#how do I grieve that properly while still pushing forward

[natashatrace]

i miss you

[starheirxero]

At this point, the creators are just trying to see, how far they can take the angst until we all turn to dust-

The fact that Lunar actively doesn't want to feel, because they see themself a danger to everyone is making me become a feral dog-

Earth, oh for God's sake, she just keeps breaking me- The way she talked about Solar😭 He was her best friend, and her support system! He was the person, who always knew what to do, who always spent time with her, and now he's gone… THEY LITERALLY WANTED TO KNIT LITTLE ANIMALS THE DAY HE DIED- I am perishing-

It's very interesting to note, how different they all cope though! Earth, though heartbroken, is actively grieving in a healthy manner, or at least trying to! Meanwhile, her brothers are very much not coping- Lunar is numb, Moon is overworking himself, and Sun honestly doesn't seem to know what to do! None of them are quite able to process, it seems.

Eclipse's section was so fascinating as well! He seems so genuinely confused about Earth's words, about her lack of wanting to hurt Ruin! He was so quiet when he listened to her, pretty much soaking in her words! For the first time, he actually seems to see her, see a perspective beyond his own-

Not to forget her sympathy. Because yes, Eclipse's life was fucking tragic, and still is, his wrong doings don't change that!

If this continues the way I think it might, then to be honest, it'll almost be better if Solar didn't return- Don't get me wrong, I love the guy with all my heart, however, his death is a lot more…meaningful? It's different from the rest.

In the past, there has been a consistent case of quiet mourning, and not just for the dead. For example, Lunar's grief for what he could've had with Eclipse, which caused him to be sent to Solar's dimension in the first place! It's a very consistent thing that still lives on, even without actively talking about it!

Other death's were quietly wept for in the past. When Eclipse died, no one was shown to grieve him, though Lunar likely did quietly. Again, that was probably partly why Moon sent Lunar to Solar's dimension!

Bloodmoon too, was quietly mourned for, though it was only mentioned briefly! For one, with KC, and in a video, Lunar went to Solar's dimension and they watched baby photo fanart together! Somewhere, Lunar mentioned Bloodmoon's death, and Solar stopped the recording for a while! After that, it wasn't talked about anymore.

Lunar's death itself was rather different, as it was clear from the beginning, that he was alive, though it didn't change the weight of it! It was shown in the way Sun would get quieter when he was mentioned. Though it was never actively talked about, the weight was there.

Old Moon is a whole issue in and of itself. It was obvious, just how much Sun wept for him, but that too was done quietly, often avoiding the topic all together! Likely feeling like he couldn't mourn at all, because it'll be unfair towards new moon. It was a constant weight at the back of his mind.

There was KC as well. Moon made it clear, how angry and upset he was, but it was never quite elaborated on, likely hanging over him quietly.

My point is, that all their grief was something quiet that stayed in the background, pushing itself to the front every once in a while. No one ever took the time to grieve properly before, to sit down and weep, to scream at the sky. There was always too much happening!

Deaths were never the focus!

This time though, it's different! Solar's death is a constant cloud hanging over them, never leaving them alone. It feels more meaningful, y'know? It's in the forefront now, it's complete center stage!

It will likely also cause quite a bit of character development, seeing with Eclipse already.

Not to forget, seeing as it's something hanging over them, we'll likely see our main characters going through all the process of grief, and slowly learn to live with it, to move forward. At least that's where I think it might be going-

Which, if that's the case, would feel meaningless if Solar returns.

Then again, if he does come back, I WILL cry tears of joy, so-

-Stardust

LITERALLYYYYY AUAGHHHH.!!!!

Genuinely any sort of "we were supposed to do xyz" when a character died fucks me up SO BAD. They had plans. They had hopes. They assumed they'd both be alive by then ☹️☹️☹️

AND YEA THEY'RE ALL HANDLING IT SO DIFFERENTLY ITS AUGHHH. Genuinely yea Earth (and maybe Sun?) seem to be the only ones grieving in a healthy way and it's so heartbreaking to watch all around. AND ECLIPSE. ECLIPSE..... YEAH HIS MEETING WITH EARTH WAS WILDLY FASCINATING TO ME. Even Earth herself noted that Eclipse didn't insult her, just kinda questioned and then left.

AND EVERYTHING YOU SAID ABOUT DEATH IN TSAMS YESYESYES!!!!!!!! Genuinely me n my qpp were talking about something SO similar the other day, how no other characters had this level of grief from the characters and the videos!! There's always the obligatory "so-and-so is DEAD?! in vrchat" video but there was never a "missing Lunar" or "grieving the old Moon" video!! Like you said, it was always this quiet grief that seeped between the cracks and gunked up their ability to fully think or feel, but everyone was always so busy with Everything Else.

Now, we're at a point where most of the danger is dealt with or not a very immediate threat. Stitchwraith and Bloodmoon are more Foxy and Monty's problem, the Creator isn't targeting Sun and Moon (as far as we're aware, at least), and Eclipse is sort of... docile right now. The celestial family has time to grieve and they have every right to grieve because we really don't know if Solar is coming back.

I get you so hard btw I am genuinely so torn on whether I want Solar back or not for realzies ahsiahdj 😭😭😭

[wildernessuntothemselves]

I'm Yours, You're Mine | 7

Word Count: 4k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: yandere!felix, sub!felix, dom!felix, sub!reader, dom!reader, mentions of violence, character death, drugging, noncon, breeding kink, binding, doggy

GIF CREDIT @christopherbanq

You wake up in a warm embrace, surrounded by the sweet, vanilla scent of Felix. Opening your eyes, you’re met with the splatter of his freckles that seem to glow under the sunlight. Everything feels perfect. It feels right, and you wish you could stay in this moment forever, protected from all that has happened or will happen. But you can’t, the memories of last night’s darkness creep around the corners of the brightly lit room, seeping the warmth out of it until everything is plunged into darkness.

Felix opens his eyes, his bright sparkling eyes, unaware of the darkness surrounding him, his ignorance protecting him. But his light diminishes as his gaze focuses on you.

“Noona, why are you crying?” He asks, arms pulling you even closer to him to the point where you don’t know where your skin ends and his begins.

“Chan…” You sputter, little sobs rattling your chest now. Felix frowns sharply, “Did he do something to you?”

You shake your head, your tears now flowing down your cheeks. “He’s in the hospital. Someone attacked us while we were coming back from the cinema yesterday.”

Felix bolts upright, pushing you at an arm’s length and scrutinizing every inch of your body. “Are you hurt?”

“No, but Chan is.” You wail, throwing your arms around him and burying your face in his shoulder. “He’s hurt really bad.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” For the first time, Felix doesn’t comfort you, his body rigid in your embrace and you hesitantly pull back to look at him. He is completely still, a numb look on his face. And you suddenly realize how thoughtless you’ve been. Despite their fight, Felix and Chan have been best friends for years, way before you met either of them. You should’ve told him as soon as it happened.

“Is he going to be okay?” His lips quiver as he speaks, his eyes terrified and looking through yours for help, and you could smack yourself for being so selfish.

“Oh, baby.” You breathe, pulling him into your embrace again. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

_______________________

He wasn’t.

Chan hasn’t woken up by the time you both visit him in the hospital, and the doctors were giving you vague responses every time you tried to ask about his condition--if he’s going to be okay, if he’s even gonna make it--and that petrifies you.

“We’re doing the best we can, but I can’t say anything for certain. He’s in a really bad condition.” The doctor informs you after you’d asked for the millionth time. You nod heavily and he lets you know that he’ll be there if there is anything else you need before he leaves. Yeah, right. The doctors were basically running from you at this point. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it meant.

“Thank you, doctor.” You mumble. You feel guilty, like this is all your fault for wishing for Felix to come back, like somehow this had been a bargain by a cruel god, giving you Felix back but taking Chan away.

As soon as the doctor leaves, Felix falls to the floor beside the bed sobbing. You run to him and wrap your arms around him and he immediately leans into your touch. “I did this.” He wails and your body goes stiff, your breath stuck in your throat, choking you.

But then he continues, “I wished for this the night he threw me out. I was so angry at him, but I never wanted it to really happen.”

Your body turns to jelly, the fear that had gripped it was so intense that it left no energy in its wake, and you can’t even caress Felix’s back to comfort him.

_______________________

The police interview you over and over, asking you to remember if there is something about the man who mugged you that you’re forgetting that could help identify him. You don’t have to force yourself to remember, you see him in your dreams every night, and every night you wake up screaming, poor Felix having to comfort you and kiss you back to sleep, never once complaining.

Through it all, those few agonizing days, you held a terrible secret close to your chest. You felt wretched just thinking about it, but you couldn’t help it. You knew he was going to die anyway. You just wished it would happen sooner than later so you could properly grieve instead of being stuck in this fake limbo, pretending like you think he’s going to make it, even to Felix, so that he wouldn’t completely break down.

You go to visit him less and less until you stop completely, which doesn’t paint you in a very favorable light in front of law enforcement or the doctors, letting Felix go on his own to the hospital every day. But fuck them. What do they know about the pain you’re going through? The guilt?

When it finally happens, you can’t believe it. They say he coded in the night and they tried to do everything to save him, even brought him back a couple of times, but it was ultimately useless. He was gone.

You had to see him for yourself to believe it. You went alone. Felix couldn’t bear to look at his best friend’s now dead body. He begged you not to go but you needed to.

As you gaze across his face, you’re thrust back to that night. You had heard that dead people often have a peaceful look on their face, but Chan didn’t look peaceful. It almost looks angry, accusatory, asking you why you weren’t there for him.

He doesn’t forgive you, but it’s okay. You don’t forgive yourself either.

_______________

The case officially turned into a murder investigation following Chan’s death. His body was handed over to the coroner to do an autopsy and try to gather any forensic evidence left, but neither yielded much information, and the police had no leads.

Soon, the case turned cold.

As for you, you had moved in with Felix,, unable to step back into your apartment without Chan. Fearing that in doing so you’d be acknowledging that he’s gone, and then his spirit would remember to come back to haunt you.

Felix takes such good care of you, even though he’s the one who has the right to be hurt more. He stuck around you all the time, making you feel safe and comforting you. He also kept his distance as much as he could. You could tell he wanted to seek comfort in your body, to help each other through this pain, but you were selfish as always. You only let him comfort you. You never comforted him back.

As the months passed, Felix started getting more and more needy, making you feel even more wretched even though he never said anything. He loved you and you loved him, but Chan’s death had pushed a wedge between you. You couldn’t touch the younger boy without feeling guilty. It felt like you were cheating on Chan more than you ever did before, and so you kept Felix at a distance.

For his part, Felix never outright made an advance on you, respecting your need to grieve, but you could tell from the boner he’d get every time you kissed him even a sweet innocent little kiss or put your arms around him that he needed more, and it made you feel even more horrible. You couldn’t help Chan when he was alive and now you can’t help Felix. You felt like the most selfish fucking human being in the world.

So when you’re woken up from sleep one night, feeling hot and with something hard poking against your ass, you decide to finally give back.

“Noona...” Felix whimpers into your ear, nuzzling his face in the nape of your neck, making goosebumps erupt along your body. You weren’t ready to go all the way yet but at least you could give him some release.

Turning on your back, you guide him to straddle you and let yourself slip into the right headspace. "You dirty little thing, humping your noona in her sleep?"

His eyes light up when he realizes that for the first time in a long time, you’re reciprocating, and he sighs in relief, starting to grind his hips against yours. Tantalizing, you lower the straps of your nightgown, a delicate pink satin piece that Felix bought for you, to expose your tits for him. He hums appreciatively, reaching out to touch, but you slap his hand away. “Only look.”

He shudders, nodding, and humps against you faster. "Noona, please, fuck me. Fuck your dumb baby."

"No whining." You reprimand, lifting his shirt up to his mouth and he obediently bites on it, muffling his noises. With the shirt up, his boxers are exposed, and you watch as every time he thrusts forward, the tip of his dick pokes out from his boxers, red and leaking. “And I thought you’d thank me for being so nice to a pervert like you.”

Felix pants around the fabric in his mouth, his dick dripping over your panties. Placing your hand on his ass, you feel the muscle clench and relax as he ruts desperately against you. “Is this how you wanna fuck noona? You think your little dick can make me feel good?”

He pushes the shirt out of his mouth with his tongue and babbles. “I can noona. Just let me put it inside.” He grabs his dick and runs the head of it over your clothed slit, making you shiver at the stimulation. Then he pushes the head against your hole but is prevented from pushing in because of the underwear “Just let me put it in, noona.”

“You’re a greedy little kitten aren’t you? Put your hands up to your chest, kitty.” You order, and he reluctantly obeys. “Now stick your tongue out and pant for me.”

He does so with a flush, looking like a cat in heat. Absolutely filthy.

“That’s it. That’s a good, boy. Putting on a show for noona.”

He nods happily, high off the praise you’re giving him. "I'm gonna cum for you noona. Watch me cum for you."

“I’m looking, little whore. Cum for me.” You purr, cupping handfuls of his ass as you encourage his now sloppy thrusts.

Felix cries out, cum spurting out of the tip of his cock and landing on your pretty silk nightgown. You tut disappointedly, “Look at the mess you made, kitten. You ruined my nightgown with your filthy cum.”

“I’m sorry, noona.” Felix pants, not looking sorry at all. In fact, he looks enraptured by the sight in front of him. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

He falls over your chest, suckling on your breasts gently as his breathing slows down and becomes deep as he falls asleep.

_____________________

That’s how things go for a long while. Just you helping Felix take the edge off without actually going all the way. You can tell he’s disappointed. He must’ve thought that this was the start of you reigniting your relationship, but you still can’t get yourself to be there for him in the way he needs you. And despite you acting romantically together and going on dates, you never officially acknowledged that you are in a relationship, and you can tell that this, more than anything, hurt him the most.

You feel pity and self-hate fill you up as you play with the boy’s hair, his head resting on your lap.

“How do you like the cocktail?” Felix asks lazily, taking you out of your thoughts.

You blink and take another sip of the drink he made you, appreciating the taste on your tongue. It’s actually pretty good, and you tell him exactly that. “But it seems quite strong. I’m a little lightheaded already. What’s in it, kitten?”

Felix giggles as he presses a finger to his mouth, making a shushing sound. “It's a secret.”

You smile fondly at him, soaking up his laughter along with the afternoon son, the calming rhythm of lix's breathing and the strong drink making you feel sleepy. You decide you’re gonna ask him if he’d like to take a nap with you, but before you can form your words, you abruptly get much sleepier, your eyelids turning to lead as they struggle to stay open to the world spinning around you.

You finally manage a little groan, attracting Felix’s attention. He looks up at you in question and his curious eyes are the last thing you see before it all goes black

_____________________

You wake up feeling hot and sticky. Groggily coming to, you blurrily see a mop of blonde hair over your exposed chest and feel wetness over your nipples. Despite your heavy head, you can immediately tell it’s Felix, and your thoughts trudge along as you try to think of what you were doing last but the memory is too fuzzy.

You’re easily distracted when you feel his moans against your skin as he kisses and suckles on your breasts, his hips dragging over your thigh needily. You try to move your hands to push him away, confused and mad that he is touching you without permission, but you only hear the sound of metal clanking as your hands stay above your head, and with a panic, you realize that you were shackled to the bed.

At the sound, Felix lifts his head up and smiles at you sweetly, as if nothing about this was weird. “Noona, you’re awake!”

You stare at him in bewilderment, and he finally realizes what’s wrong. Sheepishly, he explains, “I’m sorry. You were taking so long to wake up and I couldn’t help myself.”

His words don’t really make the situation much clearer. "What is happening? Why am I bound?"

He smiles, moving up your body so his nose is touching yours. "You've been bad noona, rejecting me for so long. I tried to wait. I tried to be good for you but you still kept rejecting me. So I decided to push things along a little."

"What?" You ask, throat dry.

"I put a sedative in your drink so you'd pass out and I can play with you." He explains cheerily, like that was a completely normal and benign thing to do.

"What the fuck, Felix?” You shout, pulling on your shackles in alarm. “You're crazy."

"Crazy over you." He giggles, pinning your hands to the bed so you wouldn’t struggle. “Now stop or you’ll hurt yourself.”

“You’re the one who is hurting me!”

He frowns. “Don’t say that, noona. I’ve been taking good care of you, haven’t I?”

“And you think that gives you the right to drug and assault me?”

His frown deepens at that, all air of playfulness gone from around him. “Stop. Saying. That.” He grits, “I can’t assault you when you’re mine.”

He leans back and palms at your breasts greedily, his thumbs brushing over your wet buds, and you struggle to not arch up into his touch, a fresh wave of arousal sticking your shorts to your pussy even more. “You’re so perfect, noona.”

"Let me go." You cry, gradually getting more and more panicked.

"I'll never let you go again." His voice is gruff and it sends a shiver down your spine as he rubs his fingers over your clit coarsely. “So stop this or you’ll make me really angry, noona.”

You still immediately, thinking back on what he did last time he got mad. You could still feel the suffocation gripping your throat.

“If you’re wet, noona. I’ll know you want me too.” He pulls back from your chest and slowly peels your shorts down your legs, a gasp escaping him when he is undoubtedly greeted by your underwear sticking to your slick, puffy lips in arousal. “I knew it. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

He grabs the top of your panties, pulling them up so they’d rub over your pussy, teasing you and delighting in watching you involuntarily squirm. “You’re so sensitive, noona.”

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.” He slinks your panties down your legs then pulls your thighs up, spreading your legs wide for him, and moaning out in appreciation. “Ah, fuck, noona…so hot.”

His fingers slowly rub over your exposed, drenched pussy, driving you crazy with the deliberate, wide strokes. You have to fight hard to not close your legs around him. “Want more, noona?”

You bite down on your tongue. You won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud. Resolutely, his fingers trail down your pussy and into your warm, tight heat, and you can’t fight back the gasp that is ripped from you. You shake as his fingers ever so slowly pump in and out of you. And when he puts his mouth on you, your moans flow out, not caring anything for your ego.

Felix moans into your pussy, eating you out slowly too, maddening slow as if he was kissing you. The wet sounds of his lips and tongue on you make you burn in shame and arousal.

He stays between your legs a long time, driving you mad, his tongue deliberately moving along your folds and and his lips sucking on your sensitive skin, while his fingers stay inside your pussy and relentlessly but equally as slowly rub against that sweet spot inside you. You feel the burn gradually build in your body, it fries your brain and by the time you cum, your entire nervous system is on fire.

He climbs up your body, looking down at you with the most fucked out look on his pretty face, his eyes absolutely glazed over with lust as he bucks his crotch against you and kisses your mouth the same way he did your pussy. You taste yourself on him so clearly it feels like the taste is imprinted on his tongue forever.

Pulling away, a trail of saliva and cum connects your lips. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Let me go, baby.” You coax gently, hoping he won’t get upset if you’re sweet. “Let me go and I'll fuck you."

He shakes his head, "I know you're lying to me, noona. I know I have to break you in first before I let you go."

You pale, bile rising up your throat at the ominous words. "Break me in… how?"

"You’ll see." He giggles, craning your neck up and kissing your skin harshly, growling in between the sloppy kisses, "But when you're over those worthless boys, maybe you can fuck me again. I hate being a bad boy but this is the only way to make you see."

Pulling back from your stinging neck, he presses his dick to your entrance. Your pussy spasms around the tip of his dick, and he chuckles deeply. “Look how needy your pussy is for me. Noona was wasting time being a little slut and letting those bastards touch her when she could've had me." He says reproachfully, as if you were a misbehaving child, and it makes your anger flare up and overpower your fear.

"I don't want you, you freak." You spit out and he slaps you, hard, the force of it busting your lip open. Taking a deep break, he calms himself down and smiles again. "Now that's not very nice, noona. After all I've done for you." He leans down and licks at the drop of blood that sprung from your lip, moaning at the taste.

"You made me wait for so long, noona. I can't wait anymore." He shakes a little, as if it really was hurting him physically to hold back. Pushing into you, he lets out a shuddering cry. "I love you so much. You're finally mine."

You arch your back as he buries himself all the way inside of you, and he takes that opportunity to bend down and pluck one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimper against him, making him speed up his thrusts.

“I’m making you feel good, aren’t I, noona?” He grunts, keeping your legs wide open as he fucks into you but you don’t reply, angering him. Suddenly, you’re flipped onto your stomach, and he pushes himself between your spread legs so you can't close them, plunging his dick back inside you. “You will not ignore me, noona. I will not allow it.”

He steadies himself on both sides of you and leans over you, trapping you under him and fucking you hard and slow, trying to get as deep inside you as possible despite his size and making you shiver as his dick drags against your walls. He gradually speeds up, his dick gliding easily over the track it made, overwhelming your poor pussy.

He fucks you so well, and you’re entirely, completely ashamed of how good it feels. It seems like he is intent on humiliating you, his dick hitting the sweet spot inside of you perfectly with each thrust, and your pussy keeps clenching around him more and more as the sound of your flesh smacking together fills the room. You’re transfixed under him, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open with your back perfectly arched to receive his thrusts, and soon, he grunts into your ear, "I'm so close."

Your eyes snap open urgently. “Pull out. I'm not on birth control. You can’t cum inside me." You explain hastily. You had stopped taking the pill ever since Chan had passed away. You weren’t fucking Felix so you felt no need to take it.

"I know, noona." He says and you almost sigh in relief, fully expecting Felix to whine but pull out. But to your horror, he continues, "Gonna breed you so you'll never leave me again."

Your breath catches in your throat and your nerves go numb. You sob, “Felix, please no. Pull out, baby please. I won’t leave. I’ll stay.”

“You will.” He promises you, and doesn’t pull back. Instead, fucking you harder and spanking your ass as he grunts loudly, "Take it like a good noona."

He empties himself inside of you, his hot cum flooding your pussy, and to your great shame, that pushes you to cum too, your pussy milking him obediently. He praises you happily, "Good noona, taking all my cum. Your pussy knows you belong to me."

You think he’ll be done now, having fucked you and filled you up. But to your horror, he turns you on your side and embraces you from behind. Lifting one leg up in the air, he starts fucking you again. With how wet you were and his previous ejaculation, wet lewd sounds fill the room along with his low grunts and your breathless gasps.

He spends the whole night fucking you, taking you in every position conceivable and making sure to empty every little drop inside of you, apologizing for being a bad boy and promising you that he'll take any punishment you give him once you’re pregnant with his baby and he can be sure you'll stay.

The worst part is that he makes sure you cum too, seeming intent on not allowing you any space to later claim like you didn’t enjoy yourself, murmuring praises into your ear every time you orgasm. "Good noona, cumming around my cock. Kitty is so happy with you. You wanna cum again?"

You are almost passed out when he’s done fucking you. Leaving you used up and sprawled out on the bed, he gets up to retrieve something. When he gets back on the bed, you purposefully don’t look at him, expecting him to now try to suck up to you and get you to forgive him.

But he doesn’t say anything and you suddenly jolt at the sharp sting you feel along your inner thigh. You look down in horror to see felix carving something with a knife onto your skin. His own name.

You shout and begin to struggle, only to quickly realize that you shouldn't be moving around with a sharp knife so close to your genitals, and Felix is aware of that too. He ignores your tearful pleas and pained screams until he’s all done. Brandishing the now bloody knife, he whispers conspiratorially, “Wanna know something, noona?”

You don’t reply but he doesn’t care, smiling as he pushes the knife to your throat. “This is the knife I used to stab Jisung.” Your stomach drops and your blood beats frenziedly against the knife pressed to your skin. “It’s also the same knife I used to kill Chan.”

You stay frozen in place, not even breathing, not even blinking.

"I didn't want to kill him. I really loved him. He was the only one I was willing to share you with but he left me no choice.” He goes on, pouting slightly as if he was lamenting losing his favorite mug. “But it’s better this way. Now you’re all mine. And once you're broken in, I'll let you use this to mark me up too."

____________________

A/N: let me know what you think of the ending. I love to hear it!

[lin-nin]

Hey I totally loved reading your head cannons about Techno, Schlatt, Dream, and BBH accidentally killing their s/o's. I had a request and feel free to decline this if it's too heavy or whatever. What if those four lost a baby with you? Be it a child or a premature baby.

onHe We really suffering with these four two days in a row, huh? Obvious warning for pregnancy, birth, death, gore, miscarriage, all the like! This definitely is a heavier topic but I have no problem writing it. Obvious afab reader, as well :) Added a bonus Philza bc this angst prompt was screaming for some Philza.

Techno losing his child

When you had told Techno you were pregnant, carrying his child, he had been ecstatic. The way he smiled at you was enough to make you melt, especially as he held you close. He would often hold your forming bump, or nuzzle his face against it. The way he cared for you and the child you shared was so incredibly tender, making sure everything was okay for the two of you, for your unplanned family.

He rarely left you alone for long, not wanting you to be unprotected. He had only been at the farm when you had felt it, the sharp pain in your back. It had you staggering, tears in your eyes and hand fluttering immediately to your stomach. You knew something was wrong, and it was confirmed when the blood was on your thighs. You had screamed bloody murder, causing Techno to rush in, axe drawn. Ready to take down whatever had caused you to scream. Only to freeze when he saw you on the floor, sobbing and screaming.

It didn’t take long for him to understand. Especially with the amount of blood there was. He didn’t grieve at first, so worried for you. You always came first. He had helped you, albeit with shaking hands, clean everything up. He even helped you into the tub, hands stroking your hair from your face. You had grown numb and despondent, barely aware of his words. It hurt to see you like that.

He reassured you that it wasn’t your fault- because it wasn’t. It was nothing either of you could have stopped, but you still blamed yourself. He did mourn, though. While unplanned, he had been excited. He had looked forward to being able to raise a child with you. He reassured you in the end that the two of you could try again. Whenever the both of you were ready.

Schlatt losing his child

Becoming pregnant had not been your intention. Not in your plans for years to come. You had simply been fooling around, drinking with Schlatt and maybe getting a bit handsy. So when a few months had passed and you found yourself sick on the regular, a growing bump on your stomach, you were horrified. Not against it, entirely. Just taken purely by surprise.

Schlatt had been a little more vocal about it, expressing his disbelief loudly. He didn’t want to be a father. At least he didn’t think he did. He had just wanted to have fun. That’s all he ever wanted- to do as he please. He didn’t please to be a parent. Yet it was coming anyways.

As he watched you teeter around, pregnancy increasingly obvious, he found himself much more open to the idea. And when you had given birth- a healthy baby boy- he was there. He was there, and he was sober. He even was teary eyed when he got to hold his son. Everything was okay for a couple of weeks, until you noted that he wasn’t eating as much as he should be. He only seemed to grow weaker from there, before succumbing to whatever sickness had grabbed a hold of him.

You had cried, feeling utterly broken. Like you hadn’t protected him enough. Schlatt lapsed into drinking more than normal. He was angrier, snapping at anyone who even brought up his son. The only person he tolerated it from was you. Especially when you had shown up, eyes red from crying, requesting a drink. The two of you weren’t together, but you could definitely grieve your son together. It was, at the very least, cause for a friendship between you two. You had wanted a son, you had had him, and you had lost him. Schlatt felt largely the same, and the only thing that numbed the pain of the loss was alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Dream losing his child

Whatever gods there were seemed to have a sick sense of humor. You loved Dream so much. Everyone knew it, it was clear in the way you looked at him. Everyone knew he loved you the same, too. Especially in the early days, when he didn’t hide his tender touches and soft kisses from the public eye. Even when things started to change, when he grew defensive and angry, he still loved you the same. Even if it was harder for everyone else to tell, you knew. You could see it in his eyes. You were his weakness.

Which had lead to an argument between the two of you. You were a weakness, a liability, in danger. Something he needed to rid himself of. Which was when you had dropped on him that you were pregnant. It wasn’t what you had planned, not the way you’d wanted to tell him. It was almost as if the words had short circuited his brain, tongue turning to lead. He seemed to soften up after that. At least towards you. Only in private. In public he had only seemed to deny any attachment to you vehemently.

Your pregnancy had progressed normally, and everyone quickly knew of it. There were some congratulations, while others worried about Dream’s ability to be a father figure. You didn’t entirely pay them mind. Of course, nothing ever went smoothly with Dream. You had no way of knowing that when you went into labor, your baby would have come out without air in her little lungs or a beat to her heart. You had cried, so much. Holding her little body against you. Dream had seemed to shut down, staring down at his lifeless daughter.

He seemed distant afterwards. He blamed himself, truly. For maybe if he had been a better person, his daughter would have been born alive. He had practically cut you off, saying that he couldn’t risk you going through that pain and loss again due to his actions. It showed him that even if he wanted all the control in the world, there were some things he couldn’t control. The best way he could control this was by removing you from being put in that situation again.

Bad losing his child

Bad was always vocal with his love for you. You adored it, relishing in the way he would proudly tell anyone who would listen about you. It was endearing and you couldn’t help but tug at his sleeve to get him to lean down so you could kiss his cheek. That’s why it was no surprise when you had fallen pregnant. It was still in the early days, then, too. Back when L’Manberg was still around. You didn’t involve yourself too much with it, though. You were too focused on making everything perfect for your baby.

Bad had pampered you like there was no tomorrow. Getting you flowers, and your favorite baked goods from Nihachu. He would carry you around everywhere. He doted on you and made sure you got everything you wanted and that you were as healthy as can be. You adored it, and always responded by kissing the tip of his horns lovingly.

That’s why it was a surprise when your contractions had come early. Far too early. Bad fretted over you, which only seemed to stress you out. The baby was so tiny when she was born. Yet she was alive, and somehow still perfect. Your sweet angel. You loved her, staying by her side religiously. Bad was much the same, scared to even sleep. She spent so long fighting for her life. She was too small, too young, too underdeveloped. You knew it would happen eventually, her chances of survival low. It was why you cherished every moment with her.

Yet when she had finally lost the energy to fight to breathe, in your arms, you bawled. You cried for days on end, letting Bad hold you close as you did. He only held you, rocking you back and forth. He was hurt, unsure what to say o comfort you. Until one day he came to you, a newfound light in his eyes. Claiming to have found your baby, just in a new form. You had followed him, hoping that whatever it was he was right about. As you saw the red vines he presented to you, you felt the same attachment you had felt for your daughter. This really was her, wasn’t it?

Philza losing his child

Philza had been so excited when you had given birth to his son. His second child, at least biologically. He doted on the pair of you like there was no tomorrow. Always telling you how proud he was of you, how much he loved you. Giving your son everything in the world. After all, after losing Wilbur, he was determined to make sure he didn’t lose his second child. Especially when the boy’s wings started to flourish.

Teaching him to fly had always been his favorite thing, especially as he got the hang of it and could effortlessly soar through the skies with him. You would often find shelter under a tree, fondly watching the pair of them fly. As he grew, he had begun flying on his own, straying further from Philza. You never worried. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Until one day you watched him get struck in the chest with the bolt of a crossbow, helplessly watching him plummet almost immediately to the ground.

You had screamed, and so had Philza. He absolutely could not lose a second son, but watching his child speed down to the earth, he already knew he had. He looked with a vengeance for who had killed his son, while you scrambled your way over to where he had landed. Finding the culprit was easy, at least with wings. He hadn’t even thought twice when he had found the fleeing orange flurry that was undoubtedly his grandson. His trident wasn’t in his hand for long, being thrown straight into him.

Fundy had been vehement in his last breaths, insisting that Philza couldn’t love him as a grandson, and couldn’t love his other son properly either. Philza had no interest in his words, simply ripping his trident from his body and leaving. He grieved heavily when he had returned to your side, helping you bury your son. Despite his grief, and clear depression, he never pushed you away or distanced himself. If anything, he seemed to hold you closer. As if it would repair the damage left on both of you.

[glowingspence]

hotchreid-90 or 32, or just, anything hotchreid , not established relationship preferred 💜💜

"Hey" Shyly Reid looks at the man standing in front of his door, late in the evening. "What are you doing here?"

"I just- you seemed off today- do you mind if I-" Without waiting for permission Hotch steps into the apartment, pressing himself through the small crack Reid had opened the door to before looking at him properly.

Spencer had already changed out of his suit and into more comfortable clothes, the thick soft socks reaches partly over the end of his sweatpants, the stained hoodie he almost always wears at home covers his hands.

"I am worried" Hotch admits, "We have been- we started spending so much time and we went on those dates and I am worried I overstepped because now you are shielding yourself away. Not only from me. I got Morgan on speed dial- I am- if I made you uncomfortable- he will come over and you can talk to him- or me- it's just- I am- I am really sorry" He brings out pressing his lips together as he looks at Reid who takes a moment and then frowns at him.

"You didn't do anything wrong" Hesitantly he backs away even further from Hotch, "I thought we are- you know- doing pretty good."

"I thought so too but ever since three weeks ago, you have been quiet and when I try to ask you out, you are reclining everything I suggest and that's okay. We don't have to go out. But at least drinking a coffee together would be nice, you know." He explains, "I miss you"

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, picking at the dry skin around elbows underneath the loose sweater as he does before his facial expressions slightly changed, like it does when Hotch watches him cracking a code on cases and he encrypted a little piece of it. "What is it?"

"Nothing. We can go out, it's not you." He assures him, looking down to the floor. "We can grab coffee tomorrow after work."

"If you don't feel up to it we don't have to."

"I do. I do. Everything is okay" Spencer insists and starts rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Did something happen three weeks ago?"

"No" Spencer quickly answers, a bit to forcefully to make it sound true. "No, nothing happened."

"Why don't we sit down?" Comforting Hotch tries placing a hand on Spencer but he flinches away, "I am sorry. Can we sit down? Is that okay?"

While he has his lips pressed together Spencer nods and walks first towards the couch, sitting down at the end. He crosses his arms in front of his stomach and presses them against his stomach before he leans forward far enough that it makes it comfortable to rock back and forth.

"Do you need anything?" Hotch questions worried. "Do you want your blanket?"

Spencer shakes his head but keeps on rocking back and forth.

"Did something happen with Jack? Did he say something?" Hotch asks trying to figure out what has him so upset but he shakes his head, "Did someone on the team say something about us? Did Morgan not like that we went out?"

He shakes his head again before taking one hand away from his middle and starts tapping his head with his palm in a steady rhythm before he speaks, "Morgan said he will kill you if you hurt me, Morgan likes you, Morgan likes to know I am safe. You can keep me safe. Morgan likes that."

"I am glad he does" Hotch answers and figures he is not the problem. "You can tell me anything"

"Not this thing" Spencer tells him and Hotch raises one eyebrow. "Not this thing. Not this thing."

"Why not?" He interrogates with a soft voice, "Spencer why can't you tell me?" He repeats when Spencer doesn't answer.

"It's a secret"

"It's a secret?"

"Not my secret." He explains and a tear rolls down his cheek, "It's a horrible secret."

"It is?" Hotch questions with sympathy in his voice and Spencer nods and sobs ones, holding himself again but signaling with his position that he doesn't want Hotch to touch him, "Is that why you have been so closed up? Does the secret do that?"

"It hurts."

"It hurts?" Hotch repeats waiting for Spencer to elaborate.

"Makes me feel sick and sorry." He tells him before adding, "It makes me feel really bad, like I did when Emily died. When my chest really hurt like someone is tying it but my stomach feels all empty"

"Do you mean grief? Are you grieving?"

"I don't know." Spencer sobs again, new tears running down his face as his body shakes, "It feels like when Emily died."

"Maybe it's grief we don't need to identify that right now, it's okay." Hotch tries to keep Spencer's frustration low. "Can you tell me who told you that secret?"

"No"

"Okay, that's okay." Hesitant Hotch scoops closer, "Come here" After a moment of hesitation Hotch scoops into the corner of the couch and Spencer follows him, climbing into his lap and curling himself up in a way that can hide his face against Hotch's neck as he cries. His hand gripping his shirt, as muffled sobs fill the apartment. "Okay, okay you are okay."

He waits for him to calm down until only sniffles fill the room, Spencer still leaning against him but being more spread out over the couch as he plays with Hotch's fingers.

"We are gonna try something, okay baby?" The nickname falls so naturally from his tongue, both men don't notice, "Why don't you tell me the secret. But you tell me with the TV-show we watched all day at my apartment? You remember the one Jack wanted to watch?"

"The one with the friend group?"

"Yeah that one"

"I am no allowed to tell you."

"If it makes you this upset you can tell me. It's okay. Nothing is gonna happen to you." Protectively Hotch places a hand on Spencer's cheek, making him feel shield away from the world around him.

"I am Jess." Spencer starts, "And the person who told me that secret is Cece."

"Cece who is together with Schmidt? With the little daughter?"

"Yes"

"Alright, I can follow." He assures him.

"And Cece had been sad and hurting. Like something really terrible happened. So Jess waited for her in front of the bathroom for a really long time. Because Cece also had a injury on her hand, like she had been punching something, but there is no one she should be fighting with." He stops and presses himself closer against Hotch, "So Jess waited and when Cece finally came out, she asked if they could talk and Cece eventually agreed and they went into an empty room and Jess asked what is going on. But Cece wouldn't tell her and told her- and told her that she should stop being so worried and stop being so her." He presses himself against Hotch again while he rubs his feet over the couch.

"It's okay, it's okay, you are doing good." Hotch tries calming him and slowly he stops moving im his arms again, "go on when you are ready"

"Jess told her that she can't help it. You know, because Jess was really worried and Jess sometimes doesn't know where personal boundaries are. Jess just wants to help and people think she is being nosy."

"Well Nick loved that about her"

"Not important" Spencer states, "Cece told her that not even she could come up with the word for what she feels. Because Cece has PTSD because she was in a terrible accident."

"She was?"

"Mmm Jess knew that and so Jess kept pushing and didn't read the signs and then Cece told her that she was pregnant when the accident happened-" Again Spencer breaks into a sob and moves in Hotch's arms again,

"You are okay, it's okay, it's okay, you did so good by telling me." He assures him and grabs both of his arms slightly leaning down on him, "Keep talking, you are almost done. You did such a good job."

Spencer by now lays with his back on Hotch's thighs, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, as he tries hitting his hands together and Hotch realizes what he tries to do, let's go and let's him hit his knuckles together.

"What happened then? What did Jess do?"

"Jess had to keep the secret. Nobody knows."

"Does Schmidt know?"

"No, Cece was working abroad when she found out and when she lost the baby. Cece was all alone." He tells him and hits his knuckles together harder.

"How does Jess feel now?"

"Jess would have been godmother to a second child. Jess doesn't know what to feel because she never even met the child and didn't know about it but now feels like something is gone from her heart. Jess is sad."

"Did Jess ever talk to Cece again about it?"

"Jess found a way for Cece to say goodbye to the man who did this but she is worried she won't be able to heal." They stay quiet for a long moment, Spencer hitting his knuckles together, until Hotch holds his hand between Spencer's two fists who can't stop.

"I think JJ loves you so so much, and I think JJ is the strongest woman this earth has ever seen and I know this must be terrifying, to see her like this but she is going to survive it and she knows that she has you to lean on when times get hard and she has Henry and Will and I know that when she is home she has all the love and understanding around her she always wished for." Gently he moves his other hand up to Spencer's head, "And as in for you, it's okay to feel whatever you feel right now and I am so so proud of you for taking care of her. She maybe said those things but she probably felt a little bit crowded by you. You know that feeling too. You sometimes say those things too and then mean it. But in the end, I think she is gonna feel a lot better knowing someone knows. And knowing someone is watching out for her."

[Prompt list]

[badassbuchanan]

No Goodbye Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: angst, cringe, mentions of grieving, soft!bucky

Word Count: 7474

A/N: I’m sorry for the poor quality of this, pls don't hate me

“Bucky, you know I have to do this.” Steve pressed his lips together as he looked sympathetically over at Bucky. His decision wasn’t an easy one, and his best friend trying to change his mind was only making it harder. “I’m leaving her with my best pal.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s shoulder reassuringly, witnessing the distress on his face, what Steve was asking him to do was huge. “It’s gunna be okay, Buck.”

Bucky sighed, trusting that Steve knew what was best as he wrapped his arms around his friend to say goodbye. “No matter what happens, she can never find out the truth, Buck.”

Bucky woke himself from the memory, the small strips of sunlight bleeding through the blind, the feminine smell of the sheets reminding him he wasn’t in his own bed. He quickly pushed his body to sit up, leaning on his metal hand that had pressed into the mattress, his heart racing as he scanned the room.

He sighed sadly as the overwhelming reminder of keeping a secret from the girl who had given herself to him last night took over. The world seemed a little brighter, but his thoughts stopped him from enjoying what should’ve been a peaceful morning.

His heart sunk as he ran his flesh hand through his unkept hair, seeing no sign of the girl he’d fallen asleep holding. There was a cold space where her body should’ve been, his eyes squeezing shut as his mind whirled with emotion.

Had she left him? Had she regretted what happened between them? Had she been too embarrassed to face him? Had she gone off telling the team that he was crap in bed? Bucky knew he hadn’t lasted as long as usually did last night, but it had been decades since he was last with a girl. Decades worth of sexual frustration. And Y/N had felt so warm and tight-

“Hey sleepyhead.” A soft voice came from the ensuite doorway, knocking him out of his thoughts as his head whipped around to see Y/N.

She was glowing. Her hair was tied back in a high pony tail, her body covered in a figure hugging training suit. Bucky’s heart pounded against his chest as he breathlessly watched her make her way over to him, all of his thoughts melting away at the sight of her.

He sat up a little straighter, his mouth subtly hanging open as he became enchanted, admiring her natural beauty. “Did you sleep okay?” She asked softly, her genuine concern evident as she stood beside him. She’d felt him jolt softly in his sleep, a small frown on his face and a pout on his lips, she knew he was dreaming. She wanted to wake him while it was happening, to make sure he was okay, but instead she’d soothed him by tracing soft patterns on his chest, knowing there was no chance of him pushing her away while he slept.

“Best sleep I’ve ever had.” He breathed out shakily, his eyes soft with adoration as he watched her play with her hands nervously. He wanted to reach out and pull her down, to hold her close and never let her go. But Bucky was sensitive to her thoughts and feelings after what they’d done last night, the guilt of knowing he had a secret only making him more nervous.

She smiled bashfully at his comment, keeping her eyes away from his as she traced her fingers lightly over his thigh which was covered by the duvet. Y/N wanted to wrap her arms around Bucky and stay in bed with him all day. But she too was cautious to discover where his head was at after their night together. He seemed to be treating her like glass, she could tell he was holding back from her and she was anxious to know why.

“Why are you up so early?” Bucky tried to distract his mind from his thoughts, unable to help the shy smile from curling up on his lips as he sweetly tilted his head. His flesh hand sneakily slid across his duvet covered thighs until it came into light contact with her fingers, testing her reaction to his touch.

“Training.” She breathed out softly, still smiling as she looked up into his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat as she took in the shirtless sight of the super soldier in her bed. “Are you planning on keeping my bed warm all day?” She joked lightly, her voice soft as she tried to distract herself from his gorgeous body.

“Figured I’d wait here until you got back.” He smiled dopily, making her giggle softly as he stretched his body forward, relaxing when he saw no sense of offput on her face. He snaked his arms around her waist, sitting back against the headboard as he tugged her into his lap. “Unless you wanna keep me company.”

She squealed as he pulled her down, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he watched her get comfortable, sitting sideways on his lap. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, her hand playing with the back of his hair as she relaxed into his touch. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat, the intimacy of the moment far too sentimental to be ruined by his thoughts.

Y/N longed to lean in and kiss his soft lips, already craving more after their night together. But there was still a slight reservation in her mind, she knew it would be foolish to jump head first into this without knowing how he felt, even when her heart was so desperately encouraging her to do so.

“Bucky.” She let out in a little whine as her head rested against his bare chest, feeling like there was so much she needed to say to him, but unsure as to where to start.

Bucky’s hand rubbed up and and down her back soothingly, his chin resting on top of her head as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “I know, doll.” He tried to reassure her that he knew she had a lot on her mind. And that they had a lot to discuss. He didn’t expect anything from her, he’d waited long enough to hold her like this, and he’d wait as long as it took. It also gave him time to figure out if he was going to tell her the truth or carry on living a lie.

A sudden knock on the door caught their attention. “Y/N.” Wanda’s voice called from the other side, causing Y/N to jump off of Bucky’s lap with urgency.

“Crap.” She whispered in a panic, turning around to face Bucky who was still sitting on the bed. Her eyes widened as she realised his clothes were thrown carelessly all over the room. It was no secret the super soldier spent almost every night in Y/N’s bed, the team knew that. But they didn’t need to know how far they’d taken their relationship last night.

“Coming!” Y/N walked quickly over to her door, tightening her pony tail as she went. She opened the door just enough to slip out of the room and greet Wanda, assuring the door shut properly behind her.

“So I see you and Barnes made up?” The red head chuckled in amusement, not even needing her mind reading powers to know what was going on with her friend.

Y/N huffed out as she smiled, her back staying protectively against her bedroom door. She stared back as the Scarlett Witch studied her face, her eyes twitching into a glare.

“You know I can read minds, right?” Wanda’s eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms, looking at the guilty looking girl in front of her.

“Get out of my head, Wanda!” Y/N’s eyes widened as a pink blush covered her cheeks, unable to stop thinking about how safe she’d felt with the super soldier’s body rocking against hers.

“Honey, I didn't need magic to hear the noises that were coming out of your room last night.” She smiled smugly, watching Y/N’s face drop in panic. Y/N felt her heart rate increase as embarrassment of the whole team knowing what she and Bucky had been up to washed over her body. Her mouth dropped open in shock, speechlessly standing there as her body temperature raised in humiliation.

“Relax, I was kidding.” Wanda added with a cheeky smile, her eyes lighting up as she realised her instincts had proved her well. Y/N shot her friend a glare, a little whine of shyness left her lips as Wanda’s head leaned back in laughter.

She watched the embarrassed girl silently walk away from her down the hallway, following close behind, excited to get to the training room so she could probe Y/N about her self-admitted night with Bucky.

——

Bucky decided to make his way back to his own room a little while later, coming to the conclusion that he needed to take a shower if he wanted to look his best for when Y/N finished up training. His stomach was still fluttering with butterflies as memories of the night before flooded through his mind.

He thought about Y/N as he showered, how she held him, the way her hair smelled, the little whimpers that left her lips, the way her eyes lit up the room. He smiled to himself as he thought about how she’d grown to trust him, before that gut wrenching guilt returned again. She’d grown to trust him, and he’d been betraying her the whole time.

He ruffled his hair against his towel as he walked back into his room, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Bucky threw the towel carelessly onto the floor, running his flesh hand through his towel dried hair.

He caught his reflection in the mirror, a soft smile flicking over his lips as he noticed the marks left on his body from the way she’d clung to him so tightly. He grabbed a clean t-shirt from the folded pile of laundry on his table, the one he hadn't gotten around to putting away.

Bucky did what he usually did in the mornings, find his way into the kitchen for breakfast. But he couldn’t even walk down the hallway of the compound without his heart sinking at the voice in his head, screaming that he was a liar.

“What up, cyborg?” Sam’s voice called out as he noticed Bucky entering the kitchen. He lifted his mug up to his lips, sipping the freshly made green tea as he analysed his friend’s more anxious than usual aura.

“Hey.” Bucky replied, his face straight, but not enough of a frown to give Sam confirmation that something was bothering him. He paid no attention to Sam as he grabbed a box of cereal from the cupboard, still lost in his thoughts about Y/N.

Sam’s eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what could’ve been the cause of the super soldier’s mood, scanning up and down his body as he prepared his breakfast. His eyes widened, dropping his gaze with a shocked smile as he noticed the reddened marks on Bucky’s neck and arm. “Sleep well, Sergeant?” He smirked, lifting his mug back to his lips.

“Like a baby.” Bucky mumbled dryly, his eyes fixed on watching the cereal pour into his bowl, his mind contemplating every possible outcome of telling Y/N the truth. He heard Sam chuckle, catching his attention as he walked over to grab the milk from the fridge. “Something funny, pigeon?”

“You just seem a little more relaxed today.” Sam spoke sarcastically, his signature smirk covering his face as he pressed his metal armed partner. “Looks good on you.” He continued, amusing himself as he spoke before he could stop himself. “Almost as good as those marks.”

“Shut it, bird brain.” Bucky’s head shot round to give Sam a threatening look as he slammed the fridge door shut, realising why his co-worker looked even more smug than usual.

Sam lifted his hands up in surrender after placing his mug on the kitchen worktop. “Hey, come on now.” He chuckled softly, having worked with Bucky enough to know when he’d pushed him too far. “I’m happy for you, bro. For real. You guys are great together.”

“Let’s just hope Y/N thinks so, too.” Bucky sighed softly, leaning his palms against the edge of the worktop as he tilted his head towards Sam. Bucky knew that Sam would never completely understand the weight of his words, the only person who knew as much as Bucky was Steve.

“Seriously?” Sam asked with a tone of shock, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to comprehend whether the metal armed soldier was trying to make a joke for the first time in his life. He knew Bucky was serious when he only raised his eyebrows as a response. “Are you blind, old man? That girl is devoted to you.”

Bucky sighed, knowing Sam was right, Y/N was devoted to him, she completely trusted him. He stood up straight as both boys crossed their arms against their chests. His head dropped as he tried to ignore the nagging voice in his head, he wanted to honour Steve’s last words to him, but falling for Y/N was making it increasingly difficult to stick to the promise he’d made his best friend.

“Have you told her the truth?” Sam asked, causing Bucky’s heart to sink at the other man’s words. The truth. “No matter what happens, she can never find out the truth, Buck.” The words unlocked the memory of Steve’s voice, echoing through Bucky’s mind, his eyes squeezing shut as he shook the memory away.

“What?” His head snapped towards Sam at his question, a deep crease appearing in the middle of Bucky’s forehead. His heart sunk as he once again was reminded of the secret he’d been carrying around since Steve left, the secret that he’d been keeping from Y/N.

“About how you feel,” Sam frowned in confusion at Bucky’s sudden snappiness, tilting his head slightly as he cautiously observed his friend. “Have you told Y/N how you feel?”

It didn’t ease Bucky at all to know that Sam wasn’t talking about the truth he was hiding from her. His heartbeat quickened as his nerves increased, how was he supposed to tell Y/N how he felt? How was he supposed to keep this secret from her knowing that she’d completely given him all of her trust.

A wave of guilt washed over Bucky as he pushed his bowl away from him, suddenly losing his appetite as he ran his hand through his hair stressfully. Steve had told Bucky that Y/N could never know the truth, but he’d never expected to grow this close to her, to have to lie to her every single day. Bucky couldn’t lose her, not now, she was his muse, his reason for existing.

His head started to spin as his body filled with anxiety. If he betrayed Steve and told Y/N the truth, she’d know he’d been keeping it from her, lying to her all this time. All the trust she’d slowly given him would be washed away in an instant. But could Bucky really live with himself, continuously earning more and more of her trust, knowing that he was hiding the truth from her?

“No,” Bucky breathed shakily, pressing his lips together as the battle continued on inside his mind. His eyes flickered back and forth nervously as he meditated on his thoughts, his mind completely clouded from anything else. “I haven’t told her.”

——

“So,” Wanda dragged out the word as she held up the punching pads for Y/N, who was stretching out her arms after the first round they’d just finished. “You and Bucky, huh?”

“What about me and Bucky?” Y/N asked dismissively, throwing a few practice punches at the pads in Wanda’s hands.

“Look it might’ve been a lucky guess earlier, but you don’t usually blush like that Y/N. Something must’ve happened between the two of you.” Wanda raised her eyebrows accusingly, curious to see how Y/N was feeling after her night with Bucky.

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed out as she dropped her hands in defeat, she knew it was useless lying to Wanda, she could literally read minds. “I guess something did happen.”

“And?” Wanda asked curiously as she tilted her head, tensing her arms as Y/N started throwing punches at the pads again.

“And, now I don’t know.” Y/N sighed in defeat, dropping her hands helplessly again as she lost focus of the training. “I care about him so much, Wanda. He’s been there for me every step of the way, he’s been so patient, and gentle. He’s my rock. But he’s never told me he feels for me as more than a friend.” She shrugged as her head dropped to her feet.

“Have you told him how you feel?” Wanda asked softly, aware of the sensitivity of the situation. She tilted her head as she watched Y/N lift her gaze, realising what Wanda was hinting at.

“No, but I think it’s pretty obvious.” She mumbled with a pout, dropping her head again as she tried to hide her smile.

“Well did you ever think, that just maybe, Bucky thinks he doesn’t need to tell you how he feels because his feelings are pretty obvious too?” Wanda spoke with a teasing tone, her eyebrows raising as she smiled amusingly at Y/N who was rolling her eyes with a chuckle. She knew Wanda was right, maybe she’d jumped to conclusions a little too soon. Or maybe she was scared of Bucky not reciprocating her feelings and losing him for good.

“Alright, good point Maximoff.” Y/N faked a glare at the red head as she pressed her glove covered hands on her hips. “I’ll confess my feelings to Buchanan later, but right now, it’s pads up.” She chuckled with a raise of her brow, throwing a hard punch as Wanda lifted the pads back up.

——

Y/N’s heart pounded in the cavity of her chest as she reached Bucky’s bedroom door. She’d finished training, had a shower and made sure she sprayed the perfume he always complimented. She sighed deeply, her nerves causing her hands to fiddle with the hem of her t-shirt nervously. This was it, she was really about to lay it all on the line, risk losing the person she was closest to in order to admit how she felt.

“Bucky?” Y/N’s voice dropped to a whisper as she opened the door to his room, her heart aching at the sight in front of her. He was sitting on the floor, his back leaning against his bed as his tear stained eyes stared up at the ceiling.

Bucky sniffed deeply as he tried to cover up his sadness, his glassy eyes catching hers as his head dropped forward to face her. His lips pressed together in a hard line, seeing her innocently standing in front of him only making his chest tighten as he started sobbing again.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She let out in a shaky voice as she rushed over to his side, wrapping her arms around him as she pulled his head against her chest. Only when he was pulled against her body did she notice the black and white photograph in his hand, a picture of him and Steve back in their prime. “You’re okay.”

Bucky’s heart broke as he felt her trying to soothe him, innocent to how much he’d been betraying her all along. His chest heaved as dread flooded through his body, knowing that he’d have to watch the pain in her eyes as he told her the truth. He couldn’t keep lying to her. He’d come to terms with what he’d done, willing to face the consequences in order to give her the truth she deserved.

“It’s gunna be okay, Buck.” She whispered sweetly as she placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head. She didn’t know why he was so upset, she didn’t need to know, all she wanted was to make him feel safe, the same way he did to her.

“Y/N,” He breathed out shakily as he lifted his head, his hands holding her waist as he tried to speak through his tears. His blue eyes caught hers, sadness on both of their faces as they felt each other’s pain. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears as her throat sunk into her stomach, an alarming fear coursing through her body as she listened to him speak. “Is this about last night?” She whispered sadly as her head dropped, worried that he regretted what had happened between them. That had to be it, what else could it be? “Look, we can just forget it ever-“

“Doll, no.” Bucky cut her off with a shake of his head, his eyes softening as he cupped her cheek in his hand, lifting his body to come face to face with her, dropping the photo he’d previously been holding in the process. “I promise, it’s not about last night.” He reassured her as his thumb rubbed soothingly over her tear stained skin.

She sighed as she waited for an elaboration from him, her head filled with worst case scenarios as he clenched his jaw. Bucky swallowed nervously, a sharp pain in his chest as the room filled with silence. He was battling internally, his words catching in his throat, trying to spit them out was even harder than he’d imagined.

“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” She admitted sadly, pulling her hands away from him as her head turned away from his hand. Her eyes closed as she tried to contain her tears, a flame of abandonment still in her tummy from when Steve left. Was Bucky about to do the same? Even after his promises.

He couldn’t object to her rejecting his touch, biting the inside of his lip as the war continued inside his mind. Steve was gone, he’d never know that he told Y/N the truth. But here she was, her heart breaking in front of him as she pushed him away, something he never wanted to happen. Something that might happen if she knew the truth.

Bucky’s heart stopped when he heard her sob, the noise she let out full of pain as her hands came up to cover her face. She’d been through so much heartache, her body tired and weak from all the emotion. Now, she dreaded the thought of having to go through it all again. “Just say it.” She squeaked out, his silence only prolonging the inevitable.

Bucky flinched at her words, his eyes squeezing shut tightly as he tried to wake up from the nightmare. His head spun as his mind filled with the sounds of her sobbing, his chest heaving with anxiety. He didn’t know how she was going to react, he didn’t want to lose her. What if she blamed him for everything? What if she walked out of his life for good?

Y/N’s eyes stung as her cheeks reddened with tears, wishing he’d just put her out of her misery. Was he leaving her? Had she been too needy? Did he regret what happened between them last night? Had he done it all out of sympathy? Just to make her crying stop. Had he found someone else? Had he been faking it all along? Was he sick of her sadness? Was he going to push her away? Did he not want her around anymore?

“God, Bucky, just say it.” She cried weakly, pulling her head from her hands as she looked over at him. His head hung in shame as he shook his head, he wasn’t ready to lose her. That was the only possible outcome once she knew the truth, once she knew what he’d been keeping from her this whole time. “Please.” She bit down on her bottom lip as it trembled, wanting the closure of a goodbye that she never got with Steve.

Bucky’s chest caved in as he heard her beg, swallowing the lump in his throat as he felt time stop, as if the universe stood still as the words left his lips. “Steve didn’t leave you to be with Peggy, Y/N.”

Y/N felt a flood of pain rush through her veins as she heard him mentioned Steve. She sighed as the air got caught in her throat, closing her watery eyes as she shook her head. His words were the last thing she’d ever expected to hear.

Bucky sniffed, his eyes red from crying as he tried to reach for her hand, looking over at her heartbroken face. Y/N slid her hand away from his hesitantly, certain that there was more he had to say.

“Why am I only finding out about this now?” She frowned in an attempt to stop the tears as her eyes saddened, feeling vulnerable and betrayed by the one person she’d learned to trust. Did he purposely wait until she finally felt a slither of happiness before he broke her heart? Was he doing it for his own satisfaction? Had he been mocking her this whole time, knowing that she hadn’t known the truth?

“I thought I was protecting you, Steve made me promise not to ever let you find out. But I can’t lie to you anymore Y/N, it’s killing me inside. I can’t live with myself knowing that I’m keeping this secret from the girl I love.” His voice broke as the words came out of his mouth without hesitation, finally admitting how he really felt about her. Bucky watched her face flinch with pain as her mind flooded with emotion, millions of thoughts whizzing through her head as she tried to comprehend his words.

“Then tell me the truth, Buck.” Y/N’s chest tightened as she felt all the emotion of losing Steve washing over her like a wave. The anxiety of abandonment, the loneliness, the heartache, it all clouded her mind enough for her to ignore Bucky’s confession. Her bottom lip trembled as she hugged her knee to her chest, tears dripping down onto the floor as she tried to make the pain subside.

“Steve left because it was the only way to keep you safe.” Bucky breathed out shakily, his own eyes pooling with tears as he watched Y/N helplessly break down beside him. He knew she wouldn’t understand, she was never meant to understand, she was never meant to know. He sighed sadly, there was no going back now, he’d have to tell her everything. “Y/N, I need you to look at me.”

His heart sunk as she helplessly did as he instructed, fighting through her pain to get to the truth, still so many questions left unanswered. Her jaw clenched tightly as her heart raced, coming to her senses enough to know that Bucky wouldn’t lie to her about something like this.

“Stay with me.” He whispered softly, trying to get her to focus on him as silent tears rolled down his cheeks, his gut full of dread. Her lips pressed into a pout as she fearfully looked up at him, looking like a helpless animal caught in a trap.

Her eyes fixed onto his deep blue ones, her heart beginning to steady itself as she listened to his voice, even in her worst moments, Bucky somehow managed to calm her. She felt his flesh hand slide into hers, not pulling away this time as she watched him blink nervously.

“I need you to tell me your earliest memory.” Bucky instructed as his eyebrows arched in sympathy, terrified of the outcome to the situation he was now responsible for. He knew exactly why Steve had told him not to tell her, and if he were still here, he’d kick his ass for letting her find out. But Steve wasn’t here. And Bucky knew she’d never forgive him if he didn’t tell her now. “Think, Y/N.”

Y/N wracked her brain hard, her eyebrows furrowing into a frown as she flickered between Bucky’s eyes. He saw the horror flash in her eyes as she let out a soft whimper, her mouth slightly parted as she shook her head. His heart sunk, knowing he’d just triggered an alarm in her brain that would cause her a dangerous level of trauma and stress.

“It- It’s me and you. In Wakanda.” Her eyes welled with tears, her body flooding with fear as she continued to glance between each of his eyes rapidly. “The day I met Steve - he came to check up on you after your surgery-” Y/N suddenly went into panic, her body shutting down as she gripped onto his hand tightly, shaking her head in disbelief as she closed her eyes. “Bucky I’m scared.” She sobbed desperately, her body trembling as her brain tried to comprehend it all.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” He soothed her softly, quickly scrambling closer, using his metal arm to catch her body. He pulled her against his chest, his eyes squeezing shut as his heart pounded against his chest, terrified of her reaction. “How did you get to Wakanda, Y/N?” He whispered with trepidation, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand as her head collapsed against his chest.

“I don’t know,” She sobbed desperately, letting her free hand cling to the material of his t-shirt as her head began to ache, burning up from how hard she was thinking. “I can’t remember anything before that day.” She choked slightly as her breathing became erratic, realising that all she’d ever known was this. How could that be her earliest memory, as if her life only started a few years ago, it was impossible. But where were her memories? “Bucky, why can’t I remember?”

His jaw clenched tightly, hating that he had to be the one to tell her, to put her through the pain of the truth that Steve had fought to protect her from. He sniffed softly, his chin resting on the top of her head as he held her close, trying to comfort her as much as he could. “We were broken when Steve found us, Y/N.” He stopped hesitantly, there was no easy way to say any of this. He took a deep breath, feeling her body jolting as she cried softly against his chest. “We were Hydra’s most lethal killing machines. Their most successful experiments.”

Bucky felt her head shaking in denial against him, her sobs becoming louder as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her. Her chest heaved as she breathed through her uncontrollable crying, gripping tightly to the soldier who’s tears were rolling down his cheeks.

“I had the metal arm, but I guess they’d improved since the 40’s. Maybe they realised giving their assassins a metal arm wasn’t very inconspicuous.” He breathed out shakily, her head moving with the heavy movements of his chest as he pulled her tighter against him, as if it would ease her pain. “Your body was left untouched. Not a single trace of experimentation, apart from a tiny little microchip they planted in your brain.”

“No.” Y/N breathed out as her body went into panic, her tears drenching through Bucky’s t-shirt as she felt her body growing weak.

“But they fixed us in Wakanda.” He whispered softly in hope it would make her feel better somehow. He lifted his hand to the back of her head, cradling it in his hand as he rubbed his thumb along her skull in an attempt to soothe her. “They didn’t have to remove your chip like they did my arm, Shuri had her team wipe the software that Hydra had programmed onto it. They rewrote the code so that Hydra wouldn’t be able to gain control of you.”

Y/N’s sobs continued as she listened to Bucky, her eyes squeezing shut as she learnt about her broken past.“Part of the process to re-write the code meant wiping any memory that may have triggered Hydra’s manipulation. We didn’t know much about you, where you came from, how long you’d been under Hydra’s control. So the most viable course of action was to wipe everything, it was the best chance they had of knowing you’d be safe.”

A dull ache wash over Y/N’s body, feeling violated and betrayed. Her head burned as she tried to come to terms with never knowing who she really was, a billion questions and thoughts racing through her mind. She was physically and mentally tired, too tired to process all of this, little whimpers leaving her lips as she listened to him.

“Your earliest memory of Steve coming to visit me, he was there to visit both of us, Y/N. You two met like it was the first time, and for you, it was. But you’d actually kicked his ass once before when he first found us.” Bucky let out a slight chuckle through his sobs at the memory of his best friend. It felt like a lifetime ago he watched her take out Cap’s legs and grab him in a choke hold. Nothing beat the look on Steve’s face when he realised just how powerful she was. “You not recognising Steve was when they knew for sure that the procedure had been a success.”

Bucky rubbed his thumb over her temple, feeling her trembling against him as she became overwhelmed with the realisation. Her whole world had crumbled around her, she sat there with Bucky in the rubble of her life, wondering if it was even worth trying to pick up the pieces. “You didn’t remember me either, or anything about us. It hurt to know you’d never remember all the memories we shared, all the things we did together. We were quite the team. But at least I knew we were safe and that was the most important thing.” He thought back to before Wakanda, all the missions they’d been on together, all the good times they’d shared, even then, it had always been just the two of them. All they had was each other. “You and Steve fell in love the day he came to bring us back from Wakanda, but I think the punk had a crush on you from back when you were kicking his ass in the street.” He chuckled to himself, hoping his words were calming her as much as they were himself.

But he was wrong. They weren’t. Her thoughts continued to churn through her mind, the little pieces of past making her head ache as she tried to put them together. She clung tightly to Bucky’s chest, digging her nails into his flesh as she pressed her head against him. “If I was fixed, why did he have to keep me safe?” She whispered shakily, her reddened eyes stinging from the saltiness of her tears. “Why did he have to leave?”

Bucky’s face dropped in agony, the reason behind Steve leaving now the only secret he was hiding from her, well, almost the only secret. It wasn’t as simple as telling her about her unknown past, he had to try and justify Steve’s decision to the person who loved him the most, who’s whole life had revolved around Steve. “These people, worse than Hydra found out about us, they kept threatening Steve, tormenting him about how they were going to take you away from him, turn you back into a kille- an assassin.” Bucky stopped himself after thinking about his words, having been through the troubling process of coming to terms with his past himself. “He’d just gone through losing Tony and Nat, his mind was a mess. He couldn’t bare the thought of losing you, too.”

Y/N breathed out shakily as her heart felt like giving up, she’d been through too many sleepless nights wondering why Steve never said goodbye, now she was finally getting her answer, the truth hurt so much more. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, helplessly sobbing as she leaned the truth behind Steve’s departure.

“He knew they wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted. He told me the risk was too high, their threats weren’t as empty as he’d originally hoped. They told him he had to sacrifice himself, to never return if he wanted you to be safe.” He continued as he felt her gasping for air between cries, his eyes closing weakly as he felt her pain. “Steve realised there was only one way to make sure they kept their end of the bargain, to make sure they never came near you again. He went back to destroy the weapon that Hydra had planted in your brain.” Bucky sniffed as his fingers massaged the back of her head, dropping his head to press his cheek against hers. “He had to make sure the thing that controlled you was never invented, so that they would have no reason to come after you.”

Y/N fell still, her head spinning, overwhelmed by the amount of information she was being told. It all become too much for her to handle, she didn’t want to listen anymore, she’d heard enough. She shook her head, refusing to know anymore than she already did.

“His plan was to find you once he’d completed his mission. To earn your love and make a life for the both of you, one where you’d both be safe.” Bucky’s words made Y/N wince in agony, somewhere out there, Steve was with her, they had a life together, one that she would never know.

Her tears fell silently down her face as she hung her head, a sudden shell of hardness covering her body as she swallowed the hard lump in her throat. “You knew this all along.” She whispered out sadly, blinking rapidly in an attempt to control her tears as her hands dropped from his body. It wasn't a question, she knew it was true.

Bucky’s heart sunk as a wave of anxiety flooded his body, his chest heaving as his eyebrows arched softly. “I was just doing what Steve-”

“You listened to me blame him.” Her voice shook in a mixture of pain and sadness, the world around her darkening. “You spent countless sleepless nights with me, watching me tormented at not knowing why Steve had left.” She pressed her lips together in a hard line, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. “And all the time, you knew.”

“Y/N,” Bucky pleaded sadly in defeat, listening to the weakness of her voice. He’d never meant to hurt her, he never wanted to cause her any pain. “I’m so sorry.”He cried as his flesh hand came up to wipe away his tears. “Please, you have to believe me.” He whispered softly, desperately reaching his hand out towards her, flinching slightly when he felt her push him away.

“I can’t do this.” She shook her head, panic setting in as her heart thudded repeatedly against her chest. He was hurting just as much as she was. His eyes were flooded with tears, his bottom lip trembling as he avoided her gaze. Y/N felt the darkness of the room engulf her as she stood up, her head spinning as shallow breaths left her lips. She sighed deeply as she turned her head towards the door.

Bucky sobbed as he watched her leave him alone in the dark. His heart ached, knowing that he’d broken her heart and there was nothing he could do to fix it. His head dropped back in agony as he heard the door close behind her, wondering if he’d ever get to make it up to her. Wondering if he even deserved the chance.

Y/N sobbed weakly as her head dropped in defeat, her heart sinking as she found her way back to her empty room. She’d finally got the confession from Bucky that she wanted, but now it caused her more pain than joy. Maybe she wasn’t worthy of happiness. Maybe all this pain was karma for the pain she’d caused others under Hydra’s control.

Bucky’s body weakened, feeling sick to his stomach as he sat there alone in the darkness. Everything she’d said was true, he couldn’t argue, he knew how much he’d kept from her. He thought he was doing what was best, but all he’d been doing was delaying her pain.

——

It was the longest, loneliest night either of them had persevered through. Neither of them slept, both haunted by the night before. Y/N longed to feel Bucky’s warmth against her, holding her close and keeping her safe. She couldn’t blame him for trying to honour Steve’s wish, she’d realised that around 3am.

Bucky was tortured by her absence, wondering if she was okay, if she was hurting as much as he was. He didn't regret his decision to tell her the truth, the same way he was sure Steve wouldn’t be regretting his decision to leave in order to save her. Now more than ever, he understood Steve’s decision. Both of them had caused her pain, but they’d done it out of love.

Despite his best efforts to avoid any sort of human contact, Bucky was met by Wanda in the kitchen. He sighed deeply, keeping his head down as he silently poured himself a cup of water.

“Bucky,” Wanda spoke softly, walking over to stand opposite him. He glanced up at her quickly, his eyes still red from all of the crying he’d done, hoping she’d get the message. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Sorry, Wanda, now’s not really a good time.” Bucky mumbled his response, hoping that the Scarlett Witch would accept his wish and let him be. The pain from last night was still fresh, and no one apart from Bucky and Y/N had known what had unfolded.

“It’s about Y/N.” Wanda added quickly, her eyebrows arching slightly, hoping he’d take the time to listen. Her fingers tapped on the edge of the worktop, nervously trying to gauge the reaction of the obviously miserable super soldier.

“What about Y/N?” Bucky asked anxiously, a million thoughts flying through his head. His chest tightened as he glared at Wanda with a deep frown, anticipating what she had to say.

“Remember when you caught me casting a spell to let her see Steve?” Wanda started softly, her heart racing as she observed his reaction carefully. Bucky’s head nodded in confirmation, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for her to continue. “Y/N saw you while she was under the spell.” She elaborated, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to catch on.

“So?” Bucky frowned with a shrug of his shoulders.

“So,” Wanda dragged out the word slightly. “It’s a lovers spell, Bucky. Whilst under it, you are only able to see people who you’re in love with.” She explained with a soft smile, watching Bucky’s eyes widen slightly as he finally began to understand. “Y/N is in love with you.”

“I have to go.” Bucky mumbled quickly, carelessly slamming the glass of water down on the kitchen worktop as he rushed out of the room. He didn’t care that she’d probably not want to talk to him after last night, he didn’t care that she’d probably yell at him to go away. All he cared about was seeing her.

He turned the handle on the door, bursting into Y/N’s bedroom without knocking as his chest heaved. “Bucky!” Y/N squealed in shock, her eyes widening as she turned to face the super soldier from where she stood at the end of her bed.

“Do you love me?” He panted out breathlessly, anxious to know if it was true, if she did in fact feel the same way as he did. He didn’t care that she probably never wanted to see him again after last night, Wanda’s words echoing through his mind, taking control of his senses.

“Bucky, you can’t just barge in here-“

“Do you love me?” He yelled desperately, walking towards her as Y/N’s face softened in shock. She watched his eyes glisten with hope, her heart racing as he stood in front of her.

He looked down at the girl in front of him, the girl he’d held close every night, the girl he’d loved silently for far too long. Every treasured moment came crashing through his mind, his chest heaving as he longed to hear her confirm what Wanda had told him.

Y/N breathed out shakily as she looked up at him, the man who’d been there for her through every tear, every sleepless night. The man she’d learned to trust, the man who made her feel safe, the man who felt like home to her. The man who she couldn’t imagine her life without. Her heart thudded against her chest as butterflies filled her tummy, an overwhelming amount of emotion coursing through her body, she’d never felt more vulnerable. “Yes.” She whispered softly, everything around them fading away as they kept their eyes on each other. “Bucky, I love you.”

He pressed his lips softly against hers, feeling her immediately respond as she kissed him back. They sighed into the kiss, a huge weight lifting off of them both as they finally accepted their love for one another.

And in that moment, they finally believed that everything was going to be okay.

tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss

@annestine

@bestofbucky

@be-patient-be-good

@nothing0is4here

@velvetcardiganbucky

@sexwithhiddlesbatch

@codyl-angdon

@marveljunkieee

@melchills-j​

@permanent-lines​

[arwenkenobi48]

The PDF That Saved My Life - Why I Love “All Tomorrows” With All My Heart

(Content Warning: Discussions of trauma, suicidal ideation and sexual abuse)

*clears throat* So, as some of you may be aware, the past few weeks haven’t been easy, not in the least. I was struggling with serious suicidal urges and feeling extreme anguish towards my own body and soul. I believed myself to be tainted, filthy and all manner of destructive and negative things.

The reason behind this breakdown was due to the realisation that I had experienced sexual harassment and assault multiple times throughout my life, including an occasion last year in which I was groped by an immediate relative. I had been aware of the incident since it happened, but was in denial. I was thinking “It couldn’t have been that bad, right?” But after trying unsuccessfully to repress it, I had to face the facts that she did what she did. I was heartbroken and I’m still deeply saddened by the realisation. Everything just seemed to fall apart and I psychologically imploded, plummeting into a dark pit of worthlessness and childlike sorrow. I felt as if I had been thrown into a mental oubliette; just tossed away and forgotten about on every level. Whenever I wasn’t bawling my eyes out and grieving my lost innocence, I was stress-eating and lying in bed, feeling nothing. Every now and then, I’d receive a short burst of energy, but nothing substantial, and the feelings remained.

Despite all of that, though, I didn’t want to die. A small part of my mind wanted to hold on and ride out these waves of suicidal thoughts. But I also knew I shouldn’t have to be going through this cycle of building up and breaking down, so I finally managed to seek professional help. There’s another thing that also pushed me towards seeking help and eventually guided me out of this dark place, and that’s the work of science fiction I mentioned in the title. All Tomorrows by C. M. Koseman (I hope I’ve spelled that right).

I don’t remember exactly how I came across it, but I think it was the video by Alt Shift X on YouTube that did it. As you can imagine, my dark thoughts weren’t only directed towards myself, but the world at large. I was wondering how life could be so cruel as to let something so horrific happen to me. I saw the thumbnail of that video and I didn’t know what it was. I had vaguely heard of All Tomorrows, but was more familiar with the much more nihilistic Dougal Dixon book Man After Man, and as such I got the two confused. I clicked on the All Tomorrows video, barely paying much attention and dismissively thinking: “oh great another sci-fi dystopia that predicted humanity’s inevitable downfall”.

What that video showed me absolutely blew my mind. As I discovered C. M. Koseman’s intricate worldbuilding science fiction project, I became fascinated and enthralled by the journeys and evolutions of the various post-human species, from the fun-loving Satyriacs and the mellowed out Snake People, to the bloodthirsty Killer Folk and the horrifying Bone Crushers. Yes, many of the stories were very, very sad. The Mantelopes lost everything and devolved because intelligence was so painful. The Striders, Titans and Temptors were all wiped out before they had the chance to truly reach their full potential. The Qu and Gravitals, one could say, ruined everything. But what truly amazed me was the fact that many, many of these stories also contained great happiness.

The Colonials, for example, suffered through the kind of torture that I wouldn’t wish on the Devil himself. Being wedged together into a wall of flesh bricks, all while retaining intelligence. And yet, they managed to turn into the beautiful Modular People and create a utopian society. Yes, the Killer Folk are traditionally violent, but the ones that made the biggest progress were the ones that chose peace over war. The Satyriacs started off as the mindless Hedonists, but were able to use their intelligence to appreciate every moment of their joyful lives. The lowly Worms became the comfort-loving Snake People, always able to appreciate the little things in life. The flattened Lopsiders rose up from the ground and became the proud, tall Asymmetric People. The list goes on, but you get my point.

The point is, even though this future humanity went through the sort of Hell that makes the past few years look tame by comparison, they always managed to rise up. Sure, nothing was ever quite the same again, but they managed to make something new and wonderful out of that. When you cut an orange, you may not have a whole fruit anymore, but you have lots of slices that can be shared with everyone. The best thing you can do is move forward. The future will always hold something better for you, even if that seems impossible. Don’t be afraid to reach for it. The final quote of this incredible piece of sci-fi wiped away the remnants of dark still clinging to me: “Love today and seize all tomorrows.” To me, that meant “Be a kind soul and you can achieve anything.”

This entire story ignited a strong feeling of empathy within me; an emotion I thought I was too traumatised to ever properly feel or express again. I think that was the point. Sure, the many strange post-humans may not look like us, but we cannot deny that they are human and that brings out the best in us. We shouldn’t be afraid to show empathy for our fellow humans. Thinking lowly of what collectively proves to be our best quality, claiming we’re “above” it and aiming to become “bigger than” everything else deprives us of our humanity. Empathy, compassion, love, that’s what makes us truly powerful. If we can learn to love today, the utopian future we all dream of will finally be ours.

Love is something that, from an early age and for over half my life, I was never truly given. But that doesn’t mean I can’t give it to others. Just as the post-humans were able to move forward and rise from the ashes, I fully intend to do the same. I’m safe now. The people who hurt me are gone from my life and will never hurt me again. I’m surrounded by loving friends, in a city I love, attending a university I love, receiving the therapy I need to heal and soon to be medically transitioning too. Even though I still struggle to accept it, I’m learning to love myself as well. I think that’s the greatest love someone can ever feel. If I continue to love each today that comes, all the tomorrows will be brighter and brighter.

And to think this all started because of a PDF about the hypothetical future of humanity. I’m determined to hold on no matter what. Idk if C. M. Koseman uses tumblr or any other social media for that matter, but if he comes across this somehow, I just want to say “Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wouldn’t be here today without All Tomorrows.”

https://youtu.be/-WIk29qtrIo

(PS: I know I have stumbled and made mistakes on my platform as well. I’m still a little bit unsteady after being in such a dark mental state for so long. I’m sorry about that. I am doing better. Thank you all if you made it this far. I love and appreciate every single one of you.)

[illusionsofdreaming]

the next life;

Notes: It’s here. I did mention that I was inspired by one of my previous reblogs about existential conversations (here) except I took it and decided it’d probably do well with angst LOL

Ft: Cale

Of all possible endings, this had to be the least satisfying one. Away from all the main action, unable to watch the final blow and too damn tired to move into a more comfortable position. The cheers can be heard from where you were so at least you can be assured the war's been won. Finally. You groaned a relieved sigh, I can get some much needed sleep.

A nice warm drink would be pleasant too, you thought as you shivered, it's getting a bit chilly. You blinked at the dirt encrusted on your lashes. A bath. Yes, that would also be very nice. But most of all, you'd really wish you could gather enough strength to turn over just a bit just so you can alleviate the ache in your neck from having one side pressed to the ground for an extended period of time. 

As if the Gods heard your wishes, you heard footsteps towards your side then a pressure against your shoulder as they gently rolled you from your uncomfortable position till you faced the sky, a much more agreeable arrangement than having your face pressed to the dirt. You grimaced as you blinked from the sun shining in your eyes. You were ready to thank the stranger, grateful for the assistance. However, the words died in your mouth when you realised who it was that helped you roll over.

"Shit.." your horror escaped from you in a laugh. "I had hoped you wouldn't be the one…"

His signature red hair was caked with so much dust it almost looked brown, but though his face was covered in dirt and blood, his eyes never shone brighter. He looked like a mess. 

Cale also looked absolutely furious. 

"Idiot." his face was pinched with anger, but his movements were careful as he sat down beside you, hand running down his face in exhaustion. There was a spark in the distance, probably Raon flying off to get help.

You couldn't feel your right arm or leg, not that you had any hopes of either surviving the blast when you had, with all intentions, leapt in front to receive it. You coughed, nearly choking on your blood if not for him turning you to the side to let the fluid out. He wiped the corners of your mouth meticulously. His frown deepened.

You sighed. "That bad huh…?"

Cale didn't say anything, which ironically only confirmed your worst suspicions.

"It's… alright." You breathed slowly, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile if not for the warning glare he gave you. His eyes were vicious. 

"I thought I told you to survive." he gritted, "That no matter what happens, if it's dangerous, you must run. Nothing's more important than surviving. What's this bullshit?"

You grimaced, accepting his anger. This was why you didn't want him to find you first. Anyone but him. The one who sacrificed so much to get everyone here, the one who told them to 'survive' at all costs. In the end, despite your strengths and skills, you were still human. One misstep, a fraction of a second too late to dodge, and it costed you. That was just how war worked.

"..there was a kid.." It was either you or him. There was barely any time to react, and you had leapt forward to push them aside before your mind could even process your body moving. You managed to dodge the enemy's blades, but it had been too late for you to move away from the demon who masqueraded as a child.

He gently moved you, shifting you so that your back rested against his chest, leaning on him. "Stop talking and conserve your energy. Jack and the dragons are coming."

You kept quiet, groaning in pain when his hand touched your side, squirming when he pressed down against the sluggishly bleeding wound. Deep down, you knew help would arrive too late. You had bled too much and for far too long. Your injury was also touched by demonic energy, even the ancient dragons would find hard it hard to dispel the twisted mana poisoning your blood. He probably knew all this too, but Cale had always been stubborn to a fault. He had always been the one to look for solutions even when things seemed impossible.

"Hmm..." you huffed and reached to grab the wrist of his hand pressed to your side, hoping he would ease up on the pressure, not at all surprised when he wouldn't budge. This bastard. 

You let out a shaky sigh, frowning but let go of his hand. ".. humour me while we wait for help then.." He 'tsked' softly, probably wanting you to stop talking and rest but also knew he had no chance in stopping whatever it was you wanted to say. You took a ragged breath, "..do you think we'll meet each other again in our next lives?"

Immediately he glanced down, a flash of sternness in his eyes. "What nonsense are you going on about-"

"Humour me Cale. It's boring to wait in silence." You could see his frown, knew he wanted to retort and expose your bluff, but he held back. For that, you were grateful. 

He took a deep breath then replied quite bluntly. "No, you're too bothersome."

You laughed, "Really?" you coughed again, blood spilling down your lips. You pretended you didn't see how his hand shook as he wiped away the stains, his grip tightening around you as your body shuddered from shock.

"Don't talk anymore." his voice was soft.

"I think I'll probably find you again.." you mused quietly. 

He scoffed in disbelief at your gall of ignoring him and the idea of it all. "How would you know it's me? I might not even look the same."

"Hmm... I think I'll just know." You looked to the skies, your vision darkening. Someone with his particular brand of charm would be hard to miss. Cale Henituse is the type of person to attract a following no matter where he went. "Ha…this life was fun.. but.. I think I'd like to enjoy a slacker one next time."

"You can enjoy a slacker life this life." he corrected you.

"Mhm...sure.." you acquiesced softly as you lost your vision. "..In my next life.. when I find you again.. no matter what form.. I think... I'll fall in love with you again."

He froze in place.

You smiled wistfully. It was all the little things, the gifts and lingering touches. The long nights spent together to keep each other company, the laughter and the jokes. It was something - never addressed properly because there was war looming ahead. It wasn't time, and you knew better than anyone that it should be the last thing you should be worrying about. But before heading out this morning, you had resolved yourself to finally talk about it after the war's over. After everything's settled. 

"… I'll live a peaceful life.. won't learn any martial arts.. and fall, madly, madly in love.." you coughed, "W-what do you think...?" 

Perhaps if you were a better person, you would've taken it to the grave, never address the what-ifs and could've beens. But upon facing the end, you wanted to be a bit selfish. I.. can do that right?

"Shutup." For the first time ever, you heard his voice waver. But you could've been mistaken. You could no longer see; you wouldn't be surprised if your hearing failed you next.

"Don't talk nonsense. You're not dying." The pressure increased against your side fractionally, but you could no longer feel the pain. 

Thunder rumbled in the sky as the wind picked up. You flexed your hand, searching and was comforted when a larger one gripped yours. ".. I'll definitely find you.. and fall in love with you again..."

"Stop talking."

You smiled, and with this last selfish act of yours, you'll also set him free. ".. don't grieve too long…you should.. live your slacker life...and I'll…" You sighed as the breath left your body and your eyes closed for rest.

…wait for you there, in the next life.

The last thing you felt was rain falling on your face.

(You'd never know that the skies had been the clearest that day with not a single rain cloud in sight.)

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Eight

⚠WARNING: Slight mention of unhealthy coping mechanism.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You push open the door to the face, the heat from inside warming your cold hands. You walk up to the counter and greet the barista with a smile.

“One jasmine tea and one black coffee please.”

You pay and move so the next customer can order. You scan the cafe, immediately finding Osamu in the same corner he’s always in. As you approach he looks up from the book he’s reading and gives you a sleepy smile.

“Heya, how’re ya doin’?”

You smile but inwardly frown as you take in the darker than normal bags under his eyes and the coffee cups littered on the table. “I’m alright. Were you able to get any sleep last night?”

He gives you a small smile and shrugs his shoulders. The movement is sluggish and you can’t help but tsk.

“Osamu,” you chide quietly.

“Well now ya know my secret,” Osamu replies. He yawns hugely before continuing. “It’s been a few days since I’ve slept so I know I’m due for a crash soon.”

You frown at him as you remove your jacket. “It’s not healthy for you.” He doesn’t respond, save for looking up from his seat with a sleepy smile. You can’t help but feel a smile tug at your lips. “I shouldn’t indulge you but I ordered you a coffee when I came in, let me go grab it.”

“Yer a saint.” You hear behind you. You’re glad you’re facing away from him as you feel a slight blush take over your face. Your tea and his coffee is waiting on the counter for you, the barista giving you an extra smile before you walk back. Osamu’s watching you return to your table, the same dopey look on his face. As sweet and docile as he looks you can’t help the twinge of guilt that shoots through you. Sure he claims he doesn’t sleep but he also stayed up late to talk to you last night and was there for you when you needed someone. So his current state can 100% be blamed on you.

“It’s the least I could do.” You say as you set your cups down and sit. “You’ve bought me tea before, and you helped me last night.”

Osamu waves his hand while sucking down his coffee. You shake your head at his dismissal but don’t bring it up again. You two sit in silence, enjoying each other's company and the atmosphere of the cafe. You steal a few glances at your friend, examining his face as close as you can without staring. Now that you know he chooses sleep deprivation to help with his problems you can’t believe you didn’t notice how tired he actually looks. He’s hid it well these past few weeks, and that makes your heart clench painfully.

You notice he has a tuft of hair sticking up in the back. It honestly looks adorable but you motion to his head so he can fix it.

“Your hair is sticking up weird.”

At the blank confusion on his face you lean forward to try and help him. “Here, just,” you bring your fingers to his grey locks. His hair is smooth and soft, surprising you. You shake your head and focus on fixing the one stubborn bit of hair that refuses to go down.

Once it does, you run your hand through his hair a few times, attempting to capture a relaxed, windswept look. In your motions you glance at Osamu’s face.

He’s watching you, wide-eyed and seemingly frozen to his seat. His expression makes you falter, your hand resting in his hair. Imperceptibly, and if you had to bet without his doing, his head leans into your touch. It’s your turn to freeze but only for a second before you sweep through his hair one last time and retract your hand.

Why did I do that? Your face feels hot as you quickly bring your hand to your tea and take a hasty sip. Why the heck did I just do that? You swallow the tea and gently set it down before chancing a glance at Osamu. He’s looking out the window of the cafe, but you can spot the blush on his cheeks.

It makes you blush even more and you take another sip to try and calm down.

“So,” Osamu finally says. “You said you had a group therapy session yesterday, right?”

You nod, eagerly taking advantage of the change in topic. “Yeah, it’s something that one of my friend’s therapist told him about. We’ve been going for about three months now. It’s specific for people who’ve lost those who were like family, but I know people who’ve lost relatives are welcome.”

“Hm,” Osamu hums in reply. “Well I might look into taggin’ along one day.”

“That’d be great! It’s helped me and my friends talk through our problems with other people, and it’s helped us communicate with each other as well. My own therapist said it was a good idea too. I can’t imagine your therapist wouldn’t say the same.”

At that Osamu scoffs. “I don’t have a therapist.”

You tilt your head. “What? I thought you said something about your therapist when we first met?” You know he certainly did.

“Oh, that was my therapist back home. But he was crazy, he was always trying to push me into havin’ an emotional release. And when I told him to stop he didn’t.” Osamu rolls his eyes. “Plus I didn’t think it was helpin’ me all that much. So I haven’t found one since movin’ to Sendai.”

“Oh.” You really didn’t know how to respond to Osamu’s cynical explanation. You couldn’t fathom the idea of not seeing your therapist and having that professional outlet to help you. Not only did your therapist offer explanations for your feelings and insight, she’s also kind and generous. Your sessions are a safe place where you can grieve properly and feel no shame.

Hearing Osamu speak bluntly about his less than ideal experience with his therapist back home and his now negative opinion on therapy in general doesn’t sit right with you, but you don’t feel comfortable trying to get him to change his mind.

“So how far away is home?” You ask, changing the subject again. You think it's a safer topic but Osamu furrows his eyebrows.

“Hyogo.” He answers shortly.

“Wow, that’s far right?”

He nods. “Sendai U is a good school and I needed a change of scenery.” His replies are clipped and he doesn’t meet your gaze. You sense his uncomfortableness.

“Was it hard moving away? Are you lonely?”

Osamu pauses in bringing his coffee cup to his mouth. He looks over the rim at you appraisingly.

“Nah,” he says. He takes a sip and sets the cup down. WHen he swallows he gives you a friendly smile. “Not so lonely anymore.”

The soft gaze aimed your way sends your heart into overdrive. Another blush threatens to overtake your face and you have to look away.

You don’t miss the satisfied smirk that touches Osaumu’s lips and you feel your blush deepen.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: After that last chapter Y/N NEEDS some tender comfort from Osamu....and it looks like someone is catching some feelings!!! It still seems like there's a bit of mystery around the guy still but it looks like things are progressing nicely for Y/N and Osamu.

I want to mention that opinions about therapy and coping mechanisms in this story are my strictly my own. I am not the leading authority on seeking treatment for any mental health or physical health reasons. In this story Y/N is proponent for seeking help for mental health, but Y/N is not a doctor either. This is a fictional story, and if you are reading this unsure of whether or not you need to seek help, please consult a doctor or someone you trust.

And after that last chapter I threw in some Makki and Mattsun crack because I love them and my petition for them to adopt me is still pending. :/ And we're just gonna ignore Oikawa for now kthxbi.

Thank you so much for reading - I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow

[erin-bo-berin]

Enemies Closer

MASTERLIST

Happy smutty Spencer Saturday! This fic has been hidden in the depths of my brain for way too long. I knew I wanted to do an enemies to lover fic for a while but didn’t have much more for it until recently. The title comes from the famous saying “keep your friends close and your enemies closer”.

I want to say a big thank you to all of my followers who sent in quips, jabs and bantery remarks. I tried to use them all because they were all so wonderful. Thank you to @dreatine @andiebeaword @sammy-jo1977 @redbullchick and the numerous anons who contributed. Also a big thank you to @multifandommandy for coming up with the idea of the reader interviewing the little girl, it really helped move the story along and add to it. I appreciate all your ideas and help 💕

Okay, enjoy the 10k words of sassy, smutty Spencer Reid. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 10,088

Spencer was walking back to his desk when he heard JJ’s voice.

“Really? When?”

There was a pause on her end of the phone conversation. She looked up and saw Spencer, immediately waving him over.

Spencer’s interest was piqued. He wondered what was going on, especially since there was a huge grin on her face. He approached her desk just as JJ spoke again.

“That sounds great, mom. I can’t wait.”

Spencer smiled. JJ and her mom were extremely close and he always looked forward to her visits—she made the best triple chocolate chip cookies he’d ever tasted. He opened his mouth to tell her to say hi from him, when she practically read his mind.

“By the way Spencer says hi.” 

JJ shot him a wink, grinning at the fact that she knew him well enough to know exactly what he was about to say. He chuckled to himself. They definitely were close enough to know what one another was thinking.

“Sounds good. See you then. Bye.”

JJ hung up her phone, turning in her chair to face him fully.

“Is your mom coming to visit?”

“She is,” JJ smiled, “And she’s bringing your favorite triple chocolate chip cookies.”

“Bless that woman,” he chuckled.

“There’s also something else,” JJ trailed off nervously, a flicker of worry in her blue eyes.

“What?”

“Y/N’s visiting too...and she’s kinda stuck with me, or well us for the next week. So if we get a case, she’s coming with us.”

Spencer groaned loudly.

“Why?”

“Mom has a business seminar in downtown D.C. and you know Will took the boys to Disney World this week. I’m not going to make her sit at home alone for a week.”

“Why? It would be for the greater good of humanity. I’ll even be willing to chip in for a hotel room for her,” Spencer said, hoping JJ would actually take him up on the offer, “Particularly one across the country.” 

“Spencer,” JJ eyed him warily, “Emily already said it was okay. She knows to stay out of the way while we work.”

“Yet she’s always in my way.”

“Spence, she’s not that bad. Why do you hate her so much?” she asked.

“Last time she visited she “accidentally” spilled an entire pot of coffee on my favorite work shirt!” Spencer protested.

“Just like you “accidentally” locked her in an interrogation room?” JJ raised a brow.

Yeah, that hadn’t been his finest moment. But she had driven him crazy that day.

“She wandered in there on her own. I was just helping the situation along,” he shrugged innocently.

“You’re lucky she didn’t burn the building down,” JJ mumbled.

“Yeah, well, she pushed me to my limit that day. Sorry.”

“What is it with you two? You fight worse than her and I ever did.”

“She’s annoying, rude and drives me crazy. I honestly can’t believe she’s your sister, let alone related to you. JJ, you know I love you, but I just can’t stand her. We’re just two completely different people that probably will never get along.”

“Alright, alright,” JJ held her hands up in defeat, “At least try to be on your best behavior?”

“No promises,” he grumbled.

“Hey, look at it this way. At least you get cookies,” she stood, patting his arm before walking away.

He was positive even cookies wouldn’t make up for this.

•

“Y/N while you’re here, can you please try to be nice to your sister’s coworkers?”

You suppressed a groan.

You were currently in the elevator with your mother at the FBI in Quantico, riding up the numerous floors to the Behavioral Analysis Unit, where your sister JJ worked. In your arms were a stack of containers, filled with sweets your mom had made for the team.

There were her famous triple chocolate chip cookies made with milk, dark and white chocolate chips, some apple cobbler, cupcakes and even a strawberry pie. JJ’s team were suckers for Sandy Jareau’s delicacies.

“Mom, I love the team. They’re like extended family, you know that.”

“You know what I mean.”

Your mom gave you a look that you swore only mothers could perfect. It was partly calling out your bullshit and part disciplinary all at the same time. It was amazing, really, 29 years old and you were still getting the “you better not act out” look from her. What were you, eight?

“I mean that lovely Dr. Reid. You’re always so mean to him.”

“He starts it.”

Okay, maybe you were eight.

“Y/N.”

The warning tone in her voice was all you needed to keep your mouth shut.

“All I’m saying is I don’t want another call from JJ saying you’ve gotten locked in an interrogation room and almost got arrested for assaulting a FBI agent.”

“Okay that was one time!” you said, exasperated, “Granted, it wasn’t my finest hour. But still. It’s not like I’m that bad all the time.”

“Really?” your mom looked at you, all knowingly, “What about that one time at JJ’s housewarming party?”

“I swear I didn’t glue his shoes to the floor!”

In your defense, that had been Derek Morgan, back when he was still working in the FBI, prior to his resignation. Of course though, no one believed that he had done it, apparently including your mother.

“Whether you did it or not, that’s not the point. You would’ve done it given the opportunity.”

You couldn’t deny that. 

“Just don’t stress JJ out any more than she is. She said when the two of you are fighting it’s like trying to corral two feisty chihuahuas.”

You sighed, defeated.

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior mom.”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

The elevator dinged, alerting you that you’d arrived at your designated floor and the metal doors slid open to reveal your sister and of course, Spencer.

Spencer Reid, the biggest nemesis of your entire life.

He was absolutely infuriating. 

Tall, imposing, three PhDs, IQ of 187, Doctor Spencer Reid. That’s right, he wasn’t just Agent Reid, he was Dr. Reid. It was eye roll inducing.

He was a know-it-all, quite literally. If anyone said something even the slightest bit wrong, he didn’t hesitate to correct them. A person could breathe wrong and he’d probably correct that.

He constantly spewed facts. That was annoying enough in itself. You had no idea how JJ put up with it. But then again she was best friends with the guy. That blew your mind enough in itself.

If he wasn’t so annoying, he might actually be attractive. With a stature of over six feet, he was lean but without being a beanpole. His light brown curls always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and/or never taken a brush to his hair. His eyes were definitely interesting though. You could never tell if they were brown, green or maybe even hazel.

Not that you’d been paying that close of attention. Nor did you care.

He had significantly more facial hair than the last time you’d seen him. Not a bad look for him, you had to give him that.

JJ once told you that a college class he’d taught for two weeks was filled with nothing but young girls auditing his course. She said it had confused Spencer. It confused you too cause you didn’t see how he was that attractive. He was kinda cute, if you liked the whole snobby, genius who doesn’t brush his hair, smartass type.

Oddly enough, you’d known him for half your life, yet couldn’t recall how or when you started hating him. It just seems like it had been that way all along, when in fact, it hadn’t.

“Mom! Y/N!” JJ exclaimed, grinning wide.

You felt a burst of happiness in your chest. You’d missed your sister. Despite the 11 year age difference, you guys were close growing up.

You were still a baby when your older sister Rosalyn had committed suicide, so you didn’t remember much about her, sadly. It was really hard on JJ as she was the one to find her. But as she’d told you much later, you’d helped her grieve. Reliving memories and keeping Rosalyn’s memory alive in sharing stories with you helped her heal after such a traumatic situation. It was often that you’d wished you’d had the chance to know your oldest sister, but with her death came an impenetrable close bond between you and JJ.

JJ immediately wrapped her arms around your mother, hugging her tight. You gave a nod of your head, your arms too full to be able to hug her at the moment.

“I’ll just go put these in the briefing room,” you said.

You turned, aiming to head through the glass doors of the BAU’s entrance, but instead ran right into Spencer.

“Here, I got it,” he took several of the boxes out of your arms so you could see properly again, “If only to save you from injuring anyone else.”

“My knight in shining armor,” you muttered sarcastically.

“Watch where you’re going next time.”

“You watch where you’re going. Besides, I didn’t need your help,” you retorted.

“Obviously, you did,” Spencer mumbled, following you through the doors.

You hadn’t even made it all the way through the entrance when you heard your mom and JJ sigh in unison. You heard JJ’s words loud and clear, as well.

“They’re already bickering less than five minutes in. Must be a new record.”

It kinda was. Usually, the two of you managed to avoid each other until the inevitable crossing of paths occurred. Today, though, you both had started in, right off the bat.

You placed the numerous arrays of desserts on the round table, knowing by tomorrow they’d pretty much all be gone.

“You’re welcome for the help,” Spencer snarked, setting down the few containers he’d carried.

You couldn’t help it, you rolled your eyes.

“I didn’t ask for it. So there’s no reason to thank you.”

“It’s the polite thing to do. Oh, wait. I forgot you don’t know how to be polite. My bad.”

You glared at him, the hatred stirring in your gut.

“I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure to see you again, Y/N, but it hasn’t,” Spencer said.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go greet your mother who actually deserves and appreciates my kindness.”

“Kindness, my ass,” you muttered as he walked away.

He turned, almost to the door.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you smiled in a fake, sweet matter.

He scoffed, turning and walking away.

Only when his back was turned did your fake demeanor drop and you stuck your tongue out at him.

This man would be the death of you yet.

•

“Penelope just got us a case. Luckily, it’s right here in our backyard so you can just sit in while we work. But please try to control your mouth.”

“JJ, I’m almost 30 years old,” you replied.

“Yes, but you still have a sharp tongue.”

“I promise not to make a scene, cause any trouble or be in the way. I know you have to work Jayj.”

After a round of greetings and hugs from the team and promises to stay longer when she returned from her business seminar, your mom had dashed off, leaving you at the BAU.

You looked up to see Emily Prentiss, JJ’s friend and boss motioning for her to join them in the briefing room.

“The team has to be debriefed about this case. Are you going to be okay here?”

You spun back and forth in her desk chair, motioning to the book you’d brought to read.

“I’ll be fine. Go work,” you shooed her.

JJ bounded off and up the stairs to the meeting and you picked up your book, ready to be entranced by the wonderful fantasy world of your book, far away from your reality.

-

“Why do people read that garbage? It does nothing but fills a person’s head with nonsense. It’s stupid and a waste of time. Although, now that I think of it, that’s probably a perfect fit for you.”

You peered up over the edge of your book.

You’d just gotten to a good part in your book. Your heroine was just getting ready to destroy the enemy and his lair, saving her love interest from the clutches of evil. It was a shame you couldn’t throw Spencer in the cage that your heroine was saving her lover from. Now that would make the book perfect.

“I’m reading. If you don’t mind.”

“Well it offends me. At least read something good. War and Peace is a good recommendation. Good story. I read it at breakfast last weekend,” Spencer said.

You turned up your nose. Leave it to Spencer to brag about his ability to read 20,000 words a minute and offer atrocious book recommendations in the same sentence. That in itself was offensive enough to you.

“This is why you don’t get dates, isn’t it?” you snipped.

He ignored the quip. 

“I’m supposed to ask you for help with the case.”

Now this was interesting. You raised an eyebrow.

“What makes you think I want to help you?”

“You do realize the entire world doesn’t revolve around you, right?” Spencer’s eyes narrowed, “There’s kids that are going missing.”

That sobered you quickly. You dropped any anger you had at him, for the moment, realizing how serious the matter was.

“How? What’s happening?”

“Four kids have gone missing. We can’t figure out how or why. They haven’t shown up yet, so we’re hopeful that they’re still alive,” Spencer said, lips narrowed into a thin line.

“What do you need my help for then?”

“Because to understand what happened to them, we need to profile these kids.”

•

“Okay so we know from his parents, six year old Erik Yates was incredibly shy,” JJ said, looking at the whiteboard where the pictures of the four missing children were hung.

“He wouldn’t have talked to his own school teacher, let alone a stranger,” David Rossi said.

“But his best friend, Carlos Hoffman also went missing with him. They were having a sleepover, so he’d been at Erik’s house,” Emily added.

“And Carlos was the more outgoing of the two, wasn’t he?” you asked.

“Yup,” Tara said, flipping through her notes, “According to the parents, wherever Carlos went Erik was always close behind. So if they encountered a stranger, if Carlos was willing to go, Erik would likely follow.”

“I don’t know about that,” you piped in, “I’ve seen friendships like that in my class. Even if the kid is quiet, if they know something is wrong, they either say something to their friend or they just don’t do it period. I find it hard to believe that Erik would go along with someone he wasn’t comfortable with.”

“Says the one that’s not a profiler,” Spencer mumbled from where he was standing, examining the evidence board.

JJ shot him a look, before returning to the conversation. You pretended not to hear that one and for once, bit your tongue. You wouldn’t accomplish anything by arguing with Spencer at the moment.

“So let’s go back to the top,” Matt said, “Mrs. Yates went to the door and there was someone there either selling something or had an excuse made up for the unsub to guilt trip money out of her. She leaves to get her purse. The kids are in the living room playing. Then suddenly, by the time she gets back, all three are gone.”

“That’s how her story goes,” Luke said, looking through interview notes.

“What about the other children?” you asked, “How were they taken?”

“One was kidnapped at the park, the other at the grocery store,” Spencer answered.

“What if it’s someone familiar with their routines?” you asked.

You weren’t anywhere close to being a profiler, but you knew enough from JJ to sort of get by in this conversation.

“A lot of my kids and their families have strict routines. Usually because it benefits the child and/or they have other children that they keep on a schedule too. Wouldn’t that mean that it’s someone that they know?”

“It could,” Emily said, “But unfortunately that doesn’t narrow down much because the unsub could also just be stalking these families before the kidnapping. The unsub could potentially be a complete stranger to them.”

“Have you asked the parents of the children if they could think of anyone who could do this? Is there anyone that might overlap with these families?” you inquired.

JJ had opened her mouth to answer you, but of course, Spencer had to add his two cents. 

“Are you an idiot? Of course, we did,” Spencer snapped, “That’s always the first thing we do.”

You bristled. Even when working together, he couldn’t be civil. He had the nerve to try and insult you and make you feel stupid, even though all you were trying to do was help.

“I’m not an idiot, Spencer,” you grit out.

“Oh really? You sure do act like one sometimes,” he retorted, writing something on the board.

Your defenses snapped back into place and you were ready to shoot back a remark when JJ interrupted you.

“Hey, hey, you guys. Quit it before I have to send you both into separate corners for timeout. We’re all on the same team here, trying to accomplish the same thing. Let’s just focus.”

“Matt, Dave, JJ, I want you to go and reinterview the parents. Y/N has a point. We need to make absolutely sure there’s no one in these families lives that connect with one another,” Emily ordered.

“Luke, Tara; both of you go to the schools. See if there’s been any strangers lurking around. We can’t rule out a sexual predator just yet, but it would help vastly if we could.”

“Penelope, you and I are going to work on a deep dive of these families.”

Garcia’s face scrunched at Emily’s order; she hated diving into people’s personal lives, but unfortunately it sometimes came with the job.

“We’re going to make sure that these parents aren’t holding back any secrets that could possibly help us.”

Emily turned towards you and Spencer next.

“Spence, I want you to start on a geo profile, see if we can figure out the vicinity of the unsub’s hunting grounds. Maybe we might even be able to find where he’s holding them.”

“On it.”

Spencer was already grabbing a map, spreading it across the round table.

“Y/N, I want you to help him.”

Spencer’s head snapped up.

“Hell no. Emily please-”

She held up her hand.

“I don’t want to hear it. That’s an order. If you disobey, I will put you behind a desk for a month.”

He relented, but you could tell he wasn’t happy about it. Not like you were pleased at all by it either.

“Try not to burn the room down while you’re working,” she instructed, walking out to meet Garcia in her lair.

Once she left, Spencer spun towards you.

“Let’s get one thing clear. You’re not to bother me while I work. You stay out of my way. I don’t need your help, nor do I want it. I can do my work just fine without you. I’ve been doing it for 15 years,” he snapped.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Spencer. Even I can tell when your IQ gets slashed to 60.”

“That’s the best you got, Y/N? I didn’t realize they let bimbos into the FBI. Oh wait...that’s right. I’m the one that’s the actual agent here. What is it you do again?”

“I’m a kindergarten teacher. You know that, you dumbass or else I wouldn’t be here helping you.”

“Oh, guess there’s no sleeping to the top in that field. Although, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Your fists clenched. Spencer made you mad like no other could. Not even JJ could ever make you this mad.

“Just sit down and shut up while the adults work, okay?” he sneered at you.

“I’m not a child!”

You crossed your arms defensively. You weren’t about to let him get in all the insults. Ignoring him never worked, he was too obnoxious. So you just played it like he did, by slinging insults like dodgeballs at him.

“Well if you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like a child!” he threw back.

His eyes were blazing, his cheeks gone pink from his anger. 

“Funny because you act more immature than my kindergartners.”

“WILL YOU TWO CAN IT AND GET TO WORK?!”

You both jumped at the sound of Garcia yelling from the bullpen. She made the motion that she’d be keeping her eyes on you two. You threw one more scowl Spencer’s way before flopping down on the sofa on the other side of the room.

This week was going to last an eternity.

•

Two days passed with no luck on finding an unsub, but they’d managed to put a profile together based on what little they did know.

The entire team was worried and on edge. Of course, that made the situation between you and Spencer even more volatile.

“Are you sure you’re an actual qualified agent? All you do is stand in front of a room full of police or your team and say smart things and gesture with your hands,” you mimicked Spencer, doing exactly what he was just doing earlier while they gave the profile.

“I do not look like that! You look like a baby dinosaur who doesn’t know how to walk,” he jeered.

“Yes, you do. All I’m saying is these civil service exams must be really easy to pass nowadays, huh?” you smirked.

“You know I’d ask if you could really be any more infuriating, but I’m afraid you’d take that as a challenge,” Spencer huffed, “Besides I’m supposed to be “nice” to you, since you’ve been so helpful.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you grinned mischievously, “I’ve been what?”

“I’m just quoting what Emily said. In my opinion you’ve been more like a pain in my ass,” he mumbled, looking through one of the case files.

“Oh sure because without me, would you’ve figured out that the unsub is a woman?”

“Probably. Don’t pat yourself on the back, sweetheart. You’re no match for us real profilers, Y/N.”

“I may not be, but you’ve met your match with me, pretty boy,” the nickname falling from your lips with deep sarcasm, “You can’t help but fight with me. For some reason I get under your skin and frankly, I enjoy it. It’s nice to know you can actually squirm, Spencer Reid.”

His lips pursed and he was about to speak when the phone rang. He answered it, putting it on speaker. Garcia’s excited voice came through it.

“Reid, gather the team. You won’t believe what I’ve found.”

•

“So it turns out, one of our families did have a secret. Although, it was something we weren’t even looking for,” Penelope said.

“What’s that Garcia?” Tara asked.

“The family of the first missing child: Daisy Rowe, had a nanny once. Her name is Kali Dye.”

Garcia hit the remote button to pull up the woman’s picture on the big screen at the front of the room.

“What does she have to do with our case?” Luke asked.

She stared at him, exasperated.

“If I could finish what I was saying, you’d know,” Penelope griped.

“Okay, okay,” Luke chuckled, “Carry on.”

You lived for Luke and Penelope’s playful banter. It was like the complete opposite of you and Spencer. They liked each other at the end of the day—not to mention everyone knew deep down they were definitely attracted to one another. Their banter was flirty. Yours and Spencer’s was anything but.

“As I was saying,” Penelope continued, “Kali was the nanny to the Rowe family back in 2016 when Daisy was only two years old. There was an incident where apparently she turned her back on little Daisy playing in the backyard. Daisy got too near the pool and almost drowned. She was in the hospital for a few days afterwards. The parents were obviously furious. I’m guessing Mrs. Rowe told all her friends about it because according to my research, Kali’s nannying career was basically ruined.”

“So you think this is an act of revenge? Did she nanny for any of the other kids she kidnapped?” Emily asked.

“No, that’s where it gets weird. She seems to have no connection to these other children,” Garcia said.

“Well we know who our unsub most likely is,” JJ said, “But how are we going to find out where she and the kids are?”

“I checked for that. There’s no significant places that she would take them, her old family house isn’t even in the state and besides it’s been sold years ago,” Penelope answered.

Emily’s phone rang as the team continued to throw around ideas of where to find Kali. 

“Prentiss.”

You watched Emily’s face quickly change expressions, from neutral to shock, to worry, back to businesslike.

“Okay, bring her to Quantico. We’ll need to interview her.”

Emily hung up, turning to the team.

“The second child kidnapped, Eden Jenson just showed up at a police station in D.C. She managed to get away and ran for help. We need to interview her, but she hasn’t spoken yet. The chief of the police station is having one of his detectives drive here so we can interview her,” Emily filled the rest of the team in.

“I’ll talk to her. I’m pretty good at getting kids to talk,” Spencer said.

“Actually, I think we should let Y/N do it,” JJ said, looking at Emily.

“What?! She has no experience interviewing a witness, much less a victim!” Spencer exclaimed.

“I worked in art therapy when I was getting my degree as a teacher. I still use some in my class, plus I’m a teacher,” you said defiantly, “I know how to talk to kids.”

“I agree with JJ,” Emily said, “But Spencer, sit in with her just in case you need to intervene.”

You were sure he was going to do plenty of that.

•

An hour later, you and Spencer were sitting in front of a little, terrified Eden. Her—what you assumed were once neat—blonde pigtails were in all types of disarray. Pieces stood up everywhere while other strands came loose, hanging around her face. She was clutching her bunny stuffie, which you figured had been with her when she was kidnapped.

She had refused to talk to anyone, shrinking away frightfully at any imposing adults. You had to restrain yourself from literally pushing Spencer out the door when she shrunk even more into herself when she saw Spencer’s tall frame.

She’d been previously asked if she was hungry or thirsty in which she barely nodded. Now, she sat a bit less rigidly as she ate her Goldfish crackers and sipped on her juice box.

“Eden, my name is Y/N and this is my…friend, Spencer.”

You had to admit, you had a rough time getting that one out. 

“We just want to talk to you, okay?” you said.

The little girl just stared back at you, wide eyed.

“Do you like to color?” you asked.

Still no response.

You pulled out some paper and a pack of crayons from a bin next to the desk. You pushed them across towards her.

“Could you draw something for us?”

It took a moment of Eden staring at the items before she opened the box and picked up a crayon.

“Do you mind if we ask you some questions while you color?”

You didn’t expect an answer, so you weren’t surprised when none came.

“Are you six years old? Six is a fun age. Are you in kindergarten or first grade?”

Eden looked up at you, from underneath her lashes, just briefly, before returning to drawing.

“I’m a kindergarten teacher myself. I’m used to seeing kids your age all the time. It’s spring break though and I miss my kids terribly. Do you miss going to school?”

Spencer shifted in his seat. You knew time was a delicate thing right now, but you were trying to get her to trust you.

“Eden?” 

She looked up again. If she was surprised to hear Spencer speak for the first time, she didn’t show it.

“Could you describe the place you were at?”

Fear flashed in her eyes and she dropped her crayon, hugging tightly to her bunny.

You glared at Spencer.

“Just keep drawing, Eden. Okay? We’ll be right back,” you said, standing up, your hand a death grip on his arm.

Once the two of you had stepped out of the room and the door was closed behind you, you whirled on him.

“How can you be so stupid? I thought you were supposed to be a genius!”

“Y/N, you know we’re running on limited time to find those kids. We don’t know if Kali will hurt them or not!”

“I realize that. I’m trying to make her comfortable enough to talk about it.”

“Avoiding it doesn’t seem to be helping either,” he grimaced, hands on his hips.

“You saw what happened when you brought it up! She was terrified!”

“When dealing with a traumatized child you should tell them information about the situation they were in. It’s best they learn it from a trusted adult. Besides, it’s most likely they want to talk about it, but just don’t know how to bring it up.”

“And how would you know all of this, doctor?”

“Because contrary to your beliefs about me, I actually know how to do my job and how to do it well. I’ve dealt with things like this many times before. 60% of adults report being traumatized in childhood. 26% of children in the United States alone will witness or experience a traumatic event before the age of four.”

You blinked, unable to process so much information at once.

“Are you even human?” 

“Are you?” Spencer shot back, eyes narrowed.

“You know, with all things considered, I’d thought you’d gotten the idea that I really hate you.” you sneered.

“Really? And here I thought that was your version of flirting,” he retaliated, sarcastically.

“Moron,” you muttered under your breath.

“Now, if you’re through calling me names, I’ve got work to do,” he said, reaching behind you for the doorknob.

“Wait,” you grabbed his arm, “Just let me try again first? Please? If I get stuck or need you, I’ll let you know.”

It was some of the most civil words you’d said to him in a long time. But you didn’t want to give up on this little girl. You wanted to help her and prove to Spencer and yourself if you were being honest, that you could do it.

He must’ve noticed your serious tone and pleading eyes because he relented. He nodded and you turned to go back in.

Eden was waiting for you when you returned, back to clutching her bunny.

“Don’t you want to finish your picture?” you asked, sitting down in front of her.

She pushed it across to you.

“Oh are you done?”

She nodded.

You picked up the picture, noticing four stick figures. Two seemed to be girls, two seemed to be boys. They looked like they could represent all four missing kids.

“Are these you and your friends?” you asked gently.

She didn’t say anything for a beat, then came a soft, timid voice.

“They aren’t my friends...at least not until a few days ago.”

“My friends here, they found out that you didn’t know these other three children. Is that right?”

Eden nodded again.

“Do you know the woman who took you?”

“No,” she said, equally as quiet as before.

“You’re doing a great job, Eden,” you smiled at her, hoping to encourage her, “Just a few more questions, okay?”

Another nod.

“Can you describe where you were?”

“I...I don’t know,” her voice trembled, as if she were going to cry.

You heard the door open up behind you and you turned to see Spencer. He gave you a terse shake of his head, as if telling you now was not the time to snap at him.

“Eden?” Spencer came around to her side and crouched by her, “You remember me, right? I’m Spencer.”

She nodded hesitantly.

“I want to try to help you help Miss Y/N here. To tell her what the place looked like that you were at.”

“But I don’t remember,” Eden said, frowning.

“I think you do. You know how when you’re afraid, you hide?” Spencer asked gently.

Eden nodded her answer.

“Well, that’s kinda what your brain is doing. It’s scared, so you think you can’t remember. What I want to do is have you to close your eyes and think back to before you were taken.”

“No, I’m scared,” Eden whimpered, hugging the stuffie.

“It’ll be okay. I’m right here,” he offered her his hand, which she took reluctantly, “I’ll be right here the entire time. If things get too scary, just squeeze my hand and we can stop. Alright?”

“Alright.”

She closed her eyes, listening to Spencer’s voice.

You were amazed at how soft and gentle he was with her. It was like seeing all of his razor sharp edges he displayed around you, smoothed out. You couldn’t remember if you’d ever heard him like this.

“Just focus on the sound of my voice,” Spencer whispered, “You were playing at the park. What were you doing?”

“Playing on the swing with my bunny,” she said.

“Okay, that’s good Eden, you’re doing wonderful. What do you hear?”

“Lots of kids playing. They’re very loud.”

“What happens next?”

“There’s a lady behind me. She asks if I would like to play in the sandbox with her. I told her yes but I didn’t want to get bunny dirty.”

Eden is trembling now and you eye Spencer warily. He holds his free hand up and you don’t say anything, just yet.

“Very good Eden. Did you go play in the sandbox?”

“No. She took my hand and led me away from the swings. I asked her where she’s going because the sandbox was the other way.”

“Do you want to stop, Eden?” Spencer asked.

“N-No. I a big girl like mommy always says.”

“Okay. What happened then, sweetheart?”

“She grabbed me and put her hand over my mouth. I tried screaming for my mommy, but I couldn’t. She took me to a car.”

“Can you remember what the car looked like?”

“Um, blue. It was blue. It had a lot of doors. It was long too.”

Spencer looked like he realized what she was describing.

“Did the middle door slide open and closed?”

She nodded, her eyes still closed.

“It was big inside with lots of seats. That’s all I saw before she covered my eyes.”

It sounded like an SUV or family van.

“When you were in the car, did you ride for a really long time? Or a short time?”

“A short time.”

You jotted the note down.

“One last question honey. Do you remember anything about the room you were in? What did it look like?”

“Like...like my bedroom. Only much dirtier. And old looking. There’s...there’s flowers on the wall. There’s a lot of toys, but I don’t want to play. I want to go home. Me and my friends are so scared. She’s coming back, she's coming back!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay! I’m right here.”

Eden’s eyes snapped open and he enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly as she trembled.

She didn’t let go of him until her parents arrived.

•

After kicking the information over to Garcia and her being the goddess she is at finding even the most hidden information, she found the house.

The team had found her car, registered to Kali, but with a false last name. From there, Garcia looked for any run down buildings or homes for rent within 10 to 15 minutes of that park. The team agreed that Kali wouldn’t have bought a house for the simple reason of too much work. She didn’t seem to be that dedicated to a well thought out plan. That was when Garcia discovered an old house rented under the name of Kali Rowe, the same last name of the family she had been a nanny for.

You stayed behind while the team went out to rescue the children and hopefully bring Kali Dye into custody. 

They did.

All four kids were now safely reunited with their parents and Kali had been arrested and hopefully was going to get the help she needed.

Since you hadn’t been there, JJ had filled you in afterwards when everybody had gotten back. You were sitting next to one another in the briefing room, talking, while everything settled down. 

Kali Dye had been so distraught over the loss and destruction of her nannying career. Apparently at one point, she had been a wonderful nanny. What had happened with Daisy, truly was an accident. Whether she had had a mental breakdown or suffered from an unknown or untreated mental illness beforehand, they didn’t know. But she soon became desperate to prove she was a good nanny.

She kidnapped Daisy first, to prove her point. Then three other children that she’d followed, learning their schedules. 

She had taken good care of them, at least in her mind. In reality, she hadn’t hurt them or touched them one bit. She fed them, gave them all attention and all the toys they wanted, to play with.

It was a sad situation, really. But you were glad that the families had a happy ending and their children were back safely in their homes tonight.

“You did good little sis,” JJ smiled, “Keep it up and you may just have to think about switching careers.”

“No thanks,” you chuckled, “I’m happy teaching kids, not seeing them in life threatening situations. I don’t have the heart for that.”

“Spence said you did really well getting Eden to open up,” she said.

“I’m surprised he actually knows how to compliment a person, let alone me,” you scoffed.

“Y/N. Come on. What’s your deal with him? This has been going on for years now.”

“I don’t know. I just can’t stand him.”

“That’s a cop out and you know it,” JJ said, “He’s a good guy. Besides, you used to have a crush on him when you were younger.”

“Ew, did I?” 

You wrinkled your nose, trying to remember. JJ had joined the BAU when you were only 14. A lot had happened in high school, let alone the 15 years since she’d first joined. You didn’t visit her very often because of school and all of your other extracurricular activities, so you hadn’t met the team until about a year after she started.

“You don’t mean the summer after my freshman year, do you?” you asked, “Cause back then he was a cute little dweeb and it lasted like two seconds anyway. I had a case of raging hormones to the point I had a crush on just about anything male with two legs.”

You rolled your eyes, disgusted at the fact she’d even think that you’d have a crush on Spencer. Although deep down, deep, deep, deep down, a little part of you knew that she’d hit the nail on the head.

“Why do you hate him though? He’s my best friend. I love him and I want you two to get along.”

You snorted.

“Yeah, I know you love him. Remember, you told me that you told him that you’ve always loved him? That he was your first love?”

You bit your lip, trying hard to keep the jealous edge out of your tone. This is what you’d tried hard to avoid all these years. You hated that you felt like this but you’d been covering up your true feelings for him and the situation, with anger all these years. If you kept yourself at a distance, you were less likely to get hurt.

How wrong you were.

“Is that what this is about? Because I told Spence I loved him?”

“No.”

Maybe.

“Y/N.”

She gave you the same look that your mother had given you in the elevator just days before.

“Jeez, you’ve got mom’s “look” down pat,” you mumbled.

“Please tell me the truth. Is my confession why you hate him?”

Her eyes pleaded with you and you couldn’t help but cave. She was your sister and your best friend and you knew she cared.

“No. I don’t know, maybe partially. But I disliked him way before that anyway. He’s just a know-it-all smartass, that annoys the shit out of me and is just like every other guy to fall head over heels in love with Jennifer Jareau.”

You grimaced, “For a guy that has an IQ of 187, he sure doesn’t know how to be different from other guys.”

“Okay hold up,” JJ held up her hands, “First of all, he is not head over heels in love with me.”

“JJ, please. You’re not an idiot.”

“I’m serious. He may have been once, but he’s not anymore. We’re best friends and that’s it. Besides, we worked out that mess over a year ago. He’s even dated since then.”

“The kid actually dates? I’m shocked,” you said, putting a hand on your chest in mock surprise.

JJ ignored your antics, continuing on.

“Second. He’s actually a really great guy, Y/N. He’s a real sweetheart, really. It’s just a side of him that you don’t see.”

“Yeah like the dark side of the moon,” you muttered.

“Just give him a chance and try to be nice? You know what mom always said. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Besides, if you want to go for him, that’s fine.”

You laughed outright at that. As if that would happen.

“On that note, I think I’m gonna head back to your place,” you said standing.

“I have to stay a little later to finish up some work. Can you get home okay on your own?”

You assured her you could and you grabbed your purse. 

“Y/N?” she called, as you were about to the glass doors.

“Yeah?” 

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

•

If you thought you were gonna get a reprieve after that uncomfortable conversation, you were sorely mistaken.

The moment you stepped out of the BAU, you saw Spencer standing, waiting for the elevator, his hands clutching the strap of his tan satchel as he waited.

“Ah, there she is. The woman who saved the day,” he quipped sarcastically.

“Fuck off Reid. I’m not in the mood.”

“You know, I’m actually shocked that you’re good at something besides bitching.”

You ignored him, your teeth clenching.

“I’m surprised you held your tongue as long as you did earlier. Bet that’s a record for you.”

The elevator doors opened and you got on without a word, Spencer following you.

“What? No comebacks? Amazing. Has Spencer Reid actually won for once?”

You whirled on him, dropping your purse to the elevator floor in the process.

“No because you’re full of shit. You’re the most annoying, stubborn ass, infuriating, egocentric, smart aleck in a fancy suit I’ve ever met!”

His eyes narrowed and his mouth hardened. He pulled his satchel over his head, dropping it too, to the floor. He pushed the emergency button of the elevator with such anger, it was amazing that he didn’t break it. The elevator suddenly came to an abrupt halt.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” you screeched.

Your body was thrumming with anger. You could and likely would pummel him at any second.

“You’re not leaving this elevator until you tell me what the fuck your problem is,” Spencer glared.

“My problem?” you huffed.

“Yes because I have to deal with you jumping down my throat every single time I see you. You’re the most stuck up, spoiled, self centered, bitchy little brat I’ve had to deal with!”

“Ha! You sure you’re not talking about yourself?”

“You know what I think your problem is?” he challenged.

“Go ahead, try me. I’d love to hear.”

“I think, you don’t know how to deal with how you’re really feeling. So you hide it under anger. You lash out every time your feelings threaten to surface. It’s become a defense mechanism. It’s all you know. You fight with me because it’s the only way to protect yourself; you throw words as your daggers. Simply because you can’t get me out of your mind. I push you to limits you don’t want to think about. You may swear and declare that you hate me but in reality, you’d be thrilled if I took you right up against this elevator wall.”

His voice grew deeper with every word that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Are you profiling me? Cause that’s one hell of a reach.”

“Is it though? You wanna know how I figure that? You told me the other day that I met my match. That I can’t help but fight with you because you get under my skin. Well you were right. I do enjoy it and I think you do too. Because it turns you on. It does the same thing to me. You get under my skin yet at the same time all I can think about is how I want to fuck you until you’re screaming my name.”

“You think I’m gonna fall for that shit from just another guy who’s crazy about JJ?” you sneered.

For the first time, he actually looked just the tiniest bit surprised.

“You think I have feelings for JJ? If I had feelings for her, do you honestly think I’d spend all my time and attention on you?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“JJ isn’t the one that occupies my brain, no matter what I try to do, Y/N,” he said through gritted teeth.

His face was mere inches away from yours now. Close enough to see an array of scattered freckles on his face. A few under one eye, a tiny one on the side of his nose, one on his forehead.

His stubble had gotten heavier in the last few days, becoming more scruff than stubble. His lips were naturally plump, an asset that would be the envy of any woman. They were also a natural shade of dark pink, maybe even leaning towards red. 

Anger heated his eyes. Or was it desire? You wondered if you looked the same way. Right now, they looked more green in the brighter light in the elevator, but you could still see rings of brown around the edges of his eyes. They were also filled with mischief as if he were up for a challenge.

“You really think you’re going to distract me by putting your tongue in my mouth and getting my panties wet?” you hissed.

“Is that what you want?” 

A smirk formed on his lips. He was definitely challenging you.

Your legs were trembling now. Although if you were to admit it, you weren’t entirely sure if it was from anger or arousal.

You pressed your lips together, refusing to say anything, almost afraid what would come out of your mouth. He had you cornered up against the wall now.

“Maybe I should just find out for myself,” he said, propping his hands on either side of the wall by your head, “Make you moan in my mouth while I finger you.”

The anger that was coursing your veins earlier had definitely now turned into desire. Your stomach churned with it. You could feel his body mere inches from yours and the heat from it was making your entire body temperature feel that much higher.

“It’s not like I haven’t imagined making you moan my name,” he whispered, his voice gravelly, his tongue moving out over his lips in a quick swipe.

Your breathing had become shallow and you were throbbing with need. Before you could think of what you were doing, you were already unbuttoning your jeans.

“For once in your life I wish you’d shut up and just do it,” you grunted.

He grabbed your face roughly with both hands, his lips colliding with yours. They were hot and rough against yours, this kiss so hungry and animalistic that it was unreal.

His body was pressed against yours as he pressed you against the cool, metal wall. You could feel his arousal pressed against your thigh and you unwittingly moaned into his mouth. You had a difficult time wrapping your head around the fact that you’d gotten him so hard.

Then again, you were having a hard time wrapping your mind around anything that didn’t involve him.

His tongue moved with yours, ironically increasing your desire, making you wetter. Just like you’d voiced earlier. Damn, the guy sure knew what he was doing.

He pulled your jeans roughly down your legs until they were enough out of the way that he was satisfied. His lips attacked your jaw, then neck, being anything but gentle, but it was working you up more than anything.

Your hands gripped his arms, your teeth bearing down into your bottom lip, resisting the urge to give in to what he wanted: hearing you moan.

He pulled away from you making you suddenly desperate for his lips on your skin again. He pried your hands away from him and held them against the wall, his hips pressing into yours.

His suit pants were a lot thinner than your jeans, so you could feel his erection pressing into you, dangerously close to your throbbing core where all of a sudden, you wanted him the most.

Spencer’s fingers ghosted over the fabric of your underwear, causing you to inhale sharply. It felt good and you wanted more.

You reached for his hand, trying to push it against your core, but he pulled it away, shaking his head.

“No. This is all you’re getting until you admit it.”

His finger trailed up the center of your panties, having just enough pressure to slightly feel his touch. You groaned at his teasing. If your past years of banter had been foreplay then you were more than ready for him to have you.

“Admit what?”

“That you want this,” Spencer stated simply.

His fingertip swirled lightly over the fabric, just above your clit. Light enough that you didn’t get any real friction from the touch and you bucked your hips, desperate to feel it.

“I think it’s fucking obvious,” you said through clenched teeth.

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it.”

His smirk was wolfish. You knew he wasn’t going to give in unless you did what he said.

“I want this,” you groaned.

“What’s that?” he tipped his head to the side, “Can’t hear you.”

“I want this,” you said, a notch louder, gripping his wrist.

“This?”

His fingers dipped into your underwear and his thumb pressed hard against your clit.

“Ah, fuck yes,” you moaned.

He grinned, his finger dipping into your wet warmth.

“Seems like my tongue in your mouth did indeed make you wet,” he chuckled lowly, pulling your underwear off with his other hand.

His fingers teased you as you writhed and moaned, clawing at the elevator wall behind you. He had this amazing way of rubbing his knuckles against your walls as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

“Holy shit, fuck Spencer,” you whined.

You were so turned on, you hardly had any recognition of what was tumbling out of your mouth. It sure seemed to please Spencer, though.

He kept you on your toes though, slowing his fingers just when you thought you were reaching the brink of your orgasm, twisting them so gradually, it was almost painfully pleasant. You swore your eyes almost rolled back in your head when his fingers curled inward in his direction, catching that sweet spot at just the right angle.

He was kissing you as you moaned appreciatively in his mouth. His hands were quite literally magical.

His fingers finally sped up, his thumb focusing all its attention on your clit. You could feel your release quickly approaching and you were ready to succumb to it. You wanted Spencer Reid to make you cum so hard you’d be begging for more.

He did just that.

Your high hit you as you released on his fingers. Your eyes screwed shut, your head banging against the wall. You actually think you stopped breathing for a short second before air rushed back into your lungs and you released a long moan.

“Oh my god, Spencer,” you groaned, reaching for the waistband of his pants.

He’d given you one hell of an orgasm and here you were, ready to beg for more. Especially if they came while he was buried to the hilt inside you.

“That was hot as hell,” he muttered, kissing you again, “It’s sexy seeing you spend all your energy on an orgasm instead of yelling at me. It’s healthier for your body, too.”

He smirked, his teeth pulling on your lower lip gently before pulling away. His hands were working with yours to push his pants down and his boxers too.

“Are you willing to admit you want me to fuck you against this wall now?” he growled.

“Yes, yes. Fuck yes, please.”

Man, if he wanted you to be his bitch ages ago, he probably should’ve just fucked you. One orgasm at his hands and you had turned into a writhing, begging and moaning heap.

But still, you couldn’t help but wonder if he could make you feel so good with his hands, that it would most likely be ten times as amazing with his dick.

He lifted you up, holding you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he pushed into you. You felt yourself stretching in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time and you couldn’t hold it back; a long, low moan of gratification left your lips.You hated to admit it, but he felt fucking fantastic inside of you.

By his own confirming groan, you could tell he felt the same way as you. At the back of your mind you couldn’t help but wonder why this hadn’t happened years ago. 

His hips rocked against yours, slowly at first as his mouth found yours. He was as ravenous for you as you were for him. 

Your fingers dug into his back as his thrusts became faster and harder. He was quite literally fucking you into this metal wall and you were loving every second of it.

Your emitted moans were coming every few seconds with every slap of your skin against his. His own grunts and groans came from deep in his throat, making you even hotter.

“S-Spencer,” you stuttered, pulling his face back to yours.

You have him a brief kiss before smirking up at him.

“I’m the spoiled little brat that’s got you moaning like a little bitch,” you panted.

Your words made him groan as he gripped your sides. He must have excellent control because he managed to get a hold of himself, slowing his hips to where he was tantalizingly pulling out of you and pushing back in.

“Still hate me, Y/N?”

“Right now, yes,” you groaned, trying to pull him deeper within you, wanting the previous speed and depth back.

“Now?”

“Ye- ahhh,” a breathy moan came from you as he resumed his harsher and faster thrusts.

“I don’t hate you,” you groaned, lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

Maybe voiced thoughts during sex were the truth because you actually didn’t hate him. Especially right now.

“Fuck, Y/N, yes baby,” he groaned.

He was close to his peak, you could tell. His fingers were on your clit, circling furiously. He was going to make sure you got your orgasm, before he got his. Who knew he was actually so decent?

Your whimpers, moans and groans were rising in pitch. You halfway hoped no one could hear, but at the same time didn’t care. Let the whole building hear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Spencer, I’m coming, I’m-”

With that, the coil of pleasure that had been building up snapped like a broken rubber band, shooting through your entire body. 

You may have screeched too, you’re not entirely sure. You were completely lost to the bliss of your orgasm and even more so when he came apart not long after you. If you had thought he was attractive before, he was a hundred times more sexy when he was orgasming above you, all caused by you.

Your movements slowed, your chests both heaving. He held onto you carefully, as if he was afraid to set you down just yet. Probably a good idea considering you felt like you’d lost all function in your legs.

You laughed incredulously, unable to believe what had just happened. That had simultaneously been the craziest yet hottest thing you’d ever done.

Spencer’s smirk was replaced with a more shy, happy smile. It was a better look than the scowl he’d worn for you for so long.

It was like the moment that first orgasm hit you, all the anger, all the hatred, all the negative feelings you’d felt towards him drained from your body. You didn’t have the willpower or the desire to hate him anymore. Not that you ever really had.

“I meant what I said,” you said quietly.

“What’s that? You said a lot of things,” he chuckled.

“That I don’t hate you.”

He took a few moments in silence, parting from you and gently setting your feet on the floor again. He took his time getting decent again, as well. You worried at your bottom lip as you did the same, nervous that you’d said the wrong thing.

“So I was right? About the defensive mechanism and everything?”

“Yeah,” you nodded somberly, “I horribly misjudged you; thinking you were stuck up, full of yourself, better than anyone else, the kind of guy that was like all the others and in love with my sister.”

“If anything, I would think what just happened would prove more than anything that my sights are set on you.”

He had a point.

“Why did you hate me though?”

“I was thrown off by your reaction to me. I thought you were a self entitled, spoiled brat and that you thought you were better than me. Seems like we both vastly misjudged one another.”

“It’s kinda a good thing though,” you said.

Spencer looked at you, baffled.

“It is?”

“Well yeah, cause if none of that happened then that wouldn’t have happened either,” you gestured to the place where moments before the two of you had been a tangle of limbs.

“Good point,” he chuckled.

“Uh, Spencer?”

“Hmm?” he looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“You might want to get the elevator moving again.”

“Oh! Right.”

He laughed, hitting the emergency button to restart the elevator.

“I apologize for giving you so much grief though. I’d do anything to make it up to you,” you said.

“How about letting me take you out then? You’re still here for a few more days, aren’t you?” he asked.

You smiled.

“I think I can make all the time in my schedule for you, Spencer.”

His answering smile was enough to make you smile in return.

Oddly enough, the elevator had gone down and back up without stopping, returning to the floor the BAU was on.

“That’s weird,” Spencer mumbled.

The doors parted to JJ waiting to get on.

“Hey, what are you guys still doing here? I thought you left an hour ago.”

Huh, so it’d been an hour. 

She got on the elevator, standing between the two of you.

“Elevator issues,” Spencer answered, before you could think of what to say.

“So you’ve been stuck in the elevator together this entire time?” JJ asked.

“Yup,” you answered.

“I guess it’s a miracle you two didn’t tear each other apart then,” she muttered, hitting the button for the ground floor.

Yeah, there might’ve been some tearing involved.

Behind her back, you and Spencer shared a secret smile.

TAG LIST: @dreatine @reid-187 @groovyreid @reidslibra @suvikamahes98blr @fuckthealarm @whatspunispun @iamburdened @cindywayne @thomasfoockinshelby @tinyminy88 @theitcaramelchick @missprettyboy @hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977 @theonlyone-meeeee @haileymorelikestupid @lemonypink @multifandommandy @teamkiall @redbullchick @ifeelloved @one-sweet-gubler @nanocoool @delightfullyspeedyearthquake @unsteadyimagines @ughitsbaby @inkwiet @pennythetechgoddess @capt-engr-ssa @sixx-sic-sixx @spencersdolore @reidsstudies @disney-dreams-world @chocolatecalzoneherringbonk @mggwhore @andiebeaword @cupcake525 @be-the-bravest @gretaamyk @likelovers @hopebaker​

[mintmatcha]

10 Months

Matsukawa and Hanamaki

Part One

CW: mentions of death and illness, ANGST

Today’s just another day at work. Someone’s dead and someone else is talking about it. 

The worst part of the job, Mattsun decides, isn’t consoling the grieving or dealing with the aftermath of death: it’s listening to these shitty, repetitive speeches. There’s only so many times a man can hear about God’s plan and how much better someone is now that they’ve entered the great beyond before he goes numb. Sure, yes, logically, he understands this is all sad, but before all else?

 It’s boring.

Has he always been this bitter? Has he always been this good at choking down his feelings? Probably.

Mattsun looks away from the speaker at the front of the room, who's droning on about some shit while practically draped over the coffin. He does a precursory scan across the room, making sure everyone was properly teary eyed and mourning, before pulling out his phone. Maybe it’s unprofessional, but it doesn’t matter. No one’s looking at the funeral director during these things. If they were, it was something for them to discuss later during the reception.

'Did you see that employee?' 

'No, I was crying.'

'He was on his phone!'

'How horrible!'

Just before he can open Twitter, a glimpse of unforgettable, bright strawberry blonde hair catches his eye. For a moment, he ignores it off. He’s used to imagining things, used to his brain searching for hints of pink wherever he goes. He's used to turning his head to see it was a trick of the eye.

But this time the color doesn’t fade. Instead, it comes into focus, catching the light that pours through the stained glass windows, rainbows painted across pale skin. All at once, the presence becomes real, and Mattsun feels like he’s seen a ghost.

Not a literal one, but, fuck, he might as well be.

It’s been years since he’s seen Makki, longer since they actually talked, but there he was, standing at the back of the parlor with an obituary in hand. He loathes himself for the way excitement bubbles inside him and his heart gets caught in his throat… and then immediately drops as he processes why Makki would be here. He tries to remember the last name of the deceased, hoping the last name wouldn’t be familiar. Makki’s dad was never in good health, could it be-

No, he definitely would have recognized anyone else with the last name Hanamaki.

That’s when it hits him that Makki isn’t dressed for the funeral. In a sea of black, he’s wearing some raggedy sweatshirt with coffee split down the sleeve and a loose pair of jeans, ripped in all the wrong places. Frankly, he looks like shit, but he’s just leaning against the door frame, standing there like he belongs, with a tiny little grin on his face. 

Makki never looks over, too involved in the speech, but he’s aware of Mattsun’s presence. His torso is angled to face his old friend, chest broad and inviting. Mattsun hates that after all these years, he can still read his body language and understand what it means. It’s an invitation to come over.

Mattsun has to stop himself from going over there. Time has passed, he’s made his choices. He can’t just drop his work for an old friend.

No, not a friend. Stranger adjacent. 

He’s made his choices. 

He stays where he should be, in the corner, for what feels like hours, autopiloting through the rest of the service. By the time it’s all over, and the lights are dimmed, Makki’s already gone.

Mattsun hates that he knows exactly where to find him.

.

.

They find each other behind the parlor, wedged between the building and the dumpster. Makki’s sitting on the curb, legs folded up under him and pressed into his chest. That signature smile hasn’t faded, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He pats the empty space next to him, but Mattsun just shakes his head and stays standing. 

“Just like high school, huh?” Makki says, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pouch. He taps the bottom four times,  then shakes it, hard. Waking up the cancer, making sure it’s out of bed, he used to joke. 

“Except we aren’t hiding from teachers anymore.” Mattsun kicks at a crumpled soda can and watches it bounce across the asphalt. “And you’ve changed brands.”

“Now we’re hiding from your boss.” Makki pulls a stick out and waves it, “And Iwaizumi’s not here to bitch about it.”

“Dude,” Mattsun tries not to sigh, but it sneaks out. The casual act was unsettling; Makki was pretending that past 3 years never happened. “I’m happy to see you and all, but I’m working right now.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Makki pats his pockets frantically, then pulls out a small pink lighter. It's not the same pink as his hair, but it's close. He brushes it against his pants, back then forward, opening it and lighting it in one smooth motion. He holds out the cigarette, twirling it between his fingers, “Help me light this, why don’t you?”

Mattsun blanches, scoffing in annoyance at the thought. There's the flash of a memory, Hiro's fingers against his lips, holding the cigarettes for him as he breathes in, skinned knees brushing against each other, but he pushes it down.

 “Hanamaki, I-”

“I’ve been demoted to just Hanamaki, huh?” he places it between his teeth and sets it alight, sucking in until the end glows orange. He holds still, savoring the moment, then lets out his breath, smoke seeping out through his teeth. “So, it turns out that I need to plan a funeral.”

Mattsun lets his apathy break, just for a moment. He runs his hands through his hair, completely fucking up the slicked back style as he processes this.  “Fuck, dude, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be.” Makki shrugs, “Not the end of the world.”

Mattsun blinks, trying to shake off the initial shock. He just lets his work persona take over. “Well, we would be happy to help you plan. We can scheduling for next week in my office, if you want-”

“There’s no rush, don’t worry.” Makki leans back and faces the sun. Even though he’s sitting on the ground, no more than 5 feet from garbage, he seems so peaceful. 

“Who’s it for?” Mattsun asks the obvious question and Makki grins wider, like he’s been waiting for this moment. He waggles his fingers in the air, like he’s celebrating.

“Me.” Makki says. He rolls his head forward and that pleasant air about him fades. It strikes Mattsun that he’s lost weight since high school; his already sharp features are more sullen, sunken into his face. “I’m dying.”

How hadn’t he noticed earlier? He spent so much time looking at Hiro in high school, so much time studying his features…. How could he miss such a dramatic change? Even now, he can remember exactly how the curve his cheek felt under his thumb, how smooth his skin was. Mattsun doesn’t realize he’s sitting until loose gravel bites into the palms of his hands.

“Fuck, dude.” he can only look straight ahead, focusing on nothing, “Are--- are you sure?”

“As sure as medical science can get,” he has the audacity to laugh, “I got brain cancer.”

Brain cancer. Mattsun knows what that means in a vague sense and yet it means almost nothing to him. Questions bubble up in his mind, all of them swimming around, begging for any sort of information to make this all make sense. 

"How long?" He wanted to ask anything else, but that’s the only sentence he could form.

" 'bout 7 inches.” Makki pauses for affect, “Oh, you meant how long do I have left to live?" he's grinning wildly at his own joke, waiting for Mattsun to react. When he doesn't he just takes another drag of his cigarette, smile never fading. "I thought it was funny.”

"It was a little funny." Mattsun relents, gesturing for the butt. It's passed with brushing fingers, knuckle against knuckle. It's been years since he's smoked- since third year of high school- but each pull still burns all the same. "How long?"

"Well, two months ago they told me I had years," he says, like it's nothing, "But the doc did a rescan and it's way worse than they thought.” He taps his temple,  “Apparently, three lil fuckers in there."

"How long?" Mattsun can’t stop repeating himself.

"10 months." he wobbles his hand side to side, “Give or take.”

Mattsun takes another drag, harder this time. It’s unfair that he’s this upset about it, that this isn’t just another funeral to him.

“Whoa, don’t hog the whole thing!” Makki grabs for his cigarette, opening and closing his hand like a small child, “You’ll get cancer from these, you know? ”

Mattsun doesn’t laugh. He just watches the ember fall on to his slacks. They flare of a quick moment before dying, leaving  little discolored burns in their wake.

“Both of us can’t get cancer- it’d be like wearing the same dress to a party. So embarrassing.” he finally just snatches it out of Mattsun’s hand, “So, are you going to help me?”

“H-help you.” he repeats back. Nothing that’s happening right now feels real.

“With my funeral. Duh.”

“You want me to plan your service?” Mattsun asks.

“Well, us. Not just you. Duh.”

Duh. 

“Why?” Mattsun breaths and yet he feels like he’s suffocating, “Why me? After everything I did-”

“I don’t want my dad to worry about it.” Makki kisses his teeth and pulls himself into a ball,  “He almost had a heart attack trying to figure out my mom’s and I …. I just don’t want him to worry.” Makki breathes out through his nose- it’s how he dispels negativity in his life, just like how he did in high school. “Besides, if I plan it, it doesn’t have to be some fucking boring ass pity party. We can make it fun. A fun-eral.”

These all just seem like words. There’s meaning behind them, sure, but they don’t seem to mean anything when they’re strung together like this. Mattsun wonders if this is shock, or some weird form of it. He’s seen it before, in the eyes of family’s blindly choosing and planning. He always thought they dumb, not knowing how to react, not knowing if they should be sad or angry or …. Something. 

But he gets it now. The news doesn’t always sink in.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits after a long moment, “I don’t… I don’t think I’m processing this.”

Makki pushes off of the curb and stands, brushing off dust from his pants. “I get it. It’s a lot to hear.” he flashes a peace sign over his shoulder as he starts down the alley, “Think about it and get back to me.” A thin puff of smoke curls into the air, “My number’s the same as it always was.”

Mattsun sits there, hidden between the dumpster and his work, and tries to process as he watches Makki walk out of his life once again.

[sideblogformindtrash]

Aduhsfgh self indulgent pet whump with Orfeu as a Whumper AU. This made me so sad :’)

It’s not canon ofc. 

CW:  NSFW/NO-CON/Dubcon; Pet whump; Dehumaniziation; beating; mentioned knife play; dislocated bones; collar; creepy/cruel whumper; teeth/biting; mentioned starvation; manhandling; degradation; 

 The thin shape of Haru stands in the doorway, doing his best not to shiver. Master wouldn’t like that. He knocks on the wood to call for his attention, as he slowly lifts his head from the book. Haru realizes, way too late, that he has a knife in his hands, candle and herbs spread all around him. He whispers a few words and shuts the book.

“Hello, songbird” And Master gives him a wide smile. He hates that nickname. It made sense in his old house, when he was still good and pretty and useful. Now he can’t sing anymore, he never has for this Master. But… He knows Master’s patience with him is running out “…What is it?”

…He lets his head fall down, takes a few steps in and falls to his knees besides Master’s bed. He stares, fluttering his eyelashes, trying to look good – seducing? – for Master. It was never something his trainers thought him. He had to learn. And he is a little clumsy at it, as he moves his hands and rests them on Master’s knees…

Master grabs him by his collar. He barely has time to yelp, as Master throws him over the bed with him. At least he gets a few seconds to recompose, before leaning forward, laying his head between Master’s legs…

Master starts to pet his hair, and that’s the best sensation in the world. This is the one thing he loves about this home. At least, there is some sort of affection. Even if he gets hurt, if he cries and if he can’t quite follow the rules… At least the had pats will be there when he is good, and Master will praise him.

Today, he isn’t being good.

“M-mm-ma-mas-“ He breathes. Speaking is so, so difficult. He is making some progress, but his stammering is annoying. He is afraid Master will decide it’s not worth the trouble and silence him again “Please…”

“What is it, Haru?” His voice is amused. At least he isn’t getting impatient yet…

Slowly, he lifts himself back to his knees, prepared to be punished for it at every turn. It doesn’t happen, so…

‘Please. Allow me to give Blue some pain killers? Please. Please, Master’

“Painkillers, hm?” Master smiles, and pulls Haru into his lap “Why should I? Are you saying it didn’t deserve the punishment, little bird?”

…His eyes widen. He tries to calm down, he knows Master isn’t really angry, he is just teasing, just seeing if Haru will fall for it…

But it’s still a dangerous game to play. He has to be careful with his words.

‘Of course it did Master. Master deemed the punishment necessary, and Master knows what Is best for us’ he closed his eyes for a second. Just a second. He wasn’t allowed that luxury for long. When he is talking to Master, he had to look into the cruel cold green eyes. Master knew how powerless it made him feel. He was naked under that stare, more naked than just without clothes: It was as if his soul had been stripped bare ‘It hasn’t slept since yesterday. I’m sorry for assuming it was okay for it to rest’

…Master’s smile just widened. Haru rolled his hips slightly, offering himself up. Master is already hard under him. He will claim that Haru has to ‘pay’ for whatever he is asking… But of course that’s arbitrary. Nothing stops Master from taking him either way. Still, is a way for him to ask for things they need. To at least pretend he is working for it, instead of just relying on his Master’s mercy.

‘Please?’ he risked gesturing again, swinging his hair around a bit, acutely aware of the knife in Master’s hand…

His other hand went inside his shirt. Cold. It was cold. He felt the tip of the nails scratching his skin, his fingers tracing over scars on Haru’s chest, both his and from his old owner, until they settled on his nipples, pinching toying with them.

Back on his old house… All he had to do was stay still and let it happen. He was just like a ragdoll, tossed and used and then thrown off the bed, and what he was thinking or feeling never mattered. He hated it, but at least it allowed him to just… dissociate. He would stare somewhere, and get lost, as far from his body as he could. But this Master liked when he took initiative. He wanted Haru to be active… to be there the whole time.

So, he unbuckled Master’s belt. That was one of the scariest, full of pointy spikes. He prayed Master never used that one on him or Blue – he once was beaten with one covered in gemstones. It ended up leaving hundreds of small squared wounds on his back, all itching and stinging awfully, costing to heal. And those had been nearly flat stones. He didn’t even want to wonder how much the spikes would hurt.

This wasn’t important now. He opened the thing, and pulled Master’s shorts down, all the while giving nervous glances to see if he had permission to continue.

Slowly, He took a step back, lowering himself to Master’s crotch and taking Master’s dick in his mouth while his fingers idly played with Haru’s hair.

He tried not to think of anything. Just do it. Just get it over with. At least Master’s touch on his hair is soft, at least it doesn’t hurt.

Master lets out a soft moan, as Haru takes his head to the shaft and swallows. He closes his eyes, forgetting for a second that he shouldn’t.

“Look at me” Master scolds. His voice is deep, soft. But it’s an order, so he does, trying to hold back the tears, back and forth, back and forth.

And fuck, staring into his eyes is one of the hardest things to do. Cold. Cold fucking eyes with something slightly inhuman about them. But at least he seems satisfied, so Haru must be doing a good enough job. Master’s grip on his hair turns vicious. He pushes Haru down, nearly making him choke, as he comes. Haru struggles to swallow the load, but he has too. Master would not be happy if he spilled any, and he needs Master to be happy. At least enough to let him help Blue.

He licks Master clean and pulls his shorts back up. He is playing with the knife, spinning it around his hands, no doubt thinking of how he will cut Haru later. But for now, he hopes this will suffice.

Master smiles, maliciously.

“…Get your painkillers, bird”  

‘Thank you Master. Thank you so much’ he says, nearly jumping out of the bed. The sooner he gets out of the room now, the better. He searches through Master’s bedroom cabined and runs back downstairs, as Master goes back to his reading.

Haru walked back to Blue, still trembling, and crouched near the dog bed, where Blue was curled up in pain and softly whimpering, nuzzling Bonnie. A heavy chain around his neck as if he was going anywhere.

He had done his best to patch up the wounds, but Blue’s shoulder still seemed dislocated. Haru didn’t know how to fix that, and he was afraid of hurting him more, so Blue was at Master’s mercy.  

“H-ha-haru…” Blue cried once he saw him, a big cup of water and the pills “…It…It wants back. It wants W-warren…”

He stared at Blue with pity. He said that all the time. He missed his old Master, who treated him nicely, he said. Haru shushed him. But he had to let that go. Holding onto nice memories only brought them more pain.

‘You need to stop saying it out loud. It’s why Master beat you in the first place’

“I-it knows but… ngghn… it hurts. It hurtsss. It, it, it wants back. Wants fluffy bed and, and the treats, and, and going out m-making photos…” Blue kept sobbing, the movement of his chest causing him more pain, as he grieves for the brief moments of happiness he had.

Haru gestured to the pills, and offers him the water. He kept holding the cup even as Blue took it to his mouth, knowing that if he let go, Blue might drop it… And then they would be screwed.

…They both fell silent, hearing the steps coming downstairs, Haru’s heart skipping a beat. They were only hearing because Master wanted to give them a heads up. He was deadly quiet when he wanted to be. Haru set the cup down, putting his hands on the floor and his head over them.

Master found his two pets quiet and behaved. Blue tried to kneel as well… But he seemed in too much pain to do it properly, leaning on Haru for support. He hoped Master would forgive that.

Without a word, he walked up to Blue and grabbed him. He barely managed a yelp, as Master snapped his bone back into place, and then let him fall back into the dog bed, barely containing his sobs.

“Watch your mouth from now on, doggy” he smiled, awful little sharp teeth. They had left plenty of scars all over Haru’s body.

“S-s-s-sso-rry Master” He yelped, trembling. Master smacked Blue’s cheeks twice, as affectionate as that gesture could possibly be.

After that, Master went out. He and Blue waited in tense silence for around ten minutes. They never knew where Master went, when he would go out or when he would return. But it felt a little easier to breathe when he wasn’t around. It was like a ghostly presence was removed from the house.

“Yy-y-y-“ Haru closed his eyes. This was still so hard “S-s-sna-snack?”

Blue quietly nodded. This was one point where Master was merciful, at least. They weren’t starved.

“O-o-oatmeal?” Blue pleaded. Well, they were both allowed to eat but only Haru was allowed to cook, so Blue was dependent on him for that, too. However, he still only had a limited amount of options to cook, as Blue could barely eat any hard food.

He nodded, blue giving him the smallest smile, hiding the broken teeth, as Haru pulled up his little blanket and wrapped him on it.

‘Try to rest a bit, ok?’

Blue whined softly, laying back to hug his little bunny. At least they had each other, Haru thought. He hoped he and Blue weren’t separated again.

[keys-to-the-kinkdom]

i see medical/examination kink on your list 👀 maybe someone (take your pick) examining ciri? perhaps she's a sex slave they're getting ready to sell??? - 👽

Aiden was at the slave market under contract. Despite his reputation, he did tend to prefer his partners consenting, but a grieving widow had put out a contract on a slaver and Aiden had been too much of a bleeding heart to say no. Lambert was going to laugh himself sick when he heard. The problem he was having was that his target was back at the slave pens. The public weren't allowed access to the slave pens without being a buyer. Aiden didn't want to buy a slave, not even to kill one of the slavers. 

He was leaning against one of the pillars in the auction room, trying to look dangerous and unapproachable while he worked out how to fulfil his contract. He was barely paying attention to the stage, just enough to spot a threat if one was to emerge. A flash of white caught his eye. His first thought was that Geralt was here chasing the same or another contract. A closer look showed just how wrong he was. 

Ciri was standing, tall and regal in the middle of the stage. She was completely bare. Even with her cunt out and her nipples teased to stiff peaks, she radiated serene regality. Aiden adjusted himself subtly in his breeches. Like all the slaves, her hands were tied behind her with sturdy rope and there was a thick leather collar around her throat. The leash was held by the auctioneer. 

'Our next lot is a young woman, approximately twenty five years of age, healthy and strong. She would be suitable for any work, including manual labour and bedsport. She is not untouched. I'll start the bidding at 300 crowns,' the auctioneer called. 

Aiden’s hand was in the air before he had a chance to think. Ciri was a Wicher in all but mutations. She’d be able to help him fulfil the contract. He also owed it to the wolves to rescue their youngest from a situation that she probably didn’t want to be in (although she looked comfortable enough on the stage). Those were the reasons he’d have given if anyone had asked him what he was doing. The reality was though, that in that moment, he saw her and he wanted and he had the means to take. 

The bidding spiralled up from 300 to 500 to 700 and Aiden began to sweat. He’d had a good season on the Path, starting out with new gear from the caravan and picking up a few very lucrative contracts early on, but he wasn’t made of money. Not like some of these people were. Just as he really began to worry, Ciri bared her teeth and snarled at the greasy, portly man that was attempting to outbid Aiden. Her sharp teeth glinted in the light and the glare was as feral as anything Lambert could have produced. Aiden’s dick twitched in his smalls. His opposition on the other hand, shrank back, put off by the sight and he missed his chance to bid. 

‘Going once! Going twice! Sold to the man with the red hair!’ the auctioneer called. He handed Ciri’s leash off to an attendant and the next slave was dragged out. 

Aiden made his way through the administrative process as quickly as he possibly could. The attendant that led him back gave him an indulgent smile. 

‘She really is something to look at, that one, isn’t she?’ he said conspiratorially.

Aiden swallowed and nodded, ‘Yeah.’ His voice was raspy. ‘I can’t wait to find out what she’s like in bed. Seemed to have some fire in her.’

Of course, he knew Ciri’s fire well. The idea of it leashed under his control was doing things to him that he didn’t really want to admit to. He was learning a lot of things about himself very suddenly. 

The slave pens were in a large warehouse at the back of the auction building. There was an open space in the middle where the sold slaves were tied to hitching posts, waiting for their new owners. Aiden’s eyes snapped immediately to Ciri’s white blonde hair. He walked towards her like he was the one on the leash. 

When he reached her, a lean, rat-faced man stepped forward and took the token that provided proof of sale. 

‘Watch for this one,’ he sneered, ‘she’s a feral little thing.’

He reached out to tweak a nipple but froze when Aiden clamped a hand around his wrist.

‘She’s mine,’ he hissed, ‘and you will not touch her.’

‘Quite right, Sir,’ the man said with an oily smirk, stepping back. ‘Will you inspect the goods before you leave?’

Aiden had heard of the practice, of course. As a Wicher it was impossible to not be introduced to the seedier sides of life. As a Cat Witcher who was less picky about his contracts than schools like the Griffins or the Wolves, it was expected that he’d have contacts in the underbelly of society. As such, he knew what he needed to do here. He knew he should feel reluctant, but all he felt was desperate. He wanted to get his hands on that pale, creamy flesh and show her who she belonged to. 

‘Yes, I’ll inspect her,’ he said, stepping forward.

They were nose to nose now. He could feel her little puffs of breath hitting his chin. Her warmth was intoxicating. He leaned closer, placing his lips by her ear.

‘Hello there, little pup,’ he whispered. 

She shivered, very lightly, but enough that he noticed. 

He stood back and looked her over. 

‘Good. She knows to hold position at least,’ he said, eyes flicking to the slaver.

He reached out and tilted her chin up. Her skin was soft and warm. It wasn’t the first time they’d touched. He’d helped train her after all and spent several winters in the wolves’ keep with her where they all wrestled and sparred. This deliberate touching of her naked skin was different though. Electricity sparked along his fingertips which felt like they suddenly had a direct line to his cock. 

‘Where did you get her?’ Aiden asked. 

As he waited for an answer, he lifted first one eyelid and then the other. Her eyes were clear and bright and she didn’t waver under his hands. He burned with the trust it implied. He ran his fingers down over her cheeks, stroking her hair back from her face and coming to rest cupping her jaw. She blinked once, slowly. 

‘Found her running around in Ebbing, asking questions she shouldn’t have been. Didn’t take much to shut her up,’ the slimy arsehole crowed. Aiden longed to silence him. Permanently. 

He focused on Ciri. Her light, sweet scent filled his nostrils and calmed him. He was where he needed to be to fulfil the contract. He swore to himself there and then that he would kill this odious man before he left. How dare he think he had the right to touch Aiden’s Ciri? She deserved better than his disgusting hands on her sweet, perfect body. 

He lifted her top lip and slid one finger in, running it around her teeth. They were all in place with no cracks or other damage. He breathed a little easier. Ciri didn’t have the same mutated ability to grow new teeth if her original ones were damaged. Her training had focused a lot on protecting her face. He pulled his finger back and hooked it across her bottom teeth, pulling her mouth open. She allowed it and he swallowed hard at the sight of her little pink tongue, sitting there so innocently. He imagined it licking at his cock. He slid two fingers in, as deep as he could. She breathed deeply around them but didn’t otherwise react and Aiden felt himself beginning to leak. Her mouth was warm and soft and he wanted nothing more than to push her to her knees and sink his cock in. He couldn’t though. He had to keep his cover. He had to hope that Ciri knew what he was doing and that she wouldn’t hate him afterwards. 

He pulled his fingers out and dragged them down her throat, spreading the wetness and making it glisten. As he trailed over the collar he felt her breath hitch and he paused to tug on it a little. Her scent deepened, ripening with arousal. He tugged harder and she whined. He considered teasing her some more, but resisted, instead moving to slip his hands down her arms, checking her muscle definition. He tested the rope around her wrists and subtly loosened it enough that she could slip out if she needed to. He desperately hoped she’d stay where she was, but at least she now had the ability to leave if she wished. The leash was looped around the pillar but it wasn’t tied. A good pull would have it free in seconds. 

His fingers skimmed from her wrists over her ribs where he frowned over how clear it was that she hadn’t been eating enough. She blinked at him again and relaxed into his hands. 

‘Did you not bother feeding her?’ he asked, venom dripping from his voice.

‘She’s alive, ain’t she? She ate enough.’

‘I prefer my partners to feel less like I may break them the first time I throw them down to fuck them properly,’ Aiden spat. 

Ciri’s moan was almost certainly too quiet for anyone else to hear. It was barely audible to Aiden’s Witcher enhanced ears, but it was audible. He smirked at her. He could see a muscle jumping in her thigh where she was clenching her legs. He preened at the knowledge that she was turned on by him. 

From her ribs, he slid his hands up and cupped her breasts. He paused with his thumbs hovering over her nipples, which were still taught and peaked in the slightly chill air of the room. 

‘Are you sensitive?’ he asked her, his voice dripping like dark honey between them. He should be kind to her, but there was a beast inside him, rising up and screaming for her ruin. 

‘Yes,’ she whispered. 

‘Yes?’ he asked, giving in all at once to his basest instincts, ‘Yes what?’

‘Yes, Sir, I’m sensitive,’ she replied, louder now and more confident with something to push back against. 

‘Hmm.’

He pinched them, quick and hard and she arched back and wailed. Each breast was barely a handful, but they were soft and round and tight. Her nipples were small and he applied himself to teasing them, alternating sharp pinches and light brushes in an unpredictable pattern. He could see her struggling to stay still, wanting more. Her back was bowed into an arch as she pressed forward into his hands. He thumbed over both nipples, gave them a sudden hard twist then let go entirely. Her voice rose in a reedy wail. 

‘You are sensitive,’ he purred, ‘Does that apply to everywhere, I wonder.’ She opened her mouth to answer him, but he interrupted her. ‘You only need to speak when ordered to. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut unless you’re moaning on my fingers.’

She closed her mouth and nodded. He pulled the leash rope free from the low railing it was attached to and tugged her forward. She fell into him, off balance. He used the opportunity to grab a handful of her tight little ass which she wiggled. He pressed his hand between her legs and found that she was soaking. Slick dripped freely from between her folds and she moaned as soon as he touched her. 

‘Eager little thing, aren’t you,’ he murmured. ‘So wet for me. You’re going to make such a good slut.’

He spun her around and pressed one hand to her hip and the other between her shoulders.

‘Bend over and put your hands on the rail,’ he ordered. 

As soon as she complied, he kicked her feet wider, exposing her most intimate places to his view. She was flushed red and dripping. The scent of her arousal wound around him and intoxicated him. He had to have her. He wound the leash around his fist and pulled it, forcing her head up and her back to arch so that she was presenting to him. 

‘I’m going to touch you now and you’re going to come on my fingers like the greedy little slut that you are,’ he told her. ‘If you’re good, I’ll give you my cock, but you have to earn it. I want to hear you scream, do you understand?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ she whimpered.

‘Good girl.’

His finger circled her clit and she whined. He laughed, low and a little cruel. It wasn’t going to be that easy. 

‘Have you ever been fucked before, little slut?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, Sir,’ she replied, gasping for breath as he pushed two fingers into her without pause. He wanted to wreck her. He wanted to own her, to possess her so utterly that she would never look at another man again. The intensity of his own feelings overwhelmed him and he pushed another finger in, leaning forward. His hard cock pressed against her arse and he thrust, groaning at the friction. He leaned forward, draped half across her back so that he could hiss into her ear.

‘Look at you,’ he growled, as deep and resonant as any Wolf, ‘You were made for this. You were made to be my little slut.’ He dropped his voice to a quiet rumble so that no one but her would hear. ‘What would Geralt think if he could see you like this?’ he asked. ‘His precious daughter spread out on my fingers, whimpering for more. What would your Uncles say? Do you think they’d be disgusted to know that you’re nothing but a little slut? Or do you think they’d want a turn?’

Ciri gasped and moaned at that, slick leaking out around Aiden’s fingers to drip onto the ground. He pushed the fourth in and reached down with his thumb, circling her clit with a lazy, light pressure that did nothing more than frustrate. 

‘Oh, you like that idea, do you? You like the idea of your father and your uncles lining up behind me, ready to take their turn with my precious little slut? Is that what you want? I can make that happen,’ he growled twisting his fingers and pressing down with his thumb at the same time.

Ciri came apart with a wail, loud enough to turn heads in their direction. Aiden preened, knowing that everyone could see how good his little slave was. She shook apart under him, cunt clenching and fluttering around his fingers. He hooked them forward and pulled, twisting and pressing as she came. Slick gushed out, running down her thighs and soaking his hand. He purred at the feeling. 

‘What a good little slut,’ he whispered. ‘So good for me.’

‘Thank you, Sir. Thank you,’ she whimpered. Her voice was scratchy from the screaming. 

He drew his fingers out and pulled her up. Her knees were shaking and she fell back against him. 

‘You’ve made a mess,’ he said. ‘I think you should clean up after yourself.’

He offered her his hand and she stuck her tongue out, darting little kitten licks to clean it of her slick. She moaned as she did so and he couldn’t help but grind forward, pressing his cock against her pert little arse. She pressed back. The friction was both delicious and terrible. He wasn’t going to come in his braies like a kit. He wasn’t. If she didn’t stop that though, he might not have a choice. He pulled his hand away. 

‘Enough now,’ he said. He barely recognised the sound of his own voice. 

‘Are you happy with your purchase?’ the odious little man asked. Another man had joined him while Aiden had been distracted and he barely resisted the urge to curse. This was his target. The slaver that he had been sent after. Before he could react, Ciri had shrugged out of her ropes, ducked down and pulled the knife out of his boot. Her throw was textbook, exactly as he had taught her, and it embedded itself in the target’s eye. 

All hell broke loose as his body hit the ground.

[scarlet-star-witch]

Fade Into You - Part 17 (Mandalorian/OC)

Summary: Din has spent a year grieving the love of his life. While he thinks he has lost her forever, she lingers in the darkness, her mind twisted and manipulated, with no memory of him or the love they shared. What will it take for Din to help her remember?

Warnings: Angst galore and mentions of violence. Cara’s in this and I feel that’s a warning in itself

First Part       Previous Part       Next Part

Din was giddy as he woke that morning. The night before with his wife had only certified his love for her and he could barely wait to see if she was feeling the same type of blinding love that was taking over every part of his being.

The way she’d looked at him the night before had sent pleasurable chills over every inch of his body. He wanted nothing more than to see the same sight and experience the same mind blowing ecstasy he had just hours ago.

His tired eyes opened slowly as his hand searched the rumpled sheets beside him for the heat of her body. 

When he felt nothing, he raised himself on his elbow, fear striking him as his eyes opened fully, pushing past any exhaustion he felt as panic suddenly hit him like an incoming train. 

“El?” His raspy voice called out as he blindly patted the empty sheets next to him, still taken aback by the loneliness that met him rather than his wife that he had been so excited to see.

He sat up fully, his wide eyes searching the space around him, but the room was empty. His heart suddenly began to race wildly. He tried not to jump to conclusions, but after everything they had been through, it was hard not to fear the worst.

“El?” He called again, his voice sounding more frantic as he found it harder to disguise his growing panic.

He stood from the bunk, hastily pulling his clothes on. He grabbed his helmet, the only armour he bothered to put on, and raced out of the cramped room.

“Iella!?”

The silence that greeted him only made his fear grow. 

This was all too familiar of nightmares he’d had in the past. He reached down slowly, subtly pinching himself. The pain he felt was real. The nightmare was real.

He quickly made his way towards the cradle, a flash of relief flowing through him at the sight of it still in its place. He opened the top and let out a long sigh as he saw the baby staring back up at him. 

“You’re ok.” He breathed out, gathering the child into his arms. “Now where’s your mom?” He mumbled. He made his way up to the cockpit, dread soon crashing over him at the implication.

Had she wanted to sleep there instead? Had he been too forward the night before?

The thoughts were quickly shaken off. She was just as eager as he had been, she had been just as pleased as he had been.

He couldn’t think of what could have possibly changed. 

Despite how scared he was at the possibility of her needing space from him, enough to move to the cockpit, he didn’t find much relief to see that it was empty.

Where the hell is she?

He practically jumped back down the ladder into the hull, turning on his heel in frantic circles, looking over every inch of his ship.

“Iella!?” He yelled desperately.

She was taken.

That was the first thought that echoed through his mind, the first explanation for her absence that broke his heart. His breathing became erratic as his mind raced for what to do. 

She had been acting weird the night before, since coming back from the market. He could only deduce that something had happened, something bad enough to spook her. Maybe someone from her past, her manipulated past, that was. 

They must have followed her back and taken her from him.

With a low growl escaping his throat and vengeance clouding his judgement, he stomped towards the weapons locker, practically throwing open the doors. It was a wonder they didn’t break off their hinges.

He moved to grab his blaster, but stopped abruptly. 

His breath caught in his throat when he saw the empty spots in the cabinet, spots where her weapons had been placed. 

They were gone. 

If she was taken, she wouldn’t have been able to grab her weapons, not without a struggle. And he would’ve heard a struggle. 

He looked around the hull again, this time with a more careful eye. Her boots were no longer in their place at the foot of their bunk where she’d hastily kicked them off the night before. Her cloak that she’d shrugged off her shoulders seductively was no longer on the floor where they’d left it.

She left on her own.

His entire body stiffened. His mind raced, trying to think of other possibilities because it was unfathomable to him that she would leave, that she would sneak out in the middle of the night and leave.

Leave him.

He felt his eyes sting with tears and he blinked rapidly, not willing to let them fall or he worried they would never stop. 

It was one thing to believe she was gone from his side after a horrific accident, but to know she was no longer by his side of her own will somehow hurt even more.

She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t leave me, she wouldn’t leave the kid.

He felt almost dizzy with how his brain was trying desperately to piece together what had happened, what he had done to make her leave.

He thought back to all the conversations they’d had, all the times she’d called herself a lost cause, all the times he’d had to reassure her that he was there for her. It hadn’t been enough. She’d reached her breaking point without him even realizing it and it had him wanting to smack himself for being so ignorant.

He hadn’t been enough for her and it practically tore him apart to think he’d been so blind to her plan of escape. 

The fact that she felt she needed to escape from him was enough to ruin every single part of his being. 

He breathed heavily, slowly falling to his knees on the hard floor of the ship, his helmeted head cradled in his hands as he fought hard not to spiral. 

“No, no, no, no.” He whispered to himself, his voice cracking with the emotion that overtook him so overwhelmingly.

Shaking breaths left him and he didn’t even realize his cheeks were wet until he heard the child whine, breaking him from his self-deprecating thoughts. 

He raised his head, his face creasing in confusion as he saw the child scurrying to the closed ramp, his little arm raising to point to it.

“What are you doing, Kid?” Din muttered impatiently, getting to his feet to catch him. As soon as he hauled the mischievous child in his arms, he whined louder, squirming in Din’s grip. 

He frantically pointed to the ramp, his distressed whines and watering eyes striking the Mandalorian deeply. 

“What is it?” Din whispered, suddenly realizing the child wasn’t just upset about Iella’s absence. He knew something.

Din began to pace the ship, frustration building as the child continued to babble worriedly. He wished he could understand the nonsense that left him. There had to be something he missed. This was his job, he looked for missing people all the time, there had to be clues as to where his wife went.

There was no way in hell he was letting this be the end.

His eyes roamed over the ship over and over again, hoping something would suddenly stand out to him, give him any indication about where she could have gone. 

He soon stopped in his tracks, his eyes locked onto the weapon’s locker, and his heart suddenly dropped.

How did I not notice, he scolded himself.

His pulse rifle was missing. 

His stomach twisted with nerves at the realization, pure fear igniting within him like a lit flame.

She wasn’t leaving to escape him, she was leaving to fight. 

His entire body went rigid as he thought back to a conversation they’d had weeks ago, one where, at that time, she’d offered the most terrifying solution he could think of, one he refused to get behind.

I need to find him and I need to kill him.

She wanted to go after Voros and he wouldn’t let her. His own desire to protect her, to keep her away from any more harm that man could cause her overruled her own need to heal from his wounds. He stopped her from getting that and he wanted to kick himself for it now.

She was going on a suicide mission all alone.

It moved him into gear quicker than anything else ever had. He grabbed his weapons hastily, placing his armour on with shaking hands, gritting his teeth with frustration as he found trouble fastening each buckle.

“Come on.” He spat to himself as he messily donned his armour. 

Once it was on properly, he fastened the child into the perch in the satchel that wrapped across his body. He strapped the weapons to his belt and barely a second later, he was lowering the ramp, marching off before it had even fully lowered.

He would find her if it was the last thing he ever did.

He couldn't be too late, he would not be too late.

~~~

Iella kept her head down as the villagers began to start their day, setting up their stands for the market and greeting their neighbours politely. The more crowded the streets became, the more her nerves rose.

Every time she turned a corner, she could see Din. She would squeeze her eyes shut, shake her head of her exhaustion until she realized it wasn’t him. It made tears brim in her eyes every time.

Every step further from the crest was a heavier weight to her chest. 

She moved through the streets quickly, dodging people expertly, ignoring the merchants that called out to entice her to their booths, winding through the crowds with minimal contact. She couldn’t let the opportunity slip through her fingers. She had to find those men who worked for Voros before they left the planet.

She had to find them before Din found her.

Her eyes drifted upwards towards the sun that was now high in the sky, her heart aching. Din was definitely awake by now. He was probably panicking, going crazy trying to find her. 

A loud sigh escaped her at the thought of him, of the night before.

The way he’d held her so tightly yet so gently, the way his lips felt on her skin, the way the scruff on his jaw left tingles on her neck that she could still feel only had her aching to turn right around and run right back into his arms.

It was becoming more tempting the longer she was away from him.

But she couldn’t stray, not when the prospect of killing Voros, of finally getting revenge on her torturer was so close.

She had to keep moving.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest, her pulse thrumming through her entire body nervously, as she approached the loading dock.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the familiar cargo ship Voros always had them use on missions.

She moved in the shadows skillfully and got into position, hauling the large rifle off her back. She breathed out slowly, a calmness washing over her as the familiar aspect of her new life fell into place.

Her finger hovered over the trigger as she awaited her targets.

~~~

Din was racing through the streets of the crowded village. He wasn’t polite as he pushed people out of his way, ignoring the swears and threats that were yelled back at him. He’d followed Iella’s tracks and he knew he wasn’t far behind, but her path was becoming more difficult to follow as more and more people trekked over her footprints.

Heavy pants left his lips, both of exertion and panic as he sprinted his way closer to his wife. The child suddenly let out a cry and he skidded to a stop, looking down in worry and bringing him in closer to his side protectively.

The child squirmed, his little arm reaching out towards an alleyway to their right. The distressed look on his little face was heartbreaking.

Din didn’t question it, he learned not to when it came to his strange powers, and frantically raced to where he was pointing.

He ducked behind buildings to block himself from the view of the few people he saw milling around the small loading dock next to him. He slowed his pace, his eyes frantically searching every doorway, every window, every alleyway, he passed.

He suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes going wide as he saw a cloaked figure kneeled on the ground, with a rifle, his pulse rifle, in their hands. 

It was her, it had to be.

An involuntary whimper escaped him at the sight of her and he raced forward, almost stumbling over his own feet in his haste to get to her. He moved swiftly, hauling his wife to her feet and placing a hand over her mouth to stifle the yelp of surprise she let out as he carried her away from the loading dock, away from any potential prying eyes.

She squirmed in his grip, kicking her legs out in defiance, making him wince at the pain in his shins as she struggled to get out of her supposed attacker’s grip. 

“It’s ok, it’s me. It’s just me.” He whispered frantically. 

She finally pushed him off, her eyes dark with hatred as she pulled the knife from her belt, his words not registering to her. She stopped abruptly, the weapon stalling in the air as she looked back at him. Her once rigid body slumped once she finally realized it was him.

Horror suddenly grew in her eyes as the consequences of her hasty decision stared her in the face.

“What are you doing here?”

Din scoffed and shook his head.

“You seriously think I was gonna let you go through with this suicide mission?” He argued back sternly, placing his hands on his hips. “I woke up and you were gone, what the hell did you think I was gonna do?”

“I didn’t want-”

“You thought I’d let you go after him by yourself? You thought I wouldn’t care that you were putting yourself in danger? Fucking hell, Iella, I know you don’t remember me, but after all this time we spent together, you really think that little of me? You think I’d let you do this?”

Iella’s face twisted, her frown growing the more he rambled. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She said softly. It was apparently the wrong thing to say by the way Din threw his hands in the air in exasperation as a harsh laugh of disbelief met her ears. He was pissed and there was nothing she could do.

“What the fuck were you trying to do then?!” He yelled at her. “You can’t just leave! I told you I would be there for you, I told you that no matter what, I’d help you with whatever was thrown at us, and you didn’t trust me, you didn’t believe me, I don’t know what it was, but it fucking hurts, El. You fucking hurt me.” 

Iella straightened her shoulders, schooling her features in a semblance of strength that seemed to be faltering with every word he spat in his harsh tone.

“You also told me I couldn’t go after Voros, that I couldn’t get revenge against the man who tortured me. I didn’t think I could come to you after that. What was I supposed to do?” She argued back.

Din flinched, like her words had physically struck him. 

“You know why I said those things. You know it’s dangerous, you know-”

“I know that I can’t live like this anymore.” She interrupted him. “I know I wouldn’t survive if you or the child got hurt because of me.”

“That’s not gonna-”

“You don’t know that!” She screamed and quickly lowered her head, forcing herself to take deep breaths in an effort to calm down and avoid making a scene. “Gideon’s gone. That means the only threats against us, the only reason we’re still looking over our shoulders is because of me, because of Voros.”

Din stayed quiet, knowing there wasn’t anything he could say against that. She was right and it killed him to acknowledge it. 

“I can’t let you two take the fall for me. I can’t let you get caught in the crossfire.”

Din sighed heavily, his eyes squeezing shut at her words. He remembered a time years ago, when they were still working with Ran and Xi’an, where she had, time and time again, stuck up for the innocent people that got caught in the line of fire.

They were practically the same words she used then.

It killed him to know she didn’t even remember that she’d said those words before, that she was acting exactly like the person he once knew, the person he missed more than anything in the galaxy. 

She had no idea just how much those words decimated him. They rendered him with no fight left.

His silence only kept her on edge, fearing he was still brimming with fury at her, so angry he couldn’t even get the words out.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. “Last night… that was the perfect goodbye and I don’t regret a second of it. I just needed to… be close to you before I did this, in case…” She didn’t finish her sentence, she couldn’t, and Din was grateful for it.

He didn’t think he could stand to hear those words out loud. 

It was silent between them for a moment. It wasn’t long, but to them it seemed to stretch forever. Din let out a shaking breath, trying his best to ground himself, to not let his anger and panic over the situation he’d woken with dictate their conversation now.

Yelling wouldn’t do a thing and it was the last thing she needed now. 

“You know I can’t let you do this.” He said softly.

“I know. That’s why I left.” 

Din winced and shook his head.

“You’re not doing this without me.”

“Din-”

“No. I’m not letting you. If you need to after Voros now, fine. I won’t stop you. But you sure as hell aren’t doing it alone.”

Iella stared at him in shock. She hadn’t expected him to give in, to finally relent to her desire for revenge. 

“Din…”

“That’s all I ask, El, that’s it. I don’t care how dangerous it is, I don’t care about the risks, I’m going with you, that’s final.” He spoke sternly.

Iella paused, staring back at the imposing Mandalorian in front of her carefully, looking for any indication that he was lying, that he was actually trying to persuade her against her heinous plan. But she found none. 

He was all in.

“What were you planning?” He asked, sensing her hesitation. 

She swallowed thickly. “I saw two of Voros’ assassins yesterday. I remembered them, I used to work with them.” 

Din’s body stiffened as he realized that was the reason she had been acting so strange the night before. He thought he wanted to put together all the pieces, but now that they were falling into place, he realized he would rather not know. Ignorance was bliss and the reminder of her manipulated past was agonizing.

“Did they see you?” He finally choked out after a long, stifling silence.

“I don’t think so.”

“So now what?”

“I was gonna… take them out and steal their ship. Show up at the Imperial base and use the element of surprise to my advantage.” Iella explained, realizing once she had spoken it outloud just how risky her plan was.

Din sighed heavily, his head falling back onto his shoulders as he closed his eyes tightly. He could already feel the beginnings of a stress headache forming. 

“And you were really willing to do this alone?” 

“I thought I had to.” Iella shrugged. Din physically flinched at her words and she sighed, bowing her head. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She added quickly. 

“No, you’re right. I haven’t been supportive about this. I was selfish, I wanted you far away from that man. I wasn’t thinking about your feelings, only mine.” 

Iella was left agape at his admittance. She hadn’t seen it that way, she only saw it as him being protective of her, of him not wanting her in any more danger. 

“So we’ll do your plan, but not alone.” He said with determination. “We need more muscle.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have time to make a stop in Nevarro?” 

Iella’s face smoothed as he realized what he was suggesting, who he was suggesting as backup. 

“You sure we should ask her? I feel like we already owe her too much.”

“I’m sure Cara wouldn’t mind another fight.” Din explained simply and Iella found herself unable to argue with that statement. 

She knew the shocktrooper well enough to know better.

“You ready?” Din asked and Iella had to stifle a smile at how willing he was to go along with her plan. 

“Are you sure you wanna do this? I can’t force you to go along with this just because of me. I won’t let you put yourself-”

“El, if you’re doing this then so am I. There’s nothing more to say about it.” He argued. “So tell me what you need me to do.”

Her heart stuttered at his determination and allegiance to her. She knew he’d told her time and time again just how much he was willing to do for her, but to see it, to experience it, was another thing.

It left her breathless.

“I’ll wait for the guys to show up. You help if things get out of hand.” She explained, though she knew they wouldn’t. She could handle taking out two men, it would be the easiest thing she would do that day, but she wouldn’t tell him that.

She noticed the looks of agony he would have on his face any time she mentioned her training with Voros or her skills as an assassin. It was too much for him to handle.

And she knew she had put him through more than enough already.

“I’ll be right beside you.” He assured her and she couldn’t even describe the feeling that coursed through her at his words.

Silently, they moved back into the stealthy position he had first found her in. 

He let her keep her grip on the pulse rifle, knowing - no matter how much it hurt him - that she could handle it. Din pulled out his own blaster, pointing it at the same ship he saw her aim on. 

“I am sorry, you know.” Iella whispered after a long moment of silence. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I left because I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want Voros to use you as a pawn against me. I would never forgive myself for that.”

“I get it. And I know why you did it.” He said softly. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less, he thought to himself. He knew waking up with her absence would haunt him for a long time. 

He hadn’t felt that kind of terror in a long time and it had shaken him.

Iella nodded slowly, though she could tell Din was still out of sorts, that he was still upset. She knew she would have to do a lot of grovelling soon. 

“He ain’t gonna be happy.” 

Iella tensed at the loud voice of the man that cockily stepped into the loading dock. Her eyes locked onto the two male figures that strolled into the space, their arrival ending the moment between the couple. 

She recognized them immediately and tightened her grip on the rifle, aiming it at the taller of the men that approached their ship.

“No one else has any leads. Maybe he’ll take it easy on us.” The other man shrugged, causing his partner to scoff.

“When has Voros ever taken it easy on anyone? If we don’t come back with his bitch, it’s the end of us. You saw what he did to the team after Tatooine.”

Din’s breath hitched in his throat at their words. They were after his wife. They were following their tracks. Blind rage overtook him and he had to force himself to stay still and not take out the men that second.

“We’ll find her. She can’t be that smart, she ain’t got no brain left after what they did to her.”

Iella grit her teeth, taking a pause to inhale a deep breath and pulled the tigger swiftly, barely taking another second to blink as she aimed at the other man who was too stunned at the sudden assassination of his partner to move, and within a second he was also turned to dust. 

“Let’s go.” Iella said, her voice a strange and unsettling monotonous tone Din hated to hear. 

He blindly followed her into the hangar, his head turning every which way to make sure no bystanders were around to witness the brutal murder that just occurred.

“So, what’s next?” 

Iella didn’t answer, her gaze was locked onto the ship in front of them. Din followed her gaze, his brows furrowing at the sight of the unimposing cargo ship in front of them.

“El?” He prompted gently, finally breaking her from her thoughts and she turned to face him. He pretended to ignore the haunted look in her eyes. “What’s the plan?”

“We fly to Nevarro, get Cara and then… make our way to Voros.”

“You remember where the base is?”

She nodded slowly, her eyes averting from his. With a deep breath, she began to make her way towards the ship and Din’s eyes widened, fear striking him again, a feeling he was all too familiar with just from that morning.

He reached out, latching onto her hand.

She looked back and she didn’t even need to see his face to know how panicked he was.

“We need the ship to land near the base. They’ll blow the crest out of the sky if it gets too close. We need to be discreet.” She explained and he hated that it made sense, that he was being forced to stray from her side.

“I’ll follow you to Nevarro and then we take this ship to the base, ok?” She proposed, her eyes locked onto his rigid form until he finally slowly nodded in agreement.

“Ok.” He choked out, slowly and reluctantly letting her hand fall from his. “I’ll meet you there.”

Iella nodded, her face suddenly softening as she looked down at the child whose eyes hadn’t left her since the moment they’d found her.

“I’ll see you soon, little one.” She cooed to him softly, leaning down to squeeze his small cheeks lightly, a smile growing on her face as he let out an adorable squeal of delight. 

She looked up at Din, her face growing more serious, and with a final nod in assurance, she moved to make her way to the ship. 

Din’s hand suddenly shot out again, grabbing hers to stop her. 

She looked back at him in surprise, her face creasing with confusion. 

“Din…”

“You’re going to Nevarro first.” 

Her face fell, realizing just how much she had broken his trust. She nodded, squeezing his hand in hers. 

“I promise.” She told him honestly. She stepped towards him and leaned up on the tips of her toes, pressing a light kiss to the side of his helmet. “I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded and felt himself blush as he noticed hers that grew at the sound of his shuddering breath at her kiss. It didn’t matter if it had met his skin or not. Her closeness was enough to leave him breathless. 

“I’ll see you soon.” He repeated. 

They finally parted and she lowered the ramp of the ship, beginning to make her way up.

“El.” He called out to her and she turned around. “You can still-”

“I remember how to fly.” She told him with a smirk and his shoulders sagged, his helmet bowing slightly. 

“Right.” He muttered, realizing there was nothing else he could say to convince her to come with him on the crest. She had a solid plan and he couldn’t refuse it, no matter how much he wanted to be selfish and drag her along with him.

Iella smiled lightly, making his inside twist pleasurably, and she continued to make her way onto the ship. Din stayed in his spot, his eyes locked onto her as long as he could. He didn’t begin to make his way back to the crest until the ramp was closed.

~~~

The trip to Nevarro was short, a relief to both of them. 

Iella was sure he’d been speeding the entire way there because he was outside the ship, arms crossed, his foot tapping impatiently as he watched her land beside the crest. And she was the one who’d gotten the head start.

She smiled and shook her head to herself. She couldn’t deny the butterflies that erupted at his inability to hide his protectiveness around her.

He was waiting by the ship the second the ramp had lowered and his hand on the small of her back as they made their way through the streets of Nevarro never strayed. 

The trek had been agonizing. After what he’d endured that morning, he didn’t want her barely five feet from him. He was taking every opportunity he could get now to be close to her. 

They stopped as they got to a catina that was bustling with people and Din shrugged at Iella’s questioning gaze. It was their best guess as to where they would find the shocktrooper.

As soon as they stepped into the place, Din’s arm snaked around her waist, his hand now at her hip as he held her to his side, unwilling to let her stray too far in the seedy joint. 

It wasn’t hard to spot the ex-Rebellion soldier. She posed an intimidating figure and it was easy to spot the break in the crowd where she sat, warding off any stragglers from getting too close with a harsh gaze. But she perked up, her feet dropping from the table they were perched on as she saw her favourite couple approaching.

“Well, what do I owe the pleasure to the mister and missus?” She teased. “You wanna drink?”

“No, we’re here for business.” Din said quickly, stopping her from flogging down the bartender. Cara’s smile fell slowly and she straightened in her seat, her eyes flickering back and forth to each of them worriedly, sensing the tension between them.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re going after Voros and we wanted your help.” Iella spoke abruptly. Cara’s mouth dropped open and she stared back at her friend in shock at her words. “I know this is a lot to ask and it’s not much warning, but-”

“I’m in.” Cara interrupted and this time, it was Iella’s turn to stare at her in shock.

“W-what- are you sure?” 

“A chance to take down another Imperial bastard? Hell yeah, I’m in.” 

Din and Iella looked at each other, as if not believing that it had been as easy as it was to recruit their new member. 

“You know this is gonna be dangerous.” Din explained slowly and Cara laughed with a shake of her head.

“When is it not?” She got up from her seat, a look of excitement on her face as she straightened her shoulders. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

~~

The stolen cargo ship was in hyperspace as they all sat in the cockpit in silence, watching the colours blur past them mindlessly. 

The silence was stifling. 

Cara looked back and forth between the couple, wondering what it was that had them so on edge. Sure, going after the evil man that had held Iella hostage for a year would cause tension, but there was something more. 

They barely even looked at each other and the shocktrooper found it extremely troubling.

“So are we going in guns blazing or are we going for the more stealthy route?” She asked, finally breaking the silence.

“We could use deception. Iella, you could pretend you brought me and Cara in as prisoners.” Din offered and Cara winced.

“Yeah, cause that worked out so well for us last time.” She mused sarcastically, thinking back to the shit show that happened on Nevarro. 

“They knew I was on Tatooine. They’re tracking me so we have to assume they know I’m with you. They’ll know I would never betray you.” Iella spoke up timidly and Din tried his hardest to keep his body from reacting to her words. 

Everytime her manipulated self with no memory of him spoke of how much she cared for him left him in a tizzy.

“So… guns blazing, then?” Cara asked.

“I think that’s our only option. They won’t be expecting us so at least we’ll have the element of surprise.” 

“Sounds good.” Cara smiled to her and made her way out of the cockpit, leaving the couple alone, left in a silence that was yet again becoming filled with tension.

Iella’s head lowered, avoiding Din’s gaze that she knew was on her. She still felt horrible about that morning and she didn’t know how to address it, or whether or not he was still mad at her. She didn’t know how to approach him.

They could hear Cara in the hull, scanning over her choice of weapons and occasionally scolding the child who got too close to the blasters for comfort.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Din asked, suddenly breaking the tense silence between them.

“Yes.” She spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep going on like this, wondering when he’ll take me from you. I have to make a move before he does.”

Din nodded. He knew they needed to do this. Hearing those men talk about how violent Voros was in his quest to get Iella back lit an already flaming fire inside him until it was unbearable. 

The rage inside him would not be sated until the man was dead. And he knew his panicked wife would not rest until the man that caused her so much harm was dead and he would be damned if he didn’t help give that to her.

“You know this is gonna be dicey. We have half a plan, we don’t know for sure how many of those assholes are gonna be on that base.”

“I know.” 

“And we don’t even know if Voros is gonna be there.”

“Din, you’re not gonna change my mind.” 

“I know… I know.” He whispered, sounding almost regretful, like he wished more than anything that he could, that he could stop her from doing this. But he couldn’t and he knew that. 

He reached out blindly, his hand finding hers, intertwining their fingers together as he held on tightly. Iella let out a shaking breath and looked down at their hands. She held onto him tightly, feeling more grounded by his touch than ever before.

She knew the danger coming but the only thing that kept her heart from imploding with nerves, the only thing that kept her from spiralling - as always - was him. 

She needed to go through with this, not only for herself, but for him, for the child. 

All too soon, the navigator beeped, signalling their arrival. Din tensed, dropping them out of hyperspace with a shaking hand. He didn’t want to admit just how terrified he was, how much he was dreading what was happening next.

As a Mandalorian, he wasn’t one to ever back away from a fight, but this one, this was one he had been willing to avoid for the rest of his life.

“You ready?” Iella asked as they descended into the atmosphere. Din nodded and he looked over his shoulder, his eyes finding hers intently.

“Are you?”

Iella hesitated before answering, her eyes looking out the window and her heart suddenly seized as she saw the large building in front of them, the building that housed all of her trauma and deepest fears.

Just the mere sight of it was enough to make her regret every step that brought her there. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” She breathed out after a silence that was too long for her words to convince him. 

“Team 16 prepare to land.” The voice over the comms spoke, causing the both of them to stiffen in their spots. 

It was a relief that the first phase of their plan had been a success, but they were far from the clear. What was coming next that would determine the rest of their lives.

Din landed the ship in front of the base and he breathed a long and shaking breath before turning to face her.

“We can turn back now, no questions asked.” 

Iella smiled a weak and sad smile, squeezing his hand in hers. 

“You know we can’t.” 

“I know, just ...wishful thinking.” He muttered with a shrug and she could tell by the tone of his voice how scared he was for what came next.

Iella leaned forward, her arm winding around the back of his neck. “We’ll be ok.”

“I know we will.” 

We have to be, he thought to himself. There was no other way he would survive if they weren’t, if she wasn’t ok at the end of the day. He could not go through that again, he couldn’t lose her again or he would surely lose himself this time around.

Once was already too much for him to handle.

He leaned forward, letting his armour covered forehead rest against hers. 

Iella let her eyes fall closed, reveling in his closeness, in his body against hers, his warmth against her cold and scared body. It was all she needed.

“I really am sorry for this morning. I should never have just left like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I’m so sorry I did.” She spoke, her voice becoming more frantic with each word as she began to ramble. Din shook his head, a pang in his chest as he saw her watering eyes.

“Don’t, don’t. It’s ok, I know why you did it.” He whispered. He was still feeling slightly traumatized by what he’d been through that morning, but after hearing her explain, he couldn’t exactly fault her. 

He understood why she did what she did and he just hoped to the maker he would never have to wake up without her again.

Loud, rushing footsteps came their way and Cara breezed into the room with the child in her arms, her chest heaving. She straightened when she saw the couple locked in each other’s embrace and she subtly averted her gaze.

“Sorry,” She muttered. “But we got company coming.”

“How many?” Din asked sternly, standing from his seat with his fists clenched tightly.

“Just one.” 

Iella let out a long breath, slowly getting to her feet. There was no turning back now, she had no choice but to get her head into the game, to prepare for bloodshed. 

“Let’s go.” She mumbled and pushed past Din and Cara to make her way out of the cockpit. She pulled the deadly knife off her belt and pressed her back against the wall next to the ramp, motioning for Din and Cara to hide.

Cara acted immediately, grabbing onto the stubborn Mandalorian that immediately moved to be next to his wife, but she pulled him back to hide with her. 

He grit his teeth, his heart hammering within his chest as the mechanics of the ship began to whir as the ramp slowly lowered.

“Hey, Reyon, you find that purple haired bitch or-” The man that cockily strolled into the ship stopped abruptly, his eyes growing wide with fear as he spotted her. 

The deadly look in her eyes sent a chill down his spine and before he could even begin to beg for his life, her knife swiped outwards, slicing his throat easily. She moved past her unease quickly, not allowing herself to feel any remorse for the life she had just taken.

He deserved it, she knew he did. That was all she had to remember. 

Cara and Din stepped out from the shadows, both their gazes locked onto the man that had fallen lip to the floor of the ship, the puddle of blood around him growing larger each second. Din swallowed thickly, forcing himself to look away from the sight.

The terror that had coursed through him at the sight of his wife killing that man, the sight that was all too familiar to the one he’d seen when he’d first found her again, discovering her new identity, was enough to shake him.

But he wouldn’t let it.

“Let’s move.” Cara spoke up, knowing she needed to be the one to break the ice from the tension that was building as they stared at the body on the floor. 

Iella nodded stiffly, grabbing the blaster the shocktrooper held out to her, along with strapping the many knives she had to her belt. 

Din peered into the cockpit, making sure the child was safe in his cradle where he would remain during the mission, away from any danger. He closed the doors to the cockpit, sealing him in.

“Kill anyone you come across. These people can’t be spared.” Iella told them and the cold, emotionless tone in her voice made both Din and Cara wince. They shared a quick look of concern before shaking themselves of their reservations and followed her out the ship.

They moved swiftly, like a team that had been working together for years, able to communicate without words. They sprinted towards the base, Din and Cara quickly taking out the two guards that were stationed at the door. 

Iella threw a knife from her belt at a passing man making his way towards his ship. They couldn’t let anyone go. It didn’t matter what their job was, she knew they were all guilty.

They slowed their pace as they got to the door and Din let out a muttered curse as they found a keypad at the door, an encrypted code keeping them from entering. 

“Now what?”

Iella stepped forward, a look of derision in her eyes that was all too familiar to Din, one he hated to see. With a trembling hand, she slowly typed in the code that lingered in her mind. She clenched her jaw as the door breezed open, feelling both relieved and disheartened as she realized the code had worked.

Her knowledge from Voros had worked and it left her stomach turning.

Just keep moving, you’ll get yours soon enough, she reminded herself. 

Din sighed heavily, hating the feeling of dread that encompassed him as she opened the door. He knew it was probably for the better that she had remembered the code, that it made their life and their mission easier, but the implications of Voros’ impact on her still lingering in her mind was a decimating blow to both of them. 

He felt a nudge to his side and he looked up at Cara who was looking back at him impatiently. She motioned towards Iella with wide eyes, silently telling him now wasn’t the time to dwell on that detail. They had much bigger things to worry about.

The trio moved efficiently, their weapons firing into each room they passed, leaving no witnesses or whistleblowers in their wake. Their presence was still unknown. They paused as they came to the end of a hallway and a number of paths stood ahead of them.

“Which way?”

Iella barely heard the question, there was a faint ringing in her ears as her anxiety began to rise the longer she was in the building. Her memory of the base came back full force.

The sight of the familiar long hallways, the dark, desolate rooms, the people they took out, they were all reminders of her time here, a reminder of each and every horrible, torturous thing that had been inflicted upon her.

“El?” Din called out, his voice sounding as if he were underwater, barely breaking through to her wounded mind. “Hey,” He stood in front of her, his hand reaching out to hold hers tightly. “You with me?”

She looked up at him, shaking herself from the unbridled trauma that was coursing through her veins and she nodded.

“Go left. His office isn’t far.” She finally spoke. 

Din looked at her for a moment longer, trying to gauge whether or not she was truly able to go further, to push past the bubbling emotions she was feeling to keep a clear head. He wasn’t able to tell before she had pushed past him and began walking down the long hallway.

He sighed heavily and quickly moved to follow her, not willing to let themselves be even a few feet apart.

They weren’t walking long when they suddenly heard the sound of many footsteps from around the corner, signalling a group coming their way, one bigger than they were equipped to deal with without blowing their cover.

“Come on!” Cara hissed and pushed the couple into the nearest room, closing the door behind them. 

Iella felt her entire body stiffen, her eyes going wide with horror. She knew this room. 

She turned on her heel and could feel her legs tremble, barely able to keep herself standing as she looked at the enormous and imposing machine that stood in the middle of the room. 

She walked towards it slowly, her chest heaving at the mere sight of it, of the memories it forced into her mind, all of her screaming and writhing in agony.

Sensing her move from his side, Din turned on his heel, immediately stepping forward to follow her. 

“Hey, what-” He stopped abruptly, his gaze moving to what she was looking at with such stricken eyes. His mouth parted, but no words escaped him. 

He stayed rooted to his spot, his eyes travelling over every inch of the large, deadly looking machine.

“Holy shit.” Cara muttered, her eyes going wide at the sight of it. “What is this thing?”

“This is what… changed me.” Iella explained with a weak voice. Even with her vague words, Din was able to put the pieces together and he felt his chest tighten as dread settled within him. 

She had mentioned moments of her strapped to a machine, the one that had taken her memories away and for a long time, Din only had his imagination to supply the thoughts that came with her explanation.

But now that he saw it for himself, he saw just what had caused her so much pain and trauma, it was like a knife to the chest. 

He wanted to tear the machine apart with his bare hands. His entire body stiffened, his hands clenching into fists and Iella reached out immediately, taking his hand in hers to stop him from what she knew he wanted to do.

Cara, who had moved to press her ear to the door, turned towards the couple again, a regretful expression on her face as she knew what they were going through. She knew, despite whatever happened after today, that they’d be needing a lot of healing.

“Group’s passed, but it sounds like there’s more coming. We should hide out here for a few more minutes until they pass.” She whispered to them. 

In the span of a second, Iella’s expression changed, the look of horror in her eyes turning deadly as the sick feeling inside her twisted into pure rage. She moved past Din who scrambled to grab onto her arm to stop her, but she pushed him away, striding towards the door purposefully.

Cara’s face twisted with disbelief, she’d never seen the quiet woman she knew look so determined before and she was left to stumble aside in shock as Iella pushed past her and swung the door open.

She stepped out into the hallway, ignoring the hushed and frantic whispers of Din behind her that begged her to get back in the room. The soldiers that were passing the room turned on their heels at the sound of the door opening behind them and they all faltered, their weapons falling from their raised positions slightly at the sight of her.

The famed assassin was back and they all took a moment to stare at their boss’ biggest project in shock. 

Before any of the soldiers could reign in their surprise, Iella was already moving, pulling knives from her belt and tossing them with deadly accuracy. 

It wasn’t until three of the soldiers in front of the crowd fell to the ground with knives in their throats that the rest finally moved into action, pointing their weapons at her.

Iella let out a yelp as she was thrown to the side, Din’s arms wrapped around her tightly, spinning them around so his armoured back took the brunt of the shots that fired at them. Her chest heaved with deep breaths, finally brought out of her shocked state to realize just what she had done, realizing the danger they were now in because of her and her recklessness.

Din spun on his heel, firing his blaster at the crowd rapidly, keeping his body in front of hers to protect her from the shots that came their way. He and Cara fired at the dwindling crowd of shoulders and he noticed an occasional knife thrown over his shoulder, Iella taking down soldier after soldier from behind him.

The chaos from the fight alerted the others on the base, having heard the sounds of blaster fire and screams of pain, and soon, more soldiers were racing towards them. 

Iella looked behind her, seeing more coming their way. She reached for her weapons, a knife held in each of her hands as she ran forward. She barely heard Din yell for her as she jumped on the back of the first man coming towards her, plunging her knife into his neck.

He had barely fallen to the ground before she was moving to the next man, slicing wildly as she moved swiftly through the crowd. Soldiers fell at her hand, wounds dropping them in the neck, stomach and thighs as she passed them like an invisible assassin.

The fight was deadly and she could feel the beginnings of a red film overtaking her eyes, that numbness that came with her deadly kills washing over her as her anger took over every one of her instincts.

She mowed through the crowd easily, barely acknowledging her growing tiredness. She didn’t feel it. The only thing she felt was vengeance coursing through her veins like blood.

Iella grunted as arms suddenly wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides. 

“We’ve been waiting for you.” The man who held her crooned in her ear, making her cringe and try to squirm away from him, but to no avail. 

Din, who was still firing off rapid shots and punching and kicking any soldier who got too close, turned on his heel, checking on Iella yet again and his stomach dropped, rage overtaking him as he saw her trapped in the grip of a man twice her size.

The man moved to place his knife against her throat and before the blade could even touch her skin, Din was on him like a wild animal, forcing him away from Iella and throwing him to the floor. Din plunged his own blade into the man’s chest, not even watching the satisfied view of him sputtering on his own blood as the life drained from him.

He moved to check on Iella, but she was no longer by his side. He stood straight, his head on a swivel as he searched for her through the chaos. 

He perked up, fear growing yet again as he saw her racing forward. 

The only thing on her mind was Voros, of finally ending him. The need for revenge clouded her judgement so thoroughly, she didn’t even wait for Din or Cara to follow as backup.

“Iella!” Din screamed for her and sprinted towards her, but she didn’t stop. 

She kicked open the door at the end of the hallway, storming inside and firing off shots as she did. 

Din was only steps away from the door when it suddenly slammed shut in his face and he crashed into it, shaking the handle frantically. It didn’t open and he could feel himself beginning to lose his cool.

“El?! Iella?!” He yelled frantically from the other side of the door.

Inside the room, Iella startled at the sound of the door slamming closed and she turned, glaring at the guards who had closed and locked it behind her, who kept Din from her. 

She could hear him pounding on the door, screaming for her, the terror in his voice making her heart flip with agony. He sounded so scared and it made her want to scream. 

She’d heard that tone from him all too often and she hated it.

“Hello, Darling.”

Her body tensed and she turned slowly, her chest rising and falling with panicked breaths as her eyes met the man she hated more than anything in the galaxy.

Voros smiled widely at her, the amusement in his eyes clear, like he was delighted by her presence. 

“I knew you’d come back to me.” 

~~

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[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Home Bound (Part 2)

Summary: With some help from Samson, Dean makes it back to the bunker and starts to process everything that’s happened...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,700ish

Warnings: language, angst, injury, mention of character death, mourning, supernatural events

A/N: Written entirely in Dean’s POV. Enjoy!

______

“Morning,” said Sam as I groggily sat up. He was cooking in the kitchen, humming a happy tune to himself.

“God, it’s barely seven in the morning,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“I’ve already been up for an hour,” he said. “Eggs?”

“If you’re offering,” I said, stumbling over to his bathroom. I changed back into my clothes, yawning as I sat down at the table. He put down a cup of coffee and plate of scrambled eggs along with some hot sauce. 

“You got any money to get by?” he asked, standing at his counter eating.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, wolfing down my food. 

“Here,” he said, pushing an envelope towards me. I leaned over and grabbed it, opening it up to find a wad of money. “It’s about five hundred. S’all I got laying around the house. That enough to get you home?”

“Samson I can’t accept this,” I said, putting the envelope back.

“I wasn’t really asking,” he said, setting it down on the table next to me. “I’d let you take my car but I need it for work.”

“Sam, it doesn’t look like you got much. I’m not taking your life savings,” I said.

“I have a bank account, jackass. It’s not my savings. Don’t worry about it. Go home, take care of what needs to be done and yourself. You’re getting closer to popping. Pay it forward some day,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, drinking down the last of my coffee. I tucked the envelope in my pocket and he set his mug down.

“I’ll drive you to the bus station,” he said. I put on my boots by the front door as he rummaged around in a closet. He pulled out a black winter coat and held it out to me. “For if you decide you need a walk again.”

“Write down your address,” I said, handing him back the envelope.

“Alright. I don’t want any money or the jacket back. Send me a Christmas card or something,” he said. He returned it after a moment and grabbed his keys as I slipped into the coat. “Better?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks man.”

“S’no problem. Let’s get you home.”

36 Hours Later

My hands were shoved in the fleece lined pockets as I walked up the dirt road to the bunker. The ice storm in Colorado had followed me all the way back to Kansas but the hooded winter coat made all the difference in the world. I couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and curl up in bed with one of Y/N’s blankets. 

What happened after...I wasn’t going to be able to put off later for much longer. Now that I was home though, I could let go and get my head on straight in the morning to figure out what had happened.

With a deep breath I stepped down to the door and opened it up. The heat had been left on and the hallway was cozy. I stepped through to the other door inside and found the lights were on too, exactly as they were when we’d all headed out. Just in case, Y/N said. She didn’t want to come home to a dark house.

I headed down the stairs and cut into the library, the space feeling far too big for just me.

“I miss you,” I said. I pinched my nose and heard a creak behind me. I spun around, eyes wide.

“Dean?” said Sam. My Sam, the one that must have died, must have, was right there, in pajamas and with a bowl of chips in his hand.

“I die and now you eat the crap, Sammy?” I said. He set the bowl down and rushed over, giving me a hug. “I’m getting you all wet.”

“Don’t care,” he said. He squeezed me hard and I let out a tiny gasp, Sam giving me some room after that. He looked confused though and shook his head. “How…”

“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” I said.

“I didn’t die. You pushed me out of the way,” he said.

“I don’t remember that,” I said. “You were right there. Since I woke up I assumed…”

Sam was smiling at me still but the hunter in him finally kicked in. I nodded to the cabinet where everything he’d need to test me was. Three minutes later he was hugging me too hard again.

“Relax, Sammy. Gonna pop my shoulder back out,” I said. He immediately released me and I cradled my arm. “I fixed it already.”

“Still. You should wear the sling Y/N bought,” he said. We wandered over to the infirmary and he dug around in a drawer until he pulled it out.

“Is she…” I said, taking off my jackets and slipping it on over my head. Sam shook his head and I sighed. “You don’t know that for sure. Up until five minutes ago you thought I was dead too.”

“True but, you know,” he said. I nodded, staring at the floor. “Cas is alright. Billie got him back from the empty. He’s up in heaven trying to help keep that going. They’re trying out this new method or something.”

“Not your memories?” I asked, heading for the kitchen.

“No. I mean kinda. More like, collective afterlife? It uses a lot less power I guess,” said Sam. “They’re doing small test groups right now he said. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“How’s he alive again?” I asked.

“Billie brought him back,” he said as we walked over to the kitchen.

“How’s Jack?”

“He’s doing okay. He got pretty hurt during the fight. I took care of him for a few weeks before he headed out. New God and all. He’s still learning.”

“He bring me back?” I asked.

“He doesn’t know how to do that yet. He says he feels like he will be able to someday, like it’s in his bones but he doesn’t know quite right now how to pull it off,” said Sam.

“So how am I back?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said. I took a seat at the table, catching Y/N’s mug sat at the end in her usual spot. “We gave you guys a hunter’s funeral. There’s a little marker up in the woods a ways, in that clearing you two used to go have dates in.”

“There’s no body then.”

“No. Where’d you wake up?” he asked, taking two beers out of the fridge.

“Middle of nowhere Colorado,” I said. “Any idea why?”

“No, not really. Any place we ever hunt?”

“No. I met a guy. Samson, apparently dad and I saved his folks back in the day while you were at school. But they didn’t live there. I never...I never met the guy,” I said. “He knew who I was but he’d never met me.”

“You think he was lying?”

“He was nice to me when I was an ass. I don’t think he was playing at anything. How would he know what I looked like though?”

“It’s possible I suppose that he reached out to other hunters and learned more about you? I mean the girls got pictures of us. Maybe Eileen?”

“Maybe,” I said, shaking my head. “Shit, Sam. How’s-”

“She’s good,” said Sam with a small smile. “She’s over in Lawrence at the moment actually. She’s looking at houses for us.”

“You guys deserve to finally be together,” I said. “She’s good for you.”

“I know.”

“Gonna stop hunting?”

“I don’t really need to anymore. We kind of turned them all human,” said Sam. I cocked my head and he shrugged. “The hail mary? It worked. No more monsters.”

“That’s great,” I said, forcing a smile. Great. I couldn’t even bury myself in hunting to feel slightly less crappy. I was worthless.

“I’m heading out to meet Eileen in a few days. Come with me.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna intrude or-”

“You can have some space but you’re not staying here alone,” he said.

“Y/N’s dead. I have no job now. I’m not gonna be the brooding mope sitting at the end of your couch when you finally get to be with your girl.”

“Dean,” said Sam as I stood up.

“I really want to shower and sleep, Sammy. I’m cold and exhausted. Please,” I said.

“You’re gonna come with,” he said. I clenched my fist and glared over my shoulder. “Y/N wrote you a letter for if she didn’t make it back. It’s in your room. When I thought you both...I read it in case she wanted something to be done after she was gone. You know the only thing she said? You need to go live your life. She loves you and wants you to be happy.”

“Easy for her to say. She’s not here,” I said.

“Dean. I know this is raw for you and I’ve had four months to deal you didn’t. Don’t disrespect what she wanted.”

“Oh fuck you,” I said. I stormed out, pausing around the corner. I heard him behind me and slumped my shoulders down. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” he said.

“She was supposed to live, not me,” I said. “Cause she’s stronger than I am and I can’t deal with her not being in that bedroom when I go down this hall.”

“Dean. Grieve. Please. For the first time in your life, grieve properly. When you’re ready, you and me will go out to Lawrence. I’m gonna call Eileen and make sure she finds a place where you got a big room and your own bathroom and garage and all that. Until then, I’m gonna stay here. Ignore me, yell at me, whatever. I’m staying. Alright?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I want a pool too.”

“Dean.”

“Hot tub.”

“We’ll put one in.”

“Fine,” I said. He ruffled my hair and I headed down to the bathroom. I slipped out of my clothes, pulling out the envelope with a few hundred dollars left. “Sammy.”

“What?” he called back.

“Figure out who this guy was,” I said, holding the envelope out the door. “That’s his name and address.”

“Whiltiston,” said Sam, making a face. “You sure this is his name?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You wouldn’t know. About two months back, the Whiltiston family was in the news. National news. They’d been reunited with their daughter who was kidnapped as an infant. She was safe. The people who took her pretended to be her parents. They were real sickos. I’d hunt ‘em down if they weren’t already dead,” said Sam.

“So this guy’s her brother?” I asked.

“Yeah, there was a brother Sam I remember mentioned at the press conference. They didn’t show anyone but the dad but they were all really happy to be back together,” he said.

“Still doesn’t explain how he knows what I look like.”

“They said the girl has a sketchy memory of certain things. I mean they were bad people, Dean. It’s possible we worked her case and didn’t know?” he said.

“See if you can dig up a phone number for me too,” I said.

“Yeah. I’ll see if...you know, we’ve been in the national news before too. It’s entirely possible that one of his parents saw us on the news and told him that was you.”

“Oh. That’s...a lot more likely,” I said, frowning to myself. “Forget about it. Could you just slip in some extra cash in there for me? I’ll send it back along with the coat. The guy didn’t have much.”

“No problem. I’ll get you the phone number too. I know you’ll drive yourself nuts if you don’t know for sure.”

“Sam,” I said as he started to leave. “I’m really happy you’re not dead.”

“Me too. Take your shower. I’ll put out some pajamas for you.”

I nodded and shut the door, resting my head against the back of it. After a moment I went to the shower and turned the water on, forgetting about the prickly heat until my skin turned a slight pink and started to warm up. Somehow I got through with washing myself before I saw Y/N’s shampoo staring back at me in the cubby. I swallowed and picked it up, flipping open the cap and taking a deep inhale.

It took awhile and one concerned knock at the door to realize at some point I’d sat down with my knees in my chest, Y/N’s shampoo sat on the ground beside me.

“Dean? You okay? You’ve been in there for an hour,” said Sam. I buried my head down and heard the door creek open. “Dean? Answer me or I’m coming in.”

“I’m fine,” I said, voice raw and cracking with every syllable. Sam didn’t open the door anymore but he was still there.

“Turn off the water,” he said. I reached up and hit it off, wiping the back of my hand across my nose. “You have one minute to dry off and put on a towel.”

The door shut and I forced myself to get up. I patted myself off and got a towel around my waist, trying to wash my face off before Sam saw me.

“I’m coming in,” said Sam. One look at him said more than enough and I looked away. “I told you to grieve.”

“Her freaking shampoo bottle,” I said. Sam looked over to the shower and saw it on the ground, running his hand through his hair. “Why can’t I shove it down like every other time?”

“You know why. There’s no chance of you getting her back and she wouldn’t want you to do something stupid. You loved her. You’re always gonna love her. Dean, I’ve been there with Jessica. It’s gonna fuck you up real good for a while. I thought I’d never be happy again, not like that, and then I found Eileen. It feels like the end of your life but it’s not,” he said. “It’s not going away if you shove it down so just feel it.”

“Yeah,” I said. I brushed past him and went to my room, shutting the door to change. I left it closed and sat on the edge of the bed, catching his shadow under the door. It moved away after a minute and I let out a sigh. The room smelled musty which I appreciated. It was something different to focus on. 

I rolled over to Y/N’s side of the bed and saw the letter Sam had mentioned on her nightstand. I ripped it off and found it wasn’t as long as I’d expected. She probably did it last minute.

De, I love you. I’m always going to love you. I need you to try to keep loving and not shut the world out. Find some happiness again or I’m gonna haunt you like I’m your own personal Casper. Okay? You’ll get there someday. My big green flannel is in the closet if you need it. Be safe (I’ll keep an eye out for you though, promise).

My head glanced up and over to the closet, staring before I stood and opened it. At the end was her big oversized green flannel. She’d stolen so many of my clothes over the years she’d decided to get something of hers I could take for myself.

I pulled it off the hook and brought it back to bed, tugging it on before I lay back on the mattress.

It too was a little musty but there was the faint scent of her shampoo again filling the air. 

“Fuck, I miss you,” I said. I shut my eyes and turned off the light, hoping exhaustion would put me to sleep quickly.

_______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[wonda-cat]

You mentioned rewriting that one analysis post on Tommy’s revival stream and I’d really look forward to it! I never got to read the full og post and that’s the only place I saw these takes. Especially the one about the afterlife being too depressing. It’s not even just about Tommy, the implication that even if every character is safe and happy by the end, this is their inevitable fate is messed up. It’s not “a neat subversion” it’s just depressing and doesn’t add anything.

Hey, anon!

I sorta decided to not rewrite it? I feel a bit differently about the essay in the end, although I still believe in most of my points. I’m also just not nearly as passionate about it as I was when I wrote it (I finished it in a single sitting, which was... interesting.) However, yes, the afterlife stuff still bothers me just the same, as well as the odd changes to Wilbur’s characterization... post mortem.

But—just for you, anon—here’s the entire meta-analysis essay anyway, with some minor edits to the stuff I don’t agree with anymore!

My Many Narrative Issues with Tommyinnit’s Revival Stream

I want to preface this by saying that I dearly love the Dream SMP and understand it isn’t exactly comparable to other mediums like TV and film. With this being the case, most criticism against it is generally in bad faith or strange in foundation. Complaining about streamers for bad acting is the best example that comes to mind. 

These aren’t professional actors. Most have never acted in this sort of setting, or even at all. Quite a few have admitted to never roleplaying before. Which is why it’s warranted to praise Tommy, Dream, Wilbur, Ranboo, and others when they deliver stellar performances. The same applies to criticism of music choice, dialogue delivery, focus, tone, etc. 

However, one such category I cannot overlook is in regards to its writing. The writing of a story is its entire foundation. It encompasses many things—conflict choice, character development, themes, and morals. The author creates the blueprints for the architect, who then expresses the story with light, sound, color, pacing, and music. It is in its execution that we see if this connection is made or broken. 

The reason I find poor writing mostly inexcusable is because it is one of the most available skills to practice and perfect. I don’t mean to say that it’s easy, I mean to say it is something anyone can attempt to cultivate. Whether they do it well or not depends on their methods and experience. If anyone can self-publish a novel and be criticized online for its quality—and even compared to the works of Mark Twain—then I find critiquing the writing of the Dream SMP to be perfectly reasonable. 

However, since the Dream SMP script is a set of loose bullet points, tearing apart dialogue and scene continuity—which is nearly all improv—is rather useless. It doesn’t exactly have a clear focus as the plot plays out. The characters talk in circles until they hit the story beat required, and then they move onto the next. Thus, when criticizing it, one should generally critique grand events and narrative-specific shifts, more so than small-scale character interactions. 

Which brings me to my main point: The broad narrative choices taken in Tommyinnit’s most recent livestream, ‘Am I dead?’ may lead to disastrous writing pitfalls in the future. 

I’ll be outlining each of my issues below, in hopes of creating a better understanding as to why I feel this way. 

This might become quite lengthy, so please bear with me for a bit.

Tommy’s relationship to Wilbur has flipped. This change is jarring and seems out of character.

Tommy and Wilbur’s friendship is rather complicated. While Wilbur does care for Tommy immensely, especially during the L’Manburg Revolution and the Election Arc, his mental spiral during exile put a massive strain on their relationship as a whole. Wilbur brushed off Tommy’s feelings and wants, while clinging to him and pushing everyone else away. He was simultaneously distant and suffocating. 

Tommy, on the other hand, has an unclear view of his mentor. Since the beginning, and even long after Wilbur’s death, Tommy held him in especially high regard. He saw him as a brother-figure and a wise leader. He followed what he said and did everything he could to impress him. Yet, Wilbur still hurt him while the two were together in exile. 

When speaking of him, Tommy tends to flip infrequently between remembering Wilbur the way he was before his mental decline and thinking of him as a monster. Both of these images conflict with each other, but they weren’t nearly as extreme as what Tommy described Wilbur as when he was revived from death. The fear Tommy displays to Wilbur is beyond intense—it feels as if the audience may have missed a month’s worth of character development. 

This can make sense, especially since it was stated that he’d spent what felt like two months in the void. However, this shift is still deeply at odds with Tommy’s previous impressions of Wilbur, which is both disheartening and confusing. The fact that Tommy would agree to stay with Dream—his abuser and murderer—over his past mentor is simply head-reeling. It paints a very different picture of Wilbur’s character, somewhat conforming to the fandom’s ableist impression of him—the idea that Wilbur is insane and irredeemable, and always will be. 

It also ignores Dream being the driving factor in Wilbur’s downfall, as well as the double-bind deal with Dream which required him to push the button, no matter the outcome. Others have pointed out that Tommy may be lying to get Dream to bring Wilbur back, and there’s compelling evidence for that. For one, Tommy and Wilbur’s conversation seemed uncomfortable, but it was certainly nothing like Tommy implied. (Unless this fear comes from something Wilbur said off-screen.) 

Tommy also begged Dream to not bring him back multiple times over, which he should know would make Dream even more tempted to, simply because he likes seeing Tommy in pain. Tommy is also a known unreliable narrator. He may be making Wilbur out to be worse than he is by accident (even still, I’d argue this is a bit of a stretch.) 

However, there are some issues with this theory. Tommy offered himself as payment to Dream if he chose to let Wilbur rest. This is a deal Tommy knows Dream is extremely unlikely to refuse. Tommy is what Dream has coveted all this time. If Tommy genuinely wanted Wilbur back, he would not offer this. This sort of compromise is Tommy’s greatest nightmare—something he would only do in response to his friends being threatened or his home being destroyed. 

To add, Tommy is not great at lying. Unless he was taught by Wilbur for those two months* in the afterlife, there’s no chance Tommy would be this good at it. Thirdly, Tommy is terrible under pressure. He uses humor to cope. When he can’t, he cries and shouts and spills his heart out. While cornered, Tommy will tell the truth about anything, especially if Dream casually debates killing him again, just for fun. 

For now, it’s too early to tell how the relationship shift will play out. In the grand scheme of things, this issue is rather minor.

Season three’s writing is needlessly bleak. The portrayal of the afterlife is a nightmare. There is no rest, not even in death.

I adore the Dream SMP storyline in its entirety. I believe the first season is fantastic, and while the second season has some narrative clarity issues, I enjoyed it just as much. Although, I would argue season one had a more concrete understanding of its Hope-Conflict balance. 

To briefly explain, the Hope in stories are its ‘highs’ and good moments. These appear when a character the audience is rooting for is narratively rewarded. They happen during character building in the text—it’s the downtime and peace that allows for connection and relatability. It’s a moment for the viewer to breathe easy. 

The other half is Conflict, an obstacle in the story that gets in the way of the main characters’ goals, beliefs, and motives. These are the ‘lows.’ They give the narrative focus and weight. They make the highs feel even higher. They establish consequences and force the characters in the story to change in order to adapt and overcome them. 

I bring up the Hope-Conflict balance because a traditional hero’s journey would have an appropriate amount of both. Their highs and lows are generally equalized, as the name suggests. However, this balance has been awkwardly skewed in the latter half of season two and in the current plot of season three. To clarify, it is perfectly reasonable, and even common, for some stories to tip the scale more to one side. 

But a common mistake for amateur writers is to create their stories as either hopelessly dark to cause the audience continuous distress for the sake of distress, or to keep everything entirely conflict-free for most of the plot. What do these both have in common? They each make the story boring and predictable. 

Season three has taken this concept and thrown a monstrously heavy weight onto the Conflict side and flipped the scale so hard it has crashed through the ceiling. The viewers are hardly given time to find any joy in Tommy’s character, as he’s thrown into yet another abusive situation, just barely after his first narrative reward. The world is painted as relentlessly violent and traumatic. 

Every person Tommy meets is morally grey, unhinged, or out to hurt him. Everything most of the characters love is taken from them by those in positions of power. Ranboo cannot even grieve properly because it scars his face. Puffy, Sam, Ranboo, and Tubbo all blame themselves for what happened to Tommy. 

The audience watches lore stream after lore stream with the same depressing tone (with the exception of Tubbo’s, but I assume that’s unintentional.) Tommy is revived after being brutally beaten to death by his abuser, surrounded by all of his greatest fears. The afterlife is revealed to be akin to inescapable torture. It’s a colorless void that wraps the individual like fabric. 

Time moves thirty times slower within. There’s nothing—nothing but the voices of others who’ve passed on before him. Dying in a world already devoid of happiness takes the characters to a place worse than hell. When a narrative delivers unfair suffering to the entire cast without a moment of joy to speak of, the story will feel simultaneously overwhelming and pointless. 

Why watch characters suffer when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel? What happiness could they strive for when we know they’ll never get to keep it? How can I be satisfied with a good ending, if I know that an afterlife too terrible to name is what awaits them, truly, at the end of their story? Death isn’t even a white void that offers rest—it is eternal torment. 

Obviously, it isn’t a good message to send by making the afterlife seem like a quiet, perfect place or an escape from pain. But making it an unspeakable anguish which awaits, assumedly, every character who will die in the future? I deeply hope Tommy was only being an extremely unreliable narrator. 

More likely, I hope the place Tommy was taken to was a Limbo of sorts, not an end-all-be-all destination for everyone.

The degree of Tommy’s narrative punishment continues to escalate, to an almost absurd degree.

Tommy is one of the most tragic characters to exist in the storyline. He was sent into war at a young age and experienced two traumatic events during it. He was exiled by the newly elected leader and witnessed his mentor Wilbur spiral and break down with paranoia. Tubbo is executed publicly in front of him. When expressing rightful anger at the person who murdered him, he’s beaten nearly to death and never receives an apology. 

Schlatt dies right in front of Tommy, after his initial refusal to hurt the ex-president. His brother-figure and mentor is killed in assisted suicide on the same day his nation is blown up. His best friend exiles him from his home for the second time. He routinely self-sacrifices to protect his country and those who live there. His most treasured possessions were taken from him and he was called selfish for trying to retrieve them (although his methods were self-destructive and volatile.) 

He was pushed to the brink of suicide after being relentlessly abused and isolated in his exile. He was horrified when he thought he was responsible for drowning Fundy. After making an objectively good decision to stand by his old friends and change for the better, his country was obliterated by the man he once idolized, his father-figure, and his abuser. 

He was left scattered and without purpose for many days. Then he fights against Dream and loses, while also reliving his trauma. He watches Tubbo almost die at the hands of someone he once thought was his friend. He doesn’t tell a single person about what happened to him in exile. The day he tries to sever his connection to Dream and heal, he’s trapped with him for a week, surrounded by everything that terrifies him. 

He threatens to kill himself, speaking about his own life as if it were an object—something to hold over Dream’s head. He blames himself for everything bad that’s ever happened to L’Manburg and his friends—internalizing a mentality as a scapegoat for everyone around him. He is forced into the role of ‘hero’ despite the title being unfair and distressing to him.

As if that weren’t enough, he’s then beaten to death by his abuser and spends what feels like two months in an afterlife that is worse than hell. When he returns, his senses are excessively heightened. Dream can cause him excruciating pain, just by pinching him. He can send Tommy into an instant panic attack, just by raising his voice. 

The punishment Tommy’s character receives is a thousand times worse than everyone he has ever met, or ever will meet. And it shows no signs of stopping, as Dream now has control over Tommy’s very mortality. Tommy now fears the slightest damage and feels as if he’s losing his best friend all over again. He is also forced into a position where he has to kill Dream out of necessity, to protect everyone he cares about.

Characters need fitting punishments in relation to their actions. Not always, but in order to be satisfying? Yes, they do. It is preferred that a main character deal with unfair situations and difficult conflicts, but this is borderline torture p*rn. Putting Tommy in these distressing and abusive situations on repeat and punishing him for doing objectively moral or healthy things is exhausting to watch. 

To quickly add, I find the general insinuation of Tommy going to hell distasteful, especially considering the contents of his storyline. I know this may be hard to believe, but Tommy is one of the most moral characters in the plot, besides Puffy and Ghostbur. He’s also the only character, followed by Ranboo, to recognize that they can be wrong and make mistakes. He changed himself in order to heal and be a better person. He was in the process of paying people back for the things he’d stolen. 

He’s learned to be hard-working and less violent through the guidance of Sam. He has apologized to everyone he’s ever hurt (with the exception of Jack Manifold, because that man is allergic to communication.) He puts himself in harm's way to protect others. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt anyone. He goes out of his way to make connections with people and maintain them, even if others don’t reciprocate. 

He’s hopelessly optimistic, despite his outwardly bitter façade. He loved so much and put meaning into the smallest things. The thought that a person like him—a suicide and abuse survivor—would go to hell after being beaten to death by the man who took everything from him; it makes me sick to my stomach. 

The only thing more morbid than Tommy’s afterlife being different than everyone else’s, is the concept that everyone will end up in this same eternal torture, no matter what they do. Take your pick: Tommy is sentenced to anguish until the end of time for no reason, or everyone will receive the same disturbing ending, regardless of their actions.

The narrative weight of Ranboo’s character is potentially out the window.

For the past few months, I’ve watched all of Ranboo’s lore streams faithfully, curious to see what role he would play in the future. His ‘hallucinations’ of Dream seemed to be sowing the seeds for a plot that has Ranboo taking the fall for every single insidious thing Dream has done. It would also be a tragic parallel to Tommy’s trial. 

Ranboo being convinced he was the one who blew up the community house, when Dream himself admitted to doing it, was one of the bigger indicators for me. This is just one of many other unexplained occurrences. Dream seemed to be making an effort to trigger and control Ranboo, especially after Sapnap’s prison visit. It appeared, from the way he went about this, that Dream had some grand use for Ranboo as part of his plan to be freed from Pandora’s Vault. 

However, after Tommy’s stream, the way Dream explains himself makes it seem like there was no plan besides seeing if the book worked on people. And if he didn’t after all, then what was Ranboo for? Was Ranboo unimportant? Was Ranboo just some weirdo who happened to phase out when seeing smiley faces and imagined conversations that may or may not have happened? 

I bring this up more as a worry, and much less so as an active problem in the narrative. They haven’t actually thrown Ranboo to the way-side or written themselves into a corner yet. In future streams, this could very easily be explained away or developed as more information is revealed. 

Only time will tell.

The potential for Wilbur’s future development and importance to the plot is unfeasible.

I feel as if I am the only person on earth who doesn’t want Wilbur Soot or Schlatt revived. There are many reasons for this, but one of them is not a dislike for these characters. I especially adore Wilbur, as he’s one of my all-time favorites. I don’t want either of them resurrected because their stories have already been told. They each had a fitting conclusion that ended their involvement perfectly. 

Bringing Wilbur back would especially cheapen the impact of the War of the 16th. It’s the end of a man who was brought to the absolute edge and out of desperation, shame, and self-hatred, he destroyed himself alongside his creation. Bringing him back would leave the climax of the previous story hollow. My biggest issue, however, is that a lack of story importance would likely follow his return. 

The only real impact I’d like to see is through a healing arc with Tommy, an apology to Fundy, or a confrontation with Phil/Niki. But that’s really all the potential I can realistically see. While I don’t doubt Wilbur as an agent of chaos, able to create plot out of thin air; what is he going to do now? His country is gone, his friends and family are scattered about, and his mission from the 16th is already accomplished. 

What is a well-educated, charismatic politician supposed to do in a world already broken and without nations? Read poetry to himself and cry evilly? However, this is working off the assumption that Wilbur would be returning as his old self. 

If Wilbur is resurrected as a ‘villain’ of sorts, then what? He’s not good at fighting in the slightest. He would have no materials. There are no real allies he can make, other than the arctic group. On top of that, there are already more than enough villains to last a lifetime. 

We don’t need any more, I promise. Quackity seems to already be shaping up as another antagonist, alongside Sam’s slip into darker and darker shades of moral ambiguity. We also have Philza and Techno, which are already overkill. But then we have Dream who, despite being in a prison, has the ability of selective revival. This is mercilessly overpowered, especially if he makes many allies. The dude could just bring his dead friends back so they can keep fighting forever. 

Then there’s Jack Manifold and the Crimson followers; Antfrost, Bad, and Punz. That’s not even including characters who are refusing to get involved. How are Tommy, Tubbo, and Puffy expected to do literally anything to fight back?

Dream’s experiment on Tommy implies he had no backup plan to begin with. This makes his character seem both short-sighted and foolish.

When Tommy woke up after being brought back to life, Dream sounded surprised that the revival worked at all. This instantly shatters the perception that Dream was highly intelligent and thought ahead. With just a few lines of dialogue, it’s implied that Dream killed Tommy, unsure of if the resurrection would even be possible on humans. 

Which, to risk something that important, seems unbelievably stupid. Dream needs Tommy, from his perspective. Tommy is his ‘toy,’ the one who makes everything fun. If he lost him and couldn’t get him back, what then? Oh well, everything Dream was doing was all for nothing, I guess. 

Why not attempt this experiment on literally anyone else first? Like Sapnap or Bad or, hell, even Ranboo. I suppose it could be that, as soon as Dream got the book, he experimented with it after the 16th. This appears to be insinuated with Friend and Hendry’s revival, although this is uncertain. But even then, he was still unsure of the book’s effect on a human being.

Also, this means, hypothetically, Dream’s entire plan of escape hinged on the experiment working, to begin with, and also on bringing back Wilbur if it somehow did. I find this even more ridiculous. Why Wilbur? That man couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, let alone get through the traps in Pandora’s Vault. Even if he is intelligent after years* in the afterlife, that’s also a strange assumption. 

How do people learn things in the void? Where do they even get this knowledge? I’d honestly argue Techno is a far more competent choice than Wilbur. And even if Dream did bring him back and tell him he owed him his life, what’s to stop Wilbur from just killing him permanently? Or killing himself, continuously? 

No way would Wilbur want to be controlled by anyone, ever. The dude would sooner fuck off into the mountains and become a nomad than help a neon green bodysuit cosplay as Light Yagami.

Dream’s discussion about Sam implies that he wasn't playing any part in Dream’s plan, making Sam appear entirely incompetent and neglectful of Tommy.

Dream talked about Sam in a way that seems detached and unaffiliated. He also mentioned him being broken up about Tommy’s fate and not being aware he’s still alive. Dream not being partnered with, or not using Sam in his plan leaves many plot holes. I’ll go through each one. The initial incident was an explosion, coming from the roof of Pandora’s Vault. This did not affect the Redstone mechanism for the doors or dispensers. 

Meaning, Sam could’ve had Tommy leave the way that was expected for visitors after he investigated and found no issues. This likely couldn’t have been done in less than a day, but it would be better than an entire week. If Tommy was required to stay for longer, due to protocol, he could’ve gotten Tommy out and then placed him in one of the minor cells for the remainder of the time. 

Also, no one else lost a canon life for leaving via the splash potion of harming and returning outside the maximum-security cell; why would Tommy? To add, Sam being uninvolved means that the explosion could have only been caused by Ranboo or Foolish. That, or it was placed long before and timed for the moment Tommy entered the main cell. (I’m going to ignore how ludicrous it is that someone would know the exact time Tommy would’ve entered the room with Dream.) 

If Ranboo was the person behind the detonation, this implies he was necessary for Dream to kill Tommy to test the book. But that makes it even stranger. If this was Dream’s goal all along, why not kill Tommy the instant he was trapped with him? It makes no sense for him to wait so long. 

Sam is also directly at fault for not letting Tommy out, even after the week was up. There was no reason not to. He already knew there were no issues with the prison at that point. Although, to be fair to Sam, his character may have been paranoid and checking everything more than necessary, just in case. But this still isn’t a good excuse for him ignoring protocol in this one instance, and yet, not in any of the others. 

All of these plot holes or inconsistencies would be removed if it was revealed that Dream was blackmailing Sam in some way, or Sam had been working with him since the get-go. That Sam was the person who set off the explosion in the first place to trap Tommy inside. It would also explain Sam’s refusal to let Tommy out and by keeping him in there for longer than necessary. 

This can also coexist with Sam’s attachment and care for Tommy. He probably wasn’t told about Dream’s plan to test the book and genuinely believed Dream wouldn’t hurt him. On top of that, Dream is known to be a pathological liar, so his statements about Ranboo and Sam could be entire fabrications. 

Who knows?

The Book of Revival invalidates death entirely. The narrative now lacks both tension and consequence.

Another way the Dream SMP differs from other storytelling media is in the way it goes about its character deaths. In a TV show, for example, there will be characters who die just because, or when it’s important to the plot. However, it seems as if the Dream SMP is hesitant to commit to killing its characters. And there are many reasons for that. 

The most important one being, killing someone’s character excludes them from the story and some of their livelihoods depend on them regularly streaming on the server. There is also the issue of the cast becoming extremely sparse if characters keep dying. Typically, in stories, when you kill a character, you should introduce another. 

This keeps the cast from dwindling as the storyline goes on. This means the writers would have to find new streamers to join, who will develop their own characters and relationships with the plot’s continued momentum. This can be stressful and daunting to those who may be newly added in the future. 

Keeping this in mind, the Book of Revival is annoying from a writer’s perspective. When death is no longer an issue for a story hinged on its characters’ mortality, then what do you have as a consequence anymore? We’ve explored every kind under the sun; from abuse, to betrayal, to loss, to destruction. 

In stories, traditionally, death is a finality. It’s a conclusion. Whether it’s good or not depends on the character’s actions, its build-up, and the event’s execution. Without this lingering sense of danger, tension evaporates from the story. 

Why should I care if Tommy loses in a fight to someone, if he’ll just come back a day later? Why should I care about what happened to Wilbur, if he just returns as if nothing happened? The answer is simple: I won’t. I will no longer care if Tubbo or Ranboo or Sam die in the story, because the idea of revival even being a possible outcome leaves me unenthused and uncaring. 

The Dream SMP likes to flirt with death. It teases the demise of its main characters many, many times. More so Tommy’s than anyone else’s. Wilbur’s failed resurrection, which had unforeseen and unfortunate outcomes, is now strange in comparison to Tommy’s, which happened without a hitch. 

To be fair, we actually don’t see how many attempts it took. But here’s the problem; Dream could do it without the book being physically present. He’s trapped in a prison with nothing on him, meaning he doesn’t need any materials either. It’s also implied he could do this as many times as he feels, for anyone he wants. This would be exceedingly overpowered, if not for one thing—Dream himself is mortal (at least, I fucking hope he’s mortal.) 

If someone kills him one last time, that knowledge is gone forever. And I’m glad they’ve established at least some way for Tommy to win. Because at this point, I was losing faith. 

There is also the bare minimum establishment that Dream can refuse to bring back those he doesn’t care for. He can also use it as a shield, holding this power over other people. If Dream is gone, death is permanent. But isn’t that how death is supposed to be, anyway? 

What a bleak premise—the afterlife is pure eternal torture while life is cheapened by a lack of consequences.

Conclusion

All this to say, I am cautiously optimistic for the future. I hope dearly that every single one of these can be disproven or developed in the coming livestreams. Obviously, there’s not enough information to really determine what the end result will be, or how everything will fall into place. 

Every time I have theorized about the story, it has done something completely different and pleasantly surprised me. I want this trend to continue. 

Surprise me again—I’ll be here to see where it goes.