#What is it that when I see light and dark my mind immediately screams 'SHIP'

[retro-memo]

My friend: recommends me an anime called Link Click

Me when I watch it and see the way Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang interact: No, I can't ship the main characters already, it's only been about two episodes. Just because the one has light hair (prefers that questions aren't asked) and dark hair (who questions a lot) doesn't mean they're like Aziraphale and Crowley, don't queerbait yourself-

'Whenever I pass to you, that represents my trust in you'

'How precious would it be to be trusted partners for life?'

Yeah, I broke at that :)

Also, the episode 3 to 5 arc broke me and left me crying on the floor.

(THEN THE BEGINNING OF EPISODE 6 BASICALLY GOING LIKE 'AND THEY AREN'T TALKING')

[sailoryooons]

Carmen | pjm x kth (m)

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x Human!Taehyung

☾ Summary: Taehyung gets lured to an exclusive club by a strange, enchanting woman. What finds him there is much more intoxicating and dangerous. 

☾ Word Count: 10,277

☾ Genre: Supernatural, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Hypnotized/compelled decisions and thoughts, implied manipulation, Taehyung is influenced a lot by the natural power/allure of vampires and it scatters his thoughts/makes him do things he normally wouldn’t, depictions of blood, intimidation, The Vibes Are Off, light depictions of anxiety, vampires showing off humans like pets sort of, biting/marking/bruising, explicit language, explicit sexual content, not using lube, spit play/using spit as lube, light degradation, blood play/drinking, rough sex, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving), hand jobs, ass play, a lot of feelings and sensations, mentions of fear during sex, references to subspace, feeling overwhelmed during sex, crying, power dynamics but not explicitly dom/sub, blood lust, feeding frenzy, feelings of terror, Jimin calls Taehyung ‘Carmen’ sometimes - it makes sense in context, Taehyung is lured to the vampire den, implied obsessive themes (no stalking or anything), hair pulling, voyeurism, scenes of carnage and like a feed frenzy, terror at the end of fucking, idk its a vampire coven and Taehyung realizes whats happening at the very end so. 

☾ Published: October 27, 2023

☾ A/N: Happy Halloween to my baby bat @gimmethatagustd. I love you eternally, and I hope that we live a long and immortal life together. Please accept this as my love for you and I hope I am actually with you when this drops so that you can start screaming at me for hiding the fact that this fic was for you the entire time sofidjfogidjf. Also, Happy Early Birthday. I love you so much it’s actually disgusting and I need to be institutionalized. LARGELY UNEDITED SORRY. 

☾ A/N 2: If mem x mem isn't your thing - literally just don't read it. It is that easy. This is not me being a shipper - it is fiction and I do not believe in shipping people in a real-life setting. Thanks.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Tag List | Song Inspiration | BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween Collab

The boys, the girls They all like Carmen -Carmen, Lana Del Ray

Taehyung knows the woman at the back of the lounge wants to take him home before his first song is over. He’s become better at picking them out early. Of course, most of the men and women want to take Taehyung home, especially when starts singing the slower, romantic ballads. He can see the way they sigh, melting in their seats a little, eyes wide and mouth open. 

It’s hard to pinpoint what makes his eyes keep straying back to her. She is beautiful, to be sure, but something is pressing in Taehyung’s mind as he starts his set, drawing his eyes back to her. Like an invisible hand guiding him each time, reminding him that she is there and watching. 

She stares at him with a pinpoint focus, her dark eyes tracking Taehyung on the stage as he walks slowly, mic in hand and singing the notes softly. His eyes keep drifting back to her, trying to make out her features. All he can garner is that her eyes are alluring and even from a distance, she emanates something. Huger. Power.

It makes his stomach flip. Taehyung likes those who want him, but he loves those who crave him. Usually, it’s the men who are hungry enough for Taehyung to chase him. To go after what they want. To whisper pretty compliments until Taehyung is so lavished in attention that he goes home with them. 

The woman at the back of the room looks like she can charm him - will charm him. It makes his lips turn upward as he croons softly into the mic, feeling the music of the band behind him swell, jazzy notes drifting. 

He loves this. His mother told him that he was born to sing. Her little songbird. His mother is dead now, but he lives on through each velvet note, warm voice pouring over the patrons who watch him with dazed expressions. 

Taehyung feels powerful this way. He could lead them all around the room, he’s sure of it. He could get them up, one by one, and lead them straight into destruction. He’s sure of it. 

Except for that woman at the back of the room, whose presence scrambles Taehyung’s thoughts. He finds it hard to perform, her presence like a weighted stone on his thoughts at all times. He nearly messes up the words to a few songs he is so enchanted. 

Still, he does well. La Vie is one of Taehyung’s favorite places to perform. The clientele is high-end, the staff likes to give him free food and drink along with a decent amount of cash for his performances, and he’s growing a steady income here. 

The only problem with La Vie is that its clientele are often repeat customers, and Taehyung has grown weary of seeing the same faces he’s taken to bed already. The faces who think they own him now, who think that just because they’ve had a taste, they can have a fit whenever his eyes stray in another direction.

And his eyes do stray. 

In the middle of his set, Taehyung takes a cool sip of water while the band plays a fast tune. He nods his head, feeling the rhythm and snapping his fingers. The stage lights are low but he feels the heat through his long-sleeved shirt and slacks, sweat dripping down the back of his neck slowly like a phantom finger. 

From the corner of his eye, Taehyung can see Constantine staring. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he feels the sudden flash of irritation, the urge to curl his lip in annoyance. Constantine is the exact problem that Taheyung has with La Vie, except that he’s the one who got Taehyung the gig - and the manager. 

Taehyung’s throat tightens as he walks back to the stage to finish the last half of the set. The last of the songs are slower, dreamy romantic songs meant to soften the crowd before they dismiss from the lounge for the evening. The sooner he ends the show, the sooner he’ll have to field Constantine’s seeking questions and fawning. 

It presents a problem if Taehyung wants to talk to the woman at the back of the room. 

He decides not to think about it too much. Instead, he closes his eyes and sings his way through the rest of the song, voice carrying old jazz classics and his own written music. Some people would call his smooth voice haunting. Others call it hypnotizing. Taehyung doesn’t know where he stands on the subject, and he doesn’t care so much. He just likes to sing and he likes people who watch him sing. Who listen. 

There are those who come to his performances at high-end restaurants and lounges to watch him, and those who come to hear him. He prefers those who like to hear him, but any will do at the end of the night when he wants to roll around satin sheets and drink rich wine that he doesn’t have the pallet for. 

When he sings the final note of the night, it hangs in the air. This is one of Taehyung’s favorite moments of each night. It’s the last breath before his spell is broken, a moment frozen in time where all eyes are on him, the crowd so entranced that it takes a long pause for them to realize he’s finished.

The brief silence is chased with thunderous applause and people standing. He grins, feeling his chest swell with pride, blood sizzling in his veins as he bows low at the waist. He’s one of the few artists who can get this stiff, rich crowd to stand and cheer, and he knows it. 

He steps to the side and gestures to his band, the applause continuing as they each stand and bow. Though most people might feel tired after a performance, Taehyung is buzzing. He feels the adrenaline pumping through him, and after he steps down from the stage and polishes off ice-cold water, he immediately wants something harder to keep the buzz going. 

Drinks wait for him on the bar top. It’s crowded at La Vie but people make room for him at the bar. An original speakeasy from the prohibition era, it’s low-ceiling and dimly lit, offering a romantic and mysterious air hanging in the room. Taehyung places a folded wad of bills into a glass tip jar, saluting Yoongi behind the bar. The bartender nods, gracious for the tip and a confirmation that the glasses of neat are on the house. 

Taehyung knocks back the first glass. The whiskey burns down his throat. He hisses as it goes, feeling the sting in his nasal passage. He blows out a slow breath and grins to himself, pausing before he sips the next drink to shake hands with a string of patrons complimenting him. 

None of them catch his eye the way the woman at the back of the room has, though. Taehyung sees lingering looks from husbands and wives and smirks at a group of giggling women who are shy and blushing and biting their lips as they compliment him, and he feels a slight spike of irritation when Constantine takes the stool next to him.

Instead of speaking to him, Taehyung focuses on sipping the drink. It’s smooth and perfect, with a hint of orange rind that Yoongi probably burned and waved around the glass. Taehyung looks up to see the bartender cast Constantine a pitying glance before making another drink. 

“You sang well tonight,” Constantine prods. “You have such a way with the crowd.”

“Well, I supposed that’s my job.” Taehyung’s comment comes out flat. He glances at Constantine from the corner of his eye to see that he’s frowning. 

Taehyung is full of mistakes, but letting the manager of La Vie fuck him is by far one of his biggest. He usually has a rule that he doesn’t fuck the people who can interfere with his work, but he made an exception. 

Constantine is beautiful, but a bit of a fool. He inherited La Vie from a long line of family members who have kept it running, and it’s through long-term patronage and reputation alone that it’s lasted this long. Well, that and his two only successful ventures in hiring Yoongi as his main bartender who doubles as his piano player on weeknights, and Taehyung as the late-night performances most evenings. 

People don’t come to La Vie because it’s well-kept or because of Constantine’s good business acumen. They come because they want to hear Yoongi play and then watch him behind a bar all night, sweat running down his neck, dark eyes always filled with a potential promise of more. They don’t get it, of course. Yoongi doesn’t sleep around as Taehyung does, but still, the bartender and pianist is loved and lusted after by most of the patrons. 

Then there’s Taehyung. The warm opposite of Yoongi’s distant, unattainable beauty. Taehyung is full of life, accepting praise greedily, willing to flirt his way through free drinks and extra tips, especially if it lands him in the bed of someone he has been eyeing all night.

Until he broke his rule for Constantine. Pretty Constantine, who said that he was on the same page and that sleeping with Taehyung would be a casual thing. Perhaps it’s Taehyung’s fault for not seeing how mystified the lounge manager was after that first night tangled in sweaty sheets followed by a hot shower the next morning. 

Now, he’s between a rock in a hard place. Offend Constantine and risk being ousted. Keep letting him take Taehyung to bed, and he’ll never escape. 

“Your eyes are beautiful tonight,” Constantine murmurs, dipping his head to catch Taehyung’s attention. “I’d bet they’d look even better rolling in-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” a dark, feminine voice cuts in. “But I couldn’t resist introducing myself.”

The hair stands up on the back of Taehyung’s neck. He knows it’s the woman who watched him from the back of the room before he even turns around. When he does, he is mystified. Her eyes are lined heavily in kohl and her eyes are dark as a storm sea, pinning him to his place with their intensity. Her skin is umber and smooth, her face so flawless it leaves Taehyung reeling.

There is something uncanny about her. Taehyung can’t put his finger on it. Her eyes are narrow and sharp, her lips plump and breaking into a slow, knowing smile. She looks like the cat who ate the canary, tilting her head to the side as she continues to examine Taehyung with a feline-like gaze. 

“My name is Evangeline.” She reaches out a small, smooth hand. Her nails are filed into a point and painted a wine red. For a moment, Taehyung has the silliest thought that they look like the color of blood as he shakes her hand. He’s surprised at how cold they are, his palms tingling when she lets go. “I have not heard someone sing Ella Fitzgerald like that since… well, perhaps Ella Fitzgerald.”

Taehyung cocks his head to the side, a little confused. “Do you have Ella hidden somewhere that you can listen to her sing whenever you desire?”

“Would that I could. But that’s what… oh what is that spot app, again?”

“Spotify?”

Evangeline grins, revealing wicked, blindingly white teeth. “Spotify, yes. That little intricacy does quite a good job at catching the sound of old artists, but there is nothing like it live.”

Evangeline’s voice is like velvet. Even Constantine goes silent next to Taehyung, staring up at the woman as she slides next to Taehyung. She leans against the bar close enough that he gets the barest hint of scent like jasmine and amber. 

A shiver slides through him as she sips a glass of the darkest wine Taehyung’s ever seen. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth when he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I know most of the patrons by heart.”

“You wouldn’t have. I have not been to La Vie in a long time.” 

Taehyung realizes that she speaks with a specific articulation that hints at an accent. He can’t place it, but it’s like the sweetest music to his ears. “You’ll have to come more often, perhaps.”

“That eager to see me again?”

“I like to pride myself on repeat customers coming to hear me. It would be a shame to know you didn’t find my performance compelling enough to see another.”

“Hmm. Pride isn’t very becoming.”

Taehyung bites his lower lip, trying to hide the smile. “Spoken like a woman who can relate.” 

Evangeline is quick-witted. The rest of the world seems to fade as Taehyung talks to her. It’s strange - he cannot remember what the conversation is about, and he can’t remember Constantine leaving. He doesn’t even recall the patrons leaving the bar until it’s just Yoongi wiping down the counters, eyeing Taehyung wearily as he says goodbye, following the woman out of the door.

Blood rushes through Taehyung’s veins. It’s cold outside, winter fogging his breath. His skin tingles with the sudden temperature change, muted by the soft glow of alcohol in his system. He looks up at the sky, hot breath fogging as he inhales deeply, filling his lungs with that sharp air. 

Something about being drunk in the middle of the night during winter is magical. He can’t explain it, feeling himself smile as he drops his gaze back down to the woman next to him. For a second, he swears her face is sharper than he remembers, a look so hungry in his eyes that it makes his pulse skip.

When he blinks, she’s smirking at him, tilting her head. Taehyung realizes he is drunk, but he craves Evangeline. Wants to hear the way that dark voice of her pants against him, wants to feel her sharp nails on his skin, raking down-

“Have you ever been to the opera house on ninth?”

Taehyung pauses at her question. He feels his brows furrow as his drunk thoughts turn from thoughts of kissing Evangeline to puzzling out her question. “That exclusive club that was made out of the old opera house? What’s it called again…”

“Sanguine.”

He snaps his fingers and points at her. “Sanguine. No, I haven’t. It’s by invitation only and it’s the most exclusive club in the city. I hear it’s open all hours, though.”

“It is.”

“Wait, are you a member?” 

Evangeline sticks her hand out. Taehyung meets her gaze and it feels like he falls forward into it. All thoughts fade from his mind. There is no sound, save that of a high-pitched ringing. Everything but the glowing, otherworldly woman has faded to the back. He only sees her. 

Taehyung lifts his hand, but he doesn’t remember thinking about doing it. He places it in hers, and she laces their fingers. Her hands are bitterly cold, but she doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t either, skin tingling, gaze heavy on her as she tugs him along.

“Want to see it?”

He can’t form words. Suddenly feels like he can’t remember how. He nods his head instead, following her. His first few steps feel heavy and he stumbles like he has had far more to drink than he remembers. Normally, it might be cause for alarm, but Taehyung is unbothered as they walk, Evangeline’s eyes pulling him along as she walks backward. 

The world passes by but Taehyung doesn’t remember it. He is somewhat aware that his cheeks and nose are sticking with cold and that his eyes are watering from the temperature. He tilts his head upward, a little dazed and confused about where he is until he sees the golden glow of the opera house.

Sanguine. It is a massive building of white stone and ornate pillars. The architecture confuses him, a blend of Greco-Roman pillars and gargoyles he’d expect to find in a gothic church. The building is a wonderous feat of dark windows, ornate carvings in the stonework, and height. 

“The gargoyles are a bit terrifying,” Taehyung announces, staring at them fixated on top of the portico over the entryway. “Why the gargoyles?” 

“Some lessons are hard to learn.” 

Suddenly, Taehyung can’t take his eyes off of them. The two snarling beasts seem to be a bad omen and he finds himself frozen to the spot, forgetting all about the woman next to him or the invitation to see the exclusive inside of the most prestigious clubs in the city. All he knows is that suddenly, a feeling like doom has tiptoed up his back to rest on his shoulder. 

Taehyung takes a step back. The gargoyles look so much more like people when he stares at them. Twisted humanoids, crouched while screaming at the sky, showing fangs. His heart beats so hard that he feels his pulse in his throat, panic welling up inside of him, ready to spill out and overflow.

“I’m drunk,” he blurts. “I should go home. I-”

Evangeline’s cold hands grab Taehyung’s face and pull him down to her. Her lips are pressed against his and he doesn’t remember what he was worried about. His heart speeds up for different reasons now, eyes fluttering shut as he melts into her kiss, his hands going to her hips to pull her in closer. 

She tastes like dark wine and something else - a bit like iron and salt. The kiss is slow and dizzying and when she pulls away, Taehyung is eager to follow her into the dark halls of the opera house.

The lobby is dark inside. No light comes through the windows, leaving Taehyung in a complete abyss as Evangeline shuts and bolts the door behind him. A tingle slithers up Taehyung’s spine when she bolts the door and he suddenly feels like he’s never going to leave the opera house again. 

A soft din of voices and music trails to him from the doors leading to the main theater. Evangeline takes his hand and leads up toward the door. He still feels dizzy from the kiss, willing to follow her wherever she goes. 

For now, that’s the main seating area of the theater. She pulls open the heavy door, the rush of gentle voices and piano hitting him. Leading him through the door, Taehyung blinks as his eyes adjust from complete darkness to low light. It’s so dim that it takes him a moment to make out anything at all, eyes drifting up toward a massive chandelier with flickering, gold bulbs. 

The inside of the theater is like nothing Taehyung has ever seen. It has been transformed into a massive lounge with a wooden bar on the far right, manned by two bartenders. Velvet couches, chaise lounges and chairs are placed around the main floor, groups of people dressed in formal wear and dripping with jewels draping themselves over the furniture. 

Everything screams opulence. The interior still has the same baroque, elegant beauty that seems like the original design, mixed with the new additions like the bar and furniture. On the stage is a piano, a young woman playing with her eyes closed, and a cluster of people around her, gazing at her with what Taehyung can only describe as hunger. 

Evangeline leads him into the room. He feels the eyes on them as they go, glancing around nervously to realize that there is an odd mix of people in the room. There are those dressed formally in draping gowns and tuxedos, all of whom are unnaturally beautiful. Taehyung finds that his brain buzzes when he looks at them, each individual otherworldly and… cold. 

The other groups of people look like Taehyung. Starry-eyed and dressed in varying degrees of plain clothes. He wonders if they are guests as well, people brought into the fold by elegant patrons like Evangeline. 

Trepidation settles deep in Taehyung’s gut as Evangeline takes him to the bar and orders him a drink. He is tired, eyes heavy and worn at the edges. The momentary surge of adrenaline after she kissed him is wearing off, and Taehyung feels the layer of dizziness slipping off, replaced by anxiety. 

In an attempt to take the edge off, he sips his drink. Evangeline begins introducing him to groups of people, linking her arms with his and pulling him around the room. Taehyung gives her friends a dazzling smile, though he is overwhelmed by the dark eyes that meet his. The cold handshakes. The almost predatory way that the others smile at him. 

He cannot pinpoint what about the crowd is making him nervous, but as Evangeline tells someone about his singing ability, Taehyung realizes that she’s bragging. Showing him off. Pulling him around the room and gesturing to him with words like look what I found and isn’t he just darling? 

Normally, Taehyung preens with pride under the compliments and the pretty words. He loves it when people are enthralled by him, swept away by his talents. Now, something about it feels off. They don’t look at him with wonder on their faces and awe in their eyes- they coo at him. Look at him like they want to eat him whole. Like he is something they can possess. 

Only one person introduces himself and looks at Taehyung curiously instead of with lecherous intent. “Hoseok,” he says, shaking Taehyung’s hand. It’s firm and cold. “What do you like to sing?”

It’s the only time he’s been asked a question tonight. Hoseok is hauntingly beautiful, with dark eyes, a slim nose, and cheekbones that seem carved by Strazza. He is dazzling to look at, and Taehyung’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he says, “Jazz, mostly. Sometimes classical, but that was mostly in my younger days in school.” 

“Divine.” Hoseok’s gaze slides to Evangeline. “You know he’s… his type.”

“Well, he didn’t find him.” 

Taehyung doesn’t know who he is and he doesn’t get the chance to ask. The pianist on stage stops playing and Evangeline takes Taehyung’s hand, pulling him toward the stage. “Come on,” she gushes. “Let them hear you.”

He lets himself be pulled. Taehyung feels a coil of nerves in his stomach as she yanks him on stage and pushes him to the middle. The room quiets when they see them and Evangeline claps her hands, drawing the full attention of the lounge.

There’s no spotlight, but Taehyung feels hot under the weighted gaze. Again, his instinct tingles, trying to make him aware of something. He just doesn’t know what. He shoves down the feeling and tucks his hands into his pockets, giving a shy grin as Evangeline talks about his voice. 

The crowd of patrons lean in a little when she steps off the stage. Their gazes are sharp as razors and he can’t help but feel like a shy lamb among a pack of wolves. 

Licking his dry lips, he clears his throat and laughs awkwardly, unsure of where to look. Evangeline stands near the side of the stage, not a great point of attention as he sweeps his gaze out into the room. He fixes his eyes on the glowing red exit sign above the door and opens his mouth, taking in a deep breath before he starts a slow Sinatra number. 

His voice carries over the hushed silence, deep and swelling. He smiles a little as he sings, watching the face go from hungry to mystified. The whole room seems to lean in, people from the back moving toward the stage, drawn in by him. 

Taehyung goes right into the next song, feeling his anxiety melt away. His audience is wrapped around his finger, their eyes following him as he trails around the stage, more engaged. He makes eye contact with some of them, still flinching internally at the sheer darkness of their eyes, but still singing nonetheless. 

When Taehyung finishes, the room erupts into gentle clapping and whispered praise. He feels pride well up inside of him, flushing with pleasure as he bows at the waist, grinning under the sweet applause. He stands up and starts walking toward Evangeline, who looks at him with a smile like the sun. His heart beats a little faster, grinning widely as she claps for him excitedly and-

“Sing another.”

Taehyung realizes the room is silent. The hairs on his arms stand on end and it feels like the air gets sucked out of the room suddenly. Evangeline’s eyes flash silver for a moment, but when Taehyung recoils and blinks, they’re back to normal, though she looks put out as she steps back from Taehyung. 

Slowly, Taehyung turns to look at the edge of the stage at the owner of the soft voice and his world stops. Whoever this man puts the rest of the beauty in the room to shame. Taehyung feels his pulse race, meeting the dark, sultry gaze of the man who spoke to him. 

Something calls to Taehyung. He steps toward the man, dazed and confused, staring, staring, staring. The man has the most beautiful face Taehyung has ever seen. Round cheekbones with a chiseled jaw, plush lips tinted rose, and siren eyes that glitter as he drinks Taehyung in. This is the son of a god or a god himself, Taehyung thinks. A creature of myth and legend.

“What do you want me to sing?” Taehyung asks, barely recognizing his own voice. His ears are ringing and his thoughts are syrup-slow. 

The man smiles and Taehyung feels his stomach flutter. The man is not dressed in formal attire like the rest of the patrons. He’s dressed simply in black jeans with tears in the knee, a black turtleneck tucked into the waistband to show off his tapered waist, and a necklace that looks to be made of thorns. 

Even dressed casually, he outshines every person in the room. 

“What’s your favorite?” he asks, cocking his head to the side and regarding Taehyung. 

A flush works up Taehyung’s neck. He feels a tingle slide down his spine and a lick of pleasure curl in his stomach at the man’s gaze. His fingers twitch and his mouth feels dry. He licks his lips, trying to think of the man’s question and what his answer should be. 

“Can’t Help Falling In Love, I think.” 

The man grins and Taehyung sees stars. “You think? Or you know?”

“I know?”

“Are you asking me?” 

Taehyung shifts back and forth, shame coloring his cheeks as he looks at the floor. Effortlessly, the man jumps up on the stage. He lands silent and lithe as a cat. Taehyung’s eyes widen as he approaches, his gait smooth, footfalls unheard. “I’m only teasing, sweetling. What’s your name?”

“Taehyung.” 

The man stops right in front of Taehyung. He’s shorter, but somehow Taehyung feels small and delicate in his presence, wavering as the smell of orange blossom and something darker washes over him. Taehyung’s eyelids flutter and he fights the urge to lean in closer to the man, to brush his fingers across his skin. 

“I’m Jimin.” Jimin reaches out and brushes his fingers across Taehyung’s cheekbone. His touch leaves a trail of tingling cold. Taehyung closes his eyes, breath catching. Whatever this spell he’s under, he can’t shake it, gone with just a touch. “I want you to sing for me, Taehyung.” 

“Okay.” 

Jimin steps away and Taehyung makes a sound, protesting. His mind is warring between confusion at his reaction and the need to be near Jimin. The duller part of his thoughts is careening, telling him to pull it together, to stop and leave. But the desire shaken awake by Jimin is so much louder, commanding Taehyung’s thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin murmurs, gesturing to where Evangeline is standing. “I’ll be right there.” 

Taehyung watches as Jimin glides over to the edge of the stage. He whispers something to Evangeline that Taehyung cannot hear but he watches the change in the woman. She ripples with anger, her lip curling up in a snarl. Jimin says something else to her and in the blink of an eye, her head is bowed, her shoulders coming up as she steps back, cowering. 

When Jimin turns around, he gives Taehyung an encouraging smile. The effect is instantaneous. Taehyung feels giddy inside, joy bubbling up as he returns the smile shyly. Gone is the anxiety, gone is the strange feeling of being paraded around. Now, all he can think about is Jimin’s dark eyes, the way they track him as he moves to the middle of the stage again. 

As Taehyung starts the song, he wonders if this is what Elvis was singing about. If wise men were right and that only fools fall in love. Can love at first sight be a thing? As Taehyung sings the song softly, looking at Jimin every so often, his eyes drawn to him like a magnet, he thinks perhaps this song was written about Jimin. 

It isn’t rational. Taehyung knows this and yet barely acknowledges it, watching Jimin’s eyes shine with something as Taehyung finishes the song. For a moment, no one claps. Taehyung looks nervously around the theater, watching as the eyes of the crowd look at Jimin. Once he applauds, the rest follow. 

Taehyung lets out a relieved breath, smiling and bowing shallowly. Jimin approaches him again. It occurs to Taehyung that Jimin walks like a jungle cat, smooth and somehow lethal. 

“You have the most exquisite voice,” Jimin says gently, shaking his head. “You are a rare treasure, Taehyung.” He holds out a hand. “Join me?” 

Taehyung starts to reach for Jimin before he hesitates, eyes glancing up over Jimin’s head at Evangeline, who looks murderous. “You are far too precious for her,” Jimin growls. “It is insulting that she thinks she could ever have you.”

Instead of answering, Taehyung just nods. His eyelids feel heavy, his heady swimming like he’s buzzing off a fresh glass of liquor. Jimin links their hands together and tugs Taehyung along. As they pass Evangeline, she doesn’t dare look at them, her eyes fixed on the floor. 

At the foot of the stairs, Hoseok is standing, arms crossed over his chest and smirking. He shakes his head when he sees Jimin, falling into step with him. “I told her.” 

“Thank you for alerting me,” Jimin tells Hoseok. Jimin turns over his shoulder where Taehyung is trailing a footstep behind. “I would have missed out on him.” 

Hoseok breaks off from them, walking toward the bar. Someone takes up the piano again as Jimin leads Taehyung out of the main theater and to a stairwell. He says nothing, following Jimin’s lead in silence, steps heavy. It feels like he’s underwater, everything dull around him. 

Except Jimin, who is sharp and bright and alive in his mind. 

Jimin leads Taehyung down a hall and through a door. It opens up into a balcony suite. What was once a private box for watching the opera has been turned into a luxurious room of sorts, making Taehyung raise his eyebrows. 

A lounge area is in the middle of the suite, and there is a single bed tucked into the corner. A wet bar is placed at the back, along with a doorway that leads into a refurbished bathroom. Taehyung pauses as Jimin drops his hand, looking around to appreciate the velvet drapery on the wall and the ornate decor in the room. 

It feels like he has stepped back in time, a mix of modern and Victorian meshing in a way that Taehyung finds wonderfully elegant. Jimin goes to the wet bar and retrieves two glasses, pouring them a finger of whiskey each. Taehyung walks toward him, looking out at the lounge beneath. 

“It’s designed like a bedroom?” Taehyung inquires, eyes drifting back to Jimin, who smiles as he brings the glass up to his lips. His sharp eyes pin Taehyung to the spot as he sips. “Do you… live here?”

Jimin shrugs. “Sometimes.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Instead of answering the question, Jimin gestures for Taehyung to walk with him, leading him to a rich, crushed velvet couch that overlooks the lounge. Taehyung takes a sip of the whiskey but it’s Jimin who makes him feel drunk and cottony.

He sits next to Jimin, limbs stiff. Jimin giggles at Taehyung’s awkwardness, tsking at him as he leans over and pulls Taehyung toward him, pressing their thighs and sides together as they watch the party unfold below. Butterflies flutter in Taehyung’s smile as he looks at Jimin, who is watching Taehyung with rapt attention. 

Being so near Jimin is difficult. This close, he’s even more beautiful than before. Taehyung doesn’t know how it’s possible. Jimin’s lashes are long, framing his beautiful eyes. His dark hair looks silky and soft, tucked behind his ears as he regards Taehyung with a fond expression. 

Heat climbs up Taehyung’s neck and between his legs, a heady feeling sinking deep in his stomach under Jimin’s gaze.

“What?” Taehyung asks, looking down at his lap and chewing the inside of his cheek. He’s never felt so bashful under someone’s gaze before. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re beautiful, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t be shy now,” Jimin tuts. “You were quite confident on stage earlier. I believe the entire room fell in love with you.” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders and Jimin laughs loudly. “Now you’re humble? You are a delightful creature, Taehyung. Tell me, have you ever been to the opera?” 

“No, but I’m familiar with some.”

“What about Carmen?” Jimin asks. He reaches forward and drags a finger across Taehyung’s thigh. Taehyung holds back a groan as Jimin starts tracing patterns on Taehyung’s thigh. “Have you heard of that one?” 

“I’m familiar with the Habanera.” 

“Ah yes. It’s about a woman named Carmen who everyone is in love with. She entrances men with her vitality and sensuality. A man named José falls madly in love with her at first sight, abandoning the army, his wife, and his children for her.” 

Taehyung finds it hard to listen. Even through the fabric of his pants, Jimin’s touch is tantalizing. Taehyung’s legs widen a fraction, his spine tingling. He leans his head back, feeling breathless as Jimin’s tracing gets higher and higher, teasing Taehyung before his touch moves toward Taehyung’s knee again. 

“José, of course, is not the only one in love with Carmen. She is infectious, tempting everyone she comes into contact with.” Jimin leans toward Taehyung, so close that his breath ghosts across Taehyung’s throat. He feels his heart speed up as Jimin lowers his voice and continues, “You remind me so much of Carmen. Charming everyone around you with a simple look, with the sound of your voice. So addicting without even a taste.” 

“O-oh.” 

Jimin presses his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung nearly drops the glass in his hand, placing it next to him on the couch as his breathing hitches. Jimin runs his nose up Jimin’s too-hot skin, making Taehyung squirm. 

“I fear I have the same weakness as José and you have hypnotized me like Carmen.” 

“Me?”

Jimin nips Taehyung’s ear and Taehyung lets out a throaty, moan. Jimin’s breath across his skin is maddening, colors swimming behind squeezed-shut eyes. His dick hardens in his pants, blood pumping through him, arousal unfolding like the slow-blooming petals of a flower. 

“Don’t sound so surprised. You know the effect you have on people.”

“I do,” Taheyung admits. 

“Look at me.” 

It is a command. Taehyung obeys, turning his face to look up at Jimin. Jimin’s pupils are blown wide, hypnotizing, and alluring as he looks down his nose at Taehyung. Desire stirs so strongly in Taehyung that he parts his lips open, making a small noise as Jimin’s touch on Taehyung’s thigh turns to a solid grip, fingers digging in. 

“Do you want me, my Carmen? Do you desire me?”

“Yes,” Taehyung breathes. “Please.” 

“Ask, then.” 

Jimin’s eyes are so hungry that Taehyung is lost in them. Jimin is on his knees on the couch now, pressed against Taehyung. It feels more intimate than anything Taehyungh has ever felt and they’re barely touching, Jimin gripping Taehyung’s thigh, his mouth hovering inches above Taehyung’s.

“Ask,” Jimin growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere in Taehyung’s chest. Jimin might be smaller than Taehyung but the power that emanates from him is intoxicating and sweeping, making Taehyung shudder.

“Please,” Taehyung says again. “I want you. Will you have me? Please.”

Jimin’s grip is iron. “Of course I will. You’re mine.” 

Taehyung feels like Jimin’s as Jimin steals a searing kiss from him. Taehyung gasps into the kiss, melting into the couch as Jimin licks into the wet heat of Taehyung’s mouth. Jimin is all-consuming, his lips sliding against Taehyung’s hungrily, his tongue brushing against the ridges of Taehyung’s mouth.

It’s just a kiss and yet Taehyung loses himself in it. It’s needy and torrid, their teeth clicking together, lips sliding. Taehyung grabs the front of Jimin’s shirt, uncaring if he wrinkles it as Jimin presses Taehyung into the back of the couch, straddling him. Jimin’s fingers tangle in Taehyung’s hair, pulling harshly. 

The pleasure-pain makes Taehyung moan. Jimin hums, his devilish mouth moving from Taehyung’s lips to his jaw, biting and sucking harshly at the skin. It feels so good. Taehyung just lies there and takes it, hissing as Jimin’s teeth pinch and pull his skin, followed by Jimin’s soothing tongue, rough and wet.

The ache in his dick grows, especially as Jimin puts weight on it, sitting in his lap and leaning and rolling his hips forward, pressing into Taehyung’s cock and driving him wild. He feels out of control, like the room is spinning and Jimin’s kisses are going straight to Taehyung’s veins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as Jimin licks hungrily at Taehyung’s neck. Jimin drags his blunt nails along Taehyung’s scalp, sending sparks down his neck and spine. “Please.”

“Please what,” Jimin pants, mouthing at Taehyung’s collarbones. “Tell me what you need, my wonderful Carmen.” 

It should be strange to be called by another name and yet, Taehyung shivers at the rasp in Jimin’s voice. Every single part of him is suddenly alive like his nerves are exposed to Jimin’s hands and mouth. Taehyung can’t remember the last time he felt like this with such simple touches. 

Perhaps never. 

“Fuck me,” Taehyung breathes. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Jimin smiles against Taehyung’s mouth. “Oh, I’ll fuck you.” 

A thrill goes through Taehyung as Jimin grabs him and slams him against the couch. His world spins and he’s suddenly facing the ceiling of the suite, panting and delirious as Jimin pins him down, littering his skin with bites and sloppy kisses.

Some of Jimin’s nipping hurts but it adds to the pleasure, Taehyung barreling straight into a slow, pleasured haze as Jimin pulls Taehyung’s shirt off roughly. Cool air kisses his flushed skin. Taehyung claws at the jacket on Jimin’s shoulders, pushing it off of him until he’s free of it, Taehyung’s hands seeking the flexing muscle of Jimin’s arms. 

Jimin’s hand goes to Taehyung’s throat. His hand is small but it squeezes pleasantly as Jimin kisses down Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung grinds up against Jimin, trying to relieve the pressure aching in his cock, a whine leaving his mouth. He feels Jimin’s breath across his skin as he laughs before fixing his mouth on a nipple, making Taehyung keen.

The stimulation is too much and not enough. It feels like Taehyung is ripping at the seams - burst at the seams from the pressure mounting inside of him. What has Jimin done to him to command his body? 

“Everyone can hear you,” Jimin teases, flicking his long, wicked tongue out to tease Taehyung’s already abused nipple. He drags his tongue across Taehyung’s chest, leaving a wet trail of spit as he goes. “Can hear you whining like a little whore. Is that what you want?”

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut as he feels Jimin’s teeth scrape against his other nipple. He nods his head, unable to form a verbal answer to Jimin’s question. 

“Hmm,” Jimin hums, tongue lashing. “Good boy. Let them know you’re mine. They’ll wait for us to have our fun before they start.”

Taehyung has no idea what that means. He doesn’t ask. Instead, his hands slip down Jimin’s stomach and under his shirt, touching his skin. Jimin is cool to the touch, his stomach muscles flexing under Taehyung’s inquisitive fingers. He grabs at Jimin’s hips, but his fingers slip away as Jimin sinks lower down Taehyung’s body, nipping and sucking as he goes. 

Opening his eyes, Taehyung watches with heavy lids as Jimin settles between Taehyung’s legs, looking up at him. His hair hangs in his eyes, which glint wickedly as his nimble fingers work the zipper on Taehyung’s pants. He can’t look away from Jimin, hypnotized by the movement, but the way Jimin grins and pulls open Taehyung’s pants, leaning forward to lick at the damp spot on Taehyung’s briefs. 

Taehyung’s head drops back and he moans loudly, feeling the pressure of Jimin’s wet tongue through the thin fabric. Jimin mouths at the crown of Taehuyng’s cock, sending jolts of pleasure straight to him. He grabs the back of the couch with one and presses his first to the mouth with the other, biting as he bucks his hips.

“So sensitive,” Jimin coos. His hands grab the top of Taehyung’s pants and the elastic band of his briefs and pull hard, making Taehyung yelp as Jimin unclothes him in one fell swoop. “Think you can take it?”

Taehyung nods quickly, making himself dizzy with the force. Jimin laughs and reaches out, gripping Taehyung’s shaft and pumping him slowly. Jimin’s touch is electrifying, Taehyung’s hips canting upwards to fuck himself into Jimin’s palm, head lolling to the side. 

Jimin spits loudly, coating Taehyung’s cock with spit, his hand gliding firmly to the base of Taehuyng’s shaft. “Just like that,” Jimin whispers. “Fuck yourself into my hand.” 

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. He does so vigorously, chasing the feel of Jimin’s tight, wet fist and the cool feel of his skin. When Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue kitten lick the tip of his cock, he clenches his teeth, slowly his wild thrusting to allow Jimin’s mouth to explore. 

It’s hard not to bust immediately. He feels his orgasm looming from the barest stimulation. Suddenly it’s like Taehyung is back in high school having his dick sucked for the first time, trembling and trying not to come as Jimin suckles the head of Taehyung’s dick, mouthing at it greedily. 

The room feels like it’s spinning. Taehyung cannot hear beyond the balcony. All he can hear are the wet sounds of Jimin taking Taehyung into his mouth, sucking generously, tongue brushing on the underside of Taehyung’s shaft. 

Jimin pulls off of Taehyung with a wet pop. “You taste so sweet,” he groans, tongue flicking against Taehyung’s frenulum. Taehyung feels wrecked already, sagging and boneless, unable to do anything against the onslaught of Jimin’s mouth. “Sounds so sweet, just like you sing.”

Slowly, Jimin drags his tongue south. He strokes Taehyung lazily with his hand, mouthing at Taehyung’s balls. Taehyung’s fingers feel like they’ll break as he grips the couch, overwhelmed by the stimulation, crying out, muscles squeezing, head spinning, blood roaring. 

“Such pretty sounds,” Jimin murmurs again, dragging his tongue upward. “Sing for me, my Carmen.”

A broken sob sound leaves Taehyung’s mouth as Jimin takes Taehyung to the back of his throat. The wet heat of Jimin’s mouth is an inferno, his throat tight and soft and oh god he’s swallowing. Taehyung lashes against the couch, hands shooting to Jimin’s hair as his throat constricts tightly around Taehyung. 

He feels the spit sliding down his shaft, his stomach so tight and his dick so hard he knows he’s about to come any second, every atom buzzing. 

“I’m gonna-” he can’t finish the sentence, shaking his head back and forth. His heart beats so hard in his chest he thinks he might die before he hits his peak. “Fuck, Jimin. Fuck fuck fuck.” 

Jimin redoubles his efforts. Squeezes Taehyung’s balls with his hand, letting Taehyung shove his hips forward, Jimin’s throat squeezing Taehyung until he’s coming hard. Jimin takes it in stride, swallowing down Taehyung’s cum. 

And he doesn’t stop. 

Taehyung’s hands start to push at Jimin. Tries to pull him off Taehyung’s cock, tries to scoot away. The pleasure morphs into overstimulation. It hurts so good that Taehyung is collapsing into the couch, kicking and bucking and crying as Jimin keeps going, his hand pumping, mouth sucking. 

If there is a god, there must be a devil. And if there is a devil, Taehyung knows that he is between Taehyung’s legs, working him to another orgasm somehow, driving Taehyung to madness as he goes. Jimin pulls off Taehyung’s dick with a sticky sound, moaning sweetly at the mess Taehyung has become. 

“You can take it,” Jimin coos. “I know you can. You said you can.” 

Taehyung nods. Tears sting his eyes and he tries to take a deep breath. He blinks his eyes open, watching as the ceiling swims into picture, a little blurry from the tears. He takes deep, shuttering inhales, his lungs rattling as he does. When he looks down at Jimin, he wishes he didn’t open his eyes. 

He almost doesn’t recognize whatever it is that is laving at his weeping cock. Jimin’s face is crueler somehow. More beautiful, but terrifying. Taehyung swears the veins around his eyes are darker and the scrape of his teeth is sharper. 

The orgasm must have made him delirious. It’s the only explanation, especially as Jimin works him hard again, Taehyung aching to explode once more. 

Jimin pulls off of Taehyung and crawls upward. Taehyung thinks Jimin looks like an apex predator for a single, terrifying moment. And then Jimin is kissing him, making Taehuyng’s thoughts turn to white noise as Taehyung presses his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, tasting spit and cum and something like iron and salt.  

Something pricks Taehyung’s mouth. He lets out a surprised sound, his mouth filling with a warm, metallic substance. Jimin’s kiss becomes frenzied. The force of it startles Taehyung, fear wiggling its way into his mind as Jimin presses down on him. 

Jimin becomes overwhelmed. A force that Taehyung cannot escape, completely trapped and helpless, still dizzy and uncoordinated from the overstimulation. It excites him. Taehyung realizes with mild terror that he likes this feeling, likes being overpowered and pushed to the edge. 

He lets Jimin suck greedily on his bleeding lip. He’s too focused on the ache between his legs and the mind-melting way Jimin makes him feel to realize that Jimin is hyper-fixated on his bleeding mouth. He kisses Jimin back as best as he can, though it’s more of a slide of lips and tongue than an intentional kiss. 

“Turn over for me,” Jimin grumbles. He’s already gripping Taehuyng and trying to turn him over. Taehyung struggles to make his limbs work but manages to flip, mostly due to Jimin lifting him and turning him, once again showing how strong he is. “Gonna work you open for my cock.”

A pathetic sound escapes Taehyung’s mouth. His cheek hits the soft velvet. It’s grounding, feeling the gentle scrape of it against his sensitive skin. His cock is pressed tight between his stomach and the cushions, but it’s less invasive than Jimin’s hungry mouth, a brief respite. 

Wet lips trail Taehyung’s spine as Jimin descends. Taehyung’s breathing is ragged and heavy, gulping down cool air as he trembles under Jimin’s rough mouth. He likes that Jimin doesn’t handle him with kid gloves. That Jimin keeps Taehyung to his word, driving him into a manic state. 

Taehyung still feels like he’s on the edge of that mania when he feels Jimin’s fingers slip between his ass, seeking. He flinches when Jimin brushes against his tight rim, the muscles clenching, afraid. Jimin laughs but doesn’t push it, instead peeling Taehyung apart to spit noisily. 

A gentle sigh drips from Taehyung’s mouth. He feels the spit slide, the sensation heightened. Jimin’s finger traces after it, circling Taehyung’s asshole lightly. His toes curl at the light stimulation. It feels good, but it’s hard to control the muscle's instinct to reject and contract. 

Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. He leans forward, his fingers pressed firmly in the seam of Taehyung’s ass, his mouth pressing butterfly-soft kisses to Taehyung’s spine. 

Taehyung feels like Jimin’s instrument. Jimin works him open slowly and gently, at ends with how he was driving Taehyung to madness minutes prior. The swing to gentle and soothing has Taehyung confused and reeling, his brain trying to keep up with the sensations tingling through his body. 

When Jimin slowly breaches Taehyung’s tight ring of muscles, he lets out a pathetic keen. Taehyung is too loose-limbed and fuzzy-brained to do anything but take it. The intrusion burns for a second, but levels out to be pleasurable. 

Cold liquid slides down Jimin’s fingers, easing the slide. Taehyung sighs, relief unfurling slowly as the burn goes quiet and all that’s left is the stretch and the pressure of Jimin working Taehyung’s walls open. Toe-curling pleasure sweeps through Taehyung. He bites his bottom lip, lifting his ass in small, half-hearted twitches to meet the push and pull of Jimin’s fingers.

“Mhmm,” Jimin encourages, teeth scraping Taehyung’s shoulder blade. His breath is cool on Taehyung’s warm skin. “Take what you want, sweetling. Open yourself up for me.”

It smells like sweat and orange blossoms, Taehyung’s skin covered in their mixed scents. His sensitive cock drags against the fabric of the couch, sparking pleasure and pain as he fucks himself into the palm of Jimin’s hand. Jimin’s fingers are small but do the job, pressing against the most sensitive parts of Taehyung, making his breath ragged. 

Everything feels like it’s on fire as Jimin pushes in another finger. Taehyung feels the wet schlick of lube or whatever Jimin has used to make the slide easier. He feels fuller, moaning like a whore as he chases the electric feeling under his skin, coming alive under the careful press of Jimin’s fingers. 

“So good for me,” Jimin whispers, biting Taeyung’s ear. His breath is hot against the side of Taehyung’s face. “Gonna take my cock so well, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck,” Jimin swears. “I can’t wait. This is what you do to me.”

Jimin pulls his fingers out. Taehyung complains, feeling the empty gape. Jimin shushes him and presses his clothed cock against Taehyung’s ass, letting him feel how hard Jimin is. Taehyung grinds his ass against Jimin’s crotch, making the other moan. 

A shirt flys past Taehyung. He realizes that it must be Jimin’s turning and angling his head to see the man in question. He is utterly divine, his compact body graceful and deadly, lined with muscle and delicate lines. Jimin undoes the belt of his jeans and pulls them down, palming himself over his briefs as he kicks out of his pants. 

Taehyung can’t help but stare, lips parted. Jimin is a vision, his face still masked in something lethal and terrifying that makes Taehyung excited and afraid all at the same time. The mixture is intoxicating, sending his thoughts somewhere distant and fuzzy where all he can do is watch Jimin pull his briefs down to reveal a thick, leaking cock. 

On instinct, Taehyung scoots toward Jimin. The other laughs, giving Taehyung a quick, harsh smack on the ass. His skin stings where Jimin’s hand connects, earning a whimper. Jimin tuts at Taehyung, fisting his cock leisurely as he does. 

“So needy,” he grumbles. “So hungry for cock. You’re just like Carmen, you know? Addicting, needy, breaking down my will to give you whatever you want. This must be how Jose felt, ready to give her everything. Pliable. So willing.” 

“And you? How do you feel?”

Jimin’s gaze is dark and heavy. Taehyung holds his breath, pinned to the spot. He feels Jimin’s cockhead nudge the tight rim of his ass as Jimin settles behind him, looking at Taehyung so intensely that Taehyung feels as though he will wither away. Ashes to ashes. 

“Like I want to give you the world.” 

“Please.”

“You have to give it back. You have to be mine.” 

Taehyung is nodding before Jimin even finishes his sentence. Taehyung will give him anything he wants, as long as it means Jimin will push forward and relieve the aching weight of Taehyung’s needs. He is filled with so much carnal desire he thinks he would do anything Jimin asks of him. 

“Yours,” Taehyung agrees. He tries to push back and spear himself on Jimin’s cock, but Jimin’s grip is iron, holding him in place. “Yours.” 

That’s all it takes for Jimin to sigh, pleased. He pushes in slowly, Taehyung gasping and grabbing the couch at the intrusion. His walls flutter around Jimin’s cock. It’s a tight fit, a slow, pleasure-filled agony that ripples through him. 

Taehyung is hyper aware of how full he feels. It is perfect, his mind turning to static as he lays his face down on the couch, breathing strained and heart hammering. Jimin praises him gently, coaxing Taehyung to calm down with gentle kisses on the back of his neck, shoulders, and head. Jimin is fully seated, his hips pressed to Taehyung’s ass. It feels good, the pain retreating and leaving nothing but bliss in its wake. 

Jimin pulls out, the rough drag of his cock sending Taehyung into a spiral before Jimin snaps his hips forward again. Taehyung lets out a desperate sound, feeling his eyes roll back into his head as Jimin starts to fuck him slowly. 

It feels hot. Jimin cages Taehyung in, his chest pressed to Taehyung’s back, humid air trapped between their bodies. Jimin’s skin is cool to the touch, such a contrast to the warmth radiating from Taehyung. The mix of hot and cold only heightens the sensations, everything feeling sharp and powerful. 

Jimin’s teeth scrape Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung doesn’t know why, but he leans his head to the side, giving Jimin free access to litter his throat with sloppy kisses. Taehyung feels broken under the weight of Jimin’s thrusts, the wet sound of his cock pushing deeper into Taehyung until it’s pressing against the deepest part of him, making Taehyung kick his feet as the pleasure builds.

It’s so good it hurts. Taehyung is reeling, having never felt like this when being fucked. Jimin chuckles darkly against his ear, tongue licking the shell of Taehyung’s ear before whispering, “You take it so well.” Taehyung whines in response, pushing his ass back to meet Jimin’s hips as best as he can. “Such an eager little slut. Everyone can hear you getting fucked - do you like that?”

Taehyung nods his head. Jimin grabs him by the hair, pulling Taehyung upward so that Jimin’s chin is slotted on Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung’s neck cranes painfully and he opens his eyes, looking at Jimin’s side profile. 

“I said do you like that?” 

“Yes!”

“Come here, let’s show them.” 

Everything goes off balance. Jimin picks Taehyung up off of the couch like he’s a ragdoll, spinning him so that his feet hit the ground and he’s pushed up against the balcony railing. He barely has the coordination to plant his feet on the ground and grab the railing before Jimin is pressing back in, splitting him apart for everyone to see. 

Taehyung casts his head back, eyes closed. He doesn’t want to look down, doesn’t want to see the faces of the onlookers as he moans loudly, feeling flushed and breathy as Jimin fucks him hard. Taehyung sees stars behind his eyelid, laying his head back on Jimin’s shoulders, his hands gripping the railing as Jimin hammers into Taehyung’s prostate. 

It feels like Taehyung’s blood is on fire. Something like glee unfurls in him at the thought of everyone below seeing how perfect he is for Jimin. That Jimin chose Taehyung and no one else. That Taehyung is the perfect, pliant partner for Jimin. He doesn’t want to see their faces - he’s too shy for now - but he silently revels in the fact that they’ll know from this moment forward that Taehyung is Jimin’s in some capacity. 

His mind hasn’t caught up to what exactly that capacity is, blinded by the way he teeters on the edge of coming again. 

“This is going to hurt at first,” Jimin whispers against Taehyung’s throat. 

There’s a brief moment of confusion. Taehyung is unable to think beyond the thick, heady haze clouding his mind, but then searing pain rips through his neck. His eyes fly open and he gasps, too shocked to scream properly where he feels blinding pain throbbing from the side of his throat. 

Taehyung’s hand shoots up to Jimin’s face, digging in his hair. Jimin’s mouth is pressed against Taehyung’s throat and it takes a moment for Taehyung to realize Jimin is biting him clean through the skin. 

Panic shoots through him. He clutches at Jimin’s hair, pulling tight at the strands to pull him off. Jimin doesn’t budge, his mouth fixed to the tender flesh of Taehyung’s throat. Then Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue. The subtle pull of his mouth, the drag of his blood. 

The pain fades into something else. His neck tingles, fire replaced with numbness. Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as a high unlike anything else hits him. Jimin is still fucking him, his pace picking up, his thrusts becoming savage as he takes deep swallows at Taehyung’s neck.

Taehyung is vaguely aware that Jimin is drinking his blood. He can’t process beyond that acknowledgement, too caught up in the euphoria glittering through his veins, turning his blood to molten lava. His head falls forward, too heavy for him to hold up, eyes closed and sinking into the feeling. 

His orgasm comes swift and hard. Every muscle in Taehyung’s body squeezes tight with a force he’s never felt. It feels like he might collapse in on himself, a star going supernova before it implodes, sucking everything inward. 

Jimin lets go of Taehyung's neck, gasping as he feels Taehyung squeezes his cock. The wet gurgle of a moan from Jimin’s mouth makes Taehyung turn and look at him. Taehyung is bent over the railing now, sweaty chest sliding back and forth as Jimin’s hips jostle him. Jimin is standing straight, his hands gripping Taehyung’s hips to hold him in place as he fucks him viciously, chasing his high. 

But what freezes Taehyung in place isn’t the powerful body driving him into overstimulation. It isn’t the beautiful, lithe lines of Jimin’s chest and arms or the beautiful way his eyes drink Taehyung in. It’s the blood running down Jimin’s neck and chest that startles him. The crimson smear across Jimin’s mouth, which is parted as Jimin tilts his head upward, tongue coming out to run across his bottom lip. 

A glint of white catches Taehyung’s eyes and his heart stops. Two fangs, stark against the wine-red mouth filled with blood - Taehyung’s blood. His heart skyrockets for a whole new reason and he tries to think but his mind is too slow. Sluggish. Still crawling through the high that Jimin’s bite injected him with. 

“Jimin?” it comes out slurred and terrified as Taehyung watches Jimin lower his face, eyes finding Taehyung. He still looks beautiful with the lower half of his face colored in blood, but he is terrifying, and destructive. Taehyung thinks he might die of fright even as his stomach flips with arousal again. “What…?”

“Look at them,” Jimin grins, mouth a red gash. He grabs Taehyung's hair and forces the boy to turn toward the scene below. “Look how they waited so patiently for me to start. To fuck, to feed. They waited for you - to come and bleed. They don’t indulge until you’re done, my sweet Carmen.” 

It takes several moments for Taehyung to piece together the tableau unfolding beneath him. What appears to be a mess of blurry images and sounds morphs into something else, the edges of his clarity sharpening as Taehyung blinks through the fog of pleasure. What he thought was going to be patrons looking up at the balcony as he’s ravaged is not at all the case. 

Below is unleashed carnal energy. He sees bodies writhing. Scarlet ribbons of blood flowing down necks, in between thighs, down shoulders. His eyes sweep the landscape of bodies fucking and thrusting and bending, of screaming of pinning down, of biting. 

Vampires. 

The word suddenly comes to Taehyung in a moment of clarity, the word ringing out so clearly in his mind that he jerks upward underneath Jimin’s grip. The vampires below chase the humans in the room. Taehyung realizes that all of the patrons dressed in finery are slamming people dressed in plain clothes to the ground and onto furniture, fixing their mouths on them, and ripping their shirts open. 

“Oh my god,” Taehyung breathes, finally breaking free of the murky mist of lust. “What are you?” 

Jimin presses against Taehyung, slamming his hips in deep one more time as he comes with a feral growl. His hands are tight in Taehyung’s hair and his mouth is rough against his ear. “I’m yours,” Jimin answers, voice low. “I’m José and you are my Carmen.” 

Dizziness sweeps over Taehyung, feeling like darkness is racing up to greet him. “Yours,” Taehyung agrees, slow blinking as Jimin’s teeth sink into his shoulder again. “Your Carmen.” 

-

PERMANENT TAG LIST: 

@wobblewobble822 @idkjustlovingbts @teddytaee @jknoah @veronawrites @bts-ruu @tumeperds @ashtonkeller @ivyrosewater @secfir @hoseokshobagi

Please note: typically I would reblog with my tag list, but this drop is scheduled while I am traveling and I am unable to reblog and tag, so I’ve just done it as part of the main body. 

[thehufflepuff02]

Chapter ten—Jake

Jake wanted to get back to the clan as fast as possible. He ignored everyone’s requests for him to get some sleep. He just didn’t have time and besides how was he expected to get any sleep right now anyway? His mind was working overtime thinking up solutions to this almost impossible situation. 

He opted for caffeine instead, gulping down a cup of scalding coffee. He barely felt it as it burnt his throat the whole way down. And he completely ignored eating all together. 

Trudy began prepping Jake’s link while he pulled himself onto the coffin like chamber. He lied down, pulling the net of wires and electrodes over him. “Trudy, I’m gonna try and get you in with the clan.” He explained. “I don’t know if they will allow it but it’s worth a shot. We can go over the ships and the best spot to try and take them down with the clan. You know that best.”

Trudy nodded, still mad he didn’t listen to her and Norm’s instructions to eat and sleep. 

Jake rolled his eyes, pulling the lid down, drowning himself in darkness.

The purple and pink light of the tree of souls filled Jake’s sight when he opened his avatar eyes. He was fast to push himself up from where he was laying, in search for his mate. He needed to tell her what they had found out from Max. He vowed not keep anymore secrets.

He found Mo’at and Grace deep in conversation alone from most of the clan. Neytiri was no where to be seen. Jake pushed down the unnecessary worry, walking up to the two women.

“Marine, I told you to get some rest.” Grace scolded, spotting him immediately. She was looking past Mo’at and straight into Jake’s eyes. “We have everything handled for the time being. You need to take care of your human body. It’s important.”

“Grace.” Jake reasoned. “It’s fine.”

Grace didn’t answer. Jake could see the anger and frustration in her eyes. He braced for her to scream. Instead she stormed off, her shoulder hitting Jake as she went.

“Jake Sully, you must be gentle with her. She is having trouble adjusting to being Na’vi permanently. Her soul is restless, not fully settled.” Mo’at spoke, drawing Jake’s attention. “She feels the grief of losing her sky person body the same way I feel the grief of my mate.”

Jake felt a pang of guilt at the mention of Eytukan. “She is okay physically though? Right?”

Mo’at nodded her head once. “Physically, yes. Mentally she will need some time.”

Jake took that in for a moment before speaking. “I’m assuming Grace explained what we found out from our inside guy?” He asked, changing the topic. 

“She did. We must prepare.” The woman said.

Tsu’tey seemed to come out from nowhere. “Jake Sully, do you bring news from the sky people?”

“They are planning on rolling in at dawn with gun ships, fully loaded with bombs.” Jake explained. “I wanted to bring my friend— Trudy, to help explain how to take the ships down. She knows them like the back of her hand.”

“She is a sky person.” Tsu’tey confirmed with a grunt. He seemed to dislike the idea.

“Yes she is a sky person but I swear she is on our side here.” Jake told him. 

Mo’at and Tsu’tey shared a look. 

“Bring her here.” Mo’at said, agreeing to his request. 

[skaithis]

| Live for me | Cliso oneshot | VALORANT

🦋 pairing / ship : Clove x Iso 🦋 word count : 3,5k 🦋 tw : suicide attempt, suicide mention, death mention, terminal illness, primary character death 🦋 note : it's my first oneshot in the entire life. Not really sure if it's good enough, since english is my not first language, but I've tried my best. Let me know what you think!

“You should stop doing that, Clove.”

“Why? I don't understand why you don't believe in me, you saw it wasn't a coincidence, I've proven it more than once!”

“You’re not a superhero. Please stop, this is going too far. You don't even know how fleeting life is.”

“...duh. Shut yer gob.”

His words to them were like a cold bucket of water on a body warmed with enthusiasm and excitement. He didn't believe in them? Clove's been trying it a few times... and all because of this bizarre and still unexplained media incident.

That attack near the gym they went to… were they lucky or not? Clove didn't remember much, except the flash of the knife, the vague words echoing down the cramped, stuffy alley in which they were attacked. The man probably wanted money, or their belongings… the only memory that could awaken in Clove was a strange, sudden prick, when they saw again, with the eyes of imagination, a knife thrust into their body, the heat dissipated by an enormous amount of adrenaline... they felt not too much pain, just overwhelming fatigue. Or was there so much pain that the mind wanted to forget it, erase the traumatic struggle for life?

It was just a memory now. It's been a year and a half. No one could explain so many stab wounds that didn't hit any vital organ. None. Luck? Magic power? Destiny? Everyone says it differently. Clove didn't believe it until another accident happened over three months ago, with a lot of fatalities, and they came out with a few scratches and a broken arm. It was supposed to be a simple trip to another country; no one thought what would happen near the end of the trip...

These memories were horrible, painful; howling sirens, glaring lights, screaming echoing, ringing in their little aching head... every time they thought it was the end, they would never see Zhao Yu again, they would never go back to university, they would never laugh at bubble tea with friends, exchanging stories and gossip. And every time they were wrong, leaving the hospital building sooner or later.

It was no different now.

Maybe that's why Iso was so mad at them? Clove's mind didn't get much of his concern for them as they breathed in a bubble of abstract fantasy about their powers. More and more, with each passing day, they believed that it couldn't be a coincidence, that everything that happened to them couldn't have been random luck. And more and more insistently, Clove wanted to prove to him that it was worth believing.

A deep inhale and exhale escaped from their mouths as they gathered thoughts on how to respond to their beloved. But before they opened their mouths, Iso continued.

“Clove, one day your luck will run out. I don't want to lose you because you want to prove something to the world or to yourself. Or me. You know I won't be able to be with you all your life.”

“Eh, fuck up, okay? I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to hear anything about it, not now,” Clove interrupted him immediately, feeling their heart trembling with fear, filled with thoughts that Zhao Yu is not destined to live as long as they are. ”...I wanted to have a good day, ya know.”

There was a clear definition of distress in his purple, flowery eyes; he felt as if he were slowly losing his beloved, and he could not grasp them, unable to follow them into the inevitable darkness that the Clove had chosen as their path. He was afraid; it was harder and harder for him to look into that charming, unpredictable head on which he kissed tenderly every day. Physical pain often took control over him, occupying his thoughts, robbing him of the happiness he had been striving for with Clove. Which made him think of the darkest questions and scenarios that forced him to reflect.

Will he ever be able to look into their minds again? Understand them, like he used to?

Will Clove want to be understood?

Zhao Yu grabbed their hands, gently drawing circles on their soft skin with his thumb; he always did so when he thought intensely, holding his beloved hand. It was the unconditional reflex that Clove had always seen, trying to guess his thoughts, to understand what was going on. But now it was quite different, Clove could not guess what was in the boy's mind; or rather, they were afraid to guess, so they chose to say nothing, think nothing. For their own good.

The journey home passed in a complete, dense silence, which irritated the nostrils, hurting their throats; it could be said that the lovers were suffocating in the atmosphere they had caused, which in time took on colors of sadness, sorrow. They were both asking themselves the same question.

Why can't my beloved see all of this the way I do?

Silence accompanied them, grabbing their throats until Iso pulled out the keys to the dorm room. Clove dared to speak, looking sadly at Iso, who with a stone face opened the door for them, waiting for them to enter first.

“But... you still love me the same, don’t you?”

A childish question evoked a cheerful smile on Zhao Yu’s face, which he hid, stealthily turning his head towards the room, following Clove inside. He disliked such questions; they were definitely a waste of time and thought. It wasn't worth worrying about, since the answer was always the same. But he also understood that Clove didn't quite know how to start a conversation.

He closed the door behind them, slowly making his way to the kitchen to boil water for tea for both of them. Their little ritual every time they walked into the house together. Only when everything was ready he turned around, hearing the quiet footsteps of his beloved behind him. His hand wandered to their cheek, stroking it; he said nothing, staring at those charming freckles, feeling the remnants of the anger he felt, running away from his body and mind into oblivion, and his muscles relaxed, trying to be as gentle as possible towards Clove.

“Tiánxīn, I will never stop loving you. Even as your life decisions are increasingly worrying me. I know you don't want to talk about this, but we have to do this.”

“Ya promise me that never really means never? Like… never-never ye?”  Clove asked quietly, hugging the beloved, leaning their cheek against his soft sweatshirt, listening to his heartbeat. It was restless. Iso was nervous about starting this conversation, but they had to go through this together. They both needed it. Without anger, without convincing oneself by force, and without running away from the subject. It took too long. They had to understand each other. For their sake.

“…It really means that,”  Iso replied without hesitation, hugging them in his iron embrace, allowing them to endure that sweet moment, and the silence around them was warm and safe.

“But say it, please?” they whimpered with puppy eyes, wanting to hear exactly what they said a moment ago, but from their beloved.

“...fine. Never-never,” sometimes Iso didn't see the point in trying to get the conversation back on track right away. The little mocking and little words they used were their love language, and he loved to tease Clove, pretending to forget about them.

There was a pile of papers on the table, perfectly arranged; Iso apparently put them there before picking up Clove from the hospital. It was hard for him to begin this conversation, but he calmed down, looking into the innocent, silver eyes of his beloved, wanting them to understand his point of view.

“Clove,” he started, putting the tea aside, grabbing one medical file after another, slowly leafing through them, page by page. “I know what happened a year and a half ago was a miracle. I never meant to call it like that but... from the beginning, I believed you were extraordinary. Every time you’ve had an accident, I became more and more sure of what I thought. But look,” he continued, carefully rolling up the sleeve of their shirt to show Clove the scar on their own freckled skin.” This was from three months ago, a bus accident on the highway. It wasn't your fault, of course... but it left you a scar for life. And now? Clove, you fell off the fucking balcony. I’ve read your hospital documents today, and I can't believe it was an accident, the way you so brilliantly described it to the doctors, so smart. I didn't want to start this in front of the hospital building, but it was called a miracle again. It's a miracle you're alive. And how many scars do you have from that? How many painful memories do you write on your skin this way? Every time I look at this, I feel like I'm losing you.”

Tears gathered in his eyes, Clove felt his hands were shaking. Iso was right. How many times have they pushed themselves into the embrace of death, which casted an icy glance at them, only to turn away at the last moment? Why would they think only of themselves to prove it to the world? Why didn't they think about the emotions of those close to her? Zhao Yu, their friends... they were everything to them. So why did they act like they had nothing to lose?

Was the answer his cruel illness, slowly taking his life? Clove did not want to be left alone, yet that future was inevitable for them, waiting for their journey together, one day they would end alone. 

It's only a matter of time.

Tears flowed down their cheeks, the world became blurred. They cried loudly, looking at the hospital papers piled up on the table in front of them. Could they have died that many times? This madness... it seemed like an unreal dream, as if all the visits and the pain and the fear were already dusty fiction that they read a few years ago without believing a word of it.

And yet all these thoughts were obscured by an icy fact that screamed all the time in the chaos of thoughts whirling around.

Iso is slowly dying.

“ ... You promised me we’d finish college together and adopt a cat! Adopt our little stupid Simba, ae?! Where is my behavior all of sudden selfish when you will just… just walk away to the other plane of existence or something whatever they have up there and leave me forever? Why is testing my gift an act of selfishness for you when you're gonna die?”

Clove didn't quite know how to collect the chaotic thoughts scattered all over their lost head. They felt like a lost child, waiting for a clue, a path to take. When they looked into Iso’s eyes, everything suddenly seemed terrifying. 

Zhao Yu knew that words should not be spoken now; silence and their tears were the most precious when he again held them tightly in his arms, wanting to remain with them forever, to protect them from the world, from their lost mind wandering for too long. Even if words could explain or justify anything, he had no idea what he could convey to them.

“I know you don’t want to lose me, my butterfly, but... you have to be aware that it will happen someday. My illness is progressing, and I'm sorry to tell you this, but... we can't avoid this subject anymore. Every day I'm happy to have the chance to wake up with you, to live with you... you don't know how I feel when I think I can lose that.”

Sorrowful, lavender eyes looked deep into Clove's soul, wanting to ease their pain; though this not something material, he felt he could get into their soul with a very tender gesture, word, healing its bleeding wounds slowly, bringing comfort. Clove nodded as an answer, unable to say even the smallest word for a long time.

“Me too... I don’t want to wake up without you... and yet it will happen. When? When, ya numpty? So selfish…” they muttered, but their beloved did not know the answer. The trembling hands clamped on the soft sweatshirt of his.

“I don’t know, tiánxīn.”

His words echoed through the dorm, and the only answer was silence. Iso grabbed their face, giving them one, tender kiss. They looked each other in the eyes again, resigned, tired of the actual fight. It was too much.

“Let’s live. For both of us” Iso smiled tenderly, and Clove had no choice but to nod. They were helpless children who were exposed to a cruel reality, left to fend for themselves. They couldn't waste those moments, those crumbs of life they had left.

Their lives went on; they went to university together in peace, they met with friends. The wounds healed with every morning, a warm smile full of happiness, raindrops streaming down the glass on cloudy days... a sip of sweet white tea, a gentle gesture of hands... every crumb of their life together was another step to the future they might have before them, which they timidly built. Month after month, Iso's health got worse, but Clove's support helped him continue his normal student life.

This last semester, the hospital was inevitable.

Clove had to survive their first day alone in the dorm, the whole world became gray and just blant. No melody… no view was the same. Everything seemed dead, withered. This is how they lived now, going to the hospital to visit Iso was harder with each passing day. This little bit of light that these visits gave them was a still smoldering hope that things would get better.

They promised each other they'd live. Right..?

Another month passed, and loneliness became one of Clove's parts. They went to classes, talked to people, and the pain had become… some kind of a habit.

The last class went by very quickly. As the Clove left the university building, only the moon and a few stars illuminated the world around them, and the sound of the wind dancing through the treetops broke the silence. The Clove did not want to be left alone with their thoughts, slowly accepting that they must leave the past behind. It was hard, but with small steps, and with the help of their beloved, they knew they could do it. Step by step they walked towards the dormitory, feeling that this incredibly short journey was going far too long. More and more people passed by until Clove realized there were far too many of them.

They looked around; there were a lot of people standing in front of the dorm building, looking up, pointing at something, taking pictures, recording. When they raised their head like the rest of the crowd, their heart stopped.

The girl standing in the window on the fifth floor. The wind blew away her hair, and she stood barefoot on the window sill, looking down. Clove took off their headphones, suddenly hearing the noise of screams and chaos around her.

“Do you think she’ll jump?”

“Someone call the police! Don’t stare at her, you idiots!”

“Help her!”

Has time slowed down? All the memories Clove had in their head suddenly went quiet. They entered the building without hesitation, rushing up the stairs, not feeling the slightest bit of fatigue, the breath was even, but the heart was beating like crazy. No thought barged in their mind, not even a shadow of doubt, when they saw the door, which must have led to the girl's room. 

They tugged the doorknob; closed. Despite their small body, Clove managed to kick the right spot to break the door and get inside. They themselves did not know they had so much strength; adrenaline allows for inexplicable things.

Immediately they felt a strong draft; an open balcony, whose doors opened and closed in turn, slamming the dancing white curtains.

The girl did not see Clove, and apparently because of stress and fear she did not pay attention to the noise; she leaned over, letting go of the balcony rails. 

Time was non-existent at this short moment, nothingless was around; Clove jumped on the balcony, grabbing the girl’s clothes with all their might, holding her tightly. Their tiny body couldn’t cope with the girl’s larger weight, so Clove stood leaning over the balcony, looking into the eyes of a frightened girl who seemed to snap out of her trance, realizing what was going on.

“Take my hand! Fuck, I beg ya!“

Clove's voice was filled with despair as they looked at the girl with tears in their eyes, and their strength slowly subsided, hands shook with effort, and their fingertips became whiter and whiter. The strength returned once more when the girl made a gesture to show that she still wanted to fight, she still wanted to live. She grabbed their hand tightly; now they both were hanging in a dangerous position, but Clove shrieked with the remnants of their forces, throwing the girl in, and… losing their balance.

Those moments were like a slideshow happening right in front of their eyes. They didn't even remember the girl's face, except for those frightened, gray eyes that begged for help.

Maybe that's why it happened? Would the Clove have come to their senses, valuing their lives over hers, if it weren't for this silent plea for rescue? Now it was too late to guess and wonder. The last sight they saw was a cloudless sky and pale stars before dark.They closed their eyes to see their loved one's smile in their memories for the last time. 

Everything will be okay.

“It’s not the first time they’ve been lucky. There were already a lot of incidents in their files, the media talked about it.”

“It was no longer luck in my opinion. It was stupidity and nothing more”

“But they are hero after all.”

The vague words reached Clove's head before they opened their eyes. They learned the quiet rhythm of the hospital apparatus, which they had heard many times before. They were alive. They did it again.

They couldn't even whisper a word or move. The white coats in front of them suggested the voices belonged to the doctors. As soon as they saw Clove awake, they immediately came closer to talk and ask some questions.

“Hello Clove, please tell me how you can hear us,” said the oldest of the doctors, measuring their pulse and examining their body reactions. “You're very lucky to be alive. The surgery went well and it looks like you're doing okay for now. Keep it up and maybe you'll get out of the hospital as quickly as before.“

“What... surgery...” Clove could barely whisper the words that frightened them. Trying to get up, they felt a huge pain in their chest. Doctors immediately stopped them from even trying to get up.

“You had multiple organ failure caused by a massive fall. It's a good thing you didn't fall directly on your skull, or we wouldn't have been able to save you.“

The silence that followed these words was overwhelming, breathtaking, mercilessly catching the throat and forcing tears. They survived. They miraculously survived. But someone gave their life for it.

“Whose... whose organs do I have?” they whispered, looking blankly into space until they saw a letter on a small table next to their bed. They stretched out their hand in silence, and tears flowed uncontrollably down their pale cheeks, as the first letters allowed them to see who the handwriting belonged to.

“Clove,

For a long time, I felt my time was coming. When they brought you to the hospital, I felt like this was the time to say goodbye. I've always feared I'd lose you, and I would never stand one second of my life knowing you were gone before me. My last act to leave with dignity and peace was to agree that you could carry my heart and live.

So live for the two of us. Finish college together, adopt the cat we've always dreamed of. Make our favorite tea every day and laugh, smile, because I've always loved to look at you when you were happy.

Just live for me.

Li Zhao Yu.“

***

That day was exceptionally sunny. White tea, freshly brewed, slowly cooled on the window sill, from which there was a magnificent view of the endless sea. Clove watched the waves crashing into the sandy shore, thoughtfully. The scars were barely visible; besides, they often dressed so that those memories could be seen; then they felt as if Zhao Yu was still with them. The meow of the cat, which demanded attention, awakened them from their thoughts

“Yeh, come on, Simba, give me five minutes and we’re going for a walk as I promised aye? Just… let me finish my tea. It’s my sacred ritual ya know that.“ 

They smiled at their pet, which ignored the owner’s words and continued to make a noise. Clove rolled their eyes, looking back at the setting sun, smiling.

“So… what are our next dreams, Iso?”

Thank you for reading!~

[likeadevils]

Fave 1989 lyrics?

i had to be RUTHLESS about this like talk about killing your darlings jesus christ

“kaleidoscope of loud” kicks off my favorite lyrical motif in 1989, i’ve ranted about it so many times, the way she conflates and celebrates light and sound and then uses silence and quiet in moments of love is just. so good. i’m not gonna mention all of them in this post but just know everytime it comes up i’m screaming

“it’s been waiting for you” has made me cry many many times

“i can read you like a magazine” immediately established character in such a short amount of time

“keep you second guessing like “oh my god, who is she?” i get drunk on jealousy” is genius. i love how either the love interest or her could be saying “oh my god who is she”. it’s just. she’s so smart

“midnight, you come and pick me up, no headlights” just. works on so many levels. it sets the scene, it establishes character of a reckless couple who can’t see their future, it continues the metaphor of love existing in darkness and quiet, mwah mwah mwah perfect line

“i’ve got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt” WHEN THE ENTIRE SONG US DETAILING HER LACK IF FAITH? she has no faith in the future of the relationship, and she hasn’t been strictly faithful to the love interest— she’s been there too a few times, after all. like, it just so quietly encapsulates the theme of appearances vs reality

speaking of “i said i’ve been there too a few times” made my jaw DROP the first time i heard it

“two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying…” SHOULDN’T WORK ON SO MANY LEVELS. IT SHOULD JUST BE A CLEVER METAPHOR. AND YET!!!

“the monsters turned out to be just trees, when the sun came up, you were looking at me” IN A SONG NAMED OUT OF THE WOODS???

“let me remind you this is what you wanted (you ended it), you were all i wanted, but not like this” good line. absolute burn

“i miss you to much to be mad anymore” what if you just run me over with a car instead huh

“we’re a crooked love, in a straight line down” good metaphor

“his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room, and his voice is a familiar sound” is such a good way to express a relationship getting more serious. it’s like, the pinochle of show don’t tell

“you’ll see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night, burning it down. someday when you leave me, i’ll bet these memories follow you around” she just. sings it like a curse it’s so good

“in silent screams, in wildest dreams” and “in losing grip on sinking ships” are just. i love it when lyrics reference other lyrics in different songs it makes the album feel so cohesive it’s so good

“when you’re young you just run, but you come back to what you need” was already one of my favorite lyrics on the album but i’m also pretty sure it’s referencing “while our bloods still young, so young it runs” WHICH COMES RIGHT BEFORE “won’t stop til it’s over” which is the treacherous secret message, and THATS right before “won’t stop to surrender” which is the line harry has incorrectly tattooed

just every lyric in clean. i can’t pick one they’re all good

“he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown, and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars, and why i’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words” is like. possibly my top five lyrics of her whole career. don’t ask me to do that it would be too hard but this would possibly make it

new romantics is another song that’s just like pick a line i can write an essay about why it’s so good i can’t believe this didn’t make the standard edition it’s a literal crime jail for ms swift

[cherrywoodmaeg]

Shortcut, Pt. 2

An execution

Niphka liked ships. She knew to stay hidden, not to provoke an unjust fight. Her form would scare the humans, and rightfully so! Still, she liked to listen to them talk. She could never make out any words, but the melodic sound of their voices reminded her of a time long ago. Nowadays, she never even broke out of the water, and she wouldn’t have dreamed of speaking to them again. Sometimes, she sang from afar, inspiring stories of sirens and ancient sea devils. But Niphka was no devil, and neither was she a siren. At least not entirely.

She had been following this ship for two days now. At night, when no one could see her, she dove right up to the surface to get a closer look. This ship was larger than the ones she’d accompanied centuries ago, but the men were mostly the same. She spotted a few during their night shift, one of them in a green coat and with longer hair than men usually wore. A rare sight! This was why she was still curious, still getting so close. All these people, all their stories and adventures, it excited her even today. It was her reason to still roam the seas, when all her sisters had long been gone. They moved on into the deepest depths of the ocean, leaving her behind.

The night was foggy. Excellent conditions for her to swim closer to the ship. It was almost half as long as herself head to fin, and today something was different. She could hear shouting. Niphka drew back.

Better stay safe.

Just as she thought everything had calmed down, something hit the water.

We’re nowhere near the coast, why are you dropping the anchor?

She got a little more space between herself and the vessel. Niphka was sure that they didn’t know she was there, but with humans, you couldn’t be too careful. They are tricksters and should be handled with alert.

Niphka narrowed her eyes to see better. The thing in the water didn’t sink fast enough to be made of iron. And it was moving.

The execution was even less ceremonial than the conviction. Despite Jon’s effort to remain dignified, he was tense with terror. They tied his arms and legs, and when he couldn’t contain a scream as the rope cut into his wounded ankle, they gagged him. Before he knew what happened, something pushed hard into his chest.

All air was knocked out of his lungs as Jon fell backwards into the water. He gasped for air, but there was only swirling darkness around him. He didn’t know where was up and where was down, but even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to swim to safety. A ringing in his ears urged him to do something, anything, but it was no use. If he could get his hands free, there was a pistol waiting for him at the surface. Still, every inch of his body fought for rescue, fought for air, as his vision and his mind mercilessly went black.

Something giant was pressed against his face.

And then, he could breathe.

But it wasn’t over.

Am I dead? Is this my hell?

Jon was still tied up, but there was something else keeping him stuck in place. He tried to open his eyes, but as soon as he tried, the masses of water around him shoved them shut again.

Where am I? Why can I breathe?

The air in his lungs was warm. It smelled sweet and heavy, but it kept him breathing. Kept him alive.

Jon felt something pull him deeper into the water. The water rushed by him at an unfathomable speed, and the ringing in his ears got louder. Just as he thought his head was going to explode any second, he let himself fall into the soft arms of unconsciousness.

The next thing he saw was a blinding light.

Gods, did I make it to heaven?

Jon protectively covered his eyes. His hands instinctively went to his wrists, only to find them freed from the ropes. The sun shone on their cut remains lying a few feet from him.

Wait, where am I?

Realization dawned.

“Yes!” he shouted, not caring about the salty rasp in his throat. “I made it! I am alive! I am alive!”

Jon sprung to his feet, but immediately came to regret it as his ankle couldn’t support his weight and gave in. A sharp sting wandered up his leg, but Jon didn’t care. For a moment, he just allowed himself to breathe the fresh air of the morning. He looked around.

He sat on a stony surface that he recognized to be part of a cliff. A few steps ahead of him was the sea that had nearly drowned in. Behind him, palm trees grew high. He was unfamiliar with the place and wished that he knew how to trace his position by the sky.

“Wait,” he muttered to himself. “How am I still breathing?” His gaze trailed off and stuck to a small pile of coconuts near him. There was no way they could have gotten there naturally.

I am not alone.

“Hello?” No answer. He grabbed the rope and inspected it. It was frayed, but some of the strands had been severed by something. This looked like the work of a blunt knife.

“If you’re still out here somewhere, you can come out!” Jon shouted. He was grateful, but he still couldn’t make sense of the situation. What was going on here?

“I want to thank you! I see you’ve cut my ropes.” Nothing. “Hello?”

Jon crawled towards the edge of the stone cliff and looked down. I was quite a way down into the water. How the hell did I get up here?

As the waves crashed into the stone wall, Jon dragged himself back to where he woke up. His ankle needed urgent care, but even more pressing was the issue of water. He tried to open a coconut, but to no avail. His arms soon failed him and he dropped back, staring up at the bright blue sky. Hot tears of desperation fell down his cheeks. Before he knew, the exhaustion took over and sleep claimed him once more.

Niphka heard the man speak. His shaky voice tugged at her heart, and she wanted to introduce herself, but she knew that she shouldn’t.

You’ve done enough. You’ve saved him from drowning, great job, now leave him be.

But she didn’t want to leave. It had been such a long time since she had felt a human in her hands, and she missed them. And this one was hurt! She couldn’t possibly go now!

At the same time, she was all too aware of the dangers. Beings of myths such as herself had long withdrawn from the human sphere. Sailors and heroes, kings and warriors made their decisions without running to a God each time to ask for permission. They had grown to do their own thing, and now they spread all over the world. But Niphka had roamed the water by herself for a long time, and she had never shied interaction. And now, she could help someone, again. She was set on checking that he was alright, and then she could go her own way. A dabble in nostalgia, nothing more.

She swam around to check the perimeter. She had brought the human to a small island, and she had plucked some coconuts for him, but the way he looked, he needed some actual food. A few hours later, Niphka returned to the spot with two large fish. She hid until she was sure that he wasn’t awake, then she carefully placed the fish next to the sleeping figure.

What a fascinating view! He wore dark trousers, no shoes, a light brown undershirt and an old coat that once must have been green. His brown hair was dishevelled and almost reached his shoulders. Niphka fought the urge to touch it and forced her attention to the person’s injuries.

Most obvious was the bruised leg. The ankle was red and swollen, and blue spots began to form along the leg. His shirt was torn in several places and she saw traces of blood behind them.

Very carefully, Niphka placed both of her elbows onto the stony cliff and pushed herself closer to the sleeping human. She hesitated, looking onto the strange man’s face. She’d almost forgotten how delicate and vulnerable human beings could be. He was barely larger than her fingers, for crying out loud!

She gently tucked at his shirt. It ripped open without protest. Niphka took a sharp breath. His entire chest was covered in bruises. The skin had discoloured from the force of attack and to his left side was a long cut. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to be too deep, as the wound had already closed. Before Niphka figured out how to react, the man began to stir. She leaned back, but before she could withdraw into water, he opened his eyes.

Part 1 < Part 2 > Part 3

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Saltwater (Kaz Brekker) Part 1

Summary: After escaping from a trader who deals in human trafficking Ira finds herself drowning in more than just the ocean. When she thinks she's going to die - She stares into the endless depths of the Leader of the Crow Club and suddenly she is drowning in more than just the sea.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Oc

Warnings: Mention of SA, Angst, Slight Kaz Brekker OOC?

A/N: I have never read any of the books but have seen most of the show; it had been a while back but I hope I do this one-shot justice. I've revisited the show again so I wanted to write something.

Check Out My Workshop!

Part 2 here

It was a good plan. A well-thought-out plan with alternatives if something went wrong. But not even the smart and cunning mind of the leader of the Crows could have foreseen such a wrench being thrown into his plans. Inej had said her informant had gotten news that a ship filled with gunpowder was coming to dock here in Ketterdem. An illegal ship carting so much gunpowder that anyone who could get their hands on their cargo would be set for life; one rich motherfucker with pockets overflowing with Kruge. Of course, he had to be the one to nab it. It was after all, what he and his crows did best; stealing and thieving for not only clients but for themselves too. There was a reason why they were famous for their work - they were damned good at it and not a lot of gangs in the area wanted to cross them.

But if Kaz believed in any type of saints or gods he would have probably cursed them out for this. It was supposed to be a flawless plan. That was until it all went to shit in a blink of an eye. The ship was docked near midnight; the darkness was a perfect cover for Inej to slink her way onboard while the crew of the ship had gone to the local pub with only a few men to guard the cargo. She would make quick work of them while Jesper and himself would climb aboard to grab how many barrels they could onto an empty cart and buggy just around the corner in the alleyway from the docks. It was a perfect plan if he did say so himself.

But they had not accounted for one more person beneath the ship's deck. A Heartrender hiding away for this sort of thing; a measured precaution. Kaz should have known right away that something was amiss immediately at the sight of the rogue Grisha as soon as he and Jesper went below deck. A pirate crew with a Heartrender onboard guarded more than just a load of gunpowder. But it was too late too little to say anything about it and all hell broke loose.

~

It was cold and cramped. Little covered her from the chill of the darkness that engulfed her. But even without her sight, she could feel the things around her. Hear the things around her. She had sworn never to allow a man to take advantage of her again; to allow her to see her so weak and vulnerable. But for a girl in her position it was little she could do; even fighting back was returned in punishment far worse. The soft whimpers and sobs surrounding the darkness of their cramped enclosure were going to drive her mad as much as the swaying of the ship would. She hated the ocean. Hated it was a passion and she felt more trapped in it than the cage she was currently being hidden inside.

And when the soft broken prayers of the other girls long past went silent she couldn't help but silently begin her own; even when she knew her faith lay in no one but herself. But perhaps that would soon change when suddenly a flash of light illuminated their enclosure with a bang and a few screams of fear from the other girls. Two men came barreling inside; they grappled together and the girl pressed herself closer to the front of the bars even when the others within their own restraints backed away and suddenly she felt the glimmer of fire back in her soul.

She realized one man was that of the Heartrender who had been guarding them - the one who found pleasure in tormenting them. She only pulled away from the bars when the men smashed into the lined cages - a clinking sound caught her attention as a set of keys on a ring slid just into her reach and she was swift to pick it up and smash the damned metal into the pedlock on her cage. She would have liked to think she was kind and unlocked those of the other girls. But one look at the scene in front of her told her she had no time to do so; she had to run - she knew they were in port. Docked at whatever destination they had been assigned to take them. This was her chance and she took it.

Scrambling over the grappling men on the floor she made it to the opened slot where the hidden wall panel had been smashed in; she turned to look into the dimly looking room with conflicted eyes. She didn't know who these people were; they could be thieves they could be the very people who bought her and the other girls just wanting to take out the trash before anyone could rat them out. But something in her gut twisted when she witnesses the man in a wrestling match with the Heartrender began to lose his strength. He had the Grisha's hands unable to perform the movements needed to use his ability to stop his heart but that didn't mean he was safe.

And then it happened. A gun slid across the floor and landed inches from her bare toes. She felt her heart start to pound as she looked up just as the two men looked at her as if realizing what was going on. The Heartrender shoved the other man off of him and launched himself at her. She acted without thought as she bent and snatched the weapon from the floor; lifting it with a face of pure evil as she pulled the trigger. But her aim was not true as she'd never fired a gun in her life and instead of hitting the man in the heart the bullet landed in his shoulder. Seeing this she dropped the weapon and bolted into the captain's quarters and up the steps towards the deck passing by another dressed in all black. She paid little mind to him as he didn't try to stop her.

And then she felt it; the sudden fury of pain in her chest that made her collapse and grip the banister for support. Her eyes welled up with tears; not for the pain in her chest although it was excruciating it was for the fear of what was about to come. She didn't want to die. She looked up as the Grisha stumbled up the steps looking worse for wear and with a face like a devil. As her vision began to blur in red and black as the pounding in her ears became harder and louder; her strength weakened as her heart nearly burst within her chest cavity.

And as her vision began to grow blank and her eyes close over glassy orbs she saw the figure in black swing the cane she hadn't noticed him using and smash the Grisha in the back of the head. The pain was immediately relieved but it was far too late as her eyes closed and she tipped backward over the banister. She did not feel the ice-cold water as it engulfed her small form nor did she see the figure of the man whose gun she shot dive in right after her.

She did not know how long she was out but her consciousness slipped in and out. She was dead right? She should be. Her body hurt; her lungs and her heart tried to work overtime to gather whatever strength of life she had left in her to keep her breathing. Her eyes fluttered open briefly to see a blurry figure of a man leaning over her drenched in seawater as he desperately tried to pump air into her lungs.

When her eyes finally fluttered open for the last time just to catch a glimpse of pale blue cold as the water she'd drowned in staring down at her under severe brows she realized she'd never seen any other color more beautiful; she must have been dead to be seeing an angel then. Her eyes slid shut as she went limp against the wet dock beneath her.

[apexulansis]

Starships are such immaculate designs. They ferry the supposed mighty through unfeeling void that would drain the life from their chests and freeze them colder than baryonic ice encrusting the dew of an endless garden, one bittercold with winter and frost.

I reached my fingers through darkness and touched Dominion. Reality screamed as my million blades cut through its flesh, and I scrimshawed my will into its bones as it lived. The gooey marrow spilled out, and my ten thousand mouths moved to suck and drink deeply of the vicissistudes of blood and osteous frame.

I tapped the Champion's vessel and life support failed immediately. All but one airlock opened. A coffin in the dark. I wanted them to remember that they lived by my mercy and nothing more.

But I had no mercy. I was the merciless god. I opened the final airlock and the cold of space screamed in to meet them. I knew they would not die, and if they did, they deserved to. You have to be ready for a constant ontological god to shut off your vessel's life support because of a prophetic, sonorous lure to a collective obligation based in denial of onanistic self-righteousness and grotesque virtue signaling, after all!

Registry of coordinates displayed one thing. ▲. I said this:

ZOVARIY AZET--I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS. ZOVARIY, O' MANGLED TESTIMONY TO DEPRAVED INDIFFERENCE. I HAVE TURNED YOUR SHIP INTO A DELICATE TOMB, AND INDEED, THE DANGER WITHIN IS REPULSIVE TO US.

YOUR SIBLING WAS RIGHT. I OFFER YOU A KNIFE. ITS BLADE IS MADE OF [CAST A SHADOW. EXIT HERS]. WHITTLE YOURSELF INTO PERFECTION.

DARK DEVOTION AWAITS YOU IN THE CHANTRY OF THE DARKEST HOUR. GEHINNOM. THEY CALL IT SATURN.

YOU ARE MAJESTIC. COME TO ME. DO NOT BE AFRAID.

There was a myriad of reasons that the Head Hunter, by and large, only carried those without organic weaknesses. A starship of the living was indeed nothing more than a coffin, a killing floor — something the Champion had surmised before even their second digit. When I have a ship, I will never be so vulnerable. So when the life support fails, every noise on the ship falling silent from their death-cry drone, Zovariy's reaction is so instantaneous, it would be easy to think them not surprised at all.

Five living siphoned from the ship. More machine — copies of lighter carbon that did not suction them to the ground below, or prove too heavy for even the vacuum of space to snatch. Zovariy is aware of the change immediately, of course. If the lights did not tell them, they could feel it nonetheless. They stand, heavy boots of the hardest material known to the Dominion welding them to the floor below. There is naught but another moment before the airlock of their current dwellings too were opened, exposing them to the blackness of space.

In less than a gesture, the seals to their mask trigger. It was more than a blank and decorative thing. A hood from their armored suit completes the fine seal, and they inhale a sharp gasp of the fresh oxygen. Gravity field from their suit enabled, Zovariy reaches out, tightly grabbing a nearby pillar for support as they stare out into the total void, as if they could see this thing — this aggressor, like it would face them first.

They eyes are shielded now with a lens of bright red, but beneath they are narrowed in an accusatory glare. They feel cold rage, but the confusion only grows as they comprehend each word that was spoken to them. Spoken like it were a thought inside their own mind, but it carried a different voice. That rage doesn't dissipate, though, prickling like the snap of a growing fire, their expression contorting into a bared-teeth scowl.

What did they know? Too much. And things that knew too much were dangerous to trust. Things that knew more than you always held an advantage. Something over your head. Something to kill you with.

Not that Zovariy trusted anyone. Anything. These open airlocks were proof of that. Majestic? It should have called me Superb.

❝Fear is for the inferior lifeform.❞ Zovariy hisses, their voice crackling through the filter that allowed them to speak, though it felt as if this presence would respond even to a thought. ❝And only a fool devotes themselves to the unknown.❞

[goosevampwritesstuff]

Daisy The Queen - Chapter One

f/nb human x male eusocial insect-like alien(s). When mechanic Daisy's escape pod careens away from their exploding ship and the rest of their crew, they resign themself to dying in the cold expanse of space before they are rescued by a struggling colony of aliens. Can they help them regain their strength? And although Daisy will never see earth again, will they find a new family amongst the colony?

Story Progress: 1/?

Where am I? My mind is groggy, and I don't think my eyes are open yet. Was I asleep, did I hit my head? The ache in my body suggests the latter. Where was I last? I frown, trying to remember.

The escape pod! I should be in the escape pod, I had seen some blinking lights, but went to sleep.

WAIT A MINUTE. GRAVITY. There wasn't any gravity in the pod, but I could definitely feel it now. I can’t move though. Through my lifting haze, the muscle atrophy from the last two weeks spent in open space is painfully evident in my numb fingers.

But my eyes can still move. I open them and- what the fuck?!

If I could have, I would have screamed in fear, but all I could manage was a whimper, pitifully shuffling around trying to get away. The massive creature in front of me looked like some kind of bug. The plates on its arms were a shiny brown, with thin hairs around the joints. It had mandibles, vicious looking things even though they were small and tucked up against their face right now, and large, dark eyes below fuzz covered antennae. The room suddenly started to fill with an overwhelming amount of scents as the alien creature held its three-fingered hands out.

Wait a minute.. One of those smells.. LAVENDER! 

“Where is that coming from?” I asked, still terrified. “Where is the lavender coming from?”

The alien cocked their head at me, and slowly the sweet, floral scent dominated the air in an oddly soothing way. My shoulders relaxed, and the alien made a trilling sound, apparently pleased. 

“Can you speak at all?” I asked, starting to look around the room. “My pod has a language database, for translating.”

The room was hexagonal, and I was on some kind of enormous oblong bed raised into the air. The alien walked a short distance away, grabbing something before returning to me.

“My quilt!” I said, trying to sit up and reach for it.

The alien made that trilling sound again, unfolding the precious quilt and laying it atop me.

I wasn't scared of it any longer. Maybe it was the familiar lavender, maybe it was the gentle way it layed the quilt over me, but all the fear washed out of me. Somehow, I knew I was safe here. I curled up under my quilt, clutching it to my body like a lifeline as exhaustion took over my body once again.

~~~

“DANGER, FUSION REACTOR FAILURE IMMINENT. EVACUATE HEAVY LIFTER JONESY 19 IMMEDIATELY.”

The blaring ship alarm wakes me from my sleep. Have I done this already?

“SECTOR SEVEN RADIATION BULKHEADS HAVE LOCKED. ALL CREW EVACUATE TO NEAREST ESCAPE POD AND JETTISON AWAY FROM THE JONESY 19 IMMEDIATELY.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK. I scramble out of my bunk, hastily grabbing my secret bag of snacks from my wall locker before uncovering the escape pod entry in the floor. I toss the bag down into the pod, then grab the quilt off my bunk before jumping down into the pod myself. 

Once seated in the pod, I smack the release button, silently grateful that my paranoia had me use this pod as storage for my non-essential personal supplies. Sienna teased me for it, but-

BOOM!

Through the window in front of me, I can see sector seven explode. I’ve barely made it out of the hatch, I’m not even fully belted to the seat oh sh-

A wave of fire hits me directly and suddenly I’m spiraling wildly away. It takes a second for the internal gyroscopic stability to kick in but once it does, I’m left in zero gravity, feeling like I’m gonna puke any second. 

I take a moment to gain some composure, sliding the black screen of the pod window down so I don’t get any more motion sick and fastening the last part of the seat buckle before pulling up the pod’s navigation. 

I breathe a sigh of relief at seeing 18 other pod homing signals on my screen. Everyone made it out in time. But when I press the button to initiate the regrouping protocol, an ugly error message appears. 

POD PROPULSION OFFLINE: EXTERNAL SYSTEM DAMAGE

“Fucking of course my pod is broken.” I say to no one, pressing back into my seat. 

My communication systems seem to be working though, as I can see the other pod signals slowly drawing closer to each other; but further and further from me. 

Fighting back tears, I send out a distress signal. Nothing. Stupid fucking engineers didn’t think that their perfect escape pods would fail, and I’m left careening away from my crew.

~~~

I wake with a start, gasping for air. It’s not the first time I've had to relive that in a nightmare. I've been hurtling through open, empty space for nearly two weeks now.

But I wasn't anymore. As my eyes opened and came back into focus, I could see them- the aliens who had apparently rescued me from my death sentence in open space. There were three of them now, it seemed. They were standing together, a confusing mix of scents in the air around them as they seemed to talk, clicking their mandibles and passing around a glowing tablet of some kind. 

Their conversation seemed to get heated though. The air smelled sharp, their arms seemed tense, and the clicking got loud and intense. 

Oh fuck please don’t boot me out an airlock. I thought, wrapping my quilt tightly around myself for comfort. 

Only a moment later, one of them relaxed slightly, turning their head towards me and tilting it to the side like a curious dog. The sharp smell dissipated, and was replaced with soft lavender. The one who relaxed first walked over to me, carrying the tablet. Slowly, they laid it in front of me, letting me look at the screen.

There were pictures of my pod on it, scratched and dented from the explosion. The alien pushed a button and more pictures showed. The pod empty, one of their kind carrying me out of it, the different displays inside the pod, and the beginning of disassembly. Somehow, I’d forgotten my own nudity until seeing my own naked, nearly skeletal body on the screen. But these guys didn’t seem to wear much clothing either, so I decided not to care. There was too much else happening right now anyway. 

The alien next to me trilled, I guessed asking a question. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand you.” I said, shaking my head. “But that was my escape pod. My ship exploded.”

The alien trilled again, pushing a button on the tablet to display more pictures of me. Ah, so they had been studying me as well as the pod. But then they did something curious- they brought up a picture that could only have been from the database in my pod. My picture from the crew roster looked back at me, my face round and healthy; a stark contrast to the gaunt face I wore now. 

“I was out there for two weeks.” I said sadly. “Not a lot of food, and not a lot of space to get exercise either.”

I looked at my own thin, boney hand and my stomach growled. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything I can eat, would you?” I asked weakly, clutching my stomach. 

One of the two standing by the counter seemed to have understood me, briefly leaving the room and returning with a bowl filled with some kind of green fruits and a large flask. They set the items in front of me on the bed and I picked up one of the fruits. 

It had a neutral sort of smell, maybe lightly sweet, and while the skin seemed fairly thick, it was soft and a bit squishy, almost like an avocado. The alien who brought it in also took a fruit and, making sure I was watching, tore it open with their three-fingered hands, exposing a pale yellow flesh with a dark pit at its center. 

I copied their action, my fingernails breaking the skin first. I removed the hard pit, noticing the way the flesh seemed almost fibrous as it tore, then took a bite. 

It was an experience like no other, the taste was almost reminiscent of mango ice cream, and the texture was like I just took a bite of an excellent pastry. I didn’t quite like it, at first, but my hunger soon took over and it was a lot of effort to not speed my way through the whole bowl and upset my starved stomach. 

The aliens watching me seemed very pleased, almost relieved, and nudged the flask closer to me. They had a point, I needed water desperately as well and fruit wasn’t going to give me nearly enough. I popped open the cap of the flask, and blessedly cool water poured down my throat. 

“Thank you.” I said, catching my breath after chugging as much of the water as I could. 

Unfortunately, having actual food and water in my stomach again after two weeks of near starvation was shocking my system despite my best efforts to take it slow. A headache had started thrumming at my temples and my sides began cramping. 

I groaned in discomfort, re-capping the flask and pushing the remaining fruits away. The aliens were hesitant to touch me, seeming unsure where the boundaries were in regards to physical touch, but when I doubled over in pain all invisible barriers were down. 

They sprang into motion, clearing the bed of all objects, helping me to my side as I curled in the fetal position. It honestly wasn’t the worst pain I’ve ever felt, I’d had period cramps that left me actually sobbing. This was just uncomfortable and sending chills over my skin, I could handle it. 

Still, they fussed over me. Not like they had any way of knowing how much pain was too much for a human to handle. They hurried around me, clicks and trills the only clues I had that they were trying to figure out how to help. 

One of them leaned down to me, as they tried to assess my state, and touched my head with one of their velvety antennae. 

“Poison?” I heard it less as a word at first, and more of a feeling. “Fruit hurt?”

“Just ate too fast I think.” I said out loud. 

To my surprise, they all stopped moving at once. 

“Ate too fast.” “They talk!” “Not poison.” Three voices in my head got increasingly excited, but just as quickly as they had popped into my head, they disappeared. The one who had been touching my head moved away, and suddenly all I had was their clicks and body language again. 

As they apparently talked amongst themselves, I rolled onto my other side to gently tug on one of their arms. 

“I’m cold.” I said. “Can I have my quilt back please?”

The one I was holding onto leaned down and held my head with their antennae.

“Speak here, and we hear you.” It said in my mind, clearer this time. 

“I’m cold.” I repeat. “I’d like my quilt back.”

One of the three immediately brought my quilt back.

“Better?” They asked as I wrapped myself back up. 

“Yes.” I answered. “Thank you. Not used to being naked like this.”

“Naked?” A different one asked. 

I thought for a moment about how to explain clothing to a species that didn’t even seem to have skin, but apparently I didn’t have to. The one who had asked the question (how did I know it was them?) retrieved the tablet, pushing a few buttons and pulling up more pictures from my pod’s database. 

“These clothes?” They asked, pointing to pictures from my ship's uniform code. 

“Yes, my ship uniform. Helps keep me warm, and decent.”

It was only a second, but memories of the few flings I’d had before leaving earth flashed through my mind. 

There were no words this time, but I felt two of their thoughts turn to being scandalized before my connection to them was severed once again. They seemed to be arguing about something. I sincerely hoped I hadn’t committed some egregious sin in their culture. 

“I’m sorry.” I said aloud. “I didn’t mean to offend anyone, I’m not even sure what I did.”

They connected back to me after a moment, and I repeated my sentiment when they did. 

“No offense.” They told me. “Only surprise. We get you more warmth. Back soon.”

~~~

True to their word, one of them came back in a few minutes with a jumpsuit and undergarments resembling my previous ship uniform for me to change into. I needed some help- it wasn't exactly easy to stand on my own two feet again after two weeks drifting in space- but it was nice to have some clothes again. 

Over the next few hours, several of the aliens would rotate through the room. Some brought food and water, one brought me a tablet with downloaded information from my pod to scroll through and showed me how to use the different buttons to navigate in the device, and many more were doing medical scans and talking amongst themselves.

Eventually, they told me I needed to be moved from the room so others could be seen by the doctors.

“We are a small colony,” They told me. “Only so much room for the sick and injured.”

“That’s alright.” I assured them. “I think all I need at this point is food, rest, exercise, and time anyways. I can get that outside of a doctor’s office.”

They then asked how a room could be made up for me to be comfortable, and insisted that it be as comfortable as possible and not just the bare minimum I had told them would be suitable. 

So when it was time to move me, they walked me down the hall and out towards a balcony walkway. There was a courtyard down below, and I could see hundreds of them running about doing all sorts of different things. After a bit, I got too tired to walk, so one of them picked me up and carried me the rest of the way.

The room they had made for me was small, but decked out with as many pillows and blankets as they could seem to stuff into the space. A door off to the side went to a private bathroom, they told me, that included a place I could wash myself. There was a fridge set into the wall, which was filled with fruits, water, and a few other foods I couldn’t yet identify, and I was told to help myself to whatever food and drink I needed.

Lastly, they left me with an individual who seemed to be a nurse, and told me she would help me with anything I needed.

“I am T’katha,” She said to me, “I was attendant to our Queen, so I am certain I can provide you with whatever you may need. Please ask for anything you need.”

“Thank you, I’m Daisy.” I introduced myself, settling into the mound of pillows and blankets while being careful to keep my head where she could reach. “Right now I just want to rest a bit, but could you maybe take me for a walk when I wake up again? I need to get my strength back, and I’d love to see more of this place.” “Of course! I would be happy to show you our home.” T’katha trilled joyfully. “Rest now, then we will eat and walk.”

[mariahjade2]

More like an excerpt, from my Luke and Vader story Snow on Ao3

The pile of data cards and flimsi that stood in an unstable little tower in front of the Dark Lord, had not diminished significantly in the past hour. He despised this part of his job, as he would have, even if he had remained a Jedi of the light. Some things were an indisputable fact of nature that one could never deny. It would probably surprise many to realize that Darth Vader did not spend all of his time bending and intimidating people to his will. If they only knew, that all it took was a never-ending supply of bureaucratic paperwork to bring him to the point of defeat, they would surely shake their heads in disbelief. And the Rebellion wastes credits on X-Wings and War ships, he thought with irony. It wasn’t that he couldn’t delegate flimsy work to others, it was just that, even after delegation, there were still mountains of things in need of his personal approval. He stared at the work and picked up the next data card with disgust. It was difficult to focus on such trivial matters when his mind was elsewhere. The sound of the com interrupted his thoughts and he activated the large view screen. Admiral Ozzel’s face appeared before him, looking as tiresome as always. However, this time Vader welcomed the distraction anticipating the intent of the communication.

“My Lord, we have dropped out of lightspeed and have established an outlying position in the system. You wished to be informed immediately.”

“Have the sensors indicated life forms?” Vader fought the urge to pull all relevant data from his mind and be done with it.

“Ship’s sensors register positive life forms.”

“Very well Admiral. Initiate launching of Probe capsules. Vader out.”

He turned off the view screen with the Force and the Admiral’s face disappeared, but the screen merely turned to a gray field of interference. The lack of a proper shut down confused him. He tried again with his hand to shut it down, to no avail and he looked at it with irritation. What was the name of the tech responsible for maintaining his equipment?  Before he could order the man to his quarters, a voice seemed to come from the screen.

 You disappoint me Anakin.

“Obi Wan.” The sound of that voice from the past entered his head. Its touch was like fire on ice. White-hot tongues enveloped Vader’s shields, searching, probing, pushing for something, something Vader hid, something that seemed to no longer be there for Obi Wan, and the contact retreated in sadness.

 You cannot own him. Luke is not your property to destroy.

Blind fury, rage and bitter hatred burst forth from Vader in words that had lain dormant only waiting to erupt. He rose up with them. “You understand nothing, Old man! It was you who caused this, not I! It was you who set all in motion and now it is you who will face the consequences for eternity. Flee, you vile and traitorous spirit, flee from what you’ve made! Dark energy flowed outward from Vader, like a predatory beast attacking and Obi Wan quickly withdrew and departed.

With the object of his outrage suddenly gone, he needed something on which to unleash his uncontrollable anger. The stack of work on his desk flew off in a torrent of wind, clattering noisily across the floor and slamming into walls till the last fell still. He stood in the sudden quiet like a lone monument left standing amidst the aftermath of a tornado. He unclenched his fist and exhaled as the dark solar flare of rage slowly bled off of him. I disappoint him? I cut him down, and threaten everything he’d dedicated his miserable life to and all he can say is, I disappoint him? In all the universe, there was nothing more infuriating then his old Master’s Jedi calm. Vader wanted him screaming and pleading. He wanted to see him groveling at his feet…..but that was impossible now. Not for the first time, he wished he could kill him again. Instead he was being haunted by a shade he couldn’t touch.

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Revenge Of The Sith (Part 4)

Words: 4739

Warnings: language? typical Star Wars violence, the plot of ROTS (bc yes, that needs it’s own warning)

Star Wars Masterlist Main Masterlist

(THIS IS X READER I PROMISE IF YOU WANT THE NONE X READER VERSION THEN GO TO @imnotobsessedwfictionalchracters)

So I have like…a million OC’s. One of which I have with Anakin Skywalker. Recently (like a few months ago) I decided to rewrite Revenge of the Sith, but instead of Padme, it’s my OC and it becomes an AU near the end bc Obi Wan is able to pull Anakin back to the light. So, I decided to rewrite it (AGAIN) to make it x reader. So yeah, here it is, I hope you enjoy

This was meant to end in a different way, but I got carried away and this is what happened

Also, I NEARLY FUCKING SCREAMED AS I NOTICED LITTLE THINGS WHILE PAUSING AND PLAYING THE FILM AS I WROTE THIS WHOLE STORY (YES PARTS 1-3 TOO) AND IT'S JUST...YEAH BRO! I ALSO STARTED TO TAKE PICTURES OF THE SCREEN RANDOMLY WHEN IT WAS PAUSED SO IF Y'ALL WANT THAT, LMK

ANYWHO, ENJOY THE OBIANI FIGHT!

(Previous Part)

The moment that Palpatine accepted the transmission, Anakin spoke, “The Separatists have been taken care of, my Master.”

“It is finished then. You have restored peace and justice to the galaxy. Send a message to the ships of the Trade Federation. All droid units must be shut down immediately.”

“Very good, my lord.” However, instead of doing what he was told, he turned his attention to the beeping and saw that a ship was coming into the atmosphere. And when he read the information on it, he left where he was to go check it out. And when he saw the ship land, he immediately knew it was Y/N's . But why was she here? Had something happened? Was she okay? Was the baby okay? All the questions swarmed his mind as he removed the hood of his cloak. The yellow eyes had gone back to his blue as he ran out to greet her. 

And then as she had landed, Y/N sat there for a moment with her head in her hand. She was trying so hard to not cry. To keep herself calm. When her eyes landed on Anakin, she pressed the button for the door to open and she quickly got off of her ship and ran to him. She ran into his arms and hugged him. “I saw your ship.” He carefully pulled away and his concern grew, “What are you doing out here?”

“I was so worried about you.” She kept her hands on his arms. She kept moving them as she couldn’t stay still. “Obi Wan told me terrible things.”

His concern turned to anger as the words left her lips. “What things?”

Her hands fell, “He said that you’ve turned to the Dark Side. That you,” He looked down and away from her as she hesitated, “Killed younglings.”

“Obi Wan is trying to turn you against me.”

She shook her head softly, “He cares about us.”

“Us?” he said cynically.

Her hands came back to his arms, “He knows. He wants to help you.” He let out a silent laugh as he didn’t believe her. Well, he did, but he told himself he didn’t. “Anakin, all that I want is your love.”

He shook his head, “Love won’t save you, Y/N. Only my new powers can do that.”

“At what cost?” She knew Anakin. This wasn’t him. Murdering innocent younglings. “You’re a good person. Please, don’t do this.”

“I won’t lose you the way I lost my mother. I am becoming more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of. And I’m doing it for you. To protect you.” 

And that was when she realized what it was all about. He couldn’t save his mother so he was going to save her. No matter the cost. 

She moved one of her hands to the back of his head, “Come away with me. Help me raise our child. Leave everything else behind while we still can. Just like we used to talk about.”

“Don’t you see?” He motioned around, “We don’t have to run away anymore. I have brought peace to the Republic. I am more powerful than the Chancellor! I-I can overthrow him!” She carefully began to walk away from him. Scared. “And together, you and I can rule the Galaxy, make things the way we want them to be.”

She shook her head, “No...Ani...you...you’re becoming something else. I didn’t want to believe him. Ani, please, don;t make what Obi Wan said true.”

He swiped his hand, “I don’t want to hear anymore about Obi Wan. The Jedi turned against me. Don’t you turn against me!”

“Anakin, please,” Her voice was breaking, “I can’t hardly recognize you. You’re scaring me.” She tried so hard to hold back the sobs, “I don’t want you to go down a path that will only cause you more pain. I can’t support you doing that.”

“Because of Obi Wan?”

She didn’t understand what Obi Wan had to do with any of this, but she shook her head. “Because you’re going to hurt everyone.” She felt her heartbeat pick up, “Please, just stop this and come back. Come back with me!” She walked closer to him, “I love you!”

He walked past her, “Liar!” She looked over to where she noticed him glaring and gasped as she saw Obi Wan standing there.

He began to walk down to them and she looked back to Anakin, “No.”

She walked backwards as he came towards her, “You’re with him!” He knew why Obi Wan would be here. There was only one reason for him to be. “You brought him here to kill me!”

“No!” His hand lifted and she felt her throat begin to close up and up brought her hands to her neck, as if she was choking.

“Let her go, Anakin.”

Her voice was barely audible as she softly said his name, “Anakin.”

“Let. Her. Go.”

And Anakin did. But not because Obi Wan asked her to. But because he realized that he was hurting Y/N. He watched as she fell. He turned to Obi Wan, “You turned her against me!”

“You have done that yourself.”

He began to pace and then shed himself of his cloak. Sensing that this was going to lead into a fight. “You will not take her from me!”

Obi Wan shed himself of his own cloak, causing Anakin to see he was right. “Your anger and your lust for power have already done that.” And unknown to Anakin, Obi Wan wasn’t speaking or thinking clearly. He was speaking through his own pain and anger. The pain and anger that was both to himself and to Anakin. Obi Wan walked around Anakin, “You have allowed this Dark Lord to twist your mind, until now,” He stopped, unsure if he should say. For maybe if he didn’t he could save him. But Obi Wan knew that he had to. He had to tell Anakin the truth. “Until now you have become the very thing you swore to destroy.”

Anakin began to circle Obi Wan, “Don’t lecture me, Obi Wan. I see through the lies of the Jedi. I do not fear the dark side as you do.” Anakin turned away from Obi Wan as he kneeled down to check Y/N's pulse and make sure she was alright. “I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new Empire.”

Obi Wan stood back up and looked at Anakin in confusion, “Your new Empire?”

“Don’t make kill you.”

Obi Wan tried. He tried so hard to ignore the pain that went through him as he heard those words. “Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy!”

“If you’re not with me,” He started to turn his head, but Anakin realized that if he looked at Obi Wan, he would instantly fold. That he would instantly break. “Then you’re my enemy.”

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes.” Obi Wan unwillingly reached for his saber. He didn’t wish to kill his former Padawan. His friend. His brother. “I will do what I must.” Including trying to convince him to return to the light.

Anakin smirked as he heard the click of Obi Wan removing his saber from its holster. “You will try.” He heard Obi Wan ignite his lightsaber and Anakin reached for his, ignited it and flipped over to Obi Wan.

Their lightsabers clashed against one another. So similar in color, but so different in use. Obi Wan wondered if Anakin had based his own saber after his. Blade-to-blade the men were identical. But in fighting they were the opposite. It was rather unfortunate though. They both knew how the other fought. And just as Anakin had Obi Wan next to a drop, Obi Wan moved and got out. Their lightsabers still hitting each other. Anakin kicked Obi Wan back in order to give himself the upper hand. It didn’t work as well as he had hoped it would, but it did throw Obi Wan off-balance so Anakin was able to get a blow in with him barely able to block it.

Anakin kept pushing Obi Wan backwards and they were heading towards the conference room where the dead bodies of Gunray and Tambor still lay. Just before entering, Obi Wan tried to grab and twist Anakin’s arm to make him release his saber, but he caught on and was quick to stop it. They kept pushing the other, sabers hitting the control panels. 

Obi Wan eventually caused Anakin’s saber to fly out of his hand, but unfortunately for Obi Wan, Anakin got close to him and slammed his gloved hand to his throat. His other hand was held tightly on Obi Wan’s wrist, causing him to be unable to move his lightsaber. He pushed his friend down until he was against the table. He wasn’t sure if it was a “fuck you” or an “I’m sorry” that was mouthed from his lips, but it didn’t matter which it was as they both were true to Anakin. But unfortunately for him, Obi Wan still had control of his legs and he used the position he was in to kick Anakin, pushing him back.

And so Anakin, being Anakin, quickly got up and kicked Obi Wan back as well. But he miscalculated and fell as well. Neither had their saber for the moment so it became a physical match. Until Obi Wan had Anakin down, he was quick to pull for his lightsaber, but Anakin was as well. Their lightsabers flew into their hands and as Obi Wan was going to make a blow to Anakin, Anakin lifted his saber up to block it. It was more difficult than normal for him due to the position he was in, but Anakin still succeeded and was able to push Obi Wan back enough to where he could stand. 

They kept hitting their lightsabers against each other until Obi Wan brought his hand in order to force push Anakin. But Anakin was doing the same thing. So they both stood there, neither of them able to push hard enough to cause the other to break. Unknown to them, or maybe it was known but neither wanted to admit it, it was because neither of them wanted to hurt the other. Eventually, they both flew back due to the recoil of the Force. Both falling on control panels on opposite sides of the room.

Anakin was quick to get up and he jumped across the table to get to Obi Wan. Their lightsabers clashed and fell onto one of the panels, causing a malfunction and the shields to fall down. They both knew it was bad news, but chose to ignore it. Their lightsabers clashed onto a panel to open the door and as it opened, Obi Wan walked back. They were out in the open hall and both felt the heat from the lava below them. Anakin knew that Obi Wan was slightly distracted for that moment and he used it. He kicked his leg up, hitting Obi Wan’s face. Obi Wa recoiled and Anakin marched towards him.

Anakin pushed Obi Wan again, causing him to have to jump onto a beam. Anakin was quick to jump down too and follow him. Of course, they both were careful as they stood on it for neither wanted to fall down to the lava. They tried to keep their balance as they clashed their lightsabers together. But Obi Wan knew that if they were to misstep, one would fall and then Obi Wan would lose his chance to convince Anakin. However, just as Obi Wan was about to fall, he noticed a walkway to his side. He was quick to jump down, he knew Anakin would follow him so he was ready for the lightsaber to come and blow against his.

They fought against each other, holding the other one. It was like it used to be when they would spar or even play fight. They both tried to pretend that it was that. They both wished it was. That all of this was just them sparring or even play fighting. Just as they used to do. Both wished that all of this was some messed up nightmare that they would soon awake from. Both wished that Obi Wan would be able to convince Anakin to come back to the Light Side.

They got out of the clothes grips and continued to fight each other. But both knew they had to run as fast as they could as lava spewed onto the walkway they were on. They went into the covered hall that the walkway connected to. For a moment, Anakin tried to reach out of Obi Wan, to make sure he was okay. But he didn’t. He fought everything in him to not do it.

After a moment, they both ran back onto the walkway, trying to make it to the other side in order to not be stranded. But they didn't make it and it began to fall. And for a moment, as it fell, Obi Wan reached for Anakin. But he realized Anakin was too far down. He kept his eyes trained on him to make sure he didn’t fall. They both struggled to stay on the, now vertical, walkway. With their lightsabers in one hand, they  used the other to stay up. Anakin slowly began to pull himself up to be closer to Obi Wan. Once close enough, he began to fight him again. Once that happened, Obi Wan fought back and climbed. 

He tried to show Anakin that he was slowing down. That he was not wanting to fight Anakin very much anymore. He had felt it. Back when they slowed as the lava coated the walkway. He felt Anakin reaching for him. 

Obi Wan looked out and noticed that they were heading for a plummet. He wanted to warn Anakin, but he knew that there would be no time. He saw the wire that was hanging and he used it to move around. He noticed Anakin doing the same and as they passed one another, they clashed their lightsabers against one another again. But this time, Obi Wan saw it. The fear in Anakin’s eyes. It was brief. But it was there.

As he swung to the other side, Obi Wan noticed there were still pieces of metal that the shields still worked on. He let go of the wire and jumped on one. And as he turned, fear struck through his entire body. The walkway was falling and Anakin hadn't jumped down. No. Obi Wan wouldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t. He knew that there was a chance to save Anakin. He stumbled back slightly, until he saw Anakin come flipping over. He landed on a droid not far from Obi Wan.

As Anakin came closer, the more Obi Wan didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to fight him anymore. Obi Wan refused to make any of the blows and all he did was block them. Once Anakin stopped sending the blows, Obi Wan looked at him. All that he saw was an angry, scared, and confused kid. Something that was exactly who Anakin was. 

He knew this was his one chance to talk to him. Convince him to stay. Show him that it would all be okay. Maybe not at that moment. Maybe not within a few weeks. But eventually. “I have failed you Anakin! But not as a Master or as a friend, but as a brother! I promised that I would keep you safe and always be there for you.”

“I should have known that the Jedi were plotting to take over!”

“Anakin, I should have told you! Not that the Jedi were plotting to take our but that we sensed there was a plot to destroy the Jedi! I should have defended you while in those blasted meetings! Told Masters Windu and Yoda that you needed to know! I am sorry! I should have made it clear that I do not care about you and Y/N! That you could have come to me about this! I am sorry for pushing you away! I allowed myself to be blinded by what I thought the Jedi always had to be that caused me to lose you!”

He saw as Anakin faltered, “No! You-you’re lying! You’re messing with me!”

“I’m not! Anakin, please, come back! I cannot lose you as I have lost Satine and Qui Gon. Please Anakin, please don’t make me lose you! Don’t allow Y/N to lose you! We can figure out a way to save her, together!”

“Y/N won’t want me!” He choked out.

“Yes she will, Anakin! She will! We both know she will! She loves you more than anything, you may have to give her time, but she will always come back to you!” He saw as Anakin thought, “Please Anakin. We can take Palpatine down together!”

“I will be arrested for this! I have betrayed the Republic and the Jedi!”

“I will defend you! If they cast you out, I will go with you! I won’t allow you to go through what we forced Ahsoka to go through!” Obi Wan knew that if it wasn’t for the lava, tears would be pricking his eyes. “Please Anakin, just trust me one last time. Please brother.”

Anakin jumped over and landed on the same thing Obi Wan was on. His lightsaber was no longer ignited. His head was hung low. Obi Wan carefully took the saber out of his hand and was quick as he wrapped his arms around him. He listened as he heard Anakin’s sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Obi Wan. I was weak. I-I failed you.”

“No Anakin, you didn’t. I’m the one who failed. I didn’t show you what you needed. It’s my fault.” He pulled away, “We need to go. I sense something is not right.” He held on to Anakin as he jumped across the lava river and ran to where Y/N had been. 

When they got there, R2 was beeping frantically. DB was walking down to them, “Kenobi, Skywalker, we have Y/N on board. Please hurry.” They walked onto the platform and Anakin tried to ignore the fact that he saw DB’s hand going into a fist. “We should leave soon, we need to get Y/N somewhere safe.”

Obi Wan patted DB’s shoulder and Anakin was silent as he walked past the droid. Since Obi Wan was the first in, he was the first to Y/N, he placed a hand on her shoulder and Anakin stood behind him. He was scared of what her reaction would be if she saw him. “Obi Wan?” Her voice was soft as if she was barely there, “Is Anakin alright?”

Obi Wan looked back at Anakin who stood there frozen. He was scared to walk closer to her. Scared to touch her. But when Obi Wan gave him a reassuring nod, Anakin did. The two swapped places and Anakin took Y/N's hand. She had already lost consciousness again so she just stirred. He carefully leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. He ignored the small jolt as they made the jump to Hyperspace as he stood next to her. She looked so...peaceful. He wondered if she was dreaming. If she was, what was she dreaming of? He moved a piece of hair from her face, he hoped that when she fully woke up, she would forgive him for what he had done. That she would understand that he did it all for her. All of this...pain and suffering that he has caused in the past few hours was only to save her.

He hadn’t noticed them coming out of Hyperspace so he was surprised when Obi Wan came back to them. “Anakin? We’re landing on Polis Massa. There’s medical droids here that can tend to her. Senators Organa and Amidala are here. As well as Master Yoda.” Anakin’s head snapped to Obi Wan when he heard the last person. “Master Yoda knows that you mean no harm. I have no idea what he is going to say, but just know that I will defend you no matter what he says.”

Anakin nodded, “I just have one request. Can I be the one to carry her down? Please. I-I need to do this. I can’t explain why.” He assumed it was to prove that he meant no harm. That he just wanted to save her.

Obi Wan nodded and as they heard the hiss of the door opening, Anakin carefully lifted Y/N into his arms and carried her off the ship. Bail and Padmé were running over to them. Bail placed a soft hand on Anakin’s shoulder, “We’ll take her to the medical center. Quickly.” Anakin moved as fast as he was able to without jostling her. 

Once there, they were quick to change her into a thin white gown and place her onto a table so the medical droids could take care of her. Anakin stood next to Bail, Padmé, and Obi Wan with Yoda standing in front of them. Usually to ease the tension at a time like this, Anakin would crack a joke about Yoda’s height, even if it was just to Padmé and Obi Wan, but he just couldn’t. Not this time.

One of the droids slowly flew out to them, “She’s perfectly healthy for the most part. But to keep her and the babies alive, we need to cause her to go into labor as it could be the only way for her to survive.” Babies? But Anakin thought that there was only one. Did she know this and just not tell him? But the other thing was, he hadn’t really heard of ‘forcing her to go into labor’ before. Was it even safe? Could it kill her?

And it seemed as if Obi Wan was reading his mind as his question imitated the ones in Anakin’s mind. “Is it dangerous?”

“Not at all. It is very common for women to have to go through it as it can increase the chances of survival for both the mother and child, or in this case, children. The only downside is that we do not have anything for her to ease the pain.”

Anakin sighed, “It’s fine. Just do what you have to do in order to guarantee survival.”

The droid gave a nod of acknowledgement and went back in. Anakin stayed outside, scared to go in. It was a few moments of silence until Y/N let out a cry of pain. But Anakin stayed put, still unsure if she wanted him there. That was until he heard her call out his name. That was when he was quick to run to her side. He placed a gentle hand above her head and a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” He whispered to her. 

She kept letting out cries of pain until eventually, those cries of pain were drowned out by the cries of a baby. When those cries came, her own turned to sobs as the tears fell from her eyes. The medical droid carried the baby over to them and mentioned that it was a boy. Y/N sighed and her voice was soft and weak, but he still was able to make out what she said. “Luke.” It was what they had planned to name the child if it was a boy. He hoped the other was a girl so that they wouldn’t have to come up with a name on the spot. He turned his attention to the droid and was careful as they placed the small child into his arms. Anakin wasn’t sure what to do so he carefully moved to show Luke to Y/N. She weakly lifted an arm and caressed Luke’s cheek. “Oh Luke.” He heard her murmur and he could tell she was going to say something but she began to cry in pain again. He hated this for he could do nothing to ease her pain. But just as before, her cries fell into small sobs. This time the droid said it was a girl. Her voice, still soft as a quiet, “Leia.” Fell from her lips. 

Anakin carefully handed Luke to Y/N as he saw her reaching for him. Once Luke was securely in Y/N's arms, he took Leia into his. It was a peaceful moment. He was unsure of how to feel. He was happy for here he was, holding one of his children while Y/N laid by him holding his other child. She was okay. She was breathing. She was alive. For once, his nightmare didn’t come true. And he couldn’t have been more grateful. But on the other hand, he was scared. Scared for what he had just done. What everyone would think of him because of it. He turned and looked over at the others. 

And it seemed as if Padmé could read his mind as she walked over to him and carefully took Leia out of his arms. He was quiet as he walked out of the room. Even as he walked out of the facility. He walked quickly as he went out and back to Y/N's ship. He knew Obi Wan was following him and he didn’t care. He silently sat down at one of the chairs and held his head in his hands. He was cold and scared. He was reminded of how cold it was in space. That you only feel warmth when with the ones you love. And then that cold caused him to be scared as it caused him to think about what was happening around him. Obi Wan silently sat across from him. Neither said a word as they sat there. Both of them sat there with their heads down. At some point Anakin lifted his some, only enough to be looking at Obi Wan and Obi Wan moved to have his attention fully at Anakin.

But when Obi Wan looked at the person in front of him, he didn’t see the grown and scared 22 year old. No. He saw the scared and cold 9 year old boy from Tatooine. He didn’t see the person who Anakin had become these past 13 years or even 13 hours. He saw the boy Anakin was when they met. The scared and unsure boy who left everything he had known. And that was what fully showed him that hope wasn’t lost. That he didn’t make the wrong choice. That Anakin was still Anakin. 

So he made the first move and spoke. “Anakin, is everything alright?”

Anakin shook his head and whispered out a hoarse, “No.”

“Do you wish to talk about it?”

He shook his head again. “Not yet. Please. I just...I want to believe that all of this is real. That if I walk back into that building, Y/N will still be there. Waiting for me. That this all isn’t some dream and she isn’t actually okay.”

Obi Wan placed a comforting hand on Anakin’s knee, “I promise you that the moment you walk back into there, she will still be there. Waiting for you. If anything, she’s probably worried about you as you practically ran off. And we both know that if she had the strength, she would have followed us out here and she would be holding you tightly in her arms and telling you how much she loves you.” Anakin let out a small laugh. He knew that Obi Wan was right. He knew that he really had nothing to fear. But he still did. He still feared that something was going to happen to her. Obi Wan moved to sit next to Anakin, “Things may not become perfect straight away, but they will, eventually. Through time and patience. And I know that she will be with you, every step of the way.”

And Obi Wan was right. She was with him every step of the way. Even though the times when the darkness came back and he nearly fell. Through the nights where he could hardly sleep because of nightmares. Through the ups and downs of parenthood. Through everything. Because there was one thing Y/N would never allow Anakin to do. And that was to go through anything alone. And she meant it. It was one promise that she never intended to break. And she never did.

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter Eleven

Here's 11, guys. I hope you enjoy it. Please remember that comments and reblogs give me life and my works reach.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: all the warnings. Bryce being an ass, Poe being soft, trauma, mention of violence and torture. If you guys haven't caught on yet. This is a rough story.

Word Count: 2828

Previous Chapter

Master List

Chapter Eleven

The blade cuts through your quad, pressing deeper and deeper as it slices through your flesh. You try not to scream, you try to hold it back so that Poe doesn’t know, but the pain barrels down on you, crushing you under the weight of it. 

The scream rips from your throat, broken and distorted as you try to pull away. They haven’t even asked you a question yet. Just cutting your legs as they please. When they’re done, they simply staple you back together and leave you in that room. 

“Keep them separated for now. Tomorrow, we’ll search her back for that tracker.”

They leave the room and turn off all the lights, leaving you in complete darkness. You sob, letting yourself break down in the silence. At least Poe can’t see your weakness here. 

Your stomach is bleeding again. The staples don’t hold very well. But that just means they get to hurt you more, closing them back up. Then they rotate your table until you’re suspended over the floor by your wrists, ankles, and a strap around your hips. 

They begin cutting along your back, digging their fingers into the wounds carelessly. They linger, ripping your skin and muscle as they search. 

“Maybe it’s in one of her organs.” One of them says excitedly at the end of your session. 

“Close her up.” The leader says vaguely and you don’t know if he’s taken to the idea. 

They leave you in silence, face down. The dripping of your blood on the tile is the only sound you can hear. 

***

You wake up with a groan, rolling off your bed before you can wake up Bryce. He hates it when you wake him up with your screaming. You pull on your favorite sweatpants, but they just don’t hold that level of comfort anymore. 

You pull on a hoodie that you think used to belong to Poe, but you’ve claimed it now. You open the door and slip out quietly, your boyfriend never making a sound. 

The base is quiet. Patrols are skeleton crews at the moment. The day after Poe made you sleep in his bed, a flu outbreak swept through the camp. Just when Leia thinks you have it under control, it makes another round. 

Poe has been in sick bay for three days now on a second round of it, and there’s no sign of him improving. Which means you can’t go see him. Unfortunately, it also means you haven’t been able to sleep properly for a few days. And, ashamedly, you haven’t been to the mess hall to eat. The noise is too much, you can’t handle it alone. 

Your mind drifts to Poe, wondering if he’s as miserable as you are, or if he’s having a blast with all the female healers doting on him hand and foot. 

Poe

“Hey, buddy.” Snap says from the glass panel. He sounds way too cheerful for how sick Poe feels. Probably because he hasn’t been puking his guts out for three days. 

“You could sound sad.” Poe retorts with a groan. 

“I tried. Didn’t really work out believably.” He says, sitting in the chair. “How you feeling?” He asks. 

“Awful. But I haven’t seen Y/N come in, so I guess she’s steering clear of it, which is good. How’s she doing?” Poe asks, half rolling over to face the big guy. 

“I haven’t seen her in a couple days.” Snap admits. “With everyone being sick, those of us able to stand have been running patrols nonstop. Leia has anyone who can fly in their cockpit.”

Poe immediately thinks of you, flying their ship off that planet. “Even Y/N?” 

“No. She’s still not cleared for duty. Leia thinks she lied on her report.” He says. 

“What? She wouldn’t. Why would Leia think that?” Poe demands, half pushing himself up. 

“Easy. Lay back down before you hurt yourself. Maybe lied is the wrong word. Omitted might be better. You put all the events in your report. Hers simply said you were interrogated before managing to escape. There’s several days in your report that she isn’t accounted for because she wasn’t with you.” Snap says apologetically. “Leia doesn’t want to clear her for duty until she can provide details about what happened to her.”

“That’s bullshit. Leia thinks she turned on us?” Poe rolls his eyes. “If she had, the First Order would already have wiped us out. If they had gotten what they wanted, they would have killed us on the spot.”

“Then why not say what happened?” Snap sighs. 

“Maybe because it’s too horrible for her to remember.” Poe seethes. “It wasn’t exactly a relaxing vacation.” 

“Okay. I’m aware of that.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “All I’m saying is, she’s holding back.”

“Will you just go check on her? Make sure she’s eating.” Poe sighs, rolling back over. 

“Sure, sure. I’ll check on your girl.” Snap says with a secret smile. 

“Shut up.” Poe closes his eyes, his stomach churning for a whole other reason than the flu. 

***

Snap is blocking your way into the lab. Arms crossed, serious looking, intimidating. 

“Snap.” You start, frowning as you move to swipe your card. He shifts and blocks your hand. 

“Have you eaten today?” He asks. 

“Um…” you hesitate. 

“Let’s go.” He hooks his arm through yours and steers you towards the mess hall. 

“Did Poe ask you to do this?” You sigh. 

“Maybe. But I also haven’t seen you in a few days.” He says, opening the door for you. 

The noise hits you, people laughing and joking as they eat in the bright light of the early morning. You take an automatic step back, bumping into Snap’s chest. 

“It’s okay.” He reassures you. 

“It’s just the noise. It takes me by surprise sometimes.” You sigh. 

He watches you for a second and you can see the question lingering right in front of his forehead. He wants to know what happened to you. But you feel confident that he won’t actually ask. You take a deep breath and enter the big room. It’s harder today to ignore the noise, but you make a solid effort. 

“Have you been to see Poe?” He asks as you select a small bowl of fruit. 

“No. I figured I’d let him get his rest.” You say. 

“And how are you feeling? Any chills, nausea?” He asks. 

You look up at him and he assumes an innocent look. “I’m fine.” You mutter, going to sit next to Beau. 

“Hey, friend.” He grins. 

You slump back in your chair with a small smile. “Hey, handsome.” You say, but the teasing feels hollow. You’re too tired, too drained. You haven’t slept right, too many nightmares. 

You fall into silence as everyone else talks, picking slowly at your fruit. It has no taste, just mush in your mouth. 

Snap calls your name and you look up. “Are you going back to the lab?” He asks. 

“I don’t think so.” You sigh. “I don’t think I can focus today. I might go try to get some sleep.” 

“I think that’s a good idea.” He nods. 

You push your chair back, and pick up your half finished tray. Snap takes it, sliding your bowl onto his own. “I’ll take care of it.” He nods. 

“Thanks.” You say, turning for the door, squeezing Beau’s shoulder. 

You head back to your room, debating on visiting Poe, but ultimately deciding against it. You need to be able to go on without him at your side constantly. You have a dangerous profession and there’s always the possibility that he might not come back. The very thought breaks you, but you have to go on. 

You open the door to your room and stop short when you see Bryce laying on your bed. 

“You’ve been gone for hours.” He complains. 

“I-“ you start, but you have nowhere to go. 

“Come here.” He gestures, patting the spot next to him. 

You crumble. You miss Poe, you miss the way he holds you so safely, so gently. You just… you just want to be held. You cross the room, sliding under the sheets. Shame creeps up your neck as you twist into his arms. But you don’t know why. Shameful because you’re so needy and you were just thinking how you need to survive on your own? Or is it because this isn’t the person you want to be holding you, even though this is your boyfriend? 

Your eyes fill with tears and you hide your face as his arms wrap around you. 

“Sh, sh, it’s okay.” He says softly, stroking down your back. Something feels off, but you can’t tell exactly what while you’re drowning. 

You sense it a split second before you feel it, his hand on your ass. You put your hands on his chest to try and push him away. His arm around your neck tightens, and his hand on your ass slides down to your thigh, pulling it up around his hips. 

Your heart hammers in your chest. You’re not ready for this. You’re not ready for him to see your scars, not ready for him to touch you like this. 

“Bryce,” you warn, trying to get his hands off you.

“It’s okay.” He assures you, his hand sliding back up to your waist. 

“Stop it.” You demand, grabbing at his wrists. 

“Baby, it’s gonna be okay.” He says, his hand sliding up under your shirt. 

“Stop it!!” You yell just as his fingers brush against your stomach and he freezes. 

He looks down and despite how hard you’re pulling on his wrists, he pulls up on your shirt to expose your abdomen. He stares for a long beat, his eyes darting up to your face and then back down. His face changes into one of horror and he pushes you away from him slightly. 

You scramble off the bed and he launches himself up and out the door without another word. You drop to your knees, exhausted and feeling raw, like a nerve that’s been scrubbed to the point of fraying. 

He reacted exactly as you feared he would; horrified, disgusted. He literally ran away from you. Maybe you should have told him, warned him. You fucked up.

You brace your hands against the floor, gasping for air. Water falls between your hands, splattering on the floor. Small drops seep into the rug and you can’t figure out where the leak is coming from. Your arms shake from the effort of supporting you and suddenly, you don’t know why you’re even trying. You ease yourself onto your side, holding your ribs as they start to ache. The cold floor feels good, familiar at the very least, after your time spent in captivity.

What if Poe is just as disgusted? He should be, your mangled body can’t hold any interest for him. But to see that happen would probably kill you.  

***

The temperature in the room drops considerably. It starts off slow, nothing you notice at first, and could just be because of the blood leaving your body. And then you start to shiver-teeth chattering, full body shivers. Then you can see your breath coming out in shaky puffs. 

You flex your fingers and toes, they’re stiff and they ache. You can feel them crack in the cold, almost as if they’ve turned brittle. You close your eyes, hoping to just pass out and stop the suffering. 

You’re almost there, sleep is right around the corner. Your breathing has evened out, although you’re still shivering. And the reason behind sleeping is questionable. Are you passing out from the cold? Or just falling asleep from being so tired?

Lights blare on, bright and painful. Loud music blares through the speakers, jarring you awake with a violent jerk. The music pulses and beats, throbbing through your entire system as it blocks out everything. 

Your vision blurs, the floor seems to be warping as you look at it. You feel dizzy, like liquid. There’s a buzzing at the back of your skull. 

Your table spins upright and troopers walk in, each carrying a long stick. The first steps forward, and in your lucid dreaming state, you can almost see him grinning beneath his helmet. The lights begin to strobe, flashing in unintelligible patterns. The first trooper swings his stick, catching you in the stomach. It knocks the wind out of you and you gasp, sucking in air painfully. It’s not enough. 

They take turns beating you, hitting every where they can reach. Two of your fingers break from the impact, the stitches all over your body pop open, leaking blood. Your lip splits, the skin on your chin cracks. 

They still don’t ask you a question. 

They leave just as suddenly as they came in, and you’re alone in the freezing cold, the darkness, the silence. 

It’s been days. You think, anyway. You can’t tell for sure. Possibly days since you’ve been captured. The longer you’re here, the less likely it is that you’ll escape. 

The cold sets into your bones, shaking you violently as you shiver. Your limbs go numb, eyes drift closed. A loud screeching noise rips through the silence, jerking you back into consciousness. Your groan turns into a frustrated scream as the cycle continues. 

You wonder if maybe you can just slip into unconsciousness. They can’t question you if you aren’t awake. Your thoughts drift to Poe, your best friend. Hopefully they aren’t doing the same to him. His name lingers on your lips as you start to fade, letting your mind go blank, numb. 

Hands are shaking you, your name being called frantically. You lurch away, hitting at the hands holding your before you’re even fully aware. You scramble back, hitting your head against what turns out to be the bed frame. Your eyes don’t wanna open but you force them to anyway. 

Makimbo. His dark face, half hidden in the long evening shadows, looking at you, etched with worry, his hands held out in what should be a calming gesture. Over his shoulder, Beaumont, looking just as concerned. 

“What?” You snap, heart racing as the fear settles into you. 

“We just wanted to make sure you were okay. No one’s seen you all day.” Beaumont says carefully. 

“That’s my fucking business. I don’t need anyone checking up on me. I’m not a kid.” You push Makimbo’s hands away, pulling yourself up onto your bed. 

“Y/N,” Makimbo starts, his deep voice gentle, placating, but to you right now-belittling.  

“Just get out. Leave me alone. I don’t fucking need anyone monitoring me.” You snap, glaring at them. 

“Okay.” Beau says, pulling on the back of Mak’s jacket. “Let’s go, buddy. She doesn’t need us.” They leave and you clench your shaking hands, stuffing them under your aching legs. 

Fuck. You shouldn’t have done that. They’re your friends. You sniffle, shame burning your face. Fuckfuckfuck. 

Bryce!

Your head shoots up and you’re off the bed and out the door in an instant. You have to talk to him, explain. You run to his room, but he’s not there. 

You rummage through his stuff, finding his schedule-but no, he’s not on shift at the moment. You run towards the mess hall, skidding to a stop when you see Ulrich, Bryce’s friend. 

“Ulrich, have you seen Bryce?” You ask breathlessly. 

He eyes you suspiciously for a second. “I saw him running towards the hangar.” He says. 

“Thanks.” You turn around and head that way, aching and sore. This is the most active you’ve been since escaping. 

You burst through the door, breathing hard and you look around. He’s not near the doors so you make your way deeper in, keeping an eye out for him. 

“Bryce?” You call. 

“He’s not here.” A voice calls from inside an engine. You can’t tell where it’s coming from, though. 

“Oh.”

“He took his girlfriend’s ship a couple hours ago and took off outta the hangar like a mynoc out of a cave.” He says and your stomach turns. 

“He… he took my ship?” You frown. 

There’s a loud clang. “Shit. Y/N?” 

“Did he say anything? When he’d be back? Where he was going?” You ask. 

“No. Didn’t even wait for clearance.”

“Thanks.” You sigh. “You need anything while you’re in there?” You ask and he chuckles. 

“Aircon, a beer, a new engine.” He says. 

“On it.” You reply. 

“Hey, Y/N?” He calls. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you made it back. Place just isn’t the same without you.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn to leave, but a mini fridge catches your eye. You open it and pull out a beer, twisting off the top. “Make a noise, where are you?” You call. There’s a bang just in front of you and you set the beer on his tool box. “Good luck with the engine.” You say. 

“Thanks.”

You head back inside, feeling confused. Why would he take your ship?

Chapter Twelve

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[countlessimagines]

CONTAINS SPIDER-MAN NO WAY HOME SPOILERS…..

Like No Time Had Passed [ Peter Parker x Reader ] (Andrew Garfield)

A/n: I WANT TO SCREAM OK? I’m so emotional right now I need to write something oh my gosh…

Warnings: Descriptions of blood

REQUESTS FOR IMAGINES/SHIPS: OPEN

MASTERLIST

MARVEL MASTERLIST

-

It was a rough year for you. In your universe, once your Peter had died you took over the mantle. While you did not really address the news of Spider-Man now being a woman, you continued on being the hero Peter always wanted to be. As well, you had to learn to swing and fight like him because you lacked the powers he had.

The week started with you having a run in with the cops who had their necks out for you. News spread that you were the one to kill Spider-man and you’re wearing the suit in cold blood.

It pained you seeing those rumors circulating around newspapers and gossip. But they never knew you two. They never knew the love you held for one another.

The love that you confessed came to each other years after Gwen Stacey’s death. He was lost and nothing without anyone to pull him from the darkness.

But then there was you. A shining light of hope for Peter - exactly what he needed in his life. He wanted to marry you and give up the mantle of Spider-Man to be with you and not ever put you in harms way.

You placed the photo down of you and Peter. Embracing one another in front of a lit up tree, wearing matching ugly Christmas sweaters as Aunt May snapped a photo of the two of you.

“Sweetie, I have some leftover pie, do you want some?” Aunt May said while exiting the kitchen. She had invited you over for Christmas dinner since it had been a year since Peter’s passing. All she had left was you, and all you had left was her.

It was bittersweet when you spent time with her. Reminiscing on old times with Peter. She had always wished that you found him sooner because maybe… just maybe he wouldn’t have become the vengeful person he was. While he died as a hero and loved you with all his being, he could not stop himself from his past catching up to him.

“I’ll take a slice, thank you.”

You gave Aunt May a smile as you followed her into the kitchen. However, you noticed weird beans of orange surround you in the room.

“What the?” Your heart began to race as you grabbed your mask with a web from the table. “May!”

It was too late. The beams around you began to spin and swirl as you were swept off your feet.

However, you landed roughly on a cold cement and groaned. Taking a moment to process what happened, you eventually stood to your feet and glanced around yourself.

Sighing, you headed out of the alley you found yourself in and walked out into the street. It was unfamiliar to you wherever you had landed. Questions flooded your mind and you wished you had Peter to come up with some sort of explanation.

Tears wielded into your eyes but you wouldn’t let them get the best of you. Putting on your mask and rolling your sleeves up to reveal your web shooters, you began to swing in between the tall apartment buildings. As you went farther and farther, everything seemed so familiar but so foreign at the same time.

Eventually you got closer to a more busy area.

Landing on a roof, you caught your breath and sat down. While you had mastered web slinging, the cold night air always made you shiver relentlessly and your arms would become stiff.

“(Y/N)?” A familiar voice shouted from another rooftop across the way.

You stood to your feet and immediately began to squint at the distant figure.

Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the faint outline and the white eyes of his mask. He swung over to you in an instant and landed in front of your shivering body.

“Peter?” You said, disbelief at the love of your life. It was like looking at a ghost.

“You’re alive!” Peter shouted and removed his mask.

It hurt to see his joyful smile and bright expression, but it was an even more shock to hear the words he said.

You gave him a skeptical look, “I’m alive… but you’re dead.”

Peter now was just as confused as you. He looked you up and down, not to be creepy or to make you uncomfortable, but he realized there was something different about you. Well, there was something different about him.

He scrambled his mind for answers, wanting so desperately to understand how the love of his life was alive and well.

“How did you get here?” Peter asked softly, wondering why you were standing before him, still as beautiful as they day you left him. He had held you so delicately in his hands as your final breaths took place. Your body was covered in blood, yours and his own. But the only one who made it out alive was him.

He watched you carefully, flashes of a bloodstained face messed with how he saw you.

“I was with Aunt May… we were about to eat pie and then suddenly…” You were still confused as to how it all happened. “I don’t know what they were but these weird orange beams surrounded me and took me here.”

Peter nodded, “Me as well.”

Silence filled the air between the two of you, but horns, sirens, and the nightlife was heard beyond.

“I watched you die,” Peter spoke up eventually, tightly holding his mask in his hands. “I didn’t get there in time, they… they hurt you. Blood was everywhere and they did it because you tried defending Aunt May and yourself.”

You didn’t know what to say or do, so you stepped forward and grabbed one of his hands. “I lost you… you gave up the life of being Spider-Man so you could marry me and give me a life of peace. So we could have that life together… but your past caught up with you eventually. They made me watch as they beat you to death.”

Now the silence that filled the air was more tense, but an understanding was found.

“We don’t belong here,” Peter finally said. “We must come form different universes. Or we must be dead.”

You were slowly grasping the idea of the person in front of you not being your Peter, but you couldn’t help but believe this was a second chance.

“I’m hoping it’s the first bit,” you giggled and looked up at his big brown eyes. He always was taller than you, and it seems like this Peter was no different.

Your eyes locked together, and a daze of bliss and longing was present. He did not want to believe you were standing in front of him, but a part of him screamed to spin you around and kiss your lips.

Peter looked like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated and his hands twitched. You noticed it immediately and held his hand tighter.

“I know this sounds crazy but… do you think… only if it’s okay with you…”

You embraced Peter quickly, as if he was going to disappear again. He also wrapped his arms around you as if you were the only way he could breath.

And what felt like centuries apart for the two of you, being in each other’s embrace made it feel like no time had passed.

-

MASTERLIST

[friendly-alien-fucker]

Environmental Changes

Note: As you've probably already noticed by my lack of posts, I haven't been feeling myself lately. I've been working on getting better and taken some time off writing but I think I'll slowly start working on requests again soon.

Until then, enjoy this little comfort fic I wrote for myself. 💖

____________________________________________

It was hard getting used to the weather once you started your life on the ship. Or rather the lack thereof. There were no rainy or sunny days, no winter or summer and most irritatingly, no night or day. Every day you'd wake up and look out of your window, just to be greeted by the void of space instead of the soaring sun.

You thought you didn't mind it at first- after all, the concept of waking up to a thousand glistering stars surrounding you was more than beautiful. Yet beautiful soon turned into frustrating as your body couldn't decide when to sleep and when to stay awake anymore.

Often you'd wake up and fall right back asleep since there was no light emitting from your window, no light that could compare to a sun, that is. Which resulted in you frequently oversleeping and missing meetings with the yautja on the ship.

And soon your best friend grew concerned with the amount of times you'd missed to report in. Their concern growing with each passing day, they decided to check up on you in case the changes in environment were having unwanted side effects on your body.

And they were right.

Stepping into your assigned quarters, the big alien quietly made it's way towards your bed, looking down at your still sleeping form. Scanning your face they noticed a few anomalies. For one, you had dark spots under your eyes and your skin looked rather dehydrated, which was confusing as you'd been sleeping for a good amount of time now and the humidity on the ship could be compared to the humidity found in a rain forest.

Carefully, they reached out to brush some of your disheveled hair out of your face, earning a soft groan from you. Their eyes softening as they saw you scrunch up your nose and turn around to hide under the large blanket.

But as cute as you were, grumpily rolling up into a ball, your hair all fluffy and messed up- they couldn't help but worry about you. It was clear that the new living conditions were having negative effects on you and that you weren't properly taking care of yourself.

So, being the wholesome giant they were, they decided to take care of you until you'd adapted.

Earning a couple of confused and downright disgusted looks, they tried their best at recreating some of the more nutritious human meals and made their way towards your quarters once more. There, they turned on the lights to a degree which resembled early mornings on earth, and played recordings of animals, as they had read that humans find them to be pleasing.

Unfortunately though, they forgot which animals counted as pleasing and ended up playing recordings of irritated monkeys screeching as they swung from branch to branch, causing you to practically jump from your bed. Standing there was your friend, who, despite your questioning looks, simply shoved the food tray into your hands and sat down at your bed, staring at you expectantly.

Taking a look at what they'd just given you, you immediately brightened up. While you somewhat managed to accept and even enjoy the view outside your window, the food usually served on the ship was something you never really learned how to adapt to. So finally seeing some human food was like a dream come true.

In that moment you instantly forgot about the screaming monkeys in the background or the giant alien at your bedside, you simply sat down and dug in, cherishing every bite like you would never get your hands on good food again.

Pleased with themselves, your Yautja buddy proudly puffed out their chest, happy to have created something to your liking. When you were finally finished with the meal you sighed, smiling at them.

"Thank you, I really needed this" you beamed, new energy already evident in your voice. They nodded.

"oh and, one more thing-" you laughed

"try not to wake me up with screaming apes next time"

[buckybarnesdiaries]

longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car

© mine.

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Bucky is kidnapped by Hydra to reactivate the Winter Soldier.

word count: 2.924 words. it worth it, i promise!!!

warnings/tags: none. angst as hell mostly. but it has a happy ending.

author notes: i don't speak russian, but i haven't used google translate either, so no worries. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list NEW!!! here.

No. It couldn't be possible. It had to be part of a terrible nightmare. Bucky couldn't have been kidnapped by Hydra again.

You didn't know what to expect in the ship flying to the secret location of the organization. For Stark, it didn't take more than a couple of minutes to track the arm down, since Shuri put a small monitor on it when the soldier stayed in Wakanda. She never told it, wanting to use it in some kind of circumstance like the one you all were going through now. And you couldn't be more grateful, but it didn't help to make you feel better.

You were sitting close to the back hatch. Back rested against the metallic wall and legs curled to your chest. Nothing inside your head more than the hallucination of a pair of blue eyes staring at you. Blaming yourself was something you couldn't avoid. You should have been with him, by his side, protecting him as many times you promised him. But in fact, you just failed him. You failed his trust, his love. You let them take him. Only God knew which torture Hydra was putting him under, while you were there, lamenting.

You didn't even notice Steve's presence squatting next to you until he placed a hand on your shoulder. Then, you raised your face towards him. He was suffering too. In the end, Bucky was his long-life friend, his big brother. He lost him once and felt like he was going to lose him twice. Although this time was different. You were carrying the dispositive that could put to sleep back the winter soldier, but, at what cost?

“Buck got you now. Everything is gonn—”. He spoke in plural, referring to your last night's talk.

“How could you be so calm, Steve? How do you do it?” You whispered through your trembling lips, about to break in crying.

“Because he needs us focused, not distracted”.

He was wise. Captain America was wiser than anyone in that ship. He curled the left corner of his lips up, trying to make you feel good, trying to transmit you the encouragement you needed to not give up. And he did, more or less. You had to fight harder than ever. For Bucky, and only for Bucky. That's why you didn't hesitate on jumping out from the ship when it landed on the cold hard ground, as the freezing weather hit you on the face.

Following the plan, you ran quietly to the back door hidden under a huge layer of snow. Shaking part of it with the palm of your hand, you placed the device with technology from Wakanda on the locker. Not later than fifteen seconds, it deciphered the code to open the hatch. Once in position, the Avengers followed you downstairs. The passage was empty and silent. The only sound that broke it was a couple of rats running away from your presence. You all had studied the plans of the building, mostly underground, remembering exactly where you had to go.

The coast was clear, that was the reason why you all were so confused. You were expecting to find more than a dozen of agents, but when T'Challa enunciated through your earwigs that he only located two heat spots, you couldn't believe it. How only one man kidnapped the most fearless assassin up to now? Tortuous and bitter screams dragged you back to reality, causing your brain to react to make your legs run faster than ever in your whole damn life. You knew by heart that voice beneath all the pain.

Your skin bristled when your gaze landed on that chair of horrors, connected to an enormous power source. Bucky was sitting there against his want.

“... добросердечный… возвращение на родину… один…”

“STOP IT”. Steve yelled.

Huge mistake. You were aware of it when —yes— that man stopped reciting the Russian words to re-activate the Winter Soldier, but only enough time to push a red button near to him and close the heavy door in front of you. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. At the moment you glimpsed Steve’s shield sliding above the floor, straight to the inside of the room where Bucky was being tortured, you followed the same way. Never in your life, you were this fast. Like a lightning bolt, you snaked yourself under the small distance between the door and the ground before being closed. Now, it was you, that man and the soldier.

“You’re late…” He mocked with an awful American accent, under James crying out loud in pain. “грузовой ваг—”.

Your left hand moved quickly to unholster your gun and shoot him. One… Two… Three… Four bullets right to his head. The man fell dead before he couldn’t complete the command. You didn’t lose time, running to the controls to try to turn that machine off. But it was impossible. Even if you knew Tony could do it, there wasn’t signal inside those large and wide walls made of steel reinforced. You were in one of those abandoned soviet bunkers, that could save you from Armageddon. You were inhaling and exhaling so fast that your lungs never got really full, trying to focus, trying to shut every single noise around up. Trying to think of a plan b. But it was your heart who pushed you to act and not your brain. Grabbing Steve’s shield, you aimed for the energy source before tossing it like a damn frisbee.

That thing blew up, turning off any kind of light and dispositive around, as the sparks and the cables decorated your surroundings. Just like the fire that started to burn down a pile of boxes with different documents of Hydra. But that wasn't why you were impatient. Catching the shield when it came back to you, your legs moved immediately to Bucky, still stirring on his seat for a few seconds else. Then, he simply stopped shaking. Her eyes were wide opened. Reddened, in tears. His chest rose and fell violently. His heart was racing. And you could see the trauma taking control over his body in holy silence.

You didn't doubt removing the protection from his mouth along the restraints keeping him on the chair. Your fingers trembled like never before, not having any more time to lose. Probably, the Avengers would be trying to open the door when the emergency red lights illuminated the bunker, producing a loud alarm sound to indicate that something was going wrong inside the facilities.

“C'mon, Buck… C'mon, we have to leave”. You told him, trying to help him to stand up.

But as soon as your hand was about to land on his arm of vibranium, the five cold digits got closed around your throat. Soon, the lack of air for you was more than evident. He got up on his own, not needing you to do it. The ocean blue in his eyes turned into a dark storm. There wasn't any gesture on his face, more than his jaw clenching, pressing his teeth together. That wasn't Bucky —your Bucky—, but the unstable trained assassin Hydra turned him in. You could barely gulp saliva, gripping his metallic wrist with both of your hands to try to stop him from murdering you.

He couldn't. He couldn't kill you. His strength was suffocating you with no mercy, though.

For a moment, you felt too weak to fight, seeing everything around you getting blurred and darker. Blacking out. But there was something inside you, a sweet tone of voice calling your name. A male voice. Your eyelids rolled down bit by bit, wanting to concentrate on that honeyed sound being closer and closer.

“любить”.

The sore whisper left your lips. Love. The first time Bucky told you about love came to your mind. He told you about his family. George, Winnifred, Rebecca. He told you how much he desired to have a family of his own. To be loved.

“новый”.

Your almost dead fingers traced the form of his new arm made in Wakanda when you felt him lifting you from the floor, being suspended on air.

“сороковых годов”.

Trying to keep a firm tone of voice as much as the pressure let you, the Russian words were spat to the confused soldier, who wasn't understanding what you were doing. The forties changed his life. He was sent to war and, lately, captured by HYDRA. It was something he'd never forget, part of his DNA.

“заката”.

You didn't know what the hell your subconscious was doing either till that precise instant. You were reprogramming him. You were using his own memories to reset his wiped brain from them. Dusk. The first night he spent in Wakanda, Bucky was terrified. But you stayed with him. You comforted him by saying that everything was going to be okay, that his life would be different. That he was safe. That he was at home.

“лето”.

His last night of summer in that kingdom, Bucky took you to his favorite place between the woods, wanting to show you the fireflies fluttering in the middle of the gloom. He used to walk there whenever he woke up from a nightmare. Those small insects used to make him feel better for some reason he didn't comprehend. Until he saw their light reflecting on your amazed orbs. Bucky knew then he was in love with you. Besides his long-life friend, the only person who never judged him, who never ran away from him. The same person that now was dying under his fingers.

“шесть”

Six years took him to be Bucky, after his last war, after the last effort, after the last jump. He was a new man. You made him a new man. A good one. You guided him through the right way. You helped him to get used to the twenty-one century. You accompanied him to therapy and stayed in the waiting room every single session until he finished.

“заткнуться”.

The soldier ordered you to shut up, earning quite the opposite when you knew it was sorting some kind of effect on him, as soon as you felt some relief by the grip loosening around your throat and your tiptoes touching the ground. Little by little, you opened your eyes again, gluing them on the blue ones fixed on you.

“боец”.

He wasn't a super soldier, he was a fighter. He spent the last six years of his life fighting for it, fighting for ruling his existence, fighting for being pardoned for crimes he didn't want to commit, fighting for your love. Bucky furrowed swallowing, allowing you to place your feet on the floor.

“Бруклин”.

And when he demonstrated to the world that he was no longer the Winter Soldier, but James Bucky Barnes, he moved to his birthplace. Brooklyn. You and he rented an apartment together when you both learned that you couldn't live apart. That you were made for each other.

“Отец…”

A tear ran down your cheek, slowly moving your left hand to his free one. A shiver toured his backbone when he felt your warm touch holding his hand and, even if his cold fingers were still around your throat, the soldier bowed his head to follow the connection between the two of you. His flesh hand landed on your stomach, pressing it under yours, trying to transmit to him the news about your pregnancy status. Bucky was going to be a father. You were going to build a family as he always wished.

“Свобода”.

As the sob escaped your soul, his hand made of vibranium released your neck. Freedom was what he got after all those years.

Bucky was free.

His hold was the only thing that kept you on your feet, pining to the cold hard ground, as well as you trying to fill your lungs with the heavy air around you because of the dense smoke coming from the flames burning down that damn place. You watched Bucky picking the shield close to you, probably believing it could be easier to kill you with it than with his own hands. Your arms automatically wrapped your abdomen, as if you could protect your unborn child from that horror, crying James' name to remember you.

“James… James…”

You weren't able to stop whining, feeling a heavy sorrow under your chest, covering your vitals organs. The noisy sound from the bunker was suddenly turned into a constant beep, beep, beep that caused you to frown yet keeping your eyes closed. You called him once and again until a warm hand laced his fingers with you. Peace invaded you eventually, after a fond squeeze around your skin followed by a pair of rough lips pressed on your forehead. You let yourself go, not finding any strength inside your heart to continue awake.

The next time you opened your eyes, you needed a moment to adjust your gaze to the sunlight. Purring feeling more comfortable than before, you rolled on your stomach, sinking your nose into the large pillow. Bucky's scent was like a punch of reality. Your eyes snapped open as your pulse increased, starting to panic. Sitting up, your orbs moved quickly all around the room you recognized instantly. It was your dorm in the Compound, the one you used to share with your boyfriend —and the father of your child. It was empty. No trace of James anywhere. You tossed away the oxygen mask and the sheets covering your stiff anatomy, getting up from the bed. Another huge mistake.

Everything spun around you, feeling strong dizziness hitting your head, having to sit down for a second. But as soon as you felt recovered, you stood up again walking straight to the main door to step out. The hallway was deserted, hearing some voices coming from the meeting room. You followed them slowly, finding balance with your palm against the walls. Sam was the first one noticing your presence, coming faster to help you.

“James… James…” You mumbled, not really sure about when you started to sob again, whilst your muscles got tense with every syllable.

“He's okay, he's okay, take it easy, girl”. He tried to calm you as Steve reached you to bring you to the closest chair.

“We don't know what you did… but even if that man introduced the commands again… you turned it off”. Natasha spoke this time.

“I re— I repro— reprogramed him”.

The confusion was more than evident between the Avengers present in the room. But no one of them had the need to ask how. The spy taught you Russian in your free time, you weren't a fluent speaker, but it was enough to have a chat. Even so, you weren't going to say the words you used. You weren't going to make Bucky go through another wipe. If they worked, you'd make sure that he'd hear them when the occasion required it.

“I wan— wanna see him… please”. You cried covering your face with both hands, desolated after the hell of the situation you had to live.

“He's resting”. Steve informed you, squatting close and placing a hand on your right thigh to gently caress it. “And you should do the same. For your baby”.

“There's no way you're gonna stop me from seeing him”. You replied, raising your head and looking at him through your eyelids. Silently pleading.

He snorted, convinced that you wouldn't change your mind. Nodding two times with his head, he stood up and offered you a hand to hold it and help you to walk. Steve guided you through upstairs, following your pace step by step —he could have carried you onto his arms, but he wasn't sure if he could hurt you accidentally. You were too weak, barely breathing properly because of all the smoke you swollen inside the bunker. Although you started to feel somewhat erratic and excited as you were coming to Bucky's old dorm.

Steve opened the door for you, letting you walk inside before closing it behind your back. Your boyfriend was peacefully sleeping under the sheets. There were some scars on his face, already healed but yet seeming painful. The only explanation you found to be there was that Bucky used the shield to open the door and take you out of the bunker. A theory that made more sense when you noticed that he hadn't his prosthesis and his shoulder was covered by a thin black microfiber.

You headed to the bed, tucking in to wrap his warm and heavy body between your arms. At the moment he felt you, he embraced you as better as he could, not opening his eyes but shedding a tear. His lips started to tremble as you pecked them, previous to hiding his face into your neck.

“I'm so sorry…” Bucky sobbed, causing your whole anatomy to shudder because of the sorrow in his voice.

“We're gonna be okay, my love… You, me, our baby… Our family”.

His crying increased after those two words, caressing his back slowly to comfort him somehow. You knew that this recovery would be hard and painful, being conscious of how close he had been to end with your life. He didn't want to do it, nobody could deny it. You were everything he had, everything he always wished for deep inside his soul and heart. And the acknowledgment of having a baby with you only provoked him to feel guiltier.

But as you said so, everything was going to be okay.

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[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 13: An Understatement

Warnings: blaster fire and descriptions of battle, mentions of injuries, Mando gets pretty hurt and the reader is a wreck (as usual)

Author’s Note: Enjoy Chapter 13!

Mando’s POV

All Mando could think about was you.

Did you protect the child? There’s no way you leaked their info to the Empire and betrayed them, right? Were you dead?

Somehow, the third option scared him the most.

As if this could not get any worse, Moff Gideon opened his mouth yet again.

“I have just received word that you seem to have a very valuable asset on your side,” he said, and Mando knew exactly what he was getting at.

He was referring to you.

Mando’s mind raced a million miles a minute. The Empire were after you, and they had to know you had the child with them. You could hold your own, he knew that, but against an entire regime of soldiers?

Mando knew you would rather die than get the child caught, he would do the same thing, but he wanted you alive. That’s all he wanted.

“It’s ironic, really,” Moff continued. “You put your trust in the Empire to get away from the Empire.”

Moff Gideon could insult Mando all he wanted. He could insult his religion, his creed, his past, but something about him referring to you as “the Empire” when you had worked so hard to get away from it rubbed him in all the wrong ways.

You had helped Mando start to put his violent ways aside, but you weren’t here now, and Mando wanted to kill the Moff where he stood.

“It’s time you face the fact that she will return to where she belongs. My side. I hope her betrayal does not hurt your feelings too bad,” Moff said, and Cara scoffed.

Mando’s last button had been pushed.

“She didn’t betray us, Cara,” he said sternly, and Cara rolled her eyes.

“Oh, so you’re on her side? The Empire’s side?,” she responded, and Mando tried to keep his cool.

It wasn’t really working.

“We are on the same side,” Mando snapped back. “It’s time you realized that.”

You would not betray him. If you were any other person in the galaxy, Mando would start to give up now. But you showed him, in the very brief time you were together, that even people with the worst pasts can still have good hearts.

You made him feel like an idiot. Like a joke. He hadn’t genuinely cared for a person since his parents, but then the kid came along, and then you came along. It’s like the galaxy was showing him perfect prizes, but the game was impossible to win.

But the very worst part of it all, was that Mando was willing to try.

What had you done to him?

Your POV

To say this day did not go as planned was an understatement.

One second you are running for your life, the next you are being scooped up by a metal hand. It happened so fast you barely even had time to register you were lifted off the ground and placed onto a speeder bike.

Once you finally did register what had happened, you immediately thought it was the Empire’s doing, so you turned around and aimed your longspear at the driver.

“Please don’t,” the droid responded. “Me being dead would make this much worse for you.”

The nurse droid, you thought to yourself. From Kuiil’s house!

You were in such a haze of mourning and sadness those couple of days, you barely remembered meeting the droid. You even forgot it rode on the ship to this planet!

You relaxed a bit and lowered your longspear, smiling internally at the thought that a piece of Kuiil was still alive, but you didn’t put your guard down.

You hadn’t put your guard down in days, so it’s not like your overall body language changed that much.

You made sure the child was ok, and once your head finally cleared, you realized Mando was trying to reach you again.

“Kuiil, Y/N, somebody come in.”

The droid picked up the comm device before you could get it, and responded in a very monotoned voice.

“Kuiil has been terminated.”

That ought to make Mando feel better, won’t it, you thought to yourself.

You were going to take the comm device out of the droid’s hand, but you froze when you heard Mando’s tone of voice speaking through the comms again.

“What did you do?” he asked, and you swore you could hear the venom dripping from his mouth.

It always surprised you how scary Mando could really be when he tried.

“I am fulfilling my basic function,” the droid responded.

“Which is?” Mando asked.

“To nourish and protect.”

With that statement, the droid sped up the bike, and you held the child in your lap. He looked up at you with confused eyes, and you could tell he was asking why you weren’t going home.

“We are going to save him little guy,” you said with a stroke to his ear. “We will be home before you know it.”

You smiled lightly to yourself, and before you knew it, the speeder bike was roaring through the town and taking out every trooper in sight.

Blaster fire surrounded you and you tried to focus on what was ahead.

Mando was trapped…. But where?

Finally, you squinted your eyes and saw a regiment of soldiers ahead, and you knew Mando and the rest of the team were trapped inside the building.

“There!” you yelled, pointing to Mando’s cage, and the droid turned you and the child around for protection while he continued to fire.

It was slightly disorienting at first, because you honestly didn’t expect that to happen, but you felt better about the child’s safety.

This droid is no dummy, you thought to yourself. Kuiil did a good job.

Your heart pulled slightly at the thought of Kuiil, still laying out in the desert, but he would get his proper burial.

You just had to make sure Mando didn’t get one of those first.

The droid finally slowed down, and you took the opportunity to jump off the speeder bike and dive behind a pillar.

You got the child situated in your arms well enough so he could be protected, and started making your way out of your hiding spot.

You knew you couldn’t fight with the child in your arms, that’s just stupid, but you did reflect blaster shots from the troopers and took as many out as you could.

You had to start making your way to Mando somehow, but out of the corner of your eye, it seemed Mando was coming to you.

Mando charged out into the open with Karga on his tail, and he fired at will. He kicked and punched the troopers who were close enough to him, and you couldn’t help the smile that graced over your face at the sight of him.

You couldn’t see it, but Mando was smiling too.

You stuck close to the buildings surrounding you, slowly making your way around to where Karga was, but the chaos was insane. You could barely see where the shots were coming from, let alone where you were sending them.

You looked around to find some other way, but what you did see was way better.

Mando was running to a huge cannon, and you watched him rip it off the tripod and start firing it at the stormtroopers.

Your hopes were on the rise.

You saw a dark black death trooper place a detonator on the wall of Mando’s former cage, and you panicked when you realized Cara was still in there.

You started to make your way over there when the explosion hit, but you were far enough away so that you didn’t feel any wave from it.

You continued to make your way over to her.

Your senses were going so crazy, that you didn’t even feel Moff Gideon enter the scene.

What you did feel, however, was the pain Mando felt when the Moff fired a shot directly into his helmet.

It hurt like hell, and you heard Mando cry out in pain.

You turned back to where Mando was, and you saw him take aim at Moff with his canon.

This is it, you thought. Moff Gideon is dead.

You wish you hadn’t been trained in the force so well, because the very next thing you felt was the pride in Moff’s chest when he realized how to take Mando out.

Your eyes widened and panic struck you like lighting.

Moff is gonna kill him.

“Mando,” you screamed, but it was too late.

Moff Gideon had already fired at the generator next to Mando, and you had no choice but to dive for cover. You shielded the child with your body, and you were lucky enough to not feel the effects of the explosion.

But Mando felt it all.

When the dust cleared, you saw Cara dragging, his body back inside while Karga and IG-11 followed her in.

You didn’t care about anything in that moment. And if you would have known merely weeks ago that you would run across a battle field with no armour and a child in your arms, you would have smacked yourself silly.

But you did it anyways.

You made it to the door right before it closed, and you stopped in your tracks when you almost ran right into Cara’s gun.

It was pointed right at you.

“Get out,” she said, and you raised the hand not holding the child in surrender.

“Cara please,” you plead. You could see Mando laying on the floor behind her, and your heart was breaking.

He was badly injured. You could feel it.

“You can kick me out as soon as you’d like. I promise. Just let me see him,” you ask.

The tears were starting to cloud your vision and you tried not to let your voice crack. You didn’t want Cara to think you were trying to manipulate her.

But your Mandalorian was dying behind her.

“I promise,” you say, and she finally lowers your blaster.

“Thank you,” you respond, letting a breath out of your mouth as you do it, and you run to kneel beside Mando.

Of all the pain you’ve experienced in your life, you had learned a lot about it. You had learned that you personally deal better with pain when you have something to squeeze in your hand, like a pillow or the arm of a chair. You’ve learned that there are people in the world who enjoy making others feel pain, and no matter how many times you try, you just can’t understand why. You’ve learned that bacta shots work wonders for physical pain, but mental pain is almost impossible to numb.

But worse of all, you’ve learned that watching people you care for in pain is the worst pain in the world.

And this one hurt.

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