#make me want to roll off the top bunk bed and into the abyss. also yes

[caimitos]

its been a week i still cant believe i already finished reading the spear cuts through water im mentally clawing at the gates of the inverted theater begging let me back in please please please

[yeet-me-dad-dy]

Bring Me the Horizon

Summary: You break Yancy out of prison for the night and take him into the city.

Characters: Yancy x Reader

Words: 4,591

Warnings: Swearing, kissing

Masterlist

You didn’t come for visitation on Sunday.

You didn’t come the last third Sunday either. Or the Sunday before that. Or the Sunday before that. Or-

Yancy was disappointed, of course, but he wasn’t surprised.

No.

He wasn’t surprised.

It was late, a couple of hours past lights out, and Yancy was laying on his back on the top bunk staring blankly at the ceiling. He had cried. He had cried the first month, and the month after that, and the month after that, too, but now he had no more tears left. He had no more disappointment, no more sorrow, no more self-loathing… There was nothing.

He felt nothing.

So he stared.

He stared at the ceiling, eyes burning from lack of blinking, his mind as blank as the concrete above his head. He sucked in a deep breath, not realizing that he hadn’t been breathing, and closed his eyes tight to allow them to rest for a moment. It was then, through the sounds of his snoring neighbors and them shuffling in their beds, that he heard a clink - the sound of something metallic on concrete.

He sat up in his bunk, brow furrowed, and looked around his cell. It was dark, so there wasn’t much to see, but Yancy knew something had happened. The sound was close. Whatever it was, it was in here with him. 

Cautiously, he peered over the edge of the bunk and scanned the tiny room. His eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, so when he didn’t see anything obviously threatening, he swung his legs over and jumped down. He flicked on the lamp on the small, round table in the corner. The gleam of metal near his cell door caught his eye, and he approached it curiously, kneeling down to get a closer look.

It was a key.

He picked it up and returned to his table, using the light from the lamp to see better. He turned the key over in his hand, studying it.

It looked old - antique. It was made of a plain, grey metal, and the key itself wasn’t fancy or ornate. It only had two teeth that connected in a U shape, and the top was a half circle with connecting bars, almost like spokes on a bike wheel.

Attached to the key via some string was a small, faded tag. Yancy flipped the tag over to see writing on the other side.

Meet me at the gate.

“The hell…” Yancy mumbled, brows drawn together in confusion and curiosity. 

He looked to his cell door, locked tight for the night, and then back to the key. His head cocked to the side as he rose from his chair, careful not to let the metal legs screech on the floor, and strode to the door.

“There’s no way…” Yancy thought as he turned the key over and over in his fingers. “I don’t even know whos this key is from… I could be gettin’ myself into huge trouble here…”

Despite his pessimistic inner dialogue, Yancy peeked out of his cell, down the long, dark hallway. There was no one in sight, there usually wasn’t. The guards don’t patrol very well, even at night; they have no need to with how well behaved the prisoners are.

Yancy took the key in hand and wiggled his arm through the bars. It took a moment, what with being unable to see the lock from his side of the door, but he finally got the key into the lock. He took a deep breath… and turned it.

The lock opened with a click.

“Youse gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Yancy mumbled to himself, disbelieving.

Slowly, carefully, and as quiet as he possibly could, he opened the cell door just enough to allow him to squeeze his body through and peer down the hall in either direction.

Still dark.

Still quiet.

Yancy shook his head, biting his lower lip. This was stupid. He was being stupid.

Regardless, he ducked back into his cell and quickly pulled his shoes and a shirt on.

Once he was dressed and took a short moment to steel himself, he stepped out into the hall and shut his cell door behind him. He snatched the key out of the lock and held it tightly in his hand so as not to lose it as he quickly made his way down the hall to a narrow opening between the end of the cells and the showers that would lead him through the prison and out to the yard without anyone noticing him.

It was a clear night, the moon shining brightly down and lighting up the yard, stars twinkling mischievously overhead in the dark abyss that was the night sky. Yancy wrapped his arms around himself; it was a cool night, and there was a breeze that made goosebumps rise on his arms. He shivered as he stepped out into the open, looking around to make sure he was alone. He took a step toward the gate in the distance, and then another. He didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean that no one was there.

Cautiously, he came to the gate, stopping a few feet away so that he didn’t get grabbed through the bars by some unsavory character pulling a mean trick on him.

“Hello?” he called out quietly, leaning ever so slightly forward to try and see or hear someone or something past the prison wall.

When there is no answer, Yancy takes a tentative step forward and calls again. “Hello? Anyone there?”

He can hear shuffling, and then a familiar voice reaches his ears, quiet and cautious.

“Yancy? That you?”

His face splits into a grin and he rushes to the gate, wrapping his fingers around the bars, the key still clutched in one palm.

“Y/N!?” he asks excitedly.

You step out of the shadows and into the light of the moon where he can see you and he can’t help the sob that escapes his throat, nor the tears that stream down his face.

“Youse came!” he cries.

You chuckle and step up to the bars, resting your hands over his. 

“I did. And I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. Visitation didn’t seem like a good idea, what with me having just broken out and everything… I didn’t want to risk being caught, so… I decided to set up this little meeting instead.”

Yancy’s grin nearly splits his face and he chokes back another happy sob, unable to say anything.

“Hey, you got the key?” you ask.

Yancy sniffles and nods, offering you the key through the bars.

Your fingers brush his when you take it and Yancy’s heart jumps in his chest.

“Awesome. I’ve got something great planned for tonight. C’mon.”

The prisoner was only confused for a moment until you used the key to unlock the gate and swing it open, leaving him free to exit the prison.

He hesitates, hugging himself again. “Oh, uh… I dunno, Y/N. I told youse, I don’t wanna be free, remember?”

You smile and nod. “I remember. I’m not freeing you, I’m just… taking you on a little field trip. You’ll be back by morning and no one will even know you were gone. I promise.”

Still, he hesitates, taking the tiniest step forward and looking past you out into the free world. 

“I dunno…” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You dart forward and grab his wrist, pulling him through the gate and into your chest. 

“Well, I do know,” you say, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Come on.”

You don’t give him a chance to argue further as you drag him along behind you, parallel to the wall and around the side of the prison, where Yancy sees a sleek black car waiting in the barren field. He wouldn’t have seen it at all if it weren’t for the light of the moon gleaming off of the dark metal, or the snow that had just begun to fall sticking to the car’s frame.

You let Yancy go when you reached the vehicle and opened the trunk. You rummaged around for a moment before you returned to his side with a warm flannel and dark denim coat, some faded black jeans, and a pair of black boots.

“You can’t go out like that, so I brought you some stuff to change into. Put the pants on now, you can get the boots on in the car.”

Yancy took the jeans from you, but hesitated. “Youse sure about this?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged the corners of your lips up. “We don’t have time for you to be uncertain, Yance. C’mon.” You clapped him on the shoulder before you went around to the other side of the car and leaned back against the driver’s door. “Get those jeans on!” you called to him.

Yancy let out a deep sigh. “Guess I’m doin’ this…” he muttered to himself as he set the jeans on the top of the car, stripped his shoes off, and then pulled his striped prisoner’s pants down. He tried not to squeal from the sudden blast of cold air on his legs as he stepped out of the pants and traded them for the jeans. Yancy wasn’t going to ask how you knew his size…

“Alright. Done,” he called to you as he wrapped his shoes up in his old pants and strode around the back of the car to the trunk.

You appeared next to him as he set them inside and then closed the trunk after him.

“Sweet, you can get these on while I drive,” you said, handing him the black boots and then practically jogging back to the driver’s door, which you wrenched open to then duck behind the wheel.

“Come on!” you called.

Yancy shook his head and made his way back around the car, trying to ignore the dampness in his socks from the fresh snow sticking to the dirty ground. He hopped into the passenger’s seat and started on the boots, jolting when you took off at full speed, peeling out of the field and away from the prison, headed to the highway that would take you and Yancy into town. 

“So, uh… Where we’s goin’?” the prisoner asked as he pulled a boot on.

You grinned in reply. “Can’t tell you, that’ll spoil the surprise.”

“Right…”

You glanced over at him. “Oh, come on, Yance, don’t be like that. You can trust me.”

“I-” He wanted to argue. Could he trust you? How well did he even know you? He met you in prison after you’d robbed a museum, and you hadn’t mentioned your partner in crime even once. Did you even care about the fact that he had been punched through a brick wall? Yancy felt sure, deep down, that he was making a terrible mistake… but there was also a glimmer of something else… A feeling he couldn’t quite recognize, not yet, at least.

He was grateful when you turned the heat on full blast. He hadn’t put the coat on yet and the temperature was rapidly falling, the snow coming down thick and wet from a sky blanketed in dark clouds. Where had the crystal clear night gone? He wasn’t sure, but he did have to admit that there was something very pleasing about snow. He liked the sense of calm it brought with it. The sense of peace.

His nervousness returned once you drove into the city.

“So, uh… I know youse said it was a surprise, but can you at least give me a hint? Where we goin’?”

You smirked. “Somewhere quiet,” you replied. “There won’t be any other people, and it’s outside.”

“Oh. Okay…”

That didn’t help calm his nerves. You were taking him far away from the prison, far away from his family and anyone who cared about him, far away from anyone who would miss him. He chuckled nervously.

“Somewhere outside with no people… What, youse plannin’ on murderin’ me, Y/N?”

You laughed and shook your head. “No! I’m not gonna murder you! It’s nothing bad, I promise. You’ll love it, I hope. I always do.”

“Oh, so youse done this before?” 

“Once or twice, but never with anyone else. I always go alone.”

Yancy raised an eyebrow. “If youse like to go alone, then why youse takin’ me?”

Your grin dropped into a soft smile and he could see a glimmer of what he thought was sadness behind your eyes.

You shrugged. “It’s not that I like to go alone…” you said. “It’s just that I’ve never had anyone to do this with before.”

His heart twisted at that, in either sympathy for you or happiness for himself, knowing that he was the only person you’d ever done this with before. 

The drive was finished in comfortable silence, with only the radio playing softly to fill the space between you two. You’d reached a section of the city that was always very barren this time of night. It was a long street of various locally owned stores that all closed around 6pm. At the end of the street, however, was a large, flat plot of land surrounded by tall chain-link fencing. Tall structures reached up into the sky with smaller ones between them.

“The hell…” Yancy whispered, mostly to himself, as he gazed out the windshield.

You simply smiled in response as you drove closer and your headlights lit up a wide wooden archway with a banner hanging horizontally across the top.

Yancy shook his head and smiled as you drove beneath the archway and veered left, into a large, empty parking lot. 

“C’mon,” you said as you hopped out of the car.

Yancy glanced apprehensively at the dark amusement park as he exited the vehicle.

“Youse sure we’s allowed to be here?” he asked as you came around to his side with the coat in your arms.

“‘Course,” you replied with a smile and handed him the bundle. “Put it on so you don’t freeze,” you ordered as you began the walk toward the inner gate.

He puled the coat on and jogged to catch up with you.

“Anyone ever tell ya that youse is terrible at reassurin’ people?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, actually.”

“What are we doin’ here?” the prisoner asked, sticking close to your side, anxiety welling up in his stomach as he followed you past the ticket stand and into the amusement park proper. It was dark, with not even a street light to help illuminate your way, and the hidden moon wasn’t much help where it sat behind the thick clouds. The snow was coming down heavily and a good inch or two had already gathered on the pavement. The crunch it made as you walked over it was deafening in the silence of the night, and Yancy was scared to do so much as breathe for fear that you’d both be caught.

“I’m serious, Y/N.” Yancy grabbed your arm and whirled you around to face him. “Tell me what we’s doin’ here,” he commanded, brow furrowed and voice stern.

Your surprise at being stopped was replaced with a soft smile that Yancy could barely see through the shadows. “It’s only a tiny bit farther, Yance. I don’t want to tell you or it’ll ruin the surprise, but I promise you, we’re not going to get in trouble. I do this all the time, remember? It’s okay.”

Yancy shook his head, causing what snow that had gathered in his hair to jump free and float down to the ground with the rest. “Doin’ it all the time isn’t the same as it bein’ okay.”

He was caught off guard when you reached a hand up to trail ghosting fingers along his beard. “It is okay. I know the owners, Yancy. You know how I said that I’ve been setting this whole thing up for a while? This is one of the things.” You gestured around you. “I was getting permission to bring you here.”

“R-really?” the prisoner asked, hopeful.

“Really really. Pinky promise.” You held your pinky up and he interlocked his with yours. You both laughed. “Now come on.” You took Yancy’s hand in yours and led him to a building off to the side of the park. Your hand was warm in his, and he couldn’t stop the smile that found its way onto his lips at the feeling.

“Alright,” you said as you came to the doors of the small brick building.

You spun the prisoner around so he was facing the park.

“You wait right here. I’ll be back in two shakes.”

Before he could protest, you were gone through the doors, into the darkness of the building. Yancy stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders to ward off the cold as he waited. You were gone for what felt like an eternity, and he was starting to become worried. He was contemplating going in and trying to find you just as the world lit up around him. 

He noticed the carousel first, shining brightly against the black backdrop of the cloudy night sky. The lights glinted off of the falling snow, bathing each flake in a different color as they fell around him. Some were blue, some red, others green or purple or orange. Yancy was sure he looked like a kitten seeing a Christmas tree for the first time - his eyes were wide open, a huge grin across his face as he took in the sight of the park before him.

“What do you think?”

Yancy turned to see you emerge from the building, your grin mimicking his own.

“It’s…” he looked once more at the lights. He couldn’t find the words. “It’s beautiful,” he finally sighed after a moment of contemplation.

“I’m glad you like it,” you said softly, stepping up beside him and intertwining your fingers with his once more. “Come on, let’s go ride a ride.”

You and Yancy spent hours riding all of the rides. There was a spaceship that spun around really fast and sucked you onto the wall, a dragon that you sat in the belly of and it spun around really fast, roller coasters, bumper cars, a couple that went upside down, one that went up really high and then dropped you. You even convinced Yancy to go on The Power, a huge arm that reached high up into the sky with chairs attached to the end that left your feet dangling in the air at the very top and almost ripped them off as it came swinging down and around. He wasn’t a fan, but he loved the peals of laughter and excited cheering you let out.

He stumbled out of the chair and off the ride’s platform to collapse in the snow. He rolled over onto his back, giggling happily as he gazed up at the sky. 

“You gonna live?” you asked, your face appearing in his line of vision.

“If I don’t throw up everywhere first, yeah,” he laughed.

He took your hand when you offered it and helped him to his feet. You looked at your watch.

“Perfect, we’ve still got time. How about a snack and a ride on the ferris wheel?” you asked and he nodded. 

You led him to a food truck and left him waiting outside while you stepped in. He could feel the warm air rush out past you and he breathed in the mouth-watering scent of fried dough that came with it. After only a moment, you stepped down out of the truck and handed him a plate of fried dough sprinkled with powdered sugar and cinnamon.

“A funnel cake!?” Yancy gasped, his face lighting up as he took the treat. “I ain’t had one ‘a these in ages!”

The bottom of the paper plate was warm and it felt good on his cold hand as he pinched a piece of the cake to break it off. He popped it into his mouth and moaned as the flavors washed over his tongue - flavors that he hadn’t tasted since before he went to prison.

“Don’t have a foodgasm,” you said with a chuckle and a pat to his shoulder. “Come on. One last ride.”

He happily munched his snack as you and he approached the ferris wheel. You held the door to the pod open for him and he stepped inside to sit on the cold plastic seat within. You sat across from him and a few moments later  the ride began to move, carrying you both slowly upward.

Yancy gazed out over the amusement park to the city below, bathed in a blanket of white and a warm orange glow from the houses beyond. Suddenly, he was choking back tears, and he did his best to hide this fact by stuffing his face with more funnel cake.

“Hey…” He feels your hand on his knee. “You okay?”

He nods, but can’t bring himself to look at you for fear of losing himself completely. “It’s just uh…” He clears his throat. “It’s just the powdered sugar. It… it got in my eyes a little bit.”

You switched seats, coming across the ferris wheel car to sit next to him with your shoulder against his.

The car stopped, right at the top.

You gave him a gentle nudge. “It’s okay to cry.”

He sniffles and shifts in his seat so that his body is angled toward you. A single tear wells over and runs down his cheek, hot against the cold winter night air. His funnel cake lies forgotten in his lap as he shakes his head and then gazes at you tenderly.

“I just… I never expected… I feel… so full,” he explained. “My heart feels like it’s about to burst outta my chest.” He chuckles dryly. “I’m so used to life in prison, that I just… I guess I forgot how beautiful it can be out here…”

He looks once more across the city skyline as another tear falls and rolls down his cheek. “Up here…” his gaze finds your face again. “With youse… It almost feels like… like maybe… maybe the world ain't really so bad…”

A soft smile finds your lips and then you’re pressing them to his, cupping his face in your hands and using your thumbs to brush away the tears. Yancy’s funnel cake fell to the floor of the car, forgotten, as one of his hands found your waist and the other tangled in your hair.

He was hesitant at first, moving his lips slowly against yours, unsure of himself and his actions. When you didn’t pull away from him and instead deepened the kiss, he allowed himself to relax into you, kissing you back passionately, desperately. He felt hot, despite the frigid air swirling snowflakes around him. He wanted to stay like this forever, but you broke the kiss to pull in a deep breath. You rested your forehead against his, and your hot breath ghosted over his face, smelling of something warm like cinnamon and vanilla, or perhaps sugar cookies. It made him want to dive back in and spend the rest of the night with his lips pressed against yours at the top of this ferris wheel…

“It’s almost dawn,” you said, voice low.

His reply was a simple whine that voiced his discontent at the prospect of ending this moment - ending this night - and having to go back to his dingy prison cell. The ride began to move again and you pulled away from him, closed your eyes, and sucked in a deep breath of cold air. Yancy found himself doing the same to calm his nerves and cool his body. 

Not another word was spoken as he followed you off of the ferris wheel and back to your car. The only sound was the crunch of snow beneath your feet and then the engine of the car and the blast of hot air from the vents. The radio was on quietly, just as it had been before, but Yancy couldn’t hear it over the thoughts in his head. He couldn’t even think over the thoughts in his head, and before he knew it, you were pulling the car off the road and into the field next to the prison, now covered in a thick blanket of white.

He stopped you as you began to unbuckle.

“I can get back on my own,” he said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “We don’t wanna risk youse bein’ seen.”

You nodded reluctantly, and Yancy gave you a smile. In truth, he needed to get away from you before he had a nervous breakdown. This night had turned his entire world upside down, causing him to question everything he thought he knew. He was feeling too many emotions to try and process at one time.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said before he opened the car door and stepped once more into the cold.

The trunk popped open and he made his way around to the back of the car to retrieve his prison clothes. He heard your window roll down.

“Yancy,” you called, and then your hand poked out of the window, holding the key. “You should hold onto this. Y’know… just in case.”

He closed the trunk and approached you. Hesitantly, he took the key.

“Thanks again,” he said quietly, and you nodded.

Then, he began the walk back into the prison. He got about halfway to the wall when he stopped and turned around. He could see your reflection in the side mirror, watching him sadly. He tried to offer you one last convincing smile paired with a small wave before he took in a deep breath and continued the trek through the snow.

He used the key to get back into the prison yard, but he didn’t go back to his cell. He didn’t want to… not just yet. Instead, he headed for the roof. 

He closed the roof access door quietly behind him and then found himself a spot in the snow to sit down, cross-legged, facing east. 

“I don’t wanna be free,” he sang quietly. “Of these amenities…”

He used his foot to clear away the snow before he sat.

“Why try a prison break…”

He gazed at the horizon, the sky slowly growing more pale with each passing moment.

“When hard time’s totally great…”

A rich orange seeped up from below the horizon and bled into the sky.

“I don’t wanna be free…”

It was soon followed by pale yellow, and then the first rays of the sun itself. The clouds turned purple, the sky a light blue.

“I don’t wanna be free…”

Yancy wrapped his arms around himself.

“I don’t wanna be free…”

The roof access door opened.

“Yancy?” It was Holt, the guard.

“I don’t wanna be free…”

“I don’t know how you got out here, but you’re gonna have to come with me back to your cell.”

“I don’t wanna be free…”

Yancy felt a hand on his arm, and then he was being pulled to his feet.

I don’t wanna be free…

Holt lead him through the snow to the door and pulled it open.

I don’t wanna be free…

He ushered Yancy inside, and it was when the cold metal closed behind him that he broke into sobs with only one agonizing thought running through his mind.

I want to be free.

[waywardodysseys]

Resigned to Fate - Chapter Four

Warnings: sexual tension, cussing

Word count: 4.8k

Author’s note: never written for Star Wars universe but with The Mandalorian figured why not; olarom – welcome & nayc – no in Mando’a; as always thank you for reading!!!

Resigned to Fate: Chp. 1, Chp. 2, Chp. 3

 You’re jolted awake by the rapid movement of the Razor Crest, veering to the right then left quickly. It’s a repeated maneuver you realize. A repeated maneuver done when there was someone chasing and shooting at you in the deep abyss of space. You scramble out of the small bunk and climb up into the cockpit.

           “What’s going on?” You ask.

           “I’ve got another bounty hunter on my tail.” Mando’s voice is fused with frustration.

           “Another?”

           Mando is silent as he focuses on zeroing in on the other ship chasing the Razor Crest. He’s flipping levers and pushing down on the throttle making sure the other ship doesn’t lock in on his.

           “Where were you heading?” You ask impatiently.

           “I don’t know. I feel like we are out of options.”

           You sigh and look down at the chair behind Mando’s. The child is looking up at you from a makeshift bed. He coos at you and moves his ears back and forth once.

           “We should go to Endor.”

           “No.” Mando hastily answers. He pushes even harder on the throttle as the dashboard beeps. “Finally got you locked.”

           You grasp onto the chair the child is in to keep you steady. “I’m the protector here Mando! You abide by what I say.”

           “Endor is no place for us. It is battle ridden. There’s—”

           “There’s no one there Mando.” You interrupt. You know the planet is full of Ewoks but your contact was there as well. He didn’t need to know that, yet.

           “There’s Ewoks.”

           “Those buggers will leave us alone if we leave them alone.”

           Mando sighs and pushes a button. Seconds later a flash of light then an explosion occurs in front of the Razor Crest. The explosion isn’t heard but it’s felt when Mando pushes the Razor Crest through the debris and further into space. Once clear of the debris field Mando stands and faces you.

           “No to Endor.”

           “Why?”

           “Because I say so.” Mando climbs down to the cargo bay.

           You follow him down. “You hired me Mando! Not the fucking other way around!”

           Mando busies himself by checking the integrity of ship. Making sure there are no visible signs of damage to the ship’s hull.

           “Where have you been?” You ask.

           “Sorgan, Tatooine. Eventually the kid is found.”

           “You took something Mando. You’ll always be on the run. We can’t stay in space forever. I mean, I’d love to, but we need to land. Find food, find shelter.”

           “And your option is Endor?”

           “Our only option is Endor.”

           Mando looks at you. He glances over your body frame once. “Who’s there?”

           “It doesn’t matter,” you say defensively.

           He takes one step closer to you. “Who’s there?”

           “No one is there! And no one will know we are there. It’s out of the way.” You hiss.

           “You never know.” Mando retorts. “You aren’t the one running away. You aren’t the fugitive.” He pauses, looking at you through his helmet. “Last time, kyramud. Who’s there?”

           You’re surprised by him calling you a killer in the Mando’a language. He’s less than a couple of inches from you and you can feel the warmth of his body. You know his heart is steady whereas yours is racing inside your chest. You look at his helmeted head. “You hired me beroya! I say Endor, we go. To. Endor.” You emphasize Endor by pointing at him, your finger pressing down on the beskar metal of his chest plate. You walk towards the ladder leading to the cockpit. “I will fly us in.”

           Mando moves to the ladder quickly. “No one else touches the controls.”

           “Too bad Mando.” You sneer. “I’ll get us down to the surface. Nothing to be afraid of.”

           Mando watches you climb the ladder. He hears the kid coo loudly.

           “He’s a stubborn one, isn’t he?” Your voice airy.

           The child coos again a couple of times.

           Mando hears you laugh. The sound of your light laugh is a sweet melody to his ears. He wouldn’t mind hearing play on repeat. He lets go of the ladder at the thought. He hasn’t teamed with anyone in ages yet here you are, flying his ship, controlling where he goes. He turns away from the ladder, trying to distract himself from the thoughts of your laugh, from the thoughts of someone else flying his beloved Razor Crest.

           You key in Endor into the navigation system. “Destination set.” Your voice light as you place the child in your lap. He looks up at you and smiles. He’s tiny and reminds of you a green bean. You smile down at him. “Want something green bean?”

           He coos and reaches toward a lever with a silver ball attached at the top.

           You reach over and unscrew it. “Your favorite toy?”

           He coos once the silver ball is in his tiny hand.

           You laugh lightly. “Of course it is.”

           Minutes later the ship is hailed through the coms as Endor comes into view. “Identify yourself.”

           You turn the coms down as you take note of the white swirling clouds covering the planet as well as the blue water and green land below peeking through. “Razor Crest.”

           “Not your vessel pilot.” The robotic voice is filled with sarcasm. “Your name.”

           You grin and sigh. “It’s D.B.”

           Silence responds then, “olarom. Coming in alone?”

           “Nayc.” You say as you push the Razor Crest through the atmosphere of Endor.

           “Alright. I’ll let you land in sector seven. How long?”

           “Indefinitely.”

           “Good luck. Over and out.”

           The cockpit is quiet. You look down at the child who’s mesmerized by the silver ball. The moment you met plays in your mind. You remember the wave of heat rolling through your body when it grasped your finger. You wonder if the baby had felt it too – the acknowledgement of two people finding one another who are Force sensitive.

You wonder where it came from, wonder where it’s going. The Mandalorian hadn’t told you much about why he really rescued the child besides being concerned for its life. The Mandalorians were known for adopting children and showing them the way of the Mandalore culture.  You could feel, no, sense the Mandalorian had a heart, had feelings because he went back for something he wasn’t supposed to go back for.

You fly the Razor Crest to sector seven of the planet. Your contact had mapped out and divided the planet into sectors when you both had compromised to be on Endor together five years ago. You knew Endor well enough to know sector seven was laced with forests and mountains. Some of the debris from the Death Star was also in the area. Your contact would be in sector one, which would be at least a two-day hike. You were planning on visiting them while you were here with Mando and the child, but they’d probably venture out and get curious about why you hadn’t returned alone first.

After setting the Razor Crest down, you and the child make your way to the cargo bay where Mando is opening the ramp.

“We made it in one piece.” You say.

He gives you a sideways glance, remains quiet.

“What?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Nothing.” He walks down the ramp.

You cross your arms. “Talk to me Mando.”

“You’re the protector. Watch the kid.” Mando responds, walking further away from the Razor Crest.

           “I’m also your protector,” you mumble quietly. You cross your arms, watching him walk away. You could sense he knows something, but you can’t place your finger on it. You kept the com low, making sure he couldn’t hear your transmitted conversation with your contact on the surface. You felt he knew you were lying about there being no one here. You never answered him, you avoided telling him the truth. And it probably got to him like he was getting to you.

-------

Mando walks into the thickness of the forest. His mind raging with thoughts. You had defied him when he had told you no to Endor. He didn’t want to think of you being the one in charge, but he had hired you to keep him and the kid safe. It gnawed at him constantly because he wasn’t the one calling the shots, you were.

           Then there had been the avoidance of you answering his question about someone being on Endor. He had been looking you dead on under his helmet when he asked you each time. He knew there was someone here and he didn’t know if he was jealous or angry, maybe both, there was someone on Endor you possibly called friend, family, lover.

           Feeling closed in, Mando takes off his helmet. He breathes the smell of the forest into his lungs and the quietness fills his ears. Mando lets the surroundings of where he is sink in.

Maybe, he thinks, she made the right choice by coming here.

-------

As night falls on the planet you watch as the Mandalorian and the child walk back into the makeshift campsite. Mando had taken the child along with him for a short walk to obtain more firewood for the crackling fire, the only sound in the stillness of the evening. The child walks over to you and you notice two dangling feet from its mouth.

           “Seriously?” You raise your eyebrows. Green bean swallows the frog and you grimace lightly. Your stomach turning at the thought of you having to eat a frog.

           Green bean coos loudly at you. You shake your head in return. You’re still trying to process what you feel, what you hear when it looks at you.

           “Do you know what he’s saying?” Mando’s deep, rich mechanical like voice cuts through the silence.

           Yes, you quietly answer. But to Mando you say, “it’s a child. Full of questions, full of curiosities. It understands me, understands you.”

           Mando curtly nods at you as the child looks at you and coos. “I’ll take first watch.”

           “I can.” You say, returning your gaze to him.

           “I will.” He replies as he stands. “Get some rest.”

           You rise quicker in one fluid motion. “I’m sure you’re tired beroya. You sleep first. Don’t worry about me.”

           You get up from your spot and head out 50 feet. You begin walking the circle perimeter Mando established shorty after landing. It was what he was doing when he left you to watch over the child. The perimeter included the campsite and the Razor Crest. He had returned to you a few hours later. You were starting a fire and the child was watching you with its wide eyes.

           “Fire starter too?” Mando had asked.

           “I’m a woman of many talents Mando.” You had replied with a tease in your voice.

           Mando wasn’t interested in the humor. “I’ll go hunt.”

           “No Ewok please. They taste fucking horrible.”

           “Noted.” Mando had stated before disappearing again.

           Now you were making your way around a third time on the perimeter thinking about your old job, your old boss. Things were simpler on Kashyyyk, protecting a lone human among a planet full of Wookies. Instead of guarding one lone being it was now two, and you were doing it alone, with no help. One of them a Mandalorian who didn’t need protecting. He’s a warrior of his own right. He’s strong, capable, dependable. He didn’t need you, yet you had a gut feeling he did. Then there was the child. Adorable, quiet, curious. It cooed at you, blinked its eyes at you, moved its ears back and forth trying to understand you. Trying to converse to you in a manner, it seemed, only you and him could talk without the Mandalorian knowing you were talking.

           The crack of a tree branch pulls you away from your thoughts. You turn around and face the darkness of the forest. Your sword in your right hand, your blaster in your left. Your eyes strain in the darkness to see anything moving amongst the trees and their branches. There was another crack to your right. You turn and walk a couple of feet. You glance back at the campsite; it seems faint in the distance, but you could make out the Mandalorian and the child.

           “Show yourself!” You half whisper, half shout at the darkness.

           You see a shadow move in the darkness. You hear the hum of a lightsaber turn on. You notice the green color and lower your weapons.

           “Couldn’t even last a day without knowing?” You ask the figure.

           The shadow steps forward, the lightsaber illuminating the small space between the two of you. “I was extremely intrigued because you weren’t alone.”

           You take in the golden helmet of the woman Mandalorian in front of you. Her armor is the same golden color and covers her stocky body frame. “Kathrina.” You say simply.

           “Y/N.” She peers over your shoulder. “A Mandalorian? And what’s the creature he’s holding?”

           “Yes, and I’m not sure about the creature but it knows I’m Force sensitive. Or well, I sense it knows I am Force sensitive? The Mandalorian hasn’t told me much about the creature, let alone himself.”

           “Yet you trust him?”

           You shrug. “I have to Kath. He knows I was Deathblade. He says he’s willing to keep my secret.”  

           Kath sighs at your sarcasm. “Does he know I’m here?”

           “He knows someone is here. I avoided giving him an answer when he asked who was here. Just told him Ewoks.” You retort. You watch as she takes in the campfire scene before her from where you two are standing. “How’s everyone?”

           Kath keeps her focus on the campsite. “Good. There are reports an enclave on Nevarro came out of hiding due to a Mandalorian, and a green creature.” She looks at you. “Did he tell you that?”

           You swallow. “Fuck no. He just needed my help, my protection. Because of who I was.”

           “Because of who you are Y/N. Just because Deathblade is dead to the Empire doesn’t mean she’s dead when you are still walking around the galaxy. The name may be dead Y/N but you are still alive.” Kath spits out.

           “I don’t want any trouble. He doesn’t want any trouble. We’ll keep away.” You whisper to her. You didn’t want your home to be found.

           Kath turns and looks at you. “I’ll try my best to keep them away. The foundlings do miss you though. But Mandalorians do protect one another Y/N. You should remember that.”

           You let her words soak in. Kath had fled her home, it’s why she ended up on Endor. You had just faked your death and needed a place to lay low, it’s why you choose Endor. When you both had first met you fought nearly to the death then realized you two needed each other to survive. She knew your history and you knew hers too. You two had been close and inseparable since the truce you two had made to longer no fight each other, but to help one another.

           “You think they’ll still accept him? After the shit he’s done.” You ask.

           “Mando’ad draar digu.” Kath whispers. “But you have.”

           “I’m not Mandalorian Kath.”

           “You were raised learning the Mandalorian ways. You were taught to use our religion to the full extent of your knowledge. You used that religion to kill, still do. You are Mandalorian even though you might not see it. I do, the foundlings do. Some of the enclave of Mandalorians see you as one of them, even though no helmet sits atop your head.” She turns to leave but stops. “I’ll come back and check on you from time to time. When you are ready for more protection for the creature, and for the fugitive let me know.” She touches your shoulder lightly. “You can come home and stay a while.”

           You watch as Kath retreats into the forest. You turn and face the campsite. The Mandalorian is nestled on the ground and green bean is snug in his arms. Part of you wants to go back to sector one, the other part wants you to stay here with Mando and the green bean. The three of you would be best here for the time being. You didn’t want to shock the Mandalorian you were protecting with an enclave of Mandalorians especially if what Kath told you was true.

You knew once you told him the truth – there is someone here, more than one person actually – he’d hate you. You no doubt would tell him it’s for his protection, for the child’s protection. After all he hired you, not the other way around.

-------

Days turn into weeks, weeks turned into a month then two months. The past two months with Mando and the child had been interesting to say the least. He wondered off throughout the day, the child either stayed with you or went with him. And when you left the child had always left with you, leaving Mando alone at the campsite. There were days you wondered if he took off his helmet when you weren’t around. Your mind dreamt of what he looked like under the helmet. You felt you were getting comfortable with the armored warrior and you knew once you felt comfortable it was time to move on, time to find another job, another relationship. Your mind even dreamt of what it would be like to have him between your legs, to feel his mouth on you, his hands on you. And damn it, when that happened you scoured away and didn’t return for hours, leaving him alone with the child. You knew they were safe, but he didn’t think so. He laid into you each and every time you returned.

           “You can’t leave us alone Y/N!” He would shout at you.”

           “You’re fine beroya!” You had always yelled back. “Stop saying my name!”

           “What am I to call you? I don’t want to call you kyramud every time we have an argument!” He’d shout back.

           The child usually cooed loudly at this point. Probably wondering why you two were fighting with one another. Both of you would be in each other’s faces and take a step back from one other.

           “Fine Mando. Use my name. I don’t care.” You had reluctantly told him one day.

           “Y/N.” He had said your name softly.

           You had kept your emotions in check as you turned away from his reaching arm. Your name on his lips caused you to want him more. You began to ache for him. “Hate me all you want beroya. I don’t fucking care. When I need my space let me be. It’s all I ask.” You had told him before walking away.

           Now you waited quietly in the stillness and darkness of the forest. You turn once you heard the hum of a lightsaber. The green light illuminating Kath in her golden armor as she walks forward.

           “You look…not yourself.” Kath remarks.

           “I know. It’s been an interesting couple of months.” You retort.

           “Are you ready to come home?” Kath asks.

           Ready as ever. “What’s the plan?”

           “Just you and I.” Kath answers. “I brought back up.”

           You and Kath begin walking, both of you quiet as you approach the campsite. The dwindling fire is crackling as you reach for the sleeping green bean. He doesn’t make a sound but snuggles further into the blanket and into your arms.

           Kath moves her lightsaber in a swirling motion above her head. Seconds later a group of armored and helmeted Mandalorians step from the shadows.

           You watch as your Mando bolts up rapidly. “It’s okay Mando.” Did you really just think of Mando as yours?

           He looks between you and Kath. His fingers above his blaster. “What’s going on?”

           You walk up to him, touch his helmet with your free hand. “Trust me Mando. Gedet’ye.”

           He moves his head, looks at you. His gloved fingers graze your cheek. The touch makes him aware you are real and not a dream, then something envelops him and he’s hauled away.

           You look at Kath seconds later. “Why the goddamn bag?!”

           “You know he can’t know where the bunker is Y/N. I can’t chance it; they can’t chance it.” Kath turns towards the Razor Crest. “Let’s get this ship to sector one. The boys will be able to hide it well.”

           An hour later you’re inside the bunker of sector one. It’s large enough, length and depth wise, to hold one Death Star inside of it. You walk in with the green bean still sleeping in your arms.

           “Where is he?” You ask Kath.

           Kath walks over to a tall, skeletal Mandalorian whose helmet has two horns. “Hey Brute. Where’s the runner?”

           “He’s in Y/N’s room.” Brute replies with his baritone helmeted voice.

           You raise your eyebrows and look at Kath. “He’s not mine.”

           “To them he is. Since he’s under your protection.” Kath walks over to you. “I’ll place the child with the foundlings for the time being. I’m sure you need to calm down your Mando.”

           You look down at the green bean, knowing he’ll be okay. Knowing the three of you are in a safe place. “When he wakes come find me, or Mando.”

           Kath takes the child, cuddles it in her arms. She smiles at you. “No worries sister. I got the child, I got you. I always got you.”

           You watch as Kath walks away with the green bean. You then turn and make your way down a long-tunneled corridor. The bunker is quiet since mostly everyone is asleep. You reach the door to your room. You hadn’t been in it for a while. You reach towards the keypad to open it and the door opens suddenly. In the doorframe is Mando. He grabs your arm and yanks you inside the room. The door closes shut and locks.

           “Where are we?” He asks. His voice is coated in anger and frustration.

           “Bunker. On Endor.” Your voice is calm, light.

           “So you do know someone here?”

           “Yes.”

           “How many people are here Y/N?”

           “Less than a 100.”

           “What is this?”

           “A fucking bunker!” You repeat.

           “I know what this is! I want to know what is here, in the bunker.” Mando shouts.

           “A hideaway. Kathrina and I ended up here years ago. I after I faked my death, her after leaving her home. We fought for days on end because we both wanted to be here, we both weren’t going to leave. Eventually we came to a truce, figuring we needed each other more instead of fighting with one another. We found the bunker, began expanding it then an enclave of Mandalorians came and we took them in as long as we helped each other. There are foundlings here too. I stayed as long as I could. I pleaded with Kath I needed to go, I wanted to be back out in the galaxy. I was restless. She gave in and let me go. We’ve been like sisters since day one inside this bunker.” You sit on the bed. “You’re safe here Mando. There’s no other safer place in the outer rim then here.”

           Mando’s quiet as he paces your small room.

           You stand up and walk towards him, stopping him. You reach up and touch his helmet. “You may hate me all you want but we are safe here Mando.”

           “You are safe here. I’m an outsider.” His voice cracks. “You will always be safe here. It’s your home. I should take the kid and leave.”

           “Leave? We’ve been here two months with no other hunters finding us, without the man you’ve told me about finding us!” You plead. “We are safe here Mando. For once let your guard down.”

           He places his gloved hands on top of yours. “I’ll never let my guard down.” He pauses. “Once a Mandalorian, always a Mandalorian.”

           You look at him with tears in your eyes. You remember your adoptive mother saying those exact words to you when you were little. When you were once preparing to place a helmet on your head. You push through the memory and say to Mando, “you’re paying me to do a job Mandalorian. I found us a safe place. With people I know and trust, with people you can get to know, and trust. Don’t leave me.” You realize you’re asking him to stay for you. You don’t correct yourself. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

           Mando’s quiet for several beats. He walks to the door, presses the button to unlock and open it. He glances back at you before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone.

-------

“Where you going Mando?” The golden armored Mandalorian from before asks.

           “Away from here. Where’s the kid?”

           She crosses her arms. “With the children.”

           “I need to take him and leave.” Mando says taking a stop closer.

           From the shadows another Mandalorian walks out. He makes a couple deep grunting noises while swinging a battle axe in his hand.

           “It’s okay Brute.” She looks at the tall Mandalorian. “He’s not going anywhere.”

           “I don’t want to cause trouble. I don’t want this enclave to be found,” Mando pauses, “I don’t want Y/N’s home to be destroyed.”

           “We are on a planet no one wants to come to. You’ll be safe here. If you get restless like she did I can find jobs for you.” Her voice smiles. “The enclave here welcomes you Mando. You are Y/N’s guest, the kid is Y/N’s guest. She is family, will always be family.”

           Mando thinks about the kid, thinks about you. The child had been forming a bond with you since you had walked into the kid’s life. He even noticed how strong that bond was becoming because of your conversations with the child. Mando didn’t think anything of it at first but then he watched you and the kid communicate more closely.  He would overhear you having conversations, answering the kid’s silent questions. Mando knew, or least felt, you knew what the child was cooing about. What questions it was asking you and then the answers you gave the child. Yes, it seemed, you knew more about the child then you’d let on. Your whole history was a question to him, and he wanted the answer, needed the answer. You were an entire puzzle he was wanting to piece together.

Mando knows he hired you, not the other way around. Over the past weeks this had always slipped his mind. It could have been his Mandalorian mentality, or the fact you were bonding with the kid, and you and the kid needed his protection. But you were the protector for the kid, the protector for him. And he knew, he realizes, this was the best move you could make for him and the kid – bringing him and the kid to the bunker.

Mando looks between the two Mandalorians. He turns on his heel and walks back down the corridor towards Y/N’s room. The door slides open and he walks into the darkness of the room.

“Y/N.” Mando says lightly. He takes off his gloves and reaches for your figure sitting on the bed. Your skin is soft as silk when his fingers caress your cheek.

You push his hand aside. “Go away Mando.”

He hears the sadness in your voice. He tells you, “I’m not going anywhere. I forget you are the protector. I’m sorry. If this is what’s best, then I must abide by what you decide. I just, this is your family, your home, and I don’t want to be the cause of its destruction. I want you to have a home to come back to when this is all over.”

           “You could have a home here too.”

           Mando pulls you up to your feet and presses his helmeted head against yours. He feels your hands on his helmet. He wants a home too. More than anything, he wants you. He takes your hands away from his helmet. “Close your eyes.”

           “I’m not—” You begin.

           “Close your eyes Y/N.”

           A shiver rolls down your spine when he says your name. You comply and close your eyes. Seconds later you feel his forehead against yours then his mouth against yours. Your heart leaps in your chest as you loop your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him deepening the kiss.

           Mando wraps his arms around you pulling you close. He returns the deep kiss, pushing his tongue against your lips. He smiles against them when you let him in to further taste and explore. He doesn’t want to let you go. You and the kid are the only two things that matter to him, even though he won’t admit it to you.

           You pull away, breathless. Your eyes still closed. “Mando.”

           Mando smiles. He reaches up with a gloveless hand, traces your jawline, your swollen lips. He wants you, needs you. The past two months have been a whirlwind – the highs have been working with you to protect the child, the lows were when you would walk away and he’d be concerned you wouldn’t return, yet when you did his heart seemed to skip a beat at your presence; you hadn’t left the child, you hadn’t left him.

He lets this memory sear itself to his brain because there’s no one else he’d rather be with, rather have in his arms than you. 

Chapter Five

[kpopfanfictrash]

Rookie

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Sehun

Rating: 18+ (Explicit sex, violence)

Word Count: 5,179

Summary:  Sehun is the youngest cop on the force. By night though, he’s someone else entirely. When both his worlds threaten to overlap, what will he do to keep the woman he loves safe? [HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @igot7bangtanbaes ! ] + Superhero!AU

“Unit 546 to Lower Washington and Peach Street. Repeat, Unit 546 to Lower Washington and Peach Street. A suspect is fleeing the scene on a motorized vehicle, heading north on Washington with two units on his tail.”

Sehun pushes up the brim of his hat, peering down at his radio. The sound is full of static, crackling every other word but Sehun supposes this is to be expected, being the youngest police officer on the force. He always gets last pick of lockers, last pick of bunk beds and last pick in any and all forms of equipment. Which explains why his uniform doesn’t quite fit, why his radio is a piece of crap and why the car he’s driving has several, suspicious-looking stains in the backseat.

Honestly, Sehun doesn’t mind. Ever since he was little, he’s wanted to be a cop. He’s wanted to be part of this fight, this ever-ending battle between good and evil. If this is what he needs to do to get there – so be it. Unit 546 isn’t Sehun, which is why he hasn’t responded. Sehun is unit number 333, rarely paged other than as a last resort.

Sehun fiddles with his seatbelt, staring aimlessly up at the side of a parking garage. He knows his skills, knows how capable he is – he also knows it’s completely impossible right now, to reveal who he is. The other officers fear – some even despise – the Shadow Angel, meaning no one can know how Sehun and he are connected. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Sehun sighs. He didn’t mean for things to happen like this, didn’t intend for things to get out of hand – but when he started working and realized just how long it would be before he actually got to help, Sehun decided to do things on his own.

“Unit 333. Repeat, Unit 333 – do you copy?”

Sehun jerks, nearly dropping his walkie-talkie in his attempt to answer. “Yes,” he blurts, nearly hitting himself in the forehead. “Unit 333, I copy.”

There’s crackling from the other end as Sehun waits – and then a voice blurts, “They’ve made a detour. Heading your way. Go to the intersection of Oakbrook and Pine, ASAP.”

Sehun nods, barely remembering to confirm out loud before throwing his car in reverse. His heart hammers in his chest, loud while Sehun speeds onto the street. A horn blares on his right, pissed at being cut off but Sehun is already gone. He grins, grip tight on his steering wheel. This is what Sehun loves; this is what he’s good at.

The streets flick past, each light turning green, since Sehun has his Bluetooth on. The tires skid beneath him, turning onto Pine Street and Sehun winces in response, but continues. Other parties talk on the radio, shouting instructions and guidance to anyone who can listen.

Sehun’s foot slams down on the gas, pushing him into a sharp turn – cutting off the intersection entirely. The black Mercedes sees him entering and swerves, nearly running over a fire hydrant as they ride up onto the curb. Their car tilts, hovering for a second before crashing back down. Sehun grins, shutting off his engine while the sounds of sirens wail in the distance.

The Mercedes is stopped, engine still thrumming as its driver scans for a way out. There is none though, nowhere to hide – which is why Sehun exhales, securing his gun as he opens the door.

Technically, he shouldn’t get out. Technically, Sehun should wait for a more seasoned police officer to arrive before engaging any criminal. Sehun has never been one for waiting though, so he barrels outside without taking the moment to think.

The Mercedes is silent, impossible for him to see beyond its tinted windows. Sehun thinks someone yells on his radio, but is too far away to be sure. He should have taken it with, Sehun realizes – it’s too late for that now, though. Moving carefully, Sehun angles his body behind street signs and vehicles. There’s a hiss of steam from a grate on his left and wind buffers his hair, as Sehun continues. His police jacket flaps open, the sounds of honking and traffic loud until –

“GET DOWN! HE HAS A GUN, YOU IDIOT!”

Sehun drops, rolling as the Mercedes door flings open for a gunshot to ring in his ears. Sehun’s head buzzes, overly loud as he twists to shoot in the attacker’s direction. Gunfire is exchanged between them; Sehun isn’t sure how many rounds. All he knows is the cold press of metal in his palms, the sharp reverb of his gun, struggling to control the weapon. Sehun’s mind is flat, filled with precision and reflex while squinting over the top of the minivan – on his second look, he sees the criminal running.

Swearing aloud, Sehun shoots – groaning, when he finds his gun empty. His extra clip is in his car, and Sehun berates himself as he breaks into a matching run. It’s odd, he notes – the criminal is wearing a red hoodie. It’s overly bright, against the building behind him. On the back is writing, though Sehun can’t make it out from this far. It looks like symbols, and he picks up speed – before a hand appears out of nowhere, to yank him from behind.

“Ah!” Sehun yelps, nearly smacking his attacker as he whirls.

The man ducks, grabbing Sehun’s arm and twisting. “Are you crazy?” Officer Creighton yells, face red with anger. “We almost had him. If you’d just waited, for appropriate back-up – we could have surrounded him, and he wouldn’t have gotten away.”

Sehun freezes, staring at him. His gaze darts from the Officer to the alley, to where the criminal has long since disappeared. “Sir,” Sehun pants, trying to remain calm, “Sir, I understand but he’s getting away. We have to follow, we –”

“We,” the man interrupts, “do nothing. You, will return to the station. You, will file the paperwork for the errors you made today. I, will be the one who stays to supervise the search you botched up.”

Sehun stares at him, then the alley. Anger curls within – at himself, but also at the situation. He should have waited. He should have followed procedure – but if his officer would just trust, if he’d just let Sehun prove himself. Sehun closes his eyes, attempting to control his anger.

“Yes, sir,” he says sullenly, opening his eyes. “I’ll return to the station.”

“Good.” Officer Creighton releases him then, shaking his head while stepping away. Seeing Sehun’s expression, the man sighs. “Listen,” the Officer intones, his voice quieter. “You have good instincts, kid. I don’t want you to get discouraged – but this is life and death. You can’t break the chain of command. Rules exist to protect you, as much as everyone else.”

Sehun nods, not wanting to argue. Out of everyone here, Sehun knows about life and death. He knows Officer Creighton is only acting in his best interest. It makes sense, it really does – but the things he says aren’t really applicable, to him. Sehun doesn’t need protection but rather, the other way around.

It’s then though, that Sehun’s head snaps up. He looks again at the alley, gaze narrowing when he remembers the writing. He recognizes it now, remembers where he saw it and finally, Sehun understands what’s going on.

“I understand,” Sehun rearranges his features to those of contrition. “I’ll be more careful, from now on.”

Back at the station, Sehun ignores the whispers and looks he gets upon entering the room. He ignores the buzzing which follows, pretending none of them exist as he heads directly into his cubicle. Flopping down in his swivel chair, Sehun opens his computer and boots up the hard drive.

Glancing once over his shoulder, Sehun makes sure no one is watching before searching his files. Abyssus abyssum invocate, or, hell calls to hell. The motto of one gang in particular – one whose true nature and purpose is largely unknown to the public. Sehun knows, though. Sehun knows and Sehun understands, as he scrolls through murders of several weeks back.

He finds what he’s looking for on page nine – an interview, from a witness most dismissed as hysterical. A lot of the officers thought the woman incomprehensible; babbling on about her dead husband. When Sehun read her account though, he was unconvinced that the woman was lying.

Officer: Can you describe what happened tonight, ma’am?

Witness: It was … horrible. They came dressed in black, they came from the shadows

Officer: Who did? Who came from the shadows?

Witness: I don’t know. They were cold, they… said greatness couldn’t be trusted. Said men like my husband couldn’t be trusted.

Officer: How? In what way?

Witness: I don’t know. They wouldn’t explain, and I didn’t know what to ask. I couldn’t breathe, when they cut into him. They just kept – stabbing. Bleeding him out. One kept repeating words – words in Latin, over and over.

Officer: Do you remember what they said, ma’am?

Witness: I – I don’t speak Latin. Something about an abyss? It’s all fuzzy, I’m not sure.

Officer: Alright. Let’s try something else – did you notice any distinguishable characteristics of the criminals?

Witness: No. There were wearing masks and at the end – one… No, no, I can’t say.

Officer: What do you mean? Did one threaten you, if you spoke?

Witness: No, I just – you’ll think that I’m crazy.

Officer: Ma’am, we want to help. Please tell us all you know.

Witness: At the end… one of the men pulled down his mask. I remember him looking at me – but everything is fuzzy, as though he somehow… changed things. As though he reached into my brain and… took things. The thoughts I had of him.

Officer: I don’t understand.

Witness: Neither do I, he just –

Officer: There, there. It’s okay.

Sehun leans back in his seat. The interview continues, but this is the important part. This is the part which confirms Sehun’s theory that this gang – the Black Night – have a hero amongst them. Well, not a hero – now, they can only be called a villain. Their leader seems to have some superpower: that of altering memories, of changing reality and perception.

Exhaling darkly, Sehun closes his eyes. He’s been tracking the Black Night for the past month, trying to figure out more about them, to understand what they want. All he’s found out so far is a name and purpose. Hell calls to hell; which the gang seems to interpret as, the upper class will die.

Sehun isn’t an idiot. He knows not everyone who’s rich is good. On the contrary, they’re usually bad. Money, power, influence – all of these lead to a warped sense of reality. It makes people bend, even break the rules. Life becomes a game for them as, with time, they see themselves above it all.

Despite this, no group is bad. Just as no human, no race or religion is completely evil. There is good and bad in all, and each deserves the chance to prove themselves.

To think that they don’t is a dangerous philosophy, one which has led to a recent string of murders within the city. Sehun’s eyes open, realizing what this means. The man today may have escaped; Sehun may have failed in catching him, but in the process he revealed something much better – a potential hideout.

During the police chase, the man disappeared between State and Lambert. He vanished into thin air, which makes Sehun smile. A hideout. Which means – Sehun leans forward, scanning – he has a place to stake out tonight. Sipping on coffee, Sehun slides lower in his chair. Just two more hours, until his shift is complete.

Two more hours, until he can finally be of use to this city.

The alleyway is dark, empty and Sehun watches the building from across the street. His attention is on a black door, nondescript, with a plain, silver knob. A woman entered earlier, her sweatshirt black instead of red – but boasting the same, Latin markings. This confirms to Sehun that he’s in the right place, that if he waits long enough – he’ll find his criminal.

Exhaling, Sehun’s breath fogs the air. His hand rests on the holster at his hip, though he has no real need for it. The gun is for show, more than anything. The man from earlier has yet to emerge, which makes Sehun wonder if he’s made a mistake. Perhaps he’ll be too cautious to come out tonight. Perhaps he’ll wait for days, biding his time until the commotion has died down.

It can’t be longer than an hour, before the front door opens and a face peers out. He’s wearing different clothing – a leather bomber jacket, jeans – but it’s definitely him. Sehun recognizes the face, making him think this man isn’t their leader.

The criminal steps outside, door falling shut behind him as he glances furtively down the street. He turns, slipping between the buildings and Sehun stands from the ground – he makes certain his ski mask is firmly in place before picking his way across the courtyard. He doesn’t want to be seen, not yet.

Midway through the alley, the man turns. He shoves both hands in his pockets, disappearing between two, large green trash bins. Sehun hurries after, slipping past silos, shrugging his arm free when it catches on a bin. He winces, continuing forward – freezing, when he turns a corner and finds himself face to face with a gun.

The man tilts his head, expression thoughtful. “You seem… familiar,” he mutters, meeting Sehun’s eyes. Sehun wishes he’d thought to wear sunglasses, but he didn’t remember – also, it’s fucking dark out. “Are you one of those cops, the ones who chased me?” When the criminal snorts, Sehun flushes. “It wouldn’t be the first time a newbie cop decided to go renegade on me. Dumb move, that rookie – never engage in a chase, before you confirm you have back-up.”

Sehun’s lips tighten, eyes refocusing on the barrel. “It’s also widely considered dumb, breaking into someone else’s home wearing a bright red hoodie. Nice motto, by the way,” Sehun remarks, overly casual. “Did your boss pick that out himself?”

The guy’s eyes harden, gun clicking as he removes the safety. “That’s none of your business. I’m the one making the demands tonight, bud.”

Sehun doesn’t speak, posture stiffening in response. In the lining of his pockets, his fingers splay and Sehun inhales, drawing breath from his surroundings. When Sehun releases the sound to the dark, the tiniest of smiles curves his lips.

The man blinks, suddenly uneasy. “Who are you?” he asks, curious.

“Would it be cheesy,” Sehun muses, eyes bright, “to say, your worst nightmare?”

He explodes.

Energy slams outwards, radiating to form a purple-blue shield – just as the man pulls the trigger, bullet exploding to spiral dangerously towards Sehun. It happens too fast to see, a screech of metal on sparks as the bullet ricochets backwards. The man screams, collapsing to the ground while Sehun rolls his eyes. He knows the injury is nothing more than a flesh wound. Still, he drops – keeping his ski mask in place as he meets the criminal’s gaze.

“Who do you work for?” Sehun asks smoothly. He’s wearing leather gloves – reaching calmly, opening the man’s jacket to pat down his pockets. “Why did you break and enter that home, not kill?”

The man groans, clutching at his ear. A thin trickle of blood seeps through, spilling between fingers to the pavement.

“Nod,” Sehun demands, eyes crackling with energy, “if the answer is yes. Shake your head, if the answer is no.”

The man struggles to focus on Sehun’s face. Realization dawns then and he twists, searching for something – anything – to fight with. “Shadow Angel,” the man grasps, groaning as the pain hits him again.

Sehun stiffens. Shadow Angel is what the newspapers dubbed him, ever since a slightly hysterical man gave an interview to the press. Sehun stopped the man from being mugged and was dubbed the Angel for his troubles – the Angel of Shadow, since his face was never seen. The public has followed him since – fascinated, by to the supernatural accounts surrounding his stories.

Superpowers, magic, trickery. There’s a lot of debate, on whether Sehun actually has powers or not. These are the accounts he usually laughs at, declining to even read since Sehun knows who he is – and that’s enough.

The man before him knows, too. He stares at him fearfully, leaning away from his hands. “Please,” he begs, voice breaking on the word. “Spare me.”

Sehun tilts his head. “Who do you work for?” he asks again, ignoring the request.

“The Black Night,” the man answers immediately. “I work for the Black Night.”

Sehun inhales, hardly daring to believe his luck. “And who,” he pauses, leaning in, “is the leader of the Black Night?”

The man hesitates, suddenly unsure. “I don’t know his name,” he admits, swallowing. “We only call him the Abyss. He has powers... like yours.”

“Like mine?” Sehun holds out a palm – above, dances a dangerous storm of electricity.

“Well, no,” the man agrees, eyes wide. “His are more … mental. He can make you see things, do things. He can do just about anything, by looking into your eyes.”

Sehun takes note – the villain’s powers are somehow linked to the ocular. This might come in handy, later on. Refocusing on the man before him, Sehun’s light burns brighter. “And today?” Sehun whispers. “Why did you only break into the mayor’s house, then leave?”

Again, the man falls silent. He stares at Sehun, lip trembling. “I – I can’t,” he whispers. “They’ll kill me.”

“Well,” Sehun feigns concern. “It appears you have a problem, then. On the one hand, I could kill you now, if you don’t tell me the truth. On the other hand, the Black Night could kill you – but only if they find out you told me. And I won’t tell a soul,” Sehun smiles, resoundingly brilliant.

Sehun would never kill this man, of course. He has hard and firm lines for himself – one of which, is do not kill. This man doesn’t know this though, and he looks with fear at the crackling energy Sehun holds.

“A scouting mission,” the man breathes, frantic. “It was a scouting mission, to determine the layout of their house. The mayor and his family won’t be attacked – not yet. Not until the Abyss is sure he can succeed, is sure he can win.”

Sehun doesn’t react, not yet. On the outside he remains calm, but on the inside – Sehun takes a breath. He can’t think about it, yet. Can’t process this piece of information, because right now – Sehun needs to go. He needs to get out of here, needs his secret to remain intact.

“Good,” he nods. “Thank you for the information.” Standing, Sehun wipes the dust from his palms. He glances around, searching for witnesses. “I’ll be going now,” he looks back at the man. “Be careful with your gun, next time you fight.”

The man opens his mouth, about to respond – and Sehun reaches out, shocking him to silence. The man’s eyes roll back, body slumping when Sehun sends fifty volts straight through his frame. It’s enough to stutter his heart, render him unconscious – likely it will be hours, before the man wakes up. Even then, he’ll be groggy, with little to no memory of tonight.

Turning away from the dirt, Sehun releases his breath. Now that the criminal is taken care of, he can finally process – the news is enough for Sehun to pause, grabbing onto the wall in his nausea. The Black Night wants the mayor’s family.

The Abyss is after you.

Sehun barely pays attention, driving through the streets of the city. His actions are manic and he’s lucky it’s the witching hour because he’d be immediately pulled over, otherwise. Which would be rather awkward, given he’s a cop. Not to mention his current attire, a dead giveaway for his alter ego.

Parking in the spot he always does, Sehun makes his way to you on foot. The building across from yours has a fire escape, nestled against its ancient side. Sehun’s powers are tricky, mostly electric in nature. He doesn’t know where they came from, nor how he acquired them. Sehun spent most of his adolescence in foster homes, moving around before he was adopted by his mom and dad.

Aside from electricity, there are certain parts of Sehun’s body nimbler than others. He has an increased tenacity to skin, heightened reflexes – adjustments, he thinks, for extra voltage within. It makes him more agile, enables Sehun to do things others can’t – which explains his speed now, scaling the side of the building. At the sixteenth floor he jumps, pushing off a drainpipe, twisting in mid-air to grab the base of your balcony.

Sehun yanks himself upwards, swinging one leg over your railing – wincing, as he nearly tumbles into a plant. He whirls, catching said pot before smashing the ground and exhales, lowering his forehead to smooth ceramic. That wouldn’t be the first time he’s broken one of your plants, but the last time he did meant no sex for a week.

You were livid, since it was some pansy you’d been growing since you were a child. These are the odd quirks Sehun loves about you, though. He loves how much you care for your plants, for people – and for him, for Sehun. You ground him, make him feel wanted, make him feel sane and stable and whole.

The two of you are a secret, since in real life, Sehun is a lowly police officer. At night, he may be the demon renegade who protects the city – but by day, he’s a nobody. Even his alter ego is distasteful to some, including your very prominent father. To the mayor, Sehun is a demon renegade who loves throwing a very distinct middle finger at authority. He represents a direct threat to the city, and to rules in general.

Sighing heavily, Sehun eases open the door to your room. The space is silent and Sehun closes the glass behind him, shutting out the sounds of the city below. When he turns, he sees you’re not beneath your sheets. This is followed by panic, Sehun’s heart leaping as he considers whether he might already be too late. The Abyss might have you – but then Sehun sees your bathroom light on, yellow light spilling beneath your door.

Exhaling again, Sehun turns to the windows. Moonlight enters the room – wooden floorboards beneath his feet, thankfully. Sehun has the worst habit of visiting you late at night, his boots covered in the muck and grime of the city. Wincing, Sehun leans to pry his shoes off. He removes his ski mask off as well, nearly toppling over when he hears the sound of your laugh.

“Y/N,” he breathes, turning around – barely thinking, crossing the room.

You smile back at him, somewhat sleepily and, when he reaches your side, Sehun isn’t sure which of you moves first. Your lips meet in the middle, your body pulled roughly to his. Sehun kisses you eagerly, exploring every inch because you’re here, you’re warm, you’re wanting. You’re also safe and alive, which means Sehun can’t help but be grateful.

It was an accident, the two of you meeting. You found him on the night of his third raid, having just managed to intercept the murder of a well-known judge. Sehun was fighting off the criminal in some alley, shocking him into unconsciousness before collapsing against a wall. The hour was late and fighting made Sehun dehydrated – he wasn’t used to using his powers yet, not in that capacity.

Pushing his face mask up, Sehun drank from his water bottle – until a voice coughed pointedly behind him. Sehun whipped around, nearly tripping in haste to spot you. Your mouth was wide with disbelief, lips parted and you quickly glanced down, to the body behind him.

“No,” Sehun took a hasty step towards you. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Your fear turned to awe though, as you explained you’d seen the entire thing. Walking home from the library that night, you meant to cut through the alley – you saw, when Sehun confronted the would-be murderer.

Sehun relaxed when you said you understood – but then realized you knew his face. You knew who he was, knew of his power – you could easily ruin everything, for him. Especially with your name, your family – your father, who hated him, Sehun’s most outspoken opponent. What you should have done, was turn Sehun in. Instead you hid him, protected him and in return, Sehun fell in love with you.

Now the Abyss is trying to take that love away. Sehun pulls back, breathless while resting his forehead to yours. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, watching you smile.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you tease. “Such irony, coming from you.”

Sehun offers a sheepish grin. “Fair. It’s just,” he sighs. “You know that I worry. Especially on a day like today,” he breathes, grip tightening on your waist. “I know you texted earlier, saying you were okay – but,” he gulps, a quick breath, “I felt so fucking helpless.”

Your smile falters. “It’s okay,” you reassure, leaning to press your lips to his. “I’m okay, my dad is okay – everyone is okay.”

Sehun nods, once. He debates whether or not to tell you – deciding no, at your tense expression. You’re putting on a brave face for him but Sehun can tell that you’re scared. Today was overwhelming, draining and whatever evil is coming, it can wait until the morning. Tomorrow, the two of you can figure out how to alert your father. Tomorrow, Sehun can increase your protection – right now, he just wants to be with you.

Sehun drags his thumb over the indent of your lips. Your gaze darkens, looking up and Sehun feels his body tense in response. It’s unfair, that just the sight of you – in a ridiculously flimsy nightgown – has the power to send all the blood in his body straight towards his dick. Already, Sehun can feel himself rising, feel his cock half-hard against the fabric of his pants.

“Sehun,” you exhale, winding both arms around his neck.

Your first kiss is gentle, exploring while his hands slide down to cup you from behind. Sehun pulls you closer, letting you feel how badly he wants you. When he bends, grabbing the backs of your thighs, he lifts you higher. “Bed?” he whispers, since sometimes you like it against the wall. Sometimes you like him to slide into you, spread your legs and fuck you like that – but tonight, you shake your head.

“Bed,” you agree, wrapping your legs tighter.

Sehun’s mouth opens yours, walking you backwards. Your ass hits the mattress first, then your spine – Sehun quickly following. His hands find your body, one sliding between your legs to pull your panties aside. One finger enters, withdrawing quickly to rub his thumb against your clit.

You whimper, pushing upwards, breasts brushing his chest as Sehun instantly hardens. Just the touch of you, the feel of you clenching; that breathy, little noise you make – Sehun already knows he won’t last long. He removes his shirt, pulling your nightgown off just as quickly.

You’re naked but for your underwear, which Sehun also slides away. His pants are next, unbuttoned hastily by your fingers – and you grasp him firmly, making Sehun freeze in place above you. Your eyes glint in the darkness as you lower yourself back, hand stroking smoothly up and down his shaft. Your smile is wicked, completely incorrigible as you rub your thumb over the tip of his cock.

“Sehun,” your gaze darts to his face. “Do you want to come in my mouth, or inside me?”

“Inside,” Sehun groans because, though your sweet-shaped lips are tempting – nothing can beat the feel of you around him. The feel of fucking into you, of your limbs and body tight around his.

You nod and when you spread your legs, Sehun groans out loud. The two of you stopped using condoms months ago; as soon as you went on the pill and Sehun provided you with a credible bill of health. It’s hard to imagine being inside you any other way, now.

Sehun teases for a moment, pushing his cock against your clit, around your entrance before sinking inside. You gasp, biting his shoulder when he fills you. Sehun loves the feel of you like this, trembling and tight. Your body is so responsive, so in tune with his own – that when he starts to move, it’s hard for him to hold himself together.

You’re so eager, hips pushing up to match him thrust for thrust. You clutch his back, fingers dragging along the seams of his body and when Sehun picks up speed, moving faster – you thread your fingers between the roots of his hair and pull. Gasping, at the sight of his ass between your legs – nearly losing control, when Sehun gathers you closer.

Sehun fucks harder, drives deeper – pace turning insistent, bruising while his cock hits your walls over and over. He knows when he finds your g-spot, because you suddenly cry out – yanking his hair so hard, Sehun winces. “There,” you gasp, arching upwards. “Right there – oh, god.”

Sehun nearly loses it at the sight of you beneath him, expression fucked-out and blissful, driving you over the edge. When you come, Sehun feels you tighten around him. Nothing ever feels as good as this does, your body trembling beneath his, and Sehun lasts only a few more strokes before coming as well. You moan in response, feeling him fill you and Sehun smiles with pride, when your legs tighten on his waist.

You’re fucking filthy like that, love having his cum inside you and refuse to let him leave, so long as you possibly can. Sehun obliges you in this, keeping his body still, dropping soft kisses to your cheekbones. Eventually you open your eyes, meeting his lips in a kiss of your own – and nod your head, when he pulls himself away.

This is his cue to leave, and Sehun disappears into your bathroom. After a quick wash he returns and you hum, letting him take care of you – wrapping your arms around him, when he falls onto your bed. “Do you have an early day?” Sehun yawns into your hair, body skin still warm from your heat and sex.

You nod, lips finding his chest. “8:00, breakfast interview with the Post.”

Sehun sighs. “I’ll make sure I leave before then.”

Pouting, you pull him close. “I don’t want you to go.”

Sehun chuckles lightly, kissing your forehead. “I don’t want to go, but it’s how things need to be, right now.”

“Right now,” you agree, looking up with warm eyes.

Sehun nods, serious. “For now,” he agrees, when you lay your head down on the pillow. In the morning, Sehun decides, own eyes closing. He’ll tell you everything in the morning – the shadows can wait until then. 

Author’s Note: WOO, happy birthday TY! 

[stretchjournalemerson]

Contrails

By Anthony Manupelli

Part One: Peace

Had a talk with my old man,

Said help me understand.

He said, turn 68, you’ll renegotiate

Don’t stop this train

- John Mayer

A month before the crash, it all came back to me. I spent hours, upon hours in fear. I hadn’t given it any thought since I was a little kid. Aside from the good memories, such as watching the Curious George movie with my siblings on a warm summer morning in 2007, I remember panicking about it when I was all alone.

The night it changed; I was nine. It was long past my bedtime and I had school the next day. My stomach turned as my brain spiraled out of control. My make-shift room in the basement of my childhood home had been repurposed from a small office to an oversized bedroom that I so thrillingly shared with spiders, the dark, and my overwhelming thoughts. Despite the unnecessary amount of space I had, I felt so trapped. Coming off a hot streak of realizations, including my discovery of the fact that Santa wasn’t real, and that the WWE was staged, I took a deep dive into an abyss of analysis into what was real and what was fake. And then, the mother of all struggles occurred.

I was raised Catholic and didn’t think much of it for most of my early years. We honestly weren’t very committed churchgoers. My siblings and I would fight with our parents pretty often about attending church early on Sunday morning. We kind of all just accepted the fact that our mother wanted us to be Catholic. So, I never really delved deeper into a spiritual awakening, I just did as I was told. But time and time again, I discovered I shouldn’t simply accept the world that is placed in front of me and the fact that I will only find truth in life by constantly questioning my reality, I began to question my mother’s teachings. I froze. As if I was hit on the top of the head, my brain began buzzing, and I fell down a rabbit hole, a psychotic conundrum of thought. The topic of my panic: what happens when we die?

“What happens after this, what happens, what happens, what is happening to me”? I couldn’t stop. For the first time in my life, I was spiraling. My blood curled, I felt it in my face. I rolled into a ball and clenched my stomach to avoid spilling out its contents. I felt my fingers numb and my brain freeze. All of this, as if no other human being had gone through a spiritual crisis or could understand my confusion and panic.

I continuously asked, “what if…”, and it never ended. At nine, I was bargaining with myself to come to terms with something that no human had ever completely understood. My panic stirred so deep into the night, that I was met with my father’s questioning, the next morning, as he prepared for his day.

“What’s wrong Anthony, you’re freaking out. What happened?”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing, Dad. I’m fine.” I figured if I didn’t say it out loud then it wouldn’t be true.

“No Anthony seriously, this stops right now. What’s wrong?”

I didn’t want to invite my poor father into this personal hell of my over analysis of the spacetime continuum. So, I simplified it to the catalyst of my fear and promptly begged,

“Dad, what really happens when we die?”

He paused. I never knew if he did so to make me feel understood and calm me down or to actually process the question. Regardless, he resolved.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

And instantly, I was relieved. I never understood why. But from that moment forward, I never feared death or thought about it again. At least not in the science-fiction, fantastical, terrifying way my brain had me pondering in those moments. Not once, did I waste an ounce of my time fearing death, not until much later.

Part Two: Body Separation

Upside down

Who's to say what's impossible and can't be found

I don't want this feeling to go away

Please don't go away

-Jack Johnson

I remember my dad’s face when I got the car. As I drove out of my driveway, alone, for the first time, he waved goodbye. And it was at that moment, I realized I was grown up. I wasn’t the kid he had calmed down years before. I had a new cast of characters in my life. Friends he didn’t know but they were the people I brought my concerns, dreams, and questions to. I became my own person without even realizing it. And he wasn’t waving goodbye to me. He was waving goodbye to the little kid he had known all the years prior. He was waving goodbye to my childhood.

But time marched on and I became incredibly fond of my car. I drove all the time. I mean all of the time. Every month of the year, everywhere my friends or I went. I was always the one driving and I loved it.

Massachusetts winters are pretty brutal and it's usually hard to find something to do. So my car became not only a vehicle of physical transportation but an escape from the freezing cold and lack of activity. That car brought me together with so many people. The sheer amount of people who had taken a ride in my car had become a running joke. It encapsulated my entire teenage experience; it brought me so far away from home yet together with so many people.

The summer returned and it was time for one of my childhood best friends to go to school. I was the last person to send them off as I dropped them off to their house after spending the entire night out in commemoration of our years together.

I remember returning home, alone, after the sunrise, devastated. It was one of the most painful goodbyes I’ve ever had to do. It was a goodbye, not a see you soon.

So, when my dad found me in my car, he comforted me and asked why I was so upset.

“My childhood’s over dad. I’m not a kid anymore, and I don’t know how and don’t want to be an adult”.

He paused again and gave me time to relax. We both knew I just needed to get some sleep.

“I never grew up. I’ve aged but we’re all still kids at heart” he offered.

Time marched on. And despite my initial doubt of my dad’s input, he was right. I had aged but I was still a little kid at heart. This became clear as I sat in my bed on a windy December night and began to panic again.

“What happens when we die”?

I hadn’t thought about that in nearly a decade. It hadn’t kept me awake, late at night, since I was nine. But here I was all grown up panicking in my top bunk in a new house, in a new room. The location, people, and time changed, but my fear remained the same.

Only this time, the fear sweltered unlike ever before. I found myself at a crossroads once again. However, my dad’s words and my logic would not comfort me. I needed something more.

But, after dwelling for over a month, I received my answer in the most unexpected scenario.

Part Three: Entering Darkness

Once in a while, when it’s good

It’ll feel like it should

And they’re all still around

And you’re still safe and sound

And you don’t miss a thing

‘Til you cry

When you’re driving away in the dark

-Also, John Mayer

The moments leading up to the crash were so normal, completely tranquil. I regret not paying attention to what song was playing; I was so focused on where I was going that I forgot to take-in where I was.

The road we were travelling down was a two-lane highway. Visibility was terrible, there were no streetlights the entire way as we drove through a road carved through the wilderness. The pine trees towered over the car, looming left to right; the moon casting their shadows onto the pavement. A light fog spilled onto the road perpetuating the gloominess of the scene.

I remember looking out the window and noticing a valley of dead trees. I wondered what had happened to them, all the way out there, alone. I had traveled that road before, many times. When I was younger, I never noticed the dead trees. I must have been enamored by the color of the other ones. But my attention no longer resided with what is. What once was seemed to be the solution to all my problems.

If I could just figure out why, then I’d feel safe again.

Why had all of this happened?

Why are we here?

Why me?

I became a full-time philosopher as a compulsion for my obsessive thoughts. To no avail, of course. None of it mattered anyway.

As I continued traveling down the road, I realized how comfortable I had become with it. The low visibility, the spooky trees, the moonlight, the life and death no longer stroking fear as I moved along.

I had traveled this road so many times before that I was as familiar with its features as I was myself.

So, it was in complete shock when I slowed down and took a left turn off the road only to be met with a blinding flash of white, followed by immediate darkness.

Part Four: Seeing the Light

The sun is going down

There's shadows all around

And I feel more than wine

We must do this again sometime

But I can't tell you when

But what a joy it's been

All that we have is now

- Jesse Winchester

…

My dad and I have a term for the situations life throws your way when you are doing one thing and then find yourself completely lost in an unexpected situation. We refer to this special place of confusion/limbo as “Claire’s Living Room”.

To provide an example of this phenomena without going into detail of its origins, I realized I was in Claire’s Living Room as I sat alone in a hospital bed, with an IV in my left arm, listening to the staff count down to the new year in the break room.

2020 was a tumultuous year, but I truly did not expect to be welcomed into 2021 by a man in a cloak in a blindingly bright room. That man, of course, being one of the nicest doctors I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I just wish it had occurred under different circumstances.

They checked my vitals, all was well. Some slight bruising on my right ribs, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in a matter of days to weeks.

“Do you have any other concerns or questions for me?” He asked at just about two in the morning.

I couldn’t believe I was alive and okay. No one was seriously injured. No one had died. Yet, it felt like a part of me had been permanently altered. The crash was bad; really bad. Fortunately, both cars had done their job and protected every passenger. Everyone was wearing their seat belts and no other cars were there at the time of the accident. The street shut down for a short period of time to assist in the tow and clean up of both cars.

My memory of the aftermath begins with me already out of the car. I must have subconsciously exited the vehicle after getting hit with the airbags. The car was totaled. Immediately. Way gone. I remember watching the first officers and passersby see my car and look in disgust at how twisted it was. I was still out of it, so noticing other people looking shocked to see me standing on my feet brought tears to my eyes.

I wasn’t hurt, at least not physically. I went back into the wreck to find my phone. As more people began arriving at the scene, more strangers, cops, firemen, I began to panic. The situation was easily the most overwhelming experience of my life. And loud. I mean earth shatteringly loud. From the moment of impact, to the ringing in my ears, to the first responders, the sirens, the people.

But I couldn’t find my phone. I needed to call my parents and tell them to come to the scene. I needed them to know I was okay, to hear my voice before a police officer called them to inform them, I had been involved in an accident.

I was petrified that my parents would think I was dead.

After a few minutes of searching, I asked one of my friends to call my dad. My dad would explain to me later that my friend’s phone call sent him into panic. Apparently, he was sitting with my mom when he received the call. My friend was so shaken up that he could barely get the words out.

“Anthony, you need to get here.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Is everyone okay?” My dad immediately grabbed his things and waved my mom toward the garage.

“Down North Street, outside the state police barracks. We got into an accident, it’s really bad you just need to get here now”.

For about ten minutes, I had no way of communicating to my parents to let them know I was okay. For ten minutes, my parents feared the chance that I might have died. Something no parent should have to think about or go through. Certainly, something I would never have wished to have forced my parents to think about.

It was easily the most painful and anxiety inducing ten minutes of my life. Ten minutes of pure fear. And the people, more people, constantly more people. I had never seen so many people in one place in my entire life. The lights, the noise, the people.

My heart beat wildly, my brain froze once again, my stomach turned in my panic.

But when my parents arrived at the scene and I hugged them and told them I was okay, all my fear absolved.

I never understood how fast something as simple as seeing your family face to face could be taken away in the blink of an eye.

In a flash.

…

As I sat in that hospital bed, I realized I had the answer to my fears, crisis, and confusion all along.

In the face of death, all that matters is love. The only truth in life is found within. Love is the answer: all there ever was, is, and will be. And through love, life is eternal.

I’m not going to sit here and validate the specific hypothesis on near-death-experiences because I truly don’t know. What I will say is that the stages of life, growth, and change all coincide with the supposed course of a near-death-experience. And I don’t know that I would have found solace in my quest for answers if I hadn’t come that close to losing it all.

When I got a taste for nothing, I returned to find everything.

Part Five: Entering the Light

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

-Joni Mitchell

Since I was a little kid, I’ve always loved contrails. People usually miss them and/or have no idea what I’m talking about when I use the term. Contrails are the clouds released by planes in the sky. The next time you’re outside, look up and I’m sure you’ll see one. I remember, during early quarantine, not seeing a single plane in the sky as if time had come to a halt. No contrails. Our inability to be with each other prevented their spirited existence within the sky.

When I was younger, I was amazed by them. I always felt like I was watching an artist paint massive strokes up in the sky. They’re beautiful, truly amazing things.

The next time I saw a plane leaving its mark in the sky, contrails had taken on a new meaning. Instead of the stroke of an artist, they are the mark of a lifetime; mysteriously appearing out of thin air, releasing a beautiful stride for all to see, and gradually fading to the stars.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank my family and anyone else that’s ever loved me into being. I love you.