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minhosbitterriver · 10 months ago

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────* ˚ ✦ BONDS OF PASSION ( stray kids )

❛ In a night of profound emotional connection and intimacy, you and Minho explore your bond through the intricate art of shibari, culminating in a tender embrace that deepens your love and gratitude.

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.2k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 28 mins

꒰ 💌 �� ミ I'm always saying this, but I really love shibari; it's quite literally one of my favorite kinks. So, thank you to my wonderful mootie, Merin, for making the request! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, this is Y/N's first time participating in shibari, Minho has experience in shibari, intensely emotional sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), penetration, unprotected sex (please don't do this), let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

The world outside seemed to fade away as if his bedroom had slipped into a realm of its own, where time slowed and the only reality was the two of you, kneeling on the floor. Every breath shared in the confined space felt amplified, the air thick with anticipation. The weight of your bare bodies pressed against the cool wooden floor, facing each other in a vulnerable dance of gazes that held unspoken promises. His eyes, deep pools of dark intensity, locked onto yours with a fervor you had never witnessed before. Minho's gaze bore into you, filled with a passion so palpable it sent shivers down your spine, yet there was something more—a quiet confidence, an ease born of experience, that radiated from him like a quiet storm. It was a look that only someone who had navigated these waters before could possess.

In contrast, you could feel the uncertainty swirling within your own eyes, a reflection of the storm raging inside you. You imagined how pale your face must appear under the soft light, as your heart pounded relentlessly against your chest, each beat echoing in the stillness of the room. The silence between you both was almost deafening, broken only by the rhythmic rise and fall of your breaths. You were acutely aware that this was uncharted territory for you, a space where Minho had already traveled with ease.

This would be the first time you would surrender so completely, relinquishing not just the control of your body but also the reins of your heart and soul. The thought of it made your pulse race even faster, a flutter of nerves and excitement tangling within you. The rope you had both chosen together, a symbol of trust and shared desire, lay between you on the floor, a silent witness to the intimacy about to unfold. As you knelt before him, you knew that tonight, you would willingly empty your mind, allowing Minho to guide you into a world where he alone dictated the pace, where his touch would define your every movement and sensation. And as the rope waited patiently, you found yourself ready to embark on this journey with him, prepared to lose yourself in the intensity of the moment.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly before Minho’s lips finally curled into a gentle, reassuring smile, a subtle yet powerful gesture that sent a cascade of tingles racing across your skin. The moment felt suspended in a delicate balance between anticipation and reality, where the space between you two was charged with an unspoken understanding. The warmth of his gaze enveloped you, pulling you into the depths of his emotions, where you could glimpse the full spectrum of his intentions, his unyielding desire, and the raw intensity of his feelings. In that gaze, you found solace, a calming balm to the storm of thoughts that had been churning within you.

The world outside seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you cocooned in this intimate bubble. Minho’s eyes spoke volumes, revealing the depth of his commitment to you, and in that moment, all remnants of doubt and anxiety began to dissipate. The air around you, thick with silent anticipation, was finally pierced by the soft melody of his voice, tender and careful as if coaxing your soul to dance with his. “Do you remember our safe word?” he asked, the question a gentle reminder of the trust that formed the foundation of what was about to unfold.

His eyes left yours momentarily, tracing the contours of your expression as if seeking any lingering traces of hesitation. You met his gaze with a timid nod, the ghost of a smile beginning to tug at your lips. “Mercy,” you whispered, the word carrying with it a promise of trust, a signal that you were still willing to journey into this new, uncharted territory with him.

Minho’s smile widened, a reflection of the satisfaction and joy that your willingness brought him. It was a smile that held a thousand promises, a smile that reassured you of the care he would take as he led you further into this passionate exploration. In that smile, you saw not just a lover, but a guide, someone who would hold you through the most intense moments and bring you safely to the other side. And as you both prepared to step into this new chapter together, the connection between you deepened, wrapped in the shared understanding that, no matter what, you were in this together.

Minho rose to his feet, and your eyes couldn’t help but follow the fluid motion of his form, tracing the contours of his body as he moved with a quiet, unspoken elegance. Every inch of him was a masterpiece, a living testament to the beauty that lies in the harmony of strength and grace. As he made his way behind you, you allowed yourself to drink in the sight of him, this man who stood before you like a vision of divine perfection. His naked form, something you had always admired, seemed almost otherworldly in its beauty, a reflection of the statues of ancient gods that once graced the grand temples of old.

Minho’s physique was a study in contrasts, lean yet muscular, with each muscle defined in a way that spoke of both power and restraint. His body was a work of art, chiseled with the same care and precision that an ancient sculptor might have applied to marble, capturing the very essence of masculine beauty. Every movement he made was deliberate, infused with a quiet confidence that spoke of his inner strength. There was a grace in the way he carried himself, an elegance that made your knees tremble with admiration, as if you were in the presence of a god who needed no words to command the space around him.

The sharp lines of his jaw were a testament to the precision with which nature had crafted him, a strong and unwavering feature that brought to mind the angular perfection of the statues that had survived the ages. It was a defining trait, one that spoke of the strength and resolve that lay beneath the surface, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly it seemed to fit him, as if he had been carved by the hands of an ancient artisan intent on embodying the ideal of masculine beauty.

And then there were his hands, the part of him you cherished most. Those hands, both graceful and strong, were like those of a Greek statue, crafted with a care that reflected both power and delicacy. Whether they were guiding him through the fluid movements of a dance or exploring every inch of your body with a precision that drove you to the edge of insanity, his hands conveyed an artistry that was unparalleled. They spoke of his physical prowess, of his ability to channel his strength into the most delicate of touches, and in those moments, you could feel the depth of his connection to you, as if his very soul was intertwined with yours.

Lee Minho, the man who held your heart in his hands, was a raw beauty to behold, a living embodiment of the divine made flesh. His presence, his very essence, was something that captivated you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame, and as you gazed upon him, you couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of awe at the man who stood before you, a man whose soul you firmly believed was tied to yours in a bond that was as unbreakable as it was beautiful.

Your bare skin ignited with a fiery sensation the very moment Minho's warm, naked torso pressed firmly against your back. His presence was a comforting weight, his legs resting on either side of your crossed limbs, encasing you in a protective embrace. You could feel his breath, warm and gentle, fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine. As he reached around you, his hands moved with a deliberate tenderness, uncrossing your legs with a fluid grace that left you breathless. The moment his strong legs pinned yours beneath him, you felt an exhilarating surge of vulnerability and trust. His touch was a soothing balm, and as your skin prickled with tiny bumps in response, you surrendered yourself to his guidance, allowing him to mold your body however he wished.

A featherlight kiss brushed the nape of your neck, his plump lips barely grazing your skin, yet the sensation was enough to draw a muted gasp from your parted lips. Minho gently pulled you back, easing you into his embrace until your full weight rested against him, your back flush with his chest. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, and you found yourself biting back a moan as his warmth seeped into your very being.

Minho had only just begun to touch you, yet already the worries that had once plagued your mind — whether large or small, old or new — began to dissolve, fading into the background as your thoughts grew quieter. With each passing second, you felt your mind and body gradually submit to the serene headspace Minho had so patiently explained to you before. He had been right; there truly was nothing that compared to the bliss of surrendering every burden, every lingering doubt, to the gentle pleasure that was slowly consuming your senses.

Time seemed to blur as he held you close, his strong arms wrapped securely around your chest, anchoring you in the moment. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the soft rise and fall of his breathing became your world, a lullaby that lulled you deeper into tranquility. You reached up, fingers trembling slightly as you interlaced them with his, feeling the warmth and strength in his grasp. In his embrace, you found a sanctuary, a place where you could lose yourself completely, letting go of everything except the profound connection you shared with him.

It took a moment for you to realize that Minho had begun gently rocking your bodies from side to side, his embrace warm and secure, as though he was cradling your very soul. His breath, warm against your ear, sent waves of desire coursing through you, a passion so intense it bordered on painful. His voice, soft and tender, murmured words that sent shivers down your spine. "Your pretty head is already so empty, baby," he whispered, each word laced with adoration. "You're doing so good for me already." As his lips trailed tender kisses along every inch of your exposed skin, you instinctively squeezed his fingers, your silent way of letting him know you were still present, still with him.

Minho’s fingers tightened around yours in response, a comforting reassurance that melted any lingering doubts. "I can't thank you enough for trusting me like this," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine reverence. "It’s such an honor to share this moment with you." The delicacy of his words sent a soft whine escaping from your lips, quickly turning into a moan that echoed the vulnerability you felt in his presence. With a final, lingering kiss pressed onto your shoulder, Minho slowly unwrapped his arms from around your torso, his touch lingering like the ghost of a warm embrace.

He shifted his position with a graceful ease, one knee sinking to the floor while the other foot remained firmly planted, his body hovering over yours like a guardian angel. His eyes, filled with a quiet intensity, never left yours as he reached for the rope that had been momentarily forgotten between you. With practiced care, he began working the rope free from its tight spiral, each loop unfurling in a fluid motion until it lay in a long, taut line behind you.

With a few measured tugs, Minho folded the length in half, aligning the two ends with meticulous precision before letting the rope rest lazily over one of your shoulders. The looped end of the rope was held between his teeth, a playful glint in his eyes as he let the rough texture brush against your overly sensitive skin. The sensation sent your breath hitching, your heartbeat quickening in anticipation of what was to come. Every fiber of your being was attuned to him, to the way his touch promised both restraint and release, as you surrender yourself completely to the moment, to Minho.

Once the rope was positioned just right, Minho wasted no time in pressing his firm chest against your back once more. The warmth of his skin sent a comforting shiver through you, and as his body began to sway, it felt as though you were both caught in an entrancing dance. Slowly, he guided you into a series of circular motions, the gentle rhythm lulling you deeper into a shared trance. The way he moved with you was like a carefully choreographed ballet, each step measured and intentional, designed to draw out the pleasure simmering just beneath the surface.

As Minho pinned your arms beneath his own, a surge of instinct had you clutching the back of his thighs, seeking an anchor in the storm of sensations that were building between you. The heat of the moment intensified, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that washed over you with each of Minho’s expert touches. His hands, strong yet tender, guided your movements, and the synergy between your bodies grew with every slow, deliberate motion. The connection was so deep, so visceral, that you lost track of time, completely immersed in the dance of your shared intimacy.

At some point, you became aware that your legs had returned to their original x-patterned position. The realization came just as Minho’s hands, heavy with intent yet comforting in their touch, pressed against your feet. He let them linger there for a moment before slowly, sensually, dragging them up the length of your legs. His fingers caressed your inner thighs, ghosting over your aching arousal, teasing you with the promise of more. Finally, his hands found their home on your waist, and the sensation was so overwhelming that a guttural moan escaped your lips, raw and unbidden.

Your head fell back against Minho’s shoulder, your eyes fluttering open for a brief second. Through the haze of desire, you caught sight of his gaze — an all-consuming love that pierced through the fog of your mind, grounding you in the moment. The way his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that spoke of both passion and devotion, sent a shiver down your spine. You reached out with a trembling hand to squeeze his bicep, offering a blissed-out grin in return, a silent acknowledgment of the profound connection you shared. Then, with a soft sigh, you let your eyes drift closed once more, allowing yourself to sink back into the warmth of his embrace, the intimacy of this moment enveloping you completely.

A few moments passed in this heavenly embrace, each second stretching into eternity as you basked in the warmth of Minho’s touch. The world outside seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you entwined in this intimate dance. But then, the gentle hold on your waist faded, replaced by the firm yet careful grip of Minho's hands as they moved to capture your wrists. With a tender precision, he brought them together in front of your body, the motion so fluid it felt almost like an extension of the dance you were sharing.

He held your wrists together with one hand, a possessive yet loving grasp that sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins. His free hand trailed up the length of your arm, a ghostly touch that left your skin tingling in its wake, before finding its place in your hair. His fingers wove through the strands, gripping just firmly enough to draw a moan from your lips. It wasn't painful — far from it — but the pressure was just enough to remind you of the power he held, the control he wielded over your body and senses.

The rhythmic, circular motions he had so carefully orchestrated came to an abrupt stop, leaving you breathless with anticipation. Then, with a controlled force, Minho pushed both of your bodies forward, guiding you down until your chest and stomach were pressed firmly against the ground. Your knees spread to the sides, a position that left you utterly vulnerable and exposed, and the raw, guttural moan that tore from your throat was a testament to the overwhelming arousal that flooded your senses.

As your mind struggled to catch up with this new, intoxicating position, Minho's warm body followed yours, his presence a constant, grounding force. The sensation of his naked flesh draping over your folded form sent shivers of pleasure coursing down your spine, each touch amplifying the closeness you shared. The weight of him pressed against your overly sensitive skin was both a comfort and a thrill, intensifying the already electric connection between you. It was as though every inch of your body was attuned to his, every nerve ending alive with the sensation of Minho, his touch, his breath, his very essence surrounding you, holding you captive in this moment of pure, unbridled intimacy.

Despite the rope held between his teeth, Minho managed to press a tender kiss onto your flushed cheek, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. As his lips lingered, you felt the first tentative grind of his hardened arousal against your lower back, the intimate friction igniting a new wave of sensation that rippled through your body. The slow, deliberate movement caused both of you to rock back and forth in a rhythm that was as mesmerizing as it was intoxicating, a silent dance that spoke of unspoken desires and deepening connection.

Your mouth fell open in a wordless gasp, your senses immediately drowning in the overwhelming pleasure that blossomed from this newfound contact. Each subtle shift of his hips against you sent shockwaves of arousal spiraling through your core, leaving you painfully wet and clenching around the emptiness inside, desperate for more. The need within you grew with every passing second, a relentless ache that only intensified as your body responded to his touch with soft whines and gasps, spilling from your lips without restraint.

Your eyelids crinkled in pleasure, brows knitting together as your mind struggled to keep up with the storm of sensations crashing over you. But any semblance of control was quickly lost as you felt Minho's hardened length begin to leak onto your lower back, the warmth of his arousal mingling with your own fevered skin. The combination was electrifying, a heady mix of intimacy and desire that left you trembling.

Minho’s breathing grew strained, the steady rhythm faltering as he momentarily lost himself in his own pleasure, the sound of it like a raw, primal symphony that echoed in your ears. The very air between you crackled with the intensity of the moment, each breath, each touch, each whisper of fabric against skin drawing you deeper into the vortex of sensation that consumed you both. And as the two of you rocked together, moving in perfect unison, it felt as though nothing else existed beyond the boundaries of this shared moment, this exquisite blend of passion and connection.

However, the fleeting pleasure of Minho's grinding against your lower back was soon replaced by a new sensation as he shifted positions once again. His movements were deliberate, yet unhurried, as he slowly pulled away, the grinding coming to a hesitant halt. The rope that had been held between his teeth now trailed gently across the expanse of your back, leaving a tingling path in its wake. The sensation was enough to elicit a soft moan from your lips, a sound that only deepened when Minho's fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back into the solid warmth of his chest. His grip was firm yet tender, sending ripples of electricity across your skin, each pulse intensifying the connection between you.

The way your body instinctively melted into each of Minho's silent commands was intoxicating, a surrender that felt both empowering and liberating. In his hands, you felt safe, cherished, and utterly consumed by the depth of your shared intimacy. There was no need to worry or overthink, as your soul-tied lover had taken control of every aspect of your pleasure, guiding you with a deftness that only heightened your arousal with every passing second. The trust between you was palpable, a silent understanding that allowed you to let go completely, to revel in the sensations that Minho was expertly crafting.

Your awareness of his actions dimmed as you lost yourself in the familiar rhythm of your bodies moving in perfect unison. The steady rocking was a dance of pure sensation, each movement a testament to the deep connection you shared. It wasn't long before you felt Minho's hand release its hold on your hair, and your dazed eyes fluttered open, curiosity piqued by the change in his touch. His free hand joined the other, which had been holding both of your wrists, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as the rope glided smoothly over your skin, its texture a reminder of the gentle power Minho wielded over you.

With slow, deliberate movements, Minho began to wrap the rope around your wrists, his expert hands tying the first knot with a precision that was both arousing and reassuring. The pressure of the rope was firm, enough to make you feel bound, yet not tight enough to cause discomfort. It was a tender introduction, a prelude to what was to come, and the anticipation of it sent a thrill through your body. The way Minho's hands moved with such care and intention made it clear that this was only the beginning, and the thought of what lay ahead left you breathless, your heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of your shared desire.

Your breath catches as Minho's teeth graze your earlobe, a playful nip that sends a shiver down your spine. He'd just secured the first knot around your wrists, tugging lightly to ensure it held firm. The binding was precise, a testament to his careful attention. "How are we feeling, my love?" he murmured, his voice softer than a whisper, as though the very air around you would break if he spoke too loudly. Even through the fog of your bliss, you managed a silent nod, your senses dulled yet heightened by the intimacy of the moment. Minho's quiet chuckle warmed your heart, its gentle timbre resonating deep within you.

Releasing his grip on your wrists, Minho didn't pause in the rhythmic sway of your bodies. His hands moved with purpose, trailing up and down your arms in a tender effort to ground you in the here and now. The sensation was electric, a soothing contrast to the growing intensity between you. "Use your words for me," he coaxed, his tone a mix of gentle insistence and deep affection. "I need to know you're here with me." The sheer tenderness in his voice drew a whimper from your lips, the weight of your love for him pressing heavily on your chest.

As his chin came to rest softly on your shoulder, you tilted your head just enough to meet his gaze. His expression was one of pure serenity, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched you. The sight of him, so calm and full of love, made your heart swell, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of crimson. With a small, almost shy smile, you whispered, "I'm here. I'm with you." The words were meant for him alone, a quiet reassurance that you were still present, still grounded in this moment with him.

Minho's smile widened at your response, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was as sweet as it was brief. "Are you comfortable?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort, any hint that you were anything less than utterly content. But all he found was the evidence of your mind blissfully clouded, your expression soft and open. You managed another nod, followed by a whispered "yes," the word barely more than a breath. He hummed in satisfaction, pressing a kiss to your temple before his hand moved to rest against your throat.

The shift in his touch brought a new intensity to the moment, his wrist firm against your throat as he quickened the pace of your shared rhythm. The atmosphere in the room thickened, the air heavy with the weight of your connection. "My love," he murmured into your ear, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, sending another shiver through you. "From this point forward, I will be picking up the pace. Just keep in mind that I adore you completely, so if you need me to stop, all you have to do is use the safe word, and I will do as asked. Please nod your head if you understand this, baby. I need you to stay here with me."

The gentle pleading in his voice tugged at your heart, and you felt an overwhelming surge of emotion. His concern, his care, it all spoke to the depth of his feelings for you. With a soft yet firm resolve, you met his gaze, your eyes locking onto his with an intensity that mirrored his own. Slowly, you nodded, the movement small but full of assurance.

Minho's eyes softened further, the relief evident as he leaned in to capture your lips once more in a kiss that was both tender and full of promise. This moment, this connection between you, was more than just physical—it was a profound expression of the love and trust you shared. As the kiss deepened, the rhythm of your bodies followed suit, each movement syncing perfectly with the other, a dance of intimacy that enveloped you both.

Minho presses another gentle kiss to your temple, a soft, unspoken acknowledgment of your consent. The delicate touch of his lips sends a soothing warmth through you, a silent promise of care and affection. Using the wrist he had previously rested against your neck, he gently guides your head back to rest on his shoulder, his touch both tender and commanding. At the same time, he lifts your wrists slightly by the ropes binding them, a subtle shift that draws you closer to him.

As your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the intensity of the moment, you feel yourself being enveloped by the sensations surrounding you. Minho's movements become a rhythm you can't help but follow, his hips coaxing you to roll your own in an erotic dance reminiscent of the way you move when seated on his lap. The heat of his skin meets the tender, restrained touch of your tied hands, and you instinctively let your fingers brush against his cheek, a soft caress that makes his breath hitch—a delightful response to your affectionate gesture amidst the consuming passion.

You begin to roll your hips in sync with Minho’s guiding movements, the rhythm now an unspoken dance between you. Shifting your head, you nestle your face into the curve of his neck, the closeness a balm to your senses. With swift, practiced motions, Minho directs your bound hands to move in a semi-circle in front of you, a motion that feels like a step in a choreographed routine. The pace of your bodies swaying together grows more urgent and intense, your breaths becoming sharp, matching Minho's as the anticipation of the moment electrifies every nerve in your body.

As soon as your tied hands completed their arc from one side to the other, Minho eased back, allowing your pliant body to drape across his strong thigh. The soft, powerful support of his leg cradled you, and you surrendered completely to the enveloping tranquility that your mind floated upon. With your eyes still closed, you surrendered to the all-encompassing serenity that seemed to cocoon you.

Once you were settled on his thigh, Minho used his other leg to gently spread your knees further apart. A soft moan, which quickly morphed into a whine, escaped your lips as his firm hand pressed against your chest and traveled slowly down to cup your drenched arousal. But just as quickly, he withdrew, leaving you in a state of aching anticipation.

Minho shifted his body slightly, pulling you closer with the rope that bound your wrists. A hand guided your head forward, and you reluctantly opened your eyes to meet his intense gaze. His eyes, soft yet laden with a dark anticipation, locked onto yours as he resumed the sensual, circular rocking of your bodies. The tender yet unyielding rhythm of his movements sent shivers down your spine, and you felt a thrill at the shift in his gaze, a potent blend of tenderness and longing.

Leaning forward, Minho pushed you backward until your head nearly touched the ground, his lips parting in a teasing promise. Instinctively, you parted your own lips, expecting a kiss, but instead, he breathed into your mouth, the warm, intoxicating air a seductive caress as his eyes remained locked on yours. Just as abruptly, he pulled away, pressing you back firmly against his chest, leaving both of you breathless.

Your cheeks pressed together, and a thrilling shiver raced up your spine as you watched Minho pull the rope tighter, binding your wrists securely against your chest. The sensation of the rope against your skin, combined with the proximity of his body and the intensity of his gaze, created a heady, intoxicating blend of pleasure and anticipation that left you utterly enraptured.

As the session deepens, Minho maintains a steady rhythm, swaying your bodies together in perfect harmony. His skilled hands move with deliberate grace, meticulously tying the rope to ensure your hands remain securely pressed against your chest. The rope's embrace is both encompassing and protective, each knot and loop placed with exquisite care. Minho pauses occasionally, his eyes soft yet attentive, as if silently checking in on you.

The rope winds its way around your shoulders, torso, and then descends to your thighs, hips, and legs. Each pass of the rope feels grounding and intense, its firm grip holding your legs apart to reveal your glistening core. The tightening sensation of the rope, combined with Minho’s unwavering presence, envelops you in a profound sense of vulnerability and trust. As Minho finishes the intricate tying, the final knot meticulously placed, you become aware of the intensity of the emotions coursing through you. A few tears have traced paths down your cheeks, each one tenderly kissed away by Minho.

With a gentle sigh, Minho allows you to rest on the ground, still bound but comforted. He kneels beside you, his eyes sparkling with admiration as he interlocks his fingers with one of yours. His gaze is filled with a tender appreciation for the intricate work he has completed. Leaning in, he presses a soft, loving kiss to your lips, his free hand caressing your hair with affectionate strokes. Despite the bonds that encircle you, there’s an astonishing sense of relaxation that washes over your body, a profound feeling of safety you’ve never experienced before.

The realization of how deeply safe and cherished you feel brings fresh tears to your eyes. Minho coos softly, his voice a gentle balm to your soul, as he kisses away each tear with a tenderness that rekindles your love for him. This renewed affection is even more intense and consuming than before. In a moment of pure connection, you turn your head to capture his lips in a kiss filled with tender passion, a testament to the profound bond you share.

What began as a tender kiss soon transformed into an urgent expression of unrestrained desire. Each touch of your lips against Minho’s was imbued with growing desperation, your moans escaping into the intoxicating dance of your shared kiss. His breath, once controlled, now came in ragged gasps, a stark testament to the fervor that had taken hold. As your previously clouded thoughts cleared, all that remained was an all-consuming craving for his body.

Though your hands were bound tightly against your chest, your fingertips clawed into his chiseled torso, digging in as though to silently convey your deep-seated needs. Minho’s groans were a symphony of pleasure, his brows knitting together as he relished the sting of your touch. The closeness between you was so profound that it blurred the lines of where one of you began and the other ended. This intoxicating proximity had you pressing your hips fervently against his, the ropes he had so meticulously wrapped around your hips digging into both of your heated skins, enhancing the fervor of the moment.

You luxuriated in the way his hands roamed over your bound body, pausing to explore the ropes before continuing their journey. Minho’s movements were deliberate, a testament to his careful attention to your every reaction. He eventually positioned himself between your tied knees, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that made you shiver with anticipation. His gaze lingered, taking in the sight of your flushed, sweat-drenched skin and the rhythm of your chest rising and falling as you panted.

A moan, almost drunken in its intensity, escaped Minho’s lips as his eyes fell upon your achingly drenched arousal. “God, you’re already so deliciously wet for me,” he murmured softly, his voice thick with admiration. You responded with a desperate whine, arching your hips upwards in a silent plea for him to meet your needs. His eyes softened at your response, and he leaned in to place a brief, affectionate kiss on your lips before trailing his mouth downward. His kisses, messy and fervent, left a heated trail along your skin, heightening the intensity of the moment as he continued to explore.

You writhed beneath his touch, your mouth parting as a continuous stream of moans and gasps spilled forth. Every sensation was magnified by the ropes binding your body, which restricted your movements and made it challenging to maintain eye contact with him. When his breath, warm and tantalizing, brushed against your throbbing core, a cry of delight escaped your lips.

"Min, please," you whispered, your first unprompted plea since this passionate encounter began. The sound of your desperate request drew Minho's gaze upward, his eyes now burning with an even more insatiable hunger. "Please, baby," you continued to beg, your voice faltering as you struggled to articulate the depth of your need. "I need you, please, I really need—"

Your words were abruptly cut off by a loud, guttural moan that tore from your throat as Minho's exquisite lips finally made contact with your sensitive clit. The sensation of his lips enveloping and gently sucking, exactly as you had longed for, was electrifying. His touch was slow and deliberate, his movements methodical, each caress sending waves of unparalleled pleasure crashing over you.

Minho's tongue danced along the edges of your core, and you bucked your hips into his face, seeking more of the intoxicating sensation. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped your tied hands, a desperate attempt to ground yourself amidst the overwhelming pleasure. When his fingers finally entered the warmth of your aching arousal, your eyes fluttered back, a primal moan escaping you as another wave of ecstasy surged through your body.

In the past, you might have confidently declared that Minho was an exceptional lover, but the present moment redefined your understanding of his skill. His fingers moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, a pace that was both torturous and exquisite, plunging in and out of you with an intensity that left you breathless. The sensation was so overwhelmingly blissful that it eclipsed any previous experience, tightening your lower abdomen with a fervor you had never known.

Minho’s gaze was a palpable force, watching you intently as you arched your back in response to his relentless exploration of that sensitive, perfect spot inside you. His free hand pressed firmly against your abdomen, enhancing the pressure and making each thrust of his fingers feel even more profound. Meanwhile, his mouth returned to your pulsing clit, lavishing it with tender, expert attention.

The building pressure in your abdomen reached a crescendo, and you were overwhelmed by a powerful wave of pleasure that swept through your convulsing body. Minho's voice reached you as though from a great distance, his words muffled and indistinct amidst the roaring storm of your climax. Your focus remained solely on the rhythmic motion of his fingers, which continued to move deliberately in and out of you, guiding you through the final throes of your release.

As the waves of pleasure began to recede, Minho withdrew his fingers, and you watched with a mixture of awe and lingering desire as he brought them to his mouth. He cleaned your arousal with a slow, savoring sweep of his tongue, his eyes never leaving you as he did so. The sight of him tasting you, coupled with the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips, left you breathless and yearning for more.

As your breathing gradually evened out, Minho’s form loomed over you, his presence both commanding and tender. He crawled with a deliberate slowness, the heat of his hardened length brushing against your stomach with each movement. Supporting himself on his forearms, which framed either side of your head, and balancing on his knees that bracketed your hips, he created an intimate cocoon of sensation and anticipation.

Minho’s eyes sparkled with a gleeful satisfaction as he gazed down at you, a radiant smile lighting up his face. The sight of him made your cheeks flush with a warm, bashful hue, and you responded to his smile with one of your own, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his gaze. Yet, each time his aching, hardened core brushed against your skin, a hitch in his breath made it clear that the night’s pleasures were far from over. The renewed flutter of arousal in your own still-sensitive core sent a thrilling shiver through you.

“You were mesmerizing just now,” Minho murmured, his voice a soft whisper meant solely for your ears. The intimacy of his words deepened the blush on your cheeks, and rather than voicing a response, you pressed your lips to his in a fervent kiss. It was a silent plea for more, a desperate declaration of your lingering need for him. The intensity of your kiss drove Minho to groan deeply, his hips settling onto your pelvis. You felt the undeniable heat of his hardness and the telltale slickness that marked his need.

The contact elicited a shared moan from both of you, and you instinctively arched your hips upwards, meeting his body with an eager urgency. Minho shifted his weight to one arm, his free hand gently cradling your jaw as he pulled away just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze held a silent question, one that was answered by your breathless plea. “Please, Min, I’ve never felt so good,” you panted, “I want to have all of you, please.”

His eyes softened with understanding, and he leaned in to capture your lips once more. The hand that had held your jaw now descended, wrapping around his aching arousal. He groaned deeply at the touch, momentarily pausing to steady himself before he began to pump his length, spreading his own wetness and heightening his anticipation. When he finally pressed the tip of his length against your core, the breath between you both became a held moment of shared expectation.

With a careful, measured thrust, Minho sheathed himself fully inside you. Your eyes rolled back in your head as his tip found that sensitive spot with a precise, overwhelming pressure. Your back arched instinctively, seeking deeper connection. Minho’s forehead pressed against yours, his face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and intensity. His groans vibrated through you as he surrendered to the enveloping warmth of your pulsing tightness, the sensation of being within you driving him to the edge of his control.

Though Minho was often the type to drive you to the edge with relentless, vigorous thrusts that had you chanting his name like a sacred mantra, tonight was a different kind of exploration—one that delved deeply into the emotional connection you shared. This evening was about savoring the intimacy and connection between you.

The ropes that Minho had meticulously bound around your body pressed gently against your skin, creating a delicious tension that made your blood hum with heightened sensation. Each touch of the rope intensified the bliss that flowed through you, amplifying the pleasure you felt with every slow, deliberate motion of Minho’s hips. He would draw back just enough to tease, then push back into you with a depth that elicited soft, breathy moans from your lips.

Minho, too, was caught in the throes of this more tender passion. His eyes struggled to remain open as the pleasure overtook him, pulling him deeper into the shared experience. When you felt the telltale twitch of his length inside you, it was clear that he was nearing his peak. Determined to enhance the moment, you began to move your hips in time with his, each motion guided by the need to match his rhythm. Your moans grew louder as your sensitive clit grazed against his pelvis, driving both of you toward the precipice.

As Minho’s thrusts became more erratic and fevered, his control slipping as he chased his climax, the intensity between you both surged. Finally, with a thrust that struck your sensitive spot with a forceful precision, you both were pulled into an intimate, breathless crescendo. In that climactic moment, you pressed together, bodies entwined, as you both reached the peak of your pleasure simultaneously.

As the intensity of your shared passion began to wane, minutes slipped by in a languid haze. Your breath gradually settled, finding its rhythm once more, while Minho tenderly withdrew his softened length from your still-throbbing core. The room was infused with a soft glow, and you admired the way Minho’s skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat, a testament to the fervor of your union. You scarcely registered the sweet, murmured praises he offered as he meticulously began to untie the ropes that had bound you so intimately.

Your mind was still enveloped in the intoxicating fog of your shared ecstasy, yet every fiber of your being was alight with a blazing warmth that spoke of deep affection. “I love you, Min,” you breathed out, gently interrupting his gentle murmurings. His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and his eyes softened with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat. The unspoken emotion between you was palpable, and you continued, “Thank you for taking care of me. You have no idea how much I love you.”

As Minho unfastened the final knot securing your wrists, you did not hesitate. You drew him closer, enveloping him in a wordless embrace that conveyed a depth of emotion words could not capture. The silence of the moment spoke volumes, a shared connection that transcended language, as you both held each other tightly, savoring the quiet after the storm of your passion.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

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lovemomhatepolice · 1 year ago

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charles leclerc swf alphabet

navigation taglist requests

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Charles is a very affectionate person. Regardless of whether you are alone or around other people. It also doesn't matter to him if there are paparazzi or fans around. Showing affection is very important to him. He even has his arm around you all the time - whether it's around your waist or around your shoulders. He likes to feel that you are next to him and wants to show it himself, too.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) Hm, as a friend Charles is someone everyone would like to have. Literally. Leclerc is able to do anything for his friends. Help clean up after a party? He's already the first one there. Having a hard time in life? Oh, don't worry, Charles has it under control and is already on his way to you - if you feel like it of course. A man will never be able to cross someone else's boundaries.

How did it start? I think Charles is the kind of person who can create a friendship literally out of the silliest situation that could be. How about a simple meeting in a coffee shop when they mixed up your orders? Or a meeting among the same friends? That's definitely the key to success.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) He loves to cuddle!!! Especially when he is sad or misses you a lot when you were not next to each other. Although he likes to show affection in front of others, when it comes to hugging, it is a more private sphere. When you are alone, he usually cuddles you to his chest (especially at night) or is a little spooner (he loves it) when you cuddle on the couch. Charles is also a fan of hugging you from the side - his arm around your shoulders, that is.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) I think slowly yes. Charles has been in several relationships in his life, but only with you did he feel that it was time to settle down. It is known, he is still young, after all, he is 27 years old, however, every year he glances more and more towards creating a home nest with you somewhere in Monaco. Well, in cooking he is not perfect, but he likes to help. More often than not, however, he cleans, oh he really likes to clean together with you. You share rooms, that's why it always goes faster for you.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) Something quiet. Charles knows very well what it's up against. Social media, mass of hate, comments…. With each passing time, these breakups, as well as the relationship itself, are more private. Of course, it is not hidden, however, more protected. And privately I think Charles tries to handle it gently, with respect for the other person.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) For Charles, a proposal is something big, it's not like simply giving a ring and that's it. I think he would definitely prepare something big, but private. I also think he would have been advised by his brothers when it came to the whole pre-engagement thing. How soon? Ay, definitely not as fast as one might expect, for him it must take a long time before he takes this step.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Charles is very subtle with you, as well as with others. Never in his life has he said such words to you that would hurt you somewhere more, or touched you in a way that could offend you He always wants the best for you and treats you like glass

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) As I mentioned. Charles likes to hug - sometimes, especially in the beginning it can be something like black magic for him and looks very comical, but it gets better with time (please tell me you've seen all those edits where they show Charles hugging people in an awkward way, I'm crying)

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Yup, it took him a long time - you kissed faster than it came to the utterance of these words, what's more! You were the first to say them, because you were already fed up with his procrastination - you threw everything on one card and acctually, it worked out

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) The man is jealous. He may not show it, but he's jealous, dammit. Even of Arthur, although less so here He always has his hand on you somewhere or his watchful gaze And if his jealousy scale kicks in (very quickly) he wants to take you away from that person at all costs or just cozies up

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) His kisses mainly depend on whether he is wearing facial hair or not. If he has - there is a lot of laughter at it, by the fact that he tickles you, however, when he doesn't have one, you completely give yourself away to pleasure. The most you both enjoy is just kissing each other on the lips, it gives you a lot of comfort after a long day. However, he also likes to kiss you on the belly when you are lying down together, and he himself likes to be kissed on the neck. He loves it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Totally like daddy material! The kids love him, and he loves the kids. He knows well how to take care of them, even though he hasn't had much exposure to them in his life, and he loves it when he has the opportunity to do so

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Mornings with Charles are hardcore - even when you have the chance to spend them just the two of them. This man is always in a hurry, he has a lot of things to do and to get up together, it really must be a miracle I don't even mention eating breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Oh, evenings are definitely your time. You always spend it together, no matter what the day was like. You prepare or order food together, sometimes you drink wine. You must watch a movie or at least an episode of a TV series (depending on how much time you have and how tired you are) and often take baths together. It's time for you to calm down and get ready for bed, before which you talk for a long time

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) Charles was attentive, as in any relationship he starts or even already has. I think he is well aware that many people want to take advantage of him because of the benefits. That's why he opened up to you slowly and it took him a long time to trust you 100%, but when he did, he was very happy

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) He's patient - ha, well after all he works with the Ferrari team, if he wasn't so patient he probably wouldn't have been there long ago (pardon the situational joke) Coming back, to you he has great patience, I really don't know what it would take to bring him out of it

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Fifty fifty Charles definitely does not remember dates, although your birthday and your anniversary he tried to forge by heart (poor result), but small details about you are with him forged in such a place to which nothing and no one has access Will you mention your favorite flowers? Have them on the table the next day Favorite drink? Always fresh whenever you feel like it

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) Definitely one of the first dates, where you took him to your favorite childhood spot and just lay there on the grass and talked about various topics - it was there that he opened up about his dad and Jules, and you gave him a comfort he hadn't felt in a long time Later you ended up at your house, snuggled together on the couch, watching his favorite movie, which soon became yours as well (there will be a chapter of this in the relationship series!!)

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) He is protective, very protective. By virtue of the fact that you have a relationship with him, you face a mass of hate - in many cases unjustified. Leclerc has therefore been tempted more than once to clarify some issues with his fans. In the real world, not the media world, he is also protective.

No one will lay a hand on you in an inappropriate way or speak to you that way, because they are immediately next to you. How would he himself like to be protected? Ah, he pretends he doesn't need it, however, he likes it when you make rude comments that are thrown at him. Or when he gets into an argument with someone on the team over wrongful accusations and suddenly you step in, defending him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) He is making a huge effort. Leclerc is a perfectionist, so everything at his place must be buttoned up to the last button. Maybe sometimes he will forget a date, such as your anniversary, but then he tries to make up for it and it definitely helps.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Emm, I get the impression that Charles can be a bit selfish or complacent at times. Let's not lie to ourselves, social media can mess with your head quite a bit and Charles is a good example of that, unfortunately. That's why sometimes you have to bring him down to earth, so that fame doesn't go to his head

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) He focuses on his appearance, no question about it. Over time, he has started to dress better, which can be seen without batting an eye (well, I beg you, who among you doesn't remember his tragic outfits of a few years ago), and he tries to keep his hair and facial in good condition

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Yes, I think he would feel that way. You were the one who let him settle down by your side and showed him yet another vision of life that he hadn't seen until now. Together you make a really strong couple, and by not giving it to so much media remark, it definitely helps.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) One of the things that literally knocks him off his feet is your contact with his family. You've single-handedly started learning French to better communicate with them (if you speak French, forgive me) and Charles is fascinated by you. From the first meeting of yours with his mother, he knew you were the only one

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Charles doesn't like to lose - he often doesn't show it, but it's definitely one of the things that affects him the most. He takes it very much to heart, which makes him try several times harder later on - which has its pros and cons. In people, he very much dislikes hypocrisy and taking advantage of others, which is also what guides him when he meets others

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Charles has trouble sleeping. Due to the experiences he went through when he was a young man, which caused him mental problems, sleep problems also arose. He often sits for long periods of time, and you try with all your might to sit with him so that he is not lonely.

A/N: please do not copy or translate my work! if you have any issues regarding this please contact me in the messages :)

and so we have officially started the alphabet SWF series, one at a time will appear for everyone :) in the meantime also the rest of the NSWF alphabet

more content: formula 1 masterlist, latest one-shot with lando norris, charles leclerc masterlist

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moodycowplant · 5 months ago

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107. No Easy Answers p.4

The moment Lana's head touched the pillow, she drifted into sleep almost instantly, completely exhausted after days of sickness and stress.

When she awoke, the house was dark. She checked the time—1:20 AM. She had slept straight through to the deep night.

The house was quiet, except for the faint sound of music coming from Valerio’s room.

Lana lay in bed for a while, slowly waking up and listening to her body. The nausea was still there, but barely noticeable.

"Maybe it’s just hunger," she thought, letting out a deep sigh before getting out of bed.

Downstairs, she found both of her parents in the living room.

They stopped talking the moment she entered. It wasn’t hard to guess what they had been discussing—Valerio had most likely already told them.

"Lana!" Nova cried, rushing over to embrace her. "I’m so glad to see you, baby girl!"

She squeezed her even harder, as if making sure Lana was really there.

"I’ve missed you too, Mom," Lana whispered, tucking her face into Nova’s shoulder.

"We’re glad to have you home, kiddo," Joseph said, rubbing Lana’s back gently.

"Dad!" Lana exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms next.

Her tone alone revealed how much she still needed them—how much she had missed their warmth and care.

"I know, kiddo. I know," Joseph murmured, stroking her back as she began to sob softly.

In their arms, she felt like a little girl again—safe, protected. Like nothing could hurt her as long as they were close.

"Mom, Dad," Lana began, hesitating for a moment. "Valerio probably already told you why I came home early."

They both nodded.

"He probably also told you my decision," she continued, but Joseph cut in before she could finish.

"Honey, I do think going through with this might not be the best decision for you. But if it’s what you choose—I won’t let you do it alone," he said, placing a steady hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Dad," Lana whispered, hugging him tightly.

Nova, however, couldn’t accept it. The thought of losing a grandchild—of Lana making a choice she might regret—was unbearable.

"Joseph, please, stop," she snapped, her voice edged with frustration.

"Nova, we—"

"Joe, honey, could you give us a minute?" she interrupted, her tone tense but controlled.

Joseph sighed deeply, then nodded.

"Alright." He cast one last glance at Lana before stepping out of the room.

For him, this wasn’t easy.

Of course, he cared deeply about Lana and the unborn child.

But he also knew what it was like to live under the weight of something you didn’t choose.

His situation had been different, but he didn’t want his daughter carrying a burden she wasn’t ready for.

If she kept the baby, he would be happy.

But more than anything, he wanted HER to be happy. And he wouldn’t abandon her, no matter what she decides.

For Nova, though, there was no question.

This wasn’t just a choice—this was a life. And she couldn’t just stand by and watch her daughter make a decision she might never recover from.

"Lana, sweetheart, listen to me. I understand that you’re scared. I understand this wasn’t part of your plan. But this baby—it’s a part of you. It’s already a part of our family," she said, her voice calm but firm. "In less than a year, this little one will look up at you like you’re their whole world. And, honey, you don’t know what love like that feels like yet. When you were born, you were a miracle to me and your dad. We couldn’t believe that from our love came something as beautiful as you. Valerio and Clary, too—watching them grow, seeing their eyes light up when they needed us—those are feelings I would never trade for anything. And I don’t want you to make a decision now that could bring you pain later. The guilt… Believe me, Lana, you don’t know what that kind of guilt can do to you." Her voice wavered slightly. "I’m sorry, but I can’t support this. I’m begging you to reconsider."

"Mom, I… I can’t," Lana whispered. "I’m not ready. And my studies, my job, my future in acting… It’s all at risk because of this baby." Her voice trembled.

Deep down, she understood Nova’s point. A part of her knew this decision would change everything—for all of them.

But her fear, her desperation to hold onto the future she had worked so hard for, outweighed everything else in this moment.

"Lana—" Nova started, but Lana cut her off.

"No, Mom. Please don’t push me. My decision is final. I want to go through with it before it’s too late," Lana said, already crying.

"Lana, please… just wait a day or two. Just to make sure you’ve thought of everything before you go through with it, okay?" Nova pleaded, searching her daughter’s eyes for any hesitation.

Lana sighed. "Okay, Mom."

But deep inside, she knew she didn’t want to wait. The anxiety was crushing her. She just wanted it to be over.

"Thank you, honey," Nova said softly with relief flickering in her expression. "Now, enough heavy talk. Have you eaten anything?"

"No, and I don’t know if I can. The nausea is awful," Lana admitted, holding her stomach.

"Oh, my dear… Alright, let me make you the recipe I lived on when I was pregnant. It’s light, full of nutrients, and should help with the nausea," Nova said, quickly heading to the kitchen.

Lana ate her first proper meal in days—and managed to keep it down. It was refreshing, giving her just a little bit of strength back. After thanking her parents, she went upstairs to rest.

Meanwhile, Joseph and Nova sat at the table with tension creeping back into their conversation.

"Joe, you can’t seriously think supporting her in this is the right thing to do," Nova said with frustration laced in her voice.

Joseph sighed. "Nova, do you think I want this? That I want to lose a grandchild? Of course not. But it’s her life. If we push her away, and she goes through this alone, it’ll be even worse. Are you ready to let that happen?" His voice cracked. "Because I’m not. And I won’t push her."

He tossed down his cutlery and left the table in frustration.

As Lana was about to go to bed, she heard a soft knock on her door.

"Come in."

Joseph stepped inside, sitting beside her on the bed.

"Dad, I’m sorry," Lana whispered with her eyes already tearing.

"Hey, pumpkin—for what? Don’t say that," he said, pulling her into a gentle hug.

"For everything. For causing problems. For making you and Mom fight over me…" Her voice broke as tears fell freely now.

"No. Look at me, Lana," he said, tilting her chin up gently.

"You are never a problem to us. We love you, Valerio, and Clary more than anything in this world. No matter what, you can always come to us. Even when you’re sixty," he added with a small smile, squeezing her tighter. "Okay?"

Lana nodded, sniffling. "Okay, Dad. Thank you."

A short pause, and then Lana spoke again.

"Dad, I want to go through with it... I know I promised Mom to wait a couple of days, but... I don’t think I have the mental power to wait any longer. I want to go there tomorrow morning, early, and do it. Could you please come with me?" she asked, looking at him with pleading eyes.

Joseph was initially a bit shocked—he hadn’t expected her to decide for sure so quickly. But he let out a deep breath before answering.

"Okay, honey, if this is what you really want and you are sure of it, I’ll be there for you through every minute until the end."

"Now sleep, kiddo. You need your rest. Love you. Good night," he said, kissing her forehead.

He shut his eyes as the pain was visible in them. It was troubling for him to see his child in such despair.

But he quickly regained his composure, ensuring Lana wouldn’t notice, turned off the lights, and left the room.

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dystopicjumpsuit · 1 year ago

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Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 20

A Whimper

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings and tags: the shit hits the fan; mentions of Plan 99 (spoilers for TBB season 2 finale); angst; suspense; canon-typical violence (bearing in mind that in canon Mando cuts a dude in half, soooo... adjust expectations accordingly); references to torture; choking; blood and injury; character death; language.

Suggested Listening:

Summary: Echo deals with the fallout of Plan 99; Cerra has a polite conversation with the Empire.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings, "Double, Double Boil and Trouble" (part 2 here) and "Do It Again," but all the fics can be read as stand-alones.

…Not with a bang but a whimper.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Echo sat motionless in the cockpit of the Marauder, staring blindly at the navigation controls. Tech was gone. They’d lost. And all of it had been for nothing. They had no way of locating Hemlock or his base—no way of finding Crosshair. Echo hadn’t just failed to bring one brother home; he’d lost another.

He mentally replayed those fateful moments in the railcar again and again. Could he have worked faster? Could he have done anything differently? Could he have changed the outcome? He didn’t know, and that uncertainty haunted him.

He turned to stare at the empty pilot’s seat. For an instant, Echo could almost see Tech there. He swallowed hard, pushing down the overwhelming grief that tightened in his throat, choking off his breath. His head hurt; his chest ached; his eyes burned with unshed tears.

Gonky shuffled into the cockpit and squawked so quietly that Echo didn’t hear him at first. The droid moved closer and honked a little louder, trying to get Echo’s attention.

Echo blinked and looked away from the vacant pilot’s seat. “What is it?”

Distantly, he heard a familiar rumble, and his heart began to race. He launched out of the co-pilot’s seat and sprinted out of the Marauder. He spotted the Venator hovering over Ord Mantell City and immediately commed Hunter.

“Hunter, the Empire's here.” No answer came. “Hunter, do you copy? Wrecker?”

There was no reply; nothing but static on the comms.

Kark.

Cerra stumbled as the TK trooper shoved her into the corridor. She subtly tested the binders on her wrists, but they held fast. She fought down the tide of panic rising in her chest and tried to ignore the way her breath was beginning to spiral out of control.

Exhale. One, two, three, four, five. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five. Oh, god, what if I never see Gregor again? Exhale. One, two, three, four, five. Don’t think about it. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five.

She forced herself to focus on solving her immediate problems. First, she needed to get out of the binders. Impossible. Next, neutralize the trooper and take his blaster. He’ll blast me before I ever touch the deecee. Next, get to the hangar, steal a shuttle, and hit up the first Starcups she could find.

Piece of uj cake, she thought. Kriff, I’m going to die.

Her sense of impending doom only intensified when she reached the torture chamber—or rather, “enhanced interrogation room.” A stocky man in an officer’s uniform waited next to a table fitted with numerous restraints and an array of control panels and sinister-looking instruments. A tray of surgical tools and hypo-syringes sat next to it, neatly arranged.

At least he’s organized. I’d hate to be tortured to death by someone who was sloppy.

“Agent Daivik, I presume?” she asked.

“Ah, Miss Kilian. So good of you to join me,” Daivik said smoothly. He turned to the TK trooper. “Take off her binders and get out.”

“Can’t wait to get me alone?” she quipped as the trooper unlocked the manacles.

“Hardly,” Daivik sniffed. “You are only useful because of the information you possess. Please lie down.”

“Aren’t you going to buy me a drink first?” she asked, rubbing her wrists to get the blood flowing to her hands again.

Daivik smirked, then his fist slammed into her shoulder and sent her careening backwards, the backs of her legs colliding with the interrogation table. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her down onto the table. She kicked her feet desperately, but he pinned down her thighs with one of his legs as he forced her to lie flat on her back. She scratched and grappled with his hand that clamped around her throat in a vise-like grip.

“Ju—Ch—” she sputtered as her airway closed.

“Ready to talk so soon?” he snarled. “I’m just getting started.”

Nevertheless, he loosened his grip enough that she could speak.

“Choke me harder, Daddy,” she rasped.

He snatched his hand away with a revolted curse, and she saw her opening. She headbutted him with all the force she could muster, and his nose made a sickening crunch as her forehead smashed into his face. He staggered backward, and she seized a scalpel off the surgical tray and plunged it into his neck. Blood sprayed out of him instantaneously, spattering thickly over her hand, arm, and face, and she lost her grip on the scalpel as the hot, slippery fluid coated her fingers.

Daivik’s pale blue eyes opened wide with shock, but he staggered toward her, his hands outstretched toward her neck. She clenched her hand into a fist and pounded the scalpel deeper into his throat, then curled her legs up and kicked him away with both feet. He lurched backward and fell, landing with a heavy thud. He went abruptly still as his head collided with the durasteel floor.

She leaned forward on the edge of the table, bracing her hands on her knees as she gasped for air. Her vision blurred, and with her clean hand, she wiped Daivik’s blood out of her eyes. The door hissed open, and the TK trooper rushed into the room. Cerra lunged for another scalpel, but before she could strike, she saw a flash of blue, and the trooper collapsed to the floor. A clone in gray and white armor stood behind him, blaster still raised. Cerra crouched in a defensive position, scalpel clutched in her fist. The clone smacked the control panel to close the door behind him, then lowered his blaster.

“You know, if you wanted to see me, all you had to do is comm,” he said as he removed his helmet to reveal a familiar scarred face and mismatched eyes: one brown, and one a cybernetic silver.

“Wolffe?” she gaped, her voice hoarse and ragged from Daivik’s bruising grip on her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Saw you on the security holofeeds and thought you might need help.” He spared a glance at Daivik’s corpse. “Looks like I was right.”

“I had it under control,” she lied, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

“You were about to bring a scalpel to a blaster fight,” Wolffe said pointedly.

“Kriff you,” she replied without heat.

“Kriff me yourself, coward,” he grinned.

“Holocams?” she asked.

“Surveillance feeds are off for this room and the corridor outside. You all right?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” she asked, pulling off her jacket and using it to wipe the blood off herself as much as possible.

“You don’t look so bad,” Wolffe said as he quickly began to strip off the TK trooper’s armor.

She moved to help. “Been better, been worse.”

“What’s your plan for getting out of here?” he asked.

“Steal a shuttle,” she said.

“I like it. Simple, straightforward.”

“Want to come with me?” she asked.

He shook his head as they wrestled the TK trooper out of his compression suit. “I’ll stay here and cover for you from the command deck.”

“You sure?” she asked doubtfully. “They’re going to suspect I had help.”

“I’ll stay,” he repeated. “I have… other duties to fulfill.”

He turned his back to give her privacy as she changed into the black body glove, then handed her the armor one piece at a time as she suited up.

“It’s a hell of a coincidence, you being on the exact ship they brought me to,” Cerra observed.

“Sure is,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“Almost like someone knew I got captured and sent you in after me,” she said.

“That’d be quite the twist, wouldn’t it?” he agreed noncommittally. “Good thing neither of us knows anyone who would do that.”

“Good thing,” she agreed as she settled the helmet onto her head. “How do I look?”

“Not bad,” Wolffe replied. “You might want to take this, though.”

He drew one of his blasters and offered it to her.

“I’ve got his deecee,” she said, gesturing toward the unconscious TK trooper. “I’m good.”

“Trust me, you want this one,” Wolffe said.

She glanced down at the blaster in his hand, and her breath caught as she recognized Jesse’s modifications.

“I could only find the one,” he said. “But I knew you’d want it back.”

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard before she managed to reply, “Thanks.”

He nodded, his eyes sympathetic. “Ready?”

“Any time. It was good seeing you, buddy.”

“You, too, kid,” Wolffe said, sliding his helmet firmly into place. “I’ll see you around.”

“That a promise?” she asked.

“Clone’s honor.”

They stepped into the corridor, and Wolffe closed and locked the door behind them. With any luck, nobody would discover Daivik’s body and the TK trooper until Cerra was safely off the Venator. With one final nod at each other, they parted, Wolffe heading to the bridge while Cerra made her way to the flight deck.

She forced herself to walk at a normal pace to avoid drawing attention, though her instincts screamed at her to run. Her heart pounded, and she was grateful for the helmet that hid her face from the Imperials she passed in the passageways; she didn’t think she would be able to disguise her anxiety without it.

The hangar was nearly deserted when she arrived—no doubt thanks to Wolffe. Nobody noticed an extra TK trooper in the shuttle bay. Cerra selected a shuttle, then quickly located and disabled its transponder beacon. Once she powered up the shuttle, the Imperials would know something was wrong. She would have an incredibly narrow window to get out of range of the tractor beam. There would be no time to program the hyperdrive navicomputer; she’d have to use the last inputted coordinates and hope for the best. She took a deep breath and boarded the shuttle.

Settling into the pilot’s seat, Cerra began running as many of the pre-flight protocols as she could before engaging the sublight engine. This is it, then, she thought, beginning the power-up sequence and maneuvering the shuttle out of the bay.

The comms crackled almost immediately. “Nu-class shuttle, you are not cleared for takeoff. Return to the—”

She muted the transmission, then punched the thrusters to top speed, blasting out of the hangar and into space. The Venator opened fire, but as soon as she was clear of the ship, Cerra jumped to hyperspace. Safely away, she yanked off her helmet and leaned back in her seat, gasping for air.

“I can’t believe that worked,” she said aloud with a short, incredulous laugh.

Riyo stared at the flickering hologram of Echo’s face, feeling as though all the oxygen had been forcefully ripped from her lungs.

“How?” she whispered. “What happened?”

“The Trandoshan sold us out,” Echo replied, his face grim and twisted by grief and anger. “We barely made it out alive.”

“Why would the Empire take Omega? What do they want with her?”

“I don’t know. That Imperial—Hemlock—he said something about Nala Se. He said she’s still alive.”

Riyo frowned. “Could she have escaped the destruction of Tipoca City? Halle Burtoni told me there were a few Kaminoans scattered throughout the galaxy, but she didn’t mention Nala Se.”

“If Nala Se is working for the Empire, that can only spell trouble for us clones,” Echo said.

“I agree. We should discuss this with Rex. When will you be back to Coruscant?” Riyo asked.

Echo glanced away, refusing to meet her eyes.

Her heart began to pound. “Echo?”

He took a deep breath before he replied. “I’m not coming back to Coruscant.”

She blinked. “... What?”

“I’m staying with Hunter and Wrecker,” he said quietly. “Omega is still out there somewhere, in Imperial hands. We have to find her.”

“Cerra is still out there, too!” Riyo protested. “We need you here! We need you—”

“Riyo,” Echo said gently. “Rex and the others are doing everything they can to find her. I trust them, and I trust that she can take care of herself until they find her. Besides, if I know Cerra, she’s already making whoever took her wish they were never born. But Omega is only a child. We can’t abandon her.”

He was right, of course. She knew he was right. But knowing he was right didn’t make the crushing weight in her chest feel any lighter. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She bit back the selfish words that sprang to her lips, knowing that speaking them aloud would only make things worse. Nevertheless, they reverberated in her mind.

I need you. I love you. Come back to me.

Echo reached for her through the holocomm, and she closed her eyes for a moment, imagining that she could feel the warmth of his touch.

“We will see each other again,” he said. “I swear it, Riyo. This isn’t the end for us.”

Without her comlink, Cerra had no choice but to use the shuttle’s communicator to contact Rex. Not only were the shuttle’s comms not secure, it was possible that the Empire was actively monitoring them. She keyed in the details for one of the team’s burner comm channels.

“Code kilo-three-two-seven. Scrapper to Monarch, come in,” she said. The minutes ticked by in agonizing slowness as she awaited a reply. When none came, she tried again. “Monarch, this is Scrapper. Please respond.”

The comm was silent. Fighting down her rising panic, Cerra ran a diagnostic to make sure it was functional. All systems were normal. She was just about to try a third time when the voice she loved most in the entire galaxy crackled through the speaker.

“Scrapper, this is Watchman. Good to hear your voice.”

Gregor. Oh, thank kriff. Tears of relief stung her eyes, and she hurriedly blinked them away as she responded.

“Back at you, Watchman.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “Really good.”

“What’s your status?”

“I’m all right, but I could use a ride. Any chance you’re free for a pickup?” she asked.

“Affirmative. Head to delta-one-alpha-eight-two. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Copy that, Watchman. Fly casual.”

“You, too, Scrapper.”

Gregor ended the transmission, and Cerra let out a shaky breath. It was over. She was going home.

---

Next chapter

#echo tbb #captain gregor #captain rex #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #echo x riyo chuchi #gregor x oc #clone trooper nemec #clone trooper fireball #star wars #the bad batch #star wars fanfic #tbb fanfic #stars beyond number #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

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bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue · 9 months ago

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Beboptober 2024 Day 2: Crash

Thanks to @bebopcrew for the prompt list! This one takes place about ten years before the events of the series, and slightly before Spike joined the Syndicate—I used this timeline from The Cowboy Bebop Attic, which places Spike’s Syndicate years at about 2061-62 to 2068. This fic turned out WAY longer than I planned, and I stayed up WAY later to write it than I'd hoped, so apologies if some of it makes no sense at all, but I had fun with it!

Okay, so technically speaking, Spike didn’t have a real spaceship’s license yet. And technically speaking, this wasn’t even his ship. One could even say he’d stolen it. But did it really count when it was from the garage of one of those crazy Martian billionaires who probably had fifty identical, sleek and newly-purchased ships in their garage? They wouldn’t notice this one was missing at all.

Spike had engaged in petty thievery before, sure, but this was different. This was the big leagues. A ship of his very own—now that he’d wiped the tracking and identification as best he could with his shoddy, hodgepodge tech skills—opened up whole new worlds to him, literally. After seventeen years of being stuck on Mars, hopping ineffectually from city to city whenever he could hitch a ride, he’d crossed a Hyperspace Gate for the very first time and, after some annoying waiting, was by a whole new planet in a matter of minutes.

Once he arrived, it was an adventure in itself to try and navigate the overlarge ship past all the debris and space junk that circled Earth, almost like an old video game. And then he could see it, the pockmarked blue marble floating in space. A whole new planet. Although he was alone, he couldn’t help but give a low whistle at the sight. He wasn’t given to poetry, but he had to admit a sight like this would be breathtaking to anyone.

And the flying itself! Okay, so technically he’d never been in a ship’s cockpit before, but it wasn’t too hard to figure out the controls. He’d driven a car, and the mechanics of this weren’t too different. But flying? It was light-years away from driving.

He loved everything about it: the way the stars raced past him in the cockpit window, the whooshing sensation of freefall in his stomach as he dipped and glided and spun just for the hell of it, the way the ship responded beautifully to his every little touch to propel him faster and faster into the darkness as he whooped in delight. The way no one could find him or catch him way out here. It was freedom, so much more than he’d thought he’d had before on the streets, so much more than he’d even thought possible. It awakened dormant parts of him he didn’t even know existed.

It was bliss.

That is, until he pushed too hard and too fast—or maybe the dumb ship’s controls responded too well—and found he’d somehow fucked up. The ship was rapidly losing power and altitude, careening down towards Earth.

Shit, shit, shit! Spike wrenched at the controls and pushed frantically at all the buttons he could reach, pretty much at random, trying desperately to silence the beeping warnings that flashed all around him in the cockpit. And maybe it slowed down his entry speed a little. But it didn’t stop the warning signs from flashing faster and faster and more urgently, and for Earth’s surface to grow larger and larger below him. And eventually all Spike could do was curl up in the cushy pilot’s seat and brace for impact as best he could.

The ship crash-landed at what had to be a horrific angle, leaving a trail of cratered dirt and debris up until its final resting point. Rocks and detritus rained down, marring the ship’s perfect surface and adding another strain to the deafening noise. Airbags deployed all around Spike, burning against his skin. For the first few minutes, Spike wasn’t entirely certain he’d survived.

Figures. My first-ever real taste of freedom, and I almost die not even twenty-four hours in.

Well, if he really was dead, at least they couldn’t catch him for stealing that ship.

~~~~~

Of course, after a while Spike had to realize that he was, in fact, alive, and unfurl himself from the ruined cockpit to clean up his mess.

The trip had been pretty impulsive, and he didn’t know what, exactly, he’d been expecting to find on Earth, but he had expected to return to his home planet eventually. He knew that owning a spaceship of his own could open up a lot more opportunities to get money and power and a bit of food in his stomach. It could even make him look more attractive to some of the bigger crime syndicates on Mars, even if he still had to start out as a grub doing all the grunt work. At least they’d consider him.

But for that, his spaceship had to be working. And as he surveyed the ship, having extricated himself from the wreckage and now looking up at it with arms akimbo, he figured that his hodgepodge tech skills wouldn’t be of much help here at all.

At least it wasn’t on fire. Maybe a better mechanic could somehow revive it, even if they had to replace all its parts one by one, like that old Earth story about the wooden boat. It would be better than no ship at all, especially if it made him harder to catch by the guy he’d stolen the ship from.

He should be as destroyed as the ship, he thought. He really shouldn’t have survived that crash. Maybe he had a lucky star up there, somewhere, watching out for him.

Somehow, he doubted that.

There was only one thing he could do. He hated feeling dependent like this, and if it didn’t work pretty soon, he may as well pack up and set out on his own—find some decent food and shelter, try his luck on Earth, maybe eventually find a way back home, such as that home was. But for now, he let out a defeated sigh, leaned against the ship’s ruins, and held up one thumb.

He saw rockets taking off in the distance; he heard the distant purr of cars’ engines. There had to be someone willing to pick him up eventually and take him to a place where his ship could maybe get fixed. If his lucky star was still watching out for him. If it even existed at all.

~~~~~

“This isn’t getting fixed today, kid.”

“Whaddya mean?” Spike scowled at the mechanic—Doohan, according to his assistant who’d driven Spike here—an old, cantankerous-looking guy with goggles perched on top of his wild gray hair. Every part of his clothing was either singed or actively smoking. He’d thought a guy like this could bring his ship back to life right away, as if by magic.

Doohan was still peering around the ship with an appraising eye, examining the mangled remains of its dashboard, the hunks of metal that used to be its hull. “I can keep it here and modify it. Or, if it turns out to be truly useless, save it for scrap. But if you were planning to be out of here in an hour and race home on this pretty little number, that’s not happening.”

“But—but the person who drove me here, your assistant—Jimmy or something—he said you were the best mechanic this side of the planet. He said you could work miracles.”

The man snorted and turned away. “Flattery like that is exactly why he won’t last around here.”

Even though the news was a disappointment, Spike honestly kind of appreciated that Doohan wasn’t bullshitting him. And obviously, the guy knew ships. As Spike gazed around the hangar, he saw several ships of all sorts—some that must have been historical artifacts from the early days of hyperspace gates, some brand-new ones like the one Spike had just crashed—in varying states of repair. One, a half-finished model with a slender red body and a long nose, particularly caught his attention. Surprisingly, some sort of looked like what he had originally expected: old relics, nursed back to health. He wondered how many of those could actually fly. He wondered what it would feel like. Already, his hands itched for the controls of a spaceship again, any spaceship.

“It’s been through quite a crash,” Doohan said, squinting up at Spike from the other side of the ship. “Where’d you get a ship like this? Only to junk it up right away?”

Spike had long since learned that the best response to questions like this was to stay silent, so that’s what he did.

“Rather not say? Okay. What’d you do to crash it?”

Simple as possible. “I went too fast.”

Doohan grunted. “Seen that before. Teenage boys who think they know everything. They always think they’re invincible.”

Something about that smarted. It hit Spike in the chest, white-hot on his already-frayed nerves.

Doohan turned back to the wreckage. “They always eventually get cut down to size.”

Spike felt his hands involuntarily balling into fists.

“You think I’m some privileged little rich boy?” he said, and it came out as an unexpected growl. “I sure as hell know I’m not invincible. I’m from Mars, I just got here. I’ve got no family. I’ve been cut down to size plenty of times in my life.” His voice was getting louder, more insistent. “I need a ship, any ship. I can work off whatever debt I owe to you. But don’t go thinking I did this just for the hell of it!” His last words were a yell, echoing in the silence.

Doohan just grunted again, not looking up. Silence fell once again for a while as he fiddled with the inside of the ship, tinkering with his tools. Spike’s breaths came out shuddery, but slowing.

“I think something was fucked up with the accelerator,” Spike said, quieter this time. “It was my first time piloting a ship and I went through a Gate no problem, I could do loop-de-loops and shit, and I guess I went a little overboard. But I barely touched that pedal thing and next thing I knew I was crashing here. I think I could do better with another craft.” He looked up at Doohan, choosing his next words with caution. “Or if I could find out how this one worked. How ships work. And how to fly them for real.”

Doohan inspected a panel of metal sheetwork on the side of the ship, his face inscrutable.

“That was you,” he finally said. “Doing the loop-de-loops in the sky. That was you.”

“Uh, yeah.” Damn. Spike hadn’t been as surreptitious with that stolen craft as he thought.

“And you say that was your first time ever piloting a ship?”

“Yeah,” Spike said again.

Doohan made eye contact with Spike for the first time. “How’d you feel when you were up there?”

“Uhhh…good? Happy?” Dammit, Spike wasn’t good with talking about feelings or whatever, and Doohan looked thoroughly unimpressed with his attempts. He didn’t even really know why Doohan was asking about it, but he could tell there had been something different, something distinctive, about that feeling. He racked his brain for the right word to describe how it had felt, soaring through the stars.

“Free,” he finally said. “I felt free.” He cupped his hands as if around the controls in a ship’s cockpit, and he felt his eyes narrowing in determination. “I wanna feel that way again.”

Doohan nodded slowly, then put his hand on what used to be the hull of the ship. “New ships like this, they tend to be trigger-happy. They advertise responsiveness, they say they’re user-friendly, and then they go way too far with it.” Spike nodded. Reminded him of some people he knew back on Mars. “You’ve got some natural talent,” Doohan continued. “But if you want to learn how to fly a ship right, you have to know how it works. You either work for the machine, or it works for you.”

Spike nodded again, at first slowly, but then with more determination. He could do that. In fact, the thought excited him. Something to fill his days that wasn’t petty crime and rooting around for his next meal. Something that actually felt purposeful. Like he was born for it.

Doohan looked over the ships in the hangar, appearing contemplative. “Been working on fixing up that old MONO racer for a while now,” he finally said, gesturing to the red ship that had caught Spike’s attention earlier. “Now, get me a 3/8 gauge from the toolbox in my office.” He turned to the assistant, who’d been leaning against the car he’d driven Spike in and watching the conversation with interest. “Jimmy, you’re fired.”

“Aw, man,” the assistant said, staring down at his sneakers. “Mom’s gonna kill me.”

~~~~~

Spike had worked for Doohan for a few months now, learning the ins and outs of amateur spaceship repair, not to mention how to actually pilot different types of crafts so they wouldn’t crash. Over the course of weeks, they’d watched ships transform from beaten-up hunks of junk, or broken-down relics that belonged to a museum, to actually usable, sometimes even restored to their former glory. It was a hell of a hobby, but no one could say Doohan wasn’t passionate about it. He worked from sunup to long past sundown, through mealtimes and rock showers and explosions that signed off his eyebrows. And, Spike had to admit, it was gratifying seeing their progress every day and week, bit by bit.

Spike had memorized every tool Doohan owned, where to get or borrow the ones he didn’t, and which ones just flat-out didn’t exist. He was used to getting barked at by his boss, sent on so many impossible tasks and wild-goose chases that he could no longer count them, sometimes having sharp implements thrown at him. (He’d learned to only piss Doohan off when he was holding something soft like a newspaper.) But he’d managed to avoid getting unceremoniously fired, like poor Jimmy. Or quitting, like a lot of assistants in Doohan’s past apparently had.

It wasn’t like Spike wasn’t used to rebukes or harshness. In fact, he kind of appreciated that Doohan didn’t baby him. And he thought maybe Doohan respected that he didn’t crumple under the pressure—although that may just have been wishful thinking on his part.

Still, after a few months of practice, even Doohan couldn’t find fault with the way he flew. (Or at least not very much fault.) The controls felt natural in Spike’s hands, like an extension of himself. He could effortlessly swoop and dive through the sky, at least in Earth’s atmosphere, as easily as moving his own body. And no matter how often he set off from the hangar with a whoosh, or how often he practiced all the proper measurements and calculations to land the way Doohan had showed him, it still felt just as freeing as it did the first time. It gave him a strange, bright sense that maybe he could do more when he got back to Mars. Maybe he could have an actual future.

But it still caught him completely off-guard when Doohan took a satisfied look at the newly-refurbished MONO racer—the Swordfish II, he’d called it (Spike decided not to ask what had happened to the Swordfish I)—and declared, “It’s yours now.”

“M-mine?” Spike babbled, like some sort of idiot.

Doohan nodded quite sensibly, as if this were the only logical option and any idiot would understand that. “You’ve done enough work on it to have earned it fair and square. You know it inside and out. And besides, it’s sturdy enough that it should survive a crash or two.” And for the first time, he flashed a smile at Spike, a knowing gleam in his eye.

Spike smiled back. The ship really was beautiful, lithe and maneuverable but still tough. Not some delicate thing that would crash and burn at the slightest provocation. It had been through some shit, just like he had. And it had come out alive. Maybe it was an old model, but it was his.

The words Thank you felt awkward on his tongue, tripping it up. But he hoped his face would show his gratitude.

Doohan patted the ship’s hull in satisfaction. And okay, technically speaking, Spike knew it wasn’t meant for him, not really—but it felt almost like a pat on the back.

“Why don’t you take it for a spin?”

#cowboy bebop #beboptober #beboptober 2024 #beboptober2024 #bebop crew #wild horses #spike spiegel #doohan #prequel #pre-canon #crash #textpost #fic #my fic #maya’s musings #maya’s masterpieces

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hannahssimblr · 2 years ago

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Chapter Sixteen

The snow exits as quickly and as quietly as it entered, and within a few days the streets are slick from the melted flurries, the odd pile of dirty slush piled into the corners between the steps and the walls of the georgian townhouses and on patches of grass where snowmen once stood. I miss it the moment it’s gone because it means that the end to my cosy week with Claire and Shane has ended, just like all good things do. I feel a sick, twisting kind of dread as I pack my bag for college on Monday morning, every fibre of my being wishing to avoid computer labs, to avoid Marnie and Fiona now that I’ve been hit with this realisation that I didn’t miss them at all during our week apart. In fact my life was actively better without them.

I’m unfit after sitting around for the entire week and my legs are heavy and shaky on my bicycle, but despite this I hit the college gates on time, something I have been getting better at since I started, and it’s only taken six months or so. I’m the first one in the labs too, which seems to surprise our tutor, sitting alone at the top of the room clicking around on his PC, and he almost does a double take when he sees me walk in at a normal pace instead of frantically bursting through the doors in the manner that he’s become used to.

I sit at my desk and calmly boot up the computer, signing in to my accounts and generally feeling very pleased with myself. Very organised. Perhaps this is my new frontier.

And then Marnie comes in, and I have to suppress a sigh.

She immediately swings over to my desk and leans over me for a hug. “Evie! I missed you, bitch.” She says into my shoulder in a voice that very much suggests that she in fact, did not, further proven by the fact we didn’t text each other once. “How was your snow week?”

“It was fine.” I say.

“So crazy right? The whole country just shut down like that. I didn’t know what to do with myself.” She leans her hand on my desk so that she’s in my eyeline. “Listen, I have something mad to tell you.”

“Do you?” I focus on loading up photoshop and navigating to my most recent project.

“Yes, it’s absolutely bonkers, you’re going to love it.”

I doubt it. “What is it?”

She perches on the edge of the desk then, ready to divulge the big piece of odious gossip or whatever it is. “Well during the snowstorm-”

“Good morning.” She’s interrupted by Dean, who has just entered the room. He saunters over to us, taking his usual seat next to me, leans back in it and looks at me, then at her, then back at me. “Well?”

“Hiya.” Marnie says to him while I start blushing uncontrollably all of a sudden, avoiding his gaze in case my feelings about him are somehow obvious, and as I angle my face away from them both Dean reaches out and touches my knee, shaking my leg playfully. “How are you, missus?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks.” I say, and when I finally glance over I automatically erupt into this goofy, embarrassed smile because my body is a traitor to my feelings that I’ve never been any good at controlling. He lifts his hand to my face and squeezes my nose and then goes about booting up his computer.

Marnie is silent for a few moments, and I become afraid to look at her because I know. I just know. I know the look that will be on her face, I know that she’s figured it out but when I bring myself to meet her eyes her face isn’t doing any of the furious things I expected it would be. Instead she looks… entertained. Her eyes are dancing with devilish little flames as though she’s truly delighted by what she’s just seen, and somehow that look frightens me so much more than anything else I could have anticipated.

“Well, I suppose I’ll leave you to your work.” She puts a hand on my shoulder, her acrylic nails scraping against the thin material of my top and whispers to me with minty breath on my cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch, we can catch up on our week then.” When she saunters away to her desk on the other side of the room, she leaves me sweating, palms prickling, brain whirring, and I don’t get a lick of work done for the rest of the morning.

“You seem nervous, why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

Marnie stretches her legs out in front of her as we sit on a bench in the yard outside the college canteen. She’s eating a cheese sandwich and I’m eating nothing because my stomach is acting up again. “You always lie, Evie, and it’s very obvious when you do, I’m not sure you even know how bad you are at it.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You are.”

My leg is bouncing around and I’m worrying my lower lip with my teeth in an extremely nervous way, so I can see why she thinks that.

“There’s a vibe between you and Dean.” She says at last. “There was blatant sexual tension this morning.”

“I think that’s just your perception.”

“No, I have an eye for these things.”

“You don’t-”

“But why can’t you just be honest with me?” She says with wide eyes, a hand landing on my knee to try and stop it from jerking. “I don’t understand why you’d feel the need to lie about something to me when it’s very obvious that there’s something going on, in fact it’s been obvious for a while. I’m pretty sure everyone can see it. You like him.”

I sigh and say nothing.

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal. In fact I’m glad that you like him. I feel like you’ve made, like, progress in your personal journey, like this is a sign that you’ve pushed through a mental block, so just admit it.”

“Fine.” I say. “I like him, and he seems to like me. We’ve been hanging out together a bit, I dunno.”

“Since when?”

“A few weeks is all, since that night that he said he’d choose me if he had to pick someone out of the three of us. We went to another bar when you left and he kissed me and we’ve been… kissing ever since.”

Her eyes light up with excitement. “Oh I knew it!” She cries gleefully. “I knew that you were lying when you said you wouldn’t get with him! You cheeky divil.” She pinches my cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with liking Dean Cullen, he’s a nice looking boy.”

Her reaction is confusing to me. Why is she so delighted by this when her entire being had seemed to rattle with white hot fury that he hadn’t chosen her instead. “Yeah I know, I just didn’t want a big deal made out of it.” I say.

“And have you had sex yet?”

“No!”

She grins. “Well I’m sure you will soon.”

I avert my eyes again, the word “soon” sending this ominous rush through me as the fact that something big, important, and scary is imminent springs to the front of my mind. I’m not having sex with him yet, but I might be… soon.

“How sweet.” Marnie hums, leaning back into the bench and balling the brown paper sandwich bag in her hands. “You two are so nice together.” The smile that she flashes at me seems to display an unsettling amount of teeth. “When it happens, be sure to tell me all about it.”

“I will.” I say, my mind quietly consumed with images of Dean kissing me in the dark of my bedroom, warm, bare skin pressed against mine, and the idea of him having me like that makes me drunk on some cocktail of fear and desire. I have to do it eventually, right? I think, and then shake myself away from my own lustful imaginings before they start showing on my face. Clearing my throat I say to Marnie: “Let’s talk about something else. What was it that happened during the snowstorm?”

“Oh, that.” She says, and tosses the balled up paper bag towards a bin across the yard, smiling with satisfaction when it hits its target perfectly. “It doesn’t matter. In fact it’s so stupid, I don’t think you’ll think it’s very interesting at all.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims storytelling #sims4 storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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ajawnich · 1 year ago

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HI MARMAR can u tell me abt miss furina please. I haven’t been playing and probably won’t be able to for a while and I wanna know her deal…everybody loves her so much i must know context + ur statistically correct and based opinions

omg omg huge poilers everyone but!!

furina is the hydro archon. or is she?? 🤫 for 500 years she's been masquerading as the hydro archon but she's not quite as she seems. furina as we know her is basically human, and when we first met her she actually couldn't even control the elements, she didn't even have a vision! it's more complicated than i'm abt to explain and i could have misinterpreted some things (so if anyone sees any inconsistencies let me know lol) but basically: every person native to fontaine is an oceanid who was turned into a human by the previous hydro archon, egeria. this act was considered "creating life" by the heavenly principles which is a big nono so as punishment fontaine was destined to be flooded by the primordial sea. and because the people of fontaine are oceanids with that sea water in them, touching primordial sea water causes any person in fontaine to dissolve back into water. thusly, if fontaine was flooded not only would it be destroyed, but everyone would dissolve immediately upon contact with the water, so there'd be very little hope of survivors. after egeria died, the new archon focalors took her place. focalors made it her mission to stop the prophecy from coming true, and to do that she needed to fool celestia. so she split herself into two beings, the divine focalors and the humanity that's furina. furina was made to masquerade as a goddess for 500 years, waiting for the moment focalors could finally put her plan into action. these 500 years were full of loneliness and despair as furina couldn't tell anyone of her secret lest the plan fail. pretending to be an archon as a human is a very hard thing to do, she couldn't even manipulate the elements because she didn't have a vision! anyway, focalors managed to enact her plan by executing herself and giving her power back to neuvillette, the hydro sovereign dragon. he then used his power to turn all the oceanids into real humans, so when fontaine flooded nobody dissolved. focalors plan was successful and fontaine was saved, but it was a bittersweet ending for furina because she still had to live with the trauma of those 500 years she spent alone, and since focalors had died a piece of her was missing. on top of her trying to navigate her new life as a regular person with a regular human job and apartment. she never acted again obviously, but managed to find her passion in the form of directing instead, finally feeling a sense of control in her life, and she recieved her vision as a result :')

i love furina very much and i think a lot of ppl love her bc of how detailed they get into her character in terms of how she feels, we know the most about her out of any archon probably (i suppose nahida is up there tho). i wish so badly that we could get an in depth look at venti's feelings for example the same way we did for furina, but alas it's not so.

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themculibrary · 2 years ago

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Fics With Titles That Start With Z Masterlist

Zap! (ao3) - orphan_account steve/tony, pepper/tony E, 13k

Summary: All you had to do was touch your other half and zap! Literally, you got an electric shock and some lovely blue patterns wherever you happened to touch. Tony never thought he would get a soulmate until he did, and as luck would have it, it would be the good old Captain America! How could two people be so different and yet so perfect for each other?

Zap (ao3) - LegendsofSnark bucky/clint E, 1k

Summary: Tony creates a set of Avengers toys, Clint tests one out

Zelenyy (ao3) - hitlikehammers steve/bucky, clint/phil T, 3k

Summary: zelenyy, зеленый (adj): green; verdant.

If anyone thinks the whole Right on, fuck yeah, let’s join up with the goddamn Avengers! choice was an easy one, well: they’re wrong.

Screwing with Tony Stark, however, is a really good barometer of how far Bucky’s come in the process of living out said choice.

Zen and the Art of Steve Rogers (ao3) - Gfawkes steve/bucky E, 45k

Summary: "Damn. This fucker is stripped."

And so he was.

Bucky had stripped off his t-shirt. A beautiful thunderbird tattoo flexing its spread wings across his shoulder blades.

Desire flared inside Steve, like the flaming bird burned into Bucky's skin. Half of him suddenly regretted every decision he'd ever made. The other half thanked the gods he was standing where he was.

zen & the art of superhero maintenance (ao3) - curiouslyfic clint/steve T, 7k

Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Bed-Stuy, Clint gets a new tenant.

He doesn't move in alone.

Zenith (ao3) - Cyan_Rain wanda/vision T, 61k

Summary: Billy and Tommy wake up miles from Westview, in a world that's nothing like the idyllic life their mother made for them, a world still reeling from a bizarre mass disappearance and reappearance people are starting to call "The Blip."

Six years later, there has been no sign of Wanda for so long she's presumed dead. Her children decide it's time to find answers.

Billy, Tommy, Vision, Doctor Strange, America Chavez, and Reed Richards follow a series of clues to another universe, to a variant Earth so different from their own it might as well be an alien planet, where they will face unknown dangers, strange mysteries, and possibly the Scarlet Witch.

Zephyr in the Sky (ao3) - Ladyladylady bucky/clint E, 32k

Summary: Bucky Barnes did not expect Clint Barton to walk into his bar, but he wasn't surprised when he went home with him. No, it was more the three kids and ex-wife that caught him off-guard the next morning.

Join Bucky as he navigates a relationship with a (sexy) older man who's awfully good at keeping secrets while balancing his school, work, and borderline co-dependent friendships with the Maximoff twins.

A love story told through tarot cards and dim-lit bars.

Zeppelin Bend (ao3) - msraven clint/phil M, 8k

Summary: The idea of intimacy of any kind is laughable and my paranoia is increasing to the point where I rarely get more than a few hours of sleep at night. I’m tired and I’m lonely. So if you can help me with all or any of those, I say show me where to sign.

Or the fic where Phil is a very high-priced prostitute.

zero missed calls (ao3) - zippe mj/peter G, 6k

Summary: SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

Multi-universal communication through phone calls isn’t the easiest way to reach someone. Peter doesn’t care, because his phone is ringing when it never does.

Zing! Went the Strings of My Heart (ao3) - ereshai clint/phil G, 3k

Summary: Phil likes Clint more than he should, so he's just going to distance himself until he gets things under control. Too bad Clint isn't cooperating.

Zombie Hunters, Assemble (ao3) - ereshai clint/phil T, 1k

Summary: Clint has been traveling through the zombie-infested Midwest, alone except for his dog, Lucky.

Zombies (ao3) - EaSnowPw tony/stephen G, 4k

Summary: OR

The zombie survivors welcome a new member in their midst.

Zoo (ao3) - Crockzilla peter/wade, bucky/peggy/steve, pepper/tony, rhodey/sam T, 4k

Summary: Sam takes all five Littles to the zoo. At the same time. Rhodey helps.

Zoodipity (ao3) - Captain_Panda steve/tony T, 14k

Summary: Fury's finally had enough and has kicked the Avengers out of his house headquarters.

With the Grand Zoo Opening just around the corner, Tony's ability to wave a magic wand gets them a chance of a lifetime--or maybe the chance to get a lifetime ban from a Zoo that hasn't even opened yet.

On the bright side, at least they'll have lots of good stories to not tell!

Z to A (ao3) - memoriaeterna wanda/vision, pepper/tony T, 88k

Summary: The moment of disorientation was nothing compared to the next thing he saw. He was standing in the midst of an airport, looking directly at a girl with the familiar red leather coat. The mutual recognition was instant. Leipzig. Or, Peter and Wanda sent back in time to stop the inevitable. Good news: they are not alone. Bad news: who and from when.

#themculibrary #masterlists #marvel #mcu #ficsz #ficsz masterlist

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jcmarchi · 1 year ago

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Demystifying Screen Readers: Accessible Forms & Best Practices

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/demystifying-screen-readers-accessible-forms-best-practices/

Demystifying Screen Readers: Accessible Forms & Best Practices

This is the 3rd post in a small series we are doing on form accessibility. If you missed the 2nd post, check out Managing User Focus with :focus-visible. In this post we are going to look at using a screen reader when navigating a form, and also some best practices.

What is a Screen Reader?

You may have heard the term “screen reader” as you have been moving around the web. You might even be using a screen reader at this moment to run manual accessibility tests on the experiences you are building. A screen reader is a type of AT or assistive technology.

A screen reader converts digital text into synthesized speech or Braille output, commonly seen with a Braille reader.

In this example, I will be using Mac VO. Mac VO (VoiceOver) is built-in to all Mac devices; iOS, iPadOS, and macOS systems. Depending on the type of device you are running macOS on, opening VO could differ. The Macbook Pro that is running VO I am writing this on doesn’t have the touch bar, so I will be using the shortcut keys according to the hardware.

Spinning Up VO on macOS

If you are using an updated Macbook Pro, the keyboard on your machine will look something like the image below.

You will start by holding down the cmd key and then pressing the Touch ID three times quickly.

If you are on a MBP (MacBook Pro) with a TouchBar, you will use the shortcut cmd+fn+f5 to turn on VO. If you are using a traditional keyboard with your desktop or laptop, the keys should be the same or you will have to toggle VO on in the Accessibility settings.. Once VO is turned on, you will be greeted with this dialog along with a vocalized introduction to VO.

If you click the “Use VoiceOver” button you are well on your way to using VO to test your websites and apps. One thing to keep in mind is that VO is optimized for use with Safari. That being said, make sure when you are running your screen reader test that Safari is the browser you are using. That goes for the iPhone and iPad as well.

There are two main ways you can use VO from the start. The way I personally use it is by navigating to a website and using a combination of the tab, control, option, shift and arrow keys, I can navigate through the experience efficiently with these keys alone.

Another common way to navigate the experience is by using the VoiceOver Rotor. The Rotor is a feature designed to navigate directly to where you want to be in the experience. By using the Rotor, you eliminate having to traverse through the whole site, think of it as a “Choose Your Own Adventure”.

Modifier Keys

Modifier keys are the way you use the different features in VO. The default modifier key or VO is control + option but you can change it to caps lock or choose both options to use interchangeably.

Using the Rotor

In order to use the Rotor you have to use a combination of your modifier key(s) and the letter “U”. For me, my modifier key is caps lock. I press caps lock + U and the Rotor spins up for me. Once the Rotor comes up I can navigate to any part of the experience that I want using the left and right arrows.

youtube

Using the Rotor in VoiceOver

Navigating By Heading Level

Another neat way to navigate the experience is by heading level. If you use the combination of your modifier keys + cmd + H you can traverse the document structure based on heading levels. You can also move back up the document by pressing shift in the sequence like so, modifier keys + shift + cmd + H.

youtube

Using the Heading Level Shortcut with VoiceOver

History & Best Practices

Forms are one of the most powerful native elements we have in HTML. Whether you are searching for something on a page, submitting a form to purchase something or submit a survey. Forms are a cornerstone of the web, and were a catalyst that introduced interactivity to our experiences.

The history of the web form dates back to September 1995 when it was introduced in the HTML 2.0 spec. Some say the good ole days of the web, at least I say that. Stephanie Stimac wrote an awesome article on Smashing Magazine titled, “Standardizing Select And Beyond: The Past, Present And Future Of Native HTML Form Controls”.

The following are 5 best practices to follow when building an accessible form for the web.

Make sure that you are using a form element. Forms are accessible by default and should be used over div’s at all times.

Be sure to use the for and id attributes on label’s and input’s so that they are linked. This way, if you click/tap the label, focus will shift to the input and you can start typing.

If a field is required in order for the form to be complete, use the required attribute and the aria-required attribute. These will restrict the form from being submitted. The aria-required attribute explicitly tells the assistive tech that the field is required.

Use the, :focus, :focus-within and :focus-visible CSS pseudo classes to manage and customize how a user receives focus.

form:focus-within background-color: #cfffcf; input:focus-within border: 10px solid #000000; input:focus-visible, select:focus-visible, textarea:focus-visible outline: 2px solid crimson; border-radius: 3px;

A button is used to invoke an action, like submitting a form. Use it! Don’t create buttons using div’s. A div by definition is a divider. It has no inherent accessibility properties.

Demo

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Navigating a Web Form with VoiceOver

If you want to check out the code, navigate to the VoiceOver Demo GitHub repo. If you want to try out the demo above with your screen reader of choice, check out Navigating a Web Form with VoiceOver.

Screen Reader Software

Below is a list of various types of screen reader software you can use on your given operating system. If a Mac is not your machine of choice, there are options out there for Windows and Linux, as well as for Android devices.

NVDA

NVDA is a screen reader from NV Access. It is currently only supported on PC’s running Microsoft Windows 7 SP1 and later. For more access, check out the NVDA version 2024.1 download page on the NV Access website!

JAWS

“We need a better screen reader”

– Anonymous

If you understood the reference above, you are in good company. According to the JAWS website, this is what it is in a nutshell:

“JAWS, Job Access With Speech, is the world’s most popular screen reader, developed for computer users whose vision loss prevents them from seeing screen content or navigating with a mouse. JAWS provides speech and Braille output for the most popular computer applications on your PC. You will be able to navigate the Internet, write a document, read an email and create presentations from your office, remote desktop, or from home.”

JAWS website

Check out JAWS for yourself and if that solution fits your needs, definitely give it a shot!

Narrator

Narrator is a built-in screen reader solution that ships with WIndows 11. If you choose to use this as your screen reader of choice, the link below is for support documentation on its usage.

Complete guide to Narrator

Orca

Orca is a screen reader that can be used on different Linux distributions running GNOME.

“Orca is a free, open source, flexible, and extensible screen reader that provides access to the graphical desktop via speech and refreshable braille.

Orca works with applications and toolkits that support the Assistive Technology Service Provider Interface (AT-SPI), which is the primary assistive technology infrastructure for Linux and Solaris. Applications and toolkits supporting the AT-SPI include the GNOME Gtk+ toolkit, the Java platform’s Swing toolkit, LibreOffice, Gecko, and WebKitGtk. AT-SPI support for the KDE Qt toolkit is being pursued.”

Orca Website

TalkBack

Google TalkBack is the screen reader that is used on Android devices. For more information on turning it on and using it, check out this article on the Android Accessibility Support Site.

Browser Support

If you are looking for actual browser support for HTML elements and ARIA (Accessible Rich Internet Application) attributes, I suggest caniuse.com for HTML and Accessibility Support for ARIA to get the latest 4-1-1 on browser support. Remember, if the browser doesn’t support the tech, chances are the screen reader won’t either.

DigitalA11Y can help summarize browser and screen reader info with their article, Screen Readers and Browsers! Which is the Best Combination for Accessibility Testing?

Links

https://support.apple.com/guide/voiceover/with-the-voiceover-rotor-mchlp2719/mac

https://www.w3.org/TR/wai-aria/

https://www.w3.org/WAI/standards-guidelines/aria/

https://support.google.com/accessibility/android/answer/6283677?hl=en

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secretgcrdens · 5 months ago

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An unfamiliar feeling swept over Callum when Cassandra mentioned being swept away by an eligible bachelor. He’d never had an envious bone in his body before, but the idea of Cassandra being with a man that wasn’t him made Callum’s heart drop. Deep down, he suddenly knew he’d have to watch the young woman he’d grown close to in such a short matter of time slip through his fingers. This was called the ‘Marriage Market’ for a reason — he felt sick to his stomach thinking of all the men who’d be vying for Cassandra’s hand and her heart. “I can promise you one honey cake…the rest though? They’ll be in my belly. The Queen’s cooks will be kicking me out of the kitchen by the end of the night.” A humored smile tugged on his lips.

The moment Cassandra had walked through the doors of the Sinclair home, Callum’s life had been altered. He’d been riding Dusty in the rain all morning and made it home in the midst of the bustle of Cassandra’s arrival — he’d met her with soaking wet curls, muddy boots, and a lopsided grin. And a disapproving look from his father. He found Cassandra to be brave for stepping into a home she’d never been to with a family she didn’t know — it was something he knew he’d never be capable of. Making her feel welcome instantly became his goal. He’d surprised himself and his family when he offered to sponsor her and despite the nerves, he was glad the two of them could share this moment together — entering the unknown. “Trust that you’re not alone in feeling that way, my lady,” he gave her a reassuring smile. “My heart is about to beat out of my chest if I’m being honest — I hate the idea of not having control of things. And this?” he waved his hand around before taking a sharp breath, “Is entirely out of my control.” He hoped his confession didn’t frighten her further — he knew she would navigate this whirlwind gracefully, but he wished for her to know that she wasn’t facing these fears by herself.

A blush rose to his cheeks and he shook his head shyly. It seemed to Callum that he was the black sheep of the family — that’s why he’d been hidden away for so long. His brows furrowed together at the sound of her confession. His heart broke for her and he instinctively reached his hand out to touch hers, fingers grazing the top of her hand before he realized what he’d done and moved his hand back to his lap. “Miss Lockridge, I’ve never met someone as selfless as you,” he told her in earnest, “I wish for you to be happy.” He bit down on his lower lip for a moment. “If the lucky man who earns your affection doesn’t understand what you’ve done for your parents then he’ll have to face the wrath of the Sinclair brothers.” His gaze lingered on Cassandra, trying to wrap his mind around all that the young lady was sacrificing for her parents. “I want you to know how glad I am that you’re here, but I wish you could be free to choose your future.” He smiled softly before adding, “I’ll do everything I can to make this Season enjoyable for you.”

Unable to keep a bashful grin from lighting up his face, Callum grew flustered by Cassandra’s compliments. “I think you’re mistaken,” he shook his head, glancing down at his hands that were nervously toying with the buttons of his suit jacket, “The ladies of the ton will not give me a second glance. They’ll be after my brothers, and I can’t blame them.” Before he could stop himself, his words came tumbling out of his mouth, “I have no experience with women or romance — what lady wants that?” His cheeks grew warm and he dared not to look in her eyes. He’d been too “ill” to participate in a season until now. And despite being friendly, Callum never allowed himself to get close to others in fear that they’d see his flaws. This — all of this — was new to him.

“I look forward to it,” he replied, already hoping the next few hours would go by quick and the two could be on their horses — away from the chaos, together — for a little while. “I’d have to agree. I’ve never seen Dusty give a mare quite so much affection. Winnie better not break his heart — I don’t know how he’d ever recover,” he teased, happy to be thinking of something other than the ceremony for a brief moment.

Laughing, she let herself relax in his presence, "let's hope some eligible bachelor will feel the same way and will try to sweep me off my feet," she teased. The idea of becoming some man's wife terrified her and as much as she pretended, she couldn't shake the fear that it instilled in her. Cassandra was afraid she'd lose herself, just like her mother had, "you better grab me a honey cake, or else."

At least she had Callum in these uncertain times. Walking into the Sinclair home, nothing was as it was at home and she didn't know where her place was. Callum was sweetness personified and maybe that's what she needed when all she had was anger and rage at her father for subjecting her to this. "I'm glad I am here to help you as much as you've helped me find my footing in this place. I must admit that I do not like it when I am not privy to such information," she picked at her nails nervously, "I hate not knowing what I am stepping into," she blushed at her confession.

As much as she tried to hide her grin at his kind words, she couldn't and appreciated his compassion in her most loneliest moments, "I bet you get those traits from your mother," she teased him. Swallowing, "I don't want this," she admitted sadly, "but my father and my mother need this." Cassandra didn't need to burden the man with tales of home, not when he had his own worries to take care of, "and if the man who decides to ask for my hand doesn't understand that I am doing this for them, what do I do then?" Callum had been nice to her as soon as she arrived and she felt the connection between them instantly and all she hoped was that he didn't mind her spilling her inner most thoughts to him.

Grinning, "you underestimate your charm, Callum. One of these ladies will fall head over heels for you," she assured him, "don't count yourself my lord," she gave him a wink and a smile.

Nodding, "I would love that," her morning rides had been solitary thus far, a way to escape the Sinclair home and be herself. It was the one good thing that Sir Claremont had done for her and it was the one thing she wouldn't risk losing, "I think our horses are smitten with each other," she teased.

#𓍢 ・ interactions.

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mythictold · 11 months ago

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she's grateful they've made it through unscathed without another warp core incident. frankly she isn't sure how they'd continue if something were to happen to it; there wasn't a luxury of getting it replaced anytime soon if they were to be forced to eject it. sometimes she worries they're barely going to make it home with voyager held together with little more than bubblegum and string (she thinks she might be held together with much the same, unless she's dead by the time they get back). another harsh reality put forth by the delta quadrant. it's like it will never end - and even in the quiet hours she spends with chakotay or their sons, it's a thought never far from her mind.

if they're lucky, they won't have to deal with species 8472 anymore. that they're finally away from this sector of space. it doesn't mean there aren't more enemies down the line, however. ones just as cruel or calculating or destructive as the last.

it's strange, how easily she and chakotay move through what is a well rehearsed nighttime routine. like two satellites orbiting each other, they move in tandem in putting the boys to bed. she settles keiran onto his bed and pulls blankets up around him, tossing chakotay's jacket over her arm as she takes the stuffed sloth that has made quite a journey on it's own. she is careful to tuck it into keiran's embrace; he latches on with a heavy sigh in his sleep, pulling the toy against his chest in a familiar gesture. she's grateful neither of them have woken up; not until she and chakotay can figure out how to explain things to them in a way children would understand.

no one ever warned her how difficult it would be to be a parent, to try and navigate such difficult conversations while trying to keep them from being hurt or worse. it's no secret she would do anything for her crew, but the fierceness that is in her chest to protect these two smallest of their crew rivals nothing else. she knows chakotay feels the same; they would do anything for their boys.

satisfied kolo and keiran are settled for the time being, she presses a kiss to each of their heads before she lets chakotay pull her from the room. she tosses his jacket vaguely toward the nearest surface, and then melts almost immediately into his embrace. their height difference allows her to neatly tuck herself beneath his chin, face buried into his neck as her arms curl around him. the rest of the universe fades away and she feels the uncomfortable tightness in her chest lessen; her worries are still there, but not all consuming. nothing else matters but her children, and chakotay - and there's nothing in the universe that can touch her, wrapped in his embrace. it's a balm she takes very generous advantage of when she can - the steady warmth of his presence quells any emotional din of her mind, forces her to slow down and simply be.

together. such a simple word and yet it means everything to her - she'd never expected to rely on someone so much, both in command and in life. but she's learned, and she's grateful beyond measure for the strength chakotay gives her, both as an officer and husband. it's allowed her to learn to rely on other members of their crew - none of them can get through this alone.

"i knew it wasn't going to be easy, bringing them to voyager. today's just . . . the first time i truly saw how much danger they could be in." she misses the ease of new earth, the only danger being a twisted ankle or a scraped knee. she and chakotay had been more in control of their own environment there, able to keep their sons in a veritable bubble of peace. out here, they can only control voyager, not the ones outside of the bulkheads who would rather see them ripped apart or the ship scrapped for parts.

through all of it, however, there's only one person she can ever see doing it all with. she'd said as much, some years ago, and it still holds true.

"i'm glad you're safe." she murmurs after another moment of being lost in her own mind. "much as i am our sons. i don't know what i'd do without you."

chakotay knew she was right, he had never kept anything from the boys and he wasn’t going to start now. getting keiran to understand with how young he was would be the difficult part and yet his aversion to strangers would play a key role in understanding what they would try to tell him. “luckily the warp core sustained very little damage in the attack. we’ve repaired several clamps and were able to stabilize the dampers to get us moving again. the course you and seven laid in has gotten us far enough away from 8472, they won’t come after us again.” with the hull breaches being temporarily contained, it was that much more of an incentive that they could take the time off shift to gather themselves.

they knew that something like this could and would happen. in a way, he was hoping they’d have more time to prepare some sort of way to explain how the universe and delta quadrant worked to the boys. unfortunately, that time had run out. the freedom they once had to run around in the forest, to play without concern was long gone. there were dangers out there that were never present on new earth, dangers that affected not just their children but themselves as well.

following behind her, he waited until the door slides closed behind him before he replies. “it was never our intention to keep anything from them. if we had more time before this, we would have sat them down. we had no way of knowing 8472 would make their presence known.”

passing a table with several books on it, he reaches for keiran’s favorite toy, a stuffed sloth that had been worn down by the years spent being cuddled and carried through the forest, puddles of mud and in lakes. its wear and tear had begun to show in the months before the voyager crew appeared and sent kolo running into his arms. the sloth had seen far better days but it was one thing keiran refused to let go of and they weren’t going to take it from them.

it was surprising, remembering how the captains quarters looked before they were confined to new earth to how it appeared now that it housed four of them. it took on an entire life of its own. it was no new earth, or the home they built there, but it was home enough to become a familiar comfort to not only the boys but himself as well. he never knew– never imagined at the end of a long shift, he’d return to his quarters to find small hands reaching for him and a million questions waiting for him as he walked through the door would be something he looked forward to.

chakotay knew new earth had changed him; five years of building a life, raising two children and building his relationship with kathryn, it had all made him a better man.

as the door to the boys room slid open, he waited for her to step inside before he followed, setting the panel so the door would remain open once they were done. it would allow them to keep an eye on them as they slept. a comfort in knowing if one of them woke, they’d be able to see it. the boys would be able to see them and know they were safe in their own beds, in their quarters.

handing her the stuff sloth lovingly named bear, he agreed with her. “all we can do is be honest and try to explain things as best as we are able to. everything. starfleet, the danger and what to do incase we can’t get to them.” it would be a hard conversation to have. something they never considered they’d need to do on new earth.

tossing the blanket that had been around kolo onto a chair in their room, he carefully laid their oldest down, moving the hair from his face before covering him with is own blankets. he watched as kolo moved to nuzzle into his own pillow. as his breathing evened out, chakotay knew he was still asleep. it was late, long past a bedtime they’d been used to—though the events of the afternoon would be enough to be draining on both of their sons.

chakotay understands her worry and her concern. he has the same worries and concerns. there is also a myriad of concerns the alpha quadrant would bring for him as well. for now he needed to focus on the task at hand; getting his family settled and her mind at ease. “i can’t tell you that it won’t happen, or that we can prevent it… because i can’t make that promise to you.” he speaks softly, switching on a light tom had replicated for the boys, giving a soft yellow glow to the room.

taking her hand, he leads her from the room, once they are in the main room of the quarters he uses that hand to pull her into his arms. a heavy sigh follows and he can feel the adrenaline drain from his body, and the tension of the last few hours melt away. his family was safe, his wife was in his arms and their boys were asleep nearby. “whatever comes, we will handle it together.” just as they always had and continue to do so. they’ve overcome far too much to let it come crashing down around them. voyager will return to its proper state, he knew they’d return to the alpha quadrant safely with their children in tow.

“i know,” he says, his voice low against the quiet sounds of the boys sleeping and the hum of the nacells as they move the ship at warp four. “this is not what we imagined. i can’t promise you nothing bad will ever happen. but i can promise that i will never let anything happen to you or our children.”

he had made that promise the moment the boys had come into the world and changed their lives and he planned to keep it. whatever the delta quadrant threw at them, he knew they were more than capable of handling it and getting the ship home. chakotay would never let her shoulder the burdens of their mission alone. her fight was just as much his.

#( --- character && kathryn janeway )#stcrdate #( --- stcrdate && chakotay )

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