#but there's nowhere left to go against the blood poisoning

[devsquared]

My soul-cat, twenty years old, my little gentleman, who went blind last week and immediately started adapting to, now he lies dying in my lap

[whumptober]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!

[bokettochild]

Ketto's Whumptober 2024 Prompt Master List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK - Kit & Violet (r by localicecreambiter)

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES - Warriors (anon)

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE - Legend & Sky (requested by notadragon)

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS - Legend &/or Warriors (anon)

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED - Legend (requested by tiredkiwilol)

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES - Time (FD) & Wind (requested by chuchujellybean)

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION - Hyrule (requested by starwolfie)

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD - Legend (also tiredkiwilol)

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE - Four (requested by mermain123)

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION - Wild

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY - Wild & Four

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA - Wind (requested by mermain123)

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS - Wild (requested by zips-quips)

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO - Wind (theoneeyedgoldenwolf)

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE - Sky (requested by icy-hot-0111)

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL - Twilight (r by toyouhellohowareyou)

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST - Warriors (requested by aeghina)

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR - Wind & Four (requested by tritailed-shenanigans)

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES - Hyrule (requested by mermain123)

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE - Time (requested by boingobeepis)

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING - Wild (requested by abbycrashing)

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY - Twilight & Warriors (mermain123 again :3)

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES - Legend (requested by mermain123)

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS - Twilight has a Violet Incident (requested by zips-quips)

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY - Wind & Legend & Warriors (because I want to!)

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

-

Feel free to send in requests for this year! Any relationships (barring romantic) are optional, and you can give as much or as little detail for what you'd like to see as you like! And if the prompt you wanted is already claimed, no worries! I AM capable of whumping multiple boys at once >:)

(NOTE: I can see your requests best in the post replies, asks WILL most likely get lost in the slew of my askbox!!!!!)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap - Four and Wind (tritailed-shenanigans)

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages - Wild (requested by zips-quips)

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

[envysparkler]

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

It's Whumptober time! 🎃🎃 Prompts are currently closed; it's time for writing!

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.”

stician

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.”

unrefusable offer

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

purr

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.”

Shrike!verse

No. 5: SUNBURN Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far."

geolocation

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

leash

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

no hard feelings

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on."

exhaust

No. 9: OBSESSION Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.”

unrefusable offer

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

cling

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.”

grave secrets

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part."

inhibition

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted”

the other wayne kid

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

haphephobia

No. 16: NECROSIS Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

Reconciliation

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

sink or swim

No. 18: REVENGE Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.”

Godfather

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?"

unrefusable offer

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

pretty robin

No. 21: BODY HORROR Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.”

leash

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

whiplash

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

blood of the covenant

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure |  “I never knew daylight could be so violent.”

favored

No. 25: SURGERY Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

hot wheels

No. 26: NIGHTMARES Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.”

paying dues

No. 27: VOICELESS Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

muzzled

No. 29: FATIGUE Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

padded cuffs

No. 30: RECOVERY Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

robin's roast

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well."

wibbly wobbly

Alt 3. Finding Old Messages

paying dues

Alt 4. Forgotten

we're all ghosts

Alt 5. Friendly Fire

burn at the stake

Alt 8. Regret

paying dues

Alt 9. Secrets Revealed

groundhog day

Alt 10. Shivering

the other wayne kid

Alt 11. Survivor's Guilt

unfinished business

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

INEVITABLE [3]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: language, mentions of the slave trade, canon violence, blood and injuries, PTSD flashback, mention of torture

word count: 6,183

Summary: It was like fate or destiny had planned from the beginning for you to be on the run from the law. With the words ‘I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold’ adorning your rib cage you always wondered what was worse: Knowing you were bound to being wanted or realizing your soulmate was a cursed bounty hunter. You had a mission to finish and no bounty hunter, soulmate or not, was going to stop you.

[previous] [next]

03: CALL IT FATE, DESTINY, CALL IT LUCK

.

"luck is my middle name. mind you, my first name is Bad."

⏤terry pratchett

.

Every blow to his body made you flinch as if you had been hit yourself. Blood splattered into the air, raining down into the already formed pool, and your cries of desperation had morphed into moans of mourning. Rough fingers dug into your cheeks holding you in place and keeping you from turning away from the assault. Lips pressed against the shell of your ear. Poisonous words hissed out in a voice that made your blood run cold.

‘No, no. You keep watching. I want to make sure this lesson sticks. I want to make sure you know who you belong to.’

You startled awake with a gasp⏤ eyes wide and searching for Viktor. His cruel, cold laugh lingering at the back of your mind. But, he was nowhere to be seen. You weren’t in his palace. The cockpit surrounding you was silent. The lines of hyperspace casting a soft, blue light on everything it touched. The Mandalorian. A breath of relief left you as you sunk in your seat. You were safe. Well, maybe not safe. You didn’t exactly trust your new captor. 

The room was empty save for you and as you sat up you realized the binders were gone from your wrists. Now, you trusted Mando even less. Who in their right mind captures a bounty and then leaves them unrestricted in their ship’s cockpit? You jumped up, staying quiet, and stepped over to glance over the blinking control panel. You were no pilot, but you knew the basics in case of emergency⏤ not that you’d ever put those skills to the test. How hard could it be? You pressed a button and when nothing happened you hit it twice more.

“It’s locked.”

You cried out in surprise and spun. Mando had climbed up the ladder right outside the open cockpit door but he only rose enough to rest his arm on the floor. You set a hand to your chest to try and calm your racing heart. “Maker, bucket head. You’re quiet.”

“You’re not.” He replied, then tilted his head. “Come down.”

Mando disappeared from view and you huffed in annoyance at how cool and collected the guy seemed. You rushed forward, sliding down the ladder, and when your boots hit the floor you spun to give him a piece of your mind⏤ determined to get under his skin. However, your eyes landed on the small, green child sitting on top of a crate now staring at you while his father rummaged through a weapons locker. Mando shifted enough that you were able to see your firearm hanging in the locker.

“Hey, that’s mine.” You barked. You had only gotten a step closer when Mando turned around and hit a button on his vambrace to close the doors. The tell tale sound of a lock being clicked into place. “Give it back.”

“Why do you only have one slug?” Mando asked.

“Why did you take off my binders?” You countered. It wasn’t something you expected to be answered, you just wanted to answer his question with a question.

The man shrugged. “You looked uncomfortable.” You blinked in surprise. “Where did you get the slugthrower?”

“It was…” His first answer had caught you so off guard that you nearly answered his own without thought. You caught yourself at the last minute and shook your head. “I found it at the bottom of a cereal box. I’m trying to collect the whole set.”

Mando sighed irritably and you took that as a victory. Although as great as it felt annoying Mando and getting a rise out of him, you realized that these moments you called ‘victories’ could possibly add up until the Manalorian snapped and murdered you. This scenario was like any other involving a bounty hunter. You had a person to escape from, and though it was a bit unconventional than your usual situation, you were nothing if not flexible.

“Alright Mando,” You crossed your arms and placed emphasis on the name he told you to call him, “What do you want?” He tilted his head and you shrugged. “Everybody wants something. What’s your price? What do I have to pay to get you to crush my fob and taxi me to Corellia?”

“Corellia?”

“It’s next on my list.”

“Why are you⏤”

You forced a frustrated laugh. “Why does it matter? Just tell me what you want and I’ll⏤”

“I already told you, I want answers.” He replied sharply. A soft coo came from the child, and Mando drifted closer to you. “I want to know who you are. I need to know.”

It was confusing as to why he seemed so desperate for something that had nothing to do with him. You rolled through the facts you had gathered. If rumors were true, Mandalorians were all about honor. You had saved his son⏤ sort of. He could’ve done it himself with that jetpack, but you hoped the intention was enough in this case. He didn’t shove you in carbonite, he let you sleep in his cockpit, removed the binders… Even now, he made no move to detain you. Did the Mandalorian want to help you? Was that it? Maybe he wanted to help you, to settle any debt he thought he may owe you, but he wanted to know he wasn’t aiding the scum of the galaxy. 

“You’re not a slave trader.” Mando said. He nodded in your direction, “Not with that collar.”

Your eyes widened, hand shooting up to touch the metal welded around your neck, and gaped, “How… You don’t know that.” You pushed the words out firmly. Nobody assumed the gold choker was what it truly was. “It’s a necklace, bucket head. You⏤”

“No, it’s not.” He replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not with those scars. Nobody claws at a necklace.” 

Mando’s words were jarring. It would’ve been easier to handle him just punching your lights out. There was a slight tremble in your hands and you forced them into fists at your side to compensate. How had he even noticed? Nobody looked close enough to puzzle that out. They saw gold and assumed wealth. Any normal slave’s collar was made of scrap parts. Plus, Viktor had ensured that most of the marks you left had been healed properly. The only ones who hadn’t just lingered right under the band itself.

“Fine.” You forced all your emotions into the back of your head, out of the light, where it wouldn’t been seen or felt. You absolutely hated that this man was able to so easily get under your skin.“I’m a slave seeking revenge, Mando. Searching the galaxy for the man who used to own me so I can put a slug in his head.” He remained a statue as always. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“If it’s the truth, then yes.”

“Well, it is.” Sort of. More or less. That was the quick description of your mission, at least.

“Then why are you visiting cantinas? I can’t imagine a slave trader who is rich enough to decorate his slaves in gold would be hanging around the places you’re searching.”

Again, the Mandalorian wasn’t wrong. Viktor would never set foot in a public cantina, and you knew exactly where he was. Canto Bight. The issue was, in order to get to him you needed to find the ‘Reaper’ for information. Otherwise you’d never get close enough to pull the trigger.

“You’re right.” You said slowly.

Mando tilted his head. “Then who are you looking for?”

“A guy.”

“That’s vague.”

“Yeah,” You snorted, “It’s almost as if I’m being vague on purpose to avoid connecting to you in any way. Funny, huh?”

The cargo hold was filled with an uncomfortable silence. You couldn’t see the Mandalorian’s eyes, but you could feel his heavy gaze cutting straight through you. Growing up the way you did, born from a slave and raised with only one destiny for yourself, you had gotten used to being seen but not acknowledged. The places you worked equated you to a house plant or a piece of furniture.

Then Viktor saw you. He saw you. And the words scrawled on your ribs made you precious to him. He got some sick kick out of owning something fated to another. You joined a collection of others and you were no longer a piece of furniture to be ignored, but rather you were a trophy. An item to be seen and not touched. Admired but not connected to. As Mando guessed, Viktor dressed you in gold and flaunted you to every ne'er do well who visited him. That was your life for years, and it hadn’t changed until six months ago.

Six months ago you ran and your face decorated bounty pucks all over the galaxy, but you felt invisible. Nobody, save for a bounty hunter here or there, sought you out. You were a stranger on the street, a random face in the crowd, and you could live with that. It was better than the alternative.

Right now though? Standing in front of the Mandalorian you felt seen. Mando was actively seeing you at this moment, taking in details nobody had noticed before, and it unnerved you. He wasn’t looking at you like house decor or a trophy. He wasn’t looking at you like you were his next pay day like the other hunters had. Mando was treating you like another living soul and it bothered you that the sensation felt so foreign. How could a man who hid behind a wall of metal see you so clearly?

“If I told you that you could trust me,” Mando said slowly, hesitantly, “Would you believe me?”

“No. But it’s cute that you asked.”

Mando took a step toward you and your confidence faltered. You stumbled back a half step and spat a curse at yourself in your head. If he noticed your slip up, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he heaved a sigh. “I’ll take you to Corellia, with the promise of safe passage, on one condition.” You nodded. “When I drop you off, you don’t contact me again. This? This never happened. We never met. I’ll crush your fob and tell the guild you weren’t worth my time.”

You snorted in amusement. “Deal. That’s a win-win situation for me, bucket head.”

Maybe you weren’t the unluckiest son of a bitch on this side of the galaxy.

Din was tiptoeing through a minefield. And, the only person he had to blame for being stuck here was himself. He shouldn’t have kept you on the ship. Kriff, he shouldn’t have brought you on in the first place. Din should’ve shot you a quick ‘thanks for the help’ and left you behind in Bespin. But, no. Like the karking idiot he was, he brought you along and worse he spoke to you.

There was still a lot he didn’t know. He’d be foolish to think otherwise, but he felt a tinge of truth with your admittance a day earlier. For years, for most of his life, he cursed his soulmark and he loathed the idea of ever meeting his criminal soulmate. Now, he knew differently. Not a criminal, just a person seeking vengeance. Din was aware that a bulk of the galaxy would still consider someone with plans of homicide to be a criminal, but from where he sat Din could hardly judge. He was by no means a good man, without sin, and he had very recent memories of mowing down Imperial after Imperial for the sake of his son. So, your half truth didn’t shock him or fill him with disgust.

No, what Din felt disgusted over was the knowledge that his soulmate had been wronged. The word ‘wronged’ didn’t even begin to cover the atrocity you must have endured. His soulmate. You had been a slave, treated as such by society and owned by some bastard, and that made every single molecule of his body vibrate with rage. 

Mandalorians' belief in soulmates was by no means unique. They were very much like the rest of the galaxy in their reverence for the words. Maybe the one trait Mandalorians shared with the majority.

However, Aq Vetina was different. The culture nearly worshiped the concept of soulmates⏤ saw it as a true blessing and treated it as such. Din didn’t have a lot of memories of his home world. Didn’t have a lot of memories of his parents either. The memories he did have though he treasured, and one of the more prominent ones was this: his parents were soulmates. The reality of soulmarks was more dim than most would like to believe. Soulmates didn’t always end up together. For hundreds of different variables, but just because fate had scrawled words on a person’s skin didn’t mean it guaranteed them a happy ending.

His parents adored one another. Din remembered that. He grew up in a house filled and overflowing with love. An emotion as strong as that wasn’t easily forgotten. Hell, it felt like it was ingrained into his own soul. Tangled with his DNA. When Din lost his parents, he lost everything. Including his culture. The one comfort Din always took was who his soulmate would be. He knew he’d have a soulmark once he hit puberty, with both parents bearing it the chances of him not having one was incredibly low, and though it bothered him his parents would never see his mark he’d still take comfort in it. Just as every man from Aq Vetina before him, just as his father had, he’d find his soulmate and shower them with every ounce of love and adoration he could squeeze from his being. Din would find his soulmate and he would have a family once more. He’d have that love again.

There was no doubt of the love and care his Mandalorian buir and teacher had for him. Din owed the man everything. But the love was different. Not worse, not better, but different.

When his words formed on his skin, Din had never felt such joy and had never felt it turn sour so quickly. It was why the insult of who he thought his soulmate would be stung even worse. It felt like the last bit of his culture, the last shred of his parents he had left, was being taken. Insulted. Spat on. He spent years after convincing himself that a soulmate wouldn’t be worth his time and he was better on his own. Din didn’t seek relationships beyond flings and one night stands across the galaxy because any relationship would be a sad ghost in comparison to the memory of what his parents had. A reminder of what fate took from him.

Now, he sat in the same ship as his soulmate and it felt like so many of his years were wasted on an assumption.

Din was angry that his first words to you were a threat.

He was angry you grew up with that on your skin.

He was angry the mystery and excitement of having a soulmate had been taken from you as well.

He was angry you were treated as lesser than by the people surrounding you.

He was angry that someone had the audacity to put a collar around your neck.

Din was fucking angry.

It burned through his veins and had him seeing red. He was no stranger to anger, but this was overwhelming. And, the worst of it, the thing that made him burn alive from the inside out was the anger he had for himself.

Din never sought you out. He mentally and emotionally tossed you aside without even an attempt to understand. Din gave up on you. His soulmate.

The only thing keeping him from exploding and destroying everything in his radius was the depressing and mellowing thought of his father. His father would be so disappointed in him. His mother would be so disappointed in him. His buir would be disappointed in him. 

Din’s spiraling mind tried to comfort itself. It told him that he was doing better now. He knew better now. He was going to get you to where you needed to go and tell Karga to drop the bounty. He’d separate himself from you and then he’d never have to think of you again. You’d be better off without him. All those thoughts only worsened his shame.

What else could he do? It wasn’t just a thought. It was a prayer to the universe, to fate who got them stuck like this to begin with. What else could he do? Din wasn’t the wide eyed little boy starstruck at the notion of a soulmate anymore. The years had changed him into someone that didn’t deserve that. That left him pleading as he sat in the cockpit fuming silently. What else could he do?

The answer given to him was the sound of your feet climbing the ladder to meet him. He huffed out a quiet sigh and when you entered his peripherals he questioned your presence, more gruff than he intended, “What?”

“Maker, relax.” You dropped into the passenger seat with a scoff. Din cursed himself. Again. “Your kid fell asleep downstairs and I’m not desperate enough to start talking to your walls.” He stayed silent and you let out a chuckle. “Although, maybe your walls would be a better conversationalist.”

“You should sleep.” Din replied. It was his best case scenario right now.

“Not tired.” You slouched in your seat, finding a comfortable spot, “So what’s your kid’s deal? You have a mid-life crisis and find the closest kid to adopt?”

You were annoying. You never shut up. Din liked the sound of your voice way too much.

“No.”

“Then how’d you end up with him?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s still two days until we reach Corellia.”

Din shouldn’t answer. The less he knew about you, and the less you knew about him, the better. He should keep his mouth shut, get you to the world you wanted, and speed away as fast as he could. Travel to the clear other side of the galaxy. He knew all of this, and yet his mouth opened. “He was a bounty.”

Fuck.

“Seriously?” You chuckled. “Why would there be a bounty on a kid?”

“It’s hard to explain.” And Din really didn’t want to. “Empire wanted him.”

You hummed and he was caught off guard when you didn’t ask any further questions on his vague statement. He was surprised further when you chuckled, “Good for you.”

Din turned in his seat to look at you. “I turned him in.”

“And then obviously went back for him, I’m guessing. Since he’s, you know, here.”

“That doesn’t change what I did⏤”

“We’re all assholes and it’s human nature that the first thing our brains think to do, our instinct, is sometimes selfish and stupid. It happens.” You said without missing a beat. “The only thing that matters at the end of the day is if you’re willing to fix what you fucked up and the conscious decision you make from there.” Din could only stare at you in response as your words rolled around in his head. You said it so simply, like an offhand comment or passing thought, but it felt so profound to him. You shrugged. “I know, I know. I can be inspirational sometimes. It happens.”

Din found his lips twitching up into a small smile and he forced himself to look away. The only safe spot to stare was the control panel. You stayed silent and Din realized that if he focused hard enough he could see your reflection in the glass panel that sat in front of you. Without any attention on you, without the business of a conversation, Din watched your features soften. There was a melancholy in your gaze that stirred something in his chest. 

“I can…” Din began and your eyes darted to look his way while he stayed facing forward, “I can remove that for you.”

“Huh?”

Din spun in his chair so he faced you, and he motioned to your neck where that damned collar sat. “That. I can remove it. If you’d like.”

Your eyes widened marginally and the surprise dissipated as quickly as it came. You shook your head. “No. I don’t want it off.”

“You don’t…” Din tilted his head in confusion. “Why wouldn’t you want it off?”

“It’s a story for another day.” You mumbled.

“But, I don’t understand.” Din blurted before he could reign it back. Never, ever would anybody in the entire galaxy claim him to be the nosy type of person. Din kept to himself and expected others to respect him in that same way. Silence never bothered him. Yet, that same sensation that stirred in his chest, urged him to learn more. It was the most unfamiliar feeling he’s ever had.

You shook your head. “You never take your armor off, right? Even when it’d be more comfortable to shed it all?”

“My armor is not the same as a slave collar.” Din bristled.

“You wear your armor because it stands for something. It represents a part of you, and carries a belief.” You replied sharply. “Right now, this collar serves the exact same purpose for me.  So, no, I don’t see a difference.”

Din leaned back and found himself speechless. That was all true of his armor, but he couldn’t fathom a person feeling similarly to the kind of metal soldered to your neck. He cleared his throat and leaned forward on his elbows. “I chose to wear this armor. I put it on willingly.”

“Who says I didn’t choose to put this collar on? Who said I wasn’t willing?” You replied and Din found himself floored again. The melancholy in your eyes hardened and turned to something sharp, mean, and cold. “You can find a sense of protection, of belonging, and what once brought you comfort can just as easily turn into a prison.” You stood up abruptly and Din’s gaze followed you. You motioned to him, “Are you telling me that beskar never feels like a prison?”

You turned on your heel and left. Din didn’t understand how easily you were able to spin him in place. The question you left him with felt like a blow to the chest. Din stiffened in his seat and shook his head. He needed to get you off this ship as quickly as he could.

“You’re kind of a weird kid, you know that?” You were laying on your stomach in the cargo hold, kicking your legs in the air, while leaning on one fist. The child, Grogu, sat in front of you munching on a ration bar that you had scavenged for him in all the the Mandalorian’s supply. You hadn’t asked permission, but you figured Mando couldn’t be upset at you for feeding his child. “Not because you’re green with giant ears. I have no issue with that.” You continued. “You’re just an oddball. In a good way, I mean.”

The boy babbled between bites and you nodded your head as he spoke.

“Mhmm.” You agreed to whatever he was saying. “Yeah. Yeah. Tell me about it.”

Three days on this ship with the Mandalorian and his son hadn’t been the worst thing in the galaxy. You were fed, you had a place to sleep, and the walking tin can hadn’t murdered you. It had been a while since you came away with this many wins back to back. The last bit of real tension you dealt with was when Mando offered to take the golden band around your neck off. You hadn’t meant to take it so personal or make it personal back. You must have seriously pissed the guy off though because since then he had maybe only spoken a total of ten words to you. Even when you tried to egg him into an argument. You found you missed talking to him which meant you must have been more desperate for interaction than you thought. Why else would you crave to hear his voice? 

You could always apologize for comparing his armor to your collar. The dig had been a guess. An attempt to get under his skin as he had gotten under yours. You pushed yourself up off the floor to sit criss cross and your hand drifted to the gold band around your neck. It’d be nice to have it off, but you couldn’t yet. Not until you dealt with Viktor. For now, you would just have to daydream about the day you’d walk around with a bare neck.

“I’m sorry.”

The sound of the modulated voice had you whip around in surprise, eyes wide and heart racing. Mando was leaning against the wall behind you. He must have come from the kitchen area or fresher, but considering you thought he had been up in the cockpit it really caught you off guard.

“Maker, how are you that silent? You’re basically covered in pots and pans.”

“Practice.” Mando shrugged. His hands were resting on his belt. “I’m sorry about,” He paused and nodded toward you, “you know.”

Your hand fell from your neck. “Why are you apologizing? That was like 48 hours ago.”

“We’ll be landing in Coreilla soon. It’s now or never.”

“Okay.” You mumbled. It surprised you again when the child waddled from around you and crawled into your lap. You scratched his head while he continued to eat. “I’m sorry too then. I didn’t have to drag your armor into it.”

“You weren’t wrong.”

Your eyes widened at his admission, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with it. There was an energy between you and the Mandalorian you couldn’t quite explain. The close quarters made you naturally want to bond, but from experience you knew that was a poor plan. Plus, Mando didn’t seem all that interested in starting up any kind of friendship. Which made sense. You’d be out of his life soon enough. You just wondered if you had gone too long without any real social interaction. Back when you were with Viktor, he had others in his collection that you had grown close to⏤ like sisters. You missed being social.

Before you could think of a bridging conversation, Mando pushed off the wall and climbed up into the cockpit. You blew out a breath of air as soon as he was out of view then glanced down at the kid in your lap.

“Why is your dad so hard to talk to?” You asked. “I can talk to anyone and anything, but that beskar may as well be a wall.” Grogu babbled another string of nonsense and you nodded. “Yeah, I mean he probably doesn’t make a habit of befriending quarries, huh?”

It was fine. It didn’t matter.

And, a few hours later when the ship was landed on the tarmac and the ramp was lowering you repeated those phrases to yourself again. 

“Well, uh, thanks.” You nodded. Mando had given you back your weapons and he now stood inside the cargo hold with his son in his arms while you drifted down the ramp. You paused at the bottom. “It’s been fun, bucket head.”

Mando didn’t reply, but Grogu did offer you a wave which you cheerily returned. With one last nod, and a mocking salute, you spun on your heel and began to tread away. You had only gotten a few feet from the ship when you heard Mando call out after you. The sound of his voice calling out your name grinding your feet to a halt.

“Just…Be careful.” Mando said tensely. 

“I always try.” You replied with a grin and a shrug.

As you continued to leave, your stomach churned in discomfort. The Corellia shipyard was dreary and gray which could sour anyone’s mood. When you reached the gates, the overwhelming urge to look back slammed into you. In fact, you nearly turned on instinct alone. A moment of weakness born from a desperation to connect to someone again. Shoving it as deep down into yourself as you could, burying it with the bloody memories and traumas in the graveyard of your mind, you pushed forward deeper into the city of Corellia. 

It took you only ten minutes to travel through the city and find the first cantina of many. By time you arrived thoughts of the Mandalorian had been successfully shelved and you were seriously craving a strong drink. The bartender was kind and cheerful, the opposite of how this city of Corellia looked, and after he poured you a drink you drifted to a back table. 

You decided this was going to be your least favorite world. Even in comparison with Jakku. Never before had entering a city filled you with such dread and distaste. Like a cloud of darkness had rolled over your mind to match the stormy clouds above the city itself. You were honestly just in shock that there could be a place worse than Jakku. That rolled into the realization that the galaxy was a big place and you still had a lot of ground to cover. There was a chance you had yet to see the worst this universe had to offer. That only worsened your misery.

Something solid, something you unfortunately recognized as the end of a blaster, pressed against your spine. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

Fate just couldn’t give you a fucking break could it?

With a sigh, you turned around and began to mumble your usual spiel, “Would you really arrest your⏤” The words died in your mouth as your eyes landed on the man standing behind you. A Nikto wearing a grin filled only with malice and eyes that shone with rage. One who gripped the blaster tight in one hand while his other hung loosely at his side with three missing fingers. You grimaced, “Oh, my luck can’t possibly be this bad…”

Din was pacing the cargo hold while Grogu watched him curiously from the cot. Already he had climbed up to the cockpit just to immediately come down twice. He wanted to leave this kriffing planet. Why couldn’t he leave this kriffing planet? He mumbled a string of curses after the rhetoric question. Of course he knew why. 

“This is a bad idea.” Din scoffed aloud. Grogu chirped and his feet came to a stop so he could stare at the kid. His son. Saving Grogu had been a bad idea too. A life changing one at that. That didn’t make it any less important that he went through with the rescue. Din had gambled, taken a chance, and his pay out had been worth more than he could’ve ever imagined. Could he take a gamble on you?

Considering how quickly he had given up on you years prior, taking a gamble was the least he could do.

Din sighed and grabbed his satchel to place Grogu in before hurrying off the ship. He didn’t have a plan. Then again, he rarely did. What would he say to you? Admit that he was your soulmate? Din probably should have done that three days ago. But with the way you had blown off the idea of soulmates, he had a high suspicion that telling you the truth would only worsen the situation. Besides, he was not interested in exploring the soulmate relationship further. Din didn’t deserve that. What he could do, what he owed you, was help in your mission. If he told you the truth, you wouldn’t let him help. If he kept it to himself, then maybe he could help you meet your goals and put you on a path to a better life. One you deserved.

There. Plan made.

Din knew he needed to find a cantina but he wasn’t sure which you’d be in since there were a few in this city. He picked the closest one and hoped for the best. 

The hand knotted in your hair roughly threw you back to the asphalt ground of the alley behind the cantina. You landed on your back, the air briefly leaving you, and you stared up at Nivor. With a wince, you spoke, “You know, for only having two fingers you got a pretty tight grip.”

A boot slammed into the side of your rib cage before Nivor knelt down and pressed his knee against your sternum. Your hands reached out to claw at him, shove him off, but he grabbed your wrists with his one good hand and pinned it to the ground above your head.

“You always have something to say.” Nivor spat. “Don’t know why Viktor liked you so much.”

“You and me both.” You replied.

He applied more pressure to your chest with his knee and you clenched your teeth to bite back a moan. Nivor chuckled, “He wants you back.”

“I’m aware.” You snapped, breathless.

“Told him I’d bring you back, but I don’t think he’d mind a few missing pieces.”

“Wrong.” You glared up at him. “You bring me back less than whole and he’ll rip your head off.”

Nivor shook his head, “You’re overestimating your worth, little bird.” Your glare deepened at the nickname. “Viktor’s found a new favorite plaything.” The Nikto pulled a vibroblade from his belt. “Besides, you owe me some parts.”

“Is this about the fingers thing?” You replied. “That was an accident. I wasn’t trying to shoot off half your hand, I was trying to kill you.” You couldn’t help but paste on a smug smirk. “So really you should be thankful.”

“What is it they say? A leg for a leg.” Nivor dragged the blade up from your knee to your hip. Not deep enough to cut through your clothes, but enough to make you uncomfortable. “An eye for an eye.” The blade kissed the skin of your cheekbone as it circled around your eye softly. “How about a hand for three fingers?!”

You shook your head. “The math is not adding up there, buddy.”

With a cry of anger, Nivor lifted the blade in the air and at the motion his knee lifted off your chest. Using the window of opportunity, you rolled into him as hard as you could and he fell back on his ass. However, though his grip had loosened some, he still had a tight hold on one of your wrists and it kept you from running. You tried to twist out of his grip to avoid the blade he was swinging wildly now, and your free hand shot to grab your own dagger. Nivor was stronger than you gave him credit for, and once he gained his footing he was able to yank you back to the ground. The dagger you managed to grab clattered away from your grip when your chest slammed into the asphalt and a cry of pain slipped from your lips as Nivor twisted your arm back to keep you pinned down. Now, his knee dug into your spine.

You tried to reach around and grab him, but your fingers only grazed the leather of his jacket.

“For that, you’re losing your whole arm.” Nivor chuckled. 

His blade pressed into your shoulder and panic flooded your entire body. No, no, no. This was your dominant arm. This injury would put an abrupt end to your mission and that was only if you survived it. Between blood loss and Nivor choosing a grimy alley to operate, your chances were slim. With another scream, you tried to shake your entire body in a poor attempt to knock him off of you, but you only felt his blade begin to dig in deeper. Heat flare in your shoulder as Nivor deliberately sunk it in as slowly as possible. 

“Stop!” The plea left your lips and you immediately felt shame for begging this man for mercy. You heard his chuckle, the blade sunk a bit deeper, then with the familiar sound of a blaster going off the weight suddenly fell from your back. You were gasping for air, your heart still pounding as you felt hot blood drip down your back and shoulder, and when you glanced to the side you saw Nivor slumped to the ground. The sinister light in his eyes was gone and his features were slack. There was still smoke rising from the blaster burn in his back.

You turned the opposite way, whipped your head in that direction more like, and there stood the Mandalorian now holstering his weapon. You had tucked his memory away, sure you’d never see him again, but now you felt so relieved to be wrong. Seeing that shine of silver may as well have been the glowing end of a long tunnel. The little green child, resting in his bag by his side, lifted his hand and gave you a small wave.

With the arm that wasn’t numb with pain, you waved back.

taglist:

@onceinamando @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @harriedandharassed @aheadfullofsteverogers @elfamosotoga @the-anchored-sailor-girl @garbo-lesbo @moonlqghts @stokeholdsblog @morks-watermelon @http-onie @chonkercatto @xalphafox @pedrojoe @zarahbronstein @cockscombkingdom @ale0m @shelbyteller @fallinallinmendes @grandtheoristpeach @perilous-pasta @love-the-abyss @kneelforloki @insomniac-nerd-posts-things

a/n: this was supposed to be my silly, funny, light hearted story, but the reader in this grabbed me by the shirt collar and went 'bitch nah'. soooooo here we are :)

[the-tropes-are-hungry]

The Cat's Mother (1/3)

Did someone say mommy issues? Congrats, Narinder, you lose!

CW: Stillbirth, death by burning. [Next]

His mother protected him.

Her litter was cursed. Dead kit, after dead kit, after dead kit. Six dead daughters and one all-black son who came out half the size of the corpses and barely breathing. In their matriarchal colony, he was a travesty.

He let out a single mewl, his first and meant-to-be-last breath.

His mother’s nurse, her sister, took the ill omen for what it was and placed him in the water to drown him. Better to let seven kittens go back to the River Eater together than the incomplete six. Grief would cleanse the poisoned womb. Next time, there would be daughters.

Mother disagreed and took him from the water. She protected him. She held him and groomed him and gave him his first taste of life while his sisters lay cold in a basket and hers lay dying on the floor.

They left the colony before his eyes (only two, Heket teased) opened.

Mother was a warrior. Her fur was the colour of bright sand under the spotless blue sky, her coat thin but sleek over lean muscle that let her twist and strike like lightning. She killed every member the colony sent after them asking her to return, breaking the Wrath Bringer’s prohibition on striking messengers. For this, they became strays, and he wore the blood of mother’s victims as if she’d pulled off their skins and wrapped him in them.

He should not have been a warrior. Every omen, card, tea leaf, entrail, and star said his claws should have folded against sand, never-mind stone. His teeth should have rotted out of his skull. His ears should have been filled with pus. The hatred of seven dead kinswomen should have doomed him to a feeble, terrified existence. The River Eater should have supped on his blood and spat out his deformed bones.

Instead, where mother was the wind, he was her shadow. Where her eye went, his darts followed. Where her sword struck, his claws sank. When she showed her fangs, his already held flesh. There was little she could teach with blade or chain or claw that he could not master, and she loved him for it.

“My little lord,” she praised, purring deep in her chest over every kill, every triumph, every show of power. She loved his midnight dark pelt, grooming him to an oil-slick shine and taking every opportunity to procure the oils and waxes to give him the texture of smoke to go with his flawless grace.

They stayed nowhere, and lived richly (as bandits, Shamura complained). If Mother said they would eat from the Thunder Mother’s table, then they would scale the temple walls and gorge themselves on honeyed meat and rich wine and fill their bags with trinkets and tributes. If she decided the Tortoise Keeper’s tax men demanded too much, they would make a game of slowly cutting around their shelled heads to peel off the shell—only to realize, delighted (and to Kallamar’s horror), that the entire brain came out when they pulled.

Mother adored him, and made his life a paradise. He bathed in her favour, supped on her devotion, and grew tall atop the pillar she raised for him. Six prized daughters had died to bring her one son; therefore, the omens must be wrong and the gods who peddled them equally blind. Their peoples’ colonies did not need another queen, they needed a Lord of Lords to rule them, and she named him appropriately.

“Narinder--!”

It was the last thing she said before she died.

They were, in the end, only bandits in the eyes of the Green-Eyed Queen. Thieves, stealing both from her altars, and her divinity.

Mother had begun to gain uncanny power. He hadn’t notice it, or else he had not been old enough to understand it. The way people whispered of a gold sphynx; a flash of light on the road that became a rain of copper darts and sharp stone; how travellers at midnight could avoid her wrath by offering a pot of lamp oil, or a clever riddle. Whispers, rumors, and—sure enough: prayers.

Prayer, faith, devotion, love. Four names for the same energy, the same power that the Green-Eyed Queen wanted back from them. Theirs was a land of gods and demigods where the love of the many empowered the few. While his mother was never kind to their victims, she never struck the young or their mothers either. She left the elders alone in their beds. She was, in some small corners, to a very lucky few, a grace. A blessing.

So, the Green-Eyed Queen sent her hunters.

A fortnight later, his mother was in chains with nails driven through her wrists and ankles, locked in an iron cage his claws and knives could never break through. He tracked them for three days, twelve years old and trembling with hunger, rage, and terror. All he needed was one chance to spy the key among the knights and hunters. Just a moment’s distraction to get through the lock and cast off the chains and hide her, protect her, feed her fledgling divinity the way she had been trying to spark the same in him.

They dragged her deep into the forest, built a great bonfire to their queen, and hurled his mother’s cage into it.

He fought better than he should have. He killed more than any other twelve-year-old could have hoped for: at least two. In his furor he didn’t see the other figures strike the camp to flank him, he just saw the cage. He just heard Mother screaming, and burning, and dying.

The iron was glowing red when he threw himself at it, but the spider caught him in three strong arms while the fourth kept swinging their weapon. His throat tore with every emotion made sound. He forgot to fight the spider, he needed Mother and he fought for her with hisses, snarls, and yowls.

“It is enough,” said the spider.

He’d dropped Mother’s sword. He’d run out of darts. He unsheathed his claws on all four paws and screamed, shrieked, wailed at the creature holding him. He lashed out in a flurry swipes and kicks and they, understandably, slammed him into the ground.

“Shamura!”

“At ease—he is frightened.”

They pinned him there and no matter how much he clawed and kicked and fought their flesh never wept blood. The spines of their carapace were thick, snaring his claws and tearing two of them out. Their armor was like nothing he had ever seen, liquid black and gold links that flowed like water under his claws. He fought until his throat was bloody, and his arms went feeble, and his eyes were blinded by sweat and tears and smoke. He fought until three horrible days without sleep or food or peace fogged his mind and yet he could still see. He could see his life running thin, the thread of it spun of something almost different but now fraying from abuse.

He saw the moment where Shamura weighed his flesh against the hunger of their brother and soldiers. He understood that if he did not tip those scales in his favor, they would eat him, and at least his flesh would go to better use than the smouldering char of his mother.

He could not die here. He could not let the Green-Eyed Queen take his mother and then be devoured in turn.

He sheathed his claws. He let his arms fall. The spider eased their weight on him until he could roll to his side and see the smoking cage atop its doused embers. He curled up tight as he had been in the womb, and lay there.

He let out a single mewl, his next but never-to-be-last breath, and wept.

Two thousand years later on a hazy bonfire dawn, Narinder will kneel in a circle of gray stone and let the memories come for him. He will remember disciples, and siblings, and priests, and knights. He will remember temple halls and celebrations. He will remember camaraderie and wine and soldiers and conquest. He will remember his mother’s purr and her gentle claws grooming behind his ears. He will remember six dead sisters and understand, for the first time, how his mother’s life was a tragedy and that he had never wept for her, only for himself.

But on that day, in the distant past, on a battlefield swiftly stripped of gold and armor and weapons, with the corpses left to lay in the grass, Narinder limped with Kallamar’s help to his mother’s cage. The squid merely touched the cool iron with a word and it corroded away, letting him inside with a nervous word that anything of value had been taken from her already by her captors.

All he wanted was one more moment with her, if the charred husk flung against the bottom of the cage was anything of her at all. He wanted to make a promise. He wanted her to know he would do it, as he knelt beside her and placed both hands on the corpse.

“I will kill the Green-Eyed Queen,” he whispered, his voice still raw and wet from screaming. “When I am done there will be no more queens.”

When he saw the glint of red he knew she heard him. The corpse was just a corpse, so even his young hands could reach into the charred meat and pry out the sharp edges of a dead womb.

Theirs was a world where faith and prayer could change fate. The cycle of devotion from a mother to her son crafted a crown with a single red eye. The memory of six dead daughters crystalized with intent to preserve one perfect son.

He put on the crown and went back to Shamura.

His mother protected him. Always.

[Next]

I have the Cat's Mother, the Worm's Mother, and the Lamb's Mother all written. Trying to get a full fic to work but at least this "prologue" bit is done. If I actually reach the plot I'll post this to AO3 with its actual title.

[detectivestucks]

A Jealous Hokage XIV

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader x Obito

Summery: The confrontation between you, Kakashi, and Obito does not go well resulting in Obito visiting you at your new job to apologize. Lady Tsunade gets involved.

Warnings: NSFW, dom kink, knee riding, squirting, slight choking, nipple play, anal play, unprotected penetration

Word Count: 7.7k

Art Credit: @akirasukuna

Part 13 New Here? Check out Part 1

A/N: Okay, so not as long but still long...but we're so close to the end!

Kakashi was starting to zone out at his desk when suddenly Obito comes bursting into his office.

“KAKASHI WE NEED TO TALK!”

Kakashi’s heart drops to his feet when he sees you suddenly in his presence caked in blood.

“Y/N, what happened?!”

You look up at Kakashi feeling flustered and embarrassed. Your brain was still reeling from the scene you left no more than three minutes prior. You begin to open your mouth to speak when Kakashi cuts you off.

“Wait, Obito, why are you-? How are either of you-”

There is no need for him to finish his question. Obito was following you just as Kakashi told him not to do and he teleported you here after you got yourself into trouble.

“Nevermind.” he says trying to collect his composure but still passing Obito a glare as to say he would deal with his insubordination later.

“She was attacked by the Stone!”

“Why would our allies attack her?! I just got a raven from the Tsuchikage-”

“One of their Black Ops didn’t trust her and he corralled three others to attack!”

“Eight others” you interject. “I’ll have you know I fought off five of them by myself. Stop treating me like I’m weak Obi!”

Yes, you were grateful to Obito for saving you but you knew exactly what he was trying to do by running to Kakashi like this.

“If you’re so strong why did I have to come and save you?!”

“Are we really going to ignore the fact that I was up against nine shinobi, one of whom was Anbu, and I held my own until help arrived?!”

“Yes! Cause help had to arrive!” Obito shouts.

“Wait, why did you have to wait for help to arrive, where is Naruto?” Kakashi suddenly chimes in.

“Exactly” Obito states, rounding on Kakashi “Where was your golden boy, Kakashi? He was nowhere to be seen while she was pinned to a tree!”

Kakashi’s face flashed a look of heartbreak. He scanned over your blood stained skin and uniform. He could only imagine how you felt pinned to that tree. Nine men had ambushed you. He never thought there would be so many people hunting you at once, nor did he think it would happen so soon. This was a mistake.

You saw the look on Kakashi’s face for what it was, your days outside the village walls were over.

“I believe Naruto was poisoned by the food they gave us.” you finally say, hoping it might help the situation. But Obito’s fury immediately undoes your efforts.

“How does he get himself fuckin poisoned,  Y/N?! He’s one of the strongest shinobi in the world but he can’t tell his food’s been poisoned?!” Obito is livid and he turns towards Kakashi. “If you had just listened to me this would’ve never happened! She’s lucky I showed up when I did!”

“You need to calm down Obito!” you shout. 

He’s only making the situation worse as you watch the wheels turn in Kakashi’s head. “You didn’t need to go into a full susanoo to cut down four men. Clearly you’re letting your emotions get the better of you!”

“And you need to stop being so calm about this, Princess! I told you that you were going to get yourself killed!”

“Well if that’s how you feel, then I guess you didn’t do a good enough job training me!”

“ENOUGH!” Kakashi was through listening to you bicker. “Obito, where is Naruto?”

“Probably back by the Stone.”

“When we’re done, go get him. He probably needs medical care.”

“Fine.”

“Y/N” You gulp. Your nerves are on edge. You still had so much adrenaline coursing through your body from the fight in the woods, not to mention your current confrontation. 

“You’re done going on missions.”

“Kakashi no!”

“It’s too dangerous. You’ve only done three visits and look what’s happened.”

“I’m not going back to my desk!”

“You are and you will! Look at yourself! Do you really think you can walk into my office covered in blood and expect me to keep sending you out of the village?!”

“That’s not fair! Obito’s the reason I was doused in blood! It wasn’t nearly as bad as it looks!”

“NINE ninja, Y/N! Nine!”

“Kashi-”

“Lord Sixth!”’ he corrects.

You fall silent. Was he seriously asking you to call him by his title right now?! A title to which he hates being called? Hell no. You chew on the inside of your cheek, brows furrowed as you pull your courage together.

“You know what ‘Lord Sixth’? I’m done.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kakashi lets out an exasperated sigh, “Y/N-”

“No my Lord, I’m done. Accept my resignation and don’t bother chasing after me. We're through.”

Kakashi lifts his head as he is stunned into silence. He’s not sure if his heart is even beating as his brain contemplates your words.

You begin to cry as you talk, “After all the shit you put me through, I’m finally happy and you think you can just take it away after two missions?!”

“Y/N you almost died” Obito tries to help

“Stay out of this Obito! You’ve done enough!”

Obito quickly shrinks away, his eyes darting over to Kakashi, still frozen like a statue. His only movements come from the tears leaking out of the corners of his glazed eyes.

“This relationship is over.” A salty stream is freely pouring down your cheeks. “I can’t live like this anymore Kashi! I’m done.”

You run from his office towards your own. Rushing to go gather your things. You slam your office door open startling Shiho who was working late.

She shouts your name in surprise as she clutches her chest. The sight of your crimson body, blood dried everywhere except for a trail of clean skin carved down your cheeks by the hot tears falling from your eyes, was frightening. 

“I’ve resigned, Shiho. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N are you alright?”

You ignore her question and just gather your many textbooks in your arms. They were heavy but thanks to the adrenaline that had yet to expire, you’re able to carry them just fine. 

You storm out of headquarters and speed walk to your apartment, scaring several people in the streets as you go. With each step towards home you start to feel the tiredness creep in. Adrenaline finally slipping away.

For the first time in your life, you were without a job, a plan, or a goal. All you knew, as you sniffle back your emotions, is that this chapter with Kakashi is closed. 

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

“Hi Ms. Sarutobi! You getting flowers for your mom again?”

You smile at little Mirai. She came into the Yamanaka flower shop at least twice a week to buy flowers for Kurenai. Her messy dark locks and chubby little cheeks were just the sweetest. She stopped by on her way home from preschool whenever she was thinking about her mom. Every time you look into her red eyes, you find yourself hoping that one day you have a kid as thoughtful as her.

“Yes Miss Yamanaka! Can I have camellias for my mommy and lilies for my daddy?”

“You going to visit daddy today too?”

“Yes miss!”

“Well tell him I say hi!” you chipper as you wrap both of the bouquets separately

“Okay Miss Yamanaka!”

“Have a good day!!” you wave as Mirai’s little body leaves your aunt’s flower shop. The bouquets standing nearly as tall as her. 

You have been working at the Yamanaka flower shop for the past few weeks. Taking on temporary pay while you figure out what you’re going to do long term. How drastically different your life is today than it was a year ago. What were you thinking trying to date someone like Kakashi? For someone so smart, how could you act like such an idiot? It was hard not to fall for the stupid silver-haired genius. He was everything you could’ve ever wanted... but at what cost?

The good news is that Kakashi had respected your request to not have him chase after you. He hadn’t tried to come talk to you or see you since the night of your resignation, which you appreciated. Despite initiating the break up, you were still utterly shattered over the entire ordeal. You didn’t think you had it in you to see how poorly Kakashi was probably doing right now. You know you hurt him. He had envisioned marrying you and honestly, you thought you would. The two of you had been together for over a year.

All this craziness started a year ago. 

It’s a wild thought to have. If you had just kept your hands to yourself…you’d probably have been a well respected department head instead of working at a flower shop. Or maybe if you had just chosen Obito when he first asked you on a date. How different would your life be?

You wipe off your hands and walk to the back of the flower shop to take a break. 

Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen Obito since the night of your resignation either. You would’ve thought he’d be the first one to knock on your door the second you and Kakashi called it quits. Perhaps his feelings for you were just born out of competition with Kakashi. That thought adds to the crushing weight over your heart.

Was none of it real? 

You’re lost in your thoughts for hours as you take care of the customers entering the shop. You paint a smile on your face while your melancholy brain churns in the background. 

Eventually you walk up to the door and flip the 'open' sign to 'close.' Wiping the sweat off your brow, you take off your apron, laying it on the counter and head to the back. As you disappear, you hear the bell ring behind you.

“Shop’s closed!” you sing to the stranger

“Come on, have a heart” you hear a familiar voice rasp. “I was looking for some flowers to apologize to a beautiful woman.”

“Obito?”

Your head perks up and you rush out onto the shop floor. He stands there as handsome as ever, scarred face looking a mix of cocky and sheepish. 

“Princess”

“Obito” your heart floods with warmth but then you remember what he said “So you-you’re getting flowers for your girlfriend?”

“Well she’s not my girlfriend, but someone I care about very much.”

“I see.” you say, slightly chewing on your lip as you look around at flowers you think would be appreciated by any woman waiting for an apology.

“So what’d you do that you need to apologize for?”

“I’m the reason she quit her job and broke up with her boyfriend.”

You stand up straight, your eyes flashing over to him. Obito strides up to you, standing dangerously close.

“Princess” he grabs your hand, holding it gingerly in his “I’m sorry. I freaked out when I saw you pinned against that tree and I-” he closes his eyes trying to force out the words, “I acted on emotion instead of what was best for you.”

Tears well up on your lash line before spilling out onto your cheeks. You had no idea how bad you needed to hear those words. 

“Obito…thank you.”

“I should’ve come sooner but I didn’t want to come when the break up was fresh. I-I wanted to give you time to heal. I’m so sorry that I contributed to your pain.”

You lunge forward, wrapping your arms around Obito’s neck, burying your face under his jaw. He wraps his arms around your waist holding you close. 

“Thank you Obito, I really needed to hear that.”

“I’m so sorry Princess. I would do anything to make you happy.”

“You’d do anything?”

“Anything” he breathes into your neck.

You lift your face so that your glassy eyes could stare into his chestnut ones. You stand there in silence, lost in each other's gaze when you see Obito’s eyes fall to your lips. Your mouth parts as you're about to speak when Obito closes his eyes and leans in for a kiss. 

Your eyes flutter closed as his lips crash into your’s. They’re soft but firm, working perfectly against your own. You can sense the faint smell of a campfire mixing with his musk. The trademark of an Uchiha’s fire nature. His lips move slowly, savoring your taste, not wanting to rush anything about this moment. He inhales deeply, and in doing so, not only allows your pheromones to consume him but take control. 

He starts to suck on your bottom lip, pulling a small moan from you as you open your mouth, allowing the kiss to deepen, pushing your tongue into his cavern. He grants you access with a quiet moan of his own. The sound leaving you dizzy. Your tongues dance together as sparks fly between you. It feels like time is slowing down but your pulse still quickens. One hand travels up to his unkempt mane while the other digs into the muscles of his back. He grunts and steers you into the nearby wall, slamming you up against it as he continues to explore the inside of your mouth with his pink muscle. 

One of his hands travels down to your hip and rubs light circle over it, occasionally allowing his fingers to sink into the flesh of your behind as he presses his pelvis into yours. The sounds of his satisfied humming ring loudly in your ears. The noises and feelings of being desired so primally fill you with lust. He had wanted this for so many months and now you were finally giving it to him. Allowing him to taste the fruit that had been forbidden for so long. The way his body responded to yours fueled your veins with fervor. 

Obito pulls your leg up to wrap around his waist as he continues to grind into you. Lips never breaking from the heated kiss you share. You can feel the bulge in his pants begin to grow. It presses harder and harder against your center and you begin to drool thinking about how it would feel between your legs. Your soft moans grow needier and Obito can’t help himself. He grabs both of your hands, stealing them from off his body and lacing his fingers with yours. He slams the back of your hands up against the wall behind you. 

Your leg falls from his waist and lands outside his leg. Desperate for friction you begin to rub against his thigh. His kiss has you worked up and you feel the arousal form from the coiling in your core.

Obito smiles into the kiss. 

“Geez Princess. You feelin that desperate that you're trying to get off on my knee?”

“Yes” you pant, “need…more”

Obito begins to rock his leg up and down, rutting it up between your legs as you grind your folds against him. Slick is seeping out into your underwear as you let the fabric covering your sex tug at your clit. Losing all sense of shame, you moan loudly into his mouth, grinding harshly against him. 

Obito feels as if he’s died and gone to heaven. You on the other hand hadn’t been touched since before your last mission. It had been nearly two months without so much as self gratification and now that someone was paying attention to you, you were greedily chasing your high. But this wasn’t just someone; this was Obito. A man who loves you, who’s saved you, who takes care of you when you need him. You begin to fiend for him. Your arms struggle against the wall wanting to grab him, scratch and claw at his back, pull his hair, but Obito’s grip only tightens as a smug chuckle leaves his lips. 

“Never thought I’d see the day where you want me more than I want you... I’m going to enjoy this.”

Your breathing labors, you’re kissing him harder, pushing your chest into him. You were straining to soak up as much of him as possible, needing to fuse his body with yours. Your mind was swimming with lust as you felt the familiar build in your center. The spring coiled tighter and the intensity of your motions grew until the coil finally snapped.

Your breathing hitched as your walls clenched around nothing. Your heart racing fast in your chest as you fall limp against his muscular body.

Obito brings your arms back to his neck as his finger moves under your jaw, lifting your chin so that you are looking up at him again. 

“I hope you weren’t going to get yourself off and just leave me like this.” He says as he seductively pushes his erection into you. An involuntary moan passes your lips and your eyes slightly cross at the thought of him inside of you. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” he chuckles, “You weren’t going to forget about me.”

You feel your very mushy mind further dissolve into soup as his raspy tone resonates in your ear. Fuck, he’s so hot. How did you resist him all this time? How much loyalty must you have had for Kakashi to not allow yourself to fall helplessly into Obito’s web? It didn’t matter anymore, you were free to get caught in his snare and be devoured by him.

You close your eyes and lean into his mouth, taking custody of his bottom lip between your teeth and pulled back. As it slips from your grasp you open your eyes and with a serious glare you whisper two words Obito’s only heard in his dreams, “Take me.”

Obito’s eyes flash from brown to red as his sharingan takes over and his breathing becomes heavy. He lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist and carries you over to the flower shop counter, setting you down and tearing off your clothes.

His mouth is all over yours in a much sloppier kiss as he rids your delicate frame of the concealing fabric. You claw off his shirt, anxious to lick and nip as the muscle underneath. The more skin that’s exposed, the more your lips stray from his mouth, tracing along his jaw, his scars and the column of his neck. You were sucking and biting and marking him without shame or care of who might see his bruises. The sexiest moans come from him each time you release your mouth after leaving a new mark. The slick already dripping out of your bare cunt puddles on the countertop with each sound from his lips. 

Your hands make quick work of the front of his pants, pulling them down so that his hardened member springs out, slapping him in his abdomen. You bite your lip as your eyes widen in hunger, looking down on his manhood. 

White precum oozes at the tip, leaking out a physical sign of his immense desire. You smear it with your thumb before bringing it to your mouth. Looking Obito dead in the eyes as you suck it off your thumb. He swears his heart stops as he watches your lips wrap around the digit and sees your cheeks hollow. 

His jaw drops and his breathing becomes ragged. Your hands return to his erection, holding him at the base as you drop a glob of spit on his tip, letting it drip down before stroking him.  Your spit acts to lubricate your hand as you tug along his shaft. Obito pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, dying to close his eyes from the blissful pleasure of your small hands wrapped around his length but he can’t bring himself to look away. 

As your hands graze up and down you admire the curve of his member and the large veins running its course. You imagine how his shape will feel buried inside of you. How it will brush against all those spots that bring tears to your eyes. Before you realize it, a drop of drool falls from your lips and you quickly look up to see if Obito noticed. Your eyes are met with his and the cockiest smirk stretches his lips. 

“You droolin over my cock, Princess?”

A flush covers your cheeks and you mumble, “Maybe a little.”

You cast your eyes down in embarrassment when Obito’s hand fists your hair and pulls back till your gaze meets his intense carmine stare. 

“What was that?” he rasps

You swallow as you stare down your nose into his hungry glare

“Yes sir. I was drooling over your cock.”

Obito licks his teeth before his seductive smile splits his face. Keeping his tight grip on your hair, he leans into your ear and hums. “Don’t worry baby, you can have this cock all to yourself.”

“Thank you sir”

Obito’s eyes close as he groans at your words. He kicks his pants off the rest of the way and slots his manhood between your lower lips, sliding in its entirety with no preparation needed. You were sopping wet, anxious to have him inside of you and it was everything he made it seem in his genjutsu. 

Just the insertion alone stole your breath and formed a creamy ring around his base. 

“Gods damn, Princess. So fuckin tight” 

Obito’s breathing was labored by the feeling of finally, finally having your walls restrict around him. It was better than any dream he had or any genjutsu he conjured. This was the most surreal moment of his existence. He pulls your forehead up to his and rests them together. 

“I love you y/n, I fuckin love you with every fiber of my being.” There it is. The words he’s been dying to tell you. The ones dancing on the tip of his tongue for months. He finally said them out loud.

“Obito I-”

But you don’t have a chance to finish because he pulls you into another heated kiss. One hand tangled in your hair, the other wrapped around your upper body, pulling you into him as he begins to stroke in and out of you. You start to moan into his mouth from the strokes. It felt so sinfully good. His tip brushes all the right places and his girth stretches you wide. You feel stuffed full and you can’t get enough of him.

“M’gonna take care of this cute pussy and give her all the attention she deserves.”

“Yes sir, thank you”

“Keep callin me sir and I won’t be able to control myself, Princess.”

Obito’s strokes become harsher causing you to flail your head back in bliss, loud moans spilling from your open mouth.

His harsh snaps increase in speed and your brows pinch together in agonizing pleasure. “I’m sorry sir!” you cry as you lose all dignity. “I just want you to keep stuffing me with your cock.”

Animalistic grunts rumble from Obito’s chest, his pace quickening. The slapping sounds of his balls beating against your wet cheeks fill the room. Your creamy arousal seeping out and coating everything between your thighs, his entire pelvis, the entirety of your rear, and a good portion of the counter. You’re consumed by desire and can’t help the deadly grip it has over your body. 

Obito’s speed picks up another notch and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your body falls limp on the counter as you’re fucked stupid on his length. Each of Obito’s hands grab both of your breasts as he uses them as leverage for his thrusts. Your body bounces off of Obito’s hips with each collision but he holds you at the counter’s edge by the grip on your tits. 

His face dives into your chest, licking and sucking on each nipple as if it were his to own. He’d teeth on one while his fingers rolled the other causing you to choke on your own groans. It was filthy the way you consumed each other. The long build up of sexual tension all spilling out here on the flower shop counter. 

While still sucking on your nipple, he shifted one of your legs over his shoulder to deepen the angle. You gasped at how far he reached, his tip brushing all the right spots. You fear your eyes might permanently cross from the pleasure. Rhythmic moans are pushed out of you to the beat of Obito’s hips. Your hands clutching onto his midnight strands, nails digging into his scalp as his tongue unrelentingly laps at your buds. 

“Obito I-I’m gonna-m’gonna…”

“Say it pretty girl. Use your words.”

“M’gonna cum!”

Almost as if granting you permission, Obito pistons into you at rapid fire not just pushing you over the edge but launching you there. He wraps one arm around the back of your neck and the other pinches one of your nipples, tugging it harshly. When you cum it sprays out like a geyser, soaking his chest and dripping down his legs. You had made a huge mess and it thrilled him. 

He pulls out of you to lap at your sex. His tongue poking in and scooping out the mix of cum and spray, feasting on your labia like a man starved. It was overstimulating and you were flinching and spasming with each minute movement. 

“Obiiiiiii” you scream

Your entire core tenses up, you abdominals become sore from how tight you're squeezing. 

“Please!”

You’re thrashing from sensitivity but his grip around your legs only increases. He restrains you with all his strength, too lost in his own ambitions to let you slip away. He’s gone deaf to your cries. All his senses honed in on your taste. How soft your skin is against his tongue, how sweet your creamy cum is. He licks in and around your entire sex, consuming as much of your essence as he can. 

When he’s finally full he flips you over like a doll and sinks in from behind. Your eyes once again crossing from how his curve hits your squishy spots. Your panting and out of breath. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take but he’s not gonna stop till he gets his fill. He’s been waiting months for this moment. His unrequited love finally reciprocated. 

He starts out slow, rolling his hips gently into yours. His still soaked front soiling your backside with each kiss of his pelvis. Every time he buried himself up to the hilt a guttural groan is pressed out of your diaphragm playing like music against his ear drum. 

“Obi…thank…you.”

You say it in a soft tired whisper and a switch inside him flips.

His hands perched on your hips, grip you tightly as he begins to slam into you. Each collision sending a ripple of shockwaves through the flesh of your behind.

“Spread your cheeks.”

“Yes sir.”

Obito once more groans at the moniker. He shifts his hands up to your shoulders, giving him better leverage as you bounce off his thighs. He looks down watching how he disappears inside of you and it is a vision he will ingrain into his memory forever. He feels how his core tightens as he watches the wet slick coating his member grow more and more glossy. 

Your cheek laying against the cool countertop is pried away by Obito’s hand slipping around your neck. His grip tightens and you gasp at the restriction, your fingers sinking deeper into your own spread cheeks. 

Obito looks down noticing your neglected back door and spits on the puckered hole. He removes his other hand from your shoulder, trailing a finger down your spine all the way to where the spit pools at your sphincter. Chills populate down your spinal column as an involuntary whine slips past your throat. His constant pounding keeping your abdomen wound tight. 

He pushes his finger in as you hiss, clenching around him in response. An amused hum flushes out of him as he begins to rim you. You cry his name between gasps of pleasure and he sinks his finger in deeper. He strokes it in and out of you till he finds where your walls clamp down on him and he begins to focus on that spot.

Stroking slightly with his finger and timing it with the thrusts of his pelvis. You dissolve into a babbling mess, nothing but a heap of flesh existing in this moment for Obito to use as he pleases. He tightens his grip on your neck, cutting off your nonsensical noises as he snaps into you impossibly fast. Your nails dig into your own skin leaving behind scratch marks on your backside as you cream around him, toppling over into another orgasm.

Watching the accumulation of your cum at his base spurs Obito on and he loses all control. He pulls his finger out of your rear and sinks his clutches back in your hair. He yanks on it, lifting your chest and arching your back like his personal whore. You lose grip of your cheeks and slam your palms against the countertop, supporting your weight as Obito pounds into you with his entire being, completely lost inside your velvet walls. 

You scream as another intense orgasm wreaks havoc over your body and you spray everywhere. Obito looks down at the puddle you’ve created and shouts, “Fuck!” 

He closes his eyes and grunts. His thighs clench as the tightness in his core breaks. His moans are deafening as he empties himself inside of you. Erratic strokes milking himself within your spasming walls.

“Shit. Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean to bust in you like that.”

He pulls himself out quickly, shuttering at how his fast retreat brushed his sensitive tip, continuing to stroke himself so the rest of his cum empties on your backside.

“No.” you tiredly pant. “It’s okay. I’m on birth control.”

“Thank gods. I’m sorry, I got carried away.”

You stand on shaking legs to turn to him, grabbing his shoulders for stability. You breathily smile, tired eyes beaming at him. “It’s okay, really. I got carried away too.”

Just as you finish your sentence your legs give out and Obito catches you. 

“Is there a bathroom or something we can clean ourselves off in?”

“Yeah, there’s one in the back.”

Obito scoops you up bridal style and carries you through your aunt’s shop to the bathroom, setting you down to help clean your sex and legs. Obito wipes off his chest, pelvis and thighs before picking you up again and carrying you to your clothes. He sits you down in a nearby chair, dressing you like a helpless fragile being. Kissing each part of your body before covering it with cloth. 

Once you are decent, he goes and dresses himself, then heads back to the bathroom to get towels to clean up the mess on the shop’s counter and floor. You blush deeply as Obito remarks how much you squirted, forcing him to go retrieve additional towels. 

You begin to swing your legs in the chair as you watch him. Eyes soaking up his muscular frame as he attentively mops up your mess. 

When he is done, he turns to you. You notice how his eyes have turned back to their soft brown color. The intensity is gone and his loving nature returns, gushing from his very pores. He leans down and pecks your cheek. 

“So where do we go from here?”

“I think for now, we go home.”

“Who’s home?”

“Mine of course.” you say with an innocent smile

Obito kisses your forehead. “Do you have any belongings you need to bring with you?”

“My pack is over there.”

He reaches over and grabs your bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he picks you up once more and uses Kamui to bring you home. He lowers you down onto your bed and plants a tender kiss on your lips before letting you go. 

“I’m kinda hungry. You mind if we eat?”

“Sure Princess, what do you want?”

“We don’t have to go anywhere. I have leftovers in the fridge. Is that alright?”

“Of course.”

“You like dumplings?”

“They’re my favorite.”

You blush. “I guess that’s what they call serendipity.”

“I guess it is.”

You guide Obito over to your kitchen, holding his hand as you take out the dumplings and heat them up. Obito stands behind you the entire time, hugging you, unable to let you go. He was incredibly clingy but after these lonely weeks you welcomed it. 

Once done eating you lay on the couch together, resting in Obito’s arms without the guilt of your feelings for Kakashi laying over your heart. Yes you still loved him but you weren’t built to date a celebrity. A normal relationship is what you need and Obito can give that to you. You nestle deeper into him, enjoying the bliss of something new. 

Eventually you drag yourselves off the couch and get ready for bed. You phish out a new toothbrush for him to borrow and he strips down to his briefs, using them as his pajamas. You can’t help but ogle at how the gray spandex stretches over his bulge. He was definitely a shower, not a grower, and it was an arousing detail to note. 

The two of you crawl into your bed, him spooning you from behind. As Obito wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, he thinks about how this was the happiest day of his existence. He knows he’ll never allow himself to forget it. Obito nudges your neck with his nose as he settles against you, the smell of your shampoo filling his nostrils and lulling him off to sleep. A deep satisfying and peaceful sleep that both of you found yourselves desperately needed.

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

The morning sun filters through your curtains, splashing its rays over your faces. You squint as you look over your shoulder at Obito resting so peacefully behind you. You softly roll over in his arms, trying to get a better look at him. 

Your fingerpads trailed along the scarlines of his face that tore deep into his skin yet added so much character to his square jawline. Your eyes flitted over his shaggy tuft of raven hair that never seemed to be combed down. But if you’re being honest with yourself, you preferred it that way. Your eyes then follow your hand as it grazes over his bicep. You notice the blend of white skin with his nude tone and marvel at the power of Hashiraman cells. Your fingertips begin to trace the veins that span the course of his arms, feeding oxygen to the bulky muscle built upon every bone in his body. The man was more in shape than Kakashi, which was saying something. 

You folded your arms in between your chests and continued to gaze up at him. How could a man be so intimidating to everyone he meets yet to you he is nothing but warmth? You bury your face into his chest, not ready to wake up yet. You want to lay just a little longer in his arms before you begin your shift at the shop. 

As you rest your head against his chest you hear him softly moan and tighten his embrace. It makes you smile knowing how happy Obito is to be sharing this moment with you. The love of an Uchiha is a powerful force. It’s hard to push away feelings so strong. To finally accept his affection felt easy and right. You just wish you could stop thinking about Kakashi. It hurt so much to even think his name. Yet everytime you open your eyes to look up at Obito, you see a reflection of Kakashi in his features. 

“Mmmm…” you hear the grumbling of his groggy voice as he squeezes you during his morning stretch. 

“Obi!” you squeal. 

“Sorry Princess. Don’t wanna let go.” he sleepily says as he rubs his cheek against your hair. 

“I don’t wanna get up either but I have to go to work in a few hours.”

“Perfect. We can cuddle for a few hours.”

You giggle at his neediness. “No, I have chores to do, Obi. I can’t lay in bed!”

“Lies. There’s no chores.”

“Obi…” you try to tickle him but he only squeezes you tighter. “Obi” you kiss his jaw. “I’d love” another kiss to his neck “to say and cuddle but” you kiss him one final time, “I have things to get done.”

“Do we have to get up?”

“Yes Obi” you giggle again. 

Why is he so cute?

You squirm out of his arms and start getting dressed for the day. He lays in your bed and watches you. It’s not till you say that you need to shower that he fully gets out of bed, insisting that he needs to join you to ‘conserve water.’ After a little bit of fooling around, you finally get clean and dry off, ready to get started on your to-do list after a spot of breakfast. While finishing your food Obito suddenly changes the course of the conversation.

“Princess, when are you going to get a real job?”

You give Obito a bit of a glare for his phrasing of the question.

“Well, I haven’t quite decided what I’m doing yet. However, I’m very tempted by Lord Garra’s offer. I even visited the Sand last week to look at potential housing.”

Obito felt his heart drop to his stomach. 

“You’re moving to the Sand?!”

“Well, it’s that or learn a whole new trade.”

“But you don’t need to go to the Sand to do translations! You can do that here at the Leaf!”

“I can’t Obi. You know that.”

“You can’t run away to the Sand just to avoid your ex boyfriend, Princess! Stop acting like a child!”

“I’m not acting like a child! I’m accepting a higher position with better pay! It’s a promotion and if you love me as much as I think you do, you’d be proud!”

“But…” He doesn’t want to say it but he can’t handle the idea of you running away just when he finally got you. 

“You can visit me. You can teleport into the village whenever you want.”

“I’m not supposed to do that though. It could cause an international incident.”

“It hasn’t stopped you before.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

“Yes Princess! It was!”

“Obito, what’s the big deal?!”

“The big deal is your leaving! And over what?! Some drama with Kakashi!”

“It wasn’t just some drama Obito! You know that better than anyone else!”

Obito goes quiet before he speaks again

“Am I ever going to be enough?”

“What?” You felt disarmed by his question

“Enough for you to be happy? Enough for you to stay?”

His eyes look up at you, their full intensity boring into your stare. You don’t know what to say. Work is important to you. You don’t want to sacrifice it again. Especially not over a guy, not a second time. 

“Obito…It’s not about if you’re enough. It’s about not repeating the same mistakes.”

“I…I um,” Obito is trying to hide his hurt but he feels the sudden need to be alone. “I’ll see you later, okay Princess?”

“Obito, I’m sorry!”

“We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Obito, please don’t leave.”

“Have a good day, Princess.”

He kisses the top of your head as he hugs you goodbye, ignoring your pleas to stay. 

“Obito, wait!”

He closes the door and disappears, making a quick exit to avoid further hurt. You sit at your table a mess of emotions. 

This morning had been so good. Why did he have to ask that stupid question?

You grab the plates off the table and go to deposit them in the sink before heading out to run your errands feeling your chest tighten as you think about Obito.

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

Kakashi is back at headquarters holding an intelligence briefing with the elders, Sasuke, and your replacement. Lady Tsunade joins them after finally making it back to the village after an extended trip around the great nations, enjoying her retirement. Having nearly a year’s worth of events to catch up on, she was naturally invited. 

“We believe these markings on the wall of the temple speak of a second divine tree that will be planted after a century.” The new intelligence officer states, “Based on the age, we believe that is only a few years away.”

“That’s very troublesome news. And we’re sure the translation is accurate?” Lord Hamura asks

“Admittedly we’re not. It was the best we could do with the resources we have.”

“What does Y/N think?” Lady Tsunade interjects

Kakashi scratches his temple and casts his eyes towards the floor.

“What? Did something happen?”

Sasuke clears his throat and speaks on Kakashi’s behalf. “She quit a few weeks back.”

“She what?!”

“She was unhappy about being taken off active duty after there was an incident with the Stone.”

“Why was she on active duty to begin with?! She was supposed to be Department Head!”

Tsunade’s anger towards the news of your resignation was only made worse by the confusion she felt. Lady Koharu speaks up to clarify. 

“Well actually, after it was revealed that she was in a romantic partnership with Lord Sixth we had told her we could no longer accept her candidacy.”

“You WHAT?!”

Tsunade’s fuse was short and the news of everything that happened while she was away enjoying her retirement had it lit.

“It was a conflict of interest.”

“You IDIOTS! She’s the most talented linguist in the five great nations and you care about who she’s dating?!”

“As you can see, we were right to worry. She didn’t respond well to direct orders from Lord Sixth when it came to her last mission.”

“Well you see Lady Koharu, that was-” Kakashi barely had the strength to say the words out loud, “That was my fault.”

Tsunade stands to her full height, anger feuling her words, “You numbskull geezers fail to see the full picture. Who cares who she seeing? We need her! Kakashi, you better prepare to beg.”

“Lady Fifth, I-I don’t think she’ll hear what I have to say right now.”

“Fine. I guess it’s up to me to fix the mess you three created.” The look of fire in her eyes has the entire room uneasy “She’s going to be Department Head. If that’s what it takes to get her back, that’s what she’ll get. She deserves the position anyways.”

The elders shrink before Tsunade as they nod in agreement. 

Feeling the matter was settled Tsunade left the meeting to go find you and rectify the situation. 

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

You're cutting the stems off a new batch of flowers in the back of the shop when you hear the bell ring. “Ino, can you get that?” 

You overhear the sound of female voices followed by footsteps heading in your direction. “Ino, what is…it?”

Your words trail off as you realize Lady Fifth is standing before you. 

“Lady Tsunade, to what do I owe the honor?” you bow your head as you address her.

“Oh drop the formalities, Y/N. We’ve worked together enough.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you here?”

“To bring you back, of course?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid. We need you back at headquarters.”

“I’m sorry. I know you have been gone a long time so you don’t understand, but I’m quite happy with my decision to leave.”

“Y/N, we need you. We cannot investigate the Otsusuki without you.”

“I’m sure Sasuke is doing just fine.”

“Y/N, your mind is quintessential to the success of our intelligence team. Come back to headquarters.”

“Lady Tsunade...”

“Y/N, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“I can’t…after everything that’s happened.”

“You’ll be Department Head.”

“Wha…” The word gets caught in your throat. Disbelief widened your eyes. “The elders-”

“Have spoken. As a village advisor myself, I have every right to contribute to this decision and the elders agree with me. Like I said, I’m not taking no for an answer here.”

“You’ll-you’ll give me the job, just like that?”

“You earned it. It was never going to belong to anyone else.”

“Lady Fifth, I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll take it.”

“Y-yes, yes, of course, I’ll take it!”

“Good. I intend to stop by your new office on Monday. Make sure you’re there.”

“Yes ma’am”

With your confirmation, Lady Tsunade pressed an office key into your hand and retired from the shop. 

You were left feeling a whirl of emotions. You weren’t looking forward to seeing Kakashi again, or working for him, but you did need the pay and it was your dream job. One you had spent five years working towards. The promotion that was rightfully yours now actually is! Kakashi drama aside, you hold the key to your chest and squeal in excitement. 

You need to find Shiho and celebrate.

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

A bit hungover after a late night out with Shiho, you drag your feet across the village carrying your box of textbooks and office decorations. You wished you were on better terms with Obito so he could just Kamui you to the building but you hadn’t seen him yet to tell him the good news. 

You fear you broke him yesterday morning with all that talk of going to the Sand. You want to find him and tell him you’re not leaving. Tell him you’re going to face Kakashi and start fresh as Department Head. But alas, it is Saturday morning so he wasn’t going to be at headquarters. Who knows where he spends his time beyond headquarters, missions, and bothering you... 

In your new office, you lift the picture frame of you and Shiho from the Gala out of the box. It really was a beautiful dress you wore. You don’t think you ever felt prettier than you did that night. You grab another frame out the box. This one is brand new. It was a picture of you and Shiho from last night. 

Is it professional to have a picture of yourself drunk on your work desk? Absolutely not. But is it a core memory you want to look at whenever you are stressed? Yes. 

As you set the frame down you hear a man walking down the hallway. You notice his footsteps and your eyes lift just in time to see a white mane come to a halt in your doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Part 15 Masterlist

[psychologeek]

Whumptober is coming soon!

Last year I started writing "Some of Them (want you)" (epilogue would be published this weekend!) and "Who am I? (to disappear)"

This year I take a note off @envysparkler 's book and decide to go on a little extras thing. writing little outtakes for my fics using the prompts.

These outtakes can include alternate povs, missing scenes, or scenes from the end notes, but the fill would only be one scene. Anyone is allowed to make a request, just send in an ask with the day/alt prompt and the fic you're requesting an outtake for!

You can include the specific scene you're thinking of if you'd like (I may or may not use this) and if I don't think a prompt fits, I'll let you know and you can choose another!

TLDR:

Send me an ask with the prompt + fic! Check the list below to see which prompts are already taken.

(fics can be from my AO3, for example "Lost&Found" series "Grave Promises", or from my Tumblr, like "Love and Protect" or "Wild Hearts" minifics.)

Prompts undercut:

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.) - Taken No. 2: TRUST ISSUES Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster) - TAKEN No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

- TAKEN (The Cyclist!Verse)

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More) No. 5: SUNBURN Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House) No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

- TAKEN (The Cyclist!Verse)

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them." - TAKEN ("Core Skills")

- TAKEN (The Cyclist!Verse) No. 18: REVENGE Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes) No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere) No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault." No. 21: BODY HORROR Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight) No. 9: OBSESSION Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible) - POSSIBLE: BB!TIMKON No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

POSSIBLE: BB!TIMKON No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs) No. 12: STARVATION Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

POSSIBLE: BB!TIMKON No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime) No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn) No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?" No. 16: NECROSIS Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything." No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

- TAKEN (for "wild hearts")

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good." No. 23: FORCED CHOICE Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you." No. 24: RADIATION POISONING Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

- TAKEN ("Core Skills") No. 25: SURGERY Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good." No. 26: NIGHTMARES Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

- TAKEN (for "wild hearts") No. 27: VOICELESS Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.” No. 28: DENIAL CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed." No. 29: FATIGUE Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

- TAKEN (for "wild hearts")

No. 30: RECOVERY Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List: 1. Body Swap - TAKEN (for "wild hearts") 2. Communication Barrier 3. Finding Old Messages - L&F (possibly Lab Rat)

4. Forgotten 5. Friendly Fire 6. Motion Sickness 7. No-Holds-Barred Beatdown 8. Regret 9. Secrets Revealed 10. Shivering 11. Survivor's Guilt 12. Time Loop 13. Used As Bait 14. Venom 15. Vermin

[whorediaries-09]

on the run;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- angst, murder, mentions of sexual abuse. a/n- so much angst!! i promise it will all be better in the next and last chapter.

prequel masterlist series masterlist little train.

sirius' worst fears had come true. you were nowhere to be found. your wand was missing. he'd checked the darkest corners of the house, revisiting his ugly memories as his eyes fell on the place he'd spent captured, away from any sort of freedom.

while he hadn't expected you to stay up tangled with him in his bedsheets, he had certainly also not imagined you to be entirely missing from the house.

had you lied to him last night? had you actually used your wand?

it didn't really matter. it didn't matter if you'd lied to him. what mattered now, was to find you. but how? had you left a sign? he needed to find it, if you had.

he couldn't lose you again. not when you'd watched the sun rise on his sins. just you and him.

he took his wand in his hand, muttering the charm to reveal the secrets. the sheet blew up from your bed, revealing a note. he recognized handwriting as he took it in his hands.

'don't come to find me. i'm at the ministry, i have to take care of something. i'll be back.'

he wished he'd believe the note. all he could think about the horrible thought of losing you, again. he couldn't, not when you'd come back right into his life again.

bygone would be bygones. even if it was handcuffed, he'd always leave with you. you'd never been absquatulate.

so, he apparated to the ministry.

*-

he could feel the blood, hot and metallic pouring out of his mouth, as you pushed his body slump against the ground. you held his wand at his neck, venom pouring out of your words as his cold gray eyes stared at yours.

'you thought you could get me, malfoy? i'm so much more than just what you thought i was,'

he pushed his palms together in feign mercy. but oh how could you let him go? it was pure rage that ran through your veins. even with a busted nerve that popped out of your forehead, and blood pouring your torn lip, you knew you'd stand stronger than he'd ever. he'd fallen to the ground the moment your fist hit his head, blood shooting his mouth.

it was pure poison, bitter, agonizing and cruel on your tongue. but this time around, you'd spit it out, victory slashing you through.

'there's a reason why i was the youngest auror in history. you stupid buffoon, you should've thought right through before doing what you did.'

'please, please leave me.' he said. you could see through his act. your leg kicked between his legs. he scrunched up his face in pain.

'you think i'm gonna leave you?'

'you've got no choice. the dark lord will find you and kill you.'

'if you think i'm scared of your little death eater friends, you're so terribly wrong, malfoy.' his lips curled into a cruel smirk. a bitter, remorseless curl.

'what are you going to do if not leave me? torture me? hurt me? you'll leave me alive at the end.'

his words drove you to insanity. pure hot rage consumed you, as you took his walking stick, jabbing the snake shaped end on his face.

'i won't leave you alive- i'll fucking destroy you. i'll fucking end you, malfoy.' you lifted your arms up, taking the stick with you, ready to blow the sharp edge of the fang from the snake, straight on his chest, when you felt strong, familiar arms curl up against your waist, and push you against the person's body.

'LEAVE ME!' you screamed, kicking your legs in the air. you felt tears hot, at your waterline, begging to fall.

'even i hate him, but you can't just fucking kill him,' he said. and god you hated how his voice sounded so familiar and comforting.

'I CAN KILL HIM. HE RAPED ME! this is my battle, sirius. not yours. never will be yours.'

his arms left your struggling body. he took out his wand from his pocket, handing it over to you. lucius sat, propped against the wall. you watched the blood flow from his busted head, nerve throbbing violently blue against his pale skin.

'i'm gonna kill you,' you said, rage consuming you like a madness you'd never felt before. 'fucking destroy you, malfoy. what are you going to do?' you asked, watching as real fear blurred his cold gray gaze. you laughed, mirthlessly. 'what are you going to do? say no?'

and in that moment, you saw it clear, right ahead of you. you held your breathe, counting to ten. you felt the earth move around you and your heart burst. again. you held sirius' wand in your shaking hand. sirius wrapped his fingers around your forearm, the cold touch a contrast against the death eater mark burned on your akin.

this was the end. the end of your endless agony.

and maybe, it was a blessing in disguise.

'it is your war to fight in. but i'll stay with you no matter what.'

your grip tightened around his wand, fueled by his words.

and even if you were too close to the stars, he'd always come back to you.

because the both of you had fallen, again. just as hard as the last time.

'avada kedavra' you whispered. a silent, screeching green light shot out the wand. you watched the life leave his eyes as the wand fell from your grip. your knees weakened. it was as if you watched the soul arise from his lifeless body, and descend into the pits of hell.

and every time you'd realize you're too close to the stars, selling your soul to them, sirius would be right behind you, saving you.

he wrapped his hands around you, pulling you closer to his unusually warm body. it was funny really, how you fit into his embrace as if you remembered him. as if you were the piece of a puzzle.

it was too late. the puzzle had already been broken. you'd already sold your soul for him.

'let me take you home,' he whispered into your hair, picking up his wand.

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

original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series) - @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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

[starlightrows]

Better Late Than Never

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Next →

Pairing: Alpha!Boba x Omega!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Fire, night raid, starvation, survival, slight intimidation

A steady drizzle started yesterday afternoon and continued all through the night and well into this terrible day. Your clothes are soaked through, even your cloak that had given you some protection through most of the night, is now soaking wet. Your skin is clammy and freezing cold, and your belly aches from going on your eighth day without so much as a bite of food.

Two weeks ago your pack was raided in the night. You were asleep at the time, curled up in your bedroll and snuggled close with other omegas for warmth and safety. You’re still not sure what woke you. Maybe you smelled something off in your sleep or just a gut feeling, but you laid awake for a few minutes in the dark. Listening to the omegas around you breathing softly in their sleep. You had just drifted back to sleep when there was suddenly an overwhelming smell of unfamiliar people in the camp and blood curdling screams from another tent.

One by one various tents in camp were set ablaze, omegas and betas being ripped out from inside them. In the darkness you could see figures fighting each other. Presumably the alphas of your pack fighting the intruders or the betas and omegas attempting to defend themselves. It’s hard to remember the finer details of it all now. You had run away like many of the others. Only you were not captured or found.

Your pack was not nomadic as many packs are. Your pack had settled in this valley nine generations ago and never moved. You knew this valley like the back of your hand, and you also knew that there was nowhere to hide from these invaders if you stayed. So you fled towards the eastern ridge and just continued east.

You were alright for a while, when the adrenaline was still fueling you forward and preventing you from being consumed by fear or grief or hunger or exposure. But now after fourteen days of the limited food you’ve been able to forage and now in unfamiliar lands, you’re freezing, starving, and scared.

It’s getting towards evening again. This forest you’ve found yourself in is so dense, you have no idea if you’re still traveling east or if you’ve been walking in circles. The tree branches catch and release the droplets of rain back down on to you. There’s no point in trying to get a fire going to warm up or dry your cloak, there wouldn’t be a dry twig for hundreds of miles it seemed.

Every step you took burned. Your feet ache, your hips and knees ache from days of walking. Your belly aches from no food. And your head aches from dehydration and exhaustion. You lean heavily on the large stick you’ve been carrying since day three of your ordeal. Every sound you heard in the woods around you made you jump in fear, thinking a wild animal or a rogue alpha would come barreling out from the brush to attack you. Even if you wouldn’t have the strength to fight them off, you felt better having something in hand to give yourself a better chance.

Even with your stick you’re finding that you have a hard time keeping your footing. You’re stumbling every couple steps and can’t seem to properly rebalance yourself. You stop under a particularly large tree and lean against the trunk, your legs give out under you sending you down to your knees. Tears slip down your cheeks.

What was I thinking? Where was I going to land up?

You slip down even further until you're laying on the muddy ground, staring at a silvery mushroom a few feet away from your face. You have no idea if it’s safe to eat or deadly poison. But it’s beautiful and you can’t seem to focus on anything else.

Tears continue sliding down your cheeks, this is it, you have no strength left. You never thought you would leave your pack or the valley. Never thought you would die in an unfamiliar forest, surrounded by nothing but mushrooms and leaves. You never thought you would die alone, without your pack.

There’s a whole cluster of these pretty mushrooms. Like little forest fairies sitting together in the rain. You always liked mushrooms. The blue capped ones that grew near your packs village were delicious cooked into sauces and stews. The lilac ones that sprouted over the fields your livestock grazed on, they puffed little clouds of lilac smoke when you stepped near them. The orange bubble ones that grew on fallen or dead trees were sickly sweet smelling and very poisonous.

You wished that you knew what kind of mushrooms these silvery ones were. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad place to die. Surrounded by quiet and peaceful mushrooms instead of in a blazing fire and deafening screams.

“H-hello?” A voice cuts through the pitter patter of the rain. For a second you think the mushroom made the sound. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to concentrate with what little brain power you have left. “Hello? Are you alright over there?”

You sniff the air, it’s heavily watered down with all the rain and the muddy grass so close to your nose but there is no mistaking it. You smell another omega. A mixture of relief, excitement, fear and dread shoot through you. You don’t have the strength to run or hide. You don’t even have the strength to stand or speak to this mystery omega in the mist. Instead you let out a low whimpering moan and push desperation into your scent.

Please it begs Please help me

The omega approaches, sniffing the faint scent in the air you’re projecting. It’s weak but sincere. Her footsteps are careful and slow, not wanting to make any sudden moves. When she reaches your crumpled form she kneels beside you, studying your face. She can see without even asking, you’ve been by yourself for a long time.

“Don’t worry” she says “I’ll get help” she stands and runs back the way she came. After she’s gone, you wonder if you imagined the entire thing. It’s just you and the silvery mushrooms again, as if no time passed at all. As if it never happened at all. Your body is so fatigued and so depleted of energy. You reach out and graze the cap of the mushroom, your eyes unfocus and you black out.

—-

Awareness swims back into your mind. Sensation in your fingers and toes spreads up your legs and down your spine. Warmth surrounds you. Slowly more senses return to you. You hear the crackling of a small fire and the sound of your own breathing. You smell the logs being burnt to keep you warm. You smell the pelt of the animal whose soft fur is surrounding you. You smell another omega in proximity to you.

You open your eyes. It’s dim in the firelight, but your scenes are all correct. Your skin is clean and dry, clothed in simple garments and wrapped in a thick fur and bedroll. And there is another person in what you assume is a tent. You sit up slowly and take stock of these surroundings. The other omega looks up at you quickly

“Thank the gods, you’re awake!” Her voice is familiar and kind

“Where… where am I?”

“You’re safe my friend” she says, helping you sit up “Can you tell me who you are?”

You give your name, “Who are you?”

“My name is Ahni. You’re in a temporary guest tent my pack set up for you” She explains “I found you a few days ago in pretty bad shape”

“I…. I don’t know how to thank you” your eyes brim with tears “I would have died if you hadn’t found me”

“You were almost there” she tells you, her voice encouraging “Someone from the pack would have found you”

“Almost where? Exactly?”

“Almost to our camp. You were only about half a mile away. We’re in the Seelyia forest right now” She says “Where did you come from, if you don’t mind me asking”

“Seelyia?” You ask in surprise. You had no idea you’d made this far north, when you had been intending to travel due east. “I came from Lyra Valley”

“Woah” she’s a little stunned “Are you… are you from one of the settlement packs?”

“I am. I was born in Eredis village and lived there my whole life until…” you trail off. Now that you’re thinking about it, the whole horrible ordeal resurfaces in your mind and the fear and grief takes hold once more.

“Oh you poor dear” she opens her arms for you. Despite only having just met her you go into her arms and cry. Over the course of the next several hours you tell her everything that happened that night.

“I…. I don’t know where I’ll go… or what I’ll do. I don’t know if I should go back to Lyra Valley or not…” you sob

“I think you should speak to our Alpha and his council they’ll know what to do” she says

“Thank you” you hiccup, wiping away your tears.

“Let me go speak to the council and arrange a meeting, for now you stay here and rest” she says “Best you don’t leave the tent until I have the meeting arranged, no one will come in or hurt you, but I don’t want them bombarding you with their curiosity”

You do as she says, staying in the tent and eating some of the soup she’s left for you in the small kettle over the fire. When she comes back, you’re feeling a lot better now that you’ve had time to relax and feed yourself.

“The council is ready” she says “Don’t worry, they already know a little bit and I’ll be with you”

That’s a relief, you have no idea whose pack this is or what their council is like. Despite only knowing Ahni for a few hours, you do feel like you trust her.

She leads you out of the small tent you’ve been in the last few days. The rain has moved on and the sun shines brightly through the overcast sky. The earth beneath your borrowed boots is soft from the recent rains, you try to focus on that instead of the hundreds of eyes that you can feel watching your every step as you follow Ahni towards the large tent on the other end of the camp.

Inside the council tent sits six alphas. All clad in warm fur cloaks and leather armor. Your heart drops into your stomach. Their collective scent is overwhelming. You feel small, intimidated, scared.

“Thank you Ahni” says one of the six, female alpha with an intricate braid and sharp features. Ahni nods and backs away towards the door, but does not leave.

“Come forward omega” says another of the six, a man with dark eyes and a hooked nose. You swallow hard and take a tentative step closer.

“Tell us what you know” barks the tallest and largest one, his voice strikes fear into you and you can’t help but flinch away from them a half step.

“Omega” says the one directly in the middle. Your gaze settles on him. He’s not the biggest alpha in this tent, but his scent is the strongest and his presence is the most imposing. He is the Alpha. “I am Boba Fett. This is my council, no harm will come to you while you are under the protection of my pack. Tell me your name and how you came to be here little one”

His voice is deep and commanding, but it does not make your tremble in fear. On the contrary, it seems to surround you like a fur cloak and settle in your chest with a comforting weight. You want to obey his command.

You say your name softly, as if you’re telling him and only him. Despite the fact that you are addressing the council at large, you feel as though you are only speaking to Boba Fett when you explain how you came to be standing in front of him.

“Hmm” Boba hums “The Lyra Valley settlements have been there for over a century. From my understanding the various packs and villages intermingle and share resources freely, is that correct?”

“Um… well no my Lord Alpha” you correct your explanation a bit “All of the packs are separated into villages, each keeps their own customs and traditions. But there are no territorial borders on the land and the resources are shared”

“I see, thank you little one” he says “And you are sure that these intruders were not one of the other packs in the valley making a play for dominance?”

“I… I don’t know my lord. I’m familiar with the scents of all the packs that dwell in Lyra Valley… I did not recognize them”

“I understand, thank you omega” he says “Regardless of whether the invaders were from the valley or elsewhere, we need to send a ranging party to observe and report. If there is a pack making a play for dominance so bold take out the entire Lyra Valley, we need to know about it”

His council agrees and begins discussing who should go, when can they leave, where will the pack travel next while this ranging party goes… you stand awkwardly in your place as the council talks over your head.

Boba Fett raised his hand, silencing them in an instant. “Until we know more about the state of the valley you are welcome to remain with my pack. Winter is upon us and these woods are no place for a lone omega”

“Thank you my lord” you’re so relieved “I can cook and sew and contribute to your pack. I promise”

“I’m sure you will little one” He smiles and gives a low chuckle “Ahni, please help her get situated”

“Thank you” you say again, bowing your head and taking the hand Ahni offers you.

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 9

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: literally death, violence, hunger games typical trauma, Finnick being a worried mess from outside the arena. It's all chaos, all of it.

Chapter Summary: Allies having your back means nothing if the capitol citizens don't want you to win. A lack of sponsors can easily be a death sentence... but maybe living through the hunger games could be a worse one.

Word Count: 3.6k

I have written these all like several months ago so watching the reactions to them and rereading along is becoming such a fun experience for me... except when y'all are mad bc that's not fun... but it kinda is lmaoo (also yw for the double update i figured i was slacking)

You looked down at your upper arm and side. That panther would have killed you if he had pounced on your neck instead of your arms. Funny, you thought the Capitol mutts were supposed to kill on sight, not play with their food. “Are we sure this is a good idea?” Rodey was hesitant. With the craze of these games, he wasn’t fond of inviting unwanted company. Who knows when someone will simply snap and turn on you?

Finnick had overslept. He didn’t mean to, and he definitely didn’t want to… but he’d been going for two days without sleep, and basically on nothing but glasses of overpriced Capitol booze. 

Mags woke him up, shaking his shoulders and trying to flip him over on the couch he’d passed out on. She had been trying to keep watch of him, and the tributes on the screen for that matter, but didn’t want to jolt him awake unless something bad was happening, and it was indeed happening. 

“Mags?” His hazy morning grogginess made him forget for a moment, but as soon as he saw her pointing at the lounge room screen, he sat straight up. “What happened?” 

You were running, Lukas and Rodey, too. The camera angles were changing too fast to see what was behind you. Was it other tributes? Was it a wild animal? Was it a poisonous substance created for the games? 

He was trying to make out what it was before he heard a cannon. You and Lukas and Rodey were still fast on your feet, so he wasn’t nervous yet, but when he heard a growl from a closer distance, his stomach dropped. 

A panther had begun gaining ground, leaping over a rock formation and cutting you off at the front of the pack. You slowed to a stop before plowing straight into the animal, holding your hands out to the others that they might remain still. 

That’s when he saw you, still and in frame. You were covered in blood. It looked like your own. You had several injuries that needed tending to. He resented the night’s sleep he’d just gotten, given that it had put your life in danger. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop events from occurring, but he still blamed himself. He hadn’t been watching, hadn’t been ready. 

Your expression was worried, your eyes looked full of tears that you refused to let go… but you stance was firm, and you were unmoving. Against your fear and anxiousness, you held your ground, staring down the animal as it circled you all. 

He wondered what you could possibly be thinking, but it left his mind immediately when the Panther jumped straight on to attack you and the others. 

-

When Lukas stirred into consciousness, he could hear conversation echoing through the mouth of the cave. Freeda and Copelin were still inside, sharpening wooden spikes with the knives from their packs. He turned a saw that you were nowhere to be found, and neither was Rodey. 

Lukas wasn’t suspicious often, but he didn’t like Rodey. He felt that the boy’s intentions toward you were unfair and purely obnoxious. He knew what the odds of either of you winning were, and he hated the idea that if you won, you would be losing more than just a friend. 

He sprung to his feet in no time, lunging for the edge of the cave to see what you both had been up to. 

When he stepped into the light of the dimly lit forest, he could hear your laughter, it was bright and cheerful, and he was somewhat thankful to have ever heard it again. He didn’t think that the arena was a place to have a laugh, but then again, the training center didn’t seem like the place either, and he’d found it to be quite fun. Those are the perks of being from a career district, he guessed. 

“Top of the mornin’, to ya,” Rodey nodded to him with a slanted smile, knowing that as long as he acted like nothing had changed, Lukas wouldn’t be able to say anything in front of you. 

Rodey thought he’d make it easy on everyone and just stay as close to you as possible. What he didn’t know was that Lukas didn’t play by everyone else’s rules. He marched to the beat of a different drum and all that. 

“What are you guys talking about?” 

It was nonchalant, and you didn’t detect the annoyance in his tone. 

“N-nothing much. Just that Rodey d-oesn’t mind my stutter all that m-much,” you repeated, your smile widening every time you heard or got to repeat the words. 

Rodey was the only guy in years who’d ever even listened to you tell him things after he heard the way you spoke. Finnick excluded, because as mentor he has a specific duty to you, anyways. 

“I actually think it’s really cute,” he turned to look down at where you sat on a log, his hair falling over his eyes just a bit. 

You thought he was adorable. He said all the right things, listened to you when you spoke, and you couldn’t deny the fact that he was cute as hell. Steely blue eyes, wispy blonde hair, and dimples at the side of his smile. You think back to the comments made about you being the ‘most beautiful tribute’ and you can’t justify that. Maybe you’re only attracted to him because of his kindness towards you… but after another glance in his direction, you know that can’t be true. 

“What did I tell you last night?” Lukas leaned into Rodey’s face, separating him from your view. You furrowed your brow and tried to lean around Lukas to hear what was being said, finally opting to stand as a last resort. 

“What’s g-going on?” 

And then you all were stuck to your spot, heads turning quickly at the growling sound that just bellowed out of the cave. 

You started to run for the edge of it, yelling at the top of your lungs.

“Freeda? C-Copelin?” 

And then two screams, and two sounds of the cannon. 

You quickly turned back around, but it was too late. 

A large animal with a midnight color coat had pounced on you, pinning you to the ground while it tried to reach you with it’s mouth. You held your arms out before you to try and hold it off, but it’s claws dug into your shoulder and your side, opening the skin and letting lines of blood flow freely. 

You didn’t have to hold it off long, because a knife was thrown at the beast’s front leg, knocking it off of you and making it retreat into itself at its fresh wound. 

Rodey and Lukas pulled you to your feet, rushing you away from the animal and into the forest. You were pushed to the front, but you didn’t know how fast you could run, and for how long, especially without losing too much blood. 

You’d already tripped on several vines that were crawling about grounds, nearly crashing into branches or trees the next moment. You tried to remember which way the cornucopia was, because if you all had any chance of defeating a panther of that size, you would need to get back to the main weapon supply. Other tributes be damned, you needed more weapons. More supplies. More anything. 

You turned a corner at a particular rock formation, hearing a loud scream in the distance, and then another cannonfire. That cannot be good. That scream was far too close to comfort. 

You tried to round a tree before the sound of growling increased behind you, and within an instant, the panther had caught up, running over and jumping off of the rock formation to cut you off. You had nowhere to go from here, and it didn’t look good. 

You thought to yourself for a moment, this is another chance. A chance to die, without any tribute bearing your blood on their hands. That’s what you’d been hoping for, right? A death that contained no contact with any other person in this arena. You could throw yourself at it, let it feast upon you so Rodey and Lukas could escape. They are the tributes you’d bet on, you might as well give them a head start. 

You stood your ground, holding your arms out to the side and turning along as the panther circled you all, the growling sounds never ceasing, only growing stronger as it smells the scene of your blood dripping off your skin. 

How full of fear you were, you did not know. You could not measure it in comparison to anything else. You just knew you felt like crying, but held back on the account of anything happening yet. You had to think. Obviously if you told them to leave you, they wouldn’t. You needed to try and distract the animal, draw it in but away from them. 

You looked at its eyes, another jolt of fear raking your body before it leapt into the air…

… and fell dead in front of you, an ax between its eyes as it lay in the ground, mouth still hung open. 

You looked up and behind you, your eyes wide and mouth open in shock, harsh, ragged breaths falling from your lips for all the running that ensued. 

Rodey quickly stepped in front of you, drawing the last knife he had from his pocket. 

“Who’s there?” He shouted into the foggy air, facing the rock structure that the ax came from. You all waited in anticipation, and finally the girl from seven climbed up and over the rocks, showing herself with her hands in the air. 

You stepped around the boy before you, pushing down his arm to keep him from throwing the knife. 

“Seven?” You asked, seeing the face of the girl you fought in training. She seemed to be relieved to see you, because you didn’t seem like the fighting type. 

“I thought you guys could use the help,” she explained, lowering her arms and nodding towards the dead panther, which was slowly disintegrating into the ground. That’s the thing about the arena, hunting is hunting, and escaping is escaping. You didn’t hunt this animal, so the game makers weren’t going to let you keep it as food. It would be quickly ruined. “I need help, too.”

“You’re not our ally, how can we trust you?” Lukas asked, crossing his arms and stepping forward as well. It seemed to be a battle of distance, whoever could reach her first. You knew she wouldn’t harm you, hell, she had saved your life…

“I didn’t have to help you, you know,” she stumbled forward, and it was only then that you could see she was injured. Her side had a stab wound, which she held when her hands were again at her side. “I did it in good faith.”

“S-she’s not going to kill us.” Your statement didn’t even need to resonate, they understood that much just from looking at her, now. 

“You’re careers, I assume you all have dibs on the cornucopia… I need supplies,” she let out, gesturing to the injury that everyone had clearly seen already. You raced forward to help her, but Lukas grabbed at your arm. 

“I can shoulder her, you’re not looking too good either.”

You looked down at your upper arm and side. That panther would have killed you if he had pounced on your neck instead of your arms. Funny, you thought the Capitol mutts were supposed to kill on sight, not play with their food.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Rodey was hesitant. With the craze of these games, he wasn’t fond of inviting unwanted company. Who knows when someone will simply snap and turn on you?

“We j-just lost two allies at once. I t-think we could use at l-least one more…” You trailed, your stutter becoming a bit worse when you were upset. There was no reason to protest. She saved your lives, without needing to. She could have just left the scene, saving herself and leaving you all to the panther… but she didn’t. And in a game like this, you couldn’t afford to pass up exchanges like the one she made. 

Rodey nodded, a simple ‘okay’ falling from his mouth as he moved to help shoulder you. Once the adrenaline wore off, you felt the effects of the clawed wounds in your skin more severely. It burned like hell, and the blood was still oozing from your side. 

You all walked north, towards the center of the arena and what you were hoping was the cornucopia. When you got there, you all ravaged through the supplies to find that someone had gotten here first. The food was here, the weapons (save for the ones you all took the day before) and the camping packs were all still available. 

Lukas was the first one to jump to action, remembering the survival methods from training day that nobody else bothered to use. He began tearing into the thermal blankets, using one of the knives to cut strips from the cloth. 

You were looking through the food to see if there was anything of comfort, or at least something that would sustain you a while. You found apples and bread rations, and took one of each, watching as Lukas helped tend to the girl from seven’s wounds. You’d found out her name was Lyra Thorne, and she was seventeen. She was reaped, just like you, and she had two younger sisters waiting for her at home. You hadn’t thought about your baby brother until now. You almost wish you hadn’t thought of him at all. It was too sad to think that you would never see him again. You’d have to talk to Lukas and ask him to take care of him when he went home. You’d been almost positive by now that he was going to win. 

Just then you’d heard the cannon, and looked around you to see if there was anyone or anything in the distance… but nothing. It must have been further off.

Something you did see, however… a tiny parachute falling from the sky, directly towards where you were sitting. The group watched in silence as it basically fell in your lap. The small canister had an engraved ‘4’ on the front, with a little latch that could open and close. 

Lukas nodded to you, and you carefully opened it up, pulling out the contents of the inside. It was a mini med pack, complete with medical ointment that could probably speed up the healing process rapidly. 

There was a note on the inside, too. It read:

I’ve always hated cats… don’t let those scratches get infected. - F

You smiled, folding up the piece of paper and dropping it into one of your cargo pant compartments.

“We g-got a sponsor.” 

-

The cannon sounded again after about five hours. You all had been staying close to the cornucopia. It was familiar territory, and for now, it was beneficial. The food between four people would run out after a day, but being safe was better than being sorry. You figured you’d weave some of those ropes together from the camping packs, help Lukas catch a fish or two the day after. 

As long as you were staying alive, you wanted to give your best effort. You realized how foolish it was to be looking for ways to sacrifice yourself. What you saw this very morning was proof that the most qualified tributes could fall. As long as you kept playing the game your way… maybe you had a chance to outlast. You didn’t think you would win by any means… but these last few days being spent were a better alternative to immediate death. 

When the sun went down that evening, you all made a fire. It was small, not for the concern of smoke, since you couldn’t see over the tree line from anywhere in the arena… mostly because it was hard to find dry wood anywhere. Lyra was very helpful with that, what with her being from the lumber district and all. 

“You’re v-very good at this,” you told her, trying your best to copy her movements to start your own kindling. It wasn’t working barely at all, and she laughed at your valiant attempt. 

“Here, I can help,” she quickly took the stick from your hands, her hand movements were fluid as she created enough friction to start a flame. “That should last us through the night, hopefully.”

“I find it f-funny how it’s so hot and h-humid during the day, but at night it’s freezing.” 

“That’s the thing about humidity, the moisture can go either way. Take away the sun, the warmth goes with it.”

You giggled, looking over to her with a joking expression. 

“I h-haven’t seen the sun since w-we got here,” you told her, gesturing up to the tall and wide trees, every branch above weaving into a canopy where no sky or show of sun could be seen through. Only the tiny traces of light that implicated they were still there.

“Tell me about it,” she paused, taking out of her pocket the tiny foil blanket that had been crumpled up into her pocket. “You know, I got so chilled last night that I had to have a sponsor send me one of these. It helped a little bit, but I was still still cold and stiff until the morning.”

“We huddled t-together in a cave and made a fire. We g-got lucky that the cave had an opening, o-otherwise, I’m not sure what we w-would have done.”

“Well, now that I’m here I can help you build a fire, wherever we end up.”

You smiled to her, reaching out to her hand and giving her a touch of gratification. 

“I’m happy y-you’re here with us. The thought of being the sole p-person that keeps the t-two of them from butting h-heads was enough to k-kill me already.” 

She smiled back to you, nodding her head in thanks. She was happy to have to all as allies. Perhaps she wouldn’t die as soon as she thought she would. She was after all a more experienced weaponist, but she didn’t know if that would be enough to defeat tributes of career stature. But you weren’t a career, and neither was Lukas. You both were different. You were kinder, gentler. Even though Lukas may seem a bit apprehensive at times, you always helped him see things your way. You looked for the brightside, even in this hell hole of an arena. 

She liked that about you. 

“I’m glad to be here.”

She was a very good addition to the little team you’d formed. Someone else that could bear the weight without doing it alone. Someone else to pitch in if supplies need be carried. Someone else that could be used as a human shield if you run into Estelle and the boy from eleven. 

You shook that thought from your mind. It was simply intrusive, and you didn’t need to be thinking like that. Play the game your way, not theirs. Show your kindness, show your compassion, and never let them make you what you aren’t.

About an hour later, you looked up at the sky, watching for the tribute memorial to start… but it was taking too long. Rodey and Lukas were chatting away about some sort of swimming competition, which was good and all, but probably wouldn’t come to fruition. Lyra was passed out next to the fire, waiting for someone to wake her up to take the next watch. You, on the other hand, had done your fair share of speaking throughout the day. You didn’t want to keep it going in fear of wasting your words tomorrow. 

You dug your hand into your pocket and fished out the note that Finnick had written. You smiled at the words on the paper, his humor and charm seeping in through even the worst of situations. You were just happy he was able to send some help. The medical treatment went a long way. There was enough not only for you but for Lyra, too. You figured that was the reason she was able to sleep so peacefully, even in the middle of the hunger games. She probably didn’t have a mentor like Finnick, someone who was so devoted to her well being that he would charge through hell or high water to see to it you were taken care of… to be fair, you didn’t think of Finnick as that sort of mentor either. 

You think it changed the first night during swim lessons. No one had been able to get you into the water like that. Not even Lukas, who was the best swimmer you knew. He’d been so kind and encouraging, so uplifting and gentle. His patience for something so ridiculous had astounded you. 

You closed your eyes, trying to picture those sea green eyes and the dimples of his dashing smile. His handsome features in the casted moonlight of your Capitol bedroom, painting him in such a soft glow. He’d delivered such bad news to you that night, the one before the games. If by some miracle you won, you’d be doomed to a life of sexual slavery… but part of you debates; it would be worth it to see Finnick Odair again. It would be worth it to wrap your arms around his shoulders one more time. It would be worth every unsatiated night just to look into those eyes, the crashing waves within them. The ocean brought you fear from a young age, but now you longed to see it again. To compare the color of his eyes and to see if the ocean could even hold up against them. 

You fell asleep before the fallen tributes were projected, and hoped for the sake of your thoughts you would not become one of them… but deep down you knew better.

When the projection finally hit the sky, the fallen tributes were: The boy and girl from two, the boy from eight, the girl from nine, and the boy from twelve. There are now only seven tributes remaining.

-

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

BALLERINA - Chapter Fourteen

A Jake Kiszka AU

Physiotherapist!Jake x Original Female Character

Previous Chapter.

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you for your patience. I really struggled with this chapter but here it is. This is the chapter in which everything is finally explained. I really hope you like it!

Please read the warnings carefully and thoroughly before continuing.

Word count: 6.8K

Warnings for this chapter: angst, pain and suffering, violence, lies, description of blood and injuries, crying, criminal behavior, talk of addiction, poor coping mechanism, poor mental health, anger, betrayal.

_________________________________

Jake knew something was wrong the moment he met his brother's concerned eyes.

He didn't remember the last time he had seen his twin so distraught, so when their gazes met, dread immediately gripped his throat like an icy hand.

His heart started hammering in his chest as he approached his brother in that dull hallway.

When finally the words left his brother's lips, he didn't understand at first. His mind refused to comprehend what his brother was telling him.

Then, when the meaning of those words finally sunk in, he had to sit down on a nearby chair because his head was spinning.

He took his head between his hands and shook it, defeated and furious with himself.

He cursed himself for even thinking he could get away with it. He had betrayed her and the absolute blind trust she had in him and he hated himself for that.

He had lost one of the most important people in his life and he knew she would and could never forgive him.

Nobody could, not for what he had done and hidden so recklessly.

“Let's go home, Jake. We need to figure out what to do now.” Josh said, trying to sound sure of himself but failing miserably because of the tremble in his voice.

They could sense each other's agitation so Josh tried to put a comforting hand on his twin's shoulder but Jake recoiled from his touch as if he had been hurt by an invisible blow.

He stood and silently made his way back inside the door he had come out previously and reappeared a few minutes later without his scrub and with his bag in hand, ready to leave.

They reached their cars in complete silence and left the hospital parking lot together.

When they got home, they left their cars in the driveway. Jake walked inside the garage and stopped in front of the crashed car.

Josh quickly followed him and slowly approached his brother.

“Jake, I'm so sorry. I left her in the living room with Rose while I went in the music room to check the guitars you ordered. When I came back she was nowhere to be seen. Fuck, it took less than fine minutes…I don't know what happened. I don't know how she ended up here. Just… I came downstairs and Rose was whining in front of the door to the garage and… Iris was gone. I opened the door and saw-”

He was about to finish his explanation when Jake abruptly cut him off, grabbing him by the tshirt and pinning him against the nearest wall with unbelievable force, taking his breath away.

Jake’s eyes were burning with desperation as he attacked his brother.

“You had one fucking thing to do, Josh. I asked you not to leave her alone. She shouldn't have seen this. She shouldn't have come down here!” Jake shouted in his brother's face with the force of a thunderstorm, punctuating every word with the blow of his fist against Josh’s chest.

Every single word that left Jake’s lips was like a poisoned arrow to Josh’s heart.

Josh didn't know what to say to make his brother feel better.

“Fuck you, Josh!” Jake screamed, his voice breaking with a frantic scream that echoed into the room.

He continued to pound his fist against his brother's chest for a bit and then his body started to shake with sobs.

He had to brace himself against his brother so as not to fall and Josh tried to support him as best as he could.

Josh felt his tshirt dampen where Jake’s face was buried and his heart shattered in his chest. He ran a delicate hand in his brother's hair and tried to make him calm down a bit and soothe his sorrow.

But it seemed of no avail.

Jake's sobs worsened.

So Josh spoke, his voice slow and delicate.

“Jake, I'm so sorry. It's my fault” Josh whispered, but Jake shook his head with force against his brother's chest

“No, Josh it's not. It's entirely mine.” Jake managed to say through tears and sobs and lifted his reddened teary face to look into his brother's eyes.

“I shouldn't have lied to her the way I did. I shouldn't even have gone near her, fuck. We shouldn't have hidden the car and we shouldn't have done what we have. Fuck Josh, I think I love her and I ruined everything.” Jake said defeated and guilty, tears silently streaming down his face.

“Call her, you need to speak to her, you have to tell her everything. Then we are going to figure out what to do. But right now you owe her an explanation.” Josh said, trying to sound as calm as possible.

Jake straightened up and dried his eyes with the back of his hand. Then grabbed his phone from his pocket and called Iris.

The phone rang but no one answered and with every failed attempt at contacting her Jake's heart threatened to dissolve in a million little pieces.

As the day slowly gave way to the night, Jake grew restless and nervous and Josh didn't know what he can do to help him.

He refused to eat and kept trying to contact Iris with no result. When his phone's battery died he finally decided it was time to go to bed.

He disappeared without saying a word to his brother and took shelter into his room, knowing already that he wouldn't sleep a wink.

Josh cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher and settled on the sofa with a hot cup of chamomile. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. His heart ached for his brother and he kept thinking of a way to help him but no ideas came to his mind.

After an indefinite amount of time, Josh heard someone move upstairs and heard Jake’s door open.

He already knew where his brother was going.

The music room was Jake's second home. Whenever he had some spare moments during the day or couldn't sleep during the night he usually went there to practice and write.

There was a beautiful black piano in there. Its shiny black coating was dusty because of unuse and it had been moved to a corner to make room for a old tattered sofa and the many amps and guitars that Jake had been hoarding for some time now.

Josh hadn't heard a single note from that piano for so long so he was startled when a solitary note echoed into their silent house. Another one followed and then another one, slowly morphing into the most melancholic melody he had ever heard.

He didn't recognise it at first, but then after a few more notes it downed upon him and he remembered.

Their grandparents smiles came to his mind and a sense of longing for their childhood long gone invaded him.

Deep sorrow and unadulterated happiness mixed weirdly in his heart and before he could notice, a single tear had made its way down his cheek.

Sometimes he hated how powerful the connection between him and his twin was. Their resemblance wasn't just physical. Sometimes he could understand what his brother was thinking, feel what he was feeling and sometimes it even irritated him.

He had hated being a twin in the past. Especially when he was younger. Living up the inevitable comparison was like hell for him and he knew it was the same for his brother.

But in that moment, he thanked the heavens for having a person in the world who could understand him and who he could understand so perfectly.

Because in that moment, as Jake kept playing that haunting melancholic song, he felt as if his thoughts were exactly the same as his brother's and despite the concrete separating them he felt that same connection even harder than before.

He was glad to be there for him in times of need and he knew that Jake was feeling the same.

Without knowing how he ended up there, Josh found himself in the music room.

Jake didn't even lift his face from the dusty piano to acknowledge his presence but he saw his shoulders imperceptibly relax and he knew he was glad that he was there.

Josh sat on the tattered sofa, grabbed an old notebook from under it and started writing in complete silence while his brother played, alternating piano and acoustic guitar.

They didn't say a word, they didn't need to. They could understand each other perfectly without them.

And they tried to seek a bit of refuge in what they did best. Making music. A shared pain is halved after all.

~

On the fourth day of receiving no answer or news from Iris, Jake was a desperate mess.

He couldn't sleep more than an hour here and there, he didn't eat properly and he didn't take care of himself the way he should. He had called in sick to work because he felt like shit and as he told his brother, he had already caused enough damage and didn't want to mess up another patience's life.

Josh didn't know what to do for his brother so he tried his best to take care of him the way he could. He cooked for him, persuaded and sometimes forced him to eat and take care of himself.

Jake endured his brother's ministrations with a short fuse and Josh had already lost count of how many times he had told him to fuck off.

But Josh didn't relent and his efforts often paid off. He managed to have his brother eat at least some soup, fruits or vegetables and drink some water everyday.

On the morning of the fourth day of silence, after the umpteenth call, Jake threw his phone across the room and cursed loudly, dropping to his knees and grasping his head in his hands.

Josh quickly ran from the kitchen to see what happened and made an impulsive decision.

He was tired of seeing his brother like that so he ordered him to go shower and shave the darker hair that had started to grow on his upper lip and chin and told him to make himself decent to go to Iris's house and try to talk to her.

But it seemed that his words fell on deaf ears.

“She doesn't want to have anything to do with me, and, in all honesty I don't blame her.” Jake said, his red-rimmed eyes were cast on the floor as he slowly shook his head.

The dull morning light coming from the French door accentuated the dark circles under his eyes and the extreme tiredness on his face.

Josh stormed in front of his brother and grabbed him by his shirt, making him stand up with wide eyes.

“I am so fucking tired of you moping around like this. Now go shower before I kick you in the ass and make yourself presentable, before I lose my goddammit mind and I do something reckless.” Josh said, shaking his brother by his shoulders a little.

Jake wiggled away from his grasp with a frustrated groan but finally made his way towards the bathroom upstairs.

Josh watched him go and then when he heard the door closing, dropped onto the nearby sofa with a desperate huff.

He really hoped it was the right thing to do to help his twin sort out that mess.

~

A few hours later they were sitting in the car in a parking spot just near Iris’s flat. They noticed that the blinds were open but there was no light coming from the windows. There was no sign that someone was inside.

They didn't say it out loud but they were both terrified about what was to come.

After a few minutes Jake muttered “fuck it”, opened the door and walked towards the building.

Josh quickly followed him and stopped right next to him on the curb. Jake tried to push the door of the apartment-building and unexpectedly it opened.

They took the stairs and quickly reached the second floor.

When Jake saw the door to her flat, he stopped dead in his tracks, unable to move further down the hallway.

Josh almost bumped against him but catched himself quickly.

Jake took a deep breath, wiped his sweaty hands against his jeans and rang the doorbell.

No sound came from the inside, not even the echo of the doorbell.

Jake looked at Josh with confusion in his eyes and then decided to knock.

The noise echoed inside but no answer came.

Jake tried again and again, and every time grew more frustrated, when he got no sign from the other side.

He ended up making his knuckles red and raw with the force he used to knock.

Frustration got the best of him and he slammed his fist to the door splitting his knuckles open before Josh stopped him by grabbing his hands from behind him.

Jake leant his head against the door and shook it, letting a defeated sob leave his lips as a lone tear wetted one of his flushed cheeks.

Josh was about to drag him away when Jake started talking.

“Iris, please…Let me explain, I just need you to listen to me” he said, his voice broken and full of pain.

“Please, Iris, just please” he continued but again he received no answer.

“Fuck, I love you” he whispered wiggling his hands away from Josh’s grasp and placing them flat against the cool wood of the door as if he could willing it to open with the power of his mind.

Josh cursed himself for suggesting to go there and for inflicting this agony on his brother.

He tried again to pull him away but once again he resisted.

Josh saw him stick his hand in his pocket and pull out a little white envelope, before crouching down and sliding it under the door.

He knelt there for a moment and then stood, wiping his tears away and walking towards the stairs with his head hanging low and his hands balled into fists.

Josh took a last look to the door that remained unopened and then quickly followed his brother back outside and into the car.

They didn't utter a word for the entire journey back home. Every once in a while Josh stole a glance towards his brother but Jake didn't look back. His gaze was lost in the distance out of the window.

When they arrived home, Jake disappeared into his room and Josh decided to let him be for a while.

~

The living room was immersed into darkness when Josh woke up with a startle.

A loud noise of something falling on the floor disrupted his sleep and made the hair on the back of his head stand up as he slowly became aware of his surroundings and realized that he wasn't in his own room.

He quickly sat up on the sofa and almost got tangled in a blanket that wasn't there when he had sat there.

The clock on the wall read 3:27.

Right when he noticed that there was light coming from somewhere in his peripheral, a whispered curse came from the kitchen and prompted him to stand up.

He immediately thought that someone had broken into the house, so he took a look around in search of a weapon that could scare the thief away.

His eyes drifted to one of Jake’s acoustic guitars that was hanging on the wall right above the sofa. As silently as he could he grabbed it from the wall and bradished it like a baseball bat.

His heart was hammering in his chest as he slowly made his way towards the lit kitchen. He stopped right next to the doorframe and listened.

Another noise came from the room and this time he heard a groan.

He took a deep breath, tightened his hold on the fretboard and jumped into the kitchen shouting “What the fuck do you want?” in the most psycho

tone he could muster.

“FUCK!” A very frightened Jake shouted and jumped, letting a glass bowl slip out of his grasp.

It shattered on the floor sending glass shards and what looked like flour all over the tiles. He was wearing a black apron over his pajamas and his hair was in a low messy bun.

“What the fuck was that for? And put that guitar down immediately” Jake said panting, with one hand on his heart.

“I thought you were a burglar.” Josh said, still slightly upset, gently propping the guitar against the wall.

“What the hell are you doing? It's fucking half past three in the morning, Jake” he said then noticing the absolute mess that was the kitchen.

Jake took a good look around as if he noticed the state of the kitchen only at that very moment, then spoke.

“I needed something to keep my hands occupied.

I have already ripped all the strings from that goddamn SG and before I do something reckless like throwing it, or worse myself, off the balcony I just needed a distraction. Fuck, I think I'm going insane.” He confessed.

“So… so you started cooking?” Josh said, baffled, while searching for the broom to clean up the mess he had caused his brother to make.

“I…Yes I did. I already cooked a Beef Wellington, pizza dough is rising and will be ready in a few hours. I was about to make Italian meringue to finish this lemon meringue tart, but you made me drop the only powdered sugar we had so I guess it's just a lemon tart now.” Jake said nonchalantly, turning around to grab a cake pan with a perfectly-cooked shortcrust pastry from the oven.

He placed it gently on the counter avoiding the shards still on the floor, discarded the oven gloves and started filling the pastry bag with lemon custard.

As Josh cleaned the floor, Jake filled the shortcrust with the custard, careful not to make any more mistakes.

When Jake finished with the cake, he put everything in the sink and turned around to help Josh move the chairs out of the way to better clean the floor.

They gathered the bigger shards and then Josh grabbed the vacuum to clean the floor better.

When Josh finally finished, he straightened his back and was met with Jake handing him a plate with a big slice of lemon tart.

“Tell me if it's good or if I should just throw it in the bin already.” Jake asked, waiting patiently for his brother to taste the dessert and choose its destiny.

Josh took the plate and watched as his brother yawned and turned around to start washing the mountain of dishes that were piled in the sink.

He went to grab a fork but was distracted by a movement in his peripheral. From the kitchen door he saw a barely awake Rose making her way on wobbly legs towards them. Poor thing must have been woken up by their racket.

He watched as she tiredly wagged her tail and almost sleepwalked towards one of her blankets right next to the kitchen island. She fell back asleep almost immediately. She really didn't like to sleep with nobody around.

He smiled fondly while tasting a bite of cake and gasped at the delicious taste.

“Jake, this cake is phenomenal” he said while taking another bite.

His brother just turned around and gave him a quick tired smile before resuming his work, yawning again and again.

“Jake, let go. I'm doing it, don't worry. Just go to bed, you have been up all night. You need to rest.” Josh took pity in his brother and tried his best to convince him.

It didn't take long though. Jake was really exhausted so he mumbled a tired “thank you” and disappeared into the living room.

Josh, now wide awake and without an ounce of sleep left in his body, finished washing the dishes, put everything Jake had cooked away and cleaned up the rest of the kitchen.

Almost half an hour later, the kitchen was finally clean and Josh decided it was time for him to finally hit the hay. He scooped up a sleeping Rose into his arms and turned off the lights.

He saw Jake sleeping on the sofa almost completely buried under the blanket as he climbed the stairs towards his room.

He placed Rose next to his bed, on her favourite pillow and laid down on his bed with a huff, falling asleep almost immediately.

~

When Josh woke up in the morning, the house was eerily quiet. The sun was already high in the sky so he knew it was fairly late. He turned around to look at his alarm clock that read 10:25.

Rose was still where he had placed her but now she was sleeping on her back with all four paws up in the air. A little smile appeared on his tired face as he watched her fondly.

His stomach grumbled and he remembered the tart Jake had made the night before.

He exited his room quietly, leaving the puppy behind and noticed that Jake’s door was open and his bed empty.

He went down the stairs expecting to see his brother still sprawled on the living room couch but didn't find him even there. The blanket he had used was neatly folded on the armrest and there wasn't a single wrinkle on the sofa cover.

He tried to call him but got no answer.

There wasn't a single trace of Jake anywhere in the house.

He moved to the kitchen to have breakfast and noticed there was a little piece of paper on the table.

Scribbled there on the slip of paper there were a few words.

I need to talk to her. I'll be back soon.

Josh sighed. He didn't have a good feeling about the whole situation but trusted his brother so he tried not to worry about it too much.

But the fear of having to put the pieces of his brother's heart back together after another failed attempt at talking to Iris really made him lose his hunger altogether.

~

Jake woke up with a startle when the rays of the rising sun were painting the walls of the living room with different shades of pink and red.

He has Iris's name on his lips.

He had dreamed about her.

She was crying. Just watching him as silent tears streaked her cheeks with a hurt expression in her eyes.

He needed to see her. Talk to her even if it was the last time ever.

But it was too early.

He tried to fall back asleep but he couldn't find quiet. He kept tossing and turning, tangling himself in the blanket that was covering him.

After a while, he accepted his defeat and got up with a groan.

He kept turning his mind over and over the whole situation with Iris and he knew he needed a distraction.

He turned around and saw his acoustic perched on his stand on the wall. He thought about grabbing it and going to play outside but then realized he needed another kind of distraction, something tiring that could keep his body and mind equally occupied.

He decided it was time to go for a run.

He munched on a few almonds while he got dressed in his black sweats, a maroon t-shirt he found in the laundry and comfy trainers.

He scribbled a note for Josh on a slip of paper, grabbed his phone and earbuds and headed out in the cool morning.

Birds were chirping loudly in the trees that surrounded the garden and the sky was painted in contrasting colors.

Eastward, the beautiful sunrise was still lighting up the sky, making the clouds glow in a million shades of gold, red and pink.

Out west instead, the sky looked menacingly dark. Stormy clouds were slowly approaching and really looked like they were bringing rain. Cold wind was blowing from that direction, making Jake’s hair fly around in his face and goosebumps raise on his skin.

Low thunders could be heard from there and he really didn't feel like going straight towards it.

Storms reminded him too much of her. His sweet Iris.

Images of their first time together invaded his brain and deep sorrow grew in his heart.

The hotness of her touch that night contrasted with the icy feeling that started enveloping his heart at that moment, the more he looked at the sky.

He shook his head to push away those thoughts and began a light jog east, towards the sunrise, in hope to find a bit of solace.

He connected his phone to his earbuds and Metallica started to blast through them, successfully silencing his tortured mind.

But the odds had other plans for him. He just didn't know it yet.

After a few miles, and without a clue on how it happened, he found himself right in front of Iris's house, on the other side of the deserted road.

He hadn't planned on ending up there but, at that moment, he felt like he was unable to move away from there. It was like his feet were glued to the pavement.

He stopped his music and stood there like a lost man.

He was facing the stormy sky ahead of him and shivered.

The black clouds were slowly but relentlessly approaching and thunders could be heard more clearly. Streaks of lightning flashed through the clouds from time to time, making everything a little more threatening.

Behind him, the sun was slowly rising in the sky, its pale rays were warming his shoulders gently.

For a second, he thought about crossing the street and ringing the door bell to her flat but he immediately came back to his senses when he remembered that it was too early to do that.

She was probably asleep then.

Or worse, maybe she wasn't even home.

He sighed, trying to calm his pounding heart but didn't succeed.

He finally made up his mind and decided he couldn't show up unannounced at 5 in the morning. He needed to go home and try to call her at a more decent time.

He started to walk away and took one last glance towards her windows when something made him stop abruptly.

A light had been turned on inside.

The glow of it was so faint it was almost invisible but he noticed it.

His heart started to beat so fast in his chest that it was all he could hear echoing in his ears.

She was there.

And she was awake.

He itched to ring the doorbell and talk to her, but at the same time he was so conflicted about what to do.

He was so tangled in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the light flicking off.

When he finally noticed he thought he had imagined it being on in the first place and cursed himself.

That's it, Jake, you are going crazy, he thought, squeezing his hands into fists at his sides and gritting his teeth.

But when the door of the building opened, his breath left his lungs altogether.

She was there, before his very eyes.

He bit his tongue harshly when he saw her there right in front of him, but oblivious of his presence, on the other side of the road.

She was so beautiful, even more beautiful that he remembered.

Seeing her made his heart swell with such happiness and love that his knees almost gave out under the weight of his feelings for her.

He felt his lips twist in a big relieved smile after seeing her for the first time since what felt eternity for him.

He was ready to run to her, hug her and kiss her.

But then something made him stop dead in his tracks.

He noticed a little detail that he hadn't seen at first.

Iris had a big suitcase next to her.

Jake’s heart sunk when his eyes fell on that suitcase and happiness disappeared from his body altogether, leaving only unadulterated fear behind, to slowly swallow him down.

At that moment Iris's eyes met his from the other side of the road and his heart skipped a beat.

He saw how her lips immediately stretched into a wonderful smile when she became aware of his presence.

He saw that her body had a little jolt and he knew that she was about to run to him, but then, she flinched away abruptly, remembering he was indeed the only cause of her physical and emotional pain.

He saw the conflicted expression in her eyes then. She didn't know what to do.

Her heart wanted her to run to him. The need to feel his lips against hers was so powerful that she couldn't stop staring at those plump lips she had come to know so well.

But her brain reminded her of what she had seen in that garage and of all the lies he had told her.

She couldn't stand staying there a second longer.

She tried to retreat back inside but his voice made her stop dead in her tracks.

A single word left Jake’s lips.

“Iris”

Her name was all he said. And God if she hadn't missed the sound of his voice.

Despite being on the other side of the road, she could hear him thanks to the still morning air all around them.

Hearing him say her name sent a shiver down her spine that forced her to stop and turn, just in time to see him cross the road to reach her.

Now face to face, they stared at each other for a long moment until Jake couldn't take it anymore.

He reached for her with one hand and took a step closer but, immediately, she took one back, recoiling from him.

His breath itched in his throat seeing her like this. Afraid of him.

He took a step back and lifted his hands, showing her he meant no harm.

“Please, Iris” he said, but she shook her head struggling to find her voice.

He tried again to come closer but again she retreated.

“I-I don't-I don't wanna talk to you” she stuttered.

“I know, baby, I know. Just-please just let me explain and then you'll never see me again if that's what you want. You have my word, but please let me speak.” Jake blurted out quickly in hope that she agreed to let him speak.

She stood there, still like a statue, with her eyes wide and her bitten lips parted for a long moment before nodding imperceptibly, giving him permission to speak.

Jake took a deep breath and started talking.

“First of all, I am incredibly sorry for all the pain and the suffering my poor decisions caused you.” He felt his throat almost closing to the thought of what he had done.

“I lied about many things and I'm not proud of it but please believe me when I say that my feelings for you are absolutely real and sincere” He went on, fighting the lump in his throat.

She didn't say a word but he could see that her body was shaking lightly and her eyes were red-rimmed as if she was having a hard time controlling her emotions.

“I am here to tell you everything and then you can decide if I deserve your forgiveness or not.” He said, running a hand through his hair nervously to keep them away from his flushed face.

She scoffed.

“You don't have to explain anything.” She hissed through her teeth, clenching her hands into fists. Her eyes widened with rage.

“No, please, baby just. Let me…” Jake tried to beg her, feeling the panic spread quickly in his body, but Iris interrupted him.

“I know everything, Jake” she spat in his face, her cheeks ablaze.

“I saw the car. And I saw you in the car.” Her voice quivered when the last words left her lips and her eyes lowered onto the pavement.

“I remembered, Jake” she said after a few seconds, and he saw a lonely tear streak her cheek.

Jake started speaking before she could.

“That car isn't mine. And you didn't see me. You thought you did. But in reality you were already unconscious when I got there and called the ambulance.” He said almost without stopping to breathe, but without looking away from her teary eyes.

Her eyes widened in surprise but, before she could interrupt him again, he went on.

“I remember that fateful night like it was yesterday. I had just gotten home from a shift and I was about to turn off the car when my phone started ringing. I cursed, thinking it was a call from the hospital asking me to go back but it wasn't. It was Josh calling me.

As soon as I answered, he started speaking so fast that I couldn't understand a single thing. He sounded extremely scared and upset that I immediately knew something bad had happened.

I told him I was in the yard and he immediately hung up. A few seconds later I saw him running from the front door to my car. Despite the darkness, I saw that his face was extremely concerned. He quickly entered and uttered a sentence that made the blood freeze in my veins.

‘Sam had an accident a few blocks away. He needs us.’

“I immediately reversed and sped down the road towards the location with Josh guiding me. My heart was beating so fast that my ears were ringing. I already pictured my little brother dead on the metal slab of the mortuary, covered with a thin white sheet. And despite trying so hard not to let that image cloud my mind, my first thought went to my mother.

My brother's voice dragged me out of my entangled mind and told me to drive towards the intersection and then turn right quickly.

But intuition made me stop there a little longer and take a look around.

And then I saw it.

What looked like a bundle of clothes in the middle of the road on the opposite side of the intersection.

It took me a few seconds to fully comprehend what I was looking at, but then, it clicked.

It was a body.

It was you, bleeding, alone and unconscious in the middle of the road with snow falling and staining red all over you.

Before I knew it, I was by your side and Josh was with me.

We were scared to death but I managed to tell him to go look for Sam and bring him home.

For once he didn't question my words, he just did what I told him.

I started assessing the damage on your body and when I understood you needed immediate treatment I scrambled to get my phone out of my pocket to call the ambulance.

I made a short call, telling them the location and that you had been hit by a car but purposefully avoided telling my name.

I saw how your lips slowly turned blue and I prayed that the ambulance made it there as quickly as possible.

When I heard the siren of the ambulance approaching in the distance, I hid in a dark blind alley nearby and watched as they put your unconscious body on a stretcher and sped away towards the hospital.

Then I started running towards home. Almost halfway I saw my brother's car approaching.

I climbed inside and we made it home in complete silence. We were both shocked.

At home I was about to go inside but Josh stopped me.

He told me in a sliver of voice that Sam had confessed he had hit you and fled the scene because he didn't know what to do. He told me that my little brother was completely drunk. Like every other fucking day.

He told me that we should have called the police to turn him in but I refused.

I told him to hide the car in the garage. He didn't want to do it but I made him promise he would. Then I sent him the number of an acquaintance of mine to call in the morning to send Sam into rehabilitation.

I didn't budge until Josh regretfully accepted and promised to me to do as I told him.

After, I took my car and under the guise of forgetting my phone in my office I went back into the hospital just in time for Doctor Allen to call me to assist him in your operation.

I was so scared you weren't going to make it. Seeing your body so battered made my stomach churn but I did my best to keep it together and make sure your wounds were treated in the best way possible.

I made it home the next morning at 9 am and nobody was there. I hadn't slept for more than 24 hours and I collapsed on the sofa till late afternoon.

When I woke, Sam was already in a rehabilitation facility and my twin refused to speak to me and look me in the eyes.

I came back to the hospital because I felt some kind of force pulling me back to you. I don't know how to explain it but I knew I had to look out for you.

That evening I came into your room for the first time. I was so happy to see you breathing on your own but at the same time, seeing you there bruised and hurt basically because of me made my heart break.

At that moment I swore I would do anything in my power to help you get back on your feet and back to dancing again. I already knew you were a ballet dancer. I saw your ballet shoes scattered on the pavement and bloodstained that night.

That very night I asked Doctor Allen his permission to be your physiotherapist. He accepted and I was glad.

You were more or less my only reason to breathe and keep waking up every morning, since my little brother hated me and my twin refused to speak to me for what I had made him do.

I am so sorry. I really didn't know what to do. I didn't want to ruin my brother's life by landing him in jail. He always struggled with alcohol and somehow we always thought he would be alright eventually growing up but I guess that's not how it went.

And look what I did instead. I ruined your life.

I take full responsibility for this, and if you want me to, I'm ready to turn myself in and face the consequences of my own actions.

It's all my fault.”

By the end of his speech, Jake felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest and he was finally able to breathe again.

He noticed how silent tears streaked Iris's flushed cheeks profusely and felt something tickle his own.

He touched his face and understood that he had been crying too.

He waited in silence for a few seconds as his words sunk in and then spoke again.

“Iris, please say something” he begged her in a whisper, daring to gently grab her hand.

She let him.

The feeling of her skin made calmness wash over him like never before.

But her words made him anxious once again.

“You should have told me, Jake. I know everything would be different now if you had been honest with me. I don't know what to do” she said crying.

“I don't know if I can trust you again after you lied to me all this time.” She went on, shaking her head and letting her hand slip away from his gentle grasp, taking a step back.

At that moment the noise of a car approaching along the completely deserted road disrupted the otherwise still morning. Thunders had somehow stopped completely since they had started talking.

Iris saw the car approaching and remembered. Her eyes went wide and the little color on her face disappeared again.

Jake saw the car only when it stopped right next to them.

It was yellow and the sign on top made it obvious it was a taxi.

His eyes widened and he felt his throat constricting with fear as the driver got out of the car to help Iris load her suitcase into the trunk to get her to the airport.

His greatest fear was becoming a reality.

He was losing her.

He tried to beg her as tears streaked his own cheeks but it was as if his words fell on deaf ears.

She was still crying when she climbed in the backseat of the taxi and turned around to look him in the eyes one last time.

He felt his heart break in a million little pieces when the car started moving away from him, bringing his most essential treasure away from him.

_______________________________

“Please, stay” He said helplessly, even though she couldn't hear him anymore, watching the car slowly drive away.

Next and final chapter

Taglist: @gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jessicafg03 @doodle417 @hellowgoodbye @ejoygvf @jaketlover @jakekiszkasbabymama @objectsinspvce @indigostreakmorgan @witchofendora @myleftsock @gretavanshmeat @gretasfallingsky @giraffehippy @jennasometimesreads @katiegvf @sinarainbows @laney_gvf @themorningbirds @starcatcherchords @lipstickitty @meetingthestardust @joshskittytickler @livkiszka @twistedmelodies @ignite-my-fire @gvfmarge @writingcold @brujamagick @edgingthedarkness @gold-mines-melting @mindastreamofcolours @blacksoul-27 @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mapelsyrup07 @klarxtr @takenbythemadness @peaceloveunitygvf @lyndz2names

[reds-skull]

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

OOO I'm very excited to share this chapter! We're getting close to the finish line!

Its name is "The Song of Us"

Page 54 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 15:

The Blind man asks his companion, before dawn break, What do you believe, is a beast’s fate, Once death seizes its life, in his inevitable grasp? The beast, his heart knowing of the fallen knight’s pleas, Of men they lost, who were left to be but a worm’s dark feast, Answers, death reaches for monsters all the same as men, For the unjust, for the cruel, For the kind, for the forgiving, All bones become one, until they become none, As death is the only being, to see all as one and the same.

This city is quiet, in the way a drowning is. Something wicked is happening under the surface, hidden from plain sight. If only its victim had air to scream.

The Hunter has intel beyond the SAS’s scope, beyond Laswell’s. Informants, comms. A man pronounced to all as dead. How is it possible, they were written off as a non-threat before?

Soap grits his teeth, tapping the lit end of his cigarette on a wall. Simon started moving a few minutes ago, the poison once again retreating. By the haunted look in his brown eyes, John could tell they both know he’s running out of time.

Price has been arguing with Laswell while helping Simon. Something about the fact the Hunter seemingly didn’t exist a year prior, on paper. Appeared out of nowhere one day with an army behind them, ready to burrow into intelligence networks in a way even Makarov couldn’t.

Makarov’s name came up a lot in that conversation. Enough that Soap had to take a smoke.

Anger thrums through his veins. Begging for blood. The same incessant screaming that drove him to choke the life out of Makarov, the same fire that kept him going through this personal slice of hell.

Maybe he’s an idiot, for wanting to kill the Hunter, for believing it will change anything.

The cigarette’s flame licks his fingers.

Soap crushes it against the wall. He turns around, watching Simon and the Captain. Far enough to not hear them, but they seem to need a bit of privacy anyway. Soap can’t say he’s ever seen Price that emotional, in their short meetings.

He asks himself where Gaz is when the Lieutenant approaches him.

“Price is bloody livid, isn’t he?” Gaz huffs.

Soap hums. His eyes move from the Captain to Simon, his mask still on the ground besides him.

Kyle follows his stare, “did you know Ghost’s identity, when I found you two?”

“No”, the white skull almost glows in the moonlight, “I only found out when… the communicator tried to use it against him.”

He can feel Gaz scan his features, “and you still decided to work with him.”

Soap doesn’t answer. Simon and Price are hugging now, the movement uncoordinated to Ghost. He doesn’t know how he can tell.

He turns to face Gaz, “I swore we will finish this together. I don’t go back on my word.”

“We both know this goes beyond that, Soap.” Gaz gives him a half smile, “the way you look at him… Haven’t seen you like that with anyone else.”

Soap frowns, scoffing, “don’t know what yer-”

“You have feelings for him, don’t you?” Gaz asks, almost gently.

…Feelings?

…..Could he?

“I…”

“Don’t lie to yourself.” Gaz murmurs, “in all the years I’ve known you, you didn’t act like this. Going against everyone you know, jumping in front of him when Price starts threatening him, letting him rest his bloody head on your legs- c’mon Soap, you’re fucking smitten with the man-”

“Kyle.” Soap stops him, head hanging down to hide the embarrassment painting his cheeks red. He scrubs a weary hand over his features, looking up at his friend between his fingers.

Gaz’s eyes soften. Soap sighs, “I- this is not the time for that kind of shite. We need to fuckin’ dust the Hunter, and then-”

And then what?

Soap lowers his hand, stare unconsciously drifting towards Simon. Since when have his eyes started doing that?

It hasn’t been more than a month since he arrived to this godforsaken city. How is it that John can’t imagine being alone again?

Or… how can’t he imagine an ‘after’ without Simon?

“I won’t lie to you.” Kyle starts, his tone gentler, “I still don’t fully trust Ghost. Even if he is… Simon Riley.” the Lieutenant places a hand on his shoulder, “but I can tell what you truly want, even if you think it’s not feasible.”

“That’s because it isn’t-”

“Bullshit.” Gaz turns John around to face him, “look, we are not good men. We’ve been operating outside the law for… for as long as I can remember. What we do, the way we dirty our hands...”

Kyle lets out a shaky exhale, squeezing his shoulder, “what I’m saying is, we can make people disappear. And if you… if you want that, I can help. I’m sure Price will too-”

“Yer out of yer mind-”

“Are you going to go back to Scotland, mate?” Gaz’s voice sharpens on desperation, “are you gonna go back to feeling like you have nothing to live for? Can you really leave this life, leave Ghost, behind?” He almost whispers the end, “be honest.”

How could he go back? No apartment, endless job search, a buzz under his skin that cannot be scrubbed off, disappointment to his family, emptiness, emptiness, emptiness-

“What else can Ah do?!” Soap tenses under Gaz’s hand.

That hand keeps him steady all the same, “whatever you want, John.” Kyle smiles sadly, “me and Price don’t have that freedom, but you two? You don’t have stuffy generals breathing down your neck.”

“I don’t-” Soap cuts himself off, thoughts whirling faster in his mind. He gets reminded of what his therapist used to say about him, back when he was just discharged.

“You fixate on danger, John. To the point of obsession. You don’t know when to let go, if you believe you can make things right.”

“Even if the cost is more than you should be willing to pay.”

“Just… think about it. Besides…” Gaz looks away, expression darkening, “I have a feeling the 141 might need people like you in the future.”

Soap brows furrow, “dishonorably discharged adrenaline addicts?”

Kyle chuckles, “no”, his hands tighten on Soap’s shirt, “people we can trust. People who are willing to do what’s right, even if they know they shouldn’t. Even if they don’t act the way the higher ups would want them.”

His brown eyes turn to look at John, determination he first saw on bootcamp only growing stronger, “people like you.”

Soap goes through another cigarette with Gaz by the time Price and Simon return to them. Both of their eyes shine with tears.

“Laswell did some digging.” Price grunts, “wasn’t easy, finding intel on the Hunter. They know their way around our networks, clearly.” his stare flickers towards Simon, “this operation-”

“Mass murder” Soap corrects. Calling this an operation would spit on the dozens of innocent people left to rot here.

“Mass murder”, the Captain continues, “is very unusual for the Hunter’s soldiers. Almost… flashy.”

“The communicator admitted it was an attempt to frame me.” Simon rolls up the mask in his hands, slipping it on, “they needed to show the British Army I’m too dangerous to keep.”

“And they knew the SAS would send the 141 because of the informant.” Gaz huffs.

Price nods, “which they did succeed in, but it also exposed them to us.”

“The SAS wouldn’t have investigated it further if ye actually killed Ghost the first time around.” Soap grumbles, wincing a moment later when he remembered who he’s talking to.

The Captain takes it surprisingly seriously. “Correct. This is not the first time they hide behind a smaller, supposedly unconnected criminal.” he hangs his arms on his tacvest, commending voice booming in the empty streets, “the Hunter is now top priority for the 141, our orders are to eliminate them, along with any high ranking officers remaining within their army. This mission is classified to all but us and Laswell - anyone else will be treated as a potential collaborator of the Hunter.”

“What about Soap and Ghost, Captain?” Gaz asks.

Price sighs, “Ghost has escaped after releasing the civilian he captured as leverage. And John MacTavish?” a sly smile pushes his mustache up, ”he has never set foot in this city.”

Kate Laswell isn’t someone Soap knew well, back in his service. Has heard her name being dropped in a couple of debriefs, a few calls here and there regarding missions.

He becomes increasingly grateful she’s on their side, as she brings up more and more intel on the Hunter. Their main source of information is the informant Ghost killed - the man recognized several undercover soldiers moving supplies in and out of the city in the past few weeks. He knew something big was going to happen, but the SAS waved it off as a local gang.

On the day of his death, he managed to send in one last report. The informant knew his time was limited, that his cover was blown, so the message was painfully short.

‘Skull in warehouse, Konservy, game over’

It was not clear if who he referred to when he transmitted the name “Skull”, and at the time the comms officer asked the informant to repeat, thinking it was a mistyped “Ghost”. With what they know now, it’s highly likely he was actually talking about the Hunter, and their red skull insignia. Konservy is a name of a warehouse, two clicks out of the city, as Laswell quickly found out.

‘Game over’ is the agreed upon sign for caught spies.

Price and Gaz have brought out their maps, attempting to lock down the warehouse’s location. Soap and Ghost were gently shooed away after it became obvious they don’t have any more useful intel to provide.

“How’s your neck?” Ghost asks him, the two of them leaning against a crumbling wall.

Soap opens his mouth to answer, when gloved fingers brush over the bruised skin on his throat. “I uh…” he swallows, the hand following the movement, “I feel fine.”

Ghost hums, caressing the wound for a moment longer before pulling away. Soap wants to chase the touch.

He really is in over his head, isn’t he?

“Simon.” Soap looks up at the bright skull mask, “have you thought about… what are ye gonna do after?”

“...no.”

“...Would ye go back? To what you did before?”

Simon stares at him deeply, eyes closing, “I don’t think I can.” he looks back at Soap, “you? What did you do before?”

Soap chuckles bitterly, “ah, I was spendin’ my newly civvi life indulging in only the greatest of pleasures. Like sittin’ in an office for nine hours a day, or knittin’ a scarf on my therapist’s orders.”

Simon’s shoulders shake with a badly hidden laugh, “I’d like to see you knit.”

Soap grins, “oh I was a natural. It definitely didn’t have several holes by the time I was done.” 

“How did you get here, then?” Simon asks, mirth still creasing his eyes.

His smile drops, words dying on his tongue, “I uh…” that weeks-old shame starts creeping back in, “was about to be evicted. Got fired, bastards never liked me anyway. I jus’ took all of my money and… ran as far as I could.”

Simon hums, shoulder leaning in to nudge his. Soap thinks the conversation is over after a few moments of silence, the both of them mauling over the words, when Simon surprises him.

“Think I’d like that… running away.” he murmurs.

“Aye? Where would ye go?”

“Don’t know. Don’t think it matters.” Simon leans in closer, their foreheads almost touching, “as long as the company is good.”

Soap feels a shiver go down his spine, eyes wide as he tries to find the joke that must be in Simon’s.

But he looks so painfully sincere, even when he finally leans away, “too bad there’s none ‘ere. Might ask Laswell if she got any tips on finding partners in crime.”

Soap lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “think they make dating apps for fuckers like ye?”

“Doubt I’ll find anyone as mental as you on Tinder, Johnny.” Simon deadpans.

“That’s because yer looking in the wrong place - Christian Mingle is where the real crazy bastards are.”

Simon can’t hold in his laugh this time, and for the first time Soap hears the way he snorts a little when his giggles become uncontrollable. It’s a horribly endearing sound, one that he wants to hear for every day for the rest of his life.

It makes his heart hurt, heavy, sinking in his chest like a death sentence.

Gaz was right.

He’s in love with Simon Riley.

Gaz went back to get the vehicle he and Price infiled with. It had a laptop, a few maps, and the most wonderful MREs Soap ever had. He never thought he’d miss that shite, but after running on a handful of oranges and a possibly moldy sandwich, they tasted like heaven on earth.

As he and Ghost had their meal (Simon’s eyes sparkled in a way that told Soap he was clearly as delighted with the food as he was), the 141 finalized their plan with Laswell. Soap could see them arguing about something, but he was far too preoccupied with eating to care at the moment.

Ghost, however, did care, “need anything, Price?”

The Captain snaps his head up, taking off his hat and scratching at his hair, “we have an angle to breach, but…”

Gaz joins in, “We don’t have intel on how many guards are posted, their location… mission will be doomed from the start if we just go in guns blazing.”

“Why not do some recon, then?” Soap wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “we’re all trained for that.”

“Too risky, the warehouse is exposed, and the Hunter won’t leave any obvious gaps in security if they’re worth their salt.” Price grunts.

Ghost gets up, walking over to the maps spread on the truck’s hood, “then we break in.”

Soap smirks at the assurance in his voice, “and that’s why I love the Ghost.”

He instantly catches the knowing expression on Gaz’s face, as well as Simon stiffening beside him. Soap curses himself mentally, feeling his face heat up in shame. He prays for any god that might listen, that Ghost didn’t take it as seriously as the truth is.

Thankfully, Price saves him from blurting out some more recently-discovered-emotions, “no other way but through, eh Simon? What do you have in mind?”

Ghost scans the maps of the warehouse Laswell has sent over, “The Hunter doesn’t know we’re working together, if they’re expecting an attack they would only expect two people - me and Johnny.” his eyes flicker to Soap’s for a brief moment, “if we split up, the 141 could take them by surprise.”

“You said they’re after you and John, Simon. If they catch you, we might not be able to help.” Price says grimly.

Ghost sighs, looking away frustrated. His head turns to face Soap, eyes calculating, “...what if they don’t know it’s us?”

“What?” Price asks.

Ghost continues, eyes still staring deeply into his, “Johnny can easily disguise himself, he’s done so before. All he needs is to cover up his face and hair.”

The Captain nods to Ghost, “and what about you, son? Everyone knows your mask.”

“But no one knows his face.” Soap answers, understanding washing over him, “but Simon-”

“I can’t be Ghost if we want to finish this.” Simon brushes fingers over the bone-white teeth of the skull mask, hand tightening into a fist.

Gaz nods slowly, “and we can’t be the 141.” he sends a meaningful look to the Captain, “this operation has to be kept secret. If the SAS learns we collaborated with the Ghost…”

“Then we won’t be.” Price walks to the back of the truck, pulling out 3 black balaclavas and throwing them to Soap and Gaz.

Price begins explaining their plan, “Laswell has gathered up a few blueprints of the Konservy warehouse. There are several key points that appear to be far too open for us to breach, all except one - the offloading garage. We’ll split into two teams, me and Gaz will take the offices and CCTV rooms, clearing the way for Soap and Ghost to infiltrate the main machinery room.”

“Our plan depends on each team watching the other’s six, we’ll have to keep comms up.” Gaz adds.

“Once the first team takes over the CCTV room, we will be able to locate the Hunter. The faster we do this, the less likely reinforcements will arrive.” Price hands Soap and Ghost a radio.

“Do we know where they keep their vehicles?” Soap asks while fitting the comms over his clothes.

“Yeah, should be around where we first enter. Why?” Gaz raises a brow towards him.

A wicked smile spreads on Soap’s lips, “might be able to set up a little surprise for any newcomers.”

Ghost chuckles darkly, “always ready to craft a trap, aren’t you, Johnny?”

“Never failed me before, Simon.”

“You can take a look at our supplies, take whatever you need.” Price looks over each of them, “any questions?”

Soap flexes his hands, adrenaline thrumming a familiar song through his veins, anger painting his vision red, “what are we waiting for?”

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow, Day 1

Gibdo

Linked Universe Time x Reader

(Can be seen as both Romantic and Platonic)

TW: Graphic Descriptions of Gore and Rot, as well as nightmares, and a bit of Whump(?) please do not read if you're highly squeamish, even if it's not long just to be safe. As this deals with dark times as is usual to Majora's Mask, may also be read outside of a Linked Universe context.

*walks on in to Dark Linktober and Linktober both with sleep deprivation, coffee and kind of late, drops this, refuses to elaborate* Kind of self indulgent but I hope whoever finds this enjoys, it's spooky season and I am taking full opportunity to go ham XD

The beast a few feet away of you was foul, with it's thin, leathery flesh barely clinging to it's bone hollow cheeks, the sickly sweet scent of rot and decay mixing with that of old, burnt flesh, barely hidden by once white, now sullied and dirty cloth in a failed attempt at appearing harmless as it slowly decayed, it's sallow, sunken yellow eyes scan the abandoned graveyard and you stay very, very still where you've sank behind the side of the Music Box House, heart like a deer's facing down a Lynel as you heard it's long, unnatural fingers drag across the stone, the click, click, click of it's nails against stone and it's tortured moans in it's everlasting, tormented hunt sending chills down your spine.

It is nowhere near the dawn of a new day and sunlight barely reached Ikana Canyon, and you had no desire to become one of the many ivory and yellowed bones of the dead in this wretched, horrible place of tragedy.

You trade a look with Link from across your hiding place, eyes stopping on his arm before forcing yourself to snap to his sapphire and iron gilded gaze again, he had to get to Pamela's Father, but this run had unexpectedly gone south from you both getting attacked midway to the canyon and him hurting his sword arm attempting to sneak past the Gibdo's. The strangled, bitten off scream that left his throat as one of the beast sank it's rotten, cracks teeth into his flesh hard enough to almost crack bone so very horrific you didn't think twice before shooting it with a flame blessed arrow and dragging him away, teeth bared in defiance, but it's disguise of sickly and wounded falling away with it's pained, furious howl to reveal a Redead had attracted more of them to your location with it's inhuman, obsidian and blood rust coated fury of necromancy cursed beasts, forcing you both to hide as you didn't have anymore fairies and potions from slaying the third of Majora's twisted, reality poisoning generals.

This was meant to be a scouting quest before a reset darn it, how had it gone so wrong so quickly?

(How much more would it take? Which one would lead to the road where your dearest friend, the people of Termina and yourself didn't burn over the unknowable, cruel whims of cursed divinity? How much more must Link bleed, give and slowly kill himself for?-)

The walking corpse groans, it's too close to his location and there are two to your other left that could rush any of you at any second, he's the one with the Ocarina and you refuse to let him try using one of those masks while wounded, you saw how he screeched like someone slowly pulling the flesh from his bones one too many times to tolerate. You twitch just as he does, but you move faster, bow already draw and with three arrows knocked, your arms straining against the taught strings.

You may not have any more flame blessed arrows, but you knew how to make fiery ones that would be just enough for the situation at hand.

Link sends you a steely glare caught between betrayal and understanding as he nods, gritting his teeth as he mouths to you a simple, pleading resquest:

'Do not die.'

"MOVE!" You snarl, as you let your arrows fly, one of them hits the Gibdo near him right in the eye and the fire catches as if it's been doused in oil and it screams writhing and squirming with pain as it tries to shrug it's cloth away. The sound between once human and abominable loud enough you swear you feel something warm dripping from your ears but have no time to check as the other two, handcrafted fire arrows cripple it's leg and one of it's arms that were creeping around your mask wielding friend's hiding spot as he books it as fast as his legs will carry him with the Bunny Hood, you whirl around, shooting the one's right around your corner with one arrow each and prepare to cover his back.

You don't look behind yourself as you hear the house's door slam shut and Tatl's cut off call of your name, instead focusing on drawing the profane beast's attention away from it, knowing they are eager to see your insides decorate the Ikana grounds to join their once living brethren, to attempt to bite down around your ribs and quaff down your lukewarm blood with vesania inked glee and maddened grieving elation as you struggle against the petrifying glare with animal franticness and all the defiance your humanity gave you as one of them holds you down and it HURTSTEARSROTSANDYOUCANNOTMOVE-

"---(Name)!"

You shoot up from your bedroll, dagger in hand, barely scraping the throat of whoever had your shoulders in a firm, but reassuring grip, breathing hard as the brief burst of adrenaline leaves your body as it comes face to face with aquamarine, phosphophylite and cinnabar marks around a beautifully night sky blue gaze with all the intensity of a wolf caring for it's pack. Your grip on the pristine blade you've taken to carrying slackening even as he already moved away with practiced ease, the same way you would when he'd lash out when you wakened him from night terrors to avoid getting your head lopped off, even knowing instinctively you'd never hurt one another.

Time.

Safe, alive, free if highly traumatized Time.

... Then again, you can't judge.

He scans you with one eye, quiet concern and understanding as he slowly moves to tuck some hair behind your ear in a low tone, dimly you note the faint squeeze to your pulse, reassuring you both as you drop your dagger to the side, much preferring to take his calloused hand in yours instead than cold, unfeeling steel, "Nightmare?"

You take a moment, breathing, drinking him in turn, and the fact that you had both left the worst of Termina behind as you do your best to cut down the lingering memories away, a brittle smile comes to your lips as you scan the camp as you squeeze his hand back, "Mhm, same old, sorry. Did I wake anyone up?"

"No, I got to you before you could. You looked troubled and I couldn't have that." he shakes his head, gently he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. "You've no need to apologize."

He'd have done the same, has done the same but your positions were reversed, you have the same nightmares after all.

You smile, his devotion as always cutting through the night terrors than any blade or arrow, a welcome bit of reinforcements that you knew would never fail, you gently lift a hand to caress his cheek, just to reassure yourself that he is real, touching your foreheads together, "Thank you."

He closes his eyes, the soft rumble of his voice like the wind over leaves fully taking your worries away as surely as the tides in his eyes took the love you dared not voice aloud each passing day, "Always."

You both take a moment to stay like that, silent as you steady yourselves, still in disbelief you were both still here, before he gently places a hand atop yours, giving it a light squeeze, "Walk with me? I don't believe any of us will be able to get anymore sleep tonight."

Your smile, mischievous glee dyeing it as you kiss his free cheek, echoing his words back at him, "Always. Must you ask?"

He gives you a flat look, and you can't help but laugh. Gently he pulls you to your feet and, just to be a menace that you and Warriors knew he never ceased to be, rather than let you actually walk with him as he requested, he sweeps you from your feet and into a princess carry, making you have to bite down an outraged shriek and cackle as you ineffectively smack one of his shoulders with hissed, half hearted protests lest you both wake the entire camp. Affronted but amused as you catch the glimpse of a smirk, heart warm as you catch the slight shaking of his chest as he silently laughs too.

(If Wolfie sends you both an unimpressed look, having jerked awake from the sudden movement when you both return to camp, taking leaves and twigs from one another's hair from a 'daring' escape you've made that involved almost knocking you and Time both into a river, well, you'll just make it up to Twilight later in the morning and you're sure Time will help with Epona as well.)

It matters not that the pale moon attempted to remind you of the undead's eyes, and of the many horrors you've faced in that long distant journey that still had the tips of their claws in your souls, when you knew he'd keep you safe. And that you'd do your best to protect him now as you did back then.

[royaltyoon]

JOHAN SEONG X READER

Hateful confessions

[A/N]

Ik I'm supposed to have deactivated this blog but I really couldn't get myself to. This isn't a promise that I'll come back but I really really missed lookism and my favorite boy. And definitely my mutuals who i apologise to, for not keeping in touch :( it's so overwhelming to post on here after like a whole year

Tw: mentions of blood/injury

"you're hurt"

"i know" he said, looking nowhere in particular

"you're bleeding." It was more of an observation rather than a statement.

"what makes you think that I wouldn't know." He said looking straight at you with both brows furrowed. "You think I would willingly come to you if I had no work for you?" He said matter-of-factly.

"you're being a bitch, Johan." You rolled your eyes, what an insufferable dumbass, you crossed your hands looking at him accusingly. "I learnt from the best." He quiped. "Are you finally admitting that I have an influence over you?" You scoff, pushing back your shoulders in pride.

He paused for a second and then sighed "you annoy me." He said shaking his head. "Well you are always free to go ask other people for help." You shrug, obviously not meaning it but that's just the way you two converse.

"if there was anyone willing to patch me up for free, trust me, i would." He said walking past you, flicking you slightly on the forehead. "I don't believe that even a little." You point at a stool indicating for him to take a seat.

"What makes you think you're that important for me to not replace you?" He huffs while taking a seat.

"take your shirt off." You order, ignoring his question. He tilts his head up to look at you for a little more than a second. "What if I say no." You couldn't believe the audacity of this dude.

"Die of blood loss then, I don't care." You spat, crossing your hands yet again. He's really testing the limits of how patient one can be. "I don't believe that even a little." He said using your words against you while using a tone which only made you want to create more damage than repair to him.

"what reason could there possibly be that I won't let you die for being so insufferable right now?" He only shrugs at it, "the same reason you think I wouldn't replace you with someone else." You knew he was aiming in the dark and yet he hit Bullseye.

Through gritted teeth and the most sarcastic voice you could manage to bring out , " Please take your shirt off, your highness." Words left your mouth sounding like venom but he smiled as if poison has no effect on him.

He just huffed a satisfied response while zipping down his jumper. You inhale sharply "How can you act like a total piece of shit with an injury like that. Do you have a death wish? A little more time spent and you'd have actually bled to death." You said looking at the narly gash at the side of his abdomen.

"Is that concern i suspect in your voice?" He asks halfheartedly. "Johan, if your life is in my hands you know that I can make it worse right?" You glare at him but let it slide, kneeling down in front of him paying more attention to the injury than the man who has it.

You feel his gaze on you. "What?" You asked still tending to the injury. He shakes his head looking away. "I liked you better in the beginning when you didn't say much. You talk a lot now. It's annoying" He said it in a monotonous voice, absolutely expressionless. For that, you not so discreetly pushed a little too hard on his cut, causing him to grunt.

"you did that on purpose, didn't you?" He hisses. Of course you did. "i have no idea what you're talking about" you just smiled at him. "I prefer you back in the beginning too, i thought the worst you could do is death glares but then you opened your mouth and that was a whole 'nother type of hell." He chuckles at that, throwing his head back slightly. You notice a small cut of his forehead.

"I would normally not take it nicely if anyone else said something like that, you were always so full of yourself. I wonder why I don't feel the need to be angry at it with you." He said a little in thought. Making an observation on himself. "Don't get too comfortable" you raised one side of your lip into a smirk. "I can be a whole lot annoying. Stick around more and you'll find out." You say finally patching up the cut on his side. It was not as bad as it looked. "I plan on it." He mumbles but he speaks before you can make sense of it.

"i can be a whole lot more insufferable" he said challengingly. At times it feels like everything with him is a competition. At that you just shake your head slightly, reaching to push his hair back.

He flinches and moves a little back, catching your wrist before you could reach his hair. "what are you doing?" He says looking at you, now slightly closer than before.

"You have a cut on your forehead." He looked at you for a few seconds before turning his eyes elsewhere and dropping his hand down. He refused to meet your eyes after that. You bend a little to get a better view on the cut. It didn't go unnoticed by you the way he was clenching his jaw. He never really liked anyone breaching his personal space, that was the only conclusion you came to.

"Have you not gone for a hair cut recently?" He knew you were secretly asking if he visited his mom. "No." The answer came a little too quickly. "You should go get one. I know how important a haircut is for you." You angled his face to look at yours.

It was quiet for a few seconds. He looked at your eyes, holding your gaze "I hate how you know so much about me. And I hate myself that I don't regret telling it to you." You smiled, it was genuine this time. You turned to keep the first aid box on the table. "I could say the same."

A voice of the stool against the floor was heard, indicating he stood up. "I hate a lot of things." He said taking a step towards you. "I hate how I have to ask you for help." Another step. " I don't min- "I hate that sometimes during a fight I let a few punches hit me because it means I get to come here. " Another step closer.

"I hate that I want to hear you speak, I want you to annoy me. I hate that I don't feel like hating you. I hate that I can't get rid of you, I hate that I don't want to get rid of you." He was just a few inches away from you.

"i hate that I used to consider you a friend. Now I hate that you're just a friend." His index finger reaches your chin pushing it up to look at him. "I want to say I hate you, but I can't and I hate myself for that." His hand slid under your ear. "And I will probably hate myself more after this." And his lips landed on yours.

It took you a second to register it all before you reciprocated the action, pulling him closer by his shirt. He moaned against your lips as a reaction and slightly pushed you against the table, leaning against it.

"God, how much I hate that I let myself not hate you."

"just because you don't hate me anymore doesn't mean I don't hate you. I do." You tried hiding your red face behind the facade of hating him.

Johan just scoffed, "I don't believe that even a little."

[padfootagain]

All Too Well

This idea comes from this ask sent by @reg-arcturus-black where she asked what kind of fic I would write with the title ‘All Too Well’, and well… here is the result, because I have no self-control and the concept is thus turning into a full fic!

Hope you like it! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Summary: Sirius is going through a rough day, as what he has lived with his parents come back to haunt him. Luckily, you’re here for him. You always are, despite knowing everything about him.

Word count: 2560

Sirius Black’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Sometimes it strikes him, the way he’s broken.

It’s a strange thing, really. Because Sirius usually manages, especially when he’s in Hogwarts, surrounded by his friends, miles away from his parents and their twisted minds. He usually manages his darkest thoughts, the tug at his heart that makes him ache out of the blue, the hateful thoughts against himself that were planted long ago in his mind.

Today, he doesn’t, though.

He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because he’s been on his own almost all morning, the boys busy, you studying with Lily. Perhaps it’s because the weather is terrible, and he wishes he could turn into a dog and run across the Forbidden Forest to lose some energy. Maybe it’s because he bumped into his younger brother earlier this morning, and it simply struck him how much they have been drifting apart since he left Grimmauld Place; how Regulus looks like him, like their father…

He isn’t so sure, it’s probably a little bit of all these circumstances. No matter why, though, he can feel that he’s slipping down that familiar slope again. The one that fills his mind with pain and dark thoughts, his heart with something poisonous and hurtful, his blood with anger and longing. He recognises all the symptoms, he’s felt them a million times over.

And he knows what it means. He knows it all too well. The banging in his head. The voice that keeps on screaming there. The clammy hands. The rushing heart. The tight throat. The struggle for a breath. The knot in his stomach. And these thoughts... these thoughts that plague his mind, and he tries to shake them away but he can't he can't he can't; he knows it all too well, that the voices are true and that he's nothing, nothing, nothing at all...

He tries to close his eyes, to press his forehead against the cold windowpane, but it doesn’t stop the voices, doesn’t slow his heartbeat, doesn’t stop him from wanting to destroy everything and everyone around him just to make it stop for a mere second.

He’s taken refuge in his favourite hiding spot, a corridor on the fifth floor that leads to nowhere. There’s a window hidden behind the crooked statue of an old witch there. He likes that spot. No one ever comes down that corridor, and even if someone walked by, Sirius would be hidden by the statue. It’s perfect to be alone. That’s exactly what he needs for now.

He’s sitting by the window, temple pressed against the cool glass, and he drowns in the feeling of the cold against his warm skin. It almost hurts. He likes it. It anchors him.

There’s no sound in this empty corridor, except for the messy pattern of the falling rain. He can’t see anything by the window, there’s condensation all over the glass. All he can see are splashes of colour: the infinite grey of the sky that covers almost the entire frame, the deep green of the trees of the Forbidden Forest, the lighter green of the grass covering the grounds…

Maybe he should turn into Padfoot. It helps, sometimes. His thoughts are a little bit more messy, a little bit more cloudy when he’s a dog. His senses are heightened, but his mind gets blurry. And it helps when he hurts too much as a boy, because his thoughts are the reason behind his pain. If he can stop them, he can feel better again. At least, for a little while…

He closes his eyes, as images flash in his mind, scenes he wishes he could forget, but can’t. Reminiscence. A past still too close to be forgotten. He doubts he’ll ever manage to forget, anyway. There’s this feeling again, this feeling that he’s nothing, that he’s worthless, that he’ll always be but a ridiculous little boy afraid of the dark, that he’ll always break everything he touches.

And he knows where it comes from. He knows it all too well. From the shouts of his mother tearing up his nights. From the fists of his father against his cheeks. From the fear of his brother as he looks up at him in search for safety. From the curses, and the insults, and the hate the hate the hate that follows him everywhere that aims at his friends and that curses his very existence and that reminds him that he's unlovable, unlovable, unlovable...

And it hurts. It hurts because he fights this kind of thoughts with all his might, because he keeps on repeating to himself that these are just poisonous seeds planted by his parents, that none of it is real, that he’s different, that he can be different. That he can be loved, the way they could never love him. But there’s this voice that comes back every time. The one he knows all too well, that keeps on asking the same question over and over again…

What if they were right about you?

He jumps as he notices a movement next to the statue, but he relaxes quickly when he recognizes you. No threat. No ghost coming from his past. Only you.

You…

He’s not surprised that you’ve found him, but he would have preferred if you hadn’t come. He tries to show it by looking away without a smile, without a word. He wears his mask again, the cold one, the one that makes his handsome features look as cold and distant and unreal as a marble statue, as an unreachable sculpture, an inhuman one…

He stares at the colours outside, and he waits for you to say something. He’s expectant and afraid of it at the same time. You haven’t moved, you’re standing there, behind him, staring in silence. He’s not sure what he wants. Or rather… he knows. He knows all too well what he wants, but he’s not sure he should get it. Because he wants you to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him it will all be fine. But at the same time, he wants to shout at you just for being here, he wants to make you cry, he wants to push you away because that’s the kindest thing he could do for you, really… he’s broken. He’s broken, and you’re not, and you’ll end up like him one day, if you stay. That’s what darkness does: it spreads, like a virus, like something contagious, and once it holds onto someone, it never lets go again. And he won’t be the one to bring you such a cruel fate, because he… he loves you. He loves you too much for that.

One day, he’ll end up hurting you too much, and you’ll run, and he’ll shatter your heart. That’s all he’s been good at doing, anyway. A family trait. A Black legacy. Break everything you touch…

He wonders why you’re still here altogether, really. Because you’re so much better than him. You… You’re everything that could save him. Sometimes it feels too much to take in. Most days, it feels like surrendering. But it can’t last. It won’t, he knows it, somehow. You’re too good for him.

And he knows he doesn't deserve you. He knows it all too well. Because you're so bright against his darkness. Because you're too kind. Because he's a mess. Because you're patient. Because he's reckless. Because you love him, for some unknown reason. Because you look at him with so much love, he hopes you can see that he loves you just the same. And you come back again and again and again, and he doesn't have a clue why you're still clinging onto him when he's got nothing to offer you but his shattered heart, his crooked smile, his fucked-up mind, his fucked-up mind, his fucked-up mind...

He wants to cry at the thought, but he hides it well, he’s used to it. Where he comes from, you can’t be weak. He’s used to it… but not near you, that’s the tough part. You have a talent to break him into pieces, tear him apart, open him up raw and bloody and cradle his soul in your hands until he feels like he really had one in the first place. You have a talent to get under his skin, and to see right through this pretty, unreachable mask he’s wearing now. He has others of the same kind: there’s the flirtatious one, the stupid one, the cruel one, the uncaring one, the scary one. All masks. Inside, he’s the same broken boy every time. Sometimes, when he hears you laughing, when he listens to James’s plans, when he looks at Remus studying, when he shares his candies with Peter, he becomes more like the person he could have been had he not been so shattered during his childhood: reckless, impulsive, laughing loudly and as brightly as the sun he wears the name of, just a boy of seventeen, joyous and at peace. He can’t be that today, it hurts just thinking about it. Today, all he can be is broken. It’s okay, he’s used to it.

You haven’t moved despite the minutes ticking by. Sirius either. It’s like… you’re caught in a game of statues. Who knows how long it’ll last. He knows you’ll break first, though. And he doubts you, for a moment. He sees you leaving. He sees you turning away without a word, walking by this twisted statue again, hurry down the corridor, head back to your dorm, run away from him. You should. You should, he isn’t worth it. It kills him to admit it, but he knows it all the same, all too well. And for a moment, he can see you giving up on him, he can picture it in his mind… even you can stop loving him. He’s unlovable enough for that.

And he’s right. You give up first, and move again before he does. He’s still a statue when you take a step closer, tilt your head to the side. You’re studying him, he can feel it in the intensity of your gaze without even looking up at you. He keeps on avoiding your eyes, actually. He still hopes you’ll leave; he still wants you to stay.

You’re still silent, perhaps because you know that there are no words you can speak that will make him feel better. That is not what he needs now. Words can wait. Right now, he’s just afraid to be alone, that’s why he feels so lonely, that’s why he isolates himself so much. It’s safer that way. People won’t leave you, if you leave them first…

You know what he needs, you love him enough for that. Without a sound, you sit down on the dusty ground by his side. You match his posture, like a mirror. You rest your temple against the window, only, you’re not looking outside, you’re looking at him instead.

And he hates it. He hates it because even if you show him over and over again that you’ll stay, he’s still afraid you’ll leave. And the voice in his head screams to push you away but he doesn’t want to. He’s not a Black. He doesn’t want to be one. He wants to be Sirius. He wants to be Padfoot. He wants to belong here, with the Marauders, with you… He wants to be the man you call baby, the one you hold onto at night to fall asleep, the one who carries your books and ties your shoes for you in the corridors making you roll your eyes even if you love it. He wants to be the one who kisses you in the morning, the one who touches every inch of your skin, the one who gets to taste your kisses on his tongue. He wants to be the one to protect you, to comfort you, to make you feel safe, the one… the one who is going to love you, no matter what. That’s who he wants to be. That’s who he’ll be, if you let him. After the crisis passes, he can be that boy again. He craves for it, even if, perhaps, he shouldn’t aim that high. A fool’s hope; but such a bright, happy one…

At long last, he turns to you. He keeps a stern face at first, merely stares at you. And he doesn’t even notice the way he stares, but how could he not? Because you’re looking at him with the most tender smile, and with such fondness in your eyes. You look at him with so much love, he chokes on it. He can’t take so much of it, not when he’s like this, at his worst, in his darkest form. Still, you smile, an almost dreamy one, and you stare at him as if he were made of light instead of shadows, as if he truly shone as brightly as the star he wears the name of. And it hurts, in the best way, to see so much hope and faith in him, so much love in someone else’s gaze while looking at him…

He doesn’t even realize it when a tear rolls down his cheek. He doesn’t care. It’s just you. He can feel, and show it, and be weak. Because you’ve come, the way you always come. Because you haven’t left, the way you never leave. And he wonders why he still doubts you’ll stay, because you’ve proven over and over again that you will. Always, it would seem…

And this time, he knows you'll stay. He knows it all too well. Because you haven't moved at all, and he's used it, and you never do. Whenever the crisis come, you merely stay here, with him, and you wait until the storms weather, and he comes back to you. You're his constant through it all. And you're here you're here you're here, everywhere he looks, he always finds you near, and for the first time he's not so afraid that you might leave. Maybe you're right. Maybe he does deserve to be loved, loved, loved.

Maybe you could show him how. Perhaps he’ll doubt you again, the next time the crisis comes. Perhaps you’ll show him once more. He reckons that you’re patient enough for that.

The mask crumbles, slowly, a steady bearing of a soul that starts with a tear and ends with the ghost of a smile. When he reaches for your hand, he looks like Sirius again. Your Sirius. The one he always is, the one always in him, even when he can’t see it too.

He doesn’t need to say the words, the tender squeeze of your hand speaks every word of it. You know it already, anyway.

Thank you. I love you. Stay… stay forever.

You will. You’ll stay, as long as he lets you near. You love him enough for that. For staring at his cracks and scars and see the light in them through the chasms. One day, you hope he can see it too. And it’s funny because… you’re thankful too. You’re thankful that he lets you in, that he lets you reach him, even if he struggles, even if it takes a little bit of time. Still, you love him. One day, he’ll learn to love himself too. You’ll make sure of that.

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Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @hells-escapees @omgrachwrites

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