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whumpzone · 3 years

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Tomas and Rowe - Part 17

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory @justbreakonme @downrivergirl914 @cdragontogacotar @whumps-up @vaguelyhumanvoid @kim-poce

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, fingore, amputation, mentions of alcohol/being drunk

It was the middle of the night- probably- when Rowe was startled awake. He could hear the sound of the door at the end of the corridor unlocking, impossibly loud against the silence. There was a shuddering bang as it struck the wall. Kasia had slammed it open. He was angry.

The next sound was footsteps, irregular and heavy. Stumbling.

Ice ran down Rowe’s spine. It was stupid, he knew, but the fact that it was night-time made everything worse. It was night. It was dark. He was chained up in his old master’s basement for being a stupid, bad, ugly little dog, and he was going to start screaming in pain very soon.

He tried to focus his eyes. He was here, in the present. He was chained to the floor in Kasia’s personal torture chamber. Not much better. Oh, god, and why had he charged in in the middle of the night?

Was this it?

I’m a person, I deserve, fuck, uh, I deserve to be cared for, I’m, I’m, I have worth, I don’t-

Kasia stepped into view, looking down at Rowe with half-lidded eyes. He had dark, bruised knuckles on one hand. His weight shifted unevenly along his hips.

He grabbed the key to the cell, but before he unlocked it, he leant out of sight and dragged the duffle bag towards him.

It had been there the whole time. Rowe hadn’t realised. Kasia unlocked the door, pocketing the key again, and kicked the bag through roughly. The sound of metal clattering inside made Rowe’s skin crawl. It had only been a few seconds since he’d first woken up and his head was pounding.

He stayed very still, watching, waiting. Not wanting to do anything to piss Kasia off more.

The kicks weren’t too bad- his aim was off, tonight, and Rowe could grit his teeth and take it. Maybe he just needed to quickly let off some steam, maybe this time he wouldn’t bother with his sadistic creativity.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you,” he spat, reaching down to grab Rowe’s hair. He missed, swung again then blanched and pulled himself back up. He took a shaky step back to right himself and a hand came to rest on his belly. “Stand up. Stand the fuck up! I’m not crouching down. Ugh.”

Rowe stammered, words failing him for a few seconds as he tried to push through the fear and reply. “I-I-I can’t, I’m ch-chained to the f-f-f-floor-“

“Fuck,” Kasia shouted and Rowe whimpered, pulling back. Kasia yanked the duffle bag up and began digging through.

A smile spread across his face and Rowe’s heart stopped when Kasia pulled out a pair of bone shears. He hooked them onto his thumb while he continued to rummage until he retrieved a key.

Rowe realised it was the key to his collar. Kasia grabbed his hair successfully this time, pulling Rowe up so effortlessly he could have been made of paper. God, he was still so hungry.

The collar fell open and Rowe stayed where he was, hanging pathetically from Kasia’s hand. His lips parted to ask what he planned to do with those shears, but sick fear kept his tongue clamped down.

“Stand up then,” he snapped, his eyes burning two holes into Rowe’s. He obeyed without a thought, and Kasia locked his fingers around his throat, slamming him against the far wall. It was the hand holding the bone shears, and the thumb hoop pressed against his windpipe like a threat.

Oh hell, Rowe thought, staring up at the ceiling. Is he going to slit my throat?

“I’m going to fuck you up,” Kasia growled, and a few tears slipped down Rowe’s cheeks. Kasia’s free hand suddenly grabbed his left wrist, holding it up, looking at it.

Rowe did he best to keep breathing through his rising terror. “Pl-please, please d-d-don’t, have mer-mercy, pl-“

Kasia pulled his wrist out straight with such ferocity that Rowe’s pleas died immediately, turning instead to gasps of horror. The hand holding the bone shears left his neck, opening wide like a jaw.

It all happened too fast. The bone shears clamped down onto Rowe’s ring finger, only slowing when they struck bone, but within seconds his finger was severed and blood was streaming from the fresh wound.

For a few moments everything was silent; the only sound was the ringing in his ears. His vision splintered, the form of Kasia blurring before him, and bile quickly rose in his throat as he screamed. Oh, god. Oh god oh god my finger he really did it no please no no no no it’s not real it’s not real.

Kasia released Rowe’s wrist and took a step back, admiring his work while Rowe howled. Both pairs of eyes were wide and bloodshot, staring at the empty space between Rowe’s fingers.

“Now,” he slurred, drawing up his weapon hand once more. “I’ll make it symmetrical for you, Pet.”

All Rowe could do was try to get away. He didn’t think about it, he just knew he had to. Kasia filled the entire space before him, a great towering beast. There was nowhere to go except to stumble on his weak legs towards the corner of the cell.

Kasia smiled at this pitiful display and moved forwards, when it happened. His foot landed in the fresh pool of blood and onto Rowe’s finger and he slipped.

Rowe had until Kasia hit the floor to make a choice. As his tormentor’s back struck the concrete, Rowe chose.

He thrust his arms forward and grabbed the duffle bag, and fuck, it was heavy. It must have been adrenaline and the raging thrill of disobedience that imbued his limbs with the strength to heave it up and send it whirling into Kasia’s head. It connected with a rusty clang and Kasia let out a thick groan, collapsing.

There wasn’t a second to lose. Rowe reached out with his good hand, the one with all five fingers, and gripped the chain still attached to the floor anchor. Pulling it up, he twisted towards the dazed and hurt Kasia, and wrapped it around his neck, gritting his teeth and begging silently for this to work. He pulled as hard as he could.

Kasia’s hands shot up to Rowe’s, scrabbling and writhing. His nails easily broke the skin along Rowe’s taut, pale-white knuckles in a desperate attempt to get free, but Rowe was used to pushing through pain. He dug his feet in and summoned his whole weak, malnourished body to help him.

“You- fu- ugh!” Kasia’s words failed as the chain around his throat only tightened. He kept struggling, thrashing his legs until they were soaked with Rowe’s blood. One hand stayed scratching around the chain, while another reached up to claw at Rowe’s face, but Rowe easily evaded it.

It was sickening. He was hurting him, he was being a bad Pet, he was forgetting his place, he was going to become a murderer if he didn’t let up soon.

Kasia’s arms fell limply down. His legs stopped kicking. Rowe loosened the chain just a little, leaning forward and listening. He was breathing- just. Unconscious. Good.

“I hate you,” Rowe whispered.

His skin was still prickling with terror, and he dug around in Kasia’s various jacket pockets until he found what he needed. The collar snapped shut around Kasia’s neck nicely, the click of the lock filling the room.

Finally, he could breathe. He noticed a watch on Kasia’s left wrist- it truly was the middle of the night. Rowe had to go. He had come too far now. It would be cold. There would be people about. He was drenched in blood, old and new, and had burns, sores, bruises, and a neck bearing all the hallmarks of a collar. He decided to take Kasia’s jacket. It wasn’t much, but it would keep him warm, and hopefully make him look less like an escaped Pet.

Before he put it on he ripped a portion of Kasia’s t-shirt and did his best to staunch his wound. It would have to do. He draped the jacket over his shoulders and opened the cell door, taking a last look inside. Kasia was lying in a pool of blood, more similar to a corpse than a living being, the collar trapping him within the confines of the short chain. To the walls, and the tap, but not the door. The duffle bag lay near him and Rowe pulled it out of reach, just in case anything inside could double as a lockpick. Somewhere in the midst of all the gore was Rowe’s finger, but he couldn’t mourn it. Better it was left in there, rather than him.

He shut and locked the door, and turned to look down the corridor, his heart in his mouth. It was short, with only four cells on either side. He walked down it, and-

Yes, oh thank fuck yes, his suspicion had been correct. He had truly heard it. The sound of the door at the end of the hall opening- and nothing else.

Kasia, in his wondrous, amazing, heaven-sent state of drunkenness, had forgotten to lock it behind him. The keypad sat uselessly on the side of the open door.

He reached the exit. This was it.

Rowe pulled the jacket tighter, and ran.

#tomas and rowe #pet whump #whump fic #pet whumpee #mine #ENJOY GUYS!!!!!#this was so fun to write god

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valwentinefics · 3 years

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Altruism Ch. 3 - Zemo x F!reader x Bucky

A/n: So this chapter isn’t the best but I thought I’d give you Bucky fans something. I am benevolent. I can’t wait till I don’t have to type out what the characters say word for word in the show, its torture.

Warnings: Cannon typical violence

Translations: Liebling (Darling)

Series Masterlist

Madripoor - 2024

Y/n’s mind ran at a thousand miles an hour as the group walked down the hall, her hand still intertwined with Zemo’s. She longed to go to Bucky, to ask if he was okay and help him through whatever thoughts were bound to be swirling through his head right now, but she knew she couldn’t, it would jeopardize the whole mission. She was grateful to at least have Zemo to cling onto, despite her feelings about the man. His cool, confident demeanor was comforting to her during this time and his warm hand wasn’t that unpleasant to hold.

“You should know Baron, people don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Stated a short white haired woman who lounged on a snakeskin patterned couch. Her presence was intimidating, Y/n felt uncomfortable being around her.

“Not a demand, an offer.” Zemo stated, sitting down in a chair and pulling Y/n into his lap which startled her. “Keep with the act Liebling.” He mumbled into Y/n’s ear. She wasn’t sure what he had called her, she had to remember to ask him what it meant later.

“A lot has changed since you were last here.” Selby glanced over to Bucky who was doing his best stoic stare. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” He paused, looking smug. “I’m sure you already know what I’m here for.”

Selby seemed to be stalling, pointing to Sam. “You’re taller than I’ve heard, Smiling tiger.” Sam replied with a nod as always. Y/n considered herself lucky, unlike Bucky and Sam, attention was never on her, she just had to sit there and look pretty. However, that thought jinxed her.

“And who’s the girl? Never thought you were the meek and pretty type Baron.” She commented on Y/n’s frightened demeanor.

Zemo’s arm wrapped tighter around Y/n’s waist “I just call her my little bunny. But Selby, to what we were discussing.” Zemo said, putting the conversation back on track.

“Right then, what’s the offer?” She asked, looking around the room, her eyes lingering on Bucky.

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him.” Zemo gestured to Bucky. “Along with the code words to control him of course.”

A mischievous grin spread on her face, sending a chill down Y/n’s spine. “I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. The serum is here in Madripoor, Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you’d want to thank, or condemn. He was working on it for the power broker but things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Asked Zemo. Somehow his confident and cool demeanor never faltered. Y/n had to admit, in a way the man was quite attractive with the way he managed to navigate the criminal underworld without batting an eye.

“Oh” she said with mock sadness “The breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost ya’ Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” She got up and began to approach Y/n and Zemo. The tense moment was interrupted by the ringing of Sam’s phone. “Answer it.”

Sam tapped on his phone, a woman's voice coming out of it, the words she spoke making Y/n’s blood run cold. “Hey Sam-” Quickly Sam hung up, but not before the damage had been done.

“Sam? Who’s Sam? Kill them!” Selby commanded, that same instant a bullet came flying through the window and into her chest, a choked noise coming from her as she collapsed to the floor.

Y/n sprung up as Sam and Bucky fought the guards, swiftly disarming them with precision. Bucky looked through the scope of the gun he had taken, looking around with the precise caution of a hawk. Y/n moved closer to him, not wanting to be near Zemo any longer. It wasn’t that she didn’t like being around him, it was the opposite. She found his touch comforting, and she knew she had to stay away for that reason.

“They’re gonna pin this on us!” Sam worried, standing by the door and gripping his gun.

Zemo only sighed. “We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Y/n was confused. Leave their weapons? How would they defend themselves? Nonetheless Sam and Bucky did as they were told.

The sound of cellphones chiming rang out all around them as they quickly walked down the street. Y/n’s nerves were acting up, her whole body feeling as if it was in fight or flight mode. She was scared of what would happen next, never before had she been the target in a battle. They had just crossed under a bridge when a few lights went out without warning. Y/n looked at her comrades with a panicked look, moments before gunshots rang throughout the area.

Zemo grabbed Y/n’s hand, pulling her away from the others. She stumbled after him as fast as she could, lucky she was somewhat adept at running in heels. Her breath was heavy as she resisted the urge to look back, her body aching to run after wherever Bucky and Sam went. Roughly Y/n was pushed against a wall in an alley, Zemo’s warm body flesh against her own. His breath was hot against her neck as they hid in the shadows until a set of headlights passed by. She barely had time to catch her breath before she was pulled away again. Zemo pulled a gun out of his coat as Sam and Bucky grew closer, shooting a man who was approaching them. Y/n watched in shock as he slumped to the ground. Two more men approached from the shadows, Y/n ran over to Bucky and tucked herself behind him, squeezing her eyes shut in fear before the sound of two more gunshots rang out. Hesitantly she opened her eyes, seeing the two men now dead.

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Said Zemo, alarm showing on his face.

“Well this is too perfect!” A feminine voice stated, Y/n’s eyes widening as she realized it was Sharon Carter.

Sharon Carter was kind of awful now, but Y/n couldn’t complain as the woman agreed to help them out after she had the situation explained to her. Now Y/n and Bucky were alone in her apartment above her art gallery as a party raged downstairs. Zemo and Sam had been happy for the chance to let loose after everything that had happened and opted to join the party while Sharon looked for information. Y/n was glad to be out of that godforsaken dress and instead in an outfit of her choosing, no longer feeling like she was flashing someone every time she moved.

Y/n sat down next to Bucky on the green couch, leaning into him slightly. He didn’t seem to mind it, his arm resting around her body comfortably. Unlike Sam and Zemo, Bucky didn’t want to indulge himself in a fun night after the events that had happened earlier, and so as a good friend Y/n decided to stay with him to make sure he was okay.

“Bucky, how are you feeling?” Y/n broke the silence between the two, angling her body to face him.

“Fine… I’m fine.” He smiled at her, although Y/n could see through his façade.

“You don’t need to lie. What you had to do must have brought up a lot of feelings. You don't need to explain them to me, I just want to check up on you.” She looked at the man who’s steely blue eyes were filled with a deep sorrow she couldn’t even imagine feeling. Part of her wanted to hold him close, to let him know he’s loved and cared for, but she didn’t want to overstep right now.

Bucky exhaled, looking away. “I think Steve was wrong about me. Maybe I am just a monster.” His voice cracked as he explained, holding back tears. Bucky’s fear of being nothing but a coldblooded killer was a frequent discussion between the two during late night talks where they poured their hearts out to each other in Y/n’s apartment. So although this thought came as no surprise to Y/n, it still hurt her to see her friend and slight crush feel that way. “It was so easy to fall back into being the Winter Soldier… maybe it's because even after all this time that's who I still am. A killer.” He looked at his gloved metal hand with a sorrowful glare.

Y/n placed a comforting hand on his thigh, moving his gaze from his hand to Y/n, his eyes searching her face for comfort. “Bucky, that’s not who you are. You call yourself a monster but you’re the most caring and kind man I know.”

“I saw how you looked at me Y/n, you were terrified. You were clinging onto Zemo as if you were scared I lost control.” He looked away from her and down at the floor. “You’re the person I care for most now that Steve’s gone, and you were scared of me. I never wanted you to have to see me like that.”

Guilt bit at Y/n, blaming herself for her friend's state. “Yes I was scared. I was scared you would lose control, that you would revert back to the Winter Soldier. My fear was for you, not of you.” She explained. “Bucky, I could never truly be scared of you. Those late nights where we would watch movies or listen to music and just talk about our lives mean so much to me. I know you’re good in your heart, remember when I healed the wounds the Wakandans couldn’t fully fix before you went under again? If I thought you were a monster I wouldn’t have done that, I wouldn’t have wanted to handle your pain for you. But I knew you weren’t a monster, nothing you did was your fault. I know it, Sam knows it, hell even Zemo knows it! And Bucky, I’ll be here for you until you realize it too.” She held his hand between hers, her eyes studying the side of his face.

“Y/n.. I need to tell you something. I-” Bucky began hesitantly, only to pause when Sharon entered the room looking proud.

“Guys we’ve got to go, I found some information about the serum.” She said. The pair stood up, following her to find Zemo and Sam.

The question of what Bucky was going to say hung in Y/n’s mind as she navigated through the crowd of people, her hand reaching for Bucky’s to ensure she wouldn’t get lost. His hand firmly wrapped around hers, giving it a small squeeze as to let her know he would always be there for her. Through the security and safety she felt just by holding his hand, Y/n realized she didn’t need to find out what he was going to say right away. The two would have all the time in the world to tell each other things, because she knew Bucky would never let go, and she never wanted him to.

@yaskna @noavengers @lostghostgirl94 @whatawildone @lady-latte @chipster-21 @viviace @writeroutoftime @spookycereal-s @nadder37 @ajeff855 @safiakillspop @thiccmemechicc @sgold If I missed you, added you on accident, or you would like to be added/removed let me know!

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws x reader #tfatws

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lemons3ason · 3 years

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Grateful

(Sanji x Slave! reader)

(Soulmate au)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He knew you existed out there somewhere, he never believed he had a soulmate till the day he learned of the bond through taste. When he was a child still learning to cook he’d get random tastes tingling his tongue and he never knew why until Zeff explained an old story to him about Soulmate bonds. It was perfect in a way, a chef bonded to his soulmate by taste, sadly it seemed you didn’t have a healthy diet. Most of the time you left a bland taste on his tongue or nothing at all. Just when he thought you were gone you’d bless his tongue with a sign that you were still alive but he never liked the flavorless foods you’d eat. When he met you he’d cook for you everyday, let you taste all his new dishes before even Luffy, but when would that day come?

“Hey cook we’re here.”, Zoro called from the deck.

Nami had found a new island, the goal was just to trade in their treasure for bellies and restock on supplies simple as that. Sanji sighed and lit his cigarette to calm his nerves, for some reason he had grown anxious since Ussop had called out the island from the crows nest. He apologized silently, you probably hated the taste of his cigarettes, he’d apologize to you once he met you. The island was huge but everyone quickly noticed the large amount of slaves throughout the streets. Filthy rich bastards held them like trophies at their sides, others belittled them like it was nothing in public, it was disgusting to watch.

“Everyone just get what you need to restock on supplies and let’s get out of here fast. If I stay here a second longer I think I’ll puke.”, Nami ordered watching the poor slaves toil away at their masters orders.

Sanji heart suddenly sank to his stomach, he didn’t know why but further in the city it felt like something was calling him. He disappeared into the crowd tasting something metallic on his tongue, he didn’t like the taste one bit. His eyes widened when he arrived at the entrance of one of the many alleyways in the city to see a man beating on a young (h/c) haired slave. His body moved on its own, his legs igniting into flames as he neared the man. He noticed the blood dripping down your nose and pieced it together, your bond had called him. Blood, the taste on his tongue was the blood running down from your nose, it was you! Through your hazy eyes you briefly saw a flame and then nothing, it all went black but for a moment you thought you heard a ‘Sorry’ in your sleep. It felt like forever until you woke up but the savory melted taste on your tongue made you wake up, you had forgotten about your hunger since it had been so long since you had a decent meal but something about the taste left you wanting at least a spoonful. You stirred awake, slowly you heaved your heavy body out of bed to see your wounds and scars cleaned and wrapped in bandages.

“I look like a mummy.”, you sighed quietly.

“Oh you’re awake that’s good.”, a cheerful voice called scaring you back against the bed.

It was a little talking deer? His appearance seemed to calm you down but he could tell you were nervous and afraid.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m just the ship’s doctor. Does anything hurt? Are you sea sick? Don’t be afraid to tell me I’ll help you as best as I can.”, he cheered, his grin was infectious you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Chopper the foods ready go ahe-you’re awake.”, A young blonde smiled softly at you, “Are you hungry? I can bring you a plate if you are.”

You were too overwhelmed from everything going on to actually respond but deep down he could tell the smell was enticing your appetite. Chopper left and so did the handsome blonde, you were alone again. At least you thought you were, your tongue tickled from a soft savory taste that made your stomach growl and in a way you could tell it was the blonde cook from before. He opened the door again returning with a tray of food, he noticed you drooling but he also noticed the trauma of your past taking over.

“You can eat it, it’s not poisonous or anything and you can already tell it tastes good.”, he hummed placing the tray next to you, your eyes quickly snapped down to the warm plate. It had been so long since you actually had something hot and fresh to eat, he was lying he had to be, he’d take it away from you and leave you hungry just like your old master.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to eat? Here, just a taste please.”, he begged softly holding a spoon up to your lips.

His eyes were soft, his smile sincere, was he actually serious about this? Even with your quivering lips you took the spoon into your mouth and let the soup melt against your tongue. Sanji’s heart broke seeing you break down into tears from just that one spoonful, how long had you suffered to make you cry over food. He could tell you were happy but still it made him sad knowing that you had suffered far worse than he did while waiting to meet him. He moved your tray next to your bed and carefully moved towards you wrapping his arms around your trembling body and softly held you. He didn’t know you all that well, at least not yet but he didn’t need to know so much about you to know that you were going to be happier now that he had found you.

“I love you.”, he sighed hugging you tightly.

Your soft sobs against his shoulder suddenly became louder, how could he love someone like you? It had to be impossible there was no way he was destined to a nobody like you.

“Hush now mon chéri, don’t cry. I’ll never let you go through this pain ever again, I promise I’ll make the rest of your days worthwhile but for now just eat. Eat and get stronger and everyday I’ll make sure you’re full and happy.”, he hummed against your ear softly pressing kisses to your head until your tears stopped.

“How are you so sure about me? I-I’m just a waste of space, y-you don’t even know my name. S-someone as wonderful as you doesn’t deserve a nobody like me.”, you hiccuped wiping your tears away.

“I’m the cook of the Strawhat Pirates, my name is Sanji, and if I’m being honest I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life since I finally found you. I’ve waited for years to finally hold you, (Y/n).”, you gasped hearing him call your name, it sounded like syrupy gold coming off of his tongue.

“Hee...It just feels unreal knowing that someone like you actually existed for me.”, you explained wiping away the last of your tears.

Once you could see him properly you realized just how lucky you were, he was your Angel. He ate with you that night, happy when you shyly asked for seconds and spoiled you with all the simple amenities that you had long forgotten were available for you. You had enjoyed a nice hot bath, soft new clothes that the girls adored on you, and even though you swore the infirmary beds were enough for you, the crew had gifted you your own bed and room. As you enjoyed and dozed off in the soft pillows and sheets you heard a knock at your door.

“(Y/n) I brought you dessert. Try it I’m sure yo-“

“Sanji what’s that?”, you asked innocently shocking the young chef.

“D-dessert, I-it’s something sweet served after diner. A treat.”, he explained.

It was just a simple strawberry cheesecake but when Sanji saw your face melt into a look of enjoyment he couldn’t help but smile. You were to cute for your own good, in just a few hours a whole new you had emerged from your shy broken form and it had Sanji falling all over for you. You were perfect, no matter what lie you told yourself you were perfect in his eyes. Once you were finished thanking him for his cooking he kissed you goodnight on the cheek and left you but your overflowing heart felt unaccomplished...something was missing and you knew it was your fault. You rushed out of bed and swung the door open calling out his name, he stopped just feet away from you and turned to you.

“Yes mon ch-“

“I love you! I’m grateful that I have you now, please make me fall in love even more with you tomorrow. Goodnight.”, you screamed locking yourself back in your room as your face heated up.

Sanji stood in the hallway completely dumbfounded by the way his heart somersaulted against his chest. His face flushed from ear to ear at your confession, if that was your wish then he would certainly do as told. He was your soulmate and he would make sure you were happy with him until the day you died, his wonderful little (y/n).

#x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #sanji vinsmoke #sanji x reader #sanji scenario #sanjionepiece #soulmate au #soulmate

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spvce-cowboy · 3 years

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gentle things

ch. 2 of i’ll be here in the morning (the mandalorian x fem!reader)

previous- ch.1: “a strange beauty”

next- ch.3: “reunion”

rating: mature

8.5k words

warnings: mutual pining, masturbation (f), alcohol, descriptions of gore

summary: after a few months on the Crest, you find yourself growing closer to your new companions.

a/n: the gay agenda is finding a way to slip a dolly parton song into a star wars fanfic, i rest my case.

Most mornings you wake to the child’s soft cooing. Occasionally, the sound is met with a low, modulated voice, that murmurs incoherent phrases in response. It somehow puts your heart to rest before you even remember where you are.

It’s strange, you’ve been a resident of the Crest for a handful of months now and it sometimes still takes you a few moments each morning to reorient yourself. You blame it on the strange limbo of hyperspace—it always throws you off for at least a day or two, and you swear your dreams are more vivid after. Sometimes you wake up panting for no reason at all.

You’re adjusting pretty well. A bit strange having a roommate/boss who doesn’t acknowledge your presence beyond the occasional but respectful nod. But it’s way better than you could have possibly imagined when you first started turning the idea over in your head. Granted, that was when you were about elbow-deep in his chest cavity, trying to fish out pieces of the shoddily constructed weapon that broke off inside him. You needed the first way out that presented itself to you, something you and Am’ile both agreed with, and well, when opportunity strikes or whatever.

Your first evening on the Crest, you asked the Mandalorian where you should sleep and he just shrugged, handing you a single, scratchy blanket with a “this is all I have.” Later, when you pass his bunk as he’s taking a nap, he’s curled in on himself on a bare cot and you realize that threadbare piece of fabric was literally all he had. You don’t bring it up, but something in your chest softens towards him after that. There’s a new quilt folded neatly on his bunk by the time he returns from his first mission.

Your second day onboard, you found a metal table in a junk heap and pushed it against one of the walls in the engineering bay. You spent the better part of an afternoon figuring out how to weld it to the floor. The medical supplies went on top, then you pushed your pillow and your rolled-up mattress underneath. Sure, there was technically a second cot in the Crew’s quarters, but you wanted to give the Mandalorian his privacy whenever possible. Besides, as long as there wasn’t too much turbulence, your set-up was pretty great.

After a few missions, you’ve visited enough markets to buy an ample supply of blankets, sweaters, and pillows to keep you comfortable on the floor of the ship. It’s freezing most nights, especially in hyperspace, and cocooning yourself in as many warm things as you could manage helps stave off both the chill as well as the occasional home sickness. The collection you’ve amassed thus far is in a various mis-match of pale jewel tones that remind you of Am’ile’s house. You didn’t realize that until you’d piled them all together on your bed and you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself a bit.

The child loves your soft things, happily snuggling up with you for naps while waiting for the Mandalorian’s return—though you suspect he’s just grateful for the new company. A consistent presence while dad’s away. You’re happy to give that to him.

The new routine is comfortable, the company is nice, the work is relatively easy. And, stars, the things you get to see. It’s honestly more than you could have ever asked for.

When your eyes blink open it’s already around eight in the morning. You’ve landed on Nevarro where the Mandalorian has already been gone for a day, attending some kind of “extended business meeting,” as he put it. Yawning, you eventually roll out of bed and stumble into the fresher, blearily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with the spray’s cold water. Stepping out, you wrap your towel around yourself. In the tiny metal mirror suspended over the sink you pat on some lotion onto your face, eyes still heavy.

Reaching for your toothbrush, your knuckle grazes one of the Mandalorian’s facial razors. You wince, flicking your hand before examining it. A tiny nick. Sucking on it for a second to stop the blood flow, you glance at the Mandalorian’s side of the cabinet.

It’s strange to see the most banal traces evidence of what he is, who he is, behind the all that beskar. Like the facial razors—to think he’s in here, maskless, shaving his face, while you’re playing with his kid or whatever just a few steps away. To think he takes a shower every day—er, well, you’re not sure about that one, but at least when he’s on the Crest—stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist in order goes about his little tasks.

You swallow, removing your hand from your mouth and grabbing your toothbrush before your mind can wander anywhere else. You brush your teeth particularly well that morning.

The day is pretty typical from there. After feeding both yourself and the child breakfast, you settle on the floor of the hull with the small metal ball he’s obsessed with. You place him a few feet in front of you, he sways slightly on both feet before plopping down to mirror you, hands stretched forward in an demand to be put in your lap.

“Let’s do some of the exercises, yeah?” You know you’re essentially just talking to yourself as you hold the ball in the air, but you might as well make the effort anyway. Am’ile was no stranger to kids like him, or at least that’s how she put it—something about her people and some other group, the specifics completely slipped your mind. She didn’t really elaborate and you knew not to press.

Even though you don’t know much, you do try to mimic Am’ile’s drills-disguised-as-play at least a few times a day. He only seemed to do what you asked during those sessions when you weren’t looking, distracted by cleaning or studying whatever book you’d picked up hours later. You would always find the little ball in strange places, definitely not where you’d last placed it, and certainly out of the child’s reach.

At least it was good to know he was partially pretending to not listen to you. You could work with partially.

The kid has been fussy since waking, refusing to focus on any of the things you were trying to prompt him to do. Yesterday, you spent a bit too much time at the markets with him—growing sick of protein bars, you initially set out trying to find something closer to tasting like home. Really, you just liked getting out of the Crest so you could see all those people.

You’ve amassed a collection of language dictionaries, trying to do some fast learning and even faster practicing to get your way around. Sometimes the vendors are kind and help you stutter your way through disjointed sentences in their native tongue, others just huff and immediately switch to Basic as soon as you start talking. You don’t mind either way.

The marketplace as a whole is new and exciting, the clatter and clamor of movement, laughing and snarling, voices raised in argument and lowered in the smallest exchange of intimacy. So far removed from the quiet slopes of Am’ile’s home and—

You don’t let the rest of that thought happen, quickly scooping the kid up and wrapping him to your chest with a long swath of fabric.

“I’m goin’ a little crazy in here too, little guy,” you mumble, pulling your satchel over your shoulder. “Your dad should be back in a while—let’s try to find a contact for supplies until then, yeah? Shouldn’t be too hard.” A total lie, it was way more difficult to find what you are looking for than you initially thought. You were particularly looking for a cauterizing instrument that was a bit more sturdy than the glorified cigar lighter the Mandalorian was currently using. Besides basic med-kit stock, it was nearly impossible to find anything more advance under the radar.

Yesterday was half-heartedly spent searching the markets in search of someone who might be tapped into Republic supply runs, which rendered you, predictably, empty-handed. Now you were on to your second best option, asking around the closest cantina where you could find the instruments you were looking for for without raising too much attention.

Okay, so maybe the Mandalorian specifically told you to keep out of the bars when you’re traveling without him. But you managed just fine on your own yesterday in an arguably more crowded environment. You’ve also dealt with… far worse than that hunk of metal could ever possibly imagine. You’re more than capable on your own. Still, you make sure to strap a dagger and a blaster to your belt before heading out.

You make quick work hurrying to the cantina, making sure to cover your head with the hood of your tunic and conceal the little one as much as possible. Basic survival instincts usually warrant drawing as little attention to yourself as possible, being a young human woman traveling alongside a small green wizard creature is pretty much the opposite of that.

He, predictably, doesn’t take very well to the concealed swaddle you’ve confined him to, and the two of you are in a constant back-and-forth of you attempting to wrap him up and him making quick work of wriggling out of any cover tactic you try. If it weren’t for those damn ears your life would be so much easier.

The bar has the quiet hum of activity, occasionally interspersed with a loud chatter of conversations rising to some kind of boiling point. You maneuver yourself to the counter and try to get the attention of the bartender, holding the kid to your chest until he squirms his way upwards and settles with his chin on your shoulder, one of his ears slipping out of the head covering you’d fashioned and thwapping you in the neck. You’ll deal with that in a second.

You’ve only just caught the bartender’s attention when the doors slam open. The clamor of the cantina quiets momentarily, and you see everyone shift slightly to eye whoever just entered. The two new patrons seem to be in the middle of an argument, voices low in secrecy but tense with frustration.

“I’d know that green mug anywhere.” With that you finally turn, heart dropping with anxiety. It’s the Mandalorian and a companion, a human man. The man’s voice, a deep bellow, is warm and inviting in a way that shouldn’t make you freeze completely as he addresses the kid. He then looks you up and down, pausing as the Mandalorian continues stomping forwards. You freeze anyway. “Ah—this is that girl you mentioned? Your caretaker?”

“She’s a medic,” the Mandalorian sharply corrects the man without moving to look at you. He quickly returns back to whatever conversation was initially at hand as the man continues his brisk stride towards a table at the back. There are three people already seated there, but by the time the Mandalorian arrives they have all left in a scuffling hurry. Neither of the men acknowledge it, just immediately slide into opposing sides of the booth. “Karga, this is ridiculous--I’m not a Republic spy, why would there be this many hoops on a bounty you’re just handing out?”

“I’m not just ‘handing it out,’ Mando, I’m giving it to you because I know you’re the most capable,” the man, Karga, addresses the Mandalorian then directs his attention towards you. “Come here, girl. Let me get a good look at you, I’m curious.” Turning to the bartender, he barks out an order for spotchka. You walk towards the table. There’s too much attention on the three of you to resist, you wouldn’t want to make things more complicated for the Mandalorian anyway. The bounty hunter’s voice almost immediately overrides his, low but gritty with anger as you slide into the booth beside him.

“I can’t—Karga you know I’ve never done something like this. This high-profile. Going deep-cover for a job isn’t something I can do.”

You feel Karga’s eyes on you, it’s brief but piercing. You busy yourself by looking up at the woman who serves you a small glass of the bright blue liquid, quietly thanking her.

“It’s all the fobs or nothing. The signal will be broadcast in a few hours’ time—they won’t expect something like this to be conducted semi-publicly. Keep monitoring the broadcast, but save that fob for last,” Karga places three fobs in the center of the table, then slides a forth a few inches removed from the rest. He can tell the Mandalorian isn’t convinced—stars, even you can tell he isn’t convinced. Karga heaves a sigh and makes a stab at reassurance. “You can figure it out. You’re the only one I can trust to get this done. The most capable.”

The Mandalorian’s hand slams down on the table, you jump, quickly looking between the intense but even staring contest going on between Karga and the infuriated bounty hunter. Slowly, and with more than a bit of melodrama, the Mandalorian drags the fobs under his hand towards him, slipping it into his pocket without breaking eyes from Karga’s.

He turns heel so quickly his cape whips behind him. You scurry after him as fast as you can manage.

You can still feel the frustration steaming off of the Mandalorian the whole walk back to the Crest. You keep quiet, trailing behind him by a few steps—you desperately want to ask what was wrong. Your mouth stays firmly shut.

Boarding the Crest, the Mandalorian immediately scales the ladder into the cockpit. After a few minutes you feel the Crest shutter into the air, quickly shooting into the empty sky and then hyperspace. You sigh and grab a book, turning the kettle on to make some caf and settling in your bed to an eye on the kid as he toddles around the expanse of the hull.

Hours later, when the child has exhausted all possible forms of entertainment, usually consisting of live wires and exposed paneling that you tug him away from, he begins to get fussy in a way that means he’s tired but refuses to sleep. It starts with the occasional whimper that quickly crescendos into a full-blown fit. You know all the warning signs at this point.

The little terror had a bit of a habit of doing this—once the Mandalorian and you are in the ship he refuses to fall asleep unless you two are in the same room. A part of you knows this is a symptom of separation anxiety—which you in no way can blame him for, given the circumstances of their bond—but the cockpit is just about the last place you want to be.

It’s not that you’re scared of the Mandalorian, or anything. It would just be… incredibly awkward with the mood he’s in right now to attempt to lull his kid to sleep in his presence.

“Listen, buddy, your dad is super grumpy right now so—" The child just starts crying even louder, little fists balled up to pound futilely against your chest, trying to push you away. “Okay okay okay! I get it. I get it.” You sigh, biting your lip and looking down at the kid, then up at the ladder. The kid starts screaming. “Yeah, yeah. Alright.” You begin the climb up.

“Hey, sorry he’s being a little sensitive again,” you say as your head pops up onto the pilot’s deck, miraculously managing to pull yourself into the room with one arm holding the squirming kid against you. The floor seals shut behind you once you haul yourself over the edge.

The Mandalorian just grunts in response and continues flipping through radio channels, seemingly growing more frustrated with himself the longer it takes for him to find the frequency Karga directed him to. He’s in the pilot’s chair, back turned to you, shoulders hunched in concentration.

You settle into the copilot’s seat, resting the kid on his back on top of your legs. He settles almost instantly, big eyes no longer filled with tears.

Rolling your eyes with a small smile, you tickle him lightly until he starts giggling, then scoop him back up into your arms, allowing yourself to slide back in the chair a bit. You stare out into the bright darkness of space, blinking back at the stars as the child coos gently in your lap.

“A coded civilian station, is he fucking crazy?” The Mandalorian mumbles to himself in his continued litany of abuses he’s slung Karga and the greater universe’s way since returning to the Crest.

The longer you’ve been here the more he’s started to do things like that, just talking into the air without the expectation of a response. You begin to think that that’s just the way he acts when it was just him and the kid. Though you’ve noticed that he has been cursing way more than he did when you first met. That might be a little bit your fault. Oops.

You look down at the child and rub one of his ears, leaning down to press a kiss at the crown of his head. His little three-fingered hand catches your hair and pulls. Wincing, you resist the urge to jerk your head back. Instead, you extend the pad of your index finger and lightly wiggle it against his button nose. He sneezes and lets go almost immediately.

You let out a triumphant “ha!” then shake your head slightly and twist your face in a playful scowl. The kid resumes his giggling, batting at your hands when you try to tickle his tummy.

Glancing over at the angry hunk of beskar seated beside you, you notice he’s paused with his hand hovering over the radio’s controls, his head turned slightly towards his right shoulder to silently regard you and the child.

You quickly divert your gaze back down to the kid, resuming rubbing his ears as his eyes slowly, devastatingly slowly, ease shut. Only to snap open again with a playful babble, hands reaching up again for the free entertainment of the hair still attached to your head. Shit. You sigh. The Mandalorian goes back to flipping through the channels.

More static and garbled languages you’ve never encountered before. You try to ignore the pounding of your heart—that was probably the longest you’d ever seen him grant you any kind of attention—and keep trying to lull the child to sleep. As quietly as possible you try to stand, scooting around the copilot’s seat to gently bounce the kid in the limited space to the back of the cockpit. He’s quieted significantly, just enough that you could probably get him to sleep on your own, as long as you don’t jostle him too much on the descent back into the hull. You’re about to head down the ladder when—

The Mandalorian pauses momentarily on a channel that’s playing music. The opening swell of the first verse is unmistakable. Your chest fills with a certain warm feeling, pounding with memories you had long since tucked away.

“Wait,” you say it without thinking. Without even processing that the words left your mouth. “Wait, could you go back? That… that song…”

Wordlessly, he clicks back to the previous station. The cabin is filled with the music, a warm and bright voiced female vocalist smoothly intertwined with her male partner. The melody is plucky, something you could dance to—and have, more than once—and it’s overly saccharine in its pure, absolute joy in itself. But you suppose the cheesiness is part of the charm. You relish in it regardless.

You do something to me that I can’t explain. There is a memory that surfaces just as quickly as it disappears. You couldn’t have been more than four. Your father, spinning you around by your pudgy forearm. It’s his laugh you remember most of all, something boisterous and full-bodied. You are dancing around the kitchen of a home you can’t remember, the floor dappled with light from the pieces of stained glass your mother had dangling from the windows. Hold me closer and I feel no pain. You smile to yourself, bowing your head down at the little one, quietly murmuring what lyrics you remember, rocking your hips in a gentle little dance. It works, the kid is fast asleep by the last chord.

The song ends, the disc jockey begins speaking in yet another language you don’t recognize. The Mandalorian quickly turns the volume down, lest it wake the child. He has reflexes fast enough to startle you, luckily your jolt does nothing to bother the baby in your arms. You gently place him in the pram, hovering beside the pilot’s seat. You slide the shield doors shut to keep out the noise and step back.

“Thank you, Mandalorian,” you say it softly, but you can see his helm bob slightly in a nod of acknowledgement. You take a deep breath and begin to head towards the ladder as he resumes flicking through the stations.

“Hey,” the Mandalorian says your name. You pause for a moment, then turn. He clears his throat—the sound comes out as a rough crackle over the modulator. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he sounds a bit nervous. “You can uh… you can just call me Mando, you know. The full thing is a bit of a mouthful.”

You blink once, then nod. Turning heel you, mercifully, scale back down the ladder with as much grace as could be mustered, despite your shaking hands.

That night, when you touch yourself, you shove the blanket he gave you against your nose and mouth. To keep quiet, you tell yourself. It smells like his soap.

Days after the radio incident, you can’t help but occasionally find that you’re singing the song to yourself as you go about your chores. It just seems to pop in your head as soon as you open your eyes, and it’s just stuck there, but you’re not very mad about that.

Mando has landed on some bitterly cold planet that was made up of little more than ash and a thick red fog. He had left late last night/early this morning to start his hunt, telling you in a little scribbled note to expect him back in two days’ time. He has really bad handwriting, it’s strangely amusing.

You decide to deep clean the hull: washing the floors, doing laundry, organizing what meager new supplies you were able to gather from Nevarro. As you did, you sang to yourself. Out loud. Just for the pleasure of it.

Your mother taught you kulning, as was tradition for the young girls on your home planet. Your father taught you the low-bellied croon of the casino singers. When things were still good, you would sing for your parents friends at the parties they would throw and your father would play the piano. You wish you had more memories like that. It’s hard to recall anything through the foggy barriers of the past fifteen years, it makes something in your chest ache to even try.

Am’ile’s radio was for emergencies only, not wanting to draw unwanted attention with the signal. It has been ages since you’ve had access to one, ages since you’ve heard music that didn’t come from your own mouth. That was why you’d started the nightly calls at Am’ile’s because before that grassy little planet… well, speaking was barely an option. You’d seen too many girls hurt for things far less than murmuring a tune.

To sing in the way your mother taught you, with the whole of your body. To make yourself so boldly known. It was all you had ever wanted.

You start putting together dinner for you and the kid as the day winds down. Mando had a barely functioning hotplate that you were able to make the best of, having bought some fresh produce at the far more hospitable planet the three of you were stationed at the previous day.

The stew cooks while you finish up the rest of your work, slicing bread and setting up a little dining area for your and the kid because, frankly, why not go all-out? It’s good to treat yourself to the small, gentle things. Even when on an unforgiving rock hurtling through space. Especially then.

You hop in the fresher while you wait for the meat to get to the proper temperature, twisting your body to keep your hair out of the water’s blast. In the enclosed space, you feel a less self-conscious and allow yourself sing a little louder than the under-the-breath, partial-hum you’d managed throughout the rest of the day.

You don’t hear the hull opening between that and the fresher’s spray.

When you turn the water off, you recognize the sound of the last few mechanisms of the hull door stealing itself back in place. Anxiety settles in quickly as you dry off. God, please let it just be Mando please. There’s the sound of something heavy being thrown against a wall. You wince.

A low voice. “Pretty little bird you’ve got singing in here, just for me?” Then a wet crack. “Mother fuck—"

Your heart lurches in your chest as you quickly pull your clothes on, cracking open the fresher door to peer out into the hull. Mando is standing over the body of a target, now crumpled to the ground, holding a bleeding headwound with two long, thin hands. He nudges the bounty with the butt of the weapon he had presumably just used against the man’s skull. The man gives a choked moan, completely incapacitated.

“Do you…” your voice sounds far too small. You blink, inhaling and starting over. “Do you need to bring him in alive or do you need my—"

“The carbonite will stop the bleeding,” Mando’s voice is gruff. You nod, even though his back is turned to you, watching from the safety of the doorway as he leans down and lugs the whining body into the chamber. Once the bounty is sealed away, you step back out into the open.

Mando pushes past you almost without recognition, limping heavily.

“Hey—hey!” You trail behind him, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinches. “Could you at least let me do my job?”

He regards you for an extended beat, then readily sits. It’s more of a controlled collapse.

“Is it your leg?” You ask, kneeling beside him and helping him peel off what armor you can. He shakes his head.

“It’s just more of a bruise I—my side, my hip. Onto the top of my leg.”

You nod slowly. “Okay, can you get to the fresher yourself or do you think you’ll need help? You have to rinse off before I treat you.” There’s an almost clay-like layer of red dust on his clothes and armor. It would be impossible to treat him properly without getting most of it off.

He wordlessly extends a gloved hand for you to help him up, you oblige—albeit struggling a bit with his weight. Once standing, you hover beside him on his limping walk to the fresher until he gives you a short: “I’ve got it.” You back off, returning to tend to your dinner while you wait.

When he emerges again he’s only wearing a sleep shirt, his mask, and a towel, the fabric held at the hip by his clenched fist to expose an already bruising thigh. He sits on a crate with an audible wince, easing himself back to lean against the wall slightly.

Your throat constricts as you move to his exposed side, but you try to breathe evenly enough to maintain an air of professionalism. Which gets increasingly difficult when he, with another sound of sharp pain, pulls up his shirt to reveal a series of small, shallow punctures traveling up his flank and over his hip that slightly weep with a mixture of blood and the cold water on his skin. He holds the shirt, just below his pectorals with his opposing hand, allowing the towel to drape over his lap while still revealing the side you need to work on. You can see the faint cut of his abdominal muscles, tracing south alongside a thin trail of dark hair leading--

“Shotgun pellets,” his voice stops your thoughts before they can get any worse. You’re partially thankful. Glancing up, you furrow your brow in confusion. He clarifies, “they’re a uh… a projectile type weapon. He was fighting dirty and desperate.” You nod, looking back down. The worst of the spray was able to score the skin right above his hip, but most of it had just bounced off his quad, leaving a series of raised, purpling welts. It was superficial at worst, but still not the best to look at. He seemed to read your mind. “Beskar was able to deflect them for the most part. I’ll be fine, just cauterize the worst of it.”

“The more you use the cauterizer the more of a chance you have of the scar tissue getting infected, you know. That’s some business you want no part of,” you say, digging through your kit for a pain ointment and the bacta you were able to refill on Nevarro. The more you looked at it, the more foolish of a blow for him to have taken it becomes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re doing this on purpose,” you’re muttering it to yourself before you can fulling think through the implications. When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him. “That was a joke.”

“You need to work on your material, then.”

You laugh, shaking your head to yourself as you get to work. It’s easier to feel more confident around him the longer you’ve acclimated on the Crest. You have a bad habit of using snark as a defense mechanism. The more you work with Mando, the less you’re able to keep that up. It feels nice, you can relax slightly when you’re given the reassurance of him reciprocating the conversation.

You finish pressing the last of the bandages against his side. “The pain stuff I used should start sinking in soon, it might burn for a bit beforehand but it’ll get better after a few minutes.” He nods, pulling the towel tightly around his waist before standing and limping back into his quarters. He returns, fully dressed, putting a little more pressure on his leg than he did before he left. You quickly, desperately, find a way to conceal your staring.

“Hey—I have a surprise for you,” you turn to the kitchenette, busying yourself by testing the stock with a messy sip. It’s not… the best thing you’ve ever made in your whole life, but it’s the closest thing to the meals you made with Am’ile that you’ve had since you left your old home. It smells lovely, enough to have filled the hull with the smell of the herbs you used. “I thought it was just gonna be me and the womp rat so I made dinner, if you wanna eat with us that is.” You pull out the bottle of wine you bought from one of the storage drawers, a slight heat rising to your cheeks. You hold it up triumphantly anyway. “I really just needed an excuse to buy this for myself. But I totally understand if you’d rather eat upstairs by yourself.”

“Thank you,” he says hesitantly. “I’ll… I’ll stay while you eat. I can take mine to the cockpit once you’ve finished.”

“Would you want to have a glass with me, at least?” You hold the wine bottle by the neck at your side. He’s grumpy. Part of you wants to find some way to fix that, knowing it would be hard for you to let yourself enjoy the rest of the night with him fuming over something just upstairs. “I’ll cover my eyes. It’ll be like when I brought you your meals, while you were fixing the ship. No peaking. I promise.”

He takes a moment, before nodding slowly, for some reason you’re kind of surprised he agrees. Maybe that’s why your smile is so big. Maybe it was the fact you’d already cracked the bottle open for a few sips before taking your shower, the warmth of it at the bottom of your stomach making it much easier to playfully prod at the bounty hunter. Probably a mix of both.

You kneel beside your bed to gather another pillow, placing it across the makeshift table you’ve fashioned out of two crate and one of your blankets. You turn to bring the rest of the food to the table, three wooden bowls and a plate for the kid. You’re in the middle of separating the meat from the broth for him when you glance up at Mando, who is still standing exactly where you last saw him. He points to the tuft of fabric you had placed on the floor for him.

“What’s that for?”

You’re not sure if he’s serious or not. “Um, comfort?”

He doesn’t say anything, just cocks his helmet slightly to the left.

“Alright, old man,” you roll your eyes, refilling your cup . “Suit yourself.”

Mando pauses for a second longer before easing himself onto the pillow. He says your name softly, almost to himself. “This looks… really great. Thank you.”

“Well I wouldn’t take it to heart too much, chrome bucket. I was planning on hoarding all this for me and the kid. You just came back at quite the opportune moment,” you grin cheekily up at him before tearing your piece of bread and dipping it into the broth.

He reaches across the makeshift table and picks up his cup. You’ve repurposed the tops of two of his thermoses to make them. He examines it in his hand for a moment before speaking.

“Were you singing that song that was on the radio, yesterday? When I came in?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, shaking your head to yourself as you reach over the table and grab the cup in his hand to fill it with the wine. “I haven’t heard it in ages, you know? Any music at all, honestly, but especially that song. It was one of my dad’s favorites,” you detract before either of you could linger on that last statement. “It’s been in my head all day. I was meaning to ask you, when it comes to the radio—it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for me to listen while you’re on the job, yeah? Tracing signals and all that?”

Mando mulls it over for a second, accepting his cup from you and staring down at it. “I’m not sure. Better safe than sorry, but I could ask around about getting a uh… one of those new portable ones.” You don’t want to tell him that those newfangled portable radios have been a thing since you were in the cradle—something about his technological obliviousness was oddly endearing. “I’ll ask around and see if there’s some kind of blocking signal we could install. If you’d like one, that is. I’d like to take a sip, now, if that’s okay?”

You nod, immediately putting your hands over your face. You know you could just squeeze your eyes shut like oh, maybe a normal person might? But to be honest, it was a little funny to do. To act this silly in front of one of the most effective killing machines in the galaxy, who you have somehow convinced to attend a quaint family dinner. Might as well mess around a bit with it, yeah?

You hear the hiss of the mask resealing but you don’t remove your hands from your eyes. “It’s good wine,” he remarks. “You can look now.”

Removing your palms from your face, you blink your vision back to clarity, reaching for your cup again. Your mouth is already growing warm in the way that let you know that when Mando meant good he also meant strong. You have to agree.

“The people on Am’ile’s planet would make this crazy strong liquor out of these peaches that only grew in the valley where we lived. The village that was closest to us got super wealthy off of the stuff--honestly I can’t stomach anything too sweet anymore after it, spent an equal amount of time coming up as it did going down, if you get what I’m saying.” You screw up your face at even the thought of the syrup-like drink. “The orchards were super beautiful, though. The tallest foliage in the valley and they were maybe only a few heads taller than you. All types of critters living in the roots—that little one loved it.” You gesture to the child, who was grabbing as much of the dish’s meat as he could in his stubby three-fingered hands. The rest of his plate remained untouched. “Am’ile and I used to take walks through it all the time, especially when I first got there. It was too dangerous to go into the forests by yourself so I would spend ages in the orchards if she wasn’t putting me to work, just for a change of scenery.” Your mouth kind of just keeps running. It just feels so… nice, to talk to someone without having to try and stutter your way through a new language. That and the liquid courage in your cup made you unapologetically chatty. “She had so many little trinkets and things from her travels as a Republic medic, but only like ten books tops, all on medicine. I literally have the things memorized at this point, they were the only things to read.”

“You could go back at some point, if you want. When there’s a lull in jobs I could probably drop you and the kid off, spend a few weeks with her while I keep hunting,” Mando casually picks up his glass again, and you automatically cover your eyes with your hands. You’re still smiling, just with a little weight behind it.

“No, no that’s okay. Am’ile would get in too much trouble with the locals, for good reason. It isn’t safe for them and—to be honest, Mando, I don’t think the kid could take being separated from you for that long,” you pause for a moment. “But that’s incredibly kind of you to offer, thank you. I mean that.”

His mask hisses back in place. You ease the index and middle finger of your right hand to peer at him playfully before lowering your hands again. It’s a gentle spar between the two of you, an easy rhythm to settle into.

“Your med-station,” he nods towards your table/bed set up, looking particularly messy in comparison to the hull you’d spent the day cleaning. “It’s…”

Your heart drops, ready for the scolding. “Ah—uh, I’m sorry.” You look down at your plate—even if he couldn’t see the heat rising to your face, you try to hide your embarrassment by stabbing at another bite of food. You glance up at him sheepishly. “It’s the only place on the Crest that’s tucked away enough, I didn’t want to get underfoot.”

“No, no.” He shakes his head. You swallow. “I like it. A good idea. It’s like a reminder whenever I leave, not to do anything too stupid.”

“Oh, well,” you’re not sure why that catches you off guard so much. You honestly had no idea he even processed your presence since you’d first moved in besides the occasional medical assistance you provided. “I’ll make sure to put the more intimidating syringes front-and-center the next time I organize it.”

And he laughs.

Well—so, okay. It’s not a full laugh, more like a few low releases of air, but there’s a clear smile behind it that you can definitely hear. It’s enough to have you slightly grinning to yourself the rest of the meal.

By the time you’re finished, you’re a bit hazy off the wine and incredibly sleepy. You lean back slightly and yawn, looking at where Mando has settled the kid on his lap. “Sometimes I wish I could just snap my fingers and he’d just go to sleep. There’s too much energy in that little guy.”

“I can take him for the night,” Mando is currently engaged in a gentle dance of keeping the little one’s hands away from the food you’ve portioned for the bounty hunter. It’s more amusing than it should be. “If you could just help me take this upstairs I’d be more than happy to.”

You nod, clamoring to your feet and grabbing his bowl as he climbs up into the cockpit with the kid. You follow and place his dinner on a clear spot on the console.

“Where are we going next?” You ask, glancing over the control panel as if you had any idea what all those flashing lights and strange looking scanners meant. You should really pick up a flight manual at some point, just for the basics.

“The last fob,” Mando sighs. “Canto Bight. This—this is going to take a while, just warning you now. I still have no idea how I’m going to pull this off.”

You nod, yawning. You’re still a bit tipsy. “Okay, well, I think I’m gonna go to bed. Good luck brainstorming.” The food sits warm and heavy in your stomach. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this full. It’s nice.

He gives a small nod acknowledging what you said, then goes back to grumbling down at the control panel, pushing buttons and examining scanners. You lean down to kiss the kid goodnight from where he’s babbling in the co-pilot’s seat, then climb down the ladder and change into your night clothes, setting the lights in the hull to night-mode as the Crest rumbles into the sky. Climbing into bed, you wrap your biggest blanket around yourself, the chill of hyperspace already settling in the air.

You have a dream. A bad one. One you’ve never had before and don’t know if you’d survive again if you did. It starts with you already crying. It’s one of those full-body, hiccuping sobs that usually rouses you from your sleep before things gets too bad.

Mando is gone, so far gone not even the comlink your finger is hovering over would be an option. You know this because the dream starts with him calling you. When you answer, there is only the sound of a hard, driving rain.

You’re holding the child against your chest and he’s screaming into your ear but you know if you actually lift him away to look at him he’ll disappear into the rain, too, so you drop the communicator and turn and there’s blood all over the floor and you have to clean it, you do. You have to so maybe he’ll come back and so you’re here, mopping up the blood on the hull’s floor as the child wails the loudest you’ve ever heard him cry and you try to choke out reassurances through your own crying because.

Because the gore is on your hands and your elbows and on you and on the floor once its gone it’ll be okay it’s so dark but it’ll be okay and streaking across the front of you and your face where you’ve tried to wipe it away please go away because it looks just like when.

Looks just like when.

You wake up in the middle of screaming, gasping for breath, one hand pressed against the top of the table above you and the other curled into the mattress. It’s the first time that’s happened, waking up like that at least. The dreams are different each time and occur at different frequencies, but they always crescendo at the same point. Usually you just wake up, eyes slowly sliding open and fixing to whatever is directly in front of you as your vision slightly blurs. How banal it usually is, how banal it feels, adds to the cruelty. You’re mostly still able to go to sleep after, at least there was that.

Not this, though. This is that hand-scratching-at-your-own-throat kind of terror, the kind you’ve usually only seen in the holo-dramas. You haven’t had a nightmare like that for so long, so maybe the surprise of it is what made it so much worse—that it wasn’t just you. Maker, you can still hear the child’s squalling in your ears. That sound of raw, primal terror that—

You feel your stomach lurch. You scramble to the fresher, emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

Half anxiety, half afraid to close your own eyes, the dull thrum of raw energy does little to calm itself once you manage to shove the door of the fresher close. You let the metal rim of the toilet cool your face as you sniff, scooting back to lean your back against the wall, pulling the sleeve of the sleepshirt you’re wearing up your palm to wipe your eyes.

A low voice says your name urgently. You look up, dazed for a moment, before the door is cracked open by four broad-knuckled fingers. Your hand flies out, catching the handle before Mando is able to pull it the rest of the way open. He barely has time to get his hand out of the way before you slam it shut again.

“I--sorry,” you croak. “Please um… please don’t come in here.”

“Are you okay?” His voice is rough with sleep. You cup your hands over your knees and lean your forehead down to rest against them. When you don’t answer, he speaks again. “Was it, was it about before? Before Am’ile?”

“I—I haven’t, for so—I haven’t… Before… It was…”

“I know. She told me, it’s alright, I wouldn’t have asked I just… I thought it was something you didn’t want to talk about but I--”

“I’m not a charity case,” it sounds snappier than you intended it to and has absolutely nothing to do with anything he’d just said. At this point you’re just talking to yourself, it seems like he knows that. “That’s not why Am’ile pawned me off on you. I’m okay, I didn’t need her supervision anymore. I’m, I’m okay. It’s taken a long time but I am now so I don’t know why--”

“No,” and he says your name forcefully, cutting you off before you can continue. He repeats himself, this time softly, before: “It’s alright.” Does his voice sound… warmer? Even through a layer of reinforced steel? “I want you to feel safe, here. Comfortable. I don’t care, it’s okay. I just thought you were hurt.” He clears his throat. “I have them too, the dreams. So you, you don’t have to worry about hiding it. Them.” You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all. Closing your eyes, you lean the side of your face into the door separating the two of you. It’s so silent on the other side you think he’s left, so when he speaks again it’s all the more surprising. “And she didn’t pawn you off. I need you. Here.”

Something in your chest does a complete backflip. Your stomach is fluttering so ferociously you have to clear your throat before continuing. “Okay. Yeah, um. Thank you,” you wince. “I’m gonna freshen up and then get the little one out of your hair—er, beskar.” Idiot idiot idiot.

“It’s alright, you didn’t wake him. If you want I can… I can sit with you, until you fall asleep.”

“Okay.” You say it softly. “That would be really nice, actually. Thank you.”

You quickly brush your teeth, then open the door the door slowly. Stepping into the hull and closing it behind you, you pad back to your mattress. He follows a few feet behind you quietly—it’s moments like these you’re grateful for his reserved nature. You don’t have the energy to try and brush things off by filling the silence with mindless chatter.

Kneeling beside your mattress, you wordlessly offering him an armful of your pillows. In the low light of the Crest’s night mode, the beskar helmet looks nearly featureless, save for the gleam of light that arcs up its surface as he looks down at what you’ve offered him.

“Could you—” your voice breaks. Heat rises to your face as you clear your throat again. “Is it okay if the kid um… slept with me? It was… some of it was about—”

“Yeah, of course,” Mando takes one of the pillows from the top of what you’ve offered him, tossing it at the ground of the opposing wall and then slipping out of sight as he goes into his bunk. He returns with a the child, standing above you as you crawl into bed, wrapping you blanket around yourself, setting up the pillows as you normally do for the naps you take together, preventing any accidental rolling-over. Mando crouches to place the kid beside you, then stands and settles where he’d dropped the pillow previously. You take a moment to look down at the child, running a thumb over the edge of his ear, before kissing his soft forehead where you normally do. He wrinkles his nose in his sleep, making a soft sound and twitching his ears before wiggling slightly to resettle. You rest your head back on your pillow. The specifics of the dream are already starting to drift away. It’s a small mercy, but it’s enough.

“Hey, Mando?” You lift your head, the low light reducing the man to a dark, featureless outline.

“Hm?”

“Would you mind if… um… would you mind if I just touched your hand? Just so uh… if I wake up I can know you’re there?” As the words spill out of your mouth, an unbearable heat rises to your face.

There’s the sound of him shifting, getting to his feet with a grunt. Then he’s right there, sitting with his back to the wall, just a few inches from the top of your head. Tentatively, you reach out your hand, resting your index and middle fingers against his palm. And it’s his palm, His palm, warm but rough with callouses, resting on the floor beside his extended leg just for you to be able to close your eyes, even for a little bit.

It takes a while but it works. Right as you drift back to sleep you think you feel his hand gently wrap around the fingers you’ve offered him. You really think you do.

a/n: thank you all for the engagement thus far !! it really means so much to me.

that said i am .,..... beyond excited about the next chapter for two reasons of equal importance: fancy parties and Very Jealous Mando. my favorite things 😌

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din and grogu #mando and grogu #grogu #reader insert #i'll be here in the morning #i'll be here in the morning ch.2 #fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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dindjarriiin · 3 years

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din djarin || mend me, piece by piece.

Summary: Post ch. 15. Din struggles to come to terms with what happened on Morak. But the sudden absence of his love makes him realise that being a Mandalorian isn't the only part to him. Nor is it the only part that, without, might destroy him entirely. (gender neutral pronouns) (spoilers for ch.15) (side note: this is a really dumb idea it's 5 am im sorry ahah)

____ had vanished three days ago. They hadn't given an explanation. One morning, Din had awoke and they simply weren't there next to him.

His first instinct was to panic, pure fear and worry coarsing through his very soul. It was too soon. Were they taken? Did the last remnants of the Empire track them down after finishing off Moff Gideon?

Or was it something he had done? Had they left on their own accord because he wasn't good enough? His creed was practically null and void after the fiasco on Morak, and ____ was amongst the few who saw his face. Was the visage underneath his beskar really that appalling? Could they not stand the thought of being near him now that they had seen what was underneath his armour?

He didn't know if he had the strength to go on without them. Grogu was safe, and he would continue to protect him with his life, but his family wasn't complete without them.

The Slave I had stayed in the same spot ever since, hidden away in the thickets of Ach-To. Just in case, Din told himself. Just in case they come back. But with each passing day, the likelihood of that happening became slimmer and slimmer.

He found himself longing for their touch, longing for their presence. He missed their voice and their laugh and their incredibly shitty jokes, and the way they would fawn over Grogu, and the way they never asked too much of him, the way they never saw him as anything less, even after he took off his helmet.

But that was the thing that Din couldn't grasp. It was all so perfect up until that point. After Morak and after rescuing Grogu, Din had plunged headfirst into another battle, this time with himself. He had violated his creed. Every part of him that he had built up over the years was torn to shreds in a matter of seconds. His face, his shame, now immortalised in an Imperial database of all things. Who was he if not a Mandalorian? It was all he had ever known. Until the Child. And until ____.

Within those three days, Din was left to bask in the cruel and harsh reality that existed without ____ beside him and Grogu. He realised that it wasn't just the violation of his creed that tore him apart, it was the very thought of never laying his eyes upon ____ _______ ever again.

On the third night Din knew he couldn't stay on Ach-To any longer. If the Empire was combing every planet in the nearby parsecs to the battle then he didn't have long. With a heavy heart, he tucked a sleepy Grogu into his hammock, before beginning to remove his armour to sleep.

He had removed everything but his helmet when the entry-hatch hissed open from the cockpit. Din snatched his blaster within a matter of seconds and poised it at the sealed door as whoever it was clambered slowly towards them. His breath shook at the thought of another fight, his beskar now on the floor and not on his person. He felt bare without it. Exposed.

When the doors finally did hiss open, his shoulders sagged in relief. There they stood, bloodied and bruised and covered in cuts, but, there they stood.

"I'm sorry-" ____ couldn't finish their sentence as Din pulled them into his arms, his sigh of relief coming out as distorted jargon from behind his visor. ____ wrapped their arms around him too, brow furrowed and eyes closed as they basked in the feel of him, despite the pain from their injuries.

"You came back." Din said through tears, more to himself in an effort to convince himself that this was real. They're here. They're home.

"Of course I came back." ____ laughed weakly through tears of their own. "I'll always come back to you."

"Where did you go?" He asked as he pulled back, holding their shoulders as he inspected the numerous wounds. "I-I thought they'd taken you, or you'd run off because..."

"Because of what, Din?" ____ asked softly, their hand moving to caress the side of his helmet. They knew what he thought. They had feared it the moment they had left. But their mission was one to be done alone and as fast as possible.

"Because of Morak." He confessed shamefully, his head hung low.

"Din," ____ pressed lightly, making him look up at them once more. "I did leave because of Morak." His face dropped and his skin paled. "But not because of why you think." ____'s smile was soft as they spoke, their thumb stroking the cool steel of his helmet as if it were the warm skin of his cheek.

"Then why?" His voice was no more than a whisper, desperate to know the truth.

"I left because..." ____ sighed. "I saw the torment inside of you, the guilt, the pain. I know what you did on Morak broke you apart, Din, even if it was for Grogu. And I...I wanted to try and fix part of that pain." They admitted bashfully. "I broke into their database, Din. The scan, your face, it's not there anymore. I wiped the whole thing clean."

Din was silent at the revelation. After all this time, all this worrying, they were actually trying to help him? An epiphany struck him, like a bolt of lightning crashing down, and within a matter of seconds his hands had ripped the helmet from his head.

____ shielded their eyes almost immediately. "Din, what are you-" Their protest was cut off by his lips which crashed against theirs with a tremendous passion. They sank into the kiss, their hands caressing the sides of his face as they both clung to each other. Din pulled away from them with ragged breaths after a long moment, and held their face as they kept their eyes shut.

"It's okay. You can open them." He reassured in a whisper.

"Din, your creed-" ____ protested, hands resting over his. "Taking it off destroyed you."

"I realised something whilst you were gone, and it only became clear to me when I saw you again. What happened on Morak broke me into pieces. What I am, what I know, was taken from me. But that's... that's okay. Because," He said, resting his forehead against theirs. "you're here. And Grogu is here. And you two have given me another part of me, another piece of myself that I never knew I would have." He chuckled in disbelief at his own words, basking in the euphoric feeling.

"But it's not too late. Din, you're still a Mandalorian, and the databases are-"

"Clean, I know. And I can't thank you enough. You risked your life for me. Just to try and put me back together. But I don't need the creed to do that, I need you. Piece by piece, I'll find myself again, and it starts with you looking me in the eyes." He pleaded softly, waiting patiently for them to oblige.

He could see the confusion and uncertainty on their face as the brow furrowed and their eyes twitched ever so slightly, as if they were trying to open but ____ restrained them.

"I don't want to be the reason you give this up. Your whole life-"

"My whole life is more than just being a Mandalorian now, Cyra'ika. You, and the kid, you've shown me that." His words soothed their reeling mind, and slowly, very slowly, their eyes opened to gaze upon Din's face which smiled reassuringly at them.

They couldn't help but sigh at the sight of him, his beauty one for the Ages, and the kindness that lay within those brown eyes...

"You're sure about this?" They asked once more for reassurance, making Din laugh.

"I am sure."

There was a brief silence as they simply admired each other. "You couldn't have told me that before I fought off a whole battalion of troopers?" Their light jest made him guffaw, a glorious sound that rebounded off the metal of the ship as he picked them up in his arms and swung them around.

Piece by piece, he slowly started to feel whole again.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #star wars imagine #din djarin x oc #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #The mandalorian imagine #Din djarin #din djarin x you #mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian x gn!reader #din djarin x gn!reader

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fanfic-collection · 3 years

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Loki x Reader: Apocalypse - Ch 10

Sorry updates got a little sporadic, my life has been a little crazy and I haven't had access to my computer when I've wanted to. Also sorry how short this chapter is. Hopefully you're still reading and enjoying. I'm really thinking that my biggest project should be finished enough that I can get back to fun things soon and life will settle down enough but I don't wanna keep making false promises. But *crosses fingers* let's hope! Maybe I can do Whumptober

The tool skittered along the nanite shield and just in time, you flicked the switch, turning it off before it hit skin.

Loki let out the breath he had been holding.

For a moment, nothing happened.

You looked at the collar still slightly resting on his skin. Carefully, you picked it up, picking the sharp points from his skin and lifted it with a great deal of strength. Loki seemed to realize what you were doing and started to assist you. The two of you dropped the pieces to the floor with a heavy thud. Still nothing.

Then slowly, a green glow emanated from the metal chunks on the floor, illuminating the room and throwing the three of you into a sharp contrasted light.

“Nope, don’t like that.” Tony muttered, stepping back. His armor came out.

Loki turned his head toward Tony, hearing the armor.

The glow spiraled into the air taking the semblance of something quite like a snake, twisting and curling in and around upon itself before finding its target. It slammed into Loki’s chest nearly knocking him off his feet, and instead thrusting his arms back in a spread-eagle stance as his red eyes glowed. Green flames rose from the ruby depths. The green glow spiraled through him, in and around snaking its way into his chest down and around him, absorbing into him, dimming the lights of the room and summoning green flames in the palms of his hands.

And then it stopped.

Loki curled over, stepping forward to steady himself and coughing.

You reached forward hesitantly, searching for his shoulder, “Are you ok?”

Loki looked up at you, the fire had faded from his eyes. “Yes.” He gasped softly.

“Cool. You got your mojo back.” Tony muttered.

Loki straightened up, rolling his shoulders. Somehow he seemed taller, broader, just all around bigger. You fought the urge to stare.

“So now what, Skrillex?”

“Well, I’d like to get my vision back, but we’ll need whatever is powering this storm. So we’ll need whoever is acting leader. And if we find out who that is.” Loki looked pointedly at the wall.

“That’ll solve our problem.” Tony nodded, “right, good.” Some rock song started playing and he looked down at his pocket, “Sorry, that’s me.” He pulled out his phone, “Yea, go for it.”

Bucky Barnes’ image appeared on the phone, “Stark… we were too late, your intel was bad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony frowned, “And what do you mean too late?”

Sergeant Barnes angled the phone towards the room behind him. He appeared to be in one of the shelters dotted around the world. Only it was silent.

Piles and piles of bodies filled the amphitheater, you gagged, quickly looking away. Loki couldn’t see but he could guess, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and allowing you to hide in his chest.

The blood, so much blood spilled, flooding the ground… it filled your vision, flooded your mind. You scrunched your eyes shut trying to force the meters and meters of bodies out of your vision.

“Pet, you’re shaking.” Loki murmured. He tilted his head back in the general direction of the phone, “They’ve started the offensive. It seems they’re ready to begin eradication.”

Bucky leaned into his phone, “Oh, hey Loki, didn’t expect to see you on Earth.” He gave Tony a questioning look.

“I had nothing to do with it.” Tony replied indignantly. Then Tony rounded on Loki, “And what are you talking about?”

“The Jotuns have a personal vendetta against humanity, and it seems without the might of Asgard to protect you this time.” Loki pursed his lips.

“Great. Another intergalactic threat. What did we do to piss everyone off?” Tony grumbled.

“This is a centuries’ old vendetta. I was born during the last war.” Loki said quietly.

You looked up at Loki, finally drawing back from his chest. The vision of bodies burned into your eyes. He seemed distant, lonely. The look on his face broke your heart. Tony was right, you had fallen, hard.

#Loki x reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #multi chapter #fic bit #Loki x you #no y/n

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midrashic · 2 years

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[ID: tweet from @onslaughtverse reading, erik "i'd destroy the world for you" lehnsherr and charles "i'll create a world that deserves you" xavier /end ID]

#sorry to repost but also. screech #fandom: hated and feared #relship: we'll always have cuba #ch: heavy metal broke my heart #ch: if you can‚ teach (professor heal thyself)#genre: analytical #filed under: highlights reel

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thewildomega · 4 years

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Feral Red Dog ch. 1

A/N: So I will say this again Trigger Warning. Also this Awesome Fan art of young Sakazuki is not mine, the artist to what I understand deleted their account so I hope they won’t mind me using their work. Anyways I hope ya’ll like it and if you could leave me some feedback it would make my day.

Sitting on the cold, hard stone you winced at the ache of your backside and the burning pain of your wrists. Looking down at the cuffs binding your wrists together you noticed the red stain to your skin and tilting your head, you bit your lip at the sight of your now raw flesh, patches of flesh rubbed away by the rough metal. Sighing you pulled your knees up to your chest in an attempt to get more warmth to your near freezing body. The cave- like place those disgusting pirates deemed as a good hiding place was damp and cold, seeming to seem into your very bones. It had been days since you had seen the sun and even longer since you had eaten, you were pretty sure your body had given up asking for food at this point. You felt so weak, even if a chance to ever escape came you doubt you would be able to make it far in your state. Glancing up to the man currently posted as your watchdog you saw him sitting on the crate, his own eerie black eyes lifting from where he had been sharpening a blade to look at you. Dropping your head to your knees you let your heavy eyes slip close and took in a shallow breath, your broken ribs making it hard to get the air you needed.

Sleep almost had you under her spell when a loud boom filled the air and then the cave shook. Cannons. Snapping your eyes up you saw the man become alert as well, standing and holding his long blade in his hand while his other moved to his pistol on his hip. Men shouting and yelling echoed through the tunnels of the cave, one word making your blood turn to ice, "Marines!"

Scrambling to your feet you started towards the male, "Hey, hey come on you have to let me...Ahhh!" A hard smack to your left cheek sent you falling to the rocky floor, blood dripping from your lips.

"Quiet girl!" He huffed.

"JET, KEEP THE BITCH ALIVE! SHE'S WORTH A FORTUNE!" Another male voice rang from down the tunnel.

Breathing heavily you could only listen as the marines began infuriating the cave. Gunshots and yelling bounced off the cave walls. The high pitch clash of swords and screams of those being injured or killed filled your ears. Your heart was soon to beat out of your chest like that of a cornered animal about to be slaughtered. Swallowing hard you felt your body begin to tremble as the heavy boots thumped on the cave floor. They were coming. Seeing the male that had been keeping watch of you yell out and charge forward you tensed. A blood curdling scream was heard before a body fell into your line of sight, a young man dressed in marine whites that were quickly turning red. The sound of a gun went off, a bullet ricocheting off the rock walls and more yelling. It was now or never. Either way you were most likely going to die, you wouldn't go down without a fight. Hurrying to the side you looked around the large bolder to see the man who had been watching you battling a marine. Snapping your eyes in the other direction you saw shadows of men on the walls. Licking your cracked lips you hear a gasp and looked to see 'Jet' cut the other man in the abdomen, the male falling backwards. Watching as the pirate lifted his gun, pulling back the hammer and aiming at the young male you saw a fallen sword laying by the dead male and acted quickly. Grabbing the blade you ran towards the male and shoved it through his shoulder blades as hard as you could. Watching him fall dead beside the injured marine you met the young beta's eyes for only a moment, shock filling his grey eyes before you took off down the tunnel.

Skidding to a stop as more fighting broke out in front of you, you opted for running around them. Hearing what sounded like the captain of the pirates yell for someone to grab you, you kicked the man who went to grab you in the groin as you ran for the exit. A sharp pain in your thigh made you stumble, your leg falling out from under you and a broken cry leave your throat as you rolled to the ground and out of the cave entrance. Whimpering you grit your teeth and forced yourself to stand, your right leg now barely able to hold your weight. Seeing an open grass covered plain in the full moon's light you began limping as fast as you could for it. As the sound of the battle seemed to grow more distant you thought you may be in the clear before something was sending you falling towards the ground again and hard. Whimpering you let out a huff though your nose as you tried to push yourself up again.

"Give it up, Pirate scum."

Hearing the extremely deep male voice you pushed yourself up to your knees, the male's shadow falling over you as he came to stand in front of you.

Looking over the what he now knew to be female he watched as she struggled to get to her knees in the tall grass. Walking around to stand in front of her he looked down at her and noticed imminently the iron shackles around her wrists that were not marine grade. It was hard to tell in the moonlight but she looked like she had been through hell. As her tired eyes met his he scanned over her beaten face he quickly came to the assumption that she was not in fact one of those pirates but more likely a captive of theirs. Still though there was something wild in her eyes. Crouching down to get a closer look of her he was hit with a strong scent that made something primal in him purr with delight. he now knew why she was being held captive by them, this young woman was an omega. Reaching out to grip her jaw in his large hand dodged her attempted bite and dug his fingers into her skin a little as he tilted her face to each side, looking for any signs of pervious claim, seeing none he raised one brow.

You knew him, oh God why did it have to be him? Vice Admiral Sakazuki. Fear, all you felt was fear and it was made worse by the overwhelming scent of his alpha hormones. How, how did it come to this? With you on your knees, wrists chained, with none other than the most feared vice admiral staring down at you with his hard, brown eyes, seeming to burn a hole straight to your soul. Holding the alpha’s stare you grit your teeth, "Well get on with it." you growled. If he was going to kill you you wished he would hurry it up. But to your surprise the male only let out a small huff of amusement before the corner of his lip lifted up, his next words changing the rest of your life.

"You'll do." he huffed.

Furrowing your brows you felt your heart hammer in your ears. Watching him stand back to full height you wanted to ask what he meant but the world started spinning and other muffled voices were growing closer. Feeling very lightheaded you blinked your heavy eyes and saw him no longer focusing on you as he spoke to whoever else was there. Weakly you tried to move, pushing your body up to your wobbly legs but fell to the ground shortly after. Looking up at the stars as they twirled around the night sky you saw something dark block your view. Deep muffled voices sounded like thunder in your ears and then you were being lifted from the dew covered grass and an immense warmth was enveloping you. Trying to keep your heavy eyes open you parted your dry lips to speak when a deep voice cut through the darkness evading your mind.

"Sleep omega." he told her and felt her small form fall limp in his arms. Carrying her back to his ship he made his way straight to the med bay and barked out for one of the doctors to come attend to her. Now in the light of he ship he saw she was small, frail even. Her dirty and matted hair looked to be a Crimson red and she was very malnourished, her torn and bloody clothing doing nothing to hide how skinny she was. Stepping back as the doctor went to work on her he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Who is this woman Vice Admiral?" the doctor asked.

"That is something I intend to find out. Treat her and keep me updated on her condition." he spoke deeply, leaving no room for discussion.

"Yes sir." the woman said and heard the male's heavy footsteps grow faint as he left them alone.

.............................

Hushed voices. Warmth. Pain. Groaning you felt your brow twitch and the extreme dryness of your throat. Attempting to swallow just to get some kind of moisture you flinched when something touched you. Feeling your head get lifted some and another pillow get moved behind your head you whimpered at the stiffness of your body.

"Shhh, it's alright, you are safe. Here drink."

Feeling something touch your lips you obeyed and swallowed greedily at the water the unknown woman was giving you. Once you had had your fill you turned your head slightly and felt her pull the glass away. Cracking your eyes open you instantly closed them again at the light that blinded you. Flutter your lashes open slowly you felt your eyes adjust and then blinked a few times before finally being able to look at the woman, the nurse as she was so obviously dressed. Casting a glance around the room you saw what looked to be a hospital room. White walls, white floors and white ceilings. It smelled clean as well.

"You are in the hospital on Marine headquarters." she told the woman in a kind voice.

Snapping your eyes back to the beta female you tensed at the information. You could only stare at the brown haired woman as she went about telling you how lucky you were to be alive and how Vice Admiral Sakazuki had been the one to 'save' you.

Noticing the woman's breathing pick up she reached out to touch her and saw her instantly recoil. "You are okay miss, you are safe here, no one is going to hurt you." She told her. "Can you tell me your name?" she asked but the woman wouldn't answer. "Are you hurting at all? I can adjust your medication...."

"No." you spoke, your voice cracking a bit. No you didn't want her to put you back to sleep, you needed to find a way out of here.

"Well you must be hungry. I will go get you some soup and inform the Vice admiral that you are awake."

"Time..." you croaked out, glancing to the window and seeing little to no light.

"It's almost dawn. He is likely not up yet but he was very clear that he was to be told when you woke." she spoke, adjusting the woman's blankets. "You just relax and I will be back shortly."

Watching the woman walk out of the room, closing the curtain behind her to give you privacy you looked down to your body and saw you wore nothing but a simple grey gown. Lifting your arms you saw your wrists wrapped in bandages along with a small one over the cut that had been on your forearm. There was an IV line in the top of your hand. Following the line up to the stand you saw two bags, one most likely fluids and the other medicine of some sorts. Taking a deep breath you bit your lip as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, your muscles aching along with your side. Hooking a finger in the neck of your gown you saw your upper half wrapped in bandages as well. Pushing the blankets from your legs and lifting the gown up your thigh you saw a thick layer of gauze wrapped around your mid thigh, the gunshot. That would pose a problem in your escape. Turing to hang your legs over the bed you eased off the side and had to quickly catch yourself from falling to the floor. Panting you took a few minutes to adjust, pulling the IV out of your hand and tossing it to the bed. Stumbling to the curtain you peeked out and saw another bed on the other side, a sleeping man there. Noticing a neatly folded pile of clothes on the table you narrowed your eyes.

After painstakingly pulling on the man's marine uniform you sun your hair around into a ball on the top of your head and tugged on the cap, tucking in any stray hairs. Walking to the opening the nurse had left through you peeked out and saw as another nurse, an older lady moved behind another curtain across the room. With a deep breath you started across the room and out to the hall, keeping your head down. Looking left then right you saw no one either way but could hear voices coming from the right so you chose left. Walking for some time you saw people coming towards you, two doctors by the looks of it. Panicking you grabbed the vase of flowers from the nurse's station counter and kept walking, holding the flowers over your face.

"Morning officer." one of the doctors spoke.

"Morning." you muttered, making your voice as deep as possible. Hurrying down the stairs you continued holding the vase until you got to to the main front desk and placed them down. Walking out of the hospital you started going down as many side streets as possible until before long you had no idea where you were and the sun was up in the sky. More people were out on the street now, marines and what you assumed were their families. Seeing a woman walking with two small children you swallowed hard and moved to her. "Excuse me miss..." When she turned to look at you you licked your lips, "I was wondering if you could help me out, I'm new here and well I'm a little lost. Could you tell me where the docks are?"

Smiling she tilted her head. "Of course, I was the same my first few months here. If you go down this main street you will see a sign that tells you to go right and you just follow that the whole way down to the docks."

Nodding you gave her a small smile and thanks before following down the way she told you. Feeling your leg throb you bit the inside of your cheek and pushed on. If you were lucky you would be able to slip aboard a leaving ship and then play marine until you could slip away on the next island. Turning right like the woman said you were passing a storefront when something wrapped around your waist, a large hand coming up to cover your mouth before you could say a word.

................................

Walking down the halls of the hospital, people moved out of his way per usual. Getting to the wing she had been in for the last four days he saw a nurse carrying a tray of soup and other small things towards her room. The young woman looked up at him and grinned politely. "Good morning Vice Admiral, I was just about to bring her something to eat."

"So she is awake then?" he asked, moving to help open the curtain for the nurse so she wouldn't spill the omega's food.

"Yes sir she..."

Hearing the young woman stop short and seeing her face turn to one of shock he quickly looked to the bed to see it empty. "WHERE IS SHE?!" he roared.

Shaking at the alpha's loud roar she felt some of the soup spill to her front and quickly looked up to his eyes, shaking her head. Opening and closing her mouth a few times she swallowed hard, "I.. I don't know sir, she... she was just here. I only went to tell someone to inform you and then walk down to the dining hall to get her something to eat. I don't understand how she..."

Moving into the room he saw the IV line on the bed and her discarded gown on the floor. Narrowing his eyes he pulled back the curtain of the next room and saw a male laying in bed, his head wrapped in bandages. Looking to the table he saw the man's clothes gone. She had taken them, she was impersonating an officer. Growling he walked past the nurse and out to find the omega he planned to make his.

Marching through the streets he snapped his eyes ot every officer he saw, scanning their face. She was injured so she shouldn't have been able to get far but truth be told she shouldn't have been able to even get out of the hospital. It had been almost a week since he had found her and since then she had been out cold. The doctor on his ship had told him she had been lucky to be alive. Along with a gunshot wound to her thigh that had caused her to loose much blood she had many broken ribs and the wounds on her wrists from the cuffs had already begun to get infected. She had been kept on antibiotics and pain medication to help her catch up on the rest her body obviously needed. With all of that he couldn't lie that he was impressed by her determination and will but that changed nothing, she would be his.

Continuing to look for her for sometime he was beginning to get frustrated when he heard his name being called and turned to see a petty officer running towards him, the young boy stopping to salute him.

"Vice Admiral Sakazuki, you are to report to Fleet Admiral Kong sir." the young boy said.

Sighing he nodded his head and watched the boy make his leave. Giving one last look around he grit his teeth, he hoped she wouldn't find her way off the island before he got finished attending to Kong. He still kept a look out for her the whole way but to his disappointment she was no where to be found. Knocking on the Fleet Admiral's door he heard the male's deep voice and opened the door. What he saw made him freeze. Kong was sitting behind his desk, his large arms crossed and his face as serious as always. Occupying the long couch in front of the desk was none other than Vice Admiral Garp and Admiral Sengoku. Between the two large males, sitting with her arms crossed over her chest and a hard glare on her face was none other than the little omega he had been looking for. Meeting her eyes he saw a fire in them that was willing to battle with his magma.

"Take a seat Sakazuki, we have much to discuss." Kong spoke and watched the male close the door.

Walking over to sit in one of the two chairs on either side of the couch he looked again to the omega and saw her give him a heated glare before she turned her head and looked towards the window.

"I will take it this is the 'surprise' you encountered while on your mission?" Kong asked.

"Yes sir." he spoke.

Humming he looked to the girl. "Would you like to tell us how you became a captive of pirates... Y/n?" he asked, noticing Sakazuki's brow twitch just the slightest amount.

Remaining silent you continued looking out the window until you heard Sengoku speak from beside you.

"Go on Y/n, tell the truth."

Sighing stared out at the sea, "Got caught trying to sneak off their ship." you grumbled.

"What the hell were you doing sneaking on a god damn pirate ship girl?! Didn't I tell ya to stay on that island and behave yourself?!" Garp yelled, smacking the girl in the back of the head.

"Ow! I told you I didn't want to stay there! It was boring as all hell!"

"That was the point you little shit. We put you there because you would have been safe..."

"Safe my ass old man the slavers started coming around more and more. If I hadn't left when I did they would have found sold me to the dragons then and there!"

"So you thought that you would do what y/n, hitch a ride with pirates to the next island and then go along your way? What then? What was your plan then?" Sengoku asked in that disapproving voice of his.

"I don't know, just keep moving I guess." you shrugged, looking down to your lap.

"Well look how well that turned out?" Garp scoffed.

"You should be grateful Sakazuki found you when he did, if not then those pirates would have no doubt sold you to the highest bidder by now." Sengoku added.

Continuing to ignore them you opted for looking out the window. "So what now, you all just drop me off at some island again?" you growled.

"No." It had been the first time he had spoke through all of this and he saw as the omega....y/n's eyes snapped to him, a confused look on her face.

"Sakazuki?" Kong asked.

Looking over the omega he felt a strange pull towards her and blinked before directing his attention back towards the Fleet admiral and raising his chin. "I choose her, she will be my wife." he spoke in a deep voice.

Shocked by his sudden claim you felt your mouth fall open a bit before an anger filled you and you let out a growl, "Go fuck yourself asshole!" you snarled.

"Y/n! What have I told you about using that kind of language. Ladies do not.." Sengoku started but you cut him off.

"I ain't no damn lady!"

"Well that's for damn sure..." Garp grumbled

Listening as the three on the couch went on bickering Kong held the young vice Admiral's eyes for a moment, reading him. Taking a deep breath he looked back to the three and blinked. "Go wait outside with her. Sakazuki and I need a moment alone."

Seeing Garp and Sengoku stand on either side of you and feeling them grab your arms you shook them off and stood on your own, stomping out of the room.

Once they were left alone Kong leaned back in his chair and looked to Sakazuki. "You still have time you know, to choose a wife. Your promotion to an admiral has already been decided but it will not go into effect until the end of the year that gives you plenty of time to look around."

"I do not need to look any further. I choose her." he said affirmably.

Closing his eyes he thought on the matter. "You found her Sakazuki, by law the omega is yours to claim but I will warn you that she will not submit easily."

"What is her story?" he asked.

"We don't really know. When Rocks was defeated ten years ago Garp found her chained up at the bottom of on of his ships, she was just a child. She was badly beaten and half starved. She doesn't remember anything about her past other than the fact that Rocks had killed her entire village. From what we figured he took her as a pet or trophy of sorts. She hasn't ever opened up about her time on the ship and from the shape she was found in she may never. Once she was treated here for a time and her body healed she started to show signs of an omega and we made the decision to hide her away. I am sure you are aware of the Celestial Dragon's obsession with Omegas, most are taken from their families as soon as they show signs and sold to them. Given her past we knew she would never make it if subjected to that kind of treatment."

"Do you know how old she is?" he asked.

"No. We guess she was about eight or so when Garp found her and from what she could tell us Rocks took her when she was around five." Kong told him.

Grunting he saw Kong open his eyes and look to him.

"You are certain, you know you will not be able to change your mind once you claim her?" The fleet admiral asked.

"Yes sir."

"Very well." he said with a sigh.

Watching as Kong called for Garp and Sengoku to come back in he saw Garp currently holding onto Y/n's forearm as she hit and kick at him.

"Let me go you geezer." you growled.

"Geezer?! Keep on and I'll..."

"That's enough." Kong spoke. Looking to the young woman he saw her giving him a hard glare. Taking a deep breath he let it out slowly, "Y/n, you will marry Vice Admiral Sakazuki."

"Like hell I will!" You roared.

"It is not up for discussion!" he yelled, stopping her and both other men from speaking again.

Breathing heavily you looked to the Fleet Admiral and then to the large alpha male sitting in the arm chair with his arms crossed. When he stood and walked over to tower over you, you lifted your eyes to actually look him over. The hood of his white hoodie was still drawn, a cap still on his head and a deep scowl on his face.

Looking down at the omega he rose his chin and smirked at the look she was giving him. This would be interesting.

@lawlerek

#akainu #akainu x reader #sakazuki x reader #Yandere Akainu #Alpha Akainu #Alpha x Omega #One Piece Fanfiction

136 notes · View notes

crystalstar8 · 3 years

Text

Knights of the Night (ch 21)

Chapter 21

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19, ch 20, ch 21

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

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 2,998

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

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2 @zobadak @fallenstar-7

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

TW: violence, gore, graphic descriptions of gore

(sorry for the wait, but it think it turned out pretty good, if i do say so myself. Also, i just don't know what to do for the pictures anymore lol.)

“Just so we’re clear, you’re probably not going to use this thing the day of,” said Jimmy K. “You two and Jin are gonna be evacuating the captives while the rest of us fight. All this training is just in case.”

“I know,” said Jungkook. “I still want to learn how to use it.”

The heavy double propane tanks were strapped to Jungkook’s back, the hose in hand.

“It’s pretty easy,” said Jimmy K. “Just open the valve and pull the trigger.”

Training with Jimmy K was fun but grueling. They had been doing target practice for hours, which was tedious. By the time evening hit, Catalina’s shoulder hurt and she just wanted to see her boyfriend use a flamethrower. She wasn’t disappointed. He was downright giddy as he twisted the valve open on the tank behind his head, then blasted the practice dummies. The dummies, along with all the arrows sticking out of them, burst into flames. Jungkook laughed gleefully, the light of the fire glinting in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She couldn’t move, and the metal against her neck was pressing harder. She wished she could reach out for Jimin’s hand beside her, but he couldn’t move either. She wished Jungkook wouldn’t look at her like that, with dread and desperation in his eyes. She wished he wouldn’t try so hard to get to her, she didn’t want him to die too. He needed to get out safely. She tried to open her mouth to tell him that, but then the hand holding the knife to her throat moved and the last thing she heard was a scream.

“Cat! Wake up!”

Catalina woke with a start, sweating, tears streaming down her face. She was in her room.

“Cat?”

She startled again, her heart still pounding before she saw Jungkook beside her. He was looking at her with concern, a hand reaching out to cup her face.

“You were having a nightmare,” he said. Catalina sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his palm.

“I don’t remember it,” she said. That was a lie. She did remember it, but she didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t know what all these dreams meant and she didn’t want to. She felt him pull her closer and wrap his arms around her.

“Go back to sleep,” he said. “No more dreams tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The mansion was packed. Well, the foyer was packed. When Catalina and Jungkook arrived, they were surprised to see so many people, so many vampires, already there. The unfamiliar faces stared at them as they pushed through the crowd.

They found Hoseok in the back of the lounge, playing on his phone on the couch.

“This is a party in here,” said Catalina.

“Yeah, Namjoon’s friends from up north got here yesterday,” said Hoseok. “Can you believe this is all one clan?”

“Out there?” Jungkook asked. “That’s all one group? There’s like twenty of them out there!”

“Is he expecting more?” asked Catalina.

“I don’t think so,” said Hoseok. “Namjoon already went over the plan with them over night. Most of them don’t even care a whole lot about saving humans, they’re just in it for fun. I guess it’s okay, as long as the job gets done.”

“True,” said Catalina. “We’ll need all the help we can get. So, we’re doing this thing tonight? Are you nervous?”

Hoseok thought for a moment before turning to her and saying, “They ruined my life. I’m fine now that I have these guys, but I could have finished college and done something with myself. And they ruined that chance for me. So, I think I’m ready to end them.”

The conviction in his eyes was almost startling to Catalina. She’s never seen him like this, but it made her happy. He was ready to take his life back.

“Are you ready?” Jungkook asked Catalina, taking her hand.

“I think so,” she said. “I want this to end.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived at the same time as the police. Catalina waited outside the entrance for the signal. Emergency vehicles lined the perimeter, ambulances opening their doors and readying themselves for patients.

“How many do you think will be in there?” she asked Namjoon. He looked confidant ordering the vampires around, but he hesitated when he answered.

“There should be no more than thirty,” he said. He sounded sure of himself, but Catalina caught a flash of nervousness in his eyes. She looked over at her other friends. Yoongi was dressed in a tracksuit, an ornate sword on his hip. His grip was tight, knuckles white. Taehyung looked fierce and determined, but he was chewing on his lip and pacing. Hoseok looked the most nervous, picking at his already torn sleeves, eyeing the building with trepidation.

They called themselves immortal, but Catalina knew they weren’t. They were just as nervous as she was.

She watched Jimmy K lead the vampires into the building, one small group at a time. She watched Namjoon, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok go in. She waited three minutes, then went in herself. She knew Namjoon was going to try to find Makai and make a deal first. If that didn’t work, they would fight. Catalina hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but as she descended the stairs and entered the tunnel, she knew it wasn’t going well. Voices bounced off the cement walls, mixing with the clanging of her footsteps against the metal floor. As soon as she reached the end of the tunnel, one of Namjoon’s friends, Priya, Catalina remembered, met her there.

Priya supposedly had very good hypnotic abilities, even against other vampires, which was why Namjoon chose her as their cover. She would make sure Catalina, Jungkook, and Jin got in and out without being seen. Catalina never got the chance to witness those abilities, so she just had to trust Namjoon’s word for it.

The fight had broken out in the central part of the basement. She couldn’t see her friends, but she didn’t want to spend too much time searching for them in the chaos. She needed to focus on her task. Catalina made it to the first door. The metal lock mechanism was tight and she had to get Priya’s help opening it. Once it was opened, she rushed to the person inside. It was a pale woman, lips so blue and eyes so sunken, Catalina would have assumed her to be dead in she hadn’t cracked her eyes open.

After taking the needle out and checking for any other wounds, she asked, “Do you think you can walk?”

The woman just stared at her, so Catalina lifted the woman’s arm and draped it over her shoulders, helping the woman to her feet. She was almost dead weight at first, surprisingly light, but then she slowly started shuffling her feet, trying her best to stay upright. A loud boom shook the ground, making Catalina flinch.

As fast as they could, they made their way back to the tunnel. Catalina glanced into the crowd. Across the giant room, an entire wall was destroyed, dust still in the air. She still couldn’t see her friends.

Jungkook and Jin, along with two police officers met them at the bottom of the stairs. The officers took the woman from Catalina.

“It sounds bad,” said Jungkook, his eyes wide.

“I can’t really tell what’s happening,” said Catalina. “I didn’t see any of them.”

Jungkook squeezed her hand once before heading down the tunnel with Priya.

“I’ll be quick,” he said.

Catalina watched him go. The sounds of the battle seemed to get louder. A scream broke through the noise, but it didn’t sound like someone she knew. She hoped Jungkook was staying safe. Waiting for him to return was agony. She didn’t know what she would do if he got hurt. Her worry must have been showing through, because Jin put a hand on her shoulder.

Two more officers came downstairs and waited with them.

By the time ten minutes passed, Catalina was shaking. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the entrance of the tunnel.

Footsteps echoed against the metal floor and Catalina’s heart sped up. When she saw Jungkook round the corner, she felt the tension melt off of her. He was carrying a young man in his arms and the woman hobbling beside him was clutching his arm and leaning into him. He passed the young man off to the officers, one of them carrying the man, the other helping the woman up the stairs.

As soon as Jungkook’s arms were free, Catalina threw herself at him. Jin took off down the tunnel with Priya next.

She didn’t let go of Jungkook for several minutes.

“Did you see them?” she asked. He shook his head.

The two officers from before came down the stairs and about a minute later, Jin appeared, helping someone down the tunnel.

The three of them continued like this, eventually trying their best to pick up two or three people each time.

The battle seemed to be calming down, and the next time Catalina went in, she noticed that almost everyone was either subdued or standing around. Someone was talking at the other side of the crowd, but she couldn’t see who it was, she couldn’t tell by the voice either. She still couldn’t see her friends.

The hallway was almost all open doors and empty rooms now. There were only a few left at the end of the hall. If the people inside could walk, she would try to get all of them at once.

Before she could reach the end of the hallway, a woman stepped out from one of the rooms, blocking them from going any further. Catalina recognized her as the blonde woman, Amanda. She was just as glamorous as she remembered, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder, her red lips curled into a sinister smile.

Priya stepped in front of Catalina.

“Just go back to the others,” said Priya. “They must be looking for you.”

“I can smell her,” said Amanda. “You’re trying to hide her from me, but I know her scent. She’s right behind you, isn’t she?”

Priya didn’t say anything, she just clenched her fists at her sides.

“You don’t have to try anymore,” said Amanda. “I know her scent from the field. And when she visited us pretending to be Yoongi’s familiar.”

Catalina realized with a start that she never saw Amanda that day they bought Jimin. Which meant she was watching them the whole time, keeping herself unseen. Catalina felt a shiver run down her spine.

“We have your little friend,” said Amanda. “He’s our bargaining chip. Would you like to join him? It’ll pack a bigger punch if we have two of their pets instead of one.”

Priya growled and stepped forward. She didn’t get much of a chance to attack before Amanda lunged at her, faster than Catalina could even see. Amanda made quick work of Priya, wrestling her to the ground and snapping her neck so far around, her flesh was torn and her dead eyes stared at the ceiling as her chest hit the floor.

Catalina turned around and ran. She ran into an adjoining hallway, taking turns down tunnels she had no idea existed. She didn’t look back to see if Amanda was behind her. She ran until her lungs burned.

Where was she? She didn’t recognize this part of the facility. It looked like a service tunnel; cement walls were covered in pipes and access panels. The ground was metal grating, just like the entrance tunnel. Red, caged lights sparsely lined the bottom of the walls. The red light did nothing to calm her fear. Amanda wasn’t behind her. How? She was faster, Catalina shouldn’t stand a chance.

If I can get to Namjoon, or any of the others, they’ll protect me, she thought. But she didn’t know how to get back. She couldn’t stop moving though. The twists and turns were almost labyrinthine, taking her further and further away from her friends. Further away from her safety. That’s when another thought crossed her mind.

The longer she was gone, the more likely Jungkook was to go looking for her. And that was the last thing she wanted. They already had Jimin, or that’s what she thought anyway. She assumed that’s what Amanda was insinuating.

“Here, kitty kitty,” Amanda’s voice echoed throughout the tunnel. “If you keep running, you’ll run into some monsters down here. And pretty kitties like you will most certainly get eaten by the monsters.”

Catalina couldn’t see Amanda anywhere, but her voice sent a chill through her. Where has she heard those words before? Where has she seen this tunnel before? The familiar burn in her lungs forced her to stop and catch her breath.

Why did it feel like Catalina had already done all this?

A shadow dropped from the ceiling in front of her. Before she could scream, Amanda lunged at her and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Where’s your other human friends?” she asked. “Where’s the pretty one with the big eyes?”

The hand over her mouth didn’t let up, so Catalina couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. Amanda wasn’t waiting around for an answer though. Catalina’s arms were secured behind her back with ease and she was forced to walk. They somehow made it out of the winding tunnels and to Makai’s office unnoticed.

Laying on one of the couches was Jimin, bound and gagged. Catalina’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, I wondered why I recognized this guy when we first got him,” said Makai. He was sitting behind his desk, looking over at Jimin. “I thought maybe I had run into him somewhere in town, or maybe at my yoga lessons on Thursdays. But then Yoongi bought him, and I realized he was one of the humans at the baseball field that day. I can’t believe it took me so long to figure it out! Yoongi was a good actor that day, wasn’t he?”

Catalina didn’t answer.

“Yeah, you guys were good,” said Makai. “And at first, it was fine. He bought his friend back. No big deal. At the end of the day, I still got paid and could keep doing what I was doing. But then you all came in here and wrecked my stuff. It made me kind of sad. I really did like Yoongi. I thought he was cool. I thought his whole clan was cool! Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill them. At least I’ll try not to. I want to work a deal out with them, and that’s where you come in.”

“It’s just a harmless trade,” said Amanda.

“Right! It sounds like they’re talking out there right now, so let’s go out there and see if we can work something out,” said Makai. His smile then disappeared as he stood up from behind the desk. He pulled out two large pocket knives, opening one and handing the other to Amanda. If it’s a harmless trade, why do they have those?, Catalina thought. She didn’t want to die today. She didn’t want Jimin to die and she hoped to God Jungkook stuck to the plan because she didn’t want him to die either.

Makai hauled Jimin to his feet and pushed him out the door. Amanda shoved Catalina after them.

The battle was still halted. Namjoon was at the front of the crowd, speaking with a woman. Mohati. Catalina remembered her from the baseball field. Yoongi was beside him. Taehyung was there as well, a subdued vampire on the ground under his knee.

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Makai bellowed. The crowd went silent and everyone’s attention was brought to the two vampires and their human captives. Catalina saw Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of them. She saw panic flash through Taehyung’s eyes. He almost stood up. She couldn’t see where Hoseok was. She hoped he was okay.

Makai began speaking, addressing mainly Namjoon. They argued, but Catalina couldn’t focus on the conversation over her own pounding heartbeat. Namjoon took a step forward and Amanda brought her knife to Catalina’s throat. Makai did the same with Jimin. His eyes were wide and terrified. He was staring at Taehyung, who matched his expression. Catalina squeezed her eyes closed. The metal dug into her neck. She swore it was breaking the skin. She could hear Jimin’s panicked breathing and she wanted to reach a hand out to him, but her arms were held in an iron grip. Another voice made her eyes fly open.

Jungkook had pushed through the crowd and Yoongi was now holding him back from approaching. Catalina met his eyes. She never wanted to see that kind of terror in his eyes. That pain. She never wanted to see him crying the way he was. Catalina felt tears well up in her own eyes at the sight.

“…you know we can’t let you do that,” Namjoon was saying. “There has to be something we can work out…”

Catalina assumed Makai wanted to bribe Namjoon into letting him continue his organization. She assumed Namjoon was trying to work out a way to not let that happen, but without casualties. Blood was rushing in her ears and the only thing she could focus on was Jungkook. She wanted to tell him not to do anything rash. He needed to stay alive. He needed to get out of this unharmed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement. A vampire she didn’t recognize tried to attack Makai. Namjoon yelled at him to stop, but it was too late. The vampire was tackled by Mohati and the last thing Catalina heard was Jungkook, screaming her name, before she felt the searing pain of the knife dragging across her throat.

Within seconds, her hearing went out, her vision went dark, and before her mind went blank, she prayed she was the only one dying today.

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sevenstarsinning · 3 years

Text

Invasion Ch.11

Description: A planet conquering race of Saiyans invaded Earth and deemed it worthy of habitation. After bringing the humans to their heels, they set up a new society where humans had one role, to serve. You found yourself in the unlucky faction of being bought and sold as a human pet. With absolutely no interest in owning a human but no way out of having one, Kakarot made a bid on you at the urging of his brother. It was only a matter of time before you were either killed or forced into obedience.

You can find previous chapters in this link: Ch.10 or you can read it here on my AO3

Warnings: Things get a little violent in this chapter. Enjoy!

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Kakarot finally glanced up when he heard the door close. He let out the defeated sigh he’d been holding back and slid down the wall he was leaning against. Every ounce of his being was urging him to break free of the cell, tear down the forcefield that kept you just out of his reach so he could hold you one more time. His hands trembled as he flexed his fingers and clenched his fists. The self-loathing began as he recalled the words he said to you, each syllable of bullshit that came spewing out of his mouth. He wanted to take it all back, to beg you to stay, to wait for him, but he knew he had no choice. If he was going to save you, truly save you, he had to make sure your feelings were cut off at the nerve.

He fought sleep at night, every time he closed his eyes he could see your weakened frame, clothes barely hanging off of you, tired and tearful eyes that seemed to burn right through him. He couldn’t bare the sight, so he forced himself to stay awake. Even if he did want to sleep, it wasn’t like they’d let him anyways.

“Wake up, traitor.” Turles stood in the doorway with a wicked grin spread across his face.

Kakarot peered up at him wearily, barely giving him his full attention as he slumped back against the furthest wall in the cell.

“Again, Turles?” His voice was gruff as he spoke.

“You know the drill.” Turles cracked his knuckles loudly.

Kakarot wasn’t sure if it was his attempt to intimidate him or if it was some weird way for him to prepare himself. He slowly stood up, using the wall to lean against as he did. His legs trembled and he kept his gaze on the floor.

“I noticed the Prince brought your little human by earlier.” Turles paced slowly in front of the forcefield.

“She’s not mine.” He didn’t like the way Turles mentioned you, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

“I’ve been thinking,” he slowed and stood directly in front of the cell, “do you think the Prince has had a chance to stretch that sweet little cunt of hers yet?”

Kakarot couldn’t hide the way he clenched his fists instinctively at the mention of you, his nostrils flaring as he fought to control his breath.

“We both know the Prince isn’t patient either. I bet he used her the very first night, shoving her down…” he pulled the key from his pocket, “tearing and clawing at her clothes…” he dropped the forcefield, “right before he shoved his royal cock right into her. Can you imagine the sounds she made? Probably begging for him to breed her tight cunt, pleading for him to claim her like you never did.”

The second the door unlocked, Kakarot launched himself at Turles and jerked him into the cell with him. He broke free of the cuffs that were secured around his wrists. He slammed him back against the hard, metal wall, denting it with his skull while his hand wrapped around his throat.

“Still got some fight in you after all.” Turles grinned and grabbed Kakarot’s forearm, trying to loosen his grip.

Kakarot felt his body buzzing with energy as he held back on turning Super Saiyan. As he was trying to refocus his ki, Turles twisted his arm and shoved him back, cracking his neck as he headed straight for Kakarot. He held nothing back as he fought him, slamming him into every wall in the cell. Kakarot fought back, hit after hit, pounding his fists into the cruel saiyan but continuing to hold back. He knew what happened when he let go completely and he wasn’t prepared to suffer those consequences again.

Before Kakarot could exact his full rage on Turles, he was quickly pulled off of him by two other saiyans. Turles wiped the blood and sweat from his brow as he straightened himself up, the two saiyans holding Kakarot back while they secured another pair of cuffs around his wrists and a heavy steel collar around his neck. Kakarot continued to fight, trying to break free of their hold but an intense jolt of electricity flowed from the collar into his neck. Kakarot cried out in pain as his body tensed, the shock rolling through him wave after wave, each one growing in intensity. They released him and let him fall to the floor, chest heaving as he trembled.

Turles crouched in front of Kakarot and grabbed a handful of his hair, jerking his head up, “I’ve heard the King is leaning more towards execution and I’ll only be too happy to offer my services.”

Kakarot smirked and licked the blood that trickled from his lip, “make sure you have your pets with you.” He cut his eyes back at the two saiyans that remained by the door.

Turles slammed Kakarot’s head on the hard floor and held it down, “we’ll see how funny you think it is when you’re sentenced.”

Turles released him and stepped over his body as they headed out of the cell. Kakarot remained in the floor, every nerve ending in his body was still trembling from the shock as he recovered. It was difficult to maneuver with his hands cuffed behind his back, but he managed to roll over on his back and sit up before scooting himself back against the wall. He let out a harsh sigh as a soreness se into his limbs and images of you flooded his mind. No matter how hard he tried, it was always you that he came back to. You were his comfort, his peace.

“Kakarot?” He recognized the voice as he opened his tired eyes, focusing for a moment before seeing her face.

“I didn’t think they’d let you see me.” He struggled to sit up a little straighter.

Gine knelt in front of the cell, “let them try to keep me from my son.”

The softness in her smile hid something more, something worrisome.

“Who did this to you?” She asked as she took in his current state.

“No one. Why did you come here?” He wanted to avoid her finding Turles and putting him in his place, which he knew she would.

“I needed to see you. There are rumors-“

“Not the good kind, I’m sure.” He gave her a slight smile, hoping it would reassure her that he was okay.

“Not the best things you’d want to hear about your son. I heard your human is settling in at the palace well.”

“She isn’t eating. Or sleeping from the looks of it.”

She perked up a little, “you’ve seen her? Did she come by? Is she coming back?”

Kakarot shook his head, “she isn’t coming back, I made sure of that.”

Gine shifted and moved a little closer to the cell, “I’m sure she still cares for you.”

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything, what is it?”

“I need you to help her move on and get past this. She wasn’t doing well the other day and I doubt she’s doing better now.”

Gine looked up at Kakarot, “I’ll check in on her, see if she needs anything.”

She said her goodbyes as he thanked her, her expression dropping once more as she left. He was grateful that she’d come by and that she was so willing to help him. Kakarot remembered when he was a kid and wanted to get out of training, she would hide him in the laundry basket and tell Bardock she hadn’t seen him. She’d let him know when the coast was clear. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him training, she just preferred to stoke his playful side more than the warrior side. He hoped you’d let Gine help you, it was the only thing that would bring him solace.

It wasn’t that you were ignorant or even that dense, but Gine set up shop and watched you trudge out past the garden almost every day. She watched as you took your anger out in a very odd way and she noticed the way you broke down each time afterwards, clutching your hands to your chest as the tears streamed. She knew you wouldn’t last like this, especially when you weren’t eating. She watched about as much as she could.

“If this is going to be your outlet, you need a better target.” She said as she stood before you.

“How long have you been watching?” you wiped the sweat from your brow, blood staining your knuckles.

“Long enough to know you’re going about this all wrong. If you really want to blow off some steam you need to hit something that’ll hit you back.” She made no move to console you or convince you that this was stupid.

“What did you have in mind? You’re not gonna hit me, are you?” You stepped back from her, knowing she’d put you through the tree in an instant.

“That’d be too easy. Come on.” She grabbed you and took off from the palace grounds.

You wanted to ask where she was taking you and if you even had permission to go that far from the palace, but you honestly didn’t care entirely. You were grateful to be away from everything and wherever she took you was probably going to be better than anywhere else. After a few minutes she started to descend and panic built in your chest.

“Wait- The Arena?! You can’t-“ You struggled to get out of her grasp but she held your arm.

“Calm down. I’m not leaving you here. This place has different rules than the rest.”

“Yeah, and those rules are that humans fight to the death here.” You still tried to pull away from her.

“Not if you enter with a bet or with a saiyan. Doesn’t matter if they own you or not, they can still bring you here to fight.” She held firm with her grip on you.

“I don’t get it, you want me to fight in the Arena? For money? I’m not a fighter. I’ll get my ass kicked.” You looked at her with complete confusion.

“Maybe your heart will hurt a little less then.” She finally released you.

You considered what she was saying. Fighting had never been something you wanted to do, regardless of the situation, but she seemed to think this would help. You weren’t keen on the idea of fighting other people who were forced into the Arena against their will when you were able to come and go as you pleased. But again, there were unknown benefits to doing it. Maybe one time wouldn’t hurt?

“One fight, and then you take me back to the palace, right?”

“Of course. I’m not a monster. Stay with me and don’t say a word.” She returned her hand to wrap around your arm as she pulled you along with her, approaching the large outdoor arena.

The Arena was set up more like a cage of death in wrestling. Stands were set up around the whole thing and in the middle there was a chain link fence with two doors on either side. You could hear the screaming saiyans from the outside and the pent-up energy flowing from it was almost overwhelming.

“Didn’t know you owned a human, Gine?” A small saiyan at the doorway looked you both up and down.

“She’s new. Gotta see what she can do in the Arena before I take her back to Bardock.”

“How much you betting tonight?” Another saiyan asked.

Gine glanced at you then back to them, “let’s set it at one hundred. I don’t want to waste it, she looks a little too thin.”

“Alright, she’s up next. It’s been kind of slow today.”

They made note of her bet and stepped aside for her to lead you in. Anxiety had set up a permanent home in your stomach as you stood to the side of the stands. You watched as the two people in the cage fought one another, hard hits without armor or protection of any kind. Blood splattered the white platform and their clothes. It was violent, chaotic, and exactly what you wanted.

“So what happens now?” You glanced at Gine.

“Once they finish, you’ll go up against whoever is next. A winner is declared one of three ways, a tap out by the saiyan, knock out, or death.” She said as simply as she could.

“Death?”

“If the human is decent and actually wanted, then the owning saiyan will intervene before that happens. If they do that, they forfeit their bet.” She pulled you forward as the fight neared it’s end.

You could tell one of the humans was faltering, barely standing stable on their feet but they continued to fight.

“Stay up!” An angry saiyan shouted from the side of the cage, which you could only assume was their owner.

Within another few seconds the human was flat on the ground, blood trickling from their head as the other human stood victorious, a clear smirk on his face as his opponent lay unconscious at his feet.

“You’re up.” She pushed you forward towards one of the doors in the cage.

You took a deep breath and exhaled it quickly as the door was opened and you were pulled inside. You glanced back at Gine who gave you a slight smile and a thumbs up. It was a simple gesture, but it was at least some kind of encouragement. As you stepped forward, they were still cleaning up from the last fight, the smell of blood was thick in the air, saiyans muttering around you from the stands. It was all so different from what you expected. You looked to the other end of the cage, seeing your opponent enter, realizing she was familiar. You’d seen her before, at the auction. She was the one who bit Nappa.

“You know the rules, tap out, knock out, or death. Those are your only ways out of here.” A large saiyan towered over the two of you as you stood face to face.

He back away and left the cage without another word. You stood almost frozen in place, you had no idea how to start a fight, especially not a fight to the death.

“I remember you,” she said as she stared at you, “that elite bought you. Heard you had a real nice situation there until he murdered all those saiyans.”

“He hasn’t been found guilty yet.” You felt like you were waiting for her to just knock you out at any instance.

“Well, murderer or not, bet he’s still better than mine. Enough chit chat though, you ready to get this over with?” She stepped back and cracked her neck from side to side.

“Um, yeah, I guess-“ Before you could even get your words out completely, she punched you squared in the jaw.

You stumbled back and placed your hand over the sharp pulses of pain you started to feel in your jaw that echoed through your entire head.

“Shit.” You muttered.

“Come on, that wasn’t even my best hit.” She started to circle around you.

You stood back up and before you could even get your bearings, she hit you again. This time she landed her fist in the center of your chest before hitting you in the side of the head with her other fist. Your vision blurred and you felt like your heart stopped as you choked and doubled over. You glanced back to see Gine standing on edge against the cage, still urging you on.

“This isn’t even a fair fight.” She stopped moving and sighed.

“Just kill her and get it over with!”

You looked over to see who her owner was and the second you saw the familiar, spike haired saiyan, you felt an anger building within you. Turles.

“Fucking end her!” He shouted again.

Memories of how he treated you and Kakarot the last time you saw him, flooded your mind. You clenched your fists and centered all of your rage in your stomach. You caught her off guard by tackling her to the ground, pinning her beneath you as you slammed your fists into her, one after another. She grabbed at you and tried to shove you off, but you weren’t budging. You hit her with everything you had, ignoring the harsh hits she landed sparingly on you. You could hear the other saiyans roaring and encouraging the two of you as you fought. It was exhilarating, addicting. She finally managed to shove you off of her, but the pause in fighting was short lived as you both scrambled towards one another with fists flying. Blood poured from her lip as she attacked you and after a moment you noticed your knuckles were smeared with it. You knew you had some wounds as well, but honestly they were at the back of your mind as you fought. You unleashed every ounce of anger and frustration into her, but it wasn’t enough.

Your advantage was brief from the surprise attack you managed. She was clearly a better fighter and trained at that. She quickly dodged one of your hits and had you flat on the ground within a split second, her foot on your throat as she proceeded to hit you, over and over.

“Out! She’s out!” Gine called from the sidelines.

She continued until the saiyan entered the cage again and pulled her off of you, declaring her the winner while you faded in and out of consciousness.

You were vaguely aware of Gine carrying you from the cage, muttering something about how fucked you were in a real fight.

“I can’t take you back to the palace like this. You got your ass handed to you.” She took off from the Arena.

If you had been awake enough to ask questions, you would’ve asked where you were and why she was hooking you up to a few hoses and shoving you into a tank of water, but you were soon unconscious again.

You came to as she was pulling out of the machine, letting the water drain from it as she wrapped you in a towel.

“Not perfect, but at least your face doesn’t look like a piece of chewed up gum.” She helped you dry off.

“I want-“ you coughed up some of the water, “I want to go back.”

“Sorry, humans can’t handle too much of the healing pods, your bodies get all weird and soft.”

“Not that. The Arena.” You looked up at her.

“You need training before that happens. And you need to eat. You look like a starving animal.” She continued to dry you off.

“Train me then.” You said without really worrying about the consequences.

She paused for a moment as if she was giving you a chance to take it back, “did it help?”

“Yes, more than I thought it would.” You nodded.

“Fine, but you won’t tell anyone, and you’ll need to start eating at least three times a day. Deal?”

“Deal.”

For the first time in a while you felt hopeful. Not about your future or the situation with Vegeta, but hopeful about putting your energy and time into something other than waiting for death to come to you.

#lynn #invasion fic #kakarot #kakarot x reader #gine #turles

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lovebug5151 · 4 years

Text

Family Bonding (With a hint of Angst) Robodad Grian Au

(Yes, unless y'all have better ideas for the name of this Au, this is what i’m going with lmao. If you do have any, go ahead and say em! If i like it and it fits, ill rename it and say it was your idea in the next chapter.)

So this is about 2040 words, and i’m quite happy with it. I don’t think I made this one as sad as the first one, but im not sure. I actually have a story line for up to ch 5 of this story, and I hope that this is one of the last true sad chapters (Though I might spice some things up, dont want things too happy, do ya :D

This is also about a week or so after the events of the first chapter.

Grian sat on top of his mansion, just watching and listening to the wind, breathing in, and out. He needed to clear his head. Earlier Mumbo had made a offhand comment about how Grumbots heart was missing, and ‘maybe it fell into the ocean’ before laughing.

While Grian knew Mumbo didn’t have the same background as he did with considering Aware AI’s ‘just robots’, he had called Grumbot son, even if it was awkwardly. It hurt Grian, to know that Mumbo might hurt Grumbot, even unintentionally, if he did see him. And Jrumbot… he was just a child, his dad saying hurtful things would hurt him so much more.

Grian had to quickly finish up what he was doing, and rush back to his base to breath. He couldn’t work beside Mumbo at the moment, couldn’t explain how Mumbo had hurt him, and so had run off.

Grian leaned forward slightly to look down. It was a far drop. Grian had never truly been afraid of heights, he loved climbing high in the air.

It was joked that it was because he was short, that he liked to be tall, but he just liked feeling the wind rush around him, and the feeling of falling and pulling up right before hitting the ground. It was elating, and whenever he was feeling bad he just took a leap off a roof and fell, before swooping up using his elytra.

He wondered if Grumbot would like flying, he could fix up some Jet boots for him, maybe mechanical wings? Yeah, he’ll make some wings for Grumbot and if he liked them, maybe some for himself. He liked the idea of being able to mostly hover in one place.

He let out a breath and looked at the sun. It was nearing lunch, and if he didn’t come inside Grumbot would come looking for him.

Grian swooped down, landing in front of the door, before heading inside.

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Grumbot hummed as he finished cooking some steak. He and Jrumbot were able to eat regular food, and no one knew how, but neither Grumbot or Grian really wanted to question it so they let it be.

He put the steak on plates and turned around just as his Dad walked in. He smiled and said hi to him while bringing the plates to the table. Jrumbot was already there and they sat on chairs to eat.

It was quiet for a moment before Grian yawned. “Have you two ever wanted to fly?”

Grumbot looked at him weirdly for a second before nodding. “Yeah, kinda, but I'm way too heavy for an elytra.”

Jrumbot paused with his steak halfway in his mouth

“If fould fe fun fu fly” He said, still chewing his food.

Grian sighed slightly and smiled at Jrumbot

“Jrumbot, dont talk with your mouth full.”

Jrumbot finished his mouthful and squirmed slightly. “Sorry.”

“|Its alright. Its just something to that we dont make a mess okay?” Grian told him.

“Okay.” Jrumbot muttered, before continuing “But yeah! It would be so fun to fly!”

Grian smiled “I have an idea then, but let's finish eating, yeah?” Both of them nodded at him before starting to eat their steak again.

After dinner, Jrumbot went to go mess with some of the blocks Grian had given him, and Grian and Grumbot went down to the Lab. They called it a Lab, but it was just a basement with too many tech pieces in it.

Grumbot sat down in a chair before waiting for Grian to talk, while Grian went over to look at something on a table.

“Dad,” Grumbot started, when it was obvious Grian wasn't gonna start talking “What was with the questions about flying?”

Grian glanced back at him. “Not much, I was just thinking about something. You both know how you're too heavy for elytras, but I was thinking, if we remade some of your body into lighter but still strong metals, and used,” His talking stopped as he walked towards a wall. Grumbot was confused until suddenly a Shulker Box opened.

Grumbot stared for a second before laughing. “How did i not know that was there?” He got out between giggles.

Grian smiled at him. “I havent opened it around you, and you haven't snooped. I'm not surprised you haven't found it. I keep my old ideas in there, old blueprints, old mechanical pieces I just couldn't throw away, those sort of things.” Grian started unrolling a big piece of paper “And I remembered I had a blueprint of these old things.”

Grumbot stood up to look at the paper, and after taking a moment to understand it, froze with excitement. He glances up at Grian with a giant smile, and Grian smiled back.

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Grian let out a oof as Grumbot collided with him. Grumbot was giggling uncontrollably, and Grian was happy that Grumbot was happy. Grumbot let go to look at the blueprint again and looked up with eyes so full of excitement that Grian felt excited too.

“Can we actually make these?” Grumbot asked, almost bouncing up and down.

Grian laughed and nodded. “Yeah, we'll have to test them out, but there's no reason we can't. It will take a while.” He warned Grumbot “And I will test out the wings first when we think they're ready.”

He saw Grumbot take a breath, to say something when Grian continued. “I haven't tested these designs yet. I would rather, if something goes wrong, to have me gone for a couple days respawning, and you safe, instead of you-” Grian couldn't even finish the sentence before he had to take a deep breath before the tears started coming. “Instead of you getting hurt.” He ended quietly, putting his hand on Grumbots shoulder. Grumbot looked down for a moment, before looking up at Grian with sadness.

“I understand Dad, but please don't get hurt, Don’t d-die and have to respawn, I don't know what I'd tell Jrumbot.”

Grian looked at him and smiled sadly. “I wasn't planning on dying anytime soon kid. Let's start figuring out what we need to get for the wings, yeah?” Grumbot nodded excitedly, and bolted for the metals cabinet. Grian laughed as he followed along.

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Grian Yawned and stretched out his arms. They were all sitting in front of a fireplace, enjoying tea and Jrumbot was cuddling with Maui.

The good feeling couldn't last forever though, because eventually Jrumbot looked up and over at Grian. “Dad,” He started “Why haven't we seen Papa?”

Grian froze for a second before closing his eyes. He didnt wanna talk about this to them, he didn't want to hurt them.

“Dad?” Grumbot questioned, seeing his Dad freeze up and look on the verge of tears.

Grian sighed and rubbed his face. “Both of you come here.” He murmured finally, patting the couch he was sitting on either side of him.

Grumbot and Jrumbot quickly came over to sit beside him, and Grian put both his arms on their shoulders.

Grian took a deep breath. “You have not seen mumbo, and have not been able to explore outside of my mansion area, for a couple reasons. One of these is that I'm not too sure how mobs will react to you, and How you'd react with being hurt by a mob. The other,...” Grian took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, letting his chin drop to his chest. “The other,” Grian continued, “Is because I'm not too sure of how the other Hermits would react to you.” He finally looked up and saw both of them staring at him in confusion. Grian tried to explain. “I'm one of the only ones who have experience with actually aware AI’s, I believe, and when some people are scared of something, they decide that they should hurt it before it hurts them.” He took another deep breath and looked into Grumbot and Jrumbots eyes, one after the other. “I do not believe that many of the Hermits would react this way, but I don't know exactly how they would react, and I don't want them to hurt you, either unknowingly or not.”

He saw Grumbots eyes widen and Jrumbots eyes narrow slightly. “I understand that reasoning dad,” Jrumbot started “But why haven't we seen papa?”

Grian sighed again. “Do you two remember yesterday morning, when I came back early and stayed on the roof for a bit?” they both nodded and Grian continued. “I did that, because Mum- Papa, upset me with his words.” He said, before taking a pause. He didn't look at either of his boys, but rather the ceiling as he said “He made some not nice jokes about Grumbot. Both of you must know however,” Grian started saying immediately when they both froze “That Mumbo doesn't know much about Aware AI’s. He believed Grumbot was an unaware aware AI, and that he was killed when he broke down. He did not know you had actual feelings, instead of manufactured ones. Mumbo often has issues figuring out other people's emotions, and most of the time redstone doesn't have emotions. Mumbo doesn't know about you two, and you haven't seen him,” Grian was starting to slow as he tried to find the words he needed. “Because, Because I am afraid. He murmured quietly. I am afraid he will unwittingly hurt you with his words, and I didnt want that to happen before you were aware it could happen. I'm sorry I kept this from you, but I wasn't aware of how to say it, or if you were ready for it, and decided to let one of you bring the topic up.”

There was silence for a moment before both of his boys hugged him. “I understand Dad,” Grumbot murmured into his shirt. “You didn't want us to get hurt, but thank you for telling us now.” Jrumbot nodded in agreement and Grian let out a wet laugh. Sounding on the edge of tears he said “What did I ever do without you boys?”

Grumbot pulled away and giggled as he said “Forgot about eating dinner.”

Grian paused before letting out a loud laugh which made Grumbot and Jrumbot start giggling.

“I can't say you're wrong.” Grian laughed, running a hand through his hair.

Grian then yawned, and stood up to stretch. “However nice this bonding session has been.” Grian started, turning toward his boys. “I believe it is bedtime. No buts!” he smiled at them as he said that, both of them having opened their mouths to deny it. It is nighttime, and very dark, and both of you need sleep.”

“Will you read to me dad,” Jrumbot murmured, fidgeting on the couch.

Grian smiled at him. “Of course, you only need ask.” He smirked at Jrumbot before saying “However, the first one to get to your room gets to pick the book, and oh look, Grumbots already at the hallway-” Jrumbot shrieked out a laugh as a sudden race took place in the hallway, and Grian smiled as he tidied the place up, talking the mugs to the kitchen to wash tomorrow.

He then walked to the boys bedroom, to find Jrumbot pouting as Grumbot sat on his bed.

“What will the story be?” Grian asked them, and Grumbot smiled before saying, “what about the one about the Dragons saving the world?”

Jrumbot glanced up with wide eyes and Grian grinned. Even though Grumbot had obviously won, he had also chosen his brother's favorite book to read.

Grian walked over to the bookshelf and found the book, “A Warrior's Tail” before walking to Jrumbots bed. He started reading to them, and within the third chapter, they were both asleep.

Grian smiled and leaned over both of them to kiss their foreheads, before whispering ‘night’ and leaving the room. He walked toward his own bedroom and climbed into bed. Grian looked at the ceiling and felt Maui joined him, purring as he curled up around Grians head. He reached up to scratch Maui under the chin, before yawning and turning off his lamp.

That talk was one he had been dreading, and it went over quite well. Grians last thought before sleeping was ‘Maybe I should introduce them to another Hermit.’

-----------

For whatever reason, Autocorrect really hates all names. Anyways, I know who the Hermit is, But do any of you? I want to see who you think the hermit is!

Also, if you liked this story, please comment! I loved reading all of your comments on the last one! They helped me make this chapter as quick as possible! (I may also be procrastinating on other stories with a Grumbot Fix-it Fic but, oh well)

#grian #hermitcraft #Grumbot #Jrumbot #hermitcraft season 7 #Mumbo Jumbo #I love this family so much #The best family is a man and his 2 robot sons #I hope i made it clear how much Grian loves his boys #and how much he doesnt want to see them hurt #>:)#robodad Grian Au

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bigasswritingmagnet · 3 years

Text

When History Comes Calling ch 2/14

Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: Teen Pairing: none, some background Fshep/Garrus

Summary: In 2170, Mindoir was attacked by slavers. Hundreds were taken captive, hundreds more were slaughtered. Kiryn was the only Shepard to make it out alive. For years, he buried his grief, kept his head high, and did whatever he needed to survive.He survived Mindoir and the batarians and when the Reapers came he survived them too.

But when the war ends and he escapes his batarian masters to the Citadel, the discovery that his twin sister is alive and well might just be the thing that breaks him. The Hegemony's greatest assassin will remember what it means to have something to lose.

AO3 link in notes!

belated and special thanks to @reblob-blob for beta-ing, and @snuffes @thehumantrampoline for their assistance <3

---

His plan had been sound - find the largest assortment of refugees in the safest location. Keep a low profile. Get the lay of the land in the world outside batarian space. He remembered the Citadel being touted as a beacon of safety and civil obedience, but after 15 years in his… particular profession, Vondur had learned that there was always a seedy underbelly. Sure, he was going to have to start from scratch, but with his skills it wouldn’t take long to rebuild his reputation.

In practice, though.

In practice, it was hundreds of shipping crates stacked on top of each other, the smell of unwashed bodies and dirty laundry, a constant jumble of voices crying and shouting and arguing, bright lights glaring down like spotlights. Guards at the exits, eyes suspicious and watchful; dull-eyed bureaucrats processing the new comers without sympathy or interest.

It felt like the slave pens.

He found a dark corner out of sight of the main crush of people. It looked out over one of the Citdael’s arms, the orange city glow dotted with spots of black where the power was lost or the buildings crushed to rubble -- the night sky turned inside out. He wrapped his hands around the railing and tried to find the moment.

It was a technique his very first instructor had taught him, and one that he had come to rely on heavily. Ignore the past, ignore the future, ignore even the present. By the time you acknowledge the present it is already the past. Find the moment you are in. The breath in your lungs, the beating of your heart. The feeling of cold metal warming against his palms, the light reflecting off passing ships lighting up the insides of his eyelids...

The feelings that the present was stirring up - old fear, nausea, memories of being helpless and alone -- all faded, leaving him clear headed and calm once more.

When Vondur opened his eyes, the world had righted itself. He was still here, but now he could think. And he could notice, consciously, the person coming up behind him. He’d been aware of their presence, but only by instinct. Now he could analyze the clues he’d picked up -- perfume, the rustle of clothing, the weight of the tread -- and know not to attack the civilian human female coming up behind him.

“Excuse me?”

He pretended to be surprised when he turned. The human gave him a shy smile. She was small, about five foot even, with her blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Younger than he’d been expecting - maybe 16 at the most. Either fashion hadn’t changed in the last 15 years, or the colonies were more fashion forward than he remembered them being, because her clothes would have been considered retro when he was her age.

Most interesting, however, was the lanyard around her neck. From here he could see the word ‘volunteer’ in big orange letters on the ID card that hung from it.

“Hi there! My name is Sarah. I’m a volunteer for the Citadel Refugee Project. I help new arrivals get settled in after they’re processed.”

Her words had the patter of a memorized script, but suddenly she hesitated.

“So, um, I’m not sure if anyone told you-- and I’m sorry if I’m wrong, but I’ve been seeing a lot of them and-- I thought, if it was me I’d want someone to make sure I knew-- I just-- it’s just that I--”

“It’s okay,” he said, giving her a casual, nonthreatening tilt of the head.

She straightened up and cleared her throat, and didn’t quite meet his eyes when she said “administration can get you in touch with a doctor who can deactivate and remove batarian control devices.”

Vondur, having only just righted himself,was once more knocked off course into a whirl of unpleasant memories.

Like all slaves, Vondur had received the implant when he was first captured. At first, he had been constantly aware of it, perpetually afraid that any bump or electric shock would set it off. As the years passed it had become normal, a part of him the same way his biotic implant was. Filomet never had cause to threaten him with it, let alone put it to use. Most of the time, Vondur didn’t think of it at all.

Vondur reached up a hand and touched the back of his head. In the soft place at the base of his skull was his implant. Just above it, a thick ridge of scar tissue that did not completely hide the small, hard lump of the device.

Remove it?

Why shouldn’t he? He was a free man, now. Able to choose his own path. He would never need to answer to anyone else ever again. Yes, he’d planned to keep up his… profession, but now they would be his jobs, his choices. The payment would be entirely his, not whatever sliver of a percentage Filomet felt generous - or frightened - enough to pass his way.

He could choose who he would kill.

Sarah was looking up at him nervously. He did a mental check of his expression - impassive, neutral, displaying no trace of the shock she’d given him. Good.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice as level as ever. “I would like to see the doctor.”

Sarah said she would walk him to the office -- a handful of desks -- located in one of the courtyards -- the squares of space the shipping containers opened into. It was staffed by actual employees of the CRP. They managed identification paperwork, locating families, finding temporary housing, medical support, ensured steady supply delivery, and in general jumped the bureaucratic hoops Citadel administration demanded be jumped. These were the souls who actually solved the problems, Sarah said.

“The Citadel set up the camps and they send food down but they don’t really care. They spend more time making sure nobody gets into the rest of the station than they do helping people.” Her voice held a heavy bitterness that surprised him; the kind that came from experience.

“You’re a refugee,” he said, and she gave him an awkward half smile and a one-shoulder shrug.

“Yeah. I mean, I was. I guess I’m technically a citizen of the Citadel now. But I came in on one of the shuttles. I made a lot of friends down here, and I knew what it was like. It didn’t feel right to just… leave and never come back”

“Understandable,” said Vondur, who didn’t understand at all. He had made friends - or at least bonded - with some of the other slaves in the pens. When Filomet had taken him away, Vondur had not looked back. He wanted to get as far away from that part of his life as possible.

I did help them, he thought, irrationally defensive, I saved them in the arena. I stopped Filomet from using bait slaves. There was nothing else I could have done. It’s not like slaves can buy slaves, or free them. I needed to focus on survival. There's nothing wrong with that.

Sarah was still talking. She was, it seemed, quite the chatterbox. And very… peppy.

“It’s not so bad down here. Especially now the war is over. The Reapers were kind of a major bummer, y’know?” She flashed him a grin.

‘Major bummer’. Billions dead, worlds destroyed, your understanding of galactic history and your place in it completely upended…

“Mmhmm,” he said.

“They do holiday celebrations, and you can go to virtual classes- oh, and we have vid nights now. You should definitely submit a suggestion, because they’ve played Fleet and Flotilla like a billion times. What kind of vids do you like?”

Vondur floundered for an answer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched an actual film. It would have been on Mindoir, but he couldn’t think of a single title, couldn’t even remember what kinds of vids he used to watch.

“I don’t watch a lot of vids,” he said. That was a legitimate response, right? Plenty of people out there didn't watch vids.

“Oh. Well what do you like to do?”

This one was even worse, because Vondur did have answers, and not a single one of them was something he could say to this girl. He liked working on upgrades for his sniper rifle. He liked to spar and train to improve his skills in killing people. He liked to practice shooting.

He liked to work. Not to kill. But everything up to that point, the challenge of it, the rush of adrenaline. There was, in his heart, a grim satisfaction in a difficult task completed.

“I like to read,” he said, lamely. Desperate to change the direction of the conversation, he said "And you?"

“I love vids. I want to make my own when I’m older. I especially like the classic stuff. Did you know the Blasto vids are based on a human series from the 1970s? It’s called Dirty Harry; you should check it out. Blasto wishes he could be that cool.”

“Definitely,” he said, wondering what the hell a Blasto was. An argument broke out ahead of them, catching Vondur’s attention. And oh, by the glorious Pillars of Strength, there was a familiar face in the crowd.

Vondur stopped suddenly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I think I see someone I know.”

Sarah beamed up at him.

“Of course! I’m so glad for you! I’ll see you around-- wait! I forgot to ask you your name!”

“Thomas,” Vondur said. He'd chosen the name as one that was average and inconspicuous, but not too average or inconspicuous. Then, because it was a thing he remembered people said, added “Call me Tom.”

“It was nice to meet you, Tom,” she said, and stuck out her hand. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing, but just a moment. He shook it, and gave her what he hoped was a friendly smile. It wasn’t a very big one.

“Same to you.”

He waited until he was sure she wasn’t going to stick around to watch, and headed for the group of arguing batarians. They’d lowered their voices, but their body language told him they were barely holding on to their tempers. They were too busy to notice his approach, and Vondur liked that just fine.

It was so much more fun this way.

“Hello Ukarem,” he said, and watched the batarian go rigid. Very, very slowly the batarian turned and looked up at him. Vondur felt no small satisfaction seeing all four eyes go wide with stark terror.

“Vondur,” he rasped.

“Isn’t this a funny coincidence. Glad to see you made it to safety.”

The batarian opened his mouth, but all that came out was a strangled groan. Vondur glanced at the other batarians. He didn’t know them, but from the looks on their faces, they knew him.

He put a hand on Ukarem’s shoulder, dug his fingers in. He could feel the batarian trembling.

“Let’s take a walk. I’d love to hear all about it.”

“But…” one of the other batarians tried, braver than the rest. Vondur looked at him, focusing his entire attention on the lone soul who dared. Holding eye contact, Vondur tilted his head back ever so slightly. You are so beneath me, so little a threat, the movement said, that I do not need all four eyes to watch you.

It didn’t matter that Vondur didn’t have another pair; body language was body language, and Vondur knew how to send a message.

The batarians edged backwards, and Vondur steered Ukarem away.

They walked in silence for a minute or so, as Vondur led them to a less crowded area.

“I have money,” Ukarem said.

“That’s good,” Vondur said, mildly. “Financial stability is very important.”

“If this is about that job on Camala--”

Ukarem had provided wildly inefficient intel on the state of the target’s security. Vondur had been shot several times, and very nearly died. His target had managed to escape; one of Vondur’s few failures. Because the target was human, rumors started that Vondur had botched the job on purpose out of species sympathy. He’d had to kill several humans in very nasty ways to repair the damage to his reputation.

“Clouds long cleared,” Vondur said, in that same mild tone. “How long have you been on the Citadel, Ukarem?”

“I was in the Terminus system on business,” he mumbled. “Came here as soon as I heard they were taking people in.”

“Really? Why not Omega?”

“Seemed safer. The reports that were coming through…”

Vondur walked him over to the railing where they could watch the ships go by, hidden behind several large potted plants. Ukarem tried to dig his heels in, babbling nervously.

“Look, Vondur, you don’t have to do this, I can make it worth your while, whatever it is--”

“I need a favor, Ukarem.”

The batarian froze, then relaxed, relief pouring off of him in waves.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, sure, sure. Name it.”

Vondur leaned casually against the railing, looking out at the ships rather than at Ukarem.

“I think my least favorite thing about the Citadel is how suspicious they are. You can’t just walk in and out. You need paperwork. An ID card, birth certificate, background checks, proof of citizenship…” He looked over at the batarian. “You know what I mean. You have to be in the system if you want to get anywhere out here.”

“Yeah” he said, but his expression was puzzled. “But… you were born out here. Couldn’t you just…?”

“I wouldn’t want to raise a fuss,” Vondur said. “A lost child, presumed dead, escaping his dreadful masters and regaining his freedom, rising from the ashes of destruction to take back his old life? That would attract a lot of attention. The kind of attention that could be very… disadvantageous for someone in my field of business. But most importantly, Ukarem, I don’t want to.” The last was said in a voice hard and cold and full of dark promises.

“Right, right, sure, of course.” Ukarem was nodding very hard.

“Besides, if I went the legal route, well, I wouldn’t need your help. You’d become rather useless to me. And you like to be useful, right Ukarem?”

More nodding, Ukarem having apparently lost the ability to speak.

“You have friends on the Citadel, right? Friends who can get me what I need?”

The nodding continued.

“You should let them know I’m willing to pay a little more for express delivery. I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Nod nod nod. Vondur worried Ukarem’s head would go flying off.

“Oh, and before I forget… I’m still getting settled in, but once I am, you can let your friends know that my services are available. On a case by case basis, of course.”

Ukarem froze mid-nod, his eyes very wide.

“Really?” he blurted out. “But-- but you’re not-- you’re--”

Vondur patted him on the shoulder and turned to leave.

“If your friends could get back to me in the next two days, I’d really appreciate it.”

As he mixed in with the other refugees, following the herd towards the daily food distribution, Vondur wondered why he didn’t feel as light as he’d been expecting. He’d just solved several major problems in one go. Now he had the right connections, he was going to get the documents he needed, he’d be able to find some work…

So why was there some deep, biting dissatisfaction in his mind?

It was Ukarem’s surprise that he was looking for work. The sentence he hadn’t dared to finish. ‘But you’re not a slave anymore.’ Idiot. This was his trade, his craft. Throw away fifteen years of work honing and perfecting his skills just because he didn’t have to? What else was he supposed to do? He didn’t know how to do anything else. He didn’t need to know. And this life had been his choice. Filomet had stood in his cell and given him options, and Vondur had chosen. A short, brutal life in the mines, or the best weapons and training Filomet’s money could buy.

It had been an easy choice, and it had been his.

It had.

#mass effect #femshep #mshep #twin au #alternate universe fic #commander shepard

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morningfears · 4 years

Text

Rose Tattoo [Chapter Five]

Rating: PG-13 (this chapter is a little heavy! See the TW below)

Summary: Stevie has her first appointment with her new therapist. She and Cal take a walk in Central Park but a figure from his past ruins their night.

Word Count: 7.3k

TW: This chapter includes suicidal thoughts, self harm, anxiety, depression, talk of mental illness and past abuse. The first half of the chapter is a little heavy. If you need to skip the first half (or the entire chapter itself), please do so.

CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH. 3 | CH. 4 | SERIES MASTERLIST

The chair that Stevie had been stuck in for nearly an hour had been comfortable at first. It was plush, cushioned and roomy enough for her to not feel constricted, but as she fidgeted anxiously, it grew increasingly uncomfortable. She couldn’t find a position that worked for her, nothing made her feel at ease, so she settled for sitting with one leg beneath her and bouncing her other knee as she stared at the clock on the wall.

She found herself all too aware of her surroundings. The ticking of the clock thundered in her ears, each second passing felt like a lifetime and seemed to mock her as it melted away. The hiss of the heater, the metallic screech of the vent above her head, sent goosebumps erupting across her skin. The unbearable heat of the office felt suffocating and made it that much harder for her to breathe as she sat and waited for her appointment to begin.

She hadn’t been to a therapist since high school and she felt a bit of residual resentment as she glanced around the office. She had been forced then, dragged against her will to sit and talk to a stranger after her mother spotted new scars on her thighs and didn’t know how to handle it, and hated every moment of it. She felt alone, misunderstood, and didn’t want the rationality that her therapist offered her. She wanted to wallow, to live in her misery and let it drown her, but not this time.

This time, she went willingly.

After her first visit to her therapist as a teenager, Stevie was medicated. She was given something she considered an all-purpose drug meant to tackle her anxiety and all of the nasty things that came with it and, for a while, she was fine with it. She had long since stopped caring what anyone thought of her and if medication made her mind a safer place for her to be, she knew that she could tune out the stigma surrounding it. However, when the medication made her feel like a stranger in her own skin, uncomfortable and more anxious than before, she made the decision to stop taking it and no one fought her.

Her doctor declared that someone so young - she was barely sixteen at the time - shouldn’t be on such a heavy medication. Her mother, a woman who had been on medication more than half her life for her own bipolar disorder, didn’t want Stevie to endure the same fate. They decided that she seemed fine, over the teen angst that resulted in her harming herself, and in a better state of mind after only six months on medication so they let it go.

She stopped taking her medicine and stopped seeing her therapist and learned how to hide her suffering a little better.

If you’d asked her, she would have told you that she was fine during that period and, for some parts of it, she was. She was functional, able to maintain high enough grades to earn academic scholarships and breeze through college. She made friends, she made memories, she lived; however, it often felt as though she were an outsider looking in. She kept her struggle hidden, only commenting on her lack of sleep or appetite when she was busy enough to cover it all up with a reasonable excuse, and felt that she was managing it adequately.

In the rough waters of depression and anxiety, Stevie had become a professional swimmer.

However, Angela’s death was something that she couldn’t manage, not even somewhat. She was the only person that Stevie confided in, the only one that knew from the hazy look in her eyes or the bouts of silence Stevie sometimes lapsed into just how deep in her head she was, and Stevie had returned that favor for her. But when Angela got sick, Stevie no longer had anyone to talk to. She couldn’t tell Angela how her illness was effecting her life. She couldn’t tell her that she was afraid of what would happen if she died.

When Angela died, Stevie couldn’t tell her just how much she would miss the best friend she’d ever had.

In the months leading up to Angela’s death, Stevie’s emotions grew more and more unmanageable. She returned to old habits, her thighs were covered with more new scars than she ever imagined she’d see, and began to isolate herself from her support net. She knew, rationally, that they would lend an ear and be sympathetic if she were to reach out to them. Everyone knew how close they were and how much they meant to one another. It was understandable, how she felt, but she’d managed her feelings for so long on her own by avoiding them, by pretending that they didn’t exist and removing herself from any situation that might force her to talk about them, that she didn’t know how to ask for help.

She wouldn’t have made the decision to see a therapist had it not been for the growing intensity of the intrusive thoughts. Her life had been falling apart for a while, long before Angela’s death, but that was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Her family was falling apart before her very eyes, a process that began in her teen years but sped up after she left for college, and her mother was turning into someone she didn’t know. She didn’t know what she would return to when - if - she returned home and she had no idea how to cope with it all.

She was living her dream but it had turned into something of a nightmare.

Stevie didn’t want to die. She knew that. But it seemed like the only option that made sense. She had her dream apartment and her dream job in her dream city. She was young, free, and living the life she always imagined she would but she still wasn’t happy. If that wasn’t enough, she couldn’t imagine there being anything that would make her happy.

So why not end it all, if there was nothing left to live for?

The moment that thought crossed her mind, she knew that she needed help. She had a lot to live for, a lot to be happy about, and it was a chemical imbalance in her brain that was telling her she didn’t. Rationally, she knew that. But every time she stood by her window, staring down at the pavement below, and every time she spotted the bottle of sleeping pills she’d been prescribed but never used, she thought about how easy it would be. And that scared the shit out of her.

She wanted to live. And although the idea of sitting in a therapist’s office and taking medication for the foreseeable future wasn’t something she liked, she knew that it had to be done.

“Stevie?”

Stevie lifted her head, torn from her thoughts by the sound of a soft voice calling her name. She blinked away the unshed tears that lined her lashes and gave the doctor she’d booked an appointment with a tight smile as she stood from her chair. “That’s me,” she confirmed, holding out her hand for the doctor to take, “nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Stevie. I’m Audrey Maxwell. Come on in and we’ll get started,” Dr. Maxwell instructed, her tone gentle and patient smile lifting her lips as she ushered Stevie into her office.

Stevie bit back a sigh as she took a seat on the plush blue couch, settling into the corner and placing a pillow over her lap as she waited for Dr. Maxwell to take her own seat. She was young, no older than mid-thirties, and polished but not overly so. She had kind eyes and a gentle smile that Stevie imagined made it easy for people to trust her.

“Alright, Stevie,” Dr. Maxwell hummed, her voice light and tone airy as she placed a box of tissues on the coffee table that sat in front of Stevie, “what brings you to me today?”

Stevie wasn’t sure where to even begin. It was a culmination of a lifetime of anxiety and depression, of childhood trauma and teenage angst. It was her family falling apart, her best friend dying, her dream life not being enough to make her happy. It was thinking about suicide when she didn’t want to die.

“Life, I guess,” Stevie answered with a shrug as she stared at the throw pillow in her lap. “I’ve always been anxious and depressed. I was medicated for a while as a teenager but I hated how it made me feel so I stopped taking them. And things have just gotten worse since then.”

“How have they gotten worse?” Dr. Maxwell asked, her question gentle but a firm guidance for Stevie to delve into specifics.

“My best friend died a few months ago. We grew up together. She was more like my sister than anything and when she was here, I felt like I could deal with it. Things were bad before then.” Stevie hesitated for a moment, her tugging at a loose thread as she released a shuddering breath. “They’ve always been bad but it was manageable, at least.”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning, then?”

Stevie knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the beginning of the end was her childhood. However, she hadn’t exactly opened up to anyone - not even Angela - how how rough it had been. It wasn’t a time she liked reliving and she felt her heart begin to race as she recalled the events that pushed her to develop less than ideal coping mechanisms.

“My mom is bipolar,” she began, her voice shaking and her hands trembling despite her grip on the pillow. She didn’t dare look at Dr. Maxwell, she knew that she would cry if she did, so she kept her gaze on her lap as she continued. “She wasn’t handling it well when I was a kid so when she and my real dad divorced, he ended up getting custody. But as unstable as my mom was, he was worse.” Stevie paused, willing her voice not to crack as she swallowed thickly. “It was emotional abuse for years, telling me that no one loved me and my mom didn’t want me. He didn’t hit me until I was older but I was just a kid. I didn’t understand. I wondered why no one loved me. And it just… it was all downhill from there, I guess.”

Stevie fell silent for a long moment. She could hear her own ragged breathing, heavy and labored in her ears, and could feel her body shaking from the anxiety. She knew that her childhood was where her problems began, she knew that leaving her trauma unchecked for so many years was unhealthy, but thinking about it was hard. And talking about it was even harder so instead of dwelling, she moved forward.

“My mom got on meds, started seeing a new doctor, and got custody. Things were fine. We never talked about it because it was almost a competition to her. Her dad was abusive and my dad abused her, too. She had it worse and she told me that every time I bought it up. I didn’t feel like I had the right to be upset but when I got older and started to think about it, it hurt. I went to therapy and got medication but I hated it. So, I stopped taking the pills and stopped going and everyone just assumed I was better. I let them because I didn’t have a reason to be unhappy. I didn’t have a reason to be happy, either, though.”

Dr. Maxwell remained quiet as Stevie attempted to gather her thoughts. She watched as Stevie bounced her knee, tapped her fingers against the arm of the couch, and blinked back tears as she summed up the most recent years of her life. Her words rushed out in a flood, the dam breaking and her panic overwhelming her as she fully committed to honesty to get the help she knew she needed.

“I should be happy now. I have every reason to be,” Stevie stated, a pained laugh leaving her lips as she shook her head and brought hand up to her hair. “I’m living in my dream city in a great apartment and I have my dream job. I have everything I’ve ever wanted but I feel so guilty. I’m living my dream while everything else is falling apart.”

Stevie fell silent again, her nails digging into the arm of the couch as she swallowed the lump in her throat and offered a weak laugh. “My best friend, who should be here with me, is dead. My mom is off her meds and self-destructing and nothing I say seems to be helping. My step-dad is going to leave. My brother has already left and decided he doesn’t want to be part of the family anymore. I feel guilty for being here but I don’t want to go home and try to fix everyone else’s lives if that means destroying my own."

“Feeling guilty wanting to put yourself first is, unfortunately, a common experience. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less,” Dr. Maxwell acknowledged as she nudged the tissue box a little closer to Stevie. “You deserve happiness, Stevie. You have had a hard life and just because things are falling into place now doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to grieve for the things you’ve lost.”

Stevie listened and attempted to process Dr. Maxwell’s words as she acknowledged the circumstances she’d been placed in. “You shouldn’t have to destroy your life to fix someone else’s. I understand that you care and that you want what’s best for your family but you alone cannot fix them. You cannot control other people’s actions. The best you can do for your family is tell them how you feel and urge them to seek professional help for themselves. Your mother needs a doctor, Stevie, not her child telling her that going off her medication is unwise. You are doing what is best, what is healthiest, for you but putting those boundaries in place and I’m proud of you for that.”

Stevie bit her lip, unsure of how to respond to Dr. Maxwell’s assurances. “I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control,” she confessed, her grip loosening on the arm of the couch as she attempted to process what she’d just been told. “I couldn’t help Angela, I can’t help my mom; what can I do?”

“You can live your life,” Dr. Maxwell. answered, her tone gentle as she offered Stevie a soft smile. “I know that it’s hard to let go of control but you can only control yourself. You can help other people all day long but, at the end of the day, it’s up to them to accept that help. You have to take care of yourself, too.” Dr. Maxwell paused for a moment, her gaze on Stevie not scrutinizing but genuinely curious, before she asked, “What makes you happy, Stevie?”

Stevie almost felt ashamed that she had to stop and think about the things that made her happy. She hadn’t sought happiness in a long time and found that the answer didn’t just occur to her. She felt as if she were grasping for straws, looking for light in the darkness, and knew that she sounded unsure as she answered. “My dog,” she confessed, her voice quiet and small in the confines of the office, “and writing. I love walking in the snow, too.” She hesitated as another, more recent, source of happiness appeared in her thoughts. She didn’t want to voice it aloud, it felt too real, however, she wanted help and she knew that honesty was the only way to get it so she added, “And I met this guy recently. He makes me happy, too."

Dr. Maxwell nodded, a gentle movement as she asked, “What about these things makes you happy?”

When it came to Max, Stevie didn’t have to think about it. “My dog is always happy to see me. He loves me, even on the worst days. He can tell when I’m not feeling great and does whatever he can to make me feel better. He’ll lay on the couch with me or go on a walk without being dramatic or huffy about the weather if I need to get out of the apartment.” With writing, Stevie felt less sure. “As for writing, it’s just the one thing I’ve always been good at. It lets me escape and be whatever I want. It makes me feel like a person,” she admitted with a light shrug.

As she thought about Calum, Stevie paused. She didn’t know what it was about him that made her happy and she didn’t know how it came to be that when asked about happiness, she thought of him. There was just something about him that put her at ease and she appreciated it. She appreciated his presence and she told Dr. Maxwell as much.

“The guy, Calum, is nice. It’s easy to talk to him. I haven’t wanted to get to know anyone in a long time but I want to get to know him,” she stated, her voice small as she thought about the way Calum made her feel.

He made her feel happy, light and carefree when she was normally a ball of anxiety, and she selfishly wanted that to remain a constant in her life. But she felt that she had to give him something in return and she didn’t know what she could offer that he would want.

“What’s stopping you from getting to know him?” Dr. Maxwell asked, with all the logic of a therapist and none of the panic that existed in Stevie’s head.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Stevie answered immediately, “I don’t want to let him in and then disappear or do something stupid and hurt him. It wouldn’t be fair. And I told him that. I told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship but I would really love one. I just…” Stevie hesitated, her hands stilling on the pillow and her shoulders slumping as she said, “My dream life hasn’t made me happy. It hasn’t stopped me from thinking about just… ending it. I don’t want to drag him into my life only to give in to those thoughts.”

“Sometimes you need to find little things in life to keep yourself going,” Dr. Maxwell explained, sitting forward in her chair as she waited for Stevie to meet her eyes. “The little things that make you happy - your dog, your writing, this guy, friendships, going for walks in the snow - are the things you should nurture. Use them as tools to seek other avenues for happiness. Pushing these things away because you’re afraid you’ll hurt them if you give in to those thoughts will only make it easier. Give yourself something to hold on to, something to keep moving toward.”

Although Stevie knew that, it was still painful to hear it spoken. It was hard to hear someone else rationalize what she’d been too afraid to tell herself. However, Dr. Maxwell continued, “Make some friends, plant some roots. Get to know this guy. Tell him that you’re trying your best for now and ask for patience. Let him know where you stand and hope that he’ll stand with you. That is the best you can do right now, for everyone. Try your best to be there for your mother but know that you can only do so much. Try to live a life Angela would have been proud of. Your best doesn't have to be your all. It just needs to be what you're capable of at the moment. You can't be all things for all people but you can be your best."

Stevie still felt guilty. She still felt guilty for not knowing how to help her parents. She felt guilty for living when Angela couldn’t. She felt guilty for wanting Calum, even though she couldn’t be enough for him immediately. But Dr. Maxwell was right. She couldn’t be all things for all people but she could be her best she hoped that her best was enough.

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

“I’m going to take a walk through Central Park. Want to join me?”

Calum stared at the message from Stevie, surprise clear on his face as he read over it. They had shared a few messages in the week that had passed since their trip to the Empire State Building but they were mostly small talk; asking about the other’s day, a few good morning greetings, a question about a record shop as Calum was looking for a gift for Mali. And he had done most - all, actually - of the initiating so he was surprised that she was the one reaching out to him. However, he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the role reversal as he looked up from his cellphone and glanced at Mali and Tāne, asleep beside him on the couch.

Like most days, he didn’t have anything planned. He’d gone about his daily routine of work, picking Tāne up from school, finishing his last few customers as Mali and Tāne worked on homework, and having dinner with them both before they settled in to watch a movie before bed. He normally read to Tāne, usually a classic tale that demanded he adopt multiple different voices, but it had been a long day. The end of the week was nearing, as was his first court hearing, so he wanted to pack as many appointments into his schedule as possible to give himself a little time off to breathe.

He would’ve been content to go to bed when Tāne did - usually around seven on a school night and it was already past six - but he found himself itching for the opportunity to see Stevie again. He stared at the message, contemplating whether he should ask her for a rain check or wake Mali up to see if she would mind putting Tāne to bed. However, before he could make a decision, Mali spoke.

“Just go,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep as she attempted to move away from Tāne without waking him. She gently untangled herself from the sleeping child and rubbed her eyes, cursing when a smudge of black stained the back of her hand. “Fucking eyeliner,” she huffed, rolling her eyes before she returned her attention to Calum. “It’s almost time for bed and I can handle that. I need to write, anyway,” she mumbled as she ran a hand through her bleached hair, a stifled yawn leaving her lips as she did so.

“How did you even…?” Calum trailed off, staring at his sister in confusion and slight awe for a long moment, before he shook his head and unlocked his phone to respond to Stevie’s text. “When did you become a mind reader?”

“When you elbowed me in the head trying to read the text,” Mali informed him with a wry grin as she rubbed the red spot on her temple where Calum had hit her. “I wanted to see what was worth injuring your sister. Tell Stevie I said hi.”

Calum laughed as he stood from the couch and dropped the remote on the fabric beside Mali. “I’m not doing that,” he assured her, his voice full of laughter as he nudged her shoulder before leaning down to press a soft kiss to Tāne’s forehead. “Thank you. I’ll be back by ten.”

“Mm, your curfew’s not until eleven, though,” she teased as she watched him cross the living room to reach for his coat and shoes near the door. “Don’t do anything I would do.”

Calum shook his head fondly and tossed Mali a wave over his shoulder before he stepped out his home and began the walk to Central Park. As he weaved through the crowds, he felt a mixture of emotions swirl in the pit of his stomach. He felt nervous, giddy and excited to see Stevie again after how well their trip to the Empire State Building went. He felt like he did in high school, excited to see the girl he had a crush on and hope that she would give him a bit of attention, but he also felt a little foolish.

His pace slowed as he thought about what he was doing. For the first time in nearly five years, he was letting someone new into his life. He was letting someone else bring him outside of his comfort zone and pull him away from his home. He was letting someone into his heart and he felt a little silly for being so willing to drop what he’d been doing - even if it was just watching his son sleep on the couch - for someone he wasn’t sure would extend the same effort.

He liked Stevie. He wanted something more than just a few meetings, here and there. He wanted dates and hand holding, good morning texts and good night phone calls. He wanted to know that she would be there, that he wouldn’t wake up and find that she had been nothing more than a beautiful dream, but he knew that she wasn’t there. Not yet, maybe not ever.

He respected that she wasn’t interested in a relationship at the moment and though he remained hopeful she would be someday, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He wanted to remain realistic, to keep it firmly in his head that she had been honest with him, but rushing to meet her made him feel like he’d gotten stuck with his head in the clouds.

That didn’t seem to matter, though, the moment he spotted her lingering near the entrance to the park. She was dressed down, in a pair of simple, light wash jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, and for the first time, she wore her hair straight. There was no signature eyeliner, a stark black contrast to the hazel of her eyes, and Calum was surprised to see how soft she looked. She looked exhausted, defeated by the day, and Calum longed to wrap her in a hug.

The thing that surprised him the most, however, was the smile that graced her face when she spotted him. It was small, an upturn of the corners of her lips, but it was genuine and brought a light to her face and a warmth to Calum’s heart as he matched it. She looked happy to see him and though that only sent him higher into the clouds, he was glad that she was just as excited as he was.

“Sorry for dragging you out,” she began, her smile turning sheepish as she met Calum’s eyes, “I forget sometimes that you’re a parent.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, his smile remaining as he stepped a little closer to move out of the way of tourists entering the park. “Mali, my sister, is staying for the week and she’s handling bedtime. Tāne likes it when she sings to him.”

“It runs in the family, huh?” she asked as they followed the few tourists and stepped into the park themselves. When Calum shot her a look, confused as to what she meant, Stevie breathed a quiet laugh and clarified, “The singing. When I told Tāne where my name came from, you sang Landslide for him. You have a nice voice.”

Calum felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “It’s nothing compared to my sister’s,” he assured her, “she’s playing a show on Sunday. If you’re not busy, I’d love for you to come with me.”

Calum expected her to hesitate, to think about her answer for longer than a split second, but he was surprised yet again when she nodded. “That sounds really nice,” she agreed, her smile returning to the soft, sincere upturn of her lips. “I’d like that.”

Calum didn’t want to offend Stevie, however, there was something different about her and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. She seemed a little more at ease than she had in their last few conversations, a little more relaxed, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you okay? You seem… different.”

Stevie laughed at Calum’s question, an amused exhale of breath as they wandered down a lit path, and nodded. “I’m okay.” She paused for a moment, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip in a way that Calum was quickly associating with her thinking, before she confided, “I had my first appointment with a therapist today. It was something I needed to do and it felt good to talk.”

Again, Calum was surprised by her honesty. He’d gotten used to cagey answers and hesitation but he liked how straightforward she was being with him. And although he wanted her to talk to him, to feel comfortable opening up and letting him in, he knew that he wasn’t a professional and with the experience she’d been through, that was what she needed. He was happy for her, glad that she’d been able to talk with someone, and he told her as much as his hand brushed hers.

“I know it’s hard to open up,” he said, turning his head to face her as they passed a small fountain, “but I’m glad you got the chance to. I hope it helps.”

“I think it will,” she nodded, a hopeful lilt to her voice as she met his eyes once more. “How was your day?”

“Busy,” he replied, his shoe brushing an errant rock in the path as they watched a jogger pass them by. “I have the rest of the week off so I’m trying to get to as many clients as I can before then,” he explained as Stevie nodded in understanding.

“Any reason why?” She asked before quickly adding, “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

It was Calum’s turn to hesitate as he mulled over her question. She had been honest with him, her candor refreshing and her willingness to answer straight a nice change of pace, and he wanted to return the favor. He wanted to be able to have that dialogue with her, to be open and honest about what they were going through so there were no surprises if the day ever came for them to be together, but it felt odd letting someone he was just getting to know in on the most distressing situation in his life.

However, having an outside opinion, the thoughts of someone who didn’t know El and their history, might help him understand the situation a little more fully.

“My ex, Tāne’s mom, El, is trying to get custody of him. We have our first hearing on Friday,” he finally admitted. Stevie surprised him for the third time that night by grabbing the hand that had been bumping into hers and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Calum.” Stevie’s surprise was evident in her voice as she squeezed Calum’s hand. “Do you… If you want to talk about it, I’m more than willing to listen.”

Calum offered her a weak smile as they crossed a small bridge. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he pointed out, his voice quiet and seeming to float on the breeze as they stopped in the middle to glance out at the water. “We were supposed to be a team, partners in parenting even after the breakup. But she didn’t want to be a parent. She wanted to enjoy her twenties. I did, too, but I wanted to be a parent more, I guess.” Stevie remained silent as Calum collected his thoughts, her hand warm in his despite the chill of the air surrounding them.

“Sometimes I wonder if she ever really wanted him, you know? I wonder if she just had him because I was so excited about him and wanted to be a dad so bad. It was so easy for her to just pack up and walk away. Last year, she even had papers drawn up to waive her parental rights but didn’t sign them. I just… I didn’t see this coming and I don’t really know what to do about it,” he admitted.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest as he admitted his feelings to her. It was part of his hesitation in seeking her out - he still felt guilty for spending so much time thinking about her when he had much bigger things to worry about - but he knew that he needed to tell someone who wasn’t invested in the situation. At least not wholly.

“I don’t have kids,” Stevie began, her voice quiet as she stared out at the water and pointedly away from Calum, “and I don’t know what you’re going through as a parent but as a child of divorce, I know what happens when the judge gets it wrong at a custody hearing. I don’t know your ex and I only know a little of you but one thing I have no doubt about is that you love your son. You do your best to care for him and I know that he’s in good hands with you. I just hope that a judge can see that and makes the right decision, the one that’s best for Tāne.” Stevie hesitated for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed, before she turned her head to Calum and asked, “I’m not trying to advocate for her, I don’t know her, but do you think your ex is genuine in wanting Tāne now or is it to hurt you?”

“I don’t know,” Calum admitted, shrugging his shoulders in defeat as he met Stevie’s eyes once more. “I don’t think she ever wanted to be a parent. I think we were in love and she just gave me what I wanted. Or maybe she just didn’t love me enough to want to be a parent with me,” he guessed, a dull ache flaring in his chest as he thought about what his son could have had. “If this is to hurt me, though, it’s fucked up. It’s the only thing she could do to hurt me but that doesn’t make it any better.”

Stevie remained silent as she stood by Calum’s side. Instead of trying to offer comfort with clumsy words and a lack of knowledge about the situation, she squeezed his hand a little tighter and stepped a little closer to his side. Their arms touched, body heat seeping through the fabric of their sweatshirts, and they would have been content to stand their for hours, silent and contemplative, had a voice not cut through the night and sent a shot of icy dread straight to Calum’s heart.

“I thought that was you, Cal.”

Calum stiffened and bit back the annoyed, incredulous laugh he wanted to huff as he released Stevie’s hand and turned to face the couple that stood just steps away from them on the bridge. They looked like they’d been out for the evening, both dressed for dinner with her in heels and him in nice slacks and a button down, and Calum wanted to roll his eyes.

The universe was testing him, sending him a reminder of where his head should be, and he didn’t much appreciate it.

Elise Wells, El as she had always preferred to be called, stood before him looking exactly as he remembered. In her heels, she stood nearly as tall as him. Her jet black hair was still long, hitting around the bottom of her ribcage, and perfectly curled. Her skin, the same golden shade Tāne had been born with - the only thing of hers he got, really - was still free of ink and Calum was reminded of the different paths they’d taken in their lives.

“Hi,” she said, a smile on her face that looked almost too genuine for him to trust, “it’s good to see you.”

“You, too, El,” he returned with a sigh, no smile on his lips as he met her eyes for the first time in nearly three years.

El looked him over, her piercing brown eyes taking in the faded blue buzzcut with a flicker of disgust - she had never been a fan of his desire to change his hair or cover himself in tattoos -, before she turned her attention to the girl at his side. As Calum spared Stevie a glance, he realized that the two of them couldn’t be more different. Whereas El was all sharp lines and polished perfection, Stevie was soft smiles and beautiful chaos.

Calum realized in that moment that that was what drew him to Stevie. She was the polar opposite of what he’d always gone for, a complete 180 from the girl he always dreamed about. She wasn’t the metaphorical other half he’d been missing, she was a compliment to the things that he already had. She made him want to amplify the good in himself, the softness he saw and the swirling chaos that lived in his head, and he suddenly understood why he felt so desperate to keep her around.

She was everything he’d always wanted but had been too stubborn to admit he needed.

“Since Calum is being rude, I’m Elise,” El introduced, cutting her eyes to Calum before offering Stevie her hand with a smile that he recognized as one of her polite, yet angry, expressions. “You are?”

“Stevie,” she returned, shaking El’s hand quickly before dropping them back to her side and covering them with the arms of her sweatshirt once more. “Nice to meet you.”

“Mm,” El hummed dismissively, giving Stevie a once over before she returned her full attention to Calum. “Where’s Tāne tonight?”

“In bed by now,” he informed her with a sigh, wanting nothing more than the conversation to be over and for El and her boyfriend - who, Calum was amused to see, looked just as uncomfortable as he felt - to leave. “My sister’s watching him.”

El, who had never gotten along with Mali, made a face at the mention of his sister and Calum clenched his jaw in an effort to keep himself from saying something he’d regret. He’d done enough of that the last time he and El spoke and he didn’t want to give her any fuel for her case. “That’s nice,” she finally hummed, her tone deadpan and her eyes narrowed as she glanced between Stevie and Cal once more, “it’s nice that someone other than one of those guys is watching him while you go out.”

Calum already felt somewhat guilty for leaving on such short notice, without really planning to have Mali babysit or telling Tāne goodbye, and El’s comment hit him like a punch to the stomach. Not only did she insult his friends - who she also never really got along with - she was insinuating that he pawned his son off on others while he went out and had fun.

He didn’t want to feel bad, it was rare that he did anything other than go to work and return home to spend time with Tāne, but the one night he did might be enough for her to use against him in their custody battle.

“Well, I’d love to stick around and chat but we’re running late for reservations. I’ll see you on Friday,” El assured him, a sickly sweet smile on her lips as she gave him a wave before purposely bumping into Stevie on her way off the bridge.

Stevie and Calum stood in silence for a long moment; Stevie surprised at what had just happened and Calum allowing his thoughts to run wild. He knew that he shouldn’t feel guilty for spending one night away from his son, it wasn’t a common occurrence and he didn’t intend to make it one, but seeing El reminded him of where his head should be.

Stevie wasn’t interested in a relationship, not yet, and he didn’t have the ability to focus on one until the custody battle with El was over. However, he couldn’t bring himself to give up on either as he turned to glance at Stevie and asked, “Can we try this again some time? I feel like I should head home.”

“Of course,” Stevie nodded, a small smile on her lips as she folded her arms over her chest and began walking the way they’d come. “Just let me know when you want to.” Calum could see that she had more that she wanted to say as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and he had to bite back a surprised laugh when she admitted, “I don’t mean to be rude or stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I’m not a fan of her.”

“Yeah,” Calum nodded, a rueful smile on his lips as thought about the others in his life who weren’t fond of her, either. “Not many people are. I’m sorry about that, by the way. She’s… yeah.”

“You don’t have to apologize for someone else’s actions. I get it. I just hope that everyone goes well for you on Friday. If you need anything, you have my number,” she reminded him, the genuine smile from before returning to her lips as they approached the entrance much quicker than he hoped they would.

“Thank you,” he breathed, his appreciation genuine as they stood, face to face, and watched the other with a sort of curiosity that Calum was closely associating with his growing feelings for her. “I… this has been tough and I feel like we’re both in weird spots in life but it’s nice to feel something good right now.”

“My therapist told me today that you have to find the little things that make you happy, that keep you moving. If a walk in the park is one of those things, so be it. If getting to know someone new is it, that’s good, too. Let the little things bring light right now,” she advised, her eyes meeting his and shining with sincerity.

Calum nodded, appreciative for the advice, and returned her smile with one of his own. “Tonight was nice,” he told her as he stepped just a little closer, his hand reaching out to squeeze hers one last time. “It brought light.”

“Yeah, it did for me, too,” she assured him, her eyes flashing with an emotion Calum didn’t quite understand before she squeezed his hand and let go. “I’ll see you later, Calum.”

“See you later,” Calum agreed, watching her walk away yet again.

He wished that things weren’t complicated, that he could just tell her how he felt and that she would feel the same. He wished there wasn’t a custody battle looming over his head and a dark cloud over hers. He wished he’d met her a long time ago, when they could’ve just dove in without worrying about having to sink or swim.

However, he resigned himself to acknowledging that he hadn’t as he began his walk back home. He’d met her at a time in his life - and hers - that made things complicated. But he hoped that when all was said and done, when the dust settled and everything was fine, the complications would have made them stronger.

But, as he walked and thought about what he planned to do going forward, he reminded himself that things were always darkest just before the dawn and the most beautiful roses bloomed after the heaviest storms.

____________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I’m sorry it’s so heavy. I always intended for this chapter to be a little heavy but this week has been rough so it got a little heavier than I planned.

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