.

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Opening my eyes, I could feel just how tired my arms were. Every inch of my body was heavy and weighed down by some invisible force. Looking around me, I knew that I was in some sort of medical setting. Surrounded by bodies, I closed my eyes once more and breathed a sigh of relief.

I was alive. I was free. I made it.

Moans of pain filled the room, but I could not figure out where they were coming from. Everyone else was either quiet or talking in hushed whispers with their loved ones. I opened my eyes again.

Forcing myself up, I groaned in agony as I did so. My head still had some dull aches. My bones cracked and popped with each movement I made. Glancing around me, I was alone. I could only hope it was due to others being too busy to stay holed up in the medical unit with me and not because far more serious tragedies had been met.

Twisting and turning, I slowly stretched and relaxed the tense muscles in my body. The headache lingered, but it became more bearable as the time went by. The woman beside me woke up a few minutes later. Most of her body was scarred from burns. She had been caught in a fire when she was evacuating her children from the village.

I had been out for two days. The elves had not come back since their failed attempt at a siege. According to the woman, they had gone to Northorn. It sparked something in my mind, but I could not figure out what.

Testing the waters, I tried to stand and was successful. I was happy with how quickly my body recovered from the drain. It would have taken much longer before. I guessed it had something to do with the power that had been taken from me. I was able to regain it much better now. Looking down at the woman, I frowned.

“Would you like for me to heal you?” I asked.

She shook her head, “It’s a sign of honor to have lived. I will wear them with pride.”

My own scars came to mind, and my frown deepened. I had never thought of them that way. My thoughts then shifted to Shiloh and it almost brought me to my knees. I never got the chance to say goodbye. Pushing my tears away, I told myself that I would give myself time to grieve later.

“Have you seen Alpha Jimin?” I asked her, willing my voice to stay calm.

She smiled at me, the side of her face that was burned far too tight and red to lift with the other. She had a beautiful smile once, and I felt rage like I never had before. I wished I could rip apart the elf that had made this happen to her.

“He’s here most of the time,” She replied. “The Alpha called upon him this morning for an important meeting. He should be back soon.”

I nodded and made up my mind to go and look for others in the ward. I asked her about Thelma and Yoongi, but she paid little mind to the witches. They had been gone by the time she had come to. Settling on finding my friends first, I began the treacherous task of walking through the bodies.

Many were badly injured, missing limbs, or burned beyond recognition. Some children had gone blind from spells, others were paralyzed and being worked on constantly by the quietus in order to reverse it, and some were so badly injured they were only receiving pain relief until they died. It became too hard to look at and so I stopped. Staring straight ahead, I forced myself from looking down at the cots littered around me.

“I’m happy you’re awake,” Said a voice from behind me.

I turned with great care and found Cadoc standing there.

The shadow surrounding him was gone now, and replaced by gentle white smoke that danced. It was shocking just how different he looked when he was fighting. Now, his skin had life and flushed in the sun, the pale color less like marble, and his eyes were a normal blue color. His hair was still midnight and hung just at his shoulders. It danced in the breeze that surrounded him. He smiled at me.

“Cadoc,” I greeted him, unable to return his enthusiasm. “I’m happy to see you.”

He approached me cautiously and began to look over my body. His hands felt like a gentle breeze in the fall, his fingers as soft as leaves, and I could hardly feel any pressure as he methodically went over me. I was appreciative of the caution, and I belatedly realized that I was unaware of what they thought was best. Maybe I was not free to leave after all.

“You seem fine,” He said, his strange echoing voice all the same. “I would refrain from any and all magic use unless necessary.”

I nodded obediently.

“Thank you again,” I managed a small grin. “I appreciate you coming to my aid in the field.”

He nodded at me, “You saved my life. I thought it was only fair.”

Nodding, I turned away.

“Before you leave,” He called out. I turned back around. “Sam would like to see you. I think she’s quite fond of you.”

This time, I smiled.

“After I see my loved ones, I’ll be sure to make some time for her.”

Cadoc chuckled, “Goodluck. My sister is not known for her patience. My condolences to your family over the loss.”

I nodded, looking at the grass under my feet. Cordelia… Oh, Wendy would be completely beside herself. I knew I needed to get to them quickly. We should be together right now.

“Was it only Cordelia?” I asked, sniffling.

“She was the only one who died,” He replied. “Your friend is still blind, one was badly injured and still asleep, and another was burned on her leg.”

“Who’s here?” I demanded, looking back up.

I wanted to see them before I left.

“His name is Taejin, I think.”

My eyes closed on their own. I needed to get to Seokjin and make sure he was alright. His mother had to be in hysterics by now. Torn between seeing Taejin and going to comfort his family, my body moved on its own to go back into the tent. A hand on my arm stopped me.

Cadoc was pressed very closely against my body, his strange figure formed around my own, and I had to suppress a shiver. He was ice cold. I felt his lips brush against my ear as he whispered, his body far too close to mine. Within a second, he completely vanished from sight.

“They’re here.”

I turned my head towards his mouth, waiting for him to say more.

He elaborated, “I’m not sure who it is, but there’s someone in this village working with the elves.”

“How do you know that?” My voice was hardly audible, lips unmoving.

“I’ll explain later.”

I nodded. We were not in the best place for this conversation. Pulling away from his embrace, I pulled a face to make my pause look less suspicious. It was not difficult to look heartbroken when all I saw was devastation. What felt like fingers grazed my cheek.

“Meet me in your meadow tonight,” He urged.

I nodded my head once and hoped he understood what it meant. Seemingly satisfied with my answer, the cold chill that surrounded me was gone. Pushing the conversation to the back of my mind, I started walking once more. Whatever the quietus was talking about would have to wait until I was finished with my loved ones.

I found Taejin a few minutes later after asking anyone who was well enough to guide me to his place. He was still asleep, a large gash on his face that was red and raised, but I was happy that his breathing was normal. I was sure he would wake up and be alright, but the scars from that night would haunt all of us forever. Cordelia’s face came to me again and I shivered. I could only hope that would be our only fall- it was the only one the witches could handle. I looked at him for a few minutes more before turning to leave the medical tent. I had a family who needed me right now and I would have to trust that the team here would be enough for Taejin.

Stepping into the daylight, I was shocked by the desolation. Everything had been destroyed. Not a single building had been left in-tact and I knew many of the villagers would be unable to fix their homes. They were far too injured. Choking back a sob, I reminded myself of what I needed to do. I could fall apart later, right now my family needs me to be strong.

Eyes followed me with rapt attention as I passed a small group of villagers. I recognized none of them, but I assumed they knew who I was. I never was able to learn the names of the wolves in the village outside of the ones I had helped through the change. The women were older, rounder, and probably no longer shifted if I had to guess. Looking ahead, I pointedly ignored them. I had no time for local gossip.

“They’re in the Park house,” One of the women called out. Looking at the group once more, I straighten my back. None of them were unkind, in fact, I could only find grief in their eyes. I did not know who they lost, but I hoped they would be able to recover. “It’s the only house left down the main road to your right. Be careful, there’s a lot of debris.”

I nodded, “Thank you.”

“No,” Another woman cried, her eyes as red as her sunburnt face. “Thank you. Alpha Taehyung told us what you did.”

I smiled at the group sadly before walking away. The praise did not feel nice. It should have, but it did nothing to settle my unease. None of this should have happened. I should have said something. I cringed at that thought and stopped walking to pull myself together. Not here. Not now. Later.

The house was easy to find. Surrounded by ashes and uninhabitable houses, the Park home stood as a shining beacon of hope within it all. Of course, the little house was worse for wear. The entire yard had been scorched by the flames that surrounded it, most of the walls burnt and weak, and there was a hole where you could see straight through into the home. I could see Seokjin sitting at a table with Wendy in his lap. They were talking but I was still too far away to hear anything.

Deciding to use the front door, I frowned at the burnt wood. The house must have been the last one to go up in flames. I knocked and waited. Inside, everything stilled and a singular set of steps echoed. I braced myself for an onslaught of hugs and kisses from everyone, the never ending tears, and having to keep myself in one piece. I was a rock in a river and I would do whatever I needed in order to calm everyone inside.

Callisto answered the door. Her eyes were heavy with bags underneath them and her chocolate hair clipped back messily. Despite her obvious exhaustion, her green eyes lit up as she took me in. Unexpectedly, she threw her arms around my neck and tried out in what sounded like relief.

“Oh, thank Goddess,” She cried, her voice thick with emotion. “My brother will be so happy to see you. Oh, we were so worried.”

Hesitantly, I hugged the young girl back. She was so small and underweight I felt uncomfortable holding her too tightly. I could imagine her bones were just as frail as she was. She was off of me as quickly as she scooped me into her arms, and took my hand in hers as if we had known one another for years. She made my presence known so cheerfully I felt embarrassed. No one had been this excited to see me in my entire life.

“Birdie,” It was Wendy, her eyes wild, who spotted me first.

I ran to her immediately. The sea witch crumbled in my arms, sobs making her entire body shake as she held onto me for dear life. Her hair had been cut, the blonde strands ending at her shoulders instead of flowing down her back, and I could still feel how dirty they were. She was frail, every bit as shaken as I felt, and seemed frenzied in her attack. I did not know if I should tell her that I had been the one to find Cordelia or not. I thought of her face again, her green eyes with their thousand yard stare, and a flash of red broke through. Her hair had always been ostentatious, frizzled and going every which way with a curtain of bangs that hid a fair amount of her face. That night they were caked in dirt, the orange glowing red under the fire, and stuck to her skin like leather. I shivered and held Wendy tighter. I prayed she had never seen her mentor like that.

“She-she-” She gasped, her pain piercing my heart.

“I know,” I croaked, running my fingers through her hair in an attempt to calm her. “I know, Wendy Bird.”

Looking over her shoulder now, I was pleased to see the rest of the witches huddled around a small fireplace. All of them looked at us now aside from Yoongi. His eyes were unfocused still and I remembered Cadoc telling me he was still blinded. Whispering to Wendy, I slowly removed her vice grip around my neck so I could go to them all. Seokjin was standing beside us and took her from me easily. He patted my head with his large hand and held the broken woman close. She was falling apart right before my eyes and I would not be able to comfort her. I would surely fall apart, too.

I went to Hoji first. Her husband was ill in the medical tent and I was sure she was frazzled. Jin would be too busy mourning the loss of our friend to fuss over his father. Especially since we all knew it was a matter of time before he woke up. Cordelia would never wake up. She was so heavy. I shuddered at the thought.

Heji reached out to me from beside her sister and smiled sadly. They had always looked the same, their faces virtually indistinguishable, but this moment they were the same woman to me. They were haunted, their eyes dull and sorrowful, and there would be no one to keep the other in check. No sarcastic comments followed by a gentle chastising. Right now, they were one woman mourning a shared loss.

Yoona was at her son’s side and pointed me in Thelma’s direction. Taking a look at Yoongi, he was hurt and sad, but I was not sure what else could be happening inside of his head. His eyes had always been so expressive. I nodded at her and went to the woman beside her. Hyun-Jin was missing from the group and she whispered that he was asleep.

“Thank you,” Thelma whispered fiercely, almost like she was afraid of talking any louder. “You kept him away from the brunt of it all.”

I nodded but said nothing. Thelma did not reach for me like the others. She was never one to rely on others, and I knew how devastated she was. Cordelia was a good friend of hers, one she had known for many years, and she was not there to help her. Thelma had a self-blaming streak. I would talk with her later but for now I was content with letting her feel however she wanted.

I thought of Shiloh again and sighed heavily. I was so angry with myself for not getting a proper goodbye. I missed her so dearly, so acutely, and I could feel the hole in my heart she left with her leaving. I would again have no closure. Unlike Aldara, however, Shiloh and I had fought together fiercely and made our peace in the forest. She was safe and back where she belonged. It gave me little comfort.

“Y/N?” Yoongi called out, raising a hesitant hand.

I was at his side quickly. He looked so much younger right now. I reached out and took his hand in my own.

“I’m here, Yoon.”

Reaching out his other hand, I took it with ease. Another oddity. Yoongi never offered physical affection like this before. Looking at his face I frowned. I guess he had no choice at the moment. I squeezed them comfortingly.

“Are you alright?” His mother asked, squeezing my shoulder. “We were worried but Cadoc said you’d be fine with rest.”

I nodded but spoke for Yoongi’s benefit.

“I’m fine,” I whispered. I understood Thelma’s hesitance to break the silence. It could bring more unknowns and that was a frightening idea. “Physically speaking. I don’t really know outside of that.”

Yoongi’s grip on my hands tightened.

“How are you feeling, Yoon?” I asked him.

He shook his head, “I’m scared.”

I inched closer to him. Our knees touched, both of us kneeling on the floor, and I took one of my hands back. I smoothed down his bed-head and caressed his cheek. He reminded me of the little boy from the meadow who cried when he saw bees. I felt the tears falling from my eyes and surrendered to my pain. I could cry, if only a little bit, right now. Yoongi would always catch my tears.

“Me too,” I admitted, voice so soft I was not sure if anyone heard me.

“Thelma told us about your visions,” I heard Hoji say. “We’re all sorry you had to deal with this alone.”

I shook my head, the force of my guilt rearing its ugly head.

“I saw nothing. I knew something bad was happening, but I was blind and stupid. I should have said something. I should have-”

“We are all responsible,” Thelma interrupted. “I take full responsibility for you keeping your mouth shut. It was my choice to do so because of my own certainty. I should have known better than to assume anything.”

“And we all knew you were lying about Aldara’s book,” Yoona chimed in. “All of us knew you were hiding something, Thelma. If we’re playing the blame game then you can charge us all.”

“But Cordelia,” I choked.

“It’s not your fault,” Wendy cried, her voice small and weak.

Turning to look at her, I knew I was doing a horrible job at keeping everything at bay. My heartache was too much and everything felt like it was closing in on me. I would have to tell Jimin that I lied to him. I’d have to tell him his village was in ruin because of me. I’d have to become a traitor now. Taehyung might as well throw me to the elves because of my mistakes. And yet, I knew they would not. Taehyung would be understanding, his comfort a warm blanket around me. Sol would be happy it led her mate back to her and so things would naturally become alright between us. Jimin adored me, but would he be able to look at me the same way?

“The elves were coming,” Hoji said, her voice frail and hoarse. “They would have attacked regardless of you telling these people anything. It wasn’t like any of you were on good terms. They probably would have attacked you the moment you stepped foot into this place. Lord knows those wolves would have had a fight on their hands.”

I tried to let the words sink in and ease my guilt. It never happened. Having had enough of this pity party, I took a deep breath and readied for my next plan. I had to see Jimin and he was with Taehyung at the palace.

“I’m going to check on the others,” My voice was stronger than I felt. “I came here straight away and I think Jimin will worry if he sees me missing.”

Thelma nodded, “Will you be back?”

“Later,” I assured her.

Callisto had made herself scarce. The human girl was nowhere in sight, but I shrugged it off. She may have known we would need some space. Saying my brief goodbyes, I went out of the front door. The brunette was out here and talking with a young man.

He was huge, towering over the tiny woman, his muscles massive and bulging. He was very tanned, skin reminding me of a bronze medal, that contrasted completely with his light hair. It was a strange mixture of colors ranging from a taupe brown, gentle great, and stark white. Cropped short and slicked back from his face, the man smiled down at Callisto and it stopped me dead in my tracks. His smile was wide, his teeth perfectly straight, and a small dimple appeared on his left cheek. The way his eyes smiled with him made me want to run as fast as I could toward the palace. I was looking at Jimin’s younger brother who looked everything and nothing like him.

Seeming to notice me, the wolf’s attention snapped to me straight away. Callisto, following his gaze, gave me a blinding smile. Outside, her eyes looked more blue than they had before and I belatedly realized they were a strange hazel. The man still seemed weary of me but did not immediately question why I was at his house.

“Birdie?” He called out, his voice deeper and rougher than Jimin’s. His eyes were also lighter, a strange greenish-brown. “What are you doing here?”

I guessed he had little reason to go to the medical ward recently. From the look on Callisto’s face, she was agitated with him and the way he was speaking. I quickly put things together from there. Jimin’s brother had always known about us, even before we had gotten together, but that did not mean anyone else had. Out here things were much more likely to be overheard. I was filled with gratitude at the small gesture even if I thought it was no longer necessary. Taehyung was horrible at keeping his mouth shut and my entire family would think it odd to hide something this important. Jimin himself may want to announce it in order to establish a connection between wolves and witches.

“I needed to see them before going to the palace,” I replied. “You must be Jihyun, then?”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. He was looking me up and down and I felt self conscious. I had yet to see myself in a mirror though I doubted I looked presentable. Callisto slapped his chest this time and hissed at him to stop. I chuckled.

“Jimin spoke about you a lot,” I continued.

Jihyun looked away bashfully. “I’ve heard plenty about you as well.”

“You should be going,” Callisto said, giving her mate a look. “My brother is going to be so happy to see you up and walking around.”

Jihyun laughed at this and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. Biting my lip, I nodded and started walking again. Callisto again hit the wolf and chastised him for being “such a boy.” I laughed gently and met Jihyun’s melodramatic pout with a grin.

“I swear,” She groaned. “You’re always so unencumbered by the thought process.”

Jihyun laughed, “Don’t start pulling out the Namjoon insults on me.”

She rolled her eyes, “If you were Namjoon, I’d been far more likely to punch you in the face. Broken hand be damned.”

The two of them faded as I got further away. They were an odd couple. Obviously very much in love, and childish to an extent, but it still brought a smile to my face. At least two of us could find a sense of humor right now. At least they still had each other. I hoped their mother was fine, but I had yet to see her.

A few villagers were beginning to move debris from the roads and put back together a few small buildings. I saw Namjoon amongst the builders and kept walking. I had little to say to the wolf right now and he was busy. Up ahead, Jungkook was throwing things out. It was a rare occurrence to see the omega outside of the palace’s heavily guarded walls, even rarer still away from Sol’s side, but I could imagine they had some distance now that Taehyung was back home. Jungkook no longer needed to shadow and protect Sol anymore.

I wondered about Hoseok and Hyuna. I trusted Shiloh to heal him, but I had heard nothing about them since I woke up. The witches would have known something, but I was not sure if they would have been thinking of my friends. They were nothing to any of them so the news would be tragic but nothing worth mentioning.

I climbed the hill to get to the palace with great care. I would have liked to use magic but I was respecting Cadoc’s wishes. No magic unless necessary. It would be for the best. I remembered the conversation the elves were having in the forest and quickened my steps. If they were going to attack Northorn and then four days later come back to Bangtan I needed to know if a siege was already underway. I would use nothing, I decided, my magic would be for fighting purposes only.

Someone spotted me climbing and came to my aid immediately. The young woman shifted, her gray and brown fur looked pretty in the sun, and offered her back to me. The rest of the way up, which would have taken me at least fifteen minutes, was spanned in three. The wolf girl was massive.

She let me down before making her way back down the hill. She had to have been helping the others dealing with the destruction and I felt bad for taking her away from her duties. The girl had not seemed to mind, however, so I decided to let it go. I had far more pressing matters to attend to anyway.

There were a few wolves guarding the outside of the palace. One of them looked at me, but paid little attention once they recognized me. I was able to walk inside without a hitch, the doors to the palace heavy and loud.

The air still smelled of soot, and I was thrust into a swarm of people running around the palace floors. I had only been here during the night and never saw the help that shuffled through the halls. Now, that help was busy scrubbing walls, cleaning fabrics, and grabbing documents. Wrinkling my nose, I did not expect the level of disgust I felt. These people should be taking care of their homes- not polishing these stone floors.

“Can I help you?” I heard a gentle voice call out to me.

She was a large woman, three heads bigger than me, and built like a bear. Her body was muscular and broad, and I found her short, silky, black hair beautiful. Giving me a small smile, her smile lines and wrinkles revealed her to be older than most in the village. I was happy she had survived the fight. Many of the elderly would not.

“I’m looking for Alpha Jimin,” I replied.

The woman nodded, her face grim and evenly set. I had a feeling I would not be seeing him anytime soon. Figuring I would exhaust all of my options before letting her lead me out, I introduced myself as well as my title. The maid jumped, her fear palpable, and a pang of anger hit me. What had they done to this woman?

“I’m so sorry,” She rushed, her eyes pleading. “I did not know.”

I waved away her concerns.

“There’s no crime,” I soothed. She visibly relaxed and I grit my teeth. I would need to discuss this with Taehyung. No one would be made to fear me so long as I had anything to say about it. “Please, I need to see him.”

She nodded, “Of course, Uxor Park.”

“Excuse me?”

Seemingly embarrassed, the woman tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She started walking up the grand staircase and I followed her closely.

“My apologies,” She spoke once we were at the top. She kept her voice low and I struggled to hear her. “Alpha Jimin has announced to the elders of your bond, but I forgot you have been recovering from battle. Uxor is the word for wife and will be what you are called from this moment forward.”

I frowned, “What’s your name?”

“Sloan, daughter of Ammon.”

I hummed, “Well, Sloan, I have a name and I would prefer to be called by it.”

Sloan looked scandalized. I was unsure of pack etiquette on this level. I had never cared much about it before. Thinking about Jimin, I recalled the nickname he used for me often and asked the maid what it meant.

“It means ‘loved friend,’” She replied, pleasantly. “We use it when talking of our closest loved ones. It’s a platonic nickname.”

The word platonic was distasteful. I had hoped it meant something more. Knowing Jimin would have called any of the copiae amica put a bad taste in my mouth. Seeming to notice my discomfort, Sloan smiled my way.

“It is something the Alpha would take seriously. I’ve never heard him use nicknames for anyone outside of his family, and never amica. He might find other words too intense before a bonding ceremony.”

I cocked an eyebrow at the large woman who chuckled fondly. The tension from earlier seemed to be gone now and I hoped she knew I would never raise my voice to her. I would not put it past Ahn to lay hands on their workers. He was a vile little man.

“He’s a very traditional man,” Sloan continued. “He’s been going about your union in the most courteous way imaginable, and had refused to publicly announce your partnership until you woke up.”

This did please me. It would have been unimaginably difficult this morning if the village had known I stole the heart of their strongest alpha. The group of women seemed kind enough, and his family I had met were going out of their way for my people, yet I still felt anxiety. I had seen how quickly they turned on Taehyung.

“Even knowing how careful he is, I'm surprised the bond has not been complete,” Sloan spoke away without much care if I replied or not. I could imagine she never gossiped with people outside of the maids. “He really is such a gentleman.”

“What are you talking about?” I finally spoke again, entertained by the woman. The young wolves always seemed uptight regarding sex and their rituals, but Sloan’s age made her less self conscious.

“I know many wolves,” Sloan’s voice dropped even lower now. “Most are dreadful mates. Men are raised to believe they own their wives, but times are changing. Alpha Jimin is one of the best men I know.”

“You know him well?”

“No,” She admitted, “But he’s one of the few wolves who have never laid a hand on me.”

Instantly, I felt a kinship to this woman. While I was never hit, no one had ever even thought of laying a finger to me, I did understand what it felt like to be trapped. Here she was in her prison and she could find little solace in her place in society. I thought of Ahn again and wanted nothing more than to kill him myself. If he was even alive.

“Is the vermin alive?” I sneered, anger getting the best of me.

“Ahn?” She hissed, her fear palpable. Then just as quickly she relaxed. “No, he’s dead. It is only Chief Kim, Namjoon’s father, and Chief Bo. She has been struggling greatly. She lost a child.”

I felt a great amount of guilt again. That poor woman. I tried picking her face out in my mind, but could not remember who she was. There were three women on the council table, but Ahn never allowed them to speak. He must have been one of those dreadful mates Sloan had been speaking about. I never disliked the man, had never really liked him either, but my loyalties to Taehyung would always sway my bias now. If Chief Kim wanted a problem then I would be sure he knew exactly who he would be up against.

I thought of Namjoon and knew my worries would be unnecessary once things started up again. We had all lost something, and from Namjoon’s apologies I would hope his father would honor his son’s wishes. I would have to thank the alpha for helping me during the fight.

“Taehyung is a good man,” Sloan was rushed now and I assumed we were approaching the others now. “A very, very good man. Sol is lucky.”

I could not agree with her more. After spending as much time with the boy as I had there was no denying his potential. What he lacked in aggression he made up for in heart. Sure, he was gullible and prone to random outbursts that led to nowhere, but I knew what he had inside of him. The way he fought was only one facet of his life. When I thought of his strength the way he held Sol in his arms came to mind. She was as precious to him as silk, and he made sure to hold her tightly enough to stop her from hurting others.

“However,” Her voice was practically gone from how softly she spoke now. I had to lean into her and tap into the animal within me to make out everything she said. “His sweetness will be used against him in these coming months. Tell me, Birdie, do you believe in him?”

I answered without hesitation, “More than anyone in Lustra.”

“Even more than your Jimin?”

I smiled, “Taehyung will give your people something Jimin never will.”

“And what’s that?”

I looked at her now. I had a feeling I would be in this place more than ever, and I would want to keep her close to me. She was a comfort that I never had. We understood each other.

“Peace of mind.”

I meant every word. If Jimin had been alpha I was sure this entire village would have been to Northorn by now. The fight would have never ended. Everything would have revolved around war. Jimin would give them strength and hope, but his own desire to end things as quickly as possible would place people in danger. No one would be prepared to do the right thing- wait and plan. I doubted any of the witches would be here either. I would certainly still be in my cottage.

Taehyung was methodical. He always came off as goofy or passive, but I knew better. Those eyes saw everything and information was precious to him. He listened to your every word and took it to heart. He would want to be sure as many people could be helped, that those who can’t help themselves would be hidden, and look at every avenue of support he could. He was able to get around my love’s vital flaw- pride. Taehyung had plenty of it, but he was as humble as they come. I smiled fondly thinking of him.

I was so happy we had made it through this.

“What happens now?” I asked, a large set of wooden doors coming into view as we turned into a quiet hallway.

“You will meet with the council as a new Oxur,” Sloan began, a professionalism in her voice that had faded as we spoke now back. I could sense her nerves as we got closer to the room. “After that you will begin planning your wedding. Of course, with everything going on that may be postponed or rushed. You and Bo will discuss your options at some point.

“You will live in this palace as things play out. You and Jimin will not be permitted to be alone together without a chaperone present. Again, things might be different with the fallout. Ahn made these rules but Taehyung will likely ignore them. He and the Luna wedded yesterday to establish their bond as quickly as possible. Bo was not happy but understood. Kim just wanted to be sure the Luna was feeling better since being near him once more.”

I nodded, trying to keep up. The strange need for virgins here was odd. I had never met a wolf who had actually waited for their wedding to bond with their mate. Hoseok and Hyuna were inseparable from what I heard. Sol and Taehyung had no choice, but from her reaction to him I was sure they would be on one another the second the were alone. Jimin, however, had kept his distance. I smiled. He was trying to protect my honor, even if I thought the whole process was dripping in misogyny.

“Neither of them are angry about your union,” She continued, speaking quickly. “In fact, Chief Kim was quite pleased. He believes your children will be very strong and that will be vital if this war continues.

“You and Jimin must meet with his family to discuss arrangements after the wedding. Oftentimes, a woman will be asked to become a servant to the family for the first year of marriage in exchange for a lifetime of loyalty. Mi-Jeong will not do that to you. She is a very good, strong woman and will be happy you have made her son happy.

“I will say that she can be a wildcard. Quick tempered and straight to the point. I adore her but she can come off abrasive. It’s why she and your sister-in-law get along so well. You must call them your mater and glos until they say otherwise. Again, I don’t believe they are too concerned with this but it will be helpful in showing respect.”

I struggled to keep up with the rules. Was this what Sol had been taught her entire life? I scoffed. Taehyung could care less about how “lady like” the girl was, and I was sure Jimin cared even less about my own manners. All of this shit was made by some man who wanted to control every aspect of his peoples’ lives. Sloan grinned at me. I doubted she saw the need for these ideals either.

“The most important thing will be your intentions. You will be one of the most important women in the village now, and everyone will have to trust and respect you for this to ever work. I believe many see what you have done for us and will be easily swayed. I cannot promise all will be satisfied, but this war is more important than petty things like this.”

I could only pray Sloan was right. Reaching the door, Sloan gestured for me to be quiet as she knocked. The gentle chatter inside ceased. After announcing my presence, the room exploded. I grinned when I heard Sol’s voice over them all begging to be the one to greet me.

“I need to apologize,” She stated, already deciding she had won this fight. “Besides, you’ve both had her long enough.”

The door opened with a loud whoosh. The heavy doors seemed to weigh nothing under the Luna’s hands. Sol was glowing, her golden skin plump and dewy, and I saw the sparkle back in her brown eyes. A huge smile on her face, Sol wasted little time running into my body, her arms wrapping around me tightly. I hugged the girl back, my face hot from the attention. Sloan stood beside us and did not utter a word.

I would be fixing that.

“I’m so sorry,” Sol exclaimed, practically shaking in her excitement. She was so happy, so overjoyed that it was difficult to believe a war was happening in Lustra. I wondered just how sheltered she was being in here. “I can’t believe I scratched you.”

I scoffed, “There’s nothing to forgive. That was the least important thing that happened.”

Sol pouted, “I still needed to apologize. You’ve done too much for me to be treated that way.”

I hoped my eyes could convey just how much I understood what she meant. I did not need her apologies, did not want them, and I would never speak of this incident again. I took Taehyung in because I wanted to, and no one would be indebted to me as far as I was concerned. To her I had saved her entire universe. To me I had harbored a fugitive because it was the right thing to do.

“Enough about that,” I waved her off. “I’m here to see Jimin.”

I heard a sharp intake of breath, but shrugged it off. I hadn’t said anything wrong according to our relationship. If Jimin had an issue, then we would talk about it. Until then, I was unbothered by the thoughts of others.

“I’d like to be excused now.”

Sol was momentarily forgotten as she clung to my side. He was so tired. His voice was rugged and slow and so, so defeated. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and kiss his nose. I knew that would be too far in this place, but I did untangle myself from Sol to get closer to him.

“After,” The deep, masculine voice was not to be argued with. “It will only take a few moments, Alpha.”

Finally stepping into the room, I felt better with Jimin in sight. His hair was tied back so I could see his wilted expression with full clarity. There would be no hiding from me right now. I wanted to rush to his side and let him know that I was fine. Catching Taehyung’s eyes, I held myself back. This would be quick.

Raising to his feet, Taehyung bowed to me. I bowed back, knowing that we would not hug again. It was disrespectful to do so, and he would want to be sure his mate would be comfortable with that level of familiarity.

Jimin stayed seated but his eyes never left me. This would be difficult for him. The two of us had gone through hell a few days ago, and I had not held him since. A gentle voice called out to me.

“It’s so wonderful to see you alive Birdie,” An elderly woman, who I could only guess was Chief Bo, greeted. “The Council was beginning to worry.”

I gave the woman a small smile.

“I am quite well,” I assured.

“We are grateful for your service,” The voice from before said.

Turning around, I was greeted by an older man. His hair was going gray and lines had become more pronounced. It took one look to know this was Namjoon’s father. They shared the same mono-lidded eyes, both of them just as serious and stoic as the other, but that was where the similarities ended. I could only imagine how his mother looked and the strength of those genes.

“I don’t believe we have had the pleasure of a formal introduction,” Chief Kim approached and bowed deeply. I returned the gesture.

“I am Kim Yong-Seok, Namjoon’s father. I’ve served this council since the time of the previous Birdie, and I am honored to have fought alongside you.”

“I am Y/N,” I replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chief Kim.”

The man sat down in one of the many chairs in the room. There was a large table in the middle of it all, but no one seemed interested in the papers on it. I stayed standing. I had not noticed Sol’s return to the room and grinned. She was curled in Taehyung’s lap not listening to a word we were saying. I was very jealous and my patience was thinning. Jimin had still not said a word.

“I would like to tell you how much I appreciate you for taking Alpha Taehyung in,” The Chief continued. “My son was not acting rationally, and he had many voices in his ear, but I tried to make him see reason. Ahn was the one who took the letter you sent him. Chief Bo found it in his things yesterday morning.”

My jaw clenched. The man was dead and I would try not to speak ill of him right now. Everyone was mourning and my anger would solve nothing. It still did not sit well with me that either one of these elders lived. They could not shift anymore and would be easy targets for the elves. I had heard little of them before and Namjoon had said everyone was being irrational. Not once had he talked of his father or this Chief Bo. I did not trust these two and I thought back to Cadoc.

We had a spy amongst us.

The conversation the elves had came back to me as well, and I knew I needed to say something. Aldara had said I needed to find Naida, whoever that may be, and hopefully it would lead me to answers. I decided I would need to talk with Cadoc about that later. I glanced at Jimin and bit my lip. Sneaking away may be a challenge.

If Sloan was right then it would not be, but Ahn was the one in charge of these rules. I did not know Kim or Bo well enough to say if they felt similarly. I heard Bo shifting behind me but said nothing. She did not talk very much.

“I understand,” I would keep those thoughts to myself. “All is forgiven. I actually have some things to discuss if that would be alright with you.”

The man nodded.

“I overheard the elves talking when I went to find Jimin’s party out in the woods,” I sighed when I heard Bo’s noise of disapproval. She was uncomfortable with the way I addressed Jimin it seemed. I ignored her.

“They were speaking in a very old language that I don’t speak fluently. Unfortunately, I could only pick out a few words but I put things together. They mentioned moving to attack Northorn and 4 days after they would come back to Bangtan.”

“Four days after what?” Bo’s voice startled me.

I shrugged, “I can’t say for sure, but it would have to be if they were successful in the siege.”

“So, 4 days after they take Northorn they are coming back?” Taehyung clarified.

“Again, I can’t say for sure. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Finally, he spoke. “You’re not infallible. Thank you for telling us what you do know.”

“Yes,” Chief Kim nodded his agreement. “We will have to prepare. The attack on Northorn began last night.”

Chief Kim stood, his intimidating figure tall enough to reach the ceiling. He looked past me, obviously to the other Chief, and they had some kind of silent conversation. My eyes stayed on Jimin now. I knew this meeting would be over soon.

“I think it would be best if Oxur Park stayed in her own suite,” I heard Bo say.

I did not like that woman.

“I agree,” Chief Kim replied.

I did not like him either.

“They should be separated until their union,” She continued. “The witch needs to learn proper etiquette before touching the Alpha.”

I hated her.

Jimin looked as impressed as I did. With a deep scowl, Jimin disagreed vehemently. Taehyung took his side as well as Sol. They cited the war and bloodshed. Why waste time with these nonsensical rules when we had lived together for two months? I chose to stay quiet.

Chief Kim finally said his peace, “Separating them is not an option. The Luna is right, they have already lived intimately and I will not break their bonds for the sake of tradition.”

“But they have not completed anything,” Bo argued, sending a hateful look my way.

It was obvious she would be someone to look down on me. I could not understand what I had done to make her dislike me so, but I did not care enough to figure it out. Jimin was mine and nothing would change that.

“We both know that it is not the only part of the bond,” Chief Kim scolded. “They will sleep separately but we need both of them present for this war. Forcing them apart will be detrimental.”

I was still weary of them both, but I was far more inclined to like Chief Kim. Bo was not satisfied with his answer but chose to keep her mouth shut. With that decided, Chief Kim dismissed us so he would have time to think. Taehyung and Sol stayed behind.

“Alpha Jimin,” I wanted to groan in frustration.

Having just stood up, Jimin was still too far away for my liking. Growing tired of holding back, I walked to his side. He reached out and took my hand. Bo frowned at the contact.

“Yes, Chief Kim?”

“Come back in an hour. We have much to discuss regarding this revelation.”

He nodded, “Of course.”

Just like that, the two of us were cut off from the remaining conversation. Kim wanted to speak with Taehyung about an upcoming fight, and I was sure this would be better with Jimin here. My own selfishness was jumping for joy at being alone with him again, but I was worried how this short break may affect this war.

Again, this Naida came to mind. Aldara had said I would have to find her, which meant she was not in Bangtan. I doubted I would find her in Moland either. Everyone knew everyone in the swamp and the name had never come up before. Naida was in the beyond, someplace within Lustra that I had never seen before, and it scared me.

Jimin led me out of the room, and I was sad to see Sloan had already disappeared. She must have left as soon as Sol came out to greet me. Wrapping an arm around my waist, Jimin pulled me to his side and quickened his pace. I struggled to keep up, but I pushed my worries to the side. For now, I would allow myself to be happy to just be near him.

“So,” I whispered, forcing myself to smile, “I’m your wife now?”

His ears reddened.

“It’s just a formality,” He replied, voice suspiciously even. I giggled at his flushed face and calmed easily. We were just us right now and that would have to be enough. I would worry about Cadoc once the sun set. “I had planned on proposing properly once this war was over.”

Slowing down, Jimin opened a door and pulled me inside. It was a dimly lit room with only candle light and a large bed within it. Fresh sheets smelled of cotton and lavender and I was unhappy with how barren it was. Only two pillows and a thin blanket. I was already itching to go back to my cabin and nest in my thick quilts.

Thinking about the cabin made me think about Shiloh. I had never gotten the chance to say goodbye. I knew I should be happy to be with my mate again, but I was so tired of plastering on a face of good health. A flash of white hot anger burst through my chest and I kicked one of the stone walls.

“Amica.”

I kicked the wall again and groaned in my frustration. Everything had fallen apart so quickly. Shiloh holding Hoseok flashed behind my eyes and I kicked the wall again. I didn’t even know how he was doing and I would never see my precious little owl again. Another kick. Yoongi was blind and helpless, Hyun-Jin lost a piece of his childhood, and Taejin could have died. Cordelia did die. I screamed now, tears in my eyes, as I kicked and punched at the wall.

“Amica,” Jimin grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the bloodied wall.

My hands shook and I fell to my knees and cried.

“Fall apart,” He whispered. “I’ll be here to hold you together.”

And so, for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to sob.

The moon was high in the sky. Sitting in the faceless room, which I now knew as my own, I stared out the lone window and waited for a sign of Cadoc. It should not be too much longer before I get out of here. The walls were suffocating without Jimin around to hold me.

He had stayed for the entire hour and held me. I cried until I could no longer produce tears and then I wailed. I told everything then. I told him about my visions before everything had hit, how I had kept things from him out of fear for his safety, and all of the ways I had gone out of my way to keep everyone in the dark. I stuttered my way through the way I fought off the elf, how much it had hurt to kill myself, and the way Aldara looked like an angel.

He held me tightly when I told him about Taehyung and I fighting our way through the elves to get to Sol, how she had bitten and swung at me like a stranger, and just how tiny she was. I felt him flinch when we talked about finding Yoongi and he cried with me when I got to dragging Cordelia’s body from the dead.

“She was so heavy,” I wailed, rocking back and forth in his arms. “So, so heavy.”

He did not want to leave me, but he had duties to attend to. He offered to send someone up to sit with me but I declined the offer. I did not want anyone but him to step foot in this room. This would be my new nest and it was mine to decide what to do with and who to allow. I would make an exception to Taehyung or my witches, but that would be all. I doubted they would ever come here to find me, not when I was so desperate to get away from this castle.

Finally, I caught sight of a shadowy figure running through the village. Without waiting for a signal or call sign, I shifted. My bird flew around easily and made no noise as it glided through the dark palace. I had to shift back once I reached the main door. I knew it would be impossible to open without alerting someone to my disappearance, so I needed to find another way. The window in my room did not open, but hopefully one of these would. After checking a few, I found that one was completely missing from its spot. They must have been repairing it.

Taking advantage of the opening, I shifted and took off to the forest. It was dead silent tonight and I hoped my friends were safe. Patto would be fine but Delinah could have been injured or killed in the elven rampage. Elves ate deer. I did not want to ponder on the thought any further.

Cadoc was waiting for me in my meadow. The cottage was still destroyed but otherwise had seemed completely untouched. Sniffing the air I was sure that no one else had been around here for days. The others must have thought me dead and left the cottage alone once they thought it was useless. Magic and spells were of no use to them, especially my silly little grimoires filled with potions and strange teleports.

“It’s been left alone,” Cadoc shouted once he saw me coming.

I shifted once I was close enough to the ground. The clothing spell had been a wonderful thing to know how to do lately. Cadoc was dressed in dark clothes now and blended into the trees. That weird translucent quality he had the first time we met was back. I hoped we were safe enough but kept up my guard just in case. I fondled the iron ring I was wearing.

“What do you know?” I asked.

“Not much,” He admitted. “Samayna is suspicious of the female chief, but I believe that is too easy a target. Lorcan is untrusting of humans, but his own bias is affecting his judgment. Both of them are going to our queen living deep in Moland to discuss their theories.”

I pursed my lips.

“What evidence is there that anyone was involved?”

“They came in through the cave systems. No elven army could have gone through them that quietly without knowing where to go. How were no wolves able to pick up on them? It’s too strange for us to ignore the possibilities.”

I hated to agree with him but I was odd. The cave was echoey and loud. There were few things that could be quiet enough to invade without someone hearing something. The wolves would have been ready for a cave ambush if they made a single sound, but they did not. You would have to know where to go in order to take advantage of that vantage point.

“You believe me,” Cadoc always sounded so surprised about my trust.

“You make good points,” I replied. “I just don’t understand why someone would use elves against their own people.”

“The same reason the elves turn on their own: Power.”

Elves were disgusting creatures. Aldara had always said a quietus kills for vengeance while an elf kills for glory. Their kind believed in mass genocide and hated what they called “halflings” and “hybrids.” Their country of Etelin were the first to attack during the Century War where they stole the land of Korika from the wolves and foxes living there. Lustra had never fallen but those who once ruled these lands had diminished. Quietus were amongst these populations and a few groups had become highly aggressive towards anyone who was not an elemental.

Those were the ones Aldara killed. She always reminded me that there were good people, good quietus, but it was so hard to imagine as a child. Everything was black and white then, but looking at Cadoc I knew she was right.

“What did your ancestor show you?” He asked. “The little witch boy said you would have seen her in the spirit world.”

I frowned, “She told me to find someone called Naida.”

I had no idea who this could be, but Cadoc’s expression told me that I should.

“And she said you specifically?”

I nodded wearily. Cadoc began to pace and mumble to himself. In the dark on the significance of this name, I grew annoyed. I wished he would get over himself and talk to me. I stayed quiet in fear I would say something rude and tried to be patient.

“You’re going to have to go to the Ozryn Mountains,” He finally said. “Finding Naida is impossible without Khione. She’s in the Mountains near Idris and you may be able to convince her to take you to Naida if you tell her of the situation here in Bangtan.”

I scoffed, “What are you talking about? Who are these people?”

“Khione is an elemental who bends. She is Naida’s closest and oldest friend and will be easier to find.”

I sighed in frustration. I did not like being out of the loop and after the day I had my patience has run dry. I wanted to get back to Foxglove and sneak into Jimin’s house for the night. Bo be damned, I needed to see him. Especially if I would have to leave soon. The thought made me want to cry.

“I don’t know who any of these people are!” I shouted. “Talk to me, Cadoc. I’m lost and you’re saying I need to leave Bangtan to go and find some elemental.”

The quietus needed to pause his pacing to stare at me. I was missing something important, but it was hard to explain how little I knew about the world outside of the forest. I found the politics of Northorn boring and talks of war made me uncomfortable. I knew, however, that these women were not in positions of power within the statehoods. The only woman that came to mind was Queen Elizabeth of Northorn.

“You are too young to remember the age of the dragons,” Cadoc said and I realized he thought I was much older than I was. I wondered if I looked like Heidi or Griselda enough to have him confused. “Naida is the mother of them all. She was the first dragon that ever lived and her children are the ancestors of Khione’s people.”

“There’s no Naida living in Alcona,” I interjected, confused.

“Naida is a water dragon,” He replied. “Khione is an elemental who cannot shift as her bloodline was diluted by air elemental blood.”

Dragon shifters, as far as I knew, were fire elementals that lived in the Alcona Islands. Aldara had said during the Century War they had been enslaved and used as weapons of war once the elves learned how to force them to their will. Water and air were far more difficult to control, and we had always assumed they were the only dragons to survive the war. I had never known of these water tribes within Ozryn. It reminded me of the rumors of hybrids living deep in the mountains after the first Quietus Invasion.

“The people of Alcona are familiar with her,” Cadoc continued. “Queen Affra is her godchild but they do not see one another often. Naida mourns the death of her kin and holds a mean grudge against Etelin for what they have done to Lustra.”

I was doubtful I would be able to find this dragon woman. I had hardly stepped foot out of the forest and the further away I had gone was Moland. I had no maps or points of reference to guide me along the journey. Then there was the very real chance I was not allowed to go. Jimin would fight tooth and nail to keep me in Bangtan, and I would need to find a way around him. Cadoc seemed to be following my train of thought.

“Samayna will have the maps you will need for the journey. She may even offer to go with you.”

“No,” I shook my head. “If I’m not here then I want to be sure all of the strongest fighters are. I will go off on my own and write when I can.”

“I can speak with King Hadeon. He can offer up his consort-”

“No,” I emphasize my point once more. “I will do this alone. I can only choose my own fate. If I die then that will be so, no need to pull anybody away from Foxglove.”

Cadoc seemed upset by my resolve but moved on. I would not budge from this. Another reason I could be denied would be lack of hands and I would be sure mine would be the only ones gone. Cogs turning, I was sure I could convince Kim and Bo to allow me passage so long as I promised to return with help no matter what. I could use the excuse of sending for help from Viridi Gramine, but I knew Taehyung would see through the lie. He was another factor I would need to consider.

“You’re braver than you look,” He finally settled on.

“I don’t feel that way,” I replied.

Ignoring the comment, Cadoc continued.

“You will need to get to Clarcton first. There you can find lodging. The elves are still at the northern tip of Northorn to avoid Briar Glen Beach. Keld resides there and he will alert Affra.

“Pack for the cold, buy some clothes, and try to find a guide to the mountains. No one will give you passage, but you might be able to get some help finding your way. Once you’re in the mountains stay south and find the narrow passageway to Idris.”

“How will I know I’m going the right way?”

“Dwarf caves are all over the place. You would be able to hear them during the day. Do not walk at night. You will die. If you’re lucky, someone will be curious and ask why you’re there. Tell them you are looking for Khione. It’s alright to say it’s elves- dwarves hate them more than we do.

“If not, keep going until you see a light in the distance. That is Khione’s tower where the guiding light shines for travelers. At this point you will probably believe you’re going to die, and you will cry in relief. Ozryn is tumultuous even during this time of year. We are lucky they attacked in summer instead of winter or your journey would be impossible.”

This plan was forming itself already. Tonight I would gather grimoires from inside of the cellar and ask Cadoc to take them back with me. For the next two days I would study harder than I ever had in my life in order to prepare for a fight. I would have to pick two or three books to bring along with me that would be my own companions. I would have to get started soon if I had any hope of sorting through my things before sunrise.

“Stand out here,” I told Cadoc. “I need to gather a few things.”

“Heidi would have better information,” He said. “I remember her well from the war. The little girl with her would be okay, too.”

I walked inside and opened the cellar. I would bring along a few of my knives and craft a new one. Thelma’s order for iron had been made and there were two iron scones in my room I could melt down. My magic was fickle and I would have no room for mistakes.

I took three feathers I found in Shiloh’s nest on my way out.

I found his home easily. Even with the bungalow in disarray and heavily damaged, I could see the care people had took in trying to hold it together temporarily. I did not think it would withstand much of anything, but I could hope it would be enough for Jimin to be safe. Other copiae were in the palace as their homes were too damaged. Bo did not want us in the same place so Jimin had to stay out here.

I went to the bedroom window I had flown to all of those months ago. A lot has changed since then. Jimin was at his desk again, quill in hand and hair tied up. I loved the way the candles lit his face.

Cadoc took my things to my room for me. After picking out five of Heidi’s books, one of Griselda’s, and two more of Aldara’s journals, the two of us came back to the village. His powers made gliding soundlessly easy. My bird would never have been able to make that work. Along with the books, I also took spare trousers, my jewelry box, and my quilts. This room would be mine for a few days and I would make it look as such. I hoped it would bring Jimin comfort in my absence. I knocked on the glass.

Jimin looked at me and stood up. He pointed to the front door and I walked around the small house. The door was already open and Jimin’s arms outstretched for me.

“You were gone when I came to check on you,” He said.

I walked into his chest, kicking the door closed behind me, and wrapped myself around him. His warmth was nice and I breathed him in. I would be away from him for so long…

“I snuck away,” I grinned. “I wanted to get some of my things. Hopefully Bo won’t be too upset with me.”

Jimin chuckled, “Ignore her. She’s hurting and trying to distract herself with other feelings.”

“Like hate?” I rested my chin on his chest and looked up at him. “Disgust? Disdain?”

He kissed my forehead.

“Jealousy.”

He sniffed my hair and stiffened.

“You weren’t alone on your outing.”

I shook my head, “No. Cadoc wanted to meet with me regarding some… issues they were having.”

“Can we talk about it?”

I nodded and forced myself out of his arms. I would never be able to focus on anything like this. I yawned but waved off his grooming. Jimin, like everyone else in my life, treated me like a glass house in a tornado. Normally, I appreciated his pampering but we needed to have a serious talk and it would make me lose my train of thought.

“They believe there’s a whistleblower,” I started, sitting down on his sofa. “Using caves was weird and they’re talking with their Queen about it now.”

“Taehyung and I were talking about that possibility as well,” He mused, looking over at me. “That’s not all, is it?”

I shook my head. I knew this was the part of the night I would have to stay quiet about for now, but I might be able to say some of it. Planting a seed and seeing where it goes never hurt anybody.

“I might have to do something in the next few days,” I looked at my hands. “It won’t be fun, or easy, but you need to trust me, okay?”

“You need to give trust to get it.”

Looking at him, I was sad to see the defeat in his eyes. Keeping things from him had made this situation so much worse than they should have been. Even if he never admits it, even if we never acknowledged this fact right now, I knew him. He was hurt by me keeping quiet and not trusting him enough to defend the both of us. All this time I was keeping him safe without ever thinking about the fact that he wanted to make sure I was okay, too. Taking a deep breath, I decided to just get it out and deal with it right here and now.

“I need to find someone,” I whispered uselessly. There was no one else around. “When I saw Aldara she said I needed to find Naida, a water dragon. Cadoc said that her people would send help as soon as they heard me out.”

“Absolutely not!” He shouted, standing from the sofa.

“I told you that it won’t be easy,” I reached out for him.

Brushing off my affection, Jimin rubbed his ace roughly. He was panicking already. I stayed seated and tried to soften the blow, but came up empty-handed. Nothing would make this easier.

“Not easy? You’re expecting me to be fine with you going on a suicide mission!”

I frowned, “Do you not trust me enough to take care of myself?”

He groaned in frustration.

“Of course you can take care of yourself, but I can’t live with the thought of never seeing you again. They live in the mountains, Y/N! The mountains! You have no idea where you’re going. How can I accept that?”

He was right. If he had come to me with this proposal I would be just as hysterical. I feared for myself, it was the reason I wanted to go alone, but the fear for me was hard to understand. It felt wrong to bring someone else with me, though it would help to ease Jimin’s mind. My friends’ minds as well.

“What if someone came along with me?” I asked.

Pausing his pacing, he started to consider. He was still uncomfortable, that I could see plainly, but some of the tension was gone. I sorted through a list of names but felt uncomfortable with any of them tagging along. None of my witches were allowed to die in those mountains and I only knew wolves who were important.

“Not you,” I quickly added. “Your people need you right now.”

“Then who?” He asked, his voice far more resigned.

“There’s a wolf in the palace. Her name is Sloan and I’m fond of her. She can come with me.”

All at once, Jimin was at ease. I smiled. I knew little about that woman, and had no intentions of dragging her through the mountains with me, but if she eased all of his worries she would be formidable. I was bitter about her mistreatment once more. Pity Ahn had died so easily.

“I can live with that.”

We laid in his bed for the rest of the night, talking and caressing one another. I had missed a lot during my slumber and I was happy to get the rundown. With Sloan’s word from earlier I felt less insecure about our snail’s pace. Jimin truly believed he was honoring me this way and I would let him have this. If he would let me leave then I would wait for marriage. I fell asleep as the sun came up and smiled when I thought of Bo finding my room empty.

A/N: Don’t be mad at me!

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