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#listen. ive been gone a year or two

statcmcnt-bcgins · 2 years

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// this is probably a huge long shot but does anyone know where I can find a version of spotify for android with premium-ish features without actually having premium (essentially just no ads, unlimited skips, listening to playlists unshuffled and be able to choose which song i want to listen to. I know offline listening isnt possible but thats fine i mainly just wanna be able to listen to my music without interruptions)

I've had the same modified spotify app on my phone for the last two years and i let my roommate borrow my phone to make some calls and she somehow uninstalled my spotify, then tried to hide it by installing the playstore version and im just

i know its dumb to post about personal stuff but im late diagnosed autistic/adhd but cant afford meds so I basically get by with music, but that doesnt work if my music is getting interrupted by ads every couple of minutes, yknow? //

#ooc #vent post #ill probably delete this later im just #when i lay down to go to bed and i go to click on spotify so i can listen #to help my brain wind down so i can actually sleep #the last thing i wanna have to deal with is realizing the modded app ive been using for two years is #just fucking gone and now i basically cant listen to any of my playlists anymore #because free spotify sucks ass and makes my anxiety worse #because ad volume cant be controlled #and fucks woth the listening experience #and or jumpscares me into next week #music helps me self regulate my emotions!!#without it im a wreck and i cant stand being myself so i can only imagine how other ppl feel #tw negitive

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targaryenluvs · 4 months

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VICTORS SPOILS

pairings: dark!finnick odair x fem!capitol!reader

warnings: obsession, following/stalking, creepy behaviour, naive/younger reader, age gap, (reader is 19 and finnick's around 25), non-con touching and kissing, manipulation, bj mentions/insinuations, sex mentions, prostitution mentions, finnick lowkey preying on you - descriptions of brown reader (i was self indulgent since i’m indian 😁) condescending/nit picking mother and pushy parents!

summary: a victor should be celebrated! a victor should get what ever they wish, even if it’s a sweet capitol girl who misplaced her kindness in someone who was in desperate need of reprieve and distraction.

a/n: ITS MY BIRTHDAY!!! HERES A GIFT FROM ME TO YOU ❤️GUESS WHO MADE HER OWN LITTLE HEADER GAHH!! i tried my bestttt - ive been away for a littleeee!! sorry babes <33 it was like 3am and i cooked this up in my head before opening my brewing pot (notes app) and jotting it down - NOT PROOFREAD

the hall was so loud.

they always were at capitol parties. your mother and father always dragged you along, stating that a young lady should be getting out, meeting people, friends, becoming well versed and established in the capitol. and that they wouldn’t always be here. “you need to learn to be alone, fend for yourself and stand your ground. how are you gonna do that if you’re always trying to keep to yourself dear?” your mother sweetly smiled as she looked over you, “i think you still have time to change that dress, not the most flattering sweetie.”

you scoffed as she walked away ever so elegantly. you looked over yourself in the mirror, the green dress was gorgeous, to you at least. but the blue dress your mother had chosen was breath-taking, as much as you hated to agree with her opinion. so you bit your tongue and put the chosen dress on.

mother knows best right?

the sun was setting with an especially beautiful array of colours to which you figured no one would really notice you were gone if they were all focused on something else. there was probably a screen upstairs which you could watch something on. a few things to eat and drink then you’d head up there.

finnick was glancing over to you the whole night. you’d worn blue, and he’d taken it as an ode to him. you hadn’t looked over at him yet but your leaving of the party seemed like an invitation to him to finally introduce himself.

as you settled down on the plush couch you felt all your tensions melt away. but finnick wouldn’t leave you alone for long. “i’m sorry i didn’t know this was occupied.” finnick looked sad and you had no clue why, so being as nice as you are had you opening the room in invitation to him. “no, no! i just wanted to get away from the party. you’re welcome to sit with me finnick.” it felt odd to you for some reason, calling him by his name as if he was a friend. you’d only ever seen him through screens and from afar yet he looked as amazing as always.

“are you sure?” you nodded and smiled, moving down the couch to make room for him. he sat down, respectful of your space. he looked drained and you felt the same way. “tired of the party?” you asked as he smiled and nodded, “a lot of people asking a lot of questions.” you spoke, “everyone has something to say or ask. my dad told me he got three men asking for my hand. we haven’t even been here for two hours. it’s like being in a room with vultures. and if i do accept i’ll just be, nothing. someone stuck to the side of some ugly guy who just wants a pretty face.” you didn’t know what it was about him but you felt as if you could tell him anything.

and he sat, and listened. nodding his head and adding it where appropriate. it felt, nice. having someone actually listen to what you said rather than just asking what you were wearing. he was nothing like what you expected. you’d heard the whispers. that he was a playboy, he was with and had been with multiple women and men over the years. and that he liked it, the gifts, the people, the uhm, other aspects.

“but you, i’m sure you have people to meet, scope out.” you wanted to curl up and die as soon as the words left your mouth. “no! oh my god, i do not mean it like that. you- i- you should not feel ashamed of what you like. i am so sorry- i didn’t mean to imply-” god would you stop droning on? finnick pressed his lips into a thin line, “hey it’s okay. you’re fine. in all honestly, i know everyone has mis-conceptions of me.” you took his place in attentive listening as he explained the truth.

the threats, the people pawing at him, him being sold from fourteen.

you were crying. it all sounded unbelievable and unbearable for someone to go through at such a young age, his life was ruined all because he was pretty, desirable. no child should even have to think of such things let alone experience them. and rather than you comforting him, he was sitting with his arms around you. he was too good to be true.

“i- no i’m so sorry that happened to you finnick. i had no clue, no one does. you are such an amazing person, from the little time i’ve known you. you don’t deserve any of this. how could you get away from this? we could- we could expose snow we could-” finnick cut you off with teary eyes, “there’s nothing we can do. trust me, if there was i would have tried. but i think, if i got married perhaps. i’d have a reason to stay away from the captiol. we’d live in district four, in peace.”

the idea was pretty decent, you’d give him that. and you couldn’t help your heart running a little faster at the prospect of potentially marrying him. you were already fast friends, at least you’d marry a friend? even if he potentially loved someone else or you loved another.

“what if- if you married me?”

he’d hoped you’d say that.

“you’d do that for me? seriously?” finnick faked shock as you nodded, “we’re friends, i’d much rather marry you than anyone else here to be honest. we could be happy.” you smiled as he wiped away his last tear. “y/n, that’s an amazing idea.”

your wedding was marvellous.

your parents pushed out buck after buck, no expense spared for their little girl. as if they actually cared for you. your wedding dress was white and pristine, courtesy of snow. your brown hair in curls and your brown skin glistening. but you added blue accents for finnick, or you thought you did. it’s not like he pushed for you to wear the things he bought by incessantly reminding the makeup artists and helpers that you were marrying the finnick odair, his wife deserved nothing but the best.

you stood infront of a friend, smiling, happy to be marrying a kind soul.

he stood in front of the object of his affection, his desire and love.

in the first few weeks you were undeniably happy, finnick was as sweet as ever and respected you. it was your best outcome. but overtime you seemed to notice changes in his behaviour. when you’d want to go out into town for dinner he’d always have an excuse up his sleeve.

“there’s roadworks towards your favourite restaurant honey. maybe another time?”

“apparently they’re all booked out, maybe in a few weeks time?”

“wouldn’t you rather have a home-cooked meal? i made your favourite sweetheart.”

it began to annoy after the sixth time. “it can’t always be busy can it? we use to go all the time, and it’s not like they’d refuse you finnick. what’s going on?”

“i give you everything you could ever want. why the hell do you want to go out so much? am i not enough? are you- are you seeing someone?” finnick slumped in his seat.

your eyes widened as you rushed over to him, settling on your knees as your hands were placed on his thighs, “finnick how could you say such a thing? i would never do that to you. i swear there’s nothing going on, i just, i’m bored. i’d like to go out with you, explore your district with you, meet new people with you.” finnicks eyes burnt into yours. this is certainly not how he first wanted to see you on your knees, but at least you were whining.

“yeah? you like me? you promise there’s nothing going on?” you nodded dumbly, “yes yes! nothing i promise.” finnick looked down at your hands in his lap, “how do i know you’re not lying?” your hands were on his knees as you straightened your back, coming closer to his eye level, “i promise finnick. you are my husband, i’m with you. i’ll do anything to prove it to you.”

finnick was fighting off every muscle in his cheeks to not start grinning whilst the sad look on his face was breaking your heart, “yeah? anything?” oh this was going to be good. your cheeks were flushed as you heard the words come of out his mouth, “undo my belt sweetheart, show me how much you mean it.” wavering hands hovered over his belt buckle as finnick relaxed into his seat, it couldn’t get better than this right?

wrong.

every time you asked to go out, to meet a friend, to go to the capitol he’d always sulk. and the night would end with you on your knees, him on his to make you forget, or the two of you tangled in sheets.

finnick was finally happy, he had the girl of his dreams after such a long period of sadness, of exploitation and terror. fake smiles and lingering eyes.

he finally got something out of the games.

and his gift?

the victors spoils.

#dark!finnick odair x reader #dark!finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair x fem!reader #hunger games x reader

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eccentricwritingbaby · 6 months

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baby, incoming!

carlos sainz x fem!singer!reader

summary - you and carlos have been married for over a year now and you’ve gone MIA. what could be the reason? new music or a new beginning? maybe both?

fc - emrata

masterlist

Liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, yourusername and 345,765 others

scuderiaferrari our boys are ready, tifosi! are you? #MexicoGP

username they are so attractive its crazy

username lets all pray ladies and gents that there will be a ferrari double podium

username now that is a reach but im right there with you

carlossainz55 ready as always!

username do we think yourusername will actually be there… she hasnt been to the last like 4 gp’s

username idk but im hoping mothers absence is bc of a new album drop

username omggg pleaseee ive been needing her music

charles_leclerc <3

“and you’re sure you’ll be alright while i’m gone, mi amor?” carlos asks you for what feels like the hundredth time as he is packing up his suitcase. you sigh, walking out of your shared closet and placing another one of his clean ferrari polos into the suitcase and then heading to take a seat on the bed next to his luggage.

“quierdo, soy perfecto. i am pregnant, not dying. now please stop worrying about me while your parents as well as mine stay down the street. i am not alone, mi amor, and you are my first call if anything happens,” carlos listens carefully as he forgets about packing momentarily to come stand between your legs that were dangling off the bed, you reach out as he moves closer to hold both of his hands in yours in order for him to receive the message fully, “porfa, i will be fine just like i have been before,”

carlos gives a quick squeeze to your hands and a brief kiss on your forehead as he soaks in the words he was just told, “yo sé, cariño. i just hate missing everything and leaving you while you need me,” the guilty, solemn look on his face is enough for you to quickly stand, remove his hands from yours and wrap your arms tight around him.

he reciprocates the hug quickly with his hands finding your waist with a firm grip, “mi amor you've been there for me constantly and will be there for our baby once they come; besides me being stuck at home will finally give me an excuse to finish out my album so you have no reason to feel guilty,” you slowly loosen your grip in order to look into his warm, inviting eyes yet his hands never leave your waist.

he gives you a short kiss and then begins to speak up once more, “i just wish we could announce you’re pregnant already so that i could be with you, i hate being apart already and this just makes it harder,” he leans his forehead on yours as his hands disappear from your waist in order to lightly begin caressing your small yet prominent bump, “i know, my love, but my manager would kill me if she could not find a way to make one short announcement work in my albums favor, even if it means capitalizing on my baby,” you say with a short laugh.

carlos just smiles on with you by saying, “welcome to hollywood,” there is then a small kiss, a finished packing job, a sad goodbye and then a long plane ride for carlos as he arrives for the mexico grand prix.

carlossainz_fanpage looks like carlos is riding solo again, now for the mexican gp … trouble in paradise? new music? baby bump? who knows but i miss our mother

username it looks like hes still wearing his ring in the pictures of him arriving and all the ones ive seen

username oh thank god bc i cannot handle being a child of divorce rn

username me neither i rlly hope its the complete opposite and us children are gaining a brother or sister

username omgggg i hope she is pregnant she’d just be the cutest

username pleaseeee i need an album from her its been like two years now i cant take it

username RIGHT?! she got married and abandoned us :/

you had already received a text from carlos telling you that he landed and was heading to his hotel and then the paddock and he would call you later.

something about his words earlier had been sticking with you all day in the back of your head, ‘i hate being apart already and this just makes it harder’.

you and carlos had known each other before the fame with your parents being friends and the both of you have dated throughout it. you rarely were apart as you would go to almost all his races and travel with him and in turn during his breaks you would tour and he would tag right along. it had always worked beautifully since the flexibility of your job allowed you to work from ultimately anywhere, therefore why not spend it following and being with the love of your life? the distance from carlos was difficult, not even remotely from distrust or anything negative, just the simplicity of missing out.

you made a fast but firm decision and began to pack a bag. you gave a quick call to your mother in law informing her of your plan and letting her know you’d be by soon to drop off the dogs and then she began to insist she even drive you to the airport.

she has always loved you like a daughter for as long as you and carlos have been together claiming ‘she is just so good for him, no sé’.

then there is a quick flight, a large hoodie thrown on, and a pregnant y/n waiting right outside carlos’ hotel door.

your hand is brought up and with a sharp knock you stand still simply waiting. carlos takes a minute to open the door and as he does his eyes immediately light up, “y/n!” he makes haste to pull you into his room and into his arms immediately, “qué haces aquí?”

“ay! you’re asking me what i’m doing here instead of a long i love you my beautiful wife thank you for coming,” you mock and joke as he continues to rock you back and forth in his hold.

“lo siento, amor, gracias para coming all this way,” he leans back to look into your eyes while one of his hands finds its way to your bump,

“i was just confused because everyone is going to see, no?” he continues. you nod and begin to laugh while saying, “to be completely honest, carlos, i dont give a fuck. my fans will either buy my album or won't, it doesn't depend on our child. and i for sure am not going to miss out on seeing you race or rob you from any papi/baby time just for a stupid album,” he listens to you speak while his eyes begin to glisten over with happiness, “y/n, i’m so happy porfa can we post now so that i can take you out to a nice dinner and we can actually be people again,” he finishes off his sentence with a laugh.

you just simply smile, nod and give him his answer in a long-awaited passionate kiss. “gracias dios,” he whispers against your lips with a small sigh as you just let out a giggle.

you were a bit nervous before but now after being with carlos and seeing his relief you know you made the right decision.

yourusername and carlossainz55 baby sainz coming soon <3

comments on this post have been disabled.

y/ncarlos_updates PREGGERS Y/N ARRIVING IN THE PADDOCK TODAY!

username holyyyyy shit she looks so good

username MOTHER IS AN ACTUAL MOTHER

username and our daddy is about to be an actual daddy!!

username they are going to be the most attractive parents ever

username stop im so happy for them this is so cute

username their entire childhood bff to lovers trope and now they’re having a baby like dream come true

username no fr its like watching them grow up before our eyes its so cute

username shes still got such good style even when pregnant i am green with envy rn

username that makes two of us

username u just know the gc is blowing up rn with which driver is going to be godfather

username we all know that if it is a driver itll be landonorris

landonorris damn right

username WHAT THE FU-

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no-droids · 1 year

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Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long). As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession. You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets. The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it. The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to. You don’t even really feel like a person right now. The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life. It feels sick. Wrong in your bones. Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop. Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops. Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago. Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception. What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all. You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now. No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams. No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move. The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again. It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence. Silence. You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement. You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are. You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder. You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something. Reality, maybe. A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands. “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows. Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying? They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat. Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy. It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be. Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately. It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances. Oshua Ryler. Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened. A stormtrooper? His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense. What is he doing here? Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them. They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers. “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.” You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done. You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet. You hate looking at his face. It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust. His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat. He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby. You know what needs to be done. Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over. It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.” You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears. “They hold no power anymore. Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!” The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green. “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…” He stares wide eyed at you and gulps. “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now. “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?” He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?” You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side. “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?” The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!” You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him. Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about. “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!” He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight. “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty! They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling. You could still kill him. You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit. “Who put the bounty out on you?” You ask sharply. It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!” Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it. You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask. Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something. Din was cut off before he finished. Help? Know what to do? You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by. The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice. The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry. “How many of you are there?”

“At the base? Around three hundred,” he immediately spills. “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours. There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,” You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker. “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground. “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of. In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence. That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector. If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon. And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel. “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…” He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands. “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally? Sure. Realistically? You don’t say anything in response. Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do. The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it. They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip. Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you. Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease. It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression. Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood. Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color. Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?” You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder. Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again. “I need as much information as possible about the base.” You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm. Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard. It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest. While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking. Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now. Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission. Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides. What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors. Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger. Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next. His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears. When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much. He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread. If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces. He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind. Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers. Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base. He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man. If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go. With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get. He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat. Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range. Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind. He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl. Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard. Not far from here, three minutes or less. The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers. It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers. “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask. Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible. Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed. The turrets, then. “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old. Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel. “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport. TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?” You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got. You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here. Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here. The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here. Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not. He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul. If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator. “Mando?” You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway. Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it. That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to. Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction. Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose. Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily. It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?” Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls. “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit. “You cover your face like one. You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.” Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now. “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he? He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan. All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge. You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood. This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby. In a sense, it still feels that way. The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family. The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch. He’d know, you tell yourself. If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow. Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore. The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response. In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet. These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back. Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms. The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes. Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?” Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter. The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh. “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add. “How were you able to find us?”

Silence. The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now. He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red. Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality. The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead. Useless, then. Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor. Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention. “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon. The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite. It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened. But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it. The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what? This Mandalorian?” The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms. “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.” The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head. “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees. “He must want the beskar. I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive. He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!” A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed. There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury. It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues. “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth. He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize. Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible. You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety. Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually. It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive. Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk. They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost. You’re both long gone by now. They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest. Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response. His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it. How the fuck did he know? He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile. Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods. “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides. Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man. The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul. His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun. He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?” The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember. He’s panicked before. He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time. This is different. This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection. There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now. The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat. You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it. Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you. Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out. His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision. For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground. There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about. Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed. It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground. Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him. Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up. Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?” You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on. Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them. If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways. The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge. Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!” You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull. You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door. “Now! We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up. Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel. Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears. The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping. You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense. Deadly tense. Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once. One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life. It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it. All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking. You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before. Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear. Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship. But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap. Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared. They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is. You can’t seem to breathe like he is. It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand. Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh. A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now. Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing. You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you. When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain. You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment. You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through. You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now. However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest. Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline. Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you. His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time. It’s… cold. A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin. Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood. You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word. You can’t find a single word to say. The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones. It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet. There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden. Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement. He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip. It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features. His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to. You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there. He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor. You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves. Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly. Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself. “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly. Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t. Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult. You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive. There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment. One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty. There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t. “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it. Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones. You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands. He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from. It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you. The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood. Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face. The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground. It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet. Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back. Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand. It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang. You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground. The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead. So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state. He doesn’t move. His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last. If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else. Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying. You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him. You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor. Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes. Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done. Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown. Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain. The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert. You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy. If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him. It was… isolating. Lonely by yourself. The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp. Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner. Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath. One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet. You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What? At least what? Comfort you? Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions? What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him? You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically. He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you. You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do. If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself. At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment. Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul. Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover. You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on. You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again. You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand. After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone. After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in. The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings. It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent. You don’t feel anything as you do it. You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm. Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster. The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything. They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower. Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy. Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent. When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls. Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today. You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep. You don’t even try, it’s pointless. The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself. You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking. You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago. You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong… They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation. You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point. In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this. You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure. How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices? Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t. You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him. You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance. You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course. Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been. Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you. A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone. Multiple people, this time. He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done. The end result won’t change. You own this now. You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice. He wouldn’t argue with you. He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them. It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount. You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned. You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive. You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him. If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it. Focus on them both, alive and well together. Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness. It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself. Hours, maybe. Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are. You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways. After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair. He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet. “Don’t say anything. Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You did save him. You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent. “I tried. Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself. I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul. Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you. It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up. “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat. They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses. “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out. The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body. “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself. The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking. You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.” Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes. “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold. Again, everything turns numb. It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today. It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it. For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks. “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me. I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger. I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe. And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II. Do you know why I did that?” The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart. “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand. You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up. Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away. But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you. Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying. It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die. You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t. “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones. Especially the trained ones. Anything else was meant to be your last resort. Not your choice. Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself. The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him. Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried. You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen. “I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you. He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words. “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?” You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster. Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care. “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.” It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless. Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against. It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean. Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.” The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child. Never. You’ll die before that happens. “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that. Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing. Not even you.”

Din stares at you. His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant. It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become. You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both. He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet. It happened. What’s done is done, you can’t change the past. He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so. This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child. You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them. Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers. It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak. Broken. “You wore mine once before, and it was…” He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away. “It wasn’t real. It didn’t fit. It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out. I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?” You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad. You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but… Not a Mandalorian, he’d said. Of course not. Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.” Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again. “It was you covered in blood. It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger. You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship. And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too. You…” He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice. “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you. “You don’t fly into war zones. You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me. You said you tried to be brave… like me.” His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand. “I’ll never ask you to be brave. I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight. They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time. Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again. It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside. You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?” He murmurs to you. You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?” You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory. “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that. Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain. You’ll never be able to change it, though. This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else. Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come. You need to tell him. You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?” You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor. “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat. “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.” He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time. He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine. You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before. It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms. His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing. “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today. All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty. You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now. If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer. Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids

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hxt1b · 2 months

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Tripping and falling right onto gojos lap

I got carried away lol oops.

drabble, gojo x afab reader | college au - frat party, smut warning [fingering, exhibitionism, some geto x reader] playboy/fratboy gojo, smoking weed. wc: 767.

masterlist

liquor was not your friend, especially not mixed with weed. your feet stumbled over themselves as you moved through the kitchen. faces blurred as you passed by people looking for your best friend, but she had ditched you or you'd ditched her. you weren't sure in your state.

you rounded into the living room of the frat house, the party mellowed out in here. gojo was sitting next to geto a blunt being passed between the two. You looked away from them, looking around the room willing yourself to stay away from the boys stay away from gojo, it was bad enough you already gave into him before. but with gojo, that wasn't a possibility he was a magnet, and his right-hand man was a fiend for making you uncomfortable, almost as much as gojo was.

you let your gaze drift back to the two men on the couch. geto ushered you over with two fingers, you rolled your eyes but listened. you'd go over for two seconds. that couldn't hurt.

"i'm beginning to think you've been ignoring me at this party." gojo drawled as you drew closer. you shrugged and swayed in your spot.

loud cackling drew your attention to a swarm of first years as they flooded the living room, one of them bumping into your back sending you face forward towards gojo. his hands instantly caught you and pulled you down into his lap, your legs bracketing his.

"what, you didn't wanna see me after last night?" He asked, smoke blowing out his lips spreading over your skin. "i can imagine you're still sore from the shit we did, baby." He muttered lowly, but geto heard, his breathy laugh confirmed.

"you seem to have plenty of girls to fuck with here." you said, your words slurred together. gojo tangled his hand into your hair at the back of your head, taking another drag from his blunt before passing it off to geto.

"but ive been waiting for you." he mumbled moving his face closer to yours so that his lips brushed yours. the smoke from his mouth invading your senses.

gojo shifted so that his erection was pressing against your clothed center. you bit your lip at his action, a low hum leaving your throat.

"don't ignore me again," he concluded before pulling you into a kiss, his lips moving against yours slowly drawing his tongue into your mouth. his hands pushing at your hips to move, you ground down onto his cock. your core rubbing into him, a deep heat stirred inside you.

he snaked a hand between the both of you quickly moving into your pants and underwear, his fingers found your clit, and you gasped at the intrusion. your brain was working slow, muddled and fogged by booze, weed and gojo.

gojo circled your clit, moaning into your mouth as you continued to grind into his cock and fingers.

you pulled your lips from his when he repositioned his hand and pushed two fingers into you, his thumb now tapping at your clit. you tilted your head onto his shoulder, your hands clutching at the couch back.

"open your eyes." geto's voice was soft, and close. you listened and looked at him. he moved in until his nose brushed yours.

"fuck," gojo swore before muttering your name into your hair. his fingers curled at your g-spot causing you to whimper, your breaths shallow as you dug your fingers into the couch, trying to grab the fabric.

"is he making you feel good?" geto asked, his lips now brushing yours. "lemme kiss you."

it wasn't much of a question, and he didn't wait for your answer his lips devoured yours in the next breath, his tongue pushing into your mouth and his hand curling into your hair. his grip was harsh, pulling at the strands roughly.

you forgot where you were, the people in the living room gone as you fucked your hips into gojo's hand and let geto roughly kiss you.

gojo latched onto your neck as you rocked against him harder, his teeth tugging at your heated skin, his hand pulling your top off your shoulder.

"i-fuck i-" you stuttered before you came apart on gojo's fingers.

you'd regret this in the morning when your brain wasn't bogged with substances and men. the public act would embarrass you to the point that you probably wouldn't leave your dorm, but as you rode out your high, with gojo's fingers continuing his ministration, geto's lips kissing yours unrestrained, and gojo's teeth nipping at your skin, you could not be bothered to care.

~hxt1b, feb 14 2024, send me more requests for drabbles dudes...

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angel-kyo · 4 months

Text

Pay it no mind

Part VI

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. There is an implication of reader dying (but they don't).

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V

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

When you entered the coffee shop, Haruki was already sitting at a table in the corner.

He got up to greet you when he saw you approaching. “Did you have any trouble to find this place?”

You sat in front of him. “Not really. I actually had been nearby some days ago for work and saw it,” you replied.

He smiled. “Oh, does being a teacher involve much work outside the school?”

So, the work part had not been a lie, but being a little more explicit, you had been exorcising a curse. Of course, you could not tell him that.

You smiled back. “I don’t know about other schools, but sometimes we have to run errands here and there.” Haruki nodded, and you decided to change the subject before he could dig further. “Anyway, should we order?”

Over iced coffee and tea, you and Ikeda caught up on pretty much everything you had missed during your years apart. The elderly uncle he had moved in with years ago had passed away just before he finished high school, so with no family left in the country other than his avoidant father, he had gone to study abroad. He had returned to Japan to work for a big company in Osaka, but then he had been transferred to Tokyo, which led him to getting a small apartment there, which eventually led him to you.

You watched him sip his tea and place it back on the table.

Time really goes by quickly. It wasn’t that long ago we were at a similar place talking about the future and look at us. This is the future.

“You know? Back then, I wanted to come back after finishing high school, but it would have been so…” He moved his hands as if trying to grasp the right word.

“Complicated?” you offered. His lips curved.

“Not that it would have been easier anywhere, but I guess there really is a right time for everything, don’t you think? At least I got to see you again."

Ikeda was looking at you expectantly and you only nodded. He laughed. “Sorry, I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all!” It was nice listening to him. “I was just thinking how great it is that you have accomplished so much.”

“Thank you, but I didn’t mean to get carried away. I just think it’s nice to be back.” He made a pause. “What about you, though? So, you graduated, stayed here and became a busy teacher… Maybe found your soulmate yet?”

You snorted, almost spilling your drink as you shook your head. “My… No.”

Your own reaction had made you laugh, but what had really gone through your mind was a much more disheartening memory: Satoru's forced smile when you told him you liked him.

Ikeda smiled at your reaction. “What about your friends? Are you still close with those guys you used to hang with? The girl that used to come with you every time and the other two?”

“Shoko is a doctor now.” You smiled and looked through the window; it looked like it would rain. “About Geto…”

They did their best to cover it up, but you might have heard about an incident in a village...

Haruki watched your gazed had saddened, and he could infer it was not a pleasant subject, so he tried to facilitate a response “You drifted apart? That happened to me and many of my friends...”

Your eyes returned to his. “Yes… We don’t really talk anymore.”

That sounded better than saying ‘our friendship became complicated after he turned into a mass murderer and curse user.'

Haruki’s smile was apologetic. In his memory, Geto seemed to have been a nice guy, and from your expression, he could tell that, for whatever reason it happened, letting him go had hurt you.

It must be inevitable that people part ways even when they don’t want to, he thought.

Now, he was not sure if he should ask about the other guy. Would that sadden you too?

“I am still friends with Gojo, though. You remember him?”

He nodded. Of course, how could he forget about him?

You continued. “Actually, we work together. He is a teacher too.”

“Oh, well, that’s...” he was not sure how to put it, “...that’s interesting.”

He could not help but wonder what kind of teacher Gojo had become. Thinking it backwards, Gojo had always been throwing annoyed looks at him. No, that white-haired kid had not looked like teacher material at all back then.

Haruki was not dumb. He always knew Gojo disliked him, and that the reason was pretty much related to you, but it had been only once that your friend had confronted him directly. Would Gojo have told you about it? He figured probably not, and even if he had, the past is in the past.

***

“This was fun,” you told Haruki as you walked to the station.

“It really was”, he agreed. “Maybe we could go to where I used to work next time. You know, for good old times’ sake.”

“You should bring your apron!” You grinned and looked at the sky, “But sure, we should go, if it’s still there, that is.”

At the entrance of the station, Haruki told you he could walk to his apartment from there, so you said goodbye.

The day had been full of memories and, although overall it was nice to reminisce, it had left you exhausted, so you decided to go to bed early.

Maybe tonight you could dream of a softer time, before Shoko looked so tired, before Suguru slipped away, and before Satoru had to shoulder alone the burdens of the strongest.

As the raindrops tapped on your window, you slumbered into the memory of a young group of students laughing and running under the rain.

***

“[name].” Someone was tapping your forehead. “[name].”

Your eyes opened to be met with a pair of blue ones.

“Oh, good, you woke up.” Gojo shot you a smile. He was standing next to your bed, bending over you.

Slowly, your head turned to look at the time on your nightstand watch. It was 6:02 am.

Huh, he started being annoying earlier than usual.

Still laying down, you saw him straighten up. “I need your help with something.”

“It better be urgent, or I’ll have to ask you to return that key I gave you.”

You knew that would not be of much use anyway. Before giving him a spare key to your apartment ‘for emergencies’, Satoru would just teleport inside whenever he thought the situation called for it, which was basically whenever he wanted.

Of course, he did not use his key just for emergencies, but at least you had gotten him to use the front door since then. And he had looked so glad you had given him a spare key and even gave you one to his place, that you did not really have the heart to ask him to give it back despite his unnecessary intrusions.

He grinned. “We need to pick Shoko’s birthday present.”

There was going to be a small gathering that day to celebrate your friend’s birthday. She had insisted on not making a fuss about it, but she did say in a half serious tone that presents were mandatory. You had gotten her a bottle of that rare wine she liked a month ago in anticipation of this day, but apparently, Gojo had waited until the very last minute to get her something.

You turned in your bed and closed your eyes again. “That is not an emergency.”

“I just did not know what to get her. She was not thrilled with my choice last year, so I thought…” Gojo sat on your bed and went on rambling about how he had carefully picked Shoko’s present on a trip last year and how rude it had been of her to call it ‘ugly’ in front of him.

“What is this?” Shoko’s face had been unreadable, but judging by the way she was holding it, she was not pleased.

“I got it during my last trip. It is believed to bring good luck to your home, and you can put it in your living room so it…”

“Of course not. This is too ugly to be left where people can see it," Shoko had sentenced.

You sighed. “Fine. I will help you, but I need some more sleep first.”

“It’s a deal then. We will take a quick nap and then go. What do you think we should get her?” Despite being with your back to him, you could feel him laying down and accommodating closer to you.

It had been a while since you two had shared a bed. Yours was particularly small, so one of you would always take the futon or the sofa if he wanted to 'stay for a nap'.

“What are you doing?” you asked softly.

There was silence for a second and you thought he had caught up with the situation he was putting both of you in, but then he replied “Your bed is more comfortable. Besides, it’ll be just a minute, right?"

You were going to protest, but he continued. “I had a rough night.” His tone was lower now. “Indulge me this time, can you?”

You knew he had been on a mission last night, however, no matter how gruesome, it was not like him to complain about it, let alone seek comfort in others, at least, it had not been like that in a long time.

Would it be okay to comfort him as when we were kids?

You turned to face him. He was laying on his side already looking at you.

When you put your hand over his, Satoru was reminded of how you used to hold hands when things were rather unpleasant at his family’s state. It was a gesture of reassurance; you holding his hand was proof that he was not alone. He had never told you but there were times when he thought your hand had tied him to reality, it had kept him human, and he had loved you for it.

“I…”

“Sleep then. You probably need it,” you interrupted him and closed your eyes.

Would it be okay for him to tell you he loved you or would it make things awkward again? Would it still make you hurt because he had not reciprocated your feelings weeks ago?

In truth, he had not come so early because of Ieiri's present. He had done it because the curse he had encountered last night had gotten to him.

He had been told that thing was not really strong, but it could show people illusions of those dear to them dying in front of their eyes; it was the fear the victim would experience at that time what would make the curse stronger. Gojo had not expected to see you, but he did; and although he had snapped out of it almost immediately, it had been enough to make him rush to you as soon as he had finished the mission and changed clothes.

But now, with his hand in yours, Satoru closed his eyes, feeling a little more at ease.

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

Note: Huh... I thought this one would be shorter. Sorry.

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part VII

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk drabbles #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo fanfic #satoru #gojo fluff

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christinesficrecs · 5 months

Text

Author Spotlight is a Saturday thing now **checks to make sure it really is Saturday** 😋 Enjoy these gems. They are all amazing!!

pretty in tents by kellifer_fic | 7.6K

Even though he’s making fun of it, Stiles thinks the whole thing sounds awesome and, like most stuff these days, the experience is going to be totally wasted on Scott.

By Moon And Stars by kellifer_fic | 15.9K | Mature

“Have you heard of this Alpha?” Stiles asks, shuffling up his pallet so Scott has room to sit. Scott does with a grateful little twist of his mouth. Stefan forces him into the Stilinski ceremonial armor when they travel and Stiles can see that it’s heavy and doesn’t sit well on Scott. He can’t shift encased in metal and Stefan knows it.

“I know of him, mostly stories that seem a little fantastical. Shifters exaggerate just like common people. They like their war stories.”

“Tell me of him. Tell me a war story.”

Relationship Status: It’s complicated by kellifer_fic | 4K | Mature

Okay, I know this is a huge stretch for you, but can you please pretend you’re like, into me?

the ring of the ancestors is not a euphemism by kellifer_fic | 10.6K

Stiles hadn’t noticed the way the entire commissary had gone silent when the guy had approached his table, or the two military escorts that had been flanking him, looking at each other like maybe they should be intervening but weren’t sure how. All he saw was someone stealing the last dessert from him and Stiles didn’t think about it, he just reached across the table and snatched it back with a, “What the hell, dude?”

tumescent by kellifer_fic (9k)

“I would have to want to date Derek for your plan to work,” Stiles points out, secure in the knowledge that his logic is infallible and yes, he’s had a pointless and soul-destroying crush on Derek for as long as he can remember but nobody knows that.

powerful in-scent-ive by kellifer_fic | 14.5K

Stiles holds up a hand, because he really can’t listen to the bites-are-all-right speech that Derek has given Scott dozens of times. “Dude, don’t.”

insert camping pun here by kellifer_fic | 12.5K

“I’m going to be different,” Stiles clarified. “I’m going to go to parties and make friends and,” Stiles leaned closer into the computer and whispered conspiratorially, “Get laid.”

Dude, what’s a bulwark? by kellifer_fic | 12.1K

Beacon Hills is the kind of small town where everybody knows everybody, and what everybody knows is that surly diner owner Derek Hale and free spirited single dad Stiles Stilinski have been in love with each other for years. If only they knew it too.

has time re-written every line by kellifer_fic | 14.6K

No, dad. Listen to what I'm saying. Yesterday, I was eighteen. I'm not speaking metaphorically, or about the way I feel or whatever. I was eighteen, we lived in the house on Maple, the last conversation we had was about how fries didn't count as a vegetable and I, uh, wasn't married.

Vampires, man. Not to be trusted by kellifer_fic | 9.6K

Stiles appreciates Derek worrying about him being overwhelmed but he really could have used a few overenthusiastic werewolves and impatient humans for his homecoming. He’s felt disconnected because of his forced isolation and would have at least liked to have had Scott on his doorstep when he got there.

monster at the end of the book by kellifer_fic, maichan808 (maichan) | 16.7K

It's not like he forgets about the scar. Just, sometimes it takes him off guard when he's half asleep or run down. It's there, a new companion that reminds him of the world he now lives in, how it's changed and what it's cost. Still, sometimes he'll blink at it owlishly in the mirror like he's doing now, at the way it runs alongside his collar bone and down. It even separates a mole into two neat halves.

i love you a latte [Fic & Podfic] by kellifer_fic, RsCreighton | 6.6K

"You... want me to come to your family reunion?"

"Yes."

"And you'll come to my best friend's wedding as...my... date?" Stiles thinks the whole proposition bears repeating.

"Yes," Derek says again, brows furrowing like he's starting to regret asking.

it's free (and always will be) by kellifer_fic, maichan808 (maichan) | 31.6K | Explicit

Stiles starts looking around, like there's someone who'll rescue him from this painfully awkward situation and Derek can't blame him. All he can think is this is some kind of elaborate prank Laura is playing on him after she'd found his pile of Fangboy back copies last month.

Or, the one where Derek has to marry a human to save Clawbook and it turns out to be Stiles. He's completely doomed.

#sterek #sterek fics #ficrecs #author spotlight #writer appreciation #sterek fandom #kellifer_fic #fanfic writers

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year

Text

Attention

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader about 1k words

summary: Bradley is always there to shower you with attention.

disclaimer: hints at anxiety, otherwise just bradley being everything ive ever dreamt of

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

(I am running out of gifs don't kill me pls this doesn't have anything whatsoever to do with the drabble lol)

The restaurant was loud and crowded and absolutely uncomfortable. It was cramped to be completely honest, your side pressed snugly into Bradley's with how many people were sitting on this bench. And all that even though you'd called in a month ago to place a reservation for this huge group of people.

This was supposed to be a nice gathering. This was supposed to be a family get together. But the restaurant was shit, the food was nowhere close to good, and you were blinking away tears.

You didn't want to cry. You felt like a baby. Because no grown woman should be sobbing like a neglected three year old just because she wasn't getting attention. But here you were - at the same table as all of your cousins and all of their partners, with your own boyfriend by your side, not getting a word in, not being talked or listened to. Hell, Bradley was doing a better job at talking to your family than you were.

You'd never been good at this. You were reluctant to go to any gathering of any kind whatsoever. And now this.

If you didn't think of an excuse to go soon you'd break down before dessert had even been served.

"Hey."

Bradley's voice was closer to your ear than expected, his breath hot against your skin, and you turned to him instantly, his arm adjusting around your shoulders. He looked concerned.

"What's wrong?"

You swallowed hard. Your lips parted in an attempt to explain, but the embarrassment creeping up in your chest let no words come out.

He examined you for the entirety of two seconds before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, hardly touching you for more than a moment. It was reassurance - a reminder that he was here, that you weren't alone, that you had no reason to be embarrassed.

"I feel like no one would notice if I just left", you whispered, chewing on your bottom lip and lowering your gaze to your hands, unable to look him in the eye anymore. You let out something that seemed quite like a mixture of a snort and a chuckle. "That sounds like I'm an attention whore. Wow."

He hooked a finger under your chin and raised your head so that you were looking at him again, eyes locked on yours, and pressed another sweet kiss to your lips. And another. And another. All of them chaste, all of them slow, all of them with a few moments eye contact between them.

All of them until he felt you relax, until he felt you melt into him.

"There she is", he muttered with a smile. "My pretty girl. Not the woman who was just talking shit about you where you were supposed to be sitting. Hope she's gone forever."

You couldn't help but grin at him (which had, obviously, been what he'd intended and he was smiling, pleased with himself that he'd managed it), shaking your head just slightly at the ridiculousness of it.

"Thanks", you whispered, blindly grabbing for his hand on your thigh and intertwining your fingers, realising that the unease you'd been feeling had been washed away entirely.

"Don't thank me", he murmured, dipping his head down so that he could leave a few kisses on your cheek and your nose. "That's what I'm here for."

You tilted your head sideways a bit and met his lips, catching him by surprise. His hand tightened on your shoulder, his thumb brushing over your skin, his lips against yours feeling so perfect that you wanted to get out of here for a whole different reason than before - this time not to escape, but because snogging your boyfriend in the middle of a goddamn restaurant was a little too much exposure for your taste.

You didn't even have to voice your thoughts. He pulled back, blinking, his eyes hazy.

"Any inhibitions to leaving early?", he asked, his voice a little hoarse and his pupils a little blown and shit, you still couldn't quite believe that you had this effect on a man like him.

"Nope", you laughed, pressing a tiny kiss just below his jaw. "None at all."

His grin was unmatched as he pulled away from you, drawing his arm back (which didn't leave your shoulders feeling cold whatsoever, you totally hadn't got used to it) and hauling you to your feet by your hand, still clutching it tightly. You thanked whatever gods were responsible for seating you and Bradley at the far end of the table.

It took a few moments to stand steadily again, but the second you did and not a moment later, Bradley was tugging you after him, away from the table, away from the restaurant.

You didn't care that the conversation stopped abruptly. Or about the few confused calls of what you were doing. You didn't even bother saying goodbye.

To be truly and wholly honest, you hardly noticed any of it. With Bradley's hand in yours, his laughter in your ears, you couldn't notice anything but him.

So you just stumbled out of the restaurant and into his arms and didn't let go of him ever again.

#top gun #top gun x reader #x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader

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joekeeryswife · 6 months

Note

Hi girl!!

I had an idea for a while now and I thought you might want to hear

It’s kind of a two paragraph thing

Reader and Joel are married and she is Sarah’s mother and also pregnant and she planned to tell Joel the day after the outbreak but doesn’t get to it. The day of the outbreak she was working late and never got home. Joel is sure he lost his entire family but reader (and the baby) made it through.

Twenty years later in Jackson a woman in her early fifties and a twenty year old young man/ woman (your call). After confirming they are not infected and have no bad intentions they meet Tommy , that leads to a beautiful and emotional family reunion.

Thank you🫶🏼🫶🏼

Apocalypse - J.M

hey honeys! first Joel imagine.. changed it slightly to instead of y/n being Sarah’s bio mum to her step mum but been with her practically her whole life🫶 i kinda made this like y/n’s friends where trying to protect her from hearing what was going on and ive also kinda not specified how y/n got lost until the end. i love a good angsty imagine!!! I ACTUALLY HATE THIS SORRY! I PROMISE MY NEXT JOEL IMAGINE WILL BE BETTER! enjoy reading xx (Joel is 36 and reader is 27 at the beginning)

(join my taglist🫶)

September 26th 2003

“i promise i’ll be home early today. i’m only on a half day so try not to be late as well yeah? i have something to tell you” it was 6:30 in the morning and Joel didn’t have to get up for another two hours. you felt him nod and with you both sharing ‘i love you’s’ and a quick kiss on his cheek you were gone.

being a midwife was hard, especially when it pulled you away from your family. today was Joel’s 36th birthday and every year you would usually all spend the day together but this year, you and Joel had been pulled into work. you were meant to both be off but someone had called in sick and you had been persuaded into going in.

you had been excited for this day, you had found out last month that you were pregnant, 12 weeks when you found out, and you wanted to wait for his birthday to tell him. you had planned to tell him at dinner with Sarah. you had been in Sarah’s life since she was 5, she was 12 now and ever since she had met you she begged you and Joel for a brother or sister.

honestly you were excited, you had been with Joel for seven years and now was finally the right time for you and him to become parents. you had discussed it a few times in the past and one thing led to another and you both decided to start trying and as luck would have it, third time lucky you got pregnant. you had your first scan at work and decided to keep the gender a secret for now but being a midwife meant you could possibility find out the gender just by looking at the ultrasound picture so you hadn’t looked too closely.

-♡-

when you finally clocked in at work you already felt tired. being pregnant, nauseous with a headache did not help you whatsoever but money was money and you needed to start saving for your baby. “hey mama, how are you?” your co-worker and best friend Julia said as you entered the staff room. you sighed at set your bag and coat down on the table before sitting down.

your shift hadn’t even started yet and you were already ready to go home “hey, i’m alright. you been on the floor yet?” you tucked your hair behind your ear and rubbed a hand over your face. “no not yet but i’m sure when we go on we will be dealing with most of it” what she said was true, most of the staff here didn’t listen to instructions so it was up to you, Julia and a few other staff members to clean up their mess.

there were a few other co workers in the staff room with you, most of them eating their breakfast but it was practically silent except the two of you talking. “let’s go, i just want to get this day over with” and with a nod you both stood up to go to the delivery floor.

“you finally telling him tonight?” Julia asked you as she looked through a patient file “yeah, him and Sarah. she’s been begging for years so it’ll be nice to tell them at the same time. i was going to pick her up from school and tell her before but you know, duty calls” you joked. the two of you laughed and started making your way to a patients bedroom.

-♡-

you had been at work for eight hours before you finally got a break and sat down. it had been hectic and all you wanted to do was go home but your head of department had let you know that you would be staying at work way past the time you were meant to go home. three more people had called in sick and he thought because you were here you were supposed to stay.

you got your phone out of your scrubs pocket and dialled Joel’s number. it took a few rings before he finally answered. “hey sweetheart” he said in his thick Texan accent. “hey honey, happy birthday” you replied as you smiled, all you wanted to do right now was go home and cuddle with Joel. “thank you baby, how’s work?” you scoffed.

“that’s what i wanted to talk to you about. David is making me work till late, says there’s too many people calling in sick so i have to stay on” you heard him sigh

“you booked this day off months ago and they make you come in and they can’t let you leave at the time you’re meant to? that’s bullshit baby” you could sense that he was rolling his eyes.

“i know, i’m sorry. i begged him to let me come home but he wouldn’t budge.” you felt awful, letting him down on his birthday because of your stupid job.

“i’m gonna try my best to get home before 9 i promise, i want to spend at least an hour of your birthday with you” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

“don’t stress yourself too much baby okay? we always have tomorrow to celebrate. you said about telling me something this morning, is everything alright?” you opened your mouth to answer but Julia came into the staff room looking for you, a panicked expression on her face.

“y/n i’m so sorry but i need your help” you sighed, feeling deflated. you couldn’t even have a full break. your whole body was aching and you wanted a moment to just sit down and talk to your husband.

“i’m guessing you’ve got to go” Joel said making you laugh and roll you eyes. “i’m sorry, yeah i do. i’m okay though Joel, i’ll talk to you when i’m home okay? i love you” before he could answer you quickly hung up and followed Julia.

-♡-

“that was a weird conversation” Tommy said as he peered over at Joel who looked confused. “she sounds stressed. ain’t had a fucking day off in three weeks. barely see her now” he knew you loved your job but he also knew how much it stressed you out.

“maybe there’s a reason she’s been working so much?” Joel scoffed “she’s been tryna get a day off for ages and her boss is a fucking asshole, don’t give two shits about anyone except for himself”

“she’s gonna try get home a bit earlier but i doubt it, gonna do something together tomorrow if they allow her the time off” Joel wanted to have one day where you could all spend the day together, or even just a day that you and Joel could be together without worrying about anyone else.

“hey, old man, turn up that radio for a second” Joel chuckled and rolled his eyes, Tommy wasn’t even listening to a word he said but nevertheless he turned up the radio.

‘there has been suspicious activity in Indonesia, people are acting strange which has spread through many different countries. the government is advising that people stay indoors-’

“what a load of bullshit that is, turn it back down” Tommy scoffed and got back to work and Joel turned down the radio, what had that been all about?

“why don’t you finish early today? i know you told Sarah you’d be back late but you should go home”

“i gotta get this job finished, i told her latest ill be back is 9 now shut up so we can maybe get this finished quicker” with that, the two of them got on with the job.

-♡-

it was now 12:30am and there was no way you were leaving work yet. everything was just going wrong, so many people coming into the hospital to give birth (which was a given) but the amount of times the alarm had went off in the main hospital ward was ridiculous.

every 20 minutes like clockwork the alarm meant off meaning something violent was happening or a lot of people were not responding.

“i just want to go home” you said to Amy, the front desk worker as you stood in front of her, your head falling on the desk carefully. “go home, seriously” you looked up at her and saw her with an expression you’d never seen on her face before, pure panic and seriousness.

“are you kidding? David would fire me if i went home, besides there’s too many people off sick and i need to-" she shook her head and cut you off “y/n. go home. there’s been some weird shit on the radio, people going crazy, you’re pregnant and you need to be safe so go home”

your body filled with anxiety, you’d never seen her like this ever. you nodded “yeah uh, okay, i’ll go home now. you stay safe Amy yeah?” with that you quickly rushed to find Julia to let her know you were going.

you didn’t know why but the way Amy spoke sent a shiver down your spine. was Joel and Sarah okay? was your parents okay? were your family okay? you felt nervous and worried.

you quickly ran to the staff room and grabbed your stuff before searching for Julia. “Emma, have you seen Julia?” Emma was another midwife who worked with you. “yeah she’s at front desk, why have you got your stuff, did David say you could go home?” you ignored her and ran back to the front desk.

“y/n go home, what are you still doing here?” Julia asked as she saw you jogging towards her “i came to find you to tell you i’m leaving. Amy said there’s something going on but i didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to you”

you didn’t know why the two of them were being a little secretive. Julia felt her eyes water slightly and she hugged you “i’ll see you soon okay? get home safely and look after that baby” you hugged her back. “i will, i promise” with that she let go of you and with that you left the hospital.

as you were driving home all you could hear on the radio was ‘an outbreak has happened, get home and lock your doors’

you felt sick, what type of outbreak? you quickly got your phone and called Joel, you were scared, terrified even and you needed to know he was okay.

“Joel, i’m 20 minutes from home, what the fuck is happening? they look like they’re blocking the highway off, i’m just pulling into town now” you could hear Tommy in the background telling Joel what to say “baby listen carefully okay? don’t go home, go to straight to town, don’t talk to anyone, don’t stop the car for anyone just try get there” his voice was filled with panic “Joel what-”

he cut you off “i’m going to get Sarah and we will meet you there as quickly as we can, i will find you there i promise. i love you okay? if i don’t get-”

you looked at your phone which had abruptly cut the call. “Joel?” you dialled his number again but the call went straight to answer phone.

you hoped whatever was happening that Joel, Sarah and Tommy would make it out safe and you prayed that you found them before whatever this virus was destroyed everything.

-♡-

“get in the truck, right now” Joel shouted as he got out of the truck with a wrench in his hand. Joel pushed Sarah to the truck but stopped when he saw Mrs Adler.

Joel froze in fear as he saw the usually quiet old lady who sits in her chair run toward them, screeches coming from her. in the time he had lived in that house he had never heard a single sound from that lady yet here she was running.

“what are we doing Joel?” Tommy lifted the gun up, fear laced his voice. Mrs Adler was coming closer and closer by the second and without thinking Joel hit her over the head with the wrench.

she fell to the ground and stopped moving. what the fuck had he just done? he dropped the wrench and quickly turned to look at Sarah who looked terrified.

he put his hands on her cheeks carefully “you killed her” Sarah said, her voice breaking slightly. “baby i’m so sorry” he pulled her in for a hug, his hand cradling the back of her head.

“Joel, we gotta go” Joel pulled away from Sarah “it’s not just the Adlers okay? but we are gonna be brave and we are gonna get out of this” the three of them got into the truck and drove off.

“they’re saying it’s some kind of virus, a parasite” Tommy said as he drove quickly down the road toward the town. “are we sick?” Sarah asked, her eyes filled with tears as fear overtook her body.

“no, course not” Joel quickly said, trying his best to reassure her. “how do you know we are not sick?” Joel turned to look at Sarah then back at Tommy.

“they said it’s mostly people in the city. that’s why they’ve got most of the highway blocked off” Tommy glanced over at Joel then focused back on the road.

“what about mum? she works in the city? is she sick? where is she?” she asked, her eyes darting between the two men.

“mum is fine, i spoke to her before i got you. she’s not sick, she’s in town and we are going there right now okay? she’s fine” to be honest Joel didn’t know if you were okay. it had been thirty minutes since he last spoke to you and he had no idea where you were. he just hoped you were somewhere safe until he could find you.

-♡-

November 12th 2023

20 years. it had been 20 years since Joel had last saw you and he was sure you were dead. he had promised you he would find you, keep you safe and he failed to do that. he felt like he had failed you and failed Sarah and he wanted nothing more then to be with you.

when they got to town is was destroyed, fires everywhere, cars flipped over, people dead in the road and there was absolutely no way he would have been able to find you.

he would have nightmares every night. the nightmare of Sarah dying in his arms the same way over and over again but with you, he had no idea how you died. he had dreamed every way imaginable that you died and it was awful. he felt disgusted with himself every single day for not being with you.

he would think about how different life would be if the outbreak didn’t happen. the two of you would have had two kids, both girls, moved into a bigger house more in the countryside and lived together forever, but then he’d realise what had happened and images of that night came crashing back.

Joel had decided to move to Jackson after the whole ordeal with Ellie realising that that was what was best for her. Jackson was safe, secure, nothing could happen to her and he felt somewhat free from the world outside those walls.

they had been in Jackson for six months at this point and life had finally started to feel somewhat normal again. he was grateful Maria gave him a chance to turn his life around after feeling his stopped because of what happened to you and Sarah. he wanted to be better for Ellie now, she was his main priority.

it was a Sunday and usually the whole of Jackson would have a day off (except from patrols) and Joel and Ellie had decided to take a walk through Jackson. it was snowing but it was nice to walk through the streets and see families be happy together.

Tommy had been helping the builders by the front gates when they opened meaning the patrollers had come back from their shift. he looked up briefly and saw two new people on the backs of Maria’s and Michael’s horses.

he didn’t know why but he felt the need to go over there and greet them, coming into somewhere like this could be scary for some who hadn’t been in this sort of environment for a while so he wanted them to feel welcomed.

the patrollers stopped and everyone got off their horses. Tommy had a warm smile on his face as he saw the younger woman out of the two lace her arm around the older woman’s.

as he got a closer look he couldn’t believe what he saw. a woman who he thought he’d never see in his life again was standing right in front of him. his heart swelled with joy and he didn’t know why but he felt his eyes fill with tears.

“Tommy?” before he could even talk the woman spoke making his assumption correct, it was you. you looked a little older, you had a few scars littered around your face and your hair which used to be quite long was now shoulder length but suited you so much.

“y/n, it is you oh my god” he rushed toward you and wrapped his arms around you. you couldn’t believe it, Tommy was here.

your brother in law who you thought had died was here, did that mean Sarah and Joel were here too?

“i thought you had died, i didn’t think id ever see you again-” Tommy was cut off quickly when he heard his brothers voice behind him.

“Tommy who the hell are you hugging?” Joel and Ellie had walked toward the gate when they realised there were a few new people. you pulled away from Tommy and your eyes immediately made eye contact with the ones you used to love staring into.

Joel’s heart felt like time had stopped. there was no way he was staring at the woman he loved right now, there was no way, it had been 20 years and he thought you were dead. “Joel” he heard you whisper.

you quickly made your way toward him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “y/n” he pulled you in closer and kissed your forehead. “my god i thought you were dead” his voice cracked as he spoke, both of you had tears in your eyes.

“i promise i tried to find you but there were people everywhere-” you pulled away slightly, shook your head and kissed him passionately. he hadn’t felt anything like this since the outbreak, happiness. you were here, you weren’t dead, he hadn’t failed you.

“you would have never of found me. don’t beat yourself up over it Joel” his eyes scanned your face, you still looked as beautiful as ever. you noticed the young girl stood next to him confused, where was Sarah?

“where’s Sarah Joel? is she here? i bet she’s gotten so much taller” his face softened “she died on the day of the outbreak” you felt your heart drop, you sweet Sarah was gone.

“oh Joel, i’m so sorry” your hands went to his cheeks, stroking it softly. “it’s okay, i think i’ve finally come to terms with it” he turned to look at Ellie who was just watching the two of you.

“Ellie this is y/n, my wife that i told you about” you turned your head to look at her too. “i realised with all the kissing and hugging the two of you did” her voice was filled with sarcasm which actually made you giggle quietly.

“it’s nice to meet you Ellie” she just gave you a small smile and a nod. “i, uh Joel” you pulled away and turned around to see Margot stood awkwardly behind you. “this is Margot” he looked at the young girl, she looked about 20 years old.

dark hair, dark eyes but her face looked almost identical to yours. Margot walked closer to the two of you “she’s your daughter” he frowned “what?” he unwrapped his arms from around you “i know it’s a lot to take in-”

he quickly made his way to Margot and hugged her close “hi dad” he heard her say, voice filled with anxiety. he was just as anxious as her “hi baby girl”

you watched the two of them with teary eyes, you never thought that this was where you would be 20 years into the pandemic. in a safe haven with your daughter and your husband finally happy once again.

#fanfiction #imagines #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal

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runawaymarbles · 2 months

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some things that may or may not happen after the ending of Swan Lake

"Odette, now resigned to her existence, bids a sad, lingering farewell to Siegfried. The prince knows that she is gone forever. In utter grief, he is left alone." - Swan Lake (Kent Stowell version) summary

I. Siegfried is left alone. He will always be alone. He dies an old man at the edge of a lake.

II. Siegfried is alone. He will always be alone. He dies a young man in the middle of a lake.

III. Siegfried is alone. He is alone until the night after the party, when a swan appears at his bedroom window. He has never seen the glow of moonlight on her wings before, and the sight makes him cry.

When he opens the shutters, she settles next to him on his featherbed. She can’t cry anymore, but she bops him on the head a few times.

IV. Siegfried is alone, and he cries on the Jester’s lap. The Jester doesn’t think he’s paid enough for this. He certainly doesn’t have a joke prepared for when the crown prince accidentally declares his love to the wrong bird.

The Queen wonders if she can adopt the Jester and marry him off.

V. Siegfried is alone, officially, but he’s never truly alone because there is a swan that follows him everywhere. Anyone who wants to get any business done learns that they are not allowed to question this.

The swan is kind of an asshole, though: she’s especially prone to biting women who look at the prince just a little too long.

VI. Siegfried is alone, entirely, and intends to always be alone. “I will never love again,” he says, to anyone who will listen.

“That will certainly make a much better ballad,” his mother says, “the poets will be thrilled. But we’ve still got a kingdom to run and a dynasty to continue.”

VII. Siegfried is officially not alone, but he’s not happy about it. He has a pet swan who is also not happy about it. And a new wife, who is the least happy of them all.

“The swan stays in the marital chamber during sex,” the prince says.

His wife would find a way to kill him if she wasn’t afraid of said swan pecking her eyes out.

VIII. Siegfried is only sort of alone, and he hasn’t given up: he asks the Jester to promise to love his swan more than any other woman, on the grounds that the Jester has no sisters and has never loved a woman, nor does he intend to. “I don’t think he specified romantic love,” Siegfried says.

The Jester promises to be the bird’s bestie for life, and suddenly the swan is a woman, and there are screams from outside because the swans that have taken up residence along the roof are women now, too.

IX. Siegfried isn’t quite alone, but he isn’t happy, because the Jester promises, and nothing happens. The prince and the swan go off to cry again. The Jester asks the Queen for a raise.

X. Siegfried is alone. He changes his crest to one that shows a swan, wings spread above a blue square lake. He rules his kingdom, as fairly as one can ever be while wielding absolute authority, but spends the rest of his life watching the sky. He dies alone on a bed made of straw.

XI. Siegfried is alone. One day, a friend points out some swans to him, but he refuses to look at them.

“The form of a swan is a prison and a curse,” he says. “What if that’s not what they’re supposed to be?”

He bans all depictions of swans from the kingdom.

XII. Siegfried is alone, or he isn’t. Either way, he becomes a vegetarian.

XIII. Siegfried is alone. But he has loved, now, and he knows how to do it again. One day, he manages to move on.

He teaches his daughter everything he has been able to learn about preventing curses.

XIV. Siegfried is alone. He fucks the Jester.

XV. Siegfried is alone. A few years later, he learns that a minor noble some forty miles away has a beautiful new wife and two dozen new maidservants. Nobody is sure where they all came from.

But Siegfried knows, and he cries, and he is happy for her.

XVI. Siegfried isn’t alone. He gifts the swan that follows him around the fluffiest pillows. Demand she be paid the choicest foods. The jokes and rumors abound, but he ignores them.

Sometimes servants will hear him talking to the swan as though she’s a person. Sometimes they swear there’s a pattern to her honks, like she’s answering him.

XVII. Siegfried is alone, although he treats his pet swan like a queen. Sometimes, the servants will hear him talking to her.

“Can you still understand me?” he asks. “Odette. Please. Tap my hand if you understand me.”

The swan doesn’t move, until the prince offers more shrimp.

XVIII. Siegfried isn’t alone, until he is. Because swans mate for life, but that life is only a decade or so. When she dies, he calls for a week of mourning throughout the kingdom.

And when she dies, there’s a part of him—a part that he hates—that feels free.

XIX. Siegfried isn’t alone. Because Von Rothbart is defeated, somewhere. Maybe he cursed the wrong princess. Maybe he fell and broke his hip. All anyone know for sure is that one morning, there is a woman lying on the cushions reserved for the swan.

Salad and shellfish go out of favor, as the new queen refuses to eat them.

XX. Siegfried is alone, until a woman shows up at the castle. She’s wearing a white dress splattered with blood, and carrying what appears to be the severed wing of a giant owl. The prince mounts it on the wall above their thrones.

XXI. They live happily ever after.

XXII. Or, they don’t.

#swan lake #don't @ me i've been entertaining myself #op #i remain as always on my bullshit

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4pfsukuna · 3 months

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jealous!sukuna story here👇🏾

kings-get-jealous-to

Akward

The last thing Nanami kento expected to see at Gojo’s party (that he basically tricked him into going to) was his ex girl from 4 years ago in a black mini silk dress that if you just bent over a tad bit more—

“You alright man?” Gojo ask slapping his blonde hair friends back snapping him back to the reality where his cup of alcohol had been crushed completely in his hand.

He was sure of Two things in this moment.

His hand was wet and 2? He wasnt letting you get away again.

———

Incubus curse

After the mission Gojo sent you and Namami on to get rid of some incubus curse (which he didnt mention) Nanami is shocked when you dont show up to the school the next day and decides to pay you a visit.

“I want you to bend me over every surface including my balcony until neither of us have any energy left… and then go for one more round”

Part two

What if Nanami is the one who suffers the effects of the incubus curse instead of you?

He felt fine and whatever silly little pink dust the cursed spirit sprayed mustve been just that, that’s until he catches a glimpse of you pinning one of the students to the ground and damn would he work endless amounts of overtime to be under you like that— what was he saying?! Shaking his head he almost completely looses it when he watches the way your ass jiggles in your shorts and wonders how back shots would be.

Its not long before hes back in his office gripping his length in his fist and bottom lip between his teeth to quiet his moans.

“Nanami you shouldve said something”

“Like what? How i want to have you moaning and beging to cum for a fifth time with tears in your eyes? Or that i want to watch your eyes get wide as you swallow my dick taking it to the back of your throat like the good girl i know you are? Or that i want to fill you up with every drop of my seed to put my claim on you and my self control is dwindling because i can smell your arousal and i just want to burry my face in it” he says with pure raw desire as his eyes burn into mine.

——

Professor reward & punishment.

You suck at college math and luckily your neighbor who happens to be a proffessor offers to tutor you after you helped him out a few nights ago.

“Since you can’t seem to pay attention, for every answer you get right ill put in another finger and for every wrong answer you put clothes on reducing the friction.” He holds my jaw making sure im listening.

“And extra credit” i tease before he begins rolling his sleeves up the bulge of his muscles ans loosening his tie yanking aggresively.

A dark smirk reaches his lips that ive never seen before and ive never wanted to be more accurate in… whatever subject we were studying for again.

————

Jealous!Sukuna

You and sukuna had gone back and forth so much its almost like you forgot yuji was his vessel, almost like you forgot he was the king of curses.

But none of that mattered now you (23) and yuji also of age had comitted to getting drunk and letting loose for once.

Sukuna pays it no mind as you aimlessly flirt with some guy at the bar but your eyes are on him. Not the guy, not yuji but Sukuna who had taken over since yuji was to drunk to fight back.

He could easily burn the world to the ground and nothing could stop him except for the look in your eyes when your tounge trails up his abs to his chest tracing his tattoo that the only fire burning hes worried about is the one in your eyes.

“Id pleasure you in ways no woman in your 1000 years of existance could even think about” i smirk before flipping us over so im on top us still connected by our hips moving my hand from his wrist to his neck making him purr.

——

Dad!Sukuna

More of a drabble aka the 3 times his kids call him daddy and the one time you do.

“Get in the cage!”

“Sukuna stop telling them that! Theres no cage”

“He put fucking smiley faces in my book of incantations” he growls showing me the smiley faces with red eyes, fangs and a crooked smile.

“Oooh he drew you is that why youre mad” i tease watching him seathe as the sound of footsteps running upstairs can be heard smoke nearly comes out of his ears and foam from his mouth.

“As shitty as the smiley face may be he drew it because of you, now stop being such a sourpuss! if you be nice ill even call you daddy and let you give me another little you” i peck his lips listening to the growl of disappointment from pulling away too fast.

“I don’t think i told them how much i love them today” He mumbles pulling me into his lap.

#jjk x black!reader #choso x black!reader #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x oc #nanami x black reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x oc #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x black reader

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lanas-delight · 5 months

Text

from across the room.

♫ rec: about you by the 1975

✰ an enhypen scenario || gen!reader x jake

✰ description — a disastrous break up, raging arguments, fading love, and what could’ve been.

✰ warnings — language, arguments, mention and accusations of cheating, and a LOT of angst.

✰ note — u guys dont know me yet but i have been told im a mastermind when it comes to writing angst 😍 (ive js made my friends cry with what ive written before lolz) anyways enjoy! 🤭😅

Relationships never lasted with you. It was never your fault exactly, it was either them not being ready for it or just plainly doing you dirty, but you always moved on. It never phased you much, any of it, though that was because all of those people before weren’t him.

His name was Jake. You met him exactly two years and 23 days ago. Your two year anniversary was 18 days ago. You loved him, and he loved you. Everything was good. You were already living together, which happened about seven months ago, but there hasn’t been any issues. Everything was good—until it wasn’t.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” Jake huffs, falling back onto the shared bed of yours. “Trust me, I hate it just as much as you do, maybe more,” he was referring to the business trip he was being forced to go on for a few days. He leaves tomorrow, and he hated that he would have to leave you again. This wasn’t the first business trip he’s ever been on, especially lately. He had gone on seven the last two months alone. You kept count.

"When will you be back?"

"Saturday?" He sounded unsure. "I'll call you once we get there, though," and he sat on the bed, putting on his shoes and tying the laces before continuing to pack his suitcase. You didn't say a word, only sat beside his suitcase and in hopes to reassure you, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You, however, just sighed and looked over at his direction, your eyes avoiding his, earning a puppy-like look from him. "What?"

"You sure have gone on a lot of trips lately," you remark, though quietly. He stares at you as you continue, "I'm worried, Jake."

"About?"

A sudden twist in your stomach, you felt sick. "Nevermind, I'll sound stupid," but he sits with you, worried and concerned terribly.

"No, what is it?"

You sighed again.

"Talk to me, Y/N."

"Are you having an affair?"

Jake laughed. He laughed. "What?" He scoffed, "Why would I ever cheat on you? Are you insane?" Such a kind thing to say to your partner, but he took it back instantly. "I'm sorry. That wasn't nice. It's really just a business trip, Y/N," he tells you, "I only love you."

"But how can I trust you?" You stood up, apart from him as he watched you with furrowed brows. "You've gone on so many, so often, you—You barely call when you're gone. How am I supposed to be sure you're not in bed with someone else?"

"Y/N," he shook his head, "If you don't have trust, we—"

"We have nothing, right?" And you turned, "Nothing new," You then walked off but he followed you into the kitchen, his packing coming to a sudden halt as he tried to make things right with you before he would leave. You grabbed some of the dishes and started to hand-wash them, while he stood near you and tried to reason with you.

"You're being ridiculous," he tells you, a bit rudely, "Why won't you listen to me?" But you ignore him. "Y/N, please. I don't want to leave with us like this. I love you—"

"Then prove it," You turned to him suddenly, "Prove that you love me, because you don't. You sleep in our bed for a couple nights then you're off on another trip. You kiss me but there's no love. There's nothing. There's . . ." You sighed, "There's nothing between us anymore. Because of you."

Jake took a step back. "Y/N, what are you saying?"

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and looked through your photos, showing him a screenshot you had taken off of Jake's phone. Messages with a girl who you didn't recognize, but when you messaged the girl, she swore they were just friends, that she had a boyfriend. But even that won't stop a girl sometimes. You didn't know how to feel, you weren't even sure if the messages had the intent of an affair. It was innocent chatting, you thought, but the fact he couldn't bring himself to look you in the eyes then made you realize the truth. It wasn't innocent. It wasn't a surprise either.

"I don't know why you talk to her, tell her everything while you tell me nothing, but if she's what you want, then she can have you." You threw a pot down in the sink, creating a loud noise to echo through the kitchen and the rest of the apartment as you stormed out, grabbed your coat and slid on your uggs. "I'm going to F/N's," you say, seeing him appear in the hallway behind you. "Goodnight, Jake." The door slammed behind you and you left, leaving the love you had once for him behind.

He called twice, left a voicemail, and sent over 30 messages, explaining everything. He didn't have feelings for that other girl, though he didn't give you any reason to think otherwise so you left that night. You didn't want anything to do with him. Genuinely, you didn't. You didn't know if he had actually cheated, though he claimed he didn't and that he would never do that to you, but he opened up to that girl about things you never even knew an ounce about.

She did have a boyfriend, but it wasn't until a week later that she texted you, telling you that she did like your boyfriend, which caused her own boyfriend to dump her. It wasn't surprising to you at all.

You had been staying at your friend's house for the last week, so when you finally called him back, you only asked him if he had any feelings for that girl. He didn't say anything. He hesitated, but he said no. However, that wasn't enough for you. You hung up on him and texted him that you were through. You asked him to have his stuff out of your apartment by next Friday, which he agreed to.

But on that Friday, when he was taking the last of his stuff, he stopped and looked at you coldly, unsure what to say but spoke anyways. His voice deep and hurt, just like his heart, just like yours.

"You didn't fight for us," he told you, "You didn't even care to listen to what I had to say. You leave every time it gets hard, you blame me for everything I do, but what am I supposed to do when you won't even hear me out, Y/N?"

"I don't know," You stared back at him with crossed arms, "Maybe don't cheat on me?" You scoffed, but he couldn't believe you.

"Why do you have to brush me aside like that?" Jake questioned, "You never listened to me. Have you even considered the possibility that I didn't open up to you because you didn't give me the chance to?"

You unfolded your arms, but you took his words the wrong way. "Are you implying I made you cheat on me?"

But that enraged him. "I didn't cheat on you, Y/N!" He raises his voice, throwing his hands in the air defensively, "I talked to who I thought was my friend, about personal stuff because I couldn't bring myself to talk to you about it, so instead of just trusting me to tell you on my own, you go through my phone and accuse me of cheating on you."

"You hesitated," you threw it back in his face, "When I asked you if you liked her, you hesitated before saying no. You had to think about whether or not you liked another girl while you were with me. Do you not realize how pathetic that made me feel?"

"Do you not realize how pathetic you've made me feel?" Jake remarks, tears in his eyes, mirroring yours, "I'm the bad guy in every part of this story, Y/N, because you won't even give me the chance to explain myself. You keep dismissing me and ignoring me, but why won't you listen to me? I love you with all I have, Y/N."

But you wiped your tears, sniffling. "I never want to see you again."

His eyes grew wide, but he didn't fight against it. He grabbed the last of his stuff and left without another word spoken between you both.

There was a party. You didn't know anyone but your best friend, but as she had gone off with her boyfriend, you were now alone, sitting on the couch, drinking liquor out of some plastic cup. You wore a red dress, made of satin, with heels that weren't too high that your ankles wanted to break but not too flat that made you appear too different from everyone else. You didn't want to be different, easy to single out. You wanted to fit in, just like everyone else. But you weren't like everyone else. That was clear the moment he saw you.

The room was crowded. You could barely see over dozens of people piled into one room. Music blaring, dim lights as one of your favorite songs started to play. People were dancing, people were drinking, having a good time like there was no tomorrow. And there he was, standing by the wall. You could see him through the small spaces between people. His eyes were glued to his phone screen for a fleeting moment, one that felt a little too long until he suddenly met eyes with you and in response, you smiled at him from across the room, while your heart jumped out of your chest and you had never felt more noticed in your life.

He approached you soon enough, breaking the awkwardness with a little joke before he sat beside you and started an easy-going conversation with you about what you did for work, what he did for work, etc. The night ended with a lightly-sober kiss between you both, where he said something so beautiful to you that you swore it was engraved into you. He said, "You are so pretty when you smile, but when it was just at me, like I was the only person in that crowded room, I knew it was you that I'm going to fall for." Five days later, after a couple of sober dates, he was your boyfriend. And for two years, you promised yourself that he was the one. Until he wasn't.

You had a dream once, that you married Jake and had a family with him. You had a couple of dogs, ones he and the kids all named like Scout, Georgie, and Layla the 2nd. You had your dream job, as did he, and you were just so happy with him and the kids. He had built you your dream house, with a concrete pool and a beautiful backyard that the kids would run all over in with the dogs. He had always promised you that he would anything for you—build you a house, give you the family you wanted, be the husband you needed. You loved him with your entire being, and he felt the same way about you.

But it had been five years since the break up. You haven't heard from him in at least four years, and the last thing you were told, he was engaged to some new girl and was moving back to Australia after the wedding.

You had met someone else, too. You had only been dating for a few months now, nothing too serious just yet, but you were just getting used to being in a relationship again. You were taking it slow, not wanting to rush anything.

You didn't have feelings for Jake anymore. You haven't loved him in years. But there's a part of that wishes that fate would lead you back into each other's lives, single and open for a second chance. But that was never going to happen. You were never going to be the one he stares at from across the room, where you smile at him and start the love that should have lasted forever, but it never stood a chance. You had moved on, and so has he. The memories of what love gave you both lingers in your eyes, your mind, and for the rest of your life, you'll know that it just wasn't meant to be. From across the room, you'll stay, and regret ever smiling at him for he became the love of your life, just as quickly as you left him. It was over. But you were okay.

You had to be.

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A/N - sorry guys i felt like hurting feelings today mb

#jake sim #jake x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #niki #jay #jungwon #sunoo #heeseung #enhypen angst #angst #jake #jay park #park jongseong #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #lee heeseung #niki nishimura

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smidgen-of-hotboy · 23 days

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Our Angel of Brahma, pt. iv

Last thing I'll post of this for now I swear. Next up will be the final part to Buddy's pov in Out in the Cold Field.

@ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @ananxiousgenz @demonic-panini @gwenlena @the-private-eye

SOUND: COMMS BEEPING. RECORDING BEGINS. BARID (REVOLUTIONARY): You're gonna record me? CHARLIE: Yes! They gotta hear your voice, Baird. (BAIRD SNORTS) BARID (REVOLUTIONARY): You just want to be able to listen back when I'm gone. CHARLIE: Don't talk like that. You know I hate it. BARID (REVOLUTIONARY): Sorry, sorry… you know how it's been since… I'm sorry. CHARLIE: No, no– I'm sorry, Baird. (SIGH) You're right, I do want to listen back. I like your voice. BARID (REVOLUTIONARY): My voice is weird though. I don't like it. CHARLIE: It's not weird, and I like it. Please, Baird, sing for me. (BAIRD HUMS) BARID (REVOLUTIONARY): Fine. Just this once! SOUND: SKIRT RUSTLING. BARID (REVOLUTIONARY): When I'm done though you owe me your smuggled chocolate. CHARLIE: Alright, fine. Sing me a song. (BAIRD HUMS) BARID (REVOLUTIONARY): Sing you a song huh… I dream of an orange sun, and yellow skies. Green valleys full of trees, clear waters, and a gentle breeze. I miss the summer rain, and winters freeze. Autumn leaves, and spring sugarcane. An orange sun, and yellow skies. Green valleys full of trees, clear water, and a gentle breeze. Our lives were so bright until they came along. Stole our future, stole our pride. Stole our seasons, stole our light. Stole our parents, stole our songs. Stole our past, stole our brides. I dream in a world with a distant sun. Blacked out skies, Empty valleys, no rising tides. smoke fills our lungs and my dry eyes. I dream in a world with a distant sun. CHARLIE: (SNIFFLING) See, what I tell you? Your voice isn't weird. It's gentle. BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY): It's weird– and about to crack again. (COUGHS) I need to drink something… CHARLIE: Mom left her canteen in the kitchen I think. Just stay away from the window, you should be fine. BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY): Alright, thanks… and Charls? CHARLIE: Yes? BARID (REVOLUTIONARY): Thanks for believing in me. CHARLIE: Of course. SOUND: BARE FEET ON TILE. BECOMES DISTANT. CHARLIE: (QUIETLY) I don't think we'll live to see a free Brahma, Dearest. But I'll believe in you. So I hope you never stop singing… SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

- Baird was saying something about Charlie “knowing how it's been since” does this have anything to do about what happened to their Dad? What happened to their step-parent?

- Chocolate is a dessert delicacy from Earth. It takes two to three weeks to make chocolate from fresh cocoa beans, and from Earth to Brahma, it would take three to four years. Trade between the Solar Planets and Brahma has been limited since the Galactic Civil War. Did they steal chocolate from New Kinshasa somehow? Was it smuggled from New Kinshasa? Or smuggled directly from the Solar Planets to Brahma? (Seems highly unlikely)

- “Charls”... “Dearest”...

- Charlie is right, Baird’s voice does sound very gentle. “Cracking voice” could indicate either dehydration or puberty? Unclear which.

- Charlie was not an optimist, Baird was (is? Even with a name it is near impossible to find any records of a "Baird" from Brahma. Or any surviving records from Brahma to begin with. I don't wanna get involved with Dark Matters but... I might have to get involved with Dark Matters.)

#ask to be tagged or removed #the penumbra podcast #private eye's keys go jingle jangle #a hotboy's writing #our angel of brahma

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copias-sewer-rat · 5 months

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I have a new aaa-sk! 🥰

Lmk if you’ve done this one before, but how would each of the papas be with a reader who deals with insomnia and nightmares? (I have trouble with this same thing sometimes and it’s just 😩)

Hi dear! Thank you so much for your ask, and honestly, same… lately it has been hard to sleep so… Let’s get some comfort from the Papas, shall we?

I. Primo

He doesn’t get much sleep himself. Insomnia has haunted him for a long time and he got used to it.

It has been different lately. Your presence by his side helps him a lot. Your warmth, the beating of your heart… all that makes him relax to no end.

The same goes for you, since you are with him, everything has been better. That does not mean however that your insomnia has gone away completely.

Primo knows how much you need your sleep, much more than he does, and so his solution is to tell you stories.

He comes with a lot of stories of his own, he is an excellent narrator and a very good storyteller. Sometimes however he will tell you stories that his mother used to tell him when he was little.

Small Italian fairy tales and legends. Those are your favourite because they bring him closer to you.

His heart swells when he decides that he is going to tell you these stories, because he hasn’t thought about them for a while.

They made him happy and now you make him happy. Mixing the two just makes so much sense to him.

You are filled with joy and relaxation and soon after he starts to tell the story you have fallen into Morpheus embrace.

II. Secondo

He knows how bad your nightmares are. He has dealt with them himself for so many years.

It took him a long time to find peace.

So he knows how bad you feel and how little you sleep because of them.

When you wake up crying and/or screaming from a nightmare he is instantly awake beside you, reassuring you that nothing is going to hurt you, that you are safe.

He hugs you closely, rocking your body back and forth in a rhythmic motion.

His hand caresses your hair and you just melt under his touch.

He is your knight in shiny armor, he will protect you from your nightmares, he always does.

You fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart, a reminder that he will never leave your side.

III. Terzo

He usually sleeps like a rock and does not notice that you don’t sleep much.

You are afraid to tell him. It is embarrassing to let him know that you are not able to sleep on his very comfortable bed.

One time you almost collapse from exhaustion and Terzo finally confronts you about it. He had known for a while, but he wanted to give you space to tell him on your own tempo.

(To hell with that)

You finally tell him with tears in your eyes, you are so exhausted that while you cry you cannot avoid to yawn.

He feels so guilty because you did not tell him and you feel guilty for not telling him. Then you talk about it and both of you laugh, you had been so stubborn.

After that he does everything he can to ensure that you will sleep like a baby: new bed sheets, sleeping tea or hot cocoa before bed, calming massages and oils, ambient noises… anything you desire.

You do in fact sleep like a baby after that, and Terzo is so proud of it all.

IV. Copia

It all starts one night that you start turning around like crazy. Sweat on your forehead, mumbling nonsense.

Copia wakes up and notices, he doesn’t have other choice but to wake you.

However, he has to avoid your fist, which involuntarily aims for his face once you jolt awake.

You apologise profusely, but he assures you there is nothing wrong. Then he asks you about your nightmare.

You tell him about your recurrent nightmare and he just listens with patience and worry.

He is so understanding and loving. Copia pulls you towards him afterwards, but if you ask for him to get you anything he will do it without a moment of hesitation.

Once you are leaned back against him, comfortable and safe he starts to sing to you. Anything you want, his songs, a lullaby, your favourite tune, anything.

He sings it softly, almost in a whisper. His voice is so soft, almost like touching silk and in minutes you go back to sleep.

His warmth is like a blanket, like a shield. It will protect you from your nightmares, now and forever.

#gonst #the band ghost #ghost #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #papa secondo #ask box #ghost band fanfic

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