#“you've been through so much to become this strong” OKAY I FEEL ATTACKED

[astraystayyh]

reached tag limit OF COURSE so I'm continuing here

the entire love-making scene THE PRAISE THE VULNERABILITY THE EMOTION ☹️☹️☹️ the way he cried happy tears and didn't try to hide them, the way they melted into one another I AM NOT OKAY "you're still my favorite reflection" made me cry,,, they are each other's mirrors and they are so fond of one another I WANNA SCREAMMMMMMM

also "you could give him everything and not lose a single drop of yourself" IS SO HEART WRENCHING,,,,,,, he'll always give back too and she's not losing a drop of herself because he isn't selfish, because they both come from a place of love and pure love can only nurture you not drain you,,, i love how she believes this now, how there are still parts they need to heal, both of them, but atleast they are together and they see the strength that they can give to one another

ALSO BUTTERFLY BANDAGE??????? KSKDNDJDNXNXJXJXJXJX when i read it my breath hitched i was wondering why u chose that title all along, but oh my god I've never seen it that way AND YOU'RE SO RIGHT

also wait i just remembered the whole "you're the moon" comparaison and look at yourself when the reflection isn't broken MADE ME CRY IT'S SO RAW AND BEAUTIFUL AND LOVING :(((

you made twin flames feel much more personal and intimate than soulmates, something about someone seeing and knowing the ugliest parts of you AND STAYING??? and loving you through them???? it's so intensely sweet and it fits Chan so well

i can't believe this series is over it's been a true joy to read everything you wrote,, i usually don't get invested in series BUT the way you wrote it had me HOOKED from the first part,, every metaphor you use, every comparaison, every little detail you add and put sm care into, i just know this took you sm time and effort and i hope YOU'RE PROUD OF IT!!!! i already said this, but you really built characters that feel human above all, that are just like us in the sense where they have flaws, and they've been through things and those traumas reflect on their reactions, BUT THEY'RE STILL TRYING and that's what matters!!!! every thing that the characters did whether it's Chan and mc or binnie and minho and iseul, everything was in accord to the personality you presented and it felt like you're writing about real humans you saw exist!!!

thank you for writing this truly it feels so bittersweet for it to end LIKE WDYM NO MORE BB UPDATES 😞😞 but I can't wait to read more from you!!! i think this story healed me as well, i could relate in some parts to both Chan and the mc and this gave me hope that a love this pure does exist. thank you thank you have the happiest life <333

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 05

note: this is the final part of a series (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of twin flames, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, themes of death/grief, more crying (sorry), nsfw scenes

18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, soft smut, mirror sex, lots and lots of praise, body worship, biting, marking, possessiveness, teasing, channie is very embarrassed, handjob, begging, just a little bit of crying, edging, reader and chan are kinda obsessively in love, unprotected sex, riding, cockwarming

word count: 17.3k

A call of your name from across the lab caught your attention, just as you were preparing to collect your materials and head out for the day. Fumbling with your bag, you zipped it up as quickly as you could and headed towards your lab instructor, already bracing yourself for a conversation that, based on your track record with her, was very likely to be disheartening.

She lowered the stack of papers she’d been holding as you approached her, revealing her smile—a rare sight for anyone who worked under her.

“Yes?”

“Congratulations,” she announced. “Your paper’s approved.”

Your eyes widened as she handed the stack to you, over twenty pages of blood, sweat, and tears. They felt heavy in your hands, heavy with the weight of everything that had been sacrificed for their completion. Just a few days ago, the news would’ve had you over the moon. It was all you’d been wanting to hear, all you’d been dreaming of since you’d first begun your studies. Now, it was nothing more than a shallow comfort, a single drop of sunlight that was immediately obscured by the shadows all around it.

“Great,” you said at last, flashing a strained smile. “Thank you, Professor.”

She gave you a pat on the back, and you tried to find solace in the proud shine in her eyes. “You did well,” she praised. “I’m sure you’ll excel in your next rotation, too.”

“My next…rotation?”

Your instructor glanced down at her clipboard, adjusting her glasses with a hum. “Since your research has been approved, there’s no need for you to remain at your current station. You’ve spent quite a bit of time with those binary pairs,” she added. “You’ll be doing interferometric imaging for the next few weeks. We’re a few people short.”

Something twisted inside you. “Really?”

She looked up from her notes, quirking an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

“I…” you trailed off. There was nothing you could tell her that would be meaningful enough for her to let you stay—nothing that wouldn’t get you laughed at or even potentially dismissed from the lab for the rest of the semester. How on earth were you meant to explain that a pair of spectroscopic stars had come to mean so much to you? How on earth were you meant to explain what they signified in your mind?

“No, nothing,” you said weakly. “I’ll transfer my things tomorrow. Thank you.”

Your instructor nodded, and that was that. In the blink of an eye, you’d lost the final piece of what you’d had left of Chan.

You adjusted the strap of your bag, bowing quickly to her and turning to leave. Your pace quickened as you exited the lab, a wave of inexplicable emotions rising within you. It ushered you to head home as soon as possible, like it was a race against time, like you had to reach shelter before it crashed into the shore and drowned you in front of everyone.

A cold gust of air billowed past you as you pushed open the doors to the physics building. You squinted against it, burying your hands in your pockets. The sky was still covered with that same, gray sheet—much darker than it had been earlier in the week. The closer you studied it, the more it looked like the clouds might break at any given moment. All the more reason to rush home; you hadn’t brought an umbrella.

Your phone vibrated against your hand, and you fished it out of your pocket without thinking. Anything to distract you from this. 

bin 😑 (2:27 p.m.) hey

bin 😑 (2:28 p.m.) is everything okay?

Just as you were about to close the notification, another came.

bin 😑 (2:30 p.m.) did something happen with chan?

You stopped in your tracks. 

Did he really not know? Had Chan still not said anything to him? Was he keeping it all to himself? Suffering in silence, even now?

You didn’t have to question it for long. Of course he was. 

Against your better judgment, you typed out a reply, fingers stiff from the cold and—for some reason—thumb burning.

you (2:33 p.m.) i’m fine bin don’t worry about me

you (2:34 p.m.) please just be there for chan

bin 😑 (2:36 p.m.) where have u been??? i was worried

Guilt, guilt, guilt. 

He wouldn’t be worried anymore when he found out the truth.

bin 😑 (2:38 p.m) pls talk to me

You wanted to talk to him. You so badly wanted to talk to him—not even about everything that had transpired over the past four days, just in general. You wanted to tease him, to laugh with him, to share a meal with him, to chatter about the most trivial, most mundane of topics with him because you could, because you enjoyed each other’s company and nothing else.

You missed your friend. But he was Chan’s friend first and foremost; Chan’s little brother. Losing Chan meant losing Changbin. The moment he’d find out what you’d done, how you’d hurt the person he admired most in this world, he would look at you with that same, dark glare that had unsettled you so much on the day you’d first met. Only this time, it wouldn’t be misleading, masking the kindness underneath. It would be real, intentional. He would mean every bit of it.

Minho’s glares were one thing. The thought of Changbin looking at you the same way was more than you could take. There was no place for you in his life anymore.

A droplet landed on your screen, splattering water across it and blurring the words of his message. You looked up at the sky. The clouds had broken.

You were going to cry.

It was for the best, probably. A pot could only withstand so much before it boiled over.

You pulled the hood of your jacket over your head just as the rain began to fall more steadily, sinking to the ground and settling on the curb of the sidewalk. You gave up on outrunning the wave. For once, uncaring of the people around you. For once, allowing yourself to be an inconvenience. 

Vaguely, you felt another buzz in your pocket; repeating, persistent. Changbin must have been calling you. Pressure rose in your chest. A strange sound built in your throat, an unpleasant, unfamiliar sensation pricked at your eyes. But before droplets of your own could well up in their corners, before you could release, the feeling of rain pattering relentlessly against your clothes came to a sudden halt, like something had passed over you, shielding you from it.

You didn’t bother to look up, praying that whoever it was whose presence you felt hovering above you, they’d take the hint and leave you alone. Just a moment to wallow in your misery. Just a moment to feel without worrying about anyone or anything else. Even now, that was too much to ask for, it seemed.

Through the roaring downpour, you barely caught it—soft, airy.

“It’s raining.”

Your blood ran cold, chilling you more than any of the water seeping through your clothing, right down to your bones.

Of course. You almost laughed out loud. Of fucking course.

This had to be some kind of joke, the universe’s cruel finale to everything it had put you through over the past three years.

“Go away.”

“Aren’t you gonna congratulate me for learning how to use an umbrella?”

You peered up through the mess of hair and fabric blocking your vision, fixing him with a look fiercer than any of the insults he’d ever hurled your way.

“Go away.”

His stare didn’t waver, face unchanging as always. It must’ve been so easy, to be so unaffected. It must’ve been so easy, to care so little. He blinked down at you, and—despite the static swarming your mind—through it all, you couldn’t help but notice that there was nothing harsh about the look he was giving you. Not quite warm, not quite cold. It was far from the self-satisfied expression of someone who knew he had been right all along. Of someone who knew that he had won. 

“Come with me.”

You watched him blankly, too appalled to speak. 

When you didn’t budge, he tilted his wrist, leaning his umbrella forward so that it covered you completely and exposed part of himself to the rain.

“I’ll get sick if you don’t.”

“Yeah? Brew yourself some yuja tea.”

His lip twitched into the beginnings of a smirk. Not smug, not condescending. Just faintly amused.

“That was pretty funny.” He tilted the umbrella further. The rain began to land on his hair, darkening it, weighing it down. “But I’m really starting to get cold, now.”

“I don’t care.”

He clicked his tongue. Still, he made no move to leave, not even to pull his umbrella back over himself. You might’ve been swayed by whatever approach he was taking if you weren’t too preoccupied with figuring out just how the hell you could get rid of this guy.

“By the way,” he added casually. “Changbin gave me something. I think it belongs to you?”

You cursed yourself for perking up so quickly, so obviously. It was only for a split second, but he caught on—of course he did—eyes glinting like a cat that had spotted its target in all your loose threads.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s talk,” he said. “Come with me, and the pencil’s all yours.”

You gave in. For whatever reason, Lee Minho had suddenly decided that you were now worth his time.

He didn’t offer his hand to help you come to full standing, but he kept the umbrella steadily above you as you rose from the curb, allowing himself to get drenched in the process. It almost made you grimace more than his usual behavior, solely because it felt so wrong. And, maybe, because you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Not even from someone like him.

As he led you down the sidewalk towards wherever he planned to take you, you inched away from him, back into the rain. He made no effort to move closer again, but you did notice his eyes flicker your way once or twice.

You shuffled awkwardly behind him, focus kept firmly on the pavement, feet kicking up water with every step you took. It wasn’t until the warm, addictive scent of freshly-ground coffee flooded your senses that you lifted your head with a start, just in time to see Minho wiping the bottom of his shoes on the campus library mat. He shook out his umbrella and stepped inside, seemingly debating for a moment whether or not he should hold the door open for you.

An ache gripped your heart, somehow, stronger than anything you’d felt over the past four days. It ached and throbbed and pulsed when you processed where you were headed. The table right across from the entrance, at the very back of the library.

You half-expected to find him there—shrouded in black, hunched over his laptop, one set of fingers playing with his lips, the other set tapping along to the melody of his music. But his seat was empty. He wasn't there anymore.

You tried to control the sheer enormity of your anguish as you approached its source. You’d already humiliated yourself enough in front of the last person you’d ever have wanted to witness it. Even if he didn’t seem nearly as delighted with your downfall as you’d imagined, the fact that he’d caught you more vulnerable than anyone else had before, more than Chan ever had, made your skin positively crawl.

Minho sat down with a heavy sigh, ruffling his hair in a half-hearted attempt to dry it out. He slipped off his drenched jacket, giving it a disgusted look before dropping it on the table.

“Want some coffee?”

“No.”

“It’ll warm you up.”

You narrowed your eyes. If you’d had any semblance of rationality left in your system, you would’ve told yourself that it was just an offhand comment, that he couldn’t possibly have known just how devoid of warmth you truly were. But you were far past that point. Everything he said was a trap and everything he did was a taunt.

When he saw that you had no plans to respond, he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Where’s my pencil?”

“Oh,” he sniffed. “I lied about that.”

You bristled. “What?”

“I don’t have it,” he clarified. “I lied so you’d come with me. Get it?”

You reached for your bag, preparing to leave.

“You can take it from Changbin yourself,” he continued. “Once this is all fixed.”

For once, the absolute certainty with which he spoke, like anything that came out of his mouth was a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled, wasn’t used to stir doubt within you. You froze in place. Whether it was a flash of hope, or a stubborn indignation that kept you rooted to your chair, you weren’t quite sure.

“Once this is fixed?” you echoed, rife with hostility. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? Chan hates me just as much as you do, now. You win.”

“I don’t hate you.”

You scoffed, expecting the lie—because it had to be a lie, a jeer, a vicious way to kick you while you were down—to be followed by that same scornful sneer that had become all too familiar for your liking. 

But it never came.

Your disbelief was only met with a sincere, unbreaking expression. No games, no underlying meaning. A complete contrast to everything you associated with Lee Minho.

“Are you serious?”

“You don’t believe me?” he feigned hurt, which you had half a mind to be infuriated about considering the many, many worse things he’d assumed about you. “I mean it. I don’t hate you.”

You blinked.

“I probably could’ve,” he added unhelpfully. “If what I'd thought about you turned out to be true. But really, I just didn’t trust you.”

You grunted to at least acknowledge his confession, unsure of how else you should react. If that was how he treated the people he didn’t trust, you’d love to know what his hatred looked like. 

You’d long told yourself not to take it personally, but for some reason, there was an undeniable sting there. Maybe it was because Minho was eerily perceptive, so much that this whole ordeal had planted the idea in your head that he had to be correct. Or maybe, it was because you’d always felt like there was a bit of truth to his impression of you, even before you’d met him, even before his opinion of you had sunk straight into the gutter. Having someone else say it out loud had just forced you to come to terms with it.

That constant voice in the back of your head, etching guilt into your mind. Telling you that you liked hurting the people who depended on you, that you liked to build them a safe haven and then crush it before their very eyes. Exactly what he had claimed you’d done to him.

Exactly what you’d done to Chan.

“Am I making things worse?” Minho tilted his head. 

“No,” you answered, and it was mostly honest. “Go on.”

He said nothing, eyeing you for a moment longer. It put you on high alert. Similarly to Chan, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was delving straight into your center—but unlike Chan, there was no comfort of being able to stare right back into his. 

“You probably know this by now, but Chan is an easy target for a lot of people,” he began. Slow, deliberate, no playful lilt to it. “He can usually tell when he’s being mistreated, but even so, he puts up with it. He thinks he can make it all better.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your spot, concentrating on the rain droplets that hadn’t yet dried from your hair. “Yeah, I know.” 

I know better than you. The petty side of you wanted to tack on. But you decided against it, instead choosing to foster whatever kind of tentative truce was coming to fruition here.

Minho paused again. “Right.”

“So, what, you thought I was one of those people?”

“Mm.” Blunt as ever. “Like I said, I've seen the type before. And if Chan wasn’t going to do anything about it, then I was.”

He’d changed his wording, you noticed. It had been your type before, uttered with all the contempt and venom in the world. You wanted to find consolation in that subtle difference, but it didn’t stop the memory from rousing your defiance all over again.

“You think he can’t make decisions for himself?”

It was a risk—hypocritical, too, when you knew firsthand what kind of decisions Chan made for himself, when you knew firsthand the powerlessness of trying to get him to stop—but you said it anyway. Minho hummed, leaning back in his chair, as if the challenge in your words hadn’t affected him in the slightest.

“Of course he can,” he replied evenly. “Doesn’t make them right. When you see your friend make the same decision over and over and get hurt every single time, wouldn’t it be cruel to just sit by and watch?”

He looked off to the side, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought that he was—God forbid—trying to prevent you from possibly catching on to an emotion of his.

“That’s what real insanity is—isn’t that how the saying goes? Repeating the same thing and expecting different results.”

You knew, deep down, that his explanation made sense, and somehow, that only stung more. You felt wronged, like the collateral damage for all the people who had harmed Chan in the past. The fact that Minho had treated you so coldly out of the goodness of his heart wasn’t much of a reprieve. In a childish sense, it made things even worse, because now, your own negative feelings towards him felt unjustified.

That didn’t even begin to cover the fact that he had been right. 

Every part of you wanted to object to him lumping you in with all the others as the same decision, but in the end, you were just another name on the endless list of people who had hurt Chan.

When he saw how long you’d gone silent for, Minho spoke up again, looking unsure of himself for what may very well have been the first time in his life. 

“I’m…” he huffed. “Look, I was wrong.”

As always, what he said was the polar opposite of what you’d been thinking. It was almost comical, how the wavelengths the two of you operated on were so determined to be different in every conceivable way. 

His ears, you noticed, had dusted red at the tips—the exact same way Chan’s would flare up when he was flustered. You hated how it weakened your resolve, how his mere association with Chan had you more than willing to accept his olive branch, however awkwardly shaped it was.

“Chan’s done a lot for me—for everyone. I just wanted to protect him.”

That was the point of convergence, the one, precious point where your waves intersected. The desire to keep Chan safe. You understood it better than anything else, and so, for that fleeting moment, you understood Minho. Still, your pride—something you’d repressed far too many times in your attempts to reconcile with him before—wasn’t quite ready to back down.

“But you barely even knew me,” you protested. “What did I do to make you decide that you hated me all of a sudden?”

“Didn’t hate you,” he corrected.

You pressed your lips together into an annoyed line. “What made you think I wanted to…to hurt him?”

Minho looked contemplative, and you found yourself worrying that he may simply decide not to tell you. You wouldn’t put it past him. It would be painfully on-brand, actually, at least with the version of him that you’d come to know. 

“Chan came home crying.”

Your throat went dry.

“What?” you rasped. “When?”

“Back in July. The morning I got back from summer break.”

The morning after you’d first slept together. All at once, everything snapped into place—pieces of the puzzle that you hadn’t been able to connect, pieces that you hadn’t even known were missing in the first place.

“So, he comes home from your place, crying, with those marks all over his neck,” he explained. “It wasn’t the first time something like that happened. I put two and two together.”

You felt sick enough that you actually feared you might throw up, right there, on the library floor.

“I thought he must’ve landed himself in a bad spot again. With someone who only wanted to use him.”

“Why?” You gripped your soaked bag to your chest, with so much force that residual water began to dribble out of it. “Why was he crying?”

How did I hurt him? You wanted to add. Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t I notice? 

How could you have ever let this happen?

Minho hesitated, and you squeezed your eyes shut, not entirely certain that you even wanted to hear the answer.

“He was happy.”

Confusion. And then, relief. And then, confusion again. The turmoil must have been written all over your face, because Minho ever so graciously decided to elaborate.

“I didn’t find that part out until yesterday, though. Not much of a happy crier, myself.”

A fresh surge of anger overtook everything else you were struggling to comprehend. Thoughts of what could’ve been, of how it all might have turned out if it weren’t for the man in front of you. The man who had given you all the tools in chiseling your self-doubt to perfection, who had passed you the hammer to destroy what you loved most.

You wanted it to be his fault. It would be so easy to pin the blame all on him. But nothing was ever that easy. Nothing was ever that simple. Even without the right tools, you would’ve found a way to destroy it regardless. It was what you were best at.

“You didn’t bother to ask him!?” you snapped.

“Oh. You think I’m stupid.” A glimpse of his former sharpness. You had to stop yourself from saying yes, just to spite him. “Of course, I asked. More than once. But his answer was the same as always—he smiled and told me not to worry. He’d say it with a gun to his head.”

You frowned. It was too much to process at once, too much for your already worn-down brain to compute. All you could really make sense of was a gut feeling, an instinct, telling you that you’d made a horrible, horrible mistake.

“I talked to Chan yesterday,” he mellowed again, back to his usual, airy tenor. “He told me everything. He doesn’t seem to fully understand it, but I do.”

Minho locked eyes with you, deep, intense. No longer the look of someone that had decided you were guilty, but a look that warned you that he would know if you were lying to him.

“You care about him, don’t you?”

It sounded more like a statement than a question, but you nodded, anyway. Such a simple thing to admit to. How could such a simple thing have ever led to all of this? 

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “That’s why I did it. I was afraid I’d end up…”

You took in a shaky breath.

“I just didn’t want to hurt him.”

“Ah, seriously.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and he laughed. Incredulous, dry, ending with an exhale. “You broke up with him because you didn’t want to hurt him? Do you realize how insane that sounds?”

Your face heated up. “You’re the one who thought I would in the first place!”

“But I was wrong.”

You were taken aback by how plainly he admitted to it, how that indestructible, stubborn pride of his was extinguished the instant he’d learned it had harmed someone he cared about. Even more troubling than that, was the fact that you could tell he was apologetic, even without him saying it outright. All of this, as annoyingly as he was going about it, was his apology to you. Changbin’s words—fond and reassuring and, now, truer than ever—reverberated in your mind. Soft at heart.

“People are supposed to help each other. You know that, right?”

You snorted at the absurdity of the question. 

“Obviously.”

“So why are you so weird about it?”

“It’s different with Chan,” you insisted. “You said it yourself. He does so much—everyone takes so much from him. I didn’t want to do the same.”

“But that’s still not fair, is it?” he countered. “You’d just be giving everything instead. Chan doesn’t want that, either.”

You opened your mouth to argue, only for the words to die in your throat. There was no way to justify it without sounding ridiculous—maybe, because it was a bit ridiculous. But Chan was the exception, he would always be the exception. You would give everything to him because you knew he would never take it for granted. You would give everything to him because he’d already given everyone so much.

Because he’d given you so much. 

Ah.

“God, you two are so—” Minho cradled head dramatically, sensing that you’d finally worked it out in your mind. “You’ve already got the hardest part figured out. Just learn to take once in a while. You’re not gonna die.”

“But he won’t change unless I do,” you muttered. “I know he won’t.”

He gave you a look of pure exasperation, as if the answer couldn’t have been more obvious.

“So, change.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

The feeling of your heart threatening to burst out of your chest, courtesy of Bang Christopher Chan, was one you’d become well-acquainted with over the past seven months. But of all the times you’d experienced it, it’d never been quite like this. This was something else entirely.

A day to mull everything over after your conversation with Minho, a restless night spent trying and failing to map out how you could possibly approach the situation, and over an hour of pacing restlessly around your apartment—all useless in ebbing the adrenaline that coursed through your veins. Before the clock had even struck 10:00 a.m., you’d not only felt like you had run a marathon, but that you could run another for good measure. 

You’d spoken to Changbin first. He at least deserved to know what was going on. He deserved an apology, even if the very real possibility that he would never speak to you again afterwards made your stomach churn. On a more selfish note—you figured today was as good as any to start with that—you’d also just really, really missed him. 

As it turned out, he’d more or less come to grasp the situation, even when being protected from all angles. Between what little Minho had let slip, Chan’s avoidant behavior (to the surprise of no one, he’d hardly let Changbin know a thing) and your vaguely ominous texts, he’d gathered up enough bits and pieces for his genius intuition to fill in the gaps. The sound of his voice once you’d revealed what had happened in full; compassionate, calm—not an ounce of the disdain you’d resigned yourself to be met with so viciously—had almost been enough to make you choke up.

“You should’ve told me,” he’d chided. “Why do you love doing that to yourself? What, you think I’m not strong enough to lean on?”

You’d let out a long exhale, heavy with all the apprehension you released with it; relieved, embarrassed, resigned. “It’s not that, Bin,” you’d mumbled. “I didn’t want to trouble you. Not when Chan and Minho both mean so much to you.”

“And you think you don’t? C’mon, you’re supposed to be the smart one here.”

Naturally, it only added to your guilt, that you’d created such an uncharacteristically cruel image of him in your head. This was Seo Changbin, after all. A great talker, but an even better listener, and as much as he liked to tease Chan for his age, he had a level of emotional intelligence far beyond his years. A wisdom that you would probably do well to learn from whenever it bothered to make an appearance. 

At the same time, however, this was Seo Changbin, the one man show, Leo incarnate. Once the relief of hearing back from you had eased his conscience (as much as it could, knowing how horribly tangled up everything had become), the theatrics had ensued.

“Dating my best friend is one thing, but breaking his heart is off limits!” he’d complained. It was mostly light. No real anger behind it, just plenty of highly-warranted frustration. “Not only that—breaking your own heart too! What am I supposed to do with two brokenhearted best friends? Hang out with Minho!?”

After a slew of loud, nagging, reprimands, and a very serious threat that Cinnamoroll would be held hostage until further notice, Changbin had let you go. For the first time in five days, you’d laughed. You’d never felt more grateful, or more stupid, in your life. He made it all sound so simple. Lee Minho, quite possibly the most convoluted piece of work you’d ever encountered in this world, had made it all sound so simple. 

You could only hope that you hadn’t crushed it into something infinitely more complicated, something beyond repair.

The trembling of your fingers, coupled with that strange sensation in your thumb that had yet to go away, made it difficult for you to type properly. Still, you persisted, throwing caution to the wind. Caution had ruled over you for far too long, anyway.

you (10:03 a.m.) hi

you (10:04 a.m.) i understand if you want some space right now but if you can, i’d like to talk

You prepared to lock your phone, not expecting a reply for some time—if any at all. Even under normal circumstances, he didn’t always get back to you right away. But, well, maybe the fact that the circumstances were anything but normal should’ve been enough for you to know better, because you didn’t even get the chance to swipe out of your messaging app before you noticed three little dots below your chat bubble.

Appearing. Disappearing. Appearing. Disappearing. Just a sign of life from him, and your palms had grown clammy. With fear, anticipation, dread. The dread of being met with anything but love, anything but warmth.

Then, at last, a single word.

channie 🐺 (10:08 a.m.) about?

you (10:08 a.m.) everything us

This time, it took him longer to respond. Ignoring every instinct that screamed otherwise, you typed up another text. There was no use hiding. There was never any use hiding with him.

you (10:12 a.m.) i don’t think i can do this

Almost immediately.

channie 🐺 (10:12 a.m.) me neither

Your heart leapt. You didn’t want it to give you hope. He had every right, every reason in the world, to not give you the time of day. He could get his closure and leave you, just as you’d left him.

channie 🐺 (10:13 a.m.) i can be over in 10?

A million thoughts sparked to life at once. The question of why he was already so close by. The urge to insist that you go meet him instead. The sudden realization that you were in no way prepared to see him so soon.

But all of it, overwhelming as it was, didn’t hold a candle to your strongest desire—a desire that could never be subdued by anything else. To put Chan first.

you (10:14 a.m.) okay, sure see you soon

Get here safe, Channie. You added in your head.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Chan looked tired when you opened the door. Eyes dull, drooping, littered with traces of pink and lined with dark circles. A few stray curls peeked out from beneath his beanie. You prayed that the black hoodie he was wearing wasn’t the same one he’d had on five days ago. He looked so tired. Tired and cold.

His gaze met yours. Just for a heartbeat, then it fell to the ground. You wanted to think it was because he felt self-conscious, you wanted to think it was that shyness—that hopelessly endearing shyness that got the best of him no matter how many times he looked at you. You didn’t want to believe that he simply couldn’t stomach the sight of you anymore.

“Are you okay?”

Chan tensed. Then, he caught you eyeing the bandaid on his thumb. He brushed his finger over it absentmindedly. He’d thought the pain had faded until now.

“Yeah. Just cut my finger.”

Your expression changed.

“On accident.”

“Oh,” you murmured. “Does it hurt?”

“A bit.”

You reached up to tug at your ear. He swiped his thumb over his nose.

“I—” you swallowed. The moment he’d stepped through the door, everything you’d so carefully planned to say, every point you’d spent hours trying to piece together into something comprehensible, was immediately tossed out the window. You had to navigate this in real time. There was no map for it—the path to something better. The only place you’d ever journeyed was your own destruction. 

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out. “I think I messed up.”

He lifted his head. For once, unreadable.

“What do you mean?”

He knew what you meant, you were sure of it. But he wanted you to say it—needed you to say it. He needed you to dare to open yourself up to him, just as he had to you.

You understood now. That was the most important thing you could’ve ever given him, yet the one thing you’d refused to give.

“I’m not used to this,” you confessed. “I don’t know how to get used to it. You’re…you’re so good, Chan. To everyone. To me.”

Already, cracks were beginning to form in your composure. You had to keep it together, just enough to fix this. Just enough to hold the mirror up to him before it shattered. 

“When someone that good comes into your life, you wanna do everything you can to keep them, y’know? I wanted to do everything for you.”

Chan’s breath caught in his throat, audibly, and you knew a protest was building on his tongue. So, you barreled through.  

“It’s exactly because you’re so good that I got so scared. Because you wouldn’t just let me do it all for you like everyone else does.”

There was a pause, long and heavy enough for you to debate if you should just keep going, to air it all out and pray that at least some of it would come out sensical. But before you could, he spoke up, attentive as ever in what he chose to focus on. He narrowed it down like second nature, sought out the most essential part. The root of it all.

“You were scared?”

You winced. “I…yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

Whatever remained of your heart from the past few days was effectively smashed into pieces. An apology from the last person on earth you needed to hear it from. An apology from someone who was owed so many apologies. From you, from himself, and from countless others who would never have to say it.

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I drove you to this, didn't I?” he whispered. “I thought about it the past few days—talked with Minho about it. I put you in a position you didn’t want. It’s my fault.”

“Oh, Channie,” it slipped out so naturally, with such ease, you didn’t even have the chance to second-guess yourself. “Your only fault is the way you treat yourself.”

Chan didn’t appear convinced. He shuffled his feet from side to side, hands heavy in the pocket of his hoodie. Restless, ashamed. Still not looking you in the eye. You weren’t grateful for it anymore; you missed his gaze. Dark and reflective, kind and curious. Seeing right through you, even with all its flickering around. 

“Maybe I needed to be put in that position,” you continued. “I was just too much of a coward to take it. B-because you were right. I try to be everything for people, then I end up being nothing. I was so afraid I was going to do that to you—or even worse. I was afraid I was going to be the one taking everything from you.”

“Why would you ever think that?” he sounded so helpless, like you were communicating in two completely foreign tongues. No room for speaking in riddles. “I saw every little way you cared for me. Always. Did you think I didn’t?”

Challenging him meant challenging yourself. You’d taken the plunge acutely aware of that fact, this time. Still, the panic rose in your chest all over again, the itch in your feet goaded you to turn and run.

“I know you did. And that’s more than enough for me.” You forced yourself to take a step forward instead, desperate to get through to him, desperate to reach him. “But when you do these things for me at your own expense…when you don’t tell me about it, don’t you see how that could scare me? As someone who cares about you?”

In all the time you’d known Chan, you’d never once have guessed that he could be so difficult. But if that unshakeable stubbornness would emerge over anything, of course it would be this. He would never make things difficult for anyone but himself. You still remembered how plainly he’d said it, how bleak and merciless and cold it had been: “It doesn’t matter.”

You could tell he sensed how on-edge you were, how laughably out of your element something like this was for you. But you were pushing yourself—for him. So, like a true reflection, he matched you.

“I guess I was scared, too,” he admitted quietly. “It’s been the only thing I know how to do for so long. I thought…I-I thought you’d leave if I did anything else. Because why else would you stay, y’know?”

You’d known it. Even before he’d bared himself to you, even before you’d had the knowledge to connect all the dots, you’d felt it, deep within you. But that didn’t make hearing him say it out loud any less devastating.

“I don’t love you because of what you can do for me, Chan.”

His eyes shot up at last. Wide, intense, searching. Realigning with you. A break in the fog that had been clouding your view of each other for the past five days.

It may have been unfair—cruel, even—to say now. But you needed him to hear it, even if this was the end of the road for you and him. You needed to at least plant the seed in his mind with the hopes that one day, with enough care, it might sprout into something beautiful.

“You’re worth so much as you are,” you tried to get a handle on the shake creeping into it. “You do so much for me just by being yourself.”

Chan blinked. Pupils darting between you and the floor, hands slipping from his pockets, face muscles twisting in an internal conflict. You could see him physically exerting all his willpower to not reject the idea—to dare to accept a love so unconditional, solely so that you might accept it in return.

“If I told you the same thing,” he began slowly. “Would you believe me?”

You sucked in a deep breath. “I can learn to believe it.”

His fingers flexed. You realized for the first time how close the distance between you and him had become—drifting towards each other involuntarily. That inevitable, magnetic pull, more powerful than any of the forces you’d studied in four years.

“Okay.” He was reaching out for you. “Then, how about we learn together, yeah?”

Your heart jumped against your ribcage. Over his words. Over the sight of his pinky, held out in earnest despite you giving it such little reason to ever do so again, waiting patiently to curl against yours. 

You’d believe in anything that connected you to him.

“Together.”

Just as quickly as things had fallen apart, the foundation was laid out for them to be put back together. A steady foundation, built to last. Your belief that day had turned out to be true, after all. Everything always worked out when you talked to Chan. When you leaned into him. When you didn’t run.

Heat rippled through you the instant your fingers entwined, fiercer, more all-consuming than even the first time you’d ever touched. Still, neither of you pulled away. For the first time in five days, you were warm again.

The new, unspoken promise igniting to life between you reminded you of another; one that you’d let sit on your ledger for far too long. One you’d made so carelessly to the boy who deserved all the care in the world. The boy who treated you with all the care in the world.

“I’m going to be more selfish from now on.” You tightened your hold on his pinky, creating a fresh buzz of heat. “Because I want you to be, too.”

You thought you were hallucinating it for a second, the beginnings of a grin on Chan’s face. Soft cheeks rising, not enough to draw out his dimples or eclipse his eyes, but enough to make you certain of your decision. The key you’d tossed out a year and a half ago was in that smile.

“Guess I’ve got no choice but to mirror you.”

“That’s right,” any firmness it might’ve had was lost to a smile of your own. Exhausted, but tragically enamored with the boy in front of you. “Since you wanna be my other half so bad, and all.”

He giggled. Short, sweet, playing the strings of your heart like a harp. Or, rather, its melody was the sound of your heart.

“I’m gonna tell you some things,” you warned. “And they’re not going to be nice. Or good. Is that okay?”

“Anything.” He unhooked his pinky from yours, only to wiggle his sleeve back and weave all of your fingers together instead. Five fingers, one for each of the days you’d spent apart. Your palm pressed against his, pumping faintly with your quickening pulse. “Tell me anything.”

You inhaled. Better to start with something smaller, first. A test run in this whole emotional openness thing.

“About Minho…”

“He gave you plenty of trouble, didn’t he?”

You puffed out a soft laugh. “Well, I gave him some back.”

“I scolded him,” Chan mumbled. “A lot. Bin did, too.”

You tried not to feel too satisfied about it. The idea of Chan, so doting, so unabashed in his adoration for the younger boy, rebuking him, addressing him with anything but overflowing fondness. You would take it as a small, private victory—one that Minho didn’t need to know about now that you’d both chosen to bury the hatchet.

“But…I hope you won’t think badly of him. He means well, really. He’s—”

“Soft at heart, right?” you finished for him. “It’s okay, we talked it out in the end. I think."

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, he told me.”

You could’ve laughed. Lee Minho. You never thought you’d see the day where the mention of him wouldn’t be promptly followed by a wave of absolute revulsion. You wondered if he was the reason Chan had even agreed to see you today. You wondered if he was the reason Chan had only been ten minutes away from your apartment before you’d even sent him a message.

“I just wish you’d told me.”

I wish you’d told me. They were words you’d said to him so many times, words you’d wanted to say on even more occasions. But it was in your hands, now. You were in each other’s hands, now. You didn’t have to wish anymore.

“I know.” You gave his palm a squeeze. “But you can see why I didn’t, right?”

He nodded, sheepish, well aware that it was a pointed question.

“A lot of the things Minho did were to protect you,” you murmured. “But, a lot of the things he said were things someone else once said to me. I guess it made them easier to believe.”

Chan’s thumb glided delicately across the back of your hand. You knew he could predict where this was going.

“When you told me about what happened two years ago, I think I related to you a lot. I think it was one of those shared experiences you talked about.”

Each sentence felt like it was being dragged out of you, uprooted. But it was necessary. Clearing the weeds out to make room for something less parasitic—maybe, even flowers. “My last relationship was with someone who took a lot out of me, too. He needed someone to depend on. I…I wanted to be that for him.”

“I know you did.” Gentle, sad. A tenderness for you and, hopefully, himself. It gave you the strength to keep going.

“He needed so many things, felt so many things. All his emotions became mine until I didn’t have any for myself,” you were losing control of your voice again. “I didn’t understand how you could ever blame yourself for what that girl did to you. But, really, I’ve always blamed myself, too. Because I let him rely on me. I promised to be everything for him, then I left.”

“But he never let you rely on him, did he?” Chan didn’t miss a beat, like he already knew the answer. “He wanted you to carry it all yourself.”

You averted your stare. “M-maybe. And maybe I wanted that, too. Some people just need more support than others, y’know? I thought I could handle it.”

You always thought you could handle it, even when every past experience proved otherwise. That was yet another thing Minho had been right about. You’d driven yourself mad repeating the same cycle over and over again, deluding yourself into thinking it could ever turn out any different.

“Nobody needs no support at all,” he pointed out. “Not even someone as strong as you.”

Strong. Hearing the word come out of his mouth—his perfect mouth, in that light, melodic voice—pricked at your eyes. It was a term you’d never once thought to describe yourself with. It was the exact opposite of everything you’d come to believe about yourself. You wanted to reject it, to crush the idea before letting it get to your head. But how could you, when it came from the strongest person you knew? How could you do anything but cling to it, cherish it?

“I don’t know if I’m strong,” you muttered, blinking away what was sure to come eventually. “It’s just that every time I’ve tried to lean on someone, they let me fall. So it’s better to stand on my own.”

“Yeah. I understand."

You knew that much was true. You knew, painfully well, how much he understood. And you knew he still thought you were strong.

“I…” Everything had been put into place—or, rather, everything had been properly displaced—for the dam to break loose. Tentatively, lovingly, he was helping you pull out each log. It filled you with fear, down to every last fiber of your being, but you knew that you could break in front of him. He wouldn’t crumble with you. He wouldn’t shatter over the mere prospect of you expressing an emotion of your own. He’d let you release, and when it was all over, he’d help you pick up the pieces. Just as you had with him.

“I lost my friend last year.”

“Lost…?”

“I mean, she passed away—last summer. She was in an accident back home.”

Such a common way to die for someone who was anything but. Such a special person to become part of such an ordinary statistic. Chan’s face morphed into something heartbreaking, a look that told you he felt everything you were feeling in that moment. The gears were turning in his head, you could see it unfolding through your blurred vision. That was why you hadn’t wanted to return home over the summer. That was why you’d come back to him so soon.

“I’m so sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t only giving his condolences, he was apologizing for ever cornering you to reveal it. For forcing you to unveil the wound that had been festering for so long. Bleeding with no signs of stopping, neglected with no signs of healing.

“It’s okay, I—” A lump rose in your throat. “I need to talk about it, I think. Never really did.”

His hand tugged at yours, just barely, uncertain. Always hesitant to pull you as close as he really wanted. You leaned forward all at once, falling into him. And he caught you.

“Never?” 

“I tried once.” You rested your head against him, and his arms locked securely around you straight away. No room for you to fear, even for a second, that he might let you fall. “I tried to tell him. He always said he felt bad that he wasn’t there for me like I was for him. B-but…” The wave was rising again. “He just left.”

You couldn’t see Chan’s expression, you weren’t sure if you wanted to. You didn’t want to know what anger might look like on such an angelic face. But you could feel it, his jaw clenching, his muscles tensing. You figured he must look something like you had that night in October, struggling to maintain the delicacy in your movements as he revealed things that had filled you with a protective fire.

“He left?” Chan repeated, strained. “He left you like that?”

“Yeah. I-I guess it made him feel worse to be there.”

His hand began to run slowly up and down your back; drawing out your pain and soothing it simultaneously. When he spoke again, his tone was softer. He’d put his anger to the side, just as you had that night. “It must have been lonely for you.” 

Lonely. Something else you’d never once considered. Something else that became so obvious only once he’d said it. You’d always been surrounded by people, but they were all flocking to a version of you that didn’t exist. A version you’d let them believe was real, because that was so much easier. Maybe the version of you, in your truest form, had been lonely.

“A little.” You buried your nose into his hoodie. No scent of sweet citrus today, no vanilla cherry blossom. Just him. “I think she’s the only one I could’ve talked to about it. She…she was a lot like you, in some ways.”

Something seemed to dawn on Chan, because he gripped you a little tighter, pulled you impossibly closer. The realization that the universe had taken away the only person you’d ever come to rely on. Of course you would be terrified to ever let anyone take that role again.

“She sounds exactly the kind of friend you deserve,” his voice rumbled softly where you rested against his chest. “You can tell me about her. About it all. I’m here to listen.”

“I want to,” you took in a sharp inhale. “But I think I’m going to cry.”

“You can do that, too.” 

The wave engulfed you in full. For the first time since the day you’d lost her, you allowed yourself to cry over her.

Given how long you’d been holding it in, it didn’t come out nearly as explosive as you’d expected. The tears slipped from your eyes and down your cheeks without a sound, but they came and came and came. Each hot stream was immediately followed by a fresh one, a buildup of all the sorrow you’d kept sealed inside you for the past year and a half, and all the years before that. You didn’t sob or wail or scream out, but with how tightly Chan was holding you, you were certain he felt every tremor, every subdued hiccup, every droplet soaking through his clothes.

“It’ll be okay, one day,” he promised. “You’ll remember all the happy times with her. That’s something you can never lose.”

You hoped it was true. You hoped that one day, you could step off the train in your hometown, take in the pine-tinged summer air, pick a chrysanthemum from that flower stall, and remember her with that warm, glowing ball of light you used to carry in your chest.

Chan didn’t stop rubbing your back the entire time you cried. He didn’t stop enveloping you in his warmth. He didn’t stop humming sweetly in your ear. 

He didn’t leave.

The tears eventually stopped flowing, not because it didn’t hurt anymore—you just didn’t think your body could keep up. No amount of tears could ever live up to your grief for her. But your breathing slowed, your shaking steadied, and, as much as your head positively throbbed, a sense of tranquility came with it, one you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt.

“Thank you, Channie,” you mumbled. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

After everything you’d put him through the past five days, after he’d listened to you so intently and patiently as you poured your heart out, after he’d comforted you when he was still in such a fragile state himself, he was thanking you. It was hopeless. You would fall in love with him over and over again, every moment you spent with him. 

“Have you…” he hesitated. “Have you ever thought about talking to someone? About everything?”

“No,” you choked out a sad laugh. “Not really.”

Chan hummed again, quiet. He rested his hand on the back of your head, as if to pull you so far into him that you’d meld fully together.

“You shouldn’t torture yourself anymore,” he murmured.

“Neither should you.”

So immediate, so resolute, it made him stiffen against you.

“My stuff doesn’t compare to any of this.”

“That’s not true. You’ve only told me the half of it, haven’t you?” You curled your fingers a bit tighter around his hoodie. “You've been through so much to become this strong, haven’t you?”

The peaceful drag of his hand finally stopped. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. He'd been holding it together up until now, for you, even if your every tremble and sniffle made his chest ache like your pain was his own.

“Maybe,” he rasped. 

“So, let’s work towards something better. Together.”

“Together,” he agreed.

You raised your head at last, squeezing your eyes shut so that any remaining trace of tears trickled free. Chan reached up to swipe the droplets away with his thumb, soaking his bandaid. Still, neither of you let go. There were so many things to let go of, but not each other.

“I finished Placebo,” he said softly. “Do you want to hear it?”

The final promise that had yet to be fulfilled.

“Yeah,” you smiled. Weak, a piteous sight, probably, but genuine. “It makes me happy.”

You were lulled back to that day in April, seated next to Chan in the warm, coffee-infused atmosphere of the library, trying not to fall head over heels in love with him right then and there while he played the instrumental for you with a giddiness so uncontainable that he had to bite down on his fist. As you heard Placebo’s lyrics for the first time—lyrics that had gone through countless rearrangements, rewrites, and delays—you decided it must’ve been fate that it had been brought to completion now, of all times. You felt Chan in every line, every vitalizing beat, every nostalgic melody of the synth. You understood it better now than you ever would have back then.

But just as you’d predicted on that warm day in April, it became your new favorite.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

The sun had been shining for two days straight. Bright, unobstructed by a single cloud, bathing everything in gold. It filtered through the blinds of your window, casting a delicate pattern of light on Chan’s face and creating quite possibly the most breathtaking view you’d ever seen. And you were warm. Warm against each other.

His curls were free, messy, tousled as you combed through them. You relished in every ringlet dancing between your fingers, in each content sound he let slip when your nails grazed his scalp. You brushed his bangs back, revealing his face to you in full—droopy eyes, big, adorable nose, soft cheeks, faintly freckled skin, every feature illuminated with nowhere to hide—then allowed them to fall into his eyes once more. The dark locks moved as one, a fluffy unit. He wasn’t taking care of them properly. You wanted to wash them again, give them the treatment they deserved.

Chan watched you the entire time you played with his hair, curious, mesmerized. Every flop of his curls against his forehead made him giggle, and so, you did it again and again. You couldn’t help it. After five days without him, without that sweet, harmonious sound, you could listen to him laugh for hours on end and still yearn for more.

But his lips were getting poutier with every card of your fingers, his thighs were shifting beneath you more and more. Impatient, even if he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t have to say a thing for you to hear him willing you to do it, begging you to do it. So, you leaned in and kissed him.

He sighed into it, just like he always did. But it was higher in pitch this time, involuntary, a neediness he typically tried to suppress until later down the line when it grew into something unbearable. He was already so vocal, so responsive, but today, he needed you more than ever. Every gap, every crevice between your bodies, he needed filled with you.

His lips consumed your senses, plush and plump and warm. They moved against yours seamlessly, encasing you in his softness, matching your rhythm, every part and pucker. So attentive, even through his haze of longing. It was familiar, the most natural thing in the world, yet still something you’d never get used to—something you never wanted to get used to. How his lips chased yours so insatiably, how they warmed you to your very core.

You were both breathless when you broke apart. That was nothing new either, you would kiss each other until your lungs cried out and then some. With the way Chan hardly pulled back, mouth ghosting just a centimeter away as you panted lightly in unison, you might’ve thought he needed to kiss you more than he needed oxygen. You took his lower lip between your teeth, nibbling delicately just to get a taste of him while the two of you caught your breath.

“Missed you,” he whimpered. “God, I missed you.”

Your chest ached. 

“I know, baby.” 

Giving his bottom lip a light tug, you released it. You could tell his head was starting to go fuzzy, it was far more important for you to speak clearly. You rested your hand on his curls again, trying to keep yourself composed for his sake—even if your body was screaming for you to take him back and take him back now. “I know. I missed you, too.”

“Don’t leave me, please?” For once, a selfish request. 

He pecked the corner of your mouth as he said it, then your jaw, growing less controlled the further down he moved. He was getting lost in you, he wanted to lose himself in you and never find his way out again.

“Never,” you assured him. 

“Promise?” 

He nuzzled his nose into your neck, lips pressing urgent kisses to every spot of flesh they touched. Gentle and intense, hot and wet. They cooled your skin and set it ablaze, all at once. 

You’d gone five days without each other before—even longer, on particularly hectic weeks—but it had never been anything like this. After the emptiness that came in your time apart, the holes that had been left behind where you’d ripped yourself away from him, you wanted every kiss absorbed into your skin, filling them up one by one. You found yourself wondering, for what was neither the first nor the last time, how you’d ever managed to trick yourself into thinking you could be without him. You couldn’t even take him in moderation.

“I promise,” you murmured. “I'm not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chan whined, opening his mouth against the edge of your collarbone, sucking, tongue flickering lightly against it. You allowed him to, petting his head, humming sweetly to him as he covered every inch he roamed with that irresistible heat.

His restlessness beneath you grew more obvious—squirming. He ran his hands up and down your sides, feeling and grabbing and holding onto you like you might disappear if he didn’t. His usual hesitance to touch was nowhere to be found today, far overpowered by his hunger for you. You adjusted your position in his lap, and the beginnings of his desire brushed against your thigh, adorably transparent as always. It made your own self-control slip just a bit. Suddenly, his clothes were forming far too thick of a barrier between you and him for your liking.

You pulled gently at his hair, catching his attention enough for him to lift his head from your neck. His lips were already swelling, deepening from that pretty pink shade into something even more addictive. His eyes were dark, dilated, and so hopeful, like he didn’t already know where this was going. Like he had no idea that you craved him every bit as much as he craved you.

“It’s getting warm, huh, Channie?”

“Mhm.” He rested his cheek against your palm. “You’re so warm.”

“Let’s get you out of this, then.” You reached down to dip your fingers under the hem of his sweater. Reluctant to let go for even a moment, Chan kept his hands close to you, wiggling around as best as he could to help you slip the garment off. He blinked his eyes open once you’d pulled it over his head, catching a glimpse of his reflection in your dresser mirror, directly across from where the two of you sat tangled up in each other. It made his stomach drop a bit. Hair unkempt, eyes sunken, face puffy from what was a concerning lack of rest over the past week, even by his standards.

His gaze averted, flickering right back to you the instant he took in his appearance. Brief as the action was, it wasn’t lost on you, twisting your emotions and resurfacing an idea in your mind—one that had been brewing ever since the day of the showcase, where Chan had avoided looking into the bathroom mirror like his life depended on it.

You cupped his cheeks, pushing them together just enough for his lips to pucker.

“You’re glowing, Channie,” you marveled. “You’re so beautiful.”

He furrowed his brows. “I’m not.”

You pressed your thumbs into his skin, chiding. “The light’s hitting your face so perfectly. You look like an angel.” 

Chan’s breath quickened, another deflection building in his throat. You slid your hands down from his face, allowing the golden rays of the sun to fully illuminate him, just as they illuminated the moon. 

“I…” he chuckled. “Th-thank you, but I’m a mess.”

You frowned, placing your hands over his. Panic struck when you urged him to unlatch his fingers from your hips, you could tell by the way he gripped you just a bit tighter. It was another pang to your chest. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, that reflex had been ingrained. But you weren’t going to leave him, not even for a second. You kept your hands firmly rested on his shoulders as you hoisted yourself off his lap and settled down right behind him on the mattress. Comforting him with your touch, reminding him that you were there.

You peered into the mirror from over Chan’s shoulder, met with the gorgeous sight of his bare upper half and, unsurprisingly, his head ducked in embarrassment. A mop of dark curls shielding him from himself. 

“You should try looking at yourself through my eyes,” you suggested. “You might like what you see.”

He glanced up to meet your stare in the mirror, stubbornly set on ignoring his own figure. You dragged your hands along his tense shoulders, feeling up the warm expanse of skin, the curves of his muscles—taut, yet tender.

“Rather look at you,” he said softly.

Affection swelled inside you, but you were determined to maintain your resolve, even when faced with an opponent as formidable as Chan’s oblivious charm. 

“Why?” You faked a pout. “You’ve already got such a pretty view right here.”

You lowered yourself to brush your lips against his neck, almost completely out of sight. He all but jolted as you pressed an open-mouthed kiss right below his jawline, just as reactive as your first night together. Just as honest and open and just as painfully cute. Your hand slipped over his shoulder to take hold of his chin, tilting it up, exposing his throat fully to you and encouraging him to look at himself.

“You’re a gorgeous boy, Channie.” Your words melted right into his ear. “Everyone can see it.”

You pressed another kiss to the juncture of his shoulder and neck—his weak spot. With how sensitive he was, every part of his body may as well have been his weak spot, but the sound he let out as you grazed your teeth over it was like no other. Sweet and pleading in the back of his throat. It spiked in volume when you closed your mouth over the patch of skin, unconcerned this time over whether or not the mark would show. He wanted it to. And, selfishly, so did you.

“I-I don’t see it,” he stuttered at last. “I can’t.”

Your tsk of disapproval was met with another shaky sigh as you ran your tongue over the fresh lovebite. It soothed his burning skin, fogged up any remaining space in his head. You took a moment to admire the blooming red ring before gliding your lips over to a new spot to sully. He was yours, even untouched, but you wanted to leave traces of yourself everywhere, to make him a part of you in every sense.

“Look at yourself, baby,” you ordered gently.

His Adam's apple bobbed under your mouth, swallowing down his misgivings and finding the courage to comply. Before he even locked eyes with himself in the mirror, his ears were already flushing at their tips.

“There we go. Good boy.”

The praise eased his mind a bit, but you could still feel his heartbeat racing under your kisses, pulsing beneath your traveling fingers. All simply because of the sight of himself—a sight you wanted engraved permanently into your memories, just as badly as he wanted it removed from his. 

“Look at all these muscles. So big and strong.” You flattened your palms against his broad shoulders, trailing slowly, appreciatively, down to his biceps. Arms you used to dream about having bulge beneath your hands. Arms you had at your mercy, even in all their strength. Because it was a strength used solely to protect others, never to harm.

You wrapped your fingers around the defined muscles, too large to even close your grip entirely around. They flexed under your touch—a detail you found adorable, strangely enough.

“D-do you…” Chan licked his lips. “D’you like them?”

You smiled against his skin. Such an endearingly Chan question. Setting himself up for a response that he wouldn’t be able to handle; a response that was sure to set his face on fire and put a stammer in his speech.

“I might like them too much,” you admitted. “So pretty to look at. So irresistible to touch. So cute when I hold them down,” you mumbled the compliments between each kiss you peppered along his arm veins, protruding from his nervous hold on the sheets. “So strong, but so weak for me.”

Chan’s reaction didn’t disappoint, cheeks heating up instantly to match the burn of his ears, dimples making a timid appearance. Anything he attempted to say was lost in the shy, breathless laugh he sputtered out. You knew right about now that he was wishing he had some kind of cap, beanie—anything to pull over his face and hide away. To hear your doting words without having to face himself. Maybe then, he’d believe them.

“You work so hard, don’t you, Channie?” you cooed. “Such a strong, beautiful body for a strong, beautiful boy.”

“A-ah…please.” Chan fought back the impulse to cross his arms over his torso, solely because he didn’t want to lose the feeling of your mouth ravishing them. Instead, he squeezed his eyes closed, too flustered to bear. Your hands found his chest without warning, cupping his pecs and making him squeak. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip, a split second too late in trying to mask the pitiful noise.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” You dug your nails delicately into his chest, just enough to make him shudder. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

To that, he didn’t object. “Yours, ‘m all yours.” It was eager, immediate, accompanied by a tilt of his head. Urging you to make it known, to leave marks of yourself all over his neck until it belonged just as much to you as it did him. 

“All mine.” You rolled his nipples delicately between your fingers, earning a broken whimper that made heat pool in your stomach. “My pretty boy.”

Chan jerked forward, every intoxicating word of praise, every drop of your attention making his arousal skyrocket. With his eyes still shut tight, all his other senses were on high alert. The serene sound of your voice reverberated all around him, the deliberate care of your touch sent tremors up his spine. You roamed further down his body, fingertips dancing over his lean abdomen, tracing the outlines of his muscles. His stomach clenched as you did; exhilarated, rising and falling with each rapid breath. He felt so vulnerable—all his pleasure, all his comfort, all his worth in the palm of your hand. More exposed than ever, yet somehow, safer than ever. He could stay blind through it all and trust you to guide him to the other side.

“Open your eyes for me, baby.”

He pressed his lips together, protest cut short when you inched dangerously close to where he needed you most.

“There,” he gasped out. “There, please.”

Mischievously, you pinched the skin right above his waistband, satisfaction rushing through you when he throbbed in the confines of his sweatpants. “Where?” you questioned, deceptively innocent. “You have to look and see.”

You drifted further down, skimming the softness of his hips and stroking his tensed thigh. “Here?”

“No,” he huffed, face scrunching in frustration. “Please, ‘s too embarrassing.”

Your hum was full of sympathy, but your hand said otherwise, moving along his inner thigh and giving it a light squeeze. “How about here?”

You knew what was coming by now. So, you snaked your legs around his waist from behind, prying his thighs apart before they could clamp together reflexively. The added contact only made Chan’s composure weaken further, a low groan spilling out of him. Practically every part of your body was pressed against his—head tucked into his neck, chest rubbing against his back, hands grasping him wherever they slid, thighs resting on his—but it wasn’t enough. He needed more before he crumbled completely against you. Or, rather, he needed more to crumble completely against you.

His eyes snapped open at last, hazy, disoriented. He blinked a few times to readjust his vision, taking in the view before him. His puffed, rosy cheeks, his neck, painted with deep, crimson marks, his arms and torso, lined with the faint drag of your nails. Every part of himself that he chose to focus on was evidence of you on his body.

“Beautiful,” you said firmly.

“Ah…th-thank you.”

His reflection peered back at him, nowhere to hide. But with it, he found his other reflection, one he could admire so wholeheartedly, one he could never run out of things to love about. When at your side, maybe he didn’t look so bad.

Your lips were by his ear again, he felt your breath fanning softly next to it, saw your mouth opening unexpectedly close to his piercing—so close that he thought you may take it between your teeth again. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain himself if you did.

“Where do you want me to touch you, Channie?” you whispered.

His stare dropped to your hand, more than ready for any excuse to redirect his attention from himself. You rubbed gentle circles into his thighs, traveling upwards at an agonizingly slow place. Chan sucked in through his teeth, a fresh wave of embarrassment passing over him when his dick twitched again, as if it was crying out the answer for him.

“My baby’s so shy,” you remarked playfully. “But your body isn't.”

He squirmed between your legs with a sound of pure helplessness, too worked up to handle your teasing properly—not that he ever really handled it well, in the first place. 

“P-please, need you so bad.”

You softened. “I’m here.”

His eyes followed your movements in a glimmer of hope, fixated on your hand like a puppy would with its favorite treat. When you came to brush over his bulge at last, his hips shot forward, pressing into your palm in a way that made your stomach flutter, and his twist with pleasure. He didn’t even have the chance to feel humiliated about it, not when you finally curled your fingers around him like he’d been longing for so intently, so fiercely that even thinking straight had become a challenge for him.

“Is this it?” you asked sweetly.

“Mmph, yes. There, please.”

You gave him a squeeze, feeling up the shape of his length through his sweatpants. So hard without a single touch to it, more than ready for you—desperate for you. It made the ache between your own legs take over in full. Restraint slipping, you dipped your fingers below his waistband to tug his sweatpants off. Chan reacted immediately, scrambling to raise himself from the mattress just enough for you to slide them down along with his underwear. You couldn’t even find the patience in you to remove the garments entirely, instead letting them rest halfway down his legs.

Chan’s gaze flickered back to you in the mirror, just in time to catch the way your eyes gleamed at the sight of his bare body. Length glistening with precum, pressed and dripping against his stomach. Milky thighs, dotted with delicate moles you could kiss endlessly. But you wanted to leave a different kind of mark on them, today. You ran your hands along his flesh—gentle, pacifying—then dragged your nails back up all at once, raking his skin and leaving a trail of pale lines that quickly deepened in shade. Chan inhaled sharply, throwing his head back against your shoulder, muscles constricting under your fingers.

“Pretty little thing,” you crooned. “You’re unreal.”

There was no time for him to recover—not from the delicious sting on his thighs, not from your doting words—before you took his cock into your hold at last. It sent a ripple of heat all throughout his body, almost enough to make him unravel right then and there.

You gave him a few careful pumps, delighted by the sheer amount of wetness that had dribbled from his tip, allowing you to move with ease. Using your free hand, you nudged his head from your shoulder to direct him back to the mirror. Despite knowing full well that the visual he’d be met with would turn his brain to mush, he obeyed. He would do anything you so much as suggested in that moment.

“You’re just like that moon you love so much,” you murmured. “You know that, Channie?”

It pierced through the lust occupying his thoughts, pulling him out from his haze just enough to string together a feeble response. “What—ah. What d’you mean?”

He tried not to let the sight of your fingers, sticky with his arousal, gliding up and down his most intimate spot, twisting and teasing in all the right ways like you knew his body better than he did, distract him from what you said next. If there was anything to focus on, it was you. 

“The moon can only see itself reflected in the water.” You swirled your thumb along his slit, using your other hand to run the pads of your fingers tenderly along his cheek. The combination was enough to make him dizzy. So much love, so much pleasure. He didn’t know how to handle it. He would never know how to handle it. “It doesn’t see its own beauty or light. Just the way it gets distorted by the ripples all around it.”

Before he could even fully process the comparison, Chan’s eyes began to water. This time, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was happiness imbued in those tears. A happiness the both of you still needed adjusting to.

“So, look at yourself clearly, now,” you encouraged, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Look at your reflection when it isn’t broken.”

It may have been too much for him at once; such adoration amidst everything else he was experiencing. The stimulation to every last one of his nerve endings, the bliss consuming his body and mind, robbing him of any coherent thought. But you needed to say it just as much as he needed to hear it. You wanted all the pleasure, all the love he felt in that moment to be associated with himself.

“O-oh, wow,” he choked out. “I…I don’t…”

I don’t deserve this. You could hear it on the tip of his tongue, clear as day. But he was too awestruck to protest, too awestruck to even speak. You felt a tinge of protectiveness—he was so far gone.

“D-dunno what to s-say,” he stammered. You knew it was taking every ounce of his strength not to bury his face into the crook of your neck, to let himself go completely and forget about anything that wasn’t you.

“It’s okay, Channie. You don’t have to say anything. Just look.”

You studied him in the mirror, nearly melting when you noticed him blinking the few, fragile droplets from his eyes—listening diligently to you, clearing his vision from any water that might distort it. He drank in his reflection in full, stiff, uneasy, but relaxing slightly between your legs when you pressed another kiss to his cheek.

“So pretty, every inch of you.” Your hand resumed its stroking, sliding down to the base of his length, cupping him gently. “Even prettier when you’re filling me up.”

“Oh my gosh,” he gasped, jerking in your grip. Even with the mirror there to guide him, he struggled to coordinate his hand movements, pawing aimlessly behind him to find some part of you to grab onto, some part of you to anchor himself with. “Please, please. Wanna feel you.”

“I know, baby boy,” you shushed him. “You’re dripping so much. Poor thing.”

You dragged your index finger along the underside of his cock one last time before pulling away with a light flick. Chan barely stopped himself from surging forward, chasing your hand like an instinct. That, coupled with the mewl he let out when he registered the sudden loss of your body heat around him, tugged at your heart just as much as it spiked your adrenaline. You made quick work of removing your clothes, well aware of his eyes, wide as moons, watching you undress through the mirror, waiting for you to return to him. Restless, yearning, but obedient above all else.

He reached for you the instant you settled back in his lap, hovering over your waist for just a second before ultimately latching on, skin on skin, a whole new layer of heat. You took his length back into your grasp, turning your body so that you were both facing your dresser mirror. You could hear Chan’s breathing pick up behind you, feel his chest expanding against your back.

“See that, Channie?” You dragged the head of his dick along your folds, coating it with your own wetness. “Just looking at you gets me like this.”

If all you’d said wasn’t enough, maybe the physical proof of his effects on you would help do the trick. A sweet, desperate vocalization, so rife with need that you could practically taste it, was all he could manage. It morphed into a moan as you sank down on him all at once—loud, absolutely shameless. You would never think it came from the boy who couldn’t even catch a glimpse of himself without being reduced to a flustered wreck. Just as your heat engulfed him, his engulfed you. It came more intensely than ever before, more staggering than even your first time together, bolting through your veins and making you suppress a gasp. You clenched around his cock, relishing in the feeling of him pressed so snugly inside you, as close as physically possible. So comforting in its familiarity, so exhilarating in its return. It was something you could only describe as relief, relief in the warmth, the fullness, the completion you brought to each other.

Chan’s head fell forward with a whimper, chin resting against your shoulder, clinging to you so tightly that it was difficult to move. You weren’t even sure if he was aware of it, a subconscious desire to stay buried inside you, not wanting to lose the security of your walls wrapped around him for even a second. 

“Missed you so much,” he slurred into your skin. “W-wanna stay like this forever.”

You reached back to cradle his head, running your fingers through his hair. “I missed you too, angel. Missed the way you fill me up so perfectly.”

You lifted yourself until just the head of his cock was left pulsing inside you. When you noticed Chan’s blissed out expression in the mirror—eyes fluttered shut, lips swollen against your shoulder, eyebrows knitted together—a golden opportunity presented itself. It took him a second or two to realize that you weren’t sliding back down, another soft plea rumbling in his throat, vibrating into your skin. You gave his scalp an affectionate scratch, prompting him to look. This time, he listened without question, driven solely by the need to feel your wet heat around him again.

“Good boy.” You took him back inside immediately, not keen on being apart for much longer, either. He gritted his teeth as you did, trying his best to keep his gaze leveled with his reflection for you, for your satisfaction, for your approval. But nothing could’ve prepared him for what came out of your mouth next. 

“See how perfect you look when you’re inside me, Channie? See all the pretty faces you make? My pretty baby, feeling so good. Making me feel so good.”

At that, the precious little that had remained of Chan’s composure fizzled out completely. His hands flew up to cover his face, hot with shame, burning with arousal. The filthy sight of him pushing in and out of you, the wet sounds filling his ears, the teasing lilt of your voice. It was all too much. He shoved his nose into his palms, letting out a cute, mortified wail that echoed throughout the bedroom, mixing with your breathless giggles. 

Even as you continued riding him, he stayed hidden behind the safety net of his fingers, shyness turned back up to full blast with no signs of disappearing. It only added to the pressure building up inside your abdomen to see him so overwhelmed, each muffled grunt and soft whimper of his spurring you on. Your words from earlier rang truer than ever—he was so weak for you.

You allowed him to stay that way for the sake of his sanity, petting his head with a gentleness that contrasted the steady pace of your bouncing. It wasn’t until you felt his cock begin to jerk inside you that he pulled his hands away from his face with a choked noise, reaching out for you once more.

“Can’t take it—mmph—‘m getting close! ‘M s-sorry!”

His fingers dug deep into your flesh, igniting heat at every point of contact. You basked in the feeling for as long as you could, then halted your movements altogether, pulling off of him in one fell swoop. The loss made both of your bodies cry out in protest. Chan hiccuped pathetically, mouth falling open, confused blinks reflecting in the mirror when your softness, your warmth, escaped him without warning.

He trembled underneath you, tugging at your waist as he tried to get a handle on his voice. With care, you turned in his lap to come face to face with him again, moving slowly enough as not to break his hold on you, not even for a moment.

“Did I…” he panted. “Did I do something wrong?”

You brushed your thumb over his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that had begun to accumulate. “No, baby. You’re doing so well for me,” you assured him. “But you wanna finish together, don’t you?”

It was almost funny, in a sense, how the way Chan’s face lit up—how his features flooded with pure delight—made your heart flutter more than anything else. More than any irresistible sound he let out, more than any way he let you use his body to your heart’s content. You were just as captivated, just as endeared, just as hopelessly taken with him as that night in May, walking home alongside him under the moonlight and knowing your fate was sealed.

“Y-yeah, together. Together, please.” He leaned forward, nose finding your neck, taking in your scent. “Can we stay like this? Wanna see you.”

Your hand found his length again, wrapping just tight enough around it to make him jolt. “Hm…you can see me in the mirror though, can’t you?”

“Please,” he repeated, pouty lips brushing against your skin. “Only wanna see you. Need you.”

You relented. Regardless of how badly you wanted to get the message across to him, regardless of how addictive you found the sight of him on display in ways you’d never seen before, you knew he’d just about reached his limit. And, well, maybe you needed him too. Needed to watch him fall apart right before your very eyes, needed to have every bit of your skin pressed against his, needed to kiss him when it all became too much for his foggy mind.

“You’re so cute. I’ve got you, baby.” You tilted his chin up with your free hand, half-lidded doe eyes finding yours. Knowing him, the eye contact wouldn’t last long before he was ducking away again. So, you took advantage of it, realigning him with you and watching his features flood with pleasure as you sank down on him once more. He had to stop himself from bucking up into you, body stiffening with effort, a breathy, grateful moan, nothing short of angelic, slipping past his lips.

“You’ve gotta hold on for a bit, alright?” You gave his shoulders a squeeze. “Let me know when you’re close. Can you do that for me, Channie?”

His arms wrapped around you in full, no longer content with just his hands on your waist. “Mhm.” He barely mustered up a nod, pulling himself closer to you in a way that burrowed his cock impossibly deeper inside. “Promise. W-wanna make you feel good, too. Wanna be a good boy for you.”

“My good boy,” you cooed. “See how well you fit inside me? See how good you make me feel?” You clenched around him as you dragged yourself up his length, snapping back down with a delicious speed. “You were made for me.”

“M-made for you,” he agreed, head falling forward to nestle into your chest. “Ah—fuck! You’re so warm. Feels s-so good.”

You dug your nails into his muscles, using your grip on him for leverage as you began working your way up to a pace even more vigorous than before. Immediately, the new angle took a toll on Chan. It allowed the head of his length to rub directly against your sweet spot with each rock of your hips, making the both of you shudder. You could feel his mouth fall open against you to let out an especially sharp cry, nibbling mindlessly at your flesh, matching your rhythm.

“You’re mine, t-too, right? Gonna stay with me?” he babbled into your skin. “Please, tell me you’ll stay. I’ll be good for you. P-please.”

The coil in your chest twisted just as tight as the one in your abdomen. You knew his thoughts were muddled, ridding him of any filter and making him ramble in the heat of the moment. But you also knew it stemmed from a very real fear, one that you would never feed into again.

“You’re already so good for me, Channie. You’re perfect. My perfect boy,” you spoke as steadily as your erratic movements and shaky breath would allow, ensuring that each reassurance found him. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m here ‘cause I love you.”

Chan whined, ringing out loud and clear even through the softness of your chest. “Love you. I love you so much.” He nuzzled further into you, strengthening his hold around you, hands pawing at your sides. The words seemed to have opened the floodgates within him, like he’d been waiting to hear them—the catalyst for him to lose himself in you completely. “Love you, love you, love you. ‘M almost th-there.”

This time, there was a short delay before you could bring yourself to stop. You didn’t want to let go of him again, no amount of time would be tolerable enough. So, you stayed perfectly still, indulging selfishly in the feeling of him inside you without snapping the final thread just yet. Chan lifted his head, disoriented, biting down on his bottom lip to fight back a pathetic groan as his climax was denied once more. You could feel his thighs quivering under yours, his arms flexing around you, his cock twitching wildly against your walls. Every bit of his energy was being expended to hold himself together, to endure it however many times you saw fit.

“You’re doing so well, baby boy. Lasting so long for me.” You twirled a lock of his damp curls around your finger, hoping to keep him grounded enough to hang on just a bit more. 

“Y-yeah? ‘M doing okay?” He brushed his nose against yours, a silent plea that you understood all too well by now. “Making you feel good?”

“So good, Channie. I’m getting close, too.” You closed the gap between you and him before his wordless request became another whine, taking his swollen lips between yours. They were hot, pillowy, unbelievably wet. You tried your best not to flutter around him, but it was impossible not to when he was humming so eagerly into your mouth, kissing without an ounce of self-control left in his system. His movements were sloppy, uncoordinated, but each messy slide of his lips sent another jolt through your senses. The hug he’d enveloped you in loosened at last, hands wandering obsessively over your body until he found your chest. He paused for a moment, mumbling out something that made drool drip from the corner of his mouth.

“Mmph, c-can I? Wanna touch, please.”

Even now, he was clinging to the last few shreds of his rationality for you, thinking of you above all else when the promise of his climax was dangling right in front of his face. It took the arousal coursing through your veins to a whole new degree, so intensely that you had to stop yourself from sinking your teeth into his lips out of raw affection. 

“Go ahead, baby,” you murmured.

Chan cupped the soft flesh in an instant, sighing like he was slipping into a dream. His kisses became near-frantic, so drunk on you that he had trouble staying confined to just your lips, landing on the corner of your mouth, all over your cheeks, pecking and sucking any spot he could. Despite that, his hands were gentle, kneading at your flesh in a delicate back and forth pattern that calmed him and kindled a fresh warmth in your body. He was doing so well for you, trying his absolute best for you. You wanted to give him everything. You wanted to take his heart that he offered up to you so willingly, and give him yours in return.

“Ready to keep going, Channie? Can you take it?”

“Y-yeah. Yes, please,” he breathed. “Gonna do it for you. I’ll do anything.”

“My sweet boy.” You cupped his cheeks, steadying his clumsy kisses, but holding him just close enough to keep him content. He hissed softly as you began moving again, rolling your hips down so that his length grinded against your walls, stimulating every nerve-ending inside you. The heat building between your bodies became much harder to ignore, filling the air around you and seeping into your skin. It was heavy, thick, but it made you feel lighter than ever. Your high was drawing near, and, judging by the way Chan’s hips stuttered with less and less restraint, you knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer either.

The pads of his fingers dug into your breasts just as he let out a warning moan. “Oh God, ‘m sorry. Please, don’t wanna finish without you. So—ngh—close.”

You grinded down against him, spine tingling when Chan yelped in response, so sharp it almost sounded like he was in pain. “Mm, just a little more, baby boy. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“I-I…oh, please,” he swallowed hard, eyebrows scrunching together as you dragged yourself all the way up his length, mind-numbingly slow. “Yeah, I can do it. I’ll be g-good.”

Your hands traveled up to his hair, tangling in his curls and pulling at them just hard enough to make goosebumps rise at his nape. “Channie listens so well,” you purred. “You were made to please, hm? Good boy, good boy.”

If your honeyed praises weren’t enough to push him alarmingly close to the edge, the way you squeezed around him as you sank back down, wrapping him in your heat all the way to his base surely was. Chan surged forward with a sob, head falling into your shoulder, fingers grasping at you helplessly.

“Your good boy,” he whimpered. “Please, please, ‘m not gonna l-last.”

You cradled the back of his head. “It’s too much, huh angel?” you pouted. “You can let it all out, now.”

“Together?” You could hear the strain in his voice, mere seconds away from losing it completely. “Together—ah—right?”

“Together.”

At that, you gave one last sloppy glide along his length, snapping the tension in both of you at once. Chan cried out, teeth grazing against your shoulder, hips surging up to push as far into you as your bodies would allow. A delicious heat seared through your senses, only amplified by the flood of his release coating your insides, stronger than ever from how long he’d been holding back. You tried to keep your own sounds under control, far more entranced by the ones slipping from his trembling lips. Mewls of your name, slurring out how much he loved you, chanting his gratitude like a mantra as you guided him through your shared high.

Minutes or hours could’ve passed and you wouldn’t have known the difference—you wouldn’t have minded either way. Eventually, the shivers in Chan’s body faded out, his panting evened into softer, more peaceful breaths. When he finally found it in him to pull his head from the comfort of your neck, droplets had begun to form in his eyes again. Not enough to spill down his cheeks quite yet, just enough to glaze his pupils over with happy tears, just enough to make them shine.

Your fingers danced absentmindedly in his hair, serving as a different pleasure from the kind that had just rocked your bodies. “You did so well for me, Channie. I’m proud of you.”

He blinked up at you. Slow, lazy, a dreamy smile tugging at his lips. “You’re s’ beautiful.”

“Sweet baby,” you murmured. “I hope you think the same when you see yourself.”

Anything he planned to say trailed off when you reached down for his hand, bringing it up to your lips. He was still buried deep inside you, hypersensitive to every little movement, every little touch, but he did his best not to squirm as you pressed kisses to his fingertips, paying extra attention to the fading cut on his thumb. The pain was long gone, now. Still, it made a few glistening tears trickle out delicately. You kissed them away, too.

“You’re still my favorite reflection.”

Shy, barely audible, but spoken with all the sincerity in the world. Butterflies erupted in your stomach. It was a start, at least. Maybe the parts of yourselves that you loved in each other, you could eventually come to love in yourselves.

“Can we—?”

“Stay like this?” you finished for him, a smile creeping up on your lips. “Yeah, we can.”

He bumped his forehead against yours, letting out an exhausted giggle, eyes crinkling and dimples flashing. He was glazed with sweat, skin sticky, damp curls pressed to his forehead, but he shone with every ray of light that slipped through your blinds.

The urge to check on him, to fuss over him, to care for him, still nagged at your mind. That was something that would never change. You wanted to clean him up, wash away the soreness and soothe the marks all over his body. But he didn’t need any of that right now. He just needed you. That was it. From day one, it had been as simple as that. You didn’t need to do anything. You didn’t need to prove anything. You just needed each other. Maybe, you could stay wrapped up in the mess you’d left on each other’s bodies for a while—bask in it, even. 

Chan’s innocent nuzzles inevitably led to another kiss. Soft, but just as hungry for you, just as desperate to stay immersed in this moment. You shifted slightly on his lap, making your heart jump and making him jolt against you. The poorly concealed sound that built up in his throat might’ve made you giggle if you didn’t need him just as much. No more limits. No more restraint. You didn’t have to worry about taking him in moderation.

You wanted each other endlessly. You fell into each other again and again.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

A sudden buzz against your nightstand cut through the tranquil rhythm of breath that filled your bedroom, pulling you from the haze of sleep that had been pricking at your mind’s edges. It was a brief, low vibration, but still loud enough for you to worry that it may wake the boy in your arms. For once, you allowed yourself to be unavailable, not daring to disturb his peace for even a moment to roll over and read the notification. You already had a good idea of who it might be, anyway: Changbin, triple checking what time you’d all be meeting up for jjajangmyeon on Friday. The thought alone made fondness bubble up inside you, lips curling into a private smile. After four years of tardiness, absences, and missed deadlines, this was the one thing he was determined to be on time for.

Graduation was two days away. You and Changbin’s class ceremony would take place in the early morning, while Chan’s was scheduled for later that same night. Timed seamlessly with the rise of the sun and the moon. The finish line that you’d been terrified of for so long was a mere few steps away, but when viewed up close, it wasn’t quite so daunting anymore. Even if the path you walked next was still unfamiliar, uncarved by anyone before you to clear the way, you knew who you’d be walking it with, and you knew where it would lead you. You’d walk side by side with Chan, towards something better.

His family had flown in from Australia earlier in the week to visit, to attend his ceremony—to celebrate him. An occasion that was just as precious to them even with the bitter memories that surrounded it, even in its delay, even if Chan had spent the past two years convincing himself otherwise. He’d been a nervous wreck before leaving to meet with them when they first arrived, you could see it in every awkward shift of his feet, every subconscious rub of his neck, every unnecessary adjustment of his clothes. However much you’d tried to comfort him beforehand, however many grateful smiles he’d given you, you’d known that there was no real way to ease his apprehension. He hadn’t seen them in person for over a year, and, even prior to that, it’d been two years since he’d had an interaction with them that wasn’t engulfed in shame.

But when he’d returned, he had a smile that almost reached his eyes; hopeful. It hadn’t been perfect, everything wasn’t okay yet, but the seed had at least been planted for it to blossom one day. He’d missed them so much. It made your heart sing and ache at the same time. You only wished that he’d believed he deserved to see them before now—to stand in front of them as the son and brother that they loved, not as the collection of faults and disappointments he saw himself as. 

Though, you supposed you weren’t exactly one to talk. Your family would be coming into the city on the day of your ceremony as well, a very blatant reminder that you had yet to visit your hometown again like you’d promised them over the summer.

You weren’t quite ready to return yet. But just like Chan, you would be, one day. And you would try again. Of all the things you’d come to learn in your time with him, the value of upholding a promise was undoubtedly the most important one. You weren’t going to run. You would try as many times as it took until your home felt like home again, until you remembered all the good times, until the memories laced in every crack and crevice didn’t add to the sting in your skin, but eased it. 

You eyed Chan’s form through the darkness, nestled against you with his head buried in the softness of your chest—sound asleep, for once. 

Your arm was still draped over his waist, lingering at the small of his back where you’d been rubbing as he drifted off. In turn, his muscular arm was wrapped securely around you. Holding each other, protecting each other. An endless cycle of drawing strength from one another without growing any weaker in the process. You could give him everything, and not lose a single drop of yourself.

For the first time, you could hold someone in your arms without that underlying sense of dread spreading its roots in your mind. For the first time, your heart was still. A calm and clear surface of a lake, one that you hoped could reflect Chan’s light in its truest, most unbroken form.

You were no longer held together by a butterfly bandage, an ill-fitted adhesive, forcibly closing your wounds without giving them the chance to heal properly. At last, you were stitched up. Stitched up by the very same thread of fate that had brought you and Chan together. 

You didn’t have to ask to know that he felt the same. You could feel his emotions like they were your own, after all.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Chapter 1 Part 1 Preview

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not a full translation.

Spoilers ahead.

Nobunaga: "Whoever controls this madness will determine the future of the world."

His deep, resonant voice echoed through the hall, plunging it into silence.

(The Oda army is strong. Nobunaga and his men will be fine, but...)

The thought of the blank guidebook flashed through my mind.

(As Nobunaga said, the future will greatly change depending on who brings order to this chaos.)

(I hope the world becomes peaceful, but what if it doesn't?)

I clenched my fingertips tightly when suddenly—

Fwoosh!

(What the!?)

Someone slashed the sliding door.

Hideyoshi: "An enemy attack!?"

Everyone except Nobunaga swiftly reached for their sword, ready to defend themselves.

From beyond the fallen door, a figure slowly appeared.

Kenshin: "I'm here to pick up my woman."

(Kenshin!?)

His hair swayed as he gracefully stepped into the hall.

Mitsunari: "Lord Kenshin."

Nobunaga: "Oh? You're earlier than I expected."

Ieyasu: "Far too early. Mai, did you really send that letter last night?"

Mai: "Y-Yeah. I did."

(It shouldn't have even reached Kasugayama Castle, and yet...)

I whispered to Ieyasu, and Kenshin's mismatched eyes caught mine.

Kenshin: "There you are, Mai."

Mai: "Why are you here? Ah!"

He pulled me close, leaving no space between our bodies.

Mai: "Kenshin!"

Kenshin: "I'm glad you're okay. When I heard you were going to Azuchi, I felt my heart drop."

Kenshin: "If anything had happened to you, I would've destroyed not just the tenshu but the entire castle."

Mai: "What?!"

Hideyoshi: "You've already destroyed the door, though."

Keiji: "Yeah, split right in two."

(That's true.)

Kenshin: "Mai, are you listening to me?"

Mai: "Y-Yes!"

Ieyasu: "Yeah, he's ignoring us."

Wrapped in his warmth, his sharp eyes focused solely on me.

Kenshin: "You have a duty to stay safe for my sake, and you've done well in fulfilling that."

Kenshin: "I'll give you a proper reward later."

(Ngh.)

His sweet voice tickled my ear, and my heartbeat skipped uncontrollably.

Mai: "T-Thanks. But please don't whisper in my ear!"

Kenshin: "I refuse. I'll love you in any way I wish."

(Crap, what do I do?)

(Even though his entrance was so over-the-top, I can't help but feel happy to see him.)

Kenshin, whom I had longed to see ever since leaving Kasugayama Castle, was right in front of me. The fact that he wanted me so desperately made my heart flutter.

(Still, it's super embarrassing with everyone watching.)

I tried to look over my shoulder as I felt the stares from those around us, but...

Kenshin: "Hey. What are you looking away for?"

Mai: "Eeek!"

His lips brushed against my ear, and a startled sound escaped from my lips.

Kenshin: "You only need to look at me."

(Kenshin.)

I looked at him as he commanded, and his gentle gaze fell on me.

(Nnn.)

His long fingers traced my lips, making my heartbeat even louder.

Kenshin: "You look so beautiful. It makes me want you even more."

Mai: "W-Wait!"

I frantically pushed against his chest as his face drew so close that our eyelashes brushed against each other.

(Uh, he's not budging at all.)

I desperately tried to apply more strength, making him frown.

Kenshin: "Are you telling me to wait after I felt like I had been waiting for you for a thousand years?"

Kenshin: "You're being cruel."

(Stop looking at me like that.)

Mai: "Um, I feel the same way! I've felt like it's been a thousand years since I last saw you."

Kenshin: "Oh, so you wanted me that badly?"

Kenshin: "Then there's no problem in wanting you."

Mai: "P-Please, just wait a moment!"

(I can't take this anymore! The gazes around us are too much!)

Exchanging a passionate embrace with their former enemy in the halls of Azuchi Castle in front of Nobunaga and his generals is unprecedented.

But Masamune and Keiji are not bothered by this, as they look at us amused.

Masamune: "What happened to the serious atmosphere we had just a moment ago?"

Keiji: "I don't really get what's happening, but this is definitely hot. Should we just tease them for now?"

(These two have no intention of stopping us.)

Mitsunari: "Then I'll fetch some water from the well."

Ieyasu: "How about some colder spring water from the mountains?"

Mitsunari: "Got it! I'll make a quick trip, so please wait a moment."

Ieyasu: "Hey, don’t take that seriously. What good will that even do?"

(Mitsunari's innocence and Ieyasu's sarcasm haven't changed at all.)

Hideyoshi: "Lord Nobunaga, shall we apprehend this intruder?"

Mitsuhide: "You want to break the alliance already? I'd prefer not to, but if you say so, I guess I have no choice."

(These two are saying something ominous!)

Mai: "Um, guys, please calm down!"

In my flustered attempt to stop them, I caught Nobunaga's gaze.

Nobunaga: "….…..."

(I wonder what Nobunaga will say.)

Resting one elbow on the armrest, Nobunaga leisurely narrowed his eyes.

Nobunaga: "Everyone, leave it be. That man's obsession with Mai didn't start today."

Nobunaga: "If Mai frowns at Kenshin even a little, you can kick him out, but she's smiling so broadly that she's practically melting."

Mai: "W-Wait, melting?!"

Everyone: "Indeed."

(They all agreed so easily!)

Kenshin: "You understand well."

Even though Nobunaga called it an "obsession," Kenshin seemed satisfied.

(Am I really that happy after meeting him again after so long?)

(If so, Kenshin is amazing.)

Before I realized it, the dark and heavy anxiety that had been weighing on me since I learned about the attack on Azuchi Castle had completely lifted.

(Kenshin changed the whole atmosphere.)

Kenshin: "Your complexion looks much better now."

Mai: "Huh?"

Kenshin: "A pained expression doesn't suit you."

(He really sees right through me.)

His genuine concern for me made my chest feel warm and full.

(But that aside, what do I do? He's still holding me so tightly!)

Hideyoshi: "Hey, how long are you planning to just stand there? You're in front of Lord Nobunaga, you know."

Hideyoshi: "Mai, you're a good girl, so sit down already."

Mai: "Sorry. Hey, Kenshin, let's sit down."

Kenshin: "These people are so disrespectful. Fine, you can sit on my lap."

Mai: "That's a bit much."

Kenshin: "Would you prefer to sit sideways on my lap, then?"

Mai: "It's not about how I sit. Um, can you let me go for a second?"

Mai: "I mean, wouldn't it be heavy if I sat on your lap?"

Kenshin: "Not at all. You're as light as a feather."

(That was a quick response!)

As our endless back-and-forth continued, Ieyasu exaggeratedly shrugged his shoulders.

Ieyasu: "Hey, how long will this go on?"

Keiji: "It'll last till sundown."

Mai: "Look, Kenshin, everyone is waiting for us."

Kenshin: ".........."

(Uh-oh.)

His eyes locked onto me without even blinking.

(I guess I have no choice.)

Mai: "Please save things like this for when we're alone."

Kenshin: "........."

Mai: "Thank you for coming to see me. I promise to do anything to repay you later!"

Feeling the heat spread across my cheeks, I averted my gaze.

Kenshin: "Fine. Don't forget those words."

A sharp, captivating smile appeared on his lips.

Masamune: "Oh, looks like he backed down."

Mitsuhide: "Kenshin has a real knack for getting Mai to say "I'll do anything" with just a little silent pressure."

Kenshin: "When it comes to loving Mai, I'll use any means necessary."

(Was that his plan all along!?)

Hideyoshi: "At least pick the right place. Do it in Echigo."

Mitsunari: "Still, it's strange."

(Huh?)

Beside a disgruntled-looking Hideyoshi, Mitsunari spoke as if pondering something.

Mitsunari: "Lord Kenshin's arrival was faster than I imagined."

Mitsunari: "What kind of trick made it possible?"

(Oh, I was wondering about that too.)

(I only sent the letter saying I was heading to Azuchi Castle last night, so how is Kenshin already here?)

As everyone's gaze turned toward him, Kenshin lowered his voice.

Kenshin: "I watched the Tenshu go up in flames the night Azuchi Castle was attacked."

(What?!)

[short-honey-badger]

Doll 12

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Feelings are shared, and you get a glimpse into Shanks' past

*note* so sorry this is so short! I promise next Part will be much longer. We'll be covering a lot haha

Doll Masterlist

You swallow thickly. Love? The redhead loved you? You understood that came with the territory of being with someone like how you were with Shanks, but the confession still shocked you. But then you think back to everything that Shanks has done for you, has said to you. The way he would comfort you and hold you close, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances. You remember how relieved you'd been to have him there after that first nightmare, how he had walked you through the panic attack and made sure you were okay, and you realize that you've loved Shanks since that night.

“Baby?”

His voice, hesitant and even fearful, brings you out of your thoughts. You surge forward, lips meeting his own and clutching his face tightly. You kiss him like your life depended on it, licking into his mouth and whining when his tongue meets yours in an exquisite dance. You break the kiss with a soft gasp, eyes wet as you meet his gaze.

“I love you, too. So, so much Shanks,” you whisper brokenly, and then the redhead is on you again, a desperate sound leaving his mouth as he kisses you. You are his, and the knowledge that you love him makes it all the more real. You would never leave him, never abandon him like so many others have before in his life. Shanks would never have to be alone again.

He doesn’t realize that he's started crying until he feels your thumbs drag across his cheeks, swiping them away. He pulls himself up, falling to his side and taking you with him. You hold him close, one arm wrapped right around his shoulders and the other still cupping his face. His shoulders shake, and he has to suck in a heaving breath to make his lungs work again, though they stutter with a sob on the exhale.

“My sweet boy,” you murmur, and lean forward, pressing gentle kisses along his face, anywhere that you could reach, uncaring of the tears that stain your lips. Shanks was always so strong, such a pillar of confidence, that it breaks your heart to know that your confession of love has broken him down so easily. What had happened to him to make him like this?

“You won't leave me? Won't abandon me because I'm too much?” Shanks whispers. He doesn't want to put all of this on you so out of nowhere, but your confession has pulled up old fears that he'd thought he had gotten over. Buggy had left because the blue haired man couldn't handle how clingy Shanks had become after Roger's execution. Mihawk had pulled away from him when they were young, too unused to affection to put up with the redheads' need for physical touch.

He had tempered himself over the years. Shanks couldn't stand the thought of someone else who he cared for so much, leaving him behind. Of course he had his crew, but it had taken him a long time to gather each and every one of them, and by that time, Shanks had promised himself that he would never let his emotions lead him again.

That is until you came along, and all of that was blown out the window. Shanks still wasn't sure what drew you to him and him to you. Maybe it was the feel of your haki, so soft and delightful that it felt like a summer morning. Or the way you are always so ready to do whatever he suggested, so excited to just spend time with him even if it's something as simple as laying on the front deck of the ship, your head pillowed against his shoulder.

“Nothing in this world will be able to take you away from me, Shanks. I promise you.” You swear and gently lift his face from where he had pressed it into your shoulder. His handsome face is wet with tear tracks, but you just smile tenderly and lean in to press your lips to his brow before pulling away to push forward, your nose sliding across his, “I'll say it as many times as you need me to.”

His lips quiver, and you think Shanks is about to start crying again, but your captain sucks in another deep breath, and this time, his exhale is smooth. He curls his arm tight around your middle, pulling you as close as he is physically able and you hum low in your throat, shifting forward to slide into a delicate kiss, a quiet press of lips before you pull away.

“I love you, Shanks,” you repeat and begin to pepper his face with kisses, wanting to try and cheer the redhead up. You don't like seeing him so sad. Like the color of his haki, Shanks was supposed to be sunshine incarnate, full of joy and laughter.

Shanks laughs, still feeling a bit choked up as he rolls to his back, and you slide with him, hooking your leg over his hips so that you are staring down at him. His hand draws slow circles against your thigh, and he looks at you with such a soft expression of adoration that you feel yourself fall in love with him all over again. He huffs after a moment, rolling his dark eyes at himself.

“I'm sorry it took someone else giving you attention for me to tell you how much you mean to me. I guess Mihawk is good for something,” He says, and you laugh at his despondent tone.

“Sounds like you owe him a bottle of that wine he wouldn't stop talking about,” you quip, and Shanks groans but nods. It would be the least he could do for his old friend.

“Yeah, I guess you're right,” He grumbles good naturedly, but then his expression turns soft and gentle, “But I'd much rather focus on you right now, doll.”

You match his smile, leaning down to kiss him and then snuggle against his chest. After all of this, as much as the idea of Shanks touching you excites you, you honestly just want to cuddle with your lover and ignore the outside world for a while. The redhead softens at once and presses his lips to the top of your head as his arm wraps around your back to keep you close, “Can we just…lay here for a while?”

Shanks nods, pressing another kiss to your hair with a soft hum, “Course we can, baby. Anything you want.”

You smile and close your eyes, simply basking in his warmth and the comforting feel of his haki as it begins to surround you. It's a pale yellow, soft and light like a new day, and you wouldn't want to be anywhere else than right here beside the man you loved.

[penvisions]

the melting point {chapter 16}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: In the aftermath of a rather eventful and terrifying last summer farmer's market, you try to find a semblance of normalcy as best you can. Meanwhile, Frankie is up to something that is beginning to cause you to worry about the burden you've become in your recovery.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: medical jargon, mild language, emotional monologues, internal monologue, negative feelings, negative thoughts, ptsd symptoms, pining, emotional pining, depressive thoughts, description of pain and injuries, blood, descriptions of post shooting chaos, panic attacks, notions of death, hospital setting, mentions of needles and iv's, mentions of narcotics, use of prescription narcotics, feelings of inadequacy, angst

A/N: um, so it's been four months since i've touched this fic, then i woke up yesterday morning and just began writing like nothing. takes breaks when you need to, don't force things and it'll all work out. please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“C’mon, hang on for me baby, please, don’t-don’t close your eyes.”

“Mantequilla, everything is gonna be okay, I promise, we’re all here for you, please know that everything is going to be okay.”

“We’ve got you, you did so good, you saved my little girl, you did, you saved her.”

“Honey, we all love you so much, please stay strong, I’ll hold your hand the entire way there.”

“Let’s get you turned over, ma’am, c’mon. There we go, you’re doing amazing.”

“Santi, she-she-“

“Papa!! Papa, please help her, I love her! Tio Santi, do something!!”

“Merde, that’s so much blood, Frankie you’ve gotta focus, you’ve gotta calm her down. Get her home safe, to your mother’s, somewhere safe.”

“Will!! They got her, call Morgan! She went missing the second things got crazy.”

“Has anyone seen Benny?”

“They’re transporting her now, rushing her to surgery the second the get there.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, any donations with the same blood type would be appreciated. Who here is a positive?”

“Sweet girl, please, you’ve got to pull through, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

“No response, it’s been how many days now?”

“She’s being rushed into another surgery, she keeps clotting. They can’t figure out why.”

“Fransico Morales? You’re next of kin?”

“No, no, but we’re all she has. Her family is flying out, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Taylor, take a moment, it’s…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Daddy, why is tia all tangled in those machines, she’s going to be okay, right?”

“This is my son, he wanted to come and cheer her up because she always did the same for him when he was sick.”

“Please, mi amor, please, you have to make it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Fractered memories played over each other, words echoing and bouncing off of each other through the fog that was all you knew. You couldn’t feel anything, all of your senses stripped away, and you were nothing more than a half-conscious mind tunneling in and out of suspended darkness.

Beeping, an even beeping was the only steady thing you could make out. Sense of environment completely gone and sense of awareness slowly trickling in. Your eyes hurt as you slowly blinked them open, the faint lights around you too bright and you clenched them shut with a huff that pulled at your lungs. The stillness of where you were was shattered as the clattering of a chair sounded, followed by a pair of hands tightening around yours that were settled over your middle. A hushed order to go fetch someone and then a deep voice was rumbling close. You turned your head toward the presence hovering close to your left side, drawn to whoever it was.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, sweet girl.”

A grunt sounded from deep in your chest as you tried to open your mouth and respond. Then a gasp when pain reverberated from the same spot. You tried to shift your legs, hips feeling oddly numb but you couldn’t quite feel them. It was as if they were asleep, but… you cracked your eyes open a second time, squinting down the length of the bed you were in. Your legs were there, obvious underneath the thin, knit, scratchy blankets that only a hospital possessed. You tried to shift again, but even your hips didn’t feel like a part of your body. Your eyes flew open completely, tearing up at the brightness of the room.

Shuddering breaths pulled deep hurt, but you tried to shift again and again but there was no movement underneath the blanket. None.

“Okay, alright, querida, please. Take a deep breath, it’s-it’s gonna be okay.” Frankie. It had been Frankie speaking to you, close to you. His hands reached out for your own, where you had pried them from him to try and prop yourself up, wires and tubes pulling, clattering against each other and making your head swim. “The doctors-“

“I know this must be quite a shock, but it’s good that you’re awake!” A white coat, thrown over a modest skirt and blouse, blonde hair. A kind face, pinched. A furrowed brow. Bad news on the tip of her tongue.

You tried to speak, demand why you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. But you could only croak out the faintest notions of words. Everything was a blur, the hospital room you were in a mess of blue and white, the beeping of machines hurting your ears. Nothing made any sense, confusion coloring every thought as to how you got here and why.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, your body is pretty weak right now. Can I get a level two meal delivered to room thirteen eighty-nine, please?” She turned to address someone who had been hidden behind her, a nurse in teal scrubs.

“Tell me.” You managed to croak out, eyes fixated on her pinched ones.

“I would really prefer to get you a little acclimated.”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered toward Frankie, as if in a silent plea to get him to calm you down and put you at ease however little he could manage. But you ignored the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder, eyes trained on the doctor in front of you as you tried to find more strength to speak around the dry cotton feel of your mouth, the panging hunger that was present in your stomach, the lack of control over your body.

She sighed, arms holding the clipboard in front her in an imitation of a fig leave over her hips.

“We had you in a medically induced coma for the last two weeks. I’m not sure all of what you remember, the brain is fickle that way, pushing things and events out in response to trauma.” She didn’t look from you as the sound of fast steps approached the door, nor when a large figure moved passed her and came straight to your right side. It was Taylor. Both of the most important men in your life on your sides. He was quiet, but you could see the evidence of tears in the puffiness of his eyes, the lack of a smile on his face as he hovered close.

“You were hit in the sacrum and coccyx region, paralyzing you from the waist down. We performed three surgeries to remove the bullet shards and repair as much of the damage as possible. Your blood flow and reflex reactions have improved but we had no way of knowing if anything truly worked until you woke. A week has passed since we stopped inducing you, we were beginning to think you might not wake up.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, medical terms floating heavy in the air of the room. Daunting, terrifying, life altering. You didn’t think you could handle another life altering event of this caliber. But it didn’t look like you had to traverse it alone. You teared up once the doctor left the room, offering to come back and talk to you once visiting hours were over, though she had mildly glared at both men as she said it. But knowing them both, they had been alternating staying the night to watch over you past the set hours that allowed for them to be present.

You had two wonderful men who were willing to do anything for you, one with a friend group who would follow his lead and the other who had given you so much already. You hoped it wouldn’t be too much, taking what they were willing to give.

“It’s a lot,” Taylor’s voice broke, his words spoken through eyes glittering with tears. His hands tight around yours as he leaned his forehead against yours, completely in your personal space. “But we’ve done somethin’ like this before and we can do it again. We can do it again.”

You could only nod, throat and voice still weak from weeks of disuse.

He walked closer to the side of the bed, the man’s large build shadowing over you in the dimmer setting of the lights you had requested. The full effect of them too bright for you eyes after being unconscious for so long. You reached out to him, urging him to sit atop it as best he could as you all but threw yourself at him. He let you, aware of Frankie standing close to the other side, eyes watering as he heard the cries that began to bubble up from you.

“I-I-“

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re both here.” Taylor murmured, as he wrapped his own arms around you to pull you close. He smelled like your apartment, a mix of faint buttercream and the rose perfume you favored all rolled into one comforting scent. His own masked by the time he had been in town. “Alfred was here too, but he had to be taken back for school. He sat with you every day for that first week and read to you. He was so worried about you, mami. He kept talking with you like he always does, hoping you would wake up and respond.”

Frankie excused himself, his phone beeping in his pocket and the sound of you crying too much for him to handle all at once. You watched him leave the room, his shadow visible through the blinds in the window looking into the room as he paced up and down the hallway just outside. His voice a low murmur as he spoke with whoever had been trying to contact him.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…or you. I’m so sorry, that call – it must’ve been so terrifying.” You hiccupped into his chest, unable to stop the tears and emotions from flowing all at once, overwhelmed and completely at a loss of how to respond to anything at the moment.

Hushed words eradicated any ill thoughts you were having of yourself, comforting in their genuine indication. He assured you he had been able to handle it, that he was able to handle the hard things that came along with being bonded with someone for life, for knowing someone for so long. For having already done something similar before. But yeah, that it had been scary but Frankie had been as detailed and direct as he needed to be, levelheaded in his description of what had happened and what immediately happened afterwards.

Frankie came up to you both as he entered back into the room, a hand on both your shoulders to get your equal attention. You looked up at him with watery eyes, feeling so proud of how everyone was trying to keep it together for you but guilty at the same time since it had been something they had been dealing with for weeks now.

“That was the airline, they need someone to come in and take over a few tours for double pay. I wouldn’t normally turn them down and I will if you need me here. You’re awake now and I want to be here with you.”

“Y-you should go, if you want to, if you need to.” Scratchy words spoken with what little conviction you could muster. He was conflicted, worried about making the wrong decision.

“You need me here.” He didn’t argue so much as read the thoughts in your mind as clearly as if you had displayed for him to see. “You want me here.”

“Yes, but….money is money, Frankie. For your house, for your daughter, for everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’m gonna run and get a coffee before you head out, I’ll stay the night, okay?” Taylor announced before he pressed a kiss to your temple and stood. Leaving you and Frankie truly alone for the first time since you woke up. You reached out to the man, gripping his open flannel shirt and lightly pulling him toward you. But he didn’t budge, his feet stable on the ground and his back not leaning to meet you. He wasn’t looking quite at you, but just beyond you. His eyes a little distant.

“I’m sorry.” Pulling your hands back to rest in your lap, you began to twiddle your fingers, unsure of what to do, unsure of why he was acting so weird and distant. Maybe he was just exhausted, mentally wiped out from waiting and waiting for you to wake up. Maybe…he was rethinking everything he’s once promised you…

“Hey, no, you don’t have to be sorry.” His eyes caught your own, his hands reaching out to hold your own as he kneeled down to be at your eye level. Emotions you couldn’t read swirling behind them. “I just- It’s just… you’re awake. And I’m so scared I’m going to open my eyes or wake up and you’ll still be unconscious…or passed.”

“I am awake.” You insisted, worried about this being an elaborate dream all the same. Some made up fantasy your brain concocted in its last moments and none of it was real, that you weren’t real anymore.

“I want to stay,” He pleaded with you, desperate for you to understand how hard it is for him to make the decision to leave, to heed the call of an entire week’s worth of pay in just a few days. But he had a plan and he had to stick with it, it would be for the best in the long run.

“C-can you stay tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweet girl. I promise. I just- this is important. For the both of us. I swear.”

“I believe you, Frankie. I love you.” You lifted your intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles. He repeated the words before he shrugged his jacket on and bid you goodnight. He didn’t kiss you back, instead squeezing your hands twice in farewell.

“Hermosa, I-I just-“ Frankie hung his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees the next evening.

He had gone home to change and get a little sleep after a hectic two days of back to back tours. A touch restful now that he knew you were awake, but still fleeting. His thoughts had been a jumble as his mind flashed your unconscious form across the backs of his eyelids. Bleeding, hyperventilating, being rushed into emergency surgery not once but three times. Of you completely still save for the slight rise and fall of your chest laid out in the hospital bed. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing or diminish anything but- just thank you.”

“You saved her, at such a great risk to yourself. But you did, you saved my little girl when I couldn’t. I have endless love and admiration for you, querida. Please, I am here for you. I will help you with whatever you need or want. And not just because of this, but…but until you don’t want that anymore. You’ve got me, sweet girl. I promise.”

The conviction in his tone was strong despite the way his words were pushed out with deep breaths, trying to keep his composure. His shoulders were quaking with the effort he was holding back another wave of tears. Too many emotions for him to handle since the second you had rushed in front of that gun aimed at his daughter.

“Come here,” You softly compelled him, trying to shuffle atop the bed. Feeling still numb below the tops of your thighs, only some control over your legs that you were trying not to dissect. Going over your charts and test results had helped a little, compartmentalizing that it was happening to you and mind working to help solve and reason the things you read as if it was a patient of your own. Work. And a lot of it was ahead of you.

Frankie shuffled up and out of his shoes, choosing to urge you forward softly so he could be the one resting against the back of the angled bed. He helped to situate you against his chest, his arms coming around you in a warm embrace, the smell of his cologne and body wash puffing up and surrounding you in a comforting way. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head, nose shuffling in your hair and making you sigh out at the human contact.

“I would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even knowing what would happen.”

“Te amo. Te tango mucho amor ti, querida.” He whispered hoarsely in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. All you could do was repeat the words to him, meaning them with everything in your very being. Bringing his hands up to rest over your heart, palms flat over your chest, you both just laid there soaking up each other’s company.

His thoughts took over as you felt your breathing even, reaching over to silence the television that had been playing quietly in the corner where it was installed high on the wall.

‘Everything was so loud, a cacophony of too sharp frequencies grating on his ears as he watched the way your body fell to the ground. The man with the gun fleeing from the scene as soon as the gun had fired, steps heavy as he ran as fast as he could. Pope taking off immediately after him, his own gun pulled from the holster attached to his belt. Permission to carry it around off the clock from one of the local military bases where he worked as a freelance advisor.

Frankie was rushing too, toward you. Toward his daughter. Toward you both. There was a pool of blood forming beneath you, having twisted yourself to prevent from falling on top of Alexia’s smaller frame. She was kneeling beside you, tears running down her cheeks as you reached up to cup her face. A pinched expression on your features and blood blooming dark low on your front. His little girl turned to him as he crashed to his knees behind her and brought her in a crushing embrace to his chest, hearing the hum of the crowd that had begun to form all around.

Shouts to call 911 and responses that more than one person was already speaking with officers, telling them of what had just happened.

She begged him to help you.

She begged him to save you.

Shouting at him in her small voice that she loved you and she knew he loved you too.

She buried her face in his chest as he leaned forward to try and get your eyes to focus on him, but you were barely able to keep them open. Lashes fluttering as your breath became labored. He was speaking, words falling from him as he fell back on years of training. Pinging questions off one after the other, getting no response from you for even one. Unresponsive in the worst way, body completely laid out before him and eyes now completely closed. You could’ve been sleeping, as you were still for a fleeting moment.

But then you started to convulse, body fighting against the bullets that had landed deep in your body. He tried to tilt your head toward him, to avoid you biting on your tongue or choking on your own breath.

A new set of hands was taking over, gently ushering him away as paramedics appeared on the scene.

He could only hold tight to his sobbing daughter as he watched the two technicians tend to you. Your chest ceasing heaving at an alarming rate, your breath almost rattling as your lungs desperately tried to keep working.

Blinking rapidly, Frankie focused his eyes on his hands curled over the controls in front of him. He was flying, the landscape of the city and surrounding greenery, the ocean all laid out before him. He was okay, you were okay. Alexia was okay.

He was at work. He was okay.

His fingers twitched at the clueless ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the tourists clamoring for views outside the windows. Their voices coming in clear through the headsets they wore to match his own. Completely in their own world and no problems plaguing them. Carefree.

He was at work. He wasn’t okay.

He should’ve stayed with you.

He should’ve turned down the offer.

But he had run at the first opportunity. Unable to stop the events from replaying in his mind on a loop.

Preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from being able to look at you half the time. Seeing you as you had looked right after the attack, seeing you as they rushed you onto the ambulance, seeing you as your chest went completely still once loaded up. The way your body didn’t respond to the attempts of resuscitation.

Mind torturing him by projecting you laid out in an open coffin. Copper hair resting around your lifeless frame, beautiful face covered in the wrong shade of makeup, hiding the freckles that dotted your face from him. Forever closed eyelids hiding your bright eyes from him. Black dress hiding your soft skin from his twitching fingers, itching to trace the delicate ink that decorated your skin. A masterpiece taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

Shaking his head minutely, he shoved the fake notions out of his head and pivoted the helicopter toward the coast. Following and announcing the route for the tour that the people sat behind him had requested.

He was at work and he didn’t think he’d ever be okay again. But he would try for you, because you were awake and waiting for him to return to you.

He pulled his sunglasses from where the frames were hanging from his collar and covered his reddening eyes.’

“Come on, two more steps and we’re home free.” The physical therapist was encouraging in the most grating of ways. Your normally polite and civil personality being shattered by the turn of events your life had taken. It was a lot of work now, but it had been a lot of work to initially discover that you had only minimal feeling and control over your lower half. Hips sore no matter how much medicine was added to your IV, legs numb and unresponsive more often than not.

But that didn’t stop the doctor from putting you on a physical therapy track of two appointments per week. Something you had thought was a lot right off the bat but not wanting to argue. Just as angered by the quick pace as you were determined to stick to it. It was the second week since waking up, discharge looming like a storm over the horizon, visible but not yet tangible.

There had been talk about Taylor renting a home to move into for the duration of your recovery. His son being taken care of by his co-parent back home with school having started. But Frankie had offered up his own home, a flush to his caramel skin as he did so. Not having wanted to ask you to move in under such dire circumstances. But he would be lying if he said the thought of offering you a space in his home hadn’t been on his mind lately.

Taylor had offered to split his time between Frankie’s and the apartment above the shop. An outpouring of love from the community delivered to the shop and hospital in overwhelmingly equal parts. Baskets of treats, flowers, cards, vouchers for services from all around the city and local vendors. Everything was being toted back between the two spaces that were now yours.

Lex indulging in the treats as she sat with you in the afternoons after school. Homework laid out before her atop the bed as you helped her with her math and writing. Different people picking her up while Frankie returned to work, determined to put in as many hours before he took two whole weeks off to help you transition to being home once you were discharged.

But right now, you were stood on shaking legs, arms braced heavily on the bars on either side of you as you stood between the set up of the parallel bars. Sweat dripping from your hair thrown up in a haphazard bun, skin sallow from the medication you were on a strict rotation of. You had forgone shoes, insistent that you wanted to be able to feel anything should it come back to you while practicing.

Your arms were shaking, holding up the entirety of your body weight on them, muscles straining and tattoos looking distorted with the flex of them. With a huff, you shifted your hips, right leg lifting slightly and managed to shuffle it about a foot before placing your foot down flat and tipping forward to even your weight with the new stance.

“Alright, you did it!” The nurse was a kindly young man, his arms hovering behind you as he waited for you to tap out. But you sucked in a deep breath and concentrated. Shifting your left foot ahead in the same manner before a spike of pain shot up from the arch of it as you settled it flat on the mat.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, I’m out. That’s all I got.” You wavered, arms shaking and legs beginning to tingle where you could feel them.

“That’s okay, you did good today. Four steps is progress.” The nurse helped you, gathering your form in his arms and lifting to get the pressure off your aching shoulders.

Santi was in the room when you were wheeled back, no sign of Taylor or Frankie. He informed you that they were both taking care of something for you which made you feel a little uneasy that they hadn’t told you themselves the night before that they wouldn’t be in to see you today. The nurse let the man take over with helping you get back into the bed, knowing you’d rather it be someone who you knew handling you for something a little more intimate of a move.

The man’s broad shoulders tensed as he supported your nearly dead weight, completely at a loss of energy from the days activities.

“Did they say where they were going?” You inquired, voice soft as you nuzzled your face into the man’s neck. He smelled so good and you were just in a very physically affectionate mood in wake of not getting any direct attention from Frankie in the way you were too hesitant to ask for.

“Mante, you know I would tell you if I knew, but they were like school boys, shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact. I’m sure it’s just a surprise for you, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, allowing the man to situate your aching legs as best he could and covering you up with the blankets that had been brought from your apartment. He busied himself with getting a take out bag unpacked and placing containers over the collapsable table attached to the bed for you. A cup of coffee that smelled of caramel and foamed milk pressed gently into your reaching hands. He was so diligent, the soft curls of his graying hair falling over his forehead as he focused. When everything was set up, he settled into the chair beside the bed with his own container and began to dig in.

But you were still, only a sip taken from the hot coffee handed to you.

“Santi…”

“What is it, hermosa?” He looked up from his food, utensils loaded up and a bite halfway to his lips. “I get the wrong thing?”

“No,” A small smile offered to him as your heart fluttered in your chest, unsure of how to even broach the concerns that were crashing over you in overwhelming waves. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

The man watched you, eyes scanning your face as you averted your eyes. He let out a quiet sigh and set down his utensils completely, asking you to tell him what was really on your mind.

“Frankie…he, um, he-“ You felt like a complete idiot as your face heated up, tears welling in your eyes unbidden. Foolish question, it was such a foolish thing to be worried about when the man’s words were nothing but reassuring and loving. “Why won’t he kiss me, Santi?”

“Is that what you need right now?”

You warbled out an affirmative. Feeling for all the world like a pathetic lovesick fool even surrounded by everyone who you could possibly need in your life right now, everyone working together to help you in any way possible.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A shake of your head was all the answer you could muster up.

“He’s probably just trying to respect you, not wanting to put pressure on you to be that way with him if you’re too overwhelmed.” Santi went on to explain that his best friend had trouble with stuff like this, showing his affection and feelings in wake of traumatic events.

That you should try not to worry too much, though he knew that was easier said than done. To not take it personally, but he admitted to knowing that might be hard to do as well, everything so much at the moment. He reminded you that you could reach out to you with anything at any time. He would try his best to be there for you in any way that he could. Even jokingly offering to pepper kisses over your face and approaching you with overly pursed lips until you erupted into a laughing fit at how ridiculous he looked as he loomed closer. He sealed the conversation with a genuine press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hands cradling your face in their warmth before he moved back to his seat and ordered you to eat.

Across town, Taylor and Frankie had a similar conversation as a bell dinged above them where it was nestled in the doorway to a shop front. The two men determined to surprise you with something that Frankie had quietly brought up one night following your first rush into emergency surgery. An approval of sorts he had been seeking after was granted instantaneously with a smile and words of encouragement from the only other man he felt like he could share the conversation with at the moment.  

“Discharge papers should be processed by end of day, looks like you’ll be spending the night in your own bed.” The doctor offered you a small smile. She had been worried about having you under her care when she found out you were a once trained medical technician, knowing how bad of a patient she was when sick herself. But you had surprised her, not talking over her or voicing opinions on what needed to be done. It had been another week, progress made in physical therapy.

You were able to walk the length of the parallel bars, slowly and with a lot of huffing and puffing. But it cleared you for outpatient treatment. The feeling in your legs was spotty, coming to you mostly in the mornings when you first woke up and at the end of the day after resting for a few hours. Something she was only mildly worried about, muscle atrophy from being unconscious for so long lingering even now.

But she had been confident that the feeling would come back completely, though she was honest when she said she was worried about numbness flaring up.

That’s how you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck as he pulled into the drive of his house. He was waiting for the garage to open, in order to make it easier for you to walk straight into the laundry room instead of having to attempt to tackle the stairs to the front door. Everyone would be over tomorrow, to celebrate your release. Giving you a free night to settle in and mentally deal with the shift in environments. Lex would be at her grandparents so Frankie could focus on getting you settled.

“One moment, just…want to get something set up before I help you out, okay?” His earnest gaze widened his beautiful eyes, watching you and making sure you were alright to be left alone for a moment. He was through the door and back in the garage in a matter of minutes, a shy smile aimed at you as he helped you down and got a walked ready for you. It had a cushioned seat in the middle, in case you needed to take any breaks when trying to move about. Something you wanted to argue but didn’t have a good one against.

You felt…weird. Having to rely on him so much, but extremely grateful that he was willing to. You’d seen friendships and relationships fall apart with this much stress and similar situations. Both as a professional and a civilian, as a friend. You only hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last things he did for you before telling you it was too much, that you were too much. Love could only encompass so much before it wasn’t enough to hold two individuals together.

Melancholic and depressive thoughts abundant as you tried to come to terms with what the near future would hold for an unknowable amount of time. There was no timeline with things like this and that’s what worried you the most. What if you had flares of numbness for the rest of your life, what if he began to see you as a burden, as work he had to come back to after doing his shifts at the mechanics and his flying tours. What if all your progress was meaningless and you woke up one day with no feeling at all?

He had hushed you on more than one occasion with soft words, promises he wouldn’t do that. Promises that he was yours, that you were his, that you were in this together. But doubt crept in regardless. Even more so in the realization that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. He was quick to dodge your advances, placing placating touches of his lips to your hair instead; of pulling you tighter to his body instead. Almost as if he was hesitant to show you affection in that way and it was hard to handle when all you wanted was that type of comfort from the man you loved so completely.

His hands were warm as he supported your weight, but he didn’t shift you down to the ground completely, instead he pulled you flush against him. Your own arms tightened around his neck, feet barely touching the ground as he ducked his head to kiss you fully for the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed. You melted into him even more, welcoming his lips against yours reverently, desperately.

The plush give of them against your own feeling like a true welcome home.

Shifting your hands up into his soft hair, you knocked the cap clear of his head as you parted your lips for him. He held you tight, not risking you putting too much weight on your own feet for even a second as he kissed you again and again, lips meeting yours in a dizzying display of his unfettered affection. Pulling at his curls, you pivoted his head to deepen another kiss, desperate for his touch and his taste. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes slowly, watching the way his face was completely relaxed. The lines of his age smoothed out slightly as he moved to peck one last kiss to your slick lips.

He had set the table up before picking you up, at home during the day as he had received your hopeful text about the paperwork this morning. But he had run inside to pull everything from where it was keeping warm in the oven, lighting twin tapers set in the middle of the dining table. You tried to hide the squeal of surprise as he lifted you up completely, choosing to carry you bridal style over the threshold of the house and through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

“Frankie, you didn’t have to do all this.” You placed a kiss to his cheek as he carefully set you down into a chair, making sure your legs were situated how you wanted them. “I woulda been happy with a fast-food drive thru, you know that.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.” He moved over to the closest chair, settling down into it with a sigh. He looked nervous, you realized as you took in the dinner had had made before picking you up. One of your favorite dishes filling the kitchen with its tantalizing scent. The boys had snuck in food from time to time, but it had mostly been bland hospital food for a majority of the last three weeks.

Frankie cleared his throat, your eyes lifting from the items on the table and toward him.

In his hands was an emerald velvet box, open to reveal a simple gold band with a sparkling rhombus diamond in the middle.

Your lips parted, a gasp falling from them as your heart stuttered hard in your chest. Hands dropping the utensils you had just picked up clattered to the table and you stared across the table at him. At a complete loss for words as he nervously shifted in his seat and leaned closer toward you to take your hands in his own, the small box set down gently beside your plate. His hands were shaking slightly, his nerves obvious as he bared his soul to you with his next words.

“Sweet girl, I know things are going to be touch and go for a long while,” He took a deep breath, chest pulling the fabric of his shirt taut with the action. His tongue peaked between his lips, a habit you noticed when he had a lot on his mind, and he was trying to sort through everything. “But I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with us, with you and me. You have me, you have me until the moment you decide you don’t anymore. I hope you don’t ever change your mind because I’ve been gone on you since the second you aimed that glare in my direction all those months ago. Will- will you do the honor of marrying me?”

Tears welled up the longer you looked at him, his eyes so wide and open, his voice cradling you with his earnest words. All you could do was nod, voice caught in your throat.

He let out a deep exhale, pulling a giggle from you when he broke out into the widest, goofy smile you had seen on him yet. You mirrored him, lips pulling as you squeezed his hands and leaned forward to rest your forehead against them clasped together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Fransisco. Of course.” You kissed the tops of his hands, one and then the other before you were pushing yourself up slightly, tentatively placing weight on your legs and surging forward to kiss him.

He only let you get away with one before he was standing from his seat and kneeling in front of you with the box in his hands. He carefully removed the ring from its spot nestled safely inside the velvet cushion and you held out your left hand for him. It took a second for him to place it securely on your ring finger, snug and perfect against your skin. It glittered in the candlelight and you felt a tear run down your cheek.

Frankie’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips connecting with yours as he chuckled breathlessly at having managed to pull out the surprise proposal. At your resounding yes. At the prospect of a concrete future with you.

“I love you so much, thank you for...for everything.”

“I love you too, you dork,” Your laugh sparkled against his parted lips. “I can’t believe you just thanked me for agreeing to marry you.”

“Well, you could’ve said no.”

“Not in a million years.”

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taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

[crusaderce]

welcome to my ted talk, reasons why killing crowley off like this was stupid.

okay so I'm going to get right into it, killing crowley off like this just lost so much potential to a story with his character, why? various reasons of course. one of the biggest reasons was it doesn't feel earned.

what do I mean by that? exactly that, it doesn't feel earned because the manga never gave the time nor day after the fight with ky luc to actually explore crowley other than being a body shield for ferid- that tiny part of a page that had crusader crowley? worthless if you don't choose to explore more about it. unless you've actually taken the time to read the vampire light novels ( which only crowley had one- and as far as I'm aware was never english translated, you have to go off fan translations ) you typically wouldn't feel anything too much for this guy other than 'he has potential i suppose'.

and potential he had. going from the beginning, crowley was a ranked 13th progenitor that had the secret ability of being a 7th progenitor due to the blood he was given when he was turned, which ended up being blood from rigr ( saito / 2nd progenitor )- this fact was only used perhaps twice ( maybe trice ) in the series, one when crowley confronted a 10th progenitor and than another time when blocking urd's attack to which urd states he had been holding back. can we really say that this potential was even used when he was killed off this soon? not to mention that we still have no information of the michaela gene nor what that does for crowley's character either. not to mention he never even goes against saito/rigr nor truly had a reason to even want to take revenge on the man, if anything that should be targeted to ferid.

wasted character. during the time in the manga when crowley and the shinoa squad leave for ferid's manor, we get a clip in which ferid teases crowley through the letters and mentions 'protecting your comrades' to which even crowley gets flustered over the idea of having comrades once again and even perhaps sparking a bit of humanity back into the man. this could've been a wonderful exploration of vampires not losing all sense of self and humanity ( which honestly is already a topic itself )- but this could've been pushed to develop a sorta parental or at least mentor caring situation and thus reflects his relationship with his comrades during the time he was human. it would've made an interesting and wonderful parallel, of course that didn't happen because the manga just ends up pushing him to be a true lackey of ferid- which goes against crowley's character in some regards. he always viewed ferid as 'he's insane but entertaining to watch' but you cannot tell me that he ever trusted ferid, not with how much he questioned ferid and even talked about much about their interactions. crowley was simply in it for entertainment and it should've stopped when the premise of others becoming comrades came into play.

the manga's plot is trying too many things. another reason for this is because the manga itself is just not having a true plot line anymore, there are at least four characters that have different motivations for the world and what the main characters need to fight against. shikama doji is just one of them, and honestly at this point isn't even as the biggest problem. a lot of it doesn't make too much sense anymore and the it feels like the plot is now rushing and some of the consequences being in wasting character's potential. crowley is one of them, shikama is certainly one of them as well- many of the side characters or antagonist have suffered along with power-scaling that doesn't make sense anymore. the vampires don't feel strong anymore, the ANGEL OF EARTH doesn't even feel powerful if mere children can defeat him without much effort?? overall nothing feels at risk anymore, its more or less just waiting to see who pulls the trigger first rather than fearing for someone, it's watching a car wreck that you cannot look away from.

if they planned on killing off crowley, i was okay with that- i expected it. however i expected them to tie it heavily into his backstory, to which i once more comment that he is the only vampire that actually has a light novel about him and everything in his backstory and human life- if they wanted to kill him off the best way to do that would to be going off with protecting someone. to really get at emotions and feel his death is impactful. instead they give us a cheap shock value that also completely crumbled crowley's character along with horn and chess, who were revealed to die off screen, which was completely horrible and honestly it feels bad knowing that two women were killed off screen after not having mentions for years. it doesn't make sense and feels wrong with the characters even if they were minor characters in the same situation as lacus and rene ( even they had a mention once or twice since horn and chess last appeared ) - this ruined the series for me even more, it wasted characters and failed to give anything interesting follow up for a cheap thrill of shock. crowley, horn, and chess are wasted characters even after giving them time to shine literally in the beginning of this series and ultimately it amounted to nothing. crowley- after the ky luc fight could've just disappeared and it wouldn't have changed anything in the series.

i won't get too much into the other characters, but with the information and story following yuu and mika- it feels so dragged out and honestly overcomplicated? like they wanted to add more than what was needed and it simply feels like we are seeing completely different characters than we were first introduced to, or even followed up to a certain point of the manga. the actions taken especially by yuu feels wrong to his character and have basically made him 'mika is my only thing' which feels icky when you think back about how much he cared about family which would've included the shinoa squad. the whole idea of him being like 'well i'm doing something that keeps mika and everyone else with me!' is such a foolish approach and the fact that mika himself is following along with it feels wrong to his character as well. shikama doji has also so much wasted potential, he lost all threatening when he got captured and has not one a single fight and apparently everyone can just look into his memories now- his name sika madu doesn't make sense ( he is clearly suppose to be a Lucifer character but refuse to give him the name )- even though the series begun with the idea of 'fallen angel michael' which how can you say links to mikaela when mikaela was never considered a true angel and was taboo to everything they represented?

i don't want to outright say that kagami is a horrible writer because i enjoyed the series in the beginning, it kept me invested up and even after the ky luc fight, but everything past chapter 95-100 just feels ... boring, too complicated, and it doesn't make full sense? I'm not sure if I can push the blame on kagami or the editors because its hard to tell what is still the original idea and what is pushed to keep readers going. over all the series has gone further downhill and i can't really say i am all too interested in how it ends anymore, maybe i'll still keep watching the fire burn or just wait till its ash.

[kharmii]

small apology here, my rant about fakers, fauxtism and all that.

Gotta admit that I have stopped BNHA a few years ago. Not because I thought it was bad. I still like the world building and characters and how a lot of the Quirks reflect the personalities from everyone, I just didn't fully vibe with the direction the series took when it shifted away a little to hard from the academy life and all that. But gotta agree on Todoroki on all the points you've made. And I reach out to you in sympathy to you. Considering everything you've likely been through you have become incredibly strong, even if a little rough around the edges but honestly considering how things online are it's no wonder... I really admire you for being headstrong and being above so much stuff. And from your examples I also see that it's also from others being "others" causing more harm than good.

I have my own catalogue of examples of others having caused my depressions and anxieties (on top of many other things) and sometimes my attempts to step out of situations were outright ignored or dismissed. Too often others CAUSE people to react certain ways. And it really is just insulting when I see people see medical conditions as an aesthetic or a quirky personality trait or worse a free pass to be an asshole towards others "you can't be mad at me cause of my autism I dont know any better" bs

either way just wanting to know I really appreciated you talking about yourself and Todoroki and if anything it made me appreciate you even more.

Thanks for this! Tell me if I'm wrong because I like to play armchair shrink, (and it's totally projection) but is some of the resentment over fakers/fauxtism because they make it look fun and easy? -Like look at me! I'm (neurodivergent/mentally ill) and am having this great time expressing my quirkiness and individuality! I'm expressing my asshattery in a sassy and quirky way that will by no means create a fallout worse than the condition itself! People find me interesting after all!

Meanwhile, suffering from the abuse survivor's form of the 'tism, I've got the thousand-yard stare of that person not allowed to be quirky a day in my life. The slightest bit of weird behavior immediately got smacked down, and sometimes I'd be going about my normal business and get attacked out of nowhere wondering what I did this time. Then I get labeled as being cold and soul-less, like wait...are you saying that I'm not allowed to express my individuality in any way, but when I get that much closer to achieving 'perfection', then I'm accused of not having a personality at all? There has to be some sort of middle ground that every human being on earth is allowed except me.

Then there's the old 'Why don't you (x) like other (x)?' from Stalker Guy that couple times when we were still good. It was never anything having to do with a personality, more like yet another person trying to play puppeteer molding me into an ideal.

I just got into BNHA in January and had to limit myself to 3-4 episodes a day so I didn't binge burn through them. The X-Men fan in me loved the idea of a society of complex mutants, even with a greater suspension of disbelief. The "Hellish Todorokis" were a draw. At first, Shoto was such a 'blah' character, but then there's the first good abuse analogy where he wouldn't use his fire side because he didn't want to be like the dad he was pissed at. Ironically, some of his personality might be from abuse, but some of his stoicism and coldness might be because he actually takes after Endeavor. That's part of why Endeavor could never have hoped to become #1 or breed a future #1. Maybe he didn't understand that the sensitive warm-hearted All Might was the symbol of peace because he was one-part superpowers and one-part good public relation skills. :-P

The Endeavor redemption arc was good, even though the fandom got worked up about it. Come on now, it's okay for people to apologize and feel regret for the terrible things they did (how refreshing of a concept), and it's not like his family was like 'all is forgiven; let's pretend like it never happened'. They were still angry and hurting but willing to work toward a better relationship going forward. That's realistic and reasonable.

Every so often, I'll think to google if Dabi is still alive, but I shouldn't hold out hope. -Or maybe one could see it like...if he has to live his life blind and missing an arm, he's better off deceased.

As much as I loved Todoroki drama, it was the Meta Liberation Army that really grabbed me. What a waste of potential they all were! Maybe kids might be bored with them and happy they were one-shot villains, but as an adult, I loved the politician who used 'incite' to get the useful idiots going, or the goofball CEO doubling as a secret cult leader, or the skulking creepy hacker in charge of intel. Then there's my Himura ship I'm not advertising as incest because, even if I couldn't care less either way if it was or not, I'm sick of the foaming at the mouth crazies getting worked up about it. A person could be trying their absolute hardest to write a decent story in good faith, and the antis will glom onto the stupid kink and make it 100% defined by it.

[anbu-legacy]

In canon Kakashi is too unstable and morally sound for anbu. He cannot live with what is being asked of him in anbu even though he completes his missions with extreme diligence. When he is kicked out it is for his own good. legacy Kakashi has absolutely 0 problems killing even innocent civilian children and babies. I can think of few things worse than that and yet he does it almost blithely and sleeps like a rock after. I'm curious to know if you went with this diverging take as a logical consequence of the things Kakashi would be okay doing had he been doing them for Minato and not hiruzen? Or was it something else which made you deviate from his canon characterisation in this regard? (Hope i'm not overstepping by asking I'm really fascinated with the legacy universe and love the world you've built so I'm curious about the process of it all)

The simplest answer to this is that the section of canon you're talking about came out after Fallen Leaves and ANBU Legacy began.

The less simple answer is... oi, canon.

So, in canon, Kakashi's journey is thus:

Rin is kidnapped by Kirigakure at the end of the Third War, who implants the Three-Tails into her (how??) as part of a Cunning Plan to have it unleashed on Konoha when she inevitably loses control. Kakashi 'rescues' her. Rin begs Kakashi to kill her, because that is clearly the only solution to this issue, it's not like there are MULTIPLE SEAL-MASTERS at home who could unimplant the Three Tails, death is the only option. Kakashi refuses. Convenient Kiri-nin attack. Rin commits suicide-via-Raikiri by jumping in front of Kakashi. Kakashi gains the Mangekyo and we fridge yet another female character, hooray.

Kakashi becomes depressed. (In the anime, people start calling him Friend-Killer Kakashi. Wow, Konoha.)

Minato decides the fix for this is to toss Kakashi into ANBU. Because what 14-year-old wouldn't be cured of survivor's guilt by committing more murder? It's the perfect plan!

The plan does not work. Kakashi does splendidly in ANBU, becoming a captain and taking command of Team Ro, but -- and I'm quoting from Naruto wiki here -- 'his successes were owed to his cold behavior and his ruthlessness in combat, signs that he was still upset by Rin's death'.

(A little aside here: Kakashi is effectively becoming god's perfect killing machine, the blade of Konoha, the tiny angel of death; everything you want in, you know, your elite special forces, and I'm still trying to figure out what Minato's actual goal was here. Did he tell Kakashi that the point of ANBU was to make Kakashi get over Obito and Rin, or did he just say something like 'Konoha needs your services', and has been moving the secret goal posts ever since? Because it's very hard for someone to participate in their active recovery if they don't actually know they're in therapy.)

Anyway. ANBU isn't working to make Kakashi get over his death wish, so Minato decides, hey, why don't you look after my pregnant wife instead? Except that he assigns it as a mission, so Kakashi treats it like a mission, which means he stalks Kushina from the shadows like a feral cat for several months.

Which brings us to the Nine-Tails. So, Minato dies. Kushina dies (failed your mission AGAIN, Kakashi!). The Third apparently imprisons most of Kakashi's generation in a bubble of protection to stop them from helping, for which there isn't enough "what???" in the world, so we're gonna skip right on past that.

Next is a whole series of events where Danzou tries to corrupt Kakashi, Tenzou is introduced, we find out about Root, Orochimaru does his various war crime experiments and escapes, Root is destroyed (or is it??), Tenzou joins ANBU, we meet Itachi, Itachi massacres the Uchiha, and so on. This all takes place over several years. After the Uchiha massacre, the Third feels like "individuals with kind hearts" don't belong in ANBU, so he pulls Kakashi out, and instead charges him with teaching teenagers how to commit murder.

And that's canon.

So, Legacy. Here are the key differences:

Rin doesn't die

Minato doesn't die

Kakashi's mother doesn't die

The Third does die

Kakashi doesn't join ANBU until he's eighteen

The Uchiha massacre hasn't occurred

Instead of getting knocked from pillar to post and punted into ANBU, Kakashi spends the ages of 14 - 18 on (mostly solo) Jounin missions, building up his skillset. He has support from Minato and Rin, an entirely new, anchoring, and happy relationship with Naruto, and more time to grow into himself. His ties to Konoha are much, much stronger. In Legacy, Danzou would have no chance of tempting Kakashi (and knows it).

When Kakashi joins ANBU, it's a choice. He goes into it knowing exactly what's going to be asked of him, and if he wasn't sure before, Minato removes all doubt:

“The Special Assassination and Tactical Squad is neither Konoha’s oldest division nor its noblest,” Minato said, with a conversational air, and Kakashi realized this wasn’t a prepared speech. This was just Minato laying out the facts like he always did, grounding the extraordinary in regular context. “Even inside the village, ANBU are feared more than they’re respected. Citizens of our own village still call them baby-killers. Some ANBU have earned that title, under my command. You may.” He paused. “I have given those orders personally. Every order the ANBU receive comes through me. Sometimes the command is to protect the village, or to conduct a high-risk mission into enemy territory, or to assassinate an exceptionally strong ninja. Sometimes it’s to sustain the village’s lifeblood—to accept a mission so foul I can’t offer it to the regular forces, to work for a client whose motives and methods are reprehensible but whose coin will feed and protect our children. You’ve accepted that first kind of mission, and excelled. Can you accept the second?”

“Yes,” said Kakashi, without hesitation.

(From Take the Mask)

The oath Kakashi swore was this:

I am Hatake Kakashi, ANBU. I have no face but this face.

I have no heart, but the heart of Konohagakure.

I have no will, but the will of my Hokage.

Which is a little worryingly vague, when you think about it.

Kakashi knows he will be asked to kill. He knows he may be asked to commit much worse actions for Konoha. As much as he can, he's made his peace with that. There are orders he would struggle with, but ultimately his moral compass points to home.

He's a shinobi first. Personhood comes second.

-- DK

[kylosgenesis]

Teardrops on fire

Synopsis:

Steve Rogers is the last Alpha of the an almost extinct Lycan pack. With only less than 100 members left. Steve must produce an heir to ensure the species survival and reduce the chance of attacks from others. Omegas are rare, and betas have a hard time producing children. Steves reality is finally setting in as his obligation of producing an heir faces a major set back.

Reader is the last suitable omega to mate with Steve, due to the fear of her daughters fate in the pack, her mother kept her hidden from the pack after her own exile. Only her mother, and Bucky's family know of her existence. Bucky is Steve's right hand man, and the packs best warrior! He and the reader developed a friendship and bond over the years, but age forced them to become distant.

What happens when she presents and her first heat cycle comes? Her body is in excruciating pain and a strong fever quickly overcomes her body. Facing the fear of her daughters possible death, her mom calls on the only person who can save her at this point, Alpha Steve! Bucky and the alphas friendship will be tested. The reader will be faced with her love for Bucky or her duty to the pack.

Warnings: Mentions of death , A/B/O dynamics

Chapter 3: Leave a light on

Bucky and Steve packed a suitcase of supplies, they both knew it was a race against time at this point. Her body would become weak without the pheromones of an alpha, her changing hormones wouldn't be able to adapt for her body's transition into her designation. Her own body would become her worst enemy right now, and if they didn't make it in time she could die in a pool of her own slick and sweat as her body struggled to accommodate the change.

That was one of the reasons omegas became so rare! Over the course of thousands of years their bodies began to change.Even with an alpha, sometimes the transition was too much on their bodies! Not many would make it. The omega’s that did were meant to be the strongest women the packs had to offer, their wombs strong , healthy, and ready to accommodate an alpha.

There was an old wives tale that would travel around the packs about a perfect mate, a bond so strong that would turn two souls and bodies into one. Soul that have been meant to be together since the beginning of time, like a puzzle piece waiting for it’s perfect match .Always calling for each other! One way or another prevailing.

People stopped believing in those kinds of stories a long time ago!

“Steve,Is that everything?” Bucky was loading up the bags into the truck. His mother and Katerina had headed back to the cabin, hoping to get a head start and try to explain to her what would be going on. I believe so! We still don't know what we're walking into… Steve furrowed his brow with his hand. His free hand on his lower back. “Hell Buck! I don't even know what i'm supposed to do! Hey I'm Steve, you don't know me but i'm here to take you away from everything you've ever known… also I kinda have to mate with you to save your life.``

“I know it doesn't sound like the best plan! But it's all we can do right now.” Bucky wanted to reassure his friend, tell him it was all going to be alright. Deep down he himself was feeling uneasy. He wanted to crawl out of his skin. Why did their nature have to be like this? He felt like they were not that evolved from animals when it came to heats. She was probably scared, he wanted to reassure his friend that she would be okay with him.

Bucky remembered leaving her all those years ago. It broke his heart! Deep down Bucky didn't even want to see her. He couldn't live with the look of disappointment she'd give him. Or worse what if she wasn't disappointed, what if it was like the years didn't go by between them. How could he handle seeing her gentle eyes, knowing he couldn't return the same look back.

It wasn't even a question anymore! Any dream involving her he's had for the past ten years had to be thrown away! He had to forget her smile, her laugh, her smell! She was never meant to be his and now more than ever he had to put his pack first.

Bucky gave Steve a reassuring smile and motioned to the truck, they were losing daylight and they both had a long night ahead of them. Both lost within their own thoughts!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She felt like she was being torn apart!

Yes, she's had some bad cramps during her cycle, but this pain was different! If felt like she was being completely ripped apart from the inside. She felt weak and both terribly hot and freezing at the same time.

She had this strong feeling to just stay in bed at the back of her mind, but she just couldn't let herself waste away in bed waiting for her mother. Her mom had called winifred after this morning, within the hour they were both gone! They said they'd be back my sundown with some supplies and someone who might help her. As the pain intensified she readied herself to go get some things that could help alleviate her. She remembered her mom taught her this recipe with mint, nuts, and berries, back when she had first gotten her period; many years ago. Sometimes when she was out fishing or hunting and she felt her body start to feel strange, she'd look for those, and boil some water for a tea. It provided instant relief for her, and she'd go back to her day like nothing happened.

Gathering the strength and courage; she walked out of the comfort of her cabin for a quick trip to get those three things. If only she could just have that tea ready, it would make the time waiting for her mom to get back bearable.She knew the woods like the back of her hand, she'd done it countless times where she knew where everything would be.

As she trekked further and further into the woods! She remembered she'd spotted a new mint bush a few days ago, with the old one in the opposite direction she decided to just to just go with her memory and find that one.

Even though she knew these woods by heart, her pounding head and aching body made it a struggle for her focus long enough to orient herself.

She stopped to catch her breath and suddenly felt aware of the heat taking over her body. In the distance, the sounds of the running current of the creek, screamed for her to just get in to find some relief. All she wanted was just to dip her feet in and feel the water run beneath her feet.

The icy water prickled through her skin and it showed her more than the heat did, eventually her body and mind relaxed and she just closed her eyes for what felt like two seconds.

Suddenly the floor beneath was overtaken by a current, she was too weak to swim or fight .So she just let the current run its course; dragging along her weakened body.

In just an instant! She was harshly dragged away from the little bit of forest she knew!

She woke up hours later in the darkness!

The current had dumped her near the bank.

She could tell it was still territory, but it was all unknown and new to her. She definitely did not have the strength to follow the stream, so with what little strength she had, she started a fire! She laid down next to it hoping that morning would come soon, and give her the strength she needed to return home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they exited the car they could smell her, but it was lingering and faded. Bucky’s senses were on fire! That smell drove him insane. It awoke every muscle in his being, he’s partially glad that it wasn’t fully her, just the lingering trace of her scent.

He couldn’t do that to Steve. He had to mask his face, pretend she didn’t smell like air after you’ve been holding your breath for ten years.

“Where is she ?” Steve was worried, not only was this his omega, but she was a part of his pack now. His Alpha nature led him to worry about her, even if he didn't fully know her or understood her yet.

All Steve knew is that he felt drawn to her! He needed to protect her and care for her! Seeing the small cabin was like a punch to his gut! He couldn't believe that there were people in his pack living like this.

The roof needed work, the inside was just enough to be considered cozy, but not comfortable!. It was all patched together! He understood that it was the best that they could do with the circumstances, but his heart was swelling with pride at the idea of bringing his omega to his home. For her to finally know comfort, and not want for anything, he'd take better care of her than his own self. Her smell told him everything he needed to know about her, it was like she was made for him, and he was made for her,

Steve looked to Katerina and back to Bucky.

He couldn't understand how this place had been here for such a long time without him knowing about it, Steve remembered his dad's cruel nature. It wasn't beneath him to cast out a pregnant woman to fend for herself, but why hasn't she tried coming back once his father had died. Steve would have let them back! He knew why she was scared and distrustful of him. He probably reminded her of the person who took her life from her.

As the sky grew darker it became impeccably evident that something had gone terribly wrong. Bucky knew it! He had a bad feeling sinking at the pit of his stomach. No experienced hunter, like herself would be out past sundown. The woods become too dangerous and unforgiving even to experienced people.

Bucky taught her to know the woods. She could track.! If she’s out there she’s probably injured and in a bad situation. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ Clint, Nat, you guys will take the northern side of the river, there's a lot of territory there so I trust you guys will be okay as a team!,” Steve was guiding them to a spot marked on the map, he drew a circle through the section with with finger the over caressing his chin in thought.

“Tony, you will cover the west end on the river… over by this side” Bucky said over Steves planning and was pointing Tony to his designated research area.

Bucky and Steve had gone into a full missing persons mission. They had mapped out the territory and had called the strongest members of the pack. Most of them were a part of the packs defense team. They were all loyal to Steve and led by Bucky as the commander of the pack's small army.

Bucky’ s mind was not at the best place! He was slowly becoming more feral with desperation. “What if an outsider smelled her and crossed territories?” The thought was just too dangerous to entertain and Bucky kept going!

After hours of searching, the search party grew cold, hungry, and tired! Steve was called off the search party as the weather grew harsher, he was worried about his pack. They had families to tend to, and needed rest.

Steve was going in by himself, and Bucky wasn’t about to let his best friend do it alone. Going in just by themselves would be a risk, but they both knew how strong they had to be! They could rest later! She was all that mattered right now!

He wouldn’t stop searching till he had turned every rock on the territory! Every little corner if this damn reserve would be searched! He would find his ... Steve’s mega.

Bucky was the best tracker in his pack and even neighboring packs. If anyone needed anybody or anything found, Bucky was the best in the business. He was strong, determined, and could be ruthless with deserters who would try to run away from the pack after stealing or injuring a member!. Nobody had made it past the territory without Bucky catching them first.

They called him the Winter Soldier! While others found the harsh temperatures, and unforgiving terrain hard to navigate and specially survive; Bucky seemed to read the wind and knew how to use the weather to his advantage. He was the best there was.

If he could not find her he might as well never find anybody else in his entire life. He count fail her. He needed her!...She needed him!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her whole body ached!

She couldn’t get up from this one. She knew she’d only survive a few hours, maybe a day or two without food, and in this weather. She just placed herself inside a hollow trunk, and cradled her body to preserve as much heat as possible. She was thankful that the fever was a bit of a heat source, but cursed at the cold chills it gave her. Soon her body relaxed and she wondered what death would feel like.

She thought of her life.

Her mom.

It hurt so much when she thought of him! As she thought of him, her heart was agonizing in longing, but her body was slowly responding. Her fever had subsided, and she tried stepping out of the trunk. She stumbled and lost her footing, but just as she was about to collapse near the now extinguished fire, she felt a pair of strong arms break her fall.

She thought she was probably dead now!

Looking at her, where the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen! His hair now at his shoulders, and a beard forming around his face. He looked different than her mind had imagined him all these years. She allowed herself to relax in his arms, and her eyes filled with tears as she passed out; surrounded by his smell , and waiting for this delusion to be over.

They said death had a way of making people feel comfort, and happiness before the light at the end. But this seemed so real! she wasn't scared of dying anymore, she was scared he wouldn't be there if she woke up again.

Tags: @austynparksandpizza @connie326 @nerdgirljen @exposition-belongs-somewhere

[mandoalorian]

The Way of Betrayal [Din Djarin x Reader]

Summary: Din Djarin finally meets other Mandalorians, and he learns the truth about his creed. Confused and hurting, he begins to over think, and so it's your job to comfort the Mandalorian and promise him that you'll love him no matter who he is or where he comes from

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: none really, a little bit of guilt and anxiety I suppose.

Authors note: I know I always write a smut based around the new episode but.. as a TCW/Rebels fan, chapter eleven hit hard. I had been theorising about Din being a Death Watch foundling on my twitter literally since season one came out and now that it's been confirmed… my feelings are all over the place. So I knocked up this fluff/angst. It's a little painful but let's preserve.

~ gif by firedragon04

When the leader of Clan Kryze, Bo Katan, removed her helmet, it came as a surprise to you. You couldn't even imagine how it made Din feel. His whole body tensed up, shock coursing through his veins.

Waves crashed against the hull of the ship, the cold air stinging your skin as you nursed the child in your arms. You covered him in your cloak slightly, protecting him from any further attacks. You hushed him gently, rocking him up and down as his big dark eyes blinked up at you. You gently stroked the light white hairs on his little green head and he gave you a tired smile. "You're okay, little one." you whispered out as he settled in your arms.

It wasn't just Bo Katan, but stood by her side were two other Mandalorians, both helmetless. You half expected Din to remove his helmet, despite you knowing that it was against the code of his creed. You were baffled, to say the least. You and your boyfriend were now stood before three Mandalorians, each one helmetless. Of course, there could be a chance that they weren't Mandalorian at all; and that their armour was stolen. It seemed as though Din shared the same thought process as you.

"Where did you get that Mandalorian armour?" he gritted out. "Nobody is allowed to remove their helmet."

"Oh, he's one of those." Said the girl with dark hair, bitterness dripping from her tongue.

Din didn't move an inch, his fingers cautiously gliding over the blaster in his holster. You didn't like her attitude, or the way she spoke to Din. You wanted to rip that smirk from her lips; but you knew that acting irrationally would only get you and your Mando in more trouble than necessary.

"One of what." Din's question came out as a more gruff statement, anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. He didn't have time for games.

Bo Katan hesitated for a moment, her amber eyes becoming glossy as traumatic memories swarmed over her. "Death Watch," she tried to remain composed but her explanation came out as a shaky exhale. "You were a foundling of the Death Watch. They're traditionalists, trying to rebuild the way of Mandalore so it remains the way it was intended to. They're a violent faction of Mandalorians. Your creed are responsible for the death of many Mandalorians, including my sister, Duchess Satine of Mandalore."

You knew of this. You had heard of this before. The prolonged silence was unbearable and you decided to speak up. Din was clearly struggling to process Bo Katan's words.

"We don't know what you're talking about," You sighed. "We have been tasked to bring this little one to the Jedi. We've come from far away places, just for some intel. Just to find you. Outer rim to inner rim. We need help."

"You really don't get it, do you?" Bo Katan frowned. Din remained silent and your grip tightened around the child as you took a step forward, breaking any distance between you and the red headed Mandalorian.

"Can you help us?" You asked finally, not wanting Bo Katan to expel any more information that could confuse or hurt Din. You knew he couldn't bear to hear the words that Bo Katan spoke, and to you, it didn't matter anyway.

You had heard of the Death Watch; but your father had always told you it was an ancient folk tale during the Clone Wars. He told you of clan leader Pre Vizsla and how he worked with Darth Maul to overthrow Duchess Satine. And now you were learning that it could all be true, and that your Mando could be part of it. You wondered how much Din knew about it.

Despite all of this, it was something you could see past. You knew Din better than anyone else in the whole world. You knew that he is not capable of Death Watch crimes. You could never judge him for his creed.

"We can help you. I know of… a Jedi…" Bo Katan folded her strong arms over her chest. "But you need to help us first. I'm looking for a certain Mandalorian weapon and I've received word that it's in the hands of an Ex-Imp. There's an Imperial transport leaving docking bay 94 at dawn and we plan on scavenging it for at least information on the weapon. Your help would be greatly appreciated."

Din loosened up, finally moving his gaze from the floor, back to Bo-Katan. For a moment and looked down at you, holding his garbling child in your arms. You and the child were his life, and he hated leaving you both. Since met you, he found himself caring more about you and the child, than he did himself. Mandalorian's are taught to be selfish, but you taught him compassion and love, something he valued a lot more. He was your protector. His mind returned back to Bo Katan's plot and he didn't like the sounds of it. He knew this would be a Mandalorian only mission, and that you wouldn't be able to join him.

The Razor Crest was in bits, and every native Din had already encountered had tried to kill him for his beskar, or kidnap you, or drown the child for shark food. There was no safe place you could stay. Sure, you were strong, but Din needed the confidence that he could protect you. He didn't want to leave your side.

"I'll consider it." Din replied and you knotted your eyebrows together in bewilderment. He wasn't sure if he could go through with the mission if it meant leaving you and the child behind. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to return the child to the Jedi; but he was quested to do so by his creed. The same creed he now learnt were Mandalorian terrorists during the Clone Wars.

"You know where to find us," Bo Katan smiled politely. "This is the way." she said before the three Mandalorians put their helmets back on and jetted off the ship and into the velvety night sky.

"What do you mean, consider it?" You asked Din, dropping a hand to your hip. "You've come this far. This could be your only chance to find the Jedi. You have to help them."

Din's knees felt weak, all this information was too much. The Mandalorian could handle a lot. He could survive a lot. But this was hard to take in. Your words were scrambled to him and with a wobble he fell backwards into a box of crates. You gently placed the child down and ran towards him, grabbing his hand and pulling him up, sitting him on an extended plank of wood. "Are you okay?" you asked, concern filling your eyes.

"Nngh, I don't know. I don't know if I can trust them." Din admitted, looking into the ocean. You slipped your hands into Din's and began to rub comforting circles through his gloved fingers.

"I've heard stories about Clan Kryze… and Duchess Satine. I've heard of the invasion of Mandalore, and all about Death Watch. They… they've done bad things to a lot of people." You felt Dins hand tense up at your words. "But that doesn't mean you're a bad person. I think it just means we can trust her."

Din looked at you. "They… they removed their helmets. All this time I've been telling you I can't but maybe I've been wrong."

"I don't care what they look like under their helmets. I don't care what you look like under yours. Because I fell in love with your heart, Din. And if you still don't want to remove your helmet, then I respect that."

"I feel so foolish." Din admitted and you shook your head. You sighed, leaning into him and curling up on his lap. The child clambered up his knees and shuffled in between you two for comfort. "Look cyar’ika, our little family." Din hummed with delight, running a gloved finger through your hair. "Promise me, no matter what, no matter who I am or where I come from, you won't leave me."

"I promise Din."

"Because I don't think I can live without you, sweet girl," Din croaked out, his heart breaking at the mere thought of losing you. "I wish I could take my helmet off for you and the kid. I wish I could show you who I really am."

You cupped the curve of his beskar helmet and looked into his visor. "I know who you really are Din, and I love you for it. Whatever happens next, we will figure it out together."

Permanent taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!): @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic

[janetbrown711]

"you've always been strong for me. let me return the favor." Angelina 2 to William 🥺

To say William woke up feeling refreshed would be the most obvious lie of all time. 

His first thought in his painfully groggy head of his was of his location. From what he could sense, it wasn’t familiar. The beds felt cheap, nothing like the royal silk sheets he had gotten used to at the palace. 

His second thought was of Lena. He couldn’t feel her presence, which caused him to snap his eyes open and look for her. 

This third thought was remembering what had happened. 

Freeing Wakko. Hurting his arm. The attack. 

He tried sitting up but a wave of pain shot through his whole body and he was forced to sit back down. However, he looked across the room and saw her. 

Lena was in a bed across the room from him, and it hurt his neck to look at her, but he couldn’t look away. He had never seen her with so many bruises and bandages around her in his life. It broke his heart.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” The familiar voice of his childhood best friend, Helloise Nerz, spoke softly. “How are you feeling?”

How was he feeling? Almost every inch of his body ached and hurt, his wife somehow appearing worse than him, and he was miles and miles away from his children, who he already missed terribly. 

“Right... poor question,” She apologized. “How much do you remember?”

He thought a moment. 

“Last thing I remember is passing out on your doorstep,” He said. She nodded. 

“Good, because that was the last thing that happened,” She said. 

“So... what’s wrong with me, doc?” He joked a little. Helloise chuckled. 

“Nurse. Scratchy is the real doc, I’m just the assistant,” She remarked. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Helloise. I’m sure you could run this place if you had to,” He said. She snorted. 

“You’ve got a terribly sprained arm that I noticed was already bandaged, but you’ve made much worse, I presume from carrying her highness. You also have a torn ligament in your right ankle, minor frostbite, and numerous pulled muscles throughout your legs,” she read off of a chart. 

“And Lena?” He asked. 

“Broken rib, a minor concussion from what we can tell, fractured fibula, severe bruising on the face, minor frostbite, and blood loss from a severe wound in the right shoulder we cleaned and stitched up.”

William looked at his wife again. 

“How long have we been asleep?” He asked. 

“Three days,” She said. William blinked. 

“Th-three days?” he asked.

She sighed. “William...” she sat on the edge of his bed. 

“The whole kingdom thinks you two are dead, and honestly, you two are lucky to be alive.”

“What? Why? How? What about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they alright?” He tried sitting up, but the wave of pain reminded him not to. 

“Well, her majesty the queen threw a funeral two days ago. They said attackers stormed the castle in the night and killed the two of you,” She explained. 

“But what about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they okay?” He asked. 

“I haven’t heard any news of the three of them, so they should be alright with the queen.”

“If you could consider being with the queen alright,” he muttered. 

“Right... She wasn’t the best mother, right?” She remembered. He shook his head, sighing. Just then, a low grumble came from across the room, and Lena began to stir. 

“What... where... Will..?” she mumbled as her eyes slowly opened and she took in her surroundings. William wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, but the numerous injuries Helloise had informed him about kept him where he was. Instead, the good nurse went over and started evaluating and explaining the situation to her. 

“D-dead..?” Her face went pale as a ghost. “That means... They’re with... we have to go. Now,” She looked at William, and started climbing out of her bed, nearly collapsing immediately if it hadn’t been for Helloise catching her. 

“Your highness, you can’t. You need to recover,” She said, laying her back down. 

“I can’t leave them with her- I can’t,” She shook her head.

“Lena...” He said softly. She looked at him for a moment, before lying back down and looking away, her expression mostly unreadable. Just then, the doctor came in. 

“Oh goodie, you two are awake,” He said, but he quickly read the room. 

“Er... how are you two feeling?” He asked. William shrugged, while Lena remained silently looking away. 

He then pulled the nurse back outside to talk for a moment, promising it wouldn’t be long. William nodded and let them go, and his eyes went to Lena. 

She wouldn’t look at him, even when he said her name. Something was deeply, deeply wrong. William wished he could read her mind, though he did have a few guesses. For one, the kids. 

William knew they were resourceful and clever, but he honestly had no idea what Angelina was going to do to them now that they were out of the picture- especially if she thought they were dead. 

It sent a shiver down his spine just thinking about it...

“So... your highnesses... what can you tell us about the attack?” The doctor reentered and asked. 

“Oh god... where to start?” he chuckled nervously. 

“If you aren’t ready, it’s totally fine,” Helloise sat on the edge of his bed. “We just... well... the people are curious. You are supposed to be dead after all.”

“Of course,” William said, before taking in a deep breath and beginning. 

.o0o. 

It had been a tense week. William had been mad at himself when he had sprained his arm. He was a knight, dammit, he was supposed to be trained to be better than that. Now it meant he had to postpone any of his own mini training lessons he was giving Wakko and Yakko until later, which he knew Yakko would be suspicious of. He always had a habit of picking up on their anxiety and carrying it with him like it was his responsibility too, which was upsetting for multiple reasons. 

Some of Angelina’s lessons were extremely difficult to try and undo. 

At least Wakko was trying to be optimistic about things. After he had broken him out of the tower, Wakko was spending a lot more time with them as a family, suddenly talking to them a lot more than he used to, which William took as a good sign, seeing as he desperately wanted something to look on the bright side about. 

Dot was happy too, of course, as she was just glad to have Wakko back too. She could hardly tell everyone else was anxious, she was only four after all. 

When the first window broke, William had been up in a flash, and despite his injury, he grabbed his sword anyway. 

“William? What’s the matter?” Lena had asked. 

“Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll handle this,” he kissed her head, leaving their bedroom. 

He walked through the halls, surprised at just how silent everything was. Still, he kept his guard up, not allowing himself to relax for even a second. 

“...this castle is huge! Even with the map she gave us,” a disgruntled, not-too-far off voice said. William ducked behind a curtain for cover. 

“It’s a quick mission though: grab the king, grab the queen, and grab the kid if there’s time to spare,” A lower voice shrugged, and William felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. Immediately, he burst out and attacked one of the men, and they quickly began a sword fight. 

Unfortunately, William found himself evenly matched by his opponent and realized he was surrounded by allies, some that were even taller than him.

He was kinda screwed. 

Still, he fought and parried and swung and blocked with a valiant effort, though the pain in his arm burned more and more and it was evident he was becoming weaker. His opponent saw this, and got behind, and he brought down the handle of his sword onto his arm, and William dropped his sword and fell onto the ground, growling in pain. 

“Remember, queenie said no blood on her carpets or tapestries,” The tallest reminded his attacker, who was now pointing his sword at his face. “Tie him up. With the strongest removed, we can work on getting that queen and the middle boy,” He ordered, before taking a few and leaving. 

Wakko. 

William growled, and swiped his feet out from under him, causing his attacker to fall to the ground. William then began fighting with his bare fists against the men who tried jumping on and fighting him next. 

However, the numbers were too large, and before William knew it, his wrists were tied and he was captured. 

“Alright, move it, princey,” one of the men kicked him. William gnashed his teeth, but they planned for that, as two of the men held him down, and a third quickly put a muzzle around him. 

“There, now that should get you to behave,” He grinned, pulling William up, and the three men forced him out of the castle, and into the back of a carriage, where he was locked in and left. 

He tried kicking the door open, but it must’ve been solid wood because he got nowhere, and all he ended up doing was exhausting himself. 

William was alone for quite an amount of time, and he tried everything he could to break free of his restraints but nothing was working. He cursed his stubbornness that caused him to sprain his arm- if it hadn’t been for that he was confident he would’ve been able to take down the six men. He was a knight for god’s sake- he was supposed to be able to protect his family. 

He was supposed to be able to protect his family. 

After a long moment of silence and stillness, the door opened and Lena was thrown in next to him, and William caught a glimpse of the outside and noticed it was snowing lightly. 

He didn’t dwell on that, his eyes falling onto Lena, who looked horrible. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked at him, slowly and painfully crawling her way over and lying against his chest. William did his best to hug her with his hands tied. 

Neither of them could say a word, but both knew exactly what the other was feeling, and they did their best to embrace and comfort each other. 

Then, the carriage began to move.

They didn’t capture Wakko.

Despite everything, William sighed a breath of relief.

Silently, the couple rode for hours, not knowing where they were being taken or why or who was behind any of this, though they had a few guesses.

William was just glad he still had her... even if it wouldn’t be for much longer.

He loved her with his entire being, nothing would ever change that, not an evil queen, and not even death.

However, his mind quickly went to his kids.

Wakko was alive- at least, he hoped. The attackers said they couldn’t get blood anywhere, hopefully, that meant they just ran out of time to find him and he was okay.  

But if they were killed, William had no idea what Angelina would do to them. They would have no protection from her now. They could be hurt, or worse...

William hugged Lena a little tighter.

After an hour or two of riding, the temperature inside the carriage got notably colder, the snow outside picking up.

William prayed for a miracle.

They continued riding on, William even drifting to sleep at one point, when they were suddenly jerked awake. there were shouts from out of where they were, and William and Lena sat up best they could, though Lena was in a lot more pain. Suddenly, the carriage lost control, and started to skid and slide, though William and Lena had no idea what the cause was- but it didn’t matter because not before long, it crashed into a tree and everyone was thrown into the air, and landed with a crash and crack. 

William winced at the sound, closing his eyes but when he opened, he saw it-

The doors were busted open. 

Quickly, William scooted out, gesturing for Lena to follow, but she was closing her eyes and cringing in pain, and William realized she had injured her leg in the fall. Knowing they didn’t have much time to run, he carefully got her out, having her arms go around him with the tie, and having her hold herself up best she could with her remaining upper body strength as they ran into the woods, as far away as they could manage, also while looking for something they could use to untie their hands- and also a hiding place for when the attackers began to search. 

Luckily, William was well trained in tracking so he did his best to make sure his footprints in the snow made zero sense and were misleading at best, praying they wouldn’t be able to follow, but he didn’t know who or what they were, so it was hard to be certain. 

Eventually, William and Lena made it to a cave and they hid in there for a while, With William finding a particularly sharp rock he used to untie his hands, remove his muzzle, then untie Lena, and remove her muzzle. 

“William,” she said with teary eyes. 

“Lena,’ he replied, becoming overwhelmed with the desire to hug her, but noting her injured state, he instead just pressed his forehead against hers, and she did the same, placing her soft hand against his face as she cried softly.

“We can’t stay here for long- a bear probably lives here,” she said. 

“Just for a moment, we need to rest- figure out where we are, and what our next move is,” He said. 

“We’re so far from home... how are we going to get out of this?” She asked. 

“I... I don’t know, Lena,” He admitted. “But we will, I promise.” 

They stayed hidden for quite some time, having only one close call when one of the tracker’s voices was close enough for them to hear, but William was ready with the sharp rock in case he got too close, but he never did, so they were alright. 

Well- alright, considering everything that just happened. 

Eventually, the sun started to rise in the woods, and it slowly dawned on William that the coast was clear, and they were free to go. 

But... free to go where? They had no idea where they were- were they even in Warnerstock? They could be in foreign lands for all they know- a place where they didn’t even speak the language and they could be killed for sneaking in and-

Wait. Lena was the Princess, and knew all the languages of the neighboring kingdoms, and would likely be given aid. William was panicking over nothing. 

However... Lena was looking rather weak. She lost a lot of blood, and her injuries were only pilling up. 

“Where do we go?” Lena asked as he was looking at her.

“Well... I don’t think we can go home... as something tells me your mother was behind this...” He stroked his chin. 

“You’re telling me,” she huffed, before wincing in pain. 

William snapped. “I know a place where they can’t refuse us,” he grinned. 

Lena blinked. “William... Acme falls is in the middle of nowhere and perhaps one of the first places they’d go looking for us if we were missing,” she frowned. 

“Well- not unless your mother wants us to be dead. Then she wouldn’t have to or want to look anywhere,” he said. “It’d be just like it was when we had just gotten married.”

“When we just married...” Lena trailed off into the memory, a look of sad nostalgia written on her face. 

“Look... I’m going to go and try to figure out where we are, so we can head to Acme. Will you be okay if you stay here?” he asked. 

“I don’t think I have a choice,” she tried to joke, but William knew she hated it. He kissed her forehead. 

“I love you,” He said. “I won’t be long.”

“I love you too, Wiliam,” she replied, and William ran out of the cave. 

It took about an hour, but eventually, William discovered that yes, they were still in Warnerstock, and found the direction they were to go to if they wanted to go to Acme Falls. It would be quite the trek, especially if this snow continued to fall, but he had determination on his side. 

He was not going to die here, nor was he going to let Lena. He would carry her in his arms if he had to, simple as that. 

.o0o.

“So... yeah. We hiked for hours to reach here, the strains and pulled muscles and frostbite are from trekking through the snow, and that’s how we got here,” William finished his tale. 

“Oh William... that’s terrible,” Helloise looked at him sadly. 

“That does explain a lot... you two should really be getting rest now, yah?” Scratchnsniff remarked, reading over their charts one more time. 

“Rest, yeah...” he nodded slowly, though sleep was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to go back to the palace asap, and kill Angelina, and get his kids back. He was confident Lena felt the same.

Though...  they wouldn’t be able to do much good in this state... especially without a plan. 

“We’ll leave the two of you alone... you’ve been through a lot,” Helloise said.

“Thanks,” he gave a weak smile, which she returned. 

His eyes then went to his wife, who still wasn’t looking at him, staring intently at the ground and wall. 

“Lena, my love, what’s the matter?” He asked. Lena snorted. 

“That’s your first question?” She snarked. 

Okay, that was on him. That was a pretty dumb question. 

“What are you thinking about?” he tried again. Lena crossed her arms.

“It isn’t fair...” she said. William sighed. 

“I know it’s not fair that-”

“I’m not talking about my mother o-or the attack- I-i’m talking about you,” she snapped. William paused. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. Lena sighed, wincing at the pain. 

“Damned broken ribs...” she muttered. 

“I meant... It’s not fair. Time after time after time I end up hurt or crying or abused- it isn’t fair. You’re always so strong William, it pains me. When is it my turn to be strong for you?” she said, wiping away tears and trying her best not to cry. 

“Lena...” William reached out to her as much as he could, his arm nearly touching her pillow. Lena continued to look away. 

“I’m serious. No matter what happens, you’re always so strong and so brave and comforting. I just- I feel so inadequate,” she whispered. 

“Lena, you aren’t inadequate,” He said softly. “You’re just...”

“Damaged?” she said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t pretend it isn’t true- I know what my mother has done.”

“Lena, I don’t care. I love you,” He said. 

“And I love you- but... I just... you’ve always been so strong for me William. I want to return the favor, just once...” She looked at him. 

“Lena, we’ve both lost so much... this shouldn’t be something we measure or keep track of,” He said, and Lena placed her head where his hand is on her pillow. 

“I miss them, William,” she whispered. 

“I miss them too, my love,” he whispered back. Lena kissed his hand. 

“We’ll get them back, Lena. I promise,” he said. Lena nodded, kissing his hand again and closing her eyes.

“I promise too. No matter what it takes, we are going to get our babies back.” 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

[justcourttee]

So I know you've been very busy so just stay strong, I know you can do it! :) I was also wondering if I could request more sibling jasonette with the Joker going after Marinette once he finds out they're related? Take your time getting to this request if you need to, I know it'll be great when you get to it! Don't stress yourself out too much!

Thank you so much, I really do apologize for being so spotty the last month or so. I think I’m finally getting back to some sense of normal, so hopefully, I can write more :)

I hope you like it!

An Average Night in Gotham City 

Marinette couldn’t believe her luck.

Being the holder of the ladybug miraculous, you would think that everything would go her way, but it seems that Tikki had a funny way of distributing that good luck.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

The rank smell of something souring surrounded her senses as she dangled from the ceiling by her wrists. She was certain that there would be some difficult bruises to hide later but that was the least of her concerns at the moment.

“What you have is a pissed off college student. Who snatches someone from a library? Don’t you have any respect for my education?”

Something sharp poked her back causing her to hiss in pain.

“Now, now, I really do love Gotham State University and if it was game day, I wouldn’t dare step foot on our campus, Gothamite pride and all. But you my dear, well once I learned that you attended the school, I just had to stop by and say hello.”

His maniacal laughter would strike fear in the hearts of most, but honestly, she was just too pissed at this point to care.

“Okay, you said your piece, may I return to the library? I have a paper due at midnight tonight and I literally only have one paragraph finished.”

Another strike against her back felt hard enough to draw blood. The Joker was not in a joking mood tonight.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, How rude of you to want to leave when you just arrived! You batbrats are all the same, always in a rush. That’s why Jason is my favorite little bird. He always makes time for me,” his dreamy sigh faded into a scowl and in one quick movement, he was face to face with Marinette, his hand forcing her to stare into his eyes, “At least he used to. With you in town, he never seeks me out anymore!”

Releasing her cheeks, he turned away in a mock sob, using the edge of his purple tie to wipe away his tears.

“Maybe it’s because you two have an abusive relationship. I mean who wants to seek out someone that beats the shit out of them all the time.”

Joker stroked his chin thoughtfully as if her words carried some weight to them.

“Perhaps you’re right, maybe my last beating didn’t express enough love and admiration. How do you beat him to show him you love him?”

With a snap of his fingers, one of his men rushed forward to place a stool in front of him. Plopping down, he crossed his legs, motioning for her to speak.

“Uhm, well, I don’t beat him. Being my brother and all, we fight on the occasion, but if I want him to know I love him, I bake his favorite sweets or surprise him with a visit to his work.”

“Ah ha! That’s what I have to do! I got too reliant on my good old friend seeking me out, but maybe every once in a while I should seek him out!”

“Wait, that’s not really-” She couldn't finish her sentence as a crackle of electricity echoed through the warehouse. Her breathing was labored as she slowly began to come to terms with her situation.

“You know little batbug, you are slowly becoming a second favorite of mine. Of course, none of you could ever replace Batsy himself, but I would be lying to myself if I wasn’t fond of you and my Jason.”

If this was how he treated his favorites, Marinette was terrified to think of what Tim or Damian would go through if they were in her place right now. As he continued his monologue of the highs and lows of his and Jason's great relationship, Marinette took the time to take stock of her options.

There were ten men in total, more than likely at least five more outside posting guard. Fifteen wouldn’t be too hard, but there was one wildcard she couldn’t account for. Joker hardly ever accepted a fight that he wouldn’t believe to be fun and if she was honest, she couldn’t figure if he would jump in or not.

Tikki had already been working at the ropes holding her wrists, it was mere moments before they snapped, the only thing that stood in her way was that clown.

“-anywho, I suppose it’s time to go pay Jason a visit. Boys, leave this one alive. I like her.”

There was a slight groan of annoyance that sprinkled throughout the room.

Now was her time. The minute Joker stepped foot outside of the warehouse, she would be able to escape with almost no effort. As the doors slid open, Marinette nodded to Tikki to chew through the last rope.

“Where is she?” A frantic voice spilled through the front door causing Marinette’s eyes to snap into focus.

Several guns were trained on Jason as he gripped the front of Joker’s suit, his fist curled and ready to strike.

He came for her.

It wasn’t that she had any doubt, but she figured that her emergency tracker hadn’t sounded after seeing the response time from the team. As she dropped softly to her feet, Marinette slammed her elbow into the nearest man’s neck, gripping his gun as he dropped to the ground.

A few guns shifted from Jason to Marinette, seemingly unsure who was the bigger danger at this point.

“Oh Jason, I knew you cared. Marinette said I might have to seek you out, but that’s just not true is it. You always find your way back to me.”

His laughter was infuriating and Marinette could tell Jason was seeing red. If she didn’t get them out of there in the next few minutes, there was no telling if she could stop him from murdering the clown in front of him.

“You stupid clown, I could care less if you attack me, but you leave her out of this you understand?”

The Joker shook his head, a small giggle escaping his lips as he waved his men to stand down.

“Leave her out of this? Oh Jason, batbug there has become one of my new favorites. But don’t you worry, you’re still number one in my book.”

Marinette felt a shiver throughout her body at the sound of the growl that emitted from Jason.

“Jason, let's just leave. This isn’t a fight for today.”

There was no response as he and the Joker remained locked in an invisible argument, neither budging at the sound of her voice. Taking a step closer, she kept her gun trained on the clown, her eyes scanning the other men for any sudden movements. Instead of fighting her, they parted to allow her to get closer, all of them feeling equally confused as her.

Lowering her gun for a brief moment, she reached out to place a gentle hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“Jason, not today.”

She felt the tension in his body melting under her touch as he loosened his grip in the Joker’s suit. With one last glance, Jason dropped the man to the floor, turning to pull Marinette into a tight hug. 

“Your stupid tracker needs an update. Tim could only place it near this area and it took me entirely too long to get here.”

Marinette winced under his tight grip, the realization of her wounds finally hitting her. Pulling back, she nodded to Jason as they both moved to walk out the door.

The sound of several guns switching off safeties echoed, causing them both to stop in their tracks.

“Joker, let us go.”

Her eyes met his as he lifted himself from the floor, brushing off the imaginary dust he had acquired. There was a certain glint in those eyes that screamed danger to her. They both shared a mutual understanding that he knew far too much and that he could attack whenever he wanted. This advantage seemed to please him as he nodded, motioning for his men to stand down once more.

“Batbug is right, this would be no fun if the two of you were dead. So many interesting possibilities for the future, it’s so exhilarating.”

The sound of his laughter stayed with her even after they were blocks away from the warehouse.

“Batman was right behind me, I’m sure he’ll get there before they have time to clear out.”

Marinette nodded absentmindedly as Jason pulled them into the nearest ally. As gently as possible, he lifted the back of her shirt to exam the wounds. Letting out a low whistle, he began to patch them one by one, the stinging of antiseptic cutting just as deeply as the wounds had.

“Mari, what were you doing before that clown kidnapped you? It doesn’t look you struggled much, there only seems to be torture wounds.”

Marinette’s eyes widened as she suddenly remembered.

“Jason, we have to get back to the library! My paper is due at midnight! That idiot snapped me while I was writing, I only have one paragraph done and I don’t even know if it saved.”

Jason struggled to bite back the laughter that was fighting to escape.

“You know Marinette, this is what you get for waiting to the last minute. Don’t you know by now that there is a fair chance of getting kidnapped while you’re trying to do school work?”

Marinette reached backward swinging blindly as Jason’s laughter finally bellowed through. As he pulled her shirt back down into position, Marinette turned to give him one last hug before she took off into the night.

Jason and Tikki shared a look. Together, they took off after her, giggling and calling after her as they raced through Gotham’s streets. All in all, it really was just another average night in Gotham City.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb @glitterflowercat

[illyaana]

Birthday Special: Mashirao Ojiro

credits to the artist who drew the picture above!

Tags: Timeskip! Ojiro x Hero! Reader, No Specific Gender for Reader, Fluff

Your Hero Name: Pavlin (Peacock in Bulgarian)

Your Quirk: Peacock

When you wish, a bunch of peacock feathers form from the small of your back. Much like Hawks' quirk, they listen to your orders and can become swords. They also double as a shield. You also have a telekinetic connection with them too. The drawback is that removing too many in an hour can make you bleed.

Synopsis: You were tracking down two vigilantes. As you were severely injured, you sent a notice to all the heroes where you believed they were heading. After you healed, you continued to follow them. Soon, they removed their disguises and you found out it was Toga and Dabi. Toga shoved a needle in your arm and you thought that she was only drawing out blood, but you were wrong.

Word Count: 1879

The two vigilantes were relentlessly attacking you. Their guns and daggers came at you from left and right, forming multiple gashes and wounds on your body.

You knew you were reaching your limit. The feathers on your back were stained by the blood dripping due to you using so many of your feathers without any time to recuperate.

You jumped from the building and hid in an alleyway. You were planning to give yourself 5 mins to let your body rest while you use the smaller feathers of yours to track the two armed men.

By injecting a syringe full of green liquid formed by some of the heroes you knew who had quirks that could heal, you felt the wounds in your body seal and heal while you focused on the task at hand - to identify where they were going.

You were in your subconscious, feeling the movement of your feathers in a makeshift map of Musutafu in your head. You memorised the city like the back of your hand, it was required to be one of the more efficient heroes of Japan.

You knew they knew you weren't physically following them anymore, so they'd lead you straight to where they intended to go - and it oh so happened to be the base of the League of Villains.

Using your phone, you alerted all the heroes nearby the base with an app designed by the safety commission to keep an eye out for the two as you recharged.

Soon, you felt your body was ready to continue with the mission you were originally conducting.

Using the boots designed by your agency, you jumped and used your feathers to swerve to the right. Soon, you were jumping from building to building to catch up with the two men you were tracking.

You heard your phone ring and you picked it up,

"What is it Ojiro?" you said, speaking loudly.

"Where are you, most of us are waiting outside of the base to get those two," he stated with a worried tone.

You chuckled. "Don't worry about me too much, honey. Your fiance is stronger than you think."

"Still, where are you?" He asked again, now with a more stern tone.

You sighed. "Look up, stupid."

You saw him look to the top of the building opposite the base and instantly spotted you. You were leaning against the wall with your arms crossed and your phone by your ear.

You saw his face turn pale and you instantly turned around.

The two males smiled as one of them shoved a needle into your upper arm, drawing blood from it.

Soon, a muddy-like shell covering their bodies fell from the both of them, revealing Dabi and Toga.

"Pavlin wasn't as strong as they said, right, Dabi?" Toga said smiling, revealing her two fangs.

Dabi smirked as he walked towards you and grabbed your chin.

"They're hot too," he said as he trailed his fingers on your lips, "It isn't fair that Tailboy managed to secure this hot of a person to himself."

You bit Dabi's finger and pulled on the syringe, causing all the blood drawn to fall on the floor.

Using your feathers, you pinned both Toga and Dabi to the wall.

While Dabi tried to burn the feathers, you used a flashlight and showed a signal to the heroes perched outside of the base and turned their attention to you.

Ojiro was soon behind you along with Shoto and Aizawa. He quickly grabbed you before you fell due to the blood loss.

"You okay?" he asked as he gripped you from the sides. You could only nod, unable to say a word.

You felt your feathers begin to fall from your back.

You didn't tell them to.

They fell on their own.

You began to vomit out blood, copious amounts falling from your lips.

Soon, you heard Dabi laughing hysterically. "So how is it being quirkless, Pavlin?"

Your face paled.

Quirkless?

"We weren't only taking your blood, you know," Toga explained, "We also injected you with something the League has been developing - a serum to remove quirks."

Toga took the knife from her hands and cut through your feathers. "You were our first test subject, and it clearly worked!" She began chuckling, "You are relieved from your duties, Pavlin. It was a pleasure being your opponent."

You gripped Ojiro's arm, not wanting to act recklessly.

You were no longer Pavlin.

You chuckled lowly.

You took one of your longer feathers from the ground, touching the very tip of it.

It was still sharp.

It could still cut.

You looked at Ojiro.

You didn't need to say anything.

He already knew what you wanted to do.

You got off the floor and stood in a fighting stance, wiping the blood from the sides of your mouth.

"At least let me finish my job before I am relieved of my duties, Toga."

You ran to her, using your boots to get a high distance so that you came to her at an angle.

You were going to stab this bloodsucker and give her a taste of her own medicine.

Thanks to Shoto, they couldn't move. The ice beneath them had secure them to where they stood.

Every single time Dabi tried melting it off, Shoto just formed more ice.

The next few seconds were a blur, but you knew you stabbed Toga at her right shoulder. You made sure to push it in deep, letting the finer hairs of your former feather enter her skin, preventing her from using her dominant hand ever again.

Dabi stared at his partner as she screamed.

While she was writhing in pain, you looked at him.

"I am not done with you get."

A dark smile reached your lips as you jumped off of Toga's body and grabbed two of your smaller feathers.

"Get out of the way!" you screamed at the others as you ran straight to Dabi.

You threw one small feather while running and it immediately hit Dabi's lower arm.

"Even if I wasn't with Ojiro, I would've never fall in love with you let alone get in a relationship with you."

You threw the other smaller arrow to reach his lips vertically, slicing each lip in half, "...so don't you ever touch my lips ever again."

Everyone surrounding you sighed in relief when you kneeled down, catching your breath.

But Ojiro wasn't going to let this end like how it did.

He was furious.

That quirk was the only thing that reminded you of your family that died so many years ago.

It was the only thing that you could call a present from your family.

He knew how life was for you as an orphan who was never adopted.

He remembered how you'd go on and on about your late parents who taught you the basics of your quirk.

He remembered how you cried when you told him about how they passed off.

He knew how much that quirk meant to you.

And all he could see now was red.

"How dare you do that to them!" He screamed at the two of them.

You saw the anger in your fiance's eyes as he gave a death stare to the two villains in front of you.

"Ojiro, I have already-" he touched the top of your head, signalling you to let him speak on your behalf.

"They may be willing to let this slide with just a few cuts and bruises, but not me."

Ojiro was going to fling himself off the pole beside him but you managed to stand in time to stop him.

You made him crouch beside you and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Ojiro, but I don't need your name dirtied because of what happened to me," you pat his back.

"Besides, they have injuries they can't heal that will affect their line of work because of me, and that has given me all the satisfaction I needed," you ended, a dark smirk on your face as you faced the two villains.

Soon, the two of them were apprehended and sent off to be contained. You and Ojiro headed back to your shared apartment and began to watch an episode of the show you both were watching together.

You loved the domestic life that you both shared. You did not crave adventure. So did Ojiro.

You both loved the indoors. Just being surrounded by comfort after a long day's work is all you both needed to re-energize yourselves.

You saw the popcorn bowl empty and headed to prepare more until Ojiro stopped you.

He turned off the TV and gave his wholehearted attention to you.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

You were all prepared to let it die off with the severe injuries of two villains, yet those six words managed to form your tears to form.

"I spent only four years with them, Ojiro. I lost them when I was going to turn 5 - the day right before my birthday," you began, "My quirk was the only thing keeping them alive within me. I lost my whole family thanks to one measle injection I could've easily avoided."

Ojiro pulled you into his lap and softly placed his tail on you. He knew you liked to touch it when you were sad or angry.

"Your quirk wasn't the only thing keeping them alive, love. The fact you worked so hard to become someone who your parents could be so proud of, the fact you didn't falter through all those trying times in your life, the fact you stood tall when everyone doubted you - that fighting spirit of yours," he touched the middle of your chest with his finger," That keeps them alive."

"You will always remember the training they gave you when they found out your quirk, right?" You nodded.

"You will keep the memories you've made with them in those precious years, right?" You nodded.

"You will always carry your last name, even when you're married, correct?" You nodded.

"Then what is there to worry about?" He said, pinching your cheeks.

"I fell in love with you because of who you are. I will always remember you as the little feisty person who made me see my talent and made me love myself."

He placed his head on your shoulder, rubbing the side of his face in the crook of your neck.

"You made me the hero I am today, and you will be known throughout the years as someone to be respected. And it's all thanks to your parents - to your family, isn't it?" He ended, giving a kiss on your neck.

This was it.

This is why you love this man.

He knew the main reason behind your pain and made it go away.

This is why you are going to marry him and make him the happiest man on Earth.

You turned to face him and gave a kiss on his forehead. "Thank you, Ojiro."

He just smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead, too. "Thank you, Y/N."

If the world was something that gave you a blessing amongst an array of curses, you both knew that he was your blessing as you were his.

Happy Ojiro Day! The Tailman himself is totally underrated, so let's give him some love today, hmm? (✿◡‿◡) As always, thanks for all the reblogs and the likes. I hope you enjoyed it :3

As usual, if you have any ideas or headcanons or just wanna talk to me, tell me here!

[animesmutfest]

Hawks x Reader

You look at the clock in disbelief as the hand strikes twelve. You sat on the couch drinking wine with tears running down your face. Your husband is no where to be found. Again. Its your fourth anniversary and he has not been home at all today. Suddenly you hear the door unlock but you don't even look your just take another sip of your wine. You could tell he was at least tipsy as he stumbles in the house. He looks over to you and see your cup and tear streaked face. Walking closer he realized you’re dressed up and a card lays on the cushion next to her reading happy anniversary. Before he could even speak you start. "Two years. You haven't been here for an event for two years. You've missed even our own daughters birthdays." You say seething with anger. "Y/n listen" he starts. "You know what Kiego?! You can go fuck yourself! Get the hell out!" You scream at hawks throwing his jacket and shoes at him. "Come on Y/N do you really want to end things like this? Please don't give up on me!" He says pleading. "You have missed every single family event the past two years. If you want to drown in a bottle or use work as an excuse, me and our daughter deserve better than that!" You scream while crying. hawks now crying as well sinks to the floor realizing that you wear right. Every single family event for the past two years he has either been working or drinking. "Ill stop drinking babe! I wont ever drink again if that's what you want!" He cries. "I don't want you to do anything but be the man i thought i married. But i cant even trust you to do that considering you're never here" you shout. "Okay y/n ill leave. But i promise you I'm going to do better from here on!" He says walking out the door.you close it behind him and sink to the bottom balling your eyes out. His heart breaks as he hears your cries, the cries that he caused.

He gets in his car and drives to a hotel to give you space. At the hotel he cry's into his bottle of jack thinking about the facts and the facts are her has not been there for his own family. His two year older daughter ember is 3 and he hasn't been to her 2nd or 3rd birthday parties. He's always just told y/n something came up. "I really am a pathetic excuse of a man. My wife is perfect and my daughter is my pride and joy but I still do shit like this. I'm never fucking around when I need to be" he says crying harder. Back at the house y/n pretty much cried herself to sleep. The next day you send him a text telling him to stay away until he can prove to his family that we come first. He gave a simple okay response. You spend the day with ember playing with her and cooking dinner for her. Once you put ember to bed you head to your own room. You lay in bed with no one beside you and the loneliness makes you cry again. "I just wish he was here" you say as you drift asleep.

Six months later:

A few months ago I was strong enough to invite him over for dinner. Ember was with her grand parents as to not be involved in our issues. We made a deal that he would stay at a hotel and every weekend he can come over for dinner. So far he has made more time for our family than he ever has. He even has a glow on him now that he isn't drinking. That's right, he stopped drinking after that night. And tonight after six long and lonely months you really wanted him back home. He invited you out on a date at a nice restaurant and your mom offered to keep ember. You hear the doorbell ring as you make your way down stairs. He's wears a nice pair of pants and a button down. And this is what you have on with your hair in a pony tail.

"Wow... you look stunning babe" he says blushing. "Thank you kiego" you say blushing as well. You both leave and head to the restaurant. Once you are there the staff seat you and bring a bottle of wine. "Oh sir I don't drink thank you though" he says pushing the bottle away. "You sure you don't want any?" You asks. "No love I'm good you enjoy yourself" he says smiling. Impressed you start talking to him about how he's been and how work is. Come to think of it you haven't seen him even look at a drop of alcohol since that night. After a while he grabs your hand and looks into your eyes. "I miss you y/n and I miss ember" he says kissing your hand gently. "We miss you too kiego" you say softly. "I've been thinking a lot and would it be too forward of me to ask if I could stay over tonight?" He asks putting his head down a bit waiting to be rejected again. You have seen his efforts and he really has gotten better. Plus I really do miss him. You think to yourself blushing a bit. "You can come home kiego" you say shyly. His face lit up and he rested his forehead on your hand in relief. "Thank god..." he says as a single tear falls down his face. "C-can I kiss you y/n?" He asks. You grab his blazer and your lips crash onto each other's. You pull away blushing and ask him to take them home. He happily complies and after paying they head home.

As soon as they open the door you pull him into another kiss but this one more aggressive. His wings puff up a bit as things heat up. He takes his blazer off and pulls you close to him deepening your kiss. He pushed your back against the wall sliding his hand up your dress and grabbing your ass. You moans into the kiss at his touch and his mouth slowly moved down to your jawline then neck. Your moans are light as your hands rubs on his arms. "Can I please take you baby? It's been so long and I think I might lose my mind." He asks desperately. "Please kiego" you moan. He picks your up with your legs around his waist and walks you upstairs to the bedroom. He kicks open the door and places you on the bed with him between your legs. His mouth attacking your neck desperately searching for your voice. As your hands feel all over one another his head trails down to your panties and he licks your clit through the fabric making your body tingle a bit. "Don't tease me baby... please, I really need it" you say squirming. He smirks "As you wish baby" and slides your panties to the side and he begins to devour you. "Fuck~!” You moan as you tug on his hair a bit from the pleasure but also trying to show resistance. You use your hand to muffle your moans but this made him stop completely. He looks up at you with feral eyes. "I haven't touched you in over 6 months baby... move that fucking hand and let me hear you." He growls at you. His eyes even looked different as if he was truly an animal And you were his prey. You do as your told and slowly move your hand. He wastes no time going back to his meal. His hands now gripping your thighs to keep you in place as he slides his tongue inside you. "K-kiego ngh yes baby~" you moan loudly  as you squirm under him.

He repeatedly moves his muscle in that motion and slurping you up as he pulled out. "I fucking missed you dove... your taste is even more delicious" he groans as he gently sucks on your clit. Your hips buck into his mouth as pleasure consumes you making you feel like melting into him. Minutes went by like this as you’re edged closer and closer. His mouth creating lewd noises as you gush over and over again. But soon to feel a tremendous pressure in the pit of your soul. Your moans slowly becoming whimpers. "I can feel it baby... cum for me dove" he groans as he laps at your throbbing pussy. Your breathing becoming quite heavy as he worked for your juices. "I-I I'm cumming  ki- fuuuck" you moan wildly as he laps up your cum faster than it can come out of you. He suddenly takes one of his feathers making it sharp and cuts off both of your clothes before he lines himself up with your pussy. He shoves himself completely inside you unexpectedly causing you to cum again. Your mind melting as you clentch hard around him. He looks at you and leans down to your face. "Did my baby just cum from me putting it in?" He smirks. You nod shaking as your hands wrap around his neck. Without another word you kiss him deeply as he starts thrusting into your tight pussy. "I-I'm so sorry baby I can't control myself" he growls as he then pulls out of you and aggressively flips you on all fours and shoving himself back into you. You cry out in pleasure as he pounds into you at inhumane speeds. His hand digging into your hip and the other gripping your arm behind your back. You feel another climax close as your skin collides over and over again.

Feeling you grip him tighter he slows down a bit but slams into you as hard as he can again and again. "Yes! Yes! Yes baby aaahhh Break me!!!!" You cry out and after a few thrusts like that you begin to squirt all over the bed. He stops amazed at what just happened. "Damn baby... I didn't know you could do that" he says blushing. You couldn't speak just moan and pant. "Let's try that again shall we?" Flipping you on you back and lifting your hips to meet his while you upper body still on the bed. "This time I wanna see it" he says licking his lips. He slides back in and goes at it like he never left. He loved the way you looked right now. Feral and completely destroyed because of him. He drools at the sight of your wet pussy being filled by him, by the way your breasts bounced harshly because of his thrusting. Your completely a mess under him barely being about to say anything besides incoherent words and whimpers. Soon you feel that strange sensation again as you neared another orgasm. "Ki! Aahh daddy~" you cry out as you grip his thighs. "Do it baby!" He moans and with that you being to squirt all over his lower stomach, cock and legs. This time much more intense as your mind went hazy for a few moments. He doesn't stop though and thrusts into a few more times before slowing down and running his hand on your stomach. "I think it's time we gave ember a sibling~" he moans. Your eyes weakly looked at his and all you could do was smile. He thrusts into you one final time as his shoots his cum deep in your womb. "God b-baby you feels so good" he moans as his cock twitches inside your throbbing pussy. You both catch your breath before cleaning up the bed and yourselves before falling asleep.

The next morning the sun beams through the room as you wake up. Kiego sleeping peacefully next to you. You kept thinking about last night blushing from what he said about giving ember a sibling. "Well if that's true then maybe I should help him out achieving that goal" you think to yourself smirking. You knew he was a heavy sleeper so you crawl between his legs and slipped his boxers off. You grab his already hard cock and slowly pump him causing his muscles to jump a bit. After a few pumps you slowly lick around the tip and suck on it softly. He moans in his sleep and his breathing pattern become irregular. You then smirk and shove him completely in your throat quickly and wastes not a moment deep throating him. He wakes up moaning loudly pulling back the blanket staring at you with a red face. "B-baby what ahh~" his moans not allowing him to speak properly. You ignore him and climb on top slowly sinking yourself down on him. His head falling back into the bed from the pleasure. You roll your hips into his instead of bouncing making both of you moan aloud. You pull him back up and wrap your hands around his neck while he’s gripping your waist. His mouth sucking on your neck harshly leaving marks everywhere his tongue danced. "I'm so close baby~" he moans into you and he thrusts into you. You throw your body back and grip his thighs as you bounce on his cock forcing your skin to slap against his own.

His grip tightens as he nears his climax. Your pace quickens as you chase your own climax as well. "Feels s-so good daddy~" you moan into the air as you clench around him. "Shit dove I-I'm gunna cum" he moans as sweat beads on his forehead. "Fill me up d-daddy. I want it deep inside~" you moan as you cum hard on his cock. He fucks you back harder and soon after he feels himself about to cum. "Fuck yes baby! Mmmmph shiiit~" he growls as his cum fills you deep. You lean forward keeping him inside you and kiss him passionately. He grabs the back of your head deepening the kiss slipping his tongue in. He pulls back and looks into your wild eyes panting. "What's gotten into you?" He says. "You said you wanted to give ember a sibling so I thought I'd help you out" you say smirking. He laughs a bit before kissing you again. "Then let's spend the day making sure we achieve that goal. What do you say love?" He says as he gets hard again still inside you making you moan. "Yes daddy" you say.

[innocentbi-stander]

just stumbled across your blog in my conquest to consume all feral and bamf Jaskier content within 24 hours, and i read your headcanons for necromancer Jaskier and was wondering if you had anymore, or if you had a small ficlet involving some sort of necromancer Jaskier?? (i also saw your demigod Jaskier, where he was a son of Hades, and LOVED IT) if you don't, or aren't into that trope, that's okay. i absolutely love what you've already written. god-tier writing, truly

Hi there! I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my writing! I do have a small little ficlet that I wrote that I posted on ao3 featuring necromancer Jaskier, I’ll link it below! However I’m also never above writing more necromancer Jaskier content, so here you are:

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272997

______________

Sometimes Jaskier cursed the day Death had made a pact with his unborn soul, tying him to the immortal life of a necromancer and all of the bizarre powers that came with it.

Today was not one of those days.

Because when you’ve been locked in a cage in the depths of some decrepit castle after being ambushed on the road with your witcher boyfriend and badass witch friend, those powers really come in handy. 

The bard pulled himself up into a sitting position on the cold stone floor, taking a look at his surroundings.

He was clearly in the dungeon of a long forgotten keep, by the look of the worn stone walls and rusted bars. The room was dark, and shadows flickered in the light of the few torches along the wall.

Jaskier cursed to himself as he felt the ache of his head, where he had been knocked unconscious during the attack.

The attack. The attack on the path that he had most certainly not been alone for.

A look around the cells confirmed the location of Geralt and Yennefer, each located in their own cells across the room. Clearly their attackers had deemed them the more worthy threat, as Geralt was weighed down in chains and Yennefer sported her own pair of silver cuffs decorated in runes. Magic suppressants. 

Jaskier scoffed. They hadn’t even bothered to use rope to bind his arms, too confident that the supposedly human bard would be little more than a nuisance. It was their mistake.

The pounding of his head moved into the background of his thoughts, and Jaskier became increasingly aware of a pain in his stomach. His fingers that caressed the area came away covered in blood. Shit.

Flashes of memory reminded him of the man who had run him through with his sword when one hit to the skull hadn’t stopped him from fighting back. On any other human this wound would have been fatal. For Jaskier, it meant a bothersome hole through his torso for a few days, and a very fussy witcher poking at his bandages and offering bowl and bowl of soup.

Yay necromancy powers. 

The bard lazily scanned the inside of his cell, looking for anything that might aid them in their mistake. Not that he necessarily needed any assistance, but Jaskier wasn’t fond of revealing the true depths of his powers to anyone, much less some low budget crew of hired bandits. He preferred to keep his abilities known to the few, better to be underestimated than overtaken.

He spared a glance over to the corner where Geralt and Yennefer lay. Jaskier sighed, a long and bothersome sound. For such a great witcher and even mightier witch couldn’t they wake up a little bit faster? He’d prefer being able to break them out when they could walk on their own, Jaskier didn’t think he could haul either of them back to their campsite. 

As if on cue a small moan sounded from the other side of the dungeon.

Jaskier glanced up to meet violet eyes blinking at him. 

“Ah, Yennefer, welcome to the land of the living! Or should I say ‘land of the living, also occupied by me’?” 

“Jaskier?” Yennefer’s brow furrowed, “What happened?”

“It appears as if we were attacked by bandits on the way back to the campsite, and not even clever ones at that. Hired men. Probably from that lordling Geralt and I pissed off a contract back. He seemed like the type for stupid baseless vengence.” Yennefer sat up, pulling herself to her feet to pace her cell. She jangled the cuffs on her wrists.

“Magic resistant cuffs. They must have been fairly well informed.” Jaskier laughed.

“Not well informed enough it seems. They haven’t bound me at all.” He flashed his unbound arms at her along with a smirk. A stupid mistake really, he had forgotten the blood that streaked his hands and forearms from his middle. Maybe Yen wouldn’t see.

Yennefer, clever witch that she is, noticed immediately. She crossed to the front of her cell, narrowing her eyes at him through the darkness.

“Jaskier, are you hurt?” 

“......no.” 

The look on Yennefer’s face had killed better men than he. 

“We’ve talked about not covering up injuries to look braver. That includes you too.” Jaskier had a will as strong as a limp noodle when it came to his witcher and his witcher. So he fessed up immediately.

“One of the men may have poked me a little with his sword when they nabbed us on the road.” 

“Jaskier” 

“Fine, he ran me through like he was intending to make the most musically inclined shish kebob known to mankind. Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Are you still bleeding?”

Jaskier sucked in a breath as he peeled up his blood-soaked shirt. Even though he wasn’t technically dying, that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He winced at the blood running down his stomach in little rivulets.

“Yeah, it’s still bleeding a little.” Yennefer cursed.

“Fuck. We need to get out of here as soon as possible or you’re going to have to end up taking one of my blood replenishing potions again.”

Jaskier resolved to leave immediately. Those potions were fucking disgusting. Luckily, Geralt seemed to sense the urgency and chose that moment to reawaken.

“The fuck?” Geralt threw himself to his feet at the ready as quick as one wrapped in chains possibly could. Yennefer clapped her hands together, drawing his attention to her.

“Fantastic Geralt, you’re finally up. It appears we’ve been kidnapped, you’re covered in chains, I’ve got magic suppressing cuffs, and Jaskier’s been run through with another man’s steel.”

Nothing got Geralt furious quicker than hearing of harm done to his bard.

“Jaskier?” The witcher pressed himself against the bars of his cell, eyes searching to meet Jaskier’s own. He raised his arm in an awkward wave, trying not to flinch at the steadily increasing pain.

“Hello Geralt. Lovely day to get stabbed, isn’t it?” Geralt wasn’t amused.

“Are you okay?’

“I’ll be better as soon as we get the fuck out of this awful, disgusting dungeon. I feel like I’m going to catch a disease just from brushing up the wall in here. Now how about I get us the hell out of here?”

The look on Geralt and Yennefer’s faces was one of intense worry as they watched Jaskier heave himself to his feet, almost gagging at the pain that flared throughout his stomach. Geralt barely stopped himself from reaching out to assist him, realizing that he’d never be able to help through the iron bars between them.

“You don’t have to Jaskier. You’re hurt, you need the energy to heal, not drain it summoning the undead. We can find another way.” Jaskier laughed.

“Another way? You’re covered in chains and Yen’s locked off from her magic. I can get us out of here, and then take a nice long nap.” 

He met Geralt and Yennefer’s eyes, waiting for each of them to nod their assent before his next actions.

The bard held out a hand in front of him, closing his eyes and letting his subconscious drag down into the earth below. He could feel his power begin to condense in his fingertips, creating a soft blue glow. His power sent a call out to the underworld, and a smile crossed his face when he felt something answer.

Jaskier opened his eyes to see a skeleton pulling itself from the earth in front of his cell. As soon as it stood in front of him, it swept into a low bow and hissed words in a language foreign to all living beings except those with a connection to Death. 

Masterrrrrrrrr……..

Jaskier grinned.

“Hello there! As you can see, we’re in a little bit of a predicament, if you wouldn’t mind it would be great if you could release us?”

The skeleton spared no second thought before enacting Jaskier’s wishes, ripping open the bars of his cell like they were made of paper, and proceeding to do the same for Yen and Geralt and their bonds. 

Just as the skeleton was finishing up with Geralt’s chains, a troop of bandits swarmed into the dungeon, a man dressed in red at the head.

He was no doubt the leader of the crew, and was understandably shocked to see all of his prisoners standing free. 

“I hate to interrupt the part of this whole ordeal where you’ve undoubtedly come down here to tell us all about your evil plan of capturing us, who hired you, and what’s going to become of us, but I’m afraid we simply must go. Places to be, and all that. Luckily you won’t have to go explaining to the lordling who hired you why we’ve gone missing, because you’ll be a little preoccupied dealing with some of my dear friends!” Jaskier performed a lazy wave of his hand, his fingertips resuming the familiar glowing blue hue. The bandit seemed to be having trouble processing what exactly was going on.

“What-how,” he sputtered, but was interrupted by the screams of his men in the halls behind him. The clickity clack of bone on the stone floors brought a smile to Jaskier’s face, and the tears of flesh and ligaments being torn away filled the dungeon. The men spun around, attention taken by the new imminent threat, swords raising in shaking hands. Too easy.

Jaskier felt a hand tug on his shoulder, and was pulled through a door into a forgotten corridor after Yen and Geralt. They traipsed down hallway after hallway, collecting Jaskier’s lute and Geralt’s confiscated swords. 

After a few minutes Jaskier’s steps became less steady, and his knees began to feel more like jelly. The third time the bard had to grab the wall for support Geralt lifted him into his arms seamlessly, making sure he was comfortable before ambling on. 

It wasn’t long until they reached sunlight, but by then the world had already begun to go hazy for Jaskier. He had used up too much of his energy summoning the undead and he had lost too much blood. 

Jaskier allowed the gentle rocking of Geralt’s pace to lull him to sleep, his eyelids drifting shut against the midday sun. He knew that when he woke he would be safe and the campsite, protected in his lover’s arms and soon to be met with his overbearing fussing. There would be a warm bowl of stew, a roaring fire, and plenty of blankets. There would be laughter as Yennefer told the tale of the most recent fool who had dared to cross her, and Geralt would bury his face in Jaskier’s hair to disguise his amused smile. It would be home.

Jaskier closed his eyes, and allowed himself to dream.

___________

Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to send more prompts!

[lyssismagical]

Hey, you know... if you ever wanted to write another Parkner glee au (bc i found the other two you wrote and I'm obsessed) I think the Bash episode in s5 would be pretty cool. If you can't swing it, that's fine. Just a suggestion but mostly good job I love what you've done with the others 💖💖💖

Glee AU #3 – Bash (S5 ep15)

{TW: Homophobia, Violence}

 Ever since they moved to Boston together, things had been relatively calm. There hadn’t been any conflicts between any of the roommates, no terrible injuries, no issues with moving out, they’d been happily enjoying the adult life.

Harley and Peter were going to MIT, MJ going to Harvard, and Ned at Tufts University.

They were living in a decently nice apartment not far from all three of their campuses, and close to where Betty, Ned’s girlfriend, was going, Yale.

It was theirs in a way that most things weren’t. They paid for it all on their own, and they were continuing to pay rent, pay their bills, and buy groceries all with their own hard-earned money.

For Harley, the best thing about the past couple months in Boston was Peter.

They’d been dating since Junior year and now they’re living together, sleeping in the same bed, going to school together, having date nights all the time.

At first, MJ had said, quiet and concerned, that she was worried this would be too much for their relationship. She’d always been observant, and it was true that they were used to a lot of time apart. Especially with Harley spending the summers in Tennessee and Peter spending most nights Spider-Manning, they’d never really spent this long together.

But their relationship flourished.

Instead of feeling claustrophobic in their relationship, they basked in the time they could spend together.

They had more arguments, but they had a lot more time to communicate their problems and work through them. They were good for each other in that way.

The peace they’d all been basking in made it so surprising when the first headline appeared before them.

A friend of a friend was in the hospital after being beaten up in an alleyway, left unconscious in the rain, simply for being gay.

Peter hadn’t been Spider-Man in months. After Mysterio the summer before and the additional stress of moving to Boston and MIT, he’d made a deal with May and Tony that he’d put Spider-Man on the backburner unless absolutely necessary.

Everybody had expected, sitting around their dining room table, newspaper laid out on the center of the table, that Peter would be swinging through the streets to bring justice.

Instead, Harley found Peter in their bed, blankets tugged over his head like he was hiding from the horrors of the world.

“You okay, darling?” Harley asks gently. He sits on the edge of the bed and waits patiently as Peter slowly pulls the blankets off his head.

“No,” he says, eyes wide and glossy. “I know Travis wasn’t the only one with that way of thinking, but I guess it felt like the world was righter after Travis had changed for the better.”

Harley silently curses himself. Of course a headline like that would bring back unwanted high school memories.

Travis Wright had bullied Peter for three years, even going as far as threatening to kill Peter after he’d kissed Peter. A year or so later, after Harley and Peter had met, Travis had found Peter again, had admitted to being gay himself, had been projecting his own internalized homophobia on Peter, and told Peter he was becoming a better person.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Harley murmurs, tugging Peter into a hug. “I promise you, you’ll be okay. We’ll keep you safe. We can have MJ’s boyfriend bodyguard you or something. Or we could even call Happy, get a real bodyguard-”

“I’m Spider-Man, Harls, I’m my own protection. I just- I worry about you. I know you’ve always been the kind of guy to fight back and you’re strong, but these guys- they’re always stronger and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Harley smiles gently at his boyfriend, kissing his forehead. “Is this the perfect excuse for you to walk me to class in the morning? I wouldn’t mind riding the subway with you.”

It’s a silly kind of joke to be making in such a scary time, but Harley’s always been the kind of person to make badly timed jokes.

It does it’s job, though. Peter offers a watery smile and links their hands together.

Peter does end up walking Harley from class to class, even if it means being late for his own, and even if it means nearly losing his job when he’s late.

He’d do anything to keep Harley safe, that had never been a question.

Except for the small fact that Peter’s a busy guy. He’s always been the kind of person to fill his workload to the very brim, to never give himself even a second of spare time.

So he’s not too surprised when one of the days, he’s waiting just inside the autoshop he works at, waiting for Peter to show up, when MJ hops out of a taxi instead.

“Peter called,” she explains, looping their arms together to start their trek back to their apartment.

If anybody threatening shows up in their path, they can just pretend to be dating instead, so neither of them are very worried about anything happening. And either way, it’s only a fifteen minute walk back to the apartment.

“Did he get caught up?” Harley asks, not a hint of anger or disappointment in his voice.

“A coworker asked him to cover her shift because her sister got in an accident. You know how he is. He called me on his break, very flustered and asked if I could walk you home.”

Harley frowns. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“He knows that,” she says, squeezing his arm. “He’s just protective and he worries about you, about all of us, really. He’s even had Ned being careful not to take any shady routes home after classes.”

They make it home without any problem, unsurprisingly. Ned’s sitting on their couch, video game controller in hand. Betty’s stretched across the cushions, head in her boyfriend’s lap. She’s staying the long weekend at their apartment.

Harley immediately makes his way to the kitchen to start making dinner, and he hears MJ talking to Betty and Ned in the living room.

Maybe that’s why, when the call comes, it’s such a surprise.

It’s supposed to be a domestic, sweet Friday night with the five of them, eating Harley’s homemade dinner and bickering about which movie to watch.

It’s supposed to be the kind of night where everyone turns in early from a long week of hard work, followed by a late Saturday morning breakfast of Peter’s wonderful pancakes and MJ’s expensive coffee.

It’s supposed to be followed by Saturday Dinner Potluck where Flash and Harry come to visit, and Gwen sometimes makes it out to join them, and everyone makes a bit of food to share.

That’s not how it goes.

*

It’s late and the four of them are half-asleep around the living room, not worried about their missing fifth member, unsure when he’ll make it back from his late shift.

Harley’s phone rings from the kitchen, just loud enough to heard over the Friends episode that plays on the TV, more background noise to their hushed conversations than anything.

Harley extracts himself from the couch, coaxing MJ’s legs out of his lap and Ned’s head from his shoulder, socked feet padding quietly across the hardwood to the kitchen.

“Hello?”

As soon as the news is delivered, he slips into one of the breakfast bar stools, heart pounding in his chest as he utters a quick goodbye, fingers moving to dial Harry.

Harry, living just a few hours away in his own house with his boyfriend, answers his ringing phone, assuming wrongly that it’ll be Harley confirming Saturday Potluck.

Flash stirs against his chest when Harry drops his phone in horror and surprise at the news.

Tony’s asleep when his phone rings.

Pepper and Morgan are sleeping on the couch next to him, the credits of a Disney movie rolling on the TV.

The news is told before he can even get out a greeting.

He wakes Pepper, tears already shining in his eyes.

May’s working a night shift when she gets the call. It’s late and the worry spikes faster than imaginable. She’s gotten too many late night calls from any of the kids to know what it means.

The news still makes tears spring to her eyes and her knees go weak.

Harley’s been pacing the waiting room for nearly two hours by the time Harry and Flash burst through the doors, faces echoing Harley’s panic.

“Is he okay? What happened?” Flash demands, hands trembling as he grabs Harry’s and squeezes tight.

Harley opens his mouth to explain the story he got from the man who talked to them earlier, but nothing comes out.

“There’s been a few attacks recently,” MJ says, materializing at his side, hand on his shoulder. “A group of people who aren’t happy with the positive changes with gay rights who’ve been targeting people. I guess… There was this guy, Charlie, who was getting attacked in an alleyway, and- you know Peter. He’s never been the kind of person to stand by while someone else is in trouble.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Harry asks, paling when Harley and MJ are quiet for too long.

Harley swallows thickly. “He should be. He’s got Spider-Man on his side, and Charlie called the cops as soon as he got away. But the group, one of them pulled a gun.”

The boyfriends sink into a set of chairs across from them, knuckles white where they hold hands.

“But is going to be okay?” Flash’s voice is shaking almost as badly as his hands. “This isn’t even close to the first time he’s been shot.”

Before Harley can give an answer, not that he can really think of anything good to say, a nurse comes out of Peter’s room.

“Parker family?”

They must look like a strange bunch. Harley, MJ, Betty, Ned, Harry, and Flash, but the nurse barely even blinks when they turn to her.

“Is he going to be okay?” Flash repeats.

The nurse smiles. Not one of those plain and sad, sympathetic smiles, the kind of smiles that Harley was given when he was told his dad was never coming back. The kind of smiles that he was given when the principal at his first school told him there was nothing he could do about cruel words.

It’s not that.

It’s a genuine, good news smile.

“Yeah, he’s going to be just fine. His body’s still working through the anesthetics from the surgery, but everything went well and he’s all patched up. You can go in to see him, but I’d recommend not crowding his room when he wakes up.”

All eyes immediately turn to Harley. He’s Peter’s boyfriend, he’s not exactly sure if that takes priority over best friends, but he understands that they’re giving him the opportunity to see Peter first and his heart warms.

He nods quickly, thanking the nurse as quick as his clumsy tongue will let him, and his shoulders finally relax.

“He’s in room 248 whenever you’re ready.”

The nurse smiles once more before she heads back down the hallway she came from.

“Are you sure?” Harley asks when the two couples sit down again.

MJ smiles, patting at his shoulder. “Go see him. Come get us when you’re ready to. We’ll all be okay waiting for a little while longer.”

That’s all the reassurance he needs before he hurries down the hallway, awkwardly trying not to sprint, but desperate to see his boyfriend as quickly as he can.

He barely manages to slow himself when he bursts into Peter’s hospital room, eyes wide and burning with tears.

This is the one downside with being in love with Peter Parker.

Having to get used to seeing his loved one in a hospital bed too often, even if it’s never for very long. With Peter’s enhanced healing, he’s never been in the hospital for more than a couple days, but it also makes him think he’s invincible and jump into fights without a second thought.

Even now, in a scenario where Peter was supposed to be walking home from a shift at work, where he was supposed to join them in their living room, maybe offer to crack open a bottle of wine for them, snuggle up against Harley’s side.

Even then, Peter ended up in the hospital.

How much is the world going to throw at him for simple existing? How unfair is the universe for throwing this at him too?

Harley finally moves, eyes unable to stop staring at the cuts and bruises that litter his love’s pale skin.

He carefully slides into the space next to Peter in the bed, tears burning at his eyes as he gently presses a kiss to Peter’s temple.

“Nothing’s going to harm you, not while I’m around,” he promises.

He presses his nose against Peter’s neck, tucking his head in the crook of Peter’s shoulder, and he tries not to make it too obvious when the tears fall.

*

Harley jerks awake when he feels a kiss to his cheek.

His eyes dart around the room, remembering where he is and why, and the pain sparks in his chest, nothing physical but something so deeply emotional because his Peter was hurt.

“Hi,” Peter says, squinting up at Harley. His cuts have mostly healed, red lines left in their wake. The bruises have gone from the scary hues of black and purple down to softer yellows and greens. He’s half-smiling but there’s something awfully wrong about it.

“Are you feeling okay?” Harley asks, immediately regretting the words. “I mean, obviously you’re not, but I just- I don’t know-”

Peter winces and he rests his mouth against Harley’s jaw for a long moment to compose himself.

Eventually, he sighs and says, “I’ve been shot before and this isn’t my first being beaten up, that’s for sure. It’s not even my first time being beaten up for being bisexual. That was pretty much my whole junior year.”

Harley nods silently, gently threading his fingers through Peter’s hair. They’re close enough together, squished up in the hospital bed, that Harley can see the flush of Peter’s cheeks and the tears that pool in his eyes.

“But this felt so different. Travis, at least he knew me, right? He was never going to kill me, despite the threats he made. He was just a scared kid, you know? Those people, they saw a guy with a rainbow pin on his bag, and they wanted to kill him. They saw me protecting him, and they wanted to kill me too. That’s not- That’s not right.”

“It’s not,” Harley agrees because he isn’t sure what else he’s supposed to say. “I know, but Charlie, the guy you saved, he gave a full statement to the police, and it should be enough to track those people down and have them arrested.”

Peter sniffles, chin wobbling. “I’ve just never been that scared before. I was so worried for you that I wasn’t even thinking about me when I was walking home that night. I thought- I guess I thought I’d be okay because I’m Spider-Man. But I wasn’t Spider-Man.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harley says. He kisses his boyfriend’s forehead, grabbing his hand and threading their fingers together. Peter’s knuckles are busted, blood still staining his fingers.

*

Peter’s released from the hospital that night.

He’s still weak and beyond tired, but he throws on a brave smile as Harley helps him up and into the sweatpants and t-shirt MJ brought for them.

Harley hails them a taxi and he never lets go of Peter’s hand for the whole trip home.

“You okay?” Harley asks for the thousandth time when they reach their apartment door.

“I love you,” Peter says instead, kissing Harley before he smiles. “I’m good, I’m alright.”

Harley opens the door and leads Peter into the apartment.

The dining room, kitchen, and living room are all filled with people.

May, Gwen, Tony, Pepper, and Morgan made the four hour road trip to Boston. Harry, Flash, and Betty are still hanging around. Ned and MJ are setting the dining room table. Abbie and Macy got the nearest flight from Tennessee.

There’s food laid out across the table and MJ spots them first, lighting up in a smile.

“Saturday Night Potluck,” she explains, jogging over to pull Peter into a tight hug. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear me?”

“No promises,” Peter says, but he’s smiling brightly and he looks so much younger, worry lines smoothing out and the nicks and faded bruises look more like tricks of the light, not a traumatic experience painted so much deeper than his skin.

Tony’s there next, but he doesn’t take it as well. “Are you kidding me, Parker?”

Harley can tell the anger comes from the right place, and he rolls his eyes. “You couldn’t wait even one day to reprimand him?”

“Was I stupid to think you’d be safe here?” Tony demands, completely ignoring Harley. “Was it stupid of me to think that sending you off to University would mean you’d be safe? What were you thinking, Parker? What if they’d all had guns, huh? What if- They could’ve killed you.”

“I know.” The smile’s faded from his face and it makes Harley want to punch Tony. “But I’ve been dealing with these kinds of people for as long as I can remember. I’ve got my healing, Tony. I can’t just stand by when things like this happens.”

Tony’s expression crumples and he tugs Peter into his arms. “Please, for the sake of my old heart, please don’t do anything like that again. I can’t handle getting anymore calls like that, okay?”

Peter squeezes Tony, but doesn’t bother making that promise.

Everyone knows, all too well, that Peter’s guilt complex mixed with his heroic compassion, he’d never be able to give up helping people. It’s just what he does.

“Saturday Night Potluck!” Ned calls out, arms spread wide to show off the arrangement of too many lawn chairs around their much too small table, covered in different dishes and foods. “Come eat!”

Harley smiles and wraps an arm protectively around Peter’s waist to lead him to the table.

Life is about weighing the good with the bad, and Peter, despite having been through so much bad, still has plenty of good constantly surrounding him.

He has his strange, inexplicable family. He has Saturday Night Potlucks and Friday movie nights. He has this.

Harley squeezes his hand.

He’s still here, still standing, still going to view the world in the same optimistic, hopeful way that he always has despite everything that’s told him not to, still going to stand strong and brave, still going to stand up for what he believes in despite the consequences he might face, still going love because love is enough to conquer hate.

He’s still here.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10  

[mariinara]

FOR GOD, LIBERTY, AND LOVE. (Sam Drake x Reader) ANGST |PART 1|

A/N: Well, this one-shot is late. BUT HERE IT IS, FINALLY. I hated writing this :,) I feel awful.

Request for: @samdrakeftw (ENJOY!)

Tags: @missdictatorme , @the-drakeboys , @the-winchesterboys , @hrgnm , @purplezebra68

Prompts: "Don't die on me." + "Don't make this harder than it is."

Warnings: Angst, death.

Word count: 2,416

(Part 2 here!)

"There she is!"

You quickly whipped your head towards the source of the voice and the sounds of multiple, heavy footsteps, startled, "Oh, shit.."

You glanced down at the Shoreline soldier, whom you stabbed to death and, quickly, you ripped a part of his t-shirt away, took his Para .45 gun, and sprung back on your feet, starting to bolt towards a plausible refuge. 

'This was a bad idea..'

You thought to yourself just when bullets of different calibers started to rain behind you, causing you to flinch and duck away as you ran, losing balance a little and stumbling onto your feet but, luckily, your strong desire to survive carried you and you continued your sprint through the ship graveyard. Your feet were sore and the gushing bullet wound through your hand was not helping you. 

As much as you attempted to maintain a tough facade, you felt terrified. There you were, running away from an entire army of soldiers, who seeked you to avenge their fallen comrades. 

It was because of you that so many Shoreline soldiers were taken down, and you reckoned that Nate and Elena took down their own, generous share of them, which was why Rafe was pissed and sending more guns behind you.

But you were on your own.

You'd parted ways with them to cover more ground to find Sam and, after a long argument with Nathan, you were able to bolt away, with only a switch-blade, a revolver, and your will to both save Sam and punch him into oblivion.

And there you were, teasing death with your absolute perseverance, your feet padding strongly on the ground as you rippled through shipwrecks. You were thinking about nothing else but your own survival. 

'You're gonna be okay..'

You assured yourself, heavy breaths escaping your parted, cut lips as you vaulted over a stack of piled wood, barely avoiding the bullets that ostensibly came at you from every direction. 

Your eyes scanned the environment and, when you saw a coming turn, you decided to take it, slipping a bit when you made the sudden shift. But in no time, you were on your feet again.

"Here!" 

You quickly whipped out your gun just when the sniper aimed right at you and took your shot, clean through his forehead. For a second he looked stunned and he fell over, and when you wanted to take a large step forward to take the sniper gun, more men appeared in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

Your eyes flickered in both directions, back and forth, and it seemed like you were trapped for a good couple of seconds. There was no way through the ship next to you, but there was a small opening that you could squeeze through.

Without wasting another second, you inhaled deeply and squeezed yourself through, breathing heavily and wincing when your wounded hand made contact with the splintered wood and gunshots fired incessantly, putting holes in the ship, but you ran through it, ducking your head away. 

'Just breathe.'

You reminded yourself. God, why were you doing that in the first place? Why did you think, for a second, that this was a good idea? You were mad at Samuel for lying and putting your lives at risk, yet there you were, throwing yourself in the face of danger for the same man who'd broken your heart.

But you couldn't bear to lose him again. 

Not after you'd just gotten him back.

And that was your only drive. The incentive that was so strong that it controlled your body for you. You'd stabbed and dodged and parkoured your way through Avery's bullshit, and sometimes, you'd be so stunned at your own actions that you'd ask yourself: "How the hell did I do that?" 

You had no clue that you were capable of inciting such chaos– to elicit such rage, frustration, and desperation from Nadine and Rafe to the extent that they'd be so threatened so as to send a whole battalion after you.

And as much as that brought you satisfaction, you'd wished that it was all over. You just wanted any sign that Sam was safe and sound, and once you heard guns blazing from a distance and saw that he was there, alive and well and making a beeline from Shoreline, you were instantly back on your feet to retrieve him.

But, oh, how could that ever go according to plan with military men being at every corner?

A loud groan came from you when you jumped on a lower cliff, right below the shipwreck you were running through. 

Ahead of you, a battle cry could be heard just as a soldier rounded a corner to surprise you and swing the back of his shotgun to knock you out but you quickly dodged him and ducked, pulling out your switchblade and plunging it into his jugular. 

He stopped struggling and fell to the floor, allowing you to take over his weapon. After strapping it to your back, you continued your sprint and, you couldn't deny it, you were pretty sick of yourself.

You'd left this career for a reason.

Inflicting harm upon others had become more of a nightmare to you. For days, you wouldn't sleep properly when you'd remember how you so effortlessly slashed someone's neck or riddled their body with bullets.

You loved treasure hunting but everything came with a price and this was one you were no longer willing to pay.

With a loud grunt, you slammed your entire weight against yet another wrecked ship, getting your body through the moldy wood easily. You caught yourself when you nearly fell over and your eyes skimmed your surroundings. 

'There. I can take cover there.'

You quickly jumped behind a pile of excavation boxes and sat down, your back propped against them. You tried to stop shaking and quickly pulled out the cloth you'd ripped from the soldier earlier, tying your hand with the flimsy fabric.

You let out a soft whimper as you applied pressure to your wound, clenching your fist when the cloth was secured around your palm, "Ah, fuck.." You whispered to yourself, resting your head back and trying to catch your breath, swallowing to dampen your dry throat.

"Careful. Lots of hiding places out here."

They were coming closer. And if you didn't get yourself together in the matter of less than a minute, you were going to be a goner. 

'God– What was I thinking!?'

You mentally scolded yourself whilst reaching for your thigh holster for your gun, which you pulled out and checked for ammo. 

'One bullet. Perfect. Might as well put it in my own head.' 

You quickly pushed the magazine back into the handgun and unwrapped your shotgun, adjusted the safety, and clung to the weapon with tight, shaking hands and closed eyes.

"You check over there. I'll stay here to lookout. She can't have gone too far."

"Roger that."

Your eyes snapped open again as the men separated to cover more ground and your guard was up again. You sat in a crouching position so you'd be able to bolt away if you wanted to easily.

You held your breath as you heard footsteps approaching the boxes you were behind. Slow, careful ones, as if the soldier just knew you were there. As if he knew that just the slightest, wrong move from him could trigger a reaction from you that he might not like.

Suddenly, and out of nowhere, gunshots could be heard, and the men's attentions were diverted elsewhere, but you flinched at the flying bullets, ducking your head behind the boxes and holding your head in your hands, not daring to peek lest you lose your head.

You'd had enough. Your lungs were filled with the suffocating humidity and you were trying so hard to keep it together but you were sure you were about to lose your mind. You've been fighting your way through Libertalia on your own for a long while and all the assaults, the attacks, the bullets, the punches, they all left both physical and mental scars in you.

There. Was. A. Reason. You. Quit.

But, for Sam, you were prepared to go through just about anything and you'd often wondered if he'd do the same. If he even felt the same. 

You were such a coward. 

You could handle yourself, hold a gun, shoot people and impale them with ease, but you could never bring yourself to look him in the eyes and tell him what you've wanted to all those years back. 

That you loved him. That you always have and probably always will. He died and left you to wallow in your misery for fifteen years and now that he was back, it was your chance for a redo. 

But, once again, you couldn't do it and you just didn't know what it was about him. His intense, yet warm gaze was probably it. It made you shake with fear. The fear of not being adequate enough for him. You've seen what type of women he hooked up with and you were nothing like them. A voice would tell you that it was probably a good thing. That Sam was actually waiting for someone like you to impact his life. To cause that dramatic shift within him. To make him wonder what life would taste like with you, tucked in his arms.

But another voice told you "Don't. He's not looking for anything." 

And you'd changed your mind. You'd shaken your head with a thin smile and a soft 'nothing..' before turning away from him, leaving him confused yet intrigued. And that was the last time you had any interaction. After that, his lie was exposed, and you didn't know why, but as much as your heart broke because of it, you couldn't find it in you to be mad at him. 

Sure, punching the daylights out of him was a priority, but at that moment, you just wanted to find him and never let him go. 

Startled, you let out a loud scream after being taken into a pair of strong arms. You struggled, feeling the person turn you, saying things that you couldn't quite hear over your low growls of resistance.

"Let me go!" You yelled, trying to push them away. You couldn't see anything except the blur of your own tears. You didn't even know why you were crying.

"Hey!" The person's sharp voice came and something in your brain clicked. That voice. It was so familiar and it slowly brought you out or your trance. You were breathing heavily, your stamina suddenly feeling low, "It's me.. It's just me.." He comforted, cupping your cheeks in his hands and tilting your head up, wanting to look at you.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, studying his deeply concerned expression. You were overjoyed. He was right there, holding you. And it'd dawned on you that the bullet sounds ceased completely. That you could only hear the heavy winds and you and Sam's erratic breathing.

When he realized that you were back to him, he let out a sigh of relief and smiled, making something burst inside of you and you felt the tears rushing to your eyes. The contortions your face suddenly made hurt every deep cut in your skin and you couldn't help but wince before letting out a sob.

Sam knew that reaction was coming and he knew you. He knew that you were relieved to have him right there in front of him. He knew that you came after him alone and as much as that worried him sick, he was sort of glad he had you there. And yet he had no idea what he'd done to deserve that. 

Gratefulness suddenly overcame him and he took you into an embrace as you cried and all you could do was surrender and close your eyes as your face pressed into his chest. One of his hands was holding the back of your head, his fingers deep into your hair. His other arm was around you, and he let out a soft sigh of comfort, just basking in your presence.

"It's just me.." He repeated, his voice barely above a tired whisper, "It's okay.."

Slowly, you started to calm down. Your sobs were no more and you only started to sniff and hiccup lightly and Sam pulled away, only to look at you. Your beautiful face. The face that he so dearly loved. You had the ability to make him feel warm and it was almost embarrassing how many times he'd catch himself staring into your observant, curious, lively eyes. 

And your smile.

Oh, what he wouldn't give to see you give him a smile and one of your coy laughs. You were such a blessing.

But, much like you, he was a coward. He couldn't bring himself to look you in the eyes and tell you how you made him feel. He wanted to tell you that he's imagined you jumping into his arms and kissing him on more than one occasion but he just couldn't and he too had no clue as to why he felt so timid around you– it was extremely out of character for him.

"You okay?" He asked you gently while wiping away your tears with his thumbs, staring into your lost eyes.

You nodded with a small hum, feeling yourself unable to form the words just yet, like you were brain-dead. If you'd even opened your mouth, nothing articulate would come out.

"We gotta go, alright?" He spoke gently, tucking stray strands of your hair behind your ears, his hazel eyes warm, assuring safety. Quickly, you nodded. After that, his hands left your cheeks so he could reload his gun, "Stay close." He instructed, jogging ahead already. 

You stared at him as he did, your shoulders sagged in defeat and your eyes still welled up with tears. You wondered just how much you truly loved him. You let out a shaky breath when you realized that it hurt when he wasn't cupping your cheeks anymore or playfully quipping. 

You remembered how hard it was to live for such a long time without him. 

And you knew that, as long as he was next to you, there was nothing you couldn't do. That thought alone pushed you to jog and catch up to him, feeling your stamina get back to you.

_____________