#NOW TIME FOR PAIN AND FEELINGS AND TRAUMA YAY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[featherstcnes]

@bloodymyhands asked for angst and i delivered

a part of her wished she could say that she knew this was a bad idea from the start. it seemed a simple enough mission, though. a small tactical team ( led by the armorer ) would go in, get what they needed, and get out. bo had trusted the intel given to her by a few other mandalorians -- she'd even done some of her own research. for all she knew, the city that the team was going to was going to be empty. it was supposed to be abandoned, destroyed since the empire had left. and yet the moment she lost contact with the team, she knew that things had turned sideways. there had been consistent check ins. and while she had waited for a response, giving them time in case they were needing to stay quiet, there was a point that bo-katan couldn't sit idle anymore.

and so she found herself on the same planet that the other mandalorians had went to, attempting to be as stealthy as possible with the group she'd brought to save those that she'd lost contact with. " move out, " bo-katan commanded tilting her head down the hallway. they'd cased out the seemingly empty town for a bit before coming up with a strategy. she just had to hope that it ended up working. the seemingly old town was just a facade, as its depths below were remnants from the empire. bo had her blasters in her hands, preparing to defend herself if necessary. there didn't appear to be many heat signatures around -- at least not yet.

careful feet brought her down an empty hall, hearing footsteps from the other mandalorians in the other sections of the labyrinths down here. her eyes immediately focused on the image of the armorer's helmet and furs on the desk near what she assumed were holding cells, but she found only one door closed. her stomach dropped instantly. was she still alive? was this part of her armor just perched on this desk as a warning to bo and her team? a sign that they were next for coming here to save their people?

grabbing the helmet and the furs that the woman donned every day, bo-katan moved further down the hall to the door that she had seen shut. all of the other cells were empty, at least down this hallway. she had to assume that the other mandalorians were held elsewhere. but truthfully? the others were the last thing on her mind at the moment. pressing a button on the pad on the frame of the door, she saw the door quickly slide open, only for her to be met with a sight that had her frozen in place. the unmasked features that her eyes immediately went to, the vision of a woman that her mind wouldn't let her forget even if she'd attempted to. the voices of the men and woman she had brought with her faded around her, and all she found herself able to do was stand in the door frame, staring at the woman that was equally someone she admired and someone she had let herself hate for years.

her fingers tightened on the grip of the woman's helmet in her hand. all this time. all this time, and bo-katan had been blind to the possibility that the armorer was anyone from her past. she should have known, hearing how many times that the woman had spoken of death watch, even if it had just been in passing. rook kast. she would remember that face anywhere. it had been engraved in her mind the moment she'd lost mandalore.

" bo-katan! " she'd heard axe's voice break her out of her trance. " i'm here, " she yelled after a moment, clenching her fists. somehow, she had taken further steps into the cell. she let herself look at the woman again, seeing the blood in her hairline, the shallow breathing that was the only sign she was still alive. the footsteps coming closer down the hall had her making a split second decision to cover the armorer's face with the helmet once more, careful to avoid hurting her any further with the movement. soft brown hair stuck out from the bottom of the helmet, but bo didn't have the time to care to fix it. she couldn't, not now.

when axe rushed in, talking about incoming ships and blaster fire, bo nodded. " is everyone safe? accounted for? " once she received confirmation, she leaned down towards the armorer. " help me get her onto my ship. " she said, axe not hesitating as he moved to one side of her, moving an arm around the woman to help get her up, bo supporting from the other side. there was blaster fire ringing in the air the moment she set foot outside, but bo ignored it as she rushed to get the armorer onto her ship to set the woman down on a seat. she'd have to hope that the trip was gentle enough to get her home safely -- it wasn't as if she had a ship with bunks, with anything useful to help the woman. this would have to be enough.

" go, " axe had said. and she had. the mandalorians were not on the losing side of the battle this time. they would make it home safely, bo-katan knew that.

when she'd arrived back on mandalore, she'd avoided the med bay that part of the tribe had been rebuilding, and she'd immediately went to the forge. to the quarters that the woman in her arms had been building as a place for herself, away from everything else. once she was sure that they were alone, bo took off her helmet, placing the blue metal piece on a table near the door frame before she moved over to the armorer. she grabbed whatever supplies she could around the room, knowing that the woman had to have something that bo could use to at least help clean her up. once she had a few spare pieces of clean cloth, she moved back to the armorer's bedside. before she could tell herself otherwise, bo took off the woman's helmet. she'd already seen her once. and bo wasn't sure what injuries that she had. she was sure that the armorer had plenty of injuries under her clothing. but bo didn't see any rips or too much blood on the fabric, and so she kept her hands away. cursing under her breath, bo used the fabric to brush away at some of the blood on the armorer's head. her touch was firm, yet still gentle as she moved over the other woman.

a part of her felt as if she should feel like she owed the armorer nothing, now that bo knew who she really was. but how could she just let her suffer?

once she had cleaned her up enough to the point where it looked as if the bleeding had stopped, bo cleaned her hands of the woman's blood and took a deep breath. she felt like she barely had processed exactly who was laying in front of her, but at the same time, her mind felt like it couldn't even begin to attempt to. she didn't know what to feel and some quiet part of her was grateful that she didn't have to speak yet. that she didn't have to attempt to put words to how she was feeling. despite the endless thoughts running through her mind, she sat at a chair near the bed, eyes focused on the unconscious woman. her feelings aside ( both good and bad ) , bo knew that she couldn't just leave the woman alone. maybe the armorer would never forgive her for seeing her like this. maybe she would never let bo speak to her again because of it.

she would say she didn't care after the events of the day, but bo-katan knew that would be a lie.

[stxneflxwers]

off-colored.

⋯⁂ summary. Aventurine woke up sick, now you're full of determination to keep him home – the place where he's allowed to be himself (and so you can take care of him.)

⋯⁂ a/n. barely edited lol. i wrote this in the tumblr post editor... :') anyway. SICK FIC TIME!!!!! I WANNA BABY HIM GRRRR

⋯⁂ characters. aventurine. gn reader.

⋯⁂ w.c. 971.

⋯⁂ cw. fluff/hurt comfort. established relationship. sickness and its side dishes. all lowercase. mentions of nudity. mentions of past trauma. (both are non-descriptive).

aventurine.

🌌 needless to say, he's not exactly thrilled to be sick – if anything, it makes his heart jump into his throat (and subsequently make him cough and choke on his own saliva even more).

🌌 for a split second, he thinks he's dying – but no, all that happened was him rolling off the bed and crashing to the floor with the blanket tangled around him. and then promptly getting thrown into a violent coughing fit.

🌌 you were, for a split moment, considering getting on his case for hogging the blanket again – and then you heard him hacking away for a solid few moments before he releases a very loud, stuffy sigh. uh oh, you think, that last long mission he had must've gotten him sick.

🌌 but then... you realize how you can take advantage of this and force him to stay home for once (definitely not because you want more time with him or anything. totally not.) you grin to yourself, believing it's your turn to win for once – he's hardly a sore loser when it comes to you.

you roll to his side of the bed and peek over the edge, "you sound sick." you blurt out – soft, unimposing.

"huh? uh... nuh uh!" he then sneezes behind his clothed arm after barely managing to detangle himself from the blanket.

"yeah, sure, totally and completely not sick at all. i definitely believe you." you scowl, although it's more playful than genuine.

"but... i've got work today–"

"you say that every day."

"but it's true!" he sniffles and wipes at his nose with the back of his black fabric sleeve.

"yeah, well, too bad!" you say and hop to your feet, already feeling excited over the notion of babying him all day. "you're staying home – coworkers and boss be damned."

he whines your name pathetically, "pleaaaaase..."

"no."

"pretty please?"

"no!"

"...with a cherry on top–"

"oh, shush. and don't you try to sneak out of the house." you cross your arms with an atmosphere of determination – all to make sure he gets better soon, instead of exacerbating any pain and malaise.

"haha..." he chuckles weakly (and dryly from his parched throat), "alright, you win."

"yay!" you cheer and help him sit on the edge of the mattress (that will certainly need to have its sheets changed soon), "good boy." you pat his head with such soft and slow strokes that he can feel the love melt into his bones and heart.

"aw... you just wanted to hear me say that you win, huh?" he teases – despite his ailed state – and smiles up at you, somehow even more charmingly than usual. "sure, sure, take advantage of the sick guy–"

"shush, you! it's not such a bad thing to have you home with me for once, anyway..." you sigh, a soft pout protruding from your bottom lip – your hand stills for a fleeting moment, making his heart lurch right back into his throat again.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry – don't be mad–" he pleads, something he rarely does, but you've dealt with a sick kakavasha once before, you can do it as many times as you need to.

you smile sadly, your eyes pinching with apology, "don't worry – i'm not upset at all. i've just...missed you more than words can describe." you resume petting his soft hair – he's always taken such good care of his pretty blonde locks.

"i...i missed you too, babe." he sighs in relief, his heart settling back into its rightful place.

🌌 he's surprisingly compliant for the rest of the day – of course, he has his playful and teasing comebacks, but he never truly puts up a fight. even if he felt capable enough, he still wouldn't – not against you.

🌌 you do just about anything for him as he recovers – to drive home the point that you love him dearly and deeply. he barely asks for anything, though, so you end up going above and beyond for him – as a part of some weird, personal gamble with yourself. has he been rubbing off on you? you're not sure.

🌌 one of the worst (read: most difficult) parts of taking care of him is making him eat. he'll complain with a whine or groan and try to hide under a pillow or blanket. you're not sure if it's trauma-related or him just being a big baby over some minor nausea, but no worries, you've got it handled.

🌌 after a bit of half-hearted arguing, he succumbs to your demands and eats at least half of what you made him. he has an arguably small appetite and stomach due to his past, so you let him eat as much as he's comfortable with – as long as he actually eats.

🌌 one of the other worst parts of taking care of him is getting him to bathe with you helping him. he insists he won't fall asleep in the bath, but you don't trust his awkward laugh and blatant lie (or his half-asleep expression). once you've pulled your final straw, you give him a hard, long stare until he finally puts up his white flag and – yet again – succumbs to letting you help him out.

🌌 he's very shy when you're naked around each other – it immediately makes his whole face red, his blush even reaching his neck and upper chest. you giggle a little at him and he pouts, all you do is pinch his burning, red cheek. yet your gentle, loving teasing eases his aversion to any and all vulnerability. he, from thereon, complies with the rest of the bathing process.

🌌 when night falls upon your shared home, he's practically dead asleep. you feel fulfilled. and he's already looking better than he did this morning – the color in his skin slowly returning.

yeah, you definitely won.

[stevie-petey]

we thought love was something (we weren't meant to find)

﹂ season two of "come home"

as you approach a year since will's disappearance, things seem to be back to how they were. you still have jonathan and the boys, hawkins is boring again, and you and steve harrington aren't really friends. you convince yourself that it's fine, but time can't heal all wounds, and you sure as hell have your fair share of them. when will starts having episodes and your brother hides a literal monster from you, junior year becomes a lot more painful than it already was. (and because you can never win, steve gets dragged into it). (more complicated feelings arise). (as usual).

episode one: MADMAX - what does steve fear more ? you or the plague ? currently it's you, some guy with an awful mullet stares you down in the parking lot (gross), nancy invites you to a party from your nightmares, and you become an official unlicensed therapist for will. yay for junior year !

episode two: trick or treat, freak - you and nancy have a bonding session in the library (kinda hot tbh), billy gives jonathan and steve a common cause to unite on: Protect Y/N, you're a chauffeur to a very sad steve harrington, and dustin uses will's trauma to his advantage.

episode three: the pollywog - you lecture jonathan about daddy issues and then have an intellectual debate about healthy relationships, you play Mr. Love Dr with Steve, nancy and jonathan go on a sick side quest (and actually inform you this time !), meanwhile: you're about to put a leash on your damn brother.

episode four: will the wise - jonathan is gone for one day and suddenly all hell breaks loose, your hesitant friendship with steve is already rocky (thanks billy) but steve is hot when he's angry tbh, you become a couple's counselor to lucas and max (sorry dustin), and you're now officially the world's worst cat owner ever. and babysitter. but what else is new ?

episode five: dig dug - you and dustin bury a body and con your mother into fleeing town, great sibling bonding time ! you play hockey with a monster, dustin gets ghosted by his friends, and now it's your turn to kidnap steve (technically dustin does, but you don't stop him) who later gives you some terrifying realizations.

episode six: the spy - dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

episode seven: the mind flayer - jonathan is back and has a lot of questions and you have even more for him, the gang gets back together and ties will to a chair, you tell the kid a story to distract him from his demons, steve is a confused mess but at least youre with him, and someone makes a surprise appearance (her name rhymes with shell).

episode eight: the gate - you encourage nancy to take your place (everyone is shocked), you and steve are the newest babysitters in town, billy ruins things as always, tunnels are weird when youre concussed, you remind jonathan of an old promise, and when the snowball comes you make your own promise with steve that you know you can keep.

⌑ set between seasons 2 and 3

﹂ episode nine: the fall - surprise ! life still carries on even with minor brain damage from constant concussions :( on the bright side, you and the gang all become homies. meanwhile, steve grapples with the warm fuzzies and parental issues before his worst nightmare happens: you meet robin. the horrors !

⌑ status: FINISHED

⌑ season two title based on this song x

⌑ blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

⌑ “come home” season masterlist

*note: this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 13, Uncomfortable - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, the last straw, arguing, violence, Sexually Explicit Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (angry/rough PIV, fingering, degradation kink), memories of past CSA, self harm, Bucky really, really fucks up.

Word Count: 4k

Previously On...: Tony sent you a very expensive apology gift.

A/N: Ya’ll are getting this early! Just one thing to say:

I am so, so sorry.

Coincidentally, this is getting posted on the day I'll be coming home from NoLa, so I'll arrive just in time to hear you all say how much you now hate me. Yay. -_-

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, lost in the dark colors, the reflection of the moonlight over the water. The sound of the door opening broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see Bucky shuffle into the room. 

“Hey, sweets,” he said, toeing off his boots.

“Hey,” you said without emotion, turning your face back to  the painting.

“Whacha lookin’ at?” he asked, coming to sit next to you on the couch.

“Apology gift from Tony.”

“What’s he apologizing to you for?” God, you couldn’t even muster up the energy to be angry at him.

“Calling out your unhealthy obsession with Jade in front of the team,” you said, voice flat. 

“I do not have an unhealthy obsession with Vix,” Bucky said, annoyance coloring his words. “How many times do I have to tell you there’s nothing going on between the two of us before you start believing me.” 

“Maybe you should stop telling me there’s nothing and start actually acting like there’s nothing,” you said as you stood up. “Because honestly, I’m tired of hearing your empty words.” You began to walk away, but Bucky reached out and grabbed your arm.

“They aren’t empty, Pocket!” he said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it filled the room as if he’d shouted. “It fucking hurts like hell to hear you say that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t help the sarcasm that oozed from your voice now. “Your feelings are hurt now, so that changes everything. Let me put aside the pain I’ve been dealing with for months to reassure you.” You yanked your hand free from his grasp. “I’m exhausted, Bucky. Nothing is getting better. In fact, things are getting worse, and I keep pretending that I can be okay with things, but you just keep picking her over me, time and time again. I don’t deserve that. Not from someone who’s supposed to love me.”

“Pick her over you? That’s fucking bullshit and you know it,” he said, voice rising.

“Is it?” you asked him. You pointed to the corner where your overnight bags sat waiting for a trip you’d never take. “Is that bullshit, Bucky? Cause we were supposed to be in the Catskills right now, but because that fucking cunt came crying for you, you went running to her and left me sitting here, alone and forgotten. Again.”

“Pocket,” Bucky ran a hand over the back of his neck, a sure sign you were ruffling him. “She needed someone to support her. She’s not like you– she doesn’t–”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Barnes!” you interrupted, shouting now. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m breaking up with you because of her and you still just stand there and defend her!”

Bucky’s face paled and his eyes went wide. “No,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“What?” You weren’t sure you heard him.

“I said ‘no,’” he said, his voice louder, but still soft. “You're not breakin' up with me. Doll, please. I need you. You said you were gonna fight for us, fight for me. That’s what you said!”

“I’m so tired of fighting for you when you’re off fighting for her! I can’t do this anymore, Bucky,” you practically sobbed. “You are fucking destroying me and feel like you just. don’t. care. I can’t just sit here and let it keep happening. You say you need me, but you’ve made it clear time and time again that you don’t give a shit about what I need. Every time I’ve asked you to put a boundary between you and Carthage, you’ve stomped right over it. And I can’t keep living like this. Yesterday was supposed to be a celebration of one of the greatest accomplishments of my career, and she ruined it.”

“It wasn’t her fault she got bad intel!” Bucky shouted.

“Could you just FUCKING STOP?!” you screamed. “Stop defending her! She either royally fucked up or she set them up on purpose! Those are the only two options! Either way, the entire thing was her fault. Rhodey is unconscious– almost died– because of her! She’s got you so wrapped around her fucking finger that you can’t even see it, and I am SO. GOD. DAMNED. OVER. IT! You promised me you’d make it up to me,” you continued shouting at him. “You fucking promised! But as soon as she bats her lashes, your promises don’t mean shit! You keep making excuses, you keep saying you’re sorry, but you keep doing the same fucking thing over and over again, and the only thing your actions are promising is that she means more to you than I do!”

“That’s not true!” he shouted back at you. “You mean more to me than anything!”

“I don’t fucking believe you!” you screamed, your voice going hoarse.

“I’ll fucking prove it to you!” He grabbed your elbows and pulled you to him, kissing you with such force it would have knocked you over if he hadn’t been holding you up. The moment he broke the kiss for air, you slapped him across the face. Only to immediately kiss him again.

Within seconds, you were ripping at each other’s clothes, desperate to feel one another, skin to skin, your tongues battling against each other as though whomever could dominate the kiss could win your fight. Bucky literally tore your shirt in half before you pushed him down onto your bed. Crawling on top of him, you scratched your nails down his chest, hard enough to draw blood.

Bucky hissed into your mouth, reaching down to yank off his pants and boxer briefs. You hastily pulled them down and off his legs before climbing back up to his mouth. Your kisses were passionate, angry and feral, each of you trying to prove a point to the other. 

You felt both of Bucky’s hands grasp the waistband of your jeans and rip them open, sending the button and zipper teeth flying. “Those were my favorite fucking jeans,” you warned.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he growled, shoving a hand into your panties and finding your clit. You arched your back as he pinched and rolled it between his fingers, the aggression in his movements igniting your blood. You gasped as he shoved two fingers into you while simultaneously flipping you so you were now on your back and he loomed above you.

He pulled his hand from you, leaving you aching and empty. He kissed you as he divested you of what was left of your jeans and your panties. “Taste yourself,” he said, shoving his fingers into your mouth. You sucked on them, savoring the tang of your essence on his skin. Bucky groaned at the sight before pulling his fingers out and kissing you again. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, grabbing at your breasts and roughly kneading the flesh. “Look at me, Pocket. You’re mine.” You turned your head away, not wanting to meet his eyes, but Bucky would have none of it. Gripping your chin tight enough to leave a bruise, he yanked your head back so you were looking him in the eye. “I said, you’re mine.” He entered you then, the force of it nearly splitting you in half. “You’re mine and I’m fucking yours. Forever.”

He pounded into you as if his very life depended on it, and you clutched at his shoulders for dear life. “God, yes, Bucky,” you cried, all your resolve finally leaving you as the pleasure rose within you. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. Only mine. Only fucking mine!”

With a roar, Bucky picked up one of your legs and draped it over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit you deeper as he drove into you. His thrusts were punishing, as though he were trying to see just how deep he could get himself inside of you before you actually broke in two.

"You like that?" he murmured as he rutted his hips into you.

"Fuck, yes, please, Bucky-- just like that," you moaned. He had you close. So, so close. "Keep going."

"Yeah, I thought so, you dirty slut," he grunted.

"What?" you asked, pulling your head back into the pillow so you could stare at him, wide-eyed as he continued to pound relentlessly into you. His words had taken you aback-- this was not something your loving boyfriend had ever said to you before. You dropped one leg from around his waist and tried to pull the other from his shoulder.

"Knew you loved taking my cock. God, you're such a filthy whore for me."

"Bucky, stop." You pushed gently against his chest, but he was already so far gone to his lust that he didn't seem to hear you.

"Such a good fucktoy for me," he grunted, his pace quickening as he neared his release. You felt your breath coming hard and fast now, but not from your impending climax, which had died with his words, but from an oncoming anxiety attack. “You goin’ dumb on me already, like a good little cockslut?”

Flashes of your miserable childhood flickered through your head, the way Darren would call you his "good little money-making whore" after you'd been raped by yet another of his clients, or when he decided to violate you himself, calling you his own personal slut, his special fuck toy.

"Bucky," you shouted, punching him with your fists, desperate now to get him off you, out of you. "Stop! Get off of me! GET OFF OF ME!" You screamed, thrashing at him. You saw the moment your words registered-- his eyes lost their haze of lust and his hips stopped pumping into you.

"Doll?" he asked, looking down on you in confusion. "What's wr--"

"Get off me, get off me, get off me!" you shrieked as you rolled out from under him, your entire body suddenly on fire with shame and disgust. The second your feet hit your bedroom floor, you were reaching for your silk robe, wrapping yourself in it as though the thin fabric could protect you from his words. From him.

"Pocket," Bucky watched your movements, his eyes betraying his bewilderment at your actions. "What's going on? What did I do?"

"Why would you call me that?" you asked, your words coming out in between your desperate gasps for air. "Why would you say those things?"

Bucky sat up, reaching for you, but you moved away from him. "Baby, what things? What did I s--" Realization dawned on him then, and his entire face fell. "Shit. Oh, God. Oh, Pocket. Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I didn't think--"

"Why would you say that, Bucky?" you asked, fighting back the tears that so desperately wanted to break free. "You've never called me a-a-..." you couldn't even get the word out. "How could you do that?"

"Fuck, Baby..." Bucky began, running his hands through his hair in response to your distress, "I never... I thought you'd like it. I should have realized, after Darren..."

"Don't say his name!" You hadn't meant to shout at him, but you were damned if you were going to invite the ghost of your tormentor into the sanctuary of your room. "Please," you cried, "don't say his name."

Bucky got up and tried to wrap his arms around you, but you pulled away, feeling too vile, too dirty, to even let him touch you.

"Sweetheart, please," he began, reaching for you again, "you're shaking. Let me hold you." You shook your head as you moved away from him yet again, trying to steady yourself.

"Where did that even come from, Bucky? Why would you think... What would even make you think that was something I would want?"

Bucky's hand went to rub the back of his neck as he looked up at you from behind his lashes. "I... I heard girls... like that sort of thing. That it turns them on."

"You can't just start it out of nowhere," you cried, "It's something you need to agree on first! You can't just say it without making sure your partner's okay with it! And I can't believe you'd ever think I would be okay with it! God, who even told you that?" You couldn't imagine any of Bucky's friends saying something like that to him; hell, Steve would have a coronary before even suggesting it. Did he read about it in some degrading kink group online?

"I was talking to Vix, and she said--"

"You what?" you spun to face him, your words sharp in your shock.

"Vixen. Jade. I was talking to her during training one time and she said girls like it when guys talk to them like that during sex. Well, she said she likes it. Said it, uh, turns her on."

Your entire body froze as if you'd been doused with ice water. "You were talking to Jade Carthage about sex and what gets her off." Your voice was hard and clipped. It wasn't even a question, just a statement that made your stomach twist, but you had to make sure you had understood him correctly.

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad," Bucky hemmed, "but sweets, I swear, it wasn't like that."

You called for FRIDAY to turn up the lights, no longer wanting to be trapped in the intimacy of the semi-darkness with him.

"It wasn't like that? Then please enlighten me, Bucky, what was it like? Jesus, how did you two even stumble into that conversation in the first place?"

"Baby," Bucky looked frantic as he grabbed his boxer briefs from the floor and tugged them back on, "I don't even remember how we got on the subject. We were sparring and I pinned her and--"

"You had a conversation about sex while you were lying on fucking top of her?" You could barely contain your rage; you were seething, about to vibrate out of your skin with revulsion.

"Honey, it's not that big of a deal, really."

"Not that big of a deal?" you asked, knowing you were about to tread into some very dangerous territory, but needing him to understand you. "So, it wouldn't be that big of a deal if I let Steve get on top of me and had him tell me what gets him hard? What makes him come?"

Bucky's jaw tightened immediately at the mention of Steve. "Don't," he growled. "Do not bring him into this. It's completely different."

"It's not, Bucky! It's a thousand times worse! God," you threw your arms above your head as you began to pace in front of your bed. "I can't tell if you're actually this naive or if you think I'm fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid, Pocket," Bucky's voice was quieter now, more restrained. "I... God, I just messed up. I'm an idiot. I didn't think it through and..." He trailed off and slumped onto the edge of the bed, his hands pushed into his hair as he stared down at the floor.

You could see his muscles craving to pull you back into his arms, but he resisted. His eyes flickered to you before darting away again, like looking at you caused him physical pain.

"Do you want to sleep with her? Were you imagining her while you were fucking me?" It was a reckless question to ask--a question that you didn’t want the answer to--but it slipped out before you could stop it.

Bucky's head whipped up, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at you. "What? No!" He stood abruptly, hands outstretched towards you. "Baby, no! God, no! I would never... I can't even believe you'd think... Don't even talk like that."

"But you took her kinks, her turn ons, and you brought them into our bed. You spoke words you knew another woman-- a woman you know I fucking loathe-- wanted to hear, you... you used them on me, knowing my history, and you didn't give a shit about what saying them might do to me!" Your voice was trembling with accusation, your body shaking with tremors of hurt and betrayal.

"No! No, sweetheart... it wasn't like that." He kept repeating himself, his words rushed, his face pale with shock and regret. "I didn't mean to disrespect you like that. I heard her say it and I thought... I mean, she's a woman too, right? So, if she liked it, I thought maybe you..." He trailed off, his expression one of sheer desperation as he tried to find the right words.

"But I'm not her. It wasn’t about pleasing me; it was about using what pleases her." You shook your head harshly, a lump forming in your throat. "You don't even see how wrong that is. And you shouldn't even have been having the conversation with her in the fucking first place!"

"What can I do?" Bucky pleaded, his voice a strained whisper as he raked his fingers through his hair again. His face was etched with pain, regret seeping from every pore of him. "How can I fix this? Tell me how to make it right."

But you were too overcome by anger and heartbreak to think straight. You moved further away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself as if you were trying to shield your heart from further damage.

“What did you tell her?” you asked, but Bucky looked at you with confusion etched across his face. “You said it was a conversation. I’m assuming she didn’t do all the talking. What did you talk about? Did you tell her what gets you off? What you like? Were you sharing intimate details about our sex life with a complete outsider? Did you tell her about your ‘sergeant’ kink?”

He didn’t need to speak for you to read the truth in the expression on his face.

The silence hung in the room, heavy and oppressive, as Bucky fought for words. A nerve twitched in his jaw, the only movement in his otherwise frozen face. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke.

"I... Yes, I did," he admitted, his voice a mere whisper. "I didn't think it through. I didn't mean to... I just..."

His voice trailed off again and he sunk back onto the bed, looking completely defeated. His hands covered his face as if he were desperate to hide himself from your accusing gaze.

“Get out.” You couldn’t even stand to look at him. This was a betrayal beyond anything you’d ever have expected from him. 

Bucky’s head snapped up at your words, his eyes wide with shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He just sat there on the edge of the bed, staring at you as though he was seeing you for the first time.

"Get out," you repeated, each word a dagger. "I can't... I can't stand to even look at you right now."

Still, Bucky didn’t move. He just sat there in stunned silence, his face pale and his eyes filled with regret.

"I said get out!" Your voice was shrill, filling the room with a chilling echo that seemed to reverberate through every fiber of your being.

Bucky flinched at your tone, and finally roused himself to his feet. He looked at you one last time, his steel-blue eyes so full of pain that it made your heart ache despite everything. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else, like he might try to explain, but you’d had enough of his ‘explanations’ for the evening. Hell, maybe for the rest of your life.

Bucky swallowed hard, his eyes filling with a mixture of fear and dread as he nodded slowly. "Okay... yeah," he stammered. "I'll give you some space."

“No. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done, Bucky. This… this is unforgivable. We’re finished.”

"Doll," he breathed, the pet name he had given you sounding like a prayer on his lips, but a curse to your ears. "I love you... I'm sorry. I messed up, I know. But I love you."

“I don’t believe you.” You felt like your heart was being ripped apart as you watched him standing there, consumed by remorse. You had never seen him like this before, his usual charismatic confidence replaced with fearful uncertainty.

“Just go,” you whispered, turning away so you wouldn't have to see the pain in his eyes. You felt a sob rising in your throat, but you held it back, refusing to let it out while he was still there.

With every inch of him screaming resistance, Bucky walked over to the door and hesitated at the threshold. "I'll... I'll do anything to make this right, sweetheart," he promised, his voice choked with emotion. "I'll fix this... We can fix this."

But you remained silent, your back still turned to him as you tried desperately to keep your tears at bay. The sound of the door opening and closing behind him was deafening in its finality.

You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, suddenly feeling cold. The room was suddenly too big, too empty without Bucky's reassuring presence. You sunk onto the bed, burying your head in your hands as the events of the night washed over you with overwhelming force as you began to sob in earnest.

You weren't even sure what you were angriest about. He’d broken yet another promise and left you waiting, your romantic getaway forgotten so he could be by her side. He'd called you a slut and a whore. He’d discussed your sex life with Jade-- the one woman you hated above all others, and openly discussed her kinks with her, and his own desires in return. He'd forced her kinks on you without your consent.

And then there was the worst part of it all, the bit that made you feel sick and hollow: he'd failed to see what he'd done wrong.

You had thought Bucky knew you better, that he respected you more than this. You'd shared secrets and fears with him, things you'd never shared with anyone else, not even Tony. He knew your past, knew how much trust meant to you - knew how difficult it had been for you to open your vulnerabilities up to something more than just casual sex - and yet he'd violated that trust in such a profound way.

This was just beyond anything else that had come before it. You couldn’t see a way to move forward after this.

Numbly, you began to strip off the sheets from the bed, your hands shaking as you balled them up and threw them into a corner of the room. You couldn't sleep on them now, nor ever again. You couldn't bear the thought of lying down where he'd... where he'd...

Tears started to spill down your cheeks as the reality of what had happened set in. You tried to blink them away, tried to swallow down the lump in your throat. But it was too late. Tears blinded you as you moved through your space on muscle memory alone, grabbing a garbage bag from under the sink in the kitchenette and shoving the offending sheets into it to dispose of later. Boiling them in chlorine wouldn't be able to relieve them of the taint they now carried.

Once the offending sheets were securely bagged and out of sight, you stumbled your way into the bathroom. Turning the shower on as hot as it would go, you stripped from your robe and stepped under the scalding stream from the waterfall shower head.

Hissing as the water hit your body, you let yourself succumb to your emotions. You reached for your loofah and began scrubbing at your skin, doing everything in your power to wash away the intense feeling of shame that had permeated deep under your dermis. You scrubbed until your skin was red, until it was raw and cracked and bleeding, but it offered you no relief.

The sensations were familiar, the burning heat, the stinging of newly torn flesh. It had been so long since you had felt the need to ritually cleanse yourself like this, you had desperately hoped you'd finally found yourself beyond the need to do so, but just a few words from Bucky's mouth had sent you reeling backwards, back to being that worthless, vile, used up girl that no number of college degrees, fancy company titles, or board-approved computer programs could fully erase. It was in your DNA, and you couldn't escape it. You scrubbed and scrubbed until time had lost meaning.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[waltricia]

Bridgerton season 2 episode 3, “A Bee in Your Bonnet” is ✨magic✨ and let me tell you why.

For those of us who didn’t read the book and knew nothing of what was going to happen, we truly went on an incredible and surprising roller coaster of an experience.

We start the episode with seeing the guy from Hellboy and being like ‘oh yay, it’s the guy from Hellboy!’

… only for him to die three minutes later. And that scene is rough. It’s sudden and abrasive. And the sounds are jarring. The death is scored by tense strings. Then a moment of quiet. Then the AMAZING Ruth Gemmell begins taking us on Violet’s traumatic grief journey, which starts with her jolting Anthony (and us) out of the quiet.

And a thunderous heartbeat threatens him as he walks toward this entirely altered, unwanted life path. And that’s obviously the beginning of his PTSD.

In the other flashbacks throughout the episode, we continue to hear horrific, heart-rending pain radiate out of Violet while Anthony must not only attempt to endure it, but cover his own grief. Anthony and his siblings (and again, we the audience) all have to listen to Violet grieve while she’s giving birth! Screams on top of screams.

And the last flashback is technically quiet, but just as devastating because, like the moment of Edmund’s death, the quiet is weaponized. It signifies the death inside Violet.

It should go without saying that Jonathan Bailey is also a brilliant actor, but I’ll say it now anyway. Damn, he good! He and Ruth partnered perfectly in this grief journey. Serious props to them both because I felt this shit.

And then finally we come to the end. We had been immersed in the horrible aftermath of that striking tragedy. Between the flashbacks- in the present day- we had followed Anthony through the rooms and grounds where he had suffered silently. We had seen Edmund’s grave. We had learned that Anthony’s greatest fears and insecurities all stemmed from that tragic event ten years prior.

And then another fucking bee comes along.

And I swear to god, the first time I watched this, when Kate got stung, my heart was pounding, I was terrified, and my instinctive reaction was “oh my god, is she going to die?!” In hindsight, it’s obviously insane to think that she would be killed off at all, let alone in this scene. But the very fact that, for a moment, that was a legitimate fear I had is exactly why this episode is so god damn brilliant. I felt what Anthony felt. And I’m not the only one! I’ve seen other people’s similar reactions to this scene. The episode really is a roller coaster; easy, lighthearted moments (pall mall, drug tea), interspersed with the terrifying drops and loops that are Anthony’s painful memories which constantly haunt him. And then it brought us right back to that first traumatic moment. Because Anthony has PTSD! And that’s what PTSD does. Anthony is right back where he was, literally not far from the same spot outside Aubrey Hall, standing in front of a person he loves, watching them get stung by a bee on almost the same spot on their body. The tense string scoring comes back and Anthony panics because he’s completely helpless again.

And all of those elements- the setting, the scoring, the acting- combined to terrify us and make us forget something critical: most people don’t die from beestings.

And here’s where it gets really profound for me. Because it’s not just about how we feel Anthony’s fear. It’s also about how Kate completely obliterates it. Without knowing that history and without realizing the full extent of what her actions would mean, she does exactly the right thing. Rather than die and rather than also panic or shy away from his vulnerability, she meets it with her own in the form of care and steady assurance, which is true strength. And in so doing, she stops this cyclical moment in its tracks and completely alters the trauma. She puts his hand on her heart, and the heartbeat comes back. But this time, it’s not threatening. It’s inviting.

And just like in the first scene, the moment is over all too quickly. Just like in that scene, Anthony is thrust onto a new path. But where that moment was damaging, this one is healing. And we feel that too. And it’s the greatest experience that art can give us.

It’s catharsis.

And that’s why this episode is magic. 🐝✨

[james-is-here]

𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘭...

Waah!: The boys reaction to realizing they yelled at you when you have past trauma with yelling.

Ya-hoo!: Mn in this had a "Military" childhood, Dad treated him like a soldier and was always yelling at him whether it be commands or verbal abuse.

Yay!: Is it obvious what I'm using to label the start of my fics? lol. Anyway, Waah! is the summary. Ya-hoo! is a brief explanation or backstory, and Yay! is authors note. I need a fourth character noise for Warnings...Oh yeah! will by warnings. (Also, if you haven't got it yet, Waluigi, Mario, Peach, Luigi)

Oh Yeah!: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Trauma Triggers, The boys are unintentional dicks, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, mentions of Blood, British Cigarette slur in Changbin's,

𝓑𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷 (598 Words)

The door of your apartment slammed shut, making you jump. He knows to not slam doors but you put aside your slight annoyance for him forgetting when you hear him muttering. You shuffle out of your room and head to the living room where you can hear the mutters more clearly. Something about a missing track and being behind a day since they had to re-record some lines.

"Hey, Channie..." You said softly as you gently crossed your arms. You may be a strong tall boy (tm) now but Chan was starting to scare you a bit. "I-I got us food...Wasn't sure what your wanted but I got your fav-" "Mn, Just shut the fuck up!" He yelled, turning towards you. "I saw the damn food but if you payed attention to your damn phone, you would've known that I ate with the boys." "Ch-Chan...Stop. Now." Your voice wavered as your eyes began to water. "Who are you to tell me to stop?!"

The phrase made you flinch, the flash of your father about to hit you after you told him to stop yelling at your siblings made you stumble back into the wall, bumping into the side table, knocking over a vase that shatters as you slid down the wall, your hands coming up to cover your head as you beg your father to not hurt you.

The moment "Appa, No, please!" left your mouth, Chan's anger and stress from the day immediately went out the window when he realized what just happened. "Shit, Shit, Mn, I'm sorry." He swore he'd never raise his voice and seeing you like this, curled against the wall shaking, crushed his heart. "Mn, hey, jagi, can you hear me?" A sob is all he gets in reply and he sighs as tears build up in his eyes. His eyes catch the glass around your leg and he notices that you landed on some of the pieces, a few small blood patches on your sweats. He knows he needs to be gentle but he can't let them get worse as he kneels in front of you to try and move you off and away from the glass. You fight against him, your hands trying to help you crawl away but your right ends up in the glass and you cry in pain this time. "Ah, shit." Your eyes snap open to first see your hand, then the glass around you. "I-I'm sorry, I-I'll clean this up." You go to stand but Chan stops you. "No, No, N/n, let's patch you up first." "B-But I-I have to clean with the wounds...t-to be tougher." "Mn, babe, look at me." You do so slowly and finally meet his teary gaze. "Ch-Channie..." A new set of tears fall and Chan scoops you up the best he can to get you away from the mess.

"I'm so sorry, N/n. I didn't mean to yell at you, I know better, I shouldn't have taken my stress of the day out on you, I am unbelievably sorry." His hug was tight as he cried into your shoulder. "I promise I won't do that again, I promise to be more aware of how I'm feeling. I'll make it up to you, I'm sorry." You shake in his hold but slowly you melt into him, his faint cologne and tight grip calming you down as you wrap your arms around him as well. Although your leg and palm stung, you were grounded enough to know that both of you were comforting one another in that moment.

𝓛𝓮𝓮 𝓚𝓷𝓸𝔀 (950 Words)

Minho asked you a few days ago if you could meet him at his place so the two of you could finally spend time together after what felt like an eternity since the last time you saw each other.

You arrived a few minutes before him and hastily set out the food you brought, homemade from your sibling you visited a day prior. His cats surrounded you, watching you curiously as you get the food out. When you were done, you smiled at the cats before making your way into the living room and sat on the floor, Soonie crawled into your lap as Dori sat in front of you and Doongi was happily purring next to Dori as you pat his head and scratch his chin. Pausing your pets on the cat in your lap, you pull your phone out of your pocket to see if there's any updates from Minho. Five minutes ago is a message saying he's almost there and Fifteen minutes ago is a message asking if you could feed the babies for him. You're quick to remove Soonie from your lap and stand up, gathering their dishes and food when the door opens but you jump when it slams shut.

"Mn?" His tone was firm and you felt a little scared but kept in mind that he just came from either the studio or the dorms, he must've not had a good day. "In here!" You call out. "I brought my siblings home made Kimbap and Pajeon for dinner. I also picked up-" "Where's their food?" "O-Oh, it's right here." You smile gently when he reaches your line of sight. "I'm just filling Dori's-" "I sent that twenty minutes ago." "I-I know, and I have the bowls right here, just give me-" "Why didn't you do it when I texted you?" "M-Min, it's not a big deal. Look, I have their bowls." "Not a big deal? You're starving them." "Oh come on, Minnie, you're being overdramatic."

You kneel down and set the bowls near the cats before standing up and turning towards your boyfriend. "See? Now they're fed." You sassed, going to walk past him to go to your food when he blocked your path. "Minho, what is wrong with you?" You snapped. He suddenly grabbed your wrists and you whimpered at the tightness. The backbone you gained over time from your childhood was suddenly out the window as fear crept up your spine. "O-Ow, Min, you're hurting me." "I don't care. I asked you to do one simple task and you blew it off."

Tears gathered in your eyes as your thrown back to the one night you didn't do the dishes, too busy trying to finish an important, grade-on-the-line school project, and your dad came home to see the half filled sink. He had grabbed you, dragging you into the kitchen. You complained that he was hurting you and that phrase was uttered before he threw you in front of the sink, you had a bruise on your side for a week.

The tears finally fell as you squeezed your eyes shut. "M-Minho, please stop, I'm sorry I didn't feed them earlier." "Why are you crying? There's no need to be crying, you don't have a reason to cry." He shoved you backwards and you stumble into Soonie's food bowl, spilling his food as he jumps away as another memory flashes, your father said the same thing when you cried after seeing him shove your mother to the ground. You whimper quietly, stuttering as you shrink in on yourself. "I'm sorry, Appa, I'll do better, I'm sorry." Your eyes open to see the food at your feet and you silently kneel down onto both of your knees to clean your mess.

Minho was frozen, mulling over his thoughts before he sighs. He realized what happened, the night prior he slept at the dorms and was so happy he'll get to see you the next day but he had woken up with a nasty headache, fighting through the slight throb in his temples at practice and at the studio. This was his fault, twenty minutes really wasn't a big deal to get mad over but he was tired, annoyed, and in pain, he just wanted you and his babies and when he saw them without food, he just broke. He sighs as he gets on the floor with you, picking up the food with you. When all of it was back in the bowl, you suddenly picked it up and hastily walked back to the kitchen.

Minho's eyes followed you, watching you dump the bowl before pouring new food back into it. "Mn-ie..." He stood when you came back in. A gentle hand on your bicep, he takes the bowl, setting it down for the mewling cat at his feet before placing his other hand on your other arm to turn you towards him. "Jagiya, I'm sorry." He bends his knees to try and look at your eyes, tears gathering but not falling. He sighs again, standing up straight and wrapping his arms around you. He didn't say anything, he just cradled you, rubbing your back as you let the tears fall and soak his hoodie. You could tell he felt bad, gentle kisses placed on the top of your head and a couple on your cheek or hoodie-clad shoulder while he swayed the both of you gently. You take a step to try and push yourself further into his hold, wrapping your arms around his middle and his arms tighten around you. "I love you, Mn...I'm sorry." You sob into his shoulder, burying your face further into his shoulder. "L-Love you, M-Min..."

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓫𝓲𝓷 (635 Words)

You knew Changbin had a bad gym day and you did everything to cheer him up and make him feel better. You made him your noodle recipe from your mom that he absolutely loves, you drew him a warm bath when he texted a small ‘Almost home’. You sent him a quick message saying you love him and can't wait to see him but he didn't reply. Today must've been really bad, hopefully your little set up in your dining room will make him happy.

When Changbin came home, you smiled, finishing up dinner before walking out of the kitchen to greet your boyfriend, but as soon as you reached the entryway of your home, the air shifted and you realized that your Binnie was in a really bad mood as you made your way to the front door. “Hey, Bin.” “Hey.” “I, um, I drew you a bath…a-and I made your favorite recipe from my mom for dinner. It's ready when you finish your bath.” “Thanks.”

You wring your hands together before taking a stuttery inhale. “Y-You okay, Bin? I-Is there anything I can do…for you?” “No, you can't do anything.” “Excuse me?” “You can't do anything.” “Binnie, you don't mean that.” You give a weary smile and hesitant chuckle. “You just might be stressed and tired-” “Now you're suddenly aware of how I’m feeling? How would you know how I’m feeling?” “Bin-” “Stop, just stop.”

He shoves past you, his built shoulder shoving you into the wall and your left hand lands on the wall to stop yourself from colliding with the wall as you turn and watch Changbin walk away. “Bin, hey-” “I just told you to stop! Like I said, you can't do anything, you can't even listen properly.” His voice was rising the more he spoke and he turned back to you, taking slow steps towards you.

“Changbin, stop taking to me like that.” Your eyes grew glossy as you tried to hold in your tears. “Why are you crying? You're so pathetic.” “Changbin!” “Don't yell at me, you don't have a reason to yell at me!” Suddenly he's grabbing your arm and pulling you from the front door entryway to push you into the livingroom. Unfortunately, you managed to trip over the corner of your rug and you landed on your side at the same time your head connected to the side of the coffee table. You yelp in pain, feeling as if you were fifteen again when your dad found out you had a boyfriend, furious that his son was a ‘Weak Fag’ and ‘pathetic’ as you collided with the wall next to the television.

The tears fell and you let out a sob as your head pounded. You reach up to your temple and pull your hand back to find some blood, looking back up to see Changbin still standing there, staring, still angry as if he didn't realize what he just did.

You got up with shaky legs and ran to the bathroom, aiming to patch your wound but the first thing you do is slide down the door with a sob and pull your phone out, calling the first contact that you manage to navigate to. Meanwhile, Changbin tossed his hands up when you ran to the bathroom, amused that you ran away from him, still not aware of what just happened.

A few minutes later, the still unlocked front door was pushed open and he got a small glimpse of Felix rushing to the bathroom before Chan was slamming the door closed and pushing Changbin against the wall. “What the fuck-” “What is wrong with you?!” “What?” “You know he has abuse trauma, why the fuck did you do it?” “What do you mean?” Suddenly, Chan slaps him, and gestures to the room. “Look around, Changbin.” There's a few blood droplets next to the coffee table, staining your messed up rug from when you tripped, Felix trying to get you to open the bathroom door, and on the dining table were dishes ready for dinner. What really brought Changbin to reality was the number two balloon and what looked like a custom banner saying “I love you, Binnie, Happy Two Years.”

Fuck

Your guy's anniversary…

(I'm ending his here but if a pt.2/continuation is wanted, I'll get it to you :)...)

𝓗𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓳𝓲𝓷 (1083 words)

With the couple years you guys have been together, you had finally gained courage to suggest that Hyunjin moved in with you. Not like move in physically, he still lives with the boys at the dorm, I mean you let him claim your guest room to be another art studio for him. It was already your own little work space but you donated the bed, cleaned it up, reorganized, and got new furniture to surprise him with it for your one year anniversary.

Now, most of your home is covered in paintings that he's made. Either permanently or just to get it out of the room. He was with the boys when you were cleaning around, your last room of the day being the studio. You didn't do much, knowing how Hyunjin likes his things where he puts them, the most you did was put blank canvases together in the corner and put things back where you knew they belonged and knew your boy wasn't using the item anymore.

You were moving to your side of the studio when your foot slips slightly and you notice a brush of his. It was still usable but the handle was messy and slight warn and the bristles were beginning to fray. Looking at his desk, you see the other brushes which seem to be in the same state. You didn't think about it to much before smiling, biting your lip to keep the grin from spreading too wide before making your way to a set of drawers next to your desk, a collective catch all and your lucky that he's never opened the bottom drawer which contains new brushes. Black handles with a gold metal holding clean brown bristles, custom made with a little engravings on them. "Forever my prince" and "Hwang No.1". You've had them for a while, waiting for the right moment to give them since whenever you brought up the topic, he'd say the ones he has are still useful but it wasn't about just replacing his brushes, one of the brushes engravings was "Ln Hyunjin." You finally were going to propose.

You collected the old brushes and moved them to the long drawer on your desk to hide them, throw them away later. You then got an unoccupied small white vase and placed the brushes in like a bouquet before writing and small note, a simple 'Just because gift ~Mn <3' that you place next to the vase. You would've given them physically but you had some errands to run with your sibling, that's why you were cleaning, killing time.

After running errands, you came back and heard small muttering in the studio, smiling when you see his shoes before it falls when you see the slight disarray your living room was in. "Damn it, Mn, what did you do with them?" You heard him huff. What did you do? Walking down the hall, you see a few of your new brushes for him and your chest grows tight. "Jinnie?" "Mn! Where are my brushes?" "D-Didn't you see I got you new ones?" "I didn't need new ones, Mn! The ones I had are ones I'm use to." "So because you didn't want to try out the ones I bought you, you throw them on the floor?" "Mn, I didn't need new ones to begin with! If you listened to me, I wouldn't be yelling at you!"

"If you listened to me, I wouldn't have to punish you!" Your dad yelled a day after he said "Listen closely, you don't say a word about what I did to mom, I won't punish you for not cleaning the truck like I told you to do." The same day you gave in and begged your teacher that day at school to help save your family. You just wanted away from that man, you didn't want to be near him anymore but when the cops showed up, he lied, and when they left, let's just say you missed a week of school due to some bruises and your father didn't want to get caught. That's when you realized he only cared about himself and how people see him.

"I-I'm sorry...Y-You always get m-me gifts, I-I was just returning th-the favor..." "Well, you didn't have to. Now where are they?" "I-In m-my desk..." You suddenly felt like a little boy again, you felt small, confined, trapped. You wipe at your eyes with the bottom of your palm, sniffing as you watch him kick the other brushes away. "J-Jin?" "What?" He snapped. "I-I'm sorry, J-Jin-nim, I'm sorry." Chocking back a sob, you step back and run out of the room. "Jin-nim?" Hyunjin mutters to himself confused before his eyes widen, looking at the brushes before the ones in his hands clatter to the floor and he's chasing after you. You were forced to call your father Mister Jin.

Your shoes were missing and your front door was open. "Shit." He quickly slid his shoes on before running out the door. He could see you not that far away as he was quick to catch up to you, wrapping his arms around you to stop you from walking farther. "Mn, Muse, hold on." He turned you around to face him, a hand on the side of your face to gently guide your gaze up to him. "Mn, I'm sorry." "What?" You blinked a couple times before you realized it was Jin. Your Jin. "Hyunjin?" "Yeah, it's okay. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to yell, I didn't mean to get rational, I-I don't know what came over me, I should've just asked." "Y-You didn't even see the brushes...Did you?" "N-Not really...I-I really am sorry."

You reach a hand up to his, leaning into his touch before you remove his hand and walk back home. When you return, to pull him to the studio, picking up the fan brush with his name. "This is your last name." "I know." You pull him further into the studio but he stops to look at the other brushes as you move to your desk drawer, reaching to the back to pull out a ring.

You turn around, admiring Hyunjin for a moment before walking over to him, placing a gentle hand on his elbow to get him to look at you before smiling when his eye catches the ring instead. "Mn..." "I know you...just yelled at me and I have so many problems but...be mine?"

Got carried away with Hyunjin's but I'm a writer who loves details but sorry this took so long. Ended up making this two parts cause I didn't know what to do for the maknae's cause my brain thinks they're too precious to hurt someone but I will think of something. For now, I hope you...enjoyed? It's kinda weird to say I hope you enjoyed this since it's a trauma fic 😬 N E WAYS, I just hope it's okay.

Tagging @lakee-jakee and @belladonna6-6-6 who commented on the original post of me asking if anyone wanted this. It do finally be done :)

[str8rat]

What if IN STARS AND TIME was like FEAR AND HUNGER?

So i've spent the last hour frantically researching phobias for this shit lmao, don't expect any of the phobias i've picked to be canon for Fear and Hunger. Anyways this is a whole ass au and i'm planning to make an entire world setting from this fever mix. Esentially it's gonna be In stars and time kind of plot, with the party going through the house to defeat the king, but the Universe is not as kind to them. if it was ever kind in the canon. all of the characters will be devastated and traumatized or fucked up in different ways, and i'm planning to explain it all below- well, explain Siffrin for now. Even though I have everyone else already scribbled down, i still need to draw their fucked up sprites :> LETS GO

~ ~ ~

Siffrin; Autophobia ( fear of being abandoned, alone, ignored )

Effects; Half-blind ( left eye )

Info;

TW; SELF HARM, SUICIDE [ Canon-typical ]

Traveler from the Island North of Vaugarde. Lost his left eye protecting Bonnie, a child the party came across on their way to Dormont. Siffrin is a short, forgetful person, which has been travelling for the entirety of his life. He met the party by chance, saving Isabeau from a Sadness, as the man parted with the rest of the party briefly in order to gather firewood.

After reaching Dormont, Siffrin makes a wish to the Favor Tree, and quickly finds out the consequences of his actions. He gets stuck in a time loop, forced to re-live the gruesome, painful deaths and horrifying experiences he and his party go through as they venture up the floors of the House. His sanity quickly deteriorates, though it remains more intact than that of Loop, a self-proclaimed star whom he encounters under the Favor Tree after his first death—being crushed by a giant boulder.

Due to him not having his right eye, his depth perception is fucked, and he often bumps into things. After getting imprisoned in the loops, he becomes more anxious, desperate to escape the loop cycle, even going as far as slitting his own throat in order to save time. He also doesn't shy away from self harm, adorning his wrists in "stars", as he calls them- prickling his skin with his own dagger.

He realizes that even after he loops, the scars of his horrible deaths remain on his body, and eventually, his arms and thighs are all covered in "stars", those particular scars being of his own making. Counting the loops, one star for one loop. May become manic when in distress, or have panic attacks. Is incredibly touch starved and desperate for physical affection, but never got around to revealing that fact to his party on his own, leaving him feeling floaty and unreal. Like a ghost of his former self.

Those are just a couple of the effects of the loops. In the end, Siffrin just doesn't want to part with his companions, his friends, his family- wanting them with him so much, to the point of him unknowingly trapping himself in a time loop.

~ ~ ~

Sooo overall Siffrin's backstory/info isn't that different from canon, because he was already going through some tough shit as it was ._. so I just kind of added more mental implications to it, as well as that fun little headcanon of his body keeping scars of his past deaths/injuries. So that's fun. also i mostly focused on the other members of the party as well, since they don't exactly have a lot of angst or trauma ( not as much as siffrin at least ), so in this au all of them are traumatized or psychologically damaged!!!! YAY!!!

ANYWAYS! Who's gonna be next?? i don't fucking know, but i'll probably upload them tomorrow alongside a description explaining just how fucked they are :>

[loveyourlovelysoul]

Growing up with someone who kept on judging you, pointing out when you were doing even the most normal things ever (as having a cookie at 4/5PM), but in a repetitive and kinda abusive way, is really painful. It shakes you from the inside. It makes you doubt about what you do, about you being wrong, not being enough. Especially if it's the cherry on top of many other abusive behaviours you have experienced.

It's something that probably your caregiver, being triggered themselves by that same action, cannot consciously understand nor refrain from doing. It's their mind going "Oh, they're doing this thing! Point it out! They're worse than you, yay!", cause of how they probably had to grow up as well, being judged, being accused for no particular reason. Maybe sometimes they still do that same action, but in their mind they feel as if it's wrong or aren't behaving (even if nobody judges them directly anymore, their mind is simply wired that way). They probably always felt a second choice compared with someone else in their family, not smart or good enough, they may have felt guilty too after doing any normal action, and now they seek comfort in judging others and feeling better than them. And seek validation from others as well, by pointing these things out loud too, in a repetitive way. Making you feel even worse. They may even compare what you do to other people that they normally consider "bad", people they like to watch and judge a lot, and point out their mistakes or quirks too. This ofc can only make it worse to you, cause your unconscious mind reads this as "You're as bad as them in your caregiver's mind". And it makes you shut down entirely and give up or stop your action. Which, instead, makes your caregiver get offended: "I was only saying, why do you stop?". And this starts a new situation: you are getting a double opposite feedback. And you don't know what to trust. You cannot trust someone that gaslights and manipulates you. But it's still their mind, not letting them see what they are doing to you, not letting them realize is what they have been going through all their life and are repeating onto you. They cannot stop or see the reason behind all that they are doing, they cannot understand that they are hurting you, even if they went through the same. Minds work so subtly at times.

But please, you. Try your best to let them be. Focus on you, do what you want and let your caregiver speak. Don't take their words so deeply into you. I know they pain you, I know. But focus on what makes you happy and, despite the abuse (which is hard to not pay attention too), find your way to complete any action you were doing that was supposed to make yourself happy, and to take care of yourself. Maybe tell your caregiver they are hurting you with their words. Talk with them, help them realize. Or just pretend they're not there. I know it's very hard, but I also know you can make it. You come first. and you're not doing anything wrong, despite what your caregivers' mind wants you to think. Push away from you their own trauma. It's not yours. It's not you.

This doesn't have to happen only with your caregivers tbh. It can happen also in other type of relationships. Your family though, may make these type of thoughts much more rooted inside of you cause you have been forming a lot of your emotional side in your early days. But whatever is the type of abusive relationship you may have experienced, please, try to find your peace of mind, to get away from it at least mentally. To stand your ground and talk things out (but ofc if it's someone way too abusive, just leave).

[thatbitchery]

Jordan Peterson says there's a pandemic of 'careless therapy' in the west and I fully agree. The idea is most psychology and psychiatry practices especially in the west are married by the early 70s *You Are Okay Just The Way You Are* flimsy surface level self esteem boost bullshit that isn't helping anyone. Why is this even important - it is absolute bs. The amount of people that I have known to be in therapy for YEARS and the only thing that changes is their self concept is actually scary, because western therapists are taught in the Wokeism bs of self affirming pumped up dumb ideologies that do not help.

You pay for problem solving.

The reason you pay someone is to solve a problem you have, not just diagnose it. Yes your therapist telling you you have PTSD is good for you yay now you have a name for it BUT if they don't tell you how to deal with it what was the point of the diagnosis?? Nothing has changed you still suffer you just have a name for it. Most of you will talk to me about *I started going to therapy* and the only thing you do in that little room is talking about your past- what's the point??? You already know your past, if they are not giving you solutions wrap it up and find a therapist that actually knows what they are doing and isnt marred by the egoistical western approach to life of me myself and. Even back in uni my Psychology professors were the most careless of the bunch, trying so hard to not get canceled soieting around things that actually affect life trying to reinforce the idea that all you need is to believe in yourself. Everyone that doesn't agree with you is toxic and you should be able to scream at your parents and bosses and get away with it because you have a right to opinion- I even skipped those classes. Took me changing my therapist 4 times to land to my now realistic stoic therapist that actually tells you the truth (she's in her late 50s, so maybe there's that).

If the people you are paying to solve your problems are not telling you how to solve those problems- you fire them. If your therapist is sounding like something a 15 year old tiktoker would say you fire them and find your money's worth. If your money is on the table you get solutions. Knowing you have daddy issues is great- now how do you deal with that? Will they give you practical solutions to do on your days to day basis?? Do these solutions make sense in a realistic POV?? Does your therapist telling you you should be able to express yourself so shouting at your mom when you live in her house is okay make sense to you??? Is it even realistic?? She is trying to not lose her license so she'll tell you what she needs to say to keep it, but if it's not helping you what's the point?? It's not like it's 10£ that you can just burn is it??

If you do not see actual tangible results that are not only in your head in two months you fire them and move on. It's crazy how everyone in my dms has a therapist but doesn't know how to deal with things so simple because all you do is sit in a cozy little room for an hour and talk about your past. Its YOUR past you already know it what's the point of paying all that to trauma dump when you can do it online for free??

Mentorship is the ONLY space you can go home without seeing results because it's free. You do not pay your mentor and you should be grateful for their time. When it comes to everyone else, your money on the table means results. If you've had a life coach for more than two months and you can not see real time tangible results you fire them and find another, that's wasting your money and time. Felling good will not make you a millionaire will it? If your dietician doesn't hand you a meal plan within your budget that gives you results in two months you fire them.

Results. And feelings are not results. *I feel better about myself now and understand where my pain is coming from* good for you, now what. What's next. Now what??? How is that helpful. *I'm okay I'm just autistic* good for you I know the relief of finding out you are not the problem, your brain is . Now what. What next. How will you live with that and still achieve your goals?? Whats next?

This is why in my books,Behavioral Therapy (CBT / DBT) are the most practical forms of therapy. Actual solutions. Actual tools for your day to day living. Not just talking and diagnosing (these are helpful yes) but actual solutions that work. How will knowing you have CPTSD help if you do not have the tools to deal with it? What's the point??) it's just a name.

Careless psychology is a pandemic, and a waste of time, money and energy. If you do not have actual tangible real time solutions in a month fire them and hire a stoic life coach. It's better.

Solutions. That's what money is for- buying solutions.

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[luzisahomosexual]

SBG FASTPASS SPOILERS⬇️

‘Dissecting’ this picture bc it gives me life.

I love everything about this photo.

The matching bracelets, the positions they each sleep in…EVERYTHING.

Logan ~ Logan is doing his usual curl up in a ball pose, which is ofc adorable. He’s also in the corner, almost forming a wall around the ones that need the most care atm (Aiden, Ash & Tyler)

Ben ~ Ben is holding the whole group together. He’s got his arms around them all, protecting them all from anything and everything. He would do anything for them. He has his arm around Taylor and is possibly??? looking down at her, YAY BENLOR🤭 he’s also got an arm on Logan’s back, putting his arms around the whole group

Taylor ~ Taylor is leaning her head on Bens shoulder, again YEY BENLOR🤭 Tyler is lying on her lap, which I personally find absolutely fucking adorable. It’s almost like their whole childhood, they looked out for eachother but Tyler was more the protector, pushing his fears back in order to be able to comfort Taylor and be there for her, whereas now it’s almost like Taylor is pushing her fears back so that she can be there for Tyler when he needs her, he is the one being comforted for once.

Tyler ~ Tyler seems still slightly agitated wich makes sense everything considered, but he DEFINITELY needs this hug thingy (wtva u wanna call it) he’s been through so much and has always felt the need to be the person taking care of everyone else. If this happened earlier in the webcomic, Tyler would 1000% be anoyed, lying as far to the side and away from everyone as he could. He would probably be on the edge and have his back to everyone, ik he’s technically still on the edge now but he’s also not. He’s proper IN the snuggle sesh yk? Idk how else to explain it-😭🤚

Aiden ~ I love EVERYTHING about the way he’s lying. He’s on bens lap, we need more of their cousin bond😤 But he’s also protecting ASHLYN in every possible way. He’s almost suffocating her…he has his head behind hers, one arm lying across her and the other on her lap AND he’s almost acting like a caccoon (idk how to spell that word mb) the way he’s surrounding her. Also THE HAND HES GOT LYING ACROSS ASHLYNS LAP IS ALSO HOLDING TYLER??!?! this is such an adorable detail I havnt seen anyone point out😭 Aiden and Tyler have probably had the hardest time trying to get along out of everyone in the group. They are practically opposites, Aiden constantly makes jokes and laughs as a way to hide his saddness and pain, he acts almost childish, like he’s searching for the childhood he never had…where as Tyler is always serious and stubborn, he hides his pain through anger and pushes it far below, instead focusing on those who need him because he’s to afraid to face his own worries. They all bonded over the trauma they shared being in the phantom world but it’s almost like Tyler & Aiden bonded deeper due to their experiences with death. They both know what it felt like to die, the difference is that Tyler was only worried about Taylor & his mum, thinking of what would happen if he wasn’t there for them, not wanting to leave them like their dad had. Where as Aiden was almost ready to die, he’s always thought about what it would feel like so he kind of just let it happen, however when he then woke up and realised how worried Ashlyn was, all that want for death dissipated because he didn’t want Ashlyn to ever be that afraid again.

Think I went on a random nonsense rant for a while there…my bad…ANYWAY LAST BUT NOT LEASTTTTTT

Ashlyn ~ Ash is in the centre of them all. She’s being surrounded and protected by her friends. Also, she has a thing for people being to close to her but she isn’t even looking uncomfortable. I don’t have a lot to say anymore tbh cos I tired myself out w that mini rant💀 but one last thing I will point out is, SHE HAS HER LEGS OVER AIDENS. IDK I JUST FIND THAT SO ADORABLE. LOOK AT THEM. THEY R EVERYTHING.

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Chapter 2 is here!

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

This one is mainly fluff.(?) (I am not sure what tw to put on this) mutual bathing. Making out. They accept the mating bond, no smut that's next.

I would love to hear any criticisms.

Ch1 Ch3

Chapter 2:

We sat there for a long while, until we were interrupted by the grumbling of his stomach. I looked up at him with wide doe eyes “you're hungry.” Not a question. We never got a chance to accept the mating bond before I left, and I remembered this tradition. I scoured the realms and planned what meal I would prepare for him first. I learned how to cook the best meal of every town I had visited. I knew exactly what I wanted to prepare for him and had even packed the ingredients in my bag. I had held all hope that I would finally make it home and I was right.

“You don't need to worry about that.” he breathed, his strong arms still wrapped around me.

“It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to, you have to eat. But if I am being honest I have looked forward to this meal since the day the bond snapped into place.” I consoled him.

“I am no longer the man I was when you left. Amarantha, Feyre, Hybern and Lucien have broken me.” His arms finally released me and he pulled away. The pain in his eyes, he was utterly alone here and he believed he deserved it. “I am a monster, now, Sky.”

Good, I've developed a monster fucking kink. No wait, now is not the time to say that thought out loud. I grabbed his face in my hands and looked him in the eye “Do you still have love in your heart for me?”

“Always. I would die for you. I would burn this world to the ground to find you again, now that I know you're alive.”

“But would you live for me? Would you heal, and rebuild? Would you face and confront your traumas and mistakes, and atone for those you hurt in the interim? Would you rebuild your, no, our court and work to regain the trust of our people?”

His emerald eyes looked deep into mine before he muttered a soft “yes, all of it.”

“I will accept nothing less. You are good, you are kind. I know your heart. You are deserving of love. Allow me the right to make my own decisions. Now I am going to make you food.”

He didn't argue any further, just looked in my eyes, searching, as if waiting for the punchline, waiting for another cruel joke. What has my horribly cruel brother done to him? “I love you, Tamlin. I always have. I am home now, please allow me the pleasure of proving it to you.” I spoke softly, burying my face in his neck holding him once more. He embraced me again and I could feel a few tears dropping onto my shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Tamlin admitted with a raspy broken sigh. I looked at him, with star bright eyes and a wide smile.

“So you agree? I am home? And you will let me make you food, knowing what it means?” almost too excited, I asked with a big smile. His face relaxed and he allowed himself an amused half smile.

“If you wish, I will gladly accept.” Relief poured from his voice.

“Yay! Now help me clean the kitchen so I can cook, I have all the ingredients in my bag here.” I requested, no, commanded excitedly. With a wave of his hand the kitchen was spotless. “If you are able to do that, why is the manor such a mess?” I scolded.

“I missed the last Calanmai, and the one before that Lucien stood in for me.” he answered, “it's been a rough few years. My power is dwindling.”

“We are gonna have to fix that, aren't we?” I said bluntly. He took a seat at the small table in the middle of the kitchen and watched as I prepared to make him the best stew I had ever had. “You have a lot on your mind, speak freely as I cook, I will keep my questions limited.”

“I killed her.”

“Who? Amarantha?” I asked, he nodded his head. I put the knife down and walked over to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. “I am so proud of you.” He looked at me like he hadn't heard those words in a very long time, it broke my heart.

I returned to the stew, “I could never hurt your brother. If he were anyone else, I would've killed him a long time ago, but he was the closest thing I had left of you. He died in the hybern war, and through everything I should've left him. His mate, my ex, Feyre destroyed my court and I knew that if it had been me laying there no one would've batted an eye. Feyre screamed and pleaded for me to revive him. I almost had the strength to walk away, for 300 years I mourned you, I will admit I had lost hope of you ever returning. But that hope sparked one last time and I revived him. I told her to be happy, but it was for you.” I had so many questions, stories we would need to catch up on, but that's not for now.

“You should've let him rot.” my response was gentle enough, brother or not, Rhysand was a selfish brat who never utilized his daemati powers for anything that didn't get him what he wanted. A spitting image of our father. “But you've always had a kinder heart than me, Tamlin.”

He released a sad chuckle at my words as if to say ‘I know.’ “The lady of Autumn had the baby all our mothers were stressing about, Lucien, he became my closest friend. And yes, he did look like Helion.”

“No” I gasped.

“And Beron knew it. He treated him cruelly and dropped him at my border. I took him in almost 200 years ago. It's only recently with the events of Amarantha and Feyre that he's left, but he stops by every now and then. If a male with long red hair and a golden eye stops by, don't hurt him.”

I giggled “so you do remember me well. Thank you for the heads up.” I poured him a bowl and sat it in front of him. He held my gaze for a minute, still in disbelief. Any hope he did have when he woke up this morning, couldn't compare to what is happening now. He slowly picked up the spoon and began eating.

“This is delicious, what kind of meat is this?” He asked between bites.

“Bear.” I answered.

He was filthy, his hair matted and his clothes ripped. As he ate I grabbed a wooden hairbrush I found and began to work out the knots, gently. He savored every bite and when he finished, he leaned back almost to show how good it felt and to allow me to finish detangling his long blonde hair. When I was done I pulled his head back ever so slightly just to leave a kiss on his forehead.

He took my hand, guided me around to face him and pulled me onto his lap straddling him. “Thank you, it's been a long time since I've felt a gentle caring touch from anyone. It means more than you realize.” He admitted, but I could tell, he was holding back, putting on a strong facade. He needed me just as much as I needed him, that much was true.

“Good thing I have no intention of letting you go anytime soon.” I breathed, my eyes drifting from his to his lips. I had always heard that men go absolutely feral by this point, does he not want me? Why is he being so cautious? I leaned closer and he got the hint. His lips met mine, gentle at first, his gorgeously muscled arms wrapped around my waist. I bit his bottom lip playfully, and he smiled, amused. He deepened the kiss, his hands traveling up my back to pull me closer, my hands tangling themselves in his gorgeous blonde hair. I pulled away, “You could use a bath first.”

He grunted “you're probably right.” Most would take offense to this, but he knew me, he knew my blunt outbursts were merely observations and meant nothing more. Generally, he found them amusing. He once explained to me that he hated having to guess everyone's thoughts and moods all the time, he's not a daemati, and my willingness to admit what I was thinking, so clearly and straightforwardly, was a breath of fresh air for someone growing up in a royal home.

He led me up the stairs to his chambers. My attention wandering from the destruction around me, to the beautiful strong hand holding mine. As we entered the large room he called his, I was taken aback in pure astonishment of what hung over his bed. My mouth gaped open as I stared at the painting. “Just the rumors of your artwork has gotten me into a lot of trouble. I’ve never let anyone else in here.” There, hung above his bed was the picture I had painted of my own wings. I spent weeks, no, months perfecting it until it looked like my actual wings were encapsulated in the canvas. He had always complimented them and when I started to excel in my art, he requested this specifically. Most days he would sit next to me and point details out and give me direction and praise.

“You still have it.” was all I was able to mutter.

“Why would I ever get rid of something so perfect?” he smiled at me. I shook myself out of awe and tried to focus. Bath, that's right.

“Do the hand waving and clean this room too,” I demanded as we entered the connected bathroom. A large white tub with golden clawed feet sat in the middle, and I searched through the cupboards for the soaps and oils. I tried to divert my gaze as he undressed and climbed into the warm water he had conjured. I would say every inch of him was sculpted by the gods, if I hadn't met the gods and realized what ridiculousness they actually engaged in. “Now dunk under and wet your hair so I can wash it.” I sat at the head of the tub, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp and massaging oils into the length. He purred in approval. This is everything I have wanted, to take care of him, and for him to care for and protect me. I hated the fighting, the battles, the training and being dirty and covered in blood that wasn't mine. I was good at it, but every night I would lie down and dream of my life at the Spring court. I would dream of having a big comfy bed, a daily bath, and his arms wrapped around me. I wanted to spend my days painting, dancing, singing or just annoying him while he completed trivial tasks only he deemed important.

He rinsed the soaps out of his hair and drained the water. I was still lost in my thoughts of what I had missed, had I truly gotten it back? He wrapped a towel around his waist and helped me to my feet. I stood before him and looked up at him, hoping the wonder and love I was feeling translated to his understanding. “Thank you, my love, you have helped me feel like I'm worth something again,” he admitted, looking down to me and running a gentle hand along the side of my face. He was so much taller than me. “I think it's your turn.”

True, I don't remember the last time I was able to bathe properly. He re filled the bath with slightly hotter water this time, and I began to peel off the layers of leather and chain I had collected off the monsters I killed. He turned his gaze out of respect and I giggled.

“Am I really that bad to look at?” I teased giving him a sly smile. “You can drop the gentleman act, I know you want to look”

He gave me a cautious smile, his gaze fixed on my eyes “forgive me love, the shock is still settling, it all seems to be happening so fast… but I don't want it to slow down.”

“3 centuries of waiting is too fast?” I teased as I lowered myself into the hot bath. I sighed as I cherished the feeling. I grabbed a rag with some soap and started scrubbing my face, working my way down. He took my place at the head of the bath and began carefully undoing the intricate braids I kept my black hair in to preserve the length that touched my waist and keep it out of the way. I finished scrubbing my body down and leaned my head back, enjoying the feeling of his gentle hands massaging the shampoo into my scalp. I always loved my men with long hair because that meant they knew how to help me care for mine. It was as if we were washing the past 300 years off eachother, to start anew. As he finished I dunked my head under and he reached for my wings.

He grabbed a fresh washcloth, wet it and added a small amount of soap and oil. He carefully stretched out my wing as I allowed him and began running the warm rag across the entirety of the dark sensitive skin. My eyes rolled back, I could climax just by this feeling alone. No one, save for him, has ever been this gentle with me. I let out a soft sigh and opened my eyes to catch his. He stood next to me, soft towel in one hand, the other extended to guide me up and out. I took his hand and stood up, I tripped getting out and fell straight into his chest. We both giggled as I corrected my footing but not pulling away. His hands rested on my back holding me up.

His loving and amused face turned to concern. “It's been so long, my love, I don't know if I can hold back if I loosen my restraint. I want you so badly, but I don't want to hurt you.”

I smiled and pulled his head down closer to whisper in his ear “I like it rough.”

And with that he wrapped his hands around my waist and picked me up, I locked my legs around him and kissed him, hard and passionately, as he carried me over to the bed.

♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rin-u-pos @rcarbo1

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist.

[mint-yooxgi]

{10} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader 

Words: 4,615

Warnings: Not edited, I’m terribly sorry!! Death mentioned, OC refers to herself as ‘rotund’ cause she’s recalling memories, mentions of past trauma/implied imprisonment and whipping, self-blame. I think that’s all. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Next chapter is here, yay!! I apologize in advance cause it’s not edited, but I have work in the morning and it’s already super late for me. Please bear with the errors for now. Also, I know the boys aren’t really in this chapter, but there’s quite a bit of plot, and two are hidden in the scenes, so I wonder if you can guess which two they are? 👀 As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I do not do tag lists.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Mini Masterlist

Normally, the time it takes you to travel from your place to the Neo’s nest, or vice versa, is about fifteen minutes by foot. You make it home in five.

Jeno follows close behind you the whole time, and you can feel Jisung flying at his top speed towards your place all the while. It should only take your youngest another minute before he arrives.

“Jeno-“

“I’ll leave as soon as he gets here,” he promises. “I just want to make sure you’re both okay.”

You smile softly at your cub, extending your hand out to caress his cheek tenderly.

“I have some of the sweetest boys in the world,” you hum, throat tightening at the care he shows the both of you.

“Because you raised us well.” He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed briefly.

A moment later, and there is a large crash in your backyard. Dirt flies everywhere, sobs of pain being muffled into the earth.

“Oh, My Little Jisungie,” your expression immediately fills with nothing but concern as you move to kneel beside the weeping dragon. “I’m right here.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s wrapped his arms around your lower waist, sobbing violently into your chest. You briefly meet Jeno’s gaze, noticing how the male nods subtly before backing off. He shoots one final concerned glance towards you and his brother before disappearing back into the woods.

You’ll both be okay. Besides, you’ll call if you need anything.

“She’s gone,” he wails, tightening his grip around you. “The love of my life is gone.”

Quietly, you shush him, running your fingers gently through his hair all the while. The best thing for him right now is to let out all of his emotions without you interrupting. It’s better for him to expel that energy, rather than keeping it all bottled up inside and letting it consume him. You know first hand what that is like.

“I’m right here, Ji.” You coo, cradling him in your arms and feeling his entire body shaking against your own. “Let it all out. I’m right here.”

He chokes on a sob, “she’s gone, and she’s never coming back.”

“Shhh,” you place your lips against the side of his head, grip holding him a little tighter in your arms. “It’ll be okay. It will all be okay.”

“I couldn’t do anything to save her.” His voice is strained from the weight of his emotions. “I promised her we’d always be together, that I’d always protect her, and I’ve let her down.”

The broken sob he releases breaks your heart, the organ squeezing painfully in your chest.

“You know that’s not true, Jisungie,” you voice softly, nothing more than a tender caress just like your one hand that now strokes comfortingly down his spine. “You gave her a long life with the person she loves most. She told me that’s all she’s ever want, and it was you who fulfilled her every wish.”

Your words have him choking on his sobs, breath stuttering in his chest as he buries his face into the side of your neck.

“I could have done something,” he tightens his own grip around you. “I should have done more.”

“You did all you could.” You assure him gently.

“You don’t know that!” He snaps, pulling away from you instantly. “I should have saved her! I should have figured out a way to extend her life so she didn’t have to die in pain!”

“When it comes to death, I am more familiar with it than you know, My Child.” You reply softly, watching as he stands before you now, pacing lightly as rage courses through his entire being. “Hyemin did not die in pain. She died peacefully in the arms of her most treasured love. That’s more than many others can say of their imprinted.”

His shoulders sag slightly, pausing momentarily in his steps as he looks to the ground. “I’m never going to get to see her again.”

“You will.” You hum, somewhat knowingly.

“No.” He shakes his head, more tears falling freely from his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t get to see her smile anymore. I won’t be able to hear her laughter, or feel her touch. I won’t be able to comfort her after a long day, nor will I ever be able to cook her meals or bring her flowers. She’s gone, and without her, I am lost.”

Your expression falls as you see your cub looking so broken in front of you. Shamelessly, he wipes as his eyes, more sobs wracking his body as grief consumes him.

Slowly, you stand back to your feet.

“My Child,” you meet his tear filled gaze as you extend your hand out to him, “come with me.”

He looks from your hand back to your face, blinking to clear his vision. Carefully, he takes a step towards you, reaching out his own hand to place it gently in yours.

“I know of the devastating grief you are feeling, for I have also experienced such a tremendous loss throughout my own life.” You begin, walking with him slowly to the edge of the woods. “There is no pain greater than losing the one you love, but they are never truly gone.”

Jisung remains quiet. The only indication you receive that he’s listening is a slight sniffle in response.

“Your brothers and I are here for you, for there are none who have experienced the same as much as we have.” You continue. “I want to show you something now, though. A special place where you can go, whenever you want. A place that Hyemin will rest with the others, for as long as our protection lasts. A place you can visit her, find comfort, and grieve.”

The next twenty minutes or so are spent with you leading Jisung through the woods and to your special spot. All that can be heard are your soft footfalls, and Jisung’s sniffling every now and then. Often, you squeeze his hand, silently reassuring him that you’re right here, and you will not be leaving him any time soon. A fact which has him squeezing back more often than not.

Reaching the small clearing you take a deep breath, stopping just short of the protection stones.

“I have brought each of your brothers here after they have lost someone important. It is a place for all of us. A safe space.” You tell him, turning to meet his gaze. You watch as he nods softly in response, reaching a hand up to brush away his lingering tears with the back of his hand. “You may come to visit at any time you wish, for this is now your space as well. My Daisy was the first, and she will gladly watch over Hyemin along with all of the others.”

Slowly, fireflies begin to dance in the air around you, their gentle lights twinkling like the stars above.

You step through the barrier.

A small gasp escapes Jisung’s lips as he sees the stone monument in the centre of the clearing. Shifting his gaze, he takes in the small pebbles surrounding the area, and the sudden warmth he feels encompassing his entire form. Almost as if he’s being wrapped in one of your warm hugs.

“These stones all represent someone we have lost, and every time one is placed, a new firefly comes to live in this clearing.” You tell him, leading him over to the centre monument. “This was originally just Daisy’s grave, but as I’ve said before, loss affects every single one of us. It’s comforting to know that they all watch over each other, and us, from the other side.”

A choked sob escapes Jisung’s lips as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. His body automatically turns to yours, and you immediately have him wrapped in your arms without another thought.

Resting beside that stone marker, you both sink to your knees.

“I know you probably feel as if you are suffocating right now, Ji,” you say, keeping your voice soft as he sobs into your neck. “As if the weight of the entire universe is on your shoulders. You’re asking yourself why it was her, and not you. Why she had to be taken at all. I know you feel as if you didn’t do enough, that you let her down in some way. I want you to know that you didn’t let her down at all. I know those words are going to be hard to believe right now, and I know you don’t want to listen to me prattle on all night given the hurt so near. I just want you to know that I am here for you, and Hyemin is, too. Those that we love never truly leave us. They are always with us, both in spirit, and memory. Please, never forget that.”

A brief silence before you feel him nod against your skin.

Finally, you breathe a sigh of relief. He seems to be calming down.

Softly, a firefly dances around his head.

“Jisungie,” your tender call of his name draws his attention, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes. Your gaze flicks to the firefly beside his head. “Look.”

It takes him a moment, but the second he turns to see that little firefly dancing beside his head, you hear his breath hitch.

“Hyemin?” He nearly chokes on his breath, her name but a broken plea from his lips.

“There is another reason why I guard this place so ferociously,” you reply, gently unwrapping yourself from him and standing back to your feet. “I’ll give you two a moment alone.”

You go to step away, only to feel Jisung reach out and grab your hand in his.

Turning back to him, you smile softly. “It’s okay, Jisungie. I’ll be right outside those stones if you need me. Say what you have to. I promise I won’t listen in.”

Squeezing his hand reassuringly once more, you drop your grip. A few seconds later, and you’ve stepped outside the protective circle. Sparing a final glance over your shoulder, you see Jisung stand back to his feet as a swarm of fireflies converge, taking the form of his now deceased lover. A young woman who smiles kindly at you, bowing her head in acknowledgment as the dragon before her falls to his knees.

Tilting your head in acknowledgement, you wave a hand over the clearing. Instantly, the image of Jisung standing with a young Hyemin disappears, blending into the forest around you. A sound barrier goes up as well, giving them as much privacy as you can. Besides, you’ll feel Daisy’s tender caress on your cheek again when they’re done.

Turning your back to the clearing, your eyes scan the forest in front of you, narrowing ever so slightly. There are two faint presences you can sense drawing near, their scents on the wind. You’ll do whatever you can to avoid them for now, but if they do not cause a scene, neither will you. You have more important things to worry about tonight.

For twenty minutes, your eyes scan the forest, locking in on the specific spot you sense those two presences resting. You’re unsure if they’ve also sensed you since you haven’t really been shy in hiding your aura this time around. However, you’re not sure if it’s been enough to keep them away. They’re just out of range for you to be certain.

A cool brush against your cheek alerts you to the shifting presence behind you.

Instantly, you drop the sound barrier, hearing Jisung walking towards where you know he sees you to be standing. You take the liberty to step back over the threshold, nearly startling the younger dragon as he looks from his feet to see you suddenly closer than before.

Once more, he falls into your arms. Though, this time, the breath he releases is one of relief, rather than simply filled with pain.

Softly, you run your fingers through his hair. “Better?”

He hums. “Better."

“Do you want to head back, or would you like to stay for a little while longer?”

A firefly dances in the corner of your vision. One which Jisung seems to notice as well.

“Can we stay?” He pulls away enough to stare into your eyes. “Just for a little bit longer?”

“Of course, My Cub,” you tenderly caress his cheek. “We can stay for as long as you’d like.”

Carefully, the both of you walk over to the cliff face, sitting yourselves down and allowing your legs to dangle freely off of the edge. Jisung leans into you, and you make sure to keep your arm securely wrapped around his shoulders. The whole time, fireflies dance around your heads.

“Hyemin told me not to cry anymore.” He sniffles lowly, wiping at his lingering tears with the back of his hand.

“Whatever was said between the both of you does not have to be shared with me, My Child.” You tenderly rub the side of his arm. “That was for the two of you, and the two of you only.”

Softly, you feel him nod against your side. Then, after a moment, “it still hurts.”

“Of course it does, My Cub,” you hum, staring out over the vast scenery before you. The river shines beneath the light of the moon, the peaks of the mountains being illuminated by its brightness. “The pain is all too fresh, and it will linger for some time. It will be harsh, and demand to be felt at times, but you cannot let it consume you. I’m sure that’s not what Hyemin would have wanted for you.”

You feel him shiver within your hold, and you just know he felt her caress just as you have felt Daisy’s so many times before.

“Is this-“ he stops himself short, clearing his throat lightly as his voice drops to a mere whisper, “is this what you felt when you lost Daisy?”

“Everyone experiences loss differently, just as I will feel pain in other ways that you will not.” You reply, taking a somewhat deep breath to steady your nerves. Then, you turn to meet his gaze. “But, yes. Though, my circumstances were far different than yours.”

A gentle breeze drifts through, and you swear you catch her scent on the wind.

“Will you tell me about her?” Jisung looks up at you through his lashes, wide eyes glistening beneath the light of the moon. “The story of how you two met?”

“You never grow tired of this one, do you?” You chuckle fondly, noticing how a faint pink dusts his cheeks. “Alright, I’ll tell you again.”

Jisung smiles lightly, curling deeper into your side.

“It was spring when I first saw her,” you begin, staring back out at the valley before you. “She was paddling across the fjord with a boat full of supplies, and a dream. I watched her set up camp, hiding myself away in the bushes before returning home every night. Back then I was a bit of a troublemaker myself, so sneaking out was no issue.”

The way you ruffle his hair slightly has a whine escaping his lips.

You smile affectionately before continuing, “one day, I saw her fishing in the creek. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as stealthy back then as I am now, so I lost my footing and fell right into the water.”

He laughs at this. He always does every time you tell him this story, and it makes your heart warm.

“I still enjoy the mental image of you waddling out of the creek, clothing drenched and water dripping off of you.” He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I got lucky though. I managed to grab hold of a fish before leaving to shore.” You chuckle fondly, recalling the memories now. “I can never forget the look she gave me as I proudly declared I ‘caught one’ as I left the water. Your Aunt Daisy was an expressive woman, emotions painted on her features for all to see.”

“I would have been so embarrassed.” Jisung comments.

“I was,” you hum. “I could tell she thought I was the most bizarre creature she had ever come across that first meeting. Yet, she was kind enough to invite me to cook the fish we had caught by the fire with her.” Your eyes twinkle, lips tugging upwards once more. “I couldn’t say no.”

“I can’t count the amount of times I made a fool of myself in front of her,” you recall, a gentle rumble to your tone. “She never once put me down for it, or treated me strangely. I have always been what some villagers might refer to as ‘rotund’, but Daisy never once treated me any differently than anyone else. She never looked down on me, or thought little of me for my appearance, and she had so many brilliant ideas.”

“We found this little clearing one night when we went hiking through the woods. It was a risk on my part, since I could usually get away with being away from home during the day time. However, as soon as night fell, it was harder to hide from my father.” You look downwards, somewhat sadly. “We sat in this very spot, talking for hours. I don’t even remember half of the topics we discussed, but I do remember every bit of how I felt. How she made me feel.”

“How did she make you feel?” Jisung asks, eyes wide as he stares up at you.

You smile, shifting to meet his gaze as you brush some strands of hair away from his eyes. “Like the happiest person on earth.”

Jisung smiles, looking out across the valley as he recalls how Hyemin always made him feel the exact same way.

“I felt like I was floating whenever I was with her. Nothing else mattered to me: not my training, not my father, not even who or what I was.” You recount, a few tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. “With her, I could just be. I didn’t have any expectations of her, and she didn’t have any of me.”

“I can still remember how it felt for her to hold my hand,” you faintly smile down at your left palm. “Her touch was so gentle, and so unbelievably soft, that I thought she couldn’t be real. The moment she told me she wanted to create a town for herself, some place safe where she could live, and not worry about people judging her intelligence, I immediately agreed. I told her I would help her, and we could start this town together.” You smile. “So we did.”

“I don’t exactly know when I fell in love with her, but I can still remember the day my father cornered me about imprinting on a human.” Your expression turns dark in the next moment. “He’s always had my best interests in mind, but it doesn’t always come out the way he intends them to. He warned me that it could never last; I didn’t know what I was getting myself in to, and I should quit while I’m ahead.”

“Of course, I didn’t listen.” You grin, though there’s a sadness shining behind your eyes now as the first of your tears begin to trail down your cheeks. “The very next day, I confessed to her, and was overjoyed to learn she felt the same way. We spent years together, and I would always bring her Daisies on our anniversary. She would always smile and laugh at that, hitting me with the bouquet a few times. To this day, I can never look at those flowers the same way, unless they are in this clearing with her.”

Jisung’s grip tightens the slightest bit around you, offering you what little comfort he can while you comfort him.

“It was a little rough when I told her of my true nature, but My Daisy was headstrong,” you chuckle, somewhat sadly. “She knew I was different, and almost figured it out before I even told her. You see, Little One,” you nudge him lightly, “sometimes when our emotions are heightened, we cannot control the shifting of our eyes.”

“Believe me,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, nodding along with you. He cannot count the times this has happened to him, especially with Hyemin around. “That I do know.”

“We had three years together after we finished building this town.” Your voice hitches slightly in your throat as you wipe at your cheeks with the back of your free hand. “Three years before they took her away from me.”

“I know you’ve mentioned the hunters before, but could the ones from town now really have done that? If their ancestors are anything like they are, then you should have been able to take them. Easily.” He frowns, swinging his legs slightly as he continues to rest over the cliffside with you.

“There is a reason the hunters in this town are the way they are now,” you breathe. “I will never let another true hunter set foot on my territory again. Let alone them.”

“What happened?” His sorrowful gaze turns to you.

“Are you sure you want to learn of Daisy’s death tonight, My Cub?” You tenderly stroke the side of his face. “It is already a melancholic evening, I do not wish to make it worse.”

Jisung ponders your question for a moment before turning away. His gaze is full of sorrow as he stares down at the treetops below. “No. Maybe not.”

You nod lightly. “That is, perhaps, a wise decision.”

A small silence settles around the both of you, allowing the comfort of resting in each other’s embrace to calm you for the moment. That is, until Jisung is standing back to his feet. Before he can even say a word, you���re raising a palm into the air.

“You do not need to explain your grief process to me, Jisung.” You meet his gaze, noticing the way his eyes shine with newly unshed tears. “Do what you have to do. All I ask is that you do not bring harm to yourself, or anyone else. Take all the time you need. No matter how far you go, I will find you if we need you.”

Jisung says nothing, only being able to nod his head. Slowly, he bends down, placing a lingering kiss onto your forehead, and you know that this is his way of thanking you for everything tonight. 

You smile weakly. “Be safe, My Cub.”

Without another word, Jisung is jumping from the cliffside, shifting midair and flying off into the night. This time, when a cry echoes through the air, it’s not as piercing or devastating as the first. Instead, it is a cry of hope. Of a love lost, yes, but well lived, and sorrowful. A cry which is echoed by his brothers in the distance.

You sigh faintly, leaning back onto your hands as you watch that little beige dragon disappear around one of the mountains. Your whole body trembles, fingers digging into the dirt beneath your nails as you attempt to control your thoughts. Reliving those memories of Daisy has only made the tragedy of her death all the more fresh in your mind, even if it’s been hundreds of years.

Still, those two presences linger at the edge of your senses, but you pay them no mind.

Another tear slides down your face.

“Did I do the right thing?” You wonder aloud, keeping your voice low as you curl in on yourself. “Will Jisung be okay on his own now?”

A tender caress against your cheek wipes away one of your tears. You lean into that phantom touch more than you know.

“I can still remember how lost I was when I lost you. Though, I didn’t have time to grieve like he did.” You’re thinking out loud for the moment, but the words help to expel those negative emotions you’re currently feeling. “When I was finally freed, and I could allow myself to feel again, I was devastated.”

A firefly lands on your knee.

“I was in the dark for over five-hundred days, Daisy.” Your voice cracks. “They took my light, and then they tried to break me.”

You raise your wrists, the weight of the iron chains still heavy on your skin. Faintly, you can just make out the scars that still line your body.

A hand caresses the top of your skull, brushing over your head lightly. The comfort is brief, but welcomed all the same.

“I will never forgive them for what they did.” You voice, somewhat harshly. “Not to you. Not to an innocent human who only wanted to love and live in peace.”

A sob shakes your entire body.

“I deserved it.” You mutter after a moment, nothing more than a whisper on the wind. “Every lash they gave me for five-hundred and two days, I deserved for failing you.”

A rustling from the bush behind you has you whipping your head around, guard high. You didn’t sense anyone sneaking up on you, but then again, your mind hasn’t been in the best state for the past few minutes or so. Luckily, at the familiar aura you feel, your shoulders are instantly relaxing.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Renjun hums as he easily steps over the threshold of the barrier. At seeing your distressed state, worry immediately takes over his features. “Are you okay?”

You clear your throat, wiping at your lingering tears, “I’m fine.”

Renjun purses his lips. He knows as well as you do that you’re lying to him right now, but he doesn’t press.

“Jisung will be home after he’s done his grieving process.” You say, pushing yourself back to your feet in the next moment.

Renjun nods his understanding, blinking a few times as he looks around the clearing. For a brief moment, his eyes linger on one particular rock, a sad smile pulling at his features before he’s looking back at you.

The silence that stretches on between you as you hold his gaze is deafening.

He swallows. “You know it wasn’t your fault-“

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You cut him off, though your voice doesn’t have the same sharpness to it that it usually does.

Pursing his lips, Renjun lets out a small sigh through his nose.

“Alright then,” he replies, watching as you walk closer to him before he’s falling into step beside you. Carefully, he wraps his arm around your lower back, and he swears he sees a flash of gold out of the corner of his eyes. “Let’s get you home before that Hala bites my head off.”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Have they not left yet?”

“The two older ones did,” he replies, helping you step through the bush. “At least they have some etiquette when it comes to other dragon’s grieving.”

“Tell me how you really feel, Junnie,” you manage a small chuckle, sniffling in the next second.

“Those other three ask too many questions, I don’t know how you can put up with them.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know if your two disciples are still at your house, but I know the youngest won’t leave until he sees you return safe and sound.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards faintly, though you hardly seem to notice the action. However, Renjun does.

“Come on,” he sighs, a knowing smile flashing across his features. "Let’s get you home.”

[auncyen]

It still fascinates me that Akiren canonically is reluctant to tell the others about "Igor" and ultimately does not. You have a dialogue option to try explaining where the Metanav comes from when Makoto questions it, but Akiren shuts it down with something about it being too hard to explain if you try going that route. Again, Akiren does know how he and the others get the Metanav; Yaldabaoth tells him he gave it to him and will give it to potential accomplices in the future. While Akiren knows about this and also that "Igor" keeps alluding to future ruin, every other Phantom Thief is in the dark. And this is fascinating because without the blinders of "oh Igor's been good every previous entry, he's just cryptic", Yaldabaoth-as-Igor comes off as an extremely shady adult in an entry all about shitty adults manipulating and abusing kids, and Akiren is put in a weird spot where it is natural that it'd feel difficult for him to tell his friends about his connection to "Igor", which seems like a real good spot to get manipulated in.

I 100% believe that the only reason Akiren doesn't actually end up getting played for a fool with this set up is because he has main character privileges. Like, I can't speak for p1/p2, but 3-5, the main character is kind of a power trip. You make friends with a bunch of people, you can romance any girl (rip if you wanna romance boys outside p3p), you are The Special One.

Please imagine if Akiren wasn't the main character and it was either Ryuji or Ann (hell, while we're doing hypotheticals, let's say the game would let you pick which one you wanted to play as). Ryuji/Ann is the PoV character, but Akiren still starts as the nominal leader because he seems to have a better clue what he's doing then, and first-time players are like "wow, he's pretty cool, why aren't we playing as him" until you start getting PoV cuts to him interacting with Yaldabaoth and it's like.......not spelled out that "Igor" is bad news, but also it definitely seems like something isn't right, and again, this is the game of shitty adults manipulating kids. So you already know Akiren's background isn't great, he's not in the best spot, and now there are just these little hints that huh ok maybe your cool friendly leader is. doing something weird. hey buddy are you going to tell us about this weird guy??? No???? Not until a mid-game upset where the PT discover what they've been doing has been manipulating public cognition in a bad way they might have avoided if they'd just known to have the slightest suspicion about this old man most of them are just now hearing about and Akiren is having a meltdown out of guilt and shame because he didn't explain anything partially because it'd be hard but also because what if people didn't believe him, he acts cool but has trauma from his arrest and his hometown doubting him and he 100% avoided doing or saying anything that might make him anything less than the perfect trustworthy confidant for all his friends (which, guess how a few teammates would be reacting, so between that and Akiren having a meltdown, now Ryuji/Ann is the official leader! Yay, you're actually playing the leader now! Isn't that great? ...Yippee????)

and then on ng+ you just spend early game circling Akiren at his hangout spot yelling "TELL US YOU DUMBASS WE'LL STILL LOVE YOU AND IT'LL SAVE A LOT OF PAIN" but alas the plot is written.

anyway yes I still believe they set up Akiren so perfectly to be manipulated not just as part of the Phantom Thieves but as an individual, because of his own personal vulnerabilities, and that it would 100% have happened if he was not protag.

[eri-pl]

Forgive me for asking, but when you say you like Morgoth do you mean you find him an entertaining character or that you think he had a point?

Oh. This will be long. Thank you for asking! (And I guess the parts that you feel needs forgiving is assuming that I may agree with him? I don't think you had enough data. Anyway if there's a need, I forgive you. I hope it's not "forgive me for sending asks", I like getting asks, especially actual asks! (As opposed to reblog chains and other random fun stuff which I sometimes like sometimes not))

No, Morgoth did not have a valid point in his rebellion. More details under the cut (it's long).

But he had a point, in the sense that he existed for a reason. (He much failed this point.) I think it shows through at times. Even if he wasn't evil, I think he was meant to be a trickster, challenger and the starting point of changes.

Like, I can see a situation where stealing the Silmarils would not be wrong (and not involve murder. It is far from canon, but if Feanor got obsessed with them without Melkor's "help", stealing the gems and leaving them in some funny place could be helpful. The classic fairy tale trickster.

So, in this sense he had a point.

But his actual goals as started in the book? Nope. 100% nope.

Like, yesterday I had my own teenage child look at me strangely when I said that I relate to Hurin's reaction. Not with the name-calling, but the "nope you are not as powerful as you say, this is not true and I don't care what you do to me about it" part. It is the valid reaction, in my opinion. L

But there's more in my liking for Morgoth than "I find him entertaining" (however this is true too at some points, mostly BoLT).

It's mostly "he's spawning a lot of headcanons in my head and I relate to them". It's a difference between "Morgoth as Tolkien seems to have intended him" and "Morgoth as I read him", which is a small difference in a way, but also a big one.

Ok let's address the elephant. I have no problem internalizing "Eru is God". But at the same time I have a lot of a problem internalizing "and Melkor is the devil".

This is a strange combo but that's what my brain does and I can't much avoid it.

His reasons are too relatable. Wrong but relatable. Very human. "I was not paying attention, busy with fantasies of power to soothe my insecurities and now when I have to do a creative activity with people, I can't sync with them" is a very relatable situation to me (I played a lot of ttrpg) and trying to fix it by being a jerk is something I have done. It's wrong but... I can't condemn a character for things I have done too.

(I realized I started explaining me reading of Melkor|Morgoth through his whole career, so here it goes)

And then he gets angry, which is stupid but still relatable. And makes orcs from elves which is awful but also canon cannot decide what exactly happened also it's too easy to assume he didn't realize they were actual persons...

And he corrupts humans? The tale of Adanel? What was her name? That one in Morgoth's ring, close to Athrabeth... It's one of 2 places where he actually reads (for me) as satanic as intended... Until the part where am obvious void-spider-related trauma shows. Which makes no sense in the timeline, but the whole story has huge timeline problems.

Then he gets captured. And again, my angst-living narrative brain assumes that he did try to behave better, just didn't put much effort in it. And then he met Feanor, and I have a while essay on how this triggered Melkor's narcissistic injury or whatever to call the issues he had. Not for Feanor's fault, just... Wrong time, wrong place, wrong family drama.

Yes, his reaction to that was unarguably evil. But also I can't stop myself from imagining extremely strong emotional pain behind it. It's like... I can't force myself to be so angry at him to enjoy the idea of "Morgoth's gonna get destroyed, yay!". There's too much pain on this (which is not in the book just in my head, I know)

He streaks the Silmarils, and keeps them when though they burn, because to do otherwise would be a period that he was wrong. And all his further decisions (again, unarguably evil) are made under extreme pain and distress of holy gems judging him all the time. (Look how they impacted Maedhros and Maglor. How much despair they got. And Morgoth is so much more).

He's evil, but also I can't with confidence say that I would never do similar things, especially in the circumstances. Evil but who am I to judge.

Like, at the end of of, it comes back to "I can't see the Valar ( including Melkor) as 100% good or bad, they're too human to be proper angels". Even Manwe (semi-)canonically makes a moral mistake. Some texts (not in published Silm) day that the Valar showed lack of estel by (making Valinor? Inviting elves? Sorry, I forgot the details) and that is a moral falling.

Don't get me wrong, it is a very small one, and I'm not trying to equate Manwe with Morgoth or anything, just to say that the Valar are less absolute than I would expect angels to be. (Not an expert on angels though)

(I love Manwe, he's wonderful, overworked, burned out but still trying, he's a sweet, good, idealistic birb. Who is not an angel. I love them all, even Orome who is canonically vengeful and I consider this a problem, and Yavanna who is really irritating at times. And let's not forget poor, bullied Aule who is a walking proof of the "not 100%".)

And with all that I've said before, I can't help but to project many of my issues and character failings at Morgoth. Yes, he's evil. I've also been evil. Technically less so, but I like to go things to 11 when projecting.

And another huge topic is how wonderful he would be if he wasn't evil, because he's got some of my favorite aesthetics and themes (void, paradoxes, out of the box thinking, trickster archetype, jak of all trades... Even the fire and ice thing has its beauty).

Sometimes I really want to punch him in the face for wasting all that. Just, not lethally.

And the beauty of what he could be is probably what pushes him in my head from the "I'm sorry for them being evil" category of evil and evil-leaning characters (which includes Sauron, fir example ) or the "eeewgh but I'm sorry for them anyway" (Ar-Pharazon , Gollum, all the exceptionally uncool bad guys) to "I'm sorry for them but also I like them no matter how little sense it makes". Ymmv, I have a strange aesthetics sometimes.

Also, he got defeated in the book and that gives him compassion points in my brain. I do feel sorry for him. No matter what I try to do with my brain, I can't stop. I just can't. One day I'll figure out how to untangle it but now I don't know.

Last but not least, I love some comedic takes. For me, comedy didn't ask what's right or wrong, just explores ideas... It's like a brain cleaner, a bit like dreams. It's allowed more than more serious genres. I do enjoy comedic Morgoth (Hurinovy Deti does it really well, also some fics and comics with that one ship... It's just funny. And it's not like they portray him as being right, just... Don't focus on him being evil, just in the comedy?)

To clear something that I left hanging: the second scene where Morgoth is as-probably-intended is "the words of Morgoth and Hurin" or what's it called. Sorry, I'm on vacations, so I'm doing less fact-checking. It works for me. If Tolkien gave Morgoth more dialogue, my mental image of him would probably be more as intended.

Also, to not leave it unsaid: he canonically tries rape, I think twice. I am aware of this. This is very awful. And evil. Still, doesn't make me see him as irredeemable. I just don't see people as irredeemable and I can't read the books as (probably?) intended and not see Morgoth and all the Valar in the category of "people".

It's probably more complicated by the fact that Tolkien's intent did change in time, but I'm not an expert and I don't know how it changed about the Valar, especially Morgoth. So it's not like there is one canon that is 100% coherent, and I'm not even sure which parts of my reading I should call a headcanon and which not.

Tldr: I don't like Satan (that was an understatement), I like Morgoth probably because I have issues which I like projecting on fictional characters and he works well for that, also I make some (hopefully) interesting headcanons and that's it. Hope this answered your question.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 4, Unwelcome - Pt. 1*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit Sexual Content - Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here - (oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV (only okay if one of you is a super solider who can't contract/spread, otherwise, wrap it before you tap it), bad jokes (should be a given at this point, really), dummies not understanding feelings.

Word Count: 2.6k

Previously On...: Bucky returned from his mission and your reunion got a little spicier than intended... not that either one of you is complaining! Deciding not to make it a one-time thing, you both agree to try a friends-with-benefits arrangement. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Yay! More smut! Aren't we all so lucky! <3 I magically managed to plow my way through writing Chapter 10 tonight, which means ya'll get Chapter 4, Part 1 a little earlier than I anticipated! I have to confess that I love the stupid banter between Bucky and Pocket. Their dumb playfulness is so #goals for me, lol. You've got a lot of fluff and such coming your way for a few chapters, meanwhile I'm at the point where I'm just writing all the angst and it is making me so sad. I subconsciously keep trying to fix it because I hate having them be at odds, but the story needs pain! And therefore I must make my babies suffer. Not right now, though. Right now is smut, smut, smut! Enjoy!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala

You sat in your office, head bent over the latest budget requests from your lab staff. You tended to be pretty generous when it came to project funding, but this $15 million request for a proposed shrink ray had to be some sort of a joke. Did they want a lawsuit from Pym Technologies? A knock on your door drew your attention away from the submission in front of you.

"Come in," you called out, putting the shrink ray proposal in your rejection pile. Bucky entered your office, flashing you a seductive smile as he closed and locked the door behind him.

Leaning back in your desk chair, you let your eyes rove over his frame as he walked toward you. He'd obviously just come from the gym, his muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat and his t-shirt clinging to his sculpted chest. The sight of him made your heart race, and you couldn't help but feel a now familiar heat building between your legs. He looked absolutely gorgeous. "You're not my GrubHub order," you teased.

"Not your GrubHub," he said, coming around to sit on the edge of your desk, "but I bet I can fill you up just as good."

You both stared at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter. "Oh my God, Barnes," you groaned, standing up and wrapping your arms around his neck. "That was absolutely awful." You kissed him, relishing the feel of his laughter against your mouth. "I can't believe I willingly let you put your dick in me, jokes like that."

Bucky's laughter faded into a heated gaze as his hands traveled up your sides, sending shivers down your spine. "Well," he whispered huskily, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear, "I'm glad you let me, because all I can think about is doing it again."

"Then it's a very good thing you locked that door," you whispered back, trying to ignore the wetness his words sent straight to your panties.

His fingers traced the outline of your jaw, his feather-light touch igniting a trail of desire along your skin. The familiar weight of his presence grounded you, drawing you closer. Together, like this, it was as if you were the only two people in the world, as if no one else existed.

"I've been thinking about you all day," Bucky confessed, his voice laced with a mixture of longing and hunger. "Couldn't focus on anything else but getting my hands on you."

"I've been right here." You took a hand and palmed him through his sweats. He was already rock hard, ready for you.

"Tease," he moaned, slotting his lips over yours again.

Your breath hitched as he kissed you, a surge of electricity coursing through your veins. The heat between you intensified with each kiss, fueling the fire that burned deep within. The taste of him was addictive, and you wondered how you had spent over a year in his company without kissing him before now.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling back from you. “I don’t have a condom. I could go get one, come back…”

You shook your head, not wanting to delay another moment. You knew the serum made him immune to catching or passing on any STIs, and you were clean. “I’m on the pill, Bucky,” you said, bringing your lips to his again. “And I wanna feel you. So fucking bad.”

“Thank God for modern fucking medicine,” he grinned.

Bucky's hands roamed over your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He expertly unbuttoned your blouse without taking his mouth from yours, revealing the soft curve of your breasts. His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

"You seem to have forgotten your bra, Pocket," he murmured before taking his mouth to your nipple, swirling his tongue around it and sucking gently. Your knees weakened at the sensation, and you gripped onto his shoulders for support.

"Mmm, Bucky," you moaned, arching your back as he switched his attention to your other breast, giving it the same lavish treatment. The wetness pooled between your thighs, leaving you aching for his touch.

He stepped back abruptly, his eyes dark with desire as he reached down to unbutton your skirt. "I've been dying to taste you," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

You eagerly stepped out of your skirt, revealing the black lace panties that barely covered your soaking slit. Bucky's gaze darkened further as he looked at you, hungrily taking in every inch of your exposed body.

"Fuck," he breathed, stepping closer to you "You wear these just for me?" You just smiled at him, biting your lower lip. You had worn them just for him, but he didn't need to know that. With one swift motion, he lifted you up and placed you on the edge of your desk. The cool wood felt delicious against your heated skin as Bucky hooked his fingers around the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs and stuffing them into the pocket of his pants.

"Thief," you chastised, but he only smirked at you as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his warm breath fanning across your slick folds as he hooked your legs over his shoulders.

You grasped the edge of the desk, your heart pounding in anticipation as he leaned forward and dipped his tongue between your swollen lips. A moan escaped you at the first touch of his velvety tongue against your throbbing clit. "Holy shit, Buck," you groaned. "Just like that."

"I knew you'd be delicious," he moaned into you.

Bucky's skilled tongue worked its magic, flicking and swirling with an expertise that sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your head fell back, exposing your neck as you surrendered yourself to the sensations he was evoking. Each lick and suck was like an electric shock to your core, building the tension coiling within you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer as he devoured you with an insatiable hunger. The intensity of his ministrations brought you to the edge faster than expected, the coil within you tightening with an urgency that demanded release. You whimpered, your moans growing louder with each pass of his tongue.

"Bucky," you panted, pulling on his hair to drag him up. "Bucky I need you. I need you right now." Your voice was desperate, your body craving the feel of his thickness inside you.

Bucky's eyes were filled with a predatory glint as he stood up, his lips glistening with the evidence of your arousal. He swiftly rid himself of his sweats, releasing his swollen, throbbing length that begged to be inside you. The air crackled with tension as he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You locked eyes with him, the intensity of your connection sparking a fire within you. "I want you inside me," you gasped, your voice filled with a desperate need.

Without any further warning, Bucky plunged into you with a force that stole your breath. The sensation of being filled by him, stretched and taken to the brink of reason, sent shock waves coursing through every nerve ending in your body. You cried out in ecstasy, the sound mingling with his own groan of pleasure.

"Jesus Christ, Pocket," he moaned, "you're so fucking tight."

He set a punishing pace, driving into you with a raw need that matched your own. The sensation of him sliding in and out of you sent sparks of delight shooting through your veins. Your hands clawed at his back, urging him to move faster, harder.

Each stroke hit that sweet spot deep within you, igniting fireworks in your body. The desk creaked beneath the force of your movements, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"Fuck," Bucky grunted, his hips slapping against yours with a primal intensity, "turn around."

He pulled out of you and flipped you, bending you over the desk before thrusting back into you from behind. The new angle allowed him to hit you deeper than before, and you could feel the tip of him kiss your cervix.

The desk continued to shake as Bucky pounded into you, the raw power behind each thrust pushing you closer to the edge of release. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your moans filling the air as ecstasy rippled through your body.

Sweat dripped down both of your bodies, glistening in the dim light of the office. The urgency between you was palpable, a desperate hunger that consumed every inch of your being. You could feel the tension building within you, coiling tighter and tighter.

"I'm...I'm so close," you managed to pant out, your voice strained with need. "Don't stop, Bucky."

He groaned in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his hips slamming against yours with an almost brutal force. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, drowning out any other noise.

Bucky's gaze bore into yours as you turned to look at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust and adoration. His grip on your hips tightened even further, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin as he pistoned in and out of you. The sensations he stoked within you built to an unbearable peak, threatening to consume you both.

With one final powerful thrust, Bucky sent you hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing as waves of bliss coursed through every fiber of your being. It was an explosion that left you breathless and trembling, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

Bucky followed suit, ropes of his spend spilling into you as he found his own release. He bent his body over yours, burying his face in the curve of your neck, his moans muffled against your skin as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing and the faint echo of your heartbeats pounding in your ears. Your bodies were entangled, sweaty and spent from the intense release that had just washed over you. Bucky's grip on your hips slowly loosened as he pulled out of you, his length slipping free with a wet sound.

ith a shaky sigh, you turned around and immediately collapsed back onto the desk, your legs trembling from the sheer euphoria that had consumed you moments ago. Bucky stood there, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were filled with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness as he looked down at you.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before moving to stand in front of you. His fingers gently brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped during your climax. You reached up, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing them to your lips for a gentle kiss.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I went a little harder than I meant to."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "No, Bucky. That was... incredible. You didn't hurt me, you made me feel amazing." You paused, looking up into his eyes, filled with genuine affection. "You always make me feel amazing."

His gaze softened, and he brushed his thumb against your cheekbone. You moved to hop down from your desk, but your knees gave out, refusing to hold you.

"Hey, I've got you," Bucky said with a laugh as he steadied you, supporting you as though you weighed nothing. He began slowly buttoning your shirt back up, then slid your skirt back up your thighs.

"I think you ruined my legs," you giggled as he planted a kiss on your navel before tucking your shirt back into your skirt.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said with a smirk as he straightened up.

You let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure you feel really bad about it," you grinned.

He leaned in close to your ear. "Not even a little bit," he whispered, as though it was a conspiratorial secret. God, just his proximity and the sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

"Looking to go for Round Two already, doll?" he asked you as he took in your physical response to him with a smug smile.

"I don't think my desk can take another go at the moment, or my legs, for that matter." You tried standing up again and were pleased to find that, though your knees were still weak, you were able to hold yourself upright. You glanced over to see Bucky watching you with a shit-eating grin. "You look a little too proud of yourself, you know."

"Tell me it's not fully deserved." He grinned at you like a mother fucking cat who had just found a saucer of cream. You rolled your eyes as you began picking up the avalanche of papers that had fallen from your desk to the floor. Bucky came around and bent over to help set your office back to rights.

Once everything was back in its proper place, you stood back to admire your work. No one would know that you'd been thoroughly railed here just a few minutes before. You watched as Bucky picked up the framed photo you kept of the two of you on your desk.

It was from your trip to the New York Botanical Gardens last winter. Bucky had confessed to you that, due to spending so much time on ice while under Hydra's control, he'd developed an intense hatred-- almost fear-- of cold weather. So, when a particularly brutal cold snap had him feeling exceptionally out of sorts, you'd taken him up to the Bronx to visit the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, where you spent the day meandering through the paths of the hothouse, surrounded by humidity and tropical plants as though you were in the middle of the rainforest. In the photo, Bucky stood next to you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, your hands hanging off of his forearm as he leaned into you and kissed your temple. Your face was scrunched up into a ridiculous smile.

"That was a great day," Bucky said, tracing the photo with a flesh finger. "I don't think I ever told you how much it meant to me, means to me, that you did that for me." His voice had dropped to something deeper, softer.

You felt something in your heart flutter at his words, the sensation new and a little frightening. The sensation made you nervous in a way you couldn't identify. "Buck," you said, swallowing thickly, "there's not much I wouldn't do for you. I hope you know that."

His crystal blue eyes bore into you as he looked at you, almost as though he was waiting for you to say something more. When you didn't, he let out a sigh and placed the photo back on your desk.

Looking back up at you, the intensity was gone from his gaze. "You hungry? I figure we must have burned enough calories to justify a big lunch." His cocky grin was back in place.

"Yeah, that sounds perfect," you said, linking your arm in his and patently ignoring the way the contact sent a swell of affection through your heart. "Let me pop into the bathroom to clean up, and then we're good to go."

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[tremendum]

twin suns ; striding behind you

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part four of the Twin Suns series  ;  prologue  ;  part i ; part ii ; part iii

pairing: au (canon-divergent), western-inspired Din Djarin x fem!bounty!reader (afab, w use of woman, girl, etc) rating: eventually explicit. slow slow burn. (18+. mdni.)  

warnings: canon-typical violence, allusions to past abuse, fear, descriptions of reader's injuries (there are a lot of them), dehydration and hunger (mention of eating), temporary blindness still, mean!Mando but also soft!Mando???, insecure reader (scars, etc), allusions to past assault and past SA(nondescript), brief mentions of trauma, slightly possessive themes, partial nudity, hints of a size kink. reader hates men <3.

synopsis:  “'aren't you used to danger, bounty hunter?' you spit, indignance sprouting from the rotting seed of your fear. his back is turned, but you still hear him. 'not the kind of danger that you are.'"

word count: 6.7k! 

notes: im back from the graveyard to post this next part! my Din brainrot is returning and ive been finding time between my two jobs to write more :) pls lmk if you like this installation! yay things are kind of picking up now wahoo

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every step forward draws a heated exhale from your marred lips.

the harsh desert winds carry whispers of sand across the vast expanse of Tatooine as the hunter leads you towards the distant silhouette of Boba Fett's palace; it stands menacing as you squint against the faintness of your sight.

your throat aches, your head pounds - each step, a creaking of your aching, dehydrated bones. the dunes you don't have to see to understand - they stretch endlessly, a canvas of muted browns and grays beneath the suns that reflect rays sharper than needles. 

'the journey is long, and the desert does not forgive hesitation.'

you grit your teeth, silently agreeing with the strange Rodian who had beckoned you towards the Diamyo's palace. it feels like your body is failing you under the intense heat; how the Mandalorian can stand it in so many layers is beyond you. but in your bitter moment of self-pity, you lose sight of the mounds of uneven terrain that billow below your boots, the heat beating down on your head so hard your eyes almost shut unwillingly as your feet meet resistance.

without warning, you find yourself falling forward - a billow of pain shoots through your wrist as your palms meet the abrasive sand.

your head pounds, dehydration and hunger taking its ravaging toll on you as you land. a soft gasp escapes your lips as the ground kisses you harshly, unforgivingly; a strike of panic over you as your twisted, marred hands are once again slammed against the weight of your body joined by the Hunter's binders. 

you're delirious - fear grips you in a way nothing ever has in your dehydrated state. a screaming ache in your throat and the throbbing in your skull coaxes your lips into the next sentence, your voice hoarse and scratchy. "if I could just have some water, please-" 

the footsteps in front of you halt in an almost menacing manner - wind echoes dauntingly in your ears as you brace for the expected harshness of a beskar-laden hand, your body tensing and ready for the impact of his hand.

all of the hunters reach their limit with you - he'd made it this far, without laying his hands on you; but they all do, at one point or another. you can only hope it doesn't go further.

his voice from days ago echo in your mind. there are far worse people in the galaxy that could have gotten to you.

"s-sorry." you stutter, pulling yourself to your knees and holding your marred hands out to protect your face should he lash out.

you yourself are surprised by the very real fear that is dousing your twisted spine in a wash of ice - but the Mandalorian is already furious by the interruption of returning you for bounty twice; one more step out of line like this and he may just kill you himself. 

you really are delirious. you think, perhaps, you've been too outlandish in your capture. he's not the kind that will break by your snide comments or sly ploys for escape. perhaps submission - you grit your teeth at the mere thought, like a wild stallion bucking in fear of a stable - is the sole way for you to survive.

to escape. 

there's a pause in the air, a moment of suspended anticipation - one in which you shield your face from him further for fear. yet the expected rebuke, the cold demand for resilience, does not materialize, and instead you bathe in a hot, heavy silence that sparks just enough fight in you to try again. 

you slump back on your haunches, eyes shutting as you swallow through sandpaper. "I need water. just a sip, sir, please-" 

"-stop." he orders suddenly, voice surprisingly strained and harsh. your eyes open and you're met with a burning glare, his armor deflecting the immediate rays as he stands over you and observes - a weak being, cuffed and on her knees to beg for water. 

your heart thunders wildly as he pulls a moleskin pouch from the depths of his cape and holds it out for you. "-and call me Mando." he orders, voice still strange. nodding, your hands shoot up to grab at it, your throat singing and dust catching in the crooks of your eyes as you let out a sigh of thanks, a slight whimper that almost loses itself to the commotion of your shaking fingertips. 

the pouch falls to the sand between your knees as you let out a breath of disbelief - in your weakness, you'd fumbled it.  "I'm sorry, I-" 

"-it's okay." he says quickly, a gloved hand raising the pouch from the dust to hold up to your lips. the uncomfortableness of his voice is forgotten instantly as the liquid breaches your open lips.

the water is - by contrast to everything else around you - so pure and clean that you almost start to cry. 

it trickles into your dry mouth and you greedily suck it down your esophagus, hands rising to cup the back of the pack and tilt it slightly, wary not to squeeze and take the whole of its contents. 

the breath you take after several gulps of water is like waking up in a meadow of fresh fruits, flowers, a cold pond at your fingertips. you let out a shaky laugh, swallowing another sip offered to you by your captor. "thanks." you say, resigning to the realization that the only way he reacted was when you were desperate - on the verge of collapsing. 

disdain coils in you.

slowly, you feel strong gloved hands encircle your shoulders, guiding you back to a standing position. the Mandalorian's touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the ruthless reputation that preceded him - a stark contrast to the experience of the last days in captivity.

you're once again left with the bitter confusion of a rug being pulled from beneath you as the hunter pulls a few pieces of jerky from his utility belt, holding them out tersely. 

your hands dart out to grab them quick as the lizards that skitter into their hideaways when your bootsteps near. you stay like that, eating the jerky like a rabid animal and taking a few sips of water that the Hunter offers you intermittently, avoiding the unyielding armor that can't mask the underlying patience in the Mandalorian's actions. 

a few minutes of terse silence and your stomach less nauseated, the Mandalorian starts suddenly, making you jump back in habit. he doesn't strike you; instead, he removes the thick cowl off his own neck and reaches towards you.

he must see your confusion, apprehension - because he stops, sighing. "you need to cover these wounds up. the exposed sun is not good for them. we will get them mended at the palace." he explains, voice evenly as he starts to lay the thick fabric over your conjoined wrists, wrapping so your skin is no longer exposed. 

you don't know what to say - but he gives you no time to think as he turns and starts off towards the palace in the distance once again. you follow him in shock, blinking down at the faint outlines of your arms, mimicking his stride though in much shorter steps.

as you trudge behind him, protected from direct sunlight through his bulking, massive frame, you grin bitterly - you've become the man's own shadow this time, striding behind him in the light of the afternoon.

the rest of the trek is plagued with silence. you'd expected cruelty, a reinforcement of a status as a captive - but instead, there was a curious patience, an unexpected kindness that left you questioning the man who strides in front of you, helmet occasionally craning to his right to check on the floating pod containing the child that floats by his hip.

he should be furious. you're nothing more than a burden -  the sudden moment of patience a shock from the cold exterior that has you staring in disbelief at your boots. what had changed? the answer eludes you as you follow him, disoriented in more ways than one. The Mandalorian's actions, or lack thereof, became a puzzle; you can't see the expression on his face, but the absence of anger resonates through the silence between you.

until he decides to slow his pace, turning his helmet to the right. "it wasn't my intention to starve you." he says, voice stoic and almost awkward. "I often forget that others do not eat when they are concealed." 

he looks away. "if it happens again, remind me." 

you swallow, lifting your head. an odd request. you'd seen glimpses of this bizarre kindness within him - gently stroking the child's ear, bringing you in to his ship after the wreckage and ensuring you stayed upright and didn't let the blood swell in your brain. letting you rest in his cot. 

most of these things, means to your end. 

perhaps it's this moment that gives you the clarity to vie for an ounce of freedom. 

"uncuff me." you say, voice sounding much less meek now that life has been breathed back into your sore lungs. if he has any emotions, your blindness renders you too incapacitated to notice them. he doesn't stop his stride, but he does turn his head. 

"no." he says it as if you're stupid.

you sigh, straining to push your shorter legs faster in order to catch up to him and the floating pod. you're not fully discouraged, despite his demeanor.  "you know I'm too weak to do anything." you insist. "it'll do you good to uncuff me before we see the Diamyo." you warn, straightening your spine as he turns slightly, pace slowing until you're just a step behind him, still pushing to keep up. 

"is that so?" he asks, sounding completely uninterested. your innards churn at his tone, your tongue running over your teeth before you nod. "I show no risk anymore. he'll find me if you don't find me first." and it's the honest truth.

silence for a moment.

"you're danger." he utters, as if the two words explain it all. you sneer at him behind his back. "aren't you used to danger, bounty hunter?" you spit, the indignance growing once again, sprouting from the rotting seed of your weakened fear only minutes ago. 

his back is turned, but you still hear it. "not the kind of danger that you are." 

you stare at the faint shadow of him, unsure of what to say. it's silent, the shifting sands beneath your feet echoing the enigma of your chains, the impending danger that awaits you once the Hunter has returned you for the bounty.

now on slightly more steady legs, you can't help but wonder what kind of man lurks behind the unyielding armor—a question that remains unanswered as the walls of the palace rise through the dune sea. 

you reach the impending building as the suns cast your shadow and the Mandalorian's far behind you.

your footsteps echo through the halls of the palace, your body cooling slowly. The Mandalorian pushes past the droids who tried to guide you; he makes turns and walks down the stairs with too much confidence.

with an inkling of trepidation in your heart, you feel as though he's been here before - it does not bode well for you.

as you stumble after him, the burns upon your skin ache slightly and you fight to see with the dim lighting. 

but soon, you're walking into a great space, the air of which you can feel upon your beaten shoulders as you let your arms, still swathed by the Hunter's cloak, fall to clasp against your restraints. 

there's a large platform of slabbed cement before you in the faint light that leaks through cracks of the shades on the opposite of the throne room. 

two figures shrouded in the darkness of your blind vision watch you and your captor enter. the one on the throne is bulky - bulkier than you remember the cloaked figure of Boba Fett to be, though as your gaze flickers to the more feminine figure perched on the arm of the throne, you know this is not him either. 

your footsteps fall silent in front of them, and soon a droid is announcing the Diamyo of Mos Espa, Boba Fett. 

you blink heavily - as if this would wipe the mugginess of your vision as the figure sits forward slightly and your heart drops.

the man in front of you, Boba Fett - fully clad in beskar armor and a helmet so similar to your captor's that you nearly consider turning and running. 

you try to mask your shock. Fett's Mandalorian? confusion and fear shock up your spine. 

panic strikes heavy in your heart as you and the Hunter stand completely silent and still, your heart thrashing frantically. Boba Fett - in Mandalorian armor... confusion must lace your features, because hands faintly rise up from the shadow of the Daimyo, and a moment later he removes his helmet with a soft hiss. 

you suck in a breath as the scarred, familiar face comes into view just barely under the lighting and you're almost certain that his eyes land on you. 

"it's been a while." he says. 

his voice is the same as you remember, and the fear stuck in your throat quells only slightly at his greeting. 

"yes." you agree, jumping in shock when the low, deep voice of the Hunter speaks at the same time as you - "it has." 

bewildered, you shoot a sideways glance to the Mandalorian beside you.

your inkling was correct, Mando must know Boba Fett too.

you swallow shakily, knowing how terribly this seals your fate - of course they know each other. apparently, Boba Fett is a Mandalorian now - for all you know, they could have been raised together. 

but the Hunter's helmet has shot a similarly shocked glance towards you and for a brief moment, you stare into the t-visor of your captor. 

in a bout of fear and anger you turn, meeting the gaze of the man who had once been your savior. from what you can make out, the years had carved lines on his face more than when you'd last seen him, and you faintly wonder how different you look to him. 

you had been, after all, just a child back then. 

you speak again, a mixture of nerves and trepidation in your voice. "sir. I didn't think I'd see you again. even when I came on-planet."

Boba Fett's head inclined slightly, a nod that spoke of the gravity of the situation. "times change. I wouldn't have summoned you here if it weren't necessary."

you're sure your eyes held for a moment, the unspoken understanding passing between you. it had been a long time. 

the Mandalorian crosses his arms from beside you. "what business do you have with us?" the hunter speaks up, clearly tired of the stiff small talk. "do you want the puck?" 

this had been your fear, too. Fett could have easily summoned you to the palace to buy your bounty from the Mandalorian; he has good enough reason to buy you to his custody.

yet at the Hunter's words, you swear you see a twinge of confusion from the two: Fett shifts, as does the figure to his side - a silhouette which, with the grace of her helmet sitting below them in a ray of bright light, you finally recognize as the sharpshooter Fennec Shand. you'd heard of her in town during your time on the run. 

"I have favors to call in." he says simply. your heart pounds twice as heavy at the mention of the favors- yes, he does. he is owed a lifetime of favors from you.

but the hunter is not so swayed. 

"call them in later. I have problems to attend to." he sounds impatient, voice laced with the strain of a time crunch.

Boba stares at him, leaning elbows on his thickly armored thighs. "you and your lady friend here," he nods towards you sardonically, "are in a bind, am I correct?"

you gape in offense at his casual tone, addressing you as anything other than a captive - irritation floods your face but is soon replaced with a strike of fear fluttering down your spine, worried of the Hunter's reaction to such vocabulary. 

"I don't play games with my bounties." his voice sounds equally irritated as you feel. it's final - deep as it exits his helmet. your stomach flips. 

you almost snap back - that's a lie, Mando. you and I both know it - but, for fear of speaking out of turn, and for fear of the man before you, you stay silent.

"bounty?" the silhouette sits forward and a plaited length of dark hair swings into your faint vision.

the room is suddenly plagued with a pregnant silence that you don't dare break, your mind churning.

did they not know of the situation you've found yourself in?

"she has a bounty on her head." the hunter says finally, as if surprised that they were not privy to this information. you shift on your feet, your head still pounding, eyes sore from straining to see in such dim light. your whole body aches.

"she may be a bit worse for wear, but she doesn't look like a prisoner to me." Shand retorts, nodding to your figure. 

at the woman's words, you huff a bitter laugh. worse for wear - you'd be surprised if you have more bones intact than dislocated right now - you're blind, you have a nasty hydraulic burn on your cheek..

you shake the cowl off your arms, revealing the cuffs which bound you as the fabric drops to a heap at your boots. you barely glance down at them before back up as Fett lets out a low hum. both heads upon the throne shift to the man beside you. 

"you have nerve, Mando, bringing a bounty into my palace," Boba Fett remarked, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence. to your shock, Mando inclines his helmeted head in a nod. "she's more trouble than she's worth." you instinctively shoot Mando a withering look but before you can defend yourself, he continues. "when you summoned us, I assumed it was to pay her bounty."

Fennec Shand - ever observant - leans forward slightly, her sharp eyes finding yours somehow through the mist. she seems more interested in you than in the talk of the Daimyo's business.

"last we heard of you, you were supposedly walking free. stirring trouble." she tilts her head, revealing her eyes in a panel of light. the insinuation makes you chuckle bitterly. defiantly, you stare back. "then your people in town got it wrong. I was never free. I've been a captive since I set foot on this planet, even before him." 

Fennec raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Boba that even you don't miss. "our messenger mentioned he saw her just a few days ago with your speeder," Fennec remarks, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism as she focuses on Mando this time. "that doesn't sound like a well retained bounty."

you stifle a laugh at that, craning your head away from Mando to conceal your smirk as a feeling of triumph fleetingly passes over your body. you recall the anger that'd seeped through the Mandalorian when you'd tricked him, taken his speeder - then, found the child... 

"ma'am, to be fair, it took him a long time to find me. I can be very slippery when I want to be." you say coyly, highly aware of the cold stare from beside you. 

"-after all, the line between lawmen and the outlawed can be deceiving." you send a pointed look towards the wall of beskar on your side.

a sharp silence through the room; tension thick in the air as a strike of fear gloats among your abdomen. what kind of pendulum swing is your attitude on recently? 

"Mando." Boba addresses the man, causing the aforementioned to nod, shifting his weight. the throbbing of your head is gradually increasing once again and you find yourself in desperate need of a sip of water, and maybe a few hours of rest. 

"I didn't expect to have to cash in on the favors owed to me, but times have changed." he shrugs, "I hear the Crest's seen better days. I can help with the ship. in return, clean slate. functional vessel. and no more pirates."

in a swift moment of realization, your eyes widen. you aren't the only one with favors owed to Boba - this was about you and Mando, separately. he truly had no idea you were his bounty.

your surprise is short lived as he continues speaking, the pirates echoing in your mind. your eyes flicker at the mention and you can't help but shoot a glance sidelong at your captor, once again unable to read his helmet. uncertainty swirls in your gut; the Maracavanians are more than just one ship, and you know they will likely stop for very little to find you.

you are, after all, very valuable to them. the looming threat of their presence haunts you, bearing weight on your tired shoulders. your head pounds. 

"-in return," Boba Fett continued, "I need your skills - both of you. when I sent for you, I was not aware of the bounty on your head, nor the hand that held the tracker. there's a settlement on the edge of the Outer Rim. they've found some trouble with some smugglers calling themselves the Ivory Cartel; they're pushing the spice trade back into the area, and the Marshall needs help bringing them back in line."

Din's helmet tilted slightly. "I don't do charity."

Boba Fett chuckles, the sound reverberating in the room as you shift on your feet. "we've been through this song and dance before, haven't we?"

the Mandalorian crosses his arms, but says nothing.

Boba continues, "I hear you're intimately familiar with the area, Mando. Freetown."

the irony of the settlement name is not lost on you, and you can't help the scoff you let out as you cross your arms. you hear the short exhale that escapes the helmet the same time as you, but cannot decipher what it means. 

"Marshall Vanth mentioned you know each other." silence spurs him on, "only a few days, then you can turn her in. I'll ensure you have safe passage - no one coming after you. we'll consider it a debt paid in full."

you expected this; for as long as you've known the man before you on the throne, you wouldn't exactly say he is your biggest ally; in fact, part of him would surely love to see you rot in a cell. and you can't blame him. 

yet this seems like some sort of mercy - for him to not just take your bounty off of Mando's hands and immediately turn you in to the several other vying parties. indeed, that would benefit him well, and it'd likely satisfy the Mandalorian. they'd be rich beyond what they could imagine if they turned you in to the Maracavanya. 

the thought itself makes you feel ill. 

fear of your fate should you fall into the captivity of the Maracavanians grips you, far more deadly than when you will be taken by Mando to whoever casted your puck.

this fear, gripping your skull and breathing its evil thoughts into your mind, drives you to step forward slightly. "and what guarantee do we have that you'll uphold your end of the deal?"

the visor next to you stares in surprise at your words and you hold your gaze forward, steadfast. to an outsider, you imagine it is odd for a bounty to agree to be turned in after such desperation to escape; though knowing Fett as you once did - and after what you did back then - what the Macaravanya would do to you if you were their captive... you shiver, fear gripping your throat. 

your life is owed to the man before you, no matter what your past says. and if your life is to end soon - and it very well may depending on who has cast your bounty - you'd like to have paid most of your debts out by the end.  

Boba Fett's gaze shifts to you through the dim of your vision. "my word is my bond. you of all people should do well to remember this."

your face burns, chin dropping to your chest. the Mandalorian remains silent for a moment, contemplating the proposition - after all, you're his captive, and you'll have to go with whatever he decides. the weight of the favors owed hang in the air, memories of a young girl stranded on a desolate planet with a pack wrapped around her middle, her brother stumbling behind her, men in all grey following with whooping sounds as they stumbled over tumbleweeds to get away. a cloaked figure and blinding pain-

finally, the Hunter nods, speaking and pulling you from your thoughts. "fine. we do the job, our debts are settled."

Boba Fett inclined his head, acknowledging the agreement. "you'll leave in the morning."

you send a meek nod to him, feeling once again faint, as though the strenuous walk has caught up to the rest of your body, which is still reeling from the water and jerky after so long without it. 

you're escorted, after a brief hesitance by your captor, away from the group; with a grumble of irritation from the armored giant and a rough few pokes on his vambrace by gloved fingers, your bound wrists fell free, the skin marred and blistering.

fear flares up in your stomach as a droid brings you down several twisted hallways and staircases. what are they speaking of without you?

were they talking about you? 

surely there isn't much the Mandalorian doesn't know about you, depending on how much of your information was on your bounty profile, but Fett knows many things about you others don't. a darkness coils through your veins, lingering in the back of your mind; a steady reminder to trust no one. no friends but tumbleweeds. 

perhaps you had overestimated the reach of Tatooine's rumor mill. or, perhaps, you really were that good at hiding. and the Hunter was that good at hunting. 

the thought doesn't make you feel any better. 

you enter a room where the droid gestures to the large glass in the center of the room; your eyes widen, taking in the large bacta tank, inviting and horrifying the same. 

on the other side of the room, a refresher awaits, and the droid instructs you to use what you need and it will provide you the bacta process to ensure you have a restful healing.

you stare, shocked, between the droid and the tank; things like these cost an unimaginable amount of credits. you bite your lip.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you start to flush, "I don't have enough credits, I-" 

"nonsense," the droid speaks, its voice oddly comforting, maternal. "Master Fett has requested our guests are healed and take as much time as necessary. you will need your strength and health." 

you blink, stomach flipping with nerves. "okay," you whisper, padding slowly across towards the fresher and sealing yourself inside. 

your heart pounds, stress pulsing through you. it takes you forty-five seconds to even bring your eyes up to your reflection, your nails digging hard into your dusty, pained palms. 

it's horrible. truly. 

faintly, you wonder if it's just the residual blindness that makes you look so awful. maybe the shadows under your eyes aren't as prevalent in full vision - or the cuts and bruises that show evidence of the crash landing on your skin. 

to be fair, you look still like yourself - same eyes, same skin, same scarf concealing most of your hair, save the sticky tendrils which glued themselves to your forehead and mouth on your trek. but your face; it's gaunt, absent of the life it used to have. your eyes look empty, your features splintered by a broken nose which holds a crusted bloody split across the center. 

your cheekbone similarly has a cut that's swelled one eye socket, a bruise blossoming and singing of broken vessels of blood within your eye. your hands, as they rise to touch your aching face, are mangled and horrifying. dry, caked with dirt in the splits over your palm, your knuckles are sticking out in an unnatural pattern. the hydraulic burn you'd sustained on your cheek is raw and angry still, exposure to the suns making it rough and bloodied. 

fuck, you will need this bacta is you're to help pay off your debt. you can't help the inkling of curiosity as to what it is that the Mandalorian owes Fett for - he doesn't seem the type to run off for secondary missions when he has his bounties. especially, you think with a smirk, bounties as irritating and conniving as you've been. 

it is extremely odd, this new situation. 

you're sure this has not once happened to the Mandalorian before, judging by his reaction: obligated to work alongside one of his bounties - who has willingly agreed - in order to earn ship repair to turn her in. 

you squeeze your eyes shut, bewildered by the complexity of the situation; you're overcome once again with the urge to run, run, run. 

run.

you snap your eyes open, staring into the mirror again. 

your body screams of exhaustion, lack of sleep, hunger, pain. a surge of sadness floods over you at the realization that you've looked like this far before crossing paths with the Mandalorian.

this cycle is nothing new. it may be the oldest thing in the book.

in fact, considering how the last few stints went with other hunters went - horrifyingly, though you always ended up the one holding the smoldering blaster - the Mandalorian has been uncharacteristically considerate. 

so unimbued by your teasing. irritated constantly, serious - but admirably capable. dangerous. your eyes again find the ugly scar that cuts jaggedly across your cheek, towards your jaw. it was an injury done to you just to do so, by the last hunter who tried to take you. he'd done worse afterwards; all the injuries will last with you forever.

cruelty for the sake of it. 

despite who he is, you can't find it in yourself to believe your current captor would ever do such a thing. 

imposing, intimidating, gruff - yes, but he never threatened you more than empty words; even though you know how easily he could snap your arm (or neck). he didn't seem to want to inflict pain.

you think of his little green companion, with its kind eyes and soft babbles. the way he runs his gloved fingers over the wiry hair atop its head, soothing its ears.  

then, when he'd left you alone on his ship; sure, it was wrecked and you were in the middle of nowhere, but he'd still left you. given you privacy. 

you glare at the ground - no. 

the memory of his hand slamming against the carbonite freezer echoes in your mind, your words - "you're a bad man." you whisper mirthlessly. "I don't deserve this."

no man is kind. no bounty hunter is fair. 

with a growl of irritation, you slide the door open, peering out into the room before you. it's quiet, the afternoon sun streaming through the curtains of the open stone windows, flickering over the tank in the center. a set of towels your size sit next to the tank. the droid is gently preparing tubes and a small breathing mechanism as the bacta moves in the glass. 

the liquid, viscous and beckoning you like a mirage in the dead heat of the plains outside. 

you haven't been in water in months - years, maybe. sonic showers got the job done, removed dirt and grime and oil, but you haven't felt really clean in so long it almost brings tears to your eyes. before you can think again, your voice cracks out, shy and meek. 

"I'm ready." 

when you wake up, the suns are nearly setting. 

your body glows a hue of orange from the dying light, dripping with the liquid you'd just emerged from. the droid towels you off and you note the sweet, small markings alongside her collar, small paintings of flowers.

it's because of this that you realize with a sharp inhale - "I can see!" you gasp, flexing your fingers instinctively and feeling a wash of freedom when no shooting pain or stiffness prevents the action. 

you feel as though you've been reborn. 

the droid pulls a chest band over your flush, healthy skin. nothing but pinking scars and a few light colored bruises. "how do you feel, ma'am?" she asks you. you smile at her just as she hands you a pair of underwear, folded tunic, and trousers. "I feel wonderful. thank you." you respond, tugging on the underwear. 

you stare down at the dark gray color of your tunic, tilting your head- but before you can ask, the droid assures you your own clothes are being cleansed and repaired for you to have back. 

you nod, feeling naked still without any concealment of your hair or face - it seems, after so long on the run, you've forgotten that the items were not sewn to your skin, a part of you. 

the droid leaves you to collect yourself, telling you it will prepare you supper to eat in the palace hall. slowly, you let your joints stretch, taking in a deep, long breath for the first time in ages without feeling the stabbing pain of broken ribs.

gone are the dizzy spells, the fogginess that had plagued you since hitting your head. 

with a small laugh of disbelief, you pull the tunic over your head with no pain - your hair drips down your spine as you comb through it, padding with a sudden shock of clear vision towards the mirror.

closing yourself halfway into the fresher, you stare at your reflection; a healthy glow on your cheeks, clean, a hint of a smile. you nearly tear up, feeling fresh, free from physical pain. there are no blisters or bruises from the binders. 

with a smile, you take a step out of the bathroom in search of the trousers you'd left, discarded on table you'd woken from. you let yourself hum a short tune, something from your childhood that your brother had loved. 

but a hulking figure across the room makes you stop short.

your eyes widen as a rush of shock floods through you. 

to his credit, the Mandalorian looks just as caught off guard as you feel, if his body language is anything to tell. 

he stands, alarmed, with one hand holding the trousers you'd left, one holding a removed blaster and his lasso. with a quick glance over to the tank, there is larger preparations, a large microfiber towel, much larger than the one used for you, folded next to it.

oh. 

a beat passes. 

then another. you start to feel warm, cheeks flaring in heat as your gaze flickers from the visor, cold and staring, down to the trousers in his hand. you are suddenly aware of your exposed skin.

"um," you say brilliantly. 

but before you can say anything else equally as riveting, the droid rolls into the room and nearly shrieks. "oh, ma'am, I'm terribly sorry- thought you'd already gone downstairs-" 

you swallow so thickly you're surprised you don't choke, the warm breeze in the dying evening sunlight sending cascades of goosebumps over your exposed legs. you ignore the rolling heat that tumbles down your body as the helmet moves ever so slightly down your frame. excitement sends the sensation even deeper - but you shake the thoughts away. that's an emotion you'll deal with probably never.

the Mandalorian snaps alive, taking two lumbering strides towards you, holding the trousers to you stiffly. "I assume these are yours." his voice sounds almost pained.

you swallow dryly, nodding, "y-yes." you squeak, feeling hot under his stare. 

"-so sorry, sir, I apologize-" the droid was still panicking - you think it odd until you get a feeling Mandalorians wouldn't like even droids to see them without helmet. let alone, their annoying bounties who now have to work with them against a cartel in some forgettable dust town.

you wonder if the same goes for armor.

but he waves the droid off, "I can take it from here, thank you." his voice is terse; disdain leaking through the baritone.

you awkwardly take the moment to slide the trousers over your legs, bending quickly to save at least a bit of dignity as you do the clasps and zipper, eyes avoiding the tall statue before you. 

the droid, still wailing apologies, wheels from the chamber, bathing the two of you in a strikingly thick air as you stare down at your boots. you watch as his own boots shift their weight just a few steps from you. 

"you look..." he seems to lose his words as you look up at him, stomach flipping. "-healthy." his fingers twitch by his sides. you feel shockingly flustered as you clear your throat, "I need to take better care of myself." you joke, the words falling flat and sounding more pathetic than humorous in delivery, "just glad I can recognize myself again. well- I can see, too, which is even better." your voice squeaks as you trail off, butting off your anxious ramble.

he doesn't respond to that, but he does clear his own throat. "have you eaten?" he asks, voice strained. you clear your head, "no- no, that's where I was about to go..." you trail off, cheeks aflame as you look up at the helmet. he makes a noncommittal noise, turning away. "well, if you don't mind-" 

you shake your head, "not at all." you say quickly, taking great strides towards the exit, not turning back as you scramble away. 

the Mandalorian doesn't look at you the rest of the evening. 

you can't tell if it's out of embarrassment, shame, or anger at the prospect of having to work with you; no matter, you're relieved at the absence of that piercing, emotionless stare. 

you eat much too fast, due to the crawling hunger in your stomach, and have to later fight to keep it down; though the rest of the night is spent relaying plans for transportation and communication with Fett and Shand, you standing awkwardly in a corner and being referenced as the bounty by your captor. 

you wonder if he can feel the glare you shoot at the back of his helmet. 

by morning, you feel more refreshed than you have in years, despite your captivity. the more you think of it, and the more that clock ticks in the back of your mind, the more willing you are to stay on-planet, to waste time. 

perhaps you could miss the trial all together, if nobody finds you first. you let yourself wonder, as you stand to the side and observe Mando strapping supplies to the back of the speeder, what would happen if you missed the trial. 

surely, you'd still be wanted. an outlaw is an outlaw, no matter the date on the galactic calendar. 

but would it be safer for you? depending on the verdict. there are plenty on both sides who would pay heavily to see your body buried in the Wasteland, no doubt. 

"hey." Mando's voice is terse and vexed. your eyes snap up to meet the helmet, which glints harshly under the morning suns. "let's go." he orders, gesturing behind him where a space remains for you.

you think back to that first night; your desperate attempt at escape, feigning sleep and then sprinting off into the dark desert. 

you slide onto the back, leaving as much space as possible between you and the Hunter, his jetpack hard against your chest. you opt to hold it instead of his torso as he kicks up the speeder, the child tucked into the bag at his hip. 

"did you get enough to eat?" he asks, voice louder over the noise of the speeder. you swallow, unease leaking into you at the tone of his voice - it's alarmingly like the tone he used when he'd fed you back in the desert. like he was making sure you wouldn't have to nearly pass out again for him to remember to feed you. 

it makes you wonder how often he eats or drinks himself.

it makes you wonder why you even care.

you nod, "I did." 

he sends you a terse nod in response and as he starts to speed off, the wind whips over your scarf. you tie it under your jaw, the long bandana secured. heat finds you like an old, unwanted friend and you already feel tired; you rest your hot cheek against the metal of the beskar jetpack, hoping he cannot feel it. you're instantly cooled down, relief flooding through you. 

the speeder hums beneath you, kicking up plumes of sand - your eyes, alight with the fresh relief of unfiltered sight, scan the horizon, taking in the harsh beauty of Tatooine's desolate expanse. rocky outcrops jutting from the sandy dunes, casting short shadows in the midday suns. the sky above is painted with hues of blue, a stark contrast to the unforgiving landscape below. 

you steal another glance at the Mandalorian's back. thankfully, he has resumed his tense, stoic silence behind his helmet, his focus fixed on the path ahead. there's a quiet determination, a silent strength - the same one that had initially inclined you to play such luring games with your Hunter in the first place. 

a determination that makes you want to do it again, despite everything.

you think of how naive you were just days ago - had you ever really expected to get away from him? or, the whole time, have you just been waiting for him to finally get to you?

the thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

hours pass on the speeder with intermittent stops to stretch your legs or sip water. the baby insists on babbling to you any chance he gets - an endearing sight, as he waddles over the mounds of sand to climb up onto your boot.

the gentle smile that graces your lips after asking permission silently from the Hunter to hold the little goblin.

the child's endless eyes stare up at you from the bag at the hunter's side when you're back on the speeder, and you supply him with a finger to hold on to.

you can't shake the whirlwind of confusion swirling within you - what had started as a fateful capture in the wake of your euphoric game had morphed into a nightmare capture, which has now evolved into a reluctant alliance - a ceasefire of sorts forged by circumstances beyond your control.

whatever Mando had for Boba to cash in on must have been just as serious as what he'd done for you - or, rather, what you'd done to him. regret and guilt snake through your veins, black and greedy and painful.

you stare down in regret, trying to map out a way to escape the clutches of the man before you as the lines between captor and collaborator blur in the shifting sands of fate.

you had been running for so long - elusive and cunning, the closest to free you'd been in years - until you got too egotistical. all those weeks ago, why did you have to taunt him so? 

happy hunting, Mando. 

you're a fool. a fated, heartless fool with too large an ego. 

as the speeder surges onward, you lean back, letting the rush of the wind and the rhythmic hum of the engine drown your thoughts. the heat bears down on you. 

in the distance, a bundle of buildings emerge, wavy through heat - at first, you thought it a mirage. 

Freetown.  

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