#the GUILT. the PAIN. the realization that they so completely and fully failed this child

[greenglowinspooks]

The way that I’m brainrotting over a DCxDP crossover with a Danny who’s a vengeful villain rn

Like, let’s just say that the GiW finally get into contact with the JL. They need help neutralizing a threat, you see, and they’re on their last limb trying to keep civilians safe.

They have video evidence! They have studies to back their claims! The JL have to help them!

Unfortunately, the JL believe them. They join a fight against Danny, and defeat him due to being far more experienced than he is. Danny is locked away and experimented on by the GiW.

That would CHANGE a person. Your heroes turning against you and seeing you as a monster, being experimented on for who knows how long, not knowing if your friends and family are safe.

Danny gets out due to a simple mistake on the GiW’s part; having Blüdhaven as part of their transport route.

Of course the trucks were attacked, they’re government property!

So now, whoever decided to raid the government transport trucks (the Penguin or something) has a ton of experimental weapons with no idea how they work, and a heavily traumatized teenager.

Danny knows how they work. Danny can be useful! They won’t throw him out if he’s useful! And so, now Danny is working for the Penguin, altering the ectoplasm weapons to make them work on humans.

It’s a good deal for both parties. Danny gets to neurotically imprint on the Penguin like a small baby animal, and the Penguin gets a brilliant mind who will stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

But eventually, Danny finds out what happened to his family in his absence.

Jazz is in Arkham. Not as a psychologist, but as a “patient.” Apparently, she snapped and completely destroyed the house, leveled a few blocks of Amity Park, and conducted organized attacks on government bases (mostly GiW) for months.

Sam and Tucker helped her, eventually splitting once Jazz was captured. Sam travels to areas of extreme pollution, completely overgrowing them with her plant powers. Currently she’s in the Amazon rainforest, engaging in an ongoing feud with logging companies. Sam is winning.

Tucker faked his death, and Danny has no idea where he is. He only knows that the death wasn’t real because of a code that the three of them made together, just in case.

Ellie’s trapped in the Infinite Realms. Danny had a failsafe in place so that if she was ever cornered by the GiW, she would be sent to her haunt in the GZ. However, with the portal destroyed, she can’t come back. Danny just hopes she’s okay.

His parents are now top GiW scientists. They’re traveling the country giving speeches. They’re working on a battery powered by ectoplasm, but apparently started “having difficulties” around the same time that Danny escaped.

None of it is fair. None of it is right.

The Justice League destroyed his life, the lives of his friends, and they’re doing as good as ever. The GiW is respected, and his parents are happily working away for them.

Danny takes up some of his more experimental weapons and breaks Jazz out of Arkham. She’s a little different now, colder and more quiet, but she still loves him all the same. It’s an unimaginable comfort to him to see his sister again.

He can’t use his powers anymore. He’s so used to associating them with pain that even transforming into his ghost form is enough to take him down for hours.

However, he understands ectoplasm more than anyone else in the world. He knows how to use it in virtually everything; how it can become a weapon, how it can be used as a supplemental ingredient in poisons and nerve agents, how it can twist and distort the mind if applied correctly.

He doesn’t care what happens to him. He’s going to take down the GiW, and destroy the lives of the JL members who helped lock him away, just as they did to him.

No matter the cost.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 2/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is.

Word Count: 4,100+

Warnings: absent father, subtle violence, mention of family death

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t.

Part 1

Bruce was working in the cave when Alfred interrupted him.

“Master Wayne, a guest has arrived unexpectedly.”

Bruce gave him a strange look. Hardly anyone showed up to the manor unannounced.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Alfred added.

“Right,” Bruce sighed.

“She’s waiting for you in your office.”

Bruce found Y/N pacing in the room, refusing to take the seat that he was sure Alfred offered her.

“Y/N,” he greeted, remembering how she disliked the formalities last night.

She whipped around at his greeting. “Am I your charity case now?”

He feigned confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

She looked offended by his lie. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You paid all of my outstanding expenses that my mother left me.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“Don’t try to lie to me,” she warned.

Bruce closed his mouth.

“Look, I don’t need your help,” Y/N sighed in obvious irritation. “Did you or did you not pay them?”

He took in a shallow breath, “I did.”

Y/N clenched her jaw as Bruce finally admitted his deed.

“I was only trying to help.”

“You can’t just throw money at me and expect it to make up for being a no-show.”

Bruce tensed. 

Did that mean…Did she know?

“You read the letter?” He asked.

“No,” she clarified. “But I figured it out.”

“I had no idea,” he tried to tell her.

“I don’t care,” she almost snorted.

“You have ever right to be angry with me…”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed.”

She took a defiant step toward him and crossed her arms.

The heeled boots she had on caused her already tall height to make her be eye to eye with Bruce. 

How many people had faced off with Batman and cowered with fear? 

But she didn’t submit or show any signs of intimidation.

“Do you think I cried myself to sleep every night as a child, wondering where my dad was or why he didn’t want me?” Y/N hissed.

Bruce didn’t respond.

“You think I give a fuck about the father-daughter dances? Or whatever the hell people think dads are only capable of doing?” She narrowed her eyes. “The thing is…I didn’t need you. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now.”

Bruce felt sick as he listened to her.

“I have the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t have been there for those anyway,” she added roughly. “My mom loved me more than enough. I didn’t need anyone else. And she made damn sure of that.”

“So I’m not your charity case to make yourself feel better after my mom made it clear she thought it was better to keep me from you, than to ever tell you that I existed. Says a lot about what kind of person she thought you are, huh?”

When Y/N finally stopped, she was taking deep breaths.

Bruce wondered how long she had that all bottled up. He didn’t think anything she said was a lie. Y/N didn’t need him. That had become clear.

She had grown up to be a successful, intelligent, and independent young woman.

And she got that way without a father figure of any sort.

After a few moments, Bruce finally bowed his head and cleared his throat. “I never intended on making you feel like a charity case.”

Bruce saw as Y/N took in a deep breath and the guilt slowly took over her expression.  

“Look,” Y/N sighed, “we finally know the truth. Let’s just…let’s just move on with our lives. OK?”  

Bruce couldn’t deny that the suggestion hurt.

After processing the news over the past week or so, he realized he wanted to get to know her. This wasn’t the first time a child of his had been dropped on him far too late. He had failed Damian in so many ways because of it. 

But Y/N was a young woman, fully developed and independent now. And Bruce couldn’t help but wonder that him being absent from her childhood had only benefitted her.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally told her.

Y/N didn’t know him well enough to hear the underlying pain in his words.

So she simply nodded and walked past him, having nothing more to say.

——————

Bruce adjusted his tie. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off his neck.

But he was on his best behavior tonight.

This year, the Gotham Gazette was given the honor of hosting the Pulitzer Prizes. And since Bruce and Wayne Enterprises donated quite a large sum of money to the Gotham Gazette, they felt inclined to invite him.

Bruce had every intention of skipping, until he found out that Lois Lane was receiving an award and Clark would also be attending.

He figured the least he could do was congratulate her and say hi to both of them.

That’s why he was trying to find them as soon as possible so he could and get the hell out of there.

Bruce finally spotted Clark talking to a woman whose back was to him. All he saw of her was the black dress and y/h/c hair. 

He made his way over.

Clark noticed him when he was a few feet away.

“I see you’ve finally left your cave,” he teased with a lift of his brow. “I honestly didn’t expect you to show.”

But when the woman Clark was speaking to turned to look at him, Bruce swore he felt his heart stop.  

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, clearly just as surprised at seeing Bruce.

None of this went missed by Clark. “Oh, do you two know each other?”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond. What would Y/N want? 

So he hesitated.

“I shot him for a cover once,” Y/N answered quickly.

She was a shockingly smooth liar.

Maybe she got that from Bruce, too.

But she didn’t realize that Clark could hear her heart rate quicken, catching the fib.

“And how exactly do you two know each other?” Bruce asked, recovering quickly.

“Y/N works with Lois a lot,” Clark answered. “She basically refuses to work with any other photographer.”

Y/N managed to force a smile.

“I should actually go find her and say my congrats,” she answered. 

“And I need to hunt down a drink,” she mumbled. 

Both men caught it.

Clark was rather taken aback by how she fled.

The Y/N he knew was always charming and kind, usually life of the party. He’d never seen her dodge a conversation in such a way before.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Clark gave a intimidating glare to Bruce.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” He asked Bruce.

But Bruce only clenched his jaw.

“Past fling?” Clark asked with a somewhat disappointed tilt of his head.

“No. Nothing like that,” Bruce quickly corrected.

Not only did the idea make him feel sick. But if rumors started of the two of them being romantically linked, Bruce knew it would only make Y/N hate him more than she clearly already did. 

Thankfully, Clark took his denial seriously.

“She’s not my biggest fan,” Bruce added darkly.

“Y/N is a good friend,” Clark told him – almost in warning. “Lois and her have become rather close over the years.”

Then Clark smirked. “She does know how to hold a grudge though. And she’ll make your life hell...if you deserve it.” 

Bruce’s brain hurt as he realized how easily Y/N and his path’s could’ve crossed. She had been friends with Clark and Lois this whole time?

“I’m happy for her,” Clark added.

“Happy for her?”

Clark looked at Bruce as if it was obvious. “She’s being awarded tonight, too.”

How could Bruce not have realized? Why didn’t he think of looking at the list of people being awarded tonight? He’d been dreading attending so much that he didn’t even consider it.

“Bruce?” Clark asked with concern.

“Hmm?” He was not one to hum or mumble.

“You alright?”

Bruce didn’t have a lot of friends.

But Clark Kent was one of them. And him and Diana had noticed how Bruce was acting off for weeks now. Bruce was notorious for remaining stoic and giving nothing for people to try and guess what he was thinking or feeling. But they both knew it was something different. 

Someone over Bruce’s shoulder suddenly waved Clark over.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Clark told Bruce politely.

Bruce’s first instinct was to leave now that he knew Y/N was also in attendance.

But he knew he couldn’t act so cowardly.

Was he really that scared of his own daughter?

His eyes glanced around the room looking for her.

He spotted Y/N at one of the bars.

Either her conversation with Lois had been quick, or she simply used that as an excuse to get away from Bruce.

Bruce walked up beside Y/N at the bar.

He knew she felt his arrival by the way her body tensed.

“Had I known you would be here I would not have attended,” he told her while looking straight ahead.

Y/N ignored his apology. “How do you know Clark?”

“He’s a friend,” Bruce answered casually.

Then he allowed himself to take a sideways glance at her.

Her jaw was clenched.

He wondered what thoughts she was holding back.

Y/N really did remind him of her mother.

When they were together, Bruce was convinced she was the prettiest girl in the world. He wondered if Y/N had found someone in her life who told her the same.

“Congratulations on being honored tonight,” Bruce offered sincerely.

“Thank you,” she answered shortly.

A beat passed between them.

Bruce was about to give up and leave her be.

“Does Clark think I’m one of your one-night stands now?”

Y/N might not know Bruce well, but everyone was familiar with his romantic history. He wasn’t one to keep the same woman around for long. 

“No,” he quickly answered. “I made sure to prevent such a rumor from starting.”

Y/N finally slowly turned to him, her annoyance clear. “And you’re convinced that he really believed you?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Clark has always been rather good at detecting a lie.” His tone was so confident that it left little room for argument.

But Bruce knew a losing battle when he saw one.

He dipped his head. “Enjoy the rest of your night. Congratulations again.”

But Bruce lingered, debating if he wanted to say what was on my mind.

“You look very beautiful. Just like your mother.”

There was nothing creepy or contrived about it.

Y/N blinked at the compliment, completely taken aback.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Bruce dipped his head and finally surrendered, leaving the party.

Y/N felt a presence behind her shoulder as he watched him leave.

“Was Bruce Wayne just hitting on you?” Lois asked with amusement.

“No. Not at all,” her tone was dazed and confused.

“He’s a good guy,” Lois told her lightly.

“Doubt it.”

“I mean it,” Lois insisted. “The media has given him a bad image. But I think he likes it that way,” she shrugged. “It’s not easy for him to open up. He’s not quick to trust.”

Lois thought she was building up a possible suitor for Y/N, having not a clue that she was describing Y/N’s father to her.

But Y/N was too busy thinking about how much Bruce sounded like her.

—————

A few weeks had gone by since Bruce and Y/N had run into each other at the ceremony.

It got Bruce to thinking: would he and Y/N had run into each other at some point in life – even without her mother’s posthumously confession?

Y/N knew Lois and Clark, lived in Gotham, seemed to know the same people through her work that Bruce was forced to interact with to keep up his persona.

Would he have sensed a connection had that been the case?

The possibilities kept Bruce up at night…along with the guilt that had already been eating away at him since he first read the later. And he’d read it 100 times more since.

Of all the boys, Dick was the only one that knew of Y/N’s existence. And if he hadn’t been at the right place at the right time, Bruce never would’ve told him. He had just been in shock after reading the letter that he blurted out the realization while Dick was in the same room.

Since then, Bruce didn’t linger in a room alone with him, knowing Dick would finally let all of his questions loose. And Bruce wasn’t ready to answer them.

While Tim was the one to connect them, he never followed through with what the situation was. He already had too much to deal with on a daily basis. Tim simply thought he was doing a nice favor for a beautiful woman. 

But if Bruce had told him, Tim would immediately do every possible background check on Y/N. He would be suspicious of the timing and underlying motives. He would probably assume that Y/N’s end goal was to get money or fame – or both. Bruce knew eventually Tim would come to the conclusion that Y/N wanted neither of those things. But it would still get an unnecessary rise out of the boy.

Bruce didn’t even want to think about how Damian would handle it. He knew his son felt a certain level of pride from being the only blood-son of his. Knowing he had a sibling – and an older sister at that – would most likely enrage him. And that wouldn’t make anything better. 

Jason…Well, Jason would get a kick out of Bruce letting down yet another child. And it would just be worse that she was blood related. He’d be curious about Y/N. Hell, he’d probably be tickled by the no-bullshit attitude Y/N had towards Bruce and her harsh efforts to keep him out of her life completely.

Now, Bruce sat at a Justice League meeting.

They were only a few minutes into a council session when his communicator started going off.

The boys knew not to contact him unless it was an emergency. So, he quickly excused himself and stood to leave the room.

“What is it?” Bruce answered, his Batman voice in full form.

“There’s been an attack at city hall,” Dick reported back hurriedly.

Bruce frowned. The boys had handled much worse things on their own before. There had to be more to it than that.

“Scarecrow,” Dick confirmed. “He released a fear toxin. It’s bad Bruce. The mayor has been infected, along with half of their staff. I think it’s a new string. Our antidote doesn’t seem to doing anything. Even if it did, we don’t have nearly enough for the amount of victims.”

“The others?” Bruce asked quickly – meaning Damian, Jason, and Tim.

“They’re fine. Jason’s trying to get everyone out before they inhale too much. Tim and Damian went after Scarecrow. GPD is in a panic.”

Bruce turned to see Clark had raced to his side. Clearly he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. But the expression in his face prevented Bruce from getting into an argument about it.

“What?” Bruce asked him, knowing something was wrong.

“Lois and Y/N were at that council meeting,” Clark breathed out.

“We’ll be there soon,” Bruce told Dick before hanging up.

—

Bruce thought he knew fear from the few times his boys had been in trouble. But it was nothing compared to the fear he had knowing it was Y/N this time. She wasn’t a trained vigilante; she was just an innocent civilian. Bruce had not insured that she was trained and could take care of herself.

As soon as Clark dropped them on the ground, they were in the midst of the chaos.

“Lois!” Clark yelled.

People were too distracted to notice Superman and Batman had arrived.

Bruce looked over to see Lois rushing to Clark. He could tell it took all of Clark’s willpower not to embrace Lois from his relief.

“Are you OK?” Clark asked as he dipped his head and his eyes raced across his wife’s body.

“I-I’m fine. I got lucky. Somehow I was out of range of the gas explosion.”

“Y/N?” Bruce interrupted. “Did you see Y/N?”

“She was helping these kids get out and I was getting shoved out of the building. I tried to get to her but it was impossible with everyone’s panic. I think she’s still in there.”

Before Bruce could turn to Clark to come up with a plan, Clark flew into the building. A few people finally noticed the presence of superheroes and started murmuring.

“Nightwing, Red Hood – I’m at the front entrance of City Hall.”

Clark flew back to them not even 30 seconds later.

Y/N was unconscious in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Lois muttered at Y/N’s condition.

“She’s gone into shock. We need to get her to the medics,” Clark informed them. “She was exposed to the toxin more than the others.”

But Bruce was already shaking his head. “They won’t be able to help her.”

Clark gently handed Y/N to Bruce as he explained, “There are others in there.”

Just then Nightwing and Red Hood dropped in front of them.

Nightwing immediately recognized Y/N and his eyes shot up to Bruce with worry.

“Nightwing, I need you to take her back to the cave,” he tried to sound as controlled as possible.

Bruce was confused why Dick hesitated to take Y/N out of his arms.

“Do you have the batmobile? I brought my motorcycle,” Dick sounded apologetic when he explained.

Jason stepped forward before Bruce could answer. “I got her.”

As if she were the most fragile being ever, Jason carefully took Y/N’s unconscious body from Bruce’s grip. He could see in Bruce’s gaze that she was someone special. How and why, Jason would figure out later. 

Jason had seen Y/N trying to help as many people before she was completely poisoned from the toxin. She’d risked her life to help. 

Watching Jason cradle her into his body caught Clark off guard, always seeing the brute strength and almost animalistic energy from Red Hood whenever they so happened to fight beside each other.

“Meet us at the cave,” Bruce clarified. “Alfred will know what to do. We have to help out here more.”

Jason nodded before he hurried away with her and rushed to his hidden car.  

——————

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she shot up, sitting in a cot.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a voice she didn’t recognize said beside her. “You gotta relax.”

She turned to see a mammoth of a man sitting beside her, wearing vigilante gear with at least two guns being displayed at his sides. But it was the red helmet completely hiding his face and true voice that made Y/N feel uncomfortable.

“What the fuck,” she groaned at the sight of him.

Just a few seconds later, two men rushed into the room.

Bruce walked in still in his Batman uniform, but without his cowl – to Jason’s shock.

Clark was beside him, making Jason confused as to why he was still here. Surely he would want to be with Lois. 

Y/N took in the sight before her.

“You were poisoned with a new strand of Scarecrow’s toxin,” Superman explained.

Y/N had seen plenty of pictures and shaky video of him. But now that the man stood before her, she immediately recognized him.

“Clark?” She gasped.

He didn’t say anything. But his expression didn’t fight her realization, just silently waited for the truth to settle.

“Does Lois know?” Was her next question.

Clark smirked at that. “Of course.”

Y/N gave a slight nod.

But now her attention switched to Bruce. 

The Batman symbol was large across his chest, and his cape was still intact.

She looked around her surroundings and then up at the ceiling.

They were in a cave.

“You’re…you’re…” she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Batman,” Bruce finally offered.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with panic.

How was this possible?

Now that the others had exposed their identity, Jason felt inclined to take off his helmet. Clearly, it was making her uncomfortable.

The hiss of his helmet being removed caused Y/N to finally look away from her father and to Jason, who still wore a domino mask. But it was far less frightening than the helmet.

“We’ll give you two a moment alone,” Clark spoke for both him and Jason.

Jason nodded and stood up from the seat beside Y/N, and walked out. 

Clark lingered in the doorway. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he told her.

He might’ve revealed his Superman identity to her, but she was still his friend.

Y/N managed to nod in thanks, but was clearly still shook by all this news.

Bruce very slowly made his way to the chair that Jason had just been sitting in.

“How are you feeling?”

She shook her head. “Body’s sore. Migraine is killing me. What happened?”

“You were more exposed to the toxin more than the other victims. Jason brought you here. We had to make a new anecdote, and quickly.”

Bruce wanted to add that she could’ve died. But he didn’t see the use in scaring her.

“Oh,” was all she managed to mumble.

An awkward silence settled between them.

“Very few people know the truth about me,” Bruce explained.

Y/N’s gaze flickered up from her lap to look at him.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I figured I couldn’t ask you to allow me into your world if I didn’t allow you into mine.”

She was silent.

“Y/N…” Bruce cleared his throat. The time had come. “The reason I left your mother was because I was starting this life. I pushed her away to protect her. I knew I couldn’t be the man she deserved while also being Batman. Had I known the truth…”

His words died out. It was starting to become harder to control his emotions.

He leaned forward in his chair, just getting slightly closer to her.

“Had I known about you, I would’ve…” He cleared his throat to try and hold back his tears. “I never would’ve abandoned you or your mother.”

He leaned back then. “But I know those are just words. And to you, they probably sound like empty promises for the past.”

“She never knew?” Y/N whispered.

In the few moments she was allowed to process this information, her mind immediately wondered if her mom had known about Bruce’s double life all along. And that’s why she kept him away from her.

Bruce shook his head.

“Thank you…for trusting me enough to tell me your secret,” Y/N finally told him. “I promise I’ll never tell anyone,” she quickly added, feeling like she just needed to clarify that to him.

He gave her a small small, “I know.”

Y/N winced as she thought about how terrible she’d been to him all this time. Now that she knew the truth – the whole truth – she was looking at everything with a new perspective. Even what she knew about Bruce Wayne, the spoiled socialite... it was clearly all wrong. 

He used it as a cover. It was all a cover.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you,” she whispered shakily.

But Bruce shook his head before she could even get the apology out.

“Do you think it’s too late for us?” She breathed. 

Could they ever find any fragment of a father-daughter relationship?

Y/N was an adult – she had been for years now. And she made it clear she didn’t need nor want a father.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me,” Bruce sighed.

Her brow furrowed. “This meaning…?”

“My son, Damian. His mother kept him a secret from me. She didn’t reveal his existence until he was nine. And she only did it in an attempt to disrupt my life.”

“This seems to be a rather strange pattern in your life,” Y/N couldn’t help but point out.

Bruce glared at her, causing her to chuckle.

“My point is,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s ever too late.” And he cleared his throat quickly. “That is, if you want to try.”

“I think I do,” she answered with a shy smile.

It was the first time she’d done so in his presence.

“I don’t know anything about raising a daughter,” Bruce rubbed his face as he attempted to make the joke. But she could tell there was sincerity there, too.

“Well, I’ve already been raised,” Y/N laughed.

There.

That laugh.

It brought Bruce back to his teenage years. It sounded so much like her mother. Her face lit up just like her’s had.

“You remind me so much of your mother,” he gasped.

Her face dropped at his confession.

“Really?”

He nodded. “She said you were just like me. But there’s more of her in you than I think she ever realized.”

Bruce saw his much his words effected her.

Y/N’s eyes were shiny with tears, but she managed to hold them back.

“So what now?” She quickly asked, obviously trying to distract herself so she wouldn’t have a complete emotional breakdown.

“Well, Alfred should have dinner ready soon. Would you stay?”

She gave him a tear-filled smile. “I’d like that.”

“You can meet the rest of them,” Bruce told her casually as he stood.

“The rest of them?”

He nodded. “Well, you only have to meet Damian now. You already met Jason, Dick, and Tim in passing.”

“And here I thought you had no idea how to be a father…” Y/N muttered with amusement.

Bruce helped her get out of bed, making sure she was alright to stand and walk on her own.

“Well, depending on which of them you ask, they might tell you that you’re right.”

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

Thank you to everyone who read the first part. Let me know what you think <3

BONUS: This Game of Ours

[merakiui]

hello!!<3 can i request an angst scenario (it can have a happy ending it's up to you!!) childe x fem!reader where they are together for some time and she didn't know he's fatui (she hates them bc her parents were in debt and overall they ruined her life and he's too scared to tell her) but she finds out and wants to broke up?? THANK YOU

In which you discover Childe’s ties to the Fatui.

cw: angst, debt, small mention of depression as a result of debt, female reader note - I woke up and chose pain with this one. >:) it also got long;;; oops!

You hate the Fatui. And although that’s such a strong, hurtful word it's your true feelings. You’ve never experienced their wrath firsthand, but you have witnessed what it can do to people. Your sweet, loving parents, who took loans out of the bank in order to pay for repairs to their shop, were reduced to frightful messes at the mere mention of that harrowing F-word.

It’s horrible to see them in such a state, especially since a few agents had come by once and practically demanded the money. As a result of such a distasteful discussion, you refuse to go into any sort of monetary career: trader, merchant, and even a wandering saleswoman. You’ll find a way to make things right by getting a job that will bring in lots of riches for your poor parents. Then the Fatui will have no choice but to leave your family alone.

Your own funds have dried up, having gone into another Fatui agent’s gloved hands. You can’t even argue because you have an inkling as to what will happen when you finally run out of money to give. Ever since this entire debt charade, your parents have become hollow shells of their former selves: paranoid, depressed, and starved of the happiness that comes with being in a regular, debt-free family.

Childe tunes into your rant as if someone had just turned on the switch that designates his listening skills. The two of you are sitting on a lovely hilltop, watching the stars twinkle in and out of focus. Liyue Harbor can be seen from afar, glittering in warm colors of gold and red. If Childe remembers correctly, another festival should be right around the corner. He’ll have to take you when he finds time to slink away from his work.

Speaking of his work, he’s never actually told you about it. When you asked, he simply said it was a job that allowed him to travel. It sounded like a traveling merchant to you—perhaps even a fishmonger specializing in exotic types—considering he was seemingly loaded with Mora. It made you jealous that he was so well-off with his finances, but you couldn’t complain when he so readily emptied his pockets for your sake.

“And then that stupid agent shows up at our door right when I get home! It’s the worst timing ever. My parents were pretending to be out of the house and I showed up and ruined their plan.” A heavy sigh tumbles from your lips as you flop back onto the grass, where Childe fixes you with a lopsided, sympathetic grin. “I hate it. They’re not even themselves anymore. It’s like they lost all sense of life. I’m picking up as many commissions as I can, but it doesn’t even help. The Fatui just take it all faster than I can save it.”

“They’re the worst, aren’t they?”

“And the sky isn’t blue. Of course they’re the worst!” You inhale softly. “No use getting mad about something that already happened, though.”

“You’ll just give yourself more stress and you don’t need that.” He joins you on the plush grass, turning his head to look at you rather than up at the inky night sky. “I can help with your commissions, you know. I’ve been itching to smash some hilichurl camps.”

“I can handle it myself. It’s fine.” Only it’s not and you’ve started realizing that. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Funny. I was going to ask you something, too!”

“Oh. Uh...”

He chuckles, staring at you with blue eyes that don’t sparkle. “There’s this festival coming up and I wanted to take you. It’ll be just the two of us for one night. You can forget all about work and money—”

“What about you? You said your job has you traveling all over the place. That’s why we’ll rarely see each other in the future. Once you’re done here in Liyue, that is.” You move onto your side, holding yourself up on your elbow. “I don’t think it’ll work.”

“Well, my boss doesn’t have to know. It’ll be our tiny secret!”

You roll your eyes, smiling a little. Deep inside you’ve always felt like something was off about his story. For the past few months, he’s remained in Liyue and once you even caught him slipping into Northland Bank when you were running some errands. You hope he isn’t in a similar situation concerning debt and poverty. No, he wouldn’t need to be. He’s shown you just how many lavish things his funds can afford. Why would he be in debt if he has a stable job?

“Are you...doing something bad?”

You could’ve phrased that better, but it’s already out in the open now. Sheepishly, you avoid his befuddled stare, opting to watch the moon as its light becomes obscured behind a dark cloud. An airy chuckle escapes him, but he doesn’t say anything. His silence confirms your fears and it dawns upon you that he hasn’t been truthful this entire time.

“This mask.” It’s in your hands before he can stop you. You’re tapping at it with a finger, equal parts curious and apprehensive. You refuse to beat around the bush; your doubtful gaze catches his and it hardens at once. “You’re Fatui, aren’t you?”

He sits up calmly, holding out his hand. “That’s quite the accusation, my dear. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“I’m not jumping to any conclusion. I’m right, aren’t I?” Now you’re sitting up, staggering to your feet to find some sort of leverage over him. He’s taller than you and far more powerful than he once let on. “Childe, why would—“

He sighs, lowering his hand out of defeat. “I suppose there’s no point avoiding it now. You were bound to find out one of these days.”

“One of these days? What? Like, when my family’s on the streets because the Fatui took our house?”

It hurts that he wasn’t honest and it hurts even more knowing that he has the power to help. He could’ve spent his time working out ways to get you out of debt, yet he decided to shower you in affection and useless trinkets! Trinkets that are only good for selling and receiving money to pay off the debt. You could cry; that’s how much it hurts. And when he makes no solid effort to comfort you, the tears begin to form.

“Of course not. I’d never let that happen!”

“Then why would you lie about it? Why not help me? Why can’t you just be honest? You always avoid questions you don’t want to answer and I hate it! I’ve been with you long enough to know that that mask is bad news. I was just waiting for you to confirm it, but you didn’t.”

You think it’s selfish for wanting his help—for wanting help from a Fatui agent, no less—but you’re too upset to care.

“(Name), you know that’s—“

“What else haven’t you told me? What else have you lied about? I don’t care if you’re trying to protect me. I’m already on a list. The Fatui still show up to my house and you just...let them. Why?”

“If I interfered, it would look bad in front of Her Majesty. You know I can’t go against her orders. I want to help you—I do. But...”

You’re fumbling for new words, at a complete loss with yourself. No matter how many questions you spout, he’ll evade them like they’re optional. And even if you want answers and honesty more than anything right now, you know he’ll fail to provide it. You shove the mask into his hands, shaking your head in disbelief. A swell of emotions overcome you: sadness, anger, and regret. You feel utterly betrayed. The sweet Childe, whom you once thought was your perfect match, is working for the Fatui—the people who have turned your life into misery.

And that’s probably not even the half of it.

“Let’s break up,” you say before he can spin another false tale. Another easy excuse to avoid this downfall. Childe stops short to stare at you in surprise and it’s weird to see that emotion scrawled across his face. He’s usually smooth and collected; he always knows what to say and how to act. Not this time, though. “It’s not going to work if we’re together while the Fatui are hounding my parents. And they wouldn’t approve of our relationship either.”

“Now, (Name), wait a moment. You’re not thinking straight. You’re just—” He struggles to find the correct words and in that small moment between foggy clarity and paralyzing uncertainty he plasters another plastic smile on. “Look. I know you’re upset, but I didn’t mean to lie to you. I was going to tell you eventually. Just had to find the right time to do it, you know?"

“I know. And that’s why we should go our separate ways.” Like Childe, you also put on a faux show, building up your walls as high and strong as his are. You don’t think you’ll last another minute in his presence, as you’re far too close to tears. “Thank you again for tonight. I’ll take my leave now.”

Rather than pain, it’s bitter when your lips fall upon his soft cheek. And the gesture stings harder than a slap on the wrist. 

The searing pain returns when you pull away and begin the descent from the hill as fast as your trembling legs will allow. You refuse to look back and fall into his arms in hopes that he’ll reassure you. The fact that he doesn’t chase after you—doesn’t even call out—stabs your conflicted heart and it’s more than enough confirmation. Childe isn’t exactly boyfriend material. He’s callous when it comes to a battle and he’s driven by his own ulterior motives. Surely this relationship was just a means of spending his extra time when he found himself bored and lacking a fight. Maybe he thought of his work when the two of you were on secretive dates. Maybe his heart was empty when the two of you were intimate. Maybe you were just the glue holding this crumbling bond together.

Childe remains on that hilltop, watching you disappear into the distance. And it’s then when realizes he’s lost you. The feeling is different from the battlefield and it’s far more real than when he’s snooping around as a Harbinger. You’re just a normal, good-natured citizen and he...ruined that part of you. With his ties to an enemy that has crushed your family. He’s partly, if not fully, responsible for what transpired just now and for the first time in a while real guilt gnaws at him. He’s left wondering why he did all of that—why he couldn’t just face your questions head-on.

It’s his fault, isn’t it?

On that windy hilltop, under the silent, disapproving darkness of the sky, he’s left to pick up the pieces of a fractured relationship. And it’s all because he couldn’t admit the truth to his precious girlfriend.

In a way, the Fatui have taken something from him, too, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to patch it up with honeyed promises. 

Looks like we won’t be going to that festival anytime soon...

[linkspooky]

Do you have any thoughts on the Pro-Hero's discussion about Shigaraki and his hatred from chapter 311?

My thoughts are this, from both Jeanist and Hawks utter cluelessness to why Dabi could possibly have turned into a villain despite Dabi just telling them why, on tv, and being next to the man who pushed him into it, and from how all three of them fail to understand how Shigaraki could have been so easily groomed into hatred reflects an unacknowledged shadow for all three of them.

In Jungian psychology the concept of the shadow exists. The Shadow is an unconscious aspect of the personality which is outside of the conscious ego. While our consciousness is mainly made out of behaviors and memories, we judge as positive, and our Shadow differentiates by holding emotions, behaviors, and memories we label as adverse or painful. In a shadow, constructive perspectives might be incorporated, but most of the parts remain camouflaged under the thumb points of low self-esteem ness, anxieties, and false beliefs. "Everyone carries a shadow," stated Jung "and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. To know yourself, you must accept your dark side. To deal with others' dark hands, you must also know your dark side.

In other words, for characters like Enji and Hawks, all of their bad traits define them just as much as their good traits, to be a whole and complete person they have to recognize those bad traits instead of being in denial of them however, both of them choose to only see themselves as heroes.

Anyway, now for something completely different. Let’s talk about batman and the joker. Batman uses Jungian symbolism a lot, of all the heroes he’s the most famous for being a normal person, who dresses in a costume to fight crime specifically in shadowed alleyways, and has a rogues gallery that also consists of mostly normal people in costumes. Batman’s villains are batman. Batman plays with both the relationship between himself and his villains, and also the relatinoship between Bruce and his own Shadow, because his Shadow is part of who he is. 

Now the most iconic batman villain is obviously the joker, and he’s a character like All for One who most of the time is just written as a character who does evil for evil’s sake, but more serious looks at the Joker like The Killing Joke which My Hero Academia directly references make this comparison between the two of them. The famous One Bad Day speech is also, notably, an attempt for Joker to connect to batman, to try to explain himself to him. 

He’s not just spouting a villain speech, he’s also looking for sympathy and trying to give sympathy, because that’s just what humans do. Because deep down, both Batman and the Joker were normal people once. The connection between Batman and the Joker is that they were both normal people, but one of them became a hero, and the other one a villain, and therefore that potential exists in any normal person. 

However, the heroes in MHA still don’t acknowledge their connection to the villains. Hawks and Enji did apologize yes, but what’s also important is their actions after, which is to choose to continue fighting villains as heroes.

It’s been pointed out by Shoto before that what Enji really needs to do to heal his family, is act like a good father, rather than a good hero. However, when given the chance to reach out to his son, he chooses to fight it instead. There’s a reason that the public isn’t reassured by the actions of Hawks, Jeanist and Endeavor and that’s because they continue to keep playing heroes instead of acknowledging what’s wrong. I’m not saying they are good or bad people, both Hawks and Enji have bad sides of their personality that they are almost completely ignorant of. They, like any human being have the potential to be driven to villainy. That’s why Enji can’t reach out to his son, because his brains have still made the connection that he was what drove Toya to villainry. 

It comes across in the casualness which Enji remarks upon what AFO did to Shigaraki and the complete lack of self awareness. Enji did the same thing, he had a child for the sake of passing on his quirk, raised that child to hate all might and want to do anything to surpass him, and he even wanted to live vicariously through the success of Toya and then Shoto so everyone would know him as Endeavor’s son. He still only cares about Toya to the extent that his dreams were once resting on him. 

So when Enji makes the connection to AFO, he asserts that there must be something wrong with him to do all those bad things, because he’s unaware of the resmeblance between his own deeds and AFO’s. He sees himself as a human being with reasons for his bad actions, he didn’t mean to neglect Toya, he didn’t know what to say to him, he was too guilty and hid from his guilt for so long but he doesn’t allow his enemies to have that guilt. This is a pattern that repeats with Hawks, and Jeanist as well, they can’t understand why people like Twice and Dabi would feel like they have a right to be angry at the society that mistreated them. 

Jeanist’s defense is why can’t he just keep quiet about it. 

Twice’s last words were hating Hawks and wishing the worst for him, yet Hawks still thinks they were best friends somehow.

Hawks and Twice were not friends, because Hawks chose not to be his friend, and to hurt what was most precious to Twice which was all of his other friends. Enji chose not to be a father to Toya and not be a father. Enji and Hawks are neither heroes nor villains, they are not good or bad, they’re just humans and as humans they have the potential to be both. 

In only seeing the hatred that Shigaraki was groomed to have they’re also fundamentally misunderstanding him. The thing is Shigaraki has reasons for his hatred, and not just because AFO forced him to feel that way. It’s not just AFO, that’s what they critically misunderstand, it’s Shigaraki’s experiences with how the society around him has neglected both him and his friends.

That’s something that the heroes can never see, because Shigaraki has been assigned the role of a villain who hates society. It’s not just AFO, Shigaraki can’t be at peace with a society that is designed to reject others.

That doesn’t come from his hate either, it comes from his sympathy with the victims. Just like they only see their own good traits, they can only see the villain’s bad traits. The thing is we have witnessed Shigaraki constantly been challenged on the fact that he only has empty hatred, first by Stain, then by Chisaki, and finally be Re-Destro. We also witnessed the moment he changed. 

The conclusion Shigaraki comes to as the result of his arc is that while he himself doesn’t care about the people, he’s not alone anymore, he wants to give the future to the others around him. 

That’s why Shigaraki’s actions aren’t driven just by hatred, but also by a deeply broken sense of empathy. Not only is he a crying child himself, he’s also someone who acknowledges the feelings of others. What converted Spinner from being someone who didn’t particularly care about the goals of the league, and doubted Shigaraki in front of everyone to his most loyal follower. 

It’s because he came to recognize that this human side of Shigaraki was there. The same way that underneath his mask, Spinner was just a pathetic NEET struggling with his own feelings of inadequacy, Shigaraki gets close to broken people, he tries to protect them, he tries to give some kind of validation to their feelings. 

Shigaraki has grown from just hating all of society because it rejected him, to realizing the real reason is because it rejects everyone around him. That means while there’s hatred to his character, there’s also a very selfish and intense love that applies to a small group of people, but the potential for love is still there. Shigaraki reaches out and saves people the same way that Deku does, he tries to do all the fighting himself to protect others just like Deku, it’s just that he’s been hurt again and again and that’s twisted him to act on his worst trait. None of the heroes understand Shigaraki’s love, because they can only see his hate. 

It’s not just that he’s been victimized or that he’s a crying child. Shigaraki is constantly compared to a child both in a negative sense as a man child, and a positive sense as a child pure heartedly pursuing their dream, because there is that potential within Shigarkai, to grow up, and grow into a better person if he was given the same chance to atone that characters like Hawks and Enji have already received. 

Shigaraki and Deku just like batman and the joker both reflect that in perfectly normal people, there’s the chance for great good, or great evil. For Shigaraki there’s an added level of complexity, that you can still grow into a better person, after everyone has written you off as too far gone. You can still grow to love the people around you when you thought you were only capable of hating. 

Enji and Hawks still have the oppurtunity to grow just like that, not as heroes, but as people. 

However to truly grow as people they would have to learn to empathize with the villains, especially because they have done wrong things too, Hawks killed because he had to, Enji hurt his entire family. Defeating the villain really is not the solution, because sometimes you yourself are the villain. 

In order to fully grow as people they have to learn to see themselves as people, and not heroes. That also means admitting the villains are just as human as they are. If Endeavor is someone who can become better after realizing that he made so many mistakes in the past and the only thing he can do about it is try to do better from now on, then Endeavor’s ending point should be realizing that since he was given that chance by his family, others deserve that chance too, especially his own son.  People are not villains, or heroes, Endeavor is just Enji Todoroki and Dabi is Touya Todoroki deep down no matter how they see themselves. 

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 24

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

June 1999

The air smells wet and woody, birdsongs trilling in the early morning sun that trickles through a sky light. She stretches, then disentangles her legs from the sheets and stands, walking to the window.

There is a giant soaking tub in the corner of the room, flanked by two windowed walls that afford a sweeping view of the Cascade mountains, green carpeted hillsides meeting with a baby-blue sky.

She can still recall her mother’s face when they told her the wedding would be in Washington State. “But...we don’t even know anyone in Washington, Dana,” she’d said with a bemused expression, lamenting the length of their flights with a nine-month-old in tow.

Her mother’s reaction paled in comparison to Mulder’s excitement when she’d suggested the idea; she would spend their honeymoon relaxing with a book in the tub, and he could spend it traipsing through the woods looking for Sasquatch, or ‘squatchin’ as he called it. They would reunite in the afternoon, hiking, making love, catching up on all the conversations they’d missed while in the trenches of parenting a new baby. Mom would stay at the same resort with Molly so they could see her every day, while having precious nights to themselves; something they haven’t done since she was born.

She turns the tap on the bath, a blast of water thundering into the empty basin. When it’s full nearly to the brim, she disrobes and eases in, breathing deeply to inhale the juniper-scented steam, courtesy of the resort-provided bath salts. Closing her eyes, she thinks back over it all; their chance meeting, how she was drawn to him by a force that seemed to be bigger than them both, the anguish of wanting him but feeling like she owed it to Ethan to stay together. Her eyes snap open, a memory long-buried in the recesses of her mind springing forth like a trebuchet.

The day she met Mulder, she’d been planning to take the day off to go to a book signing for an author she admires. The signing was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict and she almost took the day off anyway, but had a last minute pang of guilt knowing that the workload that week was already heavy and Trudy would struggle to manage it all on her own. So she’d gone in, she’d performed that autopsy that should have been on Trudy’s docket, and she’d filled out the paperwork, and she’d met Mulder. How delicate the balance of the universe that such an insignificant choice completely changed the course of her life.

She suddenly misses him acutely, and a bundle of nerves and excitement flutters in her belly thinking about when she’ll see him next. She’d scoffed at the idea of them spending last night apart; they live together and have a child so the performative chastity seemed to be a bit much. He said it was like a fast, that a little time apart would make it even more special when they saw each other at the ceremony, and she ultimately acquiesced.

“Meet me on a mountain top at 4 o’clock tomorrow?” he’d asked as he backed out of her room, pulling away from the desperate kisses she was planting all over his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied with a smile, and they said goodnight.

She smiles again, sinking down until the water slips into her ears. She can’t wait to marry him.

———

He sits up and arches his back, his spine protesting the cramped accommodations. Looking over at Byers and Missy curled up in the king size bed, he regrets his decision to crash on the couch here instead of staying with Scully in their room. Not only because he slept like shit with his legs hanging over the end, but also because work takes him away from his girls so often, he’s an idiot to add another day to it if he doesn’t have to.

He stands, hands on his hips as he twists to stretch his angry muscles, and walks to the window, taking in the dense green hills and valleys that surround them. He smiles, because she could have asked to go to Mexico, or France, or anywhere on the entire Earth and he would have given her what she wanted, but she chose the place she knew he wanted to go. Selfless and giving to a fault, his Scully. Soon to be his wife.

He quietly slips on his running shoes and sneaks out of the room, hitting the hard-packed dirt trail the concierge had told him about. The quiet forest is the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts, nothing but the thud of his feet striking the ground and the twitter of waking birds to distract him. He thinks about his life, about being a child who was lonely and alone, with parents who provided food and shelter but not much more. He thinks about Molly, and how she will never know that kind of pain, that there will never be a day of her life that she is not told how much she is loved. He wonders if his dad ever felt about his mom the way he feels about Scully, and he knows it’s not possible that he did, because if so they would still be together.

He comes to a break in the trees and pauses, breath heaving and lungs burning as he watches a hawk gliding through the valley below, hunting for breakfast. How easily he could have missed this moment, he thinks. Even one small change to the trajectory of his life, and he never would have walked into the autopsy bay that day. If the courier hadn’t been sick, if he hadn’t stopped by Kirkbride’s office when he did. Even further back, if he hadn’t stayed with the bureau with the X files were closed, if Valerie hadn’t been there to encourage him, or if he hadn’t met Valerie one random Tuesday at a record store. The path was long and winding, and it led to her. It led to him on this mountaintop in a sweat-soaked T-shirt, smiling at the thought of his baby daughter, his almost-wife.

He picks up running again, the smile staying on his lips. He’s always felt like he was running away; from his painful past, his regrets, his bad decisions. Now he realizes he’s running towards; his future, a thousand opportunities yet unseen, a kind of happiness he never thought he’d know. He can’t wait for the rest of his life to start.

———

He stands in a clearing near the edge of a cliff, the lush green landscape toeing up against the horizon looking like crooked teeth. Frohike stands beside him in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, a leather folio clasped in his hands. Mulder is also dressed fairly casually, in slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, the sleeves cuffed and the top button undone.

Scully wanted this to be as non-traditional as possible, to make it their own. There is no wedding party, no tuxedo, no flower girl or garter toss. No one will walk her down the aisle, as no one but herself has the ownership to give her away. The guests are small in number; immediate family only, plus the gunmen. Monica and Dahlia are house-sitting back in DC, minding Priscilla as well as the dog, King, that joined the family after the purchase of their house in March. Bucking the idea of arranging guests by whose “side” they are on, they all sit in a small cluster, and Scully will enter from the side.

He looks out and waves at Molly, who is standing on Missy’s lap, holding her hands and bouncing up and down forcefully. She squeals and shouts “dah, dah, dah!” which he chooses to interpret as “Daddy” even though Scully told him it’s just a nonsense syllable and doesn’t mean anything.

Langly gets the signal from Frohike and hits play on a small boom box, piping an instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” up into the branches of the towering evergreen trees. He expected to feel nervous at this moment, but all he feels is excitement as Maggie scurries out from behind a line of trees and takes her place beside Bill, giving him a smile and a wink.

Scully appears from around the same group of trees and he grins broadly. He’s seen the dress, they picked it out together, but the full effect is stunning. Her hair, now grown well past her shoulder blades, is curled softly and pinned half up, brilliant red tendrils shimmering in the midday sun against her porcelain shoulders. Her dress is full length pearl satin, a slim sheath cut with off the shoulder straps. She is holding a small bouquet of pink peonies in her hands, and holding his eye with a playful smirk.

She arrives beside him and before the music stops, before Frohike has a chance to begin, he steps forward and takes her by the waist, kissing her fully. The guests laugh and he pulls away to see a confused smile on her face.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says simply.

They move through the ceremony, exchanging rings and vowing to love each other forever; promises they’ve already made to each other a hundred times. As they near the part that Scully understands to be the end, Frohike goes off script.

“Mulder has prepared some words of his own, he’ll read them now,” he says, nodding toward his friend.

Scully’s eyebrows lift in a surprised and confused expression.

“Mulder, we didn’t talk about writing our own vows,” she whispers, afraid she’s failed to complete the assignment.

“It’s okay, these are for both of us,” he whispers, and then, taking her hands in his, he reads a passage from her favorite book from memory.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely. A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

The tear that slips down her cheek is borne only of happiness. She looks into his green eyes and sees contentment and love, and desire. It’s not a spark, what they have, nor an ember. It’s a wildfire, a white-hot torch, an eternal flame that binds them together inseparably. They were forged in fire the moment he laid eyes on her in that autopsy bay, maybe even before.

Frohike concludes, “by the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride…again.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up as he kisses her deeply, a gust of warm summer wind picking up pine needles and tossing them in a mini-tornado that surrounds them both. Molly squeals “dah dah dah!” and claps for her parents.

———

She stands at the mirror, brushing her teeth. Her hair is combed out, her makeup removed, the white dress hanging in the corner of the room with the hem now tinged brown from the dirt that served as their dance floor.

Mulder appears behind her, an arm snaking around the waist of her satin nightgown. She smiles at the sight of his newly ring-adorned hand pressed flat against her belly, then leans forward to rinse.

“Ready for bed?” he asks softly, and she nods.

They slip beneath the cool sheets, curling around one another face-to-face; her leg threaded between his, his arms around her back, foreheads touching. She draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly, contentment settling deep in her bones.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen in exactly the way they did to lead us here?” he asks, and she pulls back a little to look at his face.

“Yes, I was actually just thinking about that earlier,” she says with a curious lilt.

“Makes you wonder, huh, what lives we’d be leading if even just one detail were changed,” he says, tracing his finger along her shoulder blade.

“I don’t think it would have mattered, actually,” she says, and he gives her a quizzical look, silently asking her to elaborate. “I know this will sound a little far-fetched coming from me,” she begins with a self-conscious smile, “but I think it was always going to end up this way. Even if we hadn’t met when we did, we would have crossed paths some other way. Looking back over everything, it just seems like this was meant to be the outcome, even if the path to get here could have gone in a lot of different directions.”

He ponders this, remembering a conversation they had over coffee when, against all odds, she reappeared in his life.

“Like there was only one choice, and signs along the way to pay attention to,” he says contemplatively, lifting his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” she replies, pressing her lips to his briefly, “it was always going to be you.”

END

[iwantutobehapppier]

Milk and Honey

Pairing: Steve Roger x Jewish!Reader

Summary: One year after Eight Smutty Nights. Your husband Steve has been gone for two weeks, leaving you with your newborn. Can he make it home in time for the first night of Chanukah? How could he make this up to you? 

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, lactation kink, daddy kink, cum play, oral, masturbation.

A/N: Happy 1st night of Chanukah. I’m a bit rusty in my smut writing so thank you for my patience of a saint wife @sagechanoafterdark​. I hope you all enjoy. Oh it’s a sequel to the first Chanukah smut I wrote last year, Eight Smutty Nights. Can’t wait to give you guys the rest of your presents. ;)

He was rushing up the stairs. Well aware he would be faster than the elevator, as he tried to reach you before the sunset, ensuring he doesn’t miss the 1st Chanukah together as a family.

In the last year since your winter wedding, Steve had found himself taking part in more Jewish traditions. As if welcoming your faith with your union last winter opened the floodgates.

Mindful of the setting sun with as much grace and silence as he can muster Steve pushes the front door eyeing your form, the flickering candlelight as you carried the burning shamash to the first night candle on the right lighting the living room. Steve kept his distance, but he silently mouths the prayer with you, gladly welcoming the 1st-night of Chanukah. You turned just slightly to see your husband joining you, a warm smile blooming over your face as you both prayed. 

When you turn to your side Steve’s breath hitches. The soft candlelight illuminating you and the precious 8-weeks-old baby girl wrapped up in the cloth against your body. You had been adamant that she be constantly with you, your motherly instincts triggering something primal within Steve. While everything you did was a turn on, it had been especially hard to keep his distance as of late, giving your body time to recover. 

You face him fully, taking a step towards him but with his wide gait he meets you in two steps. His large hands caressing the top of your little one’s head and cupping your cheek, leaning towards you to catch your lips between his. An involuntary sigh emitting from him at your touch.  

With reluctance, he pulls away. 

“Chag Urim Sameach,” your voice a soft balm to his body after two weeks without you. His mission took longer than expected, but to his delight, the sweet little girl the two of you made seemed to be growing even more perfect in his absence. A soft yawn showing her toothless mouth left a burning in his chest.

Your smaller hand slips over his covering Sarah’s head. 

Sarah. He wanted to kiss you the moment you had suggested the name. Not only was it his mother’s name but apparently a family name for you. A soft smile pulls at his lips looking from the sleepy infant to his beautiful bride and mother of his child.

“I’m sorry,” Steve started but with a soft shake of your head, he stops as you turn the living room lights on.

“It couldn’t be helped,” your understanding easing the anxiousness he had coming home. A muted whine starting from Sarah, your eyes glancing to the clock and you make your way to your couch, slowly unwrapping the baby as her fussing starts to grow. 

“Have you been here alone the whole time?” Steve could feel his guilt weigh heavier after being gone so long with the newborn baby. He had spoken to Tony before coming to you informing him he would only be available under the direst of situations. 

“Oh no,” you assure, unclipping the strap from your top and then your bra, slowly getting used to this whole feeding situation. Steve tried to focus on your next words as you spoke, but the moment your enlarged breast came out for Sarah to feed, he went absolutely deaf.

Mesmerized Steve sits next to you. Watching as his beautiful daughter latches onto your nipple, the suckling deafening to his ears. His tongue swiping over his lips, realizing quickly he wasn't listening to a word you said, his mind finally tuned back in.

“And then she wasn’t feeding from the bottle but I think it’s because mom wasn’t warming it up enough,” you continued, oblivious to your husband as he tried his damnedest to figure out what you could be talking about. However, when you pulled your shirt down completely, rubbing on the red and swollen nipple he had checked out once more.

“Mom insists that I’ll keep producing-” you flinch, cessation of your voice pulls Steve back in.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” His dazed eyes flicking up to your face as he spoke, the grimace on your lips makes his own downturn. He knows it’s bound to happen but he doesn’t like seeing you in pain… well unless he’s caused it.

You nod your head, “She’s an eager eater,” you smirk catching Steve’s eyes back on your breasts. “Much like her father.”

Steve had an affinity for tits, that much had always been clear between you. But now it had turned into a full-blown obsession. His newfound ‘kink’, as you had called it, happened when your first milk came in and he was practically watering at the mouth for a taste. 

Steve shifts in his seat, pulling at his pants trying to hide the obvious growing erection. You catch his movement and look up from watching Sarah feed to see what he clearly failed to hide. 

He notices you catching him ogling and he has just enough shame to blush but not enough that he can stop himself from looking back at your breasts. He nods as you move Sarah gently to your other breast, once again she latches with eagerness.

“So your mother was here?” You smiled, holding in a chuckle at his words as if you hadn’t been talking about that past 15 minutes. “Why isn’t she here now?” 

“Hmm,” you pause Sarah stopping feeding, you hold her on your chest, her head on your shoulder you softly pat her back and rub in circles. “I told her we’d do a big deal for the last night of Chanukah.”

“We could have-” 

“I just got my husband back home,” you interrupted. “Can you blame me for being selfish with our time?” Steve scooted himself closer to you, pulling your side to his chest, a gentle upturn of lips at the quiet burp Sarah lets out.

“I love nothing more than how selfish you are with our time,” Steve tries his best to not ogle your still exposed breast. Noticing Sarah slipping into slumber he seizes this moment to not only distract but to hold his little girl. 

Standing up with the tiny bundled in his arms, Steve makes his way to the bedroom with her bassinet. His blue eyes shining with admiration for the miracle made by both of you. Watching how delicate he is with her, the contrast in their size warming your heart.

Once the two are out of eyesight you look down at your exposed chest, satisfied that the swelling is starting to ebb. You weren’t sure how well you would handle once the teething comes in. Maybe you’d pump into bottles. 

Speaking of pumping, you can feel the pressure of remaining milk, sometimes they ached just by the milk production alone. You pull your shirt up as you move to the kitchen grabbing the pump and then taking your spot back on the couch.

Just as you’ve moved your top down again Steve walks back in to pause at the site.

“Do you need some help?”  

Looking up you catch the darkening of his eyes, catching the way he not so subtly tugs on his pants to give his hardening cock a little relief. The serum coursing through him letting his eyes see the smallest dollop of milk pooling at the tip of your breast.

“You know I’d never turn away your help,” you pause eyelids lowering, feeding off the energy your insatiable husband exudes, “Daddy.”

Steve falls to his knees, shimming to you as you spread your legs wide to make room for his huge figure. He pulls the tubing and funnels from the machine away from you. Large calloused hands slide up cupping both heavy breasts from below. The choked groan that pulls from his lips sends a shot straight between your legs, wetness pooling in your yoga pants.

“Baby,” he whispers before wetting his lips to wrap around a taut nipple. His tongue laves your nipple and surrounding skin with wide sweeping movement, coaxing your milk to come out. When the warm sweet liquid pours in his mouth he can’t help but rut his crotch against the couch cushions. His tongue lapping out the side of his mouth to catch a stray drop of milk.

Your fingernails dig into the couch fibers, the sensation holy erotic as Steve feeds from you, a stark contrast to nursing Sarah.

He massages the other from below, fingers kneading and pushing upwards, prepping for his future attention. The thought of feasting on you while you sit on his cock pulls a gargled groan. Feeling the precum leaking from the tip of his cock, certainly making a clear stain in his jeans.

Invigorated he pulls harder on the nipple, seeking to take all you have to offer, knowing full well you would be replenished by the next nursing time.

“Ste-Steve,” You shudder when he pulls back. His hands move to your waist, lifting you up, and with a whoosh of movement, he’s sitting in your spot with you straddling his lap. You push down on his lap, eliciting moans from both of you.

His hands slip behind to grip your asscheeks, rocking you back and forth. When you lean forward he dips his head down, latching onto your neglected breast. Moans slipping past your lips at his incessant suckling. His tongue rolls along the nipple taking everything he can, lips shining in the light with your milk. When a little dribbles down the underside of your tit, he pulls off your nipple with a resounding ‘pop’ to lick the trail of milk. Refusing to miss a single drop of your sweet nurturing milk. 

He bites on the underside of your breast, the symphony of moans he was pulling from you stops to let out a soft mewl. Steve grins against your breast before trailing bites and licks up to your nipple. Taking the swollen tip in his mouth his pulls more from your body once more.

He knows you most likely can’t take him yet, your cervix still tinder from birth and he wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself, the way he feels feeding on your tits alone driving him mad with unbridled desire.

He grunts pushing you down hard onto him, rocking your hips back and forth. Your fingers thread through his hair, your lips resting against the crown of his head while you rock your hips faster taking the lead, the friction of his jeans catching your swollen clit if you move in just the right way against the strained zipper. 

With soft whimpers growing back into moans Steve basks in your noises. Trying his hardest to not make a mess in his jeans but with the taste of your sweet milk flowing into his mouth coupled with the way he can feel your heated and certainly swollen pussy through those yoga pants it's quickly becoming his undoing.

Readjusting you to straddle his thigh without leaving your heavy breast he starts bouncing his leg, pulling your hips back and forth. When you catch against the seam your head tips back with a gutted moan. 

“Daddy,” The way your voice whines in need demands his attention. Pulling from your nipple admiring how red and swollen the nipple shines with his spittle he looks up past your arched neck. Your eyes closed tight in pleasure.

“Cum on my thigh baby,” his voice strained, pushing your hips down anxious for you to release so he can lick up that nectar instead. Enjoying the way your body shudders as it keys up for his favorite sight. “Look at me,” he growls.

You barely catch his words, so caught up in the pleasure he’s pushing and pulling against your body. Bending back down, your eyes hooded, lips parted as moans fall out uncontrollably. It’s building and when one of his hands releases your hips to cup your pussy outlined in the yoga pants perfectly his fingers find your clit with ease, rubbing directly you can feel the pleasure reaching precipice. 

Your legs jerk out straight, you curl into Steve but he pulls your head up keeping your gaze as your orgasm overtakes you. Riding out your high you barely notice that Steve is lifting you up in his arms, taking wide steps to your bedroom to lay you on your marital bed. 

Taking your relaxed state to his advantage he pulls your top and yoga pants off with swift movement. Just as your coming to you feel your husband fold your body in half, lifting your throbbing pussy to his face as he puts one knee on the bed. 

Slipping your panties to the side his wide tongue drags from your quivering opening to your clit. A loud moan forced out at the sensation is painful with your compressed lungs. 

The two of your freeze when Sarah makes a noise in the bassinet on the other side of the bed.  Steve’s lips wrapped around your clit similar to how he had previously been on your nipples. His eyebrows wiggle when you look at the bassinet then back to him when Sarah seems to remain asleep.

You cover your mouth this time when he hums to begin tracing patterns on your clit with his tongue. Your hips jutting at the overstimulation. Having minimal mercy on you Steve releases your clit, dipping his tongue into you, pulling out your honey. Groaning into your wet flesh he pushes two fingers in above his tongue, curling to find that special spot that makes you cry out just how he likes it. His tongue slipping out only for a moment to coat your back entrance in saliva before returning to the slick leaking from your core.

Your free hand grips his hair, pulling him and at times pushing his head. Your body withering with pleasure bordering on pain. His cock throbs in his jeans, with haste he unbuttons and pulls the zipper down, pulling his cock out through the slit in his boxer briefs. With a groan of relief, he strokes himself to soothe his ache, having to stop himself before he finishes too soon.

Refocusing he doubles his effort, one hand holding your contorted form, the other fingers pushing against the spongy spot he so loves. Your legs flail above you trying to buck him off at the intensity. Muffled cries music to his ears as he licks and kisses your clit ensuring your rapid climb to another release.

It’s all-encompassing, the way your legs press against your tender breasts, his devilish tongue diligence, and skilled fingers dragging, then pulling you into a spiral. He needed you to cum for him once more, just as badly as your body needed it. The rising in tide more intense than your previous orgasm. 

You shake your head, overwhelmed, trying to get Steve’s attention with your eyes alone. It was too much, you were certain you wouldn’t be able to be quiet. Feeling and hearing your shaking he catches your eyes, smirking at the panic he finds in them. 

Oh, you were going to take it no matter how much it bordered on torture.

Just as your hand flies from your mouth to grip his head pulling him against you with shaking limbs, his large palm slaps over your mouth covering the desperate cry singing your release.

Thighs trembling and soft cries following the outburst Steve removes his fingers from your depths only for his tongue to take their place to relish in your taste. Steve’s hand wet with your juices grips his cock, jerking at a quick tempo, he’s almost there as is.

Keeping his pace he lets your legs fall on either side of him. Sitting back up he points his leaking cock at you. Thumb sweeping over the tip to use this cum with your juices as a lubricant. 

“Fuck,” he hisses looking over your ravaged body. “You look so beautiful,” he grunts feeling his balls tighten. He couldn’t wait until he could flood your pussy once more and put another baby in that beautiful soft body but until then…

“Please daddy,” your voice rough from the abuse of pleasured cries as you watch him jerk himself with a rapid pace. “I want to see you cum.”

That does it, Steve’s head falls forward, thick cream shooting from the tip at the pace of his heartbeat, coating your chest and stomach. A little dribbling down your mons. Steve licks his lips watching more and more cover you. 

Heavy breaths the only sound in the room as your fingers dip into the cream over your tits, taking the covered fingers into your mouth to suck clean followed by a soft hum. Steve gives out a breathy chuckle at your lustful act. 

After pulling his clothes off he lays down beside you on the bed, Pulling you to his chest, not caring about the mess he’s made on both of you. A shower would be later, now he needed to feel the weight of his wife’s body on him with the soundtrack of his daughters sleeping breath to help soothe the chasm being away two weeks left. 

Yes, a shower and all the other things could come later, now he just wanted his family. Just his family. 

[yetanotherhoeforpedro]

Sinfully Armored

Chapter 4 - The spirits that haunt us 

Chapter 3

TW: SMUT, canon-typical violence

Your eyes adjusted to the bright lights so slowly that you had to rely on your other senses. Apparently, you were lying on an even metal surface, judging from the cold hard material you felt underneath your – exposed back? Yes, you seemed to be naked from the waist up. As you focused on the rest of your body, you noted with surprise that the pain in your ribs had subsided. The air smelled slightly of ethanol; you definitely weren’t on Kashyyyk anymore. Shit, had you been abducted by the Empire?

Finally, your eyesight returned to you and you looked around, careful not to move your head too conspicuously, lest whoever had brought you here would notice you. You relaxed immediately as you took in the familiar view of your ship, though it didn’t lessen your irritation. How did you get back here?

You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at your ribs. The sudden movement made you feel a little dizzy, so you carefully laid back down again and peeked at your ribcage. Someone seemed to have tended to your wounds as a beige bandage was wrapped around them, still leaving your breasts exposed, and they really didn’t hurt anymore. You slowly stretched your hand out to your ribs and dug your fingers in to test your pain tolerance. Nothing. There had to be some sort of painkiller involved…How long had you been out? What about Grogu? The Wookie youngling?

You sat back up in a quick movement that your head didn’t appreciate in the least. “Careful,” a modulated voice said and your head snapped to the direction of it, resulting in another sharp headache.

But there was the Mandalorian, standing at the other end of the space. You were too stunned to react to his presence in any way. Why was he here? He should have hated you, what did he care if you were being careful or not? Fuck, how you despised yourself. You averted his glance out of pure guilt. You broke his trust, you let them take his child. You were too weak to save him, why did Luke ever send you on this mission?

“What…what happened?” you asked finally and noticed how raw your throat felt. “You passed out on the beach, so I took you back here and…,” he paused and his visor dipped down a bit, allowing him a better look at your rib. You were suddenly all too aware of your exposed breasts, but didn’t want to show your discomfort by moving to cover them up. He shook his head quickly. “So, I– I– fixed your…ribs.” You heard him swallow loudly as he brought his helmet back up to your face. “For a moment I thought– I thought I had los…”, he added, but stopped himself from saying whatever he was going to. You looked at him curiously. “I’m sorry,” he said instead.

You grew even more irritated at that. “You are sorry? I am the one who fucked up, Mando,” you replied faintly, breaking the possible eye contact with him again. “I am so sorry, it’s all my fault. If I had been quicker…,” you went on and let your voice trail off.

“None of this is your fault,” he responded firmly and took a few steps towards you. “I was…being a dick, and I am sorry for it. I– I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I know you would never have let them get him if you had had another choice, I was just – he – he’s all I have left.” Some small part of your heart broke at that confession.

“You had every right to snap at me,” you answered with conviction. “Please, don’t be so kind to me…I don’t deserve that.” You heard him tread even closer to you and this time, he didn’t stop until he was right next to you. He uttered your name softly and at that, your head turned back to him. Two leather gloves cupped your cheeks gently, forcing you to hold his stare.

“You – you deserve nothing but kindness from me,” he whispered and let one of his hands trail across your cheekbones in a featherlight touch. The simple touch sent goosebumps across your entire body. “I – I have been…awfully unkind to you,” he admitted quietly.

“What’s with the change of heart now?” you attempted to lighten the situation and relieve yourself of some of the electric current humming through you, but failed miserably. “I…when you were…on that…beach…completely motionless…” The movements of his hand stilled for a second. You knew this was as vulnerable as he would make himself, so you simply placed your hand on top of his in silent affirmation.

“Mando…I…,” you began, but he silenced you by putting his index finger on your mouth. “Stop guilting yourself,” he said intently and his other hand began to softly move across your cheek again. “We will get him back.”

“How?” you asked, your voice breaking. You could not bear his kindness anymore; it was just too much. Mando’s fingers started to gingerly run across your neck and all of your thoughts and worries left your mind for a second as you registered the movement. “After you…um...I installed a tracking fob on the imperial ship”, he explained absentmindedly. His focus seemed to be entirely on his fingers, which began to explore your collar bone. You shivered at the intimacy of the touch. His hand began to dip even lower, hovering at the swell of your heaving breasts.

“Do you want me to stop?” His words were merely a breath and you could only shake your head, as you were at a complete loss for words. He let out a relieved sigh at you giving him your consent and his hand moved a little lower until he was softly cupping your breast. You lost yourself completely in his touch and let out a soft moan. “Fuck,” he exclaimed. “Do you realize how…agonizing it has been for me to see you with your tits out all this time while I couldn’t…couldn’t touch you?” He gave your boob a little squeeze to support his words and at that, you let out a louder moan. “You can always touch me,” you admitted breathlessly and he groaned in response. He removed his other hand from yours and moved it down to cup your other breast.

Taking all the time in the world, he tested out the weight of your breasts in his hands and began to slowly knead them while the aching between your legs grew worse. “Mando…please,” you begged him.

“Now, now. I expected you Jedi to have a little more patience,” he responded while continuing to caress your tits. Fuck, he knew he was taunting you and he was enjoying it. There would be time for some payback later.

One of his leathered gloves left your breast and started to draw lazy circles across your back. As his hand moved down further only to brush across the sensitive curve of your spine, you arched into the touch of his other hand even more. He groaned softly.

Without a warning, he removed his hands from you entirely, but he held a hand up before you could bark out in protest. He deliberately removed his gloves, exposing his bare skin for the first time. His hands were beautiful, the veins standing out a bit against his skin, which was tan – despite not having seen sunlight in the Maker knows how long – and calloused. With one quick movement, Mando span you around on the makeshift bed so that your legs were dangling over the edge and you were fully facing him. You let out a surprised gasp.

His next advances seemed almost hesitant after this impulsive action. He slowly spread your legs apart with his hands and positioned himself between them. The proximity of him made your heart accelerate to an unprecedented speed. Your head dipped down almost instinctively and your throat went dry as you took in the bulge in his pants. His bare hand cupped your chin and made you look up at him again. “Let me touch you first,” he said hoarsely and you nodded, not able to deny him anything.

His fingers were unexpectedly smooth and warm as they began to explore your body again. Each of his touches made you soak your pants more and more, but he wasn’t ready to give you what you desired just yet. He reveled in every skin-to-skin touch as if he’d never get to experience it again. The gentleness of his touch when he brushed your bandages made your heart swell with affection that you quickly repressed. This was purely sexual, wasn’t it?

The Mandalorian pushed a strand of your hair back from your face, halting his worshipping of your body. “You are…absolutely gorgeous,” he said while looking you up and down, his voice betraying his vulnerability. You swallowed. Apparently, this was not merely physical. Mando made a move to touch you again, but you grabbed his arm before he could. “Look,” you inducted, “I – I can’t do this. Not – not if it’s…more than sex.”

He didn’t respond for a while, the two of you frozen in this awkward position. “Who said it was more?” he retorted finally, with such nonchalance that you thought you had imagined the gentle affection in his voice earlier. “Okay, great,” you lied. You didn’t want this to be more than a physical thing, did you? So, why were you so disappointed that he felt the same way? Didn’t that make you a hypocrite?

“Do – do you want to continue?” he broke the awkward silence that had formed between you. Yes, more than anything. But could you risk it? What if you got too attached? Never in your life had you damned your Jedi existence and your past more than in this very moment. But even if you wanted to, you couldn’t turn away from it. Being a Jedi was your life and you wouldn’t give it up for something as trivial as sex…Or would you?    

“I…I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Mando said, no hint of any emotion in his voice and ended your brooding silence. When you didn’t reply, he simply picked up his gloves and left without another word.

“Fuck,” you whispered with exasperation. He would never be vulnerable with you again after you pushed him away like this. But maybe that was for the better. As your breathing returned to its normal rhythm, you started to focus on reality again. You were on a mission, Mando had mentioned a tracking fob or something? What about the Wookie? Mando hadn’t mentioned him, so you guessed he was safe? It was not like you could go to him for information now. Maker, what have you done? What had you been about to do?

Maybe it was the painkillers, you thought to yourself, though you knew it was no valid excuse.

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

Hours later you mustered up the courage to go to the cockpit. As you expected, Mando was sitting in the pilot’s seat, his helmet facing the broad windshield. He didn’t react to your appearance. “I am sorry,” you told him as you sunk down into the seat next to him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he replied mechanically, still not looking at you. “I was simply looking for a little distraction.” His words stung more than you cared to admit.  “Right,” you retorted, a little too sharply to appear casual. He turned his helmet to you. “Just sex, remember?” You gritted your teeth as he used your words against you.

“Where are we heading?” you switched the topic. “I don’t know yet, they are still on the move.” The Mandalorian was pointing at the tracking fob in front of him. A small blue dot was moving across the map of the galaxy, not far from the position of your ship. “I got to hand it to the droid, he is a good pilot,” he added, pointing to Artoo, who beeped excitedly at the approval. “The best,” you corrected him, looking fondly at Luke’s R2-unit.

“What – what happened to the Wookie youngling?” you asked cautiously. “She’s safe. Her mother decided she was ready to begin her training, so I contacted Luke. He’ll send someone to pick her up and she’ll be protected by the other Jedi in the temple.” You cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “You contacted Luke?” – “Yes. We are…good friends.” There was something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place. “I immediately called the droid to pick us up when…they left with him,” he went on. You only nodded as the guilt began to nag at you again. As if he could sense your thoughts, he said: “Stop blaming yourself, it wasn’t your fault.” You shot him a surprised glance, but only shrugged. No matter how often he’d reassure you, you were the only person who could relieve you of your tormenting thoughts and you were not ready to let yourself of the hook – definitely not before Grogu was safely back in your ship.

You spent a few minutes in silence, watching as the blue dot moved across the holographic map. “What do you think they are doing to him right now?” Mando asked into the silence of the cockpit, his voice sounding strained. “I – I don’t think they would…hurt him. They need him,” you tried to reassure him and yourself.

“If only – if only I’d gone after him myself. If I had been more…vigilant…I would have seen that you had not gotten to him. I could have saved him,” he muttered, completely ignoring your attempt to comfort him.

“Mando, no,” you breathed out as you got up and moved towards him. Carefully, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, you placed your hand on top of his. “I told…I scolded you for not trusting me. And then I failed you, you did nothing wrong. If it weren’t for you, they would probably have gotten the Wookie as well and disappeared without a trace.” He let you touch his hand, which was once again shielded by a layer of leather, and you softly started to draw soothing circles across it with your thumb. Mando didn’t reply, only tilted his helmet down to where your hands were entwined. “This is…not the first time I let the Empire take him,” he confessed in a shaky tone. “I should have let him go. He’d be better off without me.”

The audible pain in his voice was too much to bear, you were willing to do anything to make it go away. So, you damned your previous worries, let go of his hand and took a few more steps around him. As you stood directly in front of him, you got on your knees and heard the Mandalorian take in a sharp breath. “And you got him back last time, didn’t you?” you said while looking up at him. “He is damn lucky to have you in his life and I know that you – and me too for that matter – would do anything to get him back.” Your hands slid over his beskared thighs and he spread them apart out of what felt like a reflex.

“W–what are you doing?”, Mando inquired warily. “You said you wanted a distraction,” you replied innocently and dragged your hands up and down his thighs to support your words. He swallowed audibly. “But– but you –,“ he protested without any conviction. “You told me to s–stop.” His breathing turned ragged as your hands neared the now evident bulge in his pants. “Changed my mind,” you responded and licked your lips in a suggestive manner. His strong reactions to you made you quite bold. “D–don’t do t–this out of pi–pity,” he warned you. “You think I’d blow you out of pity?” you asked him incredulously. “Yes, I want to help you to get the edge off a bit – but don’t think it’s fucking charity. I want to feel you down my throat,” you admitted and saw his cock jump at the vivid image. “So, will you let me?” You leaned forward a little and brought your hands teasingly close to his manhood. “Y–yes,” was all he managed to get out while he reached for his pants.

His member sprung free and you hummed in approval at the considerable length of it. You spread Mando’s thighs further and wedged yourself between them to get a better access. He went rigid at the first contact your hand made with his shaft and you couldn’t hold back a little smug smile. He was utterly at your mercy. Your hand wrapped around his base and you gave him a few testing pulls, to which he reacted with a groan of pleasure. As you brushed your thumb over his tip, you felt the wetness of his precum and his hips thrust up into your hand. “A little more patience, Mando,” you chided him playfully, high on your sudden power trip. “You–you will regret t–this,” he promised in a husky voice which made the space between your legs pulse. “We’ll see,” you hummed and gave his length another teasing stroke. “F–fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

You decided to have some mercy on him and took a small part of him into your mouth. When you let your tongue run over his tip, his hand came down on the back of your head and tightly gripped your hair. In response, you eased him into your mouth further and he groaned raggedly. As you sucked on him, he came completely undone and thrust his hips up, forcing himself down your throat unexpectedly and making you gag. “I–I’m sorry, Jedi. Are you alright?” Mando asked you with a level of concern in his voice that almost made you regret your change of heart. You couldn’t reply verbally because he was still filling your mouth, so you simply took him in an inch deeper in response. Mando’s breathing hitched. You sucked on him again before you pulled back. Needing to recover from his sudden intrusion, you took a few breaths and continued pumping him with your hand. Mando thrust into your hand greedily.

You decided to torture him a little more and swirled your tongue across his tip again, but didn’t take him in further. He groaned in exasperation. “D–don’t b–be like t–that, Jedi.” He ran his gloved fingers through your hair while tugging your head closer again. “Y–you         s–said you–you wanted me to c–cum down your–your throat,” he reminded you in uneven breaths. “Will you let me?” He untangled his hand from your hair and let his fingers trail over the sensitive skin on your throat in emphasis. “Fuck–fuck Mando…anything– anything for you,” you gasped out, completely losing your focus and surge of dominance as you felt his hand on your neck. “Good girl,” he growled out, making you moan.

You brought your lips back to his cock and let him fuck your mouth at his pace, the sound of him leaving and reentering your mouth the only sound in the otherwise quiet cockpit. You felt your own wetness increase as you sensed him growing harder and harder. “F–fuck, I’m c–close,” he exhaled and placed his hand on the back of your head again to secure you in your position as release barreled through him. You swallowed the rows upon rows of cum he spilled down your throat greedily, savoring his musky taste.

When he was spent to the last drop, he slowly pulled his cock out of your mouth and leaned back in his seat. He pulled his pants back up and you took that as your signal to leave, so you slowly got up and reactivated your sore leg muscles. You were about to go and let him be since your mission to distract him seemed to have been a success. Swiftly, his hand snapped out and grabbed your wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he challenged you in a dark voice that made your pussy throb. “Um…I–I thought you might want–um–I don’t know–privacy?” Your voice hitched embarrassingly at the last syllables. Mando let out a huff of what you could only interpret as amusement. “Privacy,” he tested the word out on his tongue. “What I want is some privacy with your cunt.” Your head snapped up to his in surprise at the sheer dominance he emitted. You swallowed, unsure how to react. “Will you not let me repay the favor?” he went on and patted his thigh in a silent invitation.  

Without thinking about it, you climbed onto his lap. Your usual swagger had abandoned you completely exactly when you needed it most and Mando – that bastard – seemed to know it. He took the lead and placed your hands on his shoulders. Then he let his hands roam over your body ravenously. First, he lifted your shirt up a little and put one hand on your back to steady you while his right hand palmed one of your tits.

He let out a soft moan at the sensation. “Fuck–you f–feel so–so warm and s–soft,” he praised you under his breath. His other hand gradually dragged down your spine until he stopped at the hem of your pants. You nodded in silent encouragement and with your consent, he let it slip through the waistband. How convenient that there was no underwear in space. As he cupped your ass cheek, both of you let out a pleasured moan in unison.

He released his other hand from your breast after giving it another firm squeeze and moved it to your second butt cheek. You ground into him with a small whimper in a desperate attempt to relieve the upbuilding heat in your core and he gripped your ass harder, pushing you back a little. Mando leaned forward slightly so that his helmet rested right beside your head. “You are greedy, huh?” he whispered into your ear with a soft chuckle. “You will cum when and where I want you to, understood?” His words sent a shiver down your spine. Rapidly, one of his hands snapped up from your ass and he gripped you by the throat. “Understood?” he repeated. You nodded as much as his grip allowed you to. “Good,” he snarled.

He leaned back again and released your neck. Then he let his hand dangle in front of your mouth expectantly. Following his train of thought, you lightly bit down on the fabric of his glove, allowing him to free his hand. The other hand was still rested on your ass and pushed you up so that you were basically kneeling as his ungloved fingers traced the hem of your pants. Without any more preambles, he guided his bare fingers to your heated core. The first contact of his fingers with your wet folds made you shudder. Mando groaned in approval at your dripping wetness. “F-fuck,” he muttered as he began to draw small circles on your clit, coaxing a wanton moan from you. For a while, he continued to tease you and let his fingers roam around your pussy, his fleeting touches painfully delicate.

“M-Mando,” you huffed, “P-please.” – “I love it when you beg for me,” he all but growled in response and dipped one of his fingers into your core. You arched your back while taking in the sensation and his other hand snaked its way up its curve. His finger curled inside of you in a delicious angle and your palms dug into his armor at the marvelous feeling. You felt his eyes monitor each of your reactions to his movements as he slowly drove his finger in and out of your wetness. It was tantalizing and you tried to force him to move faster and harder by rolling your hips down. “Tsk tsk tsk,” he chided you and forcefully pushed another finger in. “Are you satisfied now, Jedi?” You simply nodded, overwhelmed by the feeling of him pumping his fingers in and out of you. His pace quickened and your eyelids fluttered shut. In this moment, the only things that existed in the entire galaxy were his fingers and the growing heat of your core. The rhythm and the technique of his movements was devastating, each thrust felt more mind-blowing than the last. His pace didn’t falter once, not even as his other hand maneuvered down your spine before greedily grabbing at your ass. You felt your walls clench down on his fingers and they curled into you again, making you moan obscenely loud.

As you reached your climax shortly after, he made you see stars and you heard Mando mumble indistinct praises under his breath. He kept his movements up until you were spent to the last drop. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out of your dripping cunt.

You slumped down onto his lap in exhaustion and buried your head in his armored chest while trying to calm your hammering heart.

A metallic sound made your head snap up, but Mando pushed it back down quickly before you could see anything. A little confused but too exhausted to fight him, you let your head fall back into its previous position. Only when you heard soft slurping sounds did you comprehend what was going on. He must have removed his helmet to taste you. The realization turned you on more than you cared to admit and you felt the wetness in your pants increase.  

“You – you taste so g-good, Jedi,” Mando groaned. “I can’t wait to feast on you properly.” The statement made you swallow audibly, but you were too stunned to reply verbally. You heard him pull his helmet back on and let out a small relieved sigh, your current position was quite compromising. You pushed yourself up on your knees and pulled your pants up. After patting your ass one last time, Mando released his hold on you and you carefully climbed out of his lap.

Your legs still felt a little wobbly as you left the cockpit without another word.

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

You avoided Mando for the rest of the day, not sure how to feel about what you had done. Instead, you used the time to tend to your wounds and obsessively reorganize your supplies multiple times. After that failed to keep your mind from wandering down certain paths, you gave up. You couldn’t evade this forever, you eventually had to liberate your thoughts.

Why did you change your mind? Why were you so desperate to relieve Mando of his worries? Did you actually do it out of selflessness or did you have ulterior motives you were not willing to face? What if you wouldn’t be able to rescue Grogu from the claws of the Empire?

You quickly forgot about your stolen moments with the warrior as you considered that grim vision of the future. It was your fault that Grogu was not with you right now, of that you were absolutely certain. It didn’t matter how hard Mando had tried to ease your guilty conscience, you didn’t deserve his sympathy. You had promised to retrieve him and failed miserably. How could you have been so blind? You should have seen the detonation coming, you should have sensed it through the Force. If only you hadn’t been too fucking weak and pathetic to get up that damn tree…

You sighed deeply. If you wouldn’t get your apprentice back, you would not be able to call yourself a Jedi any longer. How would you ever face Luke again? Or Mando? Or even yourself? No, you would not be able to live with yourself if you failed again. And a part of you, a part you desperately tried to ignore, also knew that you could not live with disappointing Mando.  

Fuck, when had you grown so fond of the silent warrior? You did not let your guard down this easily often, what was so different about him? You could not afford to…feel something for him, especially right now.

You had bigger issues in front of you than your past and your love life – if one could even title it as such. Still, your mind kept circling back to it and how could you tackle these new demons if you hadn’t even bested your old ones yet?

You took a deep breath and let your mind guide you to a place you had locked away for years.

The world was a cacophony of screams and blastershots. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t get yourself to tune the sounds out and concentrate. Your gaze shifted to your left where your father was crouching defensively over your sisters and then back to your mother. She looked absolutely devastating, a force to be reckoned with, her yellow lightsaber illuminating the focused lines of her sharp face. She was standing between your family and whatever was awaiting beyond the door of your home, ready to take it on without any fear for her own life. You took a deep breath and let her presence calm you. You were a warrior, just like her, and you would not be afraid. You would fight till your last breath to defend your family.

Your father called out to you again: “Get back here, now!” But you would not hide. You were no coward; you would fight alongside your mother. She turned around to you that second, the hard lines of her face softening. She uttered your name in a tender voice. “Go to your dad. Everything will be alright.” But you sensed the lie and you would not let her face the threat alone. You would not let her die to protect you. She seemed to see the resolve in your face and sighed heavily. You had always been extremely stubborn. So, she turned to your father instead. “Get them out of here.” The look they exchanged was heartbreakingly tender and hopeless, both of them knew it would be the last one they’d ever share. Your father swallowed, but nodded. There was nothing he could do to help her in battle, all he could offer was to protect their children.

He pushed your siblings into the backroom before he went to retrieve you. You struggled against his firm grip, but he didn’t let go. Wide eyed, kicking and screaming at your father to let you go and let you fight, you were pulled out of the room. You’d never forget the way your mother looked at you then. The soft curve of her lips as she tenderly smiled – smiled – at you, fully aware that she was about to die.

Your screaming turned into uncontrolled sobs as your father closed the door behind you and pulled you into a tight embrace. “Hush, hush,” he tried to calm you, his own voice trembling. You stopped resisting and buried your head into the crook of his neck, your streaming tears wetting the fabric of his shirt. You remained like this for a moment before your father detangled you from him carefully. “Listen to me,” he addressed you and your sisters. “I need you to be brave now.” He wiped a tear away from your cheek. “You need to be really really quiet. Do not make a sound.” His voice became barely a whisper. “You need to hide.”

“How is hiding a brave action?” you demanded. Your father smiled at you sadly, as if he expected no other response from you. “Bravery is not always the most reckless course of action. Your courage will do you no good if you’re dead.” You forced your tears back and nodded.

“You need to hide and do not come out, no matter what you hear,” your father went on. He gave all three of you a kiss on the head before urging you towards the hidden trap door that led to your emergency room. Your sisters climbed down first and your dad gave you one last reassuring glance before you followed them. But before he could follow you down, loud noises began to erupt from the other side of the door. You gazed up at him in horror as he shut the trap door without another word.

The lump in your throat grew worse as you climbed down the last few steps of the ladder and faced your sisters. Their faces mirrored the dread on yours and you simply hugged them. You held on to each other until the noises above you subsided, forcing your breathing to calm.

“D-do you t-think it’s o-over?” your little sister asked in a small voice. You were about to reply when you heard steps directly above you. Something knocked against the ceiling of your room.

“Sir, I think there’s a secret room underneath this one,” a muffled male voice proclaimed. Shit, you had to act quickly. You had to protect your sisters or your parents’ sacrifices would have been in vain. You knew there were weapons hidden somewhere in this room, you had to locate them quickly. Silently stepping across the room, you searched for any kind of indents in the wall. Your fingers spotted a small notch and you pressed your trembling index finger into it.

Surely enough, the wall opened and a couple of blasters and your grandfather’s lightsaber was revealed. You passed two smaller blasters to your sisters – your parents had taught all of you the basics – and grabbed the lightsaber. While it was far too big for your children’s-sized hand, it felt oddly fitting. You took a deep breath and braced yourself for the attack as the trap door slowly slid open. A man poked his head into the basement and it was the last he saw as your sister’s blaster went off and hit its target. The man’s corpse tumbled down the ladder and landed in front of you in a loud crash. You winced slightly at the sight; you had never been confronted with death like this.

However, now was not the time to consider the significance of this death, you needed to focus. You knew your sisters had your back with the blasters, so you activated your lightsaber. For just a second, you let yourself stare in awe at the marvelous green blade, but you snapped out of it quickly.

You were by far not experienced with a lightsaber; you had only practiced with your mom’s a few times. The logical course of action would have been to take a blaster as well, but somehow the weapon had called to you. Out of pure instinct, you managed to deflect the first couple of blastershots your enemies fired from above. But as the rapid fire continued, your senses began to fail you. As much as you wished otherwise, you were not one of the legendary Jedi knights, the truth was that you weren’t. And considering your current situation, you probably never would become one.

It started with you accidentally leaving an open space when a blaster hit your upper arm. You yelled out in agony and your blade dipped for a moment as you tried to regain your composure. But one moment was enough for them.

It was one of those situations that seemed to pass in slow-motion when you look back at it. You noticed the blastershot sail past you and as you whipped your head around, you saw it strike your big sister directly in her abdominal. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked down at the clean whole in her stomach and back at you before she collapsed. She would never get up again. Your younger sister’s wail pierced the terrible silence and as she looked at you, you saw nothing but burning hate in her eyes.

Another blastershot brushed your thigh, forcing you to face your attackers again. You tried to keep your posture upright but your faith left you. You were certain you would die in this room. Not that you deserved anything else, you had let your sister die. If only you had received proper training. If you had been a full Jedi, you could have saved them. Your mother, your father, your sister…all of them. And because of your incompetence, your younger sister would perish with you.

She didn’t deserve to die. You had to protect her. If it hadn’t been for her, you might have let them finish you, but you owed more to her. You let your love for her guide you and mustered up the strength and focus to deflect shot after shot again.

You had found a rhythm in meeting the blasts with your weapon when suddenly, a figure jumped down and landed directly in front of you, next to the corpse. You staggered back in surprise. Whatever was before you was definitely not human. And while that was not unusual in the galaxy, the thing before you seemed disturbingly mechanic and menacing. All you saw in the dim light were its glowing red eyes. You took another step back, trying to move yourself between it and your sister. In a desperate attempt to scare the thing off, you swung your lightsaber out. In its glow, you saw your attacker more clearly.

It was a droid, but not the sort that usually helped out at your farm. This one looked too human to be fully machine, yet not alive enough to pass as human. You shuddered. The thing didn’t cease its movements, seemingly unbothered by your weapon. You swung out at it helplessly. The blaster of your sister was useless as it would probably have hit you instead of the aggressor. Faster than your eyes could detect, the droid attacked and disarmed you. You were too stunned to react in any way, the creature kept advancing as you simply stood there and stared at it. Somewhere distant, you could hear your sister scream your name over and over again, but your mind was elsewhere. You were one with the Force and braced yourself for the fatal blow. At least you’d be reunited with your family soon.

“Bring them up here,” a dark voice commanded from above and the droid jerked to a stop. A second one jumped down as the first one grabbed your wrist. Its metal fingers dug into the sensitive skin and you bit back the sharp pain. As you were being pulled back towards the trap door, too disheartened to resist, you heard a few blastershots go off as your sister tried to ward the droid off. The shots went silent quickly though.

It was pure muscle memory that made you climb up the ladder the thing pushed you on and soon enough, you were exposed to the bright sunlight flooding the room again. The droid grabbed your wrists from behind and forced you to stand still. You took in your surroundings with a concerning apathy. You had no idea why they let you live or how much time you had left. There were two men standing in the room, one in clone armor and the other one in black fighting gear. Your eyes roamed on, but you averted your glance from the motionless figure on the ground quickly.

“You fought bravely,” the man in black started. “So did your sisters.” You flinched at that and stared back at the trap door. Neither your sister not the droid had emerged again. “But you don’t have to die today,” he went on, his eyes narrowing as he focused them on you. There was something immensely unnerving in them, but you would not give him the satisfaction of breaking the eye contact.

“While my order was to kill all of the Jedi, I don’t think you’d count as one.” You could feel the rage burning up inside of you. “If you only had to kill Jedi, why did you murder my father and sisters?” you spat. He had the audacity to smile at you. “Now, now. Let bygones be bygones. Your father and sisters were of no use to me.” His grin widened. “One of you is more than enough. The Grand Admiral will be pleased with me.” You didn’t react to his words. What did you care what they did to you? They already killed those most dear to you, they could not hurt you anymore.

“You will be of great value to the Empire,” his monologue continued. “Thrawn has enormous plans for you. You will ensure our ultimate victory.” You had no idea what he was talking about, neither did you care. The man sank down on one knee in front of you and grabbed your chin. “Do you realize what an honor is bestowed upon you?” You spat in his face and he let you go, wiping it off his face with a disgusted expression. “I’m looking forward to teaching you obedience.”

But he never did get to give you his lesson. A shot went off and hit him directly in the chest. He was dead before he could draw another breath and the clone fell shortly after. You were still fixated by the droid, so you could not turn around to the source of the blastershots until he fell victim to them as well.

You spun around in astonishment to see your little sister with her blaster in hand, her chest heaving from the agitation. You exclaimed her name in wonder. How had she managed to fight off the droid? Once again, you were frozen in place. Your sister’s stare bore something venomous.

“You – you let them kill her!” she yelled at you furiously. “How could you?” It was all you could do to hold her glare. She was right, your sister’s death was your fault. “I…I,” you stammered. “I tried…but I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” You swallowed heavily. “You were willing to let me die as well. You didn’t even fight the droid,” she went on, tears welling in her eyes. “Alya,” you pleaded with her. “I…I tried…I did…but I…” Her stare remained relentless. “You are a disgrace,” she spat at you. “You always pretend like you’re brave and want to be a Jedi but…you will never be like mom. Never.” She picked the words she knew would sting the most.

“Alya…,” you began anew. “I…I’m sorry. You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t have saved me. I deserved death.” Her eyes widened ever so slightly at your admission. “We need to get out of here,” was all she said. You nodded slowly and helped her pack some supplies, any food reserves, clothes and medical kits you could find. You covered your parents with cloths. It was all you could do, there was no time for proper funeral rites, but it felt wrong to leave them like this.    

When you climbed back down into the basement to honor the sister you had failed, your gaze fell on the lightsaber. You would need weapons and while the lightsaber had kind of turned into a symbol of your incompetence, you could not stomach to leave it behind.

“I am so sorry.” You sank down next to your older sister and tentatively ran your fingers through her dark hair. You knew you could not linger, so you softly closed her unseeing eyes, said a quick prayer and left the room behind after packing a few more blasters.

Shortly after, you and your sister left your farm and small hometown behind with few credits and no idea where to go next.  

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

You opened your eyes, shocked to find yourself back in your ship. Your connection to the Force allowed you to relive memories in far more detail than those with fewer mediclorians in their bloodstream. Though you doubted you could have forgotten anything about that fateful day either way.

You had thought you were ready to finally face it, but obviously weren’t. With a deep sigh, you stood up. You doubted you’d ever be ready; it’s been over 20 years since your family had been butchered and their dead faces still haunted your nightmares. But there was a lot of unresolved trauma in your past and you had to start somewhere.

“Do you – are you hungry?” Mando appeared in the doorframe, putting an end to your flashbacks. You could only stare at him for a moment. The lights of the hallway illuminated his broad figure brilliantly. He was so beautiful in his armor; you could only imagine what a sight he must be without it. You forced these thoughts back, though you weren’t sure if suppressing them would be an effective technique for much longer. There was no going back anymore, not after what had conspired in the cockpit earlier. You swallowed nervously. Why were you nervous? What was wrong with you? Shit, he had asked you something, hadn’t he?

“Dinner?” he asked in a slightly confused tone. You cleared your throat. “Um…sure.”             “Are – are you alright?” he inquired. “Never been better,” you tried to feign nonchalance. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. “So, dinner?” you reminded him and he nodded before turning around. You followed him out of the room to your food stocks, grateful that he didn’t press on.

“Not to overstep the line, but how do you even eat?” you asked carefully while Mando was going through your supplies.

He barked out a quick laugh. “Do you think I eat with my mask on?” He turned around to you and cocked his head. “Um…I – I don’t know,” you stammered and felt your cheeks flush. Dammit, what was wrong with you?

“I can take it off as long as it’s not in front of another person,” Mando explained. “How long has it been since someone else…saw you?” You eyed him curiously. “I guess…it…it must have been well over two…decades.” You gaped at his admission. “Two decades?!” The Mandalorian shrugged and proceeded to pick out your dinner. Wordlessly, he handed you some bread and conserves.

“Two decades,” you repeated in astonishment. “What did you expect?” Mando snapped at you. “Did you think me to be without honor? Did you think I would have abandoned The Way?” You blinked twice, taken aback by his sudden outburst. “I…No, but…I can’t imagine what that must be like. How lone – “Not wanting to offend him, you cut yourself off. “It’s all I know,” he replied dryly, but the venom had left his voice.

“So, dinner…” You looked at the sparse food in your hands and placed it on a small counter top. “Dinner,” he echoed. “How do we…should I leave you alone?” – “You can stay,” he responded quickly to your astonishment. “H-how?” You were genuinely confused at this point. “You don’t rely on your eyesight too much with that power you use, do you?” he questioned. “N-not too much, no,” you answered cautiously, unsure if this was going where you thought it was.

Mando pulled a cloth band out of his belt. “Um…do you always keep that there?” You gulped as he took a step towards you. “Mando, what are you doing?” He came closer. “Mando…I – “ The words died on your tongue as he stepped around you.

“May I?” he inquired as his free hand brushed over your cheekbone. You nodded and his other hand came around to tie the band over your eyes. He gave the knot a testing pull. “Is it too tight?” His fingers trailed over your neck tentatively. “N-no,” you breathed out, still getting accustomed to the sudden deprivation of your sight.

Mando removed his hands from you and you heard him taking a couple of steps away before he lifted his helmet off of his head. While you were blindfolded, you were certain he was studying you shamelessly. Neither of you said anything and the longer the silence lasted, the more tangible the tension became. The quiet was interrupted by the loud grumbling of your stomach which mercifully snapped the growing electricity.

Not able to ignore your appetite anymore, you used the Force to locate your food and picked it up again. You took a greedy bite of the bread. The loaf was surprisingly soft and you devoured it ravenously. Once your immediate hunger was sated, you paused. “Aren’t you gonna eat something as well?” you addressed your fellow traveler. He didn’t respond, but instead you perceived a munching sound shortly after. The two of you finished the meal in companiable silence.

Once you felt utterly stuffed, you asked Mando whether you could take the blindfold off again. While he didn’t reply, you sensed him approaching you. “Do you really want to take it off?” he breathed into your ear. “W-what?” you stammered, dumbfounded by the warmth of his breath and his unexpected proximity.

“Just consider the…advantages…of keeping it on.” Maker, his voice was beautiful, especially without getting warped by the helmet. “Um…” You had absolutely no idea what to say to that. “I guess I’ll have to demonstrate it to you.” Sans warning, his lips were on your neck, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. He trailed small kisses across the side of it before reaching your throat. He placed a soft kiss on it as well before moving on and getting less tender. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin and you shuddered. Being robbed of your sight made the sensation even more powerful. He began to suck at the spot lightly and your mind went blank. The feeling was absolutely divine.

“Holy shit, Mando,” you murmured. You felt him smile against your skin before he sucked harder, earning a soft moan from you. He removed his lips from you for a moment. “You look good like this.” His lips were on yours a second later and you kissed him back out of pure instinct sooner than you realized what was happening. You were amazed by the softness of his lips and as your tongue explored them, you noticed how perfectly they were curved. Mando placed both hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him. One of his hands snaked up to your neck to secure you in place. Not that you could even think about breaking the kiss...    

The movements of Mando’s mouth grew ravenous as you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter. You let yourself get lost in him completely, wrapping your arms around his neck and forcing your bodies even closer together, and once again damned the consequences. Sure, your past would eventually catch up with you, but those worries couldn’t be farther from you than they were in this moment. You never knew that kissing could be this mind-expanding, it was like you were getting high off of the taste of him.

After what seemed like an eternity or just a split-second, you weren’t entirely sure, Mando broke the kiss. You heard his heavy breathing as he let forehead lean against yours. Not that your own circulation was much better, only now did you notice the rapid hammering of your heart.

“That was…,” Mando huffed out. “Intense?” you suggested and he chuckled weakly. “I suppose you could say that.” His thumb caressed the back of your neck tenderly. “You – you were right…sometimes the helmet is quite restricting.” You couldn’t hold the grin that spread across your face back and imagined how breathtaking his smile must be. The thought turned bittersweet as you realized you’d probably never get to see his face. Maybe it was for the better…It was far easier to keep the proper emotional distance as long he stayed in his armor…

You lowkey knew you were fooling yourself, but you so desperately wanted to believe that this – whatever this was – was purely physical that you didn’t call yourself out.  

“I could show you the other advantages now,” Mando implied as he let his fingers run over the hem of your pants suggestively. You felt yourself getting wet at the mere insinuation. “If you want to, of course,” he added hastily, making your heart expand ever so slightly in your ribcage.

“You’re really horny, huh?” you retorted. “You’re one to talk.” His hand slapped your as teasingly. “I bet you’re already soaking down there just from the idea of it,” he whispered and you could hear the smug grin forming on his face. His hand slipped through the waistband of your pants and cupped your throbbing pussy from behind. “Fuck;” he groaned. “You are.” He pulled his hand out of your pants again and you felt the slick trail it left in its wake.

“What do you want, Cyar’ika?” he inquired huskily. “My hand, my head or my cock?” You swallowed loudly at his proposal. “Fuck, Mando,” you breathed out. “Your cock.” At this point, you were beyond banter and all you wanted was for him to help the growing ache between your thighs. He moaned at your response.

Without another word, he pulled your pants down before you perceived him taking – or rather ripping – his own pants off. Once more, his mouth found yours and greedily tasted you. You grabbed for him and pulled yourself closer by his arms. Through the proximity, you could feel his hardness press up against your stomach. He ground out a soft curse before removing his lips from yours.

“You’re sure you want this?” His voice sounded breathless, yet incredibly soft. “Yes,” you assured him and he put his hands on your hips to steady you. Your blood began to pulse through your veins as you anticipated his next move.  

You felt him shifting a little so that his cock was placed at your slick entrance. The first contact with him made you throb more violently. You needed him inside you more than you had ever needed anything, but fortunately, you didn’t have to beg for him.

He thrust his hips up slowly, letting get accustomed to the sensation. A wanton moan escaped your throat at how deliciously he filled you and he remained inside for a moment before pulling his length back out. After a few more agonizingly slow thrusts, you cried out: “Faster.” Mando gladly obliged and his pace quickened. With each intrusion, he somehow got a little deeper and hit a different sensitive spot which drove you absolutely crazy. In an attempt to keep in touch with reality, you grabbed his shoulders and hung onto them for dear life as he pounded into you relentlessly.

 Involuntarily, you shifted a little, but that was enough. The small change of position and angle made his thrusts all the more devastating. Suddenly, he was hammering straight into your G-spot and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer if he kept going like this. “Mando,” you moaned. “I’m – fuck – so close.” You threw your head back as his grip on your waist tightened. “Good,” he exhaled and increased his velocity. You heard yourself cry out his name in response. He captured your mouth with his and you felt your release building up further. As if all of that wasn’t enough, one of his hands slipped between your conjoined bodies and started to stimulate your clit. An obscenely loud moan escaped your throat.

Your body couldn’t handle this anymore and you came so hard that you saw stars. His pace didn’t falter as he rode you through it and had you sobbing his name. Even once you were spent to the last drop, he didn’t slow down. If anything, he pounded into your hole with a new energy. You felt yourself tightening around him again as he stimulated the area that was still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“Fuck, you look so good like this.” His praise was almost lost in a wail of you. “Your pussy is – so – so – tight. Fits me so well.” He accentuated his words with his shoves. One of your hands gripped his hair and pulled him in for a desperate kiss. Even in your delirious state, you appreciated the silky texture of his hair as you let your fingers run through it. His hand left your clit and moved to your butt cheek to give it a firm squeeze. Your kisses grew feverously while he continued to utterly wreck you with his dick. Gasping for air, you pulled back for a second. Your companion, on the other hand, didn’t seem to need oxygen as badly as you did though since he immediately began to nibble on your jaw. His tongue flicked against the skin and he proceeded to voraciously kiss his way down your neck.

When his mouth reached the lowest part of it, he started to suck on it hardly, coaxing a gasp from you. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge for the second time at the combination of him pounding into you and bruising your sensitive skin. Your grip on his hair tightened as your walls constricted around his cock. Mando groaned loudly as his mouth left your neck before moving on to the next patch of skin.

Your orgasm washed through you with even more force than the first one and you were in pieces by the end of it. Sweat tickled down your forehead and seeped through the blindfold, wetting your brows. Mando removed his mouth from your neck and to your lips again as you were trying to regain your composure. You barely even registered the abrupt hitch of his hips as he himself was driven over the edge. His kissed turned wild and he bit down on your lip as release barreled through him. The coppery taste of your blood mixed in your mouths as he thrust into you a few more times until he was completely spent.

“Fuuuck,” he moaned out as he detached his mouth from yours. Neither of you moved for a while, both of you still recovering. Finally, he pulled his cock out of your leaking pussy and gave your ass one last soft slap before letting go of you completely. Your hands remained tangled in his hair and on his shoulders.

To be quite honest, you weren’t sure what would happen if you let go of him. You didn’t trust your legs to support you enough in your current state. Mando seemed to realize it because suddenly, you weren’t on the ground anymore as he picked you up and softly put you down on the floor. You felt him removing your hands from him before he took a few steps back. Too exhausted to really question what was happening, you just slumped down further.

You heard him move towards you again and before you knew it, tender hands removed the blindfold from your eyes. You blinked rapidly at the sudden overstimulation of your nerves and once you could kind of see clearly, you noticed the Mandalorian kneeling next to you.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his raspy voice modulated again. You cleared your throat before answering. “For what?” – “For the distraction.” Without another word, he stood up and left.

His words took a few seconds to register in your brain, but once they did, you felt wrecked for entirely less pleasant reasons than a moment prior. Distraction? Was that what that had been? Why were you feeling…disappointed? Sad? Hurt? About it...? You wanted nothing more than a physical conjoining and that was what he delivered. Still…Something about it stung deeply. You tried to shake the odd feeling off, but to no avail. Somehow, it lingered and only secured its spot in your heart the more time passed.

Chapter 5

Masterlist

[ren-thewildone]

TW: Miscarriage

What I have learned so far - 2 months later…

No one told me that even the state of being pregnant is traumatic. I knew labor would be. They told me it is beautiful and it’s a gift. I might feel sick for the first couple of months but it’s worth it. What they didn’t tell me is how it all can go wrong. Maybe they just didn’t want to scare me or maybe they don’t want to remember…

I was pregnant for 3 months.

For the first month, I didn’t know I was pregnant, but I felt “off”.

The second month, I knew I was pregnant, but what I didn’t know was that 3 out of those 4 weeks, the baby was no longer alive but was still in me. My body didn’t recognize the loss.

For the first week, I felt excited and connected to my pregnancy. For the last three weeks of the 2nd month, I felt anxious and depressed but I didn’t know why. I blamed myself for being a bad mom who couldn’t love her child because of my anxiety and depression.

During my third month, I found out about my missed miscarriage and learned that my pregnancy was not viable. The anxiety and depression from the month before made sense now but I didn’t have time to grieve because I had to grit my teeth and decide how I was going to deal with my situation.

I opted for the medical procedure first and during i, I felt the worst pain of my life (emotionally and physically). After all the final contractions ended, I sat alone in the bathroom to let it all subside. I looked down and realized I was holding the baby in my hand. That image is frozen in my mind. All I want is to be able to go back and somehow make it better, but there was nothing I could do. It wasn’t like I could make their pain go away or sit with them while they passed. They had already passed and it was my turn to say goodbye.

It’s not supposed to be like that. That’s not how you are supposed to meet your first child. Your brain, body and soul all know inherently that it was not supposed to be like that.

Two weeks passed and though the pregnancy symptoms were mostly gone and I had passed the pregnancy, I found out I was still somehow fully pregnant. I had likely been carrying twins and only one miscarried to completion. Same news, same month, new cycle…

Once again, I had no time to grieve, I had to grit my teeth and get through making a decision for my situation. I chose to go through the surgery this time and was scheduled for the first available time that week because it was now reaching the point where it was dangerous for my body to continue. The surgery was successful yet there were painful side effects from being intubated that I was not prepared for. Though the pain was different, it was just as severe and left me unable to eat or drink comfortably for two weeks.

Just three months…

This was only what I experienced through my physical body.

I went from being eager and excited to devastated at the loss of not just one, but now two without the time to truly grieve in between…

The flashbacks are unbearable and the grief and shame are overwhelming.

Yet I returned to work immediately and by all appearances, I am functioning as normal. Miscarriage is unfortunately a taboo topic and women often don’t feel comfortable speaking about it. The number of women who came forward to inform me of their similar experiences after the fact was alarming.

Why don’t we talk about the risks of pregnancy more? Why don’t we talk about miscarriages…

I admit that I didn’t talk about it because this type of pain is unique to the human experience. My head was telling me that I had failed as a mom because I didn’t feel connected; I failed as a mom because I didn’t know I had lost the pregnancy; I failed as a mom because I couldn’t even successfully miscarry the first time; and I failed as a mom because when I held my child in my hand, I didn’t even know how to respond…

How can I admit that much failure? How can I explain that level of guilt and shame? How can I know how to ask for help or ask someone to support me in my grief?

I think women don’t try to prepare each other for this grief because it’s not something you want for anyone and if it is their outcome, it’s just something you have to go through…

There is no “fix”, there is only acceptance.

There is no reason to feel ashamed for going through a miscarriage. But it’s also completely normal and understandable to deal with those feelings of shame.

I’m working on forgiving myself for everything that has occurred this year, and I think the only way I know how to start is to stop hiding in the shadows and allow myself to tell my story, not as consolation for someone else’s loss, but for myself.

My story is worth telling and I hope it helps someone else in some way someday.

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 12

Prompt: “Who are you?” 

Read on AO3

One Last Lesson

The afterlife was getting quite dull. There is only so much to do after being returned to the Force. It's given Qui-Gon a lot of time to relax, meditate, and go back to revisit some of the parts of his life he wished to further reflect on. Though time is not a real thing in here, it already feels as though it's been millennia since the Sith Lord's saber was thrust through his stomach and he watched the tearful face of his padawan fade away with his consciousness.

But what the Jedi didn't realize that day is that Qui-Gon didn't accept his fate to return to the Force. After much deliberation on the subject as he lay there dying, the Maverick master decided to pull one last stunt of going against the grain-- he denied to fully return, and instead willed his soul to stay close to the world he physically left behind. The Force allowed his request, and he has remained in limbo ever since.

It's strange being a bystander to the living. Sometimes terrifying. Qui-Gon won't ever forget the surreal feeling of watching his own body burn on the pyre. His greatest quest is to figure out how to bridge the gap between his spirit world and the living. He knows it to be possible, he just needs to find the right balance.

It's taken years, but he finally believes he has the technique down. He stands on the very edge of the spirit world. One push big enough, and he can manifest himself back into the living as a ghost of himself. When considering how he was to test such an ability, Qui-Gon knew exactly who his first visit would be to.

He sees Obi-Wan now, sitting alone in the living room of their old apartment. Same youthful eyes and toothy smile, but now he seems to have grown out a significant amount of facial hair to mask his child-like features. He looks older, definitely feeling the effects of having an apprentice running amuck. His padawan cut has vanished completely into a well-groomed flow that licks at his collar-- Qui-Gon recalls humorously growing his own hair out in a similar style as soon as Dooku cut off his braid.

Obi-Wan is a well-respected knight, a good master to Anakin, and better than Qui-Gon could have ever imagined. He always knew Obi-Wan would be far wiser than him, and having watched him grow since his untimely death, he is prouder than he thought possible.

Which is why he must see him. Speak to him. Try to find some way to make up for the years of pain he has inadvertently caused.

The moment the Jedi Master realized the damage he had done was the impromptu knighting of his dear padawan. It was not in the Temple with the council honoring him with a lightsaber salute. Qui-Gon was not there to welcome him, bring him before Master Yoda, and be the first to present his student as a Knight of the Order. There was no party afterward, in which his friends and teachers would flood in to congratulate him. Instead, Obi-Wan knelt before Master Yoda and Master Windu, tears falling silently down his face, but they weren't of happiness for his accomplishment. Neither of the Jedi Masters really knew what to do with the new knight who said his vows through mournful sniffles. There was no party, and in the end, Qui-Gon watched as he threw the waist-length braid into the flames of his funeral pyre.

Though Obi-Wan had no idea, he was there for the sleepless nights where he dragged his comforter out to the couch because sleeping in Qui-Gon's old bed was a little too much for the first few months. He was there when Anakin lashed out, wishing in vain that "Master Jinn were here". He was also there when Obi-Wan broke down as soon as he had a moment long enough, saying to nobody in particular that he too wished he were still around.

But I am, padawan. I am here. Qui-Gon would want to say, but he wasn't yet strong enough to manage such a communication.

But now he is. And now, he will finally be able to say the words he should have said as his dying breath. I am proud of you, padawan mine. You have done marvelously.

Obi-Wan is making a cup of tea as Qui-Gon gathers the Force around him. He concentrates on his physical form, trying to manifest the body Obi-Wan formerly knew as his Master. It's taxing, and he has a sinking feeling he won't be able to hold it for long, but he doesn't need long. He just wants him to know he is still watching over him.

Though, what Qui-Gon didn't anticipate, was the severed bond between them to spark up with life, and to feel a burst of panic and confusion flowing openly through it.

The mug that was in Obi-Wan's hand a moment ago drops, shattering upon impact with the floor. Qui-Gon immediately withdraws as he sees the knight's wide eyes looking frantically around the apartment.

"Hello?" Obi-Wan calls, his hand resting on his lightsaber hilt. "Who's there?"

So I have his attention at least... time to try again. Qui-Gon repeats the process from earlier, this time being more careful of his shielding-- he hasn't had to worry about such a thing in years. The Force surrounds him, bolstering his spiritual self and pushing him slowly into the living world. Qui-Gon can feel his spirit pushing through, but as he looks down at himself his visual form isn't quite strong enough. It'll have to do.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon says, immediately disappointed with the distant echo of his voice. He isn't as near as he thought himself to be, and now he has only succeeded in making Obi-Wan draw his lightsaber in panic, waving it around at nothing.

"Hello? Who are you? Show yourself!"

He must be able to feel my presence, but not see or hear me clearly... Qui-Gon pushes down his sorrow, watching helplessly as Obi-Wan continues to look aimlessly through the apartment. He thinks back to their bond that sprung open. Maybe...

Qui-Gon strums against it ever so carefully, trying hard not to scare the poor boy, but not succeeding in the slightest. Obi-Wan staggers in confusion, pressing his palm against his temple in confusion.

"Master?" he whispers, before shaking his head. "No... that's impossible."

"It's not impossible, padawan," Qui-Gon says, cursing when Obi-Wan only looks over his shoulder and doesn't seem to register his actual words. He pushes through their bond once more. It's not impossible.

But their bond isn't what it once was. When Qui-Gon was slain on Naboo, their training bond was severed. Forcefully and painfully. Now he is doing nothing but reopening old scars. He realizes this as Obi-Wan's knees buckle and he cries out in pain. The dead Master recoils immediately, guilt coursing through him at the pain he's caused. He didn't expect Obi-Wan to feel his presence and panic. Nor did he expect their bond to begin bleeding again, leaving his padawan lying writhing on the floor. If his soul had the capacity to cry he probably would.

Qui-Gon kneels down beside the young knight, laying a hand he will never feel on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, my padawan. I'm so sorry."

The front door opens, and in runs a teenage Anakin, tall and gawky. His eyes are wide as he spots his master lying on the ground, and in an instant Qui-Gon's place of comfort is stolen by the young padawan.

"Master!" Anakin cries out. "I felt you in pain, what's going on?"

A bond of their own. A life of their own. Qui-Gon stands back, watching as Obi-Wan tries to assure him he is fine and it is only a headache, while Anakin begins the ever-tedious lecture on going to the Healers. Though he feels shameful for his powers failing and causing such strife, he can't help but smile seeing the boys together. They care for one another deeply, he can feel it. They are two pieces to the puzzle of balance that holds the galaxy together.

That's what Qui-Gon never really got to explain to his padawan or the Council. Though he felt a special connection with Anakin when he found him on Tatooine, the discovery of the slave boy also unlocked a new feeling in the Force that centered around Obi-Wan. His Force presence felt as though it was cloaked in light, a new shatter point that hadn't previously been there. Qui-Gon kept it to himself until he had more time to explore the strange feeling--and then he ran out of that precious time. It's why he couldn't return fully to the Force. Nobody else seems to have discovered the significance of Obi-Wan Kenobi yet, and he won't let his importance be buried by a prophecy that Qui-Gon himself brought to light. A prophecy that nearly ruined their relationship and gave no allowance for the Jedi Master to try to mend it.

Though he still knows not what their roles are in the Universe, Qui-Gon does know they are meant to work together through it all.

Anakin manages to hoist Obi-Wan to his feet and help him to the couch. They talk quietly to one another, Anakin eyeing the broken mug but not saying a word about it. Obi-Wan asking for pain killers, which is more than he usually would request.

And Qui-Gon steps away. He will let his grand-padawan pick up the pieces that he broke yet again. He will practice his ability to manifest as a Force ghost on people he hasn't damaged so deeply. One day, he will be able to show himself to Obi-Wan fully without sending him into a fit. Maybe he will even get to pass on such a gift at that time. One final lesson for his padawan.

[sepublic]

Lilith’s Wasted Effort

           Honestly, I just FEEL for Lilith! I feel bad for her, like… This lady’s entire life, ever since that fateful night she cursed her sister, has been nothing but regret! Nothing but her desperately trying to undo her greatest mistake, to get back her sister… Like, Lilith must’ve wasted decades of her life, in her attempt to compensate for her biggest regret.

           The thing is, she was a child. She was dumb and stupid, she thought the curse would only last for a day and only weaken Eda’s magic. It’d be like an AU for Really Small Problems, where after King accidentally shrinks Willow and Gus, they die by some horrific accident! Obviously there’s a bit more lenience to King since he didn’t intend to shrink them, not to mention Tibbles (I mean Obvioso) dropped the potion into his hands, and King was fully under the impression it’d wear off, and had seen an actual demonstration beforehand to reassure him.

           But still- Can you imagine if Luz found out? Or if she didn’t, and then King spent the rest of his life, desperately trying to make up for the blood on his hands, perhaps even resorting to necromancy, or creating a false Willow and Gus… Or worse, it’s Luz who dies?! It’s just pitiable for Lilith… She really was looking forward to joining the Emperor’s Coven, but her one dream in life and she can’t even enjoy it, she throws the rest of her existence towards curing Eda’s curse, only to find out that it’s too late, there’s nothing she can do about it…!

           And obviously- Even if Lilith hadn’t cursed Eda, their separation would’ve been inevitable. Eda would’ve still defied the Coven System and become a Wild Witch, Lilith would’ve fallen for Belos’ propaganda. But that’s also precisely why Lilith’s situation is all the more sadder… That even if she had invested decades of her life to curse the curse, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Eda would still defy Belos and be disappointed in Lilith for supporting the Coven System… And sure, Lilith would at least alleviate her greatest regret, right?

           But the thing is… I think the curse is Lilith’s greatest regret because she blames it for driving a rift between her and Eda… And obviously the genuine harm it plays into Eda’s life and wellbeing is ALSO a concern, don’t get me wrong! But in the end, even if Eda was suffering, at least they’d be together… Being apart was the worst part to Lilith, I feel. It’s genuinely sad; How Lilith was but a child who made an almost silly mistake, but because of her regret she dedicated thirty-or-so years of her life… Lilith cast aside any attempts at being her own person, at enjoying herself, and wasted away in trying to undo the curse.

           Lilith had a bright future ahead of her… Or maybe not. This IS the Emperor’s Coven after all… If she didn’t have the curse weighing on her mind, would Lilith have become fully-indoctrinated into Belos’ cause? Or would its absence force Lilith to acknowledge that the rift between her and Eda was an ideological one, one that came as a result of Eda’s voluntary and willing disagreement with the Coven System… Perhaps THEN, she would’ve realized how harmful Belos really is, and Lilith could’ve abandoned the Emperor’s Coven much sooner. After all, part of her motivation to stay in the Emperor’s Coven after that fateful duel may have been to find a cure for Eda, with access to the best resources in the Boiling Isles… Not to mention, the shame and guilt of cursing Eda could’ve made it hard for Lilith to bear being next to her sister.

           If Lilith hadn’t cursed Eda, perhaps she would’ve realized, so much earlier on, how toxic the Coven System was. Maybe she would’ve rejected the Emperor’s Coven, perhaps as early as her twenties, and moved in with Eda… Then the two sisters could’ve been happy. Lilith could’ve instead invested her energy not towards slaving to some dictator, or trying to desperately undo a permanent curse; But instead use that time and energy to build other meaningful relationships, discover herself, forge her own identity… And just BE an actual person for once! Lilith could’ve been happy…

           That’s what Lilith’s life, post-curse comes across to me… Wasted. Wasted time, wasted energy and effort. Time that could’ve been dedicated towards anything meaningful and productive, anything that could’ve made Lilith happy and grow as a person… But instead, she maddeningly dedicated herself to undoing the curse, to trying to get back to a past that became more and more idealized, more and more out-of-touch with what really happened. Instead of making a new, better future and life for herself, Lilith wasted decades in mental and emotional debt to her greatest regret.

          Did Lilith, in dark moments of her life, ever get jealous of Eda again? Did she ever become jealous of Eda, without even meaning to, for getting to be so carefree? While Lilith wastes away taking care of her, by making up for her mistake with the curse all those years... Eda gets to actually grow up and outpaces her sister in terms of development- And this rather literally can be seen through Eda physically aging faster than Lilith, BECAUSE of the curse that Lilith cast! Because in the end, Lilith only has herself to blame for this, right? 

          And as Lilith looks back on the mental prison she’s built for herself, is she ever envious of Eda for getting to be her own person in the meantime, getting to build her own identity and connections? Angry that her younger sister, as always, gets to go ahead while Lilith is left behind, too busy working and taking care of her to have fun- That Eda’s carefree life comes at Lilith’s expense?! Hence why Lilith feels entitled to at least some reception on Eda’s part for all of her hard work, because Eda doesn’t realize Lilith is making up for the curse, so surely her effort comes across as more unconditional? 

         So why is Edalyn so ungrateful, acting like Lilith clearly isn’t trying!? Does Lilith think that Eda’s current, carefree happiness in life should be Lilith’s happiness (or least Eda AND Lilith’s), just as the Emperor’s Coven position should’ve been Lilith’s from the beginning- That maybe Eda is taking the life Lilith should’ve been owed from her! Why is Eda being so greedy, always taking from her, always asking for MORE, as if she doesn’t have it all- Why can’t she leave something for her older sister, who isn’t as talented or confident!?

         And then Lilith thinks, that the curse was cast specifically BECAUSE of this, as if this is Eda’s fault... Only for Lilith to remind herself that, NO, this isn’t Eda’s fault, Eda is also dealing with the curse, she’s just as imprisoned as Lilith? And yet in the end... Lilith is right, Eda IS more free than her! No matter what Lilith does to reassure herself, her own life in the Emperor’s Coven is indeed worse than Eda’s seemingly ‘backwards’ situation as a wanted criminal, because at least Eda gets to learn and grow and be her own person, and EMBRACE that...!

           And can Lilith even call herself free, now? She finally took on the curse… The sad thing is that Lilith could’ve easily taken the curse and shared it with Eda, so much earlier… But she never did, because in the end, Lilith also had her other insecurities and regrets, her issues with failing to recognize Eda’s actual motives. What’s worse, Eda lost all of her magic, when beforehand she was merely inhibited, but stillthe most powerful Witch in the Boiling Isles! And THAT was Lilith’s fault, directly… Because she was terrified of Belos, and resentful of Eda for not being with her. So she hurt Luz, and forced Eda to use up all of her remaining magic in the process…

           So even in her attempts to cure the curse, to undo it… Lilith made things worse. Somehow, she made them even worse, and now HER magic is limited as well! But to someone as self-loathing as Lilith, that may as well be one of the few good things that came from this recent mess of events… Or not, because Lilith is no doubt struggling with productively handling her regret now. Now, she’s forcing herself to not wallow in self-pity, and make things better… But then that acknowledges her own pain from the curse as a BAD thing, and like with Amity, it’d be so much easier if it was secretly a good thing, that Lilith just deserved this all along and there would be some justice in the world if she was suffering!

           But Lilith’s suffering won’t accomplish anything. In the end, all she can do is focus on healing Eda… But can she still trust herself? Because she spent decades of her life trying to cure the curse, and all it did was result in Eda and Lilith losing their magic! Eda completely losing hers, in fact…

           And yet, DID Lilith actually work? Because she never did try to share the curse with Eda, not from the beginning. And that is also a horrific realization; That she wasted so many years of her life when she could’ve easily just shared the curse with Eda from the beginning. It wouldn’t exactly erase what had happened, but it would’ve led to a more repaired relationship, and perhaps Lilith confessing earlier than she did… And maybe, it would’ve led to Eda and Lilith fully recovering. Perhaps Eda wouldn’t have lost her magic, and with only half a curse, she could be strong enough to take on Emperor Belos himself! Who can say…

           So, not only did Lilith waste years of her life working to undo the curse… But in the end, the solution was right in front of her! And she’d willingly ignored it…! And even if the curse HAD been shared, would Lilith have done the right thing and continued to support Eda, or would she still have tried to be with the Emperor’s Coven? Perhaps with half a curse, she’d have been rejected and forced to confront the truth of the corrupt system…

           Alas. Lilith is a character who is fundamentally built on wasted potential; On what could have been, but never was! She could’ve been an actual person, she could’ve fixed her mistakes and owned up to them, she could’ve maintained a loving bond with her sister… But she didn’t. She could’ve had it all, really… But now she has nothing. Lilith is alone, she has no identity nor sense of self, and she’s lost so many years of her life that she’s not going to get back, a youth and glory days that were thrown aside.

           Lilith could’ve been so much more, but instead she’s just nothing. And while Belos and his sickening system and environment that enables and encourages people to suffer like this is ALSO to blame, as is the sicko who sold a curse to a child… In the end, the most tragic part is that this was SO easily avoidable. That each mistake that Lilith kept on making, she could’ve easily fixed or at least mended. She could’ve chosen NOT to curse Eda… She could’ve chosen to share the curse… And so on, and so forth.

           And no matter HOW horrible Lilith was, I don’t think anybody deserves that, to be so miserable, to invest so much effort for nothing, to realize how STUPID you were… To live in such utter regret, to waste so much of your life and existence, to lose all meaning… To lose so many wonderful opportunities because you were desperately focused on something else! And now that Lilith is finally free… Does she ask herself if it was worth it? Perhaps she should’ve kept to that dark place she once was in… Because she was already too far-gone. Because maybe if she’d kept trying, EVENTUALLY the effort would become worth it, because finally changing your heart would mean admitting it was all for naught, and it would mean finalizing the reality that you’d wasted so many years.

           It’s like a gambler who keeps spending money, more and more, in the pitiful hopes of a lottery ticket! Because they’ve already LOST so much money beforehand, if they quit now, then it was all for nothing! But if they keep going… Then maybe they can make up for all of it, and won’thave been for naught! I low-key think that’s how Lilith operated, it’s why she spent so many years trying to cure the curse while at the same time avoiding accountability. In the end, she just keeps digging herself deeper and deeper… Which just ties into my past analysis, about Lilith being associated with Earth; Not just because of that metaphor, but also as someone who is a bird of a feather who can’t fly after the other… As someone stuck in her ways. As a person who has no identity but the one in association with someone else; Because in the end, Earth is Belos’ element. What identity that Lilith DOES have, what little she built, was all entirely the work and result of someone else.

           Lilith was in a dark pit. She hit rock bottom, then grabbed a shovel and began tunneling. Years wasted in the darkness, digging deeper and deeper in hopes of striking that hidden treasure, because giving up means it was all worthless and a waste of time and effort… But never actually finding that goal!

           …Until, a light comes into her life. A light illuminates Lilith’s life, and forces her to look around and realize where she’s gotten herself into. To realize just how AWFUL this situation is, a Light that reveals to Lilith the truth, that it isn’t going to get any better until she starts climbing upwards… Like her protege Amity, Lilith needs to learn not to be so hard on herself; Or at least divert more of that energy into actually fixing things.

           Luz Noceda is the Light that changed SO many lives. Lilith was on a trajectory, one heading further and further into the darkness until she’d lose sight of herself and be too far disconnected from the world above, where Eda was; But Luz’s Light showed her the path. It helped Lilith navigate back the way she came, back to where she started…

           And when Lilith arrives back where she started, perhaps, THEN, she can start on a new path. Because even if the beginning is nothing, at least from nothing, Lilith can start anew. She can start forging a different path, a productive one… And as scary as it is, resetting all of that past progress, it allows Lilith to make room to start anew. Luz’s Light and the beating of an Owl’s wings changed the air currents, altering Lilith’s trajectory. Now, after all this time…

           She’s free. And instead of destroying herself, Lilith can actually starting making something new…

           Luz saved her- That’s what that wonderful girl does. She saves people. This girl is Hope incarnate.

[colorfullfalls]

Adore you

Summary: Sam and Emily finally get to their wedding day. The outside venue is beautiful and everything is in order except for the fact that Embry and you are fighting.

La Push, ah. What a wonderful- dare say mystical place to be. Waves roared violently against the beach, crashing roughly into the minuscule pieces of sand. Rain pelted among the ground, mixing with ocean, grass, sand, skin, and materials. Clothes stuck to russet toned flesh, sticking like a temporary tattoo for a child.

Panting hard, Embry Call's hands reached up his hands to pushed back Y/N's hair away from her neck, peeling the thick mop away to rest on the other side. Her eyes refused to meet his, wavering to look at the waves. She wished she was anywhere on Earth but in front of him. The way he looked at her hurt. His face held the upmost gaze of betrayal, beautiful brown orbs burning you from the inside out.

Behind her ear held the mark that would cause wretching heartache. A dainty black tattoo rested, rooting anger between the two. Tattoos were meant to be meant to have a deep meaning, and her's did. It was a sail boat. A symbol for the sea. Vast area of the unknown that humans did not get the privledge of ruining. Getting their hands and tainting the beauty it beheld. Embry did not mind her logic behind it, nor did he dislike her love for the sea. But the tattoo. He hated it. Disgust curled in his stomach, gripping his ribs like quicksand and pulling. He wanted to scream.

"You lied."

His words came off venomously. A snake's bite. Harsh syllables announciated with distrust. And pain. Mostly pain. You bit your lip to stop it from trembling. Crying would not solve the issue that was present because you betrayed him. Broke his heart a bit when you swore to guard it and protect the beautiful organ.

"I'm sorry, Embry. It was impulsive-"

He cut you off by shriveling back by your words. A cold laugh escaped his lips, "Damn right it was impulsive. Must've been if you couldn't have talked to me about it."

Fighting over a tattoo seemed dumb. But not in this situation. Embry was not mad that you got a tattoo. It was that the sailboat was your first tattoo. Years ago you promised Embry at the ripe age of 13 that you two would get your first one together. You a small sun and him a small moon. Both on your hips so that it would be a private thing. The ultimate proclamation of love. It was obvious as kids that you two were meant to be, even before you were his imprint. You were raised as best friends. Learned together. Aged together. Grew as individuals together. When the promise was made and 13 you had not yet been lovers, but it was a promise as two beings connected molecularly as best friends.

Even dating you two were still best friends. No one understood you like Embry, and no one ever would. His corny jokes made you laugh so hard that snorts would skip out of your nose. His hugs melted you to the bones. He made you feel complete. Best friends turned lovers, but best friends still for eternity.

"I didn't tell you to avoid this! I knew a fight would ensue." You cried out helplessly, feeling incredibly guilty but defensive at the same time.

"Why do it then? Or maybe consider taking to me about it, telling me at the least. You hid this for, well, it has to have been a while. Clearly healed." He deadpanned, pointing to it like it cut his foot off.

"It's been three weeks, Em."

His eyes lit up in realization, "You wouldn't have sex with me in the daylight. I figured it was just odd timing but no. Just blatantly lying to me to cover this up."

Tears welled in your eyes at how removed your gentle boyfriend was. You didn't recognize the person in front of you. Not that you didn't fully deserve it, but it still stung to see the love of your life so repulsed by your actions. Your female best friend convinced you to get one with her when her long time girlfriend broke her heart. She said she needed it to heal. And you. Against your better judgement, your ass was in a leather chair while a needle plunged relentlessly into your skin. You loved her and wanted to be there for her. Your mind was foggy when it happened due to a few drinks in you too.

Your best friend knew that you and Em talked about getting tattoos together, but she didn't know it was such a sacred vowel or else she never would have helped you break it. She got an eye that had a ring around it like a planet on her forearm. She was an artist and drew it up herself. It meant a lot to her. You loved her, but now you were paying for the actions.

"Y/bff/n made you get this?"

"What?! No! Of course not. I willingly did it, but a few drinks were in me. Which doesn't excuse it, but she got one too. Not like marching or anything..."

Embry stared.

You scrambled to get in as much as you could without interruption, "Wholeheartedly my heart is pounding with guilt that I broke our pact to get our first tattoo together. But to be fair you already have yours."

Embry shook his head in disbelief, "Are you fucking me right now? It wasn't my choice to get this. It's membership into the pack, Y/N. My culture."

You sighed, "I know that Embry, and I'm not trying to disrespect that. I love you and the pack. I love your culture. Undoubtedly it's your first tattoo though. We can get our second together."

You tried to grab his hand but he pulled it away, searing a burn mark right into your heart. Rain pelted down even harder. What had been a nice beach date went to hell when Embry went to move your hair back to kiss your neck when he saw it. Usually you could dodge his attempts to get close to there, but you were so blissed out by his intoxicating kisses that your mind wasn't all there. Ironically the weather went to shit as soon as fighting began.

"Don't touch me. I don't want to hurt you." What you failed to notice earlier was that his hands were shaking. Typically you could caress his bicep or face and he would melt into you. Today the same touches would have the opposite effect. No matter how angry he was, he was terrified to harm you. Any wound inflicted by him would drive him crazy. He loved you. Forever. Even when he was furious he was cautious to keep you safe. This only made you feel worse.

"I think I rather have you physically hurt me than you be angry with me." You mumbled, sniffling at how bad you just wanted to touch him.

He snarled. His veins bulged as he pointed at you, "Shut up! How dare you wish for something like that?"

"I don't wish for that. I'm just saying us fighting is unbearable!"

"You just said you rather me hurt you physically! You want scars like Emily? You want me to be in withering pain and agony as you bleed on the floor?!" He bellowed, shaking even worse.

You let out a sob at his words. This all escalated too quickly. His eyes softened momentarily at your cry but his anger got the best of him as he reminded himself why you were crying. He scrambled to throw his clothes off. His body contorted until his grey wolf stood tall in front of you.

It whimpered, but turned and booked it for the woods. Leaving you alone with his clothes, the rain, guilt, heartache, and the beach. You slid down to your knees, clutching his shirt to your chest.

Emily's wedding was tomorrow. She would look gorgeous in her wedding dress, smile beaming with every step down the aisle towards her wolf. Laughs, happy tears, and hugs would be shared between the wedding and reception. Of course dancing would be a necessity. You were unsure if you were going to be involved in their experience anymore. The pack loved you. You were one of them. But with Embry so upset and not knowing when you two would makeup, maybe it was for the best if you stayed home.

Half an hour later you were still on the beach crying. Jacob ran next to you, scooping you up in his strong arms. You snuggled into his warmth, wishing that it was Embry instead. After everything you still wanted him to be with you. Jacob took you home and helped you dry off before leading you into the shower to encourage you to take a hot shower. If you got sick Embry wouldn't be happy with his packmate.

He sat in the livingroom as you got dressed in the bathroom. You sheepishly walked out, embarrassed of the state he had found you in. His large frame took up the lounge chair. Two cups of hot tea sat on the coffee table.

"For me?" You asked, gesturing to the cup. He picked one up and handed it to you before taking his own. It felt good going down your throat. Warm and reassuring.

"Embry should not have phased like that. He feels like an ass for losing control like that." Jake began.

"He had enough control to strip first. I wasn't in danger." You assured.

Jake nodded, "I saw the whole fight go down. I was on patrol."

You laughed sadly. Poor Jacob had to relive Embry's anger and pain through the shared pack bond. He seemed to not be effected by it. You wondered how Embry was doing now. Texting him seemed like a bad idea. Especially with how things were left.

"It was an ugly fight. Worst one to date. His eyes held repulsion, Jake. Like he could barely look at me. This tattoo is giving me hell."

Jake sighed, motioning for you to come sit next to him. You squeezed into the chair with him, resting on his lap. Jake was like your brother that would help you through anything. His warm hand rubbed your back lightly to assure you that he was there. He would always be there.

"Life is weird and there's a lot that I don't know. What I do know is that if anyone is meant to be together, it's you two. Bonded and meant to be before he even shifted. Imprints are strong but you two are even more. This fight is a pebble that will chip away, I promise."

"Thanks but I don't know. He looked crushed. Phasing like that.. showing up to the wedding tomorrow might not be good. I'm not going."

Jake recoiled, "What? Of course you have to attend! Emily wants you there. Screw Embry. Tomorrow is about Sam and Emily and they certainly need you there. You're family."

"Don't say screw him." You mumbled. Feeling defensive was part of the bond, "I will think about it."

Jake ignored you scolding him because he understood the loyalty you felt for Embry. He felt the same exact way towards Reneesme. Rough times caused fighting like any other couple, but the bond required unconditional love and affection. Some portrayed it as toxic, but you didn't. Relationships typically didn't happen like this but you couldn't stay mad at Embry while growing up. It was an impossible defeat.

"You're a bridesmaid, not going would be terrible. Embry wants you there whether he admits it right now or not. I'll come pick you up, make sure you go."

You sighed, nodding. Lack of your presence would only cause a bigger rift between you two. On top of that, Emily would be crushed and that would make Sam frustrated towards you too. And that would lead to arguing between Sam and Embry because another wolf cannot be rude to an imprint. You helped plan this wedding and you deserved to be there. Jake was giving you big puppy dog eyes. Begging like Embry did. Begging that you could not deny.

"Fine."

Jake stood up, "I will see your pretty face tomorrow."

***

Hours later you laid in bed. Ceiling fan high blast cooling the room. Goosebumps danced across your skin, chilling you more than it should. Embry's warm embrace should've sheltered you from the breeze, making the ceiling fan actually necessary compared to his radiating heat. He wasn't with you tonight. You were alone. Restless. Where did he go if he didn't come home to you? Was he on Jared's couch? Sharing Quil's bed like he did when they were kids? Back home with his mom?

Phone screen said 2:41. Four hours after you laid down. Sleep was battling you, heart beating too fast with each memory of the argument. His hurt tone rang through your ears. Past text messages assured you that things would get better between you two. His corny jokes and memes made joy fill you.

This fight was dumb.

Your thumbs typed out all the words you wanted to say and you were about to send it you saw three dots meaning that he was typing too. He was reaching out too! The three dots dissapeared with a lack of text. Mood officially dampened. Who knew texting could be an emotional roller coaster.

Hours later your ass was seated in an uncomfortable chair while your hair was being done. Makeup had been applied an hour ago and you already wanted it off. Your upset hands liked to rest on your face and makeup didn't allow that. Emily and the other girls were chirpy. Gorgeous teeth on show from beaming. You did your best to match their mood. Key word, tried.

"Okay, you're hair is done. Go get in your dress!" Emily cooed, hands on either side of your shoulder. You offered a smile.

Putting on the dress took help from Leah. She was in a sour mood. Her first love getting married to her cousin and all. It was reasonable and truly expected. She may be a shape shifter, but human she still was. Her warm hands zipped up the back of the dress. Leah sensed your bad vibe like second nature.

"Go find Embry, makeout for a minute and get over with whatever the hell this is. It's ridiculous. You two are disgustingly in love. Fix it because it's dragging us all down." Her words were honest. Leah was always honest. Basically in her DNA.

You snorted, "We are not making out here. Im sorry that this is impacting you guys too, but this is not getting dealt with today. Emily and Sam are getting married."

"Won't be perfect if our favorite couple is on the outs."

"Favorite couple?" You questioned.

She nodded as if her sentence was as obvious as stating that the vast sky was blue. You rolled your eyes and moved the bottom of the dress so that it was in place. The light pink silk dress suited you. It suited all of the bridesmaids. Nice dress. Emily had great taste. Speaking of the devil, Emily walked around the corner. Her brown eyes widened at the sight of you and Leah. As if it wasnt her wedding day. As if she wasn't the most stunning looking woman for the day.

"Gorgeous! Oh my goodness, you both look amazing. Thank you for sharing this day with me," her eyes shifted to her Leah, "Especially you, Leah. I know I don't deserve your support considering what happened on your wedding day, but it means the world to me that you are here."

"Yep." Leah gave a tight smile. Emily's face fell at the lack of words from her cousin. You sighed and nudged Leah. She rolled her eyes but tried, "This isn't easy but I'm doing it. For you."

Emily closed the distance between them and pulled her cousin in for a hug. Tension resides and still would for a while, but the bond was slowly mending. Cousin like sisters trying to reconnect. It was hard when Leah was the one who lost everything and Emily gained what she had. Leah still did have one thing. Seth. And you. Seth was her brother and best friend. He always had her back. But you did too. Days after Embry introduced you to the pack you befriended her.

You felt intrusive of the moment so you walked out into the hall. A few doors down led to the outside. Some fresh air would be lovely. Sunshine fluttered through the glass door when you arrived. Glancing outside you halted.

Embry.

Black material covered his toned body, rose sitting perfectly on his left peck. His brown floppy hair was styled perfectly. Your fingers longed to run through the thick locks. You should've been the one to help him do his hair rather than peaking at him behind a door like a child that is supposed to be in time out. He was standing with Jake and Quil. His two friends were laughing as Embry leaned against the wall. Not laughing. Although his face didn't look miserable like yours did.

Jake's eye caught yours and you froze, terrified of what would happen next. Talking to Embry in front of them would most likely cause more issues. You knew Jake would side with you and Quil would side with Embry. Quil was forever Embry's best friend. Jake could see past that.

"There's Y/N." Jake spoke. Embry leaned off the wall and looked around for you. And there you were. Looking gorgeous as ever on the other side of the door. His face faltered into vulnerability as he realized how sad you looked. He did that. He made you sad. Before he could do anything you walked away. He grunted in annoyance, hitting the brick wall behind him.

"Fuck!"

Line up for walking down the isle was what you dreaded because obviously Embry was your match. Room silent as you grudgingly came to stand beside him. His eyes scanned over your beautiful face in sorrow. You busied yourself by picking at your nails. A tick that you did when you avoided confrontation.

Walking down the isle, an arm intertwined in his was mandatory. You did it. Sparks flew up your arm at touching him after so long. His warm skin blazed against yours pleasantly. During the wedding Embry kept stealing glances at you. You noticed and held his gaze when you could.

Sam and Emily's vowels were beautiful. Raw and true words about their unconditional love. Hell Emily has scars on her face from his anger and they got past that. Certainly you could get over Embry shifting yesterday. He did look incredibly handsome across from you.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The crowd cheered as Sam and Emily kissed. He dipped her back like a princess and the cheers only got louder. Kim nudged your shoulder and you two shared a smile when they road off to the reception hall in their decorated car.

You contemplated how you would get to the reception yourself. You arrived with Jake but your body was buzzing with anticipation to touch your boyfriend. Fighting seemed pointless. Today was about love. And you loved eachother. This tattoo was permanent but so were you guys.

Embry was leaning against his truck when your knuckles tapped on the door. He jumped at the surprise but he calmed down when he saw it was you. Looking beautiful as ever. Your hair blew in the wind, giving him a nervous smile.

"You look gorgeous, baby." He lowly said, gesturing to you.

You blushed, "Thanks. Not so shabby yourself, mister."

"I love you." He blurted, "I love you so much. I'm sorry for yesterday. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm especially fucking sorry for phasing."

Your eyes watered as you walked straight into his blazing embrace. He scrambled to pull you as close as possible. Your hands clutched the fabric of his tux as his hands gently rubbed up and down your back. Your mind was flooding with euphoria at how close he was to you. Intoxicating. You hadn't been this far away from Embry for so long since you were fifteen.

"I'm sorry for my tattoo. It was shitty of me not to talk to you about it."

"I was just hurt that you got one without me. I wanted your first tattoo to be shared with me. It was selfish. You may be my imprint, but it's still your body." He confessed.

You pulled away so that you could look up at him, "Yes. My body is mine. But my soul is undoubtedly mixed with yours, belongs to you. Getting a tattoo doesn't make that any less."

An infectious smile broke out on his face. His hands cupped your face as he brought you closer, noses rubbing affectionately. His hand moved to your chain to raise it up, lips slotting quickly against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, eliciting a moan. You pulled back when you heard someone behind you two.

Jake stood there with a shit eating grin, "Was gonna ask if you needed a ride but you two clearly made up."

"Shut up dude." Embry groaned, pressing a few kisses to your cheek, "I missed her."

"Yeah, as if the whole pack didn't know that. See you guys at the reception." Jake retorted.

"See ya Jake!" You called out.

"Think we can manage a quickie before the reception?" Embry asked, hands dangerously roaming your body as he lifted you into the truck. You laughed as you were put on your back in the backseat. Your head lifted to see that no other cars were in the parking lot. You hummed as he shut the door and climbed on top of you. His hands pushed the dress off from your shoulders, head dipping down to appreciate what was his.

"This is a church parking lot." You teased as his tongue ran along your collar bone, hot saliva trailing behind. You grabbed his head and pulled it back up so that he could look at you.

"Yeah and? Everything about you is holy."

You snorted, pulling him down for another kiss. His warm hands slipped under your dress and grabbed your thighs, soft flesh melting against his. He pulled your hips up closer to him, grinding into you. You moaned at how his body moved against yours, two bodys and basically one soul. His lips moved to press hot kisses to your neck until they sucked on your tattoo.

"I think I actually like this spotch of ink." He murmured, running his tongue over it as he bunched up your dress to rest around your torso.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It's hot."

Twenty minutes later you two walked into the reception hall hand in hand. Embry was especially lovey after the ten minutes spent in his truck. You both made sure that no evidence of your quickie was present. Emily and Sam were sharing their first dance in the middle of the dance floor. You led him to your table where Jake, Quil, Jared, Kim, Paul, and Rachel sat. Seth and Leah sat with Sue and Charlie a table over.

"Hot make up sex?" Paul teased as Embry pulled your chair out for you.

You shook your head at his blunt question. It wasn't like your sex life was a secret. Embry could not keep those thoughts to himself when he was shifted. Actually none of the boys could. It was how it went. Over time you got used to it. It wasn't Embry's fault.

"The best." Embry said intertwining your hands, "But not that that's any of your concern."

Paul raised his hands in surrender. The hothead knew better than to overstep and disrespect a fellow wolf and imprint. That would lead to a fight and Sam would murder them.

"Don't listen to Paul. We're glad that you two fixed things." Kim sweetly said. Her eyes were always so wide and kind.

"Yeah, bunch'a miserable kids in love. Embry was mopey all morning." Jared added.

Embry rolled his eyes, thumb rubbing affectionately across the top of your soft hand, "Beg to differ.."

"Oh wanna bet, Call?! You leaned against walls and didn't talk. Like uh," Paul snapped his fingers as he tried to think of the word, "like a mute."

"Love you man, but he's right." Quil spoke. Embry snapped his head to glare at his best friend. In return Quil sheepishly shrugged and sipped his water.

Embry then shifted towards you again, "Do you think any other wolf packs are around that I can join?"

You laughed at his deadpanned tone and lightly slapped his bicep, "You love them and you know it, bub."

"Yeah, bub." Rachel teased, a beautiful smile gracing her lips. Paul smirked with a profound proud feeling bubbling in his chest as he listened to his imprint.

Sam and Emily's dance ended and the dance floor was opened up. Embry took this chance to escape the ragging from his friends to share a slow dance with you instead. His hands rested on the curve of your back while yours intertwined around his neck. His face bend down to be close to yours.

"So I was thinking about our tattoos..." Embry started.

You cocked a curious eyebrow, "Oh? And what conclusion did you arrive at?"

"Let's get them tomorrow. Quil knows a guy who does some wicked cool ones and I just know he will make them exactly how we want. And why wait? Why did we not do it a year a or two ago?" He rambled, twirling you around and bringing you back into his arms.

"No clue why we waited. But.. I am so down for tomorrow. Sooner the better."

He hummed happily, "Great. Tomorrow it is."

Harry Style's Adore You came on and you grinned, "You may be an ass at times Embry Call, but I adore you."

"Thank you baby, but hey." You looked into his loving brown eyes and waited for him to go on, "I'd walk through fire for you."

Song lyrics or not, Embry Call would legit do anything for you, "Just let me adore you." You responded.

He leant down to peck your lips, "That's the only thing I'd ever do."

[sorcererinthestars]

The Wolf Inside

In the hellstorm we are currently living, the RT Writers Discord called off their Secret Skeleton event. However, I was almost done with my piece and I thought, since it has nothing to do with The Offender, I would still share it. Maybe we need to be revitalized in our work, in our love of those who we still have.  Trigger Warning: Suicide Mention. This is sort of dark/angsty, but no major character death. It’s for spooky season, after all!

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994361

Michael is a werewolf. Gavin begs to see that part of his life, and nearly pays the ultimate price. (Ragehappy/Mavin.)

--

As he presses himself farther into his closet and shoves his fist in his mouth to stop the gasping whimpers that are ripping themselves out of his chest, he knows this is the end. It’s curious, knowing when you were going to meet your death. He had hoped he would go out in bed, surrounded by family, but no.

He was going to meet his death hidden in a closet behind a load of clothes, a balled fist in his mouth to stifle the sobs and a bent metal coat hanger in his hand to use as a weapon.

The noises outside were muffled, but easily heard when he was straining to locate them. A scuffle, the sound of a chair moving and hot, labored breathing. A small whine and then — crash! — the sound of something glass shattering.

It was Gavin’s idea. He had pressed for this, he had said it was okay. He had honestly begged, wanting to know what happened when the transformation came. It was always a secret between them, a gap. It was something Michael never wanted to talk about, always kept hidden. Once a month, he would leave their home, disappear somewhere for a few days.

Gavin never knew if the other was safe. He could never know for certain if this would be the time that Michael would never return to him, would be gone forever and he would be left waiting alone at home, checking his phone for a call that would never come.

So he had begged. Take me with you, he pleaded. We can rent a cabin. I can stay inside, safe. You go do what you need to do, but at least I’ll be near if you need me.

Michael had protested and as Gavin shrinks farther back against the wood of the closet, trying to hide himself and his scent under moldering blankets, he finally fucking understands the reason for that protest. Michael was dangerous. He guesses he must have not fully comprehended that, not really. Yes, Michael was a dangerous creature who transformed once a month, but he was also his fiancé. Almost his goddamn husband. And the fact that Michael tried to keep a part of himself so integral to his being away from him made Gavin upset.

As the sounds came up the stairs and the snuffling grew louder, along with the panting and the growls and sound of sharp claws ripping its way through the wood, Gavin knew he should learn to leave some things the fuck alone. If he had time after tonight to worry about anything.

Michael had got bit as a child, he had admitted to Gavin over a year into dating. He had been playing in the woods under the light of the full moon and he had gone to the wrong place at the wrong time. Thankfully, he had managed to get away. Most people who got bit didn’t have to worry about the transformation. They were eaten first.

Gavin couldn’t help but think of the scenes Michael had described to him. Of bodies ripped to shreds, of nothing left of people but pieces of their clothes. The thing that Michael became was not him. He had pleaded with Gavin to understand that. He had little to no control over the beast. It overwhelmed him, terrorized him, and when he came back, he had a full belly, a raging headache, and only sensations and fear where there should be memories.

But Gavin had insisted he wanted to be with Michael during this months’ transformation. He had done the stupid puppy dog eyes that Michael pretends to hate, pouting lower lip and all, and had threatened to follow him if he went alone. So Michael had taken him. They’d rented a cabin deep out in the woods, far away from any civilization. It had been almost an hour drive on empty dirt roads to get out here to this hunters’ cabin.

The man who had rented it to them had scoffed. Warned them of what lurked out there this time of the month. A creature, he had said. Something bigger than anything ought to be. Something that disappeared, something they couldn’t catch.

Michael had just shifted awkwardly. As they sat side by side in their Jeep, he had turned to Gavin and turned a bit red, as if he was trying to fight back his anger. Again, he had tried to get Gavin to go. He had pressed his credit card into Gavin’s hand, asked him to get a hotel room back in the city. He would pay and he would join Gavin there as soon as he could. It was dangerous, he had insisted, among other choice words.

Gavin always knew his stubbornness and blind loyalty was likely going to get him hurt or killed, but didn’t realize how literal that was going to be. Now, as he stared at the ceiling of the closet in order to try not to cry, he kind of wanted to throw himself off the roof to stop the guilt. If something did happen and Michael came back and realized…

It was funny, how the mind fixated on the lesser of two problems in a bad situation. Here he was, about to die at the hands of a creature from a fucking fairy tale or a bad dream, and he was worried about how Michael was going to take it.

The first night at the cabin had been fine. Michael seemed tense, but they had set up safeguards around the front and back of the home. They made dinner, just pasta over a hot plate, and watched the stars. The moon was almost but not completely full. Gavin had learned that Michael knew a great deal about the night sky. Maybe he even fell a bit more in love. There wasn’t any electricity for video games. Turned out they didn’t need any.

There were times when they were sitting and chatting that Michael would go quiet and stiff. A breeze would come by and distract him, or he would shift and grunt like he was uncomfortable. It was the beginning of the shift, Gavin theorized, but Michael wouldn’t talk about it and Gavin knew better than to press him. He was lucky to even be allowed to be here, to share this with him. He wouldn’t ruin it by getting in the way.

He would share more than the experience with Michael now. The creature — the thing — was nearing the second floor now. The bedroom wasn’t even a bedroom, really. More like a walled-off loft. And he was sitting in the back, trapped. Like a rat in a cage. Ready for the cat.

When the howl came, Gavin almost wets himself, cowering even farther back. It sounded close, but it also sounded anguished. Like he could hear the pain of the creature, the rage and frustration by being able to smell its prey, but not chase it.

Michael had been nearly certain that when transformed, he would leave the cabin and get distracted by deer and bear and whatever the hell else was out here at night. But he couldn’t be certain, so as the day started turning dusky, he had taken the truck out into the woods. No argument could be made here. Michael was adamant that this was as far as Gavin would go. And as much as Gavin wanted to see the beast with his own two eyes, he had agreed to keep the peace.

They hadn’t counted on the senses of the Creature to be able to smell Gavin’s scent from miles away. Michael had only been gone a couple hours before Gavin started hearing the sounds of something heavy in the woods. The moonlight was like liquid silver as it washed across the clearing. Something was out there.

Gavin had at first wanted to see it. Maybe Michael had changed his mind, maybe he had come back to share this part of himself entirely with Gavin. But as the Wolf, in all its glory, smashed out of the clearing, Gavin’s bowels nearly failed as he stared down at the animal.

Michael’s werewolf form was eight feet long and at least five feet tall. It was thick and furry, with sharp teeth and yellow eyes. When it snarled, all razor rows of teeth were shown. This thing was a predator, plain and simple. There was nothing of Michael left.

Now, sitting in the closet and waiting to be torn to shreds by the man he loved, Gavin considers his options. They were slim to none. He could try to stab the eye of the beast when it broke in, but that would potentially hurt Michael as well. Maybe even blind him. Could he live with that? It would certainly be better than the alternative — death — but what if it didn’t even stop the Wolf?

He could try to run, but the idea of that thing chasing him when it was faster, could see better, and was stronger than him was less than appealing. He shivers from fear and shrinks down even deeper into a ball.

Why the fuck had he decided to go? Why had Michael let him?

Because, a stupid voice in his head had whispered, becuase he wanted to be loved and accepted for all of him as much as you wanted to know all of him. You’re both idiots.

Love made you do stupid things, but this had to be among the stupidest.

But he didn’t have time to think anymore as the door to the room was shoved inwards with a harsh slam that shook the house. The Wolf roars and Gavin bites through the skin of his finger to keep himself from crying out, blood hot and iron and red against his lips.

That was his last mistake. Like an arrow loosed from the bow, the Wolf whips around and hyperfocuses on the hot scent of fresh blood in the closet. And without another moment of hesitation, the door rips open and there the Wolf is.

Gavin forgets to breathe. For a moment they sit there, staring, the giant Wolf’s breast heaving with every garbled breath, saliva dripping out of his mouth. And Gavin, small, human, and breakable, staring back with wide eyes.

Then Michael roars, a loud agonizing sound that reveals rows and rows of sharp teeth, and Gavin knows this was where he dies.

A paw whips out faster than can be seen and clobbers Gavin in the shoulder. His arm supernovas into pain before immediately going numb, causing him to shriek and fly forward into the room and out of his shelter. Claws rake across the skin of his back in the process, blood immediately wetting his t-shirt. If anything, it was like a shark, enraging the beast further, who snarls and paces as it surrounds him.

Panic driving him to lengths he never would have considered, Gavin tries to stab with the coat hanger and all he manages to do is glance the flimsy piece of metal off of Michael’s iron hide. This refocuses the beast, which Gavin notices seems to be… pacing?

It stalks around him, snarling and spitting, but … not attacking. Like some invisible forcefield was keeping the beast away. Gavin risks trying to move.

Bad idea. The Wolf lunges, capturing Gavin’s ankle in his jaws. He yanks and Gavin slams unceremoniously down on the ground, dragged a few feet away from the closet until he’s exposed in the middle of the room. Blood drips from the teeth marks in his legs, but Gavin almost doesn’t notice as the Wolf hovers over him and teeth, saliva, and bright yellow eyes become all he can see.

His breath is ragged. What do you do when you see your death? Gavin’s lower lip starts quivering and he tries to bite it as tears well in his eyes. “M-Michael,” he gasps. “P-please don’t.”

And the Wolf… doesn’t.

A beat of silence between them, the heaving hulking form pinning Gavin to the ground, blood pooling under the man from the cuts and scratches along his back, one arm limp and obviously dislocated. He could rip his throat out, but he… doesn’t.

Michael.

Michael is inside the Wolf. With a gasp, Gavin realizes. Somewhere inside this beast is his boyfriend, his fiancé, and despite claiming he had no control, something is stopping the beast from killing him. Gavin can almost laugh with relief, but — the Wolf isn’t moving. And sooner or later, Michael is going to lose to the Will of the Beast.

“Michael,” Gavin whispers. “Michael, if you’re in there, please. It’s me. It’s Gavin, your boyfriend. I love you, please….”

The Wolf actually whines. It’s a terrifying sound, but its the sound of confusion and not rage. Progress. He just needed to keep talking. “Michael, baby, please. You’re in control. Just… get it to go. Turn around and go catch deer. P-please, god, no…” The Wolf lowers his head and takes a big sniff of Gavin’s face, the teeth agonizingly close, the saliva smearing across his cheek. Gavin doesn’t dare to move, as if the slightest extra sound or movement would break this spell that they are weaving together over this rabid animal.

Then, every millisecond drawn out to the longest amount of time possible, the Wolf rears back and steps off of Gavin. It looks at him and roars again furiously, shaking the house, and Gavin screws his eyes shut. He fucked up, this is it…

But then he hears the sound of claws on wood and the large form of a Wolf shoving its way through the cabin and then blissful, complete silence.

Laying on the floor, bleeding and in pain, Gavin finally allows himself to weep. Not in fear, but in relief. In love — Michael knew him. Michael wouldn’t allow that demon to kill him, no matter how little control he claimed to have. Tomorrow they would talk, tomorrow they would atone for their many many sins that came about that night, but tonight…

Tonight he would lay here and cry until the sun warms the trees and his fiancé comes back to him.

Some things are better left a mystery, after all.

[providencepeakrp]

CALLIE HENDRICKS

age: 28.

gender & pronouns: cis female & she/her.

neighborhood: bighorn hills.

occupation: veterinarian at healthy tails.

fc: phoebe tonkin.

BIOGRAPHY

trigger warnings: medical, tumor, death, and miscarriage.

In Pasadena, Callie was brought into the world by Robin and Stella Hendricks. Her father was a renowned surgeon and her mother a hospital administrator, raising her alongside two siblings she was smack in the middle of. The siblings were close and the home was always a happy one despite the long hours each parent tended to work. Callie’s mother mostly made a set schedule so that she could be as present as possible in the upbringing of her children, denying her husband’s offer to hire help for her every single time he mentioned it. She didn’t believe in her children being raised by nannies nor did she want her children to become latchkey, which meant that she had to be passed up a few times when it came to promotions given that she needed to stick to a strict nine to five schedule. Stella wanted to be home every night to prepare dinner for her family and check on her children’s homework. The siblings couldn’t be any more different from each other; Callie’s older sister was very much the girly type that was a princess as a child and a popular cheerleader when she reached her teens, whereas her younger brother was adventurous and sporty. She, herself, was the nerdy type. Callie loved to read and had a knack for tech, she either had her nose in a book or was taking something apart and putting it back together often leaving things to run better once she was done messing with them. She was lucky in the fact that she received two great qualities from her parents, her organization from her mother and her precision from her father.

During her school years, Callie wasn’t the popular kid, she was either in the library or the science lab. But her lack of popularity wasn’t ever a problem for her, she was never a busy body like that and she was quite overshadowed by her siblings. Her older sister was very popular and her peers were generally nice to her for that reason, although it only made living in her older sister’s shadow that much more difficult. She was beautiful and had a figure enviable of every single girl in school, she had a charm about her that was effortless which only made her appearance that much more powerful and devastating. Callie would often look at herself in the mirror, stare at her boyish figure and wish to be a little something more, especially since it seemed to be what most people, especially in high school, seemed to put the most value into. Where Callie had no popularity when it came to dating opportunities she made up for when it came to her scholastic achievements. She was the girl that made honor roll every quarter, was in all AP classes as well as some classes she was taking advanced at the local college, and was in programs such as GATE.

Naturally she earned a few scholarships and chose to attend Providence Peak University and entered into the biology/zoology science program for her bachelor’s degree. Callie excelled immediately, most science and math courses by then were already second nature to her given her educational background and volunteer work that had already bloomed in her early teen years. Back in those days, before her life was consumed with coursework and internships at veterinary practices and rescue organizations that littered the valley, she made an independent living with a side hustle as a phlebotomist. Callie had taken then required course at the local community college and completed her required lab hours before she could be licensed and had used that skill as a step in for internships and also when she completed the next step in becoming a vet tech. She did so well that she passed her undergraduate with honors and was already onto her graduate and veterinary school when the call came from her family about what had been found in her mother’s regular health check-up at the doctor. It was frightening news learning that her mother had a brain tumor and was in need of surgery, but by then Callie also had support in the life she’d built around her in Providence Peak. During her senior year of university, she met Orion Williams, they were in the same course and his family owned the Wild Wolf Rescue, a place she’d always wanted to volunteer and/or work with yet hadn’t. The demands of her new job post bachelor’s degree was difficult to keep up with when also trying to balance out the remainder of her university education and knowing her mother wasn’t doing well back home.

Somewhere along the way Callie moved in with Orion and they began building a life together. He was everything she had ever dreamed of in a partner and pinched herself sometimes to make sure it was all real and she wasn’t dreaming. Especially with how supportive he was of her trying to do it all. Even though Callie was far away from her older sister there was a part of her that always overcompensated and was in competition. It was something they eventually put to rest when she made the tough decision to go back home to Pasadena and take care of her mother. Stella had put off surgery for long enough that she had begun to have motor function issues, and her siblings weren’t able to upend their lives as easily as Callie was. Not that sitting down with Rion and saying she had to leave Providence Peak and their home was easy, he just somehow made it that way. Wanting to keep their relationship steady despite the distance that would be between them. Post surgery she took care of her mother on a daily basis and balanced veterinary school demands, another thing Rion seemed to ease in all the stress she endured through that time. They exchanged texts, calls, FaceTimed as often as possible and kept to their plan of visiting each other once a month to keep as close to each other as the distance allowed.

It went on like that for years and Callie eventually fell into a rhythm with it all, but for a while it seemed as though hardship was going to take hold. Stella passed away, losing the battle with the tumors that infiltrated her brain, and shortly after Callie had a miscarriage. One loss after the other absolutely devastated her, but the baby maybe hurt a little more. It was a glimmer of light amidst enduring grey skies that had colored the last few years for her. She felt guilty, as though she’d done something wrong, despite the doctor telling her it was likely due to the amount of stress she’d been under. That her body simply couldn’t handle it all. Furthermore, having to share the loss with Rion was harder than Callie could have anticipated. Her guilt doubled when she looked at him, her pain seemed insurmountable when she realized how much she had failed at everything, but they eventually made it through by doing what they do best: sticking together and supporting one another. The loss is a wound Callie isn’t sure will ever fully heal, it simply got to a point where it’s not constantly bleeding. She found herself able to carry on and once she made peace with her mother’s death and helped her father pack up the family home, Callie looked to returning to what had become her home. Orion in Providence Peak. By then she’d finished her veterinarian school and was licensed, she accepted an offer to work at Healthy Tails and was far too eager to move back in with Orion. Soon after finding herself with a ring on her finger and herself engaged to her first and only love.

written by: christie.

[love-sapphirerose]

Optimally Maximal Relationship Failures

https://www.deviantart.com/antoni-matteo-garcia/art/Optimally-Maximal-Relationship-Failures-863430102

This demotivational poster is super aggro and mega highly Anti-SessKagu, Anti-KogAya, Anti-InuKag, Anti-Kagura to some extent, Anti-Kouga to a vastly significant extent, Anti-Kagome to a huge extent, but also Pro-Sesshoumaru, Pro-Inuyasha, Pro-Ayame, and highly Pro-SessAyaInu. Sit back and relax, as I tear into Sesshoumaru's and Kagura's failure of a relationship, Kouga's and Ayame's major fart of a romance that should never have been, and Inuyasha's and Kagome's annoying volatility, why Kagura does not deserve Sesshoumaru, why Kouga and Kagome only deserve my ire, wrath, and fury, and why Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame deserve so much better in each other. Furthermore, this is my contribution to this year's Red Ribbon Reviewers' month. Behold, my dear readers, my three greatest NOTPs of all time. Sure, I consider Naraku with anybody my greatest choice of a NOTP because someone as manipulatively dastardly such as Naraku deserves to be alone, done for, and truly deserves jack shit! However, that is too obvious of a choice. These three are the ones that make me want to tear my hair off and carve the hearts of Kouga and Kagome out with a blunt knife as well as tell Kagura to vamoose. As you can clearly tell, I have put these from bad to worse to the worst, with Sesshoumaru x Kagura being something absolutely unpleasant, Kouga x Ayame being a whole lot more atrocious, and Inuyasha x Kagome being the indubitable equivalent to toxic waste mixed with gallons of poison. Ergo, SessKagu is a bad pairing, KogAya is so much worse, and InuKag is the absolute worst pairing to exist in Inuyasha. I am aware that there are a good number of people who love to pair Sesshoumaru with Kagura because of how appealingly sexy they appear together. However, now that I have discarded those rose-tinted glasses for good, I can see this failure of a relationship for what this signifies and this all falls on Kagura's shoulders. Lest one forget that Kagura killed Kouga's tribesmen of her own volition and got pleasure out of that, trapped Miroku and Sango at Mt. Hakurei also by her own volition, kidnapped Rin, used Akago as a vessel to feed on Kagome's dark side, was manipulated into serving Princess Kaguya in the false hopes of wanting her freedom, and tended to mock Inuyasha. All of these atrocities would make Sesshoumaru fully cognizant that Kagura is far from being his equal in a relationship. Her dirty record as well as her hissy fit at Sesshoumaru for not helping her desire to be free from Naraku make her a co-dependent partner which can only spell failure in the long-term. As a mother to Rin, she would definitely fail badly because of her aforementioned dirty record and she would not be fully worthy of any sort of emulation. For someone like Kagura who is a formidable fighter, she has abused her wind powers to cause chaos and misery. Her passing may be tragic, but the awful deeds she has done are not worthy of my forgiveness. At least Sesshoumaru is free from being in a co-dependent relationship with that polarizing wind sorceress. Kouga x Ayame or KogAya is a couple I will never understand the appeal of. Yes, they are both wolf yokai, but these two could not be any more different, as Kouga is a big bluffer of a bully and a Karma Houdini and Ayame is a naturally brave, strong, fearless warrior princess with hidden depths that should have been fully realized! I have dreaded at the thought of these two ending up together because of all the failures and atrocities that would all resurface if Ayame were to find out all the horrible crimes Kouga has committed against an innocent young girl, Rin, and his entire tribe. This also extends to him not being the strong fighter he has made himself out to be and nothing more than a perennially pathetic loser who has relied on the Shikon Jewel's power instead of harnessing his own strength, as if the Shikon Jewel shards on his legs are a metaphor for steroids being used to give someone an artificial boost of strength and power. If Ayame dared to discover all of those atrocities, crimes, and rubbish Kouga has committed, she will be undoubtedly appalled at him and would repudiate him for good. I will reiterate that all of my sympathy goes to Ayame because of the fact that she deserves so much better than this pathetic waste of effort and time and deserves to grow as a veritably formidable heroine worthy of emulation, especially to all the young girls of the world. The mere fact that Kouga and his wolves killed innocent villagers including Rin who has lost her family and had to wander the world alone before she was revived Sesshoumaru through his Tenseiga and got away with murder, mainly relied on the Shikon Jewel's power to accelerate his strength and speed without working that on his own, and did not avenge his fallen comrades at the hands of Naraku and Kagura should all make Ayame's insides turn and make her reject Kouga for good and for all. Ergo, Ayame does not deserve this pathetic Karma Houdini and deserves to estrange herself from him forever, thus making her be the mother Rin truly deserves and will gladly give her her unconditional love and compassion to help her grow as a person. Speaking of couples I do not understand the appeal of by any shape of the imagination, we have my most dreaded NOTP of all time in the form of Inuyasha x Kagome or InuKag. Even as a child of eleven years old, I did not tune in to Inuyasha to see their soap opera fart of a relationship desecrating Adult Swim let alone the airwaves no matter where I was watching this series. I mainly tuned in to Inuyasha to see him growing from strength to strength and kick loads of butt, especially in his full yokai form. Furthermore, the more I saw Kagome and her brand of shrewishness, manipulativeness, brattiness, pettiness, jealousy, and callousness, the more irritated I became. There was barely any semblance of a romantic relationship blooming between Inuyasha and Kagome, as it was more of Kagome being the owner to Inuyasha's pet, especially where the Beads of Subjugation and the purpose of Inuyasha's sword Tessaiga are concerned. The Beads of Subjugation were used for Inuyasha to not do anything rash while the Tessaiga, aside from being a sword of destruction, was also intended to be used to protect those who are oppressed. Being the manipulative shrew Kagome was, she believed this would give her leeway for Inuyasha to shield her and be her "knight in shining armor" who will save her from all forms of danger without honing her own skills as a fighter. What is worse is that Kagome extends her manipulation to Miroku, Sango, and Shippou aka The Dunderhead Family to be nothing more than her pathetic posse and have them jump on a certain bandwagon that has brought Inuyasha a whole bunch of trauma. I am, of course, talking about how he was still hurting from the guilt he felt when Naraku manipulated both him and Kikyou into betraying each other. Miroku, Sango, Shippou, and especially Kagome never understood Inuyasha's pain and trauma in the slightest and The Dunderhead Family think that anytime Kagome was hurt it was all because of him. Furthermore, there is the fact that Inuyasha and Kagome are an undeniable example of being in a Karmic relationship with each other, given the many times they have been yelling, bickering, squabbling, and getting themselves in a heap of messily addictive habits that will only dig them deeper into more quagmires than find any sensibility or profound meaning. It says something that someone as compassionate, genuine, kind, and natural as Rin makes a far better companion to Inuyasha than The Dunderhead Family and...ugh....Kagome combined. Do not even get me started on the first episode of Yashahime because Inuyasha still has those accursed Beads of Subjugation on and she still does not trust him where Kikyou was concerned. Kagome was never attentive to him, never understood him in a profound level, and always believed she had dominance over him. This, my friends, is why I absolutely loathe InuKag with all of my being and it stands perched atop the medal platform of shame as my most disdained NOTP of all time. InuKag makes SessKagu more tolerable in comparison and the only other NOTP to ever come close to InuKag's brand of disgust is KogAya. Regardless, InuKag is the NOTP I will never want to touch with a twelve-foot pole. You might even noticed a recurring theme in terms of my discussion of my Inuyasha NOTPs and that is the importance of Rin. Well, she does play an integral part in not only Sesshoumaru's life but also the lives of Inuyasha and Ayame. Considering that Kouga and his wolves killed her in cold blood and got away with murder, Kagura kidnapped her as ransom for Sesshoumaru to annihilate Naraku, and that Kagome and The Dunderhead Family do not even come close to Rin's brand of compassion, I say that it was high time for Sesshoumaru to ditch Kagura, Inuyasha to give a big, fat, ugly screw-you to Kagome, and Ayame to drop kick Kouga in his family jewels to be the worthy parents to give Rin the great home she truly deserves complete with siblings in the forms of Dai, Roku, Kai, Shiori, and Shinta. To make things better, Rin will be definitely grateful to have two strong, powerful, brave dads like Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha, one courageous, honorable, compassionate mom like Ayame, three tough, independent, loving older brothers like Dai, Roku, and Kai, a lovable, caring, compassionate "twin" sister like Shiori because they are also the same age though Shiori is a month younger than her, and a lovable, sweet, attentive younger brother like Shinta. Just squeeze in Shuran, Hakkaku, and Ginta to be her loving uncles and Shunran to be her equally loving auntie and it will be a glorious family Rin will be more than happy to be a part of. With that said, having a three-way relationship with Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha being the chivalrous, caring, noble husbands to Ayame is so much better than having these three suffer a series of terrible relationships. This also extends to how proud Toga the Dog General and The Wolf Elder shall be of their progeny for giving Rin a great home and for finding true friends in Shuran, Hakkaku, Ginta, and Shunran who are just as supportive of Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame being in a three-way relationship. In conclusion, I am so ecstatic to make SessKagu, KogAya, and especially InuKag my biggest NOTPs for life. I will never touch these failures with a twelve-foot pole ever again, but the putrid effect of these NOTPs will forever remain ingrained in my memory as a stern reminder what bad relationships can look like. From the co-dependency found in Kagura's failed relationship with Sesshoumaru to the utter deception and lies Ayame would have found herself falling hook, line, and sinker all for Kouga's pathetic hide to Inuyasha's and Kagome's fart of a relationship only spelling death and destruction for years to come, there is nothing that will salvage these losers together. I am just going to keep Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame in a loving three-way relationship complete with a great family they can call their own and Shuran, Hakkaku, Ginta, and Shunran are going to be part of that family as their siblings for life. I hope you all enjoyed my evisceration of SessKagu, KogAya, and InuKag as my biggest NOTPs for life and I would love to hear from you if you agree with me on this. Until then, I will see you in the next submission. Take care and Happy Holidays, everybody. Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame as well as the lame-os known as Kouga, Kagura, and Kagome from Inuyasha belong to Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise.

[wonderofasunrise]

If We Are Destined to Burn

for @sapphicsandscience (my first ever) moodboard inspired by @pgkwriter

First of all, I apologise for coming up with a not-so-festive story in a time where everyone can do with a little cheering up. I didn’t exactly plan the fic to turn out this way, but...well, it ended up the way it is now, and nevertheless I hope you enjoy this little character study, which I felt was necessary for a character so essential yet ridiculously glossed over in canon.

Isabel, you’re one of the people who offered me a shoulder to cry on when the going got really hard, and I could never thank you enough for that. Again, I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with something more festive, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless.

Happy holidays, and thank you. So so much.

x M

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

note: this fic will also be published on AO3 as part of the Love & Loss series

featuring excerpts from “For Island Fires and Family” by Dermot Kennedy

Now wasn’t it love as soon as we knew each other properly? Living ‘bout half-right until a certain person got to me Nothing is secret Everything’s sacred How it ought to be Under the moonlight On a clear night On rooftops is where I want to be

***

If there was one thing Sandy Lopez hated more than anything, it was the feeling of helplessness.

She was used to being in charge, of always knowing (and being able to perform) the solution to everything, yet this one night her vulnerability had got the best of her and she hated every second of it. Worse still, the very reason for it was currently curled up next to her, and there was no way she could avoid it.

She loved Kerry Weaver too much for that.

Her hand began to softly caress Kerry’s head, and the moment her fingertips met the older woman’s strands of auburn hair she felt a sudden jolt as though the gesture had been the most alien to her; she let out a gasp, though—much to her relief—Kerry remained deep in slumber.

Even in the dark of the night Sandy could see clearly how her lover’s eyes were still puffy from the events of today, and it killed her that there was only so much she could do to stop the tears. Kerry had cried herself to sleep, and Sandy had only been able to stand there watching her as it had happened. The good few hours Kerry had spent crying had been petrifying to Sandy, and silently she cursed herself for her inability to prevent her own feeling of helplessness from kicking in.

It had been Kerry’s decision to carry the baby despite all the risk associated with her age, knowing fully well that Sandy had her reservations about pregnancy due to her firefighting career, and Sandy had happily taken it for granted until today. It had been one of the many sacrifices Kerry had made over the course of their relationship, and now the list also included the pain—both physical and emotional—she had suffered while miscarrying.

The guilt over what had happened and how she had taken Kerry’s sacrifices for granted would never cease haunting Sandy, and it was the most crushing pain she had ever felt in her life—a feeling of pure devastation nothing had prepared her for.

She had not been there when the miscarriage had happened, and it had taken Kerry awhile to finally break the news. When she had done so tearfully, Sandy had been completely stunned, unable to let out any word because no word would ever sound right under this kind of situation. Deep down she had wanted to comfort Kerry, to reassure both her and herself that everything was going to be okay, but she had been unable to.

Partly because she could not guarantee that everything was really going to be okay, and she didn’t feel like lying to herself, and most importantly to Kerry.

And she hated herself for having been petrified while her wife had cried her heart out, though it was supposed to be a shared moment of grief. The moment both of them were supposed to mourn the loss of their child, yet only Kerry had been able to cry.

For the first time since they had begun their relationship, Sandy started to wonder whether she had failed Kerry.

Her wife and their child. Had she failed them both? Could she have been at fault in any way?

Sandy knew Kerry would fervently deny that, but it still would not make her feel any better.

She had no doubt regarding her feelings for her and how much she loved her it hurts. But there were moments where Sandy asked herself if Kerry recognised that and understood why Sandy did the things she did and how everything came from nothing but a place of love.

Sandy remembered vividly the day she had outed Kerry, which had infuriated the latter, but Sandy had been firm in her stance that it had been necessary for Kerry, that it had aimed to make her understand herself better—in particular when it comes to certain aspects that she had only recently discovered. It had been for the good of both of them, Sandy had affirmed at that time.

Nevertheless a tinge of guilt surfaced tonight, which Sandy had been trying so hard to quell. She did not apologize for doing what she thought was best for those she loved, it had always been her way of doing things; yet tonight felt different in a way that she was completely unfamiliar with. Had Kerry been hurting because of this without Sandy knowing?

Wouldn’t Kerry let her know if that was the case?

Part of her was dying to know, simply because of how much she loved Kerry, but another part of her was not sure whether or not she could live with the guilt.

They had never brought up that day again since Kerry had confronted her initially; whether it was out of contentment over the situation or out of a desire to avoid yet another argument Sandy did not know. Until now it had never really bothered Sandy, but seeing Kerry in such a vulnerable position after today changed everything. Kerry’s formidable self had been challenged by a force so great for the first time, Sandy believed, since they had got together, and much to Sandy’s frustration it was not one of the forces she could brave to protect her beloved.

Her fingers now lingered on Kerry’s face, and she could still feel traces of tears. Another sudden jolt followed, but this time Sandy remained silent until Kerry began to stir in her sleep, which took Sandy aback slightly, but the redhead soon relaxed her head against her pillow again, taking a deep breath as she did so. Her eyes were firmly closed with the same pained expression that she had worn all day, and Sandy could feel her own heart beginning to shatter.

“Ker…” Sandy whispered. She assumed Kerry was far too deep in her sleep to listen, but then Kerry, in one swift movement, brought her hand forward so it now rested on top of Sandy’s free hand, and grabbed Sandy’s fingers in a tight grip. All the while, her eyes were still closed, and Sandy could see more tears flowing between Kerry’s eyelids.

“Don’t leave me,” Kerry said in a voice so faint Sandy could barely make out the words. “Don’t…”

Again, Sandy was left petrified, but this time she no longer held it back—it took her a good few seconds until she realized that tears had started raining down her own face.

For the first time in forever, Sandy was crying. Out of her and Kerry’s shared grief, out of the sight of Kerry so vulnerable before her, and out of her own helplessness and perceived inability to make things better.

Sandy had never hated herself so much.

“I’m sorry, Ker,” Sandy murmured, her lips now on Kerry’s forehead. “I’m sorry.”

For the time being, there was nothing else Sandy could say, but one thing for sure she meant the little she had managed to let out, and she prayed that Kerry understood it somehow. That, and how Sandy quietly promised that she would never leave Kerry, no matter what might stand their way. Amid the feeling of helplessness engulfing her, it was one of the only things Sandy could promise to never fail.

***

So wouldn’t you let me know if you were thinking less of me? That’s what she asked me What was promised What we both agreed But truthfully if you ever go You’ll drop me straight to Hell, the seventh circle And I was talking with you earlier We were open and vulnerable It was wonderful

[patricia-von-arundel]

An Ordinary Life - 1/3

This is a story I’ve been trying to start, and kept getting stymied on and restarting, for a very long time. It’s a simple story, about two people very much in love, who rarely get to exist as others do. Who live lives full of great deeds and great challenges, but have few moments of solitude and peace. Who are extraordinary, but rarely ordinary. So... I wanted to give ordinary to them. To Edelgard, who grieves the ordinary life her siblings never had, and longs for a lazy day. To Byleth, who has only recently learned to want or need anything beyond what is necessary to live. Even if the respite for both of them is brief, it is still just that: a respite.

I wanted it up today for El’s birthday.

I wanted to write it at all for @lysissisyl. Ti amo, cuore mio.

Rating: G (the third part will be very much M-rated, but will only be available on AO3)

Also on AO3

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It had been almost a year - almost a year since the war ended, and the true tests of her abilities began. Edelgard had not been so foolish as to believe these tests would be easy ones, but she had failed to grasp the full tedium that they would lay upon her. Day in and day out. Heavier than any armor - and completely lacking in the satisfaction of laying down her weapon at the end of the day. 

She had never been much for such work: sitting for hours on end, piles of paper and ink tipping into depleted wells, demands offered in formulaic, formal, flowery tones. Meetings with crusty, entitled men of the ancien regime, who she knew before any discussion began would balk at every word she spoke, regardless of what it might be, simply because of their anger and fear at what she had chosen to represent. Slow work. Tedious work. 

Her sisters had teased her about her inability to stand such things, when she was young: “Never get between Edelgard and the door at the end of lessons! Little El will run you right over.” She had usually been the first out, running for afternoon freedom in the outdoors. Even restricted from going alone outside the palace grounds, there was far more adventure eto be found than would ever be contained in arithmetic or penmanship. 

She had outgrown such childish displays of her feelings, of course, but not out of the feelings themselves. Still - always - she would do what was necessary. It was not for her own education, now - it was for every person in Fódlan. 

But the tedium wasn’t the only thing she had to fight to keep her mind on the endless work:

There was also the abence in her heart, and in the empty bed she attempted restless sleep in each night. 

Byleth had been gone for almost a month. Twenty-six days. Edelgard had no choice but to keep count; her subconscious mind would make certain of it, even if her conscious mind chose not to. Each time Byleth had left, it seemed the pain and fear could grow no greater - her body could contain no more - but with every day that passed, somehow, it did. This, though, was the longest it had been - and the fear was ever-present. She even dreams of it: nightmares of all those years Byleth had been gone. Nightmares of seeing her collapse, there at what had been greatest victory, and listening desperately, endlessly for a heartbeat that never came. And nightmares of now: only a still, silent body coming home; a shroud in the back of a wagon. or there being no body to bring home at all and, this time, no hope of future reunion. Like a child, she woke at times to damp, silent tears on her cheeks. 

She understood the importance of what Byleth was doing - the fact that both Byleth and Hubert had been willing to leave her side spoke quite clearly of that importance. And their talents had not been wasted: the ongoing fight against the darkest enemies of Fódlan was going well. Many of their scattered nests had already been cleansed of vermin. 

But they were not all found - and Byleth’s skills in hunting them out rivaled her skills with a sword. It made sense for her to go. But that did not mean Edelgard felt any less fear - or any less frustration that she could not be out there as well. 

Twenty-six days: that was how long it took for her fears to be realized. Twenty-six days, until the door to her prison opened with nary a knock or a warning, and she saw that Hubert had finally returned.

Alone.

The unkempt nature of his appearance would have been more than enough to alert her that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. She could see the sheen of perspiration on his skin, and the half-healed remains of a nasty cut across one cheek. He still wore riding clothes, when he almost always insisted on bathing and dressing more formally before coming to see her upon his returns. 

But it was the glimpse of the pain in his eyes - seen only for the briefest second, before he dipped into a bow before her - that seemed to slam into her chest, hard as a fist. 

“Lady Edelgard, I -”

“Where is she?” She could hear it in her voice - the terror. For once, she did not care. She pushed up from the desk. The pen she had been using had already begun to leave a spreading stain across the letter beneath it. She did not care about that, either. “Tell me immediately - where she is, and what happened.”

Hubert straightened again. There was some new measure of composure to his face, now that orders had been given. He offered her a curt nod. “She is near. We thought it best not to bring her any farther than was necessary to make certain we were not being followed.”

Edelgard gave a nod of her own. She wondered if it might be possible to hear the hammering of her frantic heart. Still, she had slipped on her own mask of composure - across her face, and in her voice when she said, “Tell me what happened on the way, then.”

“Of course. The horses are already waiting.”

A surprise attack, he said - an ambush from behind, when by all accounts, including his own, the area had already been cleared. Edelgard knew well such ambushes - the strange spells and dark knowledge possessed by their enemies meant such occurrences were all but inevitable. Unfortunately, the same means made preparing for such an attack impossible. They had certainly tried many times over.

And because of that...

Edelgard’s hands clenched around the reins within them. She resisted the urge to kick her horse into a gallop. She wished they could have flown instead. 

Byleth had not faltered in the battle - she had had no chance to. “They clearly targeted her first,” Hubert said. Edelgard did not doubt it was true: they had not been secretive about the elite warriors being sent to wipe out their foes. And this was her doing - Hubert had wanted to keep their plans as quiet as possible, but she had felt the need to grandstand. She had wanted their enemies to know who was coming for them. For what seemed now shameful, selfish, petty reasons, she had wanted this: she had hoped to make them feel afraid. As they had once made her feel afraid. 

They hadn’t targeted Byleth by chance, or even as an attempt to bring down a command of the Imperial Army. 

They had targeted her as the woman Edelgard loved. Because she had not served the purpose for which they had created her. Because she had announced, loudly and openly, that the finest members of her army were coming to smoke them from their burrows and caves and rat-holes. 

Which meant she bore some - perhaps most - of the blame for what had happened. 

“We could not see to her injuries until the battle was won,” Hubert said. “For that, Lady Edelgard, I offer my humblest apologies. She was able still to fight, and it seemed the spell might not have caused serious injury, so I deemed it safer not to put the healers at risk to see to her immediately.”

“Of course,” Edelgard said. IF he heard the tension that had returned to her voice - and the guilt, heavy and pulsing, within it - he gave no sign. 

“That is why I must ask your apology. That decision proved an ill-fated one. The magic worked as a venom might, it seems - slowly coursing through the veins, and just as slowly making its nefarious presence fully known. After the battle, she finally fell.”

In her mind, as cold and unyielding as a vise, Edelgard could now see it. As she had already, almost a yar ago, seen Byleth collapse. Only this time, Edelgard had not been able to rush to her side - and now, foolish as it was, it only added another sting to the swarm of her guilt. 

“The healers,” she said. “Were they able to...?”

Hubert nodded. “The magic was purged. But it had done as intended - it will be some time before she is fully recovered.”

Recovered. The question Edelgard had been desperate to ask, and equally determined not to do so - not yet - since the moment Hubert had appeared in her study: Will she recover? The relief of the answer washed over her, almost strong enough to cast aside the fear, the pernicious guilt. Almost - but not quite. Not yet. 

“Here,” Hubert said - veering off the road, into the tangled darkness of the wood through which they were traveling. “A hunting cabin. One of the soldiers offered its use.”

She would see to it he was thanked - later. Adding it silently to the endless list of tasks in her mind. Thanks both for the use, and for the safety of it. They had to travel deep into the forest to find it - there would be no chance of their enemies, or anyone else, just happening to stumble upon it. Here, until she recovered - recovered! - Byleth would be safe. 

And more so now, because Edelgard had no intention of leaving the place until that recover she was sure was complete. She could not undo what had already been done, but she could make damned sure no further harm was caused. Perhaps it would in some very small way make up for her negligence allowing Byleth to be in such a state in the first place. 

The cabin was small, utilitarian - almost primitive in appearance. It sat in a clearing, surrounded on all sides by forest. The walls were wood, grey and weathered with age, and clearly even from a distance left unchinked. The small windows had waxed paper in them, not glass. There was a shed for horses, a rough-hewn box and an axe for firewood - and that was all. 

No place Edelgard would want to call home. But for a place to hide someone now known all across Fódlan? It was perfect. 

“Take me to her.”

Hubert bowed only his head, this time. “Of course, Lady Edelgard.”

There were three rooms inside - tiny ones, with no doors in the doorways and very little besides the necessities for brief stays: a large fireplace - already lit, though the place retained a chilly, damp, stale kind of air - and a table and chairs, as rough as the walls, in the main room. To the left, what seemed a storage room and cooking space; she could see crates and barrels and a stove with a precariously-crooked pipe. At the far end of the main room - 

The bedroom.

She did not wait for Hubert. And she did not attempt to hide her hurry. 

There were two beds - one large, the other smaller, tucked under one of the papered windows. A small chest in one corner. And that was all. 

Byleth was in the smaller bed. 

Edelgard’s breath caught. 

She had seen Byleth very still. While she was listening to someone. While she was searching for something - a target. An enemy. 

But she was not still in sleep - not at all. That was something Edelgard had had to grow accustomed to, in the first sweet nights they had shared a bed with one another. Byleth was a restless sleeper.

There was no restlessness to her now. 

Edelgard crossed the room to her. Hubert was still without - giving them this moment alone. For that, Edelgard was grateful. Her fragile composure seemed likely at any moment to shatter. 

Byleth was like a corpse - that was the only description that came to mind. Not only too still: too pale, too small, too... depleted. Drained of life, of her curious gaze. Simply a thing, now, a child’s doll tucked into bed, but never truly to awaken. They had tucked her in, but only to the waist. And the room was so damp and cold...

Edelgard pulled her gloves off, because that, in the moment, seemed suddenly very important. As did fixing the blankets, as tiny as this was in the face of a much greater, graver situation. She pulled them up, tucking them now around Byleth’s shoulders. Carefully - carefully. 

Her skin, at least, felt warm and soft and alive. Edelgard, hands still bare, touched her cheek, brushed hair from her forehead. Byleth showed no reaction - but this close, Edelgard could see the rise and fall of her breath, slow and steady. Inside, her heart would have the same in its beat. Still, Edelgard put her hand there, too. She needed the reassurance of feeling it. The rhythmic strength of it. 

“I am sorry, my love.” Words spoken softly. Inadequate words, but all she had to offer. 

Back in the main room, Hubert was staring into the flames within the fireplace, his hands folded together behind his back. He did not look up when she entered the room once more. 

“It is time for you to return to Enbarr,” she said. “You need to speak with those who know of our current whereabouts. Make it very clear that I expect the location to be kept secret. There will be most severe punishment should anyone allow this information to be made public. Tell Ferdinand he has lead of my affairs until I return. I ask that you remain available, and serve as my eyes and ears in the capitol. Should anything occur that requires my attention, please come to me at once.”

He offered another bow of his head. “Yes, Lady Edelgard. I shall send a contingent to watch this general area, that you may stay with the professor.”

“No. It’s too dangerous. Not when our enemy will be explicitly aware of our current situation. I alone will remain with Byleth. I assure you, I am more than protection enough, should any attempt to further harm her.”

She knew well the way that Hubert then smiled - thin, and satisfied, and dark. “As you wish. It shall be done as you say. And now, by your leave, I will return to Enbarr.” He hesitated - then looked her, finally, in the eye. “I am sorry I was not able to protect her.”

An unusual softness in his voice - but she could feel the same within herself. “It is the way of war, Hubert. You know that, I know that, and Byleth certainly knows it, as well. You saw her safely to this place. For that, I can only offer my gratitude.”

When he was gone, the tiny place seemed almost colder, and so quiet she could almost feel it, like an ache that settled within her very bones. For what seemed a long time, she could only stand there, hands on the doorframe without a door, as if trapped between two versions of reality: the one she faced, homely but almost, curiously, offering welcome, with the little table before the fire; and the one behind her, that room full of chill and guilt and unnatural stillness. 

She wanted to return to that room. To keep vigil, until the beautiful moment it was no longer necessary. But the practical side of her, she knew she must allow to win out - at least for a time. There were matters to attend to: seeing what supplies were available to them. Chopping more firewood, unless there was a store of it somewhere besides the box she had seen outside, and not only what was already burning. Hubert would likely have left one of the horses for her, and she would have to see to its needs as well as her own and, much more importantly, Byleth’s. 

The outside tasks first - the day was already growing late, and the night would be even colder than it was at the moment. She attended to the horse, lingering for a few minutes with it there in the shed that served as makeshift stable. A sweet horse - it allowed her to rub its nose, which she thought horses liked. It had never seemed wise, to show much softness around animals, especially those that were likely to be taken to war. Still, she liked them, and there was no one here to see, except Byleth - and Byleth, of course, already knew.

But the thought of Byleth was enough to cease her brief moment of distraction - Byleth in there alone, and the possibility that she might be cold or afraid or uncomfortable, and being unable to say or do anything about it. It was also looking increasingly likely to rain, the sky less darkening from dusk than from ominous, heavy, low-hanging clouds. 

The axe - Edelgard collected it, considered it. Was there a method to cutting firewood? It certainly appeared to be done a particular way, considering the general uniformity of the pieces. But - for all her prowess with and preference for the axe as a battle weapon! - if there was such a method, she had no memory of having ever seen it, much less learned it herself. 

“Ironic, really,” she murmured - then shrugged. “Well, surely logs will burn regardless of how they might appear...”

Small trees - was that what she was supposed to look for? It seemed unwise to attempt a large one - it would take far too long. And besides, the axe was quite small itself. The trick, then, was to find a small tree. 

But that was a trick, indeed - she also was not certain how one was meant to do so. She had never cut firewood, and she had never had to find a small tree. There were no trees at all in the clearing, and all the ones she saw when she ventured into the forest were very large ones. Very, very large ones.

Was she supposed to use one of those? Perhaps she was overestimating the amount of time that it would take. There might be small trees closer to the roads they had traveled earlier, where more sun was available, but she didn’t want to be so far from Byleth unless there was no other choice. And she wouldn’t be able to safely traverse the forest after dark - she had no torch, and it would be too easy to lose her bearings in such unfamiliar territory even if she did have one. 

Then - finally! - a stroke of luck: one of the trees had saved her the work of cutting it by at some point downing itself. She could have laughed at her own sudden, ridiculous sense of relief - and at the thought of what Byleth would surely think of it. Of her: an emperor, too ill-prepared to know how to find firewood, and now as happy as a child with a new toy over a fallen tree!

She ignored the thick trunk in favor of the branches - ones that would have been far too high had the tree been standing. They cut easily enough, fortunately, though they certainly weren’t going to win any prize for firewood uniformity. She was reminded of the training grounds at the monastery - the satisfying thunk of her axe against targets. That wood had been softer and less splintery than this, but still, the feeling and sound were much the same. 

After that, it was a simple matter of carrying it back to the cabin, being mindful of those splinters. A good thing, the simplicity - the sky had gone from ominous to angry, and there was very little light left to see it. She felt the first drops of rain as she carried back the last of her loads. The box and the overhang of the roof would keep the wood mostly dry, but still, she took more than was likely needed inside, leaving it next to the fireplace. 

There were still the supplies to examine, and she knew it best to eat something after all her exertion, but she went to Byleth again first. The stillness, again, was unnerving - but at least it meant she had not kicked and tossed the blankets aside, as she was often wont to do in her sleep. Still, Edelgard adjusted them around her once more. Just in case. 

It was almost too dark to see, when she went to examine the barrels and crates in the third tiny room, but it seemed a waste of both wood and time to attempt to light the stove. Besides, the exertion and stress were beginning to catch up with her - she felt the heaviness of them across her back and shoulders, behind her eyes. It had been too long since she’d found time for regular physical training, as she had done when actively taking part in battle. She needed to return to such, when all this was over. 

For now, though, she had already exhausted herself, and the dim light cast from the fireplace would have to do. 

Someone must have been sent by Hubert for fresh supplies - there were vegetables, eggs, cheese, dried meats... and tea. He had likely stressed it must be the bergamot, and she smiled, just a little bit, to think of the fear he had likely put into some young soldier over tea leaves, of all things. In the barrels, she found potatoes. Many potatoes. She supposed it made sense; potatoes would keep. She had never cooked one herself, but the process seemed likely a simple one.

But not tonight - she could not face the thought of cooking, despite her earlier mental note to eat. Nor the thought of going through the rest of the crates. She was too tired. 

And stronger even than her exhaustion - her growing, desperate need to be with the woman that she loved. The one she had allowed to be here, and in such a state. There was no more work demanding her attention now, nothing else necessary before morning came. No paperwork - without the guilt now heavy upon her once more, that would have left her ecstatic - and nothing else to try to accomplish in the gloom of this dark little house. 

She wanted to be with Byleth. 

The fire was down to embers; there was hardly enough light to see as she undressed, unbuttoning and unfastening mostly by touch and by memory. She had no nightgown - there had been no chance to gather such things, nor would she have wasted the time to do so even if offered a chance - but could manage in her underclothing perfectly well. They had done the same to Byleth - Edelgard left her own clothes next to the neat stack beside the smaller bed, and the pins from her hair as well. 

She wanted to get into that smaller bed. To lie close, holding Byleth safe in her arms. It had been too long - far too long. 

But she did not. Punishing herself, for her complicity in all of this? Taking the safer route, in case it was not yet advisable for Byleth to be moved? Some combination of both? She could not say, nor did she wish right now to dwell upon it. She needed, desperately, to sleep. 

But knowing this was not the same as willing it - a situation she knew almost as well as she knew herself. The room was cold, and even under the blankets, she shivered. She could hear the rain, hard against the paper windows, and distant thunder, drawing ever closer. Such sounds should have been a comfort, helping soothe her, but on this night, they seemed ominous - one more approaching possibility of threat. 

She knew what would soothe her. The only thing that would soothe her. 

And finally, she gave in to it. 

Shivering harder, exposed once more to the frigid air; the heat from the fire, little as it had been, was now gone completely. Padding in bare feet to the other bed; the floor was cold enough to burn. She ignored it all. 

“I apologize, my love.” To expose Byleth to the same discomfort was more difficult - but at least it only lasted as long as it took Edelgard to pull back the blankets and gather her carefully up. Lifting slowly. Cradled, finally: that familiar warmth against her, close and tight. “Only a moment, my love, and I’ll have you warm again. She couldn’t seem to stop saying it - as if some part of her needed reminding, as much as she wanted Byleth to hear it: my love, my love, my love. 

In her arms, she felt stirring movement.

Edelgard froze.

Brief - it was very brief. Byleth’s head turning - Edelgard could feel it, against her forearm, against her chest. And a voice, rich and heavy with sleep: “...El?”

“Yes.” Her own voice was thick and small, and the words came again: “Yes, my love. I’m here.”

“El...” And then she slipped away again - Edelgard could feel that, too, the relaxation, the heavier breath. 

Tucked into bed once more, but Edelgard now close beside her - greater room in his larger bed be damned. The shivering eased, then ceased. The sound of the rain was correct once more. Gentle. Reassuring. 

She could feel sleep now, creeping softly upward within her mind. Before it had her entirely, she put her hand - heavy, clumsy with fatigue - where she could again feel the steady beat of a healing heart. 

Against the familiar rhythm, Edelgard slept.