#&. loyalty runs in my bloodstream —— dos.

[dorminchu]

in this twilight

Rating: T Genre: Angst/Romance Summary: Through the blood in his mouth he said, "I'm sorry."

Read on ao3

a/n: Because @lunarcrystal's VC!Annie AU is a lot of fun to write for.

From the start, Leonhardt was powerless to stop what was coming, despite the Titan in her bloodstream. A fine-tuned weapon who promised her father she'd return home without expecting to live up to her comrades' achievements.

Her first chance to stop Eren Jaeger had been a wash, and now, as Vice Captain, here was another. Her final test of loyalty, to dispose of the only Eldian she'd trust with her vulnerability. He'd have made a decent Warrior, a great captain in the Scouting Legion.

Thus far, he'd refused to answer any of Zeke's questions during his internment. As Leonhardt took over, the War Chief's silence was his grant to settle the score.

Each time her boot connected, Krueger winced or grunted, accumulating bruises. Some visible and some obscured under clothing. But he wouldn't give up a name. Not Grice's or Braun's or anyone of interest. 

No matter if she slit his throat. No matter if the firing squad took care of it or another Titan ingested his remains. The next Attack Titan would be reborn, and she'd sooner give up her life than see his eyes in the shell of another.

Two hours ago she was at his apartment. On a warrant, she told him when he opened the door. She'd only be a moment.

Krueger didn't ask for papers. He simply opened the door wider for her to step inside.

The kitchen decently-kept. A few dishes on the table, on the counter. The old Marley tenements didn’t have running water or electricity, so the wood stove in the center of the room was the only source of heat in winter. Her eyes flickered to the half-empty bottle of alcohol on the table, glittering in the sunlight. Krueger stopped. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.” She said nothing. “You’ll want to see the other rooms?”

“Lead the way.”

He was so tall, even on crutches, that he had to bend down to clear the doorway into the next room. 

There was a bed against the wall. Not much furniture to speak of beyond a beat-up wardrobe and a closet. If he were writing regularly to an outside party he’d keep the letters someplace clandestine. She walked the length of the room in a few paces. A light breeze shifted the curtains in front of the only window in the room, cracked open.

Krueger loomed in the doorway. Face-to-face, she came up to his breastbone. “Something else you want to look at?”

“I need to look at the dresser and wardrobe.”

Krueger shrugged. “All right.”

The wardrobe had only a few ratty suits and a pair of boots, bottle of shoeshine. In front of the dresser she got down on her knees to rifle through a few shirts, rolled-up pairs of pants, old socks. The linen smelled faintly of mold. She shut the drawer and said in a tight voice, “The mattress, then.”

“It’s pretty heavy. I can help you with that.”

She ignored the obvious lie and walked over to the other side of the room with the window behind her. She lifted it herself, but the light of day revealed nothing but a decrepit mattress. With a tic in her jaw she let it fall.

“God, that’s terrible, isn’t it? I’d burn it now if I were able to afford a new one.”

The floorboards. That had to be it. She’d need a warrant, even in the slums of Liberio. She couldn’t go back to Magrath empty-handed. She turned and glared at Krueger as if that would solve anything.

“Are you finished?” For the first time he smiled. "I think I’ve got some alcohol left over.”

Leonhardt turned away. "You're out of your mind."

His expression hardened. “You’re wasting my time and yours. Your compatriots are going to get the wrong idea if you keep following me around.”

“You’ve been conversing with Warrior candidates when you have no obligation to do so.”

Krueger rolled his shoulders. “Did he tell you about me on his own? Or did you rough him up first?”

“I’ll be happy to drag you back to the courthouse and demonstrate.”

“Listen to yourself. You’re so sure I’m a threat, you sound just as brainwashed as the cadets.”

“I can’t let you roam the streets in any good conscience.”

"I'll be whatever you want, Vice Captain." The humor in his voice was flat and insincere. His attention on her more direct than it had been in the street, outside. She didn’t look away. He leant on the crutches and inhaled, exhaled. "There should be a clean glass."

Cheap whiskey burned on the way down. Her head spinning, she looked at him. Maybe in a different set of circumstances they would've had time to get to know one another as equals. Instead they were reduced to another stolen moment. Two lousy soldiers playing at love.

His working eye roved over her with a shamelessness she wasn't used to. She ought to kick out his leg and knock his head against the floor, if only it would make him forget whatever idiotic plan he'd cooked up. But it was his idealism in the face of the world's indifference that drew her to him in the first place.

They wound up on the sofa. She knocked away his crutch and pushed him onto the seat before pouncing on him. Her blouse unbuttoned, his mouth on her skin. Straddling his good knee in a way that had been innocuous only a moment ago, she reached to unclip her underwear from the garter-belt. 

Krueger's hands settled on her waist. Easy to picture the muscles in his tendons slashed down to bone and reknitting. Easier when he opened his mouth to croak, "You're beautiful."

Her teeth sank into his chapped lower lip. He started trembling and she licked at his teeth, moving against his leg as her breathing changed. Hand in his lank hair dragged his face aside to mouth his carotid artery. If he felt discomfort he didn't indicate it, simply raised his good leg to meet her. A terrific mistake on her part, giving him the advantage. Free to whisper into her neck all the unspeakable things he'd do for her sake.

She sank her teeth into his clothed shoulder as if wounding him would absolve her orgasm. They had always been equals in the burden of their undue circumstances. It hadn't mattered in Paradis, back when she had the luxury of playing soldier.

He glanced down at the damp spot on his leg. Leonhardt redressed without looking at him.

The circumstances that brought them together wouldn’t permit such an easy life, where they didn’t inevitably turn against each other. A timeless moment without war where the sorrows of their future acknowledged but did not loom so close upon the horizon. The hard light of afternoon through the curtains. He turned away, dragging himself over to the crutch and picking it up. It was pitiful to watch but she couldn’t make herself look away. He got to his feet and turned toward her.

“What happens if one of your Marley compatriots walks in?”

She held his gaze. "I'll have to take you into custody, regardless."

Krueger limped up to her. "What for?"

"Fraternizing with Warriors." She checked her shirt in the mirror but avoided her own eyes. "It won't amount to much."

He was looking at the chair next to her foot. “Want to elope?”

She froze. The sheer absurdity of what he had just suggested finally caught up to her. Her response was a little too hasty to be callous. “That—isn’t possible.”

“Why not? We’re both Eldian.”

She shook her head. “We just—we can’t.”

He paused. “There’s someone else?”

Leonhardt barked out a laugh. “What man in his right mind would ask to marry a Warrior?”

“If I asked you, right now, what would you say?”

Looking at her head-on. As if it were so simple. She sneered without reservation. “That you’re even more suicidal than I imagined.” It was never in the cards. She’d have to marry a Marleyan, if she bothered at all. The type to get drunk with and fuck once or twice and swap goodbyes. A loyal husband that would outlive the Curse of Ymir and visit her grave each year. “And if that wasn't what you wanted to hear, you can ask me when the war is over.”

He smiled. It didn’t touch his eyes. “I’ll remember.”

She'd been knocking him around for half-an-hour when Zeke pulled her aside. Advised her, in delicate terms, to reconsider what she was doing here. That her hopes of finding the usurper had, perhaps, blinded her to the simpler truth: Mr. Krueger was just another shellshocked Eldian. Plenty of men in the world who would fit Eren Jaeger's description. That he wasn't right to fraternize with Warriors, but this show of violence would reflect poorly on her.

Leonhardt was forced to concede. Krueger's records checked out. Just a vet. A false alarm brought on by the fear of repeating a past mistake. No doubt she'd be rebuked. Her years on Paradis had poisoned her mind, allowing space for paranoia. Just like Braun went native, just like Hoover strayed and it cost his life. She couldn't afford to be reckless and sentimental but nothing of consequence would befall her as Vice Captain. Too ruthless to be questioned outright, but no longer unshakable.

She glanced at the door. They were alone at last.

She walked over to him and took him by the chin. His broken nose would have to be cracked back into position before it could heal. He ought to have healed minutes ago, but the strain of reopening wounds wore down a Titan Shifter's stamina faster than the regeneration itself. Pressing her mouth to his, cut up and warm, shivering as he exhaled. Aside from the copper taste of him on her tongue, on her boot, it would have been tender.

Through the blood in his mouth he said, "I'm sorry."

"I know."

The next time they spoke, they'd be trying to kill one another. There was no sense in apologies.

[idkmaybesomething]

The first time I met her was in a basement. It couldn’t have been more fitting. Surrounded by eclectic furniture and lamps and thingamabobs.

She wore a backwards cap and bright red converse, but I couldn’t allow myself to consider that she might like girls. Lesbians don’t get to have that luxury. Nope. I convinced myself that she had a crush on my friend, Zach. I even told him so.

I remember laughing a lot that day while we worked together down in the prop basement. It wasn’t that often that a theater appreciation student caught my interest like that. Usually they were background characters, but she has never blended in. It wasn’t love at first sight, but there were no moments where I didn’t feel something for her.

I noticed her a few times after that. Coming in and out of the shop. You don’t forget a name like Frankie (her name really should have been a giveaway about her sexuality, but internalized homophobia is big.)

A few months later when I saw her while swiping after the breakup, I stopped abruptly. There was the confirmation. She was gay and she was available.

There couldn’t have been a worse time for that swipe. I really took “you can date more than one person” to heart. I was dating half the company and flirting with the other half. And I didn’t know what I was looking for.

I don’t remember much from when we dated that first time. I remember moments. I remember smoking a cigarette in front of her, and knowing by the way she looked at me that she thought it was attractive. I remember running into her in the hallway and getting dinner with her during a busy week. I remember how she always seemed to be available when I wanted to see her.

That night at the club, I should have known. I should have known the way I felt about her was something that the guy I had brought couldn’t even compare to. In my defense, I had been dating both of them on and off and he had said “you brought her on the last event, it’s my turn.” For my era of making my own decisions, I never really figured out how to tell what I wanted.

Even before she got there I could feel the excitement over seeing her making its way into my bloodstream. He didn’t stand a chance. Especially at a gay club? Give me a break. She knew what she was doing. And like always, I didn’t resist it.

After we were pulled together on the dance floor, she pushed me against the bar and kissed me so hard that I couldn’t hear the music anymore. Someone bought us both a shot. And then I let him take the moment. The guy that demanded my loyalty was insisting that I feel guilty for not giving it.

I felt so terrible. How could I have ignored him when I promised I was his that night? But that’s the thing. I never had to promise her. With her, it just was.

But I chose him. I couldn’t tell you exactly what it was. I guess the easy answer is that he made me feel comfortable. I liked knowing that I held the cards. I liked knowing that he saw himself as my caretaker. With her, it would have been hard. I would have had to work. I would have had to open up… for real.

I never really stopped thinking about her, though. Every time I saw her it was like a jolt of desire. At my best friend’s parties, in posts with my friends, at the events she should have been with me for.

So when she messaged me and we were both single again, I didn’t waste our time. We went to a movie. I remember listening to the song “No Interruption” that Joe had showed us both separately and bonding over it. I remember I could tell she was nervous, but maybe not as nervous as me.

We got a drink and nervously giggled… I remember she was wearing those whacky pants that I thought were so hot.

And so, we were on again. It’s not like I didn’t try. It’s not as if I meant to hurt her, but I don’t know. It was never easy with her. It was a struggle and I don’t know how to struggle.

And then we were friends. I would go to Joe’s and the excitement when she was going to be there was always fresh. But we were just friends. It’s all I could give. I remember her telling me about being on a dating app. And I wasn’t jealous. But now I know I wasn’t jealous because I thought I would always have her. I thought she would always be in my life.

I tried so hard to fall in love with her, but the falling just didn’t happen. Even laying next to her on the hotel room in Colorado, I couldn’t bring myself to feel. Even as she made me laugh like no one ever could and as my heart leaped at the thought of seeing her again. I couldn’t convince myself that it was real.

We found ourselves drunk one night on a bench outside a bar. Sharing giggles and a cigarette. I stated that she was moving the opposite way from me. She stated that she had wanted it to be with me. I knew then that I would miss her forever.

When we kissed goodbye I thought for sure that was the last page of the book. This was a new life. A new story. When she didn’t get the memo, I thought it was a lack of understanding on her part.

Recently, I I’ve found out that I was the one who didn’t understand. I didn’t understand that the move was just the ending of a chapter, not the whole book. The whole book was her. It still is her. It will be her.

So when she gets on one knee for you, I just hope you know how lucky you are. I hope you know that there is another soul on this earth that would pull down the stars for her.

[manygeese]

ok give me a second. I’m cooking

so like imo the physicians cure should NOT have been perfect. leo definitely sustained injuries probably like a severed arm or something and a whole lot of shrapnel. let’s pretend like leo didn’t go back to calypsos island right away bc let’s be honest he could have gone back at any point with the funky little gizmo he had. AND this would mean Piper would have the actual cure too. So he goes kablooey and he and Festus land in the lake more than a little worse for wear.

Piper manages to get herself and an unconscious Jason to shore but he wakes back up and is like “WHERE IS LEO WHAT HAPPENED IS HE OKAY???” and she’s like “I don’t know if he’s okay but he fell into the lake” and before the last word is out of her mouth Jason is Back In The Lake despite hating large bodies of water (child of zeus/jupiter thing)

So Piper is fighting off monsters on the shore while Jason does his desperately searching for Leo thing. He comes back to land like ten minutes later when most of the monsters have run away or been beaten. He’s all like “where the fuck is percy I need him to go get my boyf- i mean best friend out of the lake. if I don’t see leo within the next thirty seconds I will cry” (he is already crying.)

Percy is getting an injury treated in the makeshift infirmary when Jason bursts through the door. He is DISTRESSED and percy is like “what’s wrong bro?” And Jason shakes him by the shoulders and is like “please please please please go get leo out of the lake I am BEGGING YOUUUU please” and Percy “fatal flaw is loyalty” Jackson does it because what else is he supposed to do? Not do it? Yeah no thanks

He finds Leo and Festus at the bottom of the lake. Leo’s all buckled up so he just undoes the seatbelt or whatever is keeping him tied to Festus and drags him back to shore much to Jason and Piper’s delight. They argue about whether to inject it or pour it into his mouth because Jason’s like “I need him to be alive just make him chug it” and Piper says “bitch he is deceased he will not be able to swallow it, we should inject it directly into his bloodstream”

Eventually Percy gets tired of it and just pours it down Leo’s mouth and it works! Yay. But his left leg from the calf down is GONE and he no longer has a right ring finger. He promptly passes back the fuck out because Ow.

He wakes up a grand total of two days later and who is in the armchair next to him? Jason. Of course. Piper is also there but she went out to get water just before Leo gained consciousness so all he sees is Jason. Jason has supernatural abilities to sense when his boyf- I MEAN BEST FRIEND is okay again so he’s suddenly awake and hugging the living daylights out of leo because what the hell never die again why can’t he just be immortal

and let’s just say that by the time piper is back with lunch and enough water to flood the Sahara (listen she was really fucking thirsty) they are officially boyfriends and talking about how Leo’s gonna make his own prosthetic leg. Jason doesn’t tell him that the rest of the Hephaestus cabin has already made blueprints for one because he looks really cute when he’s rambles about tech n stuff

I’m having a Week so I’m kindly going around requesting headcanons again please be nice

Hurt/comfort is my favorite but anything else is good too

[loyaloutwear]

dumb bitch hours are 24/7 in this household

[rexxdjarin]

Captain's Log: Chapter 9

Classified

Series Summary: The galaxy is in turmoil. The Republic has fallen, giving rise to the sinister reign of the totalitarian Empire, led by the insidious Emperor Palpatine. The millions of valiant clone troopers of the former Grand Army of the Republic are now blindly sworn, against their will, to protect a regime they once sought to destroy. After being saved from a terrible fate by his former-Jedi ally and close friend, Ahsoka Tano, seasoned veteran CT-7567 Clone Captain Rex remains loyal to the pillars of Democracy, freedom and truth that shaped the former Galactic Republic. We follow him now struggling to deal with the personal aftereffects of survival and finding his place in the galaxy alongside the only person he has left. You. The love of his life.

[previous] [next] part of Captain's Log series post on ao3

Pairing: Captain Rex x Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns used) Word Count: 15k (I know I'm sorry lol) Series Rating: Explicit (18+ only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT) Chapter Summary: Our dynamic duo becomes a trio. Surprising help from the inside reveals that some clones haven't forgotten where their true loyalties lie while others cannot help what they've become or how far they'll go. Chapter Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, p in v sex (use protection irl plz), sub!Reader, soft!dom Rex, Daddy!Rex if you squint, Language, Violence and Interrogation Tactics, Political References and Propaganda Mentions, References to Canon Plot, Political References, Canon Typical Violence

The ship’s docking tube door hisses open and through the fog steps Rex and his heavy plodding blue and white boots. I exhaled a deep breath I didn’t even know I was holding and pushed myself off the wall I was leaning on, arms folded and hips leaning to one side.

He’d only been gone a couple of hours, meeting up with Cid at her Cantina to get some supplies and waiting for our new crew member to arrive for pickup. But even in those few hours, I worried about him. Anything can happen planetside these days. I didn’t like the idea of having to sit around waiting for him, but someone had to stay hidden with the ship and Cid wouldn’t trust anyone but another clone to hand this kind of intel off to.

As the fog of coolants at different temperatures mixed in the air, Rex’s smirking face appeared, a flicker of warmth in his big brown eyes as if he was staring at dappled sunlight. A spark to him I hadn’t seen in such a long time spread immediate joy through my bloodstream, through every nerve ending, my heart bursting and pounding something that can only be described as love sickness throughout my entire body. 

Before I could walk forward to embrace him and kiss him so hard it knocked the wind out of him, a second nearly identical silhouette passed by him inside our cargo hold. The clone we were sent to pick up was a brother whose name I didn’t recognize. Wasn’t at all familiar.

Gregor. A clone commando. 

Well ex-clone commando now. Not even sure if Rex was all that familiar with him. 

He stood upright in the doorway, just a tad taller than Rex. Maybe it was the commando boots. He had jet black hair, buzzed almost as short as Rex on the sides, but long and slicked back on top. His eyes looked just a twinge lighter like he’d previously been somewhere that bathed them in a harsh sun’s glare all the time. He had high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, just like they all did. But something about him…he was almost dashing in a way. Stepping into the ship, he had a presence about him that could only be attributed to a natural magnetic sex appeal. Would’ve probably given even Fives a run for his credits. He was good looking and, hell, if I could get in contact with any of my friends, I’d set him up with one of them for sure.

His eyes widened and his dark brows raised, cocking his head as if to take me in as some mysterious creature before him. “Well, well, well, Rex…I didn’t know they’d send you with an angel to pick me up.” He said smoothly, running a weighted, heavy palm across the back of his neck.

He came only with the armor on his back, which seemed to be incomplete, no shoulder pauldrons, nothing lining his biceps and not a stitch of color expertly painted atop the plastoid. Not even a helmet. It looked odd. The new Imperial clone armor was truly inferior in every way to the artfully crafted and beautifully unique Republic armor I’d come to know and love. Yet another way to erase their individuality, their comradery and their humanity, I suppose. 

The simmering amber in Gregor’s eyes met mine and he squinted in playful, flirtatious amusement. He’d done this before and something tells me his success rate was high. Very high. Rex cleared his throat to subtly remind his brother to watch himself. Was he a little jealous? “With a mouth like hers? Trust me, she’s definitely not an angel.” He replied with a filthy, taunting smirk. That’s a definite, yes.

Since meeting up with the Bad Batch on Bracca, Rex had become more domineering, needy and watchful over me than he ever had been. Not that I could blame him. The deep-seeded feeling of tremendous loss made him want to hold me close and practically mark his territory over me in a way he ordinarily wouldn’t have before. And I didn’t hate it. Not at all. The possessiveness made heat lick down my spine and smolder in my belly. I guess no longer having to keep things a quiet secret to save our own asses brought out a desire to be shown off in both of us.

I raked my gaze down Rex’s wide frame, wondering if he’d somehow gotten even better looking than he was a few hours ago. “Hmm and if you want anything from this mouth again I suggest you watch it.” I teased, winking at him knowingly. A proud, determined and hungry glimmer darkened his pupils at such a retort and he retreated, licking his lips as he hoisted the bag on his shoulder down to the floor at my feet. 

Gregor let out a slightly hoarse and lilted nervous giggle. “Oh, I see. I did not peg you for the committed type, Rex.” 

“That’s funny. He was awfully committed to getting something out of me the last time I saw him.” I immediately let out a teasing giggle to match Gregor’s. Rex mouth dropped open to speak or protest my boldness, but he was clapped on the shoulder by Gregor. 

Gregor tilted his head back and laughed, “Maker- what a woman. I like her.” 

Rex nodded, rolling his eyes at me in surrender and taking in a deep breath, “I’m glad you like her. Even when she’s getting a bit out of hand.” He joked, walking past me to follow Gregor and taking the opportunity to grab a nice handful of my ass. Oh yeah, so out of hand.

I’d been comming him the filthiest thoughts and sounds directly over our secret channel to pass the time the best way I knew how. Rex and I had both been practically insatiable for days since we’d left Naboo. Something about the promise of inevitable death that really made us both want to be together as much as possible while we still could. Though now with a virtual stranger on board with us, there probably wouldn’t be as much time for that as we both wanted.

I followed Rex and Gregor up the ladder to our cockpit, taking Rex’s hand and sliding onto his lap as we got as cozy in the cabin as was possible for the three of us. I could feel Rex’s thighs flexing under me, a tell tale sign that he had certainly not forgotten my messages from earlier, his cock thickening beneath his codpiece. I turned to glare at Rex, apologizing for firing him up so badly in front of company neither of us were too familiar with. He curled his massive hand around my thigh, glancing up at me with an unbothered look he was desperately hoping was convincing enough to hide the blown out lust in his darkened pupils. 

He was always a terrible liar. I knew him well enough that I could always tell when he was worked up past the point of being able to think straight. 

Gregor watched us both with a smirk on his face, running his hand over his dark hair and kicking his feet up on the dash. “How long’s this been going on for?” He boldly inquired, pointing out the obvious tension in the room. “I had heard a lot about Skywalker’s men when I was being reacquainted on Kamino. You’re some kind of legend, Cap. Guess we clones are not the only ones who noticed.”

“My blondie’s hard to miss.” I joked, running my fingertips through the hair slowly curling around his ear. “Hair’s gotten sorta long. Longer than I ever remember it being.”

He wrapped his hand around mine and tugged me tighter to him, both to hide the growing bulge in his lap and to give him an excuse to hold me. “Want me to cut it?” He offered, his eyes searching my face for unspoken answers, but only finding unfettered lust.

I shook my head, tracing feather light fingertips down the scruff lining his perfect jaw. I hummed in delight, the dangerous seduction darkening my pupils at the sight of my Captain growing more rugged by the day. “No. Keep it long. This little beard of yours too.” He drew his head back in surprise and chuckled, the hand on my back falling lower to rest on the curve of my ass. I leaned into him closely and traced the shell of his ear with my tongue. “I want you to remember how much I like how it feels.” I whispered seductively.

He gripped my ass hard and cracked his neck, taking a deep breath to disguise the twitching I could feel stirring in him beneath my thighs. He kissed my cheek modestly, before grunting “Later.” in my ear sternly. Between the taunting I’d done all day and the physical teasing I was doing now, I knew I was more than in for it with Rex tonight. Which was exactly what I wanted.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been around too many clones in any relationships…and never one that seems quite this deep.” Gregor acknowledged, watching us with curiosity. “The 501st really is a different breed I guess.”

Rex, feeling me desperately trying to egg him on even more, shrugged me off slightly, trying to pay attention to his brother’s words. “Yeah, probably as good as your commandos, I reckon. My boys were the best and we have the numbers to prove it.” He winced, “Well…had.”

Gregor took a deep breath and swallowed, “I’m sorry about your Squad, Cap. You deserve better. We all do. That’s why I ran. It wasn’t right. I’m thankful for the Bad Batch boys coming to get me. And especially Echo's commitment to me. Said he learned that from you.”

Rex’s face lit up, a proud smirk spreading across his face. “Echo is one of my best. He and I are all that’s left of the 501st now. Glad we could help rescue a good one.”

I shifted uncomfortably in Rex’s lap, the wetness between my thighs and the bulge growing underneath them had me more impatient and antsy to have him inside me than I’d felt in months. Poor Gregor was just trying to settle in and I couldn’t wait even another five seconds. I had to have Rex now. I squeezed Rex’s bicep impatiently, looking up at him with needy desperation filling my eyes. To my delight and relief Gregor sat back in his chair and sighed.

“Thank you both. For everything. I’m-” He yawned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands and stretched. “I’m going to get some desperately needed sleep and watch over the ship. I’ll let you both know if anything goes off.” 

I thanked the maker silently, nodding as I leaned into the crook of Rex’s neck. “We should too. See you in a bit. Let us know if you need anything, of course.” I said quietly.

“Yeah we’ll be in our bunk. We’ve got rations on a shelf behind you here and the freshers down in the cargo bay on your left. Get some sleep, soldier. You’ve had a long few days.” Rex stood up, wrapping my legs around his waist and carrying me toward the ladder down to our room.

“Will do, Cap. Will do.” Gregor nodded, closing his eyes and leaning back into the pilot’s chair.

Rex let out a sigh of relief as he slid both of us down the ladder toward our room. “You’re killing me, mesh’la. Can barely fucking think straight I’m so hard.” He groaned, pressing the panel to our room’s blast doors and watching them slide open.

I giggled into his neck, kissing it softly as he spilled us onto our bed. “I’m sorry, Sir. I just can’t help it when I’m around you.” I cooed, my tone dripping with both play innocence and whispered lust. I blinked up at him, biting my bottom lip and pawing at his chest. “Been thinking about having you all day.”

Rex ghosted his hand up under my shirt, “I know. You were determined to make it impossible to get through my mission, you little brat.” He teased, pulling my shirt up over my head and onto the floor beside our bunk. He ran his thumb around my hardened nipple and leaned down to wrap his lips around the bud. “That wasn’t very good of you. Should punish you.” His fingertips slid down to circle my navel.

I let out a shaky exhale, the desperate need for him making my body ache. “If that’s what you think I deserve, Sir.” I whimpered, resting my hands on the nape of his neck and softly stroking the growing length of the soft blonde curls there. I was trembling as his warm tongue circled over the bud repeatedly, goosebumps erupting on my skin. “I’m…so needy.” I whined, rolling my hips against his thigh.

His eyes darkened at the contact and his hand brushed past the band of the lacey underwear I put on just for him to reveal when he got back. At the feeling of the lace between his fingers, he groaned softly, the warm breath of his exhale cooling over the trail of wet skin his kisses left behind. “I can tell, my naughty girl. You put these on just to drive me even more fucking nuts hmm?” He asked, the scolding tone to his deepening voice sending more warmth pooling up between my folds.

I nodded and tapped on his shoulder pauldron lightly, “and this is driving me crazy. Off. All of it. Please?” I asked, “I want to see you too.”

He sat up and pulled my hips into his lap, slowly removing each piece of armor and making me watch as he did it, the armor clattering onto the floor beside our bunk. I bit down on my forefinger, swirling my tongue around it as I imagined it was him between my lips instead. He nearly tore the top of his blacks off his back and smiled, smirking as my eyes roved over his torso hungrily.

He leaned over me carefully, his fingertip trailing up my torso to hold my chin as he leaned in to kiss me tenderly. His tongue slipped past my lips and twirled with mine in endless looping shapes. I looped my arms over his shoulders and gripped his rippling back muscles, his free hands smoothing down my sides. “There…you see me. Now I want to see you.” He whispered against my lips as he pulled away.

He sat back on his haunches, tearing my panties down my thighs and practically growling at the sight of me completely bare before him. “Been a filthy fucking girl all day.” He shifted closer, pushing my thighs apart around him with his hands. Slowly, his thumb slid down my folds, collecting the wetness and circling my opening. “Look how fucking wet you are. Unnf…you feel so fucking good. Don’t think I have it in me to punish you when you feel this good.”

I rolled my hips forward, desperate for more of his touch where I was craving it all day. “I didn’t touch myself all day. I waited for you. Because I need you.” I smiled, reaching out for him and grabbing onto his free hand. “You’re just so big and strong…I can’t do it like you. I want your cock, not my fingers. Please Rex. Please?” I pouted up at him, circling the back of his hand with my thumb.

He collected my slick on his thumb and brought it between his lips, making direct, almost threatening eye contact with me as he tasted me on his tongue. He huffed out a brutal, unrestrained moan and closed his eyes in delight. “Is that how you beg for me? Hmm? I know I taught you better than that.”

I whined, the coiling pressure that was steadily building in my lower belly all day becoming way too strong to bear at this point. “Please, Captain. Can you fuck me? Please? I need you.” I asked, correcting myself as politely as I could muster, “I’ve wanted you all day and I can’t take it anymore.”

He chuckled softly, “That’s my mesh’la. Much better.” Pride sparkled in his darkening amber eyes, the irises shrinking as the lust expanded his pupils. He leaned forward slightly, sliding the bottoms of his black body glove off his legs and with one hand, began twisting soft pressured circles against my clit with the pad of his thumb. “I think you’ve suffered enough without me all day, haven't you?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, expecting a response.

“Mhm. Been aching all day. Need you to make it better, Sir.” I muttered softly, rolling my hips toward him more trying to force him to press harder, work faster. Anything to get a bigger burn going to counteract the painful pounding swelling in my core. “I’ll be good. Anything you want, my love, anything.”

He twisted looping circles on my clit faster and harder, giving into what I asked for. With his other hand, he stroked up the length of his cock, throbbing with need I’d been responsible for all day. He pumped it in his hand, sliding the drops of precum from the tip down the shaft. My eyes went wide at the sight of him, hoping desperately that he’d just spear me with it and finally end the brutal ache inside me.

I moaned as the pleasure began building at his touch, my eyes fluttering closed as the sparks of pleasure ignited. When I opened them again, Rex had brought his length down to just above my parted legs, sliding himself between my drenched folds and tipping his head back in ecstasy. He moaned from deep in his broad chest, letting his hands travel up my thighs and holding them for leverage as he slipped himself against me.

“Is that good, Rex?” I asked teasingly, egging him on more than I should when he was in charge. He opened his eyes, the sound of his name snapping him back to reality. He winked at me before slapping the throbbing tip against my clit roughly. My mouth dropped open and I gasped, the rush of pleasure too much too soon.

“Ah, ah. What are you supposed to call me?” He instructed, lifting himself off of me again and waiting for my correct response before granting me any semblance of pleasure again. His weighted palms gripping the meat of my thighs felt just as good as him touching my center in the overexcited state I’d been in all day.

I gulped and drew in a deep breath, meeting his eyes with my own to address him properly. “Captain or Sir.” I responded with a mewl, biting down on the back of my knuckle to help contain myself enough to behave.

He returned his cock to the warmth between my folds and guided the tip deeper within them, circling my opening with the weeping, swollen tip. “That’s better. Now flip over, cyar’ika. Gonna take you how I want to remind you what happens when you don’t behave.”

I nodded and obeyed his command, rolling myself over and lifting my ass high up in the air to give him better access. “Like this, Captain?” I wiggled my ass playfully, and looked back at him glaring at me like he was ready to pounce.

His palm met the plush of my ass with a swift slap and I yelped at the sting, the delightful pain a distraction from the burning pressure inside me begging to be dealt with. “Yeah, just like that. Show me that pretty pussy you got all wet for me. No waiting anymore, pretty girl. Need to feel you all around me now, ok?”

“Okay, Captain. Anything you want. I need you too. Inside me, please.” I begged, watching him from over my shoulder and giving him the subtle permission he had asked for to just skip all the foreplay and start in on me now. My knees were trembling more from the anticipation than from the position they were in to hold me up.

Suddenly, both his palms gripped my hip bones and pulled my ass toward his lower torso. He kneaded my ass in his hands and growled loudly, the unbridled lust finally breaking the last bit of control he had left to hold him back. With a deep breath in and back out, he lined himself up to my fluttering hole and pressed himself inside slowly. I moaned loudly, curling my fingers into the sheets as the size of him stretched me open the way I had needed since he left me hours earlier.

In a quick jerk, Rex’s massive hand pressed into my lower belly, tucking my hips up and back into his and letting out a delighted hiss. “Fuuuuuck…feel that? How I fill you up so good? Right there, mesh’la. So fucking deep.” He grunted as he rested his hand onto where his cock pressed deep into my belly. It felt so good I could barely breathe and I shut my eyes to let the overwhelming feeling of fullness wash over me.

“Rex…” I cried out a choked gasp, tears starting to stream down my face from the feeling of him piercing into me so powerfully. He pinned me down beneath all the weight of his rock hard muscles and mouthed passionate kisses up my spine. His cock consumed every empty inch of me, the blood in his veins pumping into him so hard I could feel the race of his pulse pounding against my walls. It was an erotic euphoria unlike any other I’d ever experienced and it wasn’t stopping.

With each shallow withdrawal of his hips, the muscles inside me screwed tighter, gripping onto him and the feeling he provided for dear life. He could barely bring himself to pull out, the grind of his hips pressing him deeper within me felt too good to stop. He curled his arm around the plush of my hips and ghosted his fingertips in twisting circles against my throbbing clit. 

His other palm curled around my neck, turning my face to meet where his hovered lazily over my shoulder. He leaned forward to bite my lower lip softly and open my mouth to let his tongue slip inside. Hot exhales and dripping tongues filled the minimal space between us and he smirked devilishly at the desperate haze of lust overtaking me. “Keep that pretty mouth open for me. Don’t want anything stopping me from hearing those sounds you make. Does my cock make you feel good? Tell me mesh’la. Talk to me gorgeous girl…”

“Yes, Sir, it’s s-so good.” I whined as his harsh thrusts slowed, but his hips circled against my ass and sent the blunt tip prodding into a beautifully sensitive spot. I felt sparks of pleasure zip through my core and my vision blurring as the numbing flow radiated outward in surges. “I love it, I fucking love it. More- please, Captain, please more.” 

“That’s my good girl, fuck- asking me so nice…” He whispered harshly in my ear, his grip on my throat holding me close to him, the scruff on his jaw brushing my cheeks a welcomed burn. I couldn’t control my muscles anymore, my walls contracting around him and my opening fluttering around him to pull him deeper. “Stars, mesh’la you feel so fucking good, you’re gonna drain me. Is that what you want? You can have it…fuuuuck- anything you want I’ll give it to you.”

“I want…need you to fill me. Please come in me, Rex. I want to feel it in me tomorrow.” I turned to look up at him through lust heavy lids and moaned his name as he took me apart thrust by thrust, giving me only a harsh grunt and several aching whines in response. Each jolt of his hips plowed me deeper and deeper into the mattress beneath us. He guided his hand down the length of my arm and reached for my hand, my fingers tangling with his and holding tightly.

“I’ll pump this little cunt with everything I have. You deserve it. Want to watch you walk around tomorrow with me dripping down your legs, my filthy pretty girl. Can you do that for me?” His hand around my throat slid up my neck and fisted into my hair, pulling my face up for him to grip. “I know you can. You’re such a sexy little show off. Makes me so proud to call you mine.”

My eyes rolled back at the pure possession that was him claiming me like this. I dug my fists into the sheets underneath me, holding on for dear life as I braced myself to let him completely overtake me. The throbbing of his cock inside me was stuttering against my vice grip around him, letting me know just how close he was to spilling all of himself. He grunted loudly, huffing in deep, almost gasping breaths and plowing three bone-shattering thrusts down into me. 

My entire body shifted so far up the mattress I wouldn’t have been shocked if his strength had knocked the ship clear out of its path in the hyperspace lane. I let out a high pitched cry, as the brutal pressure that was built up in my core burst. “REX!” I moaned loudly, a beautifully blissful numbness blooming outwards slowly and tightening around him so much he moaned too.

“Mesh’la…that’s it. Let go.” He cooed in my ear, kissing up my neck as the wave of my high just kept coming stronger and stronger. My body tensed as the tingling feeling cascaded across all my limbs and all I could actually feel was where Rex and I met. His fingers affectionately tangled with mine and our centers joined while he maintained his brutal pace, desperately chasing after my high toward his own. “Let me see that pretty face when you come for me.”

I could feel his eyes exploring my face as it contorted in pleasure; my lips dropped open, my jaw slack, eyes closed and brows lifted. His fervent whispers of loving encouragement mixed with enduring curses of tortured ecstacy as he sent me hurtling past the point of climax and into uncharted territory. It felt like everything slowed but the pounding in my core and the prodding of Rex’s cock to meet it. My body writhed underneath him, his free hand holding my waist steady and carrying me through it.

With a few more solid thrusts deep inside me, I felt his warmth flow into the uncoiling heat in my belly. Rex’s grip on my waist loosened as he emptied himself in me, my ears filling with sounds of our wet, sticky climaxes mixing together. His cock twitched at least three times, followed by white hot ribbons of his spend painting my inner walls. His gruff moans in my ear faded to exhausted whimpers as his climax explosively ripped through him. 

The sound of him moaning my name filled my ears as bright spots of static clouded my vision. He was all around me, inside and out, wreaking havoc on my overtired body. I laid underneath him, spasming in the undertow of both of our hardest climaxes ever and panting loudly. Rex was peppering soft kisses up and down my neck and jaw, his fingertips tracing slow, loving touches on my skin. I was barely holding on, the blissful exhaustion dragging me closer and closer to unconsciousness.

“I…love you…” I whisper, closing my eyes and feeling myself go under as I started to catch my breath, but too tired to move a single inch. Just as I felt myself drifting away happily, all my muscles slack and relaxed I felt him roll over beside me, tucking my body into his. He hummed so soft and deep, full of warm contentment and he muttered,

“And I love you, my mesh’la. So very much.”

--

I woke up to the dark, lofty silence of our bunk. We must’ve been drifting for hours in deep hyper space, heading back toward the inner rim waiting for Cid to give us coordinates for another job.

Rex’s warm body rested beside mine, his arms and legs clutching me tightly, never wanting to let go of me after going at each other like that. The intensity of our orgasms this time around was so stunning I wasn’t sure if either of us would even remember how to move.

But fuck, I had to pee. And maybe I should check on Gregor.

Slowly, I rolled over Rex, my legs straddling his still very naked thighs and resting my chest on his. I looked up at him snoozing away, his strong jaw finally unclenched for once and his plump lips drawn in a very satisfied permagrin. Yeah, he was very, very happy. How could he not be?

I reached over and kissed his cheek very delicately, taking extreme caution not to wake him. After how hard he’d gone, he needed a deep sleep to recuperate. I brushed my fingers along the curling blonde hair on his temples and grinned. He was so beautiful and handsome and passionate and strong. 

And he was mine. No matter what.

I slowly swung my legs over the side of the bunk, testing my ability to stand as I gingerly pressed my feet on the chilly metal floor. I wobbled a bunch, very nearly falling onto my face, before I gripped the bed behind me and chuckled softly. Damn Rex for going so hard. My inner thighs were practically creaking with soreness as I walked into the refresher to pee. I examined my thighs and smiled at the finger shaped bruises dotting my hips and waist. They’d match Rex’s exact grip like perfect puzzle pieces. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’d left his fingerprints the bruises felt that deep.

I took a deep breath and stood up, splashing water on my face and smoothing my hair down. Gregor didn’t need to see just how much Rex had demolished me. I pulled Rex’s red fatigues top from where it hung on the bathroom wall and slipped it on over my head, the length of it long enough to hide the small sleep shorts I slid on underneath them. I giggled and blushed thinking of how taken aback Gregor would be comparing what I looked like now to how I did when he first met me.

Speaking of him, I could hear someone humming through the echoes of the ship and smiled to myself. It was so comforting, the melodic tone deep and resonating inside the metal hull. I opened the refresher door and headed up the ladder peaking into the small cockpit. 

Gregor was laying back in the pilot’s chair, feet crossed up on the dash and his arms locked behind his head. He’d taken off his armor, the white plastoid piled in a heap on the floor behind the co-pilot’s seat. He seemed more at peace here than he’d probably been in months. Which I was about to disturb.

“Your voice is nice.” I muttered, pulling myself up into the cockpit and making my way over to the co-pilot’s seat. He turned toward me and opened his bright brown eyes slowly. His gaze widened as he saw the state of me and he grinned with knowing amusement.

“Thanks. Needed some way to block out the noise.” He chuckled softly, arching an eyebrow and shaking his head to himself. He watched with mock disapproval as my face blushed seven shades deeper than it was.

“I’m…so sorry. We just-” I coughed, tucking my knees up into my chest and folding my arms over them. “How much did you hear?” I asked, hiding my face behind my arms to avoid the embarrassment of knowing we were definitely heard.

“Plenty.” He huffed, fiddling with the edges of his black underweave top and raising his brows suggestively at me. “You animals.” He joked, getting way too much enjoyment out of my utter mortification.

“We aren’t used to sharing our ship, you know.” I retorted, tossing one of his plastoid gauntlet plates at him. He laughed, catching the piece with ease and waving away the shame and shrugging.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to hearing it. Maybe not quite that intense, but…” He pointed out, running his hands through his hair and quieting his giggling. “Won’t make fun or get in the way. Just warn a guy first.”

I shot him an apologetic and thankful smile, cuddling deeper into Rex’s top and inhaling the warm, musky smell of him all around me. Before I could ask Gregor something else to change the subject he spoke again.

“How do you know..?” Gregor asked slowly, trailing off and gazing out the transparisteel starshield at the cosmos he was still more than grateful to see. His light brown eyes blinked slowly, sighing as he fiddled with his hands in his lap. Sure, this particular brother was really very charming and handsome and smooth, but what he was asking was the same thing they all asked about. Love. 

What was it like? When do you know you feel it? How can you ever know when someone is yours?

“Oh…when did I know…it was him?” I replied, lifting my head from where it rested on my knees and back up toward Gregor.

“Yeah…h-how do you know when you’re in love like that? When did you feel that with my brother?” He asked, the careful longing words of a man who had probably never felt anything like what Rex and I had before.

I remembered it vividly. The lack of answers. From his comm, from the holonet, from Fox, from anyone I asked. Zygerria. That’s when I knew. 

“It was during a mission. A long one. Rex left for the Kadavo system, I didn’t know the details. He couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me. No news, good or bad, for nearly two full rotations. No one knew if he was alive or dead.” I shuddered as I recalled the few chilling details I’d managed to coax out of him.

Gregor’s eyes explored the changes in my body language, studying what realizing one was in love looked like.

“He was in an enslavement processing facility with General Kenobi. They tortured him. I know because I saw the scars. He couldn’t hide those. Not from me. I’d never seen injuries like that.” I gulped, still able to feel the scarring and his electrically burned skin under my fingertips. “But he came home to me. He ran to my apartment as soon as he could. Ran. He was in pain physically and mentally. Yet, I was all he thought about. I hugged him so tight I could feel his heart beating so fast. I just knew. The way we held each other. He’s everything to me. I would’ve taken that torture for him.”

“You’d do that? For a clone?” Gregor asked incredulously, like he’d never met a natural born person who had ever shown him that kind of equal care and treatment. I wasn’t surprised, but it still made me sad nonetheless.

“For a man.” I corrected, meeting his gaze with the same fierce one I showed during Senate meetings toward any of the life forms who dubbed them as less than human. “The man I love. That fear I felt not knowing where he was, if he was ok. I knew then that he was special. I wasn’t afraid that he couldn’t handle anything that came at him. I was afraid that he’d never make it back to learn how I felt. The second I started thinking about the kind of life I wanted to give him, the things I wanted for him before I worried about myself…I love him, Gregor.”

He looked out into hyperspace for a long time, quietly mulling over my words in his head. He didn’t speak, just adjusted in his chair and focused on breathing. Finally, he turned to me and huffed softly, “you’re the nicest nat born I’ve ever met. Didn’t know anyone outside the GAR talked about us clones like that. Like we matter. Thanks for that.”

I smiled and rested my hand on his forearm, the black duraweave fabric slick and new, like he hadn’t been in this piece long. Maybe it was new. But he didn’t look like a shiny or talk like one. Whatever happened to him, wherever he came from…he’d seen things. Enough to come to the realizations he had. “Don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum. It’s just the right thing to do.”

He smirked and shook his head, exploring my face like he might vaguely remember me from somewhere. “You’re really good for him, you know. He’s a soldier. A fucking great one, probably one of our best. He’d go down for what he believes in, to save others, if he didn’t have you. And he deserves better than a soldier’s life. We all do or…did. If we do come across others. If we want to convert some more defectors, the two of you are a pretty good promise of what life could be like if you leave the Empire, if you leave fighting behind.”

“I don’t think Rex will ever stop being a soldier. And I don’t think I will ever stop loving him for it. We both are as committed to the fight as we are to each other. I did work for the Senate, you know.”

“Men show you what they’re made of when they’re facing certain death.” Gregor giggled nervously, turning back to where Rex was sleeping down below us. “He won’t admit it. But Rex is braver than most, even amongst clones. In a way, death is the easier option. He endured pain and torture because surviving honored his loyalty to you. I’m not surprised. He’s…different. I don’t get why he never made Commander.”

“He did. Before…”

“Oh. That wasn’t in his file. Guess it never fully went through huh?”

“No. Let’s just say he’s lucky the Force is looking out for him.” I said, knowing full well I meant Ahsoka. About Rex mentioning how much he worried about her. I didn’t blame him. If things were as bad out there as they seemed, I hoped she had gone far away from the Empire’s presence. As far away as you could go.

“The Force isn’t the only one looking after him.” Gregor said suddenly, leaning over to dig in his bag for something. He pulled out a datapad and tapped into what looked like the Imperial holonet, his credentials luckily still working.

“What do you mean? Someone else inside knows he’s alive?” I asked, frantically running through every possible person in either of our lives who might have an inkling that we had survived. “Who?”

Gregor pulled up Rex’s file on the Imperial network, the same one Tech helped Rex and I hack into a few rotations ago. He was listed as missing in action, but presumed dead and the entire Siege of Mandalore wiped from his record. He was still Captain Rex, not Commander.

“Don’t know. But someone is covering his tracks. I know Rex said Senator Organa pulled a few strings for you, but I don’t think he’d be able to access military records. This had to be another clone.”

“Someone who knows Rex well enough to want to help him. That’s only a handful of brothers.” I stood up to grab the datapad that Tech gave us and walked directly into a groggy Rex. He had stripped down to only his black bottoms, with nothing covering the width of his rippling chest. I smirked remembering exactly why he was so tired and naked right now. His arms looped around my back and he nuzzled his face into my neck. “Did I tire you out, Captain?” I giggled, caressing the nape of his neck.

“Yes, mesh’la. How are you not exhausted?” He chuckled, placing soft kisses along my jaw as I let him lift me off my feet. He pulled back, staring at where Gregor sat waiting expectedly to finish our conversation. Rex smiled sheepishly, before setting me down and leaning on the arm of the pilot’s chair next to where I sat. “Sorry Gregor, what’s going on?”

Gregor giggled, flipping the datapad his direction and placing it in Rex’s hands. “One of our brothers has been cleaning up after you, Rex. Any ideas who?” Gregor ran his hand over his dark hair and down his chest, unclasping his armor.

Rex’s eyes glossed over the info on screen, his other hand thoughtfully scratching through the facial hair growing along his jaw. He hummed, tapping through the screens on the datapad and searching for any CT numbers who might’ve signed off on it.

I rested my head on his bicep, my eyes darting between his handsome, pensive face and the seemingly unlimited information at his fingertips now. Someone was looking out for us. One of the clones we probably both knew somehow. In my heart, I hoped it was Fox. I missed my friend. Bringing him caf in the morning, venting to him when I was missing Rex while he was gone, the numerous times he’d sent a Coruscant Guard detail to walk me home from a late night at the Senate building. I missed him so much and hoped he was alright.

“There’s nothing to indicate a clone has touched this, which meant they weren’t supposed to be doing this. It’s possible whoever this is has either removed the chip or is coming to their senses. They might want to get out. Maybe this is a sign?” Rex asked out loud, looking between Gregor and I for responses.

“Not sure I’d go that far, but you’re not wrong. These were changed against protocol. Any men of yours with a certain knack for breaking rules?” Gregor asked, subtly hinting to Rex that he absolutely read up on the 501st and their reputation for wreaking havoc to get results.

“All the men I really knew are gone, Gregor. I buried what was left of Torrent Company myself. The rest of the 501st serves the Empire now. I already checked. Every night I look up the names of every brother I can ever remember fighting with me. Most are only referred to as numbers now.” He sighed deeply, looking down at his boots and handing the datapad back to Gregor. “They’d consider me a traitor even if they did care I was alive. It’s not anyone from the 501st.”

“What about Fox?” I asked, watching Gregor’s eyes widen in shock. “He’d definitely notice I was missing from the Senate and go looking for me. Plus he knows about me and Rex.”

Gregor ran his hands over his face and bit his lip nervously. “I don’t want to scare you, but Fox is not the man you once knew. He works directly under Palpatine now. He was always beside him on our weekly training calls at the facility I escaped from. I don’t think he’d be able to break ranks without being noticed.”

My heart sank. Fox hated the Chancellor more than anyone. More than a few times he’d expressed annoyance at the constant running around and back breaking treatment he was subject to to please the man. Poor Fox always looked brow beaten and absolutely exhausted. I questioned him often, worrying that what he was going through was more than just being overworked. Yet, anytime I pressed him about the cuts or new bruises he wore, he denied any abuse and even lacked any recollection of the events that caused them. If that same Fox was blindly following the Emperor now, then that was indisputable proof that the chips were widespread and working properly at the highest of levels.

Rex felt my demeanor change and nudged my hand with his own, curling our fingers together on his thigh to reassure me. “So if not Fox, then who? Any word on the other major clone commanders? Did they all..?”

“Follow the order? No. Not all of them. Most of them, yes. But there was an issue within the 104th…”

“Wolffe’s men?” Rex asked, turning to look out at the hyperspace lane and calculating something in his mind. Probably trying to recall when the last time was that he saw Wolffe.

“They’re not Wolffe’s men anymore. Wolffe’s gone. Been MIA since the order was issued. Something happened. But Wolffe was one of the few clones who refused the order. He just wouldn’t do it. Last I heard he escaped custody while en route to the Citadel for processing.”

Rex grinned, chuckling softly to himself and sending the humming of his deep voice rippling through me. “Sounds like Wolffe, that stubborn dinii.”

I’d only met Commander Wolffe once. The interaction was…awkward to say the least. He wasn’t soft, supportive and nurturing like Rex was. He was very much the opposite; grumpy, domineering, demanding and closed off. Yet women threw themselves at him, which I wasn’t shy about pointing out. I figured he was too cocky, careless and impersonal. Needless to say, he did not like being stereotyped and cold shouldered me for the rest of the night.

But he had to have something sweet in there. His men worshipped him, his many (many) sexual partners raved about him to anyone who would listen and his General loved him like he was his own son. Rex swore he had a bigger heart than any of them, he just would never admit it.

“Wolffe’s probably in hiding somewhere. Could’ve been him messing around with the GAR records to protect me. He was always a good big brother like that.” Rex finally spoke, squeezing my hand a little tighter as he thought about how his older Commander class brothers took care of him like one of their own. Wolffe especially.

“I suppose. He’s been gone as long as you have though. Not sure his clearance codes would even work anymore. He was going to get reconditioned if he didn’t get away.”

I shuddered. The idea that the Republic consented to reconditioning clones who violated some kind of stupid law made my blood boil. The morally right thing, at least as far as law breaking went, was to send them to prison to answer for what they did. Instead, they erased their memories and reset them like they were a droid with a bad motivator or a starship past its prime. It was dehumanizing and vile. The thought of someone as esteemed, talented and valiant as Commander Wolffe being subject to that. It was just so cruel and unthinkable.

I stroked Rex’s bicep and hummed softly, “Baby? What about Cody?” I sat up, reaching for the pad in Gregor’s hands. “He was your best friend. He would do anything to protect you.” I typed his info into the Imperial database and his file popped up instantly. Yet something about his record was different than the others we looked at. Marshall Commander Cody was still in high command within the Empire. His file included a list of accolades and achievements post-order 66.

“Cody..” Rex sighed, reading the info in his file and cringing. “It says here that he successfully executed the order. He’s as involved in the Empire as any of them.”

“My commando unit worked alongside the 212th. He was the CO we were closest with…last I heard he was arguing with Imperial command about poor strategy. Yeah he was one of them, but he didn’t seem…thrilled to be there.” Gregor thought aloud, looking over mission photos on the pad with me.

While Cody looked menacing and cold in the photos, the look in his eyes told a very different story. He looked dejected, detached, distant, and not at all the driven, focused and charming commander we all knew him to be. The look of deep pain and regret, I knew that look. I knew because I saw it in Fox every day for years. It was something that the average person, who didn’t really pay the clones any attention, would never notice.

“It was him. Cody is the one who did it. Look at him Rex..” I ghosted my fingertips underneath the deep set brown eyes and glanced at Rex with exasperation written all over my face. “Really look at him.”

“He’s miserable. I see it. But why would he do this? As far as he knows, I died in the Tribunal crash with the rest of my men.” Rex reasoned, massaging his temples between his thumb and middle finger and sighing.

“Maybe he doesn’t know anything, but he’s holding out hope you survived and is trusting that you’re missing right now for a good reason.” Gregor turned back to the ship's dashboard and checked the navicomputer. “Changing your file around is a pretty good way to signal you subtly. He’s at least thinking about you. That’s not normal behavior for a clone with a functioning chip.”

As Gregor worked on checking on the ship, Rex turned to me and rested his forehead on mine. “Mesh’la…if there’s even a chance he might need our help we have to go.” His brows furrowed as he concentrated on all the thoughts of strategy and success rates of a rescue mission this risky in his head.

I leaned forward and kissed his lips softly, resting my palm on his chest and stroking his curling hair between my fingers. “Of course we do.” I whispered as I pulled back, brushing my cheek against his as I slid down into his lap. His hands gripped my sides and rubbed up my back soothingly.

“I know you must be tired of running and missions…and I’m sorry. I wish it was easier. That we could run away. But I can’t stop being who I am. If we could save Cody, he could help us fight back.” He rambled excitedly, hopefully, and with all that fiery determination lighting up in him. That passion in him that I loved and admired so much.

“Don’t ever apologize, Rex. I’m by your side. For all of it. We’re doing this together. Just tell me what you need me to do, baby. How can we find him? Where do we start?” I cooed, watching a gentle and grateful smile cross his face.

“Imperial Inspectorate HQ on Coruscant. Imperial chatter says all clone commanders are to report there for a briefing in 0600 hours. Cody should be there.”

“Imperial Inspec…what? Never heard of it.” Rex exclaimed, the puzzled look on his face signaling the fact that so much had already changed in the former Republic and he’d only been gone a few months.

“It was formerly the Republic Center for Military Operations. Place should be familiar to you…your Commander almost blew the place up.” Gregor giggled, adjusting the ship’s steering and turning off autopilot as the navicomputer signaled we’d be arriving soon.

I knew he was referring to the incident that led to Ahsoka leaving the order. The bombing she was framed for. The Military Ops Center was where they held political prisoners and Jedi, in a pinch. Ahsoka had been one of the first lifeforms to ever escape and it did not go unnoticed by anyone exactly how she’d done it. Clones were killed the night she got away and anyone outside the 501st was not quick to forget it.

Even though Rex and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was innocent, not many others understood what happened that night. Barriss Offee was said to have been the actual perpetrator of all of it. She admitted it in open proceedings in front of Jedi and Senators. Ahsoka was acquitted of all charges, but many, even clones, felt she had some hand in the incident. Her closeness with Barriss and the lack of hard evidence that a second force user was present the night the clones were killed led conspiracy theories about her to run rampant on the holonet.

That was only one of the many reasons Ahsoka left. Rex and I knew her heart and trusted her word the way we did our lives. How could we not? She’d saved Rex from a terrible fate and risked her own safety to bring us together as we were now.

Rex and I looked at each other and said in unison, “That’s not what happened.” Gregor raised his hands in surrender and grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry, bad joke?” He turned back toward the view before us as the ship dropped out of hyperspace and the familiar sight of my home planet loomed large ahead. “Whatever happened to her anyway? She…wasn’t technically a Jedi. You certainly don’t seem like you executed the order, Cap..” Gregor eyed us both suspiciously, like he could tell there was something unspoken between us that we weren’t telling him. It was a little too soon for us to know if we could trust him with something that secret.

“That’s a long story…for another time Gregor.” Rex replied, standing up to turn the chair around and slide in as the ship’s copilot. “Besides, we’re here and we need a plan. How the hell are we going to get into an Imperial prison?”

“Carefully.” Gregor replied with that signature clone smirk and eased us into Coruscant’s crowded transport lane, behind rows of waiting starcruisers, liners and ships alike.

I sighed, looking between the two brothers lost in thought while they navigated the ship into its landing cycle and groaned, “we’re breaking into an Imperial Prison, aren’t we?”

“Yep, definitely.” They replied, Rex turning to look at me with an apologetic shrug and Gregor a defiant wink.

I settled back into the dropdown chair that we’d never had to open before now and slid my pack into my lap, looking through its contents to take stock of what else we might need. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

–-

If the state of Coruscant was any indicator as to how the galaxy was doing under the new Empire, then I was afraid to see what other less wealthy planets might look like now. The entire planet was covered in military personnel, the flashing lights of Coruscant Guard transports tailing every new ship that entered the atmosphere.

We were lucky Gregor knew how to scramble our ship’s signature quickly or we would never have been permitted to enter the lower levels. There was no way in hell two renegade clones would’ve made it past security checkpoints on the surface level. Our old pirate freighter looked passable enough to be just a simple supply ship importing goods from off-world.

Rex somehow knew of a safe platform to land on and hide our ship and we were off, stalking around the Coruscant underworld on foot until we found the Imperial Inspectorate HQ. Or rather their sewage drain pipes leading out of the massive facility.

One good whiff of the lovely entryway had me seriously second guessing how much trouble we’d get into if we just knocked on the door instead. “We really have to go in this way?” I whined, scrunching my nose as our boots padded into the echoing metallic pipe.

Rex chuckled, flicking on his helmet’s light source and holding his beloved dual blaster pistols up for protection. “...unless you’ve got a better idea, cyar'ika…” He nodded me forward, the blue jaig eyes on his helmet looking eerily similar to the way his eyes scrunched up in amusement whenever he smirked at my lack of field experience.

“Place is a dump…” Gregor laughed, fitting himself with one of the spare blasters our ship’s former owners left in our bunk. “Get it?” He pointed to the ruddy water passing by our boots while we inched deeper into the bowels of the prison.

“Oh brother…” Rex scoffed, letting me walk ahead of him slightly with his lights leading the way now. I drew my own blaster from inside my leather coat pocket and pulled the hood of my cloak up to protect myself from the mystery liquid dripping down on top of my head. Gregor and I weren’t afforded the luxury of helmets like Rex was.

“Fives would’ve loved you.” I giggled, picking up the pace slightly as the first crossroads in the drainage system appeared up ahead.

“And if we ever do actually find Cody he’d probably slap you for that.” Rex shook his bucket and jumped over a particularly filthy pool of sludge before grabbing onto my shoulder to steady himself. “Bad enough we have to even come back onto this overcrowded, scrap pile of a planet. These lower levels were always miserable.”

I punched Rex’s shoulder pauldron softly, “hey! I came from this miserable lower level, remember?” I smirked up into his dark visor, giving him a warning teasing look that I knew he wouldn’t miss.

He rubbed his shoulder, feigning a more serious injury and looked down at me, “you were always the only fucking thing worthwhile on this planet.” I opened my mouth in shock, expecting to have to rebut, but instead closing it to smile as my face blushed. He shouldered me forward gently, stopping to rest his hand on the metallic side wall of the underground tunnel.

“If you two are done with the trip down memory lane, you might want to look up.” Gregor rolled his eyes, directing our attention to a high-up deposit point with a ladder that extended only halfway down the shaft. “That’s our way in.”

I looked up with calculated intrigue and scowled as I tried to figure out how the hell I’d ever make it up there. “Unless you think I’ve mysteriously gained jedi abilities overnight, there’s no way I could jump that high.” I waved my arms wildly, watching Gregor and Rex exchange glances.

“Angel, I could lift twice your weight with one hand. Rex and I could definitely give you a boost.” Gregor explained, flashing a toothy grin and smoothing his hand over his now wet hair. He flexed his biceps and stretched, motioning for us both to stand beside him. I took a deep breath and stepped into where they joined hands, looking up at the small opening I needed to catch onto.

On the count of three, they hurled me upwards, sending me up the tube with perfect aim. I scrambled in mid air like a distressed tooka until I felt my palms latch onto the second lowest rung on the ladder. I clamped down tightly, using all my upper body strength to reach for the next step and the next. My dangling feet finally found purchase on the bottom rung and I looked down for the first time, Rex and Gregor’s heads both cocked in amazement up at me.

“Well don’t just stare..c'mon let’s go.” I hissed, walking up the ladder toward the entry hatch, probably magnetically sealed above us. In an instant, Rex was behind me, the familiar touch of his gloved hand supporting my back. I kept crawling forward, my face now only inches away from the access panel.

“How are we going to get past the access panel without an astromech, Gregor?” Rex asked, hurling his body to the side to allow Gregor a place to grab onto. The sound of clattering armor beneath me meant Gregor had finally joined us and left the filthy drainage tube behind, for good hopefully.

“I mean…we can’t just blast it…either of you know anything about overrides?” Gregor cringed, looking between Rex and I and only finding scowls.

I thought about the many things I shoved into my pack before I remembered. I had an old droid spike that I took with me from the Senator cruiser I stole. “Rex, open my pack. I think I packed an old droid spike in there. Probably from a rusty old C1 mech, but it should work right?”

I felt Rex fishing around in my bag, until he found what I was talking about and whooped softly behind me. “Look at you…being all clever.” He handed the spike to me and returned his hand to a place a little bit lower on my backside.

“This is all well and good, babe, but what the hell am I supposed to do with it? I don’t really know how to hack anything.” I stared at the old, rusty metal part in my hands and then at the access port in the wall. I thought back to the very last time I’d ever seen one of these droids use this. I guess if you just put it in and felt around for the lock mechanisms, you could probably figure it out, right?

Gregor opened his mouth to speak, only to quiet again as I pushed the spike in and turned until I felt the gears clicking in a way that just felt right. I repeated the action over and over until the doors above our heads whooshed open.

“Stars- I fucking did it…” I laughed, removing the spike and gripping it in my teeth as I hauled myself further up the tube and through the opening quickly. The room I entered was filled with junk and spare parts, probably not far from an incinerator room. Luckily we chose the right door.

I looked around in the dimly lit room for any security droids or scanners in the room, but didn’t see anything. The Empire, and especially fellow clones, should know better than to leave any room, even the junk unattended.

“How’s it looking up there?” Gregor called up as Rex hurled himself up in a flip over my head and landed surprisingly quietly on two feet. I blinked in shock, for some reason stunned at my biologically superior boyfriend’s athletic prowess in action.

“Looking pretty good…” I grinned, stepping closer to Rex who was scanning the room with his helmet. I rested my hand on his bicep and waited for him to finish his scan before he tore his helmet off to wipe the muddy water off the front of it. “Very good.” I insisted, pushing up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He smiled shyly, the lightest flush coloring his cheeks. He twirled his blasters in his hands and pocketed them in one motion.

In another second, Gregor was beside us in the center of the room. The blast doors before us weren’t sealed and didn’t require shotty mech work to get through them. “I take it we’re good to move forward with the plan?”

The plan. Or whatever we could scrape together that resembled a plan. First step was to the intelligence center to find out if there was anyone in this prison that we might want to free. Our clone friends, political prisoners or even Jedi. Second step was to find out where the Commander’s meet up point was happening and intercept Cody if we could find him.

The biggest problem was that the whole plan was contingent on a ton of If’s. If we could hack into the network and get the intel. If there was anyone here we’d want to free and how we���d do it. If there was even a supposed Commander’s Conference here at all. Maybe this was all just a trap.

“Ready as we’ll ever be I guess.” I groaned, drawing my blaster and stepping toward the doors. Before I could move, I was pulled backward, spinning around into Rex’s arms. Both his hands cupped my face and he pressed his lips to mine, kissing me so passionately I felt my legs wobbling and my mind blanking. He pulled away, resting his forehead on mine.

“For luck?” I muttered, brushing his cheekbone with my thumb. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, his lips curling into a content smile.

“For love. We don’t need luck.” Rex replied, his weighted palms easing down my shoulders and patting my ass to motion us forward with Gregor rolling his eyes behind us.

��Saps.” He muttered, pulling his cloak over his face as we entered the hallway. I shrugged and pulled my own hood up, following Gregor’s lead as Rex brought up the rear.

“We should probably find better disguises.” I mentioned, moving swiftly down the empty, gray hallways of the dark prison. There was very little light in the hallways, which only helped us, but was intended to keep prisoner’s from knowing the difference between night and day. An especially miserable form of torture.

“Don’t think we’d be able to find stormtrooper armor small enough for you, angel. Not unless this prison happens to have any cadets hanging around.” Gregor commented, bolting quickly around a corner and into a hallway filled with cell block doors.

“Well they certainly wouldn’t have cadets covering the detention block.” I hissed, looking down the long corridor at rows and rows of cells probably filled with people I stood by and supported for years. “Where’s the network room, Gregor?”

“Down the end of this corridor to the left. Hopefully we can find at least some kind of helmet, so I can get away with being an escort to you two. I prefer that to sneaking around.” His eyes flitted into the few small openings of each cell block door we passed, trying to get a glimpse of whoever might be inside.

Shouts from behind the doors increased as each prisoner on the detention level heard us outside and, judging by the things we were saying, could tell we were not Imperials. I could almost sense Rex’s apprehension, hoping to every star system in the galaxy that we didn’t hear Ahsoka’s voice from behind one of these doors. Even though we could more than use her help right now.

Suddenly, blast doors on the right side of the hallway opened and two sharply dressed troopers stopped dead in their tracks. I froze on sight, all the training and tips I learned to fight back going right out the window. “Hey! No visitors allowed in the Detention Level. What are you doing down here?” The two voices spoke, the familiar sound of their brother’s voices making both Rex and Gregor sigh with regret.

The two shinies approached the two men who far outranked them no matter what army they served under. “Just wanted to see what you’ve done with the place. Been a minute since I’ve seen the inside here.” Rex scoffed, leaning up against the wall and tearing down the flag of the Empire from its fixture in the metal wall to look at it in his hands.

Following Rex’s lead, I improvised, “Is that any way to speak to a Commanding Officer, boys? What kind of strength does our Empire have if you cannot respect your chain of command?” I chided, straightening up and doing my best Senator’s impression, something I’d gotten good at after working alongside them for so long.

Gregor straightened up and waited for the men to salute as they should. “We’re here for the Commander’s Briefing.” He stated plainly, like a directive. Nobody moved.

The shinies looked at each other in confusion and then up and down at us. “If you’re both Commander’s then where are your uniforms?” They both raised their blasters thinking they had us. Slyly, Rex traced his hands down to his holsters on either side, trying not to draw attention to himself. With both hands on the hilts of each blaster pistol, he whipped them out as fast as I’d ever seen and raised them to their faces.

With a deep growl of contempt, Rex’s graveled voice spat, “You’re wearing them.” and blasted the both of them with blue stun blasts. The men collapsed in a heap and Gregor snorted at their stupidity.

“That was good, Rex. Now let’s drag them down the hall to the network room, so we can change.”

Gregor and Rex dragged their two unfortunate brothers down to the network room at the end of the hallway. With everyone getting ready for a large briefing upstairs, the room was unguarded save for a few droids milling about. The network console in the center of the room flashed the unmistakable signet of the Empire while waiting to boot up for the next user.

I searched the dash for a place to input a security key and froze at the realization that my Senate staff clearance code might not work anymore. Gregor, who was now fully suited up in a Commander’s formal grays, stepped up beside me.

“What are you waiting for? Type in your codes. You had access as a Republic Senate staffer, right?”

“Yes,” I stated, moderately annoyed at his constant questioning. “I’m just not sure how good they’ll be. Senator Organa said he transferred me to his personal staff, I’m not sure if the codes needed to be renewed or something.” I rubbed my arm nervously, pulling up the aurebesh keyboard and plugging in the passwords I’d used a thousand times before.

Rex stepped up beside me, leaning his now ungloved hands on the table and nodding me forward. “Guess we’ll just have to find out. Worse comes to worse…we run.” He shrugged, the gray uniform broadening his shoulders even more than normal. It really was a fucking shame he was never promoted to Commander. Everything about the uniform, the position of power, his brilliant strategic mind suited him. Except for the hat, which hid too much of the blonde locks that made him stand out amongst his brothers and that I personally loved so much.

At his usual smirk of encouragement, I confirmed my password and waited the agonizing seconds it took to load the all clear entry signal. We all held our breath, exhaling at once when the monotone beep confirmed we’d gotten in. My codes came through.

“Thank the fucking Force.” Gregor sighed in relief, his light eyes panning over the info scrolling across the screen. The info about the conference popped up almost instantly and I reached forward to select a running log of who had checked in already. The list of registered attendees had small green indicators next to the CT numbers of troopers who had already reported in and red indicators next to those who had not.

“What’s Cody’s CT number?” I asked, running my eyes down a list noticeably shorter than I’d guessed it would be.

“CC-2224.” Rex stated without a second thought, his own eyes scanning through the numbers too. “Commander class.” Each Commander had their original Kaminoan ID holo displayed along with a long record of their military achievements and former battalion number. Most didn’t look all that different from the GAR’s usual files. Almost as if they hadn’t been touched since.

Finally, my finger hovered over the number we were looking for and I pulled up the file. This file was completely different. The list of accolades accumulated here were far more recent than those of the clones we’d already seen and the hologram of Cody before us wasn’t of him in his original phase armor like the others. This Cody was donning stormtrooper armor and standing beside none other than Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin.

“Admiral Tarkin?” Rex scowled, taken aback at the info laid out before him. “I rescued him from the Citadel years ago. Last I saw him was at Ahsoka’s trial. And he wasn’t on our side.” He huffed, the muscles in his jaw tensing as anger broiled up inside him.

“Looks like Cody was promoted. He serves directly under Governor Tarkin now. And they’re due to arrive today. Could be here already.” Gregor thought aloud, realizing this info hadn’t been updated since the night before.

Both Gregor and Rex looked at each other and then turned to me. “We’ve got to go look for him upstairs. He could be here right now.” Rex exclaimed, clearly distressed and looking at me as if he needed my permission. I knew what it really meant though. If they had any shot at finding him, they’d both have to go up into the briefing without me. Meaning we had to separate, which was the absolute last thing Rex and I ever wanted to do. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, gripping the holotable for stability.

If he left me here and something happened, neither of us could ever forgive ourselves. We promised each other we’d never separate for any reason. Never. For some reason, the crushing weight of fear was collapsing down on top of me all at once and it was taking everything in me not to cry.

He realized instantly what I must’ve been thinking and his hands wrapped around my waist, hugging me to him. “Don’t worry, ok? We’ll be fine.” He assured me, running his hand through my hair and kissing my forehead. I kept my eyes closed because if I opened them, I’d start crying and he’d never leave.

“Meet back here in an hour.” Gregor stated, turning on his brand new black boots and walking off to let us have some privacy.

“Go.” I whispered softly, slowly pushing him off me. “Be safe. And keep your comm channel open. I want to be in constant contact with you.” I felt his fingertips grazing my forearms as he slipped away, following Gregor’s footfalls back into the hallway.

“We’ll blend right in. I love you. I’ll be back for you, mesh’la. Promise.” He called out, the words echoing as he faded away.

“I love you too. I’ll see you soon.” I called out after him quietly, opening my eyes to an empty room filled only with the beeping and droning of binary droids and mechs working.

“Not if I see you first.” His voice suddenly rang out over my comm and I jumped, not expecting a response. I just laughed softly to reply, turning back to the holotable and starting to scroll through any other info I could find on the Imperial holonet now that I was here.

The Detention Block was surprisingly not filled with anyone I recognized, no Senator’s, former Republic or Separatist, and certainly no Jedi. This made this impromptu rescue mission of ours just a little bit easier. Having to make only one pick up was less risky than breaking a prisoner out and running them back through the sewage drain systems.

I checked in on the whereabouts of my friends and colleagues, none of them seeming to even show up at all, much less cause any incidents for the Empire. Which was actually somewhat disappointing. The friends I knew should be standing up to oppression like this, not cowering as it took over the entire galaxy.

I suppose not everyone was ever as bothered about the state of the world as I was. Most people I had worked with, even some of my friends, were from well off upper or surface level families who got into the Senate for the cushy job benefits, the off-world travel and the prestige. Though they were sympathetic to the suffering of others, they didn’t know it. Not like I had. Growing up with barely enough to survive in the Coruscant lower levels was a hard upbringing and seeing the upper level Senators doing such amazing work on billboards and online seemed like a decent way out.

Little did I know most of it was an act. Nearly every Senator not associated with Bail or Padme was a blood sucking leech on Republic society. Either profiting off of the suffering of their own people or secretly funding the very exhaustive war. At least I was helping expose and rid the underworld of actual crime. The lack of decency around me only made me want to push harder to get into an important role in the Senate. Which all seemed for nothing now. I was right back where I started, a scrappy underdog in a battle for something far bigger than myself. Ironic. Maybe it was always meant to be this way.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something interesting. A number. CT-9904. I wracked my brain trying to remember where I’d seen it. Then it dawned on me. The Bad Batch. Wrecker had this number etched onto his chest plate next to all the other boys.

I opened the file and up popped a pretty menacing looking Crosshair, the only member of the batch I hadn’t met. The file was filled with details on something called Project War Mantle. I tried to open it, but the entire project was sealed. However, the notes on each individual mission log were not. I played the first one and it was someone by the name of Vice Admiral Rampart noting the effects of chip removal on Crosshair.

“Most clones we tested the chip removal on showed dangerous and erratic behavior and were terminated. CT-9904’s chip removal has been an outlier. He exhibits total loyalty to the Empire with no undesirable effects and has forsaken his old squad and the Republic completely.”

“Interesting findings. And what of the testing of the termination order?”

Tarkin’s voice. Without a doubt.

“On those we tested, it has been successful, but CT-9904’s leadership skills are proving useful. His unyielding belief in the Empire seems to be keeping remaining clone troopers in line.”

“Excellent news. Would be a shame to let such superior soldiers go to waste. But need I remind you, Vice Admiral, that if there is even a whisper of dissent or rebellion amongst the remaining troopers, I am on strict orders from our Emperor to move forward with the eradication procedure. Ensure that CT-9904 plays into our hands and follows instructions or you and your vision for our Empire will receive the same fate as the rest of the former Republic’s army.”

“Yes, understood, Sir. Thank you, Governor Tarkin.”

I gulped, shutting off the audio recordings and scrolling through the list of clones, human men, who had participated in the trials. Nearly all of them were marked as terminated. The select few that had passed rigorous loyalty tests were now identified as In Training and multiple holorecordings of clones suited in black armor like I’d never seen before were undergoing what looked like torture tests.

Each man watched as simulations of civilians cried out for help while Galactic Empire propaganda played overhead. The men who caved to the cries for help were dragged aside while the ones unaffected sat unmoving and glossy-eyed, like they were in some sort of trance. The screams on the recording were not just civilians either. In the background, voices exactly like my Rex’s were crying out for help too.

The clones in the experiment were being repeatedly taught to leave any fallen troopers behind. A sentiment that was against everything the men I knew ever stood for.

I shut it off, rubbing the tears from my eyes and jamming a holodisk in the projector. This was evidence and Bail needed to see it. Needed the atrocities I saw to be confirmed to prove to the Rebellion that the clones needed to be saved. That no man, nat-born or otherwise, should ever be subject to the indoctrination and brutality I just saw.

I shuddered imagining what Rex would’ve done if he saw that. I hoped to all the stars in the galaxy he’d never have to.

The holodisk ejected back into my hand and I stuffed it into my pack. All I could think about was getting out of there with the evidence, and Rex and Gregor, safely. The sight of all those innocent clones being brainwashed further, the idea that Crosshair was supporting it willingly, Tarkin’s threats to kill them all if they found evidence of clones rebelling. There was too much at stake for just the three of us to deal with alone.

No, the Rebellion had to know. The Senators, with whatever power they had left, had to listen to this. Listen to us.

I stood up, spinning around to head out of the room and toward the drainage pipe entrance we came from when I ran directly into another lifeform, hard.

“Hi Sunshine…”

Suddenly, I was face to face with the bright red helmet of one of my dear friends. Commander Fox.

I stood wide-eyed, looking up into the black visor where I knew the eyes of my friend should recognize me. “Fox…” I muttered breathlessly, reaching for his chest plate and getting almost close enough to touch it. A black glove shot up and gripped my wrist roughly.

“Senator’s aren’t permitted down here. And certainly aren’t permitted to do what you were doing.” He spat, the cool, sarcastic and witty tone that I was accustomed to completely gone from his voice, just like it had been the day the Order was activated. “You fucking traitor.”

“Fox…this isn’t who you are. You’re being used. There’s a chip in your brain. In every clone-” I began to explain slowly and gently.

He tugged me forward into his chest and glared down at me. “This is exactly who I am. This is what I was born to be.”

I scowled up at him, “No, Fox. This is what they made you to be. It’s not who you are. He took that choice away from you. Just like he tortured you before.”

He shook me and let out a chilling and sick laugh, “You should never have come here. Because I know exactly who you are. And I know why you came. There’s nothing you can do to stop the Empire. You’re coming with me, Sunshine. My brother can’t save you now.”

Before I could even think about turning to run, he stunned me and all the lights went out.

–-

Everything was fuzzy. I groaned softly, a numbing pain all over my body and finding myself barely able to move. I blinked repeatedly, the fog in my eyes starting to dissipate. I was in a dark cell, my body shoved onto a flat platform with nothing but a small sink for water in the corner. I struggled to stand, my knees wobbling as I stepped forward. Just as I moved toward the sink, my cell doors slid open.

Fox stepped into my cell with the hum of an Interrogation droid following behind him. He didn’t look any different, but his demeanor was all wrong. There was nothing about him I recognized. No warmth, no jokes to cope with his pain, no quiet compliments. He was stone cold, focused and terrifying. My mind rushed toward Rex and Gregor, praying they weren’t found out, even if I was. He stalked toward me, my weak knees collapsing underneath me and I fell on the floor in a heap.

“Where is he?” Fox boomed, standing over me with his fists held behind his back. “Where is CT-7567?”

“Dead. He’s fucking dead.” I lied, pushing the very real tears I wanted to cry for an entirely different reason forward and coughing. I pushed myself up to my knees in front of him and glared up at him with what I hoped looked like the most misery I could ever muster. “How dare you ask me about him.”

Without a word, Fox knelt down before me, his helmet face to face with mine. He raised his hand to my jaw and squeezed, turning my face from side to side. He tutted menacingly, “I’m not asking. I’m ordering.” He let go and shoved me back, “Don’t lie to me, cyar’ika. I know you too well. You’d be a fucking mess without him. You wouldn’t have any fight left in you if he really was gone.”

“Then you don’t know me as well as you think, Fox.” Fox waved the Interrogation droid forward and started to corner me.

“Well…if you won’t talk to an old friend, then I guess I’ll have to make you.” He hissed angrily, as I shuffled away from him, with nowhere to go but the corner I woke up in. I scrambled against the cold metal wall, wishing I had something, anything I could use to fight him off with. My bare hands would be useless; all the clones were just too strong for me.

And I couldn’t hurt him anyway. Somewhere inside was my friend and it wasn’t his fault this was happening to him. It was the chip. The Fox I knew seemed completely lost to it. He was out of his mind and beyond his own control. All I could think to do was try to jog his memory.

As the Interrogation droid closed in I cried out, “Fox, please. Don’t. You know how this feels. I know you do.” Fox stopped, holding out his hand and keeping the droid hovering over his shoulder. “When he used to make you fight for him and you’d come to me bruised and bleeding…I helped you. Do you remember, Fox?”

He muttered quietly, “that’s- I don’t answer to that name anymore. I’m CC-1010.” His hands were balling up in fists, like Rex’s did when he was fighting anger or fear inside. His arms were shaking like he was trying with all his might to fight off the urge to follow an order he didn’t want to obey.

I crawled toward him, slowly and calmly whispering, “yes, you do. You’re Fox. You’re my friend. 

I care about you. I helped you when he did things to you that hurt…things that you couldn’t remember.”

Fox shuddered, his head lolling and his gaze falling to the floor, “m-milk and two…two sugars. You like it..sweet.”

I slowly stood up, nodding as tears brimmed in my eyes. “Yes, Fox. M-my caf order. You like yours black or however you can get it.” He stood motionless, his shoulders rising and falling as he did nothing but shake and breathe. Carefully, I reached up, placing my hands on the rim of his bucket and pulling it off him. The sight before me shattered me into pieces. The same gut wrenching pain I felt when I saw Rex for the first time after the Order.

His hair was a graying, curly mess, frazzled and unkempt. His cheeks, chin and forehead were covered in cuts, bruises and what looked like shock marks. As if he was hit with a bolt of lightning. Maybe several. He always looked tired, but this time was different. The dark circles under his eyes were deep and purple, combining with a black and blue shiner over his left eye to make it look like he hadn’t slept in months.

But his eyes themselves frightened me most. Normally warm and kind in the face of unspeakable cruelty, his pupils were dark and gloomy. Yet, they were dilating, the deep amber fading in and out constantly. He wasn’t looking at me. He wasn’t looking at the ground. It’s like he was far away, drifting in and out of consciousness.

I rested my palm on his cheek, the way I always did to connect with him when he needed it before. To wake him from the daily nightmare he lived under the Chancellor’s orders. The vulnerability, the need for softness and care. That was Fox. The way I knew he really was. The way I seemed to be making him recall.

“Fox…what did he do to you? Talk to me, I can help you. But…you have to let me go.” I offered, wiping the dripping tears off my cheeks. His eyes slowly traveled up my frame in front of him, the pupils narrowing and opening over and over. He blinked hard like he was trying to clear a fog from his eyes. Finally, his eyes met mine, blankly gazing at me and cocking his head like the right thing to do, who he really was, sat just out of reach.

“H-help-” He muttered so softly it was barely audible before suddenly his eyes darkened again and his frayed brows furrowed at me touching him. His painfully forceful grip latched underneath my arms and he lifted my entire body off the ground, pushing me roughly onto the platform. The Interrogation droid buzzed as Fox moved aside, motioning his directive with two fingers pointed on me. “Scan her for base vitals and then put her under.”

The droid’s red scanner ran over my body quickly, calculating all the information it was gathering as it floated toward me with the anesthetic needle ready. “NO! FOX! PLEASE DON’T!” I pleaded, fighting and kicking him, but unable to move him away from restraining me. The droid beeped to signal the scan was complete and rattled off my vital information.

Fox just growled as I fought as hard as I could. He was probably hoping I’d tire myself out soon. The droid inched closer until I was backed into the cool, metal corner of the room again, the outstretched needle inches away from pricking the side of my neck. “Tell me where he is, sunshine. No use struggling, you won’t win.” The sinister tone of his words made me sick, my stomach roiling and flipping in knots in a way I’d never felt before. The overwhelming need to puke from the stress of the situation, the fear of the unknown and who knows what else.

I felt a slight prick and a searing heat cascading through my bloodstream, the noise of the droid's mechanical voice echoing in my ears.

“Species. Human. Type. Female. Temperature rising. Heart rate slowing.”

My vision was fading again, the darkness of unconsciousness circling tighter and tighter until I could barely see anymore.

“How much longer?” Fox’s gruff voice demanded impatiently.

“Heart rate level adequate for interrogation. You may begi- Warning. Warning. Warning. Additional lifeform reading detected. Additional lifeform reading detected.”

“Piece of shit clanker. There’s no one else here, but me. Re-scan.” He shouted.

“Rescanning….Rescanning…Rescan Complete. Additional lifeform is detected internally. Age approximation 8 weeks.”

No. 

It…it can’t be. 

I tried to cry out, but the drugs were too strong. 

8 weeks ago. On Saleucami. Only 2 days after the Order.

“What?” Fox said incredulously.

“Biometric Parental Genetic Match Found. Paternal Match. 50% Jango Fett. Species. Human. Shall we continue the Interrogation, Sir?”

And now he knows. They all will know. I gave him up without even trying.

“Well, well, well…the Captain lives. Looks like we’ll have much to discuss when you wake up.”

And with that I went out.

–-

Mando’a translation note:

dinii = lunatic

NOTES: sorry for the long wait…summer time is busy and work has been a nightmare. but i'm here now :) and more exciting stuff soon :)<3 I love all of my readers so much and I cannot thank you enough for your support in helping me love and find writing again

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[wallwriterstuff]

The Big Bad Wolf ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Warnings: A bit angsty at first, but otherwise it’s very fluffy 

Words: 5092 

Taglist: @thelastemzy​ @kpopgirlbtssvt @a-avaunce @college-is-coming​ @alecvolturiswifeforever​ @broskibowser​ @volturidoll13​ @raindancer2004​

Summary: 

Part 1: Little Red Riding Hood   Part 3: What Soft Lips You Have  Part 4: And They Have Lived Happily Ever After 

Demetri ponders why his mate doesn’t seem to feel what he feels, tries to plan ahead, and makes an important promise to the one person he can no longer be without. 

What did she dream of?

When her face scrunched like that. When her body twisted like it was trying to escape or flee or maybe curl closer? When her lips moved but no discernible noise escaped them. When she sighed contentedly.

What did she dream of?

When her fingers clenched into thick wool. When her cheek rubbed the same fabric. When vibrant eyes fluttered behind closed lids.

What did she dream of?

He still had no answer despite years of watching her – at least that was how it felt. He could vividly recreate her face in his mind, from the soft curve of her jaw that gave her face that classic oval shape the Swan Sister’s shared to the iridescence of those big Y/E/C eyes. In reality, he simple hadn’t stopped staring since she sort of collapsed into him, her exhausted body no longer capable of keeping her upright once he used the advantages fate had bestowed upon him to try and calm her from her obviously terrified state. Demetri couldn’t honestly say he blamed her, being afraid of her current situation. The moment she had stepped on the plane his mate had been subject to stares, the probing and malicious kind of looks that only those who thought they were above you could really give. Those looks gave way to open shock and clear, intense dislike when Demetri ushered her into the small booth of the Private Jet, the one reserved for the Higher Guard only.

To add to her worry, Aro had drifted over before long to discuss her change, Caius’s open dislike for her enough to make it clear only Demetri seemed to be overly bothered about whether or not she could endure the transformation. He was determined to make it so, bargaining for at least a night of sleep since the poor thing looked so drained. Her sister was pale it was true but there was something about the bags under her eyes that didn’t sit well with him. Alone, afraid, his mate looked nothing like the strong woman who had spoken out against the injustice her family were facing, and he would have devoted every last inch of himself to seeing her smile if only the timing was right. But he had scared her to, hadn’t he? His reaction to what was obviously a very upsetting scar of all things…

It was the principle of the thing! To think someone else’s venom had entered her bloodstream, that someone else had tasted the alluring wine lingering in her veins! The thought had driven him to near madness as most other things about her had that day. It had started off quite gently, as the mate pull should be he supposed. Her scent had made him pause, watching from a distance as she spied on them with no real idea of the consequences it held for either of them, breathing her in one deep inhale at a time as he tried to figure out why the scent was so alluring – then recoiling in surprise when he realised it was because it was all his favourite scents rolled into something unique and tantalising on the tongue. Curiosity had been the first major emotion, itching at his brain, and when Aro’s impatience had forced him to reveal himself to her, it had been quiet, reverent awe that came next.

Awe that he could have the privilege to gaze upon a creature so lovely, from the red tinge to her cold skin to the soft waves of hair that almost begged him to run his fingers through it. The moment he had dared meet her gaze the world calmed, like a storm had brewed and raged within him without him ever noticing until that moment. There was nothing and no one, not a sound or a directive that could have moved him for the seconds it took the mate pull to thrum in the back of his mind, slowly beginning the momentous task of realigning every instinct and every fibre of his being to her, making her the focal point of his existence. This experience was supposed to be sweet and slow, yet watching her wilt under Aro’s stare, knowing the danger she was in, had only sped it up, fate intervening to ensure he protected what was his so he didn’t lose it too soon. The moment his Master leaned forward he knew well his intentions, and Demetri couldn’t honestly recall what happened next since his body had took the lead and given his mind a backstage pass to watch the show from afar.

“You’ve been out of sorts since you met her. Is the pull that strong or is there something more at play here?” Felix asked, a low murmur that only their little booth would hear. Though they made no effort to be friendly his friends had, at the very least, kept their conversations at a more human volume so she would not be left out. Even if she did not take part in their discussions she was not excluded from them. Demetri reflexively tightened his grip, still unable to move his eyes from her for even a moment. He still felt like he was on high alert, like he was waiting for the enemy to come crashing in at any moment and take her from his grasp.

“Yes Demetri do tell, you’ve fawned over her like one might an infant.” Jane looked thoroughly amused at his discomfort and he made a mental note to pay her back for it later…when he could think straight. Every now and then, she would inhale deeply, curling tighter into the cloak he had wrapped around her before she had practically fallen into his lap, pressing tighter to his body as he held her close. He couldn’t understand it himself. Instinctually she knew, her body just…knew, surely? His scent, his presence, it had calmed her as it should. If her body knew to react to this bond, then why couldn’t her mind process it? Did she actually feel anything? Did she not have any of the confusing, intense emotion that he felt?

No…no it had to be the bite. That stupid, stupid bite. He couldn’t stop seeing it in his mind’s eye. She didn’t feel like his, that was the problem. He held her in his arms and she had come with him willingly but she wasn’t his, not till he erased that venom and replaced it with his own.

“Alec…I have a rather large favour to ask you.” He said finally, looking up at him. The boy tilted his head, silently studying the tracker before he nodded once.

“Then ask.” He invited. Even now he had to fight to keep his gaze on Alec, his eyes already itching to look back down and watch her expressions shift as she dreamed. It would be the last dream she ever had. He hoped it was a pleasant one.

“I need someone with me Alec, I cannot turn her alone…I suspect they know that, that that is my punishment for my disobedience on the battlefield earlier. I would have no one else do it anyway but…Alec if I cannot stop myself, please, I beg you stop me.” Demetri implored quietly. Alec seemed surprised at the intensity of the agony that was conveyed in his eyes. Demetri couldn’t really have explained it either, but every thread of his existence was tied so inextricably to her’s in the space of a few short hours that all he knew was that to lose her would be to lose himself. It had all happened so fast it was dizzying, but slowly the fog was clearing and his way out of this mess was clear. Turn his mate, ensure her safety throughout her newborn year, then they were both home free having proven their loyalty to one another and their coven – whether Y/N was there by a deal or by choice.

“Wouldn’t my gift be more effective at dissuading you?” Jane wondered.

“It would also be a wonderful way of ensuring I bite down and pull her throat out with my teeth.” Demetri pointed out, flinching slightly at the grotesque mental image.

“I can strip your taste. You would not want to keep feeding as it would feel pointless then.” Alec said finally. It was as close to an agreement as Demetri knew he would get and he nodded his gratitude as the jet began to descend. She stirred multiple times, his little human struggling to return to slumber each time she awoke as they moved between the landing strip and the Castle, something not even the warm embrace of his cloak could cure. She was blazing like a fire in his arms but seemed content with the temperature, dozing on his shoulder and then his bed after he left her cocooned there. Since she liked the warm, he made sure to stoke the fire before showering. He stayed under the warm water a long time, mind swirling with a number of burgeoning thoughts he couldn’t seem to shift.

His mate was right in the other room and yet she felt so far away from him. His whole life had changed drastically in the blink of an eye, and the price he was paying felt far too high. Her life was quite literally at stake, hanging in the balance where the only thing stopping the momentum from tipping too far to the wrong side was his self-control. Demetri had only ever bitten with the intent to feed, never feeling compelled to create company given he had never been a nomad and alone. Did he even have the self-control for this? The thought plagued him because that was his punishment, and he knew he had to endure for the sake of Y/N and himself. To lose her would be to condemn himself, yet with Chelsea on their side he was sure if Aro still felt he was of use he would never escape that particular torment.

By the time he had stepped out, dried and changed into something comfier than his official battle uniform, Y/N had slipped out of his cloak to curl up in front of the fire instead. With a pillow trapped between her chest and her knees, she hugged them close and stared into the flames, face half-covered by fabric and eyes red rimmed. It wasn’t difficult to smell the salt lingering on the damp fabric and understand what had happened in his absence. Oh, how his heart broke…

“I thought you were sleeping.” He said. She jumped, furiously wiping at her eyes before she somewhat relaxed again into her original position. She had tied her hair back now, long Y/H/C waves messily scraped into a bun that hadn’t managed to capture every strand. He felt another painful pinch in his chest when she refused to look at him.

“I don’t really sleep.” She mumbled. Demetri frowned slightly, inching closer to test her boundaries. She didn’t say anything, merely let him slip ever so slowly until he was sitting beside her, his knees drawn up so he could rest his forearms on them – and keep his feet away from the fire. They sat in silence for a long while, Demetri counting every painful minute in his head as they ticked by, moments with his mate draining away like sand in an hourglass he could never get back. Why was it so hard to talk to her? Every time he opened his mouth he closed it again almost immediately, not knowing if something he said might set her off or upset her more. What did she speak about to others’? So much to learn and so little time till she was lost to the thirst for a while…

“Forgive me, for the way I acted when we returned to your home. It was…selfish.” He settled on that, a safe enough topic he supposed given it was the only real experience they had shared together.

“Yeah, it was.” she couldn’t seem to bring herself to speak any louder than a mumble. Demetri grimaced a little bit, staring into the fire dejectedly.

“I spoke without thinking, reacted without really thinking either, about the pain that wound must have caused you.” He continued.

“I’ve felt worse pain.” She frowned deeply and Demetri couldn’t help but flinch.

“Such as?” he asked, though the sense of foreboding growing in his gut told him he already knew the answer, deep down. Y/N looked furious with him then, her big eyes turning on him with so much hostility he could have sworn she might have actually won if she lunged to fight him in that moment. The anger and upset that radiated from her bled into him, seeping through the cracks in his calm façade and piercing his unbeating heart. He would have given anything to remove that look from her face, that pain in her chest.

“Such as? Such as! Are you aware that you’ve just taken me away from my family, the people I love, without even letting me say goodbye? Do you even comprehend how much I don’t want to be here? That the only reason I am is because you and me are supposed to be this miraculous soulmate story incarnate when the reality is the only thing you feel for me is utter disgust?” she snapped. Demetri wasn’t certain she knew for a fact she was crying, or how much her words wounded him, but he couldn’t keep the offense off of his face. It was a mortal blow to his ego and his pride, his character as a man, yet as furious as he wanted to be with her he still couldn’t bring himself to be. She was young and hurting, deeply wounded and trying to create a chasm between them where fate wouldn’t allow it to exist in an effort to deal with that hurt.

“I do not feel disgust for you nor was it my choice to bring you here! You made a deal with Aro knowing full well the terms which you were agreeing to. You are the reason you are here Y/N, and so long as you choose to stay with me my every effort will be expended into protecting you from yourself. Foolish girl, can you not see he has us both trapped? That we are both being punished here? My own disobedience may have sped up the arrival of your fate but it is one you readily signed yourself over to.” he hissed.

He hated it. The revulsion boiled and writhed in his gut as he ground his teeth together, his mind buzzing with a thousand other angry words he forced back down his throat lest he make things worse. None of this was right. He shouldn’t be arguing with her like this. They should be happy, shouldn’t they? Happy as everyone else who was lucky enough to find their mate…shouldn’t they?

“I don’t have a choice, and neither did you,” She reminded him, “or clearly you would have chosen less damaged goods.” The air between them was polluted with their anger, their grief, and yet…her voice wavered. The sentence itself was so wrong but the tone of her voice, the way her hand moved to her throat, that pinched expression that suggested she was tortured by her own insecurities, was really what gave it away. How could he be angry at her now? With a drawn out sigh, Demetri scooted slightly closer and turned himself toward her, scrutinising her side profile.

Y/N closed her eyes, no doubt sensing his gaze and wishing it would leave her skin. He reminded himself she was fragile, that his little human would shatter easily under too forceful a touch, and drew his finger beneath her eye with such care it barely touched her skin and did little to remove the tears he wished he could wipe away. They had started all wrong, but it didn’t mean they had to continue the same way. Maybe it was inappropriate, maybe it was the wrong time, but he needed her to know it was something he could move past. He needed her to know that she wasn’t damaged goods, that she wasn’t something he regretted or felt the need to change – at least not in that way.

His fingers clasped around her wrist, afraid to grip too hard but ever so careful in the way he pulled her palm from her throat. Demetri closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to her temple as she froze up beneath him, feeling the icy tips of his fingers brush her delicate throat. Her pulse hammered beneath the pads of his fingers, blood rushing beneath her paper-thin flesh…

“Relax, trust me.” He whispered, tracing the indents of teeth in hardened flesh. He didn’t feel quite so angry about it this time, though he couldn’t say he was thrilled by it either. Demetri exhaled slowly, held his breath, and dipped his head a little lower.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, jerking her head backward. She didn’t move out of his grip though and there was the slightest hint of fear on her face. Demetri shook his head.

“I will not harm you,” he vowed, moving slowly so as to give her time to move away again, “You are not broken goods Y/N, and the way I see it I _did _choose you, though not consciously perhaps not consciously. Your very soul reached out to mine and I accepted what I knew would be best for me. You were never a choice, you were a necessity.” His bold words had left her utterly stunned and she didn’t fight him at all as he placed his lips over the marred flesh of her throat. He placed two kisses against that scar that brought them so much pain, just two, but it was enough to set them on the right path this time. Demetri pulled his head back, watching her carefully as she stared at him in utter astonishment. His head had cleared, his mind set right; he had never been as certain about anything in his life as he was about Y/N, whether the rest of the world was against them or not.

“But you said…you said your only hope was to…” she looked so confused in that moment it almost made him swoon. How adorable she was when her nose scrunched like that! He could watch the expression all day, but she needed an answer.

“What I said remains true, I have every plan to change you in the same way in the hopes I might not have to remind myself another ever dared lay a hand on you, but there will be contingencies to ensure I do not fail and you are safe. All that matters to me now is that I succeed in this endeavour.” He confessed, settling back against the sofa’s edge once more with a quiet sigh. The silence that followed was far more comfortable than the first one, something more companiable in the air between them. He was pleased she scooted a little closer to him so they could watch the flames together, their crackling no longer drowned out by the exchange of angry words. He wanted to ask her a thousand more questions, get to know her, but there would be time enough for that later on. For now he wished only to bask in this silent moment where things felt more right between them than they had since they met.

“They’re hoping you’ll kill me, aren’t they?” her quiet voice broke that silence a few hours later, as the sun was starting to set in the sky and night fell over Volterra. She was running out of time and Demetri wasn’t sure when that had begun to bother him to this extent, but the room was going to feel so empty without her heartbeat to fill the quiet.

“Yes. I believe that that is my punishment to endure for my disobedience.” He agreed, voice equally as quiet as he turned to look at her. He couldn’t remember when she had placed her head against his shoulder, but she lifted it now to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong though, I did, my mouth got us both in trouble.” She frowned. Demetri chuckled ruefully.

“Your mouth will get you into trouble for a while yet I believe, but my own impudence in placing myself between you and Master Aro was equally as displeasing to them. I wilfully subordinated your sentencing in front of many witnesses outside of our coven, after all.” He grimaced. He would change nothing about that moment, he had decided, not when it brought him so tangibly close to forever with his mate. It was right within his grasp now, an eternity of being fulfilled, happy, of having a purpose beyond the walls he once held so dear – he had something new to protect.

“So…they want to punish us both then…and being an out of control newborn is only going to make it worse for both of us.” She mused, though she didn’t seem in the least bit concerned. In fact, if Demetri had to guess, she was rather looking forward to the chance to raise a little hell within their walls. He was as worried and exasperated by the idea as he was amused by it.

“Indeed it just might, though I promise not to let you get too out of hand.” He nudged her lightly with his arm and she giggled, the sound absolutely melodious to his ears. He almost begged her to do it again purely so he had a better chance to commit it to memory, something to keep him company while she endured the change and reminded him of the better times to come. Finally, it felt like he had done something right…now he just had to keep that sweet smile in place.

“You promise huh? Way I see it, its a bit us vs them right now isn’t it? If they can be so unfair to you of all people…” she trailed off. Demetri felt his own smile fall slightly, his expression somewhat vacant as he pondered the accusation. In truth he did feel somewhat betrayed. Chelsea had actually threatened the Masters’ when she first brought home Afton and they wanted him killed, yet she received no punishment, so why had he? He was protecting what was rightfully his after all, someone he could never be truly happy without again. What was so wrong about it?

“Us and them…”he echoed, the thought both perturbing and…thrilling. She hummed, suddenly pushing up onto her knees beside him, eyes alight with fierce determination.

“You’re making a lot of promises but there’s nothing to say you’ll keep them so…lets make a real promise, right now.” She instructed. His eyebrows rose slightly.

“In my day and age when a man gives his word it is an ironclad contract little one, the breaking of which eroded his position in society and status as a man.” He replied slightly insulted. Her head tilted.

“Well we’re not in the Bible era anymore so…” she shot him a devilish grin as he snorted and feigned an offended expression, “It’s a real simple promise. Since we’re supposed to be the next Gomez and Morticia, and we’re clearly the only ones willing to see if that can work out, then I say we promise right now it’ll always be us against them. Hell, it’ll be us against the world if we need it to be. Whatever we do…we back each other up.” She proposed, offering her hand to him. Y/N extended her pinky but left her other fingers curled in, and Demetri wasn’t too sure what exactly was expected of him as he mulled over her words.

They felt right. Wasn’t this what the mate bond was supposed to be? Someone to always support you? Protect you? Someone to always have your back? If not his mate then who? Maybe the Masters’ who would so readily forsake his happiness weren’t the best choice of allies…

“Though I do not know what half of your speech actually meant, I can promise you this. Whatever we do, we back each other up.” He agreed, offering her his hand in the hopes she’d guide him through this next part. Demetri couldn’t honestly say he had any clue what was so different about this handshake and how it was any more significant than any other, but as she looped her pinky through his and shook his hand he couldn’t help but smile. With a firm nod and a sharp exhale, she suddenly reached down and pulled her jumper off with a flourish, revealing an expanse of pale skin and a wonderfully bright blue lace bra Demetri struggled to look away from as he choked on the air he was breathing.

“Okay so first step, you turn me.” She seemed completely unbothered by her partial nakedness, even when he struggled to stop the venom pooling in his mouth and his fingers from reaching out to drag her closer. She looked entirely confident in him and though he wanted to be flattered Demetri had his mind on very different matters in that moment.

“I – you –  Alec is going to- to help.” He choked out, eyes wide and completely fixed to her chest. She visibly lost some confidence then, a beautiful, vibrant shade of red painting her cheeks as her arms came up to cross her chest with a squeak.

“O-oh. I…I th-think I need a shirt then?” she sounded almost as strained as he felt and with a quick nod he dashed to his closet to find her something appropriate. He dutifully kept his head turned away while she buttoned up one of his shirts. When she cleared her throat to let him know he could look again she was still blushing brightly, and Demetri managed a slightly strained smile.

“So er…Alec’s room is just down the hall, er…shall we?” he asked, offering her his hand.

“No need, I heard my name and decided to drop in.” Alec’s voice was smooth as ever but there was an underlying hint of mischief there that made Demetri tense, and it wasn’t until after the deed was done that he dared speak his mind.

“How much did you see, Alec?” he didn’t risk looking at him, not wanting to see the shit-eating smirk he was sure was going to be on Alec’s face. He focused instead on cleaning the blood from her skin and ensuring she was comfortably resting upon his sheets. She started to twitch a bit, a pained grunt escaping here and there as Alec’s mist retreated from them.

“What I did or didn’t see is of no consequence…though I think you’re in for an interesting life if she’s as willing to undress herself for you after the change as she was before it.” His cackling could be heard down the hall as he fled from the room before Demetri could hit him, the tracker closing his eyes and counting to ten before deciding he could let it go for now. He had much bigger things to attend to after all. He had never been one to fuss too much over little things, but suddenly the sheets on the bed were not tucked in enough, the curtains letting in too little or too much light, the air in the room too stale and then too full of scents when he opened the window. There was no such thing as perfection and yet, as she burned, Demetri strived for it.

It felt worth it though, when she finally opened her eyes. It was rather amusing to him to watch her take it all in, the thousands of different smells and the way they tasted in the air, the shimmer of her skin, the speed with which she had sat up and moved. Demetri almost envied her when she finally locked eyes with him, the minute way the vivid red irises widened and the soft gasp that escaped through parted lips telling him she too had felt that momentous pull realigning her entire being with his own – he wished he could experience it again. She approached him with such caution it was almost comical, and Demetri was the one to reach for her first. She jumped at his touch but quickly relaxed into it, letting him hold her hand and squeeze lightly.

“This feeling…”she whispered, her own voice startling her with the musical notes it now contained. Her fingertips traced soothing patterns against his palm and Demetri held back a contented sigh, too enamoured with watching her explore the new feelings and beginning to understand his position in all of this.

“Intense?” he guessed, lifting his free hand to push back some of her hair. The slightest of scars remained where he hadn’t quite managed to cover Riley’s teeth marks with his own, but the majority of it was gone, sealed over with the same venom that had stopped her heart and ensured she would hand the organ and all it contained to him. She nodded distractedly, following his hand with her head until he caved and cupped her cheek tenderly with a low chuckle. His thumb stroked her cheek lovingly, his heart bursting in his chest. She had done it, his mate had defied them all with a little help and now…now there was nothing more for them to do than enjoy eternity.

“Is it forever?” she asked innocently, looking up at him through her lashes. Demetri pulled up the hand that was holding hers, lacing his fingers through her own and leaning down to press his forehead to hers.

“Always and forever little one, it’s us against the world.” He promised. Their noses brushed as her head tilted, pushing forward and pulling back as if trying to decide if she should or not. Demetri decided for her, meeting her halfway and letting their lips meet in the first of many sweet kisses to come. He had never tasted her blood thanks to Alec, but he was sure now that if the boy had failed at his task he certainly would not have been able to stop and his mate would not have been standing before him, sweet and alive and willingly walking into his embrace. The taste of her was sublime, addictive even, and he knew he’d never tire of kissing her. Though she’d need to learn to be a little more careful with him first.

A/N: Usually I wouldn’t do this but I tried a few new things here today I’d like some feedback on please! How do you like the taglist? Should I keep it? Add anyone to it? Take anyone off it? And how do you like the idea of a gif or a picture (when I can find them) to brighten up the post a bit? All that’s left to do now is rejig my Masterlist a bit...Thanks for reading folks. 

[illneverrecover]

swear not by the moon (M) | jhs & pjm

➛pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader x Park Jimin ➛genre: werewolf!AU, hybrid!AU, slight ABO dynamics (mostly Alpha, tbh), PWP, smut, fluff, a pinch of angst. ➛word count: 6987 (she thicc) ➛rating: M ➛warnings: ~werewolf kinks~, power play dynamics, slight dom/sub (mostly Alpha being in control, but you get the gist), oral (female receiving), dirty talk, marking/biting, brief mentions of blood, cum play, fingering, rough sex, copious amounts of cum, slight degradation (in the form of the word ‘bitch’ because, ya know, werewolves), doggy style (see before reasoning), over-sensitivity, knotting, cock warming, hints of polyamory. ➛summary: Tonight is the night you are consummating your mate bond with your Alpha - if you can prove first to his Beta that you are worthy to do so. ➛notes: OOF. I’ve been itching to do a werewolf piece ever since I had to cancel my @ksmutclub​ submission last Halloween, and my love @jimins-ass-eater​ rolled through with the win! After showing her my original outline, she commissioned for me to finish this fic like the angel she is. This one was originally just a porn without plot, but I tried to rework some more story in while still focusing on the filth, and that’s just the way Suzu likes it. Thank you so much for your support bb and I hope you like this! 🖤 ➛song: Swear Not by the Moon - GOT7 & Teeth (Nightcore version) - 5SOS

Tonight is the night you officially mate to your lover, and you’re shaking like a leaf.

The scarlet dress you chose was short silk, slinky lines grazing the tops of your legs and see through chiffon long sleeves that settle in the middle of your palm. You didn’t even realize that the fabric was that long until this moment, when the delicate cloth was being tested by the tight press of your nails into your fist.

The night air nipped at the bare skin of your thighs, the wind causing you to shiver as you approached the Alpha’s house. Being half werewolf meant that the blood that ran through your veins left you almost feverish, so a jacket had seemed pointless - but clearly, you had overestimated your nerves.

Raising your hand to the door, you only get a single rap in before it swings open, the boxy smile of Taehyung awaiting you on the other side. He was one of the Alpha’s closest advisers and ‘brothers’, one of your dear friends - though you were surprised to see him.

“They’re ready for you upstairs,” he nods, gesturing towards the hall leading to the second floor. You eye him, wondering if he was going to wait around. You know it’s customary for those important to the Alpha to witness the ceremony, but anxiety had your heart thudding painfully in your chest at the thought.

As if sensing your discomfort, he gives you another wolfish grin. “Don’t worry, princess. I’m not staying. The two of them can testify just fine without me.” 

He gives you a slight bow before turning and exiting the home, leaving you in the foyer by yourself to gain courage and climb the stairs.

There was no reason to be this nervous, you told yourself. It’s Hoseok - your Alpha, your mate - who’s waiting for you up there, ready to officially consummate your mating and declare it to the pack, the world. You’ve known Hoseok since you were both young, your human mother being very close with Hoseok’s own purebred mom, making you instant friends. Days were spent running around the compound with Hoseok and his best friend, Jimin, the three of you counting down the months until your 16th birthday when you would go through your first full shift together into wolf form and find your role. You had been an inseparable trio, there for each milestone, for every shift, from confirming that Hoseok was an Alpha, to finding out he was the next pack leader.

You shouldn’t be scared.

And yet your legs shake as you take each step, the excess adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream triggering your wolf senses to activate. You could sense them, their scent intermingling and comforting you, reminding you that there was nothing to be worried about. You knew them, loved them, would do anything for them.

Gaining resolve, you knock twice on the frame, straightening your back and forcing a deep breath in through your nose-

“Hi, beautiful,” a soft voice greets you, a shaky smile on his face. One hand reaches out, palm up. “Are you ready for this?”

Releasing the breath, you grin back, nodding once before placing your hand in his. Your nerves are soothed the minute you feel his skin against yours, and as his thumb rubs against the top of your hand, bravery fills your lungs. 

“Yes, Beta. I am ready to prove myself worthy of the Alpha.” 

You hear Jimin’s growl of approval first, his hand slipping out of yours to pull something out of his back pocket - a thick midnight strip of silk; a blindfold. Eyeing him, you see his deep blue hair styled out of his face, as if he had run his hands through it incessantly, and his cheeks tinted pink - with lust or anxiety, you aren’t sure. 

He moves behind you, exposing your Alpha for the first time, Hoseok’s body folded in the large crushed velvet chair directly across from the bed. His crimson hair was styled in a side part, sweeping back to expose his forehead and give you an unobstructed view of the spun gold of his eyes. He appraises you, gaze dragging from the crown of your head down the exposed skin of your legs, and though he doesn’t speak, you can see the enthusiastic consent shining in his eyes, in the low rumble of his growl.

And then your sight is taken, the blindfold placed over your eyes, secured with a knot at the back of your head before you feel a touch at the small of your back. 

You’re guided into the large room, tentative steps taken with Jimin’s gentle direction as he leads you to stand before the Alpha. Once you are in position he slides away, your senses sharpened when the comfort of his body is no longer close. 

For a moment everything remains still, heavy breathing and the steadily increasing smell of desire the only signs of the two other wolves in the room. Biting your tongue, you fight your instinct to call out to him, to say anything at all, lest you ruin the ceremony.

“Then, my mate,” Hoseok rasps, his voice low and thick with need. “Prove that you are worthy to me. If you are able to take my Beta, then your loyalty and merit to your Alpha will be known to the pack.” 

You knew the words were coming, and yet you gasp, warmth rushing to your cheeks, arousal pooling low in your belly as the implication settles over you.

“Jimin,”

“Yes, Alpha?” 

“Fuck my mate, make sure she is deserving of your Alpha.”

You had always known one of them would be your mate.

It was the only thing that made sense, that explained why you were so drawn to the two boys back in your youth, always being pulled to their sides. Yes, your mothers were all friends, and so time spent together was imminent, but forming bonds between you three had been fate. 

Being a hybrid, you knew how the pack viewed your kind from the time you were born, your parents always reminding you with cautionary tales. Hybrids were looked down upon; the lower end of hierarchy, bottom of the pack. Your father, a pureblood wolf, had found his mate in your mother, a human. While such relationships weren’t forbidden, they were frowned upon, and yet your parents risked it all for the call of their mate, their twin flame.

And while they would never regret their choice, they were worried about what the consequences would mean for you. 

Luckily, once Hoseok and Jimin were in the picture, they didn’t have to worry any longer. They were always by your side, looking out for you, protecting you. Both boys being of pureblood lineage, their families were respected, and by being in their good graces, the same was extended to you - somewhat. It helped that their closest friends within the pack were also so accepting (with perfect pedigrees to boot), the five other boys always around if Hoseok and Jimin were not. Namjoon and Jin were invariably ready to defend your honor at a drop of a hat, Yoongi and Taehyung prepared to console you after a long day. And the youngest of the bunch, Jungkook,  frequently offered to fight anyone you could possibly want him to, often dying for a chance to flex his muscles. They had become a family within the pack of disapproval, and inside the small group you felt like you had a place, a purpose - a home.

It didn’t stop the whispers, the glares you would get the closer you all got to your 16th birthdays, to your first shift as wolves. Hoseok had come from a long line of Alphas, his status basically guaranteed for his first transition, however Jimin was a wildcard. Hybrids weren’t given rank as it wasn’t promised that they would be able to shift at all, and so there was talk about the reputation you would bring them, especially if you didn’t have a wolf.

You’ll never forget the relief that flooded your system during that first shift, the feel of  your bones settling into your wolf and the freedom that your soul felt as you ran alongside your best friends. True to speculation, Hoseok was granted the rank of an Alpha, and Jimin a Beta; the perfect duo. Once you had shifted back into your human skin, you hadn’t been able to stop smiling, your cheeks aching with joy over the success of your friends, over having a wolf.

However, the pack wasn’t nearly as enthused. 

If anything, the rumors and gossip become incessant, whispers following the three of you like a ghost wherever you went. 

‘That Jung boy is an Alpha, he shouldn’t spend so much time with her.’

‘Jimin will likely be his Beta, why doesn’t he say something? He knows it’s not proper.’

‘What if one of them mates with her? What will their parents think?’

They told you to ignore it, of course. Reminded you that times were changing, that old traditions were being disassembled to make way for new ones, that one day it won’t matter what the others think. Jimin was always the first to point out that even if one of them were your mates, that it could be quite some time before the bond even took place; the mating call usually only becoming apparent during a time of high stress or pain. Who knows what will have changed by then? 

 You took solace in the fact that they didn’t seem to care about what others said, that they alongside the other five boys were always ready to reassure you. But it didn’t stop the small, lingering voice in your mind that whispered to you in the dark of night, that slowly dripped poisonous words until they hummed lowly in the background of your thoughts - what if the pack is right? What if you aren’t good enough for them?

That inner voice got louder the day that Hoseok was named next pack Alpha. 

The current pack Alpha was sick, body riddled with a cancer that was only growing, and he had named his successor knowing that his time left was limited, wanting to spend his final days off with his mate instead of settling pack business. He made the announcement nonchalantly, as if he was discussing the weather or other small talk, asking everyone to gather in the center of the compound before calling Hoseok to the front.

You remember how Hoseok had startled at his name, how quickly his heart started racing as he made his way to the dying Alpha, Jimin trailing softly behind him. You remember staring up at him, eyes glossy with pride and fear, nodding reassuringly when he started to recite the pack Alpha creed - and you remember the blinding hot heat of the mate bond suddenly snapping into place.

Hoseok had stiffened, eyes widening as he found your face in the crowd, the red string of fate clearly visible now between you both. Slowly, your scent evolved, undernotes sliding into perfect harmony to match his own, and it was all he could focus on, barely remembering to finish the words cementing his title. True to form, the mating bond had made itself known in a time when the red headed Alpha had needed it most, and it was you - his best friend, his confidant, the most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on. 

You hadn’t missed the way Jimin reacted; how his brow pinched as if in pain, the way his eyes were swimming in unspoken emotion as he glanced between his Alpha and you. You wanted to call out to him, to explain - as if there was anything to explain - but instead, he gave you a wide grin, stepping forward to then speak the words that would ascertain his place as Hoseok’s Beta.

When the ceremony was complete, Hoseok had stalked towards you with a new softness in his eyes, and all you could think when he wrapped his arms around you for the first time as mates was that you would give him the entire world if he asked - and you didn’t want to let him down.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the pack to find out what had happened, for the unwanted criticism to be hurled in your direction. While Hoseok formed his own counsel made up of his close friends - the boys you had grown with from childhood - as pack Alpha, it didn’t stop the members from the previous court from trying to guide him; encouraging him to deny the mate bond to you and find himself a proper wolf for a male of his stature. He was reminded of all the benefits of a pureblood mating; how powerful his pups would be with another pureblood female, how it would strengthen his claim as pack Alpha, protect everyone from any other nearby packs. And, as if an afterthought, how a pureblood female would be able to handle the official mating ceremony better, wouldn’t let emotions and other unspeakably human traits stop them from performing the tradition.

Hoseok wouldn’t hear it, eyes blazing with a flash of molten gold when he growled back that he had found his mate, and there would be no further discussion on the matter - that the next wolf that dared to insult his mate like that again better be ready to fight, or be prepared to leave. 

But their opposing arguments echoed in your mind for days.

Your sweet Alpha was always there to talk you through it, explaining that the mating ritual was centuries old but not necessary, that if you weren’t comfortable with it he’d abolish it immediately. He never wanted to make you do anything you didn’t want, that he knew and could feel your love and loyalty to him and didn’t need a silly ‘test’ to prove it.

And just when you would start to acquiesce, you’d see another sneer, hear another dirty insult about your hybrid status, and you felt your resolve firm.

You would go through with this ceremony to prove that you belonged by Hoseok’s side. You would prove to the entire pack that you were worthy, that hybrids were deserving and stronger then history would have them believe. That you could do this, that you were to be respected - as was your Alpha. 

And with your declaration, the ritual had been planned for the next full moon.

“Is this okay?”

Jimin’s voice is as soft and tentative as his fingertips grazing your arm, the delicate way his free hand moves to cup your shoulder. You wonder what his face looks like, what’s hiding beneath his stoic and gentle eyes, but instead you just nod.

With a slight push, he begins to walk you backwards towards where you remembered the large bed was placed in the room, directly under the expansive skylight that was currently framing the moon’s bright glow. You swore you could feel the nerves in his touch, in the way he sucks air between his teeth, and you curse that you can’t just rip off the blindfold and console him - even while part of you knows that would make things worse.

Stopping only when the backs of your thighs hit the resistance of the mattress, you reach out to cling to him, pulling him closer to you. Desire is mounting, a slow dull ache beginning to make itself apparent between your thighs, and you just want him to do something, anything-

“Your sight has been taken, leaving you to the devices of your Alpha and his Beta, to prove that your loyalty lies with your mate,” Jimin murmurs, lips dancing around the curve of your ear and leaving you shivering. “With your senses dulled, do you trust your Alpha? Believe that he will make the right choices to protect you and honor the pack?”

It’s a question, you know, but the way Jimin speaks it makes it sound like a fact, a declaration - that they will never hurt you, that you can always rely on them, if you so choose. 

“Yes,” you claim, voice steady for likely the first time all evening. “I trust my Alpha. I trust you both.”

Jimin’s breath hitches in surprise, not expecting your last words, but you could feel his lips grinning against the shell of your ear. 

“Thank you, princess.” He places a chaste kiss at your pulse point, before moving away from your frame once more.

“Your mate has confirmed her stance, Alpha. If you accept this, the blindfold can be removed at this time.” 

Heart thudding in your chest, you await Hoseok’s response, no doubt in your mind that he’ll agree to move forward with the ritual, but unable to stop the voice lingering in the recess of your mind whispering that you aren’t good enough - never good enough, not for him.

As if he could sense your worry, you suddenly feel Hoseok’s presence in front of you, his scent becoming stronger as he reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes, I accept her vow, now and always,” he assures, thumb tugging at your lip briefly before his hand moves to untangle the knot holding the blindfold in place.

Blinking, you let your eyes adjust to the room, pupils blown wide at the sight before you. Jimin is flushed, his hand continuously coming up to brush his navy hair away from his face as his gaze turns fierce, eyes flashing to the icy blue color of his wolf. Next to him, Hoseok is every bit the Alpha - tall, broad, imposing without having to lift a finger.  A dangerous smirk is on his face, and you swallow thickly thinking about what comes next. 

Wordlessly, Jimin moves forward, cautious when he reaches out to put his arms around your waist. His eyes are searching, imploring you for assurance that he isn’t upsetting you, and when you give him a quick nod, he rests his forehead against yours. 

You stay like that for a breath, two, before he leans in, pressing his pillowy lips against yours. The kiss is modest at first, easy brushes of his pliant mouth against yours, but when he feels your tongue sweeping out to taste him, he pulls back with a gasp. 

“Are- are you okay? Are you sure this is okay?” he cups your face, fear etched into his brow. “Because if it’s not okay, we can stop, Hoseok understands-”

Rushing forward, you silence him with another kiss, your tongue successfully finding purchase in his mouth, swirling against his own before you pull back. 

“Jimin, it’s okay. I’m okay. Do whatever you need to,” determination shines in your gaze, and you refuse to drop the eye contact until you’re sure he understands. “Do whatever you want to.”

A growl tears through his throat, and gone is the timid man you’ve grown up with, who was scared to touch you - and in his place is a wicked creature, dripping in lust and confidence. His  hands immediately sink into your hair to tug at the roots, his mouth moving against yours voraciously, hungrily. He kisses like a man starved, licking and biting at tender flesh until you’re whining, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. 

He nuzzles down the expanse of your neck, trying desperately not to scent you, even if every instinct he’s ever known is roaring at him to do the opposite. You smell so sweet, so exquisite, and he feels the sharp point of his canine drag along your vein as his mouth waters.

“Fuck, I wish I could mark you, just once,” he rasps, nipping and dragging his tongue against the base of your throat. “You would look so pretty with my mark right here…”

“No marking, Jimin.” 

Hoseok’s voice was like ice water in your veins, and your eyes snap open as Jimin bites at your collarbone lightly, playfully. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to. I’ll be good.” 

He pulls away then, raising a brow at your wanton state, impish grin erasing any signs of shyness that were lingering. Palms slide down the front of your dress until they reach the hem, pausing only to change direction once they meet the softness of your thighs to pull it over your head. He stares at you while he reaches for your panties, ripping them off of you with a flick of his wrist before he throws them over his shoulder. 

Jimin steps into your inseam, moving closer until you drop to the bed, sitting up with the ravenous werewolf standing between your legs. His hand slides to your jaw, turning you to look at him. “But you don’t want me to, do you, princess?”

Forgetting to breathe, your arousal builds rapidly at the predatory tone in his voice, at the lecherous way he stares at your heaving breasts. 

“You don’t want me to be good, to behave,” he purrs, climbing over your waist as he pins you to the mattress. “You want me to do whatever I want, want me to claim you, too. It’s why you agreed to this ceremony, isn’t it?” Dropping his head, he noses the line of your neck, trailing until he’s down between your cleavage. “You wanted to do this because you wanted me, too - right Princess?”

Moaning, you writhe against him, gasping when you feel the hard line of his cock tempestuously close to your center. He sits up long enough to rip your bra from you, kissing his descent down your body until he’s lodged between your thighs, glistening cunt on full display.

You wait for him to say something else, tease you more, but instead he presses his face into your heat, inhaling deeply before his tongue is sliding languidly through your folds. 

“Fuck, Jimin,” you cry, a hand fisting in his indigo locks. His mouth is vicious as it moves against you, flicking and suckling until you are practically sobbing, clit pulsating with lack of friction. No matter how much you tug on his hair, how hard you grind his face against you, he continues his leisurely pace, lapping at you like he has all the time in the world.

“Jimin, please,” you beg, body buzzing with pleasure. Your high was so close, just on the tip of his tongue, and your patience was waning. “Please just make me come, I wanna come.”

Humming against you, he looks up then, icy eyes barely visible over the line of your cunt. “You taste so fucking sweet, Princess. So good, I can’t get enough.” Pausing, he leans closer to your engorged bundle of nerves, pulling it in between plush lips, enjoying the way your body violently contorts. “I could spend all night between your thighs.”

Whining at his words, you paw at him to no avail, body still suffering under the torture his ruthless mouth is causing. Flopping back in frustration, you form a plan in your mind, fingers finding purchase in his tangled tresses to give a few experimental yanks.

Bracing yourself, you pull the wolf up by his hair, using your often ignored strength as a hybrid to your advantage. He detaches from you with a grunt, flipping to his back easily as you exploit his shock to climb on top of him, peering down at him with a grin.

“And I said I wanna come,” you croon, hands reaching between your bodies to yank at the fabric still covering him until it was in tatters. Thrilled satisfaction is a heady cocktail coursing through your veins, making you feel lightheaded as you took in the awestruck wolf below you. With no barriers, you could feel his firm shaft buried between your lower lips, and you rock forward, gliding until your clit nudged his swollen cockhead.   “Are you going to make me come?”

A growl of assent rips through the room, your Alpha’s pride beaming at how you managed to pin his Beta and take control. His pleased sounds just make you feel more drunk with power, and you lean forward to curl a hand around Jimin’s pearly  throat, hips rolling until his length catches on your entrance. 

Jimin lets you push down against him, hands gripping the flesh of your hips to steady you as you impale yourself down on his dick. The lithe hand around his neck squeezes once before slipping to his chest, your head falling forward as you feel every inch of him seated inside of you, pelvis resting flat on his own.

He can feel your cunt fluttering around him, adjusting to the sensation of intrusion. Your bottom lip is trapped painfully between your teeth, eyes closed to the pleasure, and Jimin gasps at the sight. He allows himself a breath, two, to fully drink in this image of you on top of him, full of him - knowing it wasn’t one he would be seeing again. 

Still grasping at your waist, he begins to thrust upwards brusquely, smirking to himself when you immediately cry out a choked version of his name. He likes that - his wolf likes that, needs you to do again. Digging his nails into your side, he pulls you until your body lays flush against his own, breasts trapped against the hard lines of his chest - before bending his knees to drive his cock into you with more force. 

“I’ll make you come, little bitch,” he hisses, pace not faltering. You whine at the nickname - a common one within the wolf community, but one the Beta had never used to address you, until now. His hands trace down and around your hips, grabbing the globes of your ass forcefully. “But you’re going to say my name when you do.”

He’s dragging your pelvis against his own, grinding you against him as he continues to plunge you on his cock, the combination of his ministrations hurdling you towards your impending orgasm. It’s delicious the way the friction lights your nerves on fire, the way he reaches the tender spot of your walls just enough to have your mouth watering, and you find yourself giving him exactly what he wants. 

“Jimin!” you moan, voice pitching as the edges of your vision became blinding white. A satisfied growl rumbles through his chest, his lips suddenly tangling against yours. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, sweat beading on his forehead as he bounces you on his length relentlessly. “Come for me,”

Another cry of his name tears through your throat, your high cresting into an explosion of burning stars, your cunt contracting around him as if to pull him in deeper. Jimin continues his torture, crushing you against him with delicious friction to draw out the pleasure until you were practically hiccuping against him, boneless. 

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he whines, his cock throbbing with every pulse of your pussy as you milk him through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming frenzied and desperate. He can feel you dripping down his length, your arousal coating him, the scent overpowering the room and driving his wolf to the brink - and abruptly he’s releasing inside you without warning, mouth latching onto your neck as he spills his seed, teeth careful to not puncture the skin.

Sucking in air, you remain collapsed on top of Jimin, mind still hazy from your climax. It’s only when you feel a brush against your brow that you peel your eyes open, see the towering Alpha before you.

Ah, yes. This wasn’t over. 

“You did so good, Princess,” Hoseok coos, smiling down at you as he loops an arm around your naked form to pull you from the Beta. Gingerly, he lays you on the bed adjacent to Jimin, climbing to kneel next to you. 

“And you too, Jimin.” he looks over to the man beside you, pride raging in his gaze. “Thank you for making sure she was worthy of your Alpha. Thank you for treating her so well.” 

Jimin seems to get choked up then, eyes brimming with emotion, but he smiles and gives Hoseok a nod. “Of course, Alpha.” 

He sits up, pausing to await further instruction, but when Hoseok moves to lean over you, Jimin coughs, awkwardly scanning the room. 

“I… I should go. Let me just grab my clothes and then I’ll wait downstairs-”

“No.” Hoseok’s voice is stern, the command evident in his tone. “No, you will stay - in this room, and on this bed.”

You raise a brow then, matching Jimin’s confusion as you peel your eyes open to stare up at the wolf, waiting for him to proceed. 

“We are a pack together. All of us at the compound, all 8 of my counsel - my brothers, of course - but most especially, the three of us.” His eyes flick from you to the Beta, making sure you were both listening before he continues. “It’s always been the three of us. Regardless of status, of mates, of whatever is thrown our way. That isn’t ever going to change.” 

Heart thrumming in your chest, joy takes flight under your skin at his words, at the new declaration he was affirming. It was the three of you against the world, and now it always would be. 

Jimin chuckles in delight, elation shining in his ice blue eyes as he sits back onto the bed, moving to prop himself up near the headboard. “Yes, Alpha,” he resolves, wry grin tugging at his lips as he nods towards you. “Well, don’t let me keep you.” 

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that.”

Hoseok’s returning snicker has chills racing down your spine, the wolf inside instantly recognizing the power of the Alpha kneeling before you. His eyes glow gold under heavy lids as he begins to undress slowly, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips as he devours you with a gaze. 

His bare chest is tanned, sinewy muscles rippling as he unbuttons his pants, freeing his thick length to bob against his toned stomach. His cock is just as beautiful as he is, girthy and long, a perfect tapered tip, and you wish that you had a moment to lavish it with your tongue, to taste him fully. Every inch of him is lethal, calm ferocity, overflowing in authority, and you can feel the gush of your arousal mixed with Jimin’s seed smearing against the tops of your thighs as you wait for him to claim you. 

Towering over you, Hoseok drops his head to nuzzle at your cheek, turning your head until he can bury himself in the crook of your neck. “So beautiful,” he whispers, lips insatiable against heated skin. “My mate is so beautiful, so perfect.”

There’s tenderness in his voice, controlled carnal lust veiled thinly in the intensity of his love, and you soften at his touch. “You’re perfect, Hoseok. My Alpha.” 

A throaty purr rumbles in his chest as he trails his tongue against your flesh, following the line until he can capture your mouth with his own. The kiss is searing, white hot electric as your tongues intermingle, teeth dragging against swollen lips. His hand travels down your body, nail tracing a thin path until he’s at your sopping cunt.

“Such a messy girl, hmm? Jimin gave you so much of his come, and this is what you do with it?” He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval, fingers sliding in the sloppy mess only to then press inside of you. 

Jolting at the sensation, you whine as he continues to scoop up the viscous liquid before shoving it inside your aching center, body raw and smoldering with each intrusion. When he deems the job complete, he plops his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean.

“I’m going to fuck it all out of you, princess,” the grin he gives is shameless, causing blood to rush to your cheeks. “I’m going to fuck it all out of you and then fill you up again, until you’re dripping with nothing but me.”

The digits that were in his mouth are now tapping against yours, lips parting to allow him to press against the bed of your tongue. His eyes darken as he watches, a satisfied hum low in his throat. “Do you understand?” 

Nodding, you mumble the words around his fingers, voice thick with need. “Yes, Alpha. I want to be filled with you, want you to ruin me.” 

Just like with the Beta before, you see a bright flash in Hoseok’s topaz gaze before the wolf in him seems to take over, a feral smirk curling his mouth. A famished low growl is your last warning until strong hands are flipping your body, placing you on your stomach before pulling your hips up, presenting your bare center to him. 

His palm reigns down on your ass cheek, blossoming the skin pink, retching a cry from your throat. “Jimin, help hold her in place for me, hmm? I don’t want my perfect little bitch going anywhere.” 

Arousal floods you at his words, and you clench tightly in a poor attempt to keep from leaking all over the tops of your thighs. Wordlessly, you tilt your head up and meet Jimin’s gaze just as he gives you a lecherous smile, hands moving to pull yours to lay in front of your head, wrists pinned by his grasp.

With your head and chest down and ass up, you were exquisitely offered to the Alpha, and the subservience alone has you trembling with anticipation. You can feel Hoseok move to kneel behind you, the scalding heat of his skin so close to yours, large palms kneading and yanking at the flesh of your hips.

The desire to have him inside of you is driving you mad, your body writhing to feel any inch of him. He chuckles at the scene, appeasing you with lazy strokes of his thick length up and down your soaked slit. Mewling, you move to reach behind you, wanting to force him to plunge into your walls, but a quick squeeze of Jimin’s hand reminds you of his presence. 

The Beta clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “So impatient. You’re completely helpless but so desperate for our Alpha, aren’t you?”

Hoseok drags his cock until it barely catches on your entrance, making you drop your head with an embarrassed whine. 

“Good,” he murmurs, rolling his hips so that he slowly sheaths himself in your warmth. “I hope you are ready for me, because once I start, I won’t be able to stop.” 

Unable to take the torture a moment longer, you sway your hips back, sinking onto his length fully with a cry of his name. The tension of your arms being stretched out slowly ebbs into pleasure, your back bowing to ensure every delicious inch of him is now buried inside of you.

“Don’t stop, Alpha.”

Your words seem to be a trigger, and the wolf behind you growls out a rasp of your name before he slides out - only to slam so hard into you that your teeth rattle. 

The pace he sets is punishing, skin slapping on skin as he pistons in and out of you with otherworldly strength. Deep groans harmonize with your high pitched whines, your head turning to the side to gasp for air as you take him fully with each thrust. You understand now why he had Jimin pin your arms - holding you in place as you thrash forward with every assault of Hoseok’s pelvis. 

The Alpha’s hands abandon your hips to press into the mattress on either side of your head, body looming over you. His mouth falls to your neck, biting and sucking marks until they’re blooming in a dark red violet, making your toes curl. Hoseok alternates between marking you and praising you, pressing words of affirmation into each bruise he indulges.

“You feel so good, so fucking wet and tight, all for me,” he croaks against your skin, mouth spit slick and raw. “All for me, my perfect princess, my mate, my mate-”

A high pitched keen rips from his chest, and you feel his canines drag against the thin flesh of your throat as his hips pick up momentum, pounding into your center. You know what’s coming, and you feel the band in your belly tighten at the thought, your cunt throbbing in time to your pulse. 

A hand that was holding himself up moves to grasp at your breast, tugging and twisting the nipple until you sob, hurtling you towards your climax.

“Claim me, Hoseok,” you whisper, turning your head to give him better access. “Mark me as your mate.” 

A sharp howl echoes through the room, your wolf cantering with a needy plea as you bare your throat to the Alpha, giving yourself up to him. Even the Beta answers the cry, your wrists forgotten as he shows allegiance to his leader, tilting his head to expose his neck.

It’s then you feel Hoseok’s teeth puncture your skin, his mouth latching right to the curve of where the column of your throat flows into your shoulder. The hand previously pawing your breast is now at the base of your neck, holding you tightly as he suckles at the wound, drinking deeply from your life’s blood. 

Crisp pain bubbles into mindless pleasure, the mate bond now fully snapping into place as he continues to fuck into you, propelling you to your end. With his mouth working at your neck and cock pounding into you, you’re unable to hold back any longer - letting out a piercing cry of his name as you’re thrown headfirst over the edge. 

The orgasm is intense, blinding, your body convulsing as waves of euphoria crash over you. It seems like hours pass before the high wanes, leaving you dizzy and your mouth dry. Hoseok isn’t faring much better, muttering nonsense as he works you through it, your cunt squeezing him with every ripple until he’s groaning out a warning.

“I’m gonna come, f-fuck,”  he grits his teeth, nuzzling against your cheek. “Gonna knot you.”

The sensation of him swelling inside of you has your eyes widening, body flinching with oversensitivity. “Hoseok, I can’t - I don’t think I can take-”

“Shh, you can take it, I know you can,” he coos, his hand slipping to rub at your engorged clit, causing you to cry out. “My mate, my good girl,”

His mouth finds your mate mark, licking and nibbling it when his hips start to stutter against you, his choked moans ringing in your ear. You feel his release coat your walls, followed by an increase in pressure that’s minor at first, but rapidly increases. Wiggling, you try to move away, but he holds you to him, sweeping the hair out of your face. “You’re doing so well, taking it so well. It’s almost over.”

Just as you plead that you cannot possibly take any more, the swelling stops, trapping him deep within your core. You feel so full, almost uncomfortably so, but your body seems to adjust quickly, a flushed heat smoldering in your gut at the ache. Hoseok presses a lingering kiss on your mark before shifting you so that you’re both on your sides, him cradling your back with an arm slung low on your waist.

To your surprise, he even beckons Jimin over, who immediately comes to lay facing you, hand reaching to clasp your own, sincere smile creasing his eyes. Your chest tightens with affection, heart ballooning as you lie between your two wolves, basking in the love they’ve shown you, bathing under the pale light of the full moon. 

It takes about a quarter of an hour for the knot to deflate, Hoseok wincing when he finally slides his softened cock out from inside of you. The satiety you had felt remained, even as some of his seed begins to dribble from your spent center, and to your delight your mate refuses to allow you to clean it up, instead resuming your previous cuddling positions.

With your body nuzzled warmly between the Alpha and Beta, your lids grow heavy with fatigue, idle chat of the men lulling you into a light sleep. You can hear them whispering, talking lowly over your snoozing form, but can’t bring yourself to focus on the words.

“So, does your earlier declaration mean this could happen again?” Jimin smirks, smugness evident in his tone despite the question.  

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. Who knows? I’ll never say never, though ultimately it’s up to her.”

“Well, we might want to keep that between the three of us, then. I can practically hear Jungkook’s indignant cries about fairness if he finds out.”

The redhead barks out a laugh at that, his chest vibrating against your back. “Good point. The pup did always have a bit of a crush on her,” he trails off, hand reaching to clap against Jimin’s shoulder. “But he isn’t the only one.”

Silence envelops the room then, breaths and heartbeats the only white noise calling for you to give into the siren song of sleep. Blinking, you force your eyes open to peer up at Jimin, wanting to say something, anything to reassure him - but the Alpha beats you to it.

“It’s okay, Jimin. I know. I know she knows, too - and we both love you. Mate bond or not, it will always be the three of us.”

You can’t see Hoseok’s face, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice, the genuine love in his words. However, you can see Jimin’s expression, and your pulse races at the smile you find there, the mirrored adoration shining in his eyes as he stares at the Alpha before dropping his gaze to yours. 

“I know.” His hand reaches out, thumb smoothing the angle of your jaw, giving you a knowing look before he glances back at Hoseok. 

 “It will always be the three of us, no matter what.”

[jerrylewis-thekid]

I have a loyalty that runs in my bloodstream, when I lock into someone or something, you can’t get me away from it because I commit that thoroughly. That’s in friendship, that’s a deal, that’s a commitment. Don’t give me paper -- I can get the same lawyer who drew it up to break it. But if you shake my hand, that’s for life. And that’s the way I have done business. I had a handshake with (Paramount Pictures executives) Y. Frank Freeman and Barney Balaban to do $700 million worth of films on a handshake. Jerry Lewis Source (X)

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Interogation: Avengers x Fem!Reader

S.S: This one is a little cringe worthy, its got a lot of Pintrest writing dialouge in it so just caution of that! But hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Knife, Blood (kinda), cringe.....

Word Count: 1,624

MASTERLIST

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

I settled onto the couch, in my plush baby blue PJ pants and an oversized sweater, and my wet hair still dripping onto my shoulder. The team had just returned from a rather difficult mission and everyone was exhausted. Slowly one by one, each Avengers walked into the room, decked out in their own pajamas, and freshly showered.

“What are we watching?” Tony inquired as he took a seat in his chair.

“Something funny. I need a laugh.” Clint insisted.

Nat took the remote from my hands, most likely growing impatient with my slow picking and ran through the movies, clicking on one of the funnier ones that we had all seen once or twice.

“I hate to interrupt.” Fury’s voice traveled through the living room, eliciting groans from everyone. “Don’t worry I just need Agent L/n.” 

“For what?” I question, from my slumped state on the couch.

“An interrogation.” 

“You can’t get someone else to do it?” I asked peering over the back of the couch to see him dressed in his usual trench coat.

“Already had our best people try.” He admitted. I toss the blanket that I had snuggled under off onto Bucky who sat next to me.

“Alright, let me go change,” I grumbled.

“Wait, if your best guys have already tried, why send in Y/n/n? No offense, but isn’t she a little inexperienced in that category.” Nat questioned.

“Gee, thanks. I’m not just a good shot Nat. I’ve got tricks.” I smirked before walking back to my room to change from my cozy jammies. I could hear the questions through the hall and Fury staying silent, causing irritation amongst the group.

I was quick to change into black high waisted jeans, a light blue shirt tucked into the waistband, and shrugged on my leather jacket and pulled on my heeled black combat boots, slipping a small pocket knife between my ankle and leather. Adding mascara and running my hands through my wet hair I decided I was good to go.

I was never one to look or be menacing. I was the sweetheart of the group, I wore bright colors, found the silver lining of everything. I did my best not to focus on all the bad around me, which was maybe power in itself considering what I’ve experienced. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” I groaned walking into the living room. 

“Wow. You should wear black more often. You look good.” Sam commented.

“Thanks but it’s not really my style. Unless it’s needed.” I informed. “Y’all coming or something.” 

The group was standing next to Fury, each had their arms crossed or their hand placed on their hips.

“Yes. We want to make sure you’ll be ok.” Steve stated.

“I just want to watch. It’ll be entertaining.” Tony chuckled, I assumed because he believed that I’d walk out of the room defeated.

“Alright, but no intervening with my interrogation.” I laid the ground rule. Each nodded, some after a little bit of hesitation but agreed nonetheless. “Good.”

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

We stood on the one-sided mirror, looking into the culprit. A hydra operative, who looked disgruntled, to say the least. Fury handed me the file with a grimace.

“Do you worst. Anything to get him to spill.” He instructed. I nodded in understanding before entering the room.

“Hello.” I greeted, looking through the file. “What’s your name?”

“Why don’t you just read it from the file?” his thick german accent spit.

“Because I dont like conducting interviews like that. I like to see other perspectives first.” I informed, with a small smile.

“Atticus Kahl.”

“I’m Y/n L/n. You can call my Y/n if you would like, or agent if that suits you.” I say as I take a seat across from the man. “I assume you probably know why I’m here talking to you.”

“I will never tell Hydra’s secrets. My loyalty lies with them.” he sneers.

“Alright, we’ll just see about that,” I say with a sickeningly sweet voice. “So I see here that you were a top officer. That must’ve been a lovely privilege.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I’ll bet your wife was proud, to know that you had a commanding officer position amongst Hydra.”

“I don’t have a wife.” he sounded hurt, which he should be.

“Oh, oh I missed that here. It says you volunteered her for experimentation.” I looked at the file. “Oh my, and she died under the needle. I’m sure that was awful.”

“Yes. It was a tragedy, she would’ve been a wonderful asset.” He reminisces.

“I’m sure. Women tend to be very strong-willed. Perfect for the army, things like that. You never questioned your loyalty after they had essentially killed your wife?”

“They didn’t kill her, she was too weak. A woman on her own is weak, I was helping her become more.” 

“So are you insinuating that I am weak?” I question his misogynistic view.

“Unless you have a serum running through your bloodstream, yes.” his dark green eyes pierced mine.

“I love it when people underestimate me. It makes my job so much more fun.” I smiled. “Let’s continue. So you sacrificed your wife for experimentation, meaning Hydra is continuously trying to find the right serum.”

His eyes shifted away, giving away the obvious answer.

“Alright. So you want to let me in on that. I mean you were captain. I’m sure you got to see every failed attempt correct.”

“Like I’ve said before. I won’t betray Hydra. They will come for me.”

“Ya, and when they find you I’ll bet you that they kill you on the spot. Im sure they’d take me instead.” I laugh.

“What makes you believe that your life is worth more than mine?” He questioned leaning towards me.

“What makes you believe that your life is worth anything at all?” I reciprocated his actions. “You’re a pawn for Hydra. They gave you the responsibility of captain, expecting you not to fail and get captured. But here you are, sitting in front of me, spilling Hydra secrets chained to a table.”

He jerked towards me, expecting me to flinch at his immediate action but instead I smirked at him.

“That’s so cute. You think your scary, cause you work for Hydra. But sir, I’ve seen scary… and you ain’t got his smile. Now tell me more about the experiments and Hydra. I love learning.” I insisted.

“Go to hell.” he seethed.

“Sorry, I can’t. Satan still has a restraining order against me.” I retorted propping my feet onto the table. “You’re losing my interest and that’s very dangerous so I suggest you spill the Hydra secrets before I take drastic measures.”

We sat in silence for a solid five minutes before I took the knife from my boot, slamming into the table.

“Since it seems that you people respond best to displays of violence, the next time I set that knife down it’ll be through your hand,” I said pointedly.

“Awfully confident arent you?” he chuckled.

“Yes, my momma raised me to be confident. She taught me which dinner fork would be the most effective for killing a person. It was quite enlightening.” I threatened.

“You’re a psychopath.” 

“I prefer creative,” I said as I flipped the knife and stabbed it through his hand. His ear-piercing scream rang out. “Now talk. And think before you speak,” I hissed “the last person who lied to me got more than a stab to the hand. And I’m sure you’ll want your tongue so you can negotiate your life with your commander.”

The man paled and his terrified features caused a rush of adrenaline through my system. He immediately nodded his head, fear coursing through his veins.

“Good, let’s start from the beginning.”

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

A confession, diabolical plan (if you could call it that), and 30 minutes later I walked out of the interrogation room, facing the in awe Avengers.

“Here you go. Hope it’ll be enough. Just because he was a captain doesn’t mean he was let in on every secret.” I told Fury, handing him the file and the notes I had made.

“I realize that. It’ll be a start. Thank you. You all can return to your relaxation.”

“Dang I forgot my knife.” I groaned, staring into the room seeing my knife still stuck in the operative’s hand. “Oh well. Alright, movie time?” I asked turning back to the Avengers.

“Who the hell was that in there?” Nat questioned, in awe of my immediate change of personality.

“Uh, me. I dont understand what your asking.” I looked at her curiously.

“That is seemingly impossible. You are the definition of joy.” Thor added. I scoffed.

“Seriously, that person in there was terrifying,” Bucky stated. “It wasn’t you.”

“If you all could even begin to comprehend where I’ve come from, you’d be terrified of me. So it was me, just a side that I dont show often.” I admitted. “Now, you guys can bombard me with questions another time but I’m really not in the mood for anything but pj’s and a movie.”

“Ya, I dont want to get on your bad side after seeing that,” Tony confessed. “Let’s go watch the movie and get some sleep. God knows we could use it.”

With that, the team walked back to the compounded conversation about anything but the interrogation and mission were being discussed.

“I’m sorry but it boggles my mind that you switched your personality so quick. Who taught you that?” Clint asked, breaking the streak.

“Clint,” I said in a warning tone. “Not now.” And with that the rest of the walk was quiet, minus the hurried and slightly annoyed click of my heels in the hallway.

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

Thanks!! Hope it wasnt too cringe worthy!!

[the-wintershade]

— the sun goes down; he takes the day, but I’m grown

pairing: sam wilson x f!reader x bucky barnes summary: you meet him once at your favorite place and assume that you won’t meet him again, regardless of how good the conversation was, but alas, fate always seems to have other plans. wc: 6.8k+ (no self-control and I actually planned this series out) genre: slightly angsty, flirting, good banter, medium burn

Blue Shade: series — masterlist | 01

The room buzzes with the clanking of machines, snippets of conversation, and the quiet energy of caffeine tapping into the bloodstream, feet tapping against floors, legs bouncing uncontrollably. It would be lying if you claimed that you didn’t appreciate the white noise of it all. You could be standing in line, absentmindedly admiring the mahogany walls with original artwork in monotone shades and not worrying about seeming aloof or cold. 

This whole establishment was a piece of artwork, something to be admired by anyone who endeavored to traverse the outrageous traffic and lack of parking in New York. It gave you a sense of home and comfort among the noise, the energy vibrating through the air calming any rising anxieties.

You ordered your usual and stood, your computer bag slung over your shoulder and a light jacket hanging around your frame. It only took a few seconds to get your drink ready as they slid it across the metal counter, your name written in jagged script. “Started working as soon as I saw you walk in.” Mark, one of the baristas, smiles at you and you flash him a thankful grin back. “Where would I be without you?” 

He only smirks, returning to the espresso machine and preparing the next drink. Your first sip is heavenly, flavors traveling across your tongue at a lightning fast pace and blending into a richness and warmth that can only be attributed to the feeling of this place. Safe and comforting, inviting and welcoming.

You pick your usual seat, right up against the wall, resting against the wood that acts as a divider between the line and the seating area. The tables are all carved from trees with a cherry veneer whipped across before a sealing, clear coat. You run your fingers against the surface, searching for any lingering crumbs, but also to take in the feel, the smooth gloss against your hands, the sturdiness against your fingertips.

Somehow you wish you could take the emotions that rise as you come into this place with you as you go home, but you can’t. The only thing you can do is savor it all as you do the same thing every time you come in. 

You zip open your computer bag and pluck your laptop from its case, setting it on the table and waiting for it to boot to life. It whirls and displays a start up screen as you take another couple of sips of your drink, trying to make the cup last for the next hour or so you’ll spend here, glancing out the window at passing traffic. 

It’s a pain to find parking—you had to park a good way down the block just to make it here—but it’s all worth it. Just for this. Just for the feeling of sitting here and admiring the light outside as it splashes against the buildings, swathing them in wonderfully rich whites and browns and blues. The sunlight reflects against cars and shining sequins, its rays spreading every which way with its brilliance.

It’s wonderful.

Then your computer finally finishes its load up sequence as you dig around for your earbuds, fishing them out to plug into your phone, opening up a calming playlist as you click the web browser on your computer.

Today’s topic will be about how light plays an integral role in the consumer’s experience between the home and their enjoyment they get from it. You’re not a realtor per-say, but you have a deep respect for architecture and how it connects with people.

Just like this coffee shop is comforting to you, you wonder what are the elements that make buildings enjoyable for other people. Is it the light? Is it the noise level? Is it the people and culture that a building attracts? The location?

So in order to explain these questions, you’ve kept lists of them, stored on the hard drive of your phone in a note keeping app. Then, you come here, the place outside of your home that you enjoy coming to and focus an hour of your time on researching these things, discovering answers to problems and questions that need solutions. 

It’s relaxing, lets you get away from some of the problems that you might be having in daily life, like work or in your relationship. It gives you time to delve into something that doesn’t relate to you personally, gives you another subject to focus on while you strive to find those answers about personal issues that you can’t quite come up with yet.

Your music is calming, the various voices speaking around you fading away as you open ebook after ebook, article after article, searching for responses and research that points to a connection between light allowed in the house and customer satisfaction. Surveys come up, testimonials offered, research specialists all weigh in on the topic and you ravage through it all.

The explanation of the connection between sunlight and serotonin can’t be denied and even without the research, you’d be able to tell people that, yes, you’re much happier when out in daylight and fresh air. You feel better. The science is there to back it up, but what happens when architecture is applied?

What about the location of the home? The size of their windows? Where on earth they live?

What if they explored this furt-

“Hello.” The voice sounds foggy and far away and you draw an earbud out of your ear, gazing out of your article to find someone actually standing in front of you. “Sorry to distract you, but is this seat taken?” He gestures at the seat in front of you. 

You spare a glance around the restaurant for half a second and observe the empty tables lingering all around you, wondering why he would want to sit right in front of you when there’s all that space lingering around.

You nod, slowly, with apprehension, and scoot back to allow for more shared leg room. “Thanks.” He sits down as you write a few more notes onto a notebook you slipped out of your bag a few minutes ago, trying to keep your place and appear busy to him. 

If he were to try to strike up a conversation, at least you’d remember where you were and what you still needed to look up, but if he saw you writing furiously with that pen like your life depended on it, maybe he would leave you to your work.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

“Do you always sit here?” He sips on his drink encased in a white mug, sunglasses still resting over his eyes. His voice is kind, but holds weight to it, like he’s trying to pull you out of what you’re working on. You’re not rude, so you appease him.

“Yeah, it’s kind of my spot.” You smile and close your laptop, taking away the temptation to keep searching and just ignore him. You sip your drink in your paper cup and lean back, placing your pen back on the notebook, about ready to put your stuff away.

“Interesting.” He sits forward, pushing the sunglasses out of his eyes, the deep chocolate of them apparent to you now, not that you were looking that hard in the first place. You tell yourself that you definitely weren’t looking that hard. Or that you noticed the slight abrasions on his leather jacket. “You’re not the first to claim this table.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrows shoot up and you take a sip to hide your shock. “This is your spot too?”

“Clever girl.” He leans back and observes you and you laugh at his nonchalant approach to the situation. “Though, I do accept company every now again. Good to allow the table some exposure.”

“How gracious of you.” You muttered over the lid of the coffee cup while the stranger just smiles at you, appreciating your joke and humor in the situation. “I bet Rachel loves being introduced to new people.”

“How do you know her name?” He fakes surprise, setting down his mug. You nearly burst out laughing at his expression, all twisted with his mouth and eyes wide open. “That was supposed to be our little secret.”

“Well I happen to know Rachel pretty well, thank you very much.”

“I can see.” He narrows his eyes and leans back, looking down at the table as he shakes his head. “No loyalty.” He sips his drink, foam sticking to his lip. “Where’s the trust?”

You giggle and hand him one of your napkins, pointing to your upper lip. He gives his thanks as he wipes away the evidence.

You check your watch and jump at the time it reads. You were supposed to leave five minutes ago, planning to meet up with Bucky just down the block. Hastily, you grab your notebook, pen, and earbuds and stuff them into the right pockets. 

“Blowing this joint, huh?” He acts cool but you see the curiosity lingering behind his eyes and you stop for a second. 

“Um...yeah. I’m late to meet someone.”

“Do you need help with anything?”

You slide your laptop back into the bag. “No, but thank you. I appreciate it.” You grab your jacket from the booth beside you and slide it over your shoulders, the material scratching against your skin. “Take care of Rachel for me.”

You slide your bag over your shoulders and begin to walk out when he stops you. “Hey, Coffee Girl.” 

You turn and smile at him. “Yes, table parent?”

“When do you think we can discuss more options about custody over the table?” His smile is warm and there’s something else underneath. Something you don’t recognize, something that sounds like intrigue. You haven’t seen someone look at you with that in, well, a while. It nearly scares you right out of your skin.

“I’m..” Your voice begins to falter and you hang onto your coffee cup just a little tighter. Not out of a general fear of him, he seems really sweet and kind, but for yourself. No one, no one, ever looks at you like that. “I’ll probably be here, next week.” You manage to get out. “Same time.”

“Hmm.” He watches your demeanor change and his smile becomes less beaming, more soft and subtle. “May I ask for a number.” Your face erupts with astonishment, eyebrows shooting up. “Just to confirm, of course.” He adds, trying to placate your sharp change in expression.

“Um…” You look around to see people watching you and notice how awkward the situation is becoming. Closing your eyes for a brief second, you open them to see his smile now gone and replaced with confusion. “I’ll meet you here again and then I’ll swap digits.”

“Okay.” He nods, seeming still confused. “Have a good one.”

You want to punch yourself in the gut. 

“Yeah. You too.” You turn away and nearly run out of the coffee place, the bell ringing like a gong of judgement as you swing the door open just a bit too hard.

There was going to be nothing wrong with giving that man your number, nothing at all. There was just...just this feeling of overwhelming disbelief and a deep piercing sorrow at the fact that he wanted your number at all.

You didn’t see the conversation swerving in that direction. You liked him, thought he was great to talk to and seem genuinely interested and intrigued by what you were saying, but the thought of him having a deeper interest terrified you.

Because he didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

He didn’t know what a bore you were, let alone how uninteresting you could be. 

He wouldn’t be happy with someone like that. How could he be? He was the sun and you would only swallow him in shadow, drowning out his humor and smile and inescapable light.

He would die with you by his side.

He doesn’t want you, not really, because he doesn’t know you. Because he would be horrified by you.

…. 

“Hey, doll!” His eyes light up as he sees you, crinkling in the corners as he opens his arms wide to trap you within his embrace.

You loved when the bright blue of his eyes did that. Their shape turns into splits and his happiness seems to vibrate from his gaze into you, warming you up, making you feel alive. His arms are sturdy and warm, safe and bracing. You don’t feel like you could ever fall with him by your side.

But he smelt foreign to you, like jasmine and lavender. He always smelled like fresh pine and the forest. It was the thing you always loved about him.

He was corrupted, but he was still beautiful. Still the Bucky you knew.

“How are you?” He kept his hands resting on your arms, drinking you in, smiling down at your grinning figure. 

“Good. Are you ready to go?” He nods, slipping his hand in yours. “Where’d you go today?” You stare at your linked hands and grin, not noticing the way his mouth turns into a fine line before a small, pretend smile takes its place.

“Oh, just to the gallery down the street.” Your eyes snap to his and for just a split second, hurt crosses your features before you smooth it over. It all comes back to the gallery. Every single thing.

But if you ignore it, maybe he’ll still be happy with you, happy with the way things are. If you try to fuss about it, he’ll run away or get angry, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to see him upset. He’s not very reasonable when upset.

He seems to see how your face changes and silence takes hold as you walk down the street filled with warmth and sunlight. Although you feel his heat bleed into your hand, you feel as if you’re next to an iceberg, a stranger, someone you want to put distance between, not someone you feel you love.

Bucky shifts, reaching for something to soothe your hurt. “Come on, doll. Don’t be like that.” He laughs, and you try hard to believe him, to fill the air with your warm giggles, but you can’t. You're physically unable to. “She’s just a friend.”

Liar.

She’s not just a friend, no matter how much he tries to convince you. You don’t have any evidence to support your theory, not any true evidence that he can’t refute, but you know a bold faced lie when you hear one. 

That’s why you try to be good, be interesting, because maybe being interesting will bring him back to you, back to your side. 

He’s here now, but he’s never really here. He’s not as devoted to you as you are to him, but that’s your fault. You’re just not good enough for him, but you could be better. You can be better. You just have to show him.

You just have to hold on. Just give him a chance. Show him how exciting you can be.

Taking in a healthy breath of air, you sigh. “Right.” You shake your head as if you’re trying to clear these treacherous thoughts from your mind. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” You smile at him, as much attempting to convince him as you are trying to make it all right in your head. This is the correct way to handle things. This is how you pull him back. Just forgive and move on.

He relaxes at your acceptance, deflating at your calmed hostility. “You know you’re the only one for me.” 

“I know, Bucky.” You rub his arm and his happiness is not as apparent as his serenity over solving the previous conflict. He presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to your head, leaving an impression there that makes your skin crawl, but these feelings will dissipate as time goes on. 

Time will heal everything.

“You still remember that party tonight?” He drawls, as if proud that he’s secured an invitation. The party is for his friend at the art gallery, a celebration of her achievements. It’s supposed to be a small gathering, but with how many people were there at her opening, you would be shocked if the numbers were really that low.

You nod, leaning away from how Bucky’s face hovers so close to you. “Yep. I remember. I’ll be there.”

“Good.” He pulls you closer and you would be lying if you didn’t feel your stomach warm, butterflies recklessly taking flight without fear of slamming into the lining around your gut. 

Your chuckle isn’t quite a lie and Bucky catches on to your honesty, seeming to grow taller and believing himself completely absolved from all original misdeeds.

Then you hit him with your next topic. “A man tried to get my number today. At the coffee shop.”

He stops walking completely, his arm falling from around your shoulders. “He did what?” His voice is tightly coiled, ready to spring at any moment.

You keep walking, not waiting to see what his face would look like. You know his brows are well furrowed and eyes are dark, devoid of any lighthearted fun. They’re not the blue of a gentle stream but a churning and violent ocean. 

“Oh, come on, Bucky. I said tried. I didn’t give it to him.” You roll your eyes in front of him, turning to hold an arm, beckoning him forward and into your arms. He doesn’t move. You stop and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Don’t tell me that you did this to make me jealous.” His words carry bite, but they fall harmlessly from your frame made of metal and steel. Impenetrable. After what you’ve seen and know, nothing he could say or do to you could truly harm you.

“That’s rich, considering he asked me.”

He sees that his tone has no affect on you and stalks closer, ignoring your arm that now begins to fall back into its place by your side. “But you won’t go back there, right?” He grins, malice and hope curling together, like he wants to lure you into a complete false sense of security, urging you to agree. “You know how I don’t want anyone else stealing you away from me.”

He drips with imitation honey and you’re too smart to believe the gold of it is real. “Bucky, you know that’s my spot.”

“And I’m telling you, (name), that you can’t go back there.” His teeth make each syllable sharper and harsher, but it doesn’t scare you. 

But maybe if you back off, get him to stop fighting, he’ll just let this one go. You only told him just to make him aware, not to cause a real argument. This isn’t worth turning into a complete debacle. You’re not going to allow his anger to grow any larger.

“You can’t stop me from going there, but I won’t go back at the same time or on the same days. I probably won’t even bump into him again. It was the first time I’ve ever seen him there anyway.” You turn, holding out a hand to him that he takes and squeezes so hard your hand aches when he relaxes his grip.

“But,” He drills holes in the side of your head. “If you see him again, tell me.”

“Sure thing, oh great shining knight.” You nod fervently, like you’re completely devout to him. And in a way you are. There’s something about him that keeps you just hanging on, refusing to let him go completely.

He laughs with acid behind it. “You know I’m just trying to keep you safe.” He looks wounded as you spare a glance at him. “He might try to take advantage of you.”

“Well good thing you’re here then.” Your face adapts to pure happiness, his concern for you starting to trump all of these horrible things you’re beginning to feel. It always makes you feel important and wanted when his protectiveness jumps out, his vulnerability unlocking something in you. 

He grins just as strongly back at you, gently running circles over your hand. “What did he look like?”

“Bucky!”

“What?” He holds up his other hand, looking like he can’t understand what he’s done wrong. “I need to be ready in case you call.”

“Well I’m not the damn police. I wasn’t really looking that hard.”

“Oh cut that out. I know you got a good look at him.”

You sigh, thinking of a way to get out of having to actually answer his questions without him becoming angry again. You can’t, so you give him crumbs. “He had brown eyes, darker skin. Sunglasses.”

“Doll, I know you can do better than that.” He smirks but it’s strained. 

He doesn’t believe you.

“Not really.” And that’s kind of the truth. You weren’t really paying attention to his attire, besides the rip in his jacket. “I wasn’t really paying that much attention to him. Research remember?”

“Hm.” He consents. “I’ll give you that.”

You breath out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“But just remember to call me, alright?”

“Sure.”

“Doll.” He stops, turning to gaze deep into your eyes.

“Okay.” You hold up your hands and cross your fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

He searches your gaze for just the inkling of a false statement and doesn’t find it. “Alright. I trust you, doll. Don’t make me regret it.”

You nod, your stomach feeling just a little sicker as your hands rejoin and the sun begins to set, the buildings turning a deep shade of crimson.

…

The party is more like a college frat palooza than a respectable meeting for supporters of a budding artist. Red solo cups line the room and the kitchen is stocked with all sorts of wine, tequila, whiskey, and bourbon. 

Drinks for respectable people, of course.

Bucky already has a buzz going from taking two shots of whiskey before you even came to pick him up. You insisted on driving so he could enjoy the full effects of the alcohol before you even made it to the party. Somehow that BS worked and he was getting a little loopy and handsy before you made the door.

His hand now rested at a respectable place on your hip, but you had to keep his hand from drooping lower and lower. Now, his arms spread wide as he saw his red-haired friend, wrapping her into a hug and placing a bottle of rose into her hands. He spun out his congratulations in a slur of wonderfully crafted and charming phrases to which she blushed deeply at, at least until she saw you.

“Willow, this is (name).” He gestured back towards you and you stepped forward, shaking her hand with a polite smile on your face. Even her name was beautiful. Figures he would choose her.

Her smile was nice enough, but her eyes still dragged back to him, lingering on his beautiful face and warm eyes. Of course, any one would be drawn to him, you would be a fool if you ignored that, but there was just something a little too warm and knowing behind her stare. Like she was blushing at meeting her long-lost childhood love again.

It made you slightly sick but you ignored it and tried to send her your best in the only way you knew how. Words that weren’t quite a lie but still sounded nice. For the most part. “Congrats on your art display. Your work is very colorful and has a really cool avant-garde aspect to it. You really could be on to something, Willow.” You winked at the end and she laughed, seeming to take your compliment well.

“Thank you. I know it’s not super conventional, but I hope it opens a new interpretation into art.”

“I’m sure it will.” Yeah, if you’re a lunatic or a complete believer in work that makes absolutely no sense.

She grins and the room erupts in starlight. Her smile is like starting at jewels under direct light, beautiful and dazzling. No wonder everyone seems to gravitate to her. You start to fold inward while Bucky dismisses you, telling you to “make yourself comfortable” and  “introduce yourself to people.”

You nod and immediately make a B-line to the corner, standing away from all of the people in overly priced clothing and drinking strongly proofed wine. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy a good bottle of wine or even something stronger from time to time, but if you had ever learned anything from being in college, it’s that if you’re unsure of drinking something while you’re there, don’t drink it.

You briefly wonder if there’s a regular can of pop to be seen in this place.

Then you look at your surroundings, admiring the wood of the walls, the accent tapestries adorning them and then start to think that this girl might have good taste. The current tapestry you observe has burgundy and gold blended together in a beautiful amalgamation and you play with the strands between your fingers. It’s soft and strong, wonderfully crafted. 

The wood behind it is hard and sturdy, easy to run your fingers along and feel the stronger edges behind every cut. It’s beautiful. A good selection.

But there’s almost no windows. No light. No opportunity for incorporating the day with the dark atmosphere her home carries.

“(Name)! Come over here.” You sigh, peeved by your disturbance from being silent in your corner. You follow his voice till you’re beside him, letting him put an arm around your shoulders. “I want you to meet, Chris Tallow. He designed this place.”

Chris was probably one of the most famous architects in the whole state. Standing in front of him made your knees wobble. “Hello, nice to meet you.” You timidly were able to get out and he smiled warmly at you, reaching out to shake your hand.

“James tells me that you’re quite the architectural connoisseur.” He grins and you nod, enthusiastically.

“I love your work! It’s ingenious and visionary. It’s amazing how you’re able to work with multiple mediums and incorporate them seamlessly.”  The words pour out of your mouth before you’re able to stop them, now embarrassed at your unrestrained confession.

“Girl knows her stuff.” He seems impressed and appraises you accordingly.

“She’s quite the fan-girl.” Bucky laughs, pulling you a little closer. “She’s obsessed with buildings, sometimes in neglect of other things.”

You almost glare at him, but then you remember where you are and who you’re in front of, so you let out a reserved snicker and unwrap yourself from around him, Bucky a little uneasy on his feet. “Nice to meet you. Bucky you want anything to drink?” You look at him expectantly, but he just leans in and presses a kiss on your cheek, waving his cup.

You dismiss yourself again, frustrated with how he brushed your passion off like that.

You travel back to the kitchen, right about to pop the lid open again when you see the man from the cafe, staring you down. You duck under the table and try to catch your breath after the lightning bolt that went firing through your veins. What in the world is he doing at the flighty girl’s party? How does he even know her?

“Nothing you’re gonna want is in there.” He states plainly, but not in a rude way, just in a I-don’t-think-you’re-the-beer-type kind of way.

He would be right. “Oh,” You stand up, wiping the condensation on the fabric of your jeans, “Right.”

He watches you with such an unabashed directness that you can hardly breathe. He’s dressed in a tan leather jacket that sets off his deep red sweater and dark jeans nicely, pulling against his strong physique. He’s still as bright as you remember him to be and you’re lost as to what to say to him to continue the conversation.

The mystery man seems just as distracted  until he sets down his coke to reach into the fridge to pull out another one for you, handing it to you politely, fingers sparking as you hands graze. “Here.” 

“Thanks.” You mutter as you crack the can open and take a long sip, needing a distraction from the man in front of you and your growing unsteadiness around him. At least you have something in your hands that you can cling onto. “I didn’t think that opening a cold one with the boys would be the smartest thing I could do.”

He chuckles, warmth pouring out of him. “Me neither.” He leans against the counter as you drink, surveying the party and drawing his eyes away from you for a moment. It’s a relief as you still don’t think you’re going to be able to think straight. “Not one for parties?”

“What gave it away?” You speak, your voice warbling after your drink and you try to steady it, cringing heavily at its harsh quality.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. “In the corner. Where I usually take up my post.”

“Oh, don’t tell me the sunglasses aren’t a hit?” You lean next to him and his eyes graze yours with a twinkle. You smile back as his teeth shine against the hazy lighting the string of lights behind you provide.

“Well,” He leans a little closer, bumping his shoulder with yours. “I’ll give you a hint. It might not be the sun glasses.”

You gasp.

“I know. I know.” He chuckles taking another sip, still grinning at your reaction. You feel a warmth start to spread and fight down the urge to lean closer, to prompt him with far more personal questions. “It’s hard to believe that all this could be such a mood-killer.”

“You know, full disclosure, I do find that a bit startling.” You watch as he looks to you with perplexity and something deeper. You ignore the warmth again as you explain yourself. “I mean, come on, you’re hilarious.”

“Okay, Coffee Girl, what’s your excuse?” It’s your turn to be bamboozled. “You’re funny and intelligent and witty. Why aren’t you out there killing the game? These people would be on the floor if they heard you.”

You look down at your drink, taking effort to pull your eyes away from his deep orbs, keeping you from falling in. You take a deep gulp before you think about answering. He sobers up at your actions and watches gently, waiting for response. 

He’s not so demanding as Bucky, watching you with soft interest not with blatant scrutiny. You actually feel like you can talk with him and not be judged by your responses. You decide to take the leap. “I have a deflector for that.” You tip your coke towards your “plus one” that’s so absorbed in what strawberry is saying that he doesn’t even notice you talking with the man whose name you still don’t know.

“Ah.” He sighs, swirling his drink around, his energy collapsing. “Your boyfriend.”

You turn to him and watch him pointedly avoiding your eye, searching around the room without settling on an object.

His words sting for whatever reason and you feel that you need to correct him, stop him from getting the wrong impression. That you need to make him understand. “Not exactly.” 

“What do you mean, not exactly?” He scoffs, taking another swig.

“I mean that we’re not together, together. Yes, I came with him. Yes, I’ll probably leave at some point with him to stop him from passing out on the street dead drunk, but we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend or anything like that.” You don’t look at his face as he turns to you, knowing he’s trying to find any evidence of deceit. 

“Was that who you were meeting after leaving the shop?” He’s open, asking for honesty.

“Yes.” You look at him then, taken aback at the unabashed staring he’s doing, not even looking away as he observes you with such a gentle intensity, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s seen. He’s wrong, but the way he’s looking would convince you otherwise.

“Okay.” He drinks again, placing the empty cup down on the table. “So, this boyfriend of yours doesn’t let you speak to any guy in any sort of flirting fashion?”

“More or less.” You wash more cold liquid down your throat as he looks away and scoffs. “What?” You prompt, genuinely interested.

“He’s one of those types.”

You purse your lips but say nothing. 

“As he should be. You’re so unaware of yourself.”

You almost choke, but he doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he grabs another coke from the fridge and pops it open. You look around the party and find Bucky and Willow conveniently absent. What a host. Doesn’t even make sure she sticks around to receive guests.

A pang settles against your chest as he comes to lean beside you on the counter, a little closer than normal. He must read your expression as he looks around for them as well and his face settles into disdain when he can’t spot them either, looking back at you. “You know, you never told me your name.”

You chuckle and take another drink, finishing it and placing it next to his original empty one. “You first.”

“Okay,” He turns and offers you his hand. “Sam. Friends call me Falcon.”

“Quite the nickname you have there, Sam.” You take his hand and shake it, feeling the buzz shoot through your arm at the contact and try to ignore how your skin heats up. 

He doesn’t respond for a minute, just looking at you. “Your turn,” He manages after a while, a miniature smirk taking his face, much different from his usual open grins.

“(Name),” You breathe back, trying to act confident. “But people call me Coffee Girl, sometimes.”

“Oh?” He grins fully this time, unconsciously holding your hand still. “Your good friends?”

“Maybe.” You coyly offer and his eyes light up with challenge. 

He laughs to himself as he finally lets your hand go, searching through the crowd again. “I saw you admiring that woven work on the wall over there.” He nods his head in the direction of the tapestry.

“Yeah.” You sigh. “It’s got great hand work. One of the finest I’ve seen.”

“Are you a collector?”

“Not really. Just a fan, I guess.” Your tone drops at the end. Sam looks at your dismal expression, eyes wondering. He searches a second more and then drops the topic. You stand close to each other, the heat wafting from your thin shirt meeting the warmth coming from the collar of his jacket and you take it all in.

The noise of the party seeming far away from the space that you and Sam have created. It’s peaceful and comforting. It feels like the coffee shop. 

Guilt rises at the way you left, at the plans to avoid him completely. Because of Bucky. Because of a man that is overly jealous over the slightest things. 

You clear your throat. “Um, Sam. I want to apologize to you.”

“Why, (name)?” Warmth crackles down your midsection at the use of your name and wonder if your usage affected him similarly. 

“When I left at the cafe, I wasn’t the kindest and know I made you feel terrible for approaching me.” You watch as he grins and lose your nerve and silence yourself.

“If I felt terrible, do you think I would have come over? Even when you hid from me?” You cringe and he laughs harder.

“I’m sorry.” You peak out of the corner of your eye and watch him laugh even harder. Your laughs mix for a couple of a seconds, a beautiful symphony, comfortable and happy. “I just…” You hold onto the counter, propping yourself up a little. “I’m just not used to that kind of attention.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t look at you with pure adoration in his eyes?” He takes a sip and then frowns when you stay silent. “(Name)?” You can’t look at him as you play with your fingers. “Oh.”

“Yeah...” You weave your left fingers around your right pinky, trying to calm your heart down after your confession and the feeling of intense shame about ready to spill over.

“I’m sorry, if I made you feel uncomfortable.” He carries his words with a look of sincerity and you feel awful for making him feel as though he needs to apologize.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just out of practice, that’s all.” You look down. “I’m not good with that sort of thing, you know?” You glance over to see his eyes are already on you, electricity threatening to shoot between you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean.” But he doesn’t look away, just moves a little closer. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you reconsider that number thing? I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, I’m just showing my interest.”

You can tell.

And something in you tells you that he’s definitely trustworthy, someone worth giving your number to. He just has this draw and for a moment, you forget about Bucky completely as you watch Sam. You nod, slipping out your phone and placing it in his palm, turning the back of his hand over. 

His skin burns.

He smiles softly and enters his number in your contacts. He then slips his phone out of his pocket, furiously typing on it. Your phone lights up in your hand a second later, a text flashing across the screen: This is Falcon, paging Coffee Girl.

You laugh at the nickname. His name reads Falcon in your contacts, his real name hidden to your message app as it rests in the nickname section, which is turned off on your display.

You text him back.

Coffee Girl on stand-by.

He laughs at your response and you loosely smile as you're distracted by his light, by the beauty in his smile. He doesn’t notice and you duck your head to keep it that way.

Your stomach drops as you look up to see Bucky paving a stumbling path through the party to you, eyes ablaze and slightly unfocused. Sam stands to his full height, putting some distance between the two of you. “(Name). Where have you been, doll.” Alcohol slides over your cheek as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, glaring past you and into Sam.

“Here.” You draw his attention back to you as you take in his swollen lips and disheveled hair. Your shadows start to creep back into your skin, originally chased away by Sam, his light burning them away. Bucky’s eyes, despite how intense they look, are unfocused. He’s not in his right mind.

He pulls you closer as he looks down at you. “Who’s this?” He smiles at you but frowns as he spares a glance back at Sam. 

“A friend.”

He looks Sam up and down a couple of times before he looks back to you, a goofy smile coating his face. “Okay.”

You turn around and at Sam’s face distorted in anger, all traces of  his original kindness obliterated. It startles you, but when he glances over at you, his face softens. “I’m going to take him home.”

“Nice seeing you.” He bids you goodbye with such subtle hints at his awareness of the situation. You get the feeling that he’s not mad at you or the situation, just at Bucky. You silently thank him for his understanding.

He imperceptibly nods his head at you and you turn back to Bucky, slipping his arm over your shoulder. 

You feel a buzzing in your pocket but ignore it as you drag a half-functional Bucky out of the house and into your car. 

…

After hours of dragging him around his apartment and laying him down for bed, you leave him with one glass of water and a few pills for the massive headache he’s going to have tomorrow.

He mumbles for you to stay, but you push his arms off of you as if they’re disgusting chains, attempting to keep you sedated in one place.

When you break free from his place and safely make it back to yours, you collapse on your bed, crawling under the covers, not caring that makeup still lingers on your face. The fact of your phone buzzing dawns on you and you pull your phone out of your pocket, clicking the screen to life to see Falcon appearing on your screen.

See you around, Coffee Girl.

Your heart warms and you send a quick text back before turning out the light, plugging your phone in, and placing it on silent as you drift off.

Goodnight, Falcon.

[cosmic-hearts]

star-crossed | na jaemin

na jaemin x reader - mafia!au

genre; angst, romance

warnings: mentions of smoking, alcohol, violence (fighting), injury

foreword;

In which you’re hopelessly drawn to the boy who dances with danger and flirts with the flames of peril, but the stars are crossed in objection.

You don’t understand. You’d professed your love to Na Jaemin, your school’s notorious gang leader and resident playboy the night before, and he’d accepted it, eyes shining with sincerity and cheeks glowing with euphoria from your unexpected affection for him. The full moon and the Han River dappled with starlight were witnesses to the way he sealed it all with a kiss, breathing fire and passion into your lungs the way no one had ever done before. He left you dizzy and breathless, intoxicated by the smell and sound and sight and feel of him.

You knew his very existence spelt trouble, and you knew that he was the polar opposite of you; and yet, you were willing to take the risk, to throw your all into this love. You were sick and tired of playing it safe, of always being the good girl everyone expected you to be, and Na Jaemin made you feel like you could be dangerous, you could live life on the edge and do things you shouldn’t just to prove that you could.

He made you feel invincible.

But now here he is, with another girl in his arms, with all the intimacy of a newly born couple. The couple that was supposed to be you and him.

It is at that moment that you decide that perhaps, love really isn’t for you.

Turning away from the scene, you don’t notice Jaemin’s gaze lingering on you, and as you walk away, his grip on the girl loosens.

It pains him so, so much to have to do that to you. And yet, he knows that you can never be together; your life would be in so much danger. He’s bad for you and he knows it perfectly well— he couldn’t bring himself to implicate you with all the messy profanity of his life.

So he chose the easy way out: breaking your heart.

He takes a morbid sort of comfort in knowing that your newfound hate for him will, ultimately, protect you.

—

You can feel Na Jaemin’s gaze burning holes into you, and you’re relishing every damn second of it.

It seems like dark, smokey eyeshadow, a hiked-up skirt and being in the arms of Lee Donghyuck really does the trick. Jaemin’s staring at you with such feral intensity that you almost let your carefully constructed veneer of confidence slip. Almost.

Donghyuck has his arm around your shoulder, and he runs his hand up and down your arm as you nestle close to his side. You and Donghyuck had never been close, not really; he’d teased and flirted with you often enough, but you never reciprocated his advances because firstly, you weren’t interested, and secondly, he was Jaemin’s arch enemy, and before Jaemin’s betrayal you knew where your loyalties lay.

Apart from the fact that Donghyuck was enemies with Jaemin and therefore the perfect way for you to wreck Na Jaemin, he had pure rebellion running through his veins— he was a massive flirt, skipped school whenever he could, and inhaled so much nicotine you wondered how he still managed to retain that beautiful healthy glow about his cheeks.

You knew you were just one of Donghyuck’s many playthings, but you didn’t care; in a way, you were both using each other for your own agendas.

You wanted to show Jaemin that you could get on just fine without him— you could have fun too, and you could be bad, just as bad as he was.

“Babe,” Donghyuck says as he hands you a cigarette from his pack that never seems to run out, “have you never tried it before?”

You’re acutely aware of Jaemin’s eyes on you, anticipating your every move. You make the mistake of looking over at him and making eye contact with him for a split second, and the warning in his penetrating gaze is clear: Don’t do it.

That’s all the push you need to swallow your inhibitions down your throat, smirk at Donghyuck and take the short white stick from his fingers, insert it between your lips and let the first traces of arsenic and formaldehyde taint your virgin bloodstream. After all, what toxin is there to fear when your heart has already been poisoned with the incurable disease of heartbreak?

The ashy, rancid taste lingers on the tip of your tongue even as Jaemin tears his gaze away from you and gets up from his seat, his silhouette fading away into obscurity.

—

You sincerely wish, with every fibre of your body, not to be here. Your soul desperately longs to flee from this teenage-infested party where not even the feel of Donghyuck’s hands around your waist and his hot breath on your neck provides reason enough for you to want to stay. It’s just too much; the thumping bass of heavy metal pounds in your ears, the psychedelic strobe lights give you a massive headache, the pungent odor of smoke mingled with sweat makes you want to throw up. You want to be beneath your comforter, protected by the swathe of white sheets in the heaven that is your bed, not here rubbing shoulders with sweaty bodies in Donghyuck’s dimly-lit basement.

“Liking it, baby?” Donghyuck has the audacity to ask, despite knowing full well that you want to jump off a cliff right this very instant.

You ignore him, instead choosing to move towards Mark Lee who’s beckoning you to him, a glint in his eyes that escapes your notice because the alcohol is finally taking root in your system, and your vision slowly becomes hazy.

“Hey Y/N,” Mark says, catching you by the waist when you wobble slightly on your shaky feet, “Woah there, careful.”

You rest your forehead on Mark’s shoulder, holding onto his arms for balance. You’d never talked much to Mark, you just knew that he was one of Donghyuck’s cronies and a regular at his parties. You also knew that he was charming enough to induce anyone, even those perfectly sober, into a drunken stupor with his smile alone, and in your state of halfway-inebriation, Mark Lee is your catalyst to full intoxication.

“Here, drink this,” Mark says, “it’ll help with your hangover tomorrow.”

You gratefully take the red plastic cup from his hands, and just as you touch the rim of the cup to your lips a violent force knocks it out of your hands and the drink splashes to the floor, pooling round your sneakers. You lift your head to see Na Jaemin glowering down at you, chest heaving and eyes ablaze with such intensity of emotion that you feel yourself sobering up immediately.

“W-What was that for?” You choke out brokenly, unable to register the fact that the boy you fell in love with so deeply who then proceeded to take your heart and step on it is standing before you in all his glory, looking as beautiful as ever with his dark hair tousled, in a leather jacket and ripped jeans. He doesn’t reply you, instead he shoots a withering glare at Mark, grabs your hand and drags you out of Donghyuck’s house, out into the cloak of the ominous night. The dark sky overhead nurses a multitude of sequin-silver stars, and it is the kind of night that reminds you of the night you confessed your love to Jaemin— the thought makes your heart constrict with both longing and loathing.

You try to shake him off but his grip on your wrist only intensifies.

“Na Jaemin, let me go!” You yell, and that is when he stops and turns around to face you so abruptly you almost crash into him. He shoves you against a wall and clasps your shoulders in a stronghold, refusing to set you free.

“Did you know,” Jaemin says, voice low and guttural and heavy with foreboding as he draws closer to you till your faces are mere inches apart, “that that bastard Mark Lee spiked your drink?”

You let a deviant smile creep onto your face as you deliberately move even closer to Jaemin, closing what little gap is left between your bodies. “And why do you care, Jaemin? Why should it matter to you whether or not my drink gets spiked? I’m nothing to you, Na Jaemin. Nothing. Remember that,” you whisper, voice laced with acid and venom.

Jaemin stares at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Are you and Lee Donghyuck together?”

You play with the ends of your hair, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Again, is it any of your business? I don’t go around interfering in your love life, now do I?”

“Just answer me, Y/N! Why do you have to make this so damn hard for me?!” Jaemin suddenly growls, slamming his fist against the wall just beside your cheek. You barely even flinch, enjoying the adrenaline rush you derive from firing up his nerves and messing with his heart.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with a smirk, but then Jaemin’s head suddenly tilts downwards and he rests his forehead against yours, arm snaking around your waist to pull you close to him. His action paralyzes you, making you feel terribly vulnerable in his arms, and you loathe and love the feeling of his warm, heavy breaths ghosting across your skin. But you absolutely detest the way he manages to crumble your facade of baseless confidence, the way he manages to make you feel frail and weak like you’re some stupid damsel in distress in need of a knight in shining armor. He is so close to you, and as you look up you notice that his eyes are as dark as the obsidian night sky, the stars in his eyes glistening like bits of molten gold, like celestial, heavenly fires. You hate Na Jaemin with every fibre of your being, yet you want to stay like this forever, trapped in his sweet virulence, his lethal warmth.

“You’ve changed,” he whispers, his voice now a soft, weak flicker against the chilly winds whipping through the sidewalk and rustling up a torrent of dead leaves.

“Yes, I’ve changed,” you spit the words out, tone dripping with vitriol, “and you’re the same Na Jaemin, I suppose? Going around breaking hearts as usual?”

It is then that Jaemin pulls your body flush against his, pulling the back of your neck towards him so that your cheek is leaning against his chest and you can hear the sound of his heartbeat, strong and steady and yet at the same time it’s a faltering rhythm, impeded by the swirling wreck of emotions threatening to consume you whole. You feel deceptively safe in his treacherous embrace.

“You don’t understand, Y/N… I’m bad for you. We can’t… we can’t do this. We wouldn’t work.”

You pull away from him, staring up at his face only to find a haunting melancholia in his eyes. He lifts his hand to caress your cheek softly, tracing his fingers along your cheekbones, your lips, your chin, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. His touch leaves a bittersweet trail across your skin, like black coffee interspersed with slashes of honey and cinnamon.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Jaemin says, voice thick and hoarse and you wonder how long you can stand to play his cryptic little mind games before your heart breaks into a million useless, irredeemable shards.

“It’s a little too late for that now, isn’t it?” You ask, your tone no longer acerbic but instead heavily laden with woe and weariness. You feel the weight of regret, rash decisions and relentless heartache take its toll on you and more than anything you just want to go home where it’s safe and warm and solitary.

And with that, you shove your hands into his chest, causing him to stumble backwards and back away from you. You don’t miss the way his expression quickly morphs into one of hurt, the raw anguish on his face plain to see.

But you tell yourself that he deserves it. No one has the right to play with your heart and toss it aside like you didn’t matter at all.

What neither you nor Jaemin notices, though, is a hooded figure cloaked under the murky shadows, masked beneath the cover of the night. He watches the you both, a smirk beginning to creep up on his lips as he pulls out his phone and dials a number.

“I’ve found her.”

—

Your nights used to be filled with Donghyuck’s parties, letting the touches of strangers satiate your want of affection, deriving subpar solace from the alcohol that pumped through your veins. But for the past week, these pointless indulgements have begun to take their toll on you and wear your soul down; parties suck, being touched makes you feel sick with regret, and the alcohol numbs your nerves only temporarily; the scorching burn that devours your head the next day isn’t worth it.

Rationality hasn’t been your strong point lately, and that’s probably how you find yourself ambling through the dark streets at 1AM in a bid to stave off insomnia. More accurately, to stave off thoughts of Na Jaemin and how much you would give just to be in his arms again, to have him lie against your lips and tell you that he’s in love with you. It’s pathetic to want something you can never have and you know it.

Sighing, you pull your cream woolly sweater over yourself to keep warm, wincing slightly as the crisp nighttime breeze nips at the skin of your face; a crimson flush creeps across your cheekbones.

The streets are empty and quiet, save for the occasional car whizzing past on the dark road nearby. Not a soul is in sight; something that would normally have put you on edge, but you’re so absorbed in your own troubles that the solitude is a welcome distraction, and is more healing than alarming.

Unfortunately, you don’t hear the footsteps behind you; neither do you sense a looming presence from behind.

And then a tall, hooded figure, seemingly conjured up from thin air, appears right beside you from a nearby alley, wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. You look up, only to see a boy with a cap perched firmly onto his head and across his eyes, shielding his face from your view.

“Keep walking straight and don’t look back. Act natural.”

You’d recognize that low voice anywhere.

“Why the heck are you here and what are you doing?” You hiss angrily, trying to free yourself from his hold but Jaemin’s fingers clench around your sweater as he pulls you even closer to him.

“We’re being followed. Listen to me, all right?” Jaemin whispers urgently into your ear; from the back it would have looked like he was giving you a sweet kiss on the temple.

“When I count to three, we run. Just follow me and don’t let go of my hand, okay? I won’t let go, promise.”

You know that you should never trust Na Jaemin, and yet, you would trust him with your life in an instant; and so you do, giving him a small nod that’s enough confirmation for him to grab your hand and interlace your fingers with this.

“3, 2, 1. Run.”

With that, you two take off down the streets. You channel every ounce of your energy into your legs, willing them to match Jaemin’s speed, and for the next few agonizing minutes he grips onto your hand with such strength that you start to believe his lies, you start to believe that maybe this time he really won’t let you go.

Your lungs are just starting to burn with exertion when Jaemin pulls you round a bend leading to a dark alleyway, and the two of you dash into a small, cramped shelter hidden away from plain sight.

In spite of the danger looming just round the corner, you can’t help but notice how close Jaemin is to you; his chest is pressed against your back, an arm wrapped tightly around your waist, heavy breaths mingling together in the tight space that binds the two of you.

“Y/N,” Jaemin whispers into your ear, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath that he takes, “stay here and wait for me. Don’t move, don’t make a sound. I’ll come get you soon, okay?”

You whip your body round to face him, grabbing weakly onto the end his leather jacket, a sickening sense of foreboding and fear seizing your heart. You don’t say anything, but your eyes cry out, No, don’t leave me, please. You don’t know why; maybe it’s because you’re scared that Na Jaemin will leave and never come back, that he’ll break his promise again, that he’ll disappear like he always does and you’ll never be able to hold onto him. Soon, tears are streaming down your cheeks and your chest heaves against his as you try to suppress your sobs; for the first time in your life, you finally understand fear in its many devious forms. Fear of losing the boy you love, fear of losing your life, fear of losing your sanity.

“Shh, baby,” Jaemin whispers breathily, and your knees almost buckle under the softness of his plea. He raises his hands to cup your cheeks, thumbs gently wiping the tears away. They’re the only thing that glistens in this dark night; your tears remind you of everything you’re about to lose, everything you’ll have left after tonight.

“I swear I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll be back for you, I promise. I love you.”

I love you.

He seals the deal with a light but hasty kiss on your forehead, and with that, he slips away from your fingertips, leaving behind nothing but the faint tang of his cologne.

It is safe to say that the moments that follow are by far the most agonizingly painful in your entire life; it is eerily quiet for a while, but not for long, because soon enough bellows of pain ring through the night and it takes all your willpower for you not to dash out from your hiding place and run to Jaemin. Peeking slightly round the corner, you’re met with a horrific sight; Jaemin pummelling a man with an almost fanatical fervour, driving his fist repeatedly into the hooded figure’s gut, his face, anywhere he could get his hands on.

You’d never known he could be this violent.

He strikes a final blow near the man’s ear, and the man goes limp, staggering away from Jaemin, evidently succumbing to defeat. Your blood runs cold; is this really the gentle Jaemin who’d kissed you softly and put your fears to rest just minutes earlier?

You watch as he turns around, moving towards your direction with renewed spirit. At the same time you emerge from your hiding spot and he practically runs to you, enveloping you in his arms and crushing you to his chest.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” Jaemin murmurs, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You want to wrap your arms around him but you’re paralyzed with the image of Jaemin relentlessly raining blows on the stranger; granted, he was simply doing what he had to in order to protect you, but you just couldn’t erase the image of the crazed look in his eyes that seemed to light a fire in his body, pushing him to keep on hurting others.

You push away from him and stare at his face; the moonlight illuminates his injuries and you see a crimson cut across the corner of his bottom lip, and scrapes along his cheekbones. You trail your fingers across his cheeks, avoiding his gaze all the way.

“Jaemin, you’re hurt,” you say softly, and without waiting for his response, you gently take his hand and lead him through the dark streets of the night. He doesn’t question your actions, simply follows your lead, and you wonder why; does he want to hold onto you just a little longer, too?

You dispel the thoughts from your head upon reaching a convenience store, where you instruct him to sit and wait outside for you. You go in, then emerge with a plastic bag of bandages and antiseptic in tow.

You set to work quietly, dabbing lightly at Jaemin’s wounds with the antiseptic, bandaging his wounds with as much meticulous care as you can possibly muster with shaking hands and a rapidly beating heart. You’re perfectly conscious of Jaemin’s fiery gaze blazing holes into your skin as he stares at you with such intensity that you feel your pulse quicken even more.

“Done,” you mumble, once again looking everywhere but in his eyes; you know that once you do there’s no escape.

You spend the next few moments packing away the supplies, fingers flying rapidly over the bottles and bandages, resolutely avoiding Jaemin’s gaze.

Even when he walks you home it is in utter and complete silence, and you refuse to look at him as you fiddle with the ends of your shirt. It is only when you reach your apartment that he finally speaks up.

“Y/N, please look at me,” he says quietly, unable to bear it any longer, tucking his index finger under your chin and tilting your head to face him. You look at him, your bottom lip trembling slightly, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

“Are you afraid of me?”

And yet, even as he asks you this, it seems like he’s the one who’s more afraid; his gaze is tremulous, as though your answer could crush him in an instant.

“I don’t know, Jaemin,” you say honestly, for how could you be afraid of the boy you love? How could you love a boy you’re afraid of?

“This is my reality,” Jaemin whispers, voice clouded with pain and anguish that makes your heart constrict with a heavy, throbbing ache. “I get into fights, I hurt people, I do horrible things. I’m a bad person, Y/N. I don’t deserve to be with you, and you’d only get hurt if you’re with me.”

“But you said you loved me,” is your feeble reply, your voice broken as heartache rips you apart at the seams, destroying the very fabric of your heart.

Jaemin smiles then, and it is the most ironic thing he could have done; his smile is melancholic, mournful, anything but mirthful.

“And it’s exactly the reason why we can’t be together.”

The grief in his eyes seems to come alive.

“They know, Y/N. The mafia I work for, they’ve got you on their radar.”

A chill runs down your spine. You knew this was probably the case, but the very confirmation coming from his lips makes you wonder if this was all a mistake.

Maybe loving Na Jaemin was the biggest mistake you’d ever made.

“Let go, Y/N. Find someone who can take care of you, who can protect you and give you everything that I can’t. All I can do is love you, and it’s not enough,” Jaemin murmurs, his voice weak and hardly audible, and yet every word of his rings through your soul and you know that you’ll never be able to let him go.

By this time tears are streaming down both your cheeks; you and Jaemin can only be together in sorrow, bound by a love you both can’t have, bound by the cruelty of circumstance.

“I’ll wait for you,” you whisper, and though Jaemin doesn’t believe you, he holds your promise true to his heart as he brings his lips close to yours and kisses you, and you can taste his salty tears mixing with your own and the gash on his lip causes him to shudder against your own, but he continues to kiss you slowly, painfully aware that once this night passes, not even the stars can capture this moment and store it within the infinity of the cosmos; all of it will vanish with the dawning of the sunrise, and he’ll have to let you go by then.

You kiss him with all possible ardour because you know it’ll be the last time you allow yourself to indulge in such sweet sin. You try your hardest to convey your promise and faith with your lips, because you know that mere words can’t do much; you’re both much too broken to be fixed with empty vows.

“Don’t wait for me,” Jaemin implores as he finally pulls away from you, but what he really wants to say is I’ll come back for you once I get out of this mess so please, please wait for me.

You watch as he slips out of your backyard, out of your world, and becomes one with the night.

When the twilight fades, the boy who dances with danger and flirts with the flames of peril will cease to exist in your life. And yet, this wretched love binds your soul to his like a curse of eternal damnation. You don’t know if there’s any getting him back, but you know for certain that there’s no letting him go.

The stars are crossed in opposition for now, but you take comfort in the cognizance that at the very least, your paths aren’t infinitely parallel.

a/n; it took forever but its finally here!! the highly requested story inspired by the jaemin blurb that i put up a while back. im sorry it took me so long to upload this, but i really hope you guys will enjoy it :)

[maruzzewrites]

hello ~ could i request #6 for risotto? or diavolo who ever works best! maybe nothing too nfsw if that’s alright?

what about both, my good sir? also i dunno what you meant with nsfw bc i don’t really write smut? i assume you meant gore, so it’s not as bloody as i could i have made it

6. “I think they might bea problem. Don’t worry, love, I’ll take care of them for you.” 

Content warnings: yandere content, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, stalking, implied mindbreak, implied violence, abuse, being used in these two fellows’ feud.

Diavolo had to keep tabs on everyone, his eyeshad to see everything. When it came to his own group, his own empire, he had tohammer the thought of constant control and surveillance in order to discourageany and all attempts to rebel. He didn’t care if his underlings would kill eachother for foolish greed or any revenge-filled sentiment of resentment, until hestayed at the top and no one tried to tear apart his carefully built life.

He was cautious, bordering on pointless paranoia,when it came to anything to do with his goals. No underdog could hope tooverthrown him, no matter how brave they thought they were. On the other hand,those loyal subordinates who would bow down, figuratively show their throat tohim as an act of submission, gained his favor and his calm more easily that he’dlike to admit. Diavolo wasn’t one to indulge in typical emotions, toocontrolled and isolated to really understand other people, but he could appreciatethe coddling provided by people who obeyed him almost blindly. Like his Doppio.

Or like you, a mere courier. You wereinsignificant, you were an ant in his vast world of crime and illegality. You weren’tan assassin or a guard, you just run around the city with averted eyes to carrypackages, often of little to no value. Yet, you talked with reverence of theDon, of the man you claimed allowed you to eat at the end of the day, to wrapyourself in a soft blanket and sleep peacefully in the safety of your own home.Diavolo never really thought about other people unless it was to manipulate or monitorthem, but the small admissions you gave to anyone asking why you were acceptingof the low rank and lousy treatment made his mind feel softer when he had todeal with you.

Despite the growing, reluctant fondness he hadfor you and your reverence, he wouldn’t reveal himself or contact you directly;Doppio was often sent to talk to you, offer you a bit more money than necessaryfor a simple delivery, yank you away from situations his boss didn’t approveof. You were grateful, that much he could understand, but that sentiment seemedto quickly diminish with each passing day. You were refusing, again and again, anytype of help from the Don. When before you would accept without thought hisgenerosity, now you step back a little and bow your head, trembling at thetentative rejection.

Diavolo could feel Doppio shake a bit, tension inhis muscles. His underboss’ voice was still sweet, if strained, when heextended the envelope with cash towards you, a clear invitation to take it. Youstepped back again, looked around you, whispered your fear to the man who wasin front of you. You accused him with a small voice; of following you, ofspying you, you saw the pink hair everywhere and his gift of affection wereleft behind so, so often you were afraid to go back home most nights. At themention of your spending nights of utter terror with someone else, Doppio’smind melted away and you watched as his eyes turned green.

“How dare you,” it wasn’t a question, it wassimple indignant vitriol dripping from Doppio’s soft lips. Before you couldeven question what was happening, he charged you and backed you up against thewall behind you, his arms seemingly growing too large for his minute body. Youhit your back painfully, letting out a moan of agony, but didn’t have thebravery to struggle against the man holding you against the wall, on your toes.Was he always that tall, was he always that strong; your head buzzed withquestions as he spoke again, “Don’t betray me. You wouldn’t like what happens.”

He kept your head in place as he got closer, crashinghis lips into yours without much consideration for your whines and whimpers,your body froze solid for the fear. You were left without breath by the length ofthe greedy kiss, your lips swollen and aching when he was done torturing them.A light squeeze of your arms was the last wordless warning he left you, beforeletting you stumble to the ground and watching as you walked away with quick stepsyou were obviously trying to contain so you wouldn’t displease him.

The following days were filled with dailyencounters with Doppio, soft and polite again, as he let you have anything youneeded or wanted, even when you didn’t voice your thoughts to him at all. Diavolocould feel you slip away from his grasp, but he would tighten his fingersaround your throat as you were trying to leave just to keep you subservient anddocile. Yet, he couldn’t have eyes on you all the time, not on a constantbasis, so you managed to get your glimpses of freedom that made you get closerto someone.

Risotto Nero was his best assassin, the boss ofhis hitmen team, and he knew everything about him; he was an asset, but also aliability with the sheer cruelty and greed his group showed every single day.He approached you when Diavolo’s eyes couldn’t observe, offering you protectionand safety if you gave in to his affection. Softness wasn’t something he hasever accustomed to, but you showed a great amount of it even to the strangerson the streets; you wouldn’t let your job dim your light, your tenderness,despite working for the ruthless ranks of Passione.

He knew of the link you had with the Don, initiallyhe kept researching you for the sole propose of finding a weakness in theshield of the boss he hated so much. But, with time, his heart softened andchanged, a sick obsession to follow you and claim you pushed him to leavetraces. And that made you accuse the boss’ underdog of Risotto’s action, articulatingyour dread at the attentions. He was glad your contempt was directed at theother man, but his stomach dropped when he watched further and you were seizedin his arms, weak and passive like a kitten.

Risotto felt a roar die in his throat, at thedisplay of your fragility. Everything was out of focus, except your delicateface and your trembling steps as you run away. You were so breakable, and hecouldn’t bear the thought of you crumbling for anyone but him. Another challengeto the boss wouldn’t be his death, he thought, as he dragged you under his wingto protect you, claim you. Under his fingers, your blood turned cold and yourstrength left you with the drop of iron in your bloodstream. A little doll,prized, in the hands of two puppeteers.

You found yourself between a rock and a hardplace, pulled back and forth in their attempts to get you. A pawn in theirendless game, it didn’t matter if your arms would come off because of thetugging. They would kiss with hunger at the scars, demanding to open new oneswhere the other left them on your skin. They’d claw, and tear, and shape yoursoft soul until you were only left with edges and cold flesh, perfect in yourform and limping at their side. It didn’t matter if you were yourself, untilyou could be theirs. Then, one day, one of them would disappear and leave youin the punishing hands of the other man, ready to atone for your split loyalty.

“The boss and his right-hand man. I think theymight be a problem,” Risotto’s voice was burning as ice on your skin, draggingthe words over your back while he held you close. The promise of torture at themere thought of rebelling against his affection, the threat of being left aloneto face the Don if you didn’t comply. Diavolo spit out words as bright as acold flame, making the venom stick to your eardrums like a plague you could never hope to cure if you wanted to live another day, “Don’t worry, love, I’ll takecare of them for you. Soon, they won’t bother you anymore.”

[ellebabywrites]

The Hitman - In Exodus

Type : Oneshot (Part of The In Exodus Series) // Angst // Fluff // Smut // Cartel!au

Warnings : angst, death, cussing

Author Note : This took me far too long and had my anxieties far too high. I’m finally happy with how it turned out and hope you all enjoy it too !! Please give me some feedback because I’ve worked so hard on this chapter..

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀*⋆.*:*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆**･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ.: ⋆*･ﾟ☾

The smell of freshly baked croissants flood the streets, a sign that the Bakery is about to open and the day beginning. Shutters rise and doors open. The busting workers of Exodus bracing for the day ahead; a day of sales to kids who can barely walk straight with the amount of poison saturating their bloodstream; a day of fighting with the guy from down the road who insists that things were ‘cheaper last week’; a day of overworking for much less of a profit than it’s all worth. Living the dream.

The bakery was different though. Something about it felt like home, and everyone treated it as such. It was the only building for miles that wasn’t painted in graffiti, the only business that was doing well for itself, a little slice of goodness in the middle of all that bad.

That’s what everyone thinks anyway.

Across the street, Jongin is watching through the scope of his rifle. Watching the Baker unlock his doors and flip the closed sign to open. He scoffs. Such a poser.

Saying Jongin enjoyed his job would be pushing it; how much enjoyment can one really get from taking a life without being a psychopath? But he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking forward to taking out this one particular man.

He watches the Baker great the first of his customers with a toothy grin, hugging Mrs Jamison when she comes in for her regular morning pastry. If only Mrs Jamison knew all the dirty things that man had been doing with the hand she shakes so willingly.

The town’s beloved Baker wasn’t nearly as squeeky clean as he liked everyone to believe. After hours, he found himself in SUjU territory, hanging out with drug runners, dancing around the subject of Exodus till the haze of alcohol took control, divulging any and all information that might get him another drink.

Pathetic Jongin thinks, noticing how the Baker danced around his customers with such fictitious glee, as if he hadn’t sold them out a hundred times over.

Again, not to say EXO were any better, but surely there should be some sense of town loyalty right? Jongin thinks so; making this particular betrayal all the more infuriating and his death all the more inevitable.

Jongin lines up the crosshairs of his gun against the Baker’s head, having the courtesy to wait for the shop to empty. One. The corner of his lips pull into a smirk, the buildup of adrenaline flooding his veins working as his own personal high. Two. Is it sick to say he can’t wait to kill this guy? Maybe? He deserves it Jongin thinks, afterall, he did try and ruin their business for a few shots of tequila. Thr…

“Hey Joey!”

So close…

“Well this is a surprise! How’re you today darlin’?”

Usually, you would only visit Joey’s bakery at the end of the week, needing some sort of sugary treat to get through the piles of work you had to do; but today your classes were cut short and you were gagging for something with chocolate.

“Our professor had to leave early and a girl needs her goodies!” You joked, leaning against the counter.

Joey had been a staple in Exodus for your entire life, the man was everybody’s uncle, everybody’s friend, you could talk to him about anything and your weekly visits had become a huge part of your routine.

“Good job I’ve got a whole bunch for you to choose from duck,” Joey laughs at how your eyes quickly scan over the trays of baked goods like you were a starving puppy, “Ooo I know what you should pick, I need someone to try out my new brownie recipe!”

Fuck. Joey moved away from Jongin’s line of fire just enough to grab the box of brownies from behind the counter, the perfect shot ruined by a few brownies.

“Well if you made them Joey then I’m sure they’re absolutely delicious!” you coo, giggling at how easily you can make him blush.

Just as you were about to leave and the Baker to return to the firing line, a rush of people came flooding into the small shop, putting a stop to whatever chance Jongin had at completing his mission right now.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Nini groans in frustration, packing up his equipment quickly as to get away unnoticed, “he was right there, I could have had him!” It was frustrating sure, delaying his plans a few more hours before there would be another chance to take out his target; but there would be another chance and Jongin would get the job done. So while the sweet-toothed girl had momentarily saved old Joey’s life, it wouldn’t last much longer.

---

The clock read 11:57pm as you were hunched over on the living room floor, trying to finish this essay that you’d definitely not been putting off for weeks…

“Need ...sugar ...immediately..” you whine, dramatically throwing yourself across the floor to grab the box of brownies Baker Joe had gifted you earlier in the day. Mmnn, indulging yourself in the chocolatey goodness, you decide now is the perfect time for a break, only 6,000 words left to go anyway…

Completely oblivious to the ramifications those few brownies had had on the day for more than one party, you munched away the last of them, licking the crumbs from your fingertips and moaning at the euphoria a simple treat could bring.

‘Breaking news tonight : Beloved Exodus baker found dead. The 56 year old’s body was discovered an hour ago near his home, cause of death is officially named as a GSW through the neck…’

A chill runs up your spine as the news plays quietly from the television. Baker Joe was dead. Someone had killed him! You’re confused and hurt and angry all at once. Why would anyone want to hurt Joey? He was one of the only decent people in this shit-show of a city and now he was gone. Your eyes wander to the now empty box of goodies, the bakery’s logo printed on the front in swirly gold font and you feel the sudden need to cry, so you do.

---

Who did this guy think he was? An MX falcone wandering the streets of Exodus without a care in the world, stealing from the market stalls as he sauntered his way through the crowds. Minhyuk is his name. When Baekhyun had gotten word of their latest visitor, Jongin was immediately sent to take care of it. Honestly what did they think was going to happen? That they could just hang out in Exodus without consequence? That no one would be the least bit suspicious?

“You like the farmers market huh,” Jongin keeps a trained eye on Minhyuk as he moves from stall to stall. There were far too many people around for a direct hit so all he could do was watch and wait for the perfect opportunity.

“Why the fuck are you here?” He mumbled in annoyance, MX were getting far too comfortable for anyone’s liking; it was like the calm before the storm, except the storm was standing right in front of him chatting about produce with Mr Kim.

Suddenly, Minhyuk takes a sharp left, making his way out of the bustling crowd towards the alleys. He’d been made. Fuck. Following as quickly as he could, fighting his way through the sea of people, Jongin tries to keep up.

“Excuse me, I’m trying to get to…”

Minhyuk is fast, but maybe if you weren’t standing in front of him, blocking the way, Jongin would have been able to get him.

He doesn’t immediately recognise you. Your hair is tied differently and you’re wearing a different coat, but once Jongin places you as the girl from the bakery, he’s immediately on guard. Twice now you’ve gotten in the way of a hit. Could it just be a coincidence? Sure Exodus is small, you’re bound to run into the same people more than once. Baker Joe’s was a town staple and the market is always busy, but what are the chances? Jongin tries to side-step passed you, eyes scanning the crowds for Minhyuk, but you move along with him.

Holding out a map in front of him, you try again to ask for directions but Jongin doesn’t have time. He doesn’t have time to entertain the possibility that seeing you again could be anything but a coincidence, not when he’s about to lose yet another target.

“Move!”

You watch in astonishment as he pushes you out of the way before storming off. What an asshole you think; all you needed were directions, a simple no would have sufficed. Then again you’d come to expect nothing more from the people of Exodus. Sighing, you carry on your way alone, soon forgetting about the rude man you had met on the street.

---

8am lectures were the bain of your existence, but Professor Jeong’s class was always worth it.

Armed with a large cup of coffee and a stack of notes to aid you through, you made your way to an empty space near the front of the lecture hall. Biology never came easy to you, but the drive you had to succeed more than made up for it.

“Sorry I’m late guys,” Professor Jeong rushed into the busy hall, his own cup of coffee balancing on a pile of books clutched between his arms, “I got caught up with Professor Lyn, he’s such a ...fungi!”

The room fills with groans and muffled laughs at the attempt of a joke so early in the morning, but the Professor didn’t seem to mind. “Okay I’m sorry, let’s get into today. Can anyone tell me where we left off last week? Y/N?”

From the back of the room Jongin notices you.

“Oh you have to got to be kidding me..”

Once again, you happen to show up right in the middle of a job. There had to be a reason. There was no way this could be a coincidence anymore. Were you following him? Working with MX? Trying to get intel on EXO? Jongin didn’t know, but at this point he didn’t care. You were a problem.

Jeong was another star poser in Exodus. The esteemed environmental science professor, that drew students from across the country just to take his conservational bio class. The hotshot teacher who was already in the running for tenure. The slimy asshole that used his connections in the science world to help EXO’s competitors recreate their patented drug.

This was supposed to be an easy hit, wait till after class and use the pocket knife hidden in his belt to slit the professor’s throat before next period. But now, Jongin had to put those plans on hold so that he could figure out what to do about you.

---

Following you was far easier than Jongin had anticipated, thinking that he’d be kept on his toes trying to avoid getting caught, but you seemed completely oblivious to the fact that someone had been following you, watching your routines and judging them oh so harshly.

He kept his distance at first, observing from afar as you went about your daily activities. But soon enough, Jongin found himself immersed in the story that was your life. On the sidelines, a spectator, keeping mental notes of your behaviours.

Keeping space between you, Jongin follows you down the familiar street. He knows exactly where you’re going, the same place you’ve gone to for lunch every day that week. After your first class of the day you head straight to Lou’s café to grab something to eat and get some studying done. Like clockwork, the only thing to change was your order. Jongin would never admit that he’d grown to enjoy the establishment himself, but it was one of the least tedious moments of the day.

With the sky starting to darken in the cold weather, you fumble around your bag for your wallet amongst the loose scrunchies and old receipts, Jongin scoff in disbelief.

“How have you not been jumped yet?” He mumbled to himself. Before you’ve even walked through the café doors you have your money in hand, out in the open for anyone to take. Jongin had picked up on the blissful ignorance you had in regards to the danger in Exodus, instead, choosing to carry on carefree. Stupid he thinks.

Standing in line a few spots behind you, he watches as you let person after person cut in front and he just doesn’t get it. You only have an hour before the start of your next class and yet you’re willingly letting yourself be pushed back? People were clearly taking advantage of your kindness, but you were either incredibly stupid or didn’t care. When the older woman in front of you is a few dollars short, you don’t hesitate before lending her the difference, even putting back your own drink just so you could afford to help her. How could someone so generous be apart of something so evil? Then again, most of Exodus were playing that game.

Grabbing a coffee of his own, Jongin sits a table over from where you plant yourself, what had become your regular spots. Finding amusement in the way you struggle to fit both of your study books in the small space.

Now, only a short while before you needed to be back in class, you attempt to get as much work done while shoveling food down your throat as you could. Jongin thought it was hilarious, bar the tuna mayo that is. “Tuna? Really? It’s 11am jesus christ!” Maybe it was easy for him to judge you from a distance, but out of all the things he’d learnt, your love of tuna was the worst.

He watches your face scrunch and eyebrows furrow as you try and absorb the information, recognising the same study book you’ve been working on all week, the one for Professor Jeong’s class that you’d been struggling with. The pages covered almost entirely in highlighter with notes and doodles littering the margins. Cute.

You just seem so harmless. No matter how hard he tries Jongin just can’t seem to figure you out. Perhaps MX were blackmailing you? Maybe they had something that forced you to be their spy? It was the only explanation he could think of, because it just didn’t seem plausible that the girl in front of him, furiously editing her notes for the hundredth time that hour, the one with drops of mayonnaise left over on the corner of her lips, could be willingly working with the notorious MX. But you were involved somehow, of that he was sure.

---

The library is quiet, the sound of rustling papers and hushed whispers being the only source of noise. Luckily, it was busier than usual due to the wave of group projects being assigned, it made it easy for Jongin to blend in.

He watches you curiously from behind one of the bookshelves, trying to understand why you haven’t slapped the asshole beside you yet. He’d been cutting you off and putting you down every chance he could.

“I just think if we..”

“Seriously Y/N don’t strain yourself, I think we’ve got it.”

Asshole.

Even Jongin wanted to punch this guy. Being the only girl in the group, the others found it easy to dismiss everything you offered.

“Why doesn’t she say anything?” Jongin wondered, once again you were letting people walk all over you.

It’s not like you particularly enjoyed being treated that way, in fact you were daydreaming about slamming said assholes’ face into the wall at that very moment, but you couldn’t do that. This project defines your grade for the semester and you couldn’t afford that kind of taint on your record. So you bite your tongue. Act none the wiser and count the seconds before you could go home and be done with them all.

Across the library you spot Minho, the cute senior who’d been working as the student librarian for the last month or so. He’s scanning out returns at the desk, eyes glancing up occasionally, you presume to keep an eye on things . God he’s cute. When he spots you staring and then takes a look at the rather heated debate going on between your group, he decides to save you from the disarray, waving you over.

“My hero,” you tease, almost running to where Minho is.

“It was getting too painful to watch! What’s he ranting about this time?” He teases playfully, knowing all too well the constant tension in your study group.

“Ugh I don’t even know, it’s so much easier just to tune him out,”

Jongin’s teeth clench watching the exchange between you and the librarian. The childish giggling, the ‘accidental’ touches, the lingering stares. Disgusting.

“Who even is this guy?” If he didn’t know any better Jongin would think this was jealousy, but he did know better, so all of these unfamiliar feelings had to be from just how pitiful the sight was. This guy was clearly flirting with you, the blush on his cheeks and sweaty palms said as much, but from everything Jongin had learnt, you weren’t going to reciprocate. Tragic.

“Are you kidding me? Why is she twirling her hair like that!? He’s not even her type! He’s... he…” his mumbled ranting cut off by the sound of you laughing across the room. “Well if that is her type then no wonder she’s corrupt.”

He watches the pair of you for a little longer before the need to throw up eventually overtakes his need to stay, deciding he could catch you up later and spare himself the torture of sitting through whatever this was.

---

The open sign light bounces off wet concrete, illuminating your face with such a subtle glow of pink that Jongin could barely make out the streaks of tears running down your cheeks. He almost missed you sitting crouched over on the pavement, the smell of smoke being what made him stop. Why is she crying? He thought to himself, seeing you curled up in a ball, cigarette dangling from your fingertips haphazardly concerned him. Jongin didn’t have to wonder for too long though, the closer he got to you the clearer he could hear your muffled cries.

“Stupid fucking Geord,” you cuss, taking another long drag to calm your anxieties, “takes all my ideas, monopolises the entire presentation and then my contribution isn’t enough!?”

Jongin had come to know the infamous Geord all too well this last week, the pompous ass that had belittled you in the library, the snotty rich kid with mommy issues that just loved being right. Honestly the fact he hadn’t killed him yet was an accomplishment in itself; but still, seeing you clearly so upset gave Jongin a weird feeling.

You were either getting much better with your performance skills, or he was actually getting mad for you…

With each sniffle, each tear drop, Jongin felt his resolve breaking away and being replaced with a type of anger he’d never felt before. Why did he care that you were crying? Why was it affecting him so much? He didn’t know, but it took all his strength not to go find Geord and make him regret whatever he’d done.

As quickly as you put out the cigarette that was now burning short, you’re reaching for the box to light another. You only really smoked when you were feeling particularly stressed, Jongin hated it. Ironically it was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen; painting the walls with someone’s brain was nothing compared to the strong stench of nicotine that passed your lips.

For a second Jongin lets his mind entertain the thought of approaching you, but the professional side of him reminds him who you were. This could be a trick...She’s not an idiot. Then he considers calling you out. Drawing his gun and putting an end to MX’s game once and for all, besides, he’d been observing you for a week now and he couldn’t afford for his attention to be diverted any more, he still had the good old Professor to end.

Before he gets the chance to do either however, you stand up. Taking one last drag before stomping out the flame, your hands carelessly wipe at your face in a feeble attempt at clearing the remnants of your breakdown.

“I’ll be fine, let’s just go home,” you whisper, more than familiar with putting yourself back together and wanting nothing more than a hot bath and warm bed.

---

When you first noticed that the new guy on campus was following you, you tried not to think too much of it. In all honesty, you were far too busy trying to keep on top of everything to pay much attention as to why you were being followed. Knowing the people in Exodus, you figured it was just his creepy way of flirting, or at the very worst he was planning on robbing you, not that you had much to take anyway. But as the days went by and the presence of your stalker persisted, you were growing frustrated. It’d been a stressful week and the last thing you needed was some guy watching your every move.

After getting the results back from Professor Jeong for your group presentation, you weren’t exactly in a ‘good mood’ and the looming shadow of the man trying to be inconspicuous as he followed you home, was the last straw.

"How much longer are you planning on following me?” You shout over your shoulder, not having the energy to even face him. When you get no response, you reluctantly decide to turn around to stare him down.

His chocolate coloured hair is pushed back exposing his forehead, eyes golden but harbouring so much animosity that they could have turned black, the jacket adorning his shoulders almost blending him into the dark street behind. He was handsome, strikingly so.

“Look dude it’s been a long day, can’t you just lay off the stalking for one night?”

Jongin stiffens at your words. So you did know he was there? And chose now, while you were both alone in a dark street, to confront him? God she’s stupid.

“Sorry Darling, can’t do that,” he insisted, watching how your shoulders slumped and fingers twitched at the side of your coat.

“Of course,” sighing deeply, too tired to argue, you decide to continue on towards your apartment, stalker be damned.

“Aren’t MX getting bored of this game yet?” Jognin calls. He figures if you already knew he was following you, then now would be the perfect time to put an end to it. You were alone after all.

When he sees you freeze at the sound of MX, he takes a tentative step closer, you’re still turned away from him, just a few steps ahead. “I mean, were you really the best they could do? We expected more.” The smirk on his face when you turn to him, wide eyed and lost for words, only grows at your reaction. Gotcha.

“What are you talki..”

“Come on now Darling, we both know what’s going on here.”

“I promise you we do not.” You’ve heard whispers of MX around town, while you didn’t know much, you did know that if this guy thought you were somehow apart of it, then this was a dangerous misunderstanding.

“You have a choice.” Jongin takes another step closer, “You can leave, now, and make sure MX stay out of Exodus for good,” Reaching under his jacket, he grabs the gun that’s been burning through the back of his shirt since you called out to him, “Or I can send them a message myself. Choose.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about!” You tried to keep calm, swallowing the lump forming at the back of your throat. When you spotted the gun being pulled from his coat, it was like a pin dropped and the reality of the situation finally began to sink in.

Exodus is a dangerous place. Exodus is full of dangerous people. You were standing alone with a strange man that you’d just yelled at, that had been following you for god knows how long, a gun pointed at your face and not a soul in sight that would help you.

He doesn’t flinch when you jump back, his smirk doesn’t falter when you start begging for him to listen. In Jongin’s mind, the fact you’d acknowledged his presence at all was enough to prove you were involved.

“Please, please, just listen to me, t-there’s been a mistake, I d-don’t kno…”

“Oh my god shut up!” He yelled over your desperate cries, “It’s over! Done!”

“I don’t know who you think I am, b-but my name is Y/N I grew up a few towns over with my parents, I-I study Conservation Biology at the university because when I was little I saw a film about sea turtles and now I love them.. I...” you read somewhere that telling a killer personal information about yourself would make them less likely to kill you; so, with your hands held up in surrender, you start begging, pleading, letting slip every boring and mediocre fact about yourself in hopes that the handsome stranger will let you live.

Jongin was taken aback to say the least. Never had a target begged for their life quite like  this before, but the more you rambled on and the more tears that fell down your cheeks, he couldn’t help it. He believed you.

This is a mistake... Did I mess up here? Fuck! His mind raced to find a way out of this, but his composure was breaking down with each second you plead your case. How could he have gotten things so wrong? Looking at you now; scared and shaking, there was no way you could be with MX. Jongin’s mind quickly looks back on all the time he’d been watching you, at school, at the library, with friends, home alone... Is it possible he let feelings cloud his judgment? No… Jongin didn’t have feelings.

Bang.

In a split second the air was slashed with bullets, plastering the wall behind you with open wounds. Your body drops to the floor, hands covering your ears like a scared child at a fireworks display, your screams piercing through the air.

Jongin doesn’t even think about it before he’s at your side. He fires back some warning shots, just enough to cover the pair of you so he could pull you out of there, but you were frozen in place.

“C’mon we need to get out of here! I can’t get a clear shot!”

Jongin hoisted your trembling body into his arms, waiting for a gap in the bullet wave before rushing out of the street. Weaving between the crumbling buildings, waiting in the shadows for a free moment to sprint out of there to a nearby underpass. It was sheltered and open, meaning Jongin could keep a solid eye on the surroundings while still keeping you safe while he let himself freak out a little.

As soon as he puts you on the ground you melt into the concrete, hugging your knees to your chest and crying into them silently. It’s all too much. How did this happen? Yesterday you were failing Bio and trying to avoid the creeper puppy boy that’d been following you. Now…. you were pretty sure you were going to die tonight.

“Fuck...fuck..fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Jongin paces back and forth, using the barrel of his gun to scratch away the headache slowly spreading across his temples. How could he have messed up this badly? He’s the best… at least... he was the best.

With every footstep he takes you flinch a little, hyper aware of the gun swinging from his hand, fingertip dancing along the trigger. You still don’t know who he is or why you’re there but you’ve seen enough to know to keep quiet. So you stay sitting on the ground, letting the tears melt into the fabric of your jeans, watching the state of panic escalate in the man in front of you while your own turned into something akin to resentment.

After almost half an hour of silently waiting for some sort of direction, you’ve had enough. Eventually Jongin had stopped pacing, choosing to lean up against the wall with head in hands, instead. In your mind, you have nothing to do with this. There is nothing connecting you to whatever chaos was happening here. You had no reason to wait around to get shot.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” He shouts, annoyance bubbling beneath his skin.

“Home.”

“You can’t!” Pushing himself off the wall, Jongin reaches for your arm in an attempt to keep you still. You try to shake him off but his grip is too strong.

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR ANY OF THIS!” You’re screaming at him now. Tears no longer from fear, but anger. You feel trapped in whatever this was and it wasn’t fair, you just want to go home.

“Yeah well tough shit Darling, because unfortunately you’re my responsibility now and it’s my job to make sure you don’t get yourself killed!”

“I can take care of myself! I’ve been doing it long enough!” He rolls his eyes at your response, growing tired of trying to be the good guy for once. “Let me go! I’ll be just fine! Like always!”

Finally loosening the grip on your arm, Jongin let’s you storm off. Waiting, only out of spite, for you to be out of ear shot before cussing out loud at himself.

---

Somehow you managed to drag yourself to class. The events of last night still burning fresh at the back of your mind, but you were desperate enough for a distraction that even Professor Jeong’s morning class was worth that extra effort.

Barely able to keep your eyes open with the little sleep you were actually able to get, it takes you a moment to recognise the familiar body that plants themselves in the desk next to yours.

Jongin doesn’t look at you. Maybe it’s pride, maybe it’s nerves, but he keeps his eyes trained on the professor’s desk up front, waiting for his cover to be inevitably blown all for the sake of keeping you safe.

“Good morning class!” The professor’s abrupt entrance pulls your shocked and frustrated gaze from burning holes in the side of Jongin’s neck. His tan skin glowing under the plain white tee he’s wearing, hair falling into his eyes softly, contradicting the hard image he’d worn the night before. Does he have his gun with him? You wonder, letting your eyes wander to the waistband of his jeans, remembering how he’d pulled the weapon from them the night before. Stop! You hope he doesn’t realise you’ve been blankly staring at his crotch, mind racing with questions, you don’t even know his name.

“Today we’re picking up the remaining presentati…” When the admirable Professor meets eyes with Jongin, smirking from his seat beside you knowingly, he loses all train of thought.

It’s a feeling Jongin had missed. When a mark knows they’re done for, that he’s coming for them. When their eyes double in size. When fear pales their skin. When they lose all hope of fucking over EXO and getting away with it.

“T-today..um…” You can see the Professor eyeing your seat partner nervously, stuttering over his words. You’d never seen Jeong like this before, he looked terrified, and after last night it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

Jongin shifts in his seat, enjoying the effect his presence has on the esteemed scholar. While Jeong tries to regain some semblance of decorum, Jongin wraps one of his arms around your shoulders and squeezes tightly, keeping eye contact with the professor, claiming you.

“What are you doing?” keeping your voice low as to not draw anymore attention to you both, you try to push Jongin’s arm away from you, only for him to put it right back.

“My job. Now be quiet.” He hisses, hiding the harshness of his voice behind a sickly sweet smile.

Professor Jeong spends the entire lecture avoiding your side of the room, refusing to make eye contact, completely ignoring you. You try not to take it personally of course, it’s definitely not because of something you did, that you know for sure; but for once you actually know the answers to some of these questions and want to participate.

“I told you, I can take care of myself!” you grumbled, again trying to physically get Jongin away from you, but he just smirks. Like he was enjoying it. Like this was all just some big game and not the life threatening situation he’d made it out to be the night before.

And you would probably believe that were true, if it wasn’t for his nails digging so sharply into your shoulder.

By the time class finishes you want to run a million miles away. The pressure of Jongin’s arm around your neck you’re sure will leave you aching for days; but as long as he’s far away from you, you can deal with it. You all but sprint out of the lecture hall, forgetting all about your next class and heading straight home; taking a back street you hope he hadn’t seen you use before.

“What the hell is this?” You mumble to yourself, pushing down the fear as far as you can in hopes the empty space will leave room for answers. You’re so caught up in your head, trying to figure out what you did to deserve this, you don’t even realise that Jongin’s been on your tail the whole time, watching you freak out and creep around like the amateur he now knows you are. It’s not until he steps into your building’s elevator with you that you realize he’s there.

“Jesus! Fuck, can’t you leave me alone!” He was exhausting; flattering when you thought it was a puppy crush, less so now you know he wanted to kill you.

“I can’t,” Jongin leans against the side of the elevator, growing tired of the chase.

“Why?! You’re the only one stalking me here!”

“Oh Darling, you have no idea.”

“Then explain! Because I’m tired of this! I have work to do, classes to study for, and I can’t when you’re scaring my teachers and dragging me through shoot outs!!”

Jongin understands why you’re annoyed. He gets it, he messed up and now you’re in danger. But to admit that outloud… to admit that to you… he’d rather not.

He doesn’t give you an answer, finding his reflection in the steel doors far more interesting, chewing the inside of his cheek and fixing his jacket over and over.

When you finally reach your floor, it becomes a race of wills to get to your apartment. Jongin trying to force his way in; you trying to lock him out. You sprint for the door, key in hand; almost managing to slam it shut in his face before Jongin’s hand pushes it back open, forcing himself through the small gap and locking you both inside.

In a second he’s slamming your back against the door with his hand covering your mouth, keeping you in place with the weight of his body, trying to work up the nerve to finally tell you the truth.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but you need to listen to me just for one fucking second… My name is Jongin, okay?” he asks, face dangerously close to your own. You manage a weak nod under his hold, terrified but needing answers.

“I made a mistake. I...I thought you were working with MX,”

Your eyes widen at the second mentioning of the infamous gang, more confused than ever as to why he thought you would ever be involved with them. He didn’t even know you.

“There’s rumours they’re coming for EXO territory..”

He’s with EXO. The realisation floods through your body like a lightning strike, frying your nerves, limbs locked in place while the rest of your body falls limp into his arms. EXO. The kings of this city. The reason shops close early and children aren’t allowed out after 9. The  doctors responsible for prescribing the death, the destruction, of a city once so healthy and vibrant. Monsters, as far as you’re concerned.

“They must have seen me tailing you and after last night, I think you’re a target.” Jongin watches as your eyes well up with tears, red and swollen as you choke back the sobs you so obviously want to release. It doesn’t affect him… it doesn’t make him angry… he doesn’t want to wrap you in a hug and take it all back… right?

“So as much as you don’t like it, I’m here. I messed up so I need to fix it, because this isn’t a game and this isn’t a joke. If they think you’re with us they will kill you. Milk carton kids, where are they now, 27 club dead.”

You wish he was a better actor. That he could hide the shame, guilt, pain he feels for putting you in this position better. That the cold exterior he wears so well didn’t have quite as many cracks, because then maybe you could tell yourself that everything was going to be okay. But if Jongin looks scared, then you’re absolutely terrified.

Blinded by the fear, your body reacts before your mind can catch up. Fists pounding into his chest weakly as the sound of your sobs rip into his heart. You’re in hysterics, screaming at him for an answer to questions still lodged at the back of your throat. Jongin doesn’t break down with you, as much as his body tries. Instead he just grabs your wrists, stopping their assault and pinning them into his embrace. His hold the only thing keeping you standing as you finally let the last walls crumble, letting out every tear, every scream, every desperate cry for it all to be some twisted dream.

Jongin doesn’t know how you both ended up on the floor, your head buried between your knees as his hand finds itself brushing through your hair. Somehow you manage to calm yourself down, letting the sobs turn to whimpers and cries to sniffles. Finally numb after the dust settles in your mind, you force yourself to look back up at Jongin. He looks how you feel, just doing a better job at hiding it; you don’t miss the concern that washes over his face and maybe that’s why you decide to let him stay. If he was so determined to fix what he’d done, you weren’t going to stop him. At least not tonight.

“I need to sleep,” you say weakly, standing on shaky legs but brushing off Jongin’s worried hands when he tries to help, “you can stay on the couch.”

---

Tiptoeing across the living room, shoelaces dangling from your teeth while your hands clutch onto your books; you’re desperately trying not to wake a sleeping Jongin. His sprawled out body half falling from the couch, you admit he looks a lot cuter when he’s sleeping.

Before you can stop it, one of your shoes drops from between your teeth, making Jongin jump up at the sound.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled, rubbing the fatigue from his face, stretching back into his familiar hard persona.

“Uhh, going for breakfast?”

“Did you not hear me last night!” It didn’t sound like a question. His voice raising ever so slightly in frustration as he stands to tower over you. Failing miserably at being as intimidating as usual, with his hair a mess and cheeks puffy.

“I heard you,” you say, pushing your feet into the fallen shoes before giving him a chance to stop you, “I’m just not going to hide away like a victim when this is your mess.” He stiffens at your words, ignoring the cut they etch into his heart, instead focusing on your relentless stubbornness in such a risky situation.

“If they catch you out alone they won’t miss another shot!” Jongin clenches his jaw when you roll your eyes at his remark, unsure of what he can do to change your mind.

“Look if you’re so worried, you’re more than welcome to join me,” you offer, determination radiating off of your face in such a way that Jongin finds himself unable to argue.

---

For the next few days Jongin stays by your side, sleeping on your couch, going to breakfasts, your classes, all to make sure you were safe.

He walks the familiar routes around town with you, not from a few paces back this time, but shoulder to shoulder. Sitting beside you in Professor Jeong’s early morning classes, Jongin was having far too much fun watching the colour drain from his face each time he showed up to one of your lectures to kill him just yet.

Everything became a threat to your safety. As far as Jongin was concerned, your life was in danger and MX could strike at any moment…. Even if it had been quiet since the shooting… it was better to be safe. That’s what Jongin told himself everytime he stayed a little longer.

“Hey Y/N!” Minho waved at you from across the library, he was reshelving returns when he spotted you studying at your usual table.

Jongin felt his ears burn red at the sight. Jaw clenching when he sees the boy walk over. Eyes narrow in judgment when you return his warm smile.

“Hey Minho, how are you?” It’d been a few days since you’d last had the chance to talk with Minho, him still as handsome as ever, but your heart not jumping quite so high at the interaction.

“I’m good, are you? I’ve missed seeing you around lately..” Minho let’s his words fade noticing the glare he was getting from the man sat beside you. “Oh I’m sorry, I’m Minho, Y/N’s friend!”

Jongin glances at Minho’s outstretched hand between them, choosing to throw his own over your shoulder rather than shake it.

“I’m Kai, Y/N’s boyfriend.” He smirks at the shocked expression that Minho wears, ignoring your startled one in favour of silently challenging the boy to leave.

“Oh...oh uh… Nice to meet you, I’ll see you guys around..”

Jongin keeps you close till he’s sure Minho has gone, only loosening his grip when he feels you nudge him gently.

“What the fuck was that, Kai?” You’re more amused than angry, but you’d never let him know that, enjoying seeing the varied emotions you can bring out of him now, when  he was supposed to be a stone cold killer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” feigning innocence, Jongin tries to go back to reading the book he’d randomly grabbed from the pile in front of you both.

You scoff at his reaction, or lack thereof, staring at him quizzically till he finally gave in.

“That guy is sketchy! I’m here to protect you right?  So I’m protecting you. Good?”

“Minho is not sketchy,” you giggle and Jongin can’t help but smile at the sound, “and who is Kai?”

“It’s what my friends call me!”

---

“Hey!” Jongin had appeared out of nowhere, pulling the cigarette from between your lips and stomping it out. With Geord goading you relentlessly for the last hour of class, you were desperate for a smoke. You would argue that those little white sticks of bliss were the only thing keeping you from ripping his throat out.

“It’s disgusting,” he says, leaning down to your height so he could look you in the eye, “why do you do this?”

With a deep sigh, you stuff the near empty packet of unlit cigarettes back into your coat  pocket, storming away in frustration, knowing he’d follow you.

“Wait, I’m serious!”

“I like them!” you shout back, thankful the streets were empty so you could argue in peace.

“They’re bad for you you know!” he teases, laughing when you throw your middle finger up behind you.

“My cigarettes are better for me than you are!” Teasing back, you finally turn to face him, a cheeky smile on your face.

---

“We got him.”

While making dinner for the pair of you, Jongin’s phone buzzes on the counter, a string of messages coming in from someone called Minseok. You tried not to be nosey, sitting on the counter beside him while he cooked, but he didn’t even glance at it.

“Wasn’t MX. Some small town nobody trying to prove himself.”

“Jongin”

“Call me when you get this”

“Boss wants you back asap”

The thought of Jongin leaving had never even crossed your mind till then. It hadn’t been that long at all, but it felt like an eternity since he’d first come into your life. Maybe it was selfish to want him to stay.

Jongin had recently started to open up to you more about his work with EXO. He was their protector, he kept them safe. You didn’t see him as this dangerous monster anymore, he was just Jongin, Kai, the one who took care of things. Just like he’d been taking care of you all this time.

You knew deep down that when he left you’d probably never see him again; if what EXO suspects is true and MX really were making their way into Exodus, then there was a storm coming and Jongin would be right in the middle of it. He wouldn’t risk getting you anymore tangled in EXO’s mess.

“Here, try this,” Jongin held a spoon up to your mouth expectantly; pretending he didn’t see Minseok’s messages, pretending you didn’t see them either, holding on to this reality for just a little longer.

---

“We need you back Jongin,”

After ignoring Minseok’s messages a few days ago, Jongin couldn’t ignore another call from the boss.

“Jun I have to pr..”

“No you don’t! We took care of the shooter, the girl will be fine! EXO needs you, I need you!”

He doesn’t want to leave. Jongin doesn’t know what it is that makes him want to stay near you, keep you safe, go to breakfasts at Lou’s - but the thought of leaving it all behind makes his heart twist and turn in unimaginable ways.

His whole life had been about EXO. They’re his friends, his family, and he would never abandon them. But somehow he’s made a new home with you, in his heart at least. You feel like home. Sitting on your living room floor watching Blue Planet feels like home. Falling asleep on your shoulder in the middle of your lectures feels like home. EXO have been his entire identity for so long, but now there’s this other life, another door, and Jongin was finding hard to resist stepping through.

“Be back today. We have work to do.”

After Junmyeon’s orders, the frustration coursed through Jongin’s body with such force he hadn’t even realised he’d thrown the phone till you were beside him, asking what was wrong.

“I...I have to leave.” He couldn’t look you in the eye. He didn’t want to see the betrayal, the disappointment, the pain reflected in them. “It’s my fault you’re in danger and now I have to leave you…”

He doesn’t know that you know.

“I..I’ll be okay Nini.. I can look after myself remember?” Your voice is weak but you do your best to convince him; as much as you want him to stay you know that’s not an option, and you know he knows it too because he can barely look at you right now.

“Y/N… I don’t want to leave..”

It broke your heart but there was no other choice. You had to let him go. The boy you’d tried so hard to avoid just a few weeks ago, you now didn’t want to see go.

“I know..” You cup the side of his face, forcing him to look at you as you spoke, “but they need you Nini...” It was hard to keep how you were really feeling hidden, especially when he looked like he was about to break, “You’re the best Nini, they deserve the best.”

He knew you were right. He needed to be there for EXO, his family. Things in Exodus were about to get a lot messier and the fallout would be astronomical, if he wasn’t there to do his part there’s no telling what could happen, then you really would be in danger.

Leaning into your touch, Jongin grips onto your hips like it was the first time not the last, pulling you flush against his body. Memorizing the shape of your hips, touch of your skin, smell of your shampoo. Locking you inside his heart. Melding the memory of you into his soul so that this wouldn’t be the last time. He would forever be with you and you would always be there for him, long after he’s gone.

Looking at you would be too much, he might not be able to force himself away if he saw your eyes. Saying goodbye felt too final, like the end of something that never really was. Instead Jongin buried your head into his shaking chest, placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, pretending he can’t feel your tears soaking through his shirt, before turning away and walking out of your life forever.

[sun-critrole]

We can choose

What runs in our veins—

We can choose.

Do we bleed red?

Or does our very soul

Shimmer in greens and golds—

Loyalty? Love?

Does the grey sludge of greed

Cloud out whatever was there before?

Do we—maybe—in a moment of fear—

Spill oil slick onto the floor

Coating everything it touches—

Inescapable?

I looked into my bloodstream

And saw it looking back.

“What are you doing,”

It asked, and I screamed

“I do not know how to stop—

I am all the things I despise

Before I knew I despised them.”

But it reached out—

Human, how strange—

Haven’t felt human before—

And it blessed me

As if I was alive—

As if I was anything—

And it said,

“We can choose.”

[leporellian]

how i got into opera (unabridged)

i realize i’ve never mentioned how i got into opera before and it’s like. it was a whole ass Odyssey and i really feel like confessing my sins today.

‘so how do you find a special interest’ watch this.

RIGHT so i actually was exposed to opera all the damn time as a baby because my grandmother thought, for some dumbass reason, that opera calms babies down. which she was apparently right so i’m not gonna debate that shit but has she ever been to an opera. literally every damn minute of the ring cycle could traumatize a baby. literally what the fuck. but that’s not where this story begins because i don’t remember ANY of that shit.

anyway so as a kid i was always on that bullshit with THESE fucking things

these were supposed to make your baby smart or something but they didn’t work because i have the processing speed of the fuckin Pony Express. but they were good. (except for the beethoven one, which terrified me. fuck beethoven.) they were like, soothing images/puppets/toys with a backdrop of classical music scored on a marimba, which was like CRACK COCAINE to an autistic kid like myself so i watched these until i was in 4th grade despite the box saying ‘for ages under 3′ which really shows you how ineffectual these were at actually making kids smart. now this was like, the opera gateway drug, because it buttered me up into liking opera/classical music, which is a CAPITAL Sin.

so by this point i already like classical music. unless it’s by beethoven because he freaked me the F u c k out. which is where... 

PURRPALS FOR THE DS comes in

this game was literally a shameless nintendogs clone that was made to sell purina cat food. it was absolutely fucking bizarre. however i was a seven year old with a nintendo Dee Ess and toxoplasmosis gondii practically running in their Bloodstream i was on this shit like a hare in heat. but the important part of the gameplay was this guitar hero clone where you had to stage a fucking cat acapella group

it was easy as shit, being a badly designed game made for selling 

PURINA 

CAT 

LITTER, 

so i would immediately go to the hard levels, which were as follows.

- THE MAGIC FLUTE - RIGOLETTO - LA HABANERA - TORADOR

first of all these motherfuckers took one song from the magic flute and one song from rigoletto and said it was the WHOLE OPERA but THEY COULDN’T EVEN FIND A FOURTH OPERA SO THEY WENT WITH CARMEN TWICE. what WACKADOO Chicanery. also why the FUCK was rigoletto there it’s really the third wheel of this whole affair. anyway so since i played this shit regularly enough i was able to remember the song names, which, i had no idea what the fuck they were about but as a kid you never know what the fuck anything is about so i really was not bothered. i think i thought the magic flute was a ballet in the same cinematic universe as the Nut Crack Ker or something

anyway.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE FRESH BEAT BAND

I HATED THIS SHOW WITH EVERY CORE OF MY BEING. i don’t know WHY but i felt such extreme secondhand embarrassment when i saw this show at the ripe old age of seven that when the school’s music teacher, which was the same one that loudly declared her loyalty to Mitt Romney in class one day (which is a different but no less entertaining story) showed a clip of this to us it was the first time i realized nothing was stopping me from walking out of the school. (which i didn’t. because i was a pussy. but fuck this show.) there was some dumb ass episode where all of the characters were doing different music styles or whatever- i really wasn’t paying attention i was on the computer in the same room of the television looking up how much my littlest pet shop toys were worth on ebay- and then they start singing 

LA FUCKIN HABANERA.

“i know that song!” i said, which sounds like joyful recognition, but in my head i was thinking something more akin to “WHAT THE FUCK THAT BITCH IS STEALING THE SONG FROM PURRPALS ON THE DS. LEARN YOUR COPYRIGHTS YOU HOE.” my parents immediately went ‘nah it has to have a different name’, which is when my ENTP really came out. i don’t believe in meyers-briggs but i got entp on the test and it basically means ‘stubborn little bastard who will start an argument with Literally Anyone” which is Kin Me Id. anyway i started being all ‘no i KNOW because PURRPALS on the DS told me’ so my parents were like ‘fine let’s just make the kid be quiet’ and looked it up on itunes. No Shit, i was right, because i knew my

PURRPALS 

LORE.

so anyway my parents knew my grandmother was crazy batshit for opera, which my grandmother actually used to hate opera but then a friend of hers who liked opera killed herself and then she decided to listen and went ‘nah this is actually kinda a bop’, which again a whole nother story, so they immediately tell her that i know about opera. which i DIDN’T i just knew about PURRPALS on the DS. so now my grandmother decides “aight i’m taking the grandkid to carmen at the LYRIC OPERA HOUSE”. 

i was seven and i didn’t know what ANY of those words MEANT. but my parents made me wear a dress and a purse so i figured it was an Occasion. (i filled the purse with nothing but goldfish crackers. they weren’t even in a ziploc baggie inside the bag i just dumped like half a carton of them directly into the purse.) 

so anyway i liked watching carmen but it wasn;t like it was anything special to me at the time. like you could have replaced it with Madagascar 2: Escape 2 Africa and it would have the same effect. 

UNTIL ACT FOUR. 

my grandmother was never exactly aware of my reading abilities until i was maybe like, 13. she didn’t think i was actually understanding anything in the little program thing they give you. but i realized, right as act 3 finished, that carmen was going to be stabbed in the next act

ON STAGE

and i lost my shit.

“that doesn’t even make sense!” i told my grandmother as we left the building. (i thankfully didn’t make a scene but i was shaking like an abused grayhound, or some shit.) “don jose is a bad guy carmen would have stabbed him first.” (thankfully there’s a production where that actually happens. so some day i will sue them because they plagiarized from my filibuster in the lyric ladies’ bathroom about carmen when i was seven.)

“there are operas with happy endings!” she said. i wasn’t sure i believed her because i watched that one bugs bunny episode where they do wagner. 

so anyway, like 7 months later my grandmother tells my parents she’ll take me to see the magic flute, also at the lyric, because it’s a child friendly opera, which, it’s

AN OPERA ABOUT FREEMASONRY CULTS AND RACISM AND SEXISM WITH TWO OR MORE ATTEMPTED SUICIDES AND A HITMAN PLOT

but by this point nobody really cared and this time i was sure i wouldn’t freak because i had trained myself into not crying at movies, because my parents didn’t allow me to watch movies that made me cry so i exploited a loophole, which again, another story. i knew about the magic flute vaguely because it was in Purrpals on the DS. 

now that i knew what the magic flute was- vaguely, my grandmother told me nothing about it except that it was an opera- i asked my grandmother what rigoletto was. “oh it’s the same thing as the hunchback of notre dame!”

i still don’t know what the fuck she meant by this.

anyway i loved the magic flute- which had the same music as that baby einstein tape all those years ago so it immediately felt familiar- and as soon as i got home i went and decided that i was going to know everything to know about it. 

and that’s how i got into opera.

[dokuhebi]

"No one's ever cared enough to say that to me."

Maya Hart Starters // @azure-steel Perhaps it was his brashness, his rather cut throat and to the point manner of speaking, perhaps it was the way he fought, impressively competent, honest yet defiant, or perhaps it was merely that if one spent enough time with another, a bond was simply bound to happen. The viper has long since given up trying to predict, work out and control their own emotions. It is a fight they have fought for a near century now, and one they always lose. A being that could bend their own mortality and grant themself eternal youth, a being that could bend the skies, earth and seas to dominate all elements, a being that could raise the dead and bury the reapers. But not a being that could wage war on their own heart and win. No god or mortal to exist had seemed to master that tricky affair. They didn’t know whether Cloud had been right or wrong, whether he had been with good or bad cause, reason... the serpent doesn’t care about that. The serpent only cares about who they care about, and the blond male had somehow slipped in to that category. Either that, or the serpents possessiveness had transcended new lows, and they had started resource guarding Cloud like a dog does a bone despite having no real mutual bond with the man. They can’t be sure, for they so rarely demand answers from something as reasonless as emotions and impulses. Either way, when Cloud had needed an ally, when someone needed to speak out in his defense, the serpent had. Ferociously so, no matter how calm and elegant they had sat in that room. With one leg crossed over the other, and slender hands settled in their lap, their mere gaze alone had silenced the group. With the flicker of chakra that had made the air feel heavy, thick, as if some waiting predator was prowling about, a killing instinct enough to increase gravities pull on the fearful body. They had defended Cloud, although not before he had already seemed to be in some kind of trouble. Catching only the end of whatever debate had erupted, the end half where the battle of fists had concluded, and the one of words had ensued. When their gaze had moved across to Cloud entering, with blood pooling from a wound atop his head and running down his eye, trying to mar the fetching blue, they had already picked which side of the line they stood on.  They hadn’t expected him to even acknowledge their aid, their words of unquestioned loyalty. But he brings it up when it is just the two of them. The Sannin having guided him to their chambers, temporary chambers during their constantly moving assignment, but theirs nonetheless. It had become known that the viper liked their space, and so a space was always designated to keep them from growing irritable.  Sitting the man on their bed, they had fetched a warm bowl of water, a cloth, and some ointments he would never recognize, being shinobi brands rather than from his land. Slender digits coil around the damp cloth, as they sit beside him to nurse the head wound. Watching the flicker of discomfort in his eyes when the fabric brushes against a very raw and angry injury. But gentle as they are, it must be done, despite the pain that would follow the thorough cleaning and dabbing. Their eyes move to him a moment when he speaks, before moving back to focus on their task. “And no ones ever made me care enough to say it,” they answer lightly, as they finish wiping away the dry blood and the mud that had gathered around and inside the deep cut. Realizing such a cut would need stitches, and that cleaning and bandaging simply wouldn’t be enough. They place the towel back in the water dish to be tidied up at a later moment, before placing a hand to his shoulder to get up, “don’t move, I’m not finished,” they instruct him, sauntering gracefully across the room to fetch a small pouch, containing the thread and needle required to do the less pleasant part of nursing.  They also fetch a small flask, before sitting back down by him, keeping the kit in their hand but extending the metal bottle to him, “it’s sake,” they tell him, a light smile coming to their lips, “as your impromptu doctor, I shouldn’t allow you to drink after the injuries you sustained,” they say, before opening the small pouch to reveal the needle that would give evidence to why he might want the makeshift painkiller, “but as your comrade, I may have to make an exception to that rule.” Certainly, there were many reasons to avoid alcohol when he was being treated, the blood thinner the last thing his body likely wanted. But how many times had the serpent drowned themself in liquor to endure some unpleasant affair in war or when returning from a mission? It hadn’t killed them, they doubt it would kill him. Handing him the flask, they take a moment to place their hand beneath his chin, tipping his head a little to inspect the wound, before going back to their needle to properly sanitize the newly opened one. Allowing him the time to either drink some, and let it enter his bloodstream, or else reject it. They wouldn’t blame him for being against the ill advised drink either.  Tying back their hair in a high pony to rid the strands from their eyes, they get to their feet and ask him to look up at them. Where they can gently rest his head against their chest to keep him from moving if the feeling caught him off guard, while they begin to stitch the wound. Steady hands, years of evident practice, and being as quick yet tender as possible. The needle however, when it pierces skin, makes no such effort of tenderness.  “I know I didn’t make the best impression when we first met dear, not many men take kindly to my ambushes, but I am more perceptive than you might think I am,” they say, finishing the final thread and tying it to a tight seal, before slender fingers brush down the side of his face without noticing, as they draw away to give a second of space, “I have watched you a while now, you’ve come too far to let some ignorant doctrinaire tell you what you are worth.”