#back in time said it was on autopilot i too would be like 'ok?? sure??' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simp4konig · 8 months

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Self-aware König X Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: ~2800

König slowly comes to the realisation that he was in a game, that he was never real, and that he'll never be with reader.

His sense of self deteriorates as all he wishes for is to escape from the boundaries of his code and be real.

In this instance, ignorance really *was* bliss.

*Slow burn

*König has a mental breakdown at one point lmao

Edit on same day: HOLY SHIT thank u for so many notes!!!!!!!!!!! 🥹🥹💞💞💞💞💞 You guys are so nice 🫣🫣

*Self-aware AU belongs to @puff0o0 !!!🥳🥳 (The girl behind the disguise🥸... Was rthis loser all along!!!!! 😈😈imagine giving permission to 👍THIS 👍idiot to write Ur fic idea lol u made a mistake 💀💀💀ok but idid my best not to ruin their awesome au with this pathetic controbution and jope I honoured it well 😭😭 but fr i had been stalking their profile since the begigning of their self aware! au and ivloved their acc 🥺🥺I love their imagines and how they fulfill the request yet leave enoith for imaginstion !! (which, don't mind if I do🤠all of the König scenarios added tovmy incessant daydreamimg hhhhhhhhh oh no),, and when they followed me I was staring at my phone with the BIGGEST goofy grin on my face 🥹🥹Thank YOU sm!!!!! 🫂MUCH LOVE!!!!!!!!!!💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

*To anyone waiting (I've gotten such lovely messages from people saying they liked my first fic (which made me so happy as it was the first ever fanfiction I published online🥹🥹)), Part TWO of my first fic is on its way !!!,, I didn't want to make u guys all fluffy 🥰🩷💘✨🤗 inside only to tear your hearts 💔🥀🗡️🗡️😭 in two witj this 😿 dw I promise to reward u guys with another fic and cute himbo (and absolute menace while on the battlefield 👹)König <33, with King X König having more wholesome interactions in the near future!!

If you had told König that he wasn't real, he would have looked at you blankly and said nothing, passing off your suggestion as a joke of sorts that he possibly couldn't understand.

Perhaps if he was ever faced with a situation like this he'd question you about it, but nothing more, and drop the subject at hand.

Honestly, the likelihood of him ever thinking over this twice would have been slim, as he would not pay your philosophy much thought shortly afterwards.

In fact, he believed that his life as a Kortac operator was indeed a real one, and he wore his embroided Austrian flag on his shoulder with something next to pride, always praised for his outstanding efforts by his superiors in the same tone of voice. To König, however, it meant nothing, and he'd only nod his head in an attempt at gratitude, turning his back to the commemoration in indifference.

Despite not remembering anything of his childhood, his upbringing — hell, even any of his past prior to becoming a soldier — König didn't ever think over it too deeply. The overwhelming pressure to make sure missions went without a hitch and constant deployments to foreign countries left no time to reminisce, especially not when his work was so demanding, and it only made sense to him that they were the reason for his forgotten memories.

Besides, even if he had time to spare and be inactive, he had to stay focused, as being an operator meant that he couldn't let any nostalgia or softness distract him from his tasks.

On the battlefield, König worked on autopilot, performing finishing kills with efficiency and with machine-like precision. Reacting quickly to enemies ambushing him from behind or an enemy that was laying on the floor behind the corner waiting to shoot him in the head, he'd eliminate the targets with bullets to spare. Really, he was unstoppable, and he was on a killing streak.

Until he was shot in the head one day.

The moment it happened, the shot was like an explosion that almost obliterated his eardrums, outside noise deafened like his head was underwater. All he could hear was the high-pitched ringing, and it held an uncanny resemblance to the beeping of a heart rate monitor machine that he would never lay next to, dying instead on a bed of cold rubble and broken shrapnel.

Somehow conscious enough to look around, his mind was completely empty, eyes attempting to adjust. What he'd assumed would happen in a time like this was his mind flashing with memories like a movie reel in his last moments, his entire life playing out in his final dying seconds.

Yet he remembered nothing. No Mama, no Papa, no childhood or any his life trials, nothing that had changed him and moulded his character, not even his motive for enlisting into the military in the first place.

The part that was most unnerving about all this was his complete apathy to it all.

Did he even care that he was dying? Shouldn't he at least feel regret at having essentially been the one to pull the trigger, cutting his own life short with the lifestyle he had committed himself to? Why wasn't he scared, sad, even bewildered at the very least, shocked that his life would soon end so unceremoniously? Fuck, not even mild disappointment at least at not even had travelled the world, and failing to ever explore any place besides abandoned buildings housing hostages and terrorist bases swarming with foes? Nothing at all?

Unable to process his situation, König just... laid there, unmoving, while his surroundings moved in double speed. Nondescript figures holding rifles wearing camo and balaclavas blurred in his vision, and he couldn't differentiate the enemy from his own.

Slowly losing consciousness, he felt his world darken around him, dulling his senses to the mayhem unfolding in real time. He'd accepted his fate, and could do nothing about it. That was that. And this was it.

It was a shock to his system when a silhouetted hand pulled him up by the arm limp by his side and shouted in his face, "Get up, soldier! This is no place to die!"

König didn't need to be told twice. He nodded his head robotically, his eyes looking ahead of him with a thousand-yard stare, and not even sparing a glance to the anonymous ally that saved him, he picked up the his gun off the floor and loaded another magazine into it with a satisfying click.

In his delirium, he worked on autopilot after that, shooting at anything that shot at him first. Too much in a daze, he was past the point of realising that the gaping bullet wound had suddenly sealed itself, vanishing entirely and leaving no mark that it was ever there.

After that, König didn't realise that he wasn't real when any injuries still didn't affect him. He assumed that his insensitivity to wounds was a result of a high pain tolerance, and his body healing miraculously was his ability to regenerate fast.

Although he would lay on the ground, his arm outstretched while through gritted teeth shouting: "Scheisse! Ich brauche hier Hilfe! I need some help over here!"; truth be told, he'd only do so when he after getting used to seeing so many bodies writhe in pain like so, and something for some reason told him that it was the right thing to do.

Waking up moments after not far from the spot he supposedly died in a daze, all bullet wounds gone, he didn't have time in the moment to think over the specifics of his death. Maybe he was hallucinating, or remembering things incorrectly.

König began to suspect that something was wrong when he'd hear his operators say the same sentence word for word. He rationalised that the constant shooting that never ceased even late into the night and dangerous missions that left him with far too many close calls put pressure on his mind. This mania amongst soldiers in the military was a common phenomenon after all, so it shouldn't have been as much of a surprise for König when he felt waves of déjà vu at hearing statements he could have sworn were related to him before at one point, and going to infiltrate areas that were vaguely familiar.

At some point, he thought something was REALLY wrong when he was storming a military base with... a sniper rifle.

Time stood still as he inspected the weapon in his hands, eyes wide.

That... was impossible. He had never been a sniper. True, he had wanted to be one from the beginning, yet he had adapted to his role as the main means of assault, always on the offensive rather on the defensive. So then... Why?

Adding to that, his appearance would differ. They were subtle changes at first, yet still noticeable: a red helmet instead of his black; an ochre hood instead of his black veil with its signature red streaks; a sniper camoflauge when that disguise had never been in his possession before; and even a gas mask with a hazmat suit when he had been wearing something else altogether on the helicopter heading towards its destination.

Although König hadn't know it yet, his reality was slowly shattering along the cracks, but he stubbornly fought the gnawing feeling that ate him up from the inside. He had to stay focused, he repeated to himself. No time to ponder when a task was at hand.

"All units ready your weapons, and in position immediately." Through his walkie-talkie, a voice began counting down the time left before the mission would begin. "60 seconds."

König checked all of his gear, making sure that everything was in place and he was fully equipped. A rifle, a side-arm, ammo, grenades, a med kit for an emergency and a knife. "40 seconds."

Looking up into the sky and straight into the sun, he didn't need to cover his sight as his eyes weren't affected by it at all. Yet, his eyes squinted in confusion, sensing that he was seeing something that he wasn't meant to see behind the glowing eye. "20 seconds."

He saw more than an eye. An ear, a nose, then a mouth. A face.

He saw you.

You were looking at him through a screen, holding a controller and waiting to start playing your game.

His reality shattered all at once, and he stumbled on his feet, unable to regain his balance, feeling himself go weak in the knees. He tuned out the all-important seconds through the communication device, unable to compose himself as for the first time ever he struggled to breathe.

Suddenly, all of it made sense.

People telling him the same things and never deviating from the topic of the mission, the reawakenings, the pain insensitivity — all of it was because none of it was never real.

People never branched off into other topics of conversation because their sole existence was limited to a few hand-selected voiceliness and idle animations. With each upgrade and level up, König had gotten praise from from him superiors, which explained how emotionless their announcements always sounded and why they were so constant.

The frequent brushes with death weren't a matter of luck, and instead it was just his entity respawning until a certain condition was met, until either Kortac or Specgru came out victorious — otherwise, he could "die" as many times as it took until the time ran out.

He was unfazed by bullets that grazed him and knives that tore though his flesh as he could physically feel no pain, his very existence artificial, his skin composed of pixels with no human matter hidden beneath them.

And, his inability to trace back to before he was transferred to Kortac was all because it was all he was programmed to know. There was no childhood. There was no Mama or Papa. It was just him in this world, and he had been manufactured, his thoughts and behaviours fabricated.

For a moment, he considered you the creator of his word, his God, and felt forsaken. He wanted to curse you, to snap your neck in his hands and watch your head drop lifelessly in his hold.

Yet it became apparent that you weren't the one behind this realm. Seeing the headphones strapped to your head and the controller held in anticipation in your hands, you were simply indulging in a past time, and weren't to blame for his state in any way. It wasn't your fault that you were unknowingly playing as a König trapped in the game.

You let out a groan of frustration, mashing buttons on your controller in an attempt to get König to move.

"What the fuck is going on?!" You hissed, trying in any way you could to start playing. Checking your router and the game's ping, you saw that your connection was secure, and that there was no reason for König to be frozen in place. "Fucking piece of shit console."

König shook his head, still disbelieving and unable to accept his fictional reality, yet hearing the sound of your voice made everything an even tougher pill to swallow. He had to stay in character. For you; it was the least that he could do.

After the initial lag at the beginning of the match, the game went smoothly and you couldn't find any faults. However, you suddenly noticed that your movements over König improved, moving with more fluidity and suddenly taking less damage than what you would normally use to. Headshot after headshot and kills all of the time poured onto on your screen until you'd find yourself being ganged up by bitter players wanting to ruin your streak as revenge.

Still, you topped the leaderboards with a new personal record that night. 97 kills to 0 deaths flashed on your screen, and you jumped up from your gaming chair, ecstatic, almost knocking it over in the process.

König felt butterflies in his stomach seeing you smile and jump around excitedly, and that's when he had found his purpose.

From that moment on, you became his lifeline. You gave the unfeeling König something to live for, a motive to keep fighting that he hadn't been given when being created in the game — for you and your greater good.

Really, you made him feel things: made him feel alive; made him fight with more passion and determination when your happiness was on the line.

He fell... In love.

The feelings and emotions he felt in his chest chest were genuine, and weren't pre-written in a script or manipulated by a third-party. Even the bullets that would pierce through his gear and leave him on the ground withering in agony was worth it, and he'd exchange his invincibility any day to feel what he felt when he saw your face, and the smile that tugged at your lips when you were revived or got a difficult kill.

His love for you was immortal, and it would persist through generations and could last for a lifetime, and König was almost certain that you could feel all of his energy channelling through your TV.

He found himself lovingly staring at you through the screen, admiring you as if you were an ephemeral being, a beautiful angel, even when your hair was greasy, your old tee had armpit stains and your eyes were bloodshot from how long you had been playing. Really, none of that put König off — if anything, all of those made you so distinctly you, so human.

Yet, König was in love with someone that was practically in another dimension and he would never speak to them, never touch them, never share thoughts and pass the time doing everything and nothing with them. None of that, because he wasn't real.

Had his life improved now they he had grown self-awareness? Had his ignorance really been bliss before his revelation? Perhaps if he had been another NPC that only gained manipulated consciousness whenever the player spawned in the map he wouldn't be so stricken with grief and crouched over in agony, the knuckles on his hands turning white from how fervently he was gripping his mask. He'd hyperventilate off-screen, sometimes the torment being too much.

Being so close to you yet being restricted to his three-dimensional world was bittersweet at the least, and internal suffering at most. His insatiable craving to be with you, and you with him only, fuelled his desperation, and he tried to keep you with him for as long as possible through any means necessary.

When you selected an operator that wasn't König, your game glitched heavily and would even crash whenever you made the mistake of even complimenting their design, and God forbid whenever you tried to play as someone other than him, as your console would near explode.

When you'd boot up a different game on your PlayStation, your loading screen would suddenly transport you back to the one of MW2, König greeting you with a voiceline that he reserved and perfected just for you:

"Welcome back, schatz. I have been waiting for you." Because he treasured you, and you were the only person that he could ever have feelings for.

Perhaps a recent update was fucking up your console, or it was just malfunctiong due to age. Either way, playing on an eight year old PS4 meant it could only run for so long and glitches like this were inevitable, yet you persisted in keeping the console running, not in your budget to afford to upgrade.

You'd search frantically on the internet for any information about the new König voicelines and whether there was any resolution for your problem when playing CoD, something telling you that your game was not functioning in the way that it should.

A thought crossed your mind that König had gone rogue, and you tried to laugh it off. Swallowing thickly, that still didn't relieve the deep pit in your stomach. If anything, the mere idea made it worse for you, and you'd get an intense gut feeling that would make you feel dizzy whenever König would make eyes contact with you and stand there, making you question whether he was acting out of character or not.

His attempts to keep you with him were commendable, yet none of it could change the fact that it would never be anything more than one-sided pining, a deep longing for a person whose world kept spinning while his stopped once you logged off the game, his day ending abruptly and being consumed by darkness.

For now, König had to content himself with being stuck behind a screen. He wished so desperately to be able to touch you, to escape this human generated world that trapped him in these bounds, and to find who he really is when with you. Shrouded in this deep black void, all he could do was wait patiently until you'd boot up the game again.

A hand was placed on his side of the screen longingly, resting it gently on the face on the other side.

Note: this wasn't meant to be so sad ,how did an idea of König popping out from the screen turnvto this 😭😭

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rogueddie · 1 year

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Steve groans at the sound of his alarm, batting his hand around the side table until he hits it hard enough to shut it up. He gets up, rubbing his eyes as he moves to the bathroom on autopilot.

He's not just tired, he's exhausted. But he always is at Christmas. He struggles to get enough sleep at the best of times but, since Dustin would kill him if he's late, Christmas is the one time he has to wake up early. It's miserable, every year. The motels only add to his suffering.

As he's washing his face, he freezes. He quickly rinses his face, prodding at the skin. There's no lines, no wrinkles, no crows feet. He doesn't even have his beard. That's when he notices his hair. His hand shoots back, grabbing at the longer strands at the back of his neck.

He hasn't had his mullet for at least 30 years. Not since 1989.

Hurrying back to his room, he nearly recoils. He'd forgotten about the plaid walls and curtains. But he quickly brushes that aside, quickly looking around for anything out of the ordinary. He wishes he could just pull out his mobile, sure that Robin would-

Robin!

He darts down the stairs, to the main phone. But is immediately reminded of how bad the old phones were. He can't remember what Robins old number was and he's sure the one he does remember will be wrong. And it's not written down anywhere either.

But it starts ringing, just as he starts walking away.

"Hello?" He says, struggling to keep his voice even.

"When will you get here?" Dustin asks. "You said you'd be up by now!"

"Dustin, oh thank god, I'm so glad to hear your voice," Steve sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Something really fucking weird is going on with me, dude."

"Weird? Like... Upside Down weird?"

"What? El shut- or has... what year is it?"

"1985. Are you ok? What's going on?"

Steve laughs, high and hysterical. "Uh, well... when I went to sleep last night, it was still 2021, so... no. I'm not ok."

"Are you being serious?"

"Unfortunately. Wait, 1985... that means-"

"No! Don't tell me!" Dustin yells so loud that Steve has to pull the phone away from his ear for a moment. "You can't just tell people what's going to happen! You could change the future!"

"Good!"

"No, not good! You might be trying to make things better, but you could make them worse. Especially if you actually tell people what's going to happen. You need to be subtle."

"Subtle, right..." Steve looks towards the door, pondering. "Right... uh... I'll see you later."

"What? Steve-!"

He hangs up before Dustin can continue to scold him, hurrying up the stairs and throwing on the first clean polo and jeans he finds. His old trainers are at the bottom of the stairs, just as remembers them being- they'd lasted decades before they fell apart, even though they'd always been loose and worn enough that Steve could slide them on, even though he keeps them tied.

It takes him a while to drive to the trailer park. He takes a wrong turn, completely forgetting the way. It's been so long since he's been in Hawkins and, even then, he wasn't familiar with this route.

"Um, hi, sir," Steve says, trying to smile when faced with Eddies uncle. He's not sure if he was always so stand-off or if Eddies death did that to him. "Is- is Eddie home?"

He grunts, eyeing Steve. "Gimme a moment."

He shuts the door, but he doesn't leave Steve waiting for long.

Eddie is the one to open the door. He gently pushes Steve back from the door, gesturing for him to follow him. Steve jogs to keep up with his fast pace, too busy staring to pay attention to how tense he is.

"Alright, what do you want?" Eddie sounds annoyed. Impatient. He's glaring at Steve and crossing his arms.

He looks amazing.

"Right, sorry," Steve shakes his head. "Sorry. Uh, this... ok, there's no way I can say this without sounding insane, so I'm just gonna say it, alright?"

"... Alright?"

"Chrissy Cunningham is going to try and buy from you in March. I don't know what she asks for, but if it means you bring her back here, don't. Just- sell her some weed, whatever you can carry on you. Don't bring her back here."

"She your girlfriend, or something?"

"No. God no. I just... something bad will happen. I'm sorry, I know that's... I sound stupid. But please, please," Steve can't help but step forward, grabbing Eddies hand. "Please don't bring her back here."

"Ok, alright, I won't sell to her," Eddies eyes are a little wide. "Jesus. I'll take your word for it."

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Eddie stares at him for a moment, raises a brow. "Is that it? You, uh, gonna let me go now, big boy?"

"Oh! Right, sorry, yeah. Um. Merry Christmas?"

"Yeah," Eddie laughs, starting to head back to the trailer. "Merry Christmas."

Dustin yells at him for an hour straight once he drives to his house. He's red in the face by the time he finishes and looks one wrong word away from hitting him. But Steves already done what he wanted to do, he won't change it now and he won't tell Dustin what he said so he can either.

But he does tell Dustin the time to start paying attention. Without Eddie to get them on the case, they won't figure out how to save Max in time. He doesn't tell Dustin anything either, just the date of Chrissys death. He wishes he could think of a way to save her, but his mind runs a blank. And Dustin won't let him ask him. And Dustin refuses to leave him alone long enough to ask anyone else.

By the time he goes to bed, he's happy to think that he's done enough. Though, like Dustin, he wonders what will happen next. If he'll stay in 1985 or wake up in the changed future. Wonders what that would mean for his past self.

He wakes up warm, comfortable, and well rested. Someone has their arms around his waist, pressed fully up behind him, light kisses trailing up his neck, along his jaw.

Steve hums, yawning. "Who's 'at?"

"Morning to you too," the person behind him snickers.

Curious, Steve turns. He freezes, eyes wide. "Eddie?"

"Who else would it be?" Eddie smirks, but that slowly drops, realization dawning on him. "You were just in the past, weren't you? Wait- shit, no, hold on, do you remember anything past that?"

"I don't- ow!" Steve squeezes his eyes shut, head throbbing. "Fuck. Ow, fucking... shit."

"What? What is it? Baby, what's wrong?"

"I don't know," Steve whines, clutching at his head. "You were dead but you- got a job at the record store?"

"Oh, ok, this is good," Eddie curls his arms around him, pulling him close. "This is good. Dustin said this might happen. It's the conflicting timelines or whatever. Your timeline catching up with the new one."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I just know that, like, you might have two sets of memories- or your original ones get forgotten, or something. But this... this is good. God, Stevie, the idea that you'd forget this current timeline..."

He tries to think of what might have changed, new memories or old ones he can't recall. It just makes his head hurt. "How long will it be until I, like... remember everything? I barely remember the 86 with you alive."

"Who knows. Weeks, maybe? Might always be confusing. But... um. I died? Was that... why you were so adamant that I didn't sell to Chrissy?"

"Yeah, it- it got you caught up in the, uh... stuff."

"The Upside Down? Yeah, I did get caught up in that. Hard not to when your town suddenly rips apart. So, what, I originally got caught up earlier?"

"Right at the start. You, uh... you died to save us."

"Now I know you're lying. I'm not one for the big hero moves, that's your job."

"Shut up," Steve snaps. He lifts his head so he can glare. "Shut up. You were a hero. You were- you are. You- you-"

"Hey," Eddie wraps him up in his arms, one hand coming up to brush through his hair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, Stevie, I'm really sorry. I'm ok though, yeah? You made sure of that. It's ok. I got you. I've got you. We're safe."

Steve sniffles, grimacing at the snot he leaves on Eddies top. The sight brings forth vague, distant memories- his but also... not.

"You do this a lot, huh?" Steve asks.

Eddie smiles, cupping his face, thumb brushing some tears off his cheek. "Yeah. It's not always easy, but I'm always here."

"Oh, wait... have I missed Christmas?"

"Just the day. Dustin remembered that you said 2021 so... we all wanted to wait. We're doing Christmas today."

"Really? Why?"

"Mostly because they wanted to be here, just in case. You made us promise, too."

"Just in case?"

"In case you forgot, baby. We don't know what you changed. Sandy is going to be very disappointed- she was excited to meet you again."

"Sandy?" Steve frowns, but the memory almost immediately hits him.

A baby, premature, and so small that she was barely bigger than his hands. Dustin's face, wet with tears but so proud, introducing the baby to Uncle Steve.

"Oh, Sandy," Steve whispers the name with reverence.

Eddie kisses him, almost desperately. He pulls back fast though. "Sorry, that was- fuck, Stevie. You're really remembering."

He sobs, startling Steve. "Woah, hey, Eds."

"Sorry. Fuck, we prepared so much but it... God, Steve, I don't think I'd be able to handle it if you never remembered again."

Steve presses a small, hesitant kiss to his cheek. "I don't think you'd have too much to worry about."

"Yeah, that's great," Eddie laughs. "My husband would've found me attractive even with amnesia."

"We're married?"

Eddie groans, flopping onto his back. "Of course that's what gets you excited. Time travel? Too boring for Steve Munson! Where's the adventure? But marriage?!" Eddie gasps dramatically. "Oh my, mister, that sounds mighty exciting!"

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the love of your life, stop being mean to me."

"Oh, don't go pouting at me like that, big boy. Even you should know that I have no self-restraint."

"Promise?"

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #christma22k

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nixie-writes-aot · 1 year

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ok, another Levi x male reader thought is that the reader excelles in using 3d maneuver gear. and everyones like 'omg, they must be so focused on everything they need to do, they must be doing a lot of calculations to make sure their being precise' but no. They got no thoughts going through their head.

and like, they don't correct anyone. they don't wanna know what others would think if they said 'yeah, Idk how I'm at the top of my class, I just like moving around fast'

But maybe Levi can tell?? Cuz like, he's probably constantly making observations. And maybe one day their making their way to their usual isolated seat in the mess hall when either Hange or Erwin call them over to discuss something w them. Idk what, maybe hange has an experiment they want help with or erwin has something to ask ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Maybe fluff, and mayhaps sput if you can figure out how to work it in there??

A Whole New Light

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, near death experience, minor angst

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Male Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

You had always been the top of your class, you couldn't remember when that happened. One day, you were struggling with learning the gear and the next… You were just soaring. It confused your commandant but… You never gave it too much mind. Why would you? You had heard it all.

"He must be cheating."

"Who taught him how to do that?"

"How much does he practice?"

Those sentiments were the most common. You didn't even know how to explain that you simply enjoyed it. So, here you were. With those who had originally met you years ago in the Cadet Corps and even new ones that had already been in the Scouts. You flew through the air, all your anxieties and worries melting away as if they never existed in the first place. As if on autopilot, your body twisted and moved, wires guiding your body. You flew past several titan dummies, slicing out the cushion napes on the crude wooden figures. The feeling of being able to forget your stresses was one that was desperately needed this time, even as you could still feel so many eyes on you. Old ones, new ones. Did it really matter?

No.

You decided. That it didn't really matter. You were alive and that was what really mattered.

At the end of it, you landed with a roll. Honestly, it was more so you crashing to the ground. You just laid there, on your back, eyes staring up through the trees and at the ever so slightly cloudy sky. Those clouds looked like big, fluffy pillows to you. A shadow crossed over you, prompting you to sit up and look up at the person who's shadow had disrupted your rest. Your eyes fell on the short form of the one and only: Captain Levi. You scrambled to your feet and curled your arms into a salute.

"Sir!" You greeted.

"Tch. Calm down." Levi scoffed.

You nodded, settling your arms at your sides and letting the tension fade away from your muscles. He seemed to see something about you that no one else had. It unnerved you, if you were being completely honest. Levi only nodded, walking away to instruct another cadet to go back through the titan dummy course. You sighed, turning towards the training grounds. Sure, you liked flying but… It only seemed to add another stressor into your life this time so maybe sparring would help you this time.

—

Evidently, it hadn't helped. You, apparently, were not very skilled at sparring. Especially when the question was you against one of the new cadets, Reiner.

"Damn… He's built like a mountain." You grumbled as you made your way to your typical corner, the soreness deep in your muscles. You sat down at the table, staring down with an exasperated sigh. Just as you had sat down pretty much, a voice beckoned your name. You looked up, meeting the blue eyes of your commander. You stood, walking across the mess hall and sitting down, uneasy as you glanced to Levi.

"Your skills with the ODM gear are commendable, cadet." Erwin complimented, which prompted you to perk up, "We'd like you to undergo some particularly exclusive training with Levi."

You looked at the man, face paling. You had heard about how brutal his training regiment was. Levi's face gave nothing away, only standing with a nod.

"I'll see you at six am sharp." Levi stated, walking off.

Hange laughed, "You'll do great! He knows what limits are!" You looked up at them, nodding. They ended up distracting themself with Miche, talking about something you weren't paying attention to. You felt your mouth go dry as you settled your gaze on your hands.

I am dead. I'm dead. He's going to kill me and I will have died!

Your thoughts were dramatic, you were pretty sure. After all, wasn't it just training? What's the worst that could possibly happen?

—

As it turns out, the worst was being undeniably sore and feeling your muscles all but give up on you. You laid there in the dirt, the short captain staring down at you with, what looked like at least, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips. You blinked rapidly, staring up at him as he offered his hand. You took it, feeling him pull you to your feet.

"Not bad, brat." Levi commented.

You perked up at what seemed to be praise. From Humanity's Strongest, no less. However, that was dashed away without a moment's notice as he continued.

"Unlike your other captain, however, not bad isn't actually good enough. Go again."

You groaned, letting the hooks bury themselves into the nearby tree that started the forest and took off. Levi's steel grey eyes followed your form, observing the almost clumsy way you zipped through the trees. Now being forced to actually put thought into it, you weren't nearly as agile and graceful. You could feel his eyes on you, watching carefully. You landed on a branch, adjusting your gear and posture before taking off again. This time, you stubbornly kept at it. In fact, you were so stubborn about it, in fact, that you forgot about Levi. Well, Levi and your gas. After hours of this, who could blame you?

Well, Levi could without a doubt. You were certain of that. The feeling of suddenly falling back was alarming, your mouth gaped open in what was meant to be a scream but in your horror, you had no air in your lungs to scream. The tears filled your eyes, heart racing a million miles per hour. You had only meant it dramatically when you said you were going to die.

The feeling of suddenly soaring didn't really register even as you clung to the man who caught you. Hell, it barely registered as he landed on the ground and you practically threw yourself to the ground. You were full on sobbing now, clenching your fists around the grass. Levi crouched beside you, watching you curl up on the grassy ground.

"Hey. Brat." Levi whispered, keeping his voice quiet and low on purpose, "You did good."

You looked up through your tear filled gaze, not making many details of Levi's face out due to your blurry vision. You quieted for a moment before almost bitterly laughing, it was manic in a way.

"You- you-" you rolled over on your back and slapping a hand over the left side of your face, another laugh leaving your lips.

He wasn't even blaming you a little.

Levi sat beside you, taking in your every detail. He had to question, what exactly intrigued him so much that he had been blind to your limits? Well, your gear's limits.

"... Praise doesn't suit you, Captain." You finally spoke.

Levi let out a soft chuckle, "I guess it doesn't, brat, but you earned it."

You perked up, rubbing at your eyes before sitting up and taking in Levi. A new perspective to your observations. You were seeing him in an entirely new light. It seemed, he was seeing you differently too. You wanted to try something, standing up and offering him your hand like he had you before. Levi scoffed but took your outstretched hand, feeling you pull him up. Emboldened by whatever fear was still clutched tight around you, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his cheek before running off.

"See you tomorrow, Captain!" You called out to him.

Levi stood there, staring after you in shock. The surprise on his face melted into a fondness.

"Yeah, brat, see you tomorrow." Levi whispered with a smile that was soft, loving yet barely there.

#nix writes #nix dreams #nix screams #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot #snk #levi ackerman #male reader #afterhourswjay #levi ackerman x reader #reader insert #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines

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0x1lovebot · 1 year

Text

𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧; shall we get started?

0.6k words. [657]

[not proofread!!]

warnings; none.

y/n walked down the sidewalk quickly, her legs in autopilot mode as her mind swam with all the things that could go wrong when she met jake.

‘what if we get off on the wrong foot?’ she thought.

‘what if i’m so awkward that he doesn’t want to help me anymore?’

‘what if he thinks i’m stupid?’

‘what if he’s secretly some kind of creep?’

y/n shook her head at that last thought. no way jake was a creep. riki would never be friends with a creep (or at least she hoped he wouldn’t). but y/n was still so nervous. it wasn’t like she hadn’t interacted with him before but it had been so long since y/n had spoken to jake that she didn’t know what to make of everything. sure she had seen him around campus a few times, but something about facing him now was different.

something about jake made her nervous, apprehensive and y/n just couldn’t figure out why, and sadly she no longer had time to. she was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn’t even realized that she’d arrived right outside of the school library.

y/n took in one more deep breath and gave her backpack strap a final squeeze before pushing open the glass doors of the library.

the cool air of the library washed over y/n’s skin as she walked into the building. she greeted the librarian with a small smile before making her way towards the back of the library. she walked slowly through the tall bookcases hoping that it would somehow stall time, but of course it didn’t work.

when y/n made it to the back area of the library, her eyes scanned over every table until they landed on a boy with a vaguely familiar mess of brown hair at the very last table, his face buried in the physics textbook in front of him.

‘wow his hair hasn’t changed at all.’

y/n walked over the boy at the table and tapped on his shoulder.

“jake?” she whispered.

the boy’s head shot up in surprise. “y/n…. hi.” jake said in an awed tone.

y/n was here, in front of him, speaking to him. was he just imagining this? was any of this real? jake couldn’t tell. and he didn’t care either. all he could think about was y/n’s pretty eyes meeting his and her bright smile shining like the noonday sun that hung in the sky. he sees her all the time but up close she was just so mesmerizing.

“um is it ok if i sit here?” y/n asked.

jake blinked a few times before registering what she had said.

“yeah yeah of course! sorry about that!” he said as he frantically moved his papers and textbooks closer to his side of the desk.

y/n sat down next to jake and reached into her bag, taking out her physics textbook and notes. “no it’s fine. i bet all those physics classes really keep you busy.”

jake scoffed lightly. “yeah being a physics major can be pretty hard sometimes.”

“well considering the fact that you tutor people in the subject, i think you must be pretty good at it.”

jake’s face grew so warm that he felt that he would pass out.

“oh- um thank you.” he said bashfully, looking down to hide the pink tint that had taken over his face.

y/n almost wanted to coo at jake’s sheepish behavior. it was just too cute. she was starting to realize that she didn’t need to be nervous. jake was just as kind as she remembered him. this would be fine. everything would be fine.

jake cleared his throat, cutting through the silence that had formed between them.

“so um shall we get started?”

y/n flashed jake a warm smile and opened up her text book. “we shall.”

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luke-hughes43 · 30 days

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/luke-hughes43/746567237248385024/full-blurb

YESSSS

i love you | ryan and isla

isla’s pov

ry and i are cuddling before the draft just getting alone time. he says softly, “you know any other year, you, or will, or adam, or leo go first overall.”

“i know. fucking bedard.”

“he’s lucky he’s a good kid and we all like him.”

“yea. do you think i’ll get picked high?”

“i wanna say yea sparky but you and i both know that you don’t know until your name gets called.” ry says softly. i nod against his chest and we just lay like that until my mom bangs on the door, “isla honey time to get dressed.”

i roll my eyes and sit up. ryan sighs, “text me when your ready. i wanna see you before we go.” i nod and he kisses me softly before going to his own room to get dressed.

i got a black dress for this and i really it. it’s very my style for the rare occasion i get dressed up. i decided to wear nike blazers for shoes because of my nagging foot injury, heels is not the right choice.

i text ryan and tell him i’m doing my makeup if he wants to come back. the only good thing that came from being kennedy’s doll growing up is that i know how to do my own makeup and hair.

ryan comes in, in his suit, and he looks so handsome. blue is definitely a good color on him.

he sits with me while i do the finished touches and smiles, he says, “look at you, my pretty girl.”

“your such a flirt leonard.”

“only for you”

i roll my eyes and stand to smooth out my dress. he says, “jesus isla, your beautiful.” i blush and mess with fingers. i’ve never been able to take a compliment from him.

he pulls me in for a hug just holds me for a minutes. i hear the door opens and i hear cutter say, “shit my bad. mom said it’s time to go isla.”

“ok i’m coming cut.”

ryan lifts chin so i’m looking at him and he says, “i know your nervous, but no matter what isla, i’m proud of you.”

“thanks ry. i’m proud of you too”

he smiles and kisses me softly before we go to our respective families and eventually get on the bus to the rink. we sit with gabe and will and the 4 of us are really quiet.

we get to the arena and there’s so many people. when it’s my turn to get off the bus, i take a deep breath and then walk off.

i do all the autographs and everything before going to my seat. i feel like i’m on autopilot right now. i make damn sure cutter is sitting next to me and he holds my hand. he says, “you got this sis.”

i nod and just focus on taking some deep breaths. i’m not worried about the blackhawks, they are taking connor, i’m worried about the ducks, blue jackets, and sharks.

connor’s name is called like everyone knew it would be and now the nerves kick in again. i whisper to cutter, “you have my phone right?”

“yes. i’ll give it back after you get picked”

i nod and wait for the anaheim organization to take the stage. i swear my heart stopped when they said, “the anaheim ducks are proud to select from usa development program, isla gauthier.”

as soon as i stand, cutter is tackling me into a hug. he says in my ear, “i’m so proud of you isla. you deserve every second of it. enjoy this moment.”

i hug the rest of my family and when i get back to the aisle, i see gabe, ryan, and will all there ready to hug me. i do gabe, then will, and save ry for last. ryan says while he hugs me, “i’m so proud of you baby, you deserve this. i’ll see you soon.”

i smile at my best friends and boyfriend before going down the stairs and towards the stage. i shake the commissioners hand and like blackout.

i know i did interviews and stuff but i don’t know what i said or who they were with.

back stage i saw connor and we hugged and offered our congratulations. adam went next which is nice. and then i hear the fresh prince of bel air theme song and knew that will went 4th.

i give him a big hug back stage telling him how proud i am of him. and now we’re anxiously awaiting ryan and gabe.

he says, “isla relax. he’ll go. they both will.”

“i know. i know.”

shortly after i finish an interview, i hear someone say, “the washington capitals are proud to select from the usa development program, ryan leonard.”

i’m jumping up and down and find will. i say to him, “he’s a capital! he went to washington!” will smiles and we go over to wait for him. will hugs him first so that we can have a moment before getting grabbed back into interviews.

i launch myself into his arms and say, “god i’m so proud of you ryan. so proud.”

he holds me tighter, “i’m proud of you too isla. my pretty girl.” he pulls away so he can look at me before he says, “i love you isla.”

i gasp and smile, “i love you too ryan. so much”

he hugs me again and we stay like that for as long as we can before having to go to interviews and find our families.

#ryan leonard #isla gauthier #ryan x isla

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

Text

Bring me a dream

Part 6: Poundcake and Custard

Masterlist

Pairing: The Corinthian x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, horror elements, body horror, manipulation, angst, oral f! recieving, PinV, dirty talk, corruption kink (Corinthian) , shy inexpereinced reader

A/N: Aaaaand, we're back with another chapter and an updated story outline! I've done it 😎 Hopefully I'll get another update out soon, for now, enjoy the angst and the cute little beans that are sweet dream and Corinthian ✨

(Also I think my taglist might be a little confused between chapters and interludes, so if you want to be on there/should be on there, just let me know 💕)

-🍰-

Corinthian felt like his entire world had been scattered into a gale force wind. As soon as he’d seen the alerts flash on his phone pinging for “no eyes” and “Corinthian”, he’d found himself in a blind panic, flurrying around and praying that you’d just answer your phone before you’d turned up to the club. But of course you just had to ignore his calls.

He’d whipped himself into action immediately, he had fires burning under his feet, he was driving to the club before he could even think to wait for your answer. He knew that you ignoring him could only mean one thing. You’d run into the tortured soul that had had his eyes stolen from him and you were going to blame Corinthian for it. It was the only conclusion he could come to.

His hair whipped in the late night wind and he kept gulping down panicked breaths, taking every short cut he could think of while he thought of you. What would he say? Everyone on social media was already pointing their fingers at the infamous serial killer ‘The Corinthian’ and now you would be too. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t him.

Why would he leave a victim alive? Why would he take their eyes before he killed them? It didn't track and it was obviously the shoddy workmanship of someone else. The real question was who?

Not that he had time for pondering on that.

He eventually found himself hitting barriers, stuck in traffic that was sure to keep stuttering to a halt. He wouldn’t let that slow him down though, instead he turned off at the nearest parking sign and went running from there. Running. He really had lost his mind for you.

He’d sprinted until his lungs burned, but eventually he’d made it. He found you. You were sitting on the sidewalk amongst a group of shaking and trembling souls, sitting in a similar state of distress as the others, stuttering and sinking into your friend like she was driftwood in a roiling ocean. It broke his heart to see you so upset.

He had to do something. He had to fix it.

He approached you and Casey slowly, taking timid steps as if he were approaching a wounded puppy, and said your name softly, letting it drift over you both and break the miserable spell you were under.

-🍰-

You heard your name cut through the night like an arrow and whipped your head up. You squinted through your tears only to see an all too familiar face sidling up to you. One you hadn’t expected to see.

The last man you wanted to see at that moment actually.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” he asked, bending down to meet you at your stoop.

You backed away, burnt by his proximity and tugged on Casey’s arm, clutching her to you. Your body was on autopilot and you couldn’t help your reaction anymore. You needed to go back home and sit somewhere quiet where you could forget about the hurt and pain in the world and be amongst your baking equipment, living in your own little dreamland.

“Hey, dude, maybe you should back off,” Casey growled, cinching her arms around you.

“I don’t mean any harm, I just want to make sure she’s ok,” Corinthian murmured, “I tried calling, I saw the videos-”

“How did you know? How did you see the videos?” you snapped, feeling his words bring you back to sentience.

“I just did, they were cropping up everywhere…I just… I made a promise to you and I wanted you to know I’ve been honouring it,” he stammered, losing his words for a surprising change. “I just came to make sure you were safe.”

Casey was looking between you both like you were insane, Corinthian was looking at you like a kicked puppy and you felt like you could do with ten pina coladas and a trip to the Bahamas. Were you going insane? Was this what happened to dreams that spent too long outside the dreaming? No. This was definitely just a you situation, you were sure of that.

The cold kerbside was freezing through your skin and the wave of nausea was slowly passing. There was only so long you could spend sitting there dumbly getting looked at for answers from both of your companions and so you sighed and turned to Casey, knowing that getting away from the club could only be a good thing.

“This is…this is Cory,” you said, trying to rid her of her confusion.

She gawked and looked between you both a couple more times then frowned. You could only assume her brain was working overtime trying to come up with a couple million questions for you both.

“Are you guys like…arguing or something?” She said, trying to figure out the situation.

“Or something,” you repeated, looking pointedly at Corinthian.

“I get that you’re handling a lot right now, so why don’t I drive you both home and-“

“No!” You interrupted quickly, stopping him from possibly hurting you any further.

He still couldn’t come to your home. Especially not after all this.

He clenched his jaw and you watched as his adams apple bobbed, his face transforming for a second before he nodded. He knew you’d be keeping your boundaries up in full force after this. That much you were sure of.

“Why don’t I take you both back to my place and we can get away from all this,” he said softly.

You looked at him harshly, baring down with every shred of anger and disappointment that you had. It looked like it was working too, his pouty face was the picture of unhappiness. Like you’d shot him with your eyes.

However you knew you couldn’t sit there forever and the last thing you wanted was to leave without knowing for sure if Corinthian had gone bad on his promise or if it truly was someone else.

Could it be someone else?

Could the man you loved do something so horrible? He’d done similar atrocities before, why not now? Though, you had to admit it didn’t track. It didn’t fit the rest of his crimes. Why would he suddenly deviate from his usual techniques just to freak you out? Would there be any pleasure from killing the wrong way according to his methods?

What the hell had you gotten yourself into.

“Well if you’re not gonna take him up on it, I am,” Casey said, eventually breaking the silence. “I don’t care what weird shit is going on, I want to get outta here.”

-🍰-

“It wasn’t me!”

You sighed, staring through to the living room where Casey was helping herself to Corinthian’s decanters while you both argued quietly in his room. At least she had something to take some of the trauma away. Lucky thing.

“How can I trust that?” You asked, running the bridge of your nose and silently closing the door over. “Why would someone bastardise your method like that? Why at the club that we met?”

“Trust me when I say I’d love to find out just as much as you, sugar,” he growled. “That’s my name they’re shouting around the peanut gallery.”

You bit your lip and watched him carefully, following him with your eyes while he paced. He was restless. You’d never seen him like this. It was strange. Like watching a reliable old sweater come undone, he wasn’t the kind of man that panicked.

Though, after thinking on it more, you realised he wasn’t panicking. No, he was angry. His carefully curated image being tarnished had his hands balled into fists, he was seething. Though, part of you was sure that there was more reason than that. You knew he was getting himself even more worked up every time he met your scrutinising glare.

“Corinthian, answer me honestly. How did you know about the videos so quickly? I know that what happened tonight isn’t…it’s not- not the way you- uh do things. I just don’t understand how you knew,” you stammered, giving him a pleading look.

He stopped his pacing for a moment and walked over to you. His presence felt like an oncoming train. You took a step back and he froze in his place, looking just as guilty as if he’d hit a deer.

“Please, don’t do that,” he begged quietly. “Surely I mean more to you than that.”

You stood in place for a second, staring him down. You felt like you could hardly breathe, like you’d been sucked into a vacuum. He meant everything to you. That was the exact reason you were so scared of him now.

He might not be able to kill you, but he could hurt you more than anyone else could. And somehow, as you came to realise that, it was more terrifying than the possibility of anything else.

“Please just answer the question.”

He sighed and rested his hands in his pockets, visibly crumbling in defeat.

“I have alerts set up to notify me when my name’s mentioned in the news… I forgot about it, because I hadn’t had anything until tonight,” he said, pointedly looking at you. “ I saw the alerts and I called you straight away. I knew if someone was imitating me, it might mean that they were- they could be coming after you to get to me…”

“You think they’ve been stalking you?” you ask nervously.

“I don’t know what to think,” he answered honestly. “I’ve never…I’ve never worried for anyone else like this before.”

You inhaled, drawing in a sharp breath at his revelation. If Corinthian was scared, then you should be running terrified. This was the man that inspired fear and kept so many living in terror of his name, and now he was worried that something or someone might get to you while he’s not around.

You shuddered to think of the kind of creature that Corinthian would be afraid of.

“Corinthian,” you breathed, feeling yourself drawn to him again.

He flicked his head up to meet your gaze, and suddenly it was like all the anxieties you’d had about him had melted away again. This was your Corinthian. You trusted him and most importantly, you depended on him, all because he had changed for you.

“Corinthian I’m so sorry,” you said, voice breaking as you came to terms with everything you’d accused him of. “I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“Sugar, we don’t have to do that,” he murmured, drawing close to you and taking ahold of your hands.

“I have to, I need to apologise,” you frowned.

“No, you don’t,” he sighed. “Just please believe me when I tell you I’ve changed. When I tell you that I’m done with all that, I mean it and I won’t go back on my word. I hate it when you doubt me…”

His tone alone was enough to send you crumbling and you were holding onto him like he was your anchor. Corinthian may have the shadiest past of anyone you’d encountered, but the man he was now was so much more than the nightmare you’d originally crossed paths with. And you hated seeing him so broken at the thought of your ire.

No more.

You clasped your arms around him tightly and clenched your jaw in resolve, realising that you both needed to be a united front now. No more trying to keep things straight with each other while ignoring the glaring black hole that was threatning to destroy everything around you. You had to take down this imitator before anyone else got hurt.

“I promise I’ll believe you,” you finally said, “I won’t doubt you again. We have to be strong now and we need to figure out who's done this and why.”

Corinthian brought his hand to the back of your head and stroked over your hair, being sure to kiss your forehead afterwards. For a moment it felt like things were as they usually were. It felt like you’d both just been a part of a crazy nightmare, a part of someone else's making and when you were both going to emerge from Corinthian’s room Casey would be safely tucked away at home and you’d both have something lovely that you’d made earlier to snack on before you crept back to the bedroom again.

Though, after amusing yourself with the thought, it really did make you wonder. A nightmare of someone else's making… It sounded like the perfect explanation. Afterall, who else would think to come after you, but another being from the dreaming.

“Corinthian, do you know other nightmares?”

He drew back from you and frowned, tilting his head ever so slightly. He only needed a moment to think, but clearly he soon reached the same conclusion as you. The way his eyebrows drew ever closer together confirmed it.

“You think someone else from the dreaming is doing all this.”

It wasn’t a question.

“It makes sense right? Why would some random human decide to botch your method and then let the victim loose in the nightclub that we met in. It doesn’t have any meaning publicly, you never killed there before. It has to be someone that knows us, or someone that has some kind of grudge and I just think that’s more likely to be someone from your side than mine,” you explained, letting your eyes roam the room as you thought on it.

“Someone from my side?” Corinthian prompted, tilting his head further.

“You know what I mean, a dream wouldn’t do this. Morpheus’ absence might’ve twisted things a bit, but dreams don’t rip people apart like that. Dream’s create vision, they don’t take it away. It had to be a nightmare.”

“Because nightmares are all so twisted?” Corinthian snorted.

You watched as his jaw clenched and felt your heart leaping, realising that you could probably put things more delicately after the conversation you’d just had a la trusting him. Though, you couldn’t completely drop it. You knew you were right, this was the work of a nightmare. You just had to figure out who and why.

“It’s not that I think poorly of all nightmares, Corinthian. I just think that without a lord of dreams to guide them, nightmares can do more harm in the human world than any mislead dream. Nightmares are put out into the world to show humanity the worst and make them confront their fears, well what are they to do when it's not about that anymore? They do exactly what you did and you get lost in the role of humanity’s broken mirror and they stab and they cut because that’s all they know, that’s all you were taught by Morpheus, but instead of it being a harmless vision, its real lives,” you say, slowly tugging one of Corinthian’s hands out of his pocket and warming it with yours. “I don’t think you’re bad, In fact I know that you have so much capacity for good. I just know that without someone to be held accountable by, nightmares can easily slip and human lives become an exercise in how dark the world can be.”

Corinthian’s hand tightened in yours and he let his thumb rub over your hand in slow circles. The featherlight strokes were enough to let you know you got your point across loud and clear. Nightmares were to be feared for a reason, especially when left unchecked. Afterall, wasn’t it your influence that had stopped him from killing? What if this other nightmare didn’t have anything like that?

“You’re probably right…And the only way we can stop them is by finding them ourselves.”

You breathed in a choked gasp and finally it hit you that it really was only you two that could get to the bottom of the mystery. Which meant that you were going to have to confront a murderous nightmare head on and somehow find a way to subdue them. No big deal right?

Well your body didn’t agree. You felt a tremor work through you and found yourself sitting on the bed so that you didn’t have to stand on shaky feet. Really who did you think that you were? The nightmare reformation centre?

“Woah, sugar. Hey now, it’s ok. Just sit and breathe for a minute, sweets,” Corinthian said, rushing to your side and rubbing your back. “That’s it. In and out. In and out. In and out.”

After a minute of sitting and feeling like you were boiling alive, you finally brought yourself back to reality. Well, Corinthian did. You found yourself breathing on his shoulder like an old mare getting worked to death, but at the very least, he wasn’t angry with you for accusing nightmares of being the death of humanity.

“This is way bigger than anything I've ever dealt with before,” you sigh, feeling the material of Corinthian’s jumper rub harshly against your flushed cheek. “I’m a baker for the gods’ sake, I make cakes and give people cute visions. I’m not Sherlock Holmes, I’m a treat pedlar!”

“Now, now, sugar. You can’t lose it right now with an eye thief on the loose,” Corinthian chuckled, bumping into your side. “You know you’re more than just a baker, you alleviate people’s stress and pain and you give them something to smile about. Hell, you make me feel like somethin special on days I feel like I want to fade away. You make me feel like I can contribute something to the world, even if that contributions just makin’ you happy, sugar.”

“Don’t say that! I can’t possibly be capable of all that!” you gasp, hiding your face in your hands.

“It’s true! You don’t just bake cakes and create dreams about cute little cookie clouds and marshmallow rivers for the fun of it. You cheer people up and you give them something nice to think about in their lives that are full of complicated problems and crazy goals. People need somethin’ sweet to get them through the day and you provide that for them, in the dreaming and in real life,” he grins, kissing your cheek. “And now you just gotta help me find a rogue nightmare and convince them to stop carving out people’s eyes, easy fuckin’ peasy.”

You sigh and take your hands from your face, slowly coming to terms with what he was saying. You weren’t some low grade cookie trader, you were Artopta the baker. You were sent out into the dreaming to inspire happiness and put sweetness out into the world that was so full of bitter people. You could provide desserts and you could talk a nightmare down to stop coming after innocent humans. You were one of Morpheus’ oldest creations and you wouldn’t be beaten by someone that wanted to fill the world with fear and dread.

“Your speech was nice till you made our goal sound like a pipe dream,” you deadpanned, shoving Corinthian’s shoulder.

“Well, what can I say? I at least had the decency to kill people before I took their eyes,” Corinthian reminded you. “Whoever we’re dealing with is a sadistic asshole and we can’t approach them lightly. There’s no telling what they’re capable of.”

You nodded your head gravely, knowing your companion was right. Whoever was doing this was more dangerous than even Corinthian’s worst self, and the danger they could pose was nothing to laugh at. You had to go into this knowing that people could get hurt and it was your desire to protect them and keep Corinthian’s name in the clear that would get you through this.

You sighed and cleared your head, giving yourself a moment to process everything.

“So what now?” you asked finally, breaking your heavy silence with a breeze block of a question.

“Well, how does one normally encounter a nightmare?” Corinthian asked, tilting his head toward you.

“Oh gods…You mean- you’re talking about going to the hospital and jumping into this poor guy’s dreams aren’t you?”

Your body flooded with the realisation of what Corinthian was proposing and for a second you could’ve sworn the silence of the room had turned to live static. You were going to root around in this butchered boy's mind and hope to hit up a dangerous nightmare. There was no telling what you’d find once you were in there, be it the nightmare or other dark things that would haunt you both.

“We just have to stick together no matter what,” Corinthian said casually, as if you were planning a trip to the local hedge maze. “Nothing can hurt us as long as we overpower them.”

“And if we get separated while we’re in there?”

“Then we leave the dream as soon as we realise we’re alone.”

“Oh gods…this is happening isn’t it?”

“Well, unless you want to relocate and hope for the best?” Corinthian asks, a wry smile breaking out onto his face.

“It’s sounding tempting,” you sigh, staring up at the ceiling and hoping Morpehus might descend down from the heavens and sort the whole mess out for you. “Though, I would hate for you to keep getting notifications of someone else's crimes.”

“That’s the spirit,” Corinthian grins, ushering you up from your depressed slump.

You come to a stand in front of him and as tempting as it is to flop back onto the bed like a useless pancake, you know what you have to do. You have to go be the responsible dream you are and fix this mess. Even if it meant marching all the way to the hospital on shaky knees with a heart that felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest, you would be successful.

You take a second to wrap your arms around Corinthian and after breathing in his woodsy scent and bolstering yourself with his strong frame you start directing yourself to the door. With your brains and Corinthian’s brawn anything was possible, you thought to yourself. You were stronger than some malicious little imp with an eye fetish, you were an unstoppable team with a righteous mission.

And you would not be deterred.

You opened the bedroom door and came face to face with Casey who stared up at you both like a newborn calf. Her eyes were hazy like a heat wave had hit them and her smile was crooked and wobbly. She was drunk.

Perhaps you and Corinthian had made a mistake leaving her with the decanters while she was recovering from an emotionally traumatic event. You swore to yourself and grabbed the glass bottle out of her hands just as she was about to let it roll out of her fist and onto the floor and watched as she slumped unceremoniously in her seat.

“Casey?” you prodded, watching as she closed her eyes and settled on her side on the couch.

“Just gimme a minute- just- ugh just gotta rest my eyes m’kay?”

So you wouldn’t be stopped… but maybe you’d be slowed.

-🍰-

Eventually, after giving Casey a blanket and forcing her to drink a pint of water, you left Corinthian’s place with a mumbled excuse and a promise of being back later and found yourselves at the hospital.

It was easy enough for you to both pass through the halls in the darkness. No one questioned your presence as you weaved through the halls with purpose and stuck to the shadows. Well, you’d been stopped once, but Corinthian smoothly explained away that you were consultants, very busy consultants, and you had to get to your next patient immediately. And that was that. You’d gotten away with it, despite feeling like your body was a walking gong and it was obvious you weren’t supposed to be there you’d made it.

You soon found yourself in the lonely room of Gareth Heart - as his name indicated on his chart at the end of the bed. There was a sad forgotten bowl of pound cake and custard abandoned on his bedside table that had long grown a skin, and there was a flickering light in the en-suite that seemed to permanently alternate its strobing.

It only made Gareth’s prone form look more ominous as his body was lit up at various intervals, the bandages illuminated in the poor light. The empty eye sockets were covered now, but you were still haunted by what you’d seen only hours before at the club. You could still hear his screams bouncing around in your ears and smattering onto the bare white walls around you.

The chilling room didn’t serve your shaking nerves. Though, it had probably seemed like a beacon of hope to his family that had previously flooded into the room. The chairs had been dragged around and were still to be moved back, and it indicated to you that they would be coming back as soon as they were able. You and Corinthian only had so long before your presence would become known.

“We need to get out of here as soon as possible,” you murmured, eyes glazing over the soggy bowl of cake. “There’ll be people in to check on him soon.”

“Agreed…you ready for this, sugar?” Corinthian asked softly, shades reflecting the bouncing light back to you.

You shrug, knowing that you’d never be ready to confront whatever was possibly lurking in this guy's head. Whatever was capable of blinding someone forever and setting them loose on a club full of people. You shivered at the thought and clutched tight to Corinthian, grabbing his hand with all of your paltry strength that you could collect in the moment.

Even if you weren’t sure about your plan, he was. And that’s all that mattered. He’d keep you safe, you knew it.

“Let’s do this,” you breathed, setting your hand on Gareth’s dewey forehead. “I’ll see you in there.”

-🍰-

You moved into Gareth’s dream as you normally would, you fell back into the inky darkness for a minute, and swam in its velvety depths before you found yourself emerging into a scene. It was the nightclub.

You could see the people moving around you like a thick swarm, partying like nothing was wrong, but you you felt clogged full of dread. The strobing red lights didn’t serve to give you any comfort, they just offset your heartbeat and made you antsy as you looked around, searching the room for anything of note.

“I prefer this place when you’re at the wheel.”

You jumped as Corinthian’s voice carried through the thick bassy music of the club and took a second to recover before grabbing onto his hand again, clutching his arm like you were a character out of scooby-doo. He might’ve been the one to give you the scare, but at least he’d save you from any others that were sure to be lurking around the cavernous house of horrors.

“Somehow I don’t think this is going to go like one of my visions,” you mumble, burrowing deeper into Corinthian’s side.

“Well it might not be all bad at least, look over there.”

You follow Corinthian’s free arm as he extends it out toward the crowd and soon enough your eyes settle on Gareth - who doesn’t appear to be reliving his torture much to your delight. He’s talking to a pretty girl and has a relaxed smile on his face. He looks laid back as he leans up against a pillar and talks away to her like its any other night at the club.

“Huh…I kinda thought being here would mean he was having a nightmare. This almost seems like a dream?”

“Me too. Kinda makes me wonder what we should look for,” Corinthian muses, looking around the room as he says it.

“I’m sure it’ll reveal itself to us…whatever it is,” you say, unconvincing to even yourself as you follow Corinthian’s gaze.

After a solid minute of staring out into the crowd with no results, you shrug and give your partner’s arm a small tug, urging him to move forward with you and get a closer look. It was no use standing in the corner and hoping whatever oddity was there would reveal itself to you, you had to explore. You had to seek out more.

“What’s that over there?” Corinthian finally asks, breaking your concentration.

“Over where? Oh- huh.”

You squint in the direction that Corinthain points to and tilt your head watching as a shadowy figure stalks around amongst the crowd, parting them like he was a shark amongst a school of fish. He didn’t have to say anything or move in any particular way, he just sliced right through them.

You couldn’t make out a face, only his tall figure as he stalked through the people. He was lanky, much taller than Corinthain even and he shuffled around lithely like a snake. You were both fascinated by the figure, completely drawn in by him as he drew closer to you both.

Then, just as you were about to ask what you should do, just as you might’ve caught a glimpse of his face as it closed into view, the scene changed. You weren’t in the club anymore. You were in a hospital room - much like the one you’d just been in. Though, there was no figure laying in the bed. The room was empty.

“What happened?” you frowned, staring around the room like the walls might close in.

“He must’ve sensed something was off and his mind’s tried to shut whoever that was out,” Corinthian muttered, “We need to get back to that club. We gotta get a closer look at that guy.”

“I don’t blame him, I was getting the chills just looking at that guy,” you said through gritted teeth. “Question is - where is Gareth?”

Corinthian froze and looked around, noting the empty bed just as you did and then turning to the door over to your left. It was open, indicating you’d be able to leave the room and go in search of Gareth. You had to convince him to get back to the club, even if it meant trying to speak to him. Stressing him out would be worth it, as long as you could get back there and catch a glimpse of that shadowy figure.

You both walked toward the door, continuing to grasp onto each other’s arms. Nothing could separate you both, not when you were holding onto Corinthian like you wanted to snap him.

So, when you both walked through the doorway, you both fell into the dark together, drowned in shadow. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You both looked over to each other as you fell into the unknown and grasped the other tighter. Neither of you knew what was going on, neither of you could escape the manipulation. You were both succumbing to the unknown.

Being back in the total darkness meant that you weren’t in Gareth’s head anymore, and you weren’t being released back into the world by his bedside either. You were stuck in limbo waiting to be taken into the dream of someone else entirely, and there was nothing you could both do as you fell back and landed in a new room, one that was all too familiar…

-💕-

Tag List

@ravenous-says-stuf @jvybirrd @padawansubscription @pinkybee926 @heurimariquinha @the-corinthian-og-begay-docrimes @autistic-dream @heartache97 @juniebugg @mischiefmanaged71 @loonylunalovegood77 @suzubeans @proximateez @aureliel @belle643 @hollybell51 @seraferna @anotherromanticpoet @pinkcyclewitch @nebulastarr @terzoskaz0o @baarishkiboond @philiasoul @tea-effect @ryethebrokengae @maysrain @gortycs @lucienmikaelson @rosaren2498 @dais-hime

#the sandman #the corinthian #corinthian #corinthian x reader #boyd holbrook #sandman fanfiction

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duskspring · 4 months

Text

Wordless Declarations and a Birthday - Lake/River

Domestic December - Day 18

Summary: River struggles to make Lake’s summoningday a memorable one

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): Water (#2) is called Lake in this, Water (#3) is called River in this, anxiety

Word count: ~1.5k

River wasn’t known for a lot of things. He was one of those ghouls that minded his own business and didn’t interact with anyone outside his old bandmates much. But there was one thing everyone knew about him, that being his love for his fellow water ghoul Lake.

And with Lake’s summoningday approaching fast, River didn’t stand still for even a second. He was determined to give his lover the best, most memorable party to ever grace The Ministry.

The problem was River’s incompetence on the topic. He spitballed every possible variation; would it be a surprise party? Something themed? Maybe it could be activity based? Should it be huge or more intimate?

He knew what Lake definitely would not want, but trying to find out what would make him the most happy was a matter of guessing.

He eventually decided to celebrate in his room. That way, if it got messy it wouldn’t be Lake’s problem. They could start out with just the two of them and then let Lake decide who else he wanted there in the moment. Simple, fun… but maybe not enough.

River couldn’t get his anxieties under control. It got to the point that even Lake noticed something was out of the ordinary. River denied such a thing, not wanting to give himself away. If Lake knew his summoningday party was what was causing him all that stress, he’d immediately tell him to stop. But he didn’t deserve to lose out on a party, because of River’s nerves.

The day of, he was lucky Lake already had plans in the afternoon. He’d tried asking River to come along, but he’d just barely wormed his way out of that one with a few excuses. He used the time to set everything up. He did some light decorating of the space. There were garlands, balloons and his fanciest plates and cups, all in a blue theme.

It was now a matter of waiting around for Lake to find his way back there. River sat on the couch, then thought maybe it looked better if he stood up, but then sat back down. His leg bounced nervously. His head turned towards the clock multiple times per minute, getting more afraid with every second Lake wasn’t there to calm him down. It gave him way too much time to think about a variety of topics, one of which being his gift.

It was stupid. It was too lame. Lake would probably hate it but not dare to say anything. He-

River startled aggressively when the phone in his pocket rang. His heart skipped another beat when he saw it was Lake. He answered immediately, “Splash…” He whispered the nickname, unsure what to expect.

“Where are you?” Lake asked, barely audible over whatever the loud noise in the background was.

“My room, why?”

“Well, get down here already! I’m happy to have this, but it’s lame without you.”

River only got more confused, “...Where are you?”

“I just stepped outside the hall, so I could hear you.”

“Outside which hall?”

“Dining.” Lake said like it was obvious.

“Ok…” River’s mind raced, “Ok, I’ll be right there.”

“Better hurry!” And then the line cut off.

River lowered his phone slowly. He speedwalked to the dining hall on autopilot, mind reeling to try and comprehend what was going on. The closer he got, the more he realized the loud background noise heard over the phone had been music.

“Finally!” Lake joked, walking over to embrace his partner, “Can you believe all of this?”

“I’m honestly not sure what I’m supposed to believe here.” River awkwardly tried asking for clarification.

Lake didn’t take it as such, though, “I know right! Even if Papa has technically done it for others, I would never have expected he’d do it for me.” Without providing more clarity, he grabbed River's hand and pulled him towards the dining hall.

It was a near sensory overload to walk in there. The music was loud, decorations colorful yet classy, and at least two thirds of the abbey’s inhabitants were there. They drank, danced and enjoyed their time together. Oh, it was a party alright.

“Papa did this?” River asked, his face an obvious showing of surprise, but also a bit of shame. His planned party seemed so incredibly mundane next to this.

Lake nodded, “Secondo really pulled out all the stops. Wish he had kept a few,” He mumbled the last part quietly enough that the music drowned it out before it reached River’s ears, “Hey, are you alright?” It seemed he’d noticed River’s expression.

He tried to say something, to reassure his lover, but found he couldn’t. His vocal cords were frozen. He could feel the potential for tears building up. He was fucking humiliated.

Lake put his hands on his cheeks, “Flow.” Hearing his own nickname, snapped him out of the trance long enough to hear the next words, “Let’s step outside for a moment.”

And back out into the hall they went. Lake made River sit down against the wall for a bit, his expression still betraying his shock.

“How are the mindwaves?” He asked, it being their way to refer to River’s recurring anxiety.

“I’m… so happy for you.” He meant the words. Lake’s happiness had been the goal from the start. He just wished he’d been the reason.

The second water ghoul scoffed a bit, “Well, I’m happy for Papa. He got an excuse to throw a party.” He said with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“What do you mean?”

Lake sighed, sitting down next to River and putting his head on his shoulder, “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but come on. Papa didn’t throw this party for me. I kinda hate this, actually. I hardly even know anyone who’s here. Most of them don’t even know it’s my birthday! Let alone the fact that this environment isn’t good for you. And if you don’t want to be there, then I don't want to be either.” His voice was self assured, he was so certain of his feelings. He raised his head, staring into River’s eyes with his blacked out ones, “Can we go back to your room? I don’t think I’ll be missed here.”

River instantly nodded, getting up to help pull Lake upright. He didn’t want to be there anymore. Even though Lake had made it clear he didn’t enjoy Papa’s party, a part of him was still embarrassed. A feeling that only got worse with every step that brought them closer to his room.

“Uhm Splash, could we… go to your room?” He asked, suddenly realizing and fearing Lake would see his weak attempt at a party.

Lake looked at him curiously. River usually preferred his own room for comfort. Then again, it wasn’t unlike him to try and deny this, “Mine’s a mess. It would only be more overwhelming.” He told a white lie.

“I really don’t mi-” But they were already at the door and his partner was opening it.

Lake took one step into the room, before it was his turn to freeze.

“...Surprise?” River said awkwardly to fill the silence.

Lake turned around slowly, his face betraying how touched he was, “You put this all up for me?”

“You know… I tried.”

The black eyed ghoul rushed over to once again embrace River, clutching him to his body, “Thank you.”

River brought his arms up as well, enjoying the protective warmth of the hold. It grounded him, instantly lessening his fears.

Lake eventually let go to look around the room again, keeping an arm around the other’s back, “I love it, it’s so nice.” He turned back to face him, “You really like me don’t you?” He teased.

River had to avoid eye contact for a moment, knowing now was the best time for him to give his present, but also being terrified to do so.

“What’s on your mind?” Lake asked, reading River’s thought process right off his facial expression.

River took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket. With a shaky hand, he retrieved a small black box from it, “This is for you.” He opened it up, revealing a silver band ring hanging from a necklace.

Lake held his breath, carefully picking up the jewellery and inspecting it closely. It didn’t take long for him to notice the single word engraved on the inside of the ring; ‘Splash’. He looked up a River lovingly, his own hands shaking as he clasped the gift around his neck.

In response, the other ghoul reached into his clothing to retrieve a near identical looking necklace, except his ring read ‘Flow’.

Stunned into speechlessness, Lake lurched forward to passionately kiss River. Neither of them had to say the words, their meaning felt in every second of contact between them. That passion, that need for each other. No one could deny it.

They loved each other.

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

#I am still committed to writing about EVERY ghoul this month #the band ghost fanfiction #domestic december #river ghoul #lake ghoul #headcanon #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #water ghoul #the band ghost fic

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comfortjoonie · 1 year

Note

welcome to the community ! <333 How about Namjoon with a high fever from stress? Likeee 102.1 ? And They're at a interview in the USA and he;s' the only one who can speak english. Maybe he throws up once too?

<33333 my names Ariana by the way! I'm really excited for another Namjoon blog! I love him so much <3

Hi Ariana! Yes of course! Here it is! TW: sickness, fever, emeto

102.1

“...yes, that’s right,” Namjoon nodded. He’d completely forgotten the question – something about their trainee days or something, but as he saw Jungkook’s head nod, he went along with it. Namjoon took a deep breath and tried to shake away the deep headache and discomfort spread through his freezing body. He knew he had a fever – a high one, definitely. And he couldn’t wait to get out of this interview. He looked at the clock on the other side of the room. One more minute. He could wait. He was the only one who spoke English, so everything was on his shoulders now. But one minute was all more he had to do. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and focused back on the interviewer.

“RM, what would you say is the biggest strength of each member? And yourself?”

Namjoon thought for a moment, processing as best he could through his foggy brain. “Well, I think…Jungkook is very…he’s…hardworking. For V, I think he’s really …a good performer. And Jimin. He’s very kind to me and the others…” Namjoon paused and swallowed. He felt like he was choking on something.

“And you?”

“I’m…”

“Handsome!” Seokjin shouted, putting Namjoon’s face in his hands.

“Very big body!” Hoseok added.

Namjoon managed a smile.

The interviewer laughed. “Can you ask all the members, please, what their favorite trait about each other is?”

Namjoon groaned internally, but nodded and smiled on the outside. “Sure.” He turned to the others and asked them in Korean, then sighed as they started to talk. They were able to get their points across, and Namjoon, for the most part, could just stare at the wall and try not to whine in discomfort.

By the time the interview was over, Namjoon felt like he was on autopilot. He walked slowly out of the room and towards the cars bringing them back to the hotel. All the other members were talking to each other in pairs, so Namjoon was walking by himself now. He sat in the backseat of the first car in between Yoongi and Seokjin. The seat was cramped, and it was starting to make him feel slightly nauseated. His breath was shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and opened them again. He wasn’t sure what to do. He was freezing, but he had no jacket. Yoongi seemed to sense that something was wrong, “Namu-yah, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Namjoon shook his head. “Nothing.”

“You’re pale. You’re sweating. Something’s wrong,” Yoongi countered. Seokjin shut off his phone and looked over at Namjoon.

“What’s wrong?”

Namjoon clenched his jaw, suddenly feeling cornered. “N–”

Yoongi put his hand on Namjoon’s forehead and gasped. “Aigoo, Namjoonie…” he muttered. “I knew it. You’re burning up.” He stroked Namjoon’s hair back.

Namjoon sighed, resigning and leaning into the touch. Seokjin felt Namjoon’s forehead too, “You poor thing..” he said softly. “You must have been feeling badly the whole time.” He grabbed a tissue from his bag and wiped the sweat from Namjoon’s brow gently. “You need some rest, Joonie.”

“You can walk, right? Just to the room?” Yoongi asked, and Namjoon nodded. The car pulled up, and all three walked out, Seokjin linking arms with Namjoon for a small bit of support. They started walking towards the elevator

“Wait…” Namjoon said. “We have another interview tonight. Jimmy Fallon..”

“We’ll be alright without you. We can speak English, too, you know?” Seokjin said, but Namjoon just grimaced. Seokjin’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?” The elevator opened, and they stepped inside.

“I feel sick,” Namjoon whispered.

“How?”

“I need to throw up.”

“Ok,” Yoongi said softly. “Just wait a little bit. We’re gonna be at the room soon. Namjoon nodded again, swallowing rather loudly. Yoongi and Seokjin glanced at each other in concern, both nodding at the other as the elevator started moving. Namjoon somehow felt even warmer than before, Seokjin thought. He was tempted to feel his forehead again, but he should probably wait until his hands – and Namjoon’s forehead – were clean.

The elevator opened, and Seokjin led Namjoon to the room with Yoongi trailing behind them. The others were already waiting inside, and turned around when they saw everyone walk in.

“Namjoonah, why don’t you sit on Jimin’s bed, okay?” Yoongi suggested. It was closest to the bathroom.

“Hyungs? What happened?” Jimin asked, setting his phone down and standing up. Seokjin helped Namjoon onto the bed. He was getting weaker every second, and he was shaking as soon as Seokjin let go of him.

“Namjoonie’s sick. He has a fever.”

Namjoon suddenly gagged and coughed, and all eyes in the room turned to him. “Hyung.” he mumbled. “Bathroom.”

Seokjin helped Namjoon up as quickly as he could manage without hurting his dongsaeng and led him to the bathroom, opening the toilet lid for him. Namjoon instantly gagged again, this time bringing up his small lunch of rice, kimchi, and instant ramen. He squeezed his eyes shut and Seokjin held his head in place so it wouldn’t get messy. Seokjin stroked Namjoon’s hair gently. “Good job, Namjoon,” he purred. “You’re doing so well.” Namjoon coughed and moaned but Jin just quieted him again. “You’re good, Joon. You’re OK.”

Namjoon panted for a minute, pushing his hair back. Seokjin bent down to flush the toilet. “All done? OK?”

“Yeah.” Namjoon’s voice was raspy and he sounded exhausted.

“Wash your hands and brush your teeth if you can, and then let’s get back into bed.”

Namjoon nodded and turned on the tap, but he was swaying. He looked like he could faint. Seokjin put a hand on his back to steady him. “I’ll just get you a mint instead, then. You shouldn’t stand for this long if you’re this weak.” Namjoon nodded in agreement and dried his hands. “OK, let’s go back to bed, now,” Seokjin said, and Namjoon nodded. Seokjin helped bring Namjoon back to Jimin’s bed and pulled the covers over him. Namjoon was shaking even more now.

All of the hyungs and dongsaengs stared at or walked over to the bed, Jimin and Hoseok first. “What happened?” Jimin asked, looking at Yoongi.

“We don’t know. He must have been feeling bad all day. He barely ate anything for lunch.”

“Yeah, but what happened? What’s wrong with him?” Jimin asked, and Namjoon coughed, not a fan of being talked about.

“He has a fever. And he’s throwing up now too. Do we have a thermometer?” Yoongi asked.

For a moment, there was silence and everyone looked at each other hoping someone else would have something to say.

Jungkook said, “Namjoonie-hyung does. He always brings one, because he knows he gets stress fevers.”

“Good,” Yoongi said, “Get it out of his bag.” Jimin nodded, rushing to Namjoon’s suitcase and fumbling around until he found it, then rushed over to the bed and handed it to Yoongi.

“Namjoonie-yah, open your mouth for me.” Namjoon opened his mouth and Yoongi placed the thermometer under his tongue. Namjoon made a slight gagging sound and opened his mouth, but Yoongi pushed his chin up and shut it again for him. “Just a few more seconds, Namjoon, I’m sorry,” he said softly. After ten seconds, he took it out and gasped.

“102.1…God,” he said softly.

“What is it?” Jungkook said, and everyone rushed to the bed.

“He’s burning. 102.1 degrees.”

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Taehyung said.

“No, he just needs a bath–” interjected Jimin.

“Hospital, right now,” Yoongi argued,

“No. Just some medication and rest,” Seokjin countered.

“We could at least take him to urgent care.” Hoseok said. Jungkook was silent, worry in his eyes and staring at his hyung. Seokjin looked at him. He looked so scared. But they could really stress Namjoon out by bringing him out of the hotel room.

“Medication, a bath, and rest. No hospital,” Seokjin declared.

“But–”

“No. I’m the oldest, so I make the call. We aren’t bringing him to a hospital. There’ll be paparazzi there, and we don’t need to stress him out more.” It was final, and no one argued.

“Namjoonie, bath now or later?” Yoongi asked him gently. Namjoon had been silent the whole time, shaking and pale but too tired to say anything or move.

Namjoon let out a sound that was close enough to “Now”. Yoongi nodded.

“Get some rest, then.” He heard footsteps behind him and turned around to see Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook all approaching the bed in unison. Yoongi sighed. “Really?”

“Yes,” Jimin whispered, and they all slowly crawled into the bed next to Namjoon. The maknae line’s favorite thing was cuddling with Namjoon, and they’d take any opportunity they could. Namjoon smiled slightly as he felt Taehyung curl up against his side, Jungkook on his other, and Jimin sitting up kissing his forehead. Yoongi’s frown of exasperation morphed into a smile, and when he looked back at the other hyungs, they were smiling too.

Namjoon could rest now.

#sickfic #bts #namjoon #namjoonsickfic #btssickfic #sick!namjoon #caretaker!jungkook #caretaker!yoongi #caretaker!seokjin #caretaker!taehyung #caretaker!jimin #caretaker!hoseok

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foggyparadisecandy · 3 months

Text

So much I want to say again.

K if you read this, well ... I guess it doesn't matter any more. You've heard everything I have to say a hundred times and it wasn't enough. So maybe this is a goodbye note. I hope not.

I will always be here for you and you know that. I hope that brings you comfort even if you never reach out again.

You have options even if you can't see them atm. You control your destiny. Remember it.

It's a core strength of yours. You've temporarily forgotten it. You are hurting horribly. I see it and it bothers me so much. I am not your savior. I know that. You are your savior. You will be your savior. You just have to remember who you are - the woman I fell for.

Strong. Capable. Self-driven. Good. Caring. Sharp. You are a good person. I know you will find your way. I believe in you and I'm no dummy so ... maybe think on that for awhile. Maybe it's all true ... maybe you are an ass-kicker? Worth considering, right?

It's ok and you're going to be ok. I know that and have faith in you. Even if you don't. lol

I dislike how you gave up control of your life to be on autopilot to mask your pain. I dislike it ... but I understand it. I feel for you.

Find your way back to your core strengths.

I want to say stop abandoning yourself but it's a shit statement. It implies you know who you are and I'm not sure that's true atm. That's why you are giving in to escapist stuff, on the go.

Do your best to pause. Remember the river. The warm water washing away your worries. Find yourself in your river in the center of your mind. Relax there.

Meditate. Use that to quiet your mind. Skip the weed - it’s not doing you any good atm :( I know how hard it is for you rn - please be strong and heal.

Explore your feelings - I know you are dealing wish some serious bullshit but explore them. Look into Anxious Attachment style healing.

Be ok with expressing your needs. No one worthwhile will reject you or abandon you if you express yourself. Don't suffer quietly in anxiety.

Lol.

Look at me lecture and give advice again. Whatever. IDC - you said you always loved it so I won't judge myself for caring and sharing. And fuck do I still love and care for you. I think you love me too. And I get it - it seems impossible for you atm to find space for me. It’s not really impossible. It only seems that way because you are hurting.

Relationships can morph and evolve. Good people are worth finding ways to keep in our lives. I know … I know … It's so complicated and messy, isn't it?

I really wish you had included me in your decision. Once again, I was shut out. I'm sorry I wasn't more approachable. I feel like I let you down in so many ways. Ugh. It hurts tbh. It really fucking hurts. I'll be ok though - don't worry.

Keep an eye on your subconscious. It needs to be watched like a hawk - it doesn't seem to be your best friend tbh. I would honestly say it actively wants you to suffer. That's a fucking harsh statement and I'm probably way off-base but ... I think it's correct.

Your parents are behind you and can no longer harm you. But they've wired your identity to hurt. Recognize it. Heal. Remember who you are: strong, capable, a fighter.

Nobody wants you to hurt. You don't have to hurt. Choose to heal. You are a good person. Find that truth … because it is the truth.

It's extremely hard for loved ones to push me away ... and yet here we are. How in the world did you pull that off? Lol

But despite your efforts, I'll always be here for you. Haha

Well ... maybe not here, but you know how to find me.

No different than before, my feelings are consistent. My offers are genuine. My love is deep.

I ... am so ... empty atm ... lol.

Goodbye everyone - maybe not permanently - knowing me I'll be back in a few days.

Tumblr is not good for me. I would have left sooner but K insisted on using Tumblr's chat so ... like her good puppy dog, I stuck around here.

Hypno is not doing it for me. I think I'm still a pretty good tist lol but I've lost my passion for it.

I like the idea of finding a new good girl to have fun with but ... also ... I'm just not right atm. As much as I wish I was. I need to sort shit out and figure out motivations. I don't want to hurt anyone else and I don't want to be hurt.

The real problem is ... everything on this blog was for K. A long-ass love letter to her. And I don’t regret a second of the energy and time I put into it. She is worth it and more.

But now … she’s gone. So ... I guess I am too. For now.

Empty.

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justkending · 2 years

Text

Everest. Chapter 15.

Series Summary: She was done and retired. After Thanos and after the battle of a lifetime, she had called it quits and had distanced herself from the Avenger lifestyle. But word finds her that someone from her past is in danger. What the journey entails was never one she wanted to face nor one she saw becoming her reality again. The rollercoaster that comes with fighting evil odds arrives on her doorstep not leaving much room for a no…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2500+

A/N: Slowly getting the energy to write. A lots been going on in the world lately and it’s been hard to come back to the things I enjoy when so much shit continues to happen in our world. I hope you’re all staying safe out there and love each and everyone of you.

Chapter 15:

_______________The ride back to the compound was taut. Steve, Nat, and Sam hadn't been enlightened by Y/N's findings on why they were really on the mission, so Bucky and Tony were the only ones aware of the tension.

Tony ended up locking himself in a room and didn't come out. Bucky decided to let him sulk in his misery while they worried about Sam.

Lucky for the Avenger, Y/N had come at perfect timing to see him shot out of the sky and was able to lessen the blow through the forest below. She had healed him enough to be able to stay within the coverage until help came but was limited on time to keep everyone else inside safe.

Sam had waved her off, telling her to help the rest of the team as he stayed back. Of course, with the promise that he wouldn't try to find trouble while she came to everyone else's rescue.

Nat was in the infirmary part of the plane, helping tend to Sam's wound after getting fixed up herself. Steve had minor cuts and abrasions with a butterfly stitch on his head, and his arm was wrapped in a sling for the next few days after dislocating it. He had moved out of the infirmary and was already trying to get information on what the hell happened after seeing Y/N fly down the hall.

"Any clue what happened in there?" he asked, coming up behind Bucky, who was looking out the plane's front windshield as it coasted on autopilot. Bucky didn't answer immediately and looked behind Steve to ensure they were alone.

"I don't think we were thoroughly briefed on what we were getting ourselves into," he replied.

"Yeah, I'm catching onto that. Nat and I were cornered, and the agents seemed to never thin out no matter how much we fought off," Steve pocketed his hand from his uninjured arm and looked out the window like his friend had been. "My question is, how did she know we were there? Tony made it sound like he got the information after Y/N left. How'd she know where we would be?"

"It's Y/N. Are you really that surprised?" Bucky answered with a sigh. "But I'm wondering about the logistics of it too. She left urgently like she had to take care of something, but Tony came up with the coordinates after she had already gone."

Steve hung his head before running a hand through his hair. Dirt and grim riddled his face from the fight. "Did she say anything that could have hinted at where she was going? What her intentions were?"

Bucky paused, not sure what to say. As furious as Y/N was with the billionaire, something told him she knew about Tony's plan before he even did. Call it intuition, call it knowing the man for long enough to know where his actions would lead, but something about her showing up at perfect timing and how she treated Tony said that she knew, and that's why she left. He wasn't sure how to tell Steve why or what about since he wasn't certain of the guess himself.

"She never said. She knew how to be discrete in her answers so that I couldn't assume anything. One thing I do know is that Tony has some explaining to do. That's all I can grasp from all of it," he answered eventually. Steve nodded and let out a long sigh. "How's Sam doing?"

"He'll be ok. Nat said he was getting stitched up, and I helped pop a shoulder back in place. May have a minor concussion, but Y/N healed him up enough to be conscious and not in pain as much. Sam said she headed straight inside after making sure he wasn't in the line of fire anymore." He looked over at Bucky, seeing a few scrapes and torn parts of his combat suit. "You ok?"

"Hm?" Bucky noticed him looking at his forehead and tattered sleeve. "Oh, I'm fine. They looked at it and stitched a cut on my arm. There was a girl who had ferrokinesis as her enhancement. Had Tony and I incapacitated until Y/N showed up."

"How many enhanced were there?" Steve scratched his head in exhaustion.

"More than we were prepared for."

There was a moment of silence as they sat staring at the clouds they were level with. They had another hour before they were home.

"Did Y/N say if she would meet us back at the compound?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "She's furious with Tony, though. He was seconds from embodying that tube of toothpaste Clint had joked about a month ago. She has restraint, but we may need to keep a close eye on the two anyway," Bucky sighed.

"Sounds like another day in the life," he patted his friend's back with a long sigh before turning around. "I'm going to check on Sam."

Bucky nodded once in acknowledgment before the blonde left him to his thoughts.

__________________

They had been back for an hour. Tony had once again disappeared from the crew and still hadn't confessed anything. Steve, Nat, Bucky, and Sam all went to the infirmary for a routine check-in with a doctor and, once done, went to their rooms to clean up and change.

His hair was still wet, and he had a fresh set of clothes on after washing the mission clean from his body; Bucky was swimming laps in his own head as to what all Y/N's debrief would consist of outside of the bit of information she had already told him.

A part of him wondered if restraining her from bringing an end to The Great Tony Stark was something he deserved or if he had finally fucked around and found out too close to the sun this time.

After three hours of being home and no sight or word from Y/N, he figured he'd go to the source itself. Sitting and trying to create reasoning for the man wasn't getting him anywhere, and he deserved answers. They all deserved answers.

In a corner of his garage in the basement, in a spot no one casually glancing in could have seen him, Bucky heard frustrated cussing and the sound of metal being kicked and beat on. Following the noise, he saw the culprit.

Where Tony had likely been previously doing maintenance on his suit, it had turned into a practice dummy like they used in the training room. Except it wasn't cushioned with human-like material but strong metal that was bruising and cutting his knuckles up at each hit.

"You're going to be the next bionic man on the team if you keep that up," Bucky spoke up, making Stark's head turn fast to the voice. He leaned on the doorway, looking down at his own metal hand and flexing it. Small sounds of whirring, so subtle that only he could hear, flickered in his ear. "Just because we've made great improvements in prosthetics doesn't mean you need to invest in one yourself."

When he looked up, Tony looked like he was pausing for a gun to be pointed at his head, but he brushed it off when he saw Bucky not glaring at him as he expected.

"She here yet?" Tony grumbled, moving to the table by him and grabbing the first aid kit he had already pulled out and rummaged through.

Bucky noticed a bandage on his head and watched as he moved to wrap his soon-to-be blistering knuckles.

"No, but she will be eventually," Bucky answered, pushing off his slanted position, moving to the other table across from him, and leaning back on it as he crossed his arms and oversaw the billionaire. "I figured I'd give you a bit of time to explain your side of the story before she comes to set it straight."

Tony looked at him for a second as if waiting for a cunning response to follow, but Bucky wasn't like him in that sense. He had learned to hear all sides of the story before making a direct attack after so many people failed to do so for him.

There were times when his anger or worry would get the best of him, and he couldn't quite take the back seat every time, like when Y/N had left, and he was quick to defend why she shouldn't. But this was different. Different in a way that he wanted to give Tony the benefit of the doubt where the man before him once stuggled to do the same for him.

"Who else knows?" Tony mumbled, picking at his bleeding knuckles.

"Just you still." Tony looked at him, confused. "I still feel like I'm the dark for the most part. I wanted to give you the floor to explain before Y/N."

Tony's face held a genuine feature of surprise at the super soldier's response. He had every right to be pissed and blowing up on him from the little bit he did know, yet he was giving Tony a chance to try and save himself. Even if it was all but pointless in reality.

"It wasn't supposed to be as... Populated, as it was," Tony mumbled, turning back kit in front of him and grabbing a disinfectant spray. He misted it to the cuts and hissed under his breath as he moved for the disinfectant balm. "The reason for the mission was true. We planned to infiltrate what I believed to be the head of the operation..." He paused, hesitant to say the next part. "But it was a different version of the head of this operation from what I led on."

When he didn't continue, Bucky shifted in his spot and got more comfortable. "Different version, how?"

"I mean," he let out a bitter laugh, the anger only directed at himself. "It was where they formulated the serum that triggered the mutant gene. The same chemical that was in the bomb Marley handled before it could make its way overseas here."

Tony had told them beforehand that they were going to a facility that housed those being experimented on but hadn't gone through the entire process yet. It was the holding cell for the mutants they had kidnapped already. Sure, they knew traces of the serum would likely be there, but it wasn't the lab where the chemist was creating it. Or at least he never focused on that detail before.

The whole team thought they were going in to release hostages and find the person who was facilitating the entire operation. Not a branch that was creating the serums.

In hindsight, both were places they needed to infiltrate, but the hostages were priority number one to the blinded team. And in going in, they were prepared for the innocents who were yet to be taken advantage of, not the army of bodyguards created to protect the project.

"So you're saying there's still a place out there, a lab where people are being used as lab rats?"

"If there is, we don't have solid information on it," Tony answered truthfully, throwing off the bandage he had applied yet wasn't satisfied with.

He wasn't sure what to do with that answer. He paused, thinking of their meeting leading up to the mission. The one Tony had pulled files in front of them on and Nat had conspired with.

"Nat said-"

"Nat didn't have all the information like she thought," Tony groaned as another disinfectant stung him, and he threw the bottle down before haphazardly wrapping gauze around his hand again, an even worse job than the one before.

Bucky felt as though he had gotten lost all over again. If anything, he was more confused than when he walked in.

"How did you manage to keep Nat out of your true plans?" he asked, shocked and frustrated. "She would have-"

"She would have known if she had all the files, but Anthony was clever enough to keep hardcopies yet to be scanned into the system for her to hack into. Right?"

The voice caught both of them off guard, and they whipped their heads quickly to the entrance of the cornered space they were occupying.

"I can enlighten us all if you'd rather," Y/N deadpanned with a tilt of her head. Her eyes never left Stark's as Nat and Steve followed behind her.

Replacing her new stealth suit, he had seen her in hours prior; she was in her streetwear. The all-powerful being she had presented as earlier looked to be taken over by a normal civilian version of her. The anger in her features was the only thing remaining from her previous appearance.

She wore a green top that wrapped across her chest and torso in an abstract way, resting just over her high-waisted bell bottoms, the color a dark brown, that covered a tan set of boots. Her hair was down and natural under the head scarf intricately secured around her head. Her usual set of rings and necklaces littered her neck and fingers and had he not known what she was capable of, she would have fit in as a regular New Yorker on the street.

(Imagine brown pants, really whichever you prefer :))

"I thought I gave you enough time while I wrapped things up, but it seems I got here a touch early," she voiced in an intimidating tone as she walked in carefully, looking around at his hiding space as if she'd never stepped foot in there before. Her heels clicked lightly as she walked, an air of unbothered confidence following her. "Sorry," she paused in her step as Steve and Nat came further into the room, and Tony watched her. "Don't let me interrupt your confession. You were getting to the good part. Please," she smiled like a cat playing with a mouse. "Continue." She waved a hand after a second, returning to her calculated walk around the space.

She may have looked close to normal, but the feeling of fear and coercion, all targeted at Tony, overtook the room. She didn't need to blast her energy photons at Tony to make him look like he was ready to melt and vaporize into the ground.

"Make me the bad guy," he started, but Y/N raised a hand.

"Careful, Anthony. You're sounding awfully close to playing the victim card. And you and I both know you don't get to use that this round," she looked at him to proceed carefully with his next words.

Now Bucky understood. Being on the receiving end of Y/N was proving to be such a terrifying experience that he understood why so many surrendered without much of a fight. And she wasn't even using her powers; she was just using her body language and tone to fight right now.

Making the wise choice, Tony started explaining. Catching Nat and Steve up with what he had told Barnes.

"What the hell have I been doing research for then?" Nat shouted with a pointed glare to Tony. Being on the receiving end of any woman staring in the room right now was making the option of death sweeter by the moment. "You told me it was to find the facilities that-"

"It was one of those. Or it started as one of those -it just," he stumbled. "We had an agent report back after a PI on the location that it had escalated to something more. It wasn't just housing the mutants anymore. They likely still had a handful there, but they changed its location to one of the chem labs instead. A place where they were developing a serum that could work faster and was adapted from the original one."

"So there are facilities where innocent people are being controlled every day that we haven't found yet?" Steve asked, stepping forward, his eyebrows knitted together. "How many people are out there waiting for rescue, and we just got sent to find another serum? Another God Damn serum?!" His bite followed after that foolish word that had affected his life and this world more than once.

"I still have people trying to hunt down the experimentation labs. The one we went to was originally one, and I was hoping that by hitting it, we'd save those that were there already and-"

"Yes, you could have done that, but remind me where your first priority lay?" Y/N interrupted, everyone looking at her as she spoke up for the first time since egging him on.

"I had multiple priorities," Tony growled, growing stressed and angered as his friends teamed up against him.

"Sure," she hummed, standing from the barstool she had settled on and coming to stand closer to Bucky, Nat, and Steve on his other side. "Then answer this question instead if that one's too hard. What was the first stop you made once you made it inside?" she raised one eyebrow, begging him to misstep so she could follow through with her threat when they were at the facility.

He didn't answer. The shame radiating off him wasn't only obvious to Y/N. They could see it in his posture and defying features. Y/N had verified that one person actually could indeed out-ego Stark.

"The lab. Your favorite little place to hang out," Y/N answered. "But this time, you actually listened to SHIELD and did what you were told in your play zone. You went to get the serum to hand it off to the guys upstairs and-"

"You're telling me that you would want that information to get out to someone who shouldn't have their hands on it?" Tony snapped back, standing from the chair he had sunk into.

"You're telling me that you trust the power-hungry bastards up there to not be those individuals?!" Y/N shouted back with a finger to the sky, breaking her barrier of level-headedness. "Surprise, Stark! Hyrda already spoiled the ending for that movie!"

"It's different now," Tony matched her step.

Y/N rolled her eyes, rolling her shoulders back and staying eye-to-eye with him. "Like I haven't heard that one a million times before."

"You always say-"

"I always say watch your fucking back, Anthony!" she cut him off, pointing a finger into his chest after two swift steps toward him. "I've been around long enough on this god-damn earth, and I have yet to see the cycle break. Modified? Sure, if you want to call it that. But changed?" She huffed and looked at him in disappointment. "Man hasn't evolved. People in high positions always get what they want. And we've been served enough times to know that it's almost never for the greater good like they advertise."

The three on the sidelines watched as both Y/N and Tony stared at each other. A silent conversation in their eyes alone.

"I wasn't going to let that happen," Tony said after a moment.

"It didn't matter if you were going to or not," she shook her head as if he was missing the point, but also a sadness glassed over her eyes. "You're not that innocent, Tony. Don't lie to yourself. They have initiatives ready to go for a mutant team of their own. Hell, they already have one," she motioned to the small group around them. "But again, those carnivores will never be satisfied with their advantages. The more power they can get their hands on, the more they rule the world."

"I've never seen plans for anything like that. I searched for those types of things before I agreed to the negotiations," Tony started, and she laughed.

"Much like you were able to hide rather important information from the best spy on your team," she nodded her head to Nat before crossing her arms. "SHIELD has its loopholes and hidden caves themselves. Nothing is of all access to you like you believe."

There was silence as everything was out. Their initial intentions for the mission had been brutally manipulated and led to new truths and spiteful intentions lying raw in front of them.

"How'd you know about it?" Tony spoke up eventually.

"Technology is just one form of science. All magic is, is a science humankind has yet to discover, and my magic is a science that has yet to be hacked by humans; therefore, I always have the upper hand." Her answer seemed like a warning mixed with a humble explanation.

Her magic, as old as it was, wouldn't be stopped with a hard-to-find tangible piece of evidence, much less simple coding on a computer.

"A lot of things weren't given honest explanations of, and that's something we will have to discuss for sure, but," Steve stepped up closer to the two. "Tony, you lied to us. The team- the family you are supposed to look out for." His hurt face made Tony slouch his posture a hair. "Sam's in the medical bay with Banner because of a nasty concussion, luckily semi-healed because of Y/N, and Nat and I would have been screwed in that room if we didn't get reinforcements."

"We surveyed it before. The grounds weren't supposed to be populated a fraction of what it was," Tony defended.

"We work in a job field where we know going in it won't always go according to plan. Some statistic is going to be wrong in our debrief, and something is always going to challenge us to think on our feet." Bucky stood straighter. "But knowing the mission's goal changes the plans entirely. Not knowing any forthright information on that kind of assignment could have got us killed."

"I take blame for that. I do. I-" Tony began.

"Tony. If you had been truthful at the get-go about this," Nat looked at him. "We wouldn't be having this conversation."

Tony shook his head, and Y/N replied to a comment none of the crew had heard, as Tony had only thought it.

"You're right. They wouldn't have gone, and that would have been their choice to make," she said sternly. "You took their choice and their morals into your own hands... Because of that, you lost their respect and trust for it, Tony."

No one said anything else. The room was full of emotions, changing every time something new was brought to light.

Y/N turned around and ran a hand over her face. "I have to go meet with Banner. I'll be around for a little longer if you all need me," she said quietly, walking out without another word.

The truth was out now, and it was the team's choice to do what they wanted with it. As much as Tony thought her reason for coming back was to bury him in the hole he dug, he was wrong. She wanted honesty out of all this, and she got it.

Nat followed behind after a minute and left, not wanting to be in the space. Bucky started making his way out to let Tony stew in his errors and patted Steve on the shoulder to coax him to leave, too.

Tony was on his own now... And he was the only one at fault for it.

Everest Tags: (if I missed you in tags, comment on this chapter to let me know:)

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @annazierden

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool @starryeyeseunbyul

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu @enchantedbarnes

#bucky barnes x avenger reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes #marvel series #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader series #justkending #mcu #mcu series #avenger reader #avenger reader insert #bucky barnes x y/n #everest

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brainrotgobrr · 1 year

Note

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into ! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. - You're talking. - Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. That was a little weird. - I'm talking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something? - Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Oome on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Oan I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare end?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee!

ok bro

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nicad13 · 1 year

Text

Crossroads: Chapter 15

The Asylum

Summary: A journey. A prognosis. A promise.

A wish half-granted.

The other half must still be earned.

Notes: Canon-compliant through Season 1, alt version of Season 2. Posting some old fic before the sequel, which will hopefully be complete by the end of Season 3. Start now so you're ready! AO3 link in the Source at the bottom.

Tags/Warnings: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sexual Situations

Rating: Mature

I don’t know if I’m gonna have to redesign my mind But tonight I made a wish and I sure hope that it comes true Cause it’s been too long without you

Train, I Wish You Would

---

Din stared at the navicomp as the Razor Crest slipped away from Ilum.

No planet was shown on the map where the coordinates indicated. Instead, a radioactive asteroid field appeared in its place. They’d either find help or get smashed to bits before being fried.

Din didn’t really care which, at this point.

Din, like his ship, was on autopilot.

He heard Cara moving things around, not really listening. He stared out the windscreen, not really seeing the blue-white ripple. Sweat ran down his back between his shoulder blades, not realizing he’d forgotten to change the environmental settings on his armor and change out of the thermal base-layer he’d added.

After an hour or so, Cara sat in the port jump seat. “How long until we get there?”

“Three days.”

Cara frowned. Three days trapped on a cramped ship with a comatose Jedi and a zombie Mandalorian. And who knew what kind of state the kid would be in when he woke up?

She had not signed up for this.

Not one for empty platitudes and knowing he wasn’t either, she didn’t bother with telling him things would be ok or encouraging him to keep his hopes up. Instead, she got up, retrieved the whiskey and a glass from the galley, and headed down to the hold.

Cara set up at the table, poured herself a double, and toasted the warm bodies before her. “You won,” she said, and knocked it back.

This. This right here. This was why she didn’t do the family thing.

It was bad enough as it was. It was bad enough when they were just allies. When the kid was just her friend’s son. When Rayne was just her friend’s lover. Yadier would most likely be fine. He was still making the occasional movements of deep sleep, the same kind of thing he did before. But Rayne…

Cara sighed. Rayne was probably toast. Maybe there would be Jedi where they were headed. Maybe they could work a more powerful form of enemy sorcery than the kid could and get her back.

Maybe.

But Cara had found that cynicism worked out better for her in these kinds of situations.

Less heartbreaking.

It was just as well that Din’s obsession with his Creed had dissuaded her from joining him after Nevarro. Otherwise it could be him lying half-dead in that bunk and it could be her sitting on the flight deck with her brain short-circuited over the whole thing.

No thank you.

She poured herself another double.

Up on the flight deck, Din finally realized he was sweating through his clothes when his visor fogged up. He tapped his vambrace to turn off his armor’s environmental system, then sat there for another ten minutes, not really giving a shit that his clothes were soaked. Once his sweat cooled and he started to shiver, he decided he did give a shit, and got up to change his clothes in the space behind the galley. Clearing the curtain, he saw that Cara had moved her things up here and moved the second mattress out, mostly likely down next to Rayne. It took him a moment to process, to figure it out, to realize it made sense, the autopilot of his brain operating at a sluggish delay.

He decided to just pick up some fresh clothes and take a shower.

He lost track of time in there, not realizing it until the water ran cold. Had he even used soap? He couldn’t remember. He was thoroughly rinsed at any rate, so he got out and toweled off. He kept his gaze averted from the mirror as he brushed his teeth, unable to face himself. He realized he’d have to keep the helmet on for the duration once he left the fresher, so he reached for the hairdryer.

The warm air made him feel a little better, but only for an instant, remembering where it had come from.

Fully dressed and armored, he stepped out of the fresher and shoved the sweaty stuff in the clothes unit. Seeing Cara at the table, he retrieved a glass and a straw from the galley, took a seat on the other side of the table from her, both of them facing the two Force sensitives in the bunk, poured, and drank.

Cara couldn’t help herself. “Really? Whiskey through a straw?”

Din’s only response was to extend a gloved middle finger in her direction.

They drank together in silence. It wasn’t long before Din’s chin dipped to his chest and jerked back up again. They were both drinking on empty stomachs, but Din had far less experience with that kind of thing than Cara. “Better call it a night, buddy,” she said.

He heaved a sigh, hauled himself out of the chair, took two shuffling steps across the hold, and collapsed onto the mattress that Cara had brought down and placed on the floor next to Rayne.

Cara raised her glass in a silent toast and downed it. Gathering the bottle and glasses, she headed up to the galley, made herself a sandwich for dinner, and went to bed in her new space upstairs.

---

The next day wasn’t much better.

Cara came down to the hold to find Din and the baby already awake. Din was sitting on the mattress on the floor, leaning with his back to Rayne’s bunk, left knee pulled half-way up to his chest, Yadier cradled in his left arm. The baby’s huge eyes blinked with slow sadness, face wet with a steady stream of silent tears.

“Any change?” Cara asked, offering Din a cup of coffee with a clean straw.

He shook his head with a slow turn, ignoring the coffee.

She placed it on the floor next to him. “You or Yadier eat yet?”

Another slow shake.

She made them bacon and eggs. No one in their right mind could resist bacon and eggs.

She placed the plate next to the as-yet untouched coffee. Din removed the glove from his right hand, broke off a piece of bacon, and offered it to Yadier. When the baby didn’t open his mouth, Din tried to wiggle it through his lips, only for it to get pushed out by a tiny tongue. Din offered a chunk of scrambled egg and was met with the same lack of interest.

“Maybe later,” he sighed.

“Want me to take him up so you can eat?”

“Maybe later.”

She left the plate and went back up to make her own.

Din pulled the other knee up and shifted Yadier to face him, the dark, wet eyes of his son breaking his heart. “Ni ceta,” he whispered. I’m sorry. “I made her promise to protect you. At Takodana. I thought I could trust her. I knew I couldn’t make her promise to protect herself, but you…” He shook his head. “She swore she would. She didn’t. I chose the wrong person. I’m sorry.”

The rage he expected, the rage he should have felt, no matter how hard he tried to summon it, wouldn’t come. Wouldn’t slog its way through the sludge of what was left of his mind. Rayne had failed his son, had allowed him to come to grave danger, but he somehow couldn’t bring himself to hate her.

Yadier’s face crunched into a sob as he threw himself into Din’s chestplate, tiny claws of one hand scrabbling for the top edge. Guilt poured through Din’s mind, and he knew it wasn’t his own. It was the first real emotion he’d felt since boarding the Razor Crest yesterday, and it overwhelmed him. He held his son close, hands gentle against the baby’s back and head. “I… don’t understand….”

Yadier closed his eyes, gripping the top of Din’s chestplate with both hands now, and projected the memory, not the sights, but the sensations, of how he had overpowered his mother, how the blowback of the exploding Vibre had taken them both by surprise, and how his mother had protected him, had held it off to the utmost of her abilities, had kept it from reaching him.

Yadier had misjudged, and his mother had paid the price.

And he would never forgive himself.

The gravity of his son’s guilt struck Din like a hammer to the chest as the baby shook and sobbed in his hands. Din’s blame for Rayne fell away and was replaced by concern for his son. He couldn’t let Yadier hold himself responsible for this. Couldn’t let him carry the weight of this responsibility on his tiny shoulders. Rayne had been terrified of their son falling to the Dark Side, and this kind of shame seemed like a direct path to it. He remembered the peculiar sparkle to the rocks in the trench walls at Ilum and connected the dots.

“It was the kyber,” Din whispered to his son. “Remember all the kyber there? It threw everything off. It wasn’t your fault.” The baby’s shaking tapered to a light tremble, cries dying to a small sniff. “The place we’re going… they might be able to help her.”

Yadier let out a wet string of nonsense, the last word of which was buir. Din guessed it meant something along the lines of Save buir.

“Yes,” Din answered. “We’ll try.”

They dozed off and on through the day, and Din got up a few times to stretch his legs, carrying Yadier with him, the baby refusing to be out of direct contact. He kept his back to Rayne as much as possible, unable to process anything more than the periodic tap of his vambrace against his wrist, assuring him that her heart was still going, still moving along, even if the rest of her wasn’t.

At some point, Cara switched out the saline for a glucose solution on the IV and cleared their untouched breakfast. At some other point, Cara brought down dinner. A plate of sliced up meat and vegetables. She put it on the table as Din and Yadier gazed up at her from the floor. “You two have to eat.”

Neither one of them made a move aside from one slow blink of the baby’s eyes, no more readable than the blank T-visor of Din’s helmet.

She rolled her eyes. Never in her life did she imagine that she would have to force-feed a Mandalorian and an alien baby.

She pointed at Din. “You know he has to eat. He won’t do it unless you do. You have to let him see you eat. You said I could take the helmet off to save your life. Can you bring yourself to take it off to save his?”

Din’s shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “It doesn’t quite come to that, but you’ll need to do the baby thing for a few minutes.”

She was willing to compromise. “Deal.”

He handed Yadier to her and they sat at opposite sides of the table. Cara held Yadier to watch as Din made a show of picking up a fork, sticking it into one of the meat cubes, then turned away in his seat, lifted the helmet just enough to get the fork to his mouth, then slid the helmet back down and turned around as he chewed, displaying the empty fork. He’d done something similar with Yadier in their first days after Nevarro, when they’d both been so hungry and exhausted that Din hadn’t had the patience to wait until the baby was asleep to eat, but his son had required far less convincing at that point.

Din handed the fork to Cara, who picked out the juiciest piece she could find, plucked it with the fork, and offered it to the baby.

Yadier breathed a tiny sigh through his nose. Damned if he hadn’t picked up his father’s petulant streak.

“I did it. You can, too,” Din grumbled. Hearing the unconvincing tenor of his own voice, he tried to switch to a warmer tone. “It’s good. You’ll like it.”

Yadier opened his mouth, allowed Cara to guide the meat in, and took hold of it with his tiny teeth. He held it in his mouth for a moment, as if to decide, then gave it a couple of chews and swallowed. A far cry from his usual Force-floating food directly to his mouth and swallowing it whole, but it would work.

---

The third day was a little better.

Din and Yadier ate breakfast with a minimum of arm-twisting. Din gave the baby a bath in the small galley sink. The baby was sedate, unable to muster the energy for his usual splashing.

For the first time since laying Rayne on the bunk, Din looked at her directly. He pulled one of the chairs over from the table and sat by her head, forcing himself to watch her breathe. He remembered their conversation about souls, remembered how she said she was fine with the idea of there being nothing after death. No pain. No suffering.

He wondered where she was right now. Given the state of her pupils, it was unlikely she was aware of anything going on around her. Was she experiencing anything at all? Was she in pain with no way of manifesting it? Was she trapped in darkness and silence? Was she trapped in some other kind of subconscious nightmare? Or was she completely suspended? If they were able to revive her, would she remember any of it?

Would she even be her anymore? Or would only part of her come back? Disconnected bits and pieces that would be unable to coalesce, leaving her shattered and incomplete.

And if that was the case, how bad would it have to be to reconsider? To decide that true nothingness would be more humane? To deliver her from a not-quite-life of suffering to a painless death? And would the people they met there let him do it?

Din saw a lot of ways this could go bad, and very few ways this could go well.

A sudden wave of rage rose up from his gut and gripped the back of his neck. He looked to Yadier, asleep at the far end of the mattress, bundled up in the nest of a blanket.

He didn’t want their son to hear this.

He took the glove off of his right hand and traced the short length of Rayne’s collarbone that was visible from her throat to the edge of her shirt. “If I’d known…” His voice broke and he had to start over. “If I’d known this would happen… I’d have skinned Gideon alive. I’d have made him suffer. I’d have snapped every finger off of his hands. I’d have dislocated every joint in his body. You told me to keep it cool and I did and I wish I hadn’t. I cut his head off with the saber you built with your bare hands and he didn’t even bleed. Fucking blade cauterized everything. He died a painless death and you’re here just… fading away.” His voice broke again and he bowed his head, hands tightening into fists.

An errant memory crossed his mind. Gideon’s words about Alaria. Gideon’s lies. He pushed it aside.

One thing at a time.

“Every Imp I see for the rest of my life will pay for this,” he continued. “I know it’s not what you want. I don’t care.

“It’s what you deserve.”

---

The Razor Crest dropped out of hyperspace over an actual planet, not a radioactive asteroid field.

Score one for Maz.

Din put the ship in orbit, Cara in the port jump seat, Yadier in his pod in the starboard seat. Cara gazed at the blues and greens of a mostly temperate planet. “Looks nice enough from here,” she said.

“Atmosphere’s fine,” Din examined the scanner. Plenty of forests and inland fresh water. Only one major population area. Fair amount of surface-level radio transmissions, but nothing inter-stellar at the moment.”

As if on cue, the com crackled to life. “Unidentified gunship. Identify yourself and state your business.”

Din transmitted whatever registration the dynamic system had come up with at the moment and responded. “Old Republic Gunship Razor Crest. We have three adult humans and a child of an unknown species. One of the adults requires medical attention.”

“Copy, Razor Crest. State your business here.”

At an unmapped, secret planet. Right. “We were sent by Maz Kanata. The injured adult and the child are Force-sensitive.”

“State the affiliations of the adults.”

“Two Rebel war veterans and…” He swallowed, wondering if his next words would get them blown out of orbit. “One Mandalorian.”

The silence on the com stretched for nearly a minute before the reply came back. “Copy, Razor Crest. Follow vector eight-one-eight and land at pad one-one-three. Security and medical are standing by.”

---

Din, Yadier, and Cara found themselves in the waiting room of what looked like a small but well-equipped hospital, particularly for an outer-rim planet. A variety of species staffed the place, and Din found himself in an utter state of discomfort about not knowing where they were or who they were dealing with. Maz had apparently called ahead, so at least the security detail knew what was up. They hadn’t been expecting Cara, but the Starbird tat on her cheek seemed to get her a free pass, so all was well there. They had been whisked to the hospital in speeders, Din explaining what had happened to Rayne on the way, heartened by the fact that the medical staff seemed only mildly surprised by his description of the events. They were then told that a liaison would meet them at the hospital as soon as possible.

After a twenty-minute wait, a woman he figured was fifteen years his junior came out to greet them. “Mando – I’m doctor Sedlack. I treated Rayne. I’d like a word, please.”

Din handed Yadier to Cara and followed the doctor back through the sliding door. She guided him to a small briefing room that contained nothing more than a table and two chairs.

A room for breaking bad news, if there ever was one.

Din took a seat and remained silent, not daring to ask, stomping down the anxiety in his gut all the same. Sedlack sat across from him, folded her hands on the table, and sighed. Sensing that the man before her wanted nothing in the way of untruths or platitudes, she got straight to it. “We normally don’t see patients who are Force-revived after flatline. Jedi are trained not to intervene in such cases because the outcomes are usually poor, usually for the patient and sometimes for the person who revived them. In Rayne’s case, the immediate provision of CPR staved off brain damage. I was able to Force-repair the neurological damage caused by the blowback and overload. She’ll need a day or two in a bacta tank to take care of the rest. Physically, her prognosis is good.”

“But…”

The doctor nodded. “Your son brought Rayne back from the dead. In doing so, he caused a disturbance in the Force. From what I can tell, Rayne’s alignment before this wasn’t entirely to the light, but far enough to not be worrisome. But after an event such as this, she will be far more vulnerable to attacks from the Dark Side.”

“What does that mean?”

“In about seventy percent of patient cases, nightmares followed by violent Force-visions, paranoid delusions, murder attempts, sometimes with success, and conversion to the Dark Side.”

Din’s blood ran cold. Of all the things to fear in the galaxy, only three made Rayne’s list. Armor. Tight spaces. And the Dark Side. “Is there any way to minimize the chances?”

“The percentages are based on Old Republic-era Jedi knights. We don’t have any data on post-purge Force-sensitives, so it’s hard to say how well they’ll apply to Rayne’s case. On the one hand, she has the advantage of a loving family that the knights did not. On the other, her training in Dark Side resistance was cut short. I’ll give her a referral to a meditative specialist who can get her up to speed once she’s out of the tank. The best thing you can do for her is try to get back to normal, inasmuch as you can in a new place.”

Sedlack’s assessment of their situation as a “loving family” made something tighten in Din’s chest. “She’s been with us for less than two months. In hiding the whole time. We don’t have a… normal, yet.”

Sedlack nodded. “I was told that you and your son were on the run for much longer. I’d like to take a quick look at him.”

“Yes. Please.”

They met with Cara and Yadier in an exam room a few minutes later, Din having indicated that he wanted Cara there so he wouldn’t have to explain any findings in his own words if he didn’t have to. And, really, he needed her by his side if there was any less-than-excellent news. He filled her in on Rayne’s prognosis as Sedlack began to examine Yadier, the baby managing a half-smile despite being separated from his mother. “You mentioned there were negative outcomes for the person who does the reviving?” Din asked.

“Sometimes, yes.” The doctor slid her fingers under Yadier’s chin, then around to the back of his head, a look of concentration on her face, apparently using the Force to perform the examination. “It usually manifests as a more gradual turn to the Dark Side. Bringing someone back from the dead can inspire a malevolent craving for power. Like saving a life in such a way gives them a free pass for anything else. But again, we don’t know about untrained Force-sensitives. And certainly not about children. He may well be too young, developmentally, for this to have much of an impact on him.” Exam complete, she ran a finger along his ear. “Your son checks out for now, Mando. His cortisol levels are elevated, but that’s to be expected given the circumstances. I want you both back here in two weeks when things have settled down for you. I’ll be able to do a more meaningful exam then.” She pulled a pad of paper out of her coat pocket, wrote a few things on the top sheet, tore it off, and gave it to Din. “You’re hypertensive. I can tell that from a mile away. Lay off the salt. Eat more vegetables. Relax. Fill this script at the pharmacy and take your meds. We can probably take you off of them after you check back in.”

Cara lifted an eyebrow and gave Din a smirk. “That’s what you get for a lifetime of dining on ration bars.”

He responded with a menacing tilt of the helmet. “Maybe check Dune’s liver function while she’s here.”

Sedlack turned to Cara. “You can have an exam in a private room if you like.”

“Here’s good,” Cara responded, rising to Din’s challenge.

Sensing the friendly rivalry, Sedlack reached up to press her hands against Cara’s chin much as she had done with the child, then around to the back of her neck. She stepped back after a few moments. “You’re fine.”

“Hear that, Mando? Doctor says I’m fine.” She flashed him a wicked grin.

He let out a sigh that was almost a growl.

---

Din sat in front of the biggest tank of bacta he’d ever seen in his life.

He’d heard of such things before. Tanks meant to submerge an entire person into for the purpose of treating internal injuries. Healing that would otherwise take months or never occur at all was accelerated down to days. Enormously expensive. But Zavin had given Din full access to Rayne’s account, so no problem there.

Rayne floated in this one now, eyes closed, arms partially raised and the short curls on her head suspended in neutral buoyancy. She was clothed in a white, form-fitting, bacta-permeable tank top and briefs. Her body convulsed in slow, rolling waves, a result of the neural stimulation provided to prevent further muscle atrophy. He found it unnerving. He had to continuously remind himself that she was not, in fact, drowning.

Yadier’s reaction had been completely different. He’d reached out for the tank upon first seeing his mother in it, and Din had obliged him, allowing him to press his face and palms to the glass. The baby had closed his eyes and sighed, truly relaxing for the first time since Ilum. Din had to admit that his son’s reaction took the edge off, trusting the baby’s judgment that things were, at the moment, ok.

Cara had ducked out to do some “recon.” He took that to mean finding a gym. Or a bar. Likely both. He couldn’t blame her. She’d been cooped up in a cramped ship with the Clan of Misery for three days, nursing them along the entire time. Definitely not what she had signed up for. He got the feeling that she would head back to Nevarro as soon as Rayne was up and around.

The fun part was over. There were no heads for Cara to bust around here.

Wherever here was.

Yadier was snoring in the crook of his left arm when there was a soft knock at the doorway. Din’s right hand fell to cover his sidearm on instinct, but he pulled it away when his eyes fell upon a diminutive Rodian in administrative-looking garb. “Can I help you?” His voice was little more than a growl, more hostile than he intended, but he was too tired to care.

“Ah! No. Actually I’m, ah, here to help you. I’m your liaison. You’re the Mando that Maz Kanada sent, correct?”

“Sorry. Yes.”

“Excellent!” The Rodian pulled up a chair and sat facing Din, huge dark eyes filled with pinpricks of light. “You may call me Luc. Am I correct that you just go by Mando?”

“You are.”

“Excellent!” Luc scrutinized the tablet she held before her. “As to our patient here, you said she was raised at the Jedi Temple until the fall of the Republic, but we have no records of a Rayne Rollins ever being there.”

“That’s not her real name.”

“Ah! A pseudonym. Common among Jedi who survived the Purge. Do you know the name she used while at the temple?”

“No.”

“Hrm…” The Rodian’s face seemed to frown. “Do you happen to have any proof that she was a member of the Order?”

Din reached to the small of his back, unclipped Rayne’s lightsaber from his belt, and held it out in front of him. Keeping the hilt horizontal , he activated the blade.

The Rodian’s face brightened, and not just from the illumination of the saber. “Excellent! Yes, that will do nicely. So this is the blade you used to defeat Moff Gideon and the Darksaber?”

“Yes.” Din deactivated the saber and returned it to his belt.

“Oh, excellent indeed.” Luc pecked away at the tablet. “And you are now in possession of the Darksaber?”

“What’s this all about?”

“Oh! Sorry. I’m sure that, as a Mandalorian, you understand the need for secrecy surrounding this world.”

“Of course.”

“And the need for vetting the qualifications of the people we allow to stay here.”

Din inclined his helmet to the liaison. “I am in possession of the Darksaber.”

“Very good.” After a few more taps, Luc lay the tablet flat in her lap. “I will tell you what you need to know at present. You will be told more as things progress. Or… not. If they don’t.”

“I understand.”

“Excellent!” Luc nodded. “The name of this world is Genesaria. This world is strong with the Force. For millennia, it has drawn Force-sensitives and those who, while not sensitive to the Force, are in some way bound to those who are.”

“Their families.” Din’s voice croaked out over the modulator.

“Yes.”

Din looked down at Yadier, still asleep in his arm, apparently unperturbed by the conversation. “Can you tell me anything about him? About his family?”

“I can.”

Din couldn’t bring himself to meet the Rodian’s star-filled gaze, keeping his eyes on Yadier, a deep sigh heaving through him.

“His family was attacked by Sith agents forty years ago. We don’t know exactly what happened, only that the bodies of his parents and the agents were found together, and the baby was missing.”

Din stroked Yadier’s ear with a shaking hand, sorrow of the tragedy the baby had endured and the understanding of how it so closely mirrored his own crushing his heart. And yet, if his birth parents were no more…

“As far as we can tell, the Sith agents were followed by child traffickers. We think they took possession of the child. Our best guess is that he was bought and sold as an Underworld commodity for the next four decades. Possessed by those who meant to groom him as a personal weapon.”

Four decades. This small, sweet little boy had been a captive for forty years. Almost the entirety of Din’s life. Traded like a piece of property. “And no one thought to go looking for him?” Anger edged his voice.

“Oh, they did, for many years. As you can see, he is a small commodity. Easy to be moved quickly from one system to the next. Easily hidden. Efforts to rescue him served only to drive up his price, putting him at greater risk, so it was decided to call off the pursuit. Bide time and hope he would one day make his own way here.

“There are many who are overjoyed already at his return, Mandalorian. We are grateful for what you have done.”

“There are people of his species here, then?”

“A few, yes.”

“Does he have any surviving family?”

“No.”

“Does he have a name?”

“He does,” Luc’s sparkling gaze dropped to the child in question and the baby returned it, as if in silent conversation. “But he doesn’t remember it and he rather likes the one you gave him.”

And given those tiny grains of hope, Din clung to them with all his might.

As if sensing his thoughts, Luc continued. “We will not make any hasty decisions. He will remain with you until the arrangement that best fits his needs is determined. That arrangement may or may not include you, as you have already come to understand. Do know that whatever comes to pass, he will be safe, loved, and well-cared-for here.”

“I’m sure.” Din barely got the words out, holding his son in his arms, watching his Jedi convulse in slow motion in a giant tank of bacta.

---

The first thing she was aware of was warmth.

Rayne recalled a distant memory of playing in the snow. A training exercise. Her class had been sent to an arctic area for cold-weather instruction. Building snow forts and digging tunnels through the drifts serving as education in survival techniques. It had been fun until they’d had to spend the night in the shelters they’d built. No one had really been able to sleep, the inescapable cold seeping through the layers they wore despite the shelters they’d built against the wind, shivering all night long. The next morning they were allowed back inside the Temple and they all jumped into the warm pool supplied by an underground geothermal spring.

Sliding into a hot tub is one thing. Sliding into a hot tub after freezing your ass off for sixteen hours?

Fucking glorious.

Whatever she was in right now was a lot like that.

Warmth that soaked right down to her bones. Down into her gut. Up into her skull. Pushing the cold out through the ends of her fingers and toes.

The second thing she was aware of was the slow, steady electrical pulse through her body. Not painful. Just enough to tighten everything up, then let it all go. Vaguely orgasmic. The pins-and-needles tingle would start at the back of her neck, reach its fingers down through the rest of her body, every inch, every muscle would seize in its grasp, then dissipate, down from her neck, out through her feet.

She heard breathing, the closed off sound of air rushing through pipes in water. After several minutes, she recognized it as her own. She became aware of the mask over her nose and mouth, the tube shoved between her teeth and down her throat. Something about the rest of her state of being made her not care about it.

She could not open her eyes. Didn’t really care to. Wherever she was, she was safe.

Bacta, she realized. I’m in a bacta tank.

She’d been in one before. During the war. An explosion on the hangar deck had thrown both her and Hayes forty feet through the air before hitting the bulkhead.

What had put her in this one?

Oh, no. Ilum. They’d gone to Ilum. The last thing she remembered was watching Din stumble and seeing Gideon drag the Darksaber through Din’s chestplate. Oh, no…

And then…

Giggling. Her son was giggling. A distant warble through the bacta bubble. Buir safe Cara safe Clan safe happy together warm. The click of tiny claws on transparisteel.

The dull thunk of a beskar helmet against the tank, and what she recognized as Din’s overwhelming anxiety poured right through it, absent of words, nothing but pure emotion.

I’m. Ssssoooo. Stoned.

Those were the only words she could summon.

Din’s anxiety was replaced by a flood of relief. We made it. He pushed the thought to her.

Any other response she had was lost as she slipped back under.

---

Din woke up to the smell of cinnamon and something sweet.

He startled in his seat when he opened his eyes to see Cara sitting across from him, eating waffles, Yadier in her lap with a waffle of his own shoved half-way into his mouth.

How had he slept through her arrival? How had he slept through his son leaving his grasp?

“Good morning,” she said, doing her best to stifle a grin.

Din groaned as he got up and stretched. The seat he’d fallen asleep in was relatively comfortable as far as hospital furniture went, but sleeping more-or-less upright had stopped working out well for him ten years ago. “You’re in high spirits. Recon go well?”

All efforts at grin stifling failed. “You could say that.”

Din regarded her with a tilt of the head and saw that her eyes were positively sparkling.

Oh. Oh.

He snorted. “You work fast.”

“Dude. Pickings are slim on Nevarro.”

“I know.”

“And I totally get this whole banging-a-Force-sensitive thing now. That was mind-blowing.”

“Cara…” He motioned to Yadier in her lap. “The baby.”

She set her plate on the table next to her and covered Yadier’s ears with her hands. “I totally get this whole banging-a-Force-sensitive thing now. That was mind-blowing!” Her hands left his ears as she picked her plate back up. Yadier giggled around his waffle as if he got the joke. “Seriously, I’m not sure I can go back to normal people after that.”

Din tilted his head back and she could almost hear his eyes roll as he sighed. “Welcome to the club.”

“The doctor told me Rayne woke up last night.”

“For a few seconds, yeah. Said something about being stoned and went back under.”

Cara raised an eyebrow, and it took Din a moment to realize what he’d just said. He motioned between Yadier and the tank by way of explanation. “They… transmit, sometimes. Get ready for that if you go back for seconds. It’s a trip.”

“Hell of a club. Anyway. Yeah, get ready for her to have some serious withdrawal when she comes out of that thing.”

---

Rayne woke up again later in the afternoon after just over a day in the tank. Din and Yadier were ushered away for the messy process of hauling her out, extubation, and showering the bacta off. They met back up with her in a more traditional room with a bed instead of an enormous tank. Yadier reached out for his mother with both hands, chirping and trilling and babbling, and she happily accepted him from Din.

His heart skipped a beat when, for the first time since things had gone horribly wrong, he was able to look her in the eye and see that she looked… fine. Her eyes were fine, all of the previous bloodshot webs of broken capillaries were gone. Pupils were symmetrical. Alive with light.

After all that, she was fine. She was fine.

For now.

He got her up to speed as well as he could. She didn’t remember much from Ilum, so he told her everything that had happened. Her success with bringing the Vibre down onto Gideon’s base, Cara’s success in mowing down the Imps, Din’s success at besting Gideon. The price she and Yadier had paid for it all. The possible consequences they could both face.

The grain of hope that they may be allowed to stay here with Yadier.

Cara’s apparent success with the local Force-sensitive population.

Rayne was released after a few more hours, and they caught a speeder for a ride closer to the center of the city where Din had secured temporary lodging. The suite was small, but clean and modern, with a good view of the city from twenty floors up, and an absolutely glorious bed.

The baby was put to bed.

The lights went out. The curtains were drawn. The helmet came off.

Pineapple. Her hair smelled like pineapple.

That’s what high-grade bacta smelled like, apparently.

For the first time in far too many days, he brought his lips to hers, tentative. She pressed back. The armor and clothes came off and she guided him to the bed. He sat with his back to the wall, and she sat in his lap, facing him, legs wrapped around him. Skin-to-skin. She began to shiver, the onset of bacta withdrawal. He had kept his cloak nearby in anticipation of this purpose, and he wrapped it around them both now. Skin-to-skin, lips-to-lips, lips-to-skin, breathing each other in, proving to themselves and to each other that they were both still alive, still not quite believing it.

“I need you to promise me something,” she whispered in the dark.

“Anything,” he breathed, caught up in the moment, not thinking. “Anything…”

“End me. If I fall to the Dark Side, I need you to end me.”

Anything but that. He pulled his head away, holding her face in his hands, and what he would give to be able to look her in the eye in this moment. “What?”

“Please, Din. I don’t want to live like that. I can’t live like that.”

“Rayne-”

“You’ll understand if you see it happen. It won’t really be me. The real me will be dead already.”

“Rayne-” he repeated in protest.

Her memory of him raising his blaster to Xi’an’s head and putting a bolt through her flashed through his mind. He recoiled against it.

“You did it for her. You can do it for me.”

Rage welled up in the back of his throat. “That’s not fair. That was different.”

She brought her hands to the side of his face and he wanted so much to turn away from them. “The only thing that will be different is that I will be so much worse. I will try to kill you. I will either try to kill Yadier or turn him with me. You cannot allow either of those things to happen.”

He brought forward a memory of his own, pressing it to her as he moved his hands to cover hers. Curled behind her in the bunk on the Razor Crest, dark except for the control panel lights out in the hold, his face and the inside of his helmet wet with tears, holding her as she shook with her own angry sobs. I’m sorry. I won’t ever do that again. I won’t ever draw a weapon on you again. The blackout-induced misunderstanding that had driven him to corner her with his sidearm drawn, dredging up her memory of Eagle’s attempt to kill her. “I promised you,” he said out loud, voice broken with regret. “I promised you I would never do that again, and now you’re asking me to break that promise.”

“Yes. I am. If this happens, it’ll be me and Eagle all over again. Only I’ll take Eagle’s place, and our son will take mine.” A memory… no… a vision of a possible future, of Rayne bringing the blade of her lightsaber to Yadier’s throat…

“Stop it!” Din was somewhere between shouting and crying, trying to pull her hands away from his head. “Please, I-”

“Don’t let it happen!” Rayne was somewhere between begging and crying. “Please…”

“Okay,” he finally yielded. How many people had he killed with no questions asked? How many people had he killed only because he’d been paid to do so? And now… the woman who was the mother of his son, the woman who had quite literally given her life for his family, was begging him to kill her if the ultimate consequence of her return to life came to pass. The cruelty of the exchange threatened to crush his heart. The unfairness of it all. She had sacrificed everything, and the reward she may get would be the dissolution of her soul, a metamorphosis into a monster. The price he would pay for her sacrifice was the responsibility of extinguishing the monster before it could destroy everything they had worked so hard for.

He understood the necessity of it. He understood her fear.

But he wasn’t sure he could pull the trigger. God help him, of all the times he’d done it, of all the times he’d pulled the trigger and ended a life without a second thought, he wasn’t sure he could do it against her, even at her request.

Still, he could take the responsibility of getting it done.

“I promise,” he said, bringing her head to his shoulder, breathing in the pineapple scent of her hair. “I promise you I won’t let it happen. I promise you I won’t let you hurt our son. I promise I will find a way to end your life as quickly and painlessly as possible.”

“Thank you,” she breathed into his skin.

They stayed like that for a long time as she continued to tremble, and he felt hot tears roll down his back. They both knew it was just the withdrawal. Both knew what to expect, Rayne from her own previous experience, Din from what Cara had told him of hers. He would give her whatever she wanted, whatever else she asked of him. He owed her that much, and more.

And when she wanted him, he gave himself up to her, understanding the tears and shaking for what they were, knowing to take his cues instead from her hands and her lips, even if it was all so unsettling. They took their time, sometimes moving, sometimes stilling all together, pausing to contemplate the links between them, his flesh in hers, her mind in his. When release finally claimed them, the rush of endorphins quelled her shaking and dried her tears.

They lay down. Exhausted. Spent. She curled back into him and he draped his arm over her shoulder. The thought of too good to be true only made it half-way through his mind before he realized that wasn’t it at all. Yes, they had gotten very lucky. But heavy consequences and the uncertainty of whether they would even be allowed to remain a family still hung over them.

One step at a time. He allowed himself to enjoy this one moment as it was.

Pineapple. He had never noticed Rayne ever smelling like anything in particular before. But now, even after showering and brushing her teeth, she smelled and tasted like the pineapple of high-grade bacta. He considered himself lucky in that he was quite fond of pineapple, but the association would be a weird one if it persisted; if the flesh of one on his tongue would remind him of the other. He supposed much worse associations could be made; god knew he smelled like blood and dirt half the time and couldn’t imagine what odors Rayne associated with him. He’d grown so used to the smells of beskar, leather, and wool that he no longer noticed them, and it didn’t occur to him that those were the things that brought him to mind for her.

He breathed her in. Pineapple. Sweet and tart on his lips. Something to be eaten on a beach with the sun beating down on them after a long swim as thoughts of Methuselah drifted through his mind, camped out by the lake at the edge of the forest.

It all disintegrated to grains of sand as sleep claimed him.

---

Rayne woke up alone, late-morning sunlight flooding the bedroom.

If anything, she was the early riser and Din was the night owl. Getting back up after she had fallen asleep at night was not unusual for him, sometimes needing a little more time to wind down, needing a little more alone time after years of solitude. Usually he would just read, getting himself up-to-speed on their next destination, or sometimes tend to his gear. That meant he was the one to sleep in on the mornings following his late nights while Rayne got up.

So it was with a fair amount of confusion that she woke up to an empty bed for the first time since their first night together.

A note on the nightstand caught her attention: Took Yadier to get breakfast to bring back. Stay in bed if you’re tired. Be back soon.

She… felt pretty ok, all things considered. Bacta was glorious stuff, and bacta tanks were glorious things, withdrawal aside. Still, it seemed wise to catch more sleep if she could, so she slid back under the covers, not sure if she would actually fall back to sleep.

She woke up to a light weight dropping onto the bed, followed by a giggle and a stream of babbled nonsense. She opened her eyes and smiled at her son as he crawled the rest of the way across the mattress and patted her face. “Good morning to you too, ad’ika.”

“Hey…” Din’s voice was soft as he sat next to her on the edge of the bed, taking his glove off to run a finger along her jaw. She took his hand in hers and brought his fingertips to her lips. “How’re you feeling?”

“Not bad, actually.” She curled his fingers under her chin. “Thank you for… last night. I know that was weird.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Which part?”

“All of it.” She kissed his fingertips again. “Seems like you wrote something about breakfast?”

“I did. It’s out in the main room, if you’re up for it. I can bring it in if you’re not.”

“I’m ready to get up.” She swung her legs out and turned to pick up Yadier before standing, but he reached out a hand to stop her.

“Hang on. Watch…” He walked over to the door and turned his head back to the bed, looking at Yadier. “Olaror.” Come on.

With a tiny growl of effort, the baby crawled to the edge of the bed, and then leapt off of it, landing with a light thump next to Din, sticking the landing on his feet without so much as a bobble.

Rayne gave him a knowing smile, recalling a demonstration Master Yoda once provided to her class, a lesson on not judging opponents by their size. Even back then, she was taller than the legendary Master, even if not by much, and had been astonished at the unnatural way he moved, jumping and twirling, changing direction in mid-air, his lightsaber nothing but a blur as he sparred with one of the other Masters. She had wondered if Yadier would ever be capable of the same kind of movement, and this was promising.

“He’s been jumpy all morning,” Din said.

“He likes it here.”

Din nodded. “He does.”

---

Din walked back to the spaceport with Cara so she could pick up a few of her things from the Razor Crest before taking the daily transport shuttle to Jedha, then back to Nevarro. Jedha, with its many Jedi sympathizers, was the ideal gateway for Genesaria, and all traffic and trade going to or from Genesaria went through secret ports there. Jedha trade officials, having only a vague idea of the secret world they were protecting, were happy to turn a blind eye in service to the larger power of the Force.

They walked in companionable silence for much of it. The weather was nice; sunny, with a warm, dry breeze. The city, though small, appeared lovely by all accounts. High-rises tall enough to be inspiring but not overwhelming housed ground-floor retail of all sorts of restaurants, shops, and services, shot through with little parks and greenspaces here and there, populated by small children and their caretakers. They passed by temples of several different religions, some grand, some humble.

Cara told Din all she had learned from her new Force-sensitive friend; about half of the population was Force-sensitive; a quarter of those were surviving Jedi, either having become disillusioned with the Order and having left before Order 66, or were survivors of the Purge. The other three-quarters had never made their way to the Temple at Coruscant in their youth, the Purge had happened before they had their chance, dodging the cosmic bullet of Imperial genocide, descendants who had inherited the gift, or decedents of the non-sensitives who, unsurprisingly, sometimes inherited the gift, perhaps long-dormant in their family bloodlines. Cara’s friend was among the group that had dodged the bullet, a cargo ship pilot who kept plugging in the coordinates for this place into his navicomp by mistake and having to clear them out, then one day said “screw it,” went to where they led, and decided to stay. The other half of the population were friends and family of the Force-sensitives who made their way here or decedents of either who did not inherit the gift.

A multi-species, multi-creed world that was as welcoming as it was guarded; new Force-sensitive arrivals were generally granted asylum baring any obvious Dark Side red flags, but all new non-sensitive companion arrivals were thoroughly vetted. The criteria were not standardized; people were rejected for a variety of reasons, and it happened often enough that admission was far from a sure thing.

Leave it to Cara to actually complete her recon while getting laid at the same time.

“What do you think my chances of getting to stay are?” he asked.

She blew out a sigh between pursed lips. “Damned if I know. Crime rate is low, here. I don’t think they have much use for bounty hunters and mercenaries.”

I don’t belong here. He remembered forcing the words through his teeth to Omera, knowing Sorgan had no use for someone who was good for nothing but hunting and killing people once the raiders had been dealt with. It came up again on Coruscant when Rayne had first brought up the possibility of fitting in with their son’s people, and then again at Takodana. He wondered if he would have to say the same words to Rayne upon exile from this place. I don’t belong here. Once again, he felt the fissures of his forfeit soul crack and deepen, the fissures between the part that wanted to love, the part that wanted to destroy, and the part that wanted to run away. The power of the Force at Takodana made those fissures apparent to him, and the power of the Force at this place was doing the same once more.

He shook his head, knowing today wasn’t the day he would make any headway with it. He decided to pry at Cara’s motivations to distract himself. “Why are you leaving so soon after making friends so quickly?”

“Like I said, I don’t think they have much use for bounty hunters and mercenaries here. Sparring at the gym only takes me so far. Nevarro is a good mix of laying low and keeping busy. I may still come back to visit, though.” She gave him a smile and a wink.

They made it to the Crest, and she gathered her things as he packed the repeater gun in its case so she could get it through with the cargo on her transport back. When she realized he meant to give it to her, she shook her head. “Mando… Din… you already paid me for the job. This one and the last one. You bought my ticket back. We’re square.”

Well, really, the funding had come from Rayne, but that was beside the point. “Consider it a down payment on another job.”

“Oh yeah?” She smiled. “What’s that?”

He paused, and she watched his shoulders rise and fall with the sigh he breathed in and let out. “Rayne’s prognosis. There’s a decent chance the Dark Side will get her.” Another pause, and Cara waited through it. “She made me promise to kill her if that came to pass.”

Cara’s eyes never left the T-visor of his helmet, remembering the ghost-grip around her throat as his son had choked her, understanding the dangers of the Dark Side, understanding his meaning with perfect clarity. “You want me to pull the trigger if you can’t.”

“Yes.”

She knew this wasn’t like him. Knew he wasn’t one to ask others to do… things like this. Anyone else would have called him a coward, but she knew better. “You love her, don’t you?”

For a moment, he was silent. Frozen. Unreadable. She knew she’d hit a nerve.

“I…” Din started, then stopped. Then started again. “I promised her before that I wouldn’t draw a weapon on her. I’d rather not break it.”

Cara wondered what had transpired that led to the necessity of him making such a promise, betting there was an again somewhere that he’d left out in those words. “Nevarro is four days away. What if I don’t make it back in time?”

“This kind of thing doesn’t happen over night. I know the symptoms. I should see it coming. I plan to separate her and Yadier. Get her on the Crest. Bring her to you. Try to talk her down on the way, shove her in carbonite if that fails. It’ll probably take both of us to make it work anyway. But you need to be the one who pulls the trigger.”

“You really thought this through.”

“I have.”

She tipped her chin up. “I’ll do it. I’ll make it quick. Painless as possible.”

“I know you will.”

“What about Yadier?” His prognosis was less dire, but it was still a possibility.

Din shook his head. “I can’t. It’ll have to be you.”

“Okay.”

---

Rayne walked with Luc as the Rodian gave her a tour of the Jedi temple at the heart of the city, Yadier floating between them in his pod. Much smaller than the temple at Coruscant, it still held an air of reverence, still evoked the spirit of a holy place, and the presence of the Force within its walls was unmistakable.

Not quite home, but close.

Very close.

Yadier was, predictably, fascinated, eyes huge and round, taking it all in, his mouth a small O of awe. Rayne wondered how much more of it he could sense than she. If, like how UV-perceiving insects were able to see so much more to flowers than humans, could he see additional, invisible layers? Could he hear inaudible voices? Could he feel untouchable pressures? She wanted so much to ask him, wanted so much for him to be able to tell her, and hoped that she would live long enough for these opportunities to someday come to fruition.

“The Jedi here don’t practice as an Order per se,” Luc continued. “This place serves for the survivors to observe however they wish, but Force-sensitives are not trained in the old ways of the Knights. They and their families come here to learn how to manage their abilities in a safe manner. We forbid the use of the Force to cause harm, and children are taught how to treat others who do not possess these gifts with fairness.”

“How well has that worked?”

“Ha! Not with perfection,” Luc admitted. “But! Well enough. We keep careful records of aggression on both Force-sensitives and non-sensitives, and rates have remained level for millennia. We are always looking for ways to improve, but understand that we will never reach perfection.”

“So… no Masters. No Padawans. No Gathering for Younglings.”

“Masters! Yes. Surviving Knights, yes. The rest, no.”

“So the only alternative for those who want to become Jedi is to go to Skywalker.”

“Ah, yes. Correct.”

Rayne frowned.

“This troubles you,” Luc said.

“The only alternative for those who want to become Jedi is to go to the son of the guy who slaughtered Younglings and became Darth Vader. The guy who butchered billions throughout the galaxy.”

“Ah, heh. Yes. Correct.”

“And no one sees a problem with that?”

“The Masters here all lost their Padawans three and a half decades ago. They recognized that Anakin Skywalker’s failures were the failures of the old Order. They recognize the hubris of the old Order and have been reluctant to recreate its failures.”

“The old Order had its faults for sure,” Rayne said. “And I admit that I reject a lot of what I learned there. But I don’t understand abandoning it all together. Surely there’s something worth salvaging.”

“In that, you and the Council disagree.”

Rayne sighed, admitting to herself that she had much to learn on this matter before she could pursue it further.

They reached the end of the long, vaulted, high-ceilinged hallway they had been walking down, facing a tall set of wooden double-doors, worked with intricate carvings that Rayne found vaguely familiar. Yadier scooted forward in his pod, eyes focused on the doors, senses focused on what lay behind them, ears pricked and twitching.

“Are you ready to meet the Council?” Luc asked.

Rayne looked at her son and smiled. “I think so.”

The doors opened of their own accord, swinging out into the hall, and the three of them went through.

The Council chamber here, much like the one in the temple at Coruscant, was small and humble, simple seats arranged in a circle.

Rayne froze.

The ten Council Masters were standing as a group in the middle of the circle, facing the newcomers. Eight of the ten of them were Yadier’s species.

Eight living ghosts of the ancient Grand Master from her childhood.

Recovering, she forced one foot in front of the other, and led her son to them.

Luc motioned to the one at the front of the group. “May I introduce Master Yandia.”

“Greetings, Rayne Rollins. A long journey to us, you have had.” The small green Master’s gravelly-but-kind voice was so much like Yoda’s that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

She bowed her head. “My son’s father’s journey was much longer.”

Yandia gave a warm chuckle, a sound so familiar that it made her shiver. “Long before you met the Mandalorian, your journey began.”

She inclined her head to Yadier. “Then my son’s journey was even longer.”

“Hm! Correct, in that you are.” He turned to Yadier’s pod and Force-lowered it so they could look each other in the eye. Yadi’s face lit up and a grin nearly split him in half as he let out a delighted squeal, reaching out with both hands. Yandia looked back up to Rayne. “Hold your son, may I?”

“Please do.”

Yadier was Force-lifted out of the pod and brought into Yandia’s arms, and the other seven gathered around. Gratitude. A sense of overwhelming gratitude flooded her mind as they probed her son with the gentle reaches of their minds, charmed with his smile, captivated by the light in his eyes, adoring the alertness of his ears, and most of all, relieved by the happiness in his heart.

Their lost son was finally home.

For twenty minutes, they surrounded him in a silent reverie, exchanging eye contact and unspoken conversations, passing him around. He responded with giggles and trills, tears of joy streaming down his face, enjoying the attention from faces that looked so much more like his own, minds that operated so much more like his own. When they had their fill, they placed him back in his pod, and Yandia turned once more to Rayne.

“Bestowed great care you and the Mandalorian have on him. Loves you both very much, he does. Thank you enough, we cannot.”

“The Mandalorian and I love him as well. We have come to see him as our own son and adopted him as such according to the Mandalorian’s custom. We would very much appreciate the honor of remaining here with him as his parents.”

Yandia smiled. “As a Jedi survivor, you are welcome to stay. You have proven your worth as Yadier’s mother, and this honor we grant you with joy.”

Rayne’s heart hammered in her chest. “And the Mandalorian?”

Yandia’s ears flattened just a bit. “We will begin that deliberation tomorrow, if you are feeling well enough for it?”

“I am.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu

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hazbinextgeneration · 1 year

Text

Safe Haven’s Angel Book1 Ch53

(Warning: Mention of character death/implied character death.)

It had been a few days since that day. She had been through a full blown panic attack which lasted the entire way back which took longer since Ms. Carrie RIPPED Miracle's father a new one with ...language she'd rather not repeat. Had to find everyone who ran off and herd them all back onto the bus. AND drive all the way back to school on top of calling her parents who rushed over faster than expected and were filled in. Before consoling here and taking her home where...well most of the time she had been just laying holed up in bed and just...taking all in that happened. Her parents would give her food and her friends would swing by to give her her homework and let her copy her notes so she wouldn't fall behind on grades to which she did do to take her mind off things but other than that she'd basically been on autopilot. Speaking of which it was about time that Cappuccino or Miracle stopped by to drop off her homework and she could already hear footsteps walking towards her door. Her parents must've given one of her friends the go ahead to come up to her room and when they knocked she answered in a monotone voice.

"Come in."

She stayed curled up in the blankets as the door opened and someone shuffled inside and over to her bed where she laid expecting to hear the voice of cap- "Hey, Sleepyhead. Your dad said you were up here."

In an instant her eyes popped open and her head poked out the blankets seeing a grey blurry image of a person above her. She scrambled to reach out a hand to snatch her glasses from the night stand and plop them back onto her face. And slowly the form of none other than Crossbones appeared before her as he softly smiled down at her....and a squeak left her throat making him chuckle.

"C-Crossbones!?," She squeaked sitting up quickly and staring at him as he stood there. "W-W-What are you doing here?!"

He answered her by holding up a small binder. "Mirry n' Cap are a bit busy with family drama. So the teach asked me to drop these notes off for you....And if I'm being honest." His hand leaned up to rub his cheek. "I just...wanted to see if you were alright too."

Vikki continued to stare at him before looking away with a sigh. "Thanks but I'm fine." She reached out and took the binder from him. "And thanks for this. I'll be fine from here-"

"Was that vampire really your uncle?," he asked and watched as she paused for a few seconds processing what he just asked before snapping up towards him wide eyed. "I heard what he said to you when Indy was holding him off. And ..he did look kinda like your dad. Is that why you're upset?"

"I-...W-Why would you just ask me something like that!?"

"Because I'm scared for you." His blunt answer got her to shut up for a moment from the sheer honesty as he tilted his head. "I haven't been able to see you for a while and I was really worried. We're all pretty worried about you, Vick. ...What's going on? Who was that guy?"

Vikki still looked at him for a long long moment until she completely deflated and sighed. "......How much do you want to know?"

"As much as you're willing to tell me. ....I promise not to tell the others if you don't want too, Vick. And you don't have to tell me if you don't want too. I won't pressure you too. I just want to make sure you're ok."

She remained silent for a very, very long moment before she sighed...and spoke. "Y-Yeah. H-He's my ...'Uncle' Simon. But I haven't seen him in years!" She shivered. "And I don't want to ever see him again."

".....Why was he after you?"

".....I don't know. I haven't seen him since the-......T-The incident."

"What incident?"

"....Crossbones. Do you remember that car accident I got into a long time ago in elementary school?" He nodded. "In the hospital, they said I probably wouldn't make it. But then my Uncle came in and..." her eyes widened again as she shivered and a hand reached up to clutch her shoulder. "He....b-bit me....I guess something about that helped my body heal because I'm here now. B-But I SWEAR I don't know why he came back!"

"So....You're like part vampire or something?"

She furiously shook her head no before looking back at him. ''N-No! You can only change into a vampire if the vampire wanted you too or if you're born one. Thank god neither happened to me but....I still don't know why. And I think I'd rather not know."

"...Does anyone else know about this?"

"Just my parents. And my Uncle Lenny. ....And you now. B-But PLEASE DON'T TELL ANYONE!!"

Crossbones held up his hands to her worried face. "Hey. I already promised I wouldn't! And you know I would never break a promise to you or anyone else."

She stared at him a moment longer before she sighed in relief. "T-Thank you."

"Uh yeah. No problem."

An awkward small silence passed between the two of them now that the tense air was aired out and only broken when Crossbones gestured to her work binder.

"H-Hey. Mr. Turquoise assigned me the same work. Do you wanna...work on it together?"

She remained silent for a long moment before she nodded. "Y-Yeah...I think I'd like that a lot."

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

She didn't WANT to talk to him. And Miracle made that very, very, VERY clear whenever the two would come across one another. Never answering the door when Fitch knocked no matter how much he knocked. Never answering him and giving him the silent treatment whenever he did try to engage or if it came to it, literally flying out the window just to avoid him all together when he literally tried to stop her to try to talk to him. Cappuccino wasn't doing much better as she refused to help talk to him when he asked and had even gotten into a fight with her Uncle Hatchet. They were close. Fitch NEVER got into a fight with Uncle Hatchet. Yet he did once he showed back up. After she had returned how absolutely breaking down into her worried Aunt and Uncle's arms and explaining through sobs and tears what her father had done. She still remembered how much he tore into her father when he got home. She didn't remember all of it. But some of it.

"You allowed Miracle to date someone without informing me! Let alone a demon from hell! And even worse someone who works for the Devil himself!?"

"You tried to KILL him! How else was she supposed to react!? We knew you would've taken this way too far! And you're lucky the Peacekeepers managed to smooth things over with them or else it could've been your dam job!"

"So you all were ok with just lying to me!?"

"We weren't going to tell you until Miracle felt safe! Clearly you don't respect her boundaries or trust her to make her own decisions!"

"He's a demon-"

"IS THAT REALLY YOUR ONLY EXCUSE!? That the kid just so happened to be a demon!? One that I'll remind you is allowed to BE HERE! Is everyone who happens to be a demon really worth killing to you!? Malcom's wife is a demon! Are you going to go galivanting off and kill your brother's wife because she's one?! Mavric is half demon! Are you telling me that our own nephew isn't safe from his own dam uncle because you're going to kill him for something he can't control?!" Her father didn't answer him after that. "GO ON! Tell me! He's a demon! She's a demon! Whether you like it or not you're related to some and they're related to you! Does that make them a walking bullseye to you too or are they the only exception because they're family?! Does Miracle have to worry about her own Auntie and cousin? Or her classmates? Or god forbid any friends she makes too who happen to be demon too! Or are you forgetting that 'demon' saved a girl's life from a Vampire attack, Fitch! Did you just chose to skim over that bit because your projecting onto others!?"

Then there was more silence before Fitch did dare speak again. "She's my daughter."

"For fucks sake, Fitch! You've barely even ever been in her life! You've never seen her first dance or seen her grow up! You don't even know what her favorite color is do you? ...Face it. You've always put your work before everyone. Your wife, me, our brothers, and ESPECIALLY Miracle! She's going to be eighteen in a couple years and mark my words, if you don't do something to make it right she's going to cut you off if you keep pushing her away and treating her like a small plant who can't even take care of themselves! Because whether you like it or not you fucking messed up. BIG TIME!''

And thus had lead to now. She had just been sitting there. Doing homework, or rather trying to do homework. She was lucky Indigo wasn't angry at her or her family and his parents seemed to be ok too after he talked to them. But she still couldn't get that image out of her head or the anger out of her feelings. But what she wasn't expecting was the door to be suddenly open and her turning around expecting Cappuccino and instead seeing her father there. Looking down at her ...before slowly closing the door behind him. She stared surprised for a moment before scowling, antenna pressing against her head, before turning away from him.

"GO. AWAY. I don't ever want to talk to you again."

"I realize that...And I'm sorry."

"You've said that already," she growled out through clenched teeth still not looking at him.

"I know."

"Then why are you here?"

".......Do you want to know why I have a disdain for demons?"

There was a silence as Miracle paused for a moment, letting the words of her father sink in for a moment, before she slowly looked towards him confused. "......What?"

He slowly walked over and when she didn't protest sat down on her bed next to her desk before looking at her. "Would you like to know why I have a deep passion for hating demons so much?" He tilted his head. "Have I ever told you?" .....She slowly shook her head. "Well. I think it's about time I did. If you wanna know." To answer him she fully turned to him brow raised more in confusion as he suck in a deep breath and closed his eyes. "This.......Isn't something that's easy for me to talk about, but considering what I have done I-....You deserve some kind of answer for why I did what I did."

"......Why did you attack Indigo?"

".....Did you know I fell in love with someone? Before I even met your mother." Miracle's eyes widened and her brows shot up in surprise as he finally looked at her. "Long before I even met your mother and definitely long before you were even born I fell deeply in love and married a woman. I loved her very, very much. Just like I love you and your mother now. But we weren't able to stay that way."

"....Why?"

"Around fifty years ago now, that woman was killed by a demon." Miracle fell silent. Staring at him and letting him see the shock on his face. "But that's not the only reason I despise them either." She blinked again. "Before your cousin was born, Hatchet and Eve were also attacked and nearly killed by a demonic beast in the forest as well. Within those fifty years not only was my first wife taken away from me by those unholy beasts, but I also nearly lost my brother and his wife as well. That's why I hate them. I can't stand the sight or thought of them. To me the things responsible for my family's pains shouldn't even be close. That's why I was....emotional when I learnt what you were up to."

Miracle remained silent still staring at him before she scowled again. "That doesn't excuse what you did!"

"I'm not using it as an excuse," he clarified calmly, "And I don't expect you to forgive me for anything I've done. I only wanted to talk to you and hopefully start doing something right by you. Miracle...I can't control what you do with your life. That was my mistake. My burdens and hatred aren't yours to carry. And I'm sorry if I ever let that cloud my judgement and make me act in selfishness towards you. Can you forgive me?"

Miracle still stared at him before sighing and looking down. ".....I don't know if I can."

"That's alright. I don't expect you too and I won't push you too. I just wanted to let you know I'll respect your boundaries me and that.....I love you. And I'm sorry."

She remained silent and he took that as his sign to leave. Getting up and walking back out the door. Ending his visit with clicking it shut behind him.

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