#also I think he would have many a burn scar even before his space mission but. uh. lazy

[higgs-the-god]

😡😡🤬

[physicalturian]

[G] Gentle summer - Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader - Part 1

[Contains spoilers from the movie, and the manga] [No pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 8533 Archive of our own

Warnings : Blood / Injuries / PTSD

Summary : After the event of the Infinity Train, the Fire Pillar is staying at the Butterfly Mansion where you take care of him. The path to recovery is long, which leaves time for some feelings to develop between you and Rengoku. Proper courtship is what the swordsman has in mind once he set it on you.

A slow burn of two people letting time do its work the more they spend it together.

If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

--

It was one of those rare quiet nights at the mansion. Crickets in the summer night could be heard in the well-tended gardens along the sound of the water in the ponds. The cool air the late night provided felt refreshing, it gave some respite before the summer heat returned in the early morning, but it was appreciated, nonetheless. It was relaxing, so relaxing it could almost make one forget of the danger looming over them. Big plans were being made, new recruits were being trained and the ones used to it all… well, they were resting the best they could before the big fight.

Among those resting were a few Pillars, those who weren’t at the mansion were doing their best to get out of their head by doing some missions. Giyuu was one of the few who stayed, he wasn’t so lucky as to be alone in his room; The new recruits, who counted among their ranks a demon girl, were sleeping by his side, snoring and taking too much space on the futons spread on the tatami mat. As I stood by the door, I noticed the light was still on and tip-toed inside the room to turn it off, avoiding luring the mosquitoes in.

I stopped dead in my tracks when the floor creaked, I waited a moment before going back to the door, hoping I hadn’t woken anyone up. Once out, I slid it closed gently and padded away to my room, knowing full well I wasn’t going to be able to sleep with all the stress I was feeling. On my way there, I noticed the flickering light coming from the Fire Pillar’s room. The shadow of the lantern was projected on the shoji doors, I waited a moment to see if there was any movement but when I didn’t see anything, I opened the door. Not wanting for him to wake up during the night to turn it off, I stepped inside carefully but stopped when I couldn’t see him around.

For a moment, my heart jumped out of my chest as I considered the possibility of him having been kidnapped by the demon who wasn’t able to finish him. Maybe he even left to the forest to fight with him, he would do that to avoid getting us in danger. No, no… No demon ever found the mansion, I don’t see why they would find it now.

Blowing the light out, I found that the moon’s glow was enough to brighten the room with a fair white color all over the room. As I stepped towards the door that led to some green patches outside, I paused when I noticed a form leaning on one of the wooden posts outside. Approaching soundlessly, I quickly recognized Rengoku’s haori on the ground. The man was sitting on the wooden veranda outside, his head was leaning on the post, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t wearing his Pillar outfit but instead wore a lighter traditional kimono, that suited him perfectly.

“Rengoku?” I called his name softly, hoping to get his attention without surprising him too much. Perhaps it was too tender as the man did not respond. With just as much care, I stepped closer and saw his relaxed face, deep in slumber, the usual determined frown on his face gone from how peaceful he was right now. Still, it mustn’t be comfortable to be sleeping here, I thought as I stepped in front of the man and considered my choices.

Mirroring him some way, I crossed my arms over my chest and took a good look at him as I considered what to do. While doing so, I also enjoyed his features. The fresh scar on his forehead was never hidden by his hair, seeing as he styled it in a mane-like fashion. I’d still feel a pinch in my heart when I’d see it, remembering how the three young recruits sent their crow to get the medical people on the field.

Both of them were crying, thinking the man was gone, I had to keep my composure as I checked his pulse, desperately wishing he was still alive.

I held my breath, then felt the slight pulse. The man was a strong-willed fighter, but as I took care of his wounds the best I could, I started to believe strong-will was not going to get him through it. When my crew and I gave him the first care treatment, we brought him back to the mansion where he was passed out for a few days. When he finally woke up, I was changing the flowers on his bedside. As I pulled them out of the vase, a strong hand gripped my wrist. I gasped loudly at the touch, then at the realization he had woken up.

“Rengoku, you’ve awakened. I’ll bring you-“ “You’re the one, right?” He uttered, his mouth still not used to speaking just yet. Giving him a confused expression, he chuckled lightly, then painfully before getting his composure back. “The one who’s been singing to me, so many times-“ “I do apologize, I was not aware you could hear me. I hope I haven’t troubled your sleep much, and that you are rested,” I bowed, feeling my cheeks burn from embarrassment. Yet, I had to keep some professionalism with the Pillar in front of me, for his rank was higher than mine.

“Your voice, it’s soothing, can you keep doing it? Singing, I mean! I’m awake now, but I really enjoyed hearing you,”

Chuckling nervously, I placed the fresh flowers in the vase once the man had let go of my hand and threw the dried ones in the bin. “I don’t think so, it’s not professional, disturbing you wouldn’t-“ “It helped me, I found myself sleeping more peacefully upon hearing you delicate singing. Without it, I wouldn’t be as well-rested,” His voice was a lot louder now. He must have strained himself with the energy he put in his whole attitude since he leaned forward a bit, a hand on his stomach.

“Alright, I’ll keep singing, only if you stop moving. You haven’t healed fully yet Rengoku. You should rest some more,” I told him softly. I pried his hand away from his stomach and asked if I could check, he allowed me. “Maybe quiet down, even for a moment, you’ve only been asleep for a few days, your wounds haven’t healed enough for you to move that much,” When he didn’t say anything, I looked up at his face and saw him with his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He was focusing his breath on the healing, which I would not allow.

Calling his name, I tried to get his attention, but he ignored me. Now, I might be a healer, but I knew how to deal damage and how to deal with strong people. With a hand on his stomach and the other on his shoulder, I put some pressure on the latter to make him lean back. His eyes opened wide as a breathless gasp left his mouth in surprise. “Don’t start this. I am asking you to simply, stay in bed and do nothing, is that too much to ask?” I asked him as I let go of his form.

His beautiful wide eyes stared right at mine, unrelenting, with an expression I couldn’t decipher. As uneasy as it made me feel, I matched his stare and did not move. That is until he smiled, “Only if I am allowed to have some food, I am starving! Food would help with my healing, right?” He added my name at the end of his question, surprising me. The amount of time I interacted with the Pillars could not be counted on two hands, I remembered them, their wounds, their fragile state when in their weakest state. I saw them train, I myself was trained by one of them. And yet, I was surprised when the Fire Pillar remembered my name.

I didn’t let it slip, that I liked it, that it caught me off guard, nor that he had the gentlest tone when saying my name, a tone that made my heart skip even for just a second. “I will bring you food. I’m only asking of you to stay put, can you do that?” Nodding, he put his hands a bit higher from his stomach and stood still, his eyes looking at the ceiling. “For you, I will, I won’t move an inch-“ “Not for me, for you. For your health, Rengoku.” I huffed while standing up, a hand on the mattress. As I turned around, a hand quickly grabbed mine, just like before. I didn’t pull back, fearing the man would lean in with.

Turning to face him, I quirked a brow and asked if he needed anything else, “Kyojuro, call me Kyojuro, you have taken care of me enough time to be familiar with me. I owe you my life,” Chuckling lightly, I unhooked his hand from my wrist and smiled, “It’s my job, I will try my best to call you by your name then, Kyojuro.” With a nod, I left the room to get his meal that the younger recruits were probably already making. They would always sit by the door of the wounded, waiting for anything to happen, their ears ready for any sudden sound.

My suspicions were correct when I found the tray right in front of the door, they must have left the moment they realized he had awakened. Smiling to myself, I grabbed the tray and entered Kyojuro’s room once more. “It seems we-“ I hurriedly put the tray on the bed next to Kyojuro’s when I saw he wasn’t in his bed. “Rengoku! Where did you go,” I mumbled the last part as I slipped on my geta and trotted to the veranda. I was quick to let a sigh of relief when I saw the man in question, practicing with his sword, the sun illuminating his gorgeous mane.

As beautiful as he may be under the sun, the jinbei he was wearing to sleep had a growing red stain on his stomach. His wound had reopened, and he did not seem to mind one bit. I did. “Rengoku, would you please come back to bed?” I asked with some softness. When he did not hear me, or ignored me, whichever it was I did not care, I called his name more sternly. His stances and actions got a bit more intense in his practice.

Taking a deep breath, I calmed my breathing and sped to his side, hearing his surprise. Not wasting time, I hit one of the spots on his hand to make it go numb as he dropped his sword. I took it in my hand, stepping away from him quickly to avoid him taking it back. He looked at me in defeat, as defeated as a man like him could look like. The Fire Pillar looked at me in awe, then smiled. “Well done! A good practice, perhaps we could train more together-“ Putting the sword delicately on the ground, I approached him and pressed on his stomach wound, making him groan in pain as he bent forward, pushing my hand away.

“You are in no condition to fight, train or move. Go back to bed, or I will have to use force to get you there myself,” The look he gave me broke my heart, that was defeat. That was a man so out of his comfort zone, he did not know how to cope. Known for always standing, always be the last one with will, ready to fight and to get everyone’s hopes up. He closed his eyes a moment, then gave me a stern nod. “Very well,”

It needed convincing to let me help him to the bed, where I had to change his clothes and bandages, but he let me. Perhaps I had gotten to him, perhaps he was now fully aware of how dire his situation was. “If you stay put, you’ll be back on your feet in no time,” I told him while finishing wrapping the bandages around his stomach. I hummed to myself, trying to convince myself too. I had no idea how long it would take, because I knew he would not listen. Yet, I hoped it was enough to get him back to his hype.

“Will you sing for me?” The ginger asked once I handed him a fresh attire on my way to get the tray from the other bed. Stopping in my tracks, I returned slowly to his bedside. “You should eat first, slowly, please,” I told him with a short smile. Once he had dressed up, albeit groaning upon moving to slide his arms inside the sleeves, I put the tray on his lap and gestured for him to go on.

The peace of the moment did not last when he started eating like he hadn’t seen a meal in years, portions after portions, too big to fit his mouth, I had to stop him and take the chopsticks from his hand. “Are you purposedly doing the opposite of what I tell you, Kyojuro?” I asked, slightly annoyed.

“Those are small! I am hungry, can I have my chopsticks back, songbird?” He asked, his hand extended. I had to hold back from choking when I heard the nickname he had given me but decided against saying anything. It had some charm, and if I said anything he might stop, I liked it for now…

Instead, I sighed. “This,” I scooped some food with the chopsticks and showed him, “Is an adequate portion, you have to be careful-“ I stared at him in awe when he leaned in and ate the rice from the chopsticks I was holding. Once he was done, he looked back at me with smile, “More,” was all he said.

I blinked a few times, considering telling him off but I felt like he would still gobble down the whole meal if I didn’t do it myself. With a roll of my eyes, I took more rice and placed my hand under it as I brought it to his mouth, “You are a chaotic man,” there was a huge grin on his lips as he ate, speaking before he even finished, “Delicious! More!”

There was no helping the smile that drew itself on my face, “I’ll tell them you enjoyed it,” I huffed, feeding him some more. Every bite he would tell me to give him more, as annoying as it was, it was also growing on me in an endearing way. He did ask for another portion, which surprised me considering how much he ate but I complied. Once we were done, he seemed to be a lot calmer than he had been since he had woken up. His mind was somewhere else as he stared at his battered hands, there were a few cuts on it from his fight and I was afraid he was thinking about it too much.

“Now that your stomach is full, perhaps you should rest, Kyojuro,” Fluffing his pillow, I asked him to lay down, but he wasn’t in the mood for that. No, he was still staring at his hands, lost in thoughts. I put the tray outside and came back, placing my hands delicately on his. It seemed efficient enough since he looked up with wide eyes, a look that pierced a soul for simply coming from him. “I still have a lot of energy, would you mind staying?” He asked, his tone loud, his hands gripping mine. I hid the surprise of his actions and laughed lightly.

“I have things to do, it is still the morning, I will come back by noon-“ “What do you have to do? Can you do it here?” He apologized just as fast as he interrupted me, then he laid down with a groan. “I should rest, please wake me up when you come back,”

Finding his attitude odd, I stayed between the bed and door, half-way to each. Could he be sleeping badly? Could he be in the need of company? I looked around and pondered a moment. All I had to do was train and take a look at everyone in the mansion. The latter having been done for the morning, I only had one thing to do for now. So, I went back to the ginger. “I have to train, while you are not fit to do so yourself, perhaps would you like to help me out? Give some pointers of things I could improve? Would that suit you?”

The speed at which he sat up mad me rush to his side as I held onto his shoulders and told him to calm his enthusiasm. He only smiled in return, telling me he could not contain the joy it brought him to leave the bed. “You have only been awake for so little time, you are quite easily bored,” I stated as I told him to wrap an arm around my shoulders so that I could help him move to the veranda, making sure he took a pillow with him. “I’ll let you sit outside, but you don’t move from there, understood?” He nodded firmly in response as he dropped the pillow on the ground. I helped him sit down with care, then, albeit hesitantly, brought him his sword from the ground and set it beside him.

“Don’t move,” I extended my hand as a gesture to keep him on the spot, “You stay put, and you don’t practice, you stay right- there,” I continued while stepping back. When he laughed oh so charmingly, I almost tripped on the tatami. “I’m not moving!” It’s not without a side-glance that I left the room, only to come back just as fast, changing from a heavy kimono to a lighter jinbei. It wasn’t light-colored like the one we let the wounded wear, it was dark blue and nice to wear.

As I positioned in front of the veranda, in the grass, I couldn’t help but glance at the pair of eyes watching me. “I don’t usually train in front of others, it’s strange,” I chuckled, maybe more self-conscious than I thought I’d be. This was not the time to feel as such, so I reprimanded myself internally and got myself together.

“Don’t mind me! I love sword training; I won’t bother you!” He said loud enough for me to hear, perhaps even to become deaf if I was close enough. Nodding, I started my usual training, feeling very aware of the intense stare of the man. He wasn’t looking as carefree as before, he was observing, gauging all my movements, the way I held my sword, the way I positioned my feet, each of my slashes. A knot formed in my throat, a need to prove myself arose. This was a Pillar, after all.

Just as he said, I ignored his presence the best I could. It was hard to not glance at him every time I felt like I messed up, when I would peek, he would be looking at me intently. His gaze would stay on my mind as I focused back on my training, I was taking a liking to it. As much as it pressured me some way, unvoluntary to him, I found his face too beautiful to feel fear from the intensity of his look.

While thinking of him, and my movements, I trained until noon. Not a word was being exchanged between us, but I was glad it kept him from moving. I could have gone on and on once I was in the proper headspace and I was able to tune out the Fire Pillar’s strong presence, that was until Naho came in and tugged my sleeve, asking me to lean in. Crouching to her height, I listened carefully then let her go.

“I have tasks that need my attention, I will have to leave you-“ I stammered at the end when I saw the look of awe in Rengoku’s eyes, it elated a nervous laugh from my part as I leaned in to help his arm around my shoulders. Once he was stable, he looked at me with a big smile, “I’ve never seen such sword style, it’s so beautiful! I can see the way your heart is set ablaze once you are focused properly, you enjoy fighting and it shows,” He said it with such astonishment and appreciation that it made heat rush to my face, I only mumbled a thank you in response.

“Would you mind bringing me to my room? Sickbay is uneventful, if I get to my room perhaps one of the recruits will come barging in and bring entertainment with them!” Staying in the infirmary would be better for him, but I knew that every passing second he was focused on his breathing to make the healing process faster, tiring himself on the way. Giving him a curt nod, I said, “Very well, this means I’ll have to come visit you more. The three girls are afraid to go in the Pillars’ wing and won’t be able to watch over you, make it easier for both of us and be good, Kyojuro.” I paused before saying his name, not yet used to it.

He laughed loudly in response, only to grunt in pain quickly after, “That hurt- you made me laugh too hard,” The man seemed out of breath, which wasn’t reassuring for the little he had moved but we were closing in on his room. It wasn’t too far from the infirmary and also had a view on the garden that surrounded the mansion. “It was not in my plan to make you laugh; may I ask what brought that fit of laughter?” I was curious, I’ll admit.

“You said it as if it was a pain to have you visit more often, but I find your company relaxing. I will gladly appreciate each second of your presence by my side,” Upon hearing his words, I choked on my saliva but hid it behind a clearing of my throat as I looked to the side, a neutral expression on my face. “Sleep and you’ll find me by your side a lot sooner than expected, does it sound fair to you?” I asked as I slid the door open and helped him inside, asking him to stand still, wordlessly. “The excitement of seeing you again will keep me restless!” He said while I laid his futon on the ground.

“You have two choices then, you sleep on your own accord or I find that one spot in your neck to make you pass out. Which would it be?” He blinked in response, laughing breathlessly as he ushered to the futon, leaning on me as I set him down. “I will try to sleep, if you promise to sing for me when you come back,”

Rolling my eyes in response, I agreed. “I will see you in a few hours, rest well. And stop the focused breathing, you’ll only get tired more,” Rengoku’s eyes widened, as if surprised by my guess. The man thought himself slick enough to not get caught being sneaky, if sneaky was the adequate word. He was putting a lot of effort in his healing, but also slowing it down since his body was too tired, which rendered it all in vain. He nodded, a serene expression on his face while a small smile displayed on his lips. “Sleep it is, wake me up once you are back,” Another curt nod was what I gave him before departing.

For some reason, as I checked up on the patients in the medical wing, my mind kept wandering off. There was this feeling inside my chest that I could only describe as excitement at the thought of seeing the Fire Pillar again. His aura was so welcoming and warm, one could only feel drawn to it, to him, to his strong-willed attitude, his delightful albeit loud laugh and his oh so bright smile. As I was finishing up my tour, I had time to dwell in my thoughts no more when the young recruit in front of me tried to get out of bed.

“Tanjirou, you are to stay in bed until tomorrow. Should I call Aoi so that she keeps you bound to bed?” I knew the younger healer had some affection to spare for the newest slayer, I was not yet sure if he felt the same way, but he was well-enough aware that she was strong enough to keep him unmoving until the proper time. Her goal was to see all the injured slayers back on their feet, and while she wouldn’t admit it, she made it her top priority when Tanjirou was part of those injured people. “I’m fine! Look, I can move, I have to train! Being bed ridden is not enough of an impairment that it’d stop me from getting better, I have to-“ “If you leave this bed I won’t tell you what I know about a certain Pillar,” I trailed off, holding back the mischievous smile from my lips.

The brunette stopped everything and looked at me with wide-eyes, his scarred hands gripping mine, “Where is Rengoku! How- can I see him? His wounds, are they-“ “Let’s take a breath first, hm? He is awake-“

“I have to see him! I need to see him, please bring me to his room nurse-“ I made an exhausted face, “I’m not a nurse. The closest you’ll get to nurses would be Naho, Kiyu and Sumi, also Aoi but she is a strong fighter. I am here to treat your wounds, that is it.” He quickly apologized then fell silent. His state was not as bad as Rengoku’s, physically, but seeing the Pillar almost die in front of his eyes had an effect on the young man that was clearly visible if you paid enough attention. “He is bored and bed-ridden, but…” A glint of hope lit up in the young slayer’s eyes. “He wishes some company, if you promise to let me help you to his room, and to stay put once there, I am willing to bring you there. Only if you promise those things, is that clear?”

Nodding vigorously, he threw his legs to the side of the bed and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I quickly realized he was in a better shape that I thought, for he did not need to lean on me much. On our way out I grabbed the crutches one of the girls had left and made our way to Kyojuro’s room. “Kyojuro, can I come in?” I called out once we arrived at his door.

“Yes you may!” So he is awake… does fatigue mean nothing to him? “I’ve been thinking, perhaps we could-“ He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Tanjirou by my side. I was also caught off guard when I saw the ginger kneeling on his heels, waiting expectantly while facing the door in which I stepped in. “Young Tanjirou! A pleasant surprise indeed, it is great to see that you are well-“ once more he could not finish his sentence as the brunette threw himself at him and hugged him tight. A loud huff escaped the ginger’s lips, but he hugged back, for a second I wondered how it’d feel to be wrapped around his inviting arms, but it was only a mere moment before I rushed to their collapsed form on the tatami.

“Tanjirou, Kyojuro is in no shape to get tackled yet. Would you mind getting off of him?” I tried to pry him away from the Pillar, but he was holding tight.

“It’s alright! It is a very welcomed hug! Would you like to join in, songbird?” My heart skipped a beat once again when the nickname rolled of his tongue after his invitation. It brought a smile to my face, but I only shook my head in response, “You are both too brute, I’ll wait until you’re done worsening your state, then I’ll step in,” I joked, making the Pillar laugh loudly. For some reason, it brought great pride in my heart to have made him laugh as such.

After a few minutes, Tanjirou moved away from the Fire Pillar, his eyes red and his cheeks stained with tears. Rengoku was in a better state, but if you paid closer attention, his eyes were watery from tears threatening to fall. I let them talk a while, when a few hours passed and Tanjirou’s eyelids were drooping, I interrupted them, “I believe it is enough for today, wouldn’t you agree?” I asked both men, but only one answered, the other one was kneeling next to him, sniffling. “The young man needs some rest; It was quite the adventure to see me it seems!” “I’ll bring him back to his room-“

“I’ll do it!” Aoi suddenly entered the room, a frown on her face. “He shouldn’t have left the bed in the first place, but you seem to be bending the rules a lot today,” She threw me a glare that quickly softened when she looked at Kyojuro then at me. A smug smile followed, “The things we do for lo-“ “And now you leave, I’ll see you at dinner. Refrain from bothering me any more than necessary, understood?”

With the same smile, she gave me a thumbs up, “Oh I understood very clearly, very very clearly. No interruption, no, none!” She then ushered away, Tanjirou at her side as she berated him lovingly on her way out. Once they were gone, I sighed.

“How is your wound?” I asked the Pillar as I knelt beside him, it was exhausting how prone he was to do exactly the opposite of what I would tell him. And yet, he was still a real sunshine to be with. “You are very worried, why is that? It’ll heal, it has not reopened, I am fine.” He said, lifting the shirt to show the wrappings still intact.

It’s with a deep breath that I explained one of the reasons I needed him in good health, “You are very valuable, and even if Master Ubuyashiki said he did not want you to fight you’d join fight anyway. The same fight that is in preparation, the one you’ll have to be ready for. I want you to be able to fight at the best of your abilities, because I trust you are powerful enough to tip the scale in our favor. So, make it easy for me, for both of us... I do not wish to be the reason you lose your life during the fight just because I did not treat you well enough, please…”

There was a short silence, sincerity was the best way to go with a man like him. He wanted that, he needed truths, not matter how it went, so I gave it to him. I was expecting him to be stubborn and tell me that he was fine, but he surprised me instead, “I will do my best to ease the burden of treating me!” “You’re not a burden- I did not mean it as such, I meant-“

“I am joking! I will stay put. Would you mind staying a bit longer? Having some company keeps me in check, it stops me from needing to do something to distract me from my thoughts,”

It caught me off guard, how blunt it was. I could have guessed something was troubling his mind, a lot could be doing so, but admitting he did not want to be alone… That was surprising, I could only accept. “I do owe you a song, do I not?” A huge smile made its way on his lips, it made my cheeks heat up from the undivided attention he now brought to me. I cleared my throat, when I was about to start he leaned in and held the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my right cheek. “You are embarrassed! Don’t be, I genuinely enjoy your voice, please don’t feel shy,”

There was no way I could tell him it did not help now that he had touched me, and that I felt my whole body set aflame. Instead, I moved his hand from my cheek and held it in mine, then started singing one of the many songs I was taught as a child. It always threw me back to my childhood, a wave of nostalgia hitting me. I closed my eyes, picturing old memories from when I was in my childhood home, running around with the other kids, summers, such as this one, spent in the fields, catching beetles. Helping my dad bring back wood to the house, it all came back to me.

Slowly, the song ended, I opened my eyes again and, in front of me, Kyojuro had tears rolling slowly down his face. “I’m sorry, did that song bring bad memories?”

“It was beautiful, it made me think of my little brother. I often helped him train with a wooden sword, before I became a Pillar. I miss him dearly, but plan on visiting my father’s house once this is over, maybe show him my breathing technique.” He paused, then smiled kindly, “You have a delicate voice, it felt like you were telling a story with such beautiful words. Would you care to sing another one?” A knot formed in my throat at the compliment he directed at me, not hearing his request at first. There was a delay in my response, but I nodded.

I patted his futon, “I’ll sing as many songs as you need until you fall asleep, I know you haven’t slept since I left,” “I don’t want to miss any of them!” I chuckled at his enthusiasm and went to grab a pillow from the closet to get more comfortable. “That is a problem, you are keen on not sleeping. I will not ask the reason why, but is there any way to convince you to sleep?”

The soft chuckle that left his lips made me uneasy, I saw the way his eyes looked askance as he slowly laid back on the futon. “Awful dreams plague my mind, it makes me restless, I found some respite when hearing your voice in my dreams… But it seems it’s not enough to keep them at bay,” He paused and huffed a laugh, “It is nothing I can’t get through, do not worry-“ “I’ll stay by your side until you’re asleep then, I’ll make sure to come check up on you throughout the night if you wish.”

His eyes widened, I caught myself off guard too. I should leave him; it was not a requirement to make sure he slept like a baby. It was not a requirement to care that much, but I felt a pull. Like planets around the sun, I felt right, it felt reassuring. “There is no need! I could never ask this much of you, I will be fine.”

I huffed and gesture for him to wait as I left the room, to only come back a few minutes after with trays of food. “Let us say, it is like I’m staying over for the night. Like when we were children, staying at a friend’s house,” Putting the trays next to Rengoku’s futon, I went to the cabinet and pulled out the other futon that was tucked away, and the small tables to keep the tray at a proper height. “Sumi will bring us tea, and you,” I placed his tray on the table next to him, “Will eat slowly, or I will make sure you don’t fight at all, understood?”

Relief flooded my body when he laughed loudly, nodding as he sat up. “Promised! Although, it would mean you would take care of me longer, I would not be against it,” My breath hitched in my throat, I looked at him without speaking. Then he let out a breathless laugh, “You are getting very playful, but your determination could not withstand being bed-ridden longer than necessary,” I started, opening the shoji-doors to take the teapot from Sumi’s hands, “You yearn for a fight, you would never let me worsen your state,” I said lightly as I knelt by my small table and poured tea inside Kyojuro’s cup.

“I yearn for something, someone, worth defending, protecting. I do not enjoy fighting aimlessly, I fight to protect the innocents and the ones who make my heart burn with passion,” He stared right at me as he said so, I felt how strongly he meant those words he had spoken. The need to apologize for assuming he was but a hot-blooded fighter was too strong, so I did. I apologized to him. “Do not, do not! It’s alright, I know a few Pillars who enjoy a good fight. If they ever ask to fight me, I will gladly accept, it is always a good practice,” He added, grinning as he brought a good portion of food with his chopsticks.

Feeling the need to lighten the mood, I ate a bit and told him, “Naho told me you enjoyed sweet potatoes, she is going to make some tomorrow, that ought to brighten your spirit-“ “Absolutely! Will you eat with me?” Looking up, I quirked a brow and smiled softly, about to explain, “I usually eat with-“ “Until I get back on my feet! After that, I will let you go back to Naho, Sumi and Kiyo. It would be an honor to have you eat with me while I get back to health!” He cut me off.

Closing my mouth, I weighed his words- how did he know I usually ate with them? “I am surprised you know of my evening routine, should I be worried of the extra pair of eyes watching my every movement?” It was a first, to see his face turn red in embarrassment. I had said so playfully, but it seems it made him a lot more bashful. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable! I see you around the mansion, often around the same time in the evening you eat with them, that is all! I may have asked them to tell me when you are free, too. To no avail, they are silent as a tomb regarding your person,”

Sipping from my cup, I was now the one embarrassed as I asked, “Why would you want to know when I am free? I do not bite, you can ask me. Since Tengen is very curious, I told them to not tell a soul anything about me, that is all,”

Instead of replying, he shoved as much food in his mouth, before pointing at it and making me understand he couldn’t speak if it’s full. “I did tell you to eat small portions, Kyojuro. You’re going to-“ Choke is how I finished the sentence as I handed him his cup to help him swallow what he was choking on.

Once he was good, he cleared his throat and stared at me, a big smile on his face. The pink dust on his cheek had not left, “You are very busy, and resolved!” I laughed at that, nodding. “It shows when you train, even under the rain! You are not thrown off by such things, you are tenacious and strong. I like that!” The more he talked, the more I was becoming aware I was not the only one who would try to catch a glimpse of him, he would look my way too. I never caught him looking at me, we talked many times when crossing paths in the mansion, or when I’d treat his injuries. But here, it was different.

Here he was admitting he would try to find the right time to come my way, strike a conversation. Make it seem accidental too, but he was, as per his words, also very determined in his own actions. Perhaps too subtle, which was ironic coming from such a loud man, in his endeavor. “You admit you’ve been gawking when I train?” I asked jokingly, elating a silent gasp as he looked to the side only for a moment before looking at me.

“I am, yes! I wish to get to know you better and being bed-ridden seems to be the best way to do so,” I hummed in response, he continued, “I also see you lurking! You are bad at hiding your presence, but it’s alright. I can help you with that, if you’d like?” This time I was the one to choke on my food, he was just as fast to hand me his cup, instead of mine. I hesitantly took it, and drank some of his tea, handing it back to him with a thank you.

“I do not lurk, I come across your training and- and simply get fascinated by your movements. When Pillars are at the mansion, they leave just as soon, you do not, I take every opportunity to better my skills, that is all… And I do watch them train too… A bit,” I shrugged, putting my chopsticks horizontally on the bowl once I was done. It was a half-truth, it was part of the reason, yes. But when the others were training, I would let them be. When the Fire Pillar was part of the equation, I’ll admit I was gawking, drinking in the sight when he’d attach his long sleeves with a ribbon and tie his hair back. His eyes focused and sharp, he could see everything. No wonder he caught me.

“I asked the others! They sometimes catch you glancing at them, but that’s it. You only watch me, I do not mind! It’s cute, maybe we could train together if you are so willing to better your great skills,” He said genuinely, as if he hadn’t exposed my longing. Maybe he had not understood how much I enjoyed looking at him, craving to get closer and talk to him. But he had said so too, we both wanted to get to know one another.

Putting his chopsticks down, he was about to help me tidy up without saying anything more, but I told him to stay there. “Don’t, I’ll do it. You should lay down,” I said as I stood up, cleaning everything. “Lay down? Do you not know that if you go to sleep right after eating, you turn into a cow?” He said jokingly. “That is a superstition, as a child I believed so, but I know better now,” I walked to the door and placed everything outside, calling for the girls and hearing their socks against the well-waxed parquet as they rushed to the room. “I will be spending the night here, do not disturb,” I whispered to them. It earned me reddened cheeks as they ushered away, giggling and murmuring to each other.

Once I went back inside, Rengoku was standing with the crutches as he looked at me, beaming, “We should go for a walk! I do not wish to turn into a cow,” He said with conviction, a playful gleam in his eyes as he gestured with his head to follow him. “You…” I squinted my eyes, in a threatening way.

“I am not ready to go to sleep just yet, I wish to spend more time with you! Join me for a stroll?” Sighing, I reached his side and stood close to him as we wandered to the veranda. I was ready to catch him at any time if he tripped but he seemed to be managing well, “You do not really believe you’ll turn into a cow, do you?” I broke the silence, elating a loud laugh from the Fire Pillar. “I do not! Perhaps Senjuro believes it still, he is afraid to whistle at night in fear of attracting serpents,” Wanting to fool him a bit, I looked at him in shock, “Does it not?” His eyes widened as he stood still, looking at me in surprise.

Bursting out laughing, I held his arm and waved my arm in front of him, “I’m joking! You should have seen your face,” I laughed, trying to stay as silent as possible. “I am not a very superstitious person. But do not tell Master Ubuyashiki, he is a firm believer,” I told him discretely, noticing Kiyo at the corner ahead of us. She was eavesdropping, probably curious since I told them I would be staying in the Fire Pillar’s room tonight. “We have company,” I whispered, glancing subtly towards her. Without looking, Kyojuro smiled beautifully, “I am very aware, hopefully they will not tell Aoi that I am out of bed, bad things happen when we go against her orders,” His tone was lower than I’ve ever heard it, I even believed he did not know how to whisper. But he could, visibly.

“You are under my responsibility now, she has nothing to say with what I do with, or to, you,” I said in a playful tone, hoping to convey that I could do anything if he did not listen to me. Warmth filled my body when he threw me a side-glance and smirked. It was quick and gone like the breeze, but I caught it and it made me feel very much alive. We then both talked at the same time, I told him to go ahead but he encouraged me to go on, which I did, “They spread rumors like wildfire, those three girls, if Aoi is in on it, it’s going to be quite fast,” I said off-handedly, looking around to see if they were still here.

Laughing, Kyojuro stopped and leaned against the wall a moment, smiling my way, “The saying goes: rumors only last 75 days. All we will need to do is turn that rumor into truth! If it’s not a rumor, it’s not a problem!” I turned around, my eyes open wide in surprise as my mouth opened only slightly, speechless. Chuckling nervously, I did not comment on it and simply changed topic, clearing my throat as I nodded his way, “Let me help you back to your room, you seem exhausted,” Did he not realize what he was saying? How blunt, how forthright, and yet he seemed to be liking the idea a lot since he was smiling from ear to ear.

“I am not tired, maybe I’ve thought my recovery better than it actual is,” He laughed, letting me help him. He kept one crutch as we made our way back, while leaving the other behind. I was sure Kiyo would take it back to his room before we even arrived. “I forgot to ask you, what did you want to say earlier?” “That I wish to court-“ Repeating ‘no’ many times, I quickly interrupted him, ignoring the direction his sentence was going. “When we both spoke at the same time, you were going to say something,” He went silent a moment.

Then he laughed lightly, he moved his hand holding the crutch, losing his balance a bit. He seemed to stammer as he tried to find his words then found himself and said with confidence, “I would like to hold your hand, unfortunately it would be hard in the position we are in right now,”

A sound left my throat, out of surprise. Followed by a nervous laugh, before I moved my hand that was holding his elbow around my shoulders, to holding his hand. It was a strange position, the back of my hand was in his palm, our fingers intertwined. His hands were rough but warm, it felt comforting. None of us spoke until we arrived at his room, that’s when I gently removed his arm from around my shoulders to let him lay down, but he did not let go. Looking at him, I noticed the redness of his cheeks as he spoke, “I meant what I said, I wish to properly court you. Perhaps a few steps have been skimmed over already since you are in my chambers-“

I couldn’t help the embarrassed laugh, thinking he meant that since we were in the same bedroom we could have sex, but he quickly let go of my hand and moved them in front of him in panic, “Not in the way we should do anything! I find it funny that you are staying tonight, and I am grateful for it too-“ He paused and rubbed the back of his head before looking at me, “I am not good at this! But I like you!” He said loudly.

I snorted as I moved the crutch Kiyo brought back, next to his futon, then the penny dropped. I hadn’t paid attention to the last part, and it was now being assimilated in my brain. Keep your cool, get to know him, then see how it goes.

“I accept your courting, I would also like to get to know you…” Trailing off, I sat down on my futon after having blown the light off, “You are interesting Kyojuro, you’d be even more interesting if you listened to me once in a while,” I said playfully while laying down, facing his futon. He did the same, but did not seem exhausted at all, he was staring at me with wide eyes and a smile. “I am so excited to recover fully to finally be able to train with you!” He reached out across the tatami, his arm not long enough to reach my side with the distance between us.

My hand clenched the pillow tight, then I let go and reached out for his hand. I didn’t say anything, only continuing the conversation, but I stuttered as I spoke when I saw the content smile on his lips once I wrapped my hand around his. “I’ll see if Shinobu can help with your healing, I cannot promise anything… It’s funny because all you have to do is: nothing, and yet you’re struggling,” I huffed, laying on my back, while still holding his hand, “You mentioned someone called Senjurou, is that your brother?” I whispered, directing the question to the only person in the room.

Yet, I did not receive and answer. Calling his name softly, no answer was given again. I looked at him from the corner of my eye and saw he had fallen asleep, “Already?” I breathed, facing him once more. “Good…” When I tried to free my hand from his grasp, he held tighter but did not wake up. I let out a breathy laugh and squeezed back, thinking that there was no leaving him tonight. There were worse predicaments than this one, like having to take care of Sanemi’s wounds, right.

With how quiet the night was, sleep easily came to me. Deep inside, I was not convinced it was the quiet of the night that made it so easy to sleep, perhaps it was the comforting presence of the Pillar by my side. Whichever it was, I did not care.

[Part 2]

[dreadwulf]

2: The Black Mountains

Post-Apocalyptic Modern AU. Chapter 1 is here.

The last thing his right eye ever saw was Brienne. 

In that eye she is shouting. Of course he couldn’t hear her at the time over the jeers of the Bloody Mummers tying him to the table. Their laughter had been right up against his ears and the sound of it drowned out everything else in that abandoned mall. The image is soundless: her mouth is just open, her throat pushing out a word that looks like No. Her blue eyes are also open wide, both frightened and angry, a righteous fury that came to him as a surprise, at the time.

She is a still image that resides in the abandoned nerves to that empty eye socket. If he cares to, he can still see her there, superimposed over everything.

She hovers over The Spider’s right shoulder just now. Still saying No.  

He tries to focus on the Spider’s face instead. Varys raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow on his immaculate bald head.

“You can’t shoot anymore. Not like before, not with one eye. You know this.”

“I don’t mean to shoot.” Jaime shows his palms. “I have two hands still. I need a weapon I won’t have to aim.”

Varys measures this statement. He is a man who deals in knowledge more than goods, but he has an armed guard, and a collection of interesting weapons. Both for his own protection, and for use in acquiring the most valuable intel.

“In that case,” the Spider presses a button on the trailer wall. To one of the bikers, a large man with a burnt face who looks in the door in response to his call, he instructs, “bring me the Widow’s Wail.”

The same scarred man reappears with a comically oversized weapon in his hands. Turns out Widow’s Wail is an axe. It is a huge, two-handed, double-bladed axe and when the burnt biker hands it to Jaime his hands dip with the weight.

Axes, Brienne used to tell him, are the best weapon for killing Others. You don’t need to reload an axe. It can’t jam, doesn’t recoil. Simple and effective. 

Messy though, he had said back. He had always preferred his rifle -- clean and fast, one shot and done, and hopefully at a distance. The Others would fall down like carnival targets, one after another, and his favorite jacket would remain spotless. But after they took his eye, he had needed a new weapon, and his jacket was long-ruined by then. 

This is messy work, she had replied.

Now, he lifts the weapon, turns it one way and another. Both edges gleam in the fluorescent light. This axe has been sharpened recently. It is spotless. This weapon has never seen battle.

“It’s new,” Varys fills in immediately, “but it was designed to kill Others. Old valyrian steel, made the old way. We haven’t yet had opportunity to test it, but it will strike true.”

Jaime doesn’t ask how Varys would be able to make a valyrian steel weapon. Knowing how is what he does. 

The Spider watches him curiously. “Are we square then, Slayer?”

“Almost.” He sits again, crosses the long weapon over his lap with both fists grasping it tightly. “Where did it happen?”

“In the North. What exactly happened is unclear even to me, but we know for certain she had traveled north with a small gang. There are reports of her at Winterfell, and then she went with Snow and a small band of Starks beyond the Black Mountains. They returned without her.”

Jaime nods shortly. “Winterfell, then the wilds.”

The Spider frowns. He is perhaps a little perplexed by this conversation, or by Jaime himself. He likes to think he knows people, knows how they will react. But recent years have made a different man of Jaime Lannister. The fall of King’s Landing, his father’s death, the business with Cersei -- after all that, the arrogant and impetuous adventurer of his younger days is long gone. He is a ghost of himself, and the Spider doesn’t know what this ghost will do. He doesn’t like that.

He sits up a little bit straighter on his couch.  “Then it isn’t our local outbreak you intend to fight? I expected you would be nearby. Kill some Others, burn off some steam, and incidentally clear out some of the infestation in the Riverlands, which would be convenient for me. But you aren’t doing that, are you? You mean to follow her? To what purpose?”

Jaime’s eye flickers briefly right. “Hunting.”

“It will be pointless to mount a rescue mission, I assure you.”

“That isn’t the point.”

Their eyes meet for a moment. Jaime isn’t about to elaborate on his intentions, and Varys is visibly frustrated. His silky tones shorten, revealing something sharp beneath. 

“I ought to stop you. You have brought order to the Westerlands, and you’re starting to bring it here too. Alliances, patrols for the roads. Your brother, clever as he is, did not do that. If you abandon these lands, it may all fall apart.”

Jaime feels a flicker of guilt for that, but it is quickly doused by everything else happening inside him. No, this is important. Maybe the most important thing he has ever done.

He shrugs stiffly. “If it falls apart without me, it was too fragile to last.” 

“You’ll need more than an axe and your motorbike to make that journey. You have favors to trade, certainly,” Varys cuts him off before he can argue, “but not that many. The scouting party went beyond the Black Mountains, across them, into the far North. There are few enough waystations on the way to Winterfell, and everything North of Winterfell belongs to the Others. There will be no shelters for you along the way, no refuges, no refueling.”

Jaime is unconcerned. “If she made it there, then I can too.”

“The Blue Angel had a party of supporters, specialists. She would have been outfitted with the best supplies and equipment. She was welcomed everywhere she went, and at the peak of her powers. No offense, Slayer, but you are past your prime, and your powers lately end at the borders of Lannister territory.”

He smiles thinly as he stands. “I didn’t know you cared, Spider. Thanks for the weapon. We’re square.”

Jaime takes the axe outside, and stands staring up at the moon, while the bikers retrieve his motorbike.

Anytime he looks at the moon, anytime there is a moon, he thinks of her. Remembers how they had looked on it together, during those long nights on the road, even though they had parted years ago now. Her on to glory, him back to the arms of his family. They delivered the girls to Winterfell, and he left her to the Kingsroad. It was her territory after that, what once had been his. She had earned it in sweat and tears and blood. She tended it well without him. He had gloried in tales of her exploits.

Whenever he looks at the moon, he has always wondered if she is looking too. Wherever she is.

He thinks he will not be able to look at the moon anymore.

When he turns his head, Varys stands on the steps of his trailer, his bald head gleaming against the fluorescent light. Jaime has never seen him outside his trailer. It’s confusing, a little like seeing a penguin in the jungle.

“The Others of the Black Mountains are different,” The Spider warns him. “Worse.” 

When his bike comes rolling back with two of the Spider’s bikers, it comes with a few more gifts. Two metal spheres, one the size of a softball and the other the size of a chestnut.

Grenades, obviously Old World. Gods know where Varys got them from, certainly they aren’t made this way anymore. What they’re calling grenades now will mostly just make noise. But these two could probably blow a hole in a tank. He packs them onto his bike carefully.

Any old-world weapon would be priceless now, Jaime knows. Varys would not overpay a debt.

He squints up at the Spider, who makes a silky shadow in the doorway against his light. “And the cost?”  

The Spider smiles -- he can’t see it, on a shadow, but he can hear it in his voice. “If you come back, tell me what you saw. I hear very little of the Black Mountains and none of it first-hand.”

Jaime can promise that easily enough. He knows he won’t be coming back.

He walks his bike in silence about a mile up the road before waking the engines and roaring away.

He rides the motorbike until the last of his carefully hoarded gasoline is run out, rides right through the next day and into the night. Gets more miles out of it than he would have gotten with his creaky armored car, and certainly faster. 

Along the way he sees no other travelers. Five years ago there would have been at least a few others, some other vehicles, perhaps spaced out and alone, perhaps all in a big caravan for safety. But there is not much fuel left anymore. And North is not a direction people go in now.

It was how he had met her, actually. On a road much like this one.  He had been on a different motorbike and she had been driving a sedan. Obviously following him, less obvious why. He made it a chase - weaving between the stopped traffic, blasting around the walkers and cyclists and parades of cars going nowhere. She had somehow kept up with him, pushing her poor little car to its limits. Eventually he decided whoever it was had earned his attention for at least a few minutes, and he pulled over on the road to watch the tallest, ugliest woman he had ever seen unfold herself out of her car. 

She kept his attention considerably longer than a few minutes. .

Of course, he could enjoy a chase back then - you could still count on petrol, could siphon it out of most any vehicle you encountered along the way. The cars along the road here are bone dry by now, haven’t moved in years, and the electronics, trunk supplies, and even promising upholstery have been stripped out of them long ago. The cars pass by now in muted streaks of blue and red, dulled by layers of paint-stripping weather damage and snow. 

When his bike sputters to a stop, he leaves it right out on the highway. Packs his equipment onto his back. Then he begins to walk.

Without the headlights of his bike, it’s quite dark. No streetlights, of course. He has a torch in his bag, but he’s saving that battery as long as he can. Anyway, the moon is out, and once his eyes are adjusted he sees well enough. The trees encroaching on the interstate have not quite overtaken the shoulder, and the glow of moon and stars light up the cracked concrete in front of him, and glitter in the frost.

His boots echo his footfalls up and down the highway. First the gritty sound of gravel, and then the crunch of ice, and then the quieter scrunch of snow. 

There are no other sounds to hear out here -- no bird cries, no insects. They aren’t sure if the animals are dead, hiding, or run away, but no one sees them anymore. Means he doesn’t have to worry about being eaten by bears, at least.

The last bear he has seen was that time with Brienne, actually. It might have been the last bear, period. He hasn’t heard of any other ones since. That would be a shame, if that had been the last bear, and they’d killed it. He hadn’t wanted to. He can’t take it personally, the bear trying to eat them. He was only hungry, and they were all very hungry that winter. 

He didn’t know he would be fleeing the last bear in Westeros with her, when he met Brienne on the road. He only knew she was capable, and she was following him, and anyone out in the wilds could be dangerous. Out here other people were either foolishly overconfident, robbers, or competition. 

Brienne proved to be the last type, possibly also the first. She was after the Stark bounty, same as him. She had a personal stake. He could keep the money, she said. He had a lot more experience and knew where he was going, but she could be an ally. She could help.

He had laughed in her face, more or less. Said she was free to make the bounty herself, but he traveled alone. Newbies tended to die almost immediately, and he hadn’t stayed alive this long by babysitting foolish college students. He would locate the missing Stark girls and deliver them home. But if she wanted to return them herself she’d have to beat him there. 

A few weeks later they had wound up with one Stark girl apiece -- him with Sansa and her best girlfriend Jayne, her with Arya and her mate Gendry -- and again she had proposed an alliance for the trip up to Winterfell. No one had made it to Winterfell since the disaster, but their chances were better together, she said.

His better idea was that he could take the two valuable girls to Winterfell and she could take the two spares and go back to King’s Landing where it was safe, or jump in a lake for all he cared. But that conversation had been interrupted by the Bloody Mummers, and after that… things were very different after that.

Jaime slows to a stop with this remembrance, digs in his bag for his water bottle and takes a long pull. He’s tiring faster than he expected. He has tried to keep himself in fighting shape the last few years, but he hasn’t made a journey like this in a long time.

You’ve grown soft, he thinks, but inside his head it sounds like Brienne’s gentle ribbing. The tone she had taken after she stopped insulting him for real.

I’m refined, he answers back, slinging his pack over his shoulder and walking again. Answers between breaths, like he’s actually speaking. I’m a diplomat these days, remember? 

Will you try to negotiate with the Others then? She laughs in his ear. What will you trade them, wine? Broken electronics? The only economy they know is violence, and we trade them blows. 

He smiles to himself, despite everything. Young lady, it’s a good thing you didn’t come back to King’s Landing with me. You would have knocked out the Small Council within a day, and we’d both have been out on our asses.

And King’s Landing would have better off with us in the street than you in that office. We might have saved it. Old man, whatever have you done without me?

Jaime stops a moment, breathing hard, looking up at the moon.

I don’t know. I don’t know what I’ve been doing, where the time went. It all blurred together without you.

He has been having these conversations for years now. It isn’t exactly imagination. More prediction. He knows exactly what she would say in every instance. What she would think of the people he meets, the places he goes. He hears her critiques of his private practice sessions, when he tries to stay in shape for the inevitable invasion. Her quiet, private commentary. Her icy rejoinders to his jokes. They come to him like a reply. Like she has heard him gods-know-how-many miles away, and answered him back. 

It’s painful now, hearing her voice. He doesn’t know why it would be different - alive or dead, he is only talking to himself after all. Perhaps it is only more obviously futile this way, knowing she is gone. 

He was never going to see her again, he knows that. The things she does, they were always eventually going to get her killed. Hells, he told her that himself more than once. 

Even now it still isn’t entirely real to him. It doesn’t seem possible. But the Spider knows things, and if he knows them they aren’t just rumors. It’s true. It’s sinking in. Brienne is gone. 

She doesn’t walk the same world as him anymore. He will hear no more tales of her adventures, and smile privately at the things nobody else knows of her. He will not wonder if it snows where she is, or if the sun shines. Whether she ever thinks of him, the way he does of her. They traveled together only a year, but she carved a place for herself in him, in the slow and brutal way water carves a cliffside. He has kept her there all this time. Now in that space there is emptiness, a brutal, sucking vacuum that might just pull him apart if he stops moving long enough.

So he starts walking again. Keeps walking, on and on, without rest, for as long as he can stand it.

Here and there one of the Others comes onto the road ahead of him. They wander on and off aimlessly, looking lost. At a distance they look nearly alive, so long as they aren’t missing any limbs, and only the directionless of their movements give them away. As you get closer you can see their clothing is wrong -- it’s not enough clothes for the weather, or their clothes are torn, bits are missing. Maybe the clothes are rotting right off their bodies, if they’re been out long enough. Closer still and you can see the blueish tinge to the skin that the Others are famous for, the thin layer of frost that covers them head to toe. At ten feet or so you can make out the ice blue eyes that glow like cat’s eyes in the light. But by then they’ve seen you, and they move much faster than you think they can. Best not to get that close. Best to stay well away, and let them turn and wander in another direction out of sight. 

As always, one wonders what they’re looking for. Where they’re going.

Some of them will wander away before he catches up, and he pays them no mind. If he is quiet, and they didn’t take notice of him, it is easier to let them pass by. Fighting can be loud, and that sort of noise could bring more of them running.

But eventually one is too slow. They can be damaged, and those stumbling steps can be frustratingly deliberate at times. This one is fairly tall, and drags its foot in the snow. On the highway, it reminds him of an elderly driver occupying the fast lane at a crawl. Even as he slows his pace, he gets closer and closer, and the dead thing shows no signs of changing direction.

Eventually he can wait no longer. He will have to overtake the creature. At least he hasn’t seen any other Others nearby. This Other shows no sign of noticing him. Jaime slowly draws the axe off his back, and makes six rapid, long strides in the thing’s direction, winding up for a massive crossways swing.

Varys didn’t lie; the axe cuts true. One good blow across the back is enough to bring it down, and he remembers where to strike. Sever the spinal cord, destroy the brain, or burn them, that destroys them. The axe is so sharp it cuts the thing nearly in half. There is a quick, sharp sound of impact and the thud of a body hitting the ground, and then silence. 

They don’t scream, the others. They don’t make noises of any kind. Maybe because they don’t breathe anymore; who knows. He pulls the axe out of the thing’s bulk and wipes it in the snow. 

The first Other to fall to him in five years that he didn’t hit with his car. It feels good. It doesn’t relieve the great sucking void he has inside him but it does feel good.

He shoulders the axe and keeps walking. After that, he strikes down one of them every few hours, until the sun comes up, and then he huddles on the embankment, dozing, for most of the morning. It’s not so cold he’ll freeze - not yet, anyway - and there aren’t so many Others around that he can’t risk it.

He’s lucky, for the most part. There aren’t any big clusters of Others out here. Those tend to form up around settlements and cities, or lingering around empty houses. Not out here in the open space, where there aren’t travelers anymore. 

He passes the next night in a car, after crawling in a broken window. It’s not especially safer, but it is more comfortable than the ground. He sprawls across the backseat and thinks about the red wood-paneled station wagon he had found buried in a parking lot and managed to start. He and Brienne drove that car all the way to Harrenhall, the now five children sleeping in the back. The seat was so wide even Brienne could lay down in it, and she was inches taller than him. 

This car is blue, and he has to bend his knees and curl up to fit on the seat.

Keep watch for me, Angel, he tells her, before he drifts off.

Days of steady walking pass this way, with fitful bursts of sleep. 

The Black Mountains are looming in the far distance when he nears Winterfell. So tall he can see them all these miles away, staining the low edge of the horizon like a shadow. 

Jaime keeps his eyes on the ground mostly. He’s only been here once, and it wasn’t an enjoyable visit. It was a destination, and it meant the end of a long journey. He’s never much liked those. Endings. He tries to get those over with. If he can help it, he’d rather turn around and begin again right away, try to get back to the middle.

Wintertown is relatively intact, patrolled by fur-clad soldiers with shotguns. The town has grown since he was here last. The streets have people on them now, much more than in Lannisport or anywhere in the Riverlands. No cars, but regular people, old folks and even children, strolling about. He has to stop and stare at that for awhile. Pedestrians. It’s been a long time.

Perhaps things are better in the North? Maybe they are safer than they were. But Wintertown is small, and easily guarded, and in the shadow of the old Winterfell fortress these people know they can flee within its walls and be safe, should the Others attack again. That’s more reassurance than most places have. 

For a little while he walks up and down those streets, just another window-shopper. The buildings are mostly refitted as residences, but on the sidewalks people sell goods out of carts, or spread out on the sidewalk. Wanderers come through and trade the trinkets they’ve found. There aren’t prices. Most likely they will take food, and medicine, and more practical items, in trade. He didn’t bring anything like that, unfortunately. But there isn’t anything he needs here.

At the end of a long boulevard Jaime finds himself before the gates of Winterfell, and he pauses.

This was where he had parted from her. Right here.

He grimaces past that memory. He was an ass about it, of course. Tried to sneak away. She caught him. There was a confrontation. Things were said. 

Things? Brienne-in-his-mind prods him indignantly. Have you forgotten already?

I remember every word. He sighs. Unfortunately.

The gates to Winterfell stand open for now. Probably so that Wintertown can run inside, if someone rings the alarm. Jaime passes through and takes the gravel path to the old castle. It’s a sturdy thing, for being several hundred years old. Solid and undecayed. Sure, they have to replace the wood every few decades, but the stone is thick and unbroken. There are walls behind walls, like any medieval keep, and courtyards and gates separating them. Guards stand atop the fortifications with guns, and they watch him approaching. Wary, but welcoming. Anyone not undead is allowed to pass through, at least to the midden.

The kids are here at Winterfell, probably. Somewhere. Many of them stayed, he has heard. The Starks for sure, and maybe some of the other strays he and Brienne had picked up along the way. Any of the running kids in Wintertown could have been Apple, that baby that Willow and Sansa had fawned over. He would be five, six years old now. That is, if he were alive. 

He doesn’t want to see any of them if he can help it. Best not to go inside the Great Keep then. He goes to the Great Hall instead. The velvet ropes are all taken down. It was a tourist trap for a lot of years, before its fortifications became unexpectedly useful again. Used to be you could get a feast inside, with cosplayers and a jester and a bard, and then you could get back in your car and drive away home. 

Bit different now. The fires are still roaring, but put to more practical use. Broken furniture surrounds the great fireplaces where they have been stripping the upholstery and feeding the fire. Laundry is strung up before them, and boils in great kettles. Nearer to mealtime the laundry will be replaced with soup and stew. The fireplaces in the living quarters had been stripped out long ago, replaced with appliances that no longer work. They have to do nearly everything in the great hall now, and gather in smaller rooms. 

The head washerwoman takes his message back to the living quarters and Jaime sits down to wait. There is an armchair that is strikingly comfortable for as old as it looks, upholstered in a velvety material. It might be some kind of antique, something with a PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH sign on it back when this was a museum. There isn’t much use for antiques anymore. He sits in the chair.

He sits back and stares at nothing for a time. He might have fallen asleep, because the girls appear as if by magic, just as he remembers them but taller and leaner, their chubby faces hollowed by early adulthood. 

Sansa is quite tall, for a Stark anyway. She looks like her mother otherwise; red-haired, high-cheekboned, very pretty. Her sister looks like their father, sturdy and strong-jawed, Northern. They stare at him owlishly, and he wonders what he looks like to them. He is not nearly so changed -- grew a beard, added some lines around his eyes -- but they were children when they saw him last, and they are not children now. He has to look up to see them.

“You came for Brienne,” Arya says abruptly -- as usual she realizes the obvious first and doesn’t hesitate to speak it aloud. 

Jaime nods. There isn’t much more to say than that.

“We had a memorial,” Sansa hovers over him awkwardly, looking unsure. “All of Winterfell came, much of Wintertown as well. We would have waited if we had known you would come.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He says it more sharply than he intends.

Arya snaps back. “You’ve been gone a long time, and not a single letter. What else could we think?”

Sansa stops her with a hand to her shoulder. She was always an empathetic child. “You’re welcome here now. Can I get you anything?”

“Your brother. If he’s here.” His eyes drift to Widow’s Wail, where it sits on the floor beside him. “I’ve heard he was there when it happened. I need to hear it from him.”

Sansa leans forward and touches his hands, briefly. “We can take you to him.”

He can only nod. 

He follows the girls through the old fortress into a more modern living area. Home, most like. The Starks have all congregated here, the ones left.

Jon Snow he has never met before. The girls’ half-brother. Lord Snow of Winterfell, now. He stands straight and stiff, trying to look older than he is. He has a warm parka on over his polar fleece, something puffy and filled with down. It’s hard to be serious in a puffy coat without coming off at least faintly ridiculous, but the young man manages it somehow. 

“She was a great help to my family,” Jon says, and shakes his hand vigorously. “A great fighter, the bravest of all of us, and the kindest too. Every one of us here at Winterfell thought very highly of her.”

“And your mission?” Jaime shuts down the reminiscence quickly. He does not want to remember Brienne here. Certainly not with the Starks.

Jon hangs his head. “It wasn’t a complete waste. But it wasn’t quite what we wanted, either.”

He gestures to a sofa. Jaime sits on the edge of it, unwilling to relax. This is rather too much civilization for him right now. Jon sits down expansively on an easy chair, and runs a hand through wild black hair. 

“We were hoping to find something that would explain where the Others come from. We thought the Black Mountains might have the answer, the mountains and the land beyond. It’s hard to find much on the Mountains though -- only one road is passable, everywhere else is ice and deep snow. Beyond the Mountains there is a place they’re calling Craster’s Keep. We knew something was very wrong there. We should have stayed away.” Jon shakes his head, so serious. 

Jaime waits.

“We suspected they were colluding with the Others somehow. The ones on the Mountain. The old man… it was terrible. What he was doing. We had to put a stop to it. Brienne followed one of the men to their meeting place, where the Others come down the Mountain. She never came back.”

That is rather less definitive than Jaime wants to hear. 

“That’s all? Did you search?” he asks sharply.

Jon looks defensive at first, but softens quickly. “I assure you, if there was anything to find, we would have found it. We were very fond of her. There were signs of a battle, and several Others fallen there. But of her there was no sign. There was no body.” Jon looks reluctant to continue. “We did find this.”

Hesitantly, he holds out the wrapped bundle to Jaime. He knows it immediately. Takes it like he took the grenades, carefully and reluctantly.

His hands unwrap the thing before he can think twice, to show himself what he already knows. It’s Brienne’s titanium bat. Bloodstained, dirty, with a single chip in it near the tip. 

They had nicknamed it Oathkeeper, way back then. It was more like a mythical sword than a bat. Titanium bats weren’t even allowed in baseball, in any league. They hit the ball so hard it was dangerous to the other players. They probably shouldn’t have been made in the first place, and they stopped making them decades before the Others came and their true usefulness became apparent. 

Jaime holds the bat. Brienne had carried this thing for so long. He puts his fingers where she would have put hers, the way a player held it  to hit a ball. He can see the mark of her fingers there, slowly rubbed into the metal across the years. 

Jon is still talking. “These Others are different. Our Others will kill and turn. But these... We suspect that they consume the bodies instead of raising them. I think there was nothing remaining to find.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Jaime stands.

“If you will insist…” Jon rises as well, solemn. “My friend Sam stayed behind there. If you reach Craster’s Keep, ask for Sam. He’ll tell you what you need to know.”

*****************  

He passes a night there, lying awake in a bed. 

They gave him her room. A quiet, out-of-the-way guest bedroom with little in the way of modern amenities. It has a homey feeling, just the same. It feels like her.

She left some things there; little knick-knacks. She liked to pick up small things, put them in her pockets. Her coat had loads of pockets hidden everywhere. By the end of the day she would have lots of little treasures. You could turn her upside down and shake her and all sorts of shiny treats would come rolling out. Figurines, stones, tiny toys. They’re arranged all around the room, on the windowsill, on the dresser. Probably if he went through her clothes he would find more things still hidden away in her pockets. The coat, though, that wouldn’t be there in the closet, he knows without looking. She would have it with her, wherever she has gone.

Jaime leaves her things alone. It’s enough to know they’re there, waiting for her. 

Brienne slept in this bed. This is the only home she had, so far as he knows. She stayed here after he left, here at Winterfell. She would have rested here -- she was still a little sick. It had been a few weeks, at least, before she went back to the Kingsroad. After that she came back here between adventures, making the long, dangerous journey there and back again. In the dead of winter she would rest here at least a month, from what he could tell, every year.

He should have stayed with her. 

She never asked him. Not out loud. But he knows, deep down, he would have been welcome. He knew it then, too. But he had left her at Winterfell and gone back. Back to the arms of his family who needed him more than she ever would. Back to his father and his expectations, to his siblings who needed his protection. The job was over, and he went back to where he belonged. 

Not a day has gone by that he doesn’t regret it. 

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

In the morning he is lacing his new boots in the great hall, a gift from Jon. They are a little large, but warm, and useful for maneuvering on ice. He suspects they had once belonged to Ned Stark; certainly none of the Stark boys have feet this big.

Jon has also given him a down parka like his own. Such a thing would fetch a lot in trade these days, but he insists Jaime take it. “This is the least I can do, for bringing my brother and sisters home.” 

Jaime promises to return it, though he can see that Jon does not expect to see him at Winterfell again. Neither of them do.

His pack has been refilled with food, bandages, antiseptic, and an icepick. Arya had thrust the bag at him wordlessly and turned on her heel and left and he does not see her again. How much and how little people change from when they are small; he can still see the dark-eyed child in the woman she is becoming. It makes him feel positively ancient.

Sansa accompanies him to the gates of Winterfell, gliding elegantly over the snow in her warm winter coat. She chatters as much as she always did, though it was never to him before. She used to keep her distance from him, as she had from most men. She misses Brienne, he realizes, looking at her. She must have been like an older sister, or an aunt, or...

He never did lay eyes on Rickon, did he? He is probably running wild somewhere, running with the wolves. He doesn’t ask, though he suspects Sansa would like him to. Nor does he ask about Willow, or Gendry, or any of the others. He has too much to carry already.

“You’re different,” Sansa tells him, nearing the gates.

“You’re older,” he says. “You see me better.”

“Maybe.” The auburn beauty frowns. “Do you think she’s still alive out there?”

He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to see the concern on her face, not if it’s for him.

“Do you think Brienne would want you to do this? Go after her like this?”

No. “That won’t stop me.” 

“She would want you to go on with your life.”

“I don’t care.” He can’t quite look at Sansa. He couldn’t look at Arya either. They remind him of too much. 

“Why did you never come back? She waited for you. She was still waiting.”

He shuts his eyes against her. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t. Not now.”

Sansa sniffles, and her voice trembles. “I’m so sorry. You were both so good to us. I’m so sorry,” she repeats, and tries to put her arms around him, but he’s already walking away.

He’s going through the gates of Winterfell, straight down the boulevard of Wintertown.

He doesn’t stop. He turns to the Black Mountains, and keeps walking.

[kiveriah]

SW Daemons AU - MASTERPOST

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Jedi lore

The Jedi’s daemons settle later, their deep connection with the force lets them keep changing for longer It usually it’s towards the end of their time as Padawan, it’s part of their trials, it shows mastery of oneself.

Everyone, at the order, has flying daemons; insects, birds, flying mammals, although some exceptions exist.

It is not frowned upon, it only may complicate their efficiency on the field by the nature of their (current) missions.

Also because flying daemons have an easier time archiving endurance for long-distance separation. With meditation and the force, they can stand to be separated.

Yoda has a firefly, she can always light the way even in the deepest darkness.

Mace has a Vampire bat, everyone who has to debrief to the council swears she stares at them.

Sith lore

An important part of becoming Sith is severing your bond and reabsorb your daemon/soul by using an ancient dark ritual, it proves your commitment to the dark, and what better way to fill your anger but with an eternally open wound on your soul.

Sith have no preference of the species or kind for their daemons, they aren't there to stay.

The Chancellor's daemon is mute. A small scarab but it's not really his, he killed her a long time ago. By using the power from the dark side, Sidious severs a daemon from someone else and tethers them to himself, it's flimsy at best and needs to be replaced constantly but it keeps his cover.

Not all Sith attempt this or has this knowledge.

Maul and Savage weren't given a choice, they were forced to go through the ritual.

Count Dooku didn't go through it until AOTC, encouraged by his daemon, she told him to accomplish their goals and to never forget her, she was an Iberian Lynx.

Ventress still has her daemon, a Wyyschokk (spider). She would have never done the ritual, for the Nightsisters their daemons are sacred.

Misc

Clones don’t have daemons, the Senate uses this as justification to make/use them as an army. “They are sentient, yes but they don’t have souls like us”, is their reasoning to pass their war bills and treat them like an army.

Small daemons are preferred for space traveling purposes.

Daemons aren't usually bigger than their person, if they are it is mostly an inconvenience. When daemons present as big creatures, they do on a smaller scale than their "real" animal/creature inspiration.

Sapient creatures cant be daemons.

Daemons settle on their adolescence according to the species lifespan (ex. Yoda 900s vs Togrutas 90s).

Mandaolian daemon's use helmets/special garnmts too once they settle, children's daemons can show their face, since they are still shifting and cant hide their face with a helmet but they are naturally sneaky and shyer than regular daemons. For Mandalorians it is very upsetting having their soul out in the open because most cant wear an armor, so their daemons are usually small critters they can hide on a special compartment of their beskar armor.

Characters

Anakin Skywalker

Whilla

S: Female

Species: Starbird

RL: Phoenix

Many Jedi and the general public debated about what could she be, most agree it's some creature from the outer rim. Some of the most religious Jedi have their own theories. She inst sure about what she is, Whilla doesn't really care, although she believes that Starbirds are silly mythical creatures

She usually shifted into desert creatures and reptiles before settling

Settled at AOTC, when Anakin arrived at Tatooine to save his mother, it was the first time she had taken that form, not even she can explain why she choose that one

Friends with many, but if you provoke her, she will snarl back at you, an uncommon trait for a daemon

Always ready to fight, ride or die

Freely talks with Ahsoka, Obi-wan, Padme, the Chancellor (their daemons), and the 501st (although Palpatine's daemon feels off, she never talks)

Preens with attention but can be more serious than Anakin most of the time

Wants to cuddle with Ahsoka and Obi-wan daemons but knows she can't, so she is happy whenever they see Padme's, she loves to cuddle with him, she is clingy

They plan flight strategies together, she often demonstrates the logistics, she never crashes, she lands with style

According to the holograms when Anakin kneels before Sidious, his daemon looked a bit molt-y, and had some patches without feathers. This had previously happened soon after the Tusken massacre, Anakin believed it was because of the fight

At the fight at Mustafar, she let Obi-wan's daemon go once, she couldn't hurt her. Later when the duel was over and Whilla saw Obi-wan walk away, he didn't look back, she did

She got burnt by trying to pull Anakin away from the lava, her feathers caught fire and her soul lost hers

Starbird

Is Anakin the chosen one? we don't know, what we know is that he is always plagued with the conflict between light and dark so his daemon should represent that.

A Starbird in the Light is remade by fire, a Starbird in the Dark becomes the ashes themselves. They are deeply connected to the force and they are affected more deeply by it.

Dragons and Starbirds on canon have been described as living inside stars and are related to death, coincidence I think not.

If they had embraced the light his daemon would have been reborn on it, she would "be" a phoenix again but instead, she chose the dark too, to live and suffer, being "a" dragon was easier.

Obi-wan Kenobi

Vesper

S: Female

Species: Sonar Swallow

RL: Barn Swallow

Looking at SW canon trying to find a bird, I didn’t want a hawk or any big bird so the swallow was a perfect match

Flashy but elegant, small and fast, perfect for recon

Talks in the same accent

Sometimes talks with Anakin, mostly to tell him to be careful or scold him, she can’t stand his antics but worries for him

Always says “thanks” to Cody, when he brings back his tired idiot (affectionate) lightsaber

She had already settled by the time of TPM, she usually was small animals, so she could stay close, hidden on his clothes

Swallows usually represent hope, loyalty and mourning

Ahsoka Tano

Morai

S: Female

Species: Convor

RL: Northern Saw-whet Owl

Keeping her canon connection with a convor

In rare cases daemons can have the same sex as their pair, so we can keep Morai as a female

She usually preferred to shift into big predators to apparent strength before settling as a convor

Always tried to shift into the same creature as Anakin’s daemon, she never could. Copied Obi-wan’s Sonar swallow, once or twice.

Considers Anakin, his daemon and Rex her friends. Talks with them.

Her daemon had not settled when she was expelled, she did after Order 66

Owls usually represent intellect and wisdom

Padmé Amidala

Altos

S: Male

Species: White stag

RL: White fallow deer

Yes, he gets fancy outfits too, they are both divas. She has to dress him.

Padmé and her handmaiden's daemons talk with each other

They are comfortable with touching each other's daemons, they need it for the charade. Altos follows and interacts with the handmaiden that is playing Padmé's role.

Of course, he talks with Anakin and his daemon too

Whilla loves to attach pretty ribbons into his antlers, he loves it too

Keeping their relationship a secret gets even more ridiculous, how do you act like you haven't touched souls with someone?

Darth Vader

???

S: Female

Species: A shadow of herself

RL: Ashes

After Mustafar she can stay almost galaxies away from Vader now, their link is stretched thin now, this also helps Vader to keep her presence hidden

No, Vader doesn't go along with the ritual (see notes), keeps her hidden and away. Mostly in shame for his weakness, and for something more he can’t name

Either she cant talk or doesn't want to is up in the air, Vader hasn't heard her voice in years

Before she was always warm, now she can only yearn for it. She is a fire that aches to burn

Her relationship with Vader is icy, they are at war with each other

Most of her feathers are gone, only scales remain, she still has some feather patches around the scars.

She mostly stays hidden on Mustafar, she sometimes follows Vader in his endeavors. Pain and time have only made her dangerous

She lets Luke's daemon go on a fight, after finding out he is their son

She is onboard with killing Sidious since forever

When Vader is redeemed, Whilla feels something she thought she will never feel again, warmth

[knightprincess]

Heart & Soul (Crosshair x Fem Reader)

Words: 4.7k (yeah sorry long one) Warning: 18+ Mature content, sexual content, unprotected sex, P in V. praise, teasing. 

If there was one thing Crosshair hated, it was the uncomfortable feeling he got when been denied or teased in any sexual manner. He'd lost count how many times (Y/N) in particular had teased him, it always being in a way he couldn't complain about. Mainly her choice of nightwear. A random tank top paired with loose fitting mini shorts. There was just something about those shorts, his body never failed to react, sometimes to the point he struggled to get his words out without stuttering. His brothers too had noticed his reaction, if they weren't teasing him about it, they were normally staring after (Y/N) with desire shinning brightly in their honey eyes. Wrecker never failing to make a loud comment, loud enough for any stranger passing by to hear. Hunter would always stop what he was doing, often times forgetting what he'd been doing and suddenly make an excuse up to go to the refresher. Tech and Echo on the other hand were the most normal, bidding (Y/N) good morning, asking her how her night was, Tech always with a cup of caf waiting for her. 

Many of times had Crosshair found himself imagining what he would do if the pair of them were alone, the many scenarios playing out. Nearly all of them having something to do with (Y/N)'s pleasure filled moans filling the quiet ship. Yet to the snipers frustration, the chance had never arisen. The only time it had was when (Y/N) had been severely injured and knocked unconscious during a mission, he'd stayed by her side, holding her hand. Refused to leave until she woke. He'd stayed with her after that too, her admission of feeling safe with him and her simple question of asking him to stay had him all to eager to share her bunk. 

That event had kicked started their close bound. If there was ever a moment where Crosshair needed medical attention, he'd only ever allow (Y/N) to attend to his injuries. He'd also be the one to watch holo-films with her, just as he'd shared his secrets with her and vice versa, she'd also been the one he told of his hatred for Kamino and the reason for it, about his scarring training. (Y/N), had somehow made it a little better, knowing she was listening helped a lot, never once had she judged him for his past but instead accepted him for who he was. Yet despite that she seemed to deny him the acknowledgment of being teased by her. It wasn't just the shorts but other things too, the way she would sway his hips a little more when she knew he was watching, the comments to escape her perfect lips every now and again, even the way he would press up against him in the tight spaces of the ship. 

Often in those moments had Crosshair's mind played tricks on him. There being times he swore she whispered something to him, or when he felt her gentle touch burnt through his armor, yet never once could he confirm it in anyway. Yet still his body had reacted, goosebumps raising in the area she touched with her softly burning touch, the hair on the back of his neck would raise as he'd find his chest tightening and words becoming stuck in his throat. His member would twitch and begin to throb, almost begging to be touched and paid attention to. 

The nights after these chastise interactions, his mind filled with seductive encounters with (Y/N), his short soundless sleep being filled with vivid dreams, his mind tricked him into believing they were a secret reality, those dreams eventually turning into pinning wishes of his heart. Those wishes he was sure would be unfulfilled. The same ones he refused to utter a single word about, not even to (Y/N). Instead he suffered in silence until he could escape to the refresher unnoticed and jerk himself off. Those moments always being to the thought of (Y/N) in her loose fitting black night shorts, although he would occasional wonder if it was wrong of him to satisfy himself while thinking of her. Just as he found himself hoping no one heard his soft moans of her name when passing by the refresher door. 

It wasn't until a special stake out mission did the unfulfilled hopes and fantasies really begin torment Crosshair. The small Inn the team found themselves in, not having enough rooms for all of them to be alone. Instead pairing would happen. Tech and Echo had voiced their acceptance of being room mates for a few nights, not finding anything out of the ordinary since the pair often fell asleep in the cockpit. Crosshair on the other hand had quickly been paired with (Y/N), Hunter resigning himself to the fate of sleepless nights, knowing Wrecker could snore loudly and often moved around in his sleep. The occasional time he'd have imaginary arguments with someone. 

Each pairing heading to their rooms moments later, all with the hope of having a bed to themselves. Echo and Tech had the luck of the draw, both wasting no time in stretching out over the beds with Tech setting up his equipment moments after entering the double room. Hunter and Wrecker also had beds to themselves, Wrecker almost breaking his with his eagerness to try out the bouncy mattress, a few comments escaping about how fun the stake out mission would be. Crosshair and (Y/N) on the other hand weren't as lucky. The room housing a single double bed, if anything it appeared to be the honeymoon suite. Both looking to the other with uncertainty before returning their gaze to the room before them. The roomy bed pushed up against the back wall, ottomans at the end of it, a single door leading to the on-suite bathroom, another double door leading to a spacious balcony, one with a breath taking view. The pair had stood in the open door way for what seemed like forever, neither speaking a word as they both tried to work out a solution to what could only be described as the awkward situation. 

"Congratulations" come a unknown voice from behind the pair. The duo looking around quickly. Crosshair's hand on the weapon holstered to his hip, the other reaching for (Y/N) as if to protect her from the intruding voice. (Y/N)'s hand reaching for her lightsaber, as if on instinct, yet both falling into confusion upon seeing a middle aged woman peering at them, a bright smile on her lips as her eyes washed over the pair. Yet letting a sigh escape her lips upon seeing their confusion reigning down on her. "On your wedding. Only wedded couples stay in this suite" added the woman, dressed in simple garments, it being likely she helped run the inn and unaware of them just staying for a mission. Just as it was unlikely anyone knew about the ongoing war on the backwater planet they found themselves on. 

"Oh erm ...." (Y/N) had began, her cheeks turning a pale shade of pink. One of Crosshair's hand finding its way to the back of his neck in an awkward manner, clearly as lost for words as (Y/N) was. The surprise of the assumption knocking them both off guard, to the point they were unsure what they were to do now. In a rare moment, Crosshair had been pleased for Hunter's sudden appearance, his honey eyes begging for help in the situation. Although it was clear Hunter found amusement at the scene he found himself walking into. 

"It was a secret wedding. Only a few of us in attendance" spoke Hunter in response, his smokey voice barely above a whisper as if it was a secret only the middle aged woman could know. Crosshair could only throw Hunter a highlighted I hated you look, (Y/N)'s glare accompanying it, both unsure how that played into the stake out mission but couldn't object without making it obvious something was amiss. Crosshair soon reached for his stash of toothpicks, his eyes growing wide as he recalled something from days before hand, although he'd believed it was a vivid dream he'd began to wonder if it held truth to it. 

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Crosshair had been sat on his bunk, when news of the stake out had been delivered by one of the many Jedi General's, the republic having decided the group of five and (Y/N) were the best for job. Maybe it was there unparalleled success rate or their abilities to improvise when the time arose, or the fact they weren't so obviously identified as clones as others had been and (Y/N) was often mistaken for a Senator rather than a Jedi Knight. Although Tech had stated that was from her well known undercover op a few months prior to the war beginning. 

A joke had been made about how to blend in further. Echo throwing in (Y/N) marrying one of them would be a good diversion, Tech agreeing quickly despite the laugh to escape (Y/N) as she believed it to be a joke of some sort. Hunter had thrown forward the idea of (Y/N) using her Senator persona, with the rest of them being her security, although that would mean her giving them her lightsabers, something they all knew she was unsure about. Crosshair on the other hand had been close to (Y/N), sat opposite her in the tight confinement of the Marauder, he could see how unsure she was about being the center of it all. Especially after her last uncover op had resulted in injury for several of them after a fire fight had broken out. 

Crosshair had been lost in thought while looking at (Y/N) with softness, he'd not heard Wrecker agreeing with the marriage idea and volunteering the sniper for the role. Using Crosshair's calm and collective nature as reason for his recommendation. (Y/N) getting up with a sigh and snapped Crosshair out of his thoughts, not a single word passed her lips as she climbed up into her quiet spot above the bunks, it being clear she wanted time alone to think over everything, where as Crosshair turned his attention to his brothers, quickly understanding he had missed something important. 

"The stake out mission, will require a believable distraction for being there. (Y/N) unfortunately will have to bare the brunt of the stress" started Tech, finding himself overwhelmed with guilt over his agreement to the idea, just as Echo found himself the same for submitting the idea in the first place. "The distraction will be (Y/N)'s honeymoon" carefully spoke Tech, as if fearing how his younger brother would react. He watched as the others did, as the different emotions passed over the snipers features, confusion, uncertainty, anger and concern. A unspoken question on his lips of wondering if there was a better way. 

"(Y/N) just said decided among us and tell her after" excitedly spoke Wrecker, as if the idea of marrying a Jedi Knight was the best thing he'd heard in a while. Although he stopped upon noticing the glare Crosshair shot in his direction. "We were going on which one of us would be best. Since none of us are really keen on the idea either" calmly proclaimed the human bulldozer, as if attempting to calm Crosshair's murderous glare and redirection the attention elsewhere. Even now the glare Crosshair had mastered terrified Wrecker, far beyond what the war had thrust far thrown at them. 

"I'll do it" muttered Crosshair, unsure what had come over him, he'd felt the need to protect her and correct what had been deemed an injustice done against her. Plus deep down he knew he held a secret love for her, not just lust but pure adoration too. She brought out his soft side, showed no judgment towards him, instead only care and acceptance, the least he could do now was this to help her through the mission and bare some of the burden weight. 

Crosshair had climbed up to her hideout seconds later, joining her in the tight space above. Lying next to her. He knew she had turned the cramped area into a little room for herself, a couple of pillows and blankets one side, the other (Y/N) laid across the floor with a book in her hands, although it was clear she wasn't reading it, instead staring at the printed words as if they held the means of her escape from what troubled her. 

"Come to tell me who the unlucky one is?" quietly whispered (Y/N) her voice unenthusiastic as she listened as Wrecker pulled down his bunk and the remaining three make excuses to leave the area and uncomfortable silence. Crosshair merely hummed in response, tucking his arms behind his head as he looked up to the drawing taped above, softness returning to him as he realized the drawing were portraits on him and his brothers. Each portraying them in the midst of something. Hunter seemingly lost in thought as he span his vibroblade between his fingers, Tech captured talking of something, Echo as he watched the colors of hyperspace, Wrecker while holding his Tooka doll, Lula. The one of himself depicting him doing his normal rifle cleaning routine, he did after every mission. Yet as Crosshair strained his memory, he couldn't ever recall seeing (Y/N) around during any of the moments depicted, as if she had drawing them from pure memory rather than being there with them. 

"That would be yours truly" admitted Crosshair, reaching out one of his hands to gently take the book from her hands, instead reaching for the holopad close by. Pulling her close upon retrieving it, his mind focusing on comforting her and accepting the burden they would both be sharing. He wasn't sure why he place a soft kiss to her hair line, but felt the need to do so. The pair finding comfort in each other as they decided on a film to watch, Crosshair feeling a little more confident the longer (Y/N) stayed in her position, her head against his shoulder, one of her arms stretch across his chest. 

The pair having fallen asleep like it. Tech having noticed Crosshair hadn't come down so checked on the duo, moving a blanket from the opposite side and draping it over the pair, before returning to the cockpit, where Echo had already nodded off. Hunter and Wrecker too had fallen for the lure of sleep. The next day would bring the short wedding, nothing too special, although Tech had began to question whether it would be valid or not in the minds of the pair and those to witness it. 

The following morning the little ceremony took place. (Y/N) in her Jedi robes, her lightsabers attached to her belt, Crosshair donning his normal armor, rifle attached to his pack with other weapons on his personnel. The group stood next to the Marauder. Hunter, Tech, Echo and Wrecker stood by as witnesses. Crosshair and (Y/N) facing each other, as they had done many times in the past, although not with the meaning this time had.

"Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dar'tome. Mahi me'dinui an. Mhi" spoke both (Y/N) and Crosshair in unison. The pair of them being serious. Yet as quick as that it was done. 

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As if a wave hit Crosshair, he seemed unsure how he'd forgotten it, was there a mind trick being played on him or did both he and (Y/N) suffer some injury during the trip to get to the backwater planet. Yet he didn't voice his thoughts, neither did (Y/N) stood next to him as if she was in some sort of trance. Without a second thoughts Crosshair slipped the bag from her shoulder, gently picking her up moments later, as if to play the role he'd just remembered, a playful scream and laugh escaping (Y/N). One of her arms hooking around the back of his neck, the other reaching up for his free shoulder. 

"Please tell me you have those shorts" whispered Crosshair, wondering if he'd be blessed with such a sight. He'd never admit those tiny black shorts turned him on. (Y/N) merely nodded her head in response, already being able to guess where this was going. His lustful looks and terrible excuses hadn't gone unnoticed by her. Nor had his jealous looks when they'd all find themselves at 79's. Crosshair never failed to scare some poor soul away or intimidate them into leaving, most of the time without uttering a single word. Most clones learnt quickly Crosshair wasn't to be messed with, especially over something that was his or someone he cared about, other patrons had also learnt the same lesson through a few fights. 

"Hmm. Maybe I can use them to motivate you into doing a good job" commented (Y/N), hearing Crosshair chuckle as he carefully dropped her on the bed, the yelp to escape her only serving to make Crosshair chuckle a little louder than before. The sniper soon sat beside her on the bed, both suddenly becoming lost in the view from the balcony doors. Crosshair found himself wondering what was so important about the planet they were on, why they would need a cover for being in a place so far out of the way, he was surprised both the republic and separatists even remembered it. Even he couldn't remember the name of the planet, even when Tech had spoken it several times. 

"A reward for a job well done ....." whispered Crosshair, breaking the silence between them, gathering the necessary things, needed for the mission, (Y/N) looked to him, sensing there were words left unsaid. "ner kar'ta bal runi I have a few other ideas too" admitted the sniper before their conversation was interupted. Both walking from the room moments later, Crosshair with a stronger feeling to protect the woman he gained the right to call "His Jedi" 

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Upon returning to the suite that night. (Y/N) went to the shower as she had stated she would before hand. Washing away the mixture of mud, blood and anything else dirtying her. She made sure to clean up after herself, if only to ensure Crosshair could shower in peace too. Before leaving the fair sized bathroom, she dressed in the loose fitting black shorts and a figure hugging black tank top. Wrapping her hair in a towel to ensure it didn't drip water everywhere. Upon entering the main suite, she found Crosshair effortless cleaning his rifle, although she knew he had already done that, so had likely been doing it to pass the time. 

"All yours" softly spoke (Y/N), causing Crosshair to jump slightly, it being so clear he'd been lost in his thoughts, although he soon stood and turned towards her, his breath getting stuck in his throat upon his eyes landing on her. The top she wore leaving little to the imagination, the fabric hugging all her curves and showing her erected nipples clearly. Yet soon enough Crosshair snapped himself out of it, sending himself to the bathroom. The moment he stepped under the warm water of the shower, he felt his tense muscles relax, yet his wonder got wilder. Questions floated through his head as he washed away the boggy mud sticking to his skin and rinsed his short hair back to the natural silver color. He wondered what would happen between himself and (Y/N) now. By Mandalorian rule they were technically married, he a clone and she a Jedi, a pairing not too uncommon since the war had began. 

As the sniper stepped from the shower, he felt his confidence rise as the nippy crisp air bit at his exposed skin. Although he barely noticed as he wrapped a towel loosely around his waist, using another to catch the water droplets making their escape down the back of his neck and face. The same towel becoming useful again moments later as he cleared the steam from the mirror before him. Just seconds later leaving the bathroom to find (Y/N) on one of the chairs in the corner of the room, holopad in hand as she read over something.

Once again Crosshair felt his confidence rise, just as he wanted to see where things would go from here. (Y/N) had worn those shorts as she said she would if he did a good job. Yet once again he noticed she wasn't actually reading what was one her holopad. She was a fast reader, her knew that, so knew she would have likely turned the page by now. The sniper wasted little time getting to her, sitting on the stool before her, resting her bare feet on his toweled lap, hearing her hum as if she had been waiting for him to return. Without really thinking began to run his fingers up and down her calf, soft strokes as if he was teasing her in ways different to how she often teased him. 

He soon moved up her body, connecting their lips within seconds, his hands trailing down her arms and body. Her own arms swinging around the back of his neck, as if to pull him closer to her. The kiss seeming so right to them both, Crosshair feeling as if the missing part of him, had been found. Where as (Y/N), felt the love she knew had been missing from her life, the passion she had only dreamed of one day experiencing for herself. The too soon parted, if only to catch their breath. Their heads resting together as they looked into the others eyes, as if looking for any sign of rejection or regret, both pleased to find nothing of the sort. 

"Ner kar'taylir darasuum, maybe we should take this to the bed" whispered Crosshair. Seeing her agreement as she placed the forgotten holopad to the side, standing up moments later. (Y/N) allowing him to lead her to the bed, his instruction to lay on her back something she did without question, not being surprised when he pulled the rim of her top down, exposing her breasts to the cold air surrounding them. Although his hands soon found them, his lips following shortly after. Crosshair's free hand soon began to move lower, reaching beneath the hem of her black sorts, although he stopped in surprise to realize she wore no underwear beneath the shorts. His eyes growing darker with lust as he looked to her, continuing on with play with her nipples and finding her sensitive spot hidden beneath the shorts. 

The moment contact being made, (Y/N), softly moaned, it sounding so sweet to Crosshair as he continued to play with her. Running his long fingers through her folds, hearing her moan every time. The sound only serving to get him excited too. He didn't stop (Y/N) when her hands reached for the towel hung around his waist, gently undoing it, finally pay him attention. Her hands soft as she pushed him over, connecting their lips once he was on his back, her hand finding its way to his member, wrapping around him as she began to pump. Crosshair's only response was to hold back his own moan as his hands found her breasts again. Pulling her top up and over her head moments later. If only to gain better access to her. 

"Want me to take the shorts off too" teased (Y/N), seeing the way his honey eyes darkened further. Yet before she could reached for the hem of her shorts, Crosshair's hands found his wrists. In a blink of an eye their position changed again. Once again he was back on top of her. His lips finding hers as his hands found his own member. His patients showing through as he continued to play with her, his own games in mind and desires. Just as he wanted to pleasure her in a way she hadn't been before. 

"No" responded Crosshair after what felt like hours passed. "I want to take you, while you're wearing them" added the sniper, swiftly pushing the shorts to the side, enough to give him access to her core. With a silent request and (Y/N) nodding in response, he soon began to run his member through her wet folds, hearing her moan further. "All this wetness for me. whatever did I do to earn such a reward" whispered Crosshair, as his lips found her jaw, not wishing to stifle her quiet moans. He soon lined himself up with her entrance, looking to (Y/N) once more before slowly pushing himself in, feeling how tight her walls were around him, it taking all his strength not to come right there and then. "Fuck you're tight" whispered Crosshair, placing his hands beside her head to stabilize himself. His other hand resting on her cheek once he was completely sheathed inside her. Allowing her time to adjust to his size. 

Upon (Y/N) nodding, he began to move, pulling almost all the way back out before thrusting back into her. Feeling her legs wrap around his waist, she soon pulled his lips back to hers, feeling each and every thrust he made into her. Her moans growing louder although stifled by Crosshair's lips on hers. Their tongues fighting for dominance all the while. Crosshair soon began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, obeying her request he goes faster, soon finding her sweet spot. His self given order to hit it as much as he could, thrust giving her the maximum amount of pleasure he possibly could. Without warning he soon pulled out, positioning her on her hands and knees, sliding back in without much effort. Keeping up with the same pace as before. Hearing (Y/N) moan even more than before, as she felt him go even deeper than before. 

"Sing for me cyar'ika" spoke Crosshair breathlessly, gently moving his hands from her hips to her shoulders, pulling her up to rest against him. Her head against his shoulder as he went deeper inside her. Her lips against his ear as she moaned his name with pleasure. His hands finding their way back to her breasts once he was sure she wouldn't fall, giving them the attention they deserved. "Good girl" praised Crosshair, his own lips finding her neck as he gently began to nibble and suck, determined to leave a mark that would mark her as his own. 

"Cross" moaned (Y/N), feeling as her stomach began to knot, knowing she was close to her climax. "I'm gonna come" moan (Y/N), as she screamed out moments later. Crosshair not letting up on his pace, riding her through her high. Switching positions again when she was had come back down. This time allowing her to straddle him. Pushing her shorts to the side again, as he re-entered her, the sound of their moans ringing out and mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Although Crosshair soon sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist, her lips finding his neck as he had done with her earlier. Stifling her moans as she nibbled and sucked on his neck, leaving a mark that would be visible there for days. 

In a last whim, Crosshair flipped them again, back to the original position, although not pulling out this time. His thrusts becoming sloppy as he reached his own end, yet determination in his eyes to get her to climax again before he did. "You going to come for me again Cyar'ika?" asked Crosshair breathlessly, seeing her nod beneath him, he soon reached for her sensitive spot, rubbing in circles to bring her to her climax sooner. Hearing her moans grow louder again as she began to beg for her end. The pair soon coming at the same time. Crosshair deep inside her, collapsing on her moments later, pulling out, using what remained of his strength to do so. His lips once again finding (Y/N)'s as he brushed some of her hair from her forehead, stuck there by the layer of sweat to coat them both. 

His arms soon wound around her waist again, (Y/N) finding the energy to reach for the blanket to cover them both. Snuggling closer to him upon doing so. Both trying to catch their breath, while trying to avoid the lure of sleep. The day tiring both of them out, although neither could argue with how it ended. 

"Ner Mesh'la" whispered Crosshair before dozing off, his arms still around (Y/N), his head resting against hers, a rare soft smile on his lips. (Y/N) following along shortly after, her last thoughts on how the rest of the scout mission was going to play out. But also being thankful, she had Crosshair with her. 

[dinner-djarin]

Until the Sun Rises

Part 2: Beautifully Catastrophic

Anakin x Jedi!reader

Summary: The Clone Wars have begun, and although you and Anakin remain best friends, you have sensed your relationship growing distant, both from your time spent apart in battle, and from the inclusion of a certain woman into his life. When you finally get a moment to share alone with him, however, things do not go as you would have wished.

Notes: Part 2 takes place probably a year or so after part 1. Reader is young, probably around 18 or 19. Another Happy Birthday wish to @hellotherebonky

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff/angst. Reader gets very angry, yikes.

Part 1

Only one year later would Anakin be made an official Jedi Knight, just after the start of the Clone Wars. And as much as you hoped for peace in the galaxy, you secretly revelled in the start of the fighting, as it meant you were finally able to leave the Temple on a regular basis. You and your Master fought many battles together, and you felt yourself grow stronger with The Force every day. Master Sente admitted they may have been wrong to keep you guarded all that time, as you proved yourself to be a very cunning and diligent warrior. You learned ten times faster out in the galaxy then you did by studying away in the record halls. Being out there, learning on the battlefield, this was what made you finally shine.

The one downfall, however, was the reality that your assignments kept you away from Anakin.

He and Obi-wan stayed close, even after he proved himself capable and passed his trials, so the two of them often went on missions together… a fate you once dreamed of for yourselves.

But in all honesty, you were thankful for the space from Anakin. Ever since Padme Amidala had been thrust back into his life, you were tormented by how different Anakin had become. He didn’t confide in you as often, and when he did, the sole topic was her. How he couldn’t stand to be away from her. How he dreamt only of her. How only she could tame the fire that seared his soul.

One might think that a war should be the cause of such an uprooting to your life - but the war paled in comparison to the return of a woman.

You could see what drew him to her. Her beauty was only paralleled by her intelligence and kindness. She was stunning - you might even say she was perfect.

Her angelic form could not rival whatever you had to offer him. In fact, you had nothing to offer him, as the Jedi Code stood between any dreams you could dare to possess. At least with her, only his own morals were tempted. He didn’t confide the true nature of his relationship with Padme to you, but in your heart, you knew things had gone too far. It broke you to see him throw away his future for her, but it broke you more that he would never do the same for you.

She was lovely enough to include you in her life too, obviously noting the fact that you were Anakin’s only true friend at the Temple. You spent lunches and dinners and nights out together at the opera. Over the short time you spent together you unconsciously came to like her. More than that, you admired her.

You admired how she continued to fight for the rights of those who had none. How she was always unafraid to speak her mind and stand against what she believed to be wrong. You also noticed just how strong willed she could be in those opinions; ready to take on any voices raised against her own.

And as much as you tried to be happy for the two best people in your life, you couldn’t help the way that they remind you of the neutron star collisions you were taught about as a youngling. Two stars burning hot and bright, caught in each other's gravity, encircling one another over and over in a beautiful rhythm, until time and space can no longer accommodate for their existence. A beauty burning so bright that it can only be catastrophic.

Padme is brilliant and caring, but she is determined and independent. Anakin is willing to fight to the end for what he loves, but he is only satisfied when it is him who makes the sacrifices, and him who makes the choices. He needs to control everything, but she cannot be controlled.

You’ve grown alongside Anakin, and you’ve grown to love Padme. Separate they are unstoppable. They believe they can change the galaxy. But you know neither sees that goal in the same way.

You recount the way Anakin fought so hard against the council, over and over, believing that he knew better, or his approach would suit the situation over theirs. Often, he was proven right. He was talented, but the council only thought of him as reckless and lucky, making him seek to push against them even harder. For nights on end, you would hear him rant on about his distrust in such a system.

“We would be better off to decide for ourselves what we thought was right” he would go on. “How can we put our faith in a group of old, washed up Master’s who have long forgotten what it’s like to put their own lives on the line.” Eventually he would finish with sentiments along the line of: “I think they’re just scared to make the decisions that needed to be made”

But you also knew how faithful Padme was to that same system. She believed in the power of diplomacy and democracy. A freedom made by sitting and talking through their issues. Words right out of the mouth of Anakin; words of distaste for a future he couldn't see himself a part of.

It kept you wondering just how long it might take for fate - for The Force - to intervene. You knew it would have to, in some form or another. It always did. You waited for the day they would implode. And you swore you would be by his side when they did.

You waited. But the day hadn’t come.

Instead, the Clone Wars dragged on. You were eventually Knighted. A relatively small ceremony for the troubled times, but even Anakin made his way to be there. He looked proud as you knelt before the council and agreed to do the will of The Force.

“I can’t believe I finally made it,” you whisper to Anakin as you shuffle out of the council room.

“I never doubted you would, little one.” His voice quiet too but resonating directly into your ear as he hunched over to place his mouth next to your face.

“I did. All the time,” you say as you tilt your face to meet his.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” Just then you realized you had worked yourselves away from the crowd into the hall where your adjacent rooms were held. “Come on, for old times’ sake.” His head nodding towards his own room, but you understood the final destination he had in mind.

You both carefully maneuvered your bodies over the ledge of his balcony onto the roof of the temple. “This was easier when we were children,” you remarked through laboured breaths.

“Everything was,” he responded, settling into the spot next to you so that your two thighs were barely grazing. The positioning reminded you of a night you spent together not so long ago. Watching the life of Coruscant fill the skies. Now the view had barely changed, save for the fact you were currently watching a setting sun instead of a vast darkness.

You both sat in silence, as you often did, words rarely necessary when you felt each other's presence so clearly already. Tuning into his aura, you felt a turbulence - an unease you had never felt before. What is that? You thought, forgetting how thoroughly lodged you were in his essence. “I’m sorry, Anakin. I didn’t mean to intrude-”

“It’s alright. I have nothing to hide, not from you. Never from you.” He admits as he turns to look into your eyes. You met his gaze instantly, and whatever you had felt in his aura had also taken root in his face. Besides the new scar, there were clear signs of worry and fear - his secrets slowly burdening him from the inside out.

“Please tell me, Anakin. You know you can tell me, whatever it is.” You attempt to reassure him. You know he must have a lot on his mind, and you know there is rarely anyone else he can truly confide in. His relationship with Padme meant he could not completely confide in Obi-wan, but the nature of his role and the severity of his actions during the Clone Wars caused a further rift between him and his wife.

“There’s so much. I don’t even know where to begin,” he starts.

“How about the beginning.” Your voice is almost teasing, until you see the bleakness in his weathered face. The horrors of war depleting the once joyful and youthful peace that filled him. Now he looked harsh and serious. He had told you of the things he had done, even before the Clone Wars began, and you could piece together how easily the added burdens had manifested in his soul.

“The council gave me a Padawan.” He spoke softly as he stared at the horizon.

“Already? They must have great faith in you.”

“I think the opposite. They wish to tame me, or to see me fail.” You could sense the hint of anger breaking through his otherwise stoic appearance.

“Anakin, I know you don’t trust them but-”

“But what? When have they ever trusted me?!” His quiet demeanor abruptly dissolving. “Why should I think they’re doing this out of my best interest?”

“How has it been?” You attempt to diffuse him. “What are they like?”

Anakin takes a moment to regain his peace. “She’s like me, Ahsoka.”

“Then she’ll be trouble.” You say with a jab to his ribs.

“Hey.” He nudges you back, and you almost slip from your spot to the balcony below. “Oh Maker, sorry.” He begins again, “I just fear she’s too much like me. She deserves a Master who is knowledgeable of The Force, who can help her find strength and stability. She is wild, and takes risks-”

“And is that bad? She sounds exactly like you. Maybe she needs someone to show her that trusting herself is as important as trusting The Force.”

“I don’t know if I can be that for her. I don’t even know if I trust myself anymore.” his voice reaching a quiet once again. So low, you understand that there is more to what he has shared.

“What’s really going on, Anakin?” You sense his trouble, and you know he has not fully divulged the root of his strife. In a moment of weakness, you let your emotions surface and ask, “Is it Padme?”

“What!? Why would it be Padme? Why would you ask that?” But his voice is too defensive for you to leave the subject alone.

“I just mean keeping the secret. Keeping her a secret. It must be weighing on you. And on top of everything-”

“On top of what?” He asks sternly. But his question stirs something in you, and pokes at all the thoughts you had bottled up over the months of observing the two of them.

“I mean you two already fight enough as it is. You get jealous and she gets angry. You just never seem to be on the same page.”

“You don’t approve of Padme?” He questions harshly.

“Of course I approve of Padme, as if I even need to. I mean she’s perfect. She’s almost too damn good for you-”

“What so I don’t deserve her? You think she should be with someone else?” You saw the aforementioned jealousy rising back up in him, further proving your point.

“I think you’re throwing away your life for a relationship you aren’t even happy in!”

“How could you know If I’m happy?”

“Because I know you, Anakin! I’ve known you for most of your life. I’ve seen you happy, and you aren’t happy with her.”

“It’s not that simple-”

“How is it not? You fight all the time; you don’t agree on anything. Is it supposed to be this hard? Why are you even still with her if she makes your life so difficult?”

“Because she’s my wife!” He admits loudly, a contrast to the deafening silence that follows.

You stare at him for what feels like hours. Your tongue runs dry from the stale air that passes through your agape mouth. Several minutes pass before you realize you hadn’t taken a proper breath.

“What are you talking about, Anakin.” These are the only words you can muster, and they come out painfully against the scratch of your dry throat.

“Just after the assignment where I guarded Padme,” he begins, “I lost my arm, and the Clone Wars began, and there was so much going on. I never realized how easily it could all be taken away. I almost died fighting Dooku.”

“So you decided to get married?” Your mind running too fast, too cluttered with thoughts to string together a calm response. “You lived, Anakin. You’re alive. So you decided to throw it all away because you almost died. Because you realized you could have died. We are Jedi. We could die any day. That’s the freaking point! How could you do something so foolish?!” You scream your words at him like blaster bolts, hoping for the first time ever that you could hurt him, like he had hurt you all these years.

“It was not foolish, I loved her then, and I love her now.” He admits to you angrily.

“And I loved you. I've loved you since the day you came here. And you never gave me a second glance. You never even tried to love me back. I've been here for you the whole time. Through everything. And still, you can't seem to care for me at all. I don't even know why I should care. I should have left you alone years ago. What have I ever gotten out of this? Pain. Hurt. Anger. You’ve pushed me to my breaking point time and time again. You have been more challenging than anything I faced in the trials. But I tried. I tried to be here for you, and hear every problem, every complaint. But you were never here for me. Not once. I’m done.” you say as you slide off the roof. “I cannot believe that all this time you’ve been married to her. And you never once thought to tell me. I am your best friend. At least I thought I was. Maker, Anakin, no wonder everything implodes around you.”

As you retreated, you felt the pain resonate from his aura. Your words tore at his soul and left him to bleed out. But you had enough. You were destroyed, and you needed him to know how deeply he had wounded you first. So, you abandoned him on that roof. You walked away from the one person who you truly loved. With every step you felt the strings of your attachment snap, you felt his presence leaving you in a way it never had before.

But he let you go. Not because he wanted to. But because you were right. He hadn’t been there for you. All those years you had been his crutch. You had listened to every childish rant. You had talked through every problem with him. But what had he done for you? He used you, and he knew it. What good would it do to beg you to stay? He could only be so selfish.

But you were also wrong, because he did love you. He should have shown it better. He should have told you long ago. But his world had become a destructive mess, and he decided he deserved all the pain and torment it had brought. Anakin wasn’t even sure how he loved you. It surely wasn’t the same way he felt about Padme. No, that love was raw. It was fire, and passion. It burned him alive. He loved you softly, like a warm embrace. You brought comfort and joy, even when the world was crumbling around him. Maybe he knew he didn’t deserve such happiness. Maybe that's why he let you walk away.

Part 3

[catxsnow]

TAKE THE BULLET B.W.

Request:  I saw your post about requests! Can you do a Batman x reader (from the animated movies if you do him) where the reader is apart of the JL and almost dies by jumping in front of a bullet during a mission with the team to save Bruce? Fluffy/angsty stuff. 

Warning: injury, angst, fluff

A/N: I’m so sorry it took this long! It’s been sitting in my WIP for ages and I just never got around to doing it until now 

Gif not mine

Word count: 2.3k 

You knew the risks of being in the Justice League.

A constant target on your back, the willingness to lay down your life to protect the people of your world, even the on demand requirement of your presence when someone was endangering the world. The second that you joined the team, you lost your freedom to have a normal life.

When it came down to it, it was all worth it. Knowing that you saved hundreds, thousands, even millions of lives because you stood up against an evil greater than yourself. The nightmares that haunted your sleep because of the horrors that you saw. The pain you endured because you refused to give up. Everything was worth it.

Your whole life you had been the one to willingly put yourself through all this torture to save lives. It was engraved in you to make the world a better place, no one expected you to make a difference like this one. No one expected you to be a hero, one of the best at that.

For so long you were on your own. You had your friends in your civilian life but no one truly to understand what you had to endure as a superhero. That was until the Justice League formed. It was a rocky start - a bunch of people who didn't believe that they needed to be a part of something bigger.

While many of the heroes found it a burden to have people that relied on you, you found it a blessing. People to finally understand who you were, that accepted you for the person that you were, not some freak. This team meant everything to you, enough that you would give up your life for your teammates.

And that was exactly what you had done. It was a dangerous mission, everyone knew that. As prepared as everyone was, they weren't expecting you to take the bullet for Batman. You saw the blast coming while he was fighting off another monster. There wasn't enough time to get him out of the way and he had no idea that it was coming for him.

So, in a moments haste, you had put yourself between the blast and him. Batman might have driven you crazy half the time, but he was only human under that suit. He would have never survived the blast. You barely did and your suit was impenetrable.

Batman didn't make friends. He didn't stick around to get to know his teammates and he certainly wasn't chatty with anyone. You found him insufferable most of the time but that small part of you couldn't help but be intrigued by him. Batman acted as if he were Superman even though a bullet would stop him just as it would anyone else.

He was meticulous with everything he did. No matter the situation, he knew every detail about everything. Batman was cold hearted, except for the split second time that you got to see him smile.

The team watched in horror as you fell to the cement. Your suit was half disintegrated and your breathing shallow. The blast had almost killed you. Almost.

It was Hal that got you out of there, bringing you to safety and away from the fight that you could no longer be a part of. Everyone had seen you go down. As devastation filled them, so did determination. They couldn't lose this fight, not after what you had done for them all. Batman most of all.

Only when you were safe in the infamous Batcave did Hal leave your side again. At the moment, there was no better place for you. He knew the secret identity of Batman, he also knew that Bruce was going to want to be the one to help you. After that night, he owed you a life debt.

As much as Batman liked to make everyone think he was invincible, he was only human. Humans had a heart, and with that little move that you did, you had gotten right into his.

><

You woke up cold. The air was still and held a frosty bite to it. Your whole body ached and as you tried to move it flared even more though your nerves. An IV was stuck in your arm and you were no longer in your suit. It wasn't the new clothes or the medical supplies that got you curious, it was the location.

No one in the Justice League had been lucky enough to step foot in the Batcave. It always seemed like some sacred place that all your other teammates were afraid to step foot in. Their bad mojo rubbed off on you for the longest time as well. Batman's secret lair always seemed to spook you.

Sitting in there now, you didn't feel the same way. Aside from the cold and darkness, the place wasn't nearly as dramatic as you thought it was going to be. Large super computer, training area, the med bay that you were in, and a collection of memorabilia. Nothing like you expected it to look like.

"You're awake."

You nearly jumped at the voice. Batman stood to the side of you, his cowl off so you could see his face. It was the first time that he ever trusted you with his identity and least to say, you were shocked. Bruce Wayne hid under that cowl. Billionaire playboy by day, Gotham's hero at night.

Without the cowl on, he looked far less intimidating. Whether it was his piercing blue eyes or the fact that he was really just some human. You felt less of a need to cower away from him and more of a pull of attraction. He was handsome, extremely.

"How long was I out?" You asked. Your voice was hoarse and the cough that erupted in your chest only put you through more pain. It was going to take far longer for you to heal than you wished. However, seeing Bruce alive because of you was well worth the pain. You couldn't imagine Gotham without it's Dark Knight.

"Three days."

"Fuck," you muttered, laying back down to the pillow. Your eyes sealed shut in frustration at the lost time. "I take it the rest of the mission went well then."

"Minimal civilian causalities," Bruce told you. He took a step closer to you and reached for the bandages that crossed your stomach. Faint burn marks that would never fully heal laced your skin. They did as much as they could, but you would be left scarred forever. Just a reminder for Bruce that you nearly died for him.

Before he could touch the material, you had snatched his wrist. Your eyes were still shut when you did the action, but they popped open when you grabbed him. Bruce retracted without saying anything. He nearly complained as you pulled the IV out of your arm and swung your legs off the side of the hospital bed, but remained silent. You were a grown woman, you could decide if you felt healthy or not.  

"Thank you," Bruce found the only way to stop you in your tracks. Your hands gripped the side of the bed and he couldn't tell if it was because you were suddenly dizzy, or shocked by his words. It was both. Your head hung low and you didn't wish to gaze up at him. Memories of the searing pain you felt flooded you and seeing his face was only a reminder of it all.

You knew that taking that blast might of killed you. You knew that the second it hit you that you might not be waking up the next morning. Was it worth it? Saving someone as heartless as Batman? You weren't sure yet. You were alive and breathing, that was going to have to be good enough for now.

"I would be dead without you," he continued. You still didn't move. Bruce went down to his knee. One hand gently on you leg and the other balancing on his own. His touch caused you to flinch, catching him off guard. He felt the need to step away from you, to give you the space that you desired. "I'm sorry."

"I saved a teammate, Bruce," you used his real name. His narrowed slightly; he didn't think you recognized him. You showed no reaction as you saw who he really was, he just assumed you were as oblivious as Hal. "I'd like to think you would do the same but who fucking knows."

"I've dedicated my life to saving people do you really think that I wouldn't do the same for anyone else on the Justice League? For you?" Bruce grit his teeth. He stood up from his spot on the ground and towered above you once more. This sudden coldness that you were giving him was nothing that he expected when you woke up.

You were always so kind to everyone on the team - even him when he pushed you away so many times. After taking the risk of dying for him, he thought that you would be willing to show more kindness. Someone willing to die for another obviously enjoyed their presence . At least he thought so.

"I think that it's been months that we've been working together and it's only when I nearly die for you that you decide to show your face," you scoffed. "Then again why does it matter who's under the mask, you're still the same asshole either way." This time, you jumped off the bed and tried to walk past Bruce.

You never even made it two steps past him before he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. You tried to pull out of his grasp but it was no use, he was far too strong for you. Bruce tugged you back, nearly causing you to trip over your own feet as you did.

"I kept you alive, the least I deserve is a thank you," Bruce's voice lowered. If you were going to be cold to him, then he was going to be the same right back. "But then again, why does it matter? I'm still the same asshole anyways that could have let you die." He let go of your wrist, but his words only frustrated you more.

After taking the bullet for him, you thought he would be more willing to open up to you. To be himself while there was no one else around. It didn't take long to realize that he would never do that, or maybe this was him being himself. You would never know the truth. That was what angered you.

You wanted to argue with him, to yell at him for being such a soulless dick. However, Pain erupted though your entire body. Your knees buckled from below you as you held onto your wound. Bruce had caught you just before you hit the ground. He easily swooped you up and set you back down on the bed.

This time, you didn't argue as he lifted the bandage to see what kind of hell your skin was in underneath. Bruce worked in silence. He dabbed a clean cloth around the wound and sterilized it. The sting of alcohol made you bite your lip to hold back the hiss of pain. With more grace than you ever thought he had, he wrapped you with a new bandage.

As he tried to walk away, you were the one to stop him. You grasped his hand, far more delicately than he had grabbed you. He could easily snap out of your hold if he wanted to, yet he found himself stopping to turn back.

"I'm sorry," you apologized. He was right, Bruce did save your life. "I guess I just expected you to be... different without the mask on. I assumed we all were. Maybe in this life we're always hiding behind some sort of mask, even without realizing it."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Bruce," you stopped him from walking away once more. "I just meant that I'm grateful for you to trust me with your identity. And that you saved me, you understand what it's like to be human under the suit. I know that trust doesn't come easy to you."

A silence fell between you. The intensity of his stare made you feel vulnerable. Cowl on or off, he was still the great Batman. A deadly weapon and a savior to Gotham. You hadn't meant to get upset. He was the last person on the team that you wanted to make angry - even more than Superman.

"Do you wanna get a drink?" Bruce suddenly asked. The corner of his lips tugged up and it was the most that you had seen him smile since that brief first time. You looked down at the over-sized clothes that you wore and then over to his Batsuit. Together, you looked to be quite the pair.

"I hope being a billionaire means you buy good whiskey," you agreed to his offer. Bruce pulled you up off the bed with the hand that had been resting in yours the whole time. You were thankful for his help. The wound you had surely would have taken you down once more if it wasn't for his support.

You stopped several steps in. Bruce looked down at you, worried about your wound. With a second of hesitation, you stood on your toes to kiss the corner of his lips. Your hand rest on his chest as your lips lingered on his skin. Your hand felt as if it was burning a whole through his chest.

He didn't expect this sudden act of affection, but he appreciated it nonetheless.  "If you'd let me, I'd like to get to know the real you - whatever version that may be," you offered. Bruce had trouble opening up to people, but maybe it would be easier with you.

"I'd like that."

[mendesbadrepuation]

Save Her // Peter Parker🕷

*This is based off a Tiktok I saw a long time ago and wrote a little something for it. I was scrolling through Tom Holland’s tag and saw that @lightholland​ was looking for someone to make it or have it. It was just sitting in my drafts collecting dust. So without further a do : )

I will add the link to the Tiktok...

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“What do you mean she’s been kidnapped?!” Cap says in the small conference room to Tony. 

“Shh!” Tony puts his finger in front of his lips to silence Cap. “The kid doesn’t know yet. If he finds out I’m afraid he’ll put himself in danger before we can get a proper plan.” Tony explains more. His words get quieter as more people pile into the room. Tony felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes were bloodshot from not getting any sleep the entire night. It was suppose to be a simple mission. She’s done it time and time before. HYDRA found an opportunity to trick everyone. All of them have been through protocol in the case that something like this does happen. He just felt ill not knowing what they could possibly be trying to get out of her. 

The room was quiet as everyone was confused  as to why they were being brought in so early in the morning. Peter was swaying side to side in his chair with his eyes glued to his phone. He was texting her repeatedly wondering where she was. He hasn’t spoke to her since the night before. He had an important Chemistry assignment to complete that occupied him for hours. The last text he had from her was a simple “I love you spider bug” That was one of her many nicknames she had for him. 

“Okay so-“ Tony begins to speak to the group and everyone turns their heads away from the distractions. Peter cuts him off. “Wait Y/n isn’t here yet.” Peter says softly as he looks at Tony. It was easy to see how Tony was fighting his thoughts on how to break the news. He sighs as his shoulders drop. Cap looks at Peter then back at Tony. Peter had been sensing something all day but he wasn’t sure what it was. He knew he felt off. “What? Is someone not telling me something?” Peter tries to keep his cool from all the silence. The group looks around in confusion. 

“Mr. Stark.” Friday comes in through the A.I. system. Her voice sounded a little concerned. “I think you will want to see this.” Tony had a feeling he knew it was about her. He was expecting some kind of news soon and much rather than later. “Pull it up.” He disregards Peter’s questions and turns his attention to the glass screen. The room goes deadly silent as a image of Y/n pops up. Peter stands straight up out of his chair as his heart jumps into his throat. The video begins to play and she was crying in pain. The right side of her face had taken some serious impact. A serious busted lip was causing blood to ooze down her chin and her tears were mixing in with the dirty blood. A scene that none of the avengers wanted to see on their teammate. Especially their sweetheart. 

A blood curling scream pierced through everyone’s ears from her torture. There was no face to the voice but it was easy to tell it was a man that was speaking. “Where is the stone?” His voice was dark, brisk, and cold like a windy winter night. It cut through Peter as if he was made of paper. 

“I don’t have it.” She says breathlessly. “Please I didn’t take anything!” The camera zooms out and there was a knife sinking deep into her flesh. He twists it ever so slightly making her scream out in horrific pain. “PETER!” She cries out for her boyfriend. The only thing that was keeping her from crossing over to a dark place. 

Peter turns his body and Cap knew what he was about to do. Cap leaps after him holding him in his arms before he makes a B-line out the door. “Let me go!” Peter struggles around trying to fight his way out of his masculine grip. The video continues in the background as they offer up a deal to get her back. “I have to get to her. I have to find her!” His legs kick around as a way to create space between the two. The team all rise from their chairs to keep him cornered in. 

“Calm down! Listen Parker!” Cap tries to stop the squirming so that Tony could propose his plan. “You can’t do this alone!” 

“No! She needs me!” A soft whimper pulls from his mouth as he slowly stops his fighting. Cap knew that Parker and him could be an even fight if he wanted. He also knew that Peter was in no state of mind to fight him off like that. He knew deep down that he couldn’t get her back alone. 

“We’re going to get her back kid. But I need you to calm down. We have to be smart about this. We can’t lose you in the process. You have to stay focused with us. You know everyone in this room is hurting. We have to do this strategically. It has to be done together..” Tony says. Peter’s eyes were watering at this point. The frustration and pain he felt seeing his girl like that took a toll on him. Peter swore to himself he’d never let anything happen to you. Not like this. His heart was shattered and his gut was empty. All he can hear is his name being called from your horrific state. He couldn’t get to you and help you. It was his own torture that surely would leave scars for him. 

“Please. We have to get her back.” Peter fumbles to his knees and Cap does his best to cushion his fall but it was no use. The video goes on a little longer. A few more screams are heard and it shuts off. 

“I was able to trace the video back sir. It looks like it was sent from a server in a remote location in Canada.” Friday speaks. 

“Everyone get suited up. We will debrief on the air carrier.” Cap says and everyone quickly goes to their stations to get suited up. It was an intense feeling in the air. Everyone of them had a one track mind. That was to rescue their teammate. No matter the risk they were getting her back alive. Peter couldn’t bare another second of this. He had his suit on in a matter of seconds and was pacing in the air carrier first. 

Once they were all inside they viewed each layout of the blueprints Friday sent them for the set location. They managed to track her phone in a closed off portion of the abandoned building. All of their thoughts were said to find the best way to get her out swiftly and safely. Each plan was ran over a couple of times to outsmart Hydra and their evil intentions. 

“Peter it’s your job to get in that bunker and get her out. You need to understand that she’s going to be really out of it and the scene could stun you. You can’t hesitate. Get her out of there.” Tony says sternly to him. There was no else best fit to get her out. Everyone knew that. Peter just had to realize that any hesitation or delays can cause the plan to backfire tremendously. 

“I will.” Peter says. He would walk through fire at this point just to save you and hold you in his arms again. 

The air carrier lands a little ways away from the secluded location. They were all careful to keep things in stealth mode so none of the sensors would be detected. The plan is set in motion and one by one each member is deployed. Each of them tackle the obstacles set in the way. They wanted it to be in and out so no extreme force would have to happen. Tranquilizers were used to put Hydra agents to rest out of harms way. We’re they mad about the kidnapping? They were beyond furious. It didn’t matter. Once they had her safe then it was time to discuss wars. 

Peter sweeps his way through the rusty old building. He blends in with each surrounding and is careful not to tip his whereabouts. Once he finds the bunker door he uses his A.I. system Karen to break in. The door opens with an unusually loud creek. He swiftly creeps inside checking for other agents. There he sees her passed out laying on the floor almost lifeless. Holding her arms and legs together is some raged black rope that left her horrible laceration burns from her fighting it. She’s only been held captive for 12 hours and they managed to hurt her this terribly? Peter felt the anger boil up inside of him. 

“Y/n!” Peter whispers to see if she would respond. She doesn’t move and his heart drops. There was blood all around her. Her suit was ripped in places where the knife had been. Peter picks her up slowly and that’s when she stirs. Immediately she tries to fight her way out considering she had no idea who it was. 

“Let me go! Please.” She whines. Her voice was so hoarse. 

“Shh. Y/n it’s me. It’s Peter. I’m here baby.” He moves some of her hair out of her face to get her to look at him. The head of his suit comes down so she could actually see it was who he said it was. He uses his tech to cut the rope around her arms and legs, freeing her instantly. 

“Peter.” She cries in relief and clings to him tightly. He takes her body and places her legs around his waist. His arms tightly wrap around so she’s hugging him. He was not about to let her out of his grip. Not until they were out of harms way. Even then he may never. Her head nuzzles into his neck and he wanted to sigh in relief from the feeling. When she was being clingy that was her thing to do. “You smell good.” She weakly whispers. It was so innocent that it made Peter’s stomach release butterflies. He knew how strong she really was and that she’d have this shaken off in no time. He still was not letting her out of his sights for awhile. Peter gently placed his chin on her head to cling to her more. He easily moves his way through the abandoned building without being spotted. Once he reaches the air carrier everyone else was starting to regroup. 

“We got her. Is everyone counted for?” Cap says as he looks around. A small count of people was taken and the doors to the carrier are sealed shut. Peter just falls to the floor with her in his arms. 

“We’re going to get you some help here soon baby.” He starts to rub her back. She remained in the same position but never lost her grip around his neck. 

“Has she said anything?” Tony asks as he bends down to rub her head softly. 

“She didn’t know it was me at first. I say she has a concussion. She’s a little out of it. She said I smell good.” Peter lightly smiles and so does everyone around. It was their y/n being herself even in the state she’s in. 

“You really do. Did your side chick buy you some new cologne?” She jokes and the mood in the carrier lightens tremendously. Everyone laughs including Peter. Y/n kept her eyes shut and her head rested in between Peter’s neck and shoulder. A smile still formed on her face from her comment. 

“You did goofy.” Peter replies and places a sweet kiss on the top of her head. 

“Just making sure it’s really you.” The tip of her nose brushes up against his neck giving him goosebumps. “Sorry I got a little blood on your suit.” She adds. 

“I think it will be okay. As soon as we get to the compound we’ll get you stitched up. I promise. Just keep talking to me. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Peter’s chest vibrates to each word he says. It was hard for her to keep her eyes open with being in the arms of her saving grace. She knew she was safe now. 

“I could go for a nice shower. I’m sure I don’t smell as nice as you do.” Her words were turning into low mumbles now. “I’m really tired Pete.” She takes in a deep breath to try and relax the searing pain that was pulsing in her arm and leg. 

“I know. Just stay with me a little longer.” He scoots over to a wall so he could lean his back against it and stretch his legs out. He resumes rubbing her back once he gets situated. “Where is our next date going to be?” Peter asks to keep her awake. 

It was silent for a good minute. “The beach.” She replies. 

“Why the beach? You hate sand.” Peter states. 

“The sound of the waves, plus the view. It would be so romantic. And I wanna surf.” Her words were a little dragged out. 

“We should make it a team vacation.” Tony adds to the conversation. 

“None of you all better wear a Speedo.” She hesitates and then whispers to Peter. “Except maybe you can Pete.” The group laughs again. Big smiles on their faces knowing they had this sweetheart back. 

Her head slowly raises up this time to look at Peter once more. Her weak arm manages to go up and she placed the palm of her hand against his cheek. His eyes softly look into her and he tilts his face into her palm. 

“Thank you for saving me.” She whispers and leans her forehead against his. 

“I will always save you.” He replies just as soft as her whisper. 

They lean into each other and like magnets their lips connect ever so softly. Y/n felt the warmth she had lost from all the torture she endeavored. Peter could finally breathe a little better knowing she was in his arms. This kiss allowed him to be grounded from all the fear he had trapped in his mind. 

“Get a room!” Tony says in disgust. The two teenagers just smile into the kiss. 

Y/n was eventually back the Avengers compound safe. There she was taken care of from all the wounds she had. And just like everyone assumed Peter didn’t leave her side the entire time. 

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Tagged accounts:

@im-not-here-dont-leave-a-message​ @nerdy-collector-festival​

[mythicandco]

I have 1% Battery Left And I’m Wasting it on This

A.K.A. Philip B. Wittebane (in which the “B” stands for “Belos”)

Warning: More than 90% of this is pure headcanoning and theorizing, based on the evidence that’s arisen and the ideas of many other members of the fandom. This theory has been circling the Owl House fandom for months, I DID NOT ORIGINALLY CREATE IT. Brooke and North are from this and so is some of the story, but the majority of the details are the work of my own convoluted brain. This was kinda disproved by Yesterday’s Lie but I want to post it before my computer dies. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this summarized monstrosity… 

Everything is once again below the cut

Philip stumbles into the Boiling Isles by complete accident while on a hike through the woods, tripping into a rift in the fabric of space-time created by Titan’s blood interacting with other various magical substances. He doesn’t realize he’s in another realm until he actually stops to look around, and is startled to come face-to-face with a trio of witches. 

The first witch, Brooke, is taller than their companions, with a big ol’ witchy hat and a pair of grey, tasseled earrings. North, only slightly shorter than Brooke, has a similar hat along with a matching cloak and blonde, curled hair. Her face is covered in scars. The last witch is Kirani, who ends up being a minor character but eh.

The trio is here to collect Titan’s blood for Brooke’s experiments with magic. They believe that by using their knowledge of potions, they can create an elixir of some form to allow witches to perform magic without the use of glyphs. The exact recipe is a work in progress, but they know that Titan’s blood will be a key ingredient. 

When the group first encounters Philip, they are startled by his small, round ears. The bemused human assures them he means no harm and eventually they decide that even if he does want to hurt them, he doesn’t have access to the magical knowledge to do so. This is further proven when a dragon nearly eats Philip (more on that later). They take him to their village to help him find a way home and survive until then. 

Over the next five or so years the group spends a lot of time together, Philip begins writing a journal, and North, Brooke and Philip form a friendship, often going on adventures together with the help of their palismans. North even trusts Philip enough to let him use her staff for transportation until he eventually gets the chance to carve his own. During this time Philip also learns a lot about glyph magic and the creatures of the Boiling Isles, and is surprised at how naturally it comes for him to draw the glyphs from memory and get them right. 

At one point Philip and the others travel to the Knee to retrieve some Titan’s blood from Eclipse Lake. Brooke stays behind to start collecting the other, more local ingredients to their spell, and North is forced to stay behind due to injuries sustained after fighting off a swarm of small, dragon-like creatures.

The expedition is a disaster, and after mistaking fool’s blood for Titan’s blood, Philip is the only one who makes it out alive following the cave-in. Philip is horrified at this turn of events but simultaneously relieved that Brooke and North didn’t accompany him on this particular mission. He comes back with the Titan’s blood, but not the rest of the group, and has to explain what happened. 

The village begins spreading rumors that he killed them to take the blood for himself, or that he is too incompetent to continue leading these expeditions. Brooke and North also get a share of the blame, being the ones who brought the human to their village in the first place. Brooke retreats to their study for a few weeks, taking the Titan’s blood with them. 

Things get even worse after the Titan’s blood excursion and the neighboring witch tribes hear about the dangerous human who supposedly kills witches and other creatures in cold blood for his own gain. (Rumors are nasty things, slightly more terrifying the longer they’re out there.) Philip finds it almost ironic that in this world of freaks and monsters, he’s the target of the torches and pitchforks. 

While out trading at a small market shared by a couple of the tribes, North is confronted by the leader of another clan and accused of betraying her kind. Things escalate quickly and she barely gets out without things coming to blows. 

Philip starts worrying that he is becoming a burden and a danger to the others, not because he actually wants to hurt them, but because they will get in trouble for sheltering him. He offers to help out Brooke with the portal, which is nearly finished. While they are distracted, he pockets some of the Titan’s blood and some other magical supplies from when Brooke was experimenting with improving a witch’s ability to perform magic. 

Philip uses the potion on himself, but because he is human, not a witch or demon, and isn’t connected to the Titan, he can only use magic by taking it from another source. He starts off using various plants and the horns and tusks of the creatures the village usually uses for jewelry or tosses aside after, I dunno, making a pie with it or something, and practices using spell circles in secret, making sure he can defend himself and the others should the need arise. 

Soon he discovers that he needs more and more magic to stay powerful - to stay stable - and slips up in front of Brooke, losing control for less than a moment before using a spare flower he’d been keeping in his back pocket as a gift for North.

Brooke, understandably, is freaked out by what the fuck just happened and Philip begs for them to keep it a secret. He admits that he stole some of Brooke’s concoctions so that he could protect himself from the witches of the other tribes, and that he needs a reliable source of energy to continue using magic. Brooke argues that what he’s doing is dangerous and unnatural, and that a human shouldn’t be able to use magic the way he does. 

Philip is furious, yelling at Brooke for hogging all of the magic for themselves. He says that where he comes from, witches were supposed to be burned at the stake or drowned. Brooke, horrified, backs away. Philip realizes he’s gone too far and flees back to the home he and the witches constructed when he first arrived in the Boiling Isles. 

His state continues to worsen, and eventually he is driven to snap his own palisman in order to consume its essence. With horrified awe, Philip discovers palismen hold far more magical energy than the little table scraps he’d been collecting before. He is able to briefly rejoin the rest of the tribe, but Brooke doesn’t speak to him and he keeps thinking about his broken palisman.

A few days later Brooke finally finishes the portal and gives Philip the key. The human doesn’t get the chance to test out the door before one of the rival tribes attacks the village out of nowhere and Philip joins in defending the people he’s spent years with. North is stunned that he can weave magic without the use of glyphs, but she doesn’t have the time to consult Brooke on where the human gained this new ability. 

At some point Philip corners the leader of the rival clan and nearly kills her, running out of magic just before the final blow is dealt. He reaches for the nearest source of power - North’s palisman - and snaps it in half. 

For a few moments, North and Brooke process what just happened amidst the chaos. Then the fighting stops and everyone watches as Philip finishes consuming the palisman’s essence. 

Philip looks up with glowing eyes and pauses, confused at everyone’s expressions. The fighting picks back up, this time directed at him, and someone throws a spear straight through his chest. It goes in one side and comes out the other, but the human(?) remains unharmed. The witches and demons start freaking the fuck out, because wouldn’t you in this situation? 

Finally registering what he’s done, a horrified Philip backs away and makes a break for the trees. He never sees Brooke or North again. 

In a clearing in the woods, Philip summons the door to the Human Realm but doesn’t have the courage to step through. He realizes that he is no better than the other monsters of the Demon Realm. He’d probably be shunned if he went home. Would anyone even recognize what he’d become? He once again briefly loses control of himself before giving up and throwing the key to the portal into the trees as hard as he can, before disappearing into the foliage himself.

North burns everything Philip touched, his books, home, everything in her fit of anger over the loss of her palisman and one of her best friends (or maybe something more). She is furious with Brooke for not telling her about him sooner and the two witches engage in an argument. Afterwards, Brooke discovers the journal Philip was going to donate to the market library, the one with all of his recorded notes and diagrams about the fantastical horror of the Demon Realm, and instead of burning it, donates it in their lost friend’s name.

A few centuries go by and Philip Wittebane’s name is practically lost to time, save for the journal that still resides in the almost-constantly growing library in what is now Bonesborough. 

A powerful, controlling figure arises, claiming he alone can communicate with the Titan, and that the wild magic used by witches is wrong. Emperor Belos unites the witches of the Boiling Isles under the Coven system, ascending the throne and becoming the most powerful being (both physically and politically) on the Boiling Isles. 

The rest, as they say, is history.

[that-sw-writer]

p l e a s e write a drunkkylo x reader id love u forever

I am SO GLAD you requested this, thank u for giving me an excuse to write it!

Also I was loving the concept of a Knight of Ren!reader and Kylo so seriously might explore this for a mini-fic in the future.

PART TWO | MASTERLIST

Summary: When a mission to Zeffo requires an overnight stay, the Knights of Ren can only find liquor for dinner.

With you and your leader making eyes at each other, chaos is bound to ensue.

Word count: 2664

Warnings: heavily implied sexual content, drunk sex, alcohol consumption, reader is a Knight of Ren

Intoxicated

It had been a long day.

The Knights of Ren had been on the trail of a Sith artefact, one which Kylo Ren was so desperate to get his hands on that he had actually joined the mission.  It had been a long time since Master Ren had even trained with you all, let alone come on a mission with you.

The mission had led you to a small settlement on the planet Zeffo, but with night falling and everyone losing energy, Kylo had eventually caved and told you all to find somewhere to stay for the night.  Since the Empire had raided the planet years ago, it was largely deserted which meant that there were plenty of abandoned homes.  Most them were small, which meant that you weren't all going to fit into one.  Sure, you had all crammed into tighter spaces, but there was no need to tonight considering just how many empty homes there were.

You all eventually found four homesteads in a row, each enough to house two people.  Between the seven knights and the Supreme Leader you had enough to pair off and stay in twos.  You gathered in the living area of one of the homes, everyone raiding the cupboards for something to eat, but all you could find that wasn't majorly outdated was a lot of unidentifiable liquor.

None of you had any quarrels about who would stay with who.  They were your brothers, and none of you were at all uncomfortable around each other - although all of you silently knew that Master Ren would be the least fun person to bunk with.  Since becoming Supreme Leader he had distanced himself from you all.  Whereas he had once laughed along with you, these days he was much more stoic.  But that wasn't to say that any of you felt awkward around him - you knew how much he cared for you all, even if he didn't outwardly show it.

"Looks like it's a liquid dinner."  Trudgen stated, passing bottles around to everyone.  Kylo momentarily attempted to refuse, but he quickly succumbed to peer pressure from all of you.

Everyone had removed their helmets and outer armour to get more comfortable.  The interior of the homesteads was slightly dusty, but it was far nicer than many of the places you had stayed over the years.

You sat down on the floor between Cardo and Ushar, taking the smallest swig to taste-test the liquor.  It was sweet, with only the slightest burning sensation as it slipped down your throat.  You could hold your drink just as well as your brothers, but you were definitely the worst when it came to suffering from a hangover.  You silently vowed not to get too wasted, otherwise you'd be in a whole lot of trouble in the morning.

As Zeffo's sun set, you all exchanged your usual small talk, exchanging memories of the past.  But eventually the topic turned to pointless drinking games, which you all indulged in.  Except Kylo, who had been all but silent up until now as he took intermittent  sips from his bottle.

It was a stupid game, but one which you always seemed to end up playing when you all drank together.  You went around the circle asking each other admittedly probing questions, and if you didn't want to answer, you would have to drink.  The idea was that the more you refused to answer, the more drunk you would get, which in turn meant that you would definitely become more willing to answer.

"Ap'lek, is it true that you've been eyeing up that medic who's been attending our training sessions?"  You asked, a smirk on your lips.  You were undeniably feeling a bit tipsy, but you were certainly holding it together.

"No."  He immediately scoffed.

"You're such a liar."  Trudgen snorted from beside him, and everyone else agreed.  It was so obvious when one of you wasn't telling the truth, you all simply knew each other too well.

"Fine, Y/N how about you and that Captain who seems to follow you around like a lost puppy?  Don't tell me you haven't got your eye on him."  Ap'lek threw your question back in your face, and you let out an obnoxious laugh, but before you could rightfully deny this, Kylo spoke for the first time.

"Which Captain?"  He snorted, and just judging by his tone you could tell he was starting to feel the effects of the liquor.  His sudden interjection took you all aback, and your brow furrowed momentarily in confusion.

"Captain Buckley," Vicrul jumped in, "everywhere Y/N goes, he also seems to go."

Kylo leaned forward at this, a challenging smirk crossing his lips, "and you like him?"

You knew that the answer was no, but part of you saw this as an opportunity for mischief.  If Master Ren suddenly decided to be invested because a random Captain had a crush on you, it wouldn't hurt to keep him involved in the game.

With a smirk matching his own, you brought your bottle to your lips and took a long drink, not breaking eye contact with Kylo as you did.  He simply slowly sat backwards, his eyes not leaving yours.

Everyone's gazes darted between the two of you, and the rising tension was catching everyone's attention.  Normal people would have avoided this elephant in the room, but not the knights, you all loved to wind each other up - and Master Ren was no exception to that.

"Master Ren..." Cardo was the first to boldly address a question to Kylo in this game.

"Go on."  He prompted, seemingly drunk enough to play along now.

"Given the choice, who would you stay with tonight?"  The answer seemed obvious to everyone in the room, even to you given the way Kylo kept staring at you.

He brought the bottle to his lips seemingly about to avoid the question, but he paused at the last moment and lowered it.  "Y/N.  She pisses me off the least."  There was a playful tone to his comment, but it didn't dampen the fact that he had chosen you.

"I'm honoured to be your choice by default."  You replied with a snarky remark.  

From there the questions only got more and more personal, the knights all questioning each other about people they may or may not have hooked up with recently, and even Kylo got involved in grilling his knights.

The knights were all flirts, you included.  Spending that much time around the boys made their energy rub off on you, although for some reason your beer goggles had decided that tonight that flirtatious energy was going to be directed at Kylo.

"Master Ren, do you ever hook up with people?"  You no-so-innocently asked, taking another sip of your own drink.  So much for not getting too drunk...

Even in their own drunken states, everyone looked a bit shocked at your bold question, but equally they were intrigued about the answer.

Kylo narrowed his eyes at you, he knew the angle you were playing so he indulged it.  Just not in the way anyone expected.  Rather than answering or drinking, he exhaled a long sigh.

"I think it's time we called it a night."  He said, "big day tomorrow."  Without another word he rose to his feet and walked into the bedroom, which was just behind a nearby blast door.

"Um okay, looks like you're staying here Y/N."  Trudgen concluded as they all rose to their feet and began to file out, Cardo clapping you on the shoulder as he walked past.

"What?"  You spluttered, "we never decided on who's bunking with who!"  You protested.

"I think Master Ren made it pretty clear that you're staying with him."  Ushar smirked at you, "the rest of us will work it out as we go along."

"We'll see you in the morning."  With another teasing grin, your fellow knights all left, and you inhaled a deep breath.

Draining the remaining contents of your liquor bottle for liquid courage, you walked through the blast door that Kylo had gone through moments ago.

The room was small, and there was only one large bed.  Usually this wouldn't be an issue, but tonight you could have cut the sexual tension between you and Kylo with a knife... something you had never really experienced.

When Kylo emerged from the refresher, he was shirtless.  Again, usually this wasn't an issue, but tonight you properly looked at him for the first time.  Maker he was built like a brick wall, dotted with cuts and scars, some fresh and some old - similarly to how you were scarred.

"Were you just planning on standing there and staring all night?"  He asked, nonchalantly.  He never normally spoke this openly, hell, any other day he would probably scold you for staring at him and flirting with him.  But alcohol does funny things to people.

Taking the hint you slowly nodded and began to strip yourself of your remaining layers of clothing.  Usually just your undershirt was good enough for sleeping in.

"Yes, by the way.  I used to."  He suddenly spoke, causing you to turn around and face him.

"Used to what?"  You asked, brow furrowed.

"Your question.  You asked if I ever hook up with people."  He reminded you, and you found your heart beginning to race.

"Right... but you don't anymore?"  You raised an eyebrow, slowly walking towards him.

"Being Supreme Leader doesn't leave me much time."  His eyes were clearly swimming a bit, "besides, I just couldn't seem to find the right person."

Through all the years you had known Kylo Ren, you had never heard him be so open.  Perhaps the phrase 'drunk words are sober thoughts' really did apply to him.

"And in the eyes of the mighty Kylo Ren, what makes for the right person?"  You quietly asked, now standing right before him - only the smallest gap between you both.

He didn't reply at first, he just smirked at you, his eyes occasionally flicking down to your lips.  "I'm not sure yet, but you could always try and show me."  He eventually said.

"What a line."  You snorted, teasing him, but rather than telling you to shut up he just closed the gap between you and finally released some of that drunken sexual tension that had been building all evening.

Neither of you did much talking from there, it was more a case of clothes being torn away, you being thrown onto the bed, and Kylo showing you possibly the best night of your life - but you would never tell him that.  It would make him far too smug.

When you eventually did both go to sleep, Kylo had his arm loosely slung over your waist but you barely had any time to rest.  The sun rose only a few mere hours after you had shut your eyes, and the light was only exasperating the headache you woke up with.

It took you a second to adjust to your surroundings, your brain slowly reminding you of what had happened.  You had stayed overnight on Zeffo with the knights, and there had been no food for dinner, so you all just aimlessly drank liquor to pass the hours.  Then Master Ren had started flirting with you, and then... oh.

You slowly turned around, but the other half of your bed was empty.  Perhaps it had all just been a crazy dream?  It would certainly make things less awkward this morning if it had been, although judging by the fact that you had no clothes on beneath the thin covers, that wasn't looking likely.

Slowly getting up, you ignored the dull ache in your head as you searched for some clothes to put on.  You eventually found your underwear and a top to pull over your head - it was large enough for you to wear as a dress, so you figured it must have belonged to Kylo.  But it would do temporarily until you could find him and then you could both locate the rest of your clothes,

When you stepped out of the bedroom, he was the first thing you saw.  Wearing only a pair of trousers - presumably the ones he usually wore with his tunic.  You cleared your throat awkwardly to get his attention, and he looked up at you.

"You're awake."  He pointed out.

"Just about."  You stifled a yawn as you spoke, "where did you get the food?"  You suddenly asked, spotting what was in Kylo's hand - it looked like fruit, and it looked delicious.  Although, considering you hadn't eaten in many hours, anything looked delicious right now.

"Where did you get my shirt?"  He mimicked your words and tone, a small smirk settling on his lips.  Despite now being sober, he was still acting a lot looser around you - and you liked that.

"It was all I could find on the floor."  You shrugged.  You were relieved that this exchange wasn't awkward, if anything you seemed to be talking more casually with him now than you ever had.

"I'll need to wear that later."  He was clearly flirting with you, so you decided to go along with it.

"Then I guess you'll have to take it off me."  You were on your way to boldly make a move on him.  The sex had been amazing, so if there was time you didn't see why you couldn't go for round two, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard a throat being cleared from the other side of the room.

Kylo just smirked down at you, "the boys found the food and were nice enough to bring us some."  He simply said, before leaning down to whisper in your ear, "but when this mission is done we can finish that discussion."

Turning around painstakingly slowly you had to awkwardly grin at all of your brothers, who all just stood with smug and mocking smirks plastered across their faces.  You had really hoped to keep this a secret, but secrets between the knights were non-existent for a reason.

"Sleep well?"  Ushar asked, clearly teasing you.

"Actually yes, I did thanks."  You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

"We have a lead on the artefact, so maybe you should go and get changed.  Like Master Ren said, he'll need his shirt back."  Trudgen then jumped in to ridicule you a bit, and you admittedly did suddenly feel embarrassed.

"This isn't going away anytime soon."  You grumbled under your breath as you walked back into the bedroom, Kylo just smirking as he watched.

"Nope."  The knights all said in unison, their smugness still evident.

And of course they were right.  After dressing and eating some of that mysterious looking fruit, you all set out, and throughout the day you were subjected to the smallest digs every now and then.  Kylo didn't seem to mind, in fact he seemed to find them so funny that he even made his own jokes at your expense.

"It's freezing in here."  You had grumbled as you all trekked through an icy cavern.

"I'm sure Master Ren wouldn't mind warming you up."  Cardo snorted, causing the others to also snicker.

"So help me Cardo, I will choke you to death."  You said through chattering teeth.

"Careful, she's into that."  Kylo breathed a laugh, everyone else letting out cackles.

"You are such a-" you were about to scold your own leader when he wrapped his cape around your shoulders for extra warmth and gave you a strong pat on the shoulder as he overtook you to lead the group.

Despite the relentless teasing you suffered, and would likely continue to suffer until the day you died, it was all worth it when you were back from your mission and into the warm.  You had 'innocently' gone to return Kylo's cloak to him, and spent the first of many nights there.

Sneaking out in the morning was going to have to become second nature...  Not that you could ever hope to keep it a secret from the rest of the knights.

[fancyfearful]

Towelette (A cursed BtD fic featuring Strade x GenderNeutral!Reader)

(I’d like to take this time to apologize to the BtD community, and Strade fans/stans everywhere. But you know I had to do it to him.

And a special thank you to the person who inspired me to write this detailed shitpost. You know who you are.)

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

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: This fic contains detailed descriptions of gross things, and no sex scenes (Sorry Strade fuckers!). Do NOT eat while reading this.

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

Three weeks.

It had been roughly three weeks since Strade had claimed you as his newest pet, forcing you to live under the same roof as him and his ‘roommate’, Ren. Coincidentally, that was also how long it took for you to finally give up on trying to escape. But you decided to make the best out of it.

After all, it wasn’t like you had a choice. Seeing the glass as ‘half-full’ kept you sane, to some degree. And spending your free time with Ren helped too. He was usually your go-to form of comfort after your private sessions with Strade.

At the moment, the two you were in the kitchen helping yourselves to a snack while Strade was entertaining himself with some poor soul in the basement. His limit of ‘two pets only’ guaranteed that whoever was downstairs wouldn’t live to see tomorrow, and it was nights like this where you were somewhat grateful for being spared.

You were just about to help yourself to a handful of microwaved popcorn before the booming sound of Strade’s voice called your name. You couldn’t help but wince; being called by Strade during one of his sessions was usually a bad sign.

“H-Hey, maybe he just wants you to get something for him.” Ren said reassuringly. You gave him a small smile, showing that you appreciated his concern.

 “Don’t worry, I’ll be back up here before you know it. Maybe you should wait upstairs in your room in the meantime?” you suggested, causing Ren to nod. He grabbed the bowl of popcorn with one hand, before patting your shoulder with the other, and turned to leave the kitchen.

“And try not to eat all the popcorn while I’m gone!” you said jokingly. You could hear Ren giggling a little as he went up the stairs and took it as a sign that he was less worried.

But hearing Strade call your name even louder reminded you of your task, and you gulped nervously, hurrying down the basement steps. He was already waiting at the bottom of them, his face twisted into an irritated expression while his hands were resting on his hips. By the time you were face to face with him, his irritation was the last thing on your mind…

 Perhaps if you had noticed the dark green armpit stains on Strade’s crinkled up shirt earlier, you would have been spared your current fate. It took everything you had not to immediately crinkle your nose at the offensive odor that wafted off from his bulky body, or to stare at the glistening beads of sweat rolling down the side of his head and neck. Even the ends of his shaggy, frizzed-out hair had little droplets dangling off them, and you spotted a few smaller stains from other body fluids on his clothes too.

You tried to focus on maintaining eye contact with Strade, but even then, the veil of moisture covering every inch of his body was difficult to ignore. 

You silently hoped that whatever he wanted from you involved little to no physical contact.

“What, did you get lost on the way here? Next time I call for you, pick up the pace.” The greasy German scolded, eying you up and down. However, Strade’s expression changed into something more curious once he realized that you looked more uncomfortable than usual.

“Something wrong, haustier? You look a little green.”

To your dismay, he leans even closer, and the stench radiating from his body starts to burn the inside of your nose. You quickly shake your head and clearing your throat, struggling to hold back a cough. Aside from the usual brand of stink naturally produced by Strade’s body, you also picked up on the coppery scent of fresh blood, motor oil, dirt, and old cum. But for whatever reason, his scent was even less bearable tonight.

“I-I’m fine. It’s just a little stuffy down here, that’s all.” You lie, clearing your throat again.

But Strade’s much more observant than he looks, especially when it comes to body language, and a mischievous grin creeps onto his face once he finally pieces everything together.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be down here for too long. But maybe this will help…”

You gasp in surprise as Strade suddenly pulls you into a bear hug, wrapping his beefy arms around your torso. The leftover sweat from his body is quickly absorbed into your clothing, tainting the fabric with Strade’s fatal fumes, and you find yourself struggling to breathe. Tears begin to well up in the corners of your eyes, and the next sound you make is somewhere between a choke and a gag, causing Strade to chuckle deeply. And just when you think it can’t get any worse, he starts to nuzzle you, his sweat-soaked hair rubbing along the side of your face.

You whimper as your tears finally spill over, mixing in with the other bodily substances decorating Strade’s body, and the sadistic monster hugs you tighter, pressing his overly warm figure up against yours. With a happy hum, the greasy German makes it his mission to leave as little space between you as possible, all while you fight the urge the vomit from the sheer nastiness of it all.

“Hugs are supposed to make people feel better, so I hope you enjoyed that one!” Strade taunts, leaning back a bit. “But I actually called you because I need to borrow something.”

He lowers his hands before sliding them under the hem of your shirt, only to start pulling upwards. And there’s nothing you can do to stop Strade from eventually pulling your shirt up and over your head, leaving you half naked before him.

“Wow, you’re all marked up! I had no idea I left that many scars behind.” Strade boasted, obviously proud of his work.

Your captor was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes darting between the varying scars and bruises on your torso from previous sessions. But you only dwell on those memories for a few seconds before Stade takes your shirt to use as a towel, wiping it all over his face and neck. And much to your horror, he even pats down his hair, making sure to take his sweet time with it before tossing your shirt back to you.

“Ahh, much better. Thanks for your help!” Strade exclaimed. He leaned over to give you a few hearty pats on the head before looking down at the shirt in your hands. 

“Well, don’t just stand there, put it on! You don’t want to get cold, right?”

 Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing.

 But unfortunately for you, this wasn’t a battle you could win, and Strade watched as you begrudgingly put the ruined shirt back on. It reeked so badly that you feared you would pass out, but thankfully, Strade dismissed you for the time being. You thanked him before making your way up the stairs, and held your breath the moment you turned away from him until you had finally made it onto the main floor, quickly closing the door behind you.

With a loud gasp, you quickly scrambled up to the second floor, bolting past Ren’s room to get to the washroom. You were so busy starting up the shower that you didn’t even bother answering him when he knocked on the door, asking if you were okay.

Snack time and chill with Ren would have to wait until you finished taking two full showers back to back, and a forty-five minute bubble bath.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Black Pear Tree

Partially inspired by @bellygunnr ’s fic and descriptions of the atrium on the Infinity, have a bunch of words that came from me listening to Black Pear Tree on repeat for a week. It got sad and also somehow turned into 1500 words. This is between Canon halo 4 and 5 before the Argent Moon mission and Something has happened Offscreen, that may be revealed later. Very early in the au timeline.

-

The stars visible through the atrium window of the UNSC Infinity look nothing like the ones that shone above Reach. 

The constellations are wrong and the branching arm of the Milky Way lights up the sky in warm hues. Reach was different. Clear skies and a deep ocean of space as the backdrop for pinpricks of light sparkling through the rich tapestry of blue-black. 

Reach had mountain ranges and wind and so much greenery. Here there was no wind, just cycled air, mimicking the feeling of a breeze on his naked face. The bench beneath him creaked under his weight as he leaned back and took in the view. Stars overhead and greenery around him, yes, but the cold gray walls that enveloped the space reminded him where he was. Another ship, another steel coffin. The Infinity was massive. The lead ship of her class and called the culmination of human achievement. John had hesitantly begun to think of her as home. But that didn’t change the lessons he had learned again and again. Spartans didn’t win in space. Equipment could fail.

The unfamiliar constellations winked at him, distant and cold. He wondered if the stars above Reach would fade from his mind like the stars he saw as a child had. John couldn’t remember much from before the coin toss, and he had told himself that was fine. 

There was the mission, and the next one. He had his orders and would follow them and complete his missions his own way before marching back into cryo and waiting for the next time they needed him. He’d face down the cold, claustrophobic embrace and dreamless darkness. Mendez had pushed him to lead his Spartans to victory. He was fine to keep moving. Insurrectionists, Covenant, Flood, Forerunners, Banished. There was always a new threat, never a moment’s rest and he needed to be ready. John was a Spartan and team leader. He was the first to try the armor, first to jump into battle, and now he’s always last. Out of place and out of time, years and people gone that he could never get back. His own teammates were almost strangers.  

He was an aging spartan, a relic compared to the new blood. They may be undisciplined and cocky, but soon they’d have to do. 

Too many fast thaws and hard landings. Ceramic bones didn’t stop joint pain. A huff escapes him as he comes back to himself, incredibly aware of the bench beneath him digging into tired muscle and aching bones. He’s slowed enough that introspection caught up. John has tried to shove it all back down, but this isn’t an enemy he can beat. It’s him. His body and mind catching up and taking stock. Apparently constant repression of trauma and loss does not lead anywhere good. He’s listless and agitated when they don’t let him go on missions and after the altercation, he’s shipbound. 

Some days he wants to scream and break things, and other times he wants it all to stop. 

Most days, he just wants the familiar back. Even when he knew deep down it was bad, he knew how to get through it. He has to beat this somehow. It’s hurting his team and making him lose control and confidence. So he sits in the memorial park and hopes that he can breathe and ground himself. John lists the names he can remember in his head, feels the earth under his feet, and imagines the cycled air is a breeze and not recycled air from a pump keeping them all alive in this metal coffin. 

He wonders if his therapist would call what he’s doing processing or moping. Their next session is still a few days away, and he isn’t cleared to use the gyms yet. Roland is kind enough to check on him during his nightly patrols when he can’t sleep, but the atrium is his space. Even Blue Team knows to let him be when he comes here. Kelly will still be nearby, planning her runs so she can keep an eye on him without smothering him. 

He’s about to leave when he hears quiet cursing and rustling branches off in the distance. 

As he stands he spots two gardeners struggling with a large sapling, and he heads over without really thinking about it.

“Move it, Harris, but be careful of the root cluster! I swear if--” They stop as they notice him approaching. Harris still has their back to him, but is quick to set the tree down in the freshly dug hole and turn and salute, for some reason. “Harris, what the hell are you doing?” Harris has left them with all of the tree’s weight as it tips back towards them. “What’s it look like, Murphy? I’m saluting! You never know who’s on a ship this big, gotta show respect.” Harris spits over his shoulder, before realizing he’s left Murphy wrestling with the weight of the tree. John watches him turn and jump to help Murphy, and moves closer as they both attempt to move the sapling. 

“Need help?” He asks, voice rough and quiet. The gardeners pause, and share a look before answering at the same time.

“Sure!”

“No, we’ve got it, sir.” 

Harris and Murphy scowl at each other, but before it goes any further, John reaches over and lifts the sapling. He straightens it with ease, before lowering it slowly into place. They scramble out of the way to secure it and fill in the gaps with soil. He breathes in the scent of growth and damp earth and relaxes slightly. It’s a little overwhelming without the filters from the armor. Once again he’s struck by all the green, and the new growth he has clutched in his grip. Its bark is thin and young, but digs into his palm all the same. 

“What kind is it?” John asks them as they finish filling the hole and set up a support stake near the sapling. He’d been on so many planets and seen so many trees, they all blurred together, but this one was sticking out. Old memories blur like static on a corrupted message with flashes of afterimages burned into his brain.  

“It’s one of those cedars from Reach, bit like Earth’s trees, but hardier.” Harris answers as he dusts himself off and Murphy collects their gear. “Got several different species from Reach.”

He points towards a copse of trees near where the path forked. Harris hasn’t noticed that John froze at the mention of Reach, but Murphy had. They had finished gathering the gear, and walked up to grab Harris before he started again. “Thanks for your help, Uh--” Murphy hesitates.

“John.” He chokes out. He’s still staring at the tree. His hands still touching the bark.  “Thank you, John. Harris and me will be on our way. Take all the time you need, sir.” They drag Harris away by the elbow. Harris shoots one more confused look over his shoulder and waves before they both disappear around the bend. 

John inhales and holds it for a moment. He traces the bark, eyes falling on the patterns of the bark and the faded augmentation scars. Reaching up, he touches the fragile young leaves with unsteady hands. New growth from a dead planet. A swell of complicated emotion rises in his gut and he huffs a breath through his nose. 

Growth and change. He was sick of those words being thrown at him. Progress slipped from his grasp and felt no closer to leaving this prison of a ship than when he started. Confined to the Infinity and pacing his newest cage left him both claustrophobic and exposed. No missions meant no armor, and his access to hangars and other access points was restricted so he couldn’t even watch his marines come and go on missions. 

Blue Team had stopped accepting missions in some twisted sense of solidarity. They weren’t under the same orders, the same punishment. Of course not, they didn’t --, he didn’t mean--

They didn’t put themselves in the infirmary. He did.

John pulls his hands away before he damages the sapling. He’s shaking and his heart is pounding in his ears.

It’s a small thing, probably only a few years old, so it never saw Reach itself. Never stood near the tree where Blue Team stood and Sam carved their mark. 

They had been so young. 

And then decades later, they returned with one missing. A new mark carved into the glassed wasteland that was once their home.

Will you trust me now? Will you follow me?

He had asked them that, and then he almost killed them all. Working himself to death and dragging them down with him. 

How could he ask them to follow him now? 

John couldn’t. Maybe Master Chief could, but he hadn’t been seen in weeks. 

John sat next to one of the last living remnants of his home and looked up at unfamiliar stars. 

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Reunited.”

Just tying up some loose ends, also see the post I made right before this about a stupid story that happened to me while writing this. It is kind of funny :) 

The day was hot, very hot, and the sun beat down on fort harmony with merciless intent. Over the tarmac, the sweltering heat caused little mirrages, as puddles of water to appear and then vanish down the runway. 

The heat was oppressive enough that no birds sang, and even the roaring of the engines had been dulled by a day that none of the en were willing to venture out of the air cooled airplane hangers.

Only one figure remained outside staring up at the blue sky and the oppressive sun beaming down upon her.

Waffles limped over the hot pavement, the tarmac burning the delicate pads of her feet, but if she stopped walking it would only hurt even more.

Her tail drooped towards the ground,

It was so hot.

She made it across the tarmac and down to the little shaded area where someone had set up a discarded cardboard box and a bowl of water.

Her feet continued to ache, and she licked at them with her long, pink, tongue though that only brought momentary relief from the burns.

Across the tarmac two men watched her form the open hanger door. It wasn’t that they hadn’t tried to get her to come inside, they had, it was just that she wouldn't, and no amount of cajoling or bribing her had worked. THey felt bad of course, but there was nothing much else they could do.

One of the men felt bad enough to brave the heat and bring over a bag of ice which he pressed onto her paws for a time before having to return to his work.

Waffles laid her head down and closed her eyes ears drooping.

So hot 

Overhead an engine sounded. It was a familiar noise by now,and only one of her eyes cracked open to watch the shuttle descend from the sky and come to land on the scouring earth. She closed her eyes again, listening to the distant sounds as the shuttle doors open, and human voices swelled up around her.

It was then that she was hit with the smell.

IThe heat washed over her face and straight up into her nose with a smell she had been waiting for for months now. 

She shot to her feet ears up nose lifted.

Her tail began to wag 

And despite the heat of the burning tarmac, she raced across the open space yipping and barking and whining for all she was worth

***

Adam stepped out of the shuttle into a sheer wall of heat. It was like being punched in the face by the sun. The borrowed flight suit he now wore was immediately sweltering and he fanned himself with one hand already beginning to pant.

Behind him Sunny and the other stepped down onto the tarmac.

Sunny Immediately yelped and sprung back into the shuttle

Adam couldn’t help but laugh, but that was when a high pitched whining noise reached his ears. A whining barking, yipping noise that immediately had him turning towards the sound eyes wide.

It started out as a small shape barely distinguishable from the sand and grass to the side of the tarmac, and then, as it raced towards him it coalesced into a furry bullet.

“Watffles!” He shouted, taking a few steps down from the ramp as she raced up, and leaped into the air.

He caught her mid arc staggering back a few steps as she attacked his face was the kind of love that could only be bestowed by man's best friend. She whined and whimpered and her tail wagged and her body wriggled so hard he had a tough time holding onto her. 

“Hey pretty girl!”

Wavvles whimpered and barked some more licking his face and the side of his head repeatedly to the point where his hair was damp.

He laughed and held her to his chest, her tail thudding against his side and back.

She didn’t seem very inclined to get down, and the Tarmac was so hot he worried about her paws burning. So instead he held her like a large baby in his arms, and once she was finally done licking his face, she rested her head against his neck and chest nuzzling every now and against at his chin just to remind him she was there.

Not that he could forget an 80 lb German Shepherd.

Behind him the others were laughing and awing.

Ramirez had videoed the whole thing, and continued to video as they made their way across the tarmac and too one of the hangers. Waffles didn’t seem to have any intention of getting down.

Finally they stepped into the hanger, and reluctantly he set her back on the floor, though she insisted on sitting on his feet every time he came to a stop.

Across the room there was a clamouring of voices, and A group of at least five people came charging across the room.

His family hugged him so hard, he thought he was going to crack a rib, and he laughed right along with them as they stammered out nar incoherent sentences.

Eventually his mother pulled back wiping her eyes on hand resting on his cheek the other on his shoulder, “Boy, you need a shave.”

He smiled, “Yeah, can't say there are many razors in a wormhole.”

“I knew it, I knew it. Our baby brother is invincible.” David announced, slapping him on the back so hard he nearly stumbled forward.

Waffles looked up at him her tial thudding against the floor, her tongue lolling form her mouth

“Where were you!”

“Not sure if I am allowed to say just yet, but i'll tell you when I know what I am allowed to say. Let's just start by saying that it wasn’t pleasant, but it’s a great story, ad it involves  miraculous escape planned and executed by yours truly in a fantastic manor.”

HIs mother sighed, “At least you came back wit hall your body parts in tact this time.”

She turned her head to look down and smiled, “Dr. Krill we are so glad you made it back too. We were devastated to hear that you had gone missing as well.”

The doctors saved a polite hand, “No matter.”

She gave him a very light hug anyway, careful to avoid crushing him or something, which he seemed to enjoy despite himself.

Thomas crossed his arms, “Hey, is anyone gonna thank me for bringing him back in one piece?”

Martha sighed and grabbed him up in a hug, “Thank you for bringing yourself home in one piece.” She pulled back, “ How was the war.”

HE grinned, “It was awesome, we mounted a revolution.”

She shook her head, “I can’t take you anywhere because you're either discovering extraterrestrial life or overthrowing corrupt governments.”

Thomas grinned, “Plus I think this has finally made me realize what I want to do with my life.”

Adam smiled as he watched his brother, this was arguably the happiest he had ever seen thomas: who was known for his sullen nature and moodiness. Life hadn’t been easy on him, and he had jumped and bounced from one thing to another in between relapses.

“Oh, and what is that?”

He motioned back to where the rest of the group was standing, “Well I was talking to Ramirez and Maverick and I…. I think joining the marines would be good for me.” He got a slap on the back from their father, who seemed more than pleased with the idea.

Martha assigned, “Of course I should  have seen that coming.” She smile, “I am proud of you. Just try not to overthrown anymore empires while you’re at it.”

He grinned, “No promises.

Adam got hugged a few more times after that seeing as no one was really willing to believe that he was alive.

Even the men he didn’t know from around base stopped by to shake his hand and tell him how glad they were that he was back.

The UNSC sorely missed him.

At some point Krill insisted on doctoring him, and dragged him back into the medical bay where he did all he docterly things, blood pressure temperature pulse. Sunny stood in the corner with both sets of arms crossed over her chest.

He might have asked her to wait in the hall, but he had a feeling that that request wouldn’t go down so well, so he let it go.

Krill examined the three large gashes on his chest and where they had healed over into large, livid puckered red scars.

“Hmm, I could probably fix this. WIth a consultation from a plastic surgeon.” He muttered 

Adam waved him off, ‘It’s alright Krill, I think they look kind of badass, sort of a tarzan king of the jungle sort of vibe.”

Krill glowered at him, “Well one of these days you are just going to have to pick ONE vibe, because space cyborg pirate Tarzan is getting to be a bit of a mouthful.”

Adam laughed.

Sunny harumphed glowering angrily at the new scars.

Krill turned to look down at the ones on his upper forearms, which hadn’t scarred up yet, but where still in the process of being scabbed over, “And what are these.”

“Er…. I had to get the attention of the keepers, and that was the only way to do it without them heightening security on me.”

Sunny’s fists clenched even further.

Krill flipped over his hand, which was still raw and red, “Let me guess”

Adam shrugged sheepishly, “Well you know how it is.”

He turned his head to look at Sunny and quickly looked away as her stare bored a hole in his forehead.

At the end of the medical bay, the door slid open and a soldier stepped inside hurrying over to offer him a set of ACUs and a pair of boots, “These should fit sir, the brass will be here in half and hour, and will meet with you in the war room… I… mean the conference room !A.” He turned on his heels and walked out, big boots clomping on the tile as he went.

Adam changed quickly and managed to hunt down a razor in enough time to get a quick shave in before meeting with his superiors. He didn’t understand why other men wanted a beard so much, it was really nothing to be happy about, and it made his face itch. Felt so much better when the thing was finally gone and he was free.

Sunny was a little miffed when she had to wait out in the hall as he and waffles stepped into the conference room, which he could immediately see why they called the warm room. It was less like a conference room and more like mission control. The room was large, lined on all sides with massive monitors which cast pale blue light down onto the large, elongated table with its holographic touch screen.

As soon as he walked in an entire room of officers stood from their seats.

“Commander!”

“Its good to see you, son.”

“We thought you were dead.”

“Earth is going to be happy to hear you’re alive.” He smiled and greeted the others with a firm handshake despite how tired he was, “It takes more than a wormhole to take a human out.” He said taking the seat offered to him near the head of the table.

Admiral Kelly had broken from her usual serious demeanor into a smile, “We are glad to have you back, Commandr. A lot has happened since you left.”

“Can I get a quick summary?”

“Well we learned that the balck hole, or I suppose wormhole now that we know, was created in part by the burg working with the voiceless kree. The voiceless have long been in conflict with the voiced and allied with the burg to turn our ire against the voiced. However, they pose no significant threat without burg technology and so we focused mostly on the burg. Your ship was of course, in pieces, but nearly all you crew survived as they were picked up by other ships in the near vicinity. You were pronounced MIA as was Dr. Krill. ONly three on your ship didn’t make it, and one of our ships was permanently crippled with over 50 casualties and 100 additional injuries.”

HE grimaced, but held back on the guilt for a moment.

“After that battle, the GA came to council, and war was declared on the burg. We sent in the GA armada and over 1000 shock troopers on to the face of the planet. While there a small team comprised mostly of your old crew discovered that the burg king was being imprisoned in a cavern below the throne room and allied with him to replace the queen with a successor.”

He had heard that part of the story , but it didn’t cease to amaze him.”

“Beyond that it was actually quite simple.”

“And my ship?”

“We will get to that in a moment, commander, but now its your turn.”

He nodded and sighed hand to his head, “Where to begin. Of course you know I initiated the shatter protocol when it seemed there was no possible escape for my crew. I stayed behind to initiate assuming, like you, it was a black hole. However, when I didn’t die and was shot out to some unknown location, it appeared as if it was a wormhole instead. I managed to crashland the command deck on the planet below, which was habitable. It was an alien world, but seemed rather…. Jurassic…. In nature. I managed to salvage the emergency kits from under one of the crew seats and survived for a week or two on the beach well fed and warm, however,while I was out in an attempt to boost a radio signal, I ran into some sort of alien creature which attacked me. The wounds I received were pretty bad, but I managed to kill it. I was losing blood fast and probably wouldnt have survived if the Omnidroids-”

“Wait, I’m sorry, the WHAT!”

“Sorry, sir, The omnidroids are what I nicknamed them because they look like something form an old movie. Think large ball with five big stumpy legs and a tiny head on toop.”

They nodded and he continued.

“Anyway, I ran into a group of them, and they helped with my sounds. I couldn’t understand them, and I am pretty sure their speech is in a much lower register because it was like listening to whales talk. Anyway, they brought me aboard one of their ships, and kept me there for a day or two. When we landed I was let out into an enclosure of some sort, turned out to be some kind of alien zoo.”

They stared at him.

He stared back.

“Your kidding?”

“No time for joking, commander.”

He shook his head, “I am not joking. I am serious, the enclosure that I was in had perfect temperature plenty of water and lots of food, but I could see other alien creatures outside the window and above me, just looking at me. Drones came in every now and again to feed me or clean the pen.”

They staired in silent awe.

“Anyway, from there I concluded it was likely they didn’t know I was sentient, so I determined that escape was possible if I let them think that. I started trying to figure out if I was being watched, and their response time if i was. Once tht was done I picked an appropriate time to escape, and used the iron eye armor I still had one from meeting with the Kree and pried open the bars before setting all of the other creatures loose. I found Dr. Krill on my way out, and we hijacked a shuttle.”

“How did you know how to get back?”

He shook his head, “I didn’t. But that was when the space dragon showed up.”

They stared at him again.

He held up his hands, “ I swear I am not making any of this up. That is exactly what happened It created some sort of wormhole and I ended up in the middle of a burg battle in space.”

“So there is an entire alien society separate from the one we already have.”

“It seems so?”

“And the shuttle?”

“It was handed over to GA scientists for examination and potentially reverse engineering.”

They nodded.

He waited for them to say anything else before.

“So…. my crew is safe but my ship?”

They shook their heads, “Is gone,” THey held up a hand to cut him off, “However it was actually a  stroke of good fortune as we have been building new ships for the fleet over the past few years, and one of them was close to completion. So, using the scraps leftover from your ship we were able to finish the job.” They leaned forward, “Commander, despite any issues we have had with your commanding in the past, we have determined that to judge you by the standards of the old military was a faux pax on our part. Space is new, and requires something from men that it hasn’t required before.”

He waited to see where this was going.

“The new armada will be nearly five times the size of the old. The captains as they are now will be promoted to fleet commanders and will be over their own unit of ships. The ship that the harbinger was recycled to make, is twice as big as your old ship with room for over 1000 crew members. It has the latest in alien and human technology and is the most advanced space vessel humanity has ever seen.”

It was an important reminder at this point not to pee himself out of excitement, so he kept his face stony, though he wanted nothing more than to jump around like a little girl squealing.

“However, since the captains would be promoted to fleet commander, that means that you will have to be promoted against as well.”

He paused.

“I… but I haven't been commander for all that long.”

“The UNSC fleet is growing at a rapid rate, and to keep up with it, we are going to have to adapt rapidly as well.”

“So, commander, do you accept?”

He paused and looked down at his hands, “I’m not moving to a desk job, sir.”

“No, no you won't. But you will be commanding a larger ship and thousands more people. Do you think you can handle that? He paused again looking down at his hands thoughtfully.

“Yes, I think I can.” 

[neon-junkie]

Sinners Prayer

Summary: Dutch has asked you and Micah to tag along for the evening at the Mayor's party, but the catch is that you two have to go as a pretend married couple.

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: 6557

Rating: SFW

Tags: Friends to lovers, Strangers to lovers, Fake relationship/marriage, Saint Denis, Shady Belle, Party, Dress up, Formalwear, Slow burn, First kiss, Flirting.

Notes: God I LOVED writing this, which is why it's sooooo long. I've had this fic idea lingering in my head for months now as I'm a sucker for the whole fake couple/marriage trope, but it feels so good to finally write this<3 

Obsessed is a strong word to use, especially when it's relating to a stranger. But maybe it was the right word because you found yourself swooning over this man over and over, despite barely ever speaking to him. You were in the same camp, sure, but that didn't mean much apart from sometimes riding by his side during a mission, or sitting on the same log as him at the campfire. You'd exchanged few words and you somewhat hoped it'd stay that way, knowing exactly the kind of man he was.

Was this secret obsession something to do with past trauma? your previous encounter with a toxic man that you thought you'd gotten over? or was Micah really just meant to be yours?

But seriously... Micah. Micah Bell. Micah Bell the third, in fact, because somehow his shitty family had managed to breed more than once.

You want to feel sick every time you see him, you really do, just like everybody else in existence does, but you find yourself gazing at him from the other side of camp every single day, so drawn to various little bits of him.

There's the scar on his chin, the one that starts at his split lip, and you're curious as to how he got it, but not as curious as to if you'd be able to feel it when you press your lips against his. You try to tell yourself that his facial hair is stupid, but he always keeps it so neat and clean, and you can't help but wonder what that 'stache would feel like brushing over your thighs as he kissed along them. And his hair, his scraggy shoulder-length hair, the dirty blonde locks that you just want to run your fingers along and grip onto if you had the chance to ride him.

You're doing it again.

You give your head a little shake as you snap out of your daydream, straightening your back and taking a swig of your drink. It's late, and you're enjoying a beer before bed after finishing your shift on guard duty. Micah's sat at his usual space by the campfire in your line of view, and thankfully you haven't zoned out staring at him else, well, that'd be embarrassing.

Micah also seems zoned out, staring at the fire with his hands dangling freely down his sides, one ankle crossed over the other. He lets out a sigh and rolls his head back, staring up at the stars before looking over at you.

Oh shit.

You quickly look away, taking another sip from your drink. You can feel Micah's gaze still on you, but when you do finally peek over, he's back to staring at the fire.

You've accidentally met his gaze a few times before, a mix of you meeting his, and him meeting yours. At least it wasn't always you staring at him, he seems to have an interest in you too, though the two of you rarely ever interacted. Micah had, for some reason, kept his distance from you, despite his blatant and poor attempts of flirting with other women of the camp. Maybe you just weren't his type? But then why would he always stare at you?

Your beer is finally finished and you turn in for the night, following your nightly routine and climbing under your blankets, only to stare at the tent walls and think about Micah.

Ugh. That man, if you can even call him one.

You're a sinner, just like the rest of this crazy bunch that you run with, but it seems whatever Gods float about in the sky continue to ignore your prayers, despite them being desperate.

Please, please can they just stop this attraction to him? Please. There were so many better men out there, a handful of which you run with, but you find yourself worryingly obsessed with this foul man, yet you can't seem to stop it.

You roll onto your side, letting your eyes fall shut and as always, drift to sleep with the hopes that you won't be obsessed when morning comes.

  Morning does come, and oh boy, does it hit you hard.

Dutch was quick to call you upstairs to the balcony by his room, telling you to finish your breakfast first, but hurry up as soon as possible.

"It's a party," Dutch tells you. "The mayors' party," Dutch smirks, raising his hands as if he was waiting for you to jump with joy.

"And...?" you question.

"Well. I've picked a fine bunch to tag alongside me, but I'm asking you specifically to help with a special task. Myself, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill will be mingling as singles, but we need a couple to go. We need a couple to weave their way in there with all the others and see what they can find. Maybe get invited to some fancy private getaway or... whatever it is those upper-class city folk do in their free time," Dutch explains, speaking with his hands as always.

"Dutch," you laugh. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm unfortunately single," you tell him as you shake your head.

"I know, just like the rest of camp, but I'll make suitable arrangements for you, my dear," Dutch replies.

"What about John and Abigail?" you ask, the only couple that springs to mind.

"I wouldn't dare ask them, not after that whole fiasco that happened with our dear boy Jack," Dutch says as he shakes his head. "You can say no if you want to, but I could really do with this."

You let out a sigh but then ask "what arrangements are you thinking?"

"Well..." Dutch begins. "I wanted you to be a part of this job to begin with, I knew that as a fact. You've got a good charm and I've seen you gussy up folks before. You know exactly what you're doing, and I need that strength right now," Dutch compliments, though his tone of voice and the way his eyes begin to avoid yours makes you fear for the worst.

"Trelawny's going to take you into the city to pick out a dress for you, the women have already said they'll help get you ready for the party-"

"Dutch. Who am I going with?" you cut him off, noticing the way he's avoiding the elephant in the room.

"I put a lot of thought into this, ___. I really have. I've gone through all the members of the camp-"

"Dutch," you sigh as you cut him off again. "Just tell me."

"Micah," Dutch says as his eyes meet yours. "Like I said, you can say no if you'd like. I just know the two of you would be able to make this work, and I could really do with this," he explains.

"Have you already asked him?" you question.

"I have, and he said he's happy with it if you're happy with it," Dutch tells you as he watches your expressions and body language, though you surprise him as you show no signs of discomfort.

"Alright, I'll do it," you shrug.

"Thank you, my dear," Dutch grins as he places a hand on your shoulder. "It's this evening. Trelawny will be waiting for you outside the tailors in Saint Denis, and make sure you're ready a little early. I want time to run through the plan before we set off."

  The Gods were definitely mocking you at this point, sat up there on their high horses, laughing and pointing down at you as they continued to worsen your situation. Really? A party with posh folk? And you have to pretend to be a couple with Micah? You barely know him for starters. What if you two really weren't meant to get along? The last thing you wanted to do was cause a scene after Dutch had asked you so kindly to go in there and fish out information for him.

Trelawny seemed in his usual cheery mood when you met him, helping you pick out something nice. Honestly, the dress is gorgeous, and you feel beautiful wearing it. You have no problem playing dress up, sometimes secretly looking forward to it as you rarely get an occasion to wear something other than your usual attire.

The women shower you with compliments as they help do your makeup, picking out some nice matching jewelry that compliments your facial features, along with a pretty necklace that seemed to draw even more attention to your cleavage. You haven't worn a corset in a while, and the sight of your boobs bulging up against your chest was clearly meant to be a distraction to try and lore out some weaker men. Maybe Micah would end up dragging them off to the side, only to knock their lights out and loot them for "looking at my woman!"

Ugh. Your stomach hadn't stopped turning like a stormy sea the second Dutch had told you who you were going with. You hadn't seen Micah around the camp all afternoon, probably mentally preparing himself for whatever shit-show that was about to happen.

Well, you were ready.

Mary-Beth was quick to run out of the house and draw everybody's attention, attempting to give you some kind of grand reveal, as if the camp had never seen you in a dress before. They have, but this was the fanciest you'd ever worn; with your hair up in a do that took all afternoon to keep in place, and jewels that perfectly matched the shade of your makeup.

"She's ready!" Mary-Beth squealed, attracting the attention of Dutch and Arthur as they lingered over, the rest of the camp perking up their ears and eyes. "Now, you better all flatter her 'cause she seems a little shy, and we spent all afternoon helpin' get her ready, but-"

"Mary-Beth, please," you sigh as you exit the house, not wanting the grand entrance that she would want. There's still a mix of oo's and aah's throughout the camp, and Susan is quick to rush over and take your hands in hers, looking like she's about to cry.

"My dear, you look so wonderful," Susan tells you.

"Thank you, Miss Grimshaw," you reply as you give her hand a little squeeze.

"She's right, ___. Trelawny and our women have excellent taste. Thank you, all of you," Dutch tells them as he speaks to the camp, then turning back to you. "Are you ready, dear?" he asks.

"Physically, yes. Mentally, no," you joke, though you're serious.

"Well, it'll have to do," Dutch nods.

"My my," a dreaded voice calls out. Micah's approaching, stopping just beside Dutch as he speaks to you. "Ain't no way you can go the party like that, sweetheart. You're gonna knock 'em all dead with them pretty looks of yours," Micah compliments.

Your stomach begins to turn again, though you begin to question if you should curse the gods or thank them, because the sight of Micah in a tux is one you could get used to. He's dressed like the other men, a smart black tux with a white shirt and bowtie. He's clearly had a bath, as his hair looks the cleanest you've ever seen it, nearly bunched into a low ponytail with a few loose strands shaping his face. Micah always keeps his facial hair clean, but it's freshly trimmed and perfectly shaped just underneath his jaw.

You notice Arthur already glaring at him in the corner of your eye. Why Dutch didn't ask Arthur to go with you was beyond your knowledge, but something tells you he has a deeper reason behind picking the two of you to go together.

"Thank you, Mister Bell," you softly reply as your eyes meet his.

"Guess that makes you Mrs. Bell for this evening," Micah smiles. "Don't it, Dutch?" he asks as his eyes quickly turn to Dutch's.

"It does! Now, let's all get going before we're even later than we already are. I'll go over the plan on the way there," Dutch huffs as he waves his gloved hands about, hurrying everybody along to the stagecoach that was waiting.

You're about to walk off, but Micah's sudden movement catches your eye. He offers you his hand. "Gotta look the part, darlin'," he tells you.

"Oh! I just remembered!" Micah says as he suddenly moves his hand away, reaching into his pocket to fish out a pair of gold wedding rings that he no doubt had stolen recently, specifically for this event.

"May I?" Micah asks, holding out his hand again. You take it, your soft palms gently settling in rough ones. He flashes you another smile, then flicks his eyes down to focus sliding the wedding ring onto your finger. The sight of that alone is enough to make your knees go weak, but you try your hardest not to pass out, and thankfully Micah doesn't seem to notice how lovesick you're feeling.

The ring is only slightly too big, and hopefully, you'll notice it if it gets close to slipping off. He quickly slips the other one onto his own finger, and takes your hand again, his eyes finally moving away from yours as he leads you over to the stagecoach, following behind the others.

  The ride there isn't too bad, and the plan seems simple enough. Steal nothing, only information. Only your 'husband' was most definitely not going to do that, even if he doesn't tell Dutch about it.

He helps you out the coach, gently tucking your hand around his arm as he walks with you into the party. Surprisingly, Micah didn't bring his guns with him, making a comment to you under his breath about how he doesn't trust anybody with them. That's understandable.

Dutch and Arthur head upstairs to do whatever it is they were going to do, speak to Jack's surrogate father or whatever, leaving you and the others to wait on the balcony.

You rest your hands on the railing, looking down at the mishmash of strangers below. Micah removes his hand from yours, resting it on the small of your back as he turns to speak to you.

"You nervous?" Micah asks.

"I'm sure I won't be after a couple of drinks," you joke, turning your gaze to meet his. You've never seen his expression so soft before, and have his eyes always been that blue? They're an icy shade, maybe a warning sign about his cold heart, but he's making yours burn up with his stupidly sweet smile and that stupid cute little ponytail that he just had to tuck his hair into.

"So now I gotta take care of my drunk wife whilst also lookin' for leads?" Micah jokes back, though there's something about him calling you his 'wife' that makes your stomach turn faster than it ever has before.

"I ain't gonna get drunk!" you laugh. "Your wife can handle herself, thank you very much," you raise your nose jokingly.

"You sure? Cause if I remember rightly, the last time you got drunk you tripped over and almost fell in the campfire," Micah chuckles, watching your expression drop. How did he remember that? That happened months ago!

"I'm a changed woman," you reply, "for tonight," you add.

"Sure you are, Mrs. Bell," Micah grins as he moves a few loose strands off your face. "Then after tonight, you can go back to fallin' into campfires."

"And would my dear husband not save me if he saw me falling into one?" you question.

"I ain't really your husband, sweetheart. Not unless you wanna keep that ring on and keep playin' dress up with me," Micah replies, trying to make it sound like a joke, but you both know that if you said yes, Micah would happily continue your fake marriage.

It's a good thing Dutch arrived when he did, cutting you off as you opened your mouth to speak, but you were thankful as you hadn't even thought of a reply.

Dutch gave you all another pep talk before shooing everybody off on their way, and you were thankful a server passed you as you reached the bottom of the stairs, taking a glass of champagne for yourself and thanking them, Micah grabbing one for himself also.

  Your hand finds Micahs arm and he walks with you a while, eyeing up any obvious leads as you pass through the strangers. You come to a stop at the back of the party, pulling Micah to one side as he rests his hand around your waist. God. You could get used to Micah having his hands on you at all times.

"You see anything obvious yet?" you ask Micah before taking a sip of your champagne. At least it was decent, not having that awful cheesy flavour that cheap bottles had.

"I ain't been lookin'," Micah replies, making you snap your eyes over to his with a little scowl on your face.

"What?" you ask.

"Hard to focus on a bunch of snobby strangers when I got this pretty woman clinging onto me," Micah grins. You realize that your hand had come to rest on his forearm as his hand had found your waist, clinging onto him a little too tightly, your body practically pressed up against his. At least the two of you looked like a couple.

You go to take a step back, but Micah is quick to pull you against him more, holding you firmly in place. "I'm jokin', sweetheart," he tells you. "I've spotted a few here 'n' there."

"You better not be lyin'," you tut.

"You not trust your own husband?" Micah smirks, chuckling even whilst he has a sip of his drink. "Besides, we ain't even planned our story yet. How we gonna mingle with other couples when we don't even know how we met? Or when we got married?" Micah asks.

He's right, the two of you had no time to prepare your story, but you're far from earshot of these strangers, so now would be a good time to get your stories straight.

"Well, what have you got planned then? Seeing as you brought this up?" you question.

"Nothin'," Micah shrugs. "I figured I'd ask my lady, seeing as you women tend to fantasize about these situations." You can't deny that, because little does Micah know, you've had a few fantasies about the two of you getting together for quite some time now.

"Do I look like the type for romances, Micah?" you ask.

"Do I?" Micah replies. Good point.

"Well..." you sigh, trying to think of a few ideas. "You plan how we met, and I'll plan our wedding?"

"Sure, darlin'," Micah nods as he finishes off his drink.

"Wait here. I'll go get us a refill," you say as you take Micahs empty glass, finishing off your own, and wandering off back into the party to find your next round of booze.

Micah watches you leave, tucking his hand into his pockets to fish out a cigarette to enjoy whilst he waits and ponders.

  Finding a server wasn't hard, and you thanked them as you swapped your glasses over. On your walk back you overheard another couple talking about how they met, saying she was a server on one of the ferries and he was there to gamble, only he ended up spending the night distracting her from her job.

You find your way back to Micah, who's just finished his cigarette, stomping it out on the ground with his polished black shoes. "I picked you up at a bar," Micah tells you as you hand him his drink.

"What? No," you scoff, scrunching your face up at the generic and boring backstory.

"What else you got then, sweetheart?" Micah asks before taking a sip from his drink.

"I just overheard a couple say that they met on one of those gambling ferries. She was a waitress and he spent the whole night chattin' her up."

"You wanna steal their backstory?" Micah tuts. "Dutch said we shouldn't be stealin," he says as he shakes his head jokingly.

"We'll just change it a little... I was a bartender and you spent the night chatting me up," you suggest.

"A woman bartender?" Micah questions your suggestion.

"Times are changing, Micah. It's believable," you reply, getting a little defensive.

"I didn't mean it like that," Micah says as he raises his hand. "I like it. And we met 4 years back, got married in April last year. How's that sound?" he asks.

"Good," you nod, realizing that you'd done each other's jobs rather than the ones you assigned. "You ready to mingle?" you ask him.

"Fine," Micah sighs.

  Neither of you wants to do this, both forcing a fake smile and kind accents as you speak to the strangers. After an hour, you haven't found much, a few mentions of summer homes and private boats, but nothing within the area.

You're a few more glasses in, beginning to feel ever so slightly tipsy, but you needed that buzz to help you get through the smugness of these strangers.

"You want another?" you ask Micah who has barely sipped on his current one. He's only drunk a glass less than you have, but he doesn't seem affected, though his tolerance is probably higher than yours.

"I'm alright, my love. I'll wait here for you," Micah tells you as he moves his hand off your waist, letting you wander off into the crowd.

You're still not used to the pet names, but you hope they continue to roll out of Micahs mouth, seeing as you no longer had that sickly feeling in your stomach. It seems your nerves had finally calmed down, being replaced by a warm and gentle buzz instead, though that's probably the alcohol in your system.

You thank the waiter as you take another glass and turn to leave, but overhear the most hideous voice you've ever heard call out to the same man you just thanked. You attempt to walk away, but quickly stop and look over your shoulder, face scrunching up at the sight of quite possibly the rudest woman you've ever seen, if you can even call her a woman.

She drones on and on, insulting this poor stranger that was only trying to do his job. God. The way she spoke to him made you sick, and before that little voice in the back of your head can stop you, you've already approached her and cut her off, attempting to speak to her sweetly.

"Are you an entertainer?" you ask.

"What on earth are you yapping about?" She questions as she looks you up and down in disgust.

"Well, it's a very good act you've got going on here. Playing the stereotypical obnoxious upper-class woman, though I wouldn't recommend performing it when you're not on stage," you respond, acting as if you genuinely thought she was a man in drag.

"Well, I never!" She squeals. "You've got some lip on you, little girl. Do you now know who I am?"

"Oh, I do apologize, madam. What's your act called? Maybe I'll drop by to hear you squeal on stage next time I pass the theatre."

You can't hold back the grin creeping across your face as the stranger's face turns red, her huffing and puffing attracting a handful of eyes nearby. Thankfully, the poor served had managed to sneak off, so at least she wouldn't take it out on him any more than she already had.

She goes to open her mouth again but is quickly cut off when Micah appears by your side.

"Oh, I do apologize for my wife's behaviour," Micah says with a wave of his hand. "Sweetheart!" he says as he turns to you, putting his arm around your waist and beginning to walk you away. "What have I told you about feeding the animals?" he says in clear earshot of the woman.

The both of you don't get to see the woman explode as you rush off, but your grins are as wicked as each others as you lead Micah to the back of the party, giggling devilishly.

You can still hear the woman protesting as she's asked to leave, and is eventually dragged out, which was more than satisfying to watch. The party returns to how it formerly was, the strangers barely looking your way as it seems you'd done everybody a favour.

Your eyes meet Micahs, his arm still wrapped around your waist as your hand rests on his shoulder, your body pressed against his. Both of your grins remain there as the two of you look at each other, suddenly realizing just how pressed up you were against your 'husbands' body.

"I ain't seen that fire in you before, sweetheart," Micah tells you.

"There's a lot of me you ain't seen, Micah," you reply.

"Ooooh," Micah sighs as he chuckles. His head dips down slightly, speaking more directly into your ear but far enough that he can still see your reaction. "Well if you'd be so kind as to show me," he flirts.

Your knees feel like giving up on you, and you're thankful that Micah's grip is tight enough around your waist to hold you upright. You go to open your mouth and invite him to find out, but you're cut off before you can even make a sound.

  "Mister and Mrs. Bell?" A familiar voice asks. Both of your smiles fade as you turn to see Dutch standing there, his brows slightly furrowed. "What the hell was that?" he whispers through gritted teeth.

"She deserved it," Micah shrugs, his voice returning to his usual tone as he softens his grip on you.

"What happened?" he whispers.

"Dutch, trust me, anybody would have done the same. It seems I did everyone here a favour," you reassure him.

"I don't care if she deserved it or not. Just stop drawing attention to yourselves, please!" Dutch hisses.

Micah raises his hand innocently, "sure, boss," he says.

"We'll keep quiet," you add on.

"Thank you, now go and mingle," Dutch attempts to force a smile, waving his hands about as he encourages you to head back into the crowd.

He doesn't walk away, so you're forced to drag Micah back into the handful of strangers and continue where you left off, doing whatever you can to find at least a little something to take back to the camp.

Thanks for ruining the moment, Dutch.

  The whole time you're speaking to these strangers, all you can think about is the flirtatious glisten Micah had in his eyes when he said that line. His hand is around your waist once more, only you're well aware of the way his hand is slowly trailing down you, eventually resting on your tailbone, a little too close to your ass, though you wish he'd move his hand a little lower.

A stranger quickly thanks you for having that woman kicked out of the party, and your bitching session about her is cut short from the loud bang coming from the sky. You almost drop your drink, surprised to hear what sounds like gunshots, only to turn and see the sky glowing an array of colours.

They're fireworks. You've heard about them before but never seen them, and despite how pretty they are, you wish they were a little quieter. Sure, you're a gunslinger, but loud noises still make you jump, despite being somewhat used to them.

Micah stands almost directly behind you, moving his hand to your hip as he pressed his body against yours. You relax against him, your back pressed against his chest and shoulder. Micah places his empty glass on a tray that trails past him, using that same hand to brush a few strands of hair from your face, catching your attention as you move your gaze off the fireworks.

"You think we're doing a good job, sweetheart?" Micah asks.

"A good job of what, exactly?" you reply.

"You know exactly what I'm on about," he chuckles. His gaze was soft on you to begin with, but it softens out even more as you make him laugh.

"I think we're doing well, but we can always do better," you flirt.

"Oh?" Micah smirks, picking up on your hints. "And how are we gonna do that, my love?"

Micah boldly places a gentle kiss to your temple, your heart fluttering as his 'stache brushes against your skin, a lot softer than you thought it'd be.

"Well, for a start, you could kiss my lips rather than my temple," you reply, just as boldly as his move.

"That so?" he smiles.

"It is so, darling," you reply.

"Just you wait," Miah grins, kissing your temple again. "I ain't gonna let that happen in the middle of these folk," he explains.

"That's alright, Mister Bell. I can wait," you reply as you rest your head against the crook of his neck, angling upwards so you can continue to watch the fireworks.

Micah places another kiss to your temple before wrapping his arms around your waist, enjoying the way your hand rests on top of his, the other one still holding your glass. He continues to place gentle kisses against you every so often, holding your back firmly against his chest.

Little do you know that Micah's heart is also racing just as fast as yours, his stomach feeling just as sick and his knees feeling just as weak. All those times he'd accidentally met your gaze from across the camp were times when he'd been admiring you, watching you from afar as he tries to figure out a non-creepy and non-cheesy way to talk to you.

When it comes to one night stands and quick hook-ups, Micah will blurt a few stereotypical pickup lines out and hope for the best, but he's been lovesick the second he saw you, and his feelings continued to grow the more he saw your personality come out within the camp. He felt a little jealous at first, finding a woman who's just as good with a gun and knife as he is, but the thought of "but what if she was mine?" struck his mind, and he then decided that he just had to have you.

Micah struggles to talk to women, he's barely interacted with them, and it's even worse growing up without a female role model in his life. But the camp continued to move and hunt for money, and when Micah found out that Dutch was invited to the mayors' party, he finally saw his chance. Despite trying to recommend taking another set of hands along, without Micah making it obvious that he wanted an excuse to talk to you, Dutch quickly picked up on what was going on and decided to stir the pot even more.

Originally, Micah just thought Dutch could do with his help and maybe take one of the ladies, but Dutch is smart and picks up on little things like the two of you admiring each other from afar. Dutch grinned as he thanked Micah for his suggestion, and then said he could do with a fake couple there so they had all their options open. Micah was quick to dip his hat over his face and blurt out "sure boss, I'll leave it to you," scurrying off when he realized that he'd dug this hole a lot deeper than it was meant to go, but he swallowed his fear and went along with it.

  And here the two of you are, Micah leading you over to the gazebo at the back of the mayors' house to have a "little talk about the leads we've found." There's another couple stood on one side, but the gazebo is big enough so if the two of you stand on the other side and speak under your breaths then they won't hear you.

"Well, what you think?" Micah asks as he gently removes your hand from around his arm, holding it lightly in both of his hands as he leans back against the railing, crossing one ankle over the other.

"We got a few bit here 'n' there. It ain't been easy," you shrug. It seems that despite every single person here being an obnoxious prick, they had their guards up around strangers, not letting things slip out too easily.

"But have you had fun?" Micah chuckles.

"I've had fun playing dress-up with you, Micah," you grin, noting the way Micah's fidgeting with the ring on your finger, probably slightly nervous.

"We can always do it again some time," he flirts. "Maybe go to one of them fancy poker games they host at the saloon here," Micah suggests.

"Oh, I bet you'd enjoy that," you giggle. "Gambling, liquor, and me sittin' on your lap."

"How could I not enjoy that?" Micah asks as he stands upright. "But is it a sin if I do enjoy it?" Micah asks, his tone turning slightly stern as he looks into your eyes.

"Do you want it to be?" you ask, watching as Micah moves your hand from his to rest on his shoulder, his hands finding your waist.

"I ain't really bothered, sweetheart," Micah tells you with a little shrug. "Sin or not, I'll have you on my lap, so I'll be happy," he adds.

"You know, we ain't gotta play dress up again just for you to have me sit on your lap," you flirt as your other hand comes to rest on his shoulder, slowly wrapping around his neck.

"Don't say that, darlin'. Cause we both know that you'll get tired of me constantly takin' up that offer," Micah jokes.

"You think I'm gonna get tired of you, Mister Bell?"

"You might," Micah says with a shrug. He moves one hand off your waist to gently cup your chin, making sure your eyes are on his. "Mrs. Bell," he says with a grin, noticing the way your heart flutters at the sound of it.

"I bet you I won't," you smile.

"We'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

"We will, Mister Bell."

Micah gently moves his hand from your chin, gently brushing it along your jawline as he cups it, his thumb rubbing slowly over your cheek. You melt into his touch, and the sight of that is enough to pop Micah's patience.

He finally dips his head down, gently pressing his lips against yours, though he's not surprised when you begin to kiss back, deepening the kiss. Micah's hand moves from your cheek, joining the other one around your waist as he holds onto you, pulling your body against his.

Despite how firmly his lips are pressed against yours, his moustache is a lot softer than you imagined, running against your upper lip, lightly tickling you. There's the strong taste of champagne on his lips, and a faint taste of tobacco on his tongue as he slides it against yours. It's a good thing Micah has your body pressed up against his, holding you firmly, as you can feel your knees getting weaker by the second.

Micah lets out a soft sigh as he moves one hand to gently cup the back of your head. Your fingertips brush against his low ponytail, a style that you hoped to see him wear again. Maybe he'll keep it for this upper-class poker date that you'd both just planned, and even though neither of you said it was a date, the way you were gazing at each other says otherwise.

  There's a sudden cough, and that's when you realize that someones been coughing to get your attention a few times now. You were far too engulfed in locking lips with your 'husband' that you didn't notice poor Arthur standing a few feet away, trying to get both of your attention.

Micah momentarily breaks the kiss to mumble "go away, Morgan," before bringing your lips back to his, continuing where you left off.

"We're leavin', Micah," Arthur tells him in a stern voice.

Micah ignores him, and although you feel bad for Arthur being there, you're not willing to break this kiss for anything. You've waited far too long for this.

"You two, come on," Arthur sighs, and Micah finally breaks away from you.

"Fine," Micah frowns as his gaze meets Arthurs. Arthur ignores his attitude and walks off, heading through the slowly-dispersing crowd to find the others.

Micah doesn't say anything but flashes you a cheeky smile as he offers his arm once more. You take it, and he leads you through the party, meeting the others who are already climbing into the stagecoach when you arrive.

Micah does most of the talking on the way back, telling the others about the few leads the two of you had found. His hand rests on your knee the whole journey back, and Dutch seems to notice it, smiling to himself.

When you arrive back at camp, Micah offers you his hand as he helps you down from the stagecoach, and despite being back, his hand still lingers in yours whilst you say goodnight to everyone.

"You want me to walk you home, Mrs. Bell?" Micah jokes.

"Oh, you're so kind, offering to walk me ten steps," you giggle.

Micah does it anyway, stopping outside your tent.

"I err..." Micah gulps, his eyes flicking around the camp, then back to you. "I had fun tonight. Now I know we didn't get many leads, but I still enjoyed myself."

"I did too. Maybe we'll make up for our losses when we go on that upper-class poker mission," you smile. Micah's eyes widen a little.

"You were serious about that?" he asks, a tint of doubt to his voice.

"I was. But I understand if you're tired of pretending to be my husband already," you jokingly sigh, bringing a smile back to Micah's face.

"I ain't ever gonna get tired of it. But if you're up for it, then well, I guess I better start lookin' for a way to make it happen," Micah replies.

"You let me know as soon as you find it."

"Anyway, I ain't gonna keep you up. You get to bed, sweetheart," Micah says as he takes hold of your hand, placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

"You still ain't learned where my lips are, have you?" you flirt, watching Micah's eyes light up at your comment.

"I guess you better show me then, Mrs. Bell," Micah grins, his face dipping down to meet yours as you lean up to kiss him, your arms wrapping around his neck once more.

Micah doesn't keep you up for too long, softly kissing you goodnight and finally letting you turn in. You hear him walk away as you close your tent flaps, taking your time to get undressed and get ready for bed. The whole time you're changing, your stomach is still turning with butterflies, in shock at tonight's turn of events, even though you adored all of them.

In some ways, the Gods finally did answer your prayers, giving you the sinner you fawned over rather than taking your feelings away. Either outcome would have been fine, but you definitely preferred this one, especially now you had a date lined up.

Maybe those romances that Mary-Beth reads aren't so silly after all.

[cherryrogers]

➸ only angel

pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: mentions of injury and death, concussed bucky being very very soft.

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: Bucky decides that Heaven is in fact a place on Earth, that place being a medical tent where he’s sure he’s met an angel.

a/n: just a short drabble to get me back in the writing mood :) i haven’t written 40s!bucky before so this was cool to write !!

Bucky had always wondered what Heaven was like. Being at war, he often worried that he’d find out sooner than he’d like to.

He had the stereotypical idea; a bright, never-ending place where souls could live freely and at peace. Darkness being non-existent as warm light encompassed the place in its limitless entirety. Perhaps he’d see his grandparents again, or his fellow soldiers that he’d began missions with and returned to the barracks without. Perhaps he’d encounter God, or even an angel.

As his head smacked against the hard ground below him, Bucky thought he was going to see it all for himself. As his vision blurred and his ears rang, he was sure that his journey to Heaven was about to begin.

As much as he dreamed of a world where war was non-existent, he wasn’t ready to find that place just yet.

Faint sounds of voices and clattering started to pull him back into a conscious state. Wasn’t Heaven supposed to be quiet? Tranquil? Maybe he wasn’t in Heaven — but Hell. Oh no, what if he’d been sent to Hell? Bucky had a good heart, he knew that. There was no way he could be...

If his body wasn’t so exhausted, perhaps he would’ve flinched at the feeling of something touching his forehead. It was soft, whatever it was. The back of someone’s hand, maybe? The idea prompted him to attempt to wiggle his own fingers, which he did successfully, meaning that he thankfully wasn’t in a state of paralysis.

If he could move his fingers, did that mean he could open his eyes...?

It did, Bucky discovered. He also discovered that he hadn’t, in fact, entered the afterlife. There wasn’t an abundance of eternal light enveloping his body-less soul, or a glowing golden gate ready to welcome him into a land of serenity. When his eyes flickered open and adjusted, he concluded that he was in the furthest place from Heaven he could be (following Hell, of course) — the med tent.

Though, he couldn’t complain. Making it off the battlefield wasn’t always possible, and neither was being treated in a tent rather than amid the gunfire. If he were to complain, however, he’d moan that he was starving, ravenous even. His dry throat and splitting headache weren’t too enjoyable either. If only he could jump up from the bed and— holy cow.

An angel. She had to be. Bucky wasn’t in Heaven but he was certain that she’d been sent from there. Unaware as he stared helplessly, she took her bottom lip between her teeth, delicate hands wrapping a white bandage around the arm of the unconscious man on the bed to his right. There was a glow to her skin, not only due to the sweat from working for days on end in an overcrowded space, but because, well, she was beautiful. Radiant. Hair pulled back into what once was a neat low bun, greasy strands falling against her cheekbones. Even the sigh of relief that escaped her lips once the patient’s wound was successfully wrapped had Bucky struggling to find his breath.

An angel. And when you glanced over at him, kind eyes creasing at the corners as you smiled upon seeing him awake, Bucky could’ve sworn he’d never felt more at peace.

“Sergeant Barnes, you’re awake.”

Your voice; like sweet golden syrup dipping from your lips. He offered you a lopsided smile is acknowledgment, English somehow now a foreign language to him. Words. He needed words.

Within moments, you rose from the bed of the unconscious man and wandered over to his bedside, a furrow in your brow as you placed your hand against his forehead once again, sending a shiver down his spine.

“How are you feeling? You were burning up a little earlier.”

“I’m...” Bucky began, searching for the words. Any words. Frankly, he wasn’t really sure how he was feeling, not with the fireworks erupting in his stomach from being in your presence. “Fine. Fine, I think.”

You nodded, happy with his answer. “You hit your head pretty hard, so you might have a bit of a concussion.”

A concussion; perhaps that explained why you had him so mesmerised. Concussion or not, there was no doubt in his mind that you were as lovely as he was seeing you now.

“So... I’m not dead?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “No, you are not. Why would you think that?”

“Just thought you might’ve been an angel, that’s all.”

There was a short silence, and for a moment Bucky thought that he’d been too forward, too honest. He could’ve blamed it on the concussion, but he’d have been lying blatantly through his teeth. However, you then gazed down at him with a smirk, eyes locking with his for only a second before grabbing a damp towel from the table beside you.

“So you’re definitely concussed,” You teased, dabbing gently at the small cuts on his forehead. “I’m not sure what angels look like; they don’t look like me, though, I can tell you that.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I think I’m missing a halo and a pair of wings, for a start.”

The man pursed his lips, unsure that you’d possibly be able to understand how you appeared to him. “Well I thought you were one, doesn’t that mean somethin’?”

“Like I said, you’re concussed. Forgive me for not entirely trusting your judgment,” You grinned as he rolled his eyes, not being able to argue back. You moved the towel from his face to his arms, clearing the crimson stains from his pale skin gently. “I’ve gotta say, though, that’s quite the compliment to receive. Tell me, do you use that one on all the girls?”

Bucky shook his head with a smirk. “The girls who I’m convinced have been sent down from above, yes.”

“And how many girls would that be?”

“Only one.” He answered sincerely, earning himself a scoff.

A few quiet moments followed his words; Bucky noticed as your eyes danced over his arm, eyeing each and every scar he’d accumulated over his time as a soldier. A flicker of a frown tugged at your lips, but it’d disappeared within the same second of it’s appearance before you let out a short breath, stealing your eyes away from his skin and looking up.

“Do you really believe in angels, Sergeant?” You raised a brow, asking seriously despite the curve of your lips as you slowed the movement of the towel against his arm.

You met his gaze; bright blue irises almost stirring you into your own daze. Pink lips curling, he smiled. “There’s women out here working day and night to make sure that every man has the best chance of surviving this war. They barely sleep, have to work fast and smart. They’re covered in dirt and blood but they don’t care to mind— and I’ve met one of them today who’s so beautiful that I thought I’d died and gone to Heaven... so yeah, I believe in ‘em.”

It was the concussion, it had to be. Only a nurse like every other girl around you, you weren’t any different. The Sergeant of the 107th; it wasn’t the first time you’d heard his name. The girls took a liking to him the minute they spied him heading off on his first mission. He could have any of them if he wanted, call any of them angels from up above and have them falling to their knees.

Though within minutes of meeting him, you found yourself thanking the angels watching over you for guiding him your way. He was sweet, like the large pink lollipops your mother used to buy you from the local candy store on the weekends; one taste of the sugary bliss on your tongue was all it took to get you hooked.

Being his angel perhaps could be your own blessing.

“I’m not sure, Sergeant,” You stood from the bed, warmth pooling in your cheeks as you gazed down at the soldier, whose brows were innocently knitting together in confusion. “A pretty boy happens to end up in my row of beds, thinks I’ve been sent from up above and tells me I’m beautiful when I’m covered in sweat and blood? I think you might be the angel.”

He beamed, tempted to deny your words but unable to as he observed the twinkle in your eyes. In his mind, he was nowhere as ethereal as you; he hardly knew you, but he’d make sure he did before the war separated the two of you, one way or another.

When his mind wasn’t hazy, he’d come back to you. Not intentionally, but when there was pain shooting through his body and he needed someone to heal his wounds, he’d ensure that he was back in that exact bed, in the place he’d thought to be Heaven with the nurse he’d thought to be like no other woman he’d laid eyes upon.

Blood-spattered wings and off-white attire that fell to your knee, a dim halo messily placed atop your head; your laugh a soft symphony, similar to the sound one could pluck from the strings of a golden harp.

An angel, you had to be. And the sultry, cramped tent in which no man ever wanted to end up — if that’s where his angel was, then that’s where his Heaven was too.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Do you have any good suicidal Sherlock? Or ones where he self harms???

@vg-remy said to inevitably-johnlocked: can we get John left sherlock for Mary after he returns and sherlock grew suicidal

Hey Lovelies! *HUGS*

Remy, I don’t really read many fics within which Sherlock and John don’t end up together, so I can’t recall much in that way. BUT because this fic is looking for Suicidal Sherlock, I’ve decided to attach it to this list.

So, yes, Nonny I absolutely do. I’ve done lists in the past for Self Harm so I’ll link you to those below. I’m going to put both John and Sherlock fics on here, and 95% of these have happy endings, because I can’t do sad stuff too much anymore lately, so I hope that’s okay

SUICIDAL IDEATION

See also:

Self Harm, Danger Nights, and Drugs

Drugs and Drugging Pt 2

Alexx’s Lists:

Suicidal Sherlock

Suicidal John

Suicide Mission Post TAB

Voices by fizzingweaselbee (T, 607 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Mental Turmoil, Suicidal Ideations) – “We would never do that to John Watson.”

Stay by sussexbound (M, 2,067 w., 1 Ch. || Post TAB, Suicidal Ideation Mention, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Love Confessions, Frottage, Coming in Pants) –  “Why? Why did you do it? Hmm…?” He takes a deep breath, waits, lets it out again. “Look at me.” There’s no denying him when he takes this tone. “Why did you kill him? Hmm…? For her? After…” A muscle twitches in the corner of John’s eye, and he clamps his jaw down tightly, swallows and sniffs a little before continuing. “For her? After everything she’s done?” “For you.” Before he can even stop himself. Just like that.

Pen Pals by WerewolfDoctor (K, 2,797 w., 1 Ch. || Epistolary, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Post-TRF) – Most people don’t become pen pals by one of them writing a not-suicide note. Then again, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have never exactly been normal, have they?

Too Late by SJBHasADayPass (T, 3,390 w., 2 Ch. || Angst, Suicide, Tragedy, Major Character Death, First Person POV, Unhappy Ending) – Six months after the Fall, John is finding it difficult without Sherlock, and Sherlock is finding it just as painful.

Watching You Die by laureleaf (T, 10,340 w., 11 Ch. || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Suicide, Switching POVs, Sort-of Rev. Reich., Whump) – John watched Sherlock die three years ago, and Sherlock just watched John die. But neither of them are actually dead. Now an AU, with nods to “The Adventure of the Empty House”. Lots of angst and post-Reichenbach feels. No slash.

There’s So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Software Malfunction by tiger_in_the_flightdeck (E, 16,679 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Android Sherlock, Love Story, Unhappy Ending, Angst, Suicide, Jealousy) – “You think I can’t love you? Just because you’re made with metal, and detailed programming?” The doctor propped himself on his elbow, and looked down at it. “I am nothing but blood and bone, and tissue. Things just managed get mashed together in a manner that made me like this. Just like you were put together to make you how you are. When I kiss you-” he did so, briefly, to prove his point. Then more deeply, and lingering, because he could. “When I touch you, or smile at you, does it make you feel different from when others have done it in the past?”

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w., 4 Ch. || S3 Fix It, Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance, Humour, Masturbation, Love Declarations, Bottomlock, Brief Suicidal Ideations) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Turn Left at the Park by Glenmore (NR (E), 37,409 w., 28 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting / ASiP Divergence, Case Fic, Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Loneliness, No Mary, Possessive Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Nightmares/PTSD, Sherlock Saves John, Sherlock Whump-ish, Doctor John) – So what would have happened if John hadn’t walked through the park and met Stamford?What if, instead, he walked around the park and just went home?

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because…new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride… prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w., 24 Ch. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn’t have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Autistic Sherlock) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Darkling, I Listen by You_Light_The_Sky (T, 73,254 w., 8 Ch. || Fairy Tale AU || Loosely Based on Beauty and the Beast, Magical Realism, Suicidal Themes, Romance, Creepiness, Adventure) – No one who enters old London ever comes out. They say that the beast devours them. When his sister disappears, John ventures into the dead zone beyond the wall, and finds a brilliant madman under a terrible curse… Part 1 of Darkling I Listen + Extras, Deleted Scenes

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he’s a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover’s trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world’s highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face.” Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn’t truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes.“ Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

MARKED FOR LATER

Interview by bluebellofbakerstreet (G, 2,791 w., 2 Ch. || Punk AU || Past Drug Use, Past Suicidal Ideation, Implied Mystrade, Punklock / Bandlock, Fanart Included) – What’s better than John Watson and Sherlock Holmes in a punk band? John Watson and Sherlock Holmes on the cover of the Rolling Stone, and giving an interview.

For The Sake Of Being Interesting by SaintClaire (M, 2,797 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Suicide / Suicidal Ideation, MCD, Angst, Unhappy Ending) – How John Watson coped after the Reichenbach Falls. Hint - it wasn’t positive.

All we do is hide away by AnneCumberbatch (E, 3,895 w., 38 Ch. || Post-TRF, Depressed John, John’s Blog/Epistolary, Paternal Mrs Hudson, Meddling Mycroft, Hospitalization, Mental Breakdown, Reunion, Fainting, Delusions, Pre-Slash, POV First Person John, Suicidal Ideation / Implied Suicide Attempt) – It’s been 35 days since Sherlock threw himself off of Bart’s hospital in front of John’s eyes. 35 days since John threw himself onto the pavement at Sherlock’s side, his knees soaking up the blood from his best friend. 35 days since John’s world shuttered closed and dried up. 35 days.

Because I Love Him by CumberCurlyGirl (M, 3,991 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Angst, Mutual Pining, Alcohol Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, POV Alternating First Person, Love Confessions, Violin, Happy Ending) – John is lost after Sherlock’s apparent suicide and takes a few items from 221B to comfort himself.

Premeditated by Mazarin221b (E, 4,033 w., 1 Ch. || Suicidal Ideation, Dark Thoughts, Torture, Depression, Captivity, First Kiss) – John and Sherlock are captured, tortured, and imprisoned - and eventually, they realize, there’s only one way out.

So True a Fool by ladyxdarcy (M, 4,963 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmates AU || Post-ASiB/Pre-THoB, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Bisexual John, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Sick Sherlock, Fluff and Angst, Angst with Happy Ending, Mild Telepathy, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love) – Every pair of soulmates has one listener and one speaker. It is the listener’s job to find the speaker and embrace their bond. John knew the instant he heard the strange man’s voice that he was his soulmate, but never reveals the truth, resulting in severe consequences. (Based on this prompt)

The Violin of Ruin and Favour Series by PizzaMan (T, 5,923 w. across 4 fics || Post-TRF, Sherlock’s Violin, Angst With Happy Ending, John Plays the Violin, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Depression / Suicidal Mentions) – 3 years after the Fall and Sherlock comes back. During that time, John had learned to play the violin.

The Gun Drawer (Ch10) by CarmillaCarmine (M, 5,985 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Five Stages of Grief, Suicidal John, Angst, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Introspection) –  A dive into John’s chaotic mind as he reminisces on the first 18 months after Sherlock’s fall. Part 10 of the The Memoirs of Dr. John H. Watson series

Waiting To Be Known by soera (R, 7,414 w., 1 Ch., LJ Fic || S2 Fic, Implied Bullying, Implied Suicide/Suicidal Ideation, Minor Character Death, Drug Use, Sexual Violence on a Child) – John Watson has been saving Sherlock’s life for a very long time, even if he doesn’t know it.

A Study in Asexuality by ladyxdarcy (M, 8,082 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Acephobia, Mentions of Rape/Corrective Rape Therapy, Past Suicidal Ideation, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Overdose, Past Mary/John, Emotional Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Vulnerable Sherlock, Est. Rel., Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff) – When Sherlock, asexual to his core, fears that John may grow bored of a sexless life, he decides to do whatever it takes to make John happy so he stays. Good thing John is already happy.

bread and honey by weneedtotalkaboutsherlock (M, 8,814 w., 8 Ch. || Farming AU || Second Person POV Sherlock, Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Therapy, Alcohol Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Abuse, Early Retirement, Seizures, Service Dogs, First Kiss/Time, Happy Ending) – The next thing you are sure and aware of is the mix of mud and water seeping through your shoes as the cabbie drops you in front of the old farmhouse. You do not know this, but today marks the first day of spring.

September 20th by HappyJuicyfruit (T, 10,111 w., 1 Ch. || Time Loop, Angst, Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, PTSD John, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending) – Sherlock keeps reliving the same day. He isn’t very happy about it.

You Don’t Need Wings to Fly by Laiquilasse (T, 11,326 w., 11 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Bullying, Angels, Suicidal Ideation, Christmas) – John, an angel, is sent from Heaven to help a desperate Sherlock Holmes by showing him what life would have been like if he had never existed.

Mental by Boeshane42 (E, 18,128 w., 1 Ch. || Mental Illness, Discussion of Suicide, Drugs) – Sherlock Holmes is a patient in a closed psychiatric ward. John Watson is his new psychiatrist.

Other Side of The Moon by love_in_mind_palace (T, 23,446 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TRF, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the fall Sherlock goes away to dismantle Moriarty’s network while living through different identities and hiding. But then something unexpected starts to happen. After a while of everything going according to plan, he’s suddenly just too late everywhere. Because someone was there before him, and took care of everything. It takes him a while. But then he realises. It’s John. Avenging his death.

The House on Rue des Boulangers by Berty (M, 24,299 w., 8 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Developing Relationship, Hiding in Plain Sight, PTSD, Depression, France, Frottage, First Kiss, Bees and Honey, Suicidal Thoughts, Gardens & Gardening, POV John, Angsty Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcoholism, Falling in Love, Happy Ending) – After being invalided out of the army and without any other prospects, John Watson has relocated to a small town in northern France. Now he has to decide what to do for the rest of his life. One morning there’s a mad stranger in his garden chasing a swarm of bees, and it seems John’s decision is made.

(Life is) A Series of Risks by SkipandDi (ladyflowdi) (E, 36,499 w., 4 Ch. || Alternate Universe || Post-TRF, Kid Fic, Parentlock, Temporary Character Death, Established Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief, Violence, Psychological Trauma, PTSD) – The work comes first.

White Tulip by withoutawish (E, 40,624 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3, Copper Beeches / Solitary Cyclist Rewrite, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction (Sherlock), Angst, Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, PTSD, Pining, Metaphors, String Theory, Graphic Depictions of Violence) – Sherlock is in love with John Watson. John Watson is in love with Mary Morstan. Sherlock likes Mary Morstan just fine. Sherlock likes drugs more. And most importantly, Sherlock doesn’t like Sherlock. String theory dictates the laws of the universe. But their story isn’t one that can be boxed up neatly, tied in a heartstring bow. "After all, the axioms of homeostasis dictate that an infinity sign of negative feedback can only loop back in on itself.”

Sunday Matinee by hogwartswitch (E, 44,597 w., 12 Ch. || College / Uni 1980′s AU || Fluff and Angst, Movies, Slow Burn, Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Homelessness, Anal/Oral, Fingering, Rimming, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, HIV/AIDS, Mentions of Cancer, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Depression, Epistolary, Love Letters, Suicide Attempt, Blow Jobs, Time Skips) – The year is 1984 and it’s a great time for movies and movie fans. John Watson is a struggling film school student with dreams of being a screenwriter. It’s a dream come true when his friend, Mike, gets him a job reviewing movies for the university paper. Sherlock Holmes is also a film school student with dreams of directing, but he’s also struggling to get his life back on track. The job at Baker Cinema is supposed to help him do just that, but it’s SO BORING. Until, that is, a young movie reviewer buys a ticket to Footloose and Sherlock’s life suddenly becomes very, very complicated.

Focal Point by PuffleLock (E, 60,913 w., 13 Ch. || Post-TRF Divergence / Different Reunion, POV John, Slow Burn, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Sad Wank, Sherlock in Makeup, Dancing, Mentions of Torture / Depression / PTSD, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Scars, Rimming, Anal, Toplock, First Kiss / Time, Gay Sherlock / Bi John) – John comes home early from a medical conference to find that every once in awhile, Sherlock can surprise the hell out of him. Can John surprise him back?

A Change of Heart by SosoHolmesWatson (E, 65,436 w., 20 Ch. || Post-S4 / Canon Compliant, Jealous Sherlock, Past Abuse, Parentlock, Dev. Rel., Idiots in Love, Suicidal Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Mollstrade, Coming Out, Love Confessions, Big Brother Mycroft, John’s Childhood, POV Alternating, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Hand Jobs) – After all they have been through, after all the heartbreak and desolation, John and Sherlock want to make their way back to each other, still convinced that friendship is all that can exist between them. Will there be a change of heart? Part 1 of the The Pains of Growing series

The Improbable Match by elle_m and sherlockianworld (E, 67,626 w., 31 Ch. || Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Violence, Texting, Mutual Pining, Drug Use/Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending, Major Character Injury, Alcoholism, Withdrawal, Teenlock, Self-Harm, Bullying, Suicidal Ideations, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia) – When Gregory Lestrade decided to play matchmaker, he did not realise that his harmless plan would change the lives of two damaged people forever.

Patterns of Silver Birds by SincerelyChaos (E, 68,872 w., 20 Ch. || Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Synesthesia, Falling in Love, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Psychotropic Drugs, PTSD, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, First Time, Autism Spectrum, Internalized Ableism, Tics, Canon-Typical Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Psychology, Recovery) – In which love could really be considered a chemical defect and aeroplanes are nothing but silver birds.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

Be Here Now by Todesfuge (M, 94,370 w., 25 Ch. || Post-TRF, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Angst, Action/Adventure, Whump, Suicidal Thoughts, First Time, Depression, Drug Use/Non-Con Drug Use, PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Medical Trauma, Implied Torture) – John Watson was already fighting demons when he and Sherlock met. With Sherlock’s suicide, it all comes flooding back, forcing Sherlock to intervene before he’s solved the persistent riddles of Jim Moriarty and his game. Together they find that something darker lurks behind Moriarty, forcing Sherlock, John, and Irene Adler into an even deadlier game with a much more dangerous foe. Begins six months after the events of The Reichenbach Fall. Part 1 of the Be Here Now Universe

The Paradox Series by wordstrings (M to E, 98,863 w. across 8 Stories || First Kiss / Time, Mental Health Issues, Moral Ambiguity / Dubious Ethics, Angst, Psychopathy, Depression / Suicidal Ideation, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person, Possessive Behaviour, Homophobia, Sexuality) – In which what’s in Sherlock’s head is never going to get any better, and John is nearly thrown out of his flat.

Will You Take Me Home? by Jobooksandcoffee (E, 114,689 w., 22 Ch. || Post S4, Post Break Up, Angst With Happy Ending, Angst and Feels, Parent-Child Relationship, Therapy, Friends With Benefits, Ex Sex, Messy Idiots, Fights, Mutual Pining, Mutual Jealousy, Slow Burn, Mentions of Drugs/Overdose, Suicidal Ideation) – Inspired by the wondrous "Know You All Over Again” by the brilliant Poppy Alexander, it is story of a painful break up. Two men are looking for ways to cope, to raise their 10 year old girl, to find reasons for going on. They need help of family and friends to make it through. Will each be able to do what the other needs? Will they be able to trust again? Sherlock and John must find themselves and unearth what went wrong, so they can build a new relationship.

Scheherezade by sgam76 (G, 197,576 w., 45 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF/Pre-TSo3, PTSD Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humour, Protective John, Papa Lestrade, Big Brother Mycroft, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Aftermath of Serbia, Past Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Drunk Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Suicidal Thoughts / Attempt) – Sherlock is home, he and John are returning to cases, and all’s right with the world–right? But a series of minor mishaps and injuries makes two things very clear to his friends and family: first, Sherlock’s time away wasn’t the grand adventure everyone has assumed it was; and second, that time has left Sherlock with a legacy that’s bleeding into his life today. Sherlock is Not Okay, and it’s not going away. Part 1 of the Scheherezade

Conductivity Series by liriodendron (E, 207,367 w. across 7 works || TRF / Post TRF, ReunionCanon Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Friendship, Romance, Sexual Tension, First Kiss/Time, Synesthesia, Power Dynamics, Self-Harm, Drug Use, Case Fic, Est. Rel., References to Drug Use, Homophobic Language, Religious Content, Intercrural Sex, Unrequited Love, Angst, References to Suicide, Injury, Anal, Dub. Con, BDSM, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Sex, Suicide, Grief/Mourning, Break Up) – In which Sherlock Holmes locates his heart, John Watson learns what it’s like to burn, and there is no darkness that cannot be made bright.

Define Vulnerabilty by TheGracefulBlueCat (T, 240,606 w. 97 Ch. || Canon Compliant, Aftermath of Torture, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Sherlock’s Violin, Doctor John, John is a Good Friend, Flashbacks, Case Fic, Sedation, Sherlock is a Mess / Not Okay, Nightmares, Big Brother Mycroft, Asperger’s Sherlock, Fainting, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Triggers, Panic Attacks, Hurt Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Blood and Gore, Drugs / Drug Use, Helpless / Vulnerable Sherlock, Protective John, Painful Repressed Memories, PTSD Sherlock, Medical Procedures, Drugged Lestrade, Lestrade Whump, Drugged Sherlock, Recovery, Crying Sherlock, Dissociation, Forehead Touching) – Shortly after Sherlock’s return John realises something is very wrong with his friend. He, Greg and Mycroft try to help Sherlock as he falls deeper and deeper into the abyss called PTSD. But Sherlock is not ready to allow anyone in, but then the events of the current case cause him to hit bottom hard. Part 8 of the Lessons in Friendship series, Part 1 of the Hiatus series

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice/Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. “It is what it is.” John Watson is what happens when what “it is” becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (E, 463,024 w., 30 Ch. || Parentlock, UST/URT, Pining Sherlock, Grieving John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Slow Burn/Build, Case Fic, First Kiss / Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide & Drug Use, Slow Burn, Sherlock Whump, Panic Attacks) – John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don’t get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.