#you’re struggling and in a lot of pain and full of fear

[jasper-dracona]

.

[lightwing-s]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐯 ; 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: you're pregnant. somehow, your baby daddy has to find out about it.

word count: 5,6k warnings: pregnancy, mentions of abortion.

a/n: i wrote and rewrote this a lot, and I don't think this is the best I could come up with, but here it is. a lot more angst that previous episodes and I do recommend reading it while listening to The Flame by Valerie Deniz and also Give me Love by Ed Sheeran because I love how emotional that song usually makes me feel. Hope you all enjoy it ♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

With a deep sigh, you tried to settle down your nerves. Your hands were sore. Sweaty. Tired of trying. The heaviness still lingered on your chest. The feeling of incoming doom. The air all around was thicker than you’d remembered it for, nearly making it impossible for you to breathe. And you swore to your reflection in the mirror, you were gonna make it through.

It had been three nights since the result. Two days of pain. And one single thought looming in your mind. Pregnant. You’re pregnant. You didn’t know what to do, nor what to think. Sinking into a pit of terror and despair. The idea frightened you, tore you apart. And just thinking of your future, of what was to come from now on, made your head spin.

Today, you forced yourself to forget. Pretend your life was normal, like it used to be. Not Much had changed since you had taken the test three days ago, but to you it felt like everything was different. 

You had skipped the gym the last couple of days, the first time doing it since you could remember, scared to face anybody and them finding out, but also too anxiety stricken to even leave your bed. You felt cramps, but also your stomach turning. You felt nauseous, but you weren’t sure if it was due to your newfound condition, or if it was the anxiety acting out.

Nessie had called, and you gave her some excuse that your boss needed you elsewhere. Another city. A quick work trip, you’d be back soon. At work, you told them you had caught some contagious disease you found on google, and they let you off for the entire week. Thankful for a relatively full pantry, you survived for two days on your own, but you sure couldn’t manage to eat much anyway.

You’ve never lived worst days. You were sure of that. Fear fills you to the brim. Sadness eats you up from the inside. And because of that, you felt even worse. There are so many people who dreamed of being where you were now, of getting a positive. So many have struggled for this. And here you were, ungrateful for yours. But you never wanted it in the first place. Not now, not like this. It didn’t follow your plan. It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t long ago that you were graduating college. And as of this moment, you were a mere assistant, not even a proper writer or a journalist yet like you’ve dreamed since you were little. An assistant. The bottom of the food chain, with still a lot to grow and harvest in your career. You neither had the finances, the stability, nor the time and mental capacity to be raising a baby on your own.

Because you would be raising it on your own, wouldn’t you? Your baby daddy would just disappear, like many others you’ve heard about. He would pack his things and disappear. He would live his life, continue with being young, having fun, while you were left to fend for yourself and your kid. All alone. 

Would you even tell him? Should you even tell him?

Three nights. Three nights of torture. Of overthinking the future and sulking in your bed, your pillow drenched with your tears. You knew you’d go crazy if you kept that going for too long. So, finding some bit of courage, some tiny little ounce of determination, you left your bed that morning ready to forget. Ready to clear your mind, to make it think straight. And then, you wished, you would know what to do.

You showered, ate, did your skincare and put on makeup, and went for a walk around the park. But you just had to step out of your apartment to find someone who made you think instantly of him. Running back inside and leaving your raven haired neighbor staring confused at you, you made a beeline to the bathroom, dropping your entire breakfast in the toilet. 

You had to tell him, hadn’t you? You had to tell Jason. It was the right thing to do, right?

So, here you were. Back at the gym you’d quit a month ago in favor of another. All because of your last encounter. You thought it was the best to be done, remove him entirely from your life so you could be free again. If only you had known then where you’d be a month later, you’d have laughed at the irony the world was throwing at you. You still remembered the times he’d come, praying he didn’t have them changed for some reason. Maybe he wanted to avoid you too. Maybe he had quit. Please, God. Be on my side, only for today.

It had been, perhaps, a full hour since you arrived. Roy had greeted you with a large smile, asking if you were back for good. You couldn’t match his enthusiasm, offering him a poor excuse of your own smile instead. All this time, you couldn’t complete a full set, never mind finish an entire exercise. Your body trembled, not answering you. Too exhausted. The heaviness on your chest helped in weighing you down and making every effort insufficient.

The weights you had tried to use now stood on your feet. Crooked, disordered, unorganized. Then, you found yourself looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were red and swollen. Your lips were dry and exposed some nervous bite marks you’d been taking off them. There were a few pimples on your forehead, and you had bags under your eyes. In the corner of the mirror, too stood the reflection of the one you’d been looking for.

He chatted with another man. It wasn’t Roy, by the darker hair color and shorter size. Yet it was a face you recognized, but failed to name. Jason looked happy, smiling as he spoke excitedly about something you did not know about. Were you really ready to tell him? Were you okay with ceasing his happiness?

Your eyes lingered on him for longer, and eventually, his eyes found yours. His smile was quickly replaced by a frown. An air of disgust and anger. His tongue poked his cheek, and he rolled his eyes at you. Turning around, he decided that facing the other direction was much better than facing you. Now, his broad back was all you were left to stare at.

You felt the nausea return. Leaving your things behind, you rushed to the restroom. He hated you. He hated you and he was fucking right for it. And what were you thinking? Telling him he was going to be a father, to your baby above all, at the fucking gym?

After dumping your stomach in the toilet once more, you wanted to get out of there. Collecting your things and shoving them inside your bag, you headed out. However, in good old fashion, you felt a body stop as it came in contact with someone else’s. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Eyeing you from above, Jason started to apologize before he could recognize who you were, proceeding to roll his eyes again. You excused yourself, still looking away from him, and his demeanor changed from anger to worry.

“Yn, are you alright?” he inquired, reaching for your arm. You felt your eyes start to burn, the tears finding their way back, and the nausea only got worse. Running past him, all you managed to say was a quick “I’m fine,” before disappearing.

You arrived at his building straight away, using the faint memory of the directions that remained in your brain from the night he brought you here. You were still clad in your gym clothes, not caring to stop at home first, nor remembering to actually do it. But it was fine, because you didn’t sweat anyways. You couldn’t even finish one full exercise in the hour or so you were there. 

So you waited. You waited on the opposite sidewalk, thinking back to the first time you came here. It was almost two months ago, or maybe more, you don’t remember exactly. It seemed longer, though. It all seemed longer. Longer than two months. Longer than three days. It all seemed like an eternity.

The sun waved goodbye on the horizon, hiding between Gotham’s skyline. The weather started to shift, as the warmth of summer slowly gave place to the strong winds and the coolness of the autumn days. The breeze made you wish you had brought a coat or something to keep you warm, the thin gym clothes you wore doing nothing to help you. And so, your body shivered.

Shivered from the cold. Shivered from the fear. The agony you’d so desperately tried to keep away returning back to you. If you went up. If you knocked on his door. If you talked to him, there was no pretending anymore. There was no hiding facts you so wished you could. There was no fighting reality.

A lump formed in your throat, and you tried to swallow it away, to no avail. Your breath, your hands, your legs, your all trembled. Fighting to keep yourself up when all you wanted was to fall down, to curl up under your covers and hide from the world. From the truth.

You thought back to the days when things were easier. To your days at the park, playing around with your friends, the hem of your jeans always dirty from mud, dust or paint. You remembered the days all you had to do was study, your chores, and your drawings. Reading books from sunrise to sundown, or for the entire night. Of when responsibilities didn’t follow you everywhere, and the perspective of the future didn’t break you down.

You thought of your parents. Of how mad they would get. There was always a path to them, a way to follow. A way to live your entire life. Just like they had done theirs. Any step out of that line often led you to trouble. ‘You have to get married to a good and respectful husband. One that will care and provide for you. And then, when the time is right, God will give you children to raise, just like he did to me and your father,’ your mother would tell you. ‘There’s nothing more shameful than a single mother’, were once the words of your father. And the thought of what they’d do to you once they found out had your tears rolling down faster than you could hold them in.

An old lady passed by you, asked if you were okay. You lied, like you’d been doing for the past few days. You weren’t one for lying, never was, and suddenly it was all you did. “Oh dear,” she cooed, and embraced you in an unexpected hug, before her tiny pomsky pulled her away.

Grey took over your surroundings, like one of those movie filters that left everything somber. A single headlight of a motorcycle let you know he was finally here. That the time of truth was upon you. You watched him park his motorcycle like a creep. Hidden in a dark corner, away from his sight. He had showered at the gym, and now wore a different outfit. Sweatpants and a hoodie. 

He looked comfortable. You clearly weren’t. He looked happy. Opposite to you. Were you ready to take all that away from him? To curse him to the same pain and anxiety you were feeling now? 

But you couldn’t do it alone. You couldn’t. You needed him. You needed him. You needed him by your side. You need someone, something. Something to tell you everything would be okay. Gathering up all your courage, every bit you could find within yourself, you took one step out of the sidewalk.

A deep breath taken before entering the building, you walked in without ceasing to cry. Each step you took up the stairs was heavy. Heavier than when you were drunk, and heavier than the day you left. Each step was a gulp. Each gulp was a scream inside your brain telling you to turn around. About two or three times along the way you stopped to look down, and wondered what would be of you if you’d just ran away. 

In your mind, you counted each and every step. An attempt to clear it of thought. It obviously didn’t work. Your legs shook and your breathing faltered with the last steps you took to reach the sixth floor. The tears had dried, leaving your skin cold to the touch. You moved on automatic. Everything else you did a blank stain in your memory. 

It was the feeling of the hardwood under your knuckles that brought you back to reality. The hollow sound it made woke you up, showing you’d made it to his door. Your breath got stuck in your throat, and you felt like you could vomit.

He took his time to answer the door. And you wondered if it was a sign to turn around. To leave. But your feet wouldn’t move, even if you screamed at them to do so. The ruffling inside the apartment made your heart jump, beating hard in its place. Your breathing halted, trapped in your larynx, as the tears started rapidly falling down again.

When he opened the door, it was like time had stopped. He assessed you through narrow eyes, still angry at you. You didn’t blame him, not at all.

“They run from you twice and still come right back,” he hissed. His voice was hoarse and monotone, and his eyes found yours in a blank stare. The corners of your mouth fell. Your chin trembled. And had to avert your eyes from him otherwise you’d start sobbing all over again. “Yn,” he called, and his voice didn’t show the hate or disgust anymore. It was worried. It felt pain. Softer and watchfull. “What happened?”

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the tears. Trying so hard to keep them in, but the drops that fell beside your sneakers on the floor were a testament of how your body had stopped responding to you a long time ago. Your shoulders shook, and Jason went from worried to desperate. He didn’t know what was going on. But seeing you like this made him freak out.

And suddenly he wasn’t mad at you anymore. In retrospect, maybe he never truly was. But whatever anger, or frustration he had disappeared from his body. You felt his touch on your shoulder, and you imagined he had just put one hand there as a sign of support. You’d be thankful for just that. But then, you felt his arms drawing you close, wrapping around you, until you felt the soft cotton of his hoodie through your cheek.

The tears ran down faster, soaking a spot on the thick fabric. Your loud sobs only made Jason pull you closer, not knowing how, but still trying to call you down. Whatever happened was too bad that you’d run to him of all people, and he felt obligated to help you in any way he could. 

By this point, he was holding you up himself. Your body giving in to the tears. Jason tucked his nose in your hair, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo. He caressed your back, kissed you temple, spread warmth through your body with his own hands rubbing at your arms. However, your tears ceased to stop, making the stain under your eyes enlarge, second after second.

“Yn,” he whispered right into your ear. The air he let out hitting against your skin.

You pressed your eyes shut. The tears that still lingered there being forced out. You tightened your hold on him. He called you again, and forced his neck to get a glimpse of your puffy red eyes.

You didn’t want to let go, but forced yourself to push him away just so you could finally face him. You felt your throat dry, a weak cough trying to fix it up. Jason couldn’t help the quick thought of how pretty you looked when you cried, but he felt so much pain in his chest at the same time that he wished he would never see you like that again.

The first time you opened your mouth, nothing came out of it. Jason’s fingers drew figures on your back, both a distraction and an encouragement. You can do it, you can do it. With another deep, long breath, you slowly opened your eyes to meet his.

“I-I’m…” you started, breathless. A single tear late to fall from your eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Jason’s mind went blank. His body was suddenly weightless. The moments past your announcement, a mere stain in his memory. You now sat beside him on his sofa, your hands covering your face as he heard continuous sobs coming out of you. Your knees tight against your chest, and it didn’t bother him you had your shoes on the sofa. Nothing bothered him. Nothing was on his mind. 

Your body quivered, nonstop. His own unresponsive. What the hell did he do?

Pregnant. Eight letters that had the power to change everything. Pregnant. You were pregnant. With his baby.

Jason felt his chest tighten, and breathing suddenly was harder. He tried swallowing the knot in his throat away, but it wouldn’t bulge. Resting his back on the sofa, a hand threading through his hair, he allowed a couple of tears out, rubbing his eyes off any others that dared to hang around.

“Are you sure?” he asked, breaking the prolonged silence with a raspy voice. Moving your head from it’s place buried on your knees, your eyes looked at him with a pain he’d have thought he’d put a knife on your back. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he told you softly. “I just want to be sure.”

Straightening beside him, you stared at the cat worriedly looking up at the two humans occupying the sofa. You fiddled with your fingers, pulling at the fabric of your leggings.

“I took a test,” you started to explain. “Three nights ago. And my period was late, and it’s never late. And it’s not like we were careful when we…”

“Not at all.” Jason shook his head. You weren’t careful at all.

The room fell into silence again, the only sounds coming from the cat, now playing between his legs, unaware of the turmoil you’d just caused in his life.

“I’m sorry,” you said, resuming your sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” Jason kept saying. He turned on the sofa, sitting in a position he could easily wrap his arms around you once again. “No, Yn. Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he soothed.

“Jason,” you called him, your voice broken. “How there’s not? I’m fucking pregnant!”

Jason held you tighter. But the truth was, he might’ve been just as scared as you were. A baby meant a new life, responsibilities. And he was still getting used to being an adult and the responsibilities that came with that. It was all going to change. And he had plans…

The two of you stood there until your sobs had quieted down. You didn’t know how long, but you were grateful he was quiet for the entire time. You were thankful he was quiet instead of  telling you any of the things you’d thought he would. And you were also thankful he didn’t close his door on your face.

“Have you thought…” Jason tried to speak, but his voice kept on breaking. “Have you thought… of all possibilities?”

He hoped you understood what he meant, because he couldn’t bring himself to say it. It was a hard thing to ask, but he had to. He didn’t want you to think he was pushing you to it, but he needed to know if it was a possibility too. Jason remembered hearing some friends saying they had their girlfriends do it, that they basically forced them. But Jason would never.

He felt you moving on his chest, pushing yourself away from his body, and his breath halted. “It’s your call,” he whispered. “I’ll be there for any of them.”

You had sat back up, hands tugging at your leggings again while you thought. It took you long to answer. Too long for his liking. But he understood your pace, everything was happening way too fast. You needed to think things through. For some reason, his stomach took turns, making him feel sick as he waited.

“I don’t think I could do it,” you stated, staring blankly at your legs. “I don’t think I could end it.” Jason let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A lightness on his chest he could not name. He nodded, as words didn’t make it out of his lips.

Leaning back on the sofa, you felt his shoulders hit yours. He let out another breath, it was long and you found it hard to read his emotions through it. He was silent beside you, making it even harder for you to guess what was going through his mind.

That’s it, he’s gonna tell you he can’t do it either. He’s gonna leave you alone.

“You just took one test?” he asked after a while. You just nodded. “We should go to the hospital,” he suggested, head turned to watch you. “Get a proper test, just to make sure.”

His suggestion made you hurt. The fact that he doubted you, the fact he thought you’d go to him if you weren’t a hundred percent sure, caused you a pain you did not expect. However, on the other hand, you knew he was right. You had to be certain. False positives happen, right? You could be wrong.

 “Okay,” you agreed weakly, turning to face him after all. “I’ll do it.”

It might have been the uncomfortable chairs or the freezing air conditioning, but the time didn’t seem to pass. It was well over an hour since you’d arrived at the hospital, and you’d stopped counting how much you’ve waited for your test results to come out. They said between thirty minutes to an hour, but you were sure it had been longer than that.

While you remained seated for most of your wait, Jason was restless. He stood up and sat down more times than you remember, and he was seriously starting to piss you off with his pacing. Stopping in front of a snack machine, he put some dollar bills in it and took something with him before walking back to you.

Stretching his arm in front of you, he offered both a granola and a Snickers bar. In no mood to be healthy, even though your possible new condition sort of demanded that from you, you took the chocolate gladly.

Jason dropped down on a chair beside you with a huff, and took a bite of the granola bar with a certain annoyance. You were both tired of waiting, that was for sure. The agony you’d felt earlier had simmered down, but you too now sat restless, one of your legs shaking incessantly.

It was involuntary, but Jason’s hand on your knee made it stop. It lingered there for a while, fingertips gracing over the thin fabric and tugging at it just like you had been doing before. You saw his head move, and so did yours, catching his eyes. 

Your expressions had been everywhere tonight. The whirlwind of emotions you had gone through justifying each and everyone of them. But this time, his eyes bore into yours much softer, sweeter than they’d been before.

“Yn,” he called your name as if you hadn’t been staring down at him for what seemed like forever. “Whatever happens. Whatever the results say. I’ll be here, alright? I won’t leave you.”

The sincerity in his tone made your eyes tearful once more, but this time you managed to hold them in. You gave him a soft smile, and you were really glad he was here with you now. Putting a hand on top of his, he flipped it over so you could interlace your fingers, caressing its back with your thumb just like he was doing to you.

It was then that your name was called, both of your heads snapping in the reception desk’s direction. Jason stood up and walked over, grabbing a single piece of paper before walking back to you with even taking a glance at it.

When he sat back, he offered you his opened hand. You intertwined your fingers, and held his with both your hands, taking it closer to your heart this time. You couldn’t deny the tiny bit of hope lingering inside you that, just perhaps, you were actually wrong. You weren’t pregnant. But, over the hours, you’d also grown accustomed to the idea. He opened the results with between his thumb and pointer finger, and both your eyes fell on the big letters found on top of it. 

Positive. Again. It was positive. You were truly pregnant. 

You let out a sigh, closing your eyes to stop the tears from returning. Jason’s hold on you tightened, and you could sense the tension on him returning. He buffed some air out through his mouth, taking another deep breath before doing the same thing again.

“That’s it,” his voice was shaky. “You’re really pregnant.” He forced himself to smile, and you tried to do the same. To no avail. His eyebrows furrowed. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly. “I just wanna go home. It’s been a long night.”

“Okay,” he said softly, standing up and walking with you hand in hand till you left the hospital.

The parking lot was almost empty, and you found Jason’s car sitting isolated far ahead. The silver Toyota Supra shone under the faint light of a lamp post, and you remembered how surprised you were to find him driving it. It finally occurred to you that other than his name and his gym membership, you knew nothing about the man you were about to have a baby with.

He didn’t know you either. Gosh, you didn’t know a thing at this point. About him, about pregnancy, about babies and having children. He asked you ‘what now?’ and you didn’t even have an answer. How the hell were you going to do it?

When he felt your fingers leaving his, Jason immediately turned to face you. Frozen in place and flooded eyes.

“I don’t think I can do it,” you said breathlessly. “Jason, I don't think I can do it. I never wanted kids. I mean, I’ve never really thought about it. I didn’t want it now. I wanted to do it all right. This is not it.” You cried once again, rambling the words that left your mouth. Jason had walked over to you, trying to calm you down and wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t know anything about babies. I’ve only babysat before, but they were much older. And even my nephew, I didn’t meet him until he was, like, six months old. And I don’t know shit about pregnancies. I hated biology. I slept a lot during classes.”

“How can we do it? I barely know you. Gosh I don’t even know your surname, Jason. You’re what, Jason fucking Linetti? How can we have a baby together without knowing each other? We’re supposed to build a family together. A family. My family… I-I never had a family. Not really. I didn’t want a family, Jason. Not now. I don’t think I can do it.”

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, stopping your rambling. He cupped your cheeks with both his hands, holding your face. His forehead rested on yours, forcing you to stare him in the eyes. “I also don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do. For fucks sake, Yn. But we have time. The baby is not gonna come tomorrow. We’ll figure things out. Together.  We have each other, alright? You have me. I’ll be here, with you, all along. You don’t have to worry. We’ll learn how to do this together, and with time. Okay?”

Jason’s dark eyes passed you enough confidence to have you thinking that, maybe, possibly, he was right. You could actually do it. The baby isn’t coming tomorrow, you have time. You’ll figure things out. With Jason. Together.

Slowly, you nodded. You could do it, right?

Jason sighed, relieved you actually believed him, because as of right now, he himself was struggling to do so. Giving your head a long kiss, he pulled you into a hug before pulling away to open his car door to you to enter. Dropping on the driver seat beside you, you desperately waited to get back home.

“I’m Jason Peter Todd. I’m 22 years old. A leo. I work as an exercise physiologist, but I want to be a doctor someday. So I’m working on getting into med school soon. I love motorcycles, they are fucking cool and driving them makes me feel free. I have probably over twenty tattoos and my favorite book is probably Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.”

“What was that for?” You gave him an amused smile.

“You said you didn’t know me or my surname. Now you do, and you can say you know a little. If you want my social security number too, it’s 108…”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, softly, for the first time in three days. “I guess knowing your surname is fine for now.”

He gave you a smile, but raised one eyebrow at you. Confused, you frowned, trying to understand what he meant until he pointed at you with his head, leading you to do the same as he did.

“Okay,” you started. “I’m Yn Sn. I work at Runaway Magazine as Sandra’s assistant, but I really want to be a journalist. I don’t have any tattoos because I’m afraid of needles, and I can’t choose a favorite book because I like too many.”

“Nice to meet you Yn Sn,” he greeted, extending his hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Jason Todd. Now can you please take me home. I’m exhausted.”

“Alright,” he gave you a smirk. “Do you remember the address this time?”

He insisted on walking you to your door, wanting to make sure you actually got home safe. You didn’t know where he thought you could disappear to between the sidewalk and your apartment door, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to enjoy his company. 

The elevator ride was silent, and neither of you spoke as you tried to unlock your front door.

“Thank god,” you said. Relief spread through you as the door opened and you got into your home. Immediately taking off your sneakers, you placed them by the door so they could keep it open for you. Looking back at Jason, who still didn’t dare step inside your apartment, you managed to give him a thankful smile. “And thank you too, Jason.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s not even the least I can do, it’s my responsibility now.”

“But still, thank you. There were many ways out for you, and you took none,” you explained, resting your shoulder on the door frame.

“Yn, you didn’t make this baby alone” he began. “I saw your state when you knocked on my door, and I also made you a promise. I don’t usually break them.”

For a brief minute, you two stood in silence again. Eyes lingering over each other. A recognizable tension in the air. You averted your eyes from him, as warmth engulfed your cheeks, the painted nails on your toes suddenly a lot more interesting to you.

“I’ll be going then. Call me if you need anything, alright?” he said, already halfway to the elevator.

“Jason,” you called and he turned back. Hopeful. “Do you even have my number?”

He stopped to think, and a dumb smile appeared on his face upon realizing he had never asked you for your number, nor did he ever give you his. Taking his phone out of his sweatpants pockets, he handed it to you. “If you don’t mind. I think I really should have your number.” He combed a hand through his hair.

You typed in your phone number, trying to think of what to write your name as, but concluding your name would be just fine. You gave yourself a call so you could save his too later, and returned him his cellphone.

He awkwardly waved you goodbye, and called the elevator that opened up instantly, not having left your floor since you had gotten home. You watched him as the door began to close, head hanging low and a tired demeanor. 

“Jason?” you called again, and he put his hand on the door just as it was about to fully close. It opened again, and he placed his hands on each side of the door frame. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“Stop thanking me,” he laughed and now allowed the door to close.

You stood there, dumbfoundedly watching the closed door as you swiftly repeated the entire night in your head. Every moment of pain, despair and torture morphing into nervous expectation of the future that was about to come.

You didn’t allow yourself to think too much about it. An entire day was already enough, you needed rest.

A rumbling beside you grabbed your attention, and your head turned to your friend’s door. Nessie poked her head out, clearly surprised to see you there.

“Weren’t you on a trip?” she asked, and you shook your head, leaving her a lot more confused.

“There’s so much we need to talk,” you sighed, allowing your weight to fall on her as you engulfed her in a tight hug.

.

.

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @erochuu ; @gone-batty-fics ; @jasontoddslover ; @jkvolgs ; @just-lost-inbetween-worlds ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @loonymoonystuff ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @strawberryforks ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday ; @vissavin @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo ; @wordsfromshona

[perfectsunlight]

[12] IVORY

warnings: teen pregnancy, absent father, disconnected mother, difficult pregnancy, health related issues, mentions of adoption, mentions of complications at birth

2013

“you’re pregnant?”

jieun’s voice wavered between shock and incredulity as she paced back and forth across the room. her hands ran through her hair, a gesture of disbelief and frustration. jennie sat on the couch, her fists clenched tightly on the edge of the cushion, her head bowed in shame.

“yes, mom,” jennie whispered, her voice barely audible. she could feel the weight of her mother’s disappointment and confusion bearing down on her. the reality of her situation was sinking in, and she couldn’t escape the overwhelming sense of fear and uncertainty.

her mother stopped pacing and turned to face her daughter, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions. “how could this happen?” she hissed, tears welling in her eyes. “you’re only 17, jennie. what about your training?”

jennie’s eyes filled with tears as she struggled to find the right words. the pressure of the moment, combined with the reality of her situation, was almost too much to bear.

“i know, mom,” jennie said quietly, her voice trembling. “i wasn’t planning for this. it just… happened. and now i’m trying to figure out how to handle it.”

jieun’s face twisted with a mix of frustration and sadness. she had always supported her daughter in everything, and now it felt as if this pregnancy would stop everything her daughter had worked hard for. her life would be forever changed now, especially given her position as a trainee.

“it’s that boy, isn’t it?” her mother whispered, earning a slow nod from jennie. jieun’s expression darkened further. “does he know?” she added, which only deepened the pit in her daughter’s stomach. 

“yes, mom.”

the older woman crossed her arms over her chest slowly as she stared at the ceiling in disbelief. she truly couldn't believe this was happening. “and what did he say?” jieun quickly asked, trying to collect her thoughts in a logical manner.

“he doesn’t want anything to do with me or the baby.”

jieun’s expression shifted from frustration to devastation. she quickly sat in the armchair opposite jennie, her eyes filling with tears. “how could you not tell me sooner?” she asked, her voice cracking. “and why won’t he take responsibility?”

the younger kim’s shoulders slumped. “he said it’s not his problem. i didn’t want to burden you with this, but i couldn’t hide it any longer.” the room fell silent, the weight of the situation hanging heavy between them. jieun’s mind raced, trying to reconcile her daughter’s situation with her own expectations for jennie’s future. 

she had envisioned her daughter becoming a successful star, not facing this kind of personal upheaval.

“i just don’t understand,” jieun said softly, wiping away her own tears. “you’ve worked so hard, and now this? how could you two be so reckless?”

cat-like eyes were filled with pain. jennie knew it was her fault as well as his, but there was nothing she could do now to change that past. “i know, mom. i’m scared. but i don’t know what to do.”

jieun rubbed her temples gently, trying to remove the stress somehow. “does the company know?” she whispered slowly, trying to figure out the full situation. jennie shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears. “only teddy knows. he’s been helping me as much as he can.”

jieun’s face fell further, her concern deepening. “but how are you managing? how are you going to handle this without the support of the company? and how can teddy keep this secret?”

“i don’t know,” jennie huffed, leaning her head back into the cushions. “it’s already been hard. i’m exhausted all the time, and the stress is a lot. teddy’s been trying to help as much as he can, but he’s also busy. but he won’t let anyone else find out.”

the older kim sighed deeply, her frustration mingling with sympathy. as a mother, she wanted to take her daughter’s problems away. however, she knew that the young girl needed to take responsibility. 

“jennie, you need to think about yourself and the baby. you can’t keep going like this. maybe being an idol isn’t your path—”

jennie slammed her fist against the coffee table, interrupting her mother as tears quickly ran down her face. “no. i’m not giving up. i can make it work. and maybe i’ll just put the kid up for adoption once it’s born.” she was determined to live out her dream, no matter what that meant.

her mother flinched at her outburst, her eyes widening with shock. the intensity of her daughter’s emotions was palpable, and she felt a pang of sadness for the turmoil jennie was going through. 

but the thought of jennie considering adoption was a heavy blow, both to jieun and to jennie herself.

jieun took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “i understand that you’re overwhelmed. but this isn’t a decision you can make just because you’re exhausted and scared. it’s a big step, and you need to think about it with a clear mind.”

the younger girl looked away, her gaze distant and filled with a mix of sorrow and resignation. she knew she wasn’t thinking straight at the moment, but she had already been thinking about the adoption route since she found out she was with child.

“i don’t have time to think about it, mom. i can barely keep up with my training, let alone prepare for a baby.”

jieun’s heart ached at the sight of her daughter’s despair. she reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “you don’t have to go through this alone. we’ll find a way to make it work, but you need to take care of yourself and the baby. if adoption is the path you choose, it should be a well-thought-out decision, not one made out of desperation.”

—

jennie made it very clear she wanted no prenatal help during her pregnancy. teddy had only taken her once, and that was to find out how far along she actually was. she had used a fake name for the appointment, having teddy act as her “father” during the visits to keep her true identity a secret.

the first and only prenatal visit was an emotional ordeal. 

they had told her she was around 5 months along, which sent the young girl into a mental breakdown. the doctor called it a cryptic pregnancy, a term used when a pregnancy is not immediately or easily detected. jennie had always been small, and the subtlety of her baby bump had allowed her to keep the pregnancy hidden for much longer than expected.

but she thought she’d have more time to think about what to do with the baby. she thought she’d be able to go along with her pregnancy and take her sweet time in reaching a decision. now, it just felt like her world was quickly closing in on her.

as jennie struggled with the weight of her decision, her pregnancy also took a toll on her health. being a trainee meant relentless hours of practice and performances, leaving her little time for rest or proper nutrition. the physical strain of her schedule was compounded by the emotional stress she was under.

her body, already exhausted and fragile, quickly began to show signs of the strain. jennie’s once vibrant energy diminished, replaced by a constant fatigue that seeped into every aspect of her life. she struggled with nausea and dizziness, her appetite fluctuating between ravenous hunger and aversion to food. the demanding schedule of training and monthly performances left her with little time for adequate rest, and her attempts to keep up with the grueling pace were increasingly difficult.

some noticed the change in her, but she brushed off their concerns with vague explanations or evasive responses. she couldn’t afford to draw attention to her situation, not when every day felt like a balancing act between hiding her condition and meeting the expectations of her future career.

lisa, rosie, and jisoo all just assumed jennie was working harder than before due to the massive cuts from their latest performance evaluations and the constant pressure of maintaining high standards. the trio offered their support and encouragement, believing that jennie’s increased workload was the cause of her exhaustion. they would occasionally suggest taking a break or getting some rest, but jennie always waved off their concerns with a tired smile and a quick excuse about being focused on their upcoming schedules.

despite their best intentions, jennie was unable to fully confide in her bandmates. 

she feared that revealing her pregnancy would not only jeopardize her position in the company but also expose her to public scrutiny that she wasn’t ready to handle. the secrecy was both a shield and a burden, protecting her from unwanted attention but also isolating her from those who cared about her.

her days were a blur of rehearsals, performances, and if she was lucky, quick meals. her nights were often filled with sleepless hours, worrying about her health and the future. every morning she would look in the mirror, noting how her reflection showed the toll of her situation.

truth be told, she wanted nothing to do with the baby at this point. she was sick and tired of being sick and tired. on top of that, why would she have to be a mother when her baby’s father wasn’t going to be a parent either?

it was a cruel way of thinking, but she wanted to be an idol more than anything else. she could be a mother some other time, when she was ready and when she was already done being an idol. this was why she quickly decided on putting her daughter up for adoption once she was born.

the idea of giving up the baby was a difficult decision, but it felt like the only viable option amidst the chaos of her life. the reality of being a single mother at such a young age, combined with the demands of her career, made the prospect of raising the child seem almost impossible.

her plan was to keep her pregnancy secret for as long as she could and then find a suitable adoption agency that could offer the baby a good home. jennie had already begun making inquiries, trying to figure out how to navigate the process without drawing attention to herself.

however, that all went out the window when she went into labor 7 weeks early.

it started with sharp, persistent contractions that jennie tried to ignore at first, attributing them to the stress of her demanding schedule. but the pain grew too intense, and she found herself unable to continue with her routine. 

panic set in as she realized something was seriously wrong.

jennie’s attempts to keep her condition hidden proved futile. she was rushed to a private room in the hospital, her mother accompanying her discreetly. her heart raced with anxiety, knowing that she couldn’t afford any major complications, both for her career and the baby’s wellbeing. 

the doctors worked quickly, assessing her condition and preparing for an early delivery.

in the sterile environment of the hospital, jennie felt an overwhelming, crushing sense of fear. the doctors and nurses bustled around her, their serious faces adding to her anxiety. she was given a brief explanation of what to expect, but her mind was consumed with worry.

she knew given the current state of her health, there probably wasn’t going to be a good outcome.

her daughter was born at 4:44 am on february 14th, 2014. she was incredibly small, barely weighing over a pound. the sight of her fragile, tiny form, connected to various monitors and tubes, made jennie’s heart ache with an overwhelming mix of emotions. the baby’s cries, though weak, were a stark reminder of the new life she had brought into the world. 

the doctors worked tirelessly to stabilize the newborn, placing her in the nicu where she would need to stay for several weeks.

for the first two weeks, jennie didn’t even have a name for her daughter. in her mind, she couldn’t name her, because then she’d become attached, and she still was considering giving the baby up.

jennie could only watch through the glass, her heart breaking at the sight of her daughter’s tiny frame fighting for survival. she had visited the hospital every day once she was released after a few days, having teddy cover for her previous absence with the excuse that she had to travel to new zealand for a funeral. however, jennie’s initial plan to put the baby up for adoption was pushed to the back of her mind as she spent hours by the newborn’s side. 

the nicu became a place where she found herself re-evaluating everything. the initial detachment she had tried to maintain dissolved as she held her daughter’s tiny hand and watched her fight through each day.

finally, after days of emotional rollercoasters, jennie decided to name her.

she finally felt as if this small being was actually part of her, regardless of the obvious biological facts. it was why she decided to give her daughter part of her name. the meaning of the name jane meant “god is gracious,” and there would be no other way to describe her daughter.

jennie knew she had survived one hell of a pregnancy, but she also realized that jane had survived it, too. her daughter was a miracle, a testament to strength and resilience that mirrored her own journey.

jane had stayed in the hospital for about 4 and a half weeks. jieun had agreed to take care of her granddaughter so jennie could focus on her job as a trainee, while also allowing jennie the opportunity to still be a mother.

an hour before the baby’s discharge from the hospital, the new mother found herself cradling the newborn with a mixture of anticipation and bittersweet emotions swirling within her. jennie watched as her daughter lay peacefully in her arms, her tiny hands and feet moving every so often.

today was a milestone—the day jane would finally go home. 

as jennie leaned closer to the child, she observed jane’s calm demeanor, her wide, cat-like eyes focusing intently on two things: the soft, gentle images of elephants playing on the television mounted on the wall, and jennie herself. there was something profoundly touching about the way jane’s gaze would shift between the screen and her mother, as if finding solace in both.

jennie couldn’t help but smile at the sight. the elephants, with their ivory-like grace, seemed to captivate her daughter in a way that was both soothing and endearing. 

it was as if the baby recognized something special in them—a serenity that mirrored her own journey. 

and the way jane looked at jennie, with a trust and affection that spoke of their deep bond, was more than jennie could have hoped for.

“ready to go?” jieun asked as she zipped up the baby bag and stood up straight. jennie turned her body to face her mother, but because the action moved jane’s gaze away from the elephants, it caused the newborn to begin to whine softly. 

jennie’s heart clenched at the soft sound. the way jane’s tiny face scrunched up in distress was a poignant reminder of how deeply connected they were. she gently repositioned jane so the baby could once again see the calming elephants on tv, soothing her with the familiar imagery. the baby’s whine quickly subsided, replaced by a calm focus on the screen.

jieun watched with a knowing smile, recognizing the new maternal behavior from jennie. she was glad her granddaughter wasn’t going anywhere. “everything okay?” she asked, sensing jennie’s hesitation.

jennie nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and tenderness. she took a deep breath and turned to her mother, who had been quietly observing from a nearby seat. “mom?” jennie began, her voice steady but urgent, “could you please ask the nurse to come here? i need to make an important change to jane’s birth certificate.”

jieun looked puzzled but supportive. “you’re changing her name?” she glanced over at the newborn who was still focusing entirely on the elephants that showed on screen. “i’m just adding to it. i’m giving her a middle name.” jennie answered, her own gaze shifting back to her daughter.

it wasn’t usual for koreans to have middle names, but jennie felt that this addition was important. 

“oh?” the older woman smiled softly as she pressed the button on the side wall to call for the nurses. she turned to face jennie once again, a smile on her lips. “what are you going to add?”

the new mother paused for a moment, thinking carefully about her decision. however, it didn’t need too much thought. it felt right, it felt complete. and most importantly, it felt truly unique. 

“ivory."

previous | masterlist | next

TAGLIST ⸺ ✶ @silantryoo @imahallucination11 @jisooftme @yerimbrit @linnnsworld @edeivveiss @urmom2314 @aespasoooool @mygfiswonyoung @yeetaberry127 @@sixflame438 @yourmyst4r @shegoswhoree @saysirhc @hwm1hyun @literallybipanic @yejiscene @gayforalll @yvsvrn @bunnywonyo @karifrogs @thefckghost @yoontoonwhs @pandafuriosa60 @somedaydream @hotluvlet @pagedpick7 @lizseos @cy8erpunkz @keiji-jin @lizseos @xszn @awkwardtoafault @hellokiraa @chicopichu @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite @lesbian4themis @literallybipanic @tjdc25 @st4r4ngel @jihyos-hoe @jxmis

CLOSED.

[spencersssockss]

Nightmares

Summery: After being abducted by an unsub you begin to struggle with nightmares, while staying at a hotel for a case Spencer hears you screaming in the night and comes to your rescue and the next morning the two of you finally admit your feelings to each other.

Warnings: mentions of violence, nightmares, mention of murder…, other than that just fluff!!

Word count: 1k

A few months ago you had been abducted by an unsub. The team found you two days later, you were beaten and forced to watch your captor pluck his victims apart.

The physical pain was nothing, just a few bruises and cuts, it took less than a month for them to completely heal. The emotional pain, however, was a completely different story.

You had grown paranoid, watching over your shoulder all the time, never having your back turned on anyone and plenty more obvious signs of PTSD. The team had noticed but because they knew you would be fired by Strauss. They swept it under the rug.

It had grown worse, the team was staying in a hotel in Texas, for a recent case, everyone had their own room.

You were glad, but you were also worried. You had been experiencing nightmares every night since you had been abducted, waking up drenched in sweat, screaming, and sometimes even ending up rolling off the bed.

“goodnight everyone,” Rossi mumbled before disappearing into his hotel room, everyone following suit not long after.

The two of you are both in your hotel rooms, there’s a door that connects them, and you leave it unlocked just in case. You know you can trust Spencer. you hurriedly change into your pajamas and lay in bed.

It takes you a while to fall asleep but you do, a nightmare fills your mind, the captor is back, and he’s dragging you down a dark hallway. your screaming in your sleep, waking up Spencer, he immediately rushes to the door connecting the room.

Spencer rushed into your room, instantly awake and alert, his eyes scanning the darkened room for any signs of danger, only to find you thrashing in bed tears spilling from your eyes.

He shook your shoulders gently, careful not to do it too hard, jolting you awake, eyes full of terror.

As soon as you recognized his face you hugged him tightly, crying into his shoulders.

“It's okay, I’ve got you, you’re safe now,” he cooed rubbing circles around your back.

You clung to him tightly, shaking with fear as the images of your nightmare still lingered in your mind. You took deep breaths to calm down, trying to focus on his soothing voice and the comforting touch of his hands. "I'm sorry,"

don’t be sorry,” Spencer frowned. “it’s perfectly fine to be experiencing this, I know I did, I’m the one that should be sorry, I knew you were struggling, I promise if I knew it was this bad I would have done something sooner,”

"It's not your fault," you whispered, sniffling. "I should have been stronger." You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your eyes still filled with fear but also an underlying vulnerability that made his heartache.

“you are strong, you are one of the strongest people I know,” Spencer said sitting next to you on the bed taking one of your hands into his own.

"Thank you, Spencer," you replied softly, still sniffling slightly. You leaned into him, seeking comfort in his warmth and presence.

“if I stay in here with you while you sleep do you think it’ll help?” Spencer asked wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"I think it would help a lot," you whispered gratefully, nestling closer to him. You felt safe and protected in his arms, and the thought of falling asleep with him nearby made you feel even more secure.

“let me go get my blanket and pillow so I can set up a bed on the floor,” Spencer replied standing up.

“no, please just sleep up here with me,” you mumble sliding under the covers and patting the spot beside you.

Spencer’s eyes softened, "Alright," he said with a smile as he climbed into bed beside you, tucking an arm around your waist. He pulled the covers over both of you and snuggled close. "Get some sleep now, I've got you,"

“I’m so grateful for you,” you mumbled turning around to lay your head on his chest instead.

“Shh…” he said softly as he began to stroke your back gently. “Just relax and sleep well. I’ll be here for you.” His warmth and presence filled the room, and you could feel your heartbeat begin to slow down.

you fell asleep that night and for the first time, you slept peacefully without a nightmare.

The next morning, Spencer woke up to the soft sound of your breathing, his arm still wrapped around your waist. He couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride and gratification for being there for you last night.

you stirred awake, smiling when you realized you were still in Spencer’s arms.

"Good morning," he whispered softly, nuzzling his nose against your hair. "How are you feeling today?" He asked with a gentle smile on his lips as he continued to hold you close.

“I slept great,” you smile back up at him.

Spencer smiled, feeling relieved and happy to hear that. "That's wonderful," he said. "You deserve a good night's sleep after everything you've been through."

“you know I think of you as more than just a friend right?” you blurted, lost in his dark brown eyes.

“I know," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel the same way." There was a moment of silence between them as they took in each other's expressions, his hands held your jaw as the two of you leaned in.

"I've been wanting to do this for so long," he whispered before pressing his lips gently against yours. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his warmth and passion pouring into the kiss. He pulled back slightly, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t ever want to be without you,” you smiled as he tucked hair behind your ear. “you’re my safe haven.”

From that moment on the two of you were never separated, you did everything together.

[anemptypuddingcup]

👀👉👈

Can-

Can I get maybe yan!law with: “I don’t care if it takes all night, you will submit.” For the little one sentence ask thingy? Maybe non-non?

Dudjxjsnxknf if you wanna just do normal law that's okay too kenfkdncj

You're amazing 🫶🫶

OOOOHHH YESSSS!! I love you too love.💕

“You’ll love me even if it takes all night to persuade you.”

“Fucking- Law! Law! Fucking let me go!”

“Ah ah ah, I said I wasn’t gonna let you go until you submit.”

You struggled within the tightened belts against the operating table, whining and just begging to just be free and release from this insane surgeon of a man. “You love me don’t you? Didn’t you tell me that earlier?~” He slid a scalpel along your soft and pretty skin, making you shudder out of slight fear.

“Admit it. You love me don’t you?”

“If you let me go I’d tell you.”

You wriggled around some more but Law just stares in irritation at your ignorance. He pinches the bridge of his nose before an idea goes off in his head. “Well…If you won’t tell me…maybe this pretty body of yours will…” He whispered to you in a deep and dark tone.

He loosens up the belts around your body and climbs onto the operating table, his eyes full of lust and impatience as he stares at your frozen figure beneath him.

☆ ☆ ☆

Heavy breaths leaves Law’s lips as he pounded into your cunt, needy and whiny moans leaving your lips with every thrust of his hips. He was thrusting into hard, so hard that you felt both your womb and your brain melting from the pleasure and prick of pain. “Well? Do you love me now? Does my precious ________-Ya love me now!?” He huff, his hand wrapped a bit tight around your throat.

You nodded while drool spilled from your lips, a shaky moan leaving your lips while his thrusts made you gasp out. “Y-Yes!~ Yes! I do!~” You whine out, your eyes crossing at the deep smooches his cock was giving to your cervix. Law smiles and and moves in closer to study your face, enjoying the wonderful sight of you losing your mind on is cock.

“Tell me how much you love me.” He demanded, his hand slowly moving away from your throat. You didn’t answer and a slap to your ass causes you to gasp out and snap back into reality.

“Well? Cmon! Tell me!”

“A-A lot!~ I love you a whole lot Traffy!~”

Law grips a handful of your strands and pulls your head up, giving you a dark glare.

“You’re not lying to me are you?…” He asked, his golden eyes piercing into your soul. You huffed out shakily, your eyes full of love and lust for him as you shook your head. “N-No Traffyyyy~” You moan out to him, biting your bottom lip a bit.

He smirks and lets go of your hair, a huff leaving his lips as he continues thrusting into you. “Even if you were lying to me, I could just make you honest with this…” Your moans grew louder once again while he smiles, happy that somehow this had won your over so easily. “Such a good girl…A slobbering sticky mess for me.”

“If this’ll make you love me, so be it. I’ll do this until I break this pussy and that mind of yours~”

[lieslab]

Will you have me or watch me fall?

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: You're part of Chan's mafia, but after you lose your leg in a car accident, coping with the grief and pain seems to be nothing short of hell on earth.

Genre: Mafia AU

Word Count: 4.1K

Trigger warning: Descriptions of a car accident, alcohol, a creepy asshole, physical assault, depression, anxiety, grief, mentions of wanting to die, and insecurities.

A/N: I know this isn't a request, but I had an urge to write something mafia related. Also, I've realized that there are a lot of people out there that live with some physical struggles and disabilities that some people really don't think much about and that includes me. So I've created this to shed some light on something that some people have faced and live with daily. It's a shot in the dark, but I hope it makes someone feel seen <3

_ _ _

It was all you had ever known for years. For so long, you forgot what ordinary life was life. A mirage of tangled memories seemed to be there and then they fell. They entirely fell apart within the span of an hour. One moment you were driving and glancing down to switch the radio. The next, you were screaming as you swerved the wheel to avoid the oncoming semi-truck. 

Whether you had changed lanes while switching stations or it crossed into yours, you didn’t know. Life turned into a hazy blur in those few seconds. Time came to a screeching halt as you lost control of your car. Glass shattered, you felt yourself flip, your forehead went flying into the steering wheel, and then your neck snapped back into the headrest. 

When you came back around, red and blue flashing lights mixed with the high-pitched whirring of an ambulance. It smelled like burnt rubber and gasoline. There were faint voices of cops and someone was calling out to you, but you didn’t understand it. 

Your head was trapped in a fog and nothing made sense. There was a tingling sensation in your leg that wouldn’t go away. When you drifted back into the unconscious void, the feeling was still there. It was the last thing you felt before the world went dark. 

When you wake up in the hospital after a major accident, the main task of nurses and doctors is to keep you relaxed. Putting you in distress can cause a delay in healing of your injuries. It’s important to feed you information a little at a time, especially if you’re not fully there. 

It took you three days of fading in and out of consciousness before you found Bang Chan’s voice and it stuck. As the leader of the group, he had been there from the start. In your phone, he was the first emergency contact. When he first got the call and it was reported that you were in an accident, he thought of the worst things possible. 

Maybe you were brain dead and just barely surviving; forced to use a breathing tube to keep your organs alive. Perhaps, you were unrecognizable in that bed. Your body smashed from blunt force trauma and a brain injury that would leave you the shell of who you once were. 

During the whole ride there, all he could do was clutch his steering wheel and begin to pray for your safety. He flew out of the house still in his pajamas. Shirtless in gray sweatpants, he threw on a black hoodie for the sake of the people he’d encounter. His sneakers were barely tied as he booked it to his car and tried to get to you as fast as possible. 

As for you? The pieces of the puzzle came together once Chan rushed through the double doors. The squeaky sterile floors with too bright white lights. A face full of worry and lips pushed tight together in a straight line of fear. He didn’t have the heart to ask the nurse how you were. 

When he saw you hooked up to the heart rate monitor and a bag of pain meds, he nearly burst into tears. The sight of you covered in scrapes and bruises was haunting. The nurse reassured him that they were doing everything they could to take care of you. 

It took three days until you were awake long enough to hear the details from Chan. You went out on an evening drive to clear your head. They didn’t know what exactly happened, but you lost control of the car and you ended up slamming into a fully grown maple tree. 

In the dead of night, overturned maple leaves fluttered above the car like a protective canopy. The scent of petrichor hung in the ozone. The threat of a severe thunderstorm hanging in the balance made the entire scene so much worse. 

Cops, firefighters, and paramedics mingled as they attempted to get you out of the vehicle to the hospital. You knew you were injured, you remembered the pain in your leg before you fell victim to the darkness. You assumed you broke your leg and maybe, if you were unfortunate enough, maybe in multiple places. 

Out of everything you could have imagined, losing your leg wasn’t one of them. Even hearing the words uttered from Chan’s lips, you couldn’t believe it. You refused to believe any of it until you ripped the wool blanket from over your body. To your surprise, the lower half of your leg was missing. Wrapped in multiple bandages and stitched together with stitches, all you could do was stare in horror while your brain attempted to process the missing limb. 

That was months ago. Days blended together between pain medicine, doctor visits, rehabilitation, occupational therapists, and the new normal. Everyone is different when it comes to amputation. Some people receive prosthetics quicker than others. Some deal with infections and some suffer so much mental anguish that living day to day without a limb, it seems unbearable. 

As for you, you hid the truth about your feelings. The mental torture, the realization that you’d never have both legs, and having to rely on others, it was taking a toll and it had been since it happened. 

You lived your life on your own terms. You always had and you always planned to. Yeah, you were part of the gang, but you were independent as hell. Nobody could tell you what to do unless it was Chan. That was just how it was and how you lived your life. 

Relearning and coping with the new normal, it left you with sleepless nights. On the nights you struggled with phantom limb pain, the feeling of pain where your leg was no longer attached, you kept your crying sessions silent. Through every tingle, cramp, and ache, you kept it to yourself. To the guys, you were a trooper, but in your own head, you were a failure. 

Chan forced you to stay out of missions while you healed. One night, you had enough. On the shiny metal prosthetic, you slammed the door open to the meeting room while Chan was explaining the next mission. 

Your sudden appearance was a shock to everyone, including him. “I want in,” you finally uttered. “I want in this mission and you don’t get to tell me no. If I have to stay here while you all go somewhere again, I’ll lose it.” 

The guys all exchanged glances. Chan’s eyes looked down at the clipboard he was holding. He didn’t look thrilled about it, but he couldn’t say no to you. After a few moments of silence, he finally gestured you to the empty seat that used to be yours. You walked over, sat down, and he began reassigning parts again. 

That was last month and ever since, you were still struggling to cope. Losing a limb is never easy. From the tip of a pinkie being slammed in a car door, a hand being crushed in a factory, to an arm being ripped off via a combine, or a crushed leg in a car accident; no matter how small, they weren’t easy. 

From self-doubt, to shame and embarrassment, the emotional exhaustion when it comes to retelling the story over and over and over again to everyone who asks; losing a limb is hard. The phantom pain that lingers from hours to days, the physical exhaustion from trying to heal, and the mental toll it takes on everyone around you, it’s not always easy to get through. 

Tonight’s mission, you found yourself on the dance floor of some random club. Most members were spread throughout the area with ear-pieces in their ears and you were no different. You found yourself on the dance floor. 

Spinning under dazzling light and feeling the bass blast through you beneath your sturdy feet, you finally felt free. Across the way, Chan and Minho kept an eye on you from a table. To blend in, the two of them had drinks that they seemed to be nursing. 

The rest of the guys were scattered throughout the club. Someone at the front entrance and another at the back. Someone lazily leaned over the balcony above and a few more blended between the lively crowds of drunk and tipsy people. From where you moved around on the dance floor, you knew exactly who you were looking for. Chan had drilled the guy’s appearance into everyone’s brains. Apparently, he crossed Chan and that was unforgivable in Chan’s eyes. 

Whether it was unpaid dues, straight up fuckery, or making threats that’d never be carried out, crossing Chan was like crossing God. The difference between Chan and God was that you could pray and God would forgive you. You could get on your knees and plead for your life in front of Chan, but a dead man was a dead man. 

At a small table, Chan sucked in a deep breath as his nostrils flared. Minho glanced over at Chan and realized he was looking over at you. “You know that they’re fine, right? They’re taking care of themselves pretty well.” 

“I don’t appreciate how many people are approaching them. I don’t like any of it. I should have had them skip this mission.” 

“You can’t keep them from these things forever.” 

“Well, I can fucking try!” He snapped angrily. He stood up and slammed his chair beneath the table. Minho rolled his eyes while Chan’s half-empty glass of whisky spilled outside of the cup. He reached over to clean it up and Chan headed in your direction. 

There was pulsing energy looping around the place, but he couldn’t focus on it. Ever since you lost your leg, he’d been worried about you, they all had. Warm bodies were pressed up against one another. The air inside the bar smelled like cigarette smoke, a faint whiff of alcohol, and the overpowering stench of sweat. 

The alcohol made everyone too warm. The tipsy and swaying dance floor, the beat of the drums, the way the dancers shifted throughout the place and snaked around men like snakes, he hated it. He hated that this was the only place he thought they’d be able to capture the target. 

A hand slithered across his shoulder and he shoved it off. One of the dancers wore a sheer lilac bodysuit. Pale skin shone through the sheerness and he wanted to roll his eyes, but he held it back. Usually, he wouldn’t have cared, but he wanted his attention to focus on you. 

“What’s a hot guy like you doing out here all by yourself? What’s got your dick in a twist? Hmm?” 

“Save it,” he grumbled as he kept walking. 

“I could fix your problems with a private dance.” 

“Not interested.” 

“They’re on sale tonight for-” 

“I said I’m not interested! Get lost!” Too irritated and annoyed, the next group of drunk people he came up to and wouldn’t move, he shoved through them. Not caring that they stumbled and almost fell, his eyes were still set on you. 

On the dance floor, you had been stopped by some middle aged guy. His hand found your hip and when it did, you jerked away instantly. “Don’t do that, I’m not interested.” 

“Aw, come on!” He called out to you. He stepped closer to you and grinned. “A pretty person like you could use a bit o-” 

“I meant what I said.” 

He laughed, not quite believing you. His hand cupped your torso and slid down and that’s when you snapped. Your hands shot out and you shoved the guy back. He stumbled and just barely managed to catch himself. “Hey! What the hell was that for?” 

“Don’t touch me!” 

“What are you going to do about it?” His dark eyebrows furrowed. He stepped closer, nearly pressing his chest right against yours. A feeling of disgust crept up your throat, so you took a step back. 

Upset and feeling frustrated, you spun around to go back to the guys. You wanted to be near people you felt comfortable with. Besides, your prosthetic was starting to irritate your leg anyway. You were used to walking with it and sometimes jumping and running, but you hadn’t used it much to dance. 

When you didn’t put up a fight, the guy saw red. He had been watching you for a while and all he wanted was a dance. Walking away from him hurt his ego. With an angry huff, he jerked his foot out. With a loud clunk, it slammed into the back of your prosthetic leg hard. 

Chan’s eyes widened and he rushed through the crowd to get to you. On the dark floor, a choir of gasps and murmurs echoed around you. A lump built up in your throat at the pain surrounding your stump, but you refused to let tears fall. 

Instead, your shaky fingers reached towards the disconnected limb. The force from the guy and the way you fell, it knocked it right off. You blinked rapidly and fiddled with the velcro strap to tighten it. 

Sweat soaked the end of the stub. The darkness and the glossiness from tears made it difficult to see. You sniffled and just when you thought you might be slowly getting somewhere, Chan dropped to the ground beside you. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

You faintly nodded, but your eyes didn’t meet his. You couldn’t bear to have him see you so weak. In front of this many people, you were already embarrassed. Shame filled you and flooded your system. 

A wave of anger swept over Chan, but he forced it down. He wanted to go after the guy and knock his lights out, but his attention was focused on you. His fingers swept against yours and pulled them away from the fake limb. “I’ve got it, let me.” 

You didn’t fight him because you were exhausted. You were so tired and drained. You wanted to go home and curl beneath the covers. You wanted to cry until it was impossible to cry anymore. You wanted to drown in your tears and self-misery. 

“Did he hurt you?” 

You shook your head. He stood up and reached out for your hands. You let him tug you to your feet and you placed all your weight on your good foot. When his hands move to your hips to steady you, he noticed the shift instantly. A frown filled his face and he scanned you up and down. “Why did you do that?” 

You shrugged, but he wasn’t buying it. He moved your body, so you were forced to evenly distribute your weight. The moment you put weight on your prosthetic, pain shot through your leg. A yelp escaped your mouth and you jerked your weight back to the good leg. 

His eyes went back to your prosthetic and he frowned. His eyes scanned your face, hoping you’d admit the truth. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you weakly managed to get out. 

He stared at you and a stern look came across his face. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know something is wrong, so just tell me what it is. I want to help you, so please, what’s wrong?” One of his hands reached up to cup your cheek and that’s when your heart free fell. 

You blinked rapidly again, more tears began to well in your eyes. “Not here.” 

A soft sigh escaped his parted lips and he slowly scooped you into his arms. You didn’t fight it as he fought the crowd and managed to get you into the bathroom. He locked the door behind you and walked you over to the porcelain sink. 

It probably wasn’t the best place, but it was the only place for now. You sat along the edge and your legs dangled towards the tiled ground. “What happened?” He tried again as his fingers began to undo your limb. 

“A guy kicked the back of it.” 

“I saw.” 

“It hurt when I fell. The plastic section dug into my stump. There’s scarred tissue and it’s still tender sometimes. It just hurt, that’s all. It’s not a big deal.” 

“I’m going to kill him,” Chan muttered beneath his breath. His fingers worked quickly to remove the limb and the silicone slip that covered your stump. The compression sock that you wore for support beneath it came off next. 

Gentle fingers tenderly worked their way around the amputated leg. Shame filled you once more and your eyes found the ground. This wasn’t the first time that something like this happened and it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

Ever since your leg had been amputated, everything was different. About a month after you were comfortable walking around on your new leg, Chan made everyone learn how to put it on you and take it off. You were so used to being independent, but this had been a major setback. You were forced to rely on people while your leg healed. 

When his fingers slipped across a red inkling marking the side of your leg, you winced. He frowned and his eyes went to meet yours, but you still refused to look at him. 

His voice came out softly when he spoke again. “Why aren’t you looking at me?” You didn’t respond, but he knew. He could see it in the way the glassiness in your eyes built up. Your bottom lip quivered and he knew you were close to cracking. 

“Look at me.” 

When you didn’t, he reached out and gently took your chin. He tilted your head towards him. “I don’t believe you. How bad does it hurt?” 

“Like a rug burn.” 

He shook his head. “No. There’s no way it’s just like that. If you fell and the sides cut into your skin, you have to be hurting a lot. How much does it hurt?” 

“Why does it matter?” 

“Because I care about you.”

“Who cares about a bruised ego?” Your voice was hoarse as the tears finally silently fell down your cheeks. Chan’s heart dropped straight to the pit of his stomach. You reached up and quickly wiped away the falling tears.

“You don’t have to do that, you know. You don’t have to do that thing where you pretend to be strong in front of me. It’s okay if you fall apart. There’s nothing wrong with having a moment to-” 

“I don’t want to have a moment!” You cut him off with a shrill voice. “Who gives a shit about a bruised ego? So what? Life goes on. Whatever.” 

“I give a shit.” 

“I-I wish,” tears slid down your cheeks faster, “I wish I would have died in the car accident. I should have died and I-” 

Out of all the things he had heard you say since the accident, it was never anything like that. His fingers were still cupped around your chin. His fingers tightened their grip and he shook his head. “Don’t say that, you don’t mean that. You don’t mean that you-” 

“I do! I mean it with everything! I mean every fucking word!” 

The limbo he was stuck in at the hospital came rushing back to him. The way he felt like he was suffocating while he waited for you to wake up. The aimless walks around the barren hospital while he waited for your eyes to flutter open, so he could see them again. 

Everyone was holding their breaths and assuming the worst. The group chat kept blowing up, but you never responded. As Chan texted the guys, they didn’t want to believe it. The prayers, the worry, the fear that they’d never see you alive again. 

“You don’t mean it,” he whispered. “Don’t say that, you don’t understand.” 

“It would have been better than-” 

“It wouldn’t have been better for anyone! You’re part of our family!” His voice came out exasperated. “You don’t know what it was like to wonder if you were ever going to wake up again! Do you have any idea how much you even mean to us? Stop saying that!” 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” 

“Stop being so stubborn! Stop acting like it’d have been better if you died! Stop acting like you don’t care! I never want to hear you say anything like that ever again!” 

“You don’t get it!” Your voice grew louder. “You have no fucking clue what it’s like!” You slapped his hand away and watched his face fall with shock. 

 “I don’t know what it’s like?” He scoffed and shook his head. “I don’t know what it’s like? Bullshit! Do you know what it’s like when someone you love is on the brink of death?” 

“Stop making this about you! It’s not and it never has been!” The tears were hot rolling down your cheeks. It was a pool of lava around your heart bubbling and now it was exploding. “You’re not the one missing a leg! It’s not about you, it’s about me! You don’t have to wake up feeling useless every fucking morning!” 

“Don’t say that, you’re not useless. No matter how many limbs you have, you’re not useless.” 

“Every time we go out on missions, I’m not trusted anymore. I’m constantly being watched by everyone. The attention is on me and not on the surroundings. If something happens one day and someone gets hurt because I-” Your voice cut off. 

“That’s not going to happen,” he tried to reason with you. 

“You don’t know that. I-I don’t need to be watched all the time. I don’t need to be treated like a kid.” 

You were killing him. It was killing him internally to see you so broken and so vulnerable. You were always so independent and so fierce that he never considered how much their actions could be hurting you. 

His hands gently cupped your cheeks and he wiped your eyes. “We just want you to be safe. We’re worried about you and we almost lost you once. We can’t bear to nearly lose you again.” 

“I can’t even cook without being supervised. I can’t go shopping at the mall alone. I can’t go get coffee like I used to without someone tagging along. I can’t even go on a simple walk around the block. I have to be followed by someone and practically walked around like a dog.” 

“I-” 

“Save it! I-I’m grown and I know I almost died, but I-” You were practically choking back sobs. You could feel the warmth of his hand cupping your cheek, but you couldn’t see the worry and guilt in his eyes through your tears. 

You couldn’t see how much your words were physically killing him and causing him pain. He wanted you to be able to do things yourself, but he was terrified. He was so afraid of losing you that it was easier to capture you in a metaphorical cage than let you go free. 

At least, if you were with the guys, he knew you’d be safe. If you fell, they’d be there to help you. If your prosthetic hurt your leg, they could carry you to safety. They’d go to the ends of the earth to protect you, but along the way, he had forgotten what it must have been like for you. 

To constantly have someone hanging and looming over your shoulder in the background. No wonder you were so upset to the point that you were breaking down in front of him. He was so worried about you, he forgot the amount of stress and guilt that was eating you up too. 

Instead of speaking, he pulled you tight into his chest. You sobbed as your head curled protectively into his neck. In his arms, the outside world couldn’t get to you. The weight of the world wasn’t yours anymore, it was pulled away and lingered above. You could finally breathe for a few moments. 

The steady pulse of Chan’s heartbeat thrummed against your cheek. A hand gently came back to your back to soothe you and the gesture caused you to cry harder. You were so mentally exhausted and tired. Everything seemed to be a nightmare and it never stopped. 

Life without a limb was hard for everyone involved. From family and friends to the potential love of your life, it was difficult. New challenges were faced and fears were unlocked. As Chan soothed you, he forced himself to calm down. 

As much as it scared him and frightened him, he had to let go of all those fears. It wasn’t fair to keep you held captive. You deserved to feel like you had your independence back and he hated how weak he had accidentally made you feel. 

The only place he wanted to keep you captive was just like this; in his arms, right where you belonged to begin with. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[miss-musings]

The Bad Batch Post-"Plan 99" Fanfic

Summary: Takes place between the events of 2.16 "Plan 99" and 3.01 "Confined." Crosshair finds out Omega has been captured and hears about Tech's death. He struggles with the news and his new routine as a prospective CX operative. Later, Omega makes her first visit to his cell. ~15 minute read

WARNING: Lots of sad, angsty thoughts about Tech's death. Don't read if you aren't comfortable with ~50% of it being Crosshair ruminating about Tech's death and his own guilt.

Crosshair’s neck was stiff from pain. He was lying on his back, and could feel the restraints holding him to the medical table. He heard voices around him, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. He hoped they’d still think he was asleep and leave him be.

“He’s waking up,” an unfamiliar female voice said. “Inform the doctor.”

A heavy pair of footsteps stomped away from the area, but he could still feel eyes on him. He heard the hum of equipment and the clinking of metal objects nearby.

“You may release him from the table,” the voice said again.

Someone jostled his wrists, slapping binders on them, while someone else loosened and then took off the restraints on his forehead, chest and ankles.

“You should sit up now,” the voice said to him this time. “The doctor will be here shortly.”

There was no hiding, then.

Crosshair opened his eyes and sat up. A female doctor with thick goggles and even thicker brown hair looked at him. Troopers and a commando were nearby, their guns pointed at him.

Crosshair was in a large room with other clone prisoners lying unconscious on other medical tables in the center of the room, and there were tanks along the walls with eerie-looking bodies inside.

He wondered what new torture Hemlock had in mind for him when the doctor walked into the room, escorted by a commando. His black hair was slicked back, and he was holding his gloved left hand in his right.

He approached Crosshair and said in his chilling whisper-like voice:

“As impressive as your dedication to your former squad is, I’m afraid it has all been in vain.”

Crosshair stiffened.

“Omega is now in my custody.”

No. It couldn’t be. This was some kind of trick. He’d told them to hide.

It was hard to read Hemlock’s face, but in Crosshair’s few interactions with him, he’d been unusually straightforward. Cruel, yes, but straightforward.

But, Crosshair couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

“You’re lying,” he said with a scowl.

Hemlock practically smiled as he gestured toward the door, and said, “I’ll show you.”

Crosshair got off the table and, escorted closely by the troopers and commandos, followed Hemlock out of the room and through the corridors.

They went to a part of the facility Crosshair had never seen before. Some kind of medical wing.

Hemlock stopped in front of a large window. Crosshair stopped and looked in too. He saw a large room full of medical beds, equipment and personnel. Clone prisoners were on the beds, getting blood samples taken.

But Crosshair’s eyes first fell on the shortest person in the room and he felt his heart plummet inside his chest.

Omega.

He hadn’t seen her since the day his squad had left him on that Kaminoan platform, but it was undoubtedly her.

Her light-blond hair was longer. She looked taller too, as she walked around in the light-gray uniform of Tantiss’ medical personnel. She seemed to be shadowing the female clone Crosshair had encountered when he first arrived on Tantiss.

She looked anxious, but didn’t appear to be hurt at least.

Crosshair glanced at Hemlock, who was looking over at him with a sinister gleam in his eye.

“I found Clone Force 99 with the help of one of their own associates,” Hemlock said. “They made an ill-advised attempt to infiltrate Governor Tarkin’s fortress on Eriadu, and lost one of their own in the process.”

Crosshair’s eyes went wide with fear.

“Oh yes,” Hemlock said. “You would’ve known him as Tech.”

No.

Tech? It couldn’t be.

His face went blank as Hemlock continued:

“The others managed to escape custody, but no matter. I have what I need now.”

Even with a million thoughts spinning in his head, Crosshair instinctively looked back through the window at Omega.

She was still following the female clone, who was giving her some kind of instructions. She seemed unaware they were watching her. It must be two-way glass.

He was about to take a step toward it – to warn her, alert her, anything – when the troopers grabbed him and held him in place.

“You needn’t worry,” Hemlock said. “Omega will be safe here, for now. I only need her to ensure my work for the Empire may proceed as planned.”

Nala Se. That had to be it.

Admiral Rampart had sent the Kaminoans’ chief scientist to Tantiss when they decommissioned Tipoca City. And Omega had been Nala Se’s medical assistant. Perhaps they were closer than Crosshair had realized, and Hemlock was now using Omega to force Nala Se to cooperate.

If that was the case, he realized, then she would be safe.

They’d need her alive to ensure Nala Se did whatever work the Empire – or rather, Hemlock – had in mind.

And, going by the pleased look on the doctor’s face, she was.

Hemlock stepped toward Crosshair, putting his hands behind his back.

“And if your former squad ever comes looking for Omega – as I suspect they will – I have plans for them,” he said. “As I do for you.”

Crosshair blinked.

“What plans?”

Hemlock smiled, and said, “You’ll see.”

He then turned to one of the commandos.

“Put him in the detention block,” Hemlock said. “Have him brought to the training room at 0800 with the other candidates.”

The commando nodded and looked to the troopers on either side of Crosshair. They grabbed him by his arms and shoulders, and were preparing to lead him away, when Hemlock held up a hand and stepped toward Crosshair again.

“If you had accepted my offer, you would be free now,” Hemlock said. “But, since you refused, you will continue to serve the Empire. In fact, your true service is only just beginning.”

He looked Crosshair up and down, and took a very calculated breath before adding:

“I look forward to seeing what you will become, CT-9904.”

A chill ran down Crosshair’s spine. Somehow, he could feel exactly what Hemlock’s true intentions were.

The doctor nodded, and the troopers led him away. Crosshair tried to look back at the window for one last glimpse of Omega, but it was too late.

Everything was gone.

*****

All the hours and rotations after that exchange were a hellish blur.

Crosshair and a few other clones were subjected to brutal training and torture – or “re-education,” as Hemlock called it. His plan was to turn them into specialized operatives who were completely loyal to the Empire – to him.

Their conditioning lasted for hours on end every day.

But the nights were worse.

Crosshair was left alone with nothing but his thoughts for hours and hours. Physically hurt and mentally exhausted, he hardly slept each night before the hell of the next day began again.

He kept thinking about Tech. He kept seeing flashes of days, missions, memories together. Sometimes they were cadets, learning how to fight and shoot. Sometimes they were soldiers, running headfirst onto a new battlefield.

He kept hearing Tech’s voice in his head.

“Understanding you does not mean that I agree with you.”

Was that the last thing his brother had ever said to him?

He wanted to believe Hemlock had lied, that Tech was still alive, that his old squad was safe and alive somewhere.

But, he’d been telling the truth about Omega. Why fabricate some long-winded story on top of it?

What the kriff had they been doing on Eriadu? Surely, they couldn’t have been infiltrating Tarkin’s base to try to find him?

He had to know. The uncertainty, the questions were killing him.

But, there was only one person who could possibly tell him; and as much as he wanted to know, he hated the thought of facing her again.

It was all his fault.

He knew it in whatever remained of his heart.

Tech was dead because of him.

Omega was Hemlock’s prisoner because of him.

Hunter, Wrecker and even Echo could be dead, captured or tearing themselves apart with grief, all because of him.

If he’d just gone with them that day on Kamino – he thought to himself every day, every hour – none of this would’ve happened.

Tech would be alive.

They would all be safe.

Maybe they could’ve even been happy.

Crosshair had always despised that his former squad was living job-to-job as mercenaries in the Outer Rim. But, compared to this, it would have been a paradise.

More than once he finally drifted off to sleep with tears in his eyes, only to dream of Tech. Sometimes he died in a firefight. Sometimes he died in a fall. Once he died trying to fly The Marauder away from Tarkin’s mountainside fortress.

Crosshair was almost relieved when the troopers woke him to start the hellish cycle all over again.

There was no chance of rescue. Hemlock would kill or capture Hunter and the others if they somehow found Tantiss.

There was no hope of escape. Even if he managed to elude or defeat his guards again, Crosshair didn’t even know how big the base was, or how to get outside or to a shuttle bay.

So, he didn’t bother counting the rotations. There was no point.

He almost hoped someone would kill him during their operative training. Or he would somehow die during Hemlock’s conditioning.

But, no, he thought. He deserved it.

He deserved all of it.

*****

Not that Crosshair was counting, but it took Omega five rotations to track down his cell.

He was lying on his bed, trying not to think about Tech again, when a familiar fwing hit his skull.

Someone was watching him.

Before Tantiss, he would’ve bolted upright, blaster ready. But now he didn’t bother. They were always watching him.

He felt the eyes drawing nearer and nearer, and that striking sensation against his head became harder and harder to ignore. He could tell something was different. This wasn’t any of his usual inspectors.

There was only one person it could be.

His heart sank when he heard that soft, eager voice whisper to him through the cell door:

“Crosshair?”

He opened his eyes and looked over to see Omega kneeling outside his cell. Her brown eyes, so full of care and concern, stared back at him.

“What—what are you doing here?” he asked as he quickly sat up. “You need to leave, before they catch you.”

Hemlock was smart. He was already using Omega as leverage over Nala Se. Who’s to say he wouldn’t use Omega as leverage over him too, if he felt like it?

“It’s fine,” Omega told him. “The guards are on shift break.”

He rolled his eyes and gave a small sigh.

“And I needed to check on you,” she continued. “You were still unconscious when I first got here. I tried to wake you, but Emerie said you didn’t cooperate with the doctor.”

So, Omega had found him, tried to talk to him even. It must’ve been sometime before Hemlock had gloated about capturing her.

“Crosshair, what did they do to you?”

He shook his head and replied, “It doesn’t matter now.”

He looked past her, and scanned the seemingly empty corridor beyond. He didn’t see or sense anyone else watching.

Finally, he was face-to-face with the moment, the person he’d dreaded meeting.

“What happened?” he asked, taking the plunge. “How are you here? Did they not get my message?”

Omega looked down.

“We did,” she said. “We were trying to rescue you and all the other clones trapped here. We infiltrated an Imperial summit on Eriadu so we could track Hemlock’s ship. But, everything went wrong as we were trying to escape.

“And Tech,” she said, as her voice cracked and her eyes welled up. “… He—he sacrificed himself so we could get away.”

So, it was true.

Tech’s kind face and goggle-covered brown eyes appeared in Crosshair’s mind. His voice echoed in his ears: “Understanding you does not mean I agree with you.”

His brother really was gone. Dead.

Crosshair’s expression went hollow. He felt like a barrage of blaster bolts to the chest would’ve been less painful.

Omega continued her story, but Crosshair barely registered it.

“The next thing I remember, we were back on Ord Mantell and the Empire was there. They took Hunter and Wrecker away, and I tried to free them but Hemlock caught me and brought me here.

“I’ve been asking Emerie and looking everywhere, but I haven’t been able to find out what happened to them,” she said, her eyes wide with desperation and sorrow.

Somehow hearing Hunter and Wrecker’s names snapped Crosshair back into full consciousness.

“They’re not here,” he said. “They escaped. Hemlock told me so himself.”

Hope briefly shone in Omega’s eyes.

“We can’t trust him,” she said. “What if he’s lying?”

“Hemlock is a bastard, but I don’t know why he would lie about that,” Crosshair said. “Besides, if they were here, I would’ve seen them by now.”

“What do you mean?”

Crosshair looked down and didn’t answer her.

He had long realized what Hemlock had meant when he said he had plans for Clone Force 99 if they ever made it to Tantiss. The doctor wanted his own squad of elite clones to carry out his every bidding, and he was especially excited at the prospect of “re-educating” Hunter and Wrecker with their enhanced abilities.

Thank whatever Force might exist in the galaxy that Tech had been spared that fate.

Crosshair looked back at Omega, who was still waiting for his answer.

“You need to go,” he said. “Before anyone finds you here.”

“Alright,” she said in a determined voice. “But I’ll come back the next chance I can.”

“No. Don’t come back here at all. If they catch you…”

“I’ll be careful.”

Crosshair gave a high-sigh, half-scoff. She was just as stubborn and willful as she’d been on Kamino. How had Hunter and the others put up with her for so long?

She made a move as though she was about to leave, but then bent back down and looked at him again through the criss-crossing bars of his cell door.

“Don’t worry, Crosshair. We’re together now. They can’t stop us both.”

Crosshair exhaled and threw her a look that spelled out their exact situation. No hope, only despair. No relief, only defeat.

But, unsurprisingly, she didn’t get the message.

She simply looked back at him with such care, such hope, such… love.

“I knew you would come around,” she said. “Tech did too.”

Crosshair’s eyes went wide. It felt as though the blood in his body had stopped circulating.

“He said you were still his brother, and he wasn’t going to leave you behind. … And neither will I.”

She stood up and silently walked away, as Crosshair’s mind raced with a million new thoughts alongside the same old ones.

He felt his right hand tremoring. He couldn't stop it.

Tech had died trying to save him. Tech had died believing in him. Tech had died still caring about him.

With every thought, every realization, Crosshair felt the same truth beating inside his head like a drum.

Everything.

Everything.

Everything was all his fault.

COPYRIGHT 2024.

Story is subject to minor edits/tweaks as necessary.

[paradoxicalrising]

Astro Observations Pt. 2 !

**again just prefacing: im not a professional, these are my personal opinions based off my experience with these placements :) enjoy

Virgo Mercury @ 24 degrees: these people are the best at making passive aggressive comments. depending on the mars sign and where it’s placed they may come off as rude/ bitchy. such great liars. they will lie with a straight face about something stupid and right after break the facade and tell you they were lying. it’s so easy to believe them. deadpan, dry humor. i’ve seen that they laugh at intelligent, witty comments. i’ve also seen them be more interested in psychology, reading body language, and asking personal questions to strangers.

mercury square pluto, mercury rx, debilitated mercury: struggle with social anxiety and public speaking. the anxiety is very high when it comes to talking in front of an audience or even an authority figure. may physically shake while presenting, wavering voice, and losing breath bc they’re talking so fast.

moon square mars in men: tumultuous relationship with the mother. may cause problems in relationships with women, taking anger towards the mother out on the girlfriend/ wife. this placement has been seen in domestic violence situations. may actually be attracted to someone who acts and looks like their mother.

mars conjunct uranus: unpredictable, wild card. when really angry, they may explode. energy levels are rarely stable, they tend to fluctuate often. prone to cut people off out of nowhere once they’ve dealt with enough. may act/ speak before they think when they’re angry.

sun conjunct venus: it’s so hard not to like these people. they are full of charisma, and tend to be attractive. may be arrogant at times, and think they’re better than others physically. they’re easy to get along with but their niceness may be seen as fake/ superficial.

MC in scorpio: sexualized by the public. everyone has a crush on them but no one is brave enough to tell them. intimidating aura. this placement tends to dominate the public image. a lot of people are scared of them bc of their intelligence and beauty. powerhouse of a person when it comes to success. nothing will get in their way, resilience runs in their blood. hold a natural power and immediately demands respect with their tone of voice and body language. even if they’re insecure or in pain, they never show that to the public. gain a lot of unwanted attention. also seem to succeed at a low key rate until later in life when they finally get recognition.

4th house: truly the house of the darkest parts of yourself. if you wanna look for childhood trauma, look to the 4th house and any aspects made to other planets or houses in the chart. this is who we are when we’re alone. this is the house of our instincts, generational trauma on the mothers side or the more feminine parent, fears. it’s ruled by cancer which is ruled by the moon so it naturally has a light and dark side like every sign and planet. this is the house of where you feel you’re at home and depending on what you grew up with, one person could be happy with attention, stability, and honesty but another person could seek out unavailable people, they might self sabotage just to feel like they’re at home. the sense of home changes over time and it is capable of changing for the better but this is where i’d recommend you start with shadow work find the sign, house, aspects, and degree for more insight.

empty houses: i’ve noticed that with my empty houses, it’s almost like i just don’t think about those things, they don’t concern me compared to houses with stelliums or major planets. it’s not that i’ve mastered them or anything, they’re just not a big deal in my life. of course problems and success still arise in the areas of these houses but it’s not as heavy compared to house with planets in them. with empty houses, pay attention to transits that make aspects to your natal house sign but other than that these houses usually don’t create major problems in one’s life.

[nanfrost]

A dive into Vertin's core aspect of her character and it's impact through the story: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Matilda and Vertin

It's important to note that despite everything, Matilda and Vertin are good friends. 

Matilda had the same aspirations as Vertin did as children: the freedom of self expression in spite of being raised to abandon those values; to know their world around them than to just learn from the textbooks.

However, what sets them apart is that Matilda willingly chose to join the white marble.

What sets them apart is the extent they’re willing to go to achieve that, and how they help people at their positions.

What sets them apart is how they handle their own inner struggle.

Matilda finds Vertin, who is in a miserable state, utterly unresponsive to the people around her because Sonetto is no longer around.

In just a day, the girl had already reverted back to being a mess, a sight that shocks Matilda greatly, but also pity for the girl who she respected a lot as a friend and classmate.

Sonetto had already given her the lengthy details, but seeing it for herself still leaves a pit in Matilda’s stomach. It was awful, how low Vertin had let herself be.

Yet somehow, Matilda feels determined, approaching her old friend as she tries to talk to her.

It doesn’t work of course, Vertin doesn’t even look like she seems to acknowledge the girl’s presence. This is what Sonetto was fearing, that without her, Vertin has no one she can open herself to, no one she could vent her pain to, no one she can let herself be broken fully towards.

It’s almost painful in a way, that even though Vertin is as much of a mess as she is, she still hides herself away from others, to not trouble them in having to deal with her. Even though it only makes people more worried, Vertin refuses to let anyone in, to know the full extent of her pain.

If Matilda was similar to Sonetto, she would likely try to find comfort for her in any way, to try to be an emotional pillar for Vertin. But that was nigh impossible, she didn't know Vertin as long as Sonetto did, didn’t understand her as much as Sonetto does.

And besides, she isn't Sonetto anyways.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Matilda doesn’t know Vertin as well as Sonetto does, so she doesn’t know what would be the best way to help Vertin. But she is more perceptive than she lets on.

“Not of others, but yourself. You’re terrified to let people in, because you don’t want them to bother having to worry over you. To not have to deal with you. For them to not have to care about you.”

Matilda can’t be like Sonetto, a girl too kind, too caring and too sweet to ever be harsh or direct on people she cares about, especially Vertin. But she is kind in her own ways too.

“Sonetto is worried sick for you, I don’t know if you knew that or not. But if you do, then get up. Get up and let me help you do something about it.”

Vertin, although surprised, didn’t respond. But even so, the girl still stands, following Matilda lifelessly, for as miserable as she was, a part of her also understood just how much trouble she was placing on Sonetto. How much of a burden it must be to care for someone like her. 

She feels sick of herself for doing that to her partner, and so she follows Matilda, to see if there’s something she could do.

But what can Matilda do? What does she even have that Sonetto doesn’t? How can she help Vertin when Sonetto, the person closest to her, couldn't even do that?

She can’t.

Of course Matilda can’t. They were only friends and not even close ones, it would be completely arrogant of her to think she could do anything for Vertin.

So instead, she will get Vertin to help herself, by using her divination skills and her own perceptive nature to guide the girl to her own answers.

Matilda drags Vertin’s inner thoughts out and lays it bare for her, forcing her to confront those memories and the regrets she holds within her mind. Some bad, some very bad, and all of it still hurts to this day as she constantly relieves them.

At first, Vertin is bombarded with toxic and painful thoughts of herself, but it’s through Matilda’s words and guidance that Vertin starts to see things a bit more clearly. By having Matilda offering her perspective, Vertin can see the events in a more objective manner.

Vertin had kept all these events warped against her. She wanted every reason to hate herself and so her memories were altered to fit into that narrative, to make it easier to put the blame on her and solely her. But Matilda will not let that happen, she will offer her own insights and keep Vertin from spiralling out of control.

Eventually, they do make progress, as Vertin starts to understand that she wasn’t responsible for everything. That there were things completely out of her control and she shouldn’t, couldn’t have known better. She was only trying her best in her own ways, even if it didn’t turn up well. 

But the catalyst that got Vertin to even begin to accept this was Matilda, for through her conversation with her, did Vertin start to notice something in her that she never before. Something that gave her a sense of comfort, knowing she isn’t alone; something that they both share in common.

They are both selfless individuals.

Vertin gave herself up to help those around her, disregarding her own safety and agency if it means the people around her can make it out safe. She has no inherent sense of worth, only existing to help others as a way to bring meaning to her life.

Matilda gave her life to her studies, her academics and for the constant grind to become the very best, to stand at the top amongst the top. She does it so she can be acknowledged by the people around her, so that she can convince herself that she is meaningful, that she has meaning, that she can help.

Her constant drive to better herself is so she could feel like she is useful, to feel like she matters, to feel like she can help anyone in need.

Her sense of value comes from other people’s perception of her, and she will go to great lengths to prove that she can be useful. She exists to be helpful to those around her, for her value comes from their perception of her.

The way they go about it may be different, but Vertin and Matilda share this trait between themselves. They were mirrors of one another, reflecting both ends of the extreme. And because of that, Vertin learned to trust the girl more, to start opening herself up for she now understands that the girl truly does sympathize with her, at least somewhat.

Finally, after a long and gruelling journey of unwinding all the events in her head, Vertin comes face to face with the thing that represents all her insecurities, all her doubts, all her hatred and pain that she has kept within her for years until now.

Vertin faces herself, the one that started it all.

Gazing at the girl that represented Vertin’s biggest regrets and mistakes. The girl who had wronged so many lives because of her own naivety and unwillingness to look past herself.

She admits to herself that after everything, Vertin still cannot forgive her. She can’t forgive the girl for what she had done, for the people she had lost, for the trust she had broken and for the mistakes she had foolishly wrought over and over. 

She admits that the girl was stupid, blinded by her own short-sighted and naive views on the world that caused others to suffer because of it. She admits that the things she has caused can never be erased, that the pain will never fade away no matter the decades that pass by.

And yet, Vertin admits that there is more to the girl, that in spite of all the bad she had done, some of it was good. 

The girl had saved lives, gave others a reason to keep going, gave others hope and the conviction to follow their own hearts and even became the reason for others to put their faith and trust and love in, because they truly believed in the girl, placing their hopes and faiths into her goal, but above all, because they genuinely cared about her.

Vertin admits it, she admits that she does not know if she could keep walking a straight path, that she would never make a horrible mistake again like she had done before. That she wouldn’t one way or another lose the most precious things to her, that she won’t falter and break again. 

But she has hope.

Because in spite of everything, there is still someone who loves her. And for that, she wants to have hope, to hold onto it as tightly as she could. 

Hope that through them and through her crew, she won’t fall back into her old ways, that she won’t break again. 

Hope that someday, maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a long long time, but someday; she can learn to like herself a little more.

With that, Vertin finally concludes her session with Matilda, thanking the girl for what she has done. But most of all, she acknowledges that the two of them are alike, going through something similar albeit still very different ends of the spectrum; but if the girl ever needs help, she is willing to be there for her.

Vertin’s selfless nature never disappears, and it likely won’t ever.

Because that is who she is at her heart, a girl who cares far too much to ever let other’s lives sifted away. But she will try to include herself this time, to find things about herself that she can like, to learn to place a bit more value on herself, even if it will never be above others. For she now understands that there are those who care far too much to let the blazing life that is Vertin's soul fade away as well.

Her friends, her crew, her family has always welcomed her, yet she has always kept herself distant from them. She did it because she didn’t want to hurt them, and didn't want them to get too involved with her where they would inevitably get hurt by her. All because she fears that she might lose them again, that because of her, she will lose those precious to her once more.

But now, she is willing to knock on the door of that familiar home, to let herself be welcomed in, an invitation that has always been open to her. To meet their happy and warm gazes with her own. To let herself be not the Timekeeper, but just Vertin, a scared yet hopeful girl.

Reconnecting with friends:

Eventually, Vertin will gradually start being open again to her team, Slowly but surely, she’ll start taking the time to interact with them more and properly communicate with them on her own without an emotional crutch or trying too hard to keep up with a facade.

Vertin is willing to be vulnerable to those around her in spite of still harbouring doubts about herself, letting her thoughts and emotions be known to those that she cares about, and who Vertin also gradually starts to accept that they care about her too. 

After reuniting with Sonetto again, being surrounded by all the people she has grown so close to in just a short few months, Vertin laughs. 

A laugh filled with regret, sadness and underlying pain that she can’t ever forget; but also filled with joy and relief and happiness. That after so many years, Vertin finally feels like she belongs, to feel like she can belong in a family she can call her own again. 

She regrets that it took her so many mistakes, so many bad choices and so many lives lost just for her to finally reach this point, that resentment towards herself still clings to her every step of the way.

But Vertin has found hope again.

She has hope that if she continues the path she is now, to continue walking along with her new-found family and to rely on them just as they rely on her, to find the worth in herself that she refused to admit she has for so long; that one day, she can look at herself in the mirror, and smile at the girl she had become.

And that is how Vertin’s character development might look to us. At the very least, if the game goes towards focusing on her selflessness a bit more throughout the story. 

For those that read all the way to the end, we hope you enjoyed it. It’s a very self-indulgent analysis that we have been obsessed with for a week, and it took many tiring nights to get to this point. But this was our way of showing our love and appreciation for the character that is Vertin, and so no matter where the story will take her after this point, no matter how absolutely wrong we are in predicting her story(which I have zero doubts we very are wrong lmao), it would be a story that we would eagerly await all the same.

With that, I shall be signing off. I will keep rambling on, until we meet again.

[razorblade180]

9 Days of Lancaster Day3: Secret Relationship

Yang:Water?

Weiss:Check!

Yang:Gym clothes?

Blake:Check

Yang:Leader to guide/bond with us as we test our limits?

Ruby:Cry all you want. I can’t just change my plans. *grabs notes*

Yang:But you could!

Weiss:I can’t believe you got roped into helping Jaune study for his test.

Ruby:Weiss, it’s called “helping a friend.” Plus we made these plans first. It’s not like you’ll be alone.

On queue, a knock on the door made Blake open it. Nora came jumping in with her gym bag and already limbered up. Ren and Pyrrha.

Ren:She’s very excited about the new gym installed.

Nora:Today we sweat!!!

Pyrrha:Let’s try to leave the place intact. Ms. Goodwitch hasn’t forgiven us for the cafeteria.

Ruby:Is my naïve weapon enthusiast ready for me?

Pyrrha:He’s at his desk frantically writing notes. Y’know…if you need any help-

Ruby:I may not be a star student but when it comes to the history of weapons and their engineering, I might as well teach the class.

Weiss:Now if only you applied half that enthusiastic in Dust reaction experiments.

Ruby:Nobody can be perfect at everything.

Blake:The two star students of our year are literally in this room.

Weiss and Pyrrha: *all smiles*

Ruby:Pfft, so lightning struck twice? My point stands. Either way, I’ll have Jaune passing with flying colors in no time so don’t worry about it. Have fun everyone. We’ll join next time.

Pyrrha:If you insist.

Ren:It’s probably for the best.

Blake:Yeah we someone to save us from Yang and Nora’s routine ideas.

Yang:It’s not that bad!

Nora:The pain is weakness leaving the body.

Ruby:And on that threatening note… *grabs books* I’m off to across the hall!

Everyone funneled out of the dorm room and went on their way. Ruby waited for them to full turn the corner before knocking for times. The door was opened by Jaune and she gladly walked in. Pyrrha wasn’t joking; his desk had papers stacked and books opened.

Ruby:Wow, hard a work I see?

Jaune:I try. I’m just a bad test taker.

Ruby:We’ll have no fear! I’ve made mock tests and flash cards to drill all knowledge into you! Stick with me and-

The knight’s arms suddenly wrapped around her waist as he gently pressed his lips against hers, making Ruby jolt. A smile spread quickly on her face as she kissed him back harder while her arms hung off his shoulders. As their lips separated, Ruby couldn’t help but giggle as she went into for another chaste kiss. The slight grunt of approval he gave as he held her tighter made the girl shake her head playfully.

Ruby:Easy now. We should at least attempt to study. I talked a big about you passing. That means I should actually teach you. There’s an entire chapter dedicated to hand placements.

Jaune:Hehe, you are so ridiculous.

Ruby:Yet you looked intrigued. We can smooch later.

Jaune:It would be easier to get kissing out of the way now so our friends don’t potentially nterrupt later. Isn’t breaks an important part of studying? Besides, I don’t think I can survive an enraged Yang even if she’s tired and sore.

Ruby:Hmmm you drive a hard bargain, but I can’t have you too tired to learn. Tell you what, take the test and every correct answer gives you a kiss. FYI, there’s fifty questions.

Jaune:Oooo that is a good deal. Got a reward for if I actually pass the real test?

Ruby:Let’s aim higher, a hundred on the test earns you a date anywhere you want, my treat.

Jaune:And if I get the extra credit?

Ruby:*blushing* I’m open to ideas.

Jaune:What if…we did of this…

He raised her slightly, her feet struggling to stay grounded as he kissed her roughly. Ruby felt a tingle up her back as she refused to back down, deepening the kiss. His arms held her so close his scent both put her heart at ease and made it flutter.

Jaune:But a lot more?

Ruby:Deal~ but you’re getting ahead of yourself. *waves papers* Study time you dummy.

Jaune:Okay, you win. I’ll be a good student. *kisses neck*

Ruby: No flirting when testing is in progress!

xxxxx

Oobleck:Attention class! I have finished grading your weaponry tests and i must say I’m quite disappointed in the overall performance! Mr. Arc!!!

Jaune:Y-Yes…?

Oobleck:….Yours was not one of them.

He zips by everyone, giving them the grades they all earned. The usual suspects passed. Weiss, and Pyrrha even had a perfect score while Ruby on the other hand, waved around a 103%

Pyrrha:Congratulations. The extra credit stumped me.

Blake:I’m fine with a B

Ren:*holds 94* I’m very lucky all of you have varying guns I’ve seen in use.

Nora:*holds 88* Same hehe…

Weiss:It would be a tragedy if your hyper fixation didn’t help you pass with flying colors.

Yang:Why can’t you just say congratulations? A hundred questions and I got 99. But the real question is…*looks at Jaune*

Jaune:*holds 103* I owe a big thanks to my personal teacher.

WBYNPR:WHAT!?

Ruby:*dark red* Well would you look at that? Nice work.

Jaune:*smiles* Couldn’t have done it without you. I promise to pay you back in full.

Ruby:*internal screaming* Looking forward to it.

[heartshyuck]

Die for me 

pairing: haechan x reader 

genre: ANGST, thriller/horror, some fluff ig, established relationship, magic au. 

synopsis: Grief leads to desperation and fear. Haechan can no longer handle the grief that eats away at him. He’ll do anything to bring you back to his side, even if it means to defy death. 

word count: 7k

warnings: death, smut but it’s … not?, manic episodes (funeral mania), delusion, hypo mania, blood, violence, rituals to bring back the dead, distorted bodies, suicide, self harm and profanities. 

a/n: this is my first fic after a while! Of course it’s a hyuck fic but because it’s been so long I apologise if it’s a little rusty. This fic actually made me sob lol, like full on ugly cry. Now what I mean by smut but not smut is that it happening but like bro wtf is happening yk. If you don’t get it then you’ll see, minors please dni. It has a lot of dark themes, don’t read if you’re not fully comfortable reading about all the warnings. 

Grief is an ugly emotion. All consuming and rooted into the depths of your bones, muscles deteriorating and flesh being eaten away - it rots you whole but it does not change you. Grief only reveals what is the worst of you, stripped down to your core. Desperate. It feels like fear.

Stage one: denial

Haechan sits in your shared apartment, or what used to be. His hands twisting and turning the silver band that weighs heavy on his finger. His eyes, red and drooping but still tears manage to fall slowly despite the sting. He stares at your ring that now lies on the table, its once matching silver band now coated in a crust of dried blood. The images of your lifeless body lying on the road resurface and a new fresh wave of tears break the dam once more. His breath becomes heavy, fast and uncontrollable, he lets out a sob - lips quivering. His face is contoured by pain that lies heavy in his chest, a pain that forms a numbness, emptiness. He cries until he tires, eyes drooping and red, they finally close - the cycle continues.

The doorbell rings again. Haechan is still in his suite from the funeral when he rubs his eyes awake. His head pounding and ears ringing, he looks around to see where he is and he’s still lying on the couch. “______” he calls out, getting up to find the bedroom empty, “_____” he calls again as he heads to the door, the doorbell still ringing. “_____?” he questions as he swings the door open, only to find Mark with a deep frown on his face.

“Hey” Haechan says, yawning, rubbing his eyes that are still sore. “Come in” he says, opening the door wider for Mark to step in. “_____ isn’t home right now, must have gone out to go get something.” and Marks frown only deepens, his eyes watery and he stares at Haechan as if he’s hurt. “What’s wrong?”

“Hyuck” Mark’s voice cracks, his lips quivering

“What’s wrong?” Haechan panics “Mark what is it?” but the older doesn't answer, tears streaming down his face “What is it?” Haechan’s jaw is tight and the words struggle through as he grows impatient, fear settling in the pit of his stomach. “Mark!”

“_____’s gone” he says crashing into him, arms engulfing Haechan

“What do you mean gone?” He says in a small unsure chuckle

“She’s gone, Hyuck. She died two days ago” he sobs and Haechan’s legs give way below him, dropping to his knees, he shakes as the tears come back once again and Mark’s still holding on to him.

“This is a sick joke Mark” Haechan tries to even his breathing, “seriously not funny” he sniffles and Mark only pulls him in closer, holds him tighter. “Where’s ______?” Mark doesn’t answer, shivering with sobs that echo throughout his body, “Mark?!” Haechan’s voice is desperate and broken. “Please” he begs.

Mark can only shake his head, gripping onto Haechan’s suit jacket, “She’s gone.” He repeats again and again until the words swirl around in the air, Haechan’s mind going dizzy and his vision blurring with tears, his breathing shallows and his heart aches.

Haechan wakes up in his bed this time, shoes kicked off , jacket and tie thrown onto the floor - there’s no sight of you or Mark who he remembers being here. His head is pounding but he doesn't remember drinking, he presses the base of his palms into his eyes trying to get rid of the soreness. He grabs for his phone that’s on the bedside table and displays it’s eleven pm, and he turns to his side to see your side of the bed is still empty. “______?” he calls out but there’s no response, you must be wearing your headphones he thinks. Sighing, his body heavy, he swings his legs out of bed to search for you.

“_____” He calls out again as he enters into the living room where he expects to find you on the floor, papers sprawled out in front of you, laptop on the coffee table and you furiously typing away and he’d probably have to drag you away from your work and into bed. You’ll insist that you’ll be finished in five more minutes but you both know that’s a lie. He’ll ask if you have eaten anything and you’d guiltily shake your head, so Haechan would head into the kitchen and make the bargain that you could work until he came back with food, then after you’d have to eat and join him in bed. But you’re not there.

Maybe you’re coming late from work, he thinks and makes his way back into the bedroom to call you. It rings once, twice, three times, four times, five times and then finally “Hello” Haechan smiles, “Hey Hyuck! Nah i’m just kidding, this is my voicemail loser! Leave me a message if it’s important, love you” You voice says back to him and no matter how annoying it is, Haechan can’t help but smile when he hears it. “I love you too” is all he leaves in his message.

There’s one more person to call when you go awol like this, head buried in work forgetting that there’s a life outside of that office of yours. “Hey Jaemin” Haechan says as the rings finally stop

“Hey hyuck” Jaemin’s words are careful, his voice solemn.

“Is ______ at the office still? It’s pretty late and I’m guessing you’re still there too because you’re just as bad as her” Haechan laughs but Jaemin stays quiet.

“No she’s not here.” Jaemin says softly after some time.

“That’s strange” Hyuck replies, a little worried.

“How about I come by?” Jaemin offers

“Sure?”

It’s close to midnight by the time the door rings and Haechan jumps up hoping you forgot your keys but once he swings the door open, his smile drops upon seeing Jaemin standing there instead.

“Come on, I’m not that bad” Jaemin offers a small smile. “How are you doing?” he asks, carefully

“I’m okay” Haechan says as he lets him, leading him into the living room, “worried where _____ is though, I called her parents but they just said I shouldn’t be alone right now and told me to drive down.” He shrugs confused.

“Maybe you should take that offer?” Jaemin lifts an eyebrow “or go to your parents, I know your mum wants you back”

“Maybe but they’re acting weird, I’m not sure what it is really” Haechan says as he drops onto the couch “I’ll talk about it with _____ and see if she wants to go this weekend” he yawns and at his words Jaemin grimaces.

“You want to spend the night at mine? Come on I insist” Jaemin pushes

“I’d love to but ______ isn’t home yet.”

“Hyuck” Jaemin sighs

“What?”

“_______ is dead.”

“I don’t know why you and Mark think this is funny but seriously this needs to stop” Haechan sighs

“Get up. Now!” Jaemin pull Haechan off the couch, “put your shoes and jacket on”

“Jaemin seriously I’m not going anywhere until ______ comes back”

“I’m taking you to her”

The drive was silent, Jaemin didn’t say where you were but Haechan got into the car without hesitation, it felt like years he’d spent away from you. The only sound that filled the silence was the splashing of rain against the surface of the car. The windshield wipers are relentless in their work, continuously wiping again and again but to no avail as the rain too is relentless.

Jaemin stops the car outside a graveyard and fear rises in Haechan “What are we doing here?” he asks in a panic but Jaemin doesn’t answer, instead turning to open the door he walks out and waits for Haechan to follow him. “Jaemin?” he calls out after him as he follows him through the rows of graves “Jaemin! Answer me!”

“No you listen to me!” He turns as he screams; rain drenching him, his hair sticks to his forehead. He grabs Haechan’s shirt, pulling him closer and turning him towards the headstone that reads __________, beloved daughter and wife. “She’s gone and she’s not coming back” Jaemin cries as he shakes him. Haechan stares at your name etched onto the stone and his mind swirls, his eyes blur and reality finally falls into place. He pushes Jaemin off of him, falls to his knees, and an ugly sob ripples through him.

“She’s gone hyuck but she wouldn’t want you to live like this. It’s time you accept it, to remember the amazing person she was and why you fell in love with her and then learn to live without her. You have to accept this so you can heal. Jaemin says as he falls beside Haechan, rubbing up and down his back - trying to comfort him.

“I can’t heal.” Haechan chokes out “I don’t want to”

"Grief is all that untold love that you have for her and you told her you loved her everyday. It's love being preserved" Jaemin whispers

And Haechan feels the cold settle in his bones, the rain washed off his face by the steady stream of tears. His throat closes up, his mind fills with fog and he goes dizzy. His heart stops beating

Denial is protection from the pain that follows after. When you finally come to terms with what has happened, finally comprehend the loss in your life; guilt rises up and eats your consciousness away. Your mind goes from delusion to fixation, constantly thinking about that day. What could have been different? How could you have stopped this? Who’s fault was this?

Stage two: pain and guilt

Haechan’s at Jaemin’s place tonight, the doctors advised it’s best not to be alone during difficult times. He doesn’t want to be constantly doted on by his mother, constantly asking if he was okay when she knew he wasn’t - impatient to see him heal. He couldn’t take up your parent’s offer, everything about that house reminds him of you, it was you; where you grew up, where he first kissed you, where he asked you to prom and where he asked you to marry him.

Under the apple tree at the far end of the garden, the swing your dad put up one summer still hanging onto the branches and it was after dinner with your parents. You sat on the swing as Haechan pushed you, he didn’t plan it and you hadn’t spoken about it but he knew in that moment with the moon breaking through your hair, the most beautiful smile on your face as you laughed at something stupid he had said, he knew this was it. You were the one. The question fell from his lips clumsily. “Will you marry me?” he sounded uncertain, as if he was asking himself and your laughter halted, you turned with eyes wide and glossy but when you asked “are you serious?” He didn't need time to think and he didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” he replied in an instant “will you marry me?” this time more confidently and you pressed your lips to him muttering a yes against him.

The memory burns him, the pit in his chest fills with fire and spreads throughout his body with an ache that leaves him paralysed. Jaemin is no better than his mother really, taking days off of work to look after Haechan, cooking his favourite food - constantly doting - but at least he doesn’t ask if Haechan is okay, if he’s feeling better or telling him that time heals all and that things will get better. Haechan doesn’t believe they will and Jaemin knows that.

“The doctors prescribed these for when you have” Jaemin pauses “ an episode” he places the capsule into the draw of the bedside table

“A manic episode” Haechan corrects him but Jaemin brushes it off

“It’s Sunday.” Jaemin says as he pulls the curtains back “You want to go to the florist and deliver ______ her flowers?” He smiles as the sun rays flood the room. Jaemin introduced Haechan to you, all the way back in middle school when Haechan was still a rambling mess when it came to talking to a pretty girl but Jaemin thought you two were made for each other - even back then. It was a Sunday morning and Jaemin had stayed over at Haechan’s convincing him to go out and pick a sunflower out of his mother’s garden, which he later got told off for but it was worth it when he delivered it to your door and you had taken it after placing a kiss on Haechan’s cheek. Every sunday after that Haechan would pick a sunflower to give to you, when you moved in together a vase of them was waiting for you on the kitchen counter. Every sunday.

Haechan only nods in response, no matter if the promise was death do us part, his love for you was alive and it was the only thing he was sure of.

Haechan has visited this florist countless times but this time he can’t seem to step foot inside, to see the people he’d see and speak to about you. The woman at the back who’d cut and arranged every bouquet he’d bought, who’d ask how you were? Her husband who assisted her, who had given Haechan advice for every time you would get into an argument and he’d come here to buy an apology flower, and their daughter at the till, who had given many bunches for free, saying she couldn’t capitalise on love.

“I can’t do it” Haechan turned to Jaemin

“Slow steps” He replied with a smile before stepping in, the small bell announcing his entrance and the daughter at the till suddenly straightened, her head looking towards the customer who had just entered and she greets Jaemin with a familiar smile and it pains Haechan, just how much of his life were you ingrained in? When Jaemin has been invited into the back to pick out the flowers he wants, she spots Haechan and she waves, a small smile painted across her face and he waves back. She picks a small bouquet of white chrysanthemums - symbol of death- and places them around a single sunflower.

And the bell announces her arrival, “I’m sorry for your loss” she says with a soft voice, her arm extended for Haechan to take the flowers. His vision blurs with tears but he focuses it enough for him to take them from her.

“Thank you” he says, choking on the lump that forms in his throat.

“You’re welcome” She mumbles but the sob escapes regardless and she wraps her arms around Haechan and he hugs her back, a small fraction of his pain reflected

“Tell her I said hi” she says before she heads back in, Jaemin waiting for her by the till.

“She refused to let me pay” Jaemin says as he steps out

“Of course she did,” Haechan smiles, wiping his cheeks and waving one last time through the window.

“Let’s go” Jaemin urges, leading the way.

“Hey ______” Jaemin says as he sits in front of your grave, pulling Haechan with him. “I brought Hyuck with me like I promised you last week and he bought you flowers like he promised he would.” he says, placing down his separate bouquet of flowers. “I miss you at work, everyone does but especially me. I miss talking shit about everyone with you, Renjun isn’t as fun. I miss driving you home and I miss seeing you smiling stupidly at my best friend” he laughs “I miss you” he mumbles. Haechan hasn’t seen Jaemin cry for you but he supposes it’s because of him he doesn’t but Jaemin can’t help the tears that drop, which he is quick to wipe away. “I’ll let the idiot speak to you now, I’m sure he has a lot to say” Jaemin stands and walks away to leave Haechan alone with you.

“I suppose I owe you an apology” Haechan says as he places the flowers down “I’m not taking this well but I suppose you know that. You always did say I’d be hopeless without you.” Haechan’s eyes begin to well with tears once more “I just can’t help wondering what if I had picked you up from work instead or what if your boss hadn’t kept you back an hour later.” His voice breaks “I just play that day out in my head and wonder what I could have done to stop it from happening or to at least stop it from happening to you.” he lets out a deep sigh and sniffles “I miss you so much ______. I love you so much. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just live on, when my life was supposed to be spent with you. I can’t. I can’t do this without you.”

Haechan joins Jaemin a while after and a silence fills in as guilt rises in Haechan, towards you and Jaemin. “You know” he starts off as Jaemin begins to walk ahead and he hums in encouragement for Hyuck to carry on, “you don’t need to hide your emotions because of me.” he says quietly, guilty “This must be hard for you too, you were her best friend too … you loved her too” Haechan says looking at the park across the road and there’s a long silence as if Jaemin is contemplating what to say next.

“I’m not hiding my emotions” he finally breaks the silence, “I’m not that considerate of you” he laughs and pauses. “Don’t feel guilty. You’re my best friend too and I love you too. I’m going to be here for you as long as you need” he smiles and it warms Haechan, the slightest glimmer of happiness but it’s almost instantly stopped out by guilt - that he could be happy without you.

“We should get everyone together” Jaemin says, “Just the guys. They’ve been dy-” he clears his throat “begging to see you” he corrects himself. “I didn’t let them because I thought you needed some time to yourself before you were suffocated in hugs” Jaemin let out a small laugh, looking to Haechan to read his expression.

“Thanks, I appreciate it” And Haechan really does, without Jaemin he probably would be sprawled out on his apartment floor, still looking for you. “And yeah, we should have them round”

When enough guilt builds up and you feel guilty for even hurting, for even feeling any pain because you’re alive. Your life wasn’t stolen from you. Because you’ve laughed and you haven’t lived every moment in dread and sorrow. When enough guilt has built up that you wish you were dead and then you feel guilty about that. That’s when the anger settles in.

Stage three: Anger

Haechan thought he was doing well. He thought he was getting better. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he could do this. Yet seeing all these faces, so familiar and so comforting just made it more clear that something was missing. Someone. He looks around the room to see Jisung and Chenle fighting over what movie to watch tonight and he could just imagine you ruffling their hair and telling them we could watch them both. He watches Jaemin cook with Jeno trying to assist and you’d tease him saying that he’s only by Jaemin’s side so he could eat whilst they cook. Renjun and Mark would be setting the table and you’d be helping, dragging Haechan up to go wash glasses to bring to the table. This was Haechan’s family.

But now sitting around the table with the empty seat beside him, where you would have sat. He doesn’t think he can do this anymore. Everyone laughs and talks as if nothing has changed and he’s sure they’re just trying to be normal but they do it so effortlessly. The only thing giving them away is their careful eyes, hovering over him and he hates them. Hates being watched like he’s in a cage in the zoo, just waiting for him to do something. He hates that they’re careful with what they say, not mentioning you but he would hate it if they did because the pain would burn brighter in his chest. He feels guilty that he doesn’t want them to have a good time, he feels guilty that he doesn’t want them to talk about you and celebrate you, he feels guilty that he feels at home when you’re not here and he feels guilty that he wishes he had died instead and it was you who had to live with this pain.

The noise is too much, the laughs are too much and they were all too much. “I can’t do this” Haechan whispers and no one seems to hear or notice. “I just can't,” he says a little louder and only Jaemin turns his head, a little concerned look on his face as if to ask if Haechan is okay and Haechan looks back hopeless and lost. “I can’t do this” He sobs and now all heads turn to him. The laughter stops, the noise falls into silence. The silence is too much.

Haechan grips onto his fork, knuckles turning white and he holds his lip in his teeth to bite back a sob and he draws blood, his teeth sinking in. He’s shaking and tears are already falling and they all look at him, stunned - wide eyed and shocked. As if he was something else. Haechan bangs his fists on the table, again and again as he chants “I can’t do this” and he gets louder and louder until he’s standing on his feet. “I CAN’T DO THIS!” he shouts, shaking.

Jaemin slowly makes his way to him, placing a hand around his shoulder. “It’s okay, slow steps” he whispers and it irks Haechan, sending his skin shivering as it crawls up his neck and into his ears. Slow steps is all he’s been hearing but he can’t even take those. He pushes Jaemin off him, hard enough to have him staggering back a little and then he punches him. Once, then twice and Jaemin doesn’t fight back and it pisses Haechan off more, so he tries to punch him again but someone’s caught his arm, pulling him off and pinning him down. He struggles against the arms pushing him down, kicking his legs and pulling away at the intense grip - he manages to break free. There's shouting and screaming, ringing in his ears and his eyes blur into white as the noise begins to fade. Silence; that is too much.

Haechan waves his arms around trying to find something. Anything. His fingers brush against something smooth, cold and he grabs it, water spilt down his arm. He smashes it against the floor again and again, beating it. The glass cuts through his skin, wedges itself in, water mixing with blood. More restraints pull at him, he punches blindly until one hits. Haechan screams as the noise finally floods back in, as his hands throb and his heart aches. A pill thrown in the back of his throat, water invading his mouth and he’s forced to swallow.

“No!” he pulls free once more, shoving two fingers down the back of his throat, retching to try and get the pill back out but his body goes lax, mind clears and eyes droop down.

There’s a bright white light burning into the back of Haechan’s eyelids, strong enough to wake him from his slumber. He has the urge to rub his eyes open but he can’t seem to move. His body is sore, tired and he can’t fight the restraints holding him down as his wrists are tied to the bed. Haechan’s in a hospital, he knows he is because he knows that smell - overly clean. He spent days in here, holding on to your hand, praying you’d wake up. He spent every night here, sleeping by your side because he couldn’t sleep without you at home.

“You’re awake!” An unfamiliar voice says “He’s awake!” their voice gets further and Haechan tries to move to sit up but his body won’t respond.

“Stop struggling” now that’s a voice Haechan recognises but not one he expected to hear anytime soon. The bed moves up with the click of the button and Haechan now sits up and can finally see Jaemin’s face. Bruised and slightly swollen, he has a few cuts - one by his lip and another by his eyebrow.

“I got you good” Haechan says in an awkward laugh, not knowing where their relationship stands now. Jaemin laughs too, deep and loud and it’s comforting to know that even after all this, Jaemin is still here beside him.

“I let you win, I didn’t fight back.” and Haechan knows that but he still says

“Didn’t or couldn’t” Haechan lifts a brow, smiling.

“Whatever. I look hotter like this, even got a nurse's number” he smiles back and Hyuck snorts as Jaemin waves around the small piece of paper.

An uncomfortable silence fills the room after the conversation dies and Haechan supposes he owes Jaemin an apology but he isn’t sure it’s enough. There’s still that anger that sits at the bottom of his stomach, embers coming to light and will burn his whole body again. Is there any point in asking for forgiveness when you know it’s going to happen again? And just as Haechan was about to open his mouth, Jaemin spoke first.

“Don’t apologise” he says calmly “we both know why it happened and it doesn’t excuse you being an asshole but I am going to be more understanding. I also told you that I’ll be here until you need me, so don’t think I’m going anywhere.” and Haechan smiles at his words, nodding slightly.

There’s a knock at the door interrupting the conversation, the doctor entering. “Hello, Mr. Lee. It’s nice to see you in better conditions.” “How long was I out for?”

“Three days” and Haechan’s eyes widen “Manic episodes tend to last for five day, sometimes more and sometimes less. We thought it was best to keep you under strong sedatives.” The doctor explains “we recommend you see a therapist to help with your grieving, we understand this is a difficult time for you but we hope to see you better and this seems like a good option. Consider it.” The doctor says before he leaves.

“You should” Jaemin says as the doctor walks out the room “just try it” he says when Haechan gives him a sceptical look “also your mum flew into the city” Jaemin warns as he gets up “She’s waiting outside. I didn’t let her in because I didn’t want you to get overwhelmed and we all know how she is but you know she loves me so she took to reasoning” Jaemin says in a smile “I’ll go get her”

And once you’re too tired to be angry anymore, you begin to bargain. Trying to find a way to make life a little more bearable, to subside the guilt and anger, to contain it. You look to cope.

Stage four: Bargaining and depression 

Haechan has moved back home, even after it was clear that Jaemin held no hard feelings; it just felt wrong to burden him with that again. Haechan was scared of himself, scared he’d lash out again and hurt Jaemin and just how many times is Jaemin going to take it. He’s scared of losing him too. Scared that Jaemin would fear him.

Also his mum had come into the city, Jaemin couldn’t house the both of them, though he insisted he’d sleep on the floor. The apartment still smelled like you and in a way it comforted him, you were home. Though Haechan’s mum immediately replaced that with the smell of her cooking and that was home too.

“Donghyuck” she called as he stared down at his phone, swiping through old pictures of the two of you, the therapist that Haechan had been seeing had suggested looking through them whenever he missed you, to live in those memories, a temporary solution to try and contain the manic episodes. Problem is, he missed you every waking second, he missed you in his dreams. “Hyuck!” she called again

“I’m coming!” he groans, feeling as if he was seventeen all over again.

Dinner was great, Haechan hadn't seen his mum in a few months and he felt as if he was in highschool, scolded and adored all at once. His mum was careful not to mention you but she loves reminiscing and you're in every story.

"Okay last story" she giggles and Haechan smiles as they sit with their plates empty in front of them.

"You said that two stories ago" he laughs "and I don't know who you're telling, I lived through them all"

"I know" she hums, moving around a few cold vegetables with her fork "but I love telling them and there isn't a whole lot of people to tell them too. And this one isn't even a proper story!"

"Last one." Haechan smiles

"Okay." She claps her hands "Remember when you were first dating _____" and she says it carefully but her excitement overrides it. Haechan loves watching her speak about you, the way his mother's eyes bright up and her lips just lift into a smile. She did always adore you.

"Of course" he smiles

"She gave you that nickname", Haechan, "and you refused to be called by anything else" she laughs "and back then I thought that it was childish love and you were being a young kid drunk on infatuation but then I met her and when she would say your name," Haechan's heart inflated at the memory, the way you would say haechan or hyuck was as if you gave it a whole new meaning. When you said his name it meant love, adoration and warmth.

"It was the way she spoke to you and the way you gave her all your attention. I knew from that moment that she'd shape who you were." And Haechan’s mum takes a deep breath trying to calm herself . "I must have sent you to go get something but it was just me and ______. All we spoke about was you. It was all she ever wanted to speak about with me" she snickers "she made me so proud of the man you were growing up to be, I just want to remind you that that amazing man was there before you met her." She smiles. "Anyway, it's getting late" she stands and takes both their plates, heading to the kitchen.

"You know mum," Haechan follows her with two glasses in hand "I'm pretty sure ______ fell in love with me because I was amazing" he grins

"You owe it all to me" she giggles

"I was gonna say, dad" and she hits the back of his head causing him to yelp "I'm kidding" he says as he braces for another hit.

"You better be" she scoffs and Haechan laughs, a true laugh and one he doesn't feel so guilty about. He kisses his mum on the cheek "Goodnight" he wishes her before they both separate into their rooms.

Haechan's phone rings as soon as he closes the door behind him, as if on cue. "Hey" Haechan says as he presses the phone against his ear.

"Hey" Jaemin, sounds too enthusiastic for eleven pm "how are you doing?" He asks carefully and this is how it is. Straight after breakfast, Mark will call to check how Haechan is feeling - if he isn't feeling too well then Jisung will call in less than ten minutes for him to hop online and play with him, that would keep him busy until late afternoon. Jeno would then call quickly, followed by Renjun, who's phone calls always seem to last longer than necessary. Then Chenle would either show up with dinner or ask to go out, if he's busy he'll just drop in a few texts. Then finally once the day is done, Jaemin calls to make sure everything is okay. Haechan appreciates it he really does, having such a supportive and caring friend group but he feels like he's on a twenty four hour watch. Everyone waiting for another episode. Everyone, trying to catch the signs to make sure they can stop it.

"I'm good. Played basketball with Chenle and kicked Jisung's ass in overwatch again." And Jaemin laughs

"Go easy on the kid, let him win sometimes"

And Haechan blows air out of his lips and scoffs "As if. It's not a win, if I let him"

"Is this coming from the same person who claims they beat the shit outta me when i wasn't even fighting back" and Haechan goes quiet "I thought so" Jaemin snickers. "Anyways I was just checking in. How's your mum by the way?"

"She's good. Loves being with me obviously"

"Obviously" Haechan can practically hear Jaemin roll his eyes. "You thought about going back to work?"

"Maybe?" He says uncertain "I'm not so sure though"

"Slow steps" Jaemin says in a yawn

"We should head to bed" Haechan whispers remembering the time

"We should. I'll call again tomorrow, night"

"Night" Haechan says before hanging up. Sighing, he falls on the bed and closes his eyes. He sees you.

Figure laying beside him, hair messy and intertwined between his fingers. He pulls at it and you moan, leaning closer towards him and hungrily capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. Your eyes are hooded as you climb on top of him - sheltering his body with your own. Everything fades as you bring your lips back to his once more, warmth engulfing him, every cell in his body shivering with fuzzy pleasure. Your hands roam lower, down his chest and abdomen, he bites his bottom lip holding on to his last bit of sanity. But he’s going over the edge as the euphoria has his eyes rolling back as you wrap your lips and make their way down his body. He’s shivering and begging for more. It’s too much and not enough. Your touch is ice but his body reacts like fire, a fever burning its way down his body. He is stickenly in love with you. His eyes roll back as your mouth makes your way around him. His breathing shallows, his mind scrambles as he holds onto the back of your head. Thrusting up, faster, harder as he meets you in the middle. He watches you worshipping him between his legs, tongue swirling and pulling him to the edge and his mind is reeling to hold on. Just a little bit longer. Only to stay with you for a few more minutes.

So he pulls you up, lips meeting once more with your tongues fighting against each other, teeth clashing. He presses himself into you as if to hope he can find home in your skin, bruising your lips and taking all the air from your lungs. You position yourself on top of him, fast and rapid movements bringing you both to a euphoric trance and Haechan’s eyes are closed. He can hear you, soft moans finding their way out of you. He can feel you, tight and warm wrapped around him. Smell you, the addictive smell of your body he presses his face into the side of your neck as he meets you halfway. “open your eyes” you say softly in his ears and he shakes his head. “Open them Hyuck, look at me” you moan louder.

And when Haechan finally pries his eyes open, the room is empty and the white sticks to his abdomen and palm.

Haechan flinches at the sight coating him, he withers in the after lasting pleasure and shivers with slight disgust at himself but he can’t help that his body yearns for yours. His body itches with desire, aggravated within its own skin and seeking only your soothing touch or your melodic voice.

He needs just a part of you.

He holds the phone to his ear. One ring. He knows it won’t go through but for a moment he’ll let himself pretend. Two rings. That you’ll pick up, all excited and happy; ready to tell him about your day or how much you miss him. Three rings. Even if you don’t pick up he’ll hear your voicemail anyways.

Four rings.

Five.

Six.

Sev-

“Hyuck?”

and Haechan can’t breathe. His lungs have ceased their ability to pull in air, and no matter how hard he tries to inhale they’re already full. Yet his mind spins, his eyes spot with black.

“Hyuck” you call out again “breathe”

But he doesn’t. He can’t.

“Haechan” your voice comes out strangled, broken and scratchy. “We’re running out of time” you warn, impatient. “Answer me!” The voice comes out deep, a ringing in the back and goosebumps make the way to the surface of Haechan’s skin.

“Yes” he gulps past the lump in his throat, getting air in his lungs finally.

“Save me” your voice returns, slow and loving. “You can save me”

“How?” Haechan doesn’t hesitate, “I need you ______” he begs, tears already dropping down his face. “I can’t live on in this suffering” sobs breaking through, he’s hunched over and saliva drips onto his hand as he holds it over his mouth. He shudders and sniffles, face contorted in pain.

“Death is the release of all suffering” you say, voice slightly distorted. “but we were never suffering. You can bring me back.”

Haechan stills.

Reality is shocking. After so long being stuck within your pain, your feelings and in your head, it feels like being splashed with cold water. The reality is, death will always have a presence in life. It is the only thing in life that is promised.

Stage five: 

“I feel great!” Haechan is sitting opposite Mark and Jaemin at a coffee shop downtown. It’s been a while since he went out and he almost missed his favourite time of the year. Spring. The time for new beginnings and life. Haechan was ready. “I’m going back to work soon, I’ve been thinking about it”

“That’s great dude” Mark smiles

“And I think I’m gonna go through ________’s stuff too”

“You sure?” Jaemin asks

“Yeah I think it’s time”

“You can take more time you know hyuck” Mark says

“I know but I feel like I’ve already taken up so much time and it’s time to finally move forward” Haechan sighs and the conversation stills, Jaemin and Mark clearly have something to say but fidget and side eye each other uncomfortably. “I’m gonna head back home” Haechan announces, this conversation coming to a statement, and him not having the energy to hash out problems.

“Sure” Mark says awkwardly “bye”

“I’ll walk with you” Jaemin gets up

The walk is silent. Haechan can feel Jaemin staring at him, eyes heavy on his figure. He doesn’t say anything because everything feels like a test, if he’s going to break or not. Haechan is sick of failing but not too confident in his words. He also doesn’t want to lash out at Jaemin.

“Are you okay?” Jaemin breaks the silence

“Great” Haechan says through closed teeth

“Yeah seems so” Jaemin says but an underlying tone confuses Haechan.

“What does that mean?” It’s comes out more aggressive than Haechan intended

“You seem happy”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Jaemin takes time to respond, silent until they finally reach Haechan’s apartment complex. “Sorry.” He apologises first “it is a good thing, I’m just being over cautious” he laughs awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“Don’t worry about me anymore”

“I’ll always worry. Especially now that your mums gone back home”

“Worry about me less” Haechan pats his shoulder “thanks for everything over these past few months, I’m sorry and I love you” Haechan doesn’t specify what he’s apologising for but Jaemin can take a guess.

“It’s what friends are for” Jaemin shrugs “love you too” he says taking him into a hug and Haechan melts into his embrace, eyes watering up but he blinks them away.

“Bye” Haechan breathes out and Jaemin waves walking away.

The house is empty. The blinds are drawn. There’s a faint lining of ash along the floor and along the windowsill candles burn low. Haechan takes off his shirt and slumps down onto the floor. He breathes in deep before taking the knife and slashing it against his palms. Digging his fingers into the wound, he dips them in blood and drags his finger along the floor to paint a pentagram. He places a candle on each point, and lights them.

Haechan begins slashing more skin, blood dripping and merging with his painting until the neat drawn out lines are slighting blurring together. He walks back towards the kitchen, grabbing at coal by the stove. The black rock is coated in his blood. He places it on the fire. He turns back towards the pentagram.

He sits and waits. His head spinning and throbbing. He sees you emerging from the fire, screaming and crying as you reach out a hand for him to reach and he does. Heat kicking away at his skin, he smells his skin melting away. He hears you calling him, your sweet voice taking his mind off the pain. His stomach lurches, his chest tightens as he comes closer. His legs smear at the blood as he sits within the pentagram, both hands I’ve the fire of two candles, the other knocked over and holding their flames against him.

He begins to wretch and gag, bile rising up and saliva flooding his mouth. He spills the contents of his stomach out onto himself. He heaves and retches again and again, falling to his side, spreading along the floor turning pink as it mixes with the blood. His eyes are heavy, he no longer knows where he is, he sees you smiling. He sees a younger you in middle school, still shy and still only talking to Jaemin. He sees you in highschool, more confident and still radiant as you giggle at whatever stupid thing he said, he sees you ok that swing looking up at him the moon beaming on your face. His mind goes blank, his body goes lax.

Death is the release of all suffering.

a/n: thank you for reading until the end! It been a long long time since I have put something out (I feel like I've come back from the dead) I do hope to write and put out a lot more this year and do have a lot planned but I won’t say much else bc I'm bad at sticking to my word. Sorry this one is disturbingly depressing but happy hyuck soon! Thank you once again for reading my writing <3

© (heartshyuck) 2023. All Rights Reserved.

[theladybarnes]

CHERRY BOMB: CHAPTER TEN

"Just the facts!”

▸ summary: the gang is here, ready to move. but there’s time for one more talk.. ▸ characters: the party ft. the adults ▸ word count: 4.3k         ▸ warnings: angst, lots of talking, and 🩷 ▸ series masterlist

The mall filled up with the sounds of El’s screaming. Full of pain and fear, El couldn’t help but squirm beneath your hold, trying to get away from the pain on her limb. Her hand reached out to grip your hand and you nearly yelped from the pain of her grip.

 “What is that?” Erica gasped, looking closer to the wound. There was a gross squelching sound and you can’t help but frown down at the wound.

 “There’s something in there!” Mike called out.

 “We can’t just sit here and watch, we gotta do something!” you cried, watching as whatever was inside began to squirm even more. 

 “Keep her talking. Keep her awake, okay?” Jonathan exclaimed as he climbed up from the floor. You watched over your shoulder as he dashed over towards the stores in the food court. Looking down, you noticed as El had started to struggle keeping her eyes open. Possibly giving into the blinding pain going through her.

 “Hey, hey, hey. Stay awake.“Stay awake.” Mike urged before he glanced up to you and Dustin. “Let’s get her on this side, on this side.” Carefully the three of you moved El around so that you could help her lay against Mike’s chest. 

 “You know, it’s not actually that bad.” stuttered a nervous Robin. “There was ahh..the goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire. This other girl slid into her leg, and the whole bone came out of her knee, six inches or something, it was insane.”

 All of you glanced up at the babbling girl with either perplexed or annoyed faces. “Is this really happening right now?” you asked aloud. Unsure how to even reply to the piece of information she suddenly shared.

 “Robin.” Steve called out, gaining her attention.

 “Yeah?”

 “You’re not helping.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 Thankfully Jonathan returned back to the group. Wooden spoon, plastic glove, and large cutting knife in his hands. He peeked a glance at you, before he shook his head. “You might wanna look away from this.” Dustin reached out to take over holding the girl’s hand, letting you push away from what was going to be a gross mess. No one here needed to see you getting sick or fainting all from being too close to the action.

 “All right, El? This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?”

 “Okay.” she sobbed out, looking in such an immense amount of pain.

 “Need you to stay real still.” he said calmly as he slipped on the plastic gloves. “Here, you’re gonna want to bite down on this, okay?”

 “Jesus Christ.” Dustin panicked, watching as Mike took the wooden spoon from Jonathan and helped place it inside El’s mouth for her to bite down on. You felt your stomach turn for the worse. Anxiety building up only higher when you watched as Jonathan held the knife right above the wound on her leg. 

 “Okay, try not to hit an artery or something.” you gulped looking over at Jonathan.

 “Holy shit. Holy shit.”  Dustin muttered at that.

 “Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Henderson.” Jonathan glared before he shook his head. 

 There’s a tick of a pause before he glanced around the group. Somewhat in disbelief of what he was about to do. Mike quickly brought him back to focus. “Do it.” he encouraged, bracing El against him.

 The rest of the group can only watch in horror as he slid the knife down the shin of her leg. Nasty thick blood oozed out from the wound as El cried out against the wood. Sounding the worst she has so far. 

 Once Jonathan managed to get a deep enough cut, he dropped the knife to his side. Looking a little bit squeamish himself as he slowly brought a gloved hand over the wound. Even though you have a pretty good idea of what he was about to do. Nothing could prepare you for the sight of seeing his fingers slip inside. 

 Everyone gasped out loud, following El’s screaming as your friend attempted to pull out whatever was squirming beneath her skin. To your right you watched as most of the kids stared in shock while the ever sympathetic Will burst into tears. Unable to bear hearing his friend in pain.

 “Jonathan!” Nancy panicked, watching as his attempts turned futile.

 “Stop talking!” he barked back, keeping his focus.

 He eventually moved too roughly, making El spit out the wooden spoon from her mouth. Begging for him to stop. Everything felt too intense and you turned your body away, feeling like you couldn’t see another second. Steve, who you didn’t even know was crouched behind you, helped pull you up from the floor. Letting you shield your gaze against his shoulder.

 “Stop, stop!” El cried behind you. “I can do it.” she whimpered. Her voice was so small and so scared that it brought an ache to your chest. You turned slowly, keeping close to your cover as you watched El sit herself up.

 Though she was slightly wobbly, she managed to get up enough that she could stretch her arm out over her leg. Letting her hand raise just above the wound. You reached down to Steve’s arm, gripping tight as you braced for what she would do next. 

 The poor girl began to cry out in pain again, and while she was screaming for God, you all watched as whatever was stuck in there began to squirm again. The squelching of her skin and blood louder than ever as she used her powers to drag it out. 

 All around you the air became intense, almost vibrating with every yell that fell past El’s lips. It got so intense in fact, that the glass walls of the stores around the group shattered at her long guttural cry. 

 For a moment she raised up what looked like a slug. Dangling it in the air before she shot it across the room. The creature crawled away for a few steps before a hard boot stamped down on top of it. It would seem the final members of the party had finally arrived. 

  The group migrated over towards the familiar fountain you had spent so many days on this summer. Catching up the adults and the scoops team with the events that had happened while you guys were all away. Robin, who was still very confused and most likely tired, had moved in to lean against your back at the fountain. At this point, you couldn’t help but feel the same sentiments as her. Wondering just how a thirty foot monster, as Jonathan claimed, managed to be unseen by most of the residents of Hawkins.

 “Okay, so just to be clear, this..this big fleshy spider thing that hurt El, it’s some kind of gigantic..weapon?” Steve asked, possibly just as lost as you and Robin felt. 

 “Yes.” Nancy said quickly.

 “But instead of, like, screws and metal, the Mind Flayer made its weapon with melted people.” 

 “Yes, exactly.” Nancy replied again, sounding tired.

 “Yeah, okay.” he said slowly. “I–Yeah, I’m just making sure.” he peeked over his shoulder to give you a familiar tired look. All you could do is give a half shrugged reply.

 “Are we sure this thing is still out there, still alive?” Joyce asked skeptically. 

 “El beat the shit out of it, but, yeah, it’s still alive.” Max confirmed. You glanced over to El who was being nursed silently in Hopper’s arms. Her poor face was tired and defeated. Possibly from all the hard work she’s done in the day.

 “But if we close the gate again..” Will started to suggest.

 “We cut the brain off from the body.” Max continued for him before Lucas finished.

 “And kill it..theoretically.”

 While the idea seemed like the smartest thing for the group to do. There were a couple of other factors this time that made it a little bit hard. Like El being practically out of commission this time. 

 “Yoo-hoo!” yelled a deep voice from down the mall. The sweaty bald man from before came running back towards the group. Flailing around papers in his hands. He walked past the group of kids to go over to one of the tables. Hopper gently removed El from his side, getting up with a tired groan to the table with the other man. Joyce was a step behind, moving to sit down on one of the chairs. 

 “Okay, this is what Alexei called ‘the hub’.” he said out of breath. “Now, the hub takes us to the vault room.”

 “Okay, where’s the gate?” asked Hopper as he peered down the poor drawing.

 “Right here. I don’t know the scale on this, but I think it’s fairly close to the vault room, maybe fifty feet or so.”

 “More like five hundred.” Erica suddenly said, stepping forward. The balding man stared a bit taken back by her interruption. “What, you’re just gonna waltz in there like it’s commie Disneyland or something?”

 “I’m sorry, who are you?” the man asked calmly. 

 “Erica Sinclair. Who are you?”

 “Murray..Bauman.” 

 The name sparked a sudden reminder to you. Where had you heard that name before? Glancing around, you tried to figure out if anyone knew who this guy was until you caught eyes with Jonathan. For some reason he was giving you his regular pleading look, almost when he’s usually trying not to get you to speak out on something.

 “Listen, Mr. Bunman, I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down in that shithole for twenty-four hours. And with all due respect, you do what this man tells you, you’re all gonna die.” she said, warning the other two adults. Hopper couldn’t help but stare down at Erica curiously.

 “I’m sorry, why is this four-year-old speaking to me?” scoffed Murray. 

 “Um, I’m ten, you bald bastard!”

 “Erica!” Lucas chided.

 “Just the facts!”

 “Facts.” you repeated, slowly getting up from your spot. “Wait a damn minute!” The group slowly watched as you made your way over to the table. “You’re that pervy investigative journalist that Jonathan told me about!” 

 Murray turned pale a bit. Eyes shifting over between you and the other two adults beside him as he quickly shook his head. “Do me a favor and keep your thoughts and alcohol to yourself. If you actually listen to the kid’s idea, you guys might just make it through this alive.” you frowned, pushing Erica behind you a bit to keep her distance from the man.

 “Well, now hold just a moment.” He choked out. “That’s not what–“.

 “She’s right.” Dustin cut in. “About the listening part at least. You’re all gonna die, but don’t have to.” He inched forward to the table. Before he glanced up to Murray. “Excuse me.” he cleared his throat. “Sorry, may I?” he pointed.

 “Please.” Murray said bitterly. 

 Dustin and Erica moved to sit down on the other open chairs, leaning in closer to look at the plans that had been drawn out. “Okay, see this room here?” he asked, circling the paper with a pencil. “This is a storage facility. There’s a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system.” He continued to drag the pencil across the paper until he got what looked like the machine that was attempting to get the gate open. “That will lead you to the base of the weapon. It’s a bit of a maze down there, but between me and Erica, we can show you the way.”

 Wait, what did he just say?

 “You can show us the way?” Hopper asked slowly. 

 “Don’t worry, you can do all the fighting and the dangerous hero shit, and we’ll just be your navigators.” 

 “No.” Hopper said simply, giving you a small bit of relief. 

 “For once I am with the old bastard.” you sighed, moving to place a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “I am not about to let either one of you go back down there with all those damn Russians again.”

 “Seriously?” Dustin asked looking up at you. “But we know the place! We were able to find you and get the three of you out of there.” He frowned, glancing at the two scoopers. 

 “It’s a no, sorry.” you shrugged, not really budging on the matter. Hopper looked over at you, seemingly the same for once before he turned back to Dustin. Shaking his head with a small shrug.

 “Nope.”

 Everyone sort of dispersed into different areas after the failed meeting. Each of you trying to settle down for a moment while the adults seemed to figure out what the next step could be without involving the kids. You took the chance to give yourself a moment to wander off alone. 

 After the crazy past two days, you were sort of relieved to have the chance to have a minute where you didn’t have to worry about escaping out of the elevator or secret base. But it wasn’t too long until your brain caught up to the other situations you were in. 

 You’ve managed to find yourself leaning against the counter of the Great Cookie. A haunting reminder of the fact that the five of you had been there just minutes ago where you were most likely going to be killed off. 

 The memory of Steve looking over at you came back in your mind. Was he just as ready to embrace what happened next? Was that final shared glance something more between you two or just parting looks to someone he knew?

 “I see your overthinking face has come back.”

 Looking up from your lap, you watched as Steve slowly made his way over to you. Thankfully the swolleness in his eye looked a little better. Giving you the chance to look into his warm eyes again. 

 “It’s been a long day.” you managed to muster up eventually. “Or week should I say.”

 “The week is long.” he drawled out, using his best Russian accent. When you didn’t laugh, he moved over to stand beside you against the counter. Watching you carefully before he extended his hand out, palm side up. “How are you holding up?”

 You don’t take his hand into yours, choosing to cross your arms over your chest. It hurt too much to seek comfort in Steve again after what you were just thinking. You hated that despite being so unsure of how he felt, you still sought out to be comforted by him. 

 It would be best to push away that urge from now on. Especially after everything you had seen. But still, you can’t help but speak out at least what you were just muddling over. “We almost died..” you whispered, keeping your gaze down on the ground. “There were so many moments I thought I was going to..”

 “Be killed?” he tried to finish when your voice had drifted off. You slowly shook your head, meeting his gaze again.

 “Lose you.” you finished. 

 Steve’s breath shuddered at that and he again tried to reach out to you but you hopped off from the counter to pace while you worked out the emotions suddenly pulling out. “I heard you, you know?” you said softly. “When they were hurting you..they made me listen and..I-I kept hearing how much pain you were in.” There’s a water sting to your eyes that you quickly wipe away. 

 “Honey..” Steve said, sounding a little choked up. 

 “I’ve never heard you sound so scared and so..broken.” you interrupted, not sure what he could even say to make it all better. “It was like being in my own personal hell.”

 He stayed silent this time. Only taking a small tentative step closer. 

 “Then I found out you’re alive and I felt hope again. Despite almost being taken out, I was just happy that the kids and you guys were alive. It motivated me to keep going.” You slowly made your way towards him. Watching as his hands flexed at his sides. “We found you guys both so drugged out of your minds.”

 “So out of it.” he chuckled a bit.

 “But it just brought the two of you closer..right?” 

 He seemed to think it over, not realizing how much his answer would affect you. “I think we’re pretty damn close now. It kinda happens when you go through what she and I did.” There’s an amused sort of smile on his face. Possibly with whatever memory he’s recalling, but you can’t help but feel it break your heart a bit. 

 You brought your hand up again to wipe away the fallen moisture from your eyes. Embarrassed that your worst assumptions were slowly becoming true. Steve didn’t owe you anything this summer. Not his feelings, not his friendship, nothing. 

 “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, trying to reach out for you again.

 “I’m okay.” Clearing your throat, backing up enough that you could look into his eyes. Ignoring the worry that was clearly evident now. “I just can’t wait to get out of this mall. I’m kind of sick of this place.”

 He gave you a sad small smile as he nodded his head sympathetically. “Yeah, me too.”

 “But at least you got something out of it, right?” While your heart felt like it was breaking, you’d do one last thing as a friend for Steve. Give him the chance to go for something that might actually be good for him.

 “I’m not sure I follow.” he frowned, looking at you curiously. 

 “You got the right girl for once.” pointing over to where Robin had been resting.

 Steve’s eyes widened at your words, looking taken back before he followed to where you were pointing to. “Wait, what?” he gaped. But you quickly shake your head, reaching out finally to place your hands on top of his.

 “Steve, it’s okay.” you reassured him. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know you like Robin.” 

 “Like Robin? What are yo–”

 “I know that you guys have gotten close. She’s cute, funny, and smart. Anyone would like her. And I-I promise, I won't be mad. I’ll stay out of the way, find some other guy to be a bitch to and just let you finally move on.” The words felt heavy and you tried your best not to let yourself fall apart. But if there was another second that you guys might be in danger again. You wanted to give Steve the chance to be with the girl that he actually likes for once and not stand in the way.

 “Now wait just a second.” Steve started, but you held up a hand, pulling yourself away from Steve’s side. 

 “I know that what we had was just friends being close and having fun. I’ll still be your friend. But you have the chance to be with the right girl for once.” Looking over at Robin one more time, you watched as the girl glanced at where you two were. A confused look etched on her face. 

 “There’s still time to tell her.”

 You were about to take a step over to bring the girl over when Steve’s hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back to his side so fast that you stumbled into his arms. He didn’t say anything as he brought his hand up to cup the side of your face. Rubbing the pad of his thumb gently over your cheek before he pressed his lips against yours.

 The kiss was so deep and so..passionate. It had your whole body melting against him. And while you were just wanting to go make sure these two got together, you couldn’t stop yourself as you kissed him back with just the same amount of passion. Bringing a hand up to curl around the base of his neck as to bring him closer.

 When you’re both in need of air, Steve was the first to pull back. But not stopping himself from pecking over your lips and face as he panted softly. “How could you not see it?” he asked with a heavy breath.

 “See what?” you whispered, pulling your face back to look at his. There was a hard furrow to his brow, as if he were confused. 

 “See that I’m already with the right girl.” Reaching down for your hands, he brought them up to his lips. Pressing kisses against your finger tips before he placed them to rest down on his chest. Making you feel his quick heartbeat. “How can you be so smart but not see at all that I am completely, head over heels in love with you?”

 Your jaw slacked as you stared wide eyed at Steve. “..What?”

 “I’ve loved you for a while now. And it sucked having to pretend that I don’t.” he sighed with a head shake. “I hated seeing other guys flirt with you and get to hang out with you when it should have been me you do stuff with. I also hated flirting with other girls and acting like I gave a damn about what they were doing when all I wondered was what you were up to. And I especially hated kissing you one night, holding you in my arms but not being able to do something simple as hold your hand the next day.”

 The memory of a drugged up Steve being so happy to simply holding hands came to your mind. Was it really like this the whole time? It’s been so long since the Snowball dance and you were so sure he’d never see you as anything but a friend. 

 “But..you never made a move! You wanted us to be friends!”

 Stepping closer, he leaned down enough that he could press his forehead against yours. “You know what was the one thing I couldn't shut up about this whole summer? You. All I could mention and think about is you. And whatever you think was happening between me and Robin? There’s nothing because I love you and I want you.”

 “I’m sorry to press in on a time like this.” 

 The two of you glanced to your right to find a nervous Robin had stepped forward. “I don’t like Steve! I like him as a friend, but I don’t LIKE him.” she said quickly, eyes shifting between the two of you before she focused back onto your face. “Honestly, I think I'd like you more than I'd ever like Steve in that way.” 

 You can’t help but feel a little confused by her reply, but nodded your head anyway. Trying to wrap your head around what they were both saying. “I’m sorry, it's just..the hand holding, the bathroom, and just everything. I felt like I was probably stepping in the way of something good from happening.”

 “Something good did happen.” Robin admitted, stepping over to gently slap at Steve’s shoulder. “But it’s just me realizing that maybe Steve Harrington is a pretty good schmuck.”

 Steve, who had been looking down at you with a small smile, finally turned back to Robin, motioning his head towards where she had been standing before. “I got this.” He reassured her softly. 

 She got the hint and gave a small thumbs up, making a turn to go back before she stopped suddenly. She had taken only one step before swiftly turning around so that she could lean in close to you and wrap you in a quick hug. “He wouldn’t stop telling me how much he liked you in that bathroom by the way.”she whispered into your ear before she pulled back with a small grin. “Just thought you should know.”

 Once she was back to her original spot, you turned to give Steve your attention again. Again his dark eyes are staring down at you with such warmth and love to them. You felt like slapping yourself for not realizing his feelings sooner. 

 Reaching up to cup the back of his neck, you pulled him down and gently pressed your lips on his once more. Needing to give back some of the love you’ve been holding back. He happily kissed back. Lips curling into a smile against yours while he draped his arms around your sides, pulling you tightly to his chest. 

 “In case you can’t tell from my kiss,” you whispered, nose nudging lightly against his. “I love you, too.”

 The confession had him grinning ear to ear as he lightly shook his head. Almost in disbelief before he decided to pepper your face with kisses. It brought out a giggle from you, and it wasn’t until you reached out to cup the sides of his face that you managed to pause his love attack. 

 But that didn’t falter Steve at all. He only looked at you with the same goofy grin as he rubbed his hands at your sides. Soaking in the moment he seemed to have been waiting for. “I love you so much.” he chuckled softly, leaning in once more before the sound of someone clearing their throat cut in.

 “Finally.” 

 “GROSS.”

 Behind you, was a very smug looking Jonathan and a shocked Dustin with his arms crossed over his chest. “Sorry to cut in but we uh, we got a plan.” Jonathan said with a clap to Dustin’s back. “If you guys are done stating the obvious already.”

 You tried to glare over at your friend for his teasing and make him feel bad for ruining the moment. But even from where you stood, you could tell by Jonathan’s eyes that there was a small happy look to what he was seeing.

 “We’ll be right there.” you called out, watching as Jonathan gave you an approved nod. He silently helped remove the upset Dustin. Giving you and Steve just one last bit of privacy. The poor boy could only point in disapproval over at the two of you as he was dragged off. 

 “Where were we?” Steve asked softly, gripping at the tip of your chin. You happily closed your eyes, leaning in for one more kiss. But not without hearing one last reaction from your cousin. 

 “I can’t believe this. My stupid cousin and my stupid friend together?”

 “You really didn’t expect this to happen, Henderson?”

 “I mean..no not really.”

 “Seriously? Why not?”

 “I never thought Steve would make a move...”

A/N: THEY DID IT KIDS! THEY FINALLY DID THE THING. DIFJSDFJKSD IT’S BEEN HOW MANY CHAPTERS?! Hope you guys enjoy it 🩷

[tehaxo]

hii can i please request kaeya & thoma (separate) with an s/o who gets emotional and maybe tears up a bit when they see the boys making breakfast for them for the first time. s/o has struggled a lot with loneliness and the realization that maybe they won't be alone anymore makes them emotional, tysm

oooh!!! this is super cute oh my GODD!! <3 im not sure if u were asking for HCs but i decided to make mini one shots/drabbles for them both!

pairing: kaeya x gn!reader, thoma x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: enjoy it! tysm for requesting 💞 sorry for taking so long, i was procrastinating horribly… i ended up making reader be full on crying tears since it makes more sense and for some reason ended up writing a shit ton for thoma 💀

KAEYA — ❄️

You were always tossed aside and left alone, you were used to it. But that doesn’t mean you never felt pain from being lonely, you hated it a lot. You couldn’t do anything about it, not until you came across Kaeya. As cliche as it sounds, he helped you become the person you were now.

Kaeya helped you with your confidence and introverted personality, introducing you to his friends. Naturally, you became friends with them as well. You were so grateful to be dating a great person like him.

You woke up with Kaeya, not at your side, and you panicked since he didn’t usually leave without a word. You had a few irrational fears and were a huge overthinker. So you rushed out of bed in hopes of finding Kaeya still home. You stepped out of your room and the panic left your system as the fresh aroma of food was in the air, you inhaled it in then smiled in relief. He was still home.

You quickly freshened up and made your way to the kitchen, you felt your heart racing. Your boyfriend stood in front of the stove, his hair was in a pretty low braid. The morning sun shined on him, making him look more angelic than ever.

You snuck behind him and wrapped your arms around him, Kaeya tensed at your touch but he realized it was you and then relaxed. “I see you finally decided to wake up, eh? You were in a deep sleep and you looked so cute, I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up,” he teased and he set his hand on your arm, he smiled as felt warm in your embrace.

You stayed quiet, and all of your memories flashed into your mind. How you were treated, and how alone you were. The negative thoughts which you thought would never end, but you were proven wrong. You now had a reason and escaped that tunnel of darkness. The light that saved you was in your arms.

All the emotions exploded in your heart and your eyes teared up, you finally knew that you weren’t alone. Your arms tightened around Kaeya and he let out a small laugh, “I see you missed me in your sleep!” He continued to laugh until he heard your small sniffles, he tried to turn around to look at you but you still held tight.

“You okay, my love?” His hand caressed your arm and he felt your head nod against his back. He turned off the stove as he continued to hear your silent sobs, he didn’t say another word. His hand set onto yours and intertwined with it gently.

“I’m sorry for crying like this, this is all so foreign to me. I’ve never had anything like this. I’ve never had someone so caring and loving as you by my side. My dream was to not be alone, and you made it come true. I kept on dreaming, unrealistically. Though, they all came to be true all because of you. Thank you, my love, thank you so much. I love you Kaeya.”

You said still holding onto him from behind, the love dripping off of your words like honey. It was so sweet and strong. It sparked an ignition deep in his heart, what he thought died long ago. He finally turned around and brought you close to him, he leaned down onto your shoulder; a shaky sigh slip past his lips.

“I have no words, sweetheart… I love you so much too. I would do anything that makes you happy for you. You’re going to be stuck with me forever. I hope you’re fine with that,” Kaeya held on for dear life, his arms around you in a lock.

He got emotional at your sweet words, it caught him off guard in the best way possible. You smile through your tears, and with another quick nod you sobbed out,

“Stuck with you? Forever? I’m perfect with that.”

THOMA — 🍡

Thoma was quite the pursuer, it might not seem like it but he can be determined at times. He conquered your heart by being persistent, and patient. He had always noticed you alone, going to the same shop he did, daily. You caught his attention and curiosity, even when he didn’t need to buy more groceries he visited just to see you.

He wasn’t alone in this, you also noticed him. Though you ignored him and your insane attraction to him. (At least you thought it was insane). No matter, because he constantly approached you and had strict convos with you.

You didn’t have much of friends, but you never made an effort to make any. You had accepted you would be lonely for a while, but you weren’t against it. That being said, it also hurt at times when you needed someone. But you couldn’t blame anybody else but yourself.

That started to fade away once Thoma tried to be your friend. You felt fine being alone but now you’ve interacted with someone genuinely you wanted more. You needed more. So you gave in and became acquainted with Thoma.

It started with small talks here and there, to him walking you home. Then Thoma greeted you at your door at night, with food he made for you. You guys grew closer and closer as all the months passed, at that point you were also familiar with the Kamisato siblings.

Not only that, he successfully made you his own. He was so happy to have you and to be yours. You felt just as lucky.

You were in a deep slumber, and Thoma had invaded your house. He wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, you haven’t been able to eat well due to being busy recently. He was concerned for your health, so he decided he’d make you the tastiest meal ever.

Tray in hand, he walked steadily into your room. He set it on your table and sat next to you on your bed, he smiled at you sleeping peacefully. He made you lay on your back and gave kisses all around your face to wake you up.

“Wake up, i made you breakfast~ I don’t want it to get cold!”

He tapped on your temple gently and with that, you were now awake. Your eyes opened slowly and you saw the figure of Thoma, you smiled lightly and then lazily reached your arms out.

He happily went into your embrace, he held you then nuzzled into your neck. “Good morning Thoma,” you groaned out and wrapped your arms around him. He slipped out of the hug and made you sit up. He reached over to your table and grabbed the tray carefully.

You rubbed your eyes and stared at the food he set in front of you. “I made all of your favorite food, I know you’ve been working hard these days so I wanted to give you a little something to relish,” Thoma placed his hand on your head and soothed your hair.

You blinked and something in you exploded. You glanced at Thoma and saw the most loving expression ever. His gentle, captivating eyes, and his beautiful smile. Your heart clenched at the sweet sight of him, and his clear expressions of love for you.

Your hand found its way to your mouth as you started to tear up. Thoma noticed immediately and his smile faltered in a flash, he pushed the tray of food to the side and then hugged you.

“Hey, no no, why are you crying? Did something happen while you were busy during those days?” He questioned in a frantic tone.

You sobbed loudly like you never have ever. Your emotions were a mix of relief and happiness, you weren’t ever going to be lonely again, not with Thoma. You were fine with it before, but you never want to go through it again.

Your hands clenched onto his shirt as you cried into his shoulders, “Thoma… You’re the sweetest person ever. I couldn’t ever be more grateful for having someone like you in my life. With you, I am so happy. You’ve helped bring out the parts of me, that I needed. I can now smile a genuine smile and go about my days happily. I love you so much, I couldn’t even explain it in words. But I’ll spend the rest of my life looking for those words with you, so you can see even a glance of my love for you. Thank you for everything.”

Thoma was astonished, at how hard you were crying and your words. You weren’t the type to be this expressive of your feelings, he was beyond shaken. His arms tightened around you and he continued to comfort you until your cries became sniffles.

He then spoke, “I love you so much too, my sunflower. I’m so glad that someone as insignificant as me was able to do such a thing. Nothing too would be able to capture the true nature of my love for you, it’s too complex for others to understand. It is only you, who can understand with nothing needed. Which is why you deserve all of it, once again I love you.” His hand circled your back and you melted into his touch.

Your heart was now completely unlocked, it had finally found the key needed for these new emotions. You broke from the hug with a smile and gave him a deep kiss, he then returned the kiss. You pulled away from the kiss and then wiped your tears away, you looked over to the food and felt your stomach growl.

“Hehe, well what’re ya waiting for? Eat up silly!” Thoma giggled and set the tray on your lap.

You took a small bite and your eyes sparkled, it exploded on your tastebuds. “You’re definitely staying with me forever, no one cooks as you do.”

“No complaints, not like I wasn’t planning to do that already too.”

[requincouche]

personal post from coucherequin

About a week ago, I had a night-time dream where I was on holiday together with my mom. We were exploring some kind of natural reserve, climbing stairs that seemed to be going to another part of the park. I checked my phone, and I noticed that it was getting late… However, I also checked my map app, and noticed that we were in another place far away, and had to take a ferry back home. In fact, we didn’t just have to take a ferry; we had to walk to the ferry, take the ferry trip, and then still take transportation back home. Meanwhile, my mom was struggling to walk just a few steps of the aforementioned stairs…

I dunno if this dream symbolizes something deeper, or whether it’s just another random brainwave. You could interpret it like helplessness, or having to face a much greater challenge than what you’re capable of. I’ll explain a little bit more. My mom quit working about five years ago because her back and hips were worn down and she experienced pain whenever she moved. Since taking her early retirement, she has been able to regain some mobility, and was able to get surgery to repair some of the arthritis in her back. Though, no amount of treatment is going to help her regain full mobility, as worn-down tissues aren’t coming back. Two years ago, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, though was successfully treated through surgery and radiotherapy. So far, she seems to be in remission. Notwithstanding, that additional ordeal has taken away another part of her health and fitness, though she is making the best of it. My dad had a heart attack around ten years ago, for which he underwent surgery. Again, the lost tissue isn’t coming back. He continued to work for another year, with different tasks that were less reliant on fitness. Though, eventually he decided to also take his early retirement. The newfound free time and rest made him regain a lot of fitness to the point where he could again go for walks and ride a bicycle. Years later, he was diagnosed with cirrhosis. My parents are both enjoying their retirement, trying to make the best of it. I try to visit them at least once per month. Though, sometimes there can be more time in between due to my work or other stuff. No matter what I do, one day the illusion of foreverness will be broken, and with it the harmony will be lost.

Hm. Kinda sad post, right? Well, life isn’t all flowers and sunshine. But it’s up to us to place everything in a positive light, or to try and learn from it so that we can move on. Please don’t take pity on me, that is not the point of this post. The reason that I’m sharing this is simply to share a little part of my life, and to show you once more that I’m a real person with real joys, fears, and worries. We’re all real people, though some choose to not show it as much. Why do you think that it is, that some choose to shut down part of their emotions instead of facing reality?

[marvellousimagines]

TW: Implied torture, blood and bloodloss, Cazador being Cazador

You tensed as the door to your cell opened, but let out a sigh of relief when you saw the familiar white curls of a particular elf vampire spawn.

“Astarion!” you called his name in surprise and relief, though not so loud as to draw attention. “You found me.”

“Of course I did, my dear,” Astarion replied. “Unfortunately, it took a lot out of me to just get here. Would you mind if I had just a little bit of your blood, help me get an edge over Cazador for our escape?”

Something didn’t seem quite right. Astarion seemed off, but that may have just been from hunger. This was the first time he’s directly asked for some of your blood since that first night when you woke up with him hovering over you. It had to be bad if he was asking again.

“Yes, of course,” you reply, tilting your head in invitation, the scars from Astarion’s previous bites on full display.

Astarion smirked, coming in close and biting down. You felt the usual pain, then numbness, as Astarion began to suck your blood.

He didn’t stop when he normally would.

“Astarion?” You prompted, giving him a nudge. You felt your extremities go numb, your vision tunneling. “Astarion, that’s too much!” You tried to push him off but the blood loss had you weakened. You blinked heavily, struggling to stay conscious and alert.

You heard a chuckle from Astarion, but it was not his voice. As he pulled away, the illusion magic faded, revealing Cazador in Astarion’s place.

“You are quite the willing morsel. I just had to see for myself how quickly you bare your neck for a bite,” Cazador taunted, running a finger down your throat. You were too numb, feeling too hazy to do much of anything except stare at your captor in fear.

At some point, Cazador had left. You weren’t sure how much time had passed as you drifted in and out of sleep.

By the time you recovered enough from the vampire lord draining your blood to just feel the usual post-bite wooziness, muffled sounds off in the distance caught your attention. You couldn't be sure, but it sounded like a fight, you swore you heard shouting and the sound of metal clashing.

After the sounds faded, your cell door opened and again Astarion stepped through. You flinched away, unsure if this was another trick.

“Hey, Y/N, darling, it’s just me,” Astarion said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Is… is it really you, Astarion?” you asked, afraid now of Cazador taking advantage of your trusting nature again.

A familiar, warm voice outside the cell behind Astarion answered for him. “Who else would it be, Soldier?” Karlach asked, and you flinched as you thought of the answer.

Astarion looked at you with sympathetic understanding, your reaction apparently telling him everything. You felt the familiar squirming of the tadpole that signaled a link to another and opened your mind to it. Flashes of panic, worry, as Astarion realized who took you from camp. His determination to get you back eclipsing the fear he felt marching right up to Cazador’s door. The blood of the vampire lord as Astarion stabbed into him while your other companions watched his back. Then finally, you as seen through his eyes, relief that you’re okay.

As you came back to your own mind, you saw anger on Astarion’s face, though not pointed at you. You were sure that, through the tadpole bond, he had seen Cazador's trick of using his image to lull you into a false sense of security. “Cazador’s dead now. We’re safe from him.” He held out his hand.

You took his hand and pulled yourself up. Your vision tunneled slightly at the sudden shift of position and you swayed a bit. However, you let yourself fall forward slightly, wrapping your arms around Astarion’s shoulders in a hug and burying your face in his chest. ��Thank you.”

“Of course, darling, now let’s get you out of here,” Astarion said gently. Once it was clear you couldn’t make it out under your own power, Astarion carefully lifted you into his arms to carry you out of Cazador's dungeon.

[gingerlurk]

Binding | Part II

Din Djarin x f!Reader

A Lovers' Crest one-shot (in three parts). Complete on A03.

Prev | Next

Here's the LC Masterlist.

Summary: Lost and alone in a dark cave, you need to figure out what happened to the Mandalorian.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, characters in peril, mind control, evil droid, being restrained, canon-typical violence. Also, lots of action, characters in peril, lots of peril, sorry. Please let me know if there's more to add I am rusty.

A/N: This story won't make much sense if you haven't read Lovers' Crest. Or even if you have, it may still be nonsense. I'm not sure. I really put all the characters through it here. The next chapter is well cosy though, I promise.

--

With a pained gasp and a flailing of limbs, you break the surface of putrid water. 

Breathless and sputtering, you struggle to keep your head above the stinky pool you’d plummeted backwards into right after Din’s helmet had disappeared from view. You twist and thrash around for a bit before realising you’re unhurt, just treading water in total darkness. 

It still takes several deep breaths before there’s enough air in your lungs to call out.

‘Din?’ You shout, craning to look back up. Back to where you had fallen from. ‘Din? Grogu?’

No answer. You jab at the light strapped to your arm, it buzzes a few times before fizzling out to nothing. But it had flashed just enough for you to spot a bit of rock poking out of the water. Strike out in that direction, kicking until you can smack a hand onto it.

Feeling about, you find the rock is quite large. Haul yourself out of the wretched water and sit, elbows on knees and panting. You look up again.

‘Din?’ you call, pushing down panic. Nothing. ‘Grogu?’

At that, a beam of light appears up above. The faint nervous trills and grunts of the child echo down to where you’re perched. You’d estimate it to be a ten metre drop.

‘Grogu? Hey, kiddo? Are you okay? Where’s Din?’

The pod drifts out into the open air and descends to you. The kid is now chittering with insistence as he comes level with where you sit, blinding you with his lamp. You shield your eyes to see him and take in the wide-eyed worry.

‘Hey baby,’ you gesture him closer and dig into the side of his pod for your little field tool kit. ‘It’ll be okay. Sit tight.’ 

Tugging the device off your arm, you motion for him to direct the light so you can see your work. You’re focusing hard on practical steps. Rather than the primal dread crawling up your spine. Steps like ‘need light fixed’. And not, Where’s Din? Where is he? Where did he go? Where– No, need light fixed.

Step one. Fix light.

A bit of fiddling and it blinks back at full force. You huff an exhale and point it around you and the child, who’s still murmuring and anxious.

This rock is indeed a small island in the middle of a vast underground lake. It must be one of the spots where the aquifer breaches the rock layer. You direct the beam up the sheer cliff. Next practical step is ‘need back up there’.

‘Okay Grogu, bud,’ you lay what you hope is a reassuring hand on the child. ‘Think you can manage a miracle?’ He’s squeezing his eyes shut and focusing before you finish the sentence. You manage a half smile, ‘Nice.’

Closing your eyes too, you try to channel energy toward his efforts, feeling, as always, that vast and intimidating power that lives on your periphery. It stirs, begins to move. Within yourself it is a fuzzy and flickering thing. When you see it in Grogu, it’s like looking into a sun.

Next thing you know, you are weightless. The sharp rocks that were digging into your legs drop away as you begin to float. You fight vertigo and fear, trying not to grip Grogu too tight. He raises you and the pod, depositing your feet right back on the spot where that creature had smacked into you.

Shining a light around the carnage, you will yourself to contemplate the next task. Find out what happened to Din.

‘Alright bud,’ you say, still with a hand on Grogu, ‘can you show me?’

He ‘wahs’ a little before raising a claw to clasp one of your fingers. 

The vision sweeps across your mind’s eye. Din, on his knees, leaning over the edge to look down at you, raising a forearm to engage his whipcord. Behind him, a long, segmented mechanical... thing snakes across the ground. Toward him. It snaps a clamp over his ankles and drags him backwards. Back... that way... you turn and walk in the direction the vision showed.

Come to a dead end.

With shaking hands, you reach out to feel about the rocky wall. Nothing. It’s just a rocky wall.

‘Fuck.’

But Grogu saw him pulled this way, so there must be something. You decide to give this a go yourself, unwilling to ask more of the child. He’s already looking drained after the ambush of monster bugs and saving your ass. He needs his strength. And all of you are a long way yet from being out of danger.

Turning your inner eye to the energy dwelling within, you bid it to approach. It’s already uncoiled and slides into your senses. Changes the shape of the universe as you funnel the power of the Force down into understanding this cave wall.

And it becomes crystal clear. Not a wall. A hard light shield masking a weapons-grade bunker. A heavy door sealed shut via an… an access panel right… over there…

Trailing a hand along the illusion, gritty rock becomes smooth and glossy under your fingers. Opening your eyes to look, your lamplight shows you’re still just touching a natural feature. But the modular beeping and responsive hum under your palm indicates it’s a piece of tech.

Okay, now… How do I… On instinct, you press your whole hand flat to the panel – jump in surprise as it activates.

Well, that was easy.  

It cycles loud. You push Grogu’s pod and back away with it to take cover behind a large granite pillar ��� watch a surreal process of the barrier grinding open to reveal a dim light just beyond its threshold.

Those hideous bugs would have drowned out the noise of the door opening. And you were a touch too distracted by being hurled off a cliff in any case.

But whatever that snaking thing was, it dragged Din in there.

You force yourself to wait a good thirty seconds and, when nothing appears and no movement can be seen, edge out to approach with cautious steps. The child follows close behind, quiet – just the hum of his pod echoing behind you.

A narrow corridor opens into a true nightmare and you have to work to beat back a rising hysteria. A cavernous space made difficult to comprehend by the chaotic array of items, paraphernalia, and junk scattered around and piled high. You spy everything from broken pieces of armour through to what looks to be a speeder’s engine mount.

Bones too. A lot of them.

With an arm up to keep Grogu back a ways, you continue to cast around, searching the place for any sign of--

Your sweep halts and blood freezes in your veins. A sight that is familiar and frightening all at once.

The angular chrome catches the beam of your torch. High arches you would know by touch glimmer in the low light. The dark T-visor stares, reflecting your wide-eyed horror. 

But there’s no reaction to your gasp of shock. None at all. The Mandalorian’s helmet doesn’t move an inch. 

Because it’s not Din.

It sits alone, still and silent, on a small mountain of discarded tech. 

No life in there.

You take a trembling step toward it.

‘Now, now—'

A reverberating drone peels across the silence. 

‘You wouldn’t be thinking of stealing from me, would you?’ 

Nothing about the voice makes sense save for the language you recognise. It’s ungodly. The sound of it grates on your ears like a corrosion – words being pushed through mechanical parts. It’s coming from all around you, disembodied and loud. 

‘Because that wouldn’t make you a very worthy guest, now would it?’

Unable to place its source, you take another step – fingers desperate to make contact with the beskar piece.

‘Ah, ah, ah!’ clicks the noise in a mocking admonishment. 

Another step, just a few more before you can lay hands on--

‘Wow,’ comes the staccato. ‘So rude. I think I need to have my new toy deal with you.’

From a darkened passage on the other side of the space, a new sound emerges. This one you know. Know it as well as you know the helmet just beyond arm’s reach. It sends a cascade of gooseflesh over you.

The clinking, steady footfalls of Din Djarin grow louder until he emerges from the darkness. There’s not even a shred of relief felt on seeing him. Something is badly wrong. 

He’s not in there. Not at home. A blank, glassy-eyed expression tracks the room and peels over you and Grogu like you’re just features of the bunker wall.

And, somehow even worse, he walks right by the pile of junk on which his helm rests, no inkling there at all that it’s his sacred property. He comes to a stop in front of you. In the dim light, you can make out a blinking chip-like array at his left temple. Angry red lines radiate out from the attachment. The eye there is bloodshot and weeping.

It’s horrifying.

‘Grogu,’ you whisper, sights fixed on your vacant partner. ‘Go.’

The baby whines at the instruction and you wave toward the way out. 

‘Go, go! Get Gaius. Get--’

He hasn’t moved yet when the grisly robotic voice clicks an indifferent, ‘Kill them, if you please.’ Din moves into motion so swift you shout in alarm. 

His arm is up and bringing a savage swing down toward Grogu’s head that you only just manage to intercept, twisting into his elbow and throwing your whole weight into diverting the blow. It’s what it takes, his raw strength such that you have to body his entire limb just to counter.

It happens twice more, him swinging with vambraced arms as you lurch and throw yourself between him and the child. Grogu seems to be frozen in fear, staring up at his father with a trembling disbelief. 

‘Grogu!’ you try again, caging Din’s wrist with both forearms to direct it into open air, rather than the hovering pod. ‘Go! ’

He still doesn’t move, paralysed. 

Just as you drive a desperate shoulder into the possessed man’s fist, you twist flush to Din’s chest, lean into his cuirass and use the purchase to lift a foot and kick the baby’s pod away.

It does the job – Grogu whirrs out of reach and flops back with a grunt. But before you can move, a huge arm locks across your throat. It compresses your airway with a discompassionate ease.

Blind terror rips a strangled scream from you before losing breath. Gods it hurts. An instant burning. You claw and wheeze. Drown in the horror that this is how it ends, so sudden and so random. It crawls in your heart and you sob. Not Din... please not by him... It’s sapping strength as oxygen becomes an unknown to you. Arms drop and flail at the armour-clad tower behind you.

Futile. This is it.

But the muscles holding you firm ease. Just a little. Just enough so can you gasp air and drop weight to your knees to get free of the chokehold. You make a half-roll and leap to your feet to look back at him, hands to your throbbing – but open – throat.

He’s frozen, stock still. And you see it. You see him. His eyes are alight with horror, with fear and panic. Dark irises track over you, stare at where you grip your neck. He starts to spasm and shudder, like something is fighting to burst out of him. He whimpers your name and then—

‘Run,’ he gasps. A plea through shredded vocal chords, ‘Run!’ 

His eyes go blank again as you pivot on the spot, set your sights on Grogu’s pod that is now – mercifully – racing away, and bolt. Through ringing ears, you hear the voice crackle in delight, ‘Oh she’s fun! Secure the female alive. Kill the small thing.’

You can’t handle this alone. You don’t know what to do. Din groans and snarls behind you, in a war with himself and the alien tech trying to hold him in thrall. He fights it long enough for you to get a decent lead, then he’s chasing you down. Thundering boots send hammers of black dread to beat against your spine.

As you run, you manage to make three observations. One, he hasn’t used any of his own equipped weapons yet. Two, his attacks were clumsy – nothing like his usual precise and practiced brutality. Three, he’s gaining on you.

This last observation comes as you breach the cave opening into the white hot light of the surface. Your feet kick up dust that cakes on the soaked fabric of your pants. It swirls in the billowing tempest wrought by the Mandalorian closing the distance between you.

Time slows.

The first thing that happens is a hand landing hard on your shoulder. The other reaches to hug your ribs firm. You’re pulled into him and forced forward at the same time, held in an embrace of violent control. The ground rushes up to meet you. Like a ragdoll, you’re twisted side-on to slam into it, so hard the momentum of your legs carry on in a disorienting cartwheel over yourself. 

You’re winded so full-bodily you can only go limp, try to brace your arms but it’s no use. 

Shoved over, face and torso into the dirt, you’re helpless as he throws his full weight on top of you. Just trying to catch your breath – everything burning, throat, lungs, limbs. There’s nothing you can do against being straddled by him as his grip shifts on your body.

He takes your upper arms and – with a vicious yank – the ground tips away as you’re hauled up into a vicelike hold, pulled flush to hard beskar chest yet again. 

Sagging in his merciless restraint, there’s just enough mental will left to observe that Grogu is nowhere to be seen. The barren terrain around you is quiet.

He got away… at least he got away…

Your captor comes to the same conclusion with a grunt of frustration.

He turns in a full circle, evidently unclear where to go in the hunt for his assigned target.

Huh, you think. He doesn’t know which way his ship is? That’s interesting.

After twisting and turning about, jerking you to and fro, he stops – seems locked by indecision, unable to fulfil one of the directives issued by that voice back in the cave.

‘You may as well just take me back,’ you say, sounding raspy – feeling the effort burn your throat. ‘You won’t find him.’

Wind and dust float around the two of you as he remains still, incapable of choosing a path forward. You’re craning your neck, pressing it into his shoulder to look up at him, when you see the chip at his temple blink a harsh blue light. 

Orders coming in?

Your guess is confirmed when – with another frustrated snarl – he begins to move.

Back toward the opening of the cave.

You let yourself feel some kind of relief that Grogu has escaped – mostly so you don’t slip into hysterical terror.

He drags you into the dark and, as you struggle and plead to no avail, back into the hoard of horrors. 

‘Chain her,’ the alien speech greets you, and you’re pulled to a wall dripping with cables and restraints. Arms are tugged behind your back for loops to be coiled around and around, secured – tight – until you’re bound against the solid surface.

The whole time Din does this – winding chains with clumsy hands – you’re murmuring to him, trying to get through. Din? Din – you’re in there, I know you’re in there. C’mon, Din. It’s me, it’s me. Din!

But you get nothing, and your arms are locked behind you so tightly, you begin to worry about circulation. Then he steps back. Goes still.

You have no idea what to do. Bide for time?

It’s all you have.

‘So,’ you start, speaking into the void. Have to clear your throat a few times, wincing. ‘What are you? One of those kid-enslaving droids?’

A long pause like it's considering whether or not to engage. 

‘Technically…’ it grates. ‘I’m supposed to be. Up there.’

Another pause. Then talkativeness seems to win out.

‘But it’s just been so boring since the change,’ it reverberates and grinds. ‘I’m not even needed, really. Here is much more fun. Do you know how many like you I’ve rustled out of these caves?’

You could take a guess, looking at the huge amount of pillaged equipment and torn clothing piled and scattered about.

‘They just. Keep. Coming!’ it crumbles on. ‘And they. Never. Leave!’

Nauseated, weary, you let slip a morose conclusion, ‘You’re a monster,’ you say.

‘Hah! Yep.’

‘Why do you do this?’ you ask. Not really wanting to know, but trying to keep it talking – afraid of what comes next.

‘It’s fun. Watch this,’ it says. ‘Go stand over there.’

That blue light emits from Din’s temple again and he responds in an instant, turning away from you and walking to a random point in the room. It blinks off again when he stops moving.

Huh, you think again. Interesting.

‘But it wears off, yeah?’ you say. ‘He’ll be able to break out eventually, has done it once already – right Din?’ You look over to him. Get nothing in response. Direct your attention back to empty air. ‘So what then?’

‘Oh, no no no,’ it belches. ‘Nooo this is a modified device of my making. Once that pesky little breakdown starts it’ll ffzzzzz,’ it makes a horrible sound like a wet blender on turbo, ‘Scramble ‘em up real good.’

You swallow acid, feel the horror swell hot within you. Wrench on the bindings so hard your muscles scream. 

‘Fuck you,’ you spit. It bursts out – you’re trying to convert fear into anger. Trying to muster something to get you and Din out of this. ‘Fucking, fuck, I am going to fuck. You. Up--’

‘Hah!’ it cranks. ‘My, my, I’ve had some feisty ones in my time but you – you take the crown.’

You brace a foot on the wall and try to—ugh, it’s too tight—try to twist side-on to get some slack in the chains. Fuck, owww, it has more effect on your shoulder joints than anything else. Pins and needles fizz in your hands.

‘And now,’ says the droid, projecting a low menace that vibrates the air. ‘Now it’s your turn.’

You freeze. No.

No, no, no no no no!

Your renewed struggles echo loud, bouncing around the place along with your cries of distress.

‘Go over there, pick it up,’ it intones. 

Din’s movement summons your attention, pausing your desperate efforts. He strides to a wide bench littered with debris and tools, with weapons and circuitry – ignores it all to pick up a singular object. 

A twin to the one clamped to his temple. 

‘Put it on her,’ comes the command from all around.

Din turns with the thing in hand. He takes steps toward you.

‘No,’ shaking your head. ‘Don’t, don’t.’

As he gets closer, you can see little tendril-like appendages unfurl from a blinking body pinched between his fingers – they sway in the air, seeking flesh to latch onto. 

Recoiling, you shrink against the wall. Try with all your might to get away from it.

‘Din, Din!’ you’re shouting, on the verge of screaming. ‘Fight it! Fight it, please.’

Muscles shriek in protest and your hands feel like they are going to explode, but you just thrash harder, mind blank with terror. He holds the thing out in front of him as he walks. Your head jerks back, smacks into the hard wall and your vision swims. 

Groggy, disoriented, you sag in defeat and muster everything left into one final plea. A final beseeching of his name.

‘Din!’ It’s a cry of pure fear.

His steps halt. Almost within arm’s reach of you, he stops like an invisible wall has blocked his path. He lurches like half of him wants to carry forward but the other keeps him locked in place. The device in his hand continues to sway and seek, but it’s not getting any closer.

Working to calm yourself. Not sure what to do or say, lost and fretting over the thing blinking by his eye, you just ramble, ‘It’s me, it’s me. Please. It’s me, and I need you.’

Maybe- maybe if you can get him to free you, you can get that thing off before it kills him.

‘Please, I need you t—'

Din convulses. He shudders all over. 

Hot dread washes over you as he takes another small step forward. No, gods, please!

But a grunt of pure grit coming from deep down bursts forth and he staggers back.

He twists from you in a clumsy pivot, almost falls to his knees but stays upright to lunge away. With an arcing arm, he hurls the device to the other side of the space. It hits a wall and clatters into a pile of litter.

A half a second to feel relief when--

‘Ugh,’ the droid hacks. Oh no, fuck, in the last few moments of panic – you’d actually forgotten about it. You stare at Din in desperation. Tears spring in your eyes. ‘Never had one go so quick,’ it goes on. ‘How annoying. Oh well, say goodbye to your--'

‘Now Grogu!’ Gaius’ voice. 

From the shadows, the kid is a blur through the air. He leaps a massive distance across the bunker to land on Din’s twitching shoulder. Clamps a clawed little hand to the atrocity latched to his father’s head. With a pained ‘hhhhheh’, he channels his Force energy. You feel it flutter and writhe in your consciousness – a duel unfolding between it and the horror tech. 

Din lets loose a torn scream – face a rictus of agony. But Grogu doesn’t let up. His energy growing and expanding, radiating in waves around the room. You watch, transfixed, beset with fear and hope.

The binding gives a violent whir and, at a final shout of pain from the towering figure, it detaches – the tendril-like appendages lifting from the skin of the temple. It wriggles in Grogu’s grasp like a caught insect.

The Mandalorian jolts and stumbles back a few steps. The child tumbles off his shoulder and into his arms, dropping the device. It clatters to the ground, where a huge boot is rising to slam down onto it. Din cradles his son as he grinds his heel before kicking the crushed object away and falling to his knees with a pained heave of breath. He takes a moment to tilt his head back in surrender, and relief.

Over the speaker, the voice that had been commanding this entire horrorshow clacks a sudden string of static.

‘Wait!’ it shrieks. ‘Wait, wait, wait, what are you—Who? No, no you, you can’t, you can’t. S-stop. Stop!’ It devolves into a kind of nonsense circuitry as the sound of metal crunching and mechanical joints being ripped apart echoes off the cave walls. With a final, khirrrrr… the place is quiet again.

From the direction that a possessed Din had first marched out of the dark, Gaius shuffles. Eyes glassy, expression blank. For a fearful second, you worry they’ve been put into binding too, but there’s nothing at their temple. Face clear, but in shock.

They’re holding the head of a droid in one hand and a phase driver in the other – look between the two items for a moment before jamming the tool into one of its eye sockets and giving it an angry twist. They drop the lot and slump against the wall. 

‘My whole life,’ they gasp. ‘Been wanting to do that to one of those things.’

You’re taking that in when hands are on you. You jump with fright. But it’s Din. He’s put Grogu down and is by your side, releasing the chains on your arms. That dexterous precision is back, you can feel seeking fingers moving over your limbs, checking and testing for injury at the same time as he releases the locks. You try to make eye contact, but he won’t look at you.

The second your arms are free, while rubbing blood back into them, you dash to the junk pile to retrieve the helmet, stride back to him.

‘Din?’ you ask, searching his face, needing to confirm he’s still in there. ‘Hey, please look at me.’

His eyes shift to yours. 

Seeing what you need to see, you give a sigh of relief and lift the helmet to gently lower it over his head. A desolate expression settles on his features, gaze dropping to stare into nothing as the helm goes back in place. You run each hand along the sharp arches on either side, look straight into the visor.

‘It’s alright,’ you say. ‘We’re alright.’

No response.

But you can’t linger in front on him. Have to trust that he is gathering himself behind the safety of the beskar. 

You cross the cavern to where the droid’s head had rolled to a clanking stop. Pick it up and tug the driver out to peer inside it. Tilting it to and fro for a minute, you close one eye, hold it close – spot just what you were looking for. Sticking the tool in a pocket, you keep hold of the head and pace to where Din had hurled the grotesque little device. The one that had been intended for you. Shove down fear to lift it with ginger fingers, observing the thing’s chip for a moment.

‘Thought so,’ you say. 

‘What’re you—’ Gaius starts, straightening up and getting closer. But you just move past them, on a warpath of your own now. 

Heading into the dark, it’s only a few steps before a circular control room opens up. Banks of panels and stacks of camera screens line the space. You scan them. See footage of the tunnels you’d come through, the cliff edge where you’d fought the bugs, and the cavern – where you are pained to see that Din hasn’t moved an inch, though Grogu is at his feet, looking up.

The headless part of your tormenter remains in place, sitting in the middle of the surveillance set-up, plugged into multiple ports with various coupling appendages branching out from its chassis. 

You move toward it, intent on your plan. Gaius has followed and gives a cry of alarm as you plant the thing’s head back onto its body, yank the phase driver out and start to affix the neck with angry little twists.

‘Wh-!’ they exclaim in horror. ‘What’re you d—’

‘Don’t worry,’ you say, not looking up. ‘You’ve fried its mobility array. It can’t move. But…’ with a violent stab of the hand tool into the top of the unit, you drag the whole back half of the cranium down.

‘It’s still networked this way,’ you go on. ‘With the system, and these things.’ You lift the binding monstrosity. Gaius recoils at it, watches with naked disgust as you hold it in the light of the monitor screens. 

There’s a little port on the wide desk that houses the device perfectly. When you drop it onto the glowing surface and slap a button, an exploded diagram of the chip is projected in a holo floating in front of you. You point. The component is clear as day.

‘What am I looking at?’ they ask.

‘Data stream,’ you say, shift your direction to a similar looking shape inside the droid. ‘Connected to this. That’s how it could make commands by just saying shit.’

Technically, it didn’t need to say anything at all – could just transmit orders in an instant – but this fucker liked to showboat apparently.

‘Incredible,’ Gaius stares at you with awe. You turn away, land eyes back on the screen that is recording the cavern. See that Din is no longer where you left him. It’s a brief spark of panic when you can’t locate him on the monitor, but it drops when you hear footsteps approaching. He emerges into the room a moment later, the child on his heels.

He looks around, but doesn’t speak. 

‘Just in time,’ you say. ‘I’m gonna fry all the droids. Shut ‘em down.’

‘You- you can do that?’ Gaius asks. ‘You’re going to do that?’

You just shrug.

It’s a few more steps. Jamming the phase driver into the droid’s screw plate, you wedge it tight so it destabilises the override.  

Then you step to a keyboard and begin punching in a program you’d created during the trip to this cursed planet.

‘Will it hurt it?’ they ask.

‘Uh, yeah,’ you say, finishing up the last few lines of code. ‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘Good.’ Gaius and Din are a chorus, spitting the word out in unison.

With a final adjustment, you set the program running. The droid’s coupler arms begin to twirl and tool in the inputs. It’s an awful sound, like it's protesting with all its will against carrying out the commands you’d dumped into it. But it’s helpless and – as you all watch – red alerts begin to blink on, a few, then a few more, then more, then the whole bank is alight.

The room pulses a deep bloody colour and you fiddle with dials under the monitors. They cut to various feeds inside the factory and you get to view in glorious fuzzy resolution droids all over the place begin to spasm and drop. 

‘Look,’ you say, pointing to a stream showing a set up similar to the one you stand in. Another insect-like droid – your original target, up on the factory’s command floor – whirrs in confusion. All of its alarms are chiming as well and, after a moment, the screen whites out as sparks and flames consume it.

You flick a few levers and the red alarms wink out, the room fades back into a mute grey. It’s silent for a long beat, until Gaius speaks up.

‘Now what?’ they ask, sounding a bit dazed.

In answer, you spin the dials again, find a feed of some kind of production line – where kids are stumbling backwards, dropping tools, leaning into each other. Touching disbelieving fingers to the sides of their heads. Looking all around.

‘Gaius,’ you say, stepping close. ‘The binding won’t work without the droids. The kids are free. Your sister’s free. We just need to find her.’

They stare at you, eyes filling with tears, before pulling you into a tight hug. You let them, looking over a shoulder at the Mandalorian, who’s still and watchful.

‘I can’t believe you did all this.’ Gentle sobs into your ear.

You lift shoulders and drop them again, ease out of the embrace after a moment.

It had always been the plan.

From the very moment you’d learned this tech existed, you’d been hellbent on destroying it. Rescue the sister, but end all this as well.

You’d needed to improvise, sure. But it had always been the plan. It’s why you took the job.

At what cost though, you’ll need to figure out later.

You move in front of Din, take his hands in yours and look into the centre of his T visor again.

‘C’mon,’ you say. The dark visage is on you, and you imagine a pained expression behind it – teeth clenched and eyes swimming with remorse and anxiety. ‘Let’s finish this.’

He squeezes your hands tight. 

‘We’ll finish this,’ you continue, letting go and readying a weapon. ‘And then we can go home.’

He nods, draws a blaster, and follows you without hesitation.

There were no contingencies. No back-ups. No failsafes. The hubris of this tyrannical regime was such that all you needed to do was walk to the front gates and open them up.

So you get to stand and watch as crowds of children, youth, young ones, stagger out of the gaping maw of the facility, rubbing at their eyes and peering around. Get to watch a similar cohort of adults gathering at the threshold, moving into a kind of organised thrum to corral the children in and start to sort out who’s who. 

Blankets appear, trays of food and hydration, little field med stations are whipped up in short order.

It’s so organised, it seems premeditated. Like something had been planned this whole time. Like they’d never really given up and, taking this boon, were ready to move and bring these kids into a safe haven.

You watch from a distance, and feel warm.

They also seem ready – as you observe a rank of the adults quietly emerge from the crowd, armed and in formation – to take the fight to the faceless cohort responsible for all the suffering they’d endured. 

You see Din move toward the group, making motions to the gigantic building at your back and activating his vambrace to show the holo map of the facility. Pointing and gesturing to indicate the best approach.

Taking action, it’s where he finds comfort.

Cracking knuckles and adjusting each wrist bracer, you wait until it’s time to fall in and aid their endeavour. Because yes, you are going to finish this. Fully. The scramble you’d left running in the system to wipe all data related to binding was the penultimate step.

This last thing, taking down those who created it, is the least you could do.

Then you can leave this place and never look back.

Gaius appears at your side, a girl on their hip with arms wrapped all together. Her temple’s already been patched up and she chews away on a sweetbar. You try to make eye contact with her, give a wave. But she’s shy, and turns away, burying her face against her older sibling’s neck.

‘Gods,’ Gaius mutters. ‘You’ve gotten heavy.’

They give you a lopsided smile, which you force yourself to return. 

‘Still can’t believe you did all this,’ they say. ‘You… are a miracle. And I’m sorry that-- I got there as fast as I could…’

You kick a stone to skitter along the dust. ‘We even now?’ you say, give up a sardonic brow.

‘Hah,’ with a long exhale and a disbelieving shake of the head. ‘I will never not be in your debt. But, we probably won’t be crossing paths again, will we?’

You nod, look out across the landscape.

‘Hell,’ they continue. ‘Running into you at that hub probably used up all the luck in the galaxy.’

A beat more of contemplation. The squad is moving toward you, Mandalorian in the lead. You shift your stance.

‘Tell you what,’ Gaius says. ‘My ship is still at that hub. Bay lease is good for another couple months. You can have it. Sell it. I um, don’t think I’ll be needin’ it anymore.’

You’re speechless, raise a hand on reflex to accept the keycode they tug from a pocket and drop into your palm.

‘Okay…’ you say, too stunned to argue. The irony of it almost making you laugh. Or scream. But you give yourself and shake and ask, ‘You gonna stay here for good?’

‘Think so. Lot needs doin’, but,’ they smile. ‘I’m ready to work.’

Din has come flush to you now, and you turn with him. Ready to follow. But you look back for a moment, a thought occurring.

‘You know,’ you say. ‘That droid down in the caves and the one up on the command floor are toast; but the hardware’d still be good on the rest. You folks could reprogram them? Get their help?’

‘Mm,’ they respond, ‘maybe.’

‘Okay,’ you say, satisfied to have planted the seed, letting it go. ‘Take care, Gaius.’

With a final nod, they hoist the kid up a little higher and move off, toward the bustling reunion efforts.

Later, back on the Razor Crest with streaks of hyperspace flying past, you tilt the controls to standby, flick off all the diagnostic dials, and stand from the pilot chair. Din has already unbuckled and ducked out of the cockpit, the waves of brooding energy flowing off the beskar telling you to give him space. 

So you sit down on the floor and engage Grogu in a game of Force catch, the little silver ball whizzing back and forth between you. 

Though you’re both quiet, pensive. Shared thoughts drift on the air, united in a preoccupation with the third member of the crew, somewhere deeper in the hull. More than once, Grogu glances to the door with a little ‘ doo’, but there’s no movement beyond.

You chew on thoughts of how you’ll help Din process what happened. How you’ll apologise for putting him through all that. Try to frame it in your mind for when you are back home on Navarro.  

Praying he’ll be okay.

The kid gives a diminutive little yawn. Fatigue pricks at the sides of your mind too. Raising Grogu back up into his pod, he starts to nod off. You leave him there to doze and curl up in the flight chair the Mandalorian had vacated. Let your eyes drift shut and hope there’s no nightmares awaiting you.  

Prev | Next

--

Planet scale says what? No sorry, yes. It’s just one gigantic factory. What’s your point? And did I spiral on the morality of killing droids? Also yes.

Thank youuuuu for reading x