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detroitbydark · 4 years ago

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Chapter 10

Title: Tell Me That Your Soul Lies Now

Relationship: Sev/OC/Scorch

Rating: Teen

Characters: Jessa, Sev, Scorch, Walon Vau... Every character imaginable and few that you probably didn't expect to see

Warnings: None!

Summary: Harvest Day is very busy day. The boys head home. Jessa faces some hard questions. Walon has to decide what is right for his growing clan.

A/N: 15K holy hell. Thanks your patience with this one. it was an undertaking! As always thank you to my wonderful @crimson-dxwn for letting me bounces ideas off of her and for her beta'ing. Thank @fractiouskat for being an A+ cheerleader and thank you to @royalhandmaidens for the greatest banner ever!

Kyr’vhetine Tuur comes on a most un-autumn like day with temperatures before the sun had fully risen already beginning to look to those of a cool summer morning. The winds had disappeared almost entirely overnight, leaving only a gentle breeze that barely kissed the nunas’ feathers

It was going to be an excellent day to celebrate the end of the growing season and the bounty of the harvest, Kal had proclaimed before the groups had split off.

Walon wasn’t one to argue the good fortune of a perfect day. He was old enough to know they didn’t come often and still young enough to appreciate it for all it was.

He pulls a deep filtered breath in while his HUD scans the surrounding tree line.

Per tradition, hunting parties had broken off at the crack of dawn in search of game. This would be one of the last good days for a hunt before the snows came and the animals disappeared into the white wonderland of northern Mandalore. It wouldn’t be prudent to attempt again until the heat of summer fell and the mothers had dropped babies and could be more easily avoided.

Rav Bralor and her boys from Yayax squad - as well as the former commander Levet - had come in the night before, much to Walon’s chagrin. Sleeping arrangements were far tighter these days with the various marriages and additional children. He’d had to put his foot down when Kal had offered his rooms up to the entirety of the Bralor clan. In compromise, Walon had allowed Rav and Levet to take up Jessa’s room and she had moved into Scorch and Sev’s while the rest of the clan piled in with the other bachelors.

Walon pretended that he didn’t know his Ad’ika had spent most nights asleep in Scorch’s bed already and simply explained that he didn’t think either commando would appreciate others sleeping in their space. She’d eagerly complied.

She was still asleep when he, Mird, Rav and Levet had gone to meet the other early risers for their hunt.

The verdant summer greens had faded first into jewel toned fallen leaves and finally crisp brown litter that spilled across the forest floor. It added a layer of difficulty that the Mando’ade found a pleasant challenge. Shatual were a finicky creature, as likely to run away from a hunter as they were to attack it. The crunch of leaves under boots was enough to solicit either response and many an unlucky Mando had found themselves enjoying the scent of bacta rather than the taste of shatual haunch after a hunt gone bad.

Each clan of the former training sergeants was represented this morning. Kal and Ordo had set off in one direction while Mereel and Corr had gone another. Rav and Levet had joined in as well. Walon, no human adiike of any ability in sight, had Mird as his hunting companion.

The strill stalks ahead through the tops of the veshuk trees, silent as death itself. The sun had yet to penetrate the forest around him and the stillness, the sheer quiet of the morning calmed him like little else could. Two days and still Fenn Shysa’s intel bothered him on a level he wasn’t familiar with.

Of course the Empire would look to make money where it could. Of course clone lives meant less now than they had to the GAR and the Republic at large.

Maybe it was the fact that they all had adiike still on the ranks - if they’d managed to survive this long - or perhaps it was the fact that they weren’t even being sold as slaves.

Walon, Kal, Rav and the rest of Cuy’val dar had raised competent soldiers, the best of the best. He himself had spouted that they were to be tools of the Grand Army, that their one purpose was fighting for the Army that in the end would give little thought to the clone -the men- they sent into battle. Now, to hear of them being sold as surplus like a decommissioned line of blasters or transports left Vau feeling sick and angry in a way that wasn’t familiar with. Righteous indignation was a state of being for Kal Skirata, but for Walon Vau it was new and uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do with the rage simmering in his chest.

Mird chirps from his spot in the canopy above, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. He nods carefully to the strill and readjusts his sensors to pick up heat signatures through the dense brush. Not twenty yards away a flare of color through his HUD as a great shatual buck rises from its bed, shaking its head unawares of the danger that waits for it.

Over two and a half meters from top of its dark nose to the white fluff of its tail. The spread on its rack is impressive and would make a fine display on any wall. It makes a low bellowing noise, calling for any unbred females.

Walon can see the lines of Mird’s body strung tight in preparation. It’s almost time and the Mandalorian can feel the cool calm of a hunter’s mind wash over him. There is nothing else in the moment, only hunter and prey. He says his thanks to the Manda for another day of air in his lungs and another opportunity to stalk the dark forest. He doesn’t need to look at Mird any longer. They’ve been doing this since he was a teenager. The strill is ready and waiting for the signal. Walon leans back slowly against a veshuk tree and raises his slugthrower to his shoulder. Only one word leaves his mouth.

“Oya.”

The shatual turns its head in time to see its death, teeth on display bearing down on it from the trees above.

A strill with business in mind will always go for the throat. A tiny shiver of pleasure skitters down the back Walon’s neck as the creature finds its target. It’s satisfying in a way that Walon’s never been able to put into words. The shatual tries in vain to throw the smaller strill off, shaking its big neck from side to side. Strill teeth are long and sharp and Mird will not be budged, even as blood from the shatual begins to run into his eyes. Walon watches his oldest friend readjust his grip, only his back feet touch the ground as he all but hangs from his prey. The shatual makes a forlorn sound as its front legs buckle, sending him down to his front knees.

Walon levels the sight on the slug thrower as the creature turns broadside. It bellows again but it comes out wet and choked. Vau finds the sweet spot, imagining an invisible “x” over the spot he wants to hit. He pulls in a gentle breath, all thought of auctions and clones and adiike pushed aside. He squeezes the trigger on his exhale and the shatual falls silent.

————

Sev doesn’t balk when Scorch asks to make a quick pit stop in Enceri. He doesn’t bat an eye when he forgoes their usual perusal of the blaster smiths for a box of fresh pastries. He doesn’t so much as question Scorch’s motives until they get to the flower shop. Even then it’s just more of silent Sev with extra eyes burning into the back of Scorch’s head.

The words had come to Scorch easily enough, they always did. They needed to woo their intended. He didn’t like the word courting, something about it felt too old timey and proper, not like something two former commandos turned bounty hunters would do. Sev seemed to find his explanation acceptable. He was good for rolling with the punches no matter what anyone else said. He even let his like and dislikes of the various options be known in a series of very Sev-like grunts and scoffs. Scorch liked the red ones. Sev liked the pink. They split the difference and got both and jumbled them together into - what Scorch felt - was a very appealing assortment. It took almost no time and it left the former commando pleased with his previously unknown ability to romance a woman.

And then they were heading home.

The sun had barely crested over the mountains when they arrived at the airfield and performed a quick once over of the Duke. She’d require a more thorough shakedown later but today was Kyr’vhetine Tuur - Jessa and Sev’s first on Mandalore - and in Scorch’s eyes that took precedence. His heart is light and bubbly as their speeder bikes cover the ground between the airfield and Kyrimorut. Last time they’d done this he’d had a half frozen woman wrapped in his arms and now, just months later, he was plotting ways to get her back into them. Into theirs.

He knew his vod enough to know that he wasn’t fully on board with the mission as of yet. He didn’t see the odds of a favorable success and he remained open but unimpressed by the possibility of it all. That was ok. Scorch had enough hope and atin’la for the two of them.

It’s not until Kyrimorut becomes little mounds on the horizon that the jitters start. Scorch has picked up women in cantinas. He’s taken them back to small hotels or their homes. Scorch has left everyone with a smile on their face. He has never properly courted someone. It’s been ten days and he’s starting to second guess what he thought was there. Maybe Jessa didn’t feel the same pull. Maybe the kiss was a fluke.

“Shut up.” Sev’s voice growls through their comms, “you’re thinking too loud.”

Scorch says nothing.

The yard in front of the yaim is crowded with a speeder and a trio of speeder bikes. The Bralors. Scorch frowns. He really doesn’t want to do this in front of an audience.

The pair park in the usual spot and slide from their seats. The sun is bright, its rays warming the wind whipped beskar covering them. Sev’s buyce cocks to the side as he turns toward the tree line. Scorch can make out the shape of their buir from a kilometer away.

“Went hunting without me,” Sev grumbles sounding like a petulant child who’s missed dessert.

Mird takes up position next to Wal’buir and Scorch can just make out the shape between them. Impressive.

“I’m going to go lend a hand.”

Sev is gone, taking off at a brisk jog with his pack still on his back before Scorch can say anything. If he didn’t think it’d get him slotted, he’d call him a coward.

There’s nothing left to do but take the plunge. Scorch waves to Atin and a few of the boys from Yayax squad as they head out toward the livestock pens. Chores would be done in a snap today and everyone can enjoy themselves after.

His HUD takes a moment to auto adjust from the intense bright light of the sun to the dimmer interior of their home. Conn, Burr, and Kad are all playing in the main area of the house. The three boys sit around in the floor with small carved animals playing near but not exactly with one another. Three matching heads of dark hair turn when they see him, eyes widening comically as they scrabble to get up. He’s done this a thousand times now and it never gets old. He swings his pack off his shoulder and, careful to not jostle the bouquet inside, draws out a handful of colorful hard candies. The children are nearly vibrating with excitement as he doles them out. Before he can turn to the kitchen, Conn already has three in his mouth. Bes is going to kill him, he thinks with a grin.

Surprisingly the kitchen is not the hub of excitement it usually was. He glances at his chrono. They must be having a late breakfast because of the hunt. Fi and Parja are pulling pans out of the oven and Laseema is busy filling small pots for the table with different jams and butters. Kyr’vhetine Tuur meant there would be something to eat within arm’s reach all day, so it wasn’t shocking to not see the usual spread of hearty filling dishes lining the long table.

“Scorch! You made it!” It’s Fi’s voice, bright as the autumn sun. The former Omega Squad commando greets him, ambling over and giving him a quick grasp of the forearm and knock against the bucket in greeting.

“Good to be home,” he agrees, feeling disappointment begin to sink in. Parja is grinning his way. “She’s in the walk-in. She’ll be out in a-“

There’s a clatter as a tray is unceremoniously dropped on the counter and before he can turn to see he’s got his arms full. One boot falls back to brace his weight and keep him from stumbling at the onslaught. He tenses for a moment, training threatening to kick in until thin arms are wrapping around his neck and he’s got a visor full of dark hair as Jessa presses in close to his neck.

“If this is how I get welcomed home I’m leaving more often.”

Jessa’s arms around his neck squeeze tighter as he stands straight and pulls her feet off the floor. Her legs come up, knees tightening around his hips. Scorch’s hands grip her thighs because they need support. Yeah, that’s why.

“Don’t you dare.” She whispers lowly.

“Keep this up and a guy will think you missed him.”

Scorch doesn’t see the knowing look that passes between Parja and Laseema. He doesn’t hear Fi’s laughter. It’s just him and his girl and the rest of the world can kriff off.

Jessa leans back, her hands float to either side of his buyce. She stares into the T of his visor like she can see through it. The breath he’d been taking catches in his throat as she leans in and presses her forehead to his bucket.

“I missed you.” It’s so soft his buyce barely picks it up.

“Missed you too, Mesh’la.” If he didn’t have his bucket on he’d kiss her right here right now and not care who was watching. He’d push her back against the wall and he wouldn’t stop ‘til she was breathless. He doesn’t think she’d mind with the way she’s looking at him. Fett bless codpieces because his was saving his shebs from utter embarrassment.

Someone clears their throat behind them and Jessa’s pale blue eyes go wide. She wiggles against him and a small groan slips past his lips as he lets loose her legs. She untangles herself and slips to the floor, cheeks flushed crimson as she wipes at invisible creases in her pants.

Parja’s buyce cocks minutely. Scorch grins from ear to ear under the cover of his own. At Parja’s side Fi nudges her in the ribs. “How come I don’t get that kind of welcome home?”

“Bad balance.” Fi nods in understanding flushing a deep crimson as she continues. “Plus, there is that thing with my mouth-“

The former medic coughs and quickly places his hand over his riddur’s mouth. “Roger that. No need to clarify.”

Scorch reaches out, placing a hand above Jessa’s hip. When she turns he uses two gloves fingers to tip her chin up. She’s a sight for sore eyes. He wants to drag her back to the Vau side of the yaim and keep her all for himself. And Sev. Just the three of them like it was supposed to be. Only, she didn’t know that yet and they had to help her see. Her hand covers his wrist as she looks up, her skin is soft over the small strip of skin between his nerf hide gloves and where his flight suit began.

Jessa’s dark hair is pulled back into a messy top knot and she’s wearing a plain faded tunic that dips low, giving him just a peek of cleavage. She’s never looked more perfect in all the times he’s seen her.

“We brought you something.” It’s regrettable that he has to step away, he misses the contact as soon as it’s gone. He slips his pack from one shoulder and lets it slide around front. He’s careful to open it, glancing up to see her curiously eyeing him.

“It’s not going to explode is it?” The quirk at the corner of her mouth lets him know she’s joking, at least partly.

“Woman after my own heart,” he sighs dramatically. “You want fireworks? I’ll show you fireworks.”

Fi makes an ‘oof’ of pain as both his Riddur and Laseema pop him in the arm at the same time, “I didn’t say anything?!”

“You were thinking it,” Laseema says, arms crossed over her chest.

“But I didn’t say it!”

Scorch shakes his head, ignoring the audience. The bouquet is a little bedraggled, a little more worse for wear for its ride from the airfield to home. A few of the pink flowers have bent at odd angles and one of the red ones, a rose, has lost its structural integrity (and majority of its petals).

The look in Jessa’s eyes lets him know she hasn’t noticed a single one of the issues. They go wide with surprise and then crinkle at the corners as she smiles, clapping her hands together over her chest before reaching out, hand hovering just shy of the flowers.

“Scorch! They’re beautiful! And they’re for me?”

It’s a little confusing because he certainly hadn’t ever thought to bring flowers for Ordo or Atin. He nods his head and presses them into her hands.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty girl. Sev had a hand in them too.” She pulls a long slow breath in through her nose. The scent really didn’t translate through his bucket but she seems to enjoy it.

“Sev? Sev Vau?” Fi’s voice is full of confusion. “We’re talking about the same psychopath we all know and love.”

“Hush.” Parja admonishes her husband. It’s an expected reaction. Sev was known more for his kill now ask questions later, Devil may murder attitude than he was for his softer side. In fact, Scorch was beginning to think the extent of his soft side only existed in a conveniently Jessa sized space. He was good with that. Maybe it was selfish to try to force her into a space they could both be with her. They didn’t even know if she wanted this but they had already plotted out a course of action and he was loathe to change it now. It was the Vau way. Make a plan and push forward until it worked or you died. Square peg round hole? Use a det.

Jessa folds the flimsy wrapped bouquet against her chest. She takes a step forward and Scorch can’t help but admire whatever has come over her in the ten days they’ve been hunting. She grips the back of his bucket and pulls his head down and presses against his again. There’s more confidence in that one movement than he’s seen in all the months she’s been in Kyrimorut.

“We should get those in water.” Laseema’s voice is a blessed interruption from the pure drivel he was about to spout.

Jessa nods and turns toward the cupboards, searching for something. His eyes fall to the round curve of her-

“Ahem…” his eyes snap to Laseema’s skeptical face. She’s got her arms over her ample chest and he suddenly feels the eyes of the rest of the room on him. Ok so now he feels seen. Parja is unreadable under her buyce. Fi’s eyes hold humor and Scorch knows immediately that the whole homestead - and then some - is going to know about this before the day is out.

Good. Maybe that would keep the other hounds from taking to the hunt. Not that Jessa was prey or should be hunted or…

“Scorch?”

Stang. He’s been caught. Jessa’s turned back with a stoneware pitcher and the flowers he’d given her artfully placed inside.

“Mesh’la?”

“Princess.”

All eyes turn to Sev and Walon standing in the doorway. A large shatual haunch is draped over Sev’s shoulder while their buir carefully uses a cloth to clean one of his hunting knives. He’s thankfully forgotten and Jessa passes the table, depositing the makeshift vase. She doesn’t exactly leap into his arms like she had for him but she’s still more than mildly enthusiastic to see the Mandalorian in front of her.

As usual, Sev appears impassive. The slight rise in his shoulders speaks otherwise as Jessa - much smaller than the man in front of her - comes to a stop and absolutely kriffing beams at the former sharp shooter. Wal’buir stands a step behind the pair, looking on with veiled curiosity.

“I like my flowers.”

“I picked the pink ones.” It's a Sev-level simple exchange.

“You did good,” she murmurs softly.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” It’s the first time Scorch has noticed the clean linen bandage wound around her palm. Of course, it would be the first thing Sev noticed. He watches her reaction carefully. His buir watches knowingly as Jessa tries to shrug it off.

“It’s nothing really. A little cut.”

Parja is the one to speak up this time. “Jess’ika tried to take in an entire Imp garrison in Keldabe the other day.”

Behind Sev, buir scoffs. Sev seems unamused as he brushes past her and places the freshly butchered haunch on the open durasteel prep counter and moves to the sink to wash his hands. Buir glances down at her as he passes and moves to the stack of mugs and carafes of caf sitting on the table. Apparently the old barve is going to let it play out without his intervention.

Scorch hovers in space watching as Sev turns back to Jessa. She’s shortened the distance between them and he nods to her hand. It takes a moment. Jessa clutches her wrist tightly and Scorch wonders what the Fek happened. Mird trots in from parts unknown and plops down next to buir. The merc begins cleaning off equal parts blood and saliva from the strill’s mouth as if nothing were amiss.

“It wasn’t really a big deal,” Jessa says, a defense. Fi makes a sound in his throat.

“Anytime now Princess.” As if ordered from a commanding officer she takes the final steps and holds her hand out. Scorch moves to taking up post at Sev’s shoulder as his vod begins untying the wrap.

“How long?”

Their buir answers from across the room. “Three days.”

Scorch lets out a low whistle as the bandage rolls away and the bacta soaked linen is removed. It’s nasty, deep looking. With three days worth of bacta and presumed early cleansing… he works it out in his head. It had been a bad wound. Sev is stock still, holding her hand in his palm.

“What did it?”

“My knife.” There’s no waiver in her voice, she looks him in the eye, a defiant tilt to her chin.

“You mean my knife.”

Jessa mouths falls open a hair before her teeth clack together and she sets her jaw.

Sev is unmoved. “Hand it over.”

And there goes the pleasant welcome home.

There’s more pairs of eyes on them than Scorch is really pleased about. A staring contest in the kitchen was not part of the plan. It’s a war of the wills as Sev takes a step into Jessa’s space. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t react at all.

“There’s two ways this will go and I end up with the knife in both.” Sev’s rumble is a threat that is crystal clear to anyone within earshot. He holds his unwavering gloves hand palm up between them. Scorch glances at his buir and sees a single shake of his head, fall back and wait.

Jessa pauses the length of a breath. Then she presses her injured hand hard against Sev’s cuirass for support while she pulls her leg up. Scorch has to give it to her. She keeps her eyes locked with his vod’s visor. If she were jetii his brain would probably be frying by now. He wondered if that was even possible and makes a mental note to ask Bardan later if that was a Jedi brain sizzle was a thing.

With her left hand she pulls the knife from the sheath hidden in her boot. For a second he thinks she may just drop it on the floor between them. The thought seems mutual as he glances around and the few inhabitants of the kitchen are watching with unrestrained curiosity. Jessa’s thinking very loudly. He can see it in the way her movements hitch. Had he given off that many signals Sarge would have cuffed him by now.

“Ad’ika, do give the scary Commando the weapon and be done with all the posturing.”

Jessa’s eyes drop but her voice remains steely. “Yes buir.”

There’s a lot for Scorch to unpack there, but his buir doesn’t seem willing to add anything to clarify for either of his confused sons.

Jessa presses the knife handle into Sev’s open hand. Her own ball into fists as she steps away from the larger Mandalorian in front of her. Scorch’s eyes immediately fall to the painfully slow drip of blood from her injured hand as she clenches and unclenches. Her partial handprint is painted in blood on Sev’s cuirass. Laseema notices and grabs a clean cloth. Jessa’s cheeks flush red as she turns away from both of them to face Laseema.

The Twi’lek shoots both men a dirty look as she presses the cloth into Jessa’s palm. She doesn’t flinch as the older woman fusses over her quietly. He makes out a few particularly colorful Ryl words.

“Let’s go to medical and get this redressed, ok?” Laseema’s soft voice belays the fierce glare in her eyes as they focus on Sev. With a huff and a protective arm draped around Jessa’s shoulders she ushers her toward the Skirata wing and medical just beyond.

“Real nice.” It’s Parja now on the attack, arms crossed over her chest in a manner most unwelcoming. She turns to follow the other two women. Their buir sighs deeply and Sev cocks his head at the door the three have just vanished through.

“Well, that could have gone better.” Fi says what Scorch thinks only in a much less exasperated tone than his own inner dialogue. That escalated quickly. A moment’s glance to his brother shows the other Mando is just as confused with how quickly that hit FUBAR status.

Behind them Walon Vau clears his throat. “So would my di’kutla boys care to know what happened while they traipsed across the galaxy?”

———

“You’re getting spoiled and fat, Kal.”

Walon does a fair job of hiding his amusement at Rav’s assessment of their fellow Cuy’val Dar vod.

Not to have his holiday merriment karked up by the Bralor clans matriarch Kal grins and pats the fine layer of paunch, barely noticeable around his middle.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you vod’ika”

That has Walon scoffing into his glass of ti’haar. Kyr’vhetine Tuur called for day drinking and Bralor clan had brought their latest batch, a reason for a lunchtime tasting if he’d ever heard one.

For his part, Mij Gilamar does little to hide his laughter, openly laughing at the Skirata clan leader. Rav was right, as Rav usually was. Kal’s favorite rocker had moved from its home by the hearth of the karyai to a comfortable position where he could lord over the comings and goings of the day. When lunch had been served Laseema had brought a plate loaded to the brim with the best cuts of meat, juicy orchard fruit, and freshly roasted root vegetables.

Kal turns his sharp eyes to Walon, ignoring the mirth dancing in Mij’s. “Nothing to say, Walon?”

He rolls his eyes, lowering his glass from his lips. “Rav’s assessment skills have not atrophied with age.”

Rav makes a disgruntled sound. “Thank you, Walon. I think.”

Mij, quiet to this moment, picks now to speak. “He can’t exactly say anything.”

Walon can’t exactly disagree. His own belly was quite full in part to his newest acquisition. Jessa had given him a plate - while not as loaded down as Kal’s had been - that could have easily fed two commandos. And some for Mird. She’d been very clear that she’d swiped a choice soup bone and some delightful strips of fat for the strill. His pet had taken the scraps happily before he’d been offered the bone and disappeared to do whatever it was that a strill did with bones. All Walon knew is that it would never be seen again and he wouldn’t need to clean up shards of it.

Rav leans back in her chair, not a rocker but still more comfortable than any of them had grown used to over the years, she sips her drink and Walon waits for it.

“When I heard through the grapevine that you’d adopted another I was shocked. And now that I’ve seen her I’m more so.”

There it was. There was no worse gossip in the galaxy than a Mandalorian.

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

Rav smiles. “Take it as you will. I’m still trying to figure out the why and obviously you are not going to illuminate us with your reasoning.”

Walon crosses one leg lazily over the other as he leans back. In a small shaded area across the open yard Jessa sits happily chatting with the Skirata wives. She looks genuinely happy and that makes him feel warm… or maybe that was the ti’haar.

As if sensing eyes on her, she turns and catches his. Her smile is radiant, like sunshine brought to life.

Walon leans forward and liberates the ceramic liquor bottle from Kal’s side and tops his glass off.

“The little ad has grown on me, much like a tumor.”

Mij, never as tolerant of alcohol as his peers, chortles merrily. “Leave it to you to compare having children to cancer.”

Walon shrugs. “Have one and find out.” Mij scoffs at the idea and the group settles into a comfortable silence.

Jessa and the wives chat idly. Further past the women, the former commandos and Null ARCs are dividing up into teams on the makeshift pitch. Some words pass between one of the Bralor adike and Walon curiously watches as Scorch grips his brother's shoulder and pulls him to a stop.

Meshgeroya would be good. The lot of them needed a good match. The amount of testosterone flying around the yaim as of late was stifling. It would be good for the mass to get it out of their systems before someone had an unfortunate incident.

“Of course it would be yours, wouldn’t it?” Rav sounds about as worried about the averted skirmish as he feels. Boys would be boys and Fett clones would be Fett clones. He hadn’t met one yet that hadn’t gotten at least some of Jango’s competitive nature.

“Who’s to say my lads started it?” He raises a brow in Rav’s direction and she challengingly raises one right back.

Kal clears his throat, drawing the attention of the trio. “We’ve got to discuss the information the Mand’alor passed along at some point.”

“Din’kartay?” Mij asks, setting his now empty glass on the ground. Kal nods. His eyes follow the first snap of the match for a few moments as bodies collide and whoops and hollers rise into the air. His eyes travel over the gathered group, all four of them sharing something no other Mandalorians could - a past and a shared future in the form of their adopted children.

“Surplus auction has been moved up.”

Walon’s eye widen. “Why is this the first we’re hearing of this?”

“Just got the comm this morning, after the hunt,” The greying merc explains, “It’s a week from now.”

“A week?” Rav waves it off. “We’ve planned ops in less.” Walon wasn’t feeling the same sense of comfort as his vod. Something was coming, the proverbial other boot waiting to drop.

“We’ve got a problem.”

There it was. Of course, there was a problem. Kal doesn’t wait to ratchet up the drama of it all thankfully.

“Our intel says the boys are going to be in two separate places, troopers in a subterranean holding bay and the few commandos we're expecting are going to be a part of the main auction floor, two stories up.”

Mij frowns. “So we need a two pronged approach.”

“Which means two teams with one in the actual auction itself.” Walon sighs at the realization. “And none of the boys are exactly inconspicuous.”

Kal nods sagely. “That is the issue.” His eye wanders again and still Walon feels like he hasn’t heard the worst of it. “Bes can’t go. She’s already starting to show and we can’t put her or the baby at risk.” That is valid reasoning. Walon nods slowly. “This is a high end event. The cream of the crop.”

“So that means human…” Mij says shaking his head with disgust, “Las’ika is out.”

“Parja is Mando.” Rav says with an air of pride. “She’s not going to pass for aruetii elite even with time and training.”

This time Walon follows Kal’s eyes when they stray from the group. Jessa is sitting in the small half circle of women while the children run around and play a short distance away. She glances shyly at the commandos playing their game. The shirts have come off and while the buir’e and family could tell one from the other without any issue, to the casual observer it would be hard to seperate a Skirata from a Bralor from a Vau. Parja makes a comment and Jessa’s face flushes bright red. Her anger with Sev from earlier seems to have subsided if the way she’s staring at his shebs has anything to say about it.

“Your Jess’ika came from money.” Kal presses on, a fool’s errand. “She can play in that sandbox as well as you could-“

“No. Absolutely not.” Walon doesn’t even want the idea entertained among the group.

“She won’t be in any Imperial database. She’s got no record. Who would you have go, Walon? Send a twi’lek? Send a pregnant woman?”

“Neither, but I’d also not have my child sent as a sacrifice either.” Rav and Mij are silent. Yes, keep your mouths closed as Bu and Buhi fight, he thinks sourly.

“Doesn’t she deserve the chance to say no herself?”

“Again, absolutely not. She is so eager to please and you with your words of aliit and pats on the head would have her signing up for war before she even knew what was going on.”

“If your worries are about Sev and Scorch-“

Walon holds up a hand, “they are not my concern in this, she is. I put them through the crucible myself. They are more than capable of handling anything placed in front of them. Jess’ika is an unknown commodity-“

“We’ve all been through the ringer at one point or another but-“

Walon raises a brow. “If this is going to be a story about poor Kal the war orphan you can stow it. She has no training.”

“Walon-“

“Gentlemen?” Mij asserts easily. His ire turns from Kal to his own sons as soon as his head turns a cheer of “Oya” rises up between the teams. Sev is on top of one of Rav’s boys raining hellfire while Scorch runs his yappy mouth and does a commendable job of taking a punch from another. The rest of the pack has circled and is shouting encouragement.

“Can we not just have one nice day?” he grumbles, pushing himself to his feet.

“Cov!” Rav snaps at Yayax Squad’s former sergeant from across the open yard. His enjoyment of his brother's tussle is quickly replaced by the stark realization that their buir was on her way and she was not pleased.

Walon watches as Sev slows, giving who looked to be Jind under him, a chance to breathe. He sits back on his heels still atop the prone Mando, chest heaving. He has the decency not to smile but Walon can see the delight from the little tussle dancing in his eyes.

Scorch on the other hand, continues to run his mouth as he trades blows with Yayax’s second in command, Yover.

“And now you keep your eyes where they ought to be.”

Walon can only imagine what started all of this, but he’s very clear in who’s going to be the one to finish it.

“Six-Two!” Scorch’s momentum falters as Walon snaps irritably, “Are you nearly done?”

“Yeah buir- just- about-there..”’ Scorch punctuates the last hit, slipping a foot behind Yover’s and shoving him to the ground. “Finished.”

Walon feels a surge of pride but it is far outweighed by irritation.

“Care to explain what the thought process was for this?”

Sev reaches down and helps pull Jind to his feet. He holds back a smile as Walon glares.

“Verbal correction didn’t work so methods required escalation,” Scorch explains without getting to the actual cause of the whole skirmish. “We’re good now, right ner vod?”

Yover glares balefully from his spot on the ground before nodding assent and holding his hand out. “Apologies, sergeant Vau, we were out of line and needed a quick recalibration.”

Walon’s eyes narrow. Rav has Jind by the chin, turning his face right and left assessing the damage. His eye is already swelling but it appears as if Sev worked his middle over more than anything, really rather harmless in the grand scheme of what he was capable of. The other commando appears no worse for wear.

“You said something stupid, didn’t you?” she questions, and he offers her a lopsided grin in response. Walon watches as she cuffs the larger man, though there is no real animosity behind it. He ducks and offers a sheepish, “Sorry Buir.”

“Nothing’s broken?” Mij joins the group.

“Just my pride Doc.” Jind tries to make his glance over to the group of women casual.

For the love of Fett… Walon rolls his eyes. All of this over a woman. Jessa is looking on with unshielded concern but her eyes follow Sev and Scorch as they fall back to one another’s side

- not the boys from Yayax squad.

“Your adiike ought to be muzzled, Walon,” Rav grumbles, as they step back and the men begin to reset their game.

“Probably, but they’re a bit territorial and I can’t blame them.”

Rav glances over and sighs, “I need to get mine into Enceri. Let them meet a nice girl.”

“What is it you’re saying about my daughter, Rav?”

“She looks sweet Walon but the apple never falls far from the tree, now does it?”

Walon pauses at the thought. It’s a wonder it’s never hit him before. Rav takes his silence as permission to continue.

“So will it be Sev or Scorch?”

Mij hums as if the question has occurred to him as well. Walon curses himself for not asking it sooner.

——

“It’s over with. You can relax.” Besany means well enough sitting cross legged on the blanket the small group of women shared but it’s hard to press the nerves of what she’d just witnessed to the background.

Conn, Burr, and Kad play a short ways away, oblivious to what had just transpired. They stack sticks in a tower trying to see how high they can make it before it topples over and they dissolve into laughter. Bes was probably right. This was probably normal and she needed to relax.

Jessa runs her finger along the hand sewn seam of the blanket. Her eyes follow as the stitches flow in and out of the fabric. Parja pats her hand. Jessa looks up.

“They’re fine, see?” She inclines her head toward the game that has restarted. “Sometimes things boil over, but it’s usually nothing a few well placed punches can’t settle.

“It’s just-“

Laseema offers a gentle smile. “When you haven’t seen it before it’s a little overwhelming?”

Jessa snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Terrifying maybe?” It’s Parja’s turn to scoff.

“If Sev Vau wanted someone dead they’d be dead. And in short order at that.” She gestures to the pitch and the bodies crashing together. “That was just working out a minor disagreement.”

It’s not hard for her to find the man in question among the crowd, the four jagged scars down his back stand out pink and raised over the hard planes of muscle, stark against the deep tan of his skin. Further up she can make out a circular scar, not as extreme as the other ones but perfectly symmetric as if done with a scalpel on the back of his neck. She's curious but not enough to actually ask about it. There’s a feeling that some things were sacred. Some things you didn’t just ask questions about. Even without the scars she wouldn’t be able to miss the way he moved. Like a jungle cat, he stalks from one spot to the next. He’s solid and sleek. He’s a hunter to his very core. No one else moves like him.

Scorch is simple to find for other reasons. It’s not the smattering of burns across his chest and arms or the way his sweat soaked curls stick to his forehead. No, it’s the sheer volume of his voice. Currently he’s crowing over Corr with the ball tucked under his arm. His eyes are sparkling and Jessa follows a bead of sweat as it trails from his hairline down his temple.

Sev appears at his side and butterflies tumble over one another in an attempt to escape her stomach. The sniper nudges his brother with his shoulder and says something and then both sets of eyes look up. Caught in the act of staring, she quickly looks away.

If the other women notice the interaction, they don’t let it dissuade them from the train of conversation that has seemingly jumped off the track and gone from encouraging their young friend to commenting on some of the more enticing aspects of the men on the field.

“Why are they so pretty?” Laseema asks, tipping a bottle of Ne’tra Gal up and taking a drink. Parja holds her own up in a mock toast.

“I don’t know but you’ll never hear me complain.”

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe stronger genetic variation doesn’t exist through the whole batch.” Everyone turns toward Bes. Parja nudges Jessa in the side as if to say, wait for it.

“Literally, how can there be so many perfect shebse?”

There’s a pause and then laughter bubbles up, giggles and chuckles. For a moment they are not mothers and warriors and former slaves, they are just women enjoying the view on a nice day.

“Who has the best?” Laseema asks as the giggles die down. In unison, Bes and Parja announce Mereel as the winner.

“You could bounce a credit off of that ass.” Bes says, barely able to maintain a straight face. Jessa flushes as Laseema agrees. She really hadn’t looked but now that she allows herself to she had to admit it’s a glorious sight. They are all glorious. Stripped of armor and flight suits, of the black under armor tops they all still prefer from their days in active duty they are pristine examples of what a man could be physically.

“You could wash clothing on Levet’s abs.” Parja adds. Bes nods in agreement. And it goes like this through the various family members. Fi’s smile. Atin’s back. Corr’s thighs. Bardan’s eyes. Jessa is happy to sit back and smile, every now and again nodding as the Skirata men are ogled and rated.

“What about the Vau’s?” Bes asks after a few minutes. There’s silence. Jessa feels the prickle of irritation at the quiet until she looks up and realizes three sets of eyes are looking intently at her.

“So…” Parja asks slowly, “you're part of this game too you know.”

For a second she thinks she might just wave them off, say something about not feeling right saying *hose kind of things but Parja is right and though she’s loathe to admit it - she has been looking and not just since the armor and clothes started to get peeled off and piled neatly on the sidelines. She flashes back to this morning in the kitchen when she’d pushed out of the walk-in and seen the familiar gunmetal and yellow beskar’gam and how her wits had left her. His arms had felt so good around her, holding her close after she’d flung herself - consequences be damned - at him. Scorch is an easy answer.

“His hands.”

This seems to be an answer everyone is agreeable with. Laseema hums quietly and all eyes travel back to the field and watch the former commando of the moment. He offers a cheeky smile and wave before the ball is snapped and turns back.

“Opinions on Sev?” It’s Parja again distracting her from the game at hand. The Mandalorian woman has a sly grin on her face. What was she getting at? Of course, Jessa had opinions on Sev. The strong muscles of his arms bracketing her, his thick trunk she could lean back into… jessa takes a moment to slow the race of thoughts.

“Sev doesn’t count in this.” Bes speaks up. The tone of her voice, the dismissive way she says it raises Jessa’s hackles.

“Yes he does.”

Bes startles nearly as much as Jessa does at her own words. Of course Sev mattered. He mattered more to her than any of the Skiratas and just as much as Scorch. “Best shoulders of the bunch.” She adds primly after an awkward moment of silence.

Parja barks out a laugh and watches the next play, Sev has his arms wrapped around Atin, pulling him down to the ground and pinning him face down with an elbow pressed into his back, “ok, she’s got a point.”

Laseema nods while Bes remains red faced and quiet.

The children, Kad, Conn, and Burr offer a distraction from the awkwardness that hangs in the air. The younger two head immediately for their mother while Kad seems to take a moment contemplating which aunt suits his current needs best. Jessa yawns. She hadn’t slept well the night before with strangers just a door away and it was beginning to take a toll.

It’s all Kad needs to see. He is a headstrong child when the mood hits and he was not one to be denied. Having learned both of these things Jessa doesn’t argue as he crawls into her lap.

“Sleepy?”

He doesn’t acknowledge the question but as she’d discovered even if a child was tired they’d be loath to admit it. Kad turns his face into her shoulder and Jessa wraps her arms around him. Bes and Parja excuse themselves. Bes steers the boys toward the yaim for naps of their own and Parja makes an excuse about bringing a tray of food out for the ‘old barves’ to pick at.

Laseema lounges back onto her elbows, eyes following the game that seems to be wrapping up. Jessa isn’t entirely familiar with the rules, but it doesn’t seem like the players are really following any set guideline. More or less they’re playing for the enjoyment of it. Jessa visually checks in on her boys. Always close to one another, Scorch talks rapidly to Sev as he points to Ordo and then to Corr on the other team. Sev nods in acknowledgement at whatever plan has been made.

Kad nuzzles in closer to her chest and Jessa eases the pair of them onto the blanket to lie down. The sun is warm and it leaves her feeling drowsy and content. Kad lays his head on her arm as she rolls to watch the game. His little fingers poke and prod until her other arm is draped over him to his liking.

In the air the song birds flit, taking a break from their southerly migration. The sounds of good natured ribbing and laughing comes from the game field before her and the group of buir’e behind her.

“So which would you choose?” The question catches her off guard. “Sev or Scorch?”

Jessa doesn't speak. Her eyes follow the pair as they play. Never far apart. Working together without words as if they were of the same mind. She can’t imagine one without the other or how it must have been for both before Sev had been brought back from Kasshyk.

The thought of making a choice has never occurred to her because the thought of anything more than the simple life she’s settled into is a seed barely sprouted. She frowns at the thought. If they both wanted to pursue something then of course she’d have to choose one versus the other but It doesn’t feel right, like separating a set. How would they react? Would they be competitive? Would they fight against one another? Would it tear the family apart? She’d rather be alone the rest of her days than see her fragile new family torn apart by her choice.

“Neither.”

Laseema cocks her head questioningly. Her lek curl and uncurl in a soothing manner Jessa can pick up from the corner of her eye.

“I couldn’t choose. I wouldn’t.”

———-

During a mission, when exertion and strain and sweat were a thing, Sev didn’t mind the thin sheen of perspiration that accumulated on his skin. He ignored the beads of it at his temples and the way rivulets of it ran down his back. Afterwards though, it was different. Since Kasshyk a lot of things had been different. Things he’d never tolerated - the loud way his brother chewed for example - became almost reassuring, while things that had never concerned him - like the coating of sticky sour sweat - were intolerable.

A couple of the guys - Levet, Corr, and Mereel - join him on his journey to the locker room after the match. He’d give it to Skirata, this place, their home, had all the bells and whistles. Everything he could want was here. Had he not just needed a quick wash down in the locker room he could have slipped off to the smaller bathroom shared between the twin bedrooms in his clan’s wing of the yaim. But no, the blood pumping and friendly competition had him feeling nostalgic. Locker room it was.

It takes him only a few minutes longer than the others to clean off, an extra few seconds of scrubbing with the mild soap that had followed them since their days on Kamino, while the others joked and laughed. Feeling clean made his bones settle, made them feel less like they wanted to rattle out of his skin.

Levet says something and Sev turns his attention. “Hmm?”

Levet has a towel slung low around his hips while he uses another to scrub at his damp hair. “You gotta excuse the boys. About earlier,” he says.

Sev thinks to tell him he didn’t have to do a kriffing thing, but this was Commander Tactful and even after his service to the GAR had ended, he was still trying to do what he’d always been good at.

Sev doesn’t need defusing. He wasn’t about to go off. He just needed the Yayax boys to understand that the Princess was a hands off, eyes to yourself affair. Levet tosses him a towel as Sev turns the water off. He catches it with one hand and bringings it directly to his face to rub residual droplets from his eyes.

Without the gloves Sev can hear the servos in Corr’s prosthetics whir as the younger clone dries himself off. “Sev is a little protective over his vod’ika,” the former trooper cracks.

That wasn’t quite what he was trying to make clear. He huffs into the towel. Is that really what it looked like to everyone?

“It’s understandable,” Levet agrees, “hear she’s been through a lot. There’s a lot of people who would take advantage of that; my boys aren’t them though.”

Mereel, who’s been quietly pulling clothes back on makes a discontent sound. “Seems to me if someone wanted to court the dal, they ought to make their intentions known the old fashioned way. You know, put it on public record.”

Sev can feel the Null ARC’s eyes on him. “You planning on making that move?” There’s a chill in the questions he doesn’t make any attempt to hide.

With the exception of the slow drip of water from the recently cut off shower heads, the room has gone quiet. Mereel stops where he stands, shirt halfway up his arms but not yet over his head. It’s an interesting time to realize Scorch isn't here to have his back if the sudden tension in the air ignites into something more.

“Are you?” It’s Corr’s smart mouth, he’s got a smile sliding across his face. “Because I was thinking I might stand a chance.”

In unison Sev and Mereel throw damp towels in his direction. He catches one easily with one prosthetic hand, the second - a half second behind - barely misses smacking him wetly in the face.

“Come on, really? Do you see this?” Corr turns to Levet motioning up and down his body with durasteel digits. “I could pull a woman like that.”

Levet, always level-headed and prudent doesn’t even favor him with a grin, “No, vod’ika you couldn’t.”

Mereel gives Corr a hearty pat on the back. “We can’t all be me. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable woman out there for you.”

“Gee thanks, vod.” He makes to sound irritated but Sev can see the smile lines forming at the corners of his eyes. The little bastard was still good diffusing a situation and he’s both irritated and grateful. He didn’t need a three on one but he also had no further intel on what was going on in the karking Null ARCs head.

Sev layers a fresh set of blacks under loose pants and a tunic. He collects his armor in a neat stack. No one else was putting there’s back on and he was going to take the opportunity to try without for once. He knew he’d likely wind up back in it before supper. Armor wasn’t just physical, it was mental as well.

He tries to tell himself that it’s got nothing to do with Jessa, but really it has everything to do with her. And what happened earlier. He follows Levet, Mereel, and Corr from the locker room but when they hang a right to head back outside he takes a sharp left toward his buir’s karyai. He waves off Levet’s curious over the shoulder glance. The others don’t attempt to wait or question.

It should probably sting, but it doesn’t. The Skiratas and Bralors were family but Sev only cared about two- three other people (and a mangy strill) when it came right down to it. Those were the opinions that mattered.

And he had karked up one of them. Or so he’d been told.

He heads straight toward the room he and Scorch shared, directly to the small desk that went mostly unused now that they’d set up shop in the armory. Jessa’s knife - his knife - his buir’s knife sat gleaming on the top, nearly sparkling against the dull grain of the wood, as innocuous as a honed blade of its caliber could be.

Maybe he should have gotten the story from her first. Maybe, as Scorch had suggested afterwards, it would be better to handle these things behind closed doors in the future. The thing is he hadn’t, and it wouldn’t have changed that he was going to take it back.

He was fracking impressed by the sheer gett’se it must have taken to stand up to a fully armored Mandalorian staring her down. She’d had fire in her eyes. It was like he could see her trying to decide what nice cozy intercostal space she could seat the knife in. For aruteii, it was fekking nehutyc. That still hadn’t meant the blade she was going to shank him with was hers.

It had always been too big. He knew the first time she’d held it to his throat - he swallows hard at the memory - that it didn’t fit well in her far smaller hands. He knew it was ungainly for her and awkward to wield but he hadn’t ever really meant for her to be in a position to use it. It was supposed to be a security blanket, something to pacify a terrified girl, but like everything else she’d surprised him. It wasn’t just standing toe to toe with him this morning. Wal’buir had told him what had happened in Keldabe. Before Mird had gotten help she’d been about to take on two fully trained Imperial troopers. Jessa was a smart girl and to Sev that meant she knew what she was getting into and not getting out of. The thought both set his teeth on edge and his kad to stiffening.

“Fekking Skirata.” Like his buir, Sev found it easy to blame the feisty old merc for everyday problems.

He grasps the handle and flips it in his grip. It was still a solid weapon, just not what she needed. He could fix that. Next time there was a blade between them she wouldn’t look at him like he’d done her wrong. Sev didn’t mind the anger and murder in her eyes but he didn’t ever want to see that look of betrayal again. He didn’t want to ever feel like it was her against him unless her life was on the line. He slips the blade into the sheath at his hip. It wiggles more than he liked but he didn’t intend on having it on him for long.

As he’s leaving, he catches a splash of forest green tucked under the covers of Scorch’s bed. He grabs the scarf without a second thought and folds it carefully as he heads out.

——

Parja’s in the kitchen. It’s nice because he hadn’t wanted to go looking. He hadn’t wanted to need to find an excuse to pull her away from the other women, or worse, her gossipy riduur. He knows the Mandalorian woman enough that if he could convince her it was important she’d keep things quiet. Fi, not so much.

She’s stacking a tray high with tidbits of cheese, meat, tiny pickled peppers, and bits of bread. His stomach growls and Parja’s head shoots to him.

“I’m gonna put a kriffing bell on you,” she curses quietly, narrowing her eyes. He didn’t have time for her ire, nor did he have the patience.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“After that stunt you pulled today? You’re lucky I don’t run you through myself.”

He tries to keep his lips from pulling back, he really does. He succeeds partly. Parja is undeterred by the silent snarl.

“You know she’s been a mess with the pair of you chakaar gone? You know she hasn’t been sleeping since Keldabe? You wouldn't know, because the first thing she gets out of you, Sev Vau, is nothing but trouble.” She’s pissed. He knows this because she’s gotten close and is using her index finger to jab an exclamation on each of her final words dead center of his chest. He probably deserves it.

“Can you do something for her then?” he questions. Parja takes a step back, sizes him up, then crosses her arms over her chest.

“What is it?”

Sev pulls the knife from its spot at his hip. Parja’s wide eyes move from the blade to its handler and back. He spins it in his hand, presenting the handle like one would a peace offering.

“I need you to make this work for her. I thought maybe - maybe you could make it into two.”

Parja takes the offered weapon. She studies it with the eye of a craftsperson and the tactical experience of a Mandalorian. Sev waits patiently. Somewhere outside someone is laughing obscenely loud, Mij Gilamar by the sound of it. “So-“

“You know I’m no armorer, no blade smith either?”

“You’re family and I trust you.” He waits again. She’s searching his face. After a moment she nods slowly. He hopes she’s found what she needed.

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“Don’t tempt me.” There’s a hint of humor pulling at the corner of her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Say again.” Obviously he was commissioning her to make a set of blades. It really couldn’t be much more straightforward than that-

Parja rolls her eyes, humor once again gone. “Are you and Scorch courting her together or separately? And don’t think you can put me off or lie to me, Sev Vau.”

By Fett, he hated that word - courting - it sounded so… he just didn’t like it. He really didn’t want to have to go all the way to Keldabe to have this done, so he swallows down any apprehension and nods. “Together.”

“Good. Now let me get a few ideas from you.”

——

She sleeps light and dreamless in the spill of warm sunshine. Kad nestles close to her as she shelters his little body with her own, his small hands cling to the front of her tunic. She can hear the occasional voice of someone passing nearby, of footsteps approaching stopping and then continuing on. Months ago she’d have stiffened and been on edge. She’d never have freely offered her back to danger, but now it was different. Everything was.

Kad stirs as a familiar pair of boots scuffs closer.

“Ba’vodu…

“Udessi…” Jessa soothes, quietly trying to coax the child into just a few more minutes of blissful cuddles, “I’m right here.”

He wiggles in her grip, a giggle rising up. “Ba’vodu! Boom!”

Jessa rolls to her back bringing Kad with her. He’s off her chest and half stumbling to still-shirtless Scorch’s waiting arms.

“Boom! Boom!”

Scorch hoists the giggling child into the air. Kad squeals with delight as he’s easily caught. “Yeah, verd’ika, there’ll be some big ones tonight. I promise.”

It’s an ‘oh’ moment, a split second where Jessa realizes as many times as she’s seen the other men around her toting the kids around it’s never looked so attractive as Scorch doing it.

“Ba’vodu Mesh’la!” Kad whines and Jessa cocks her head as if she’s not entirely sure what she’s heard.

“I taught him that. You can thank me later.”

It takes a moment to realize what he’s said, and when her brain finally plays catch-up she feels her cheeks flush.

“I eat food now?” Kad is unconcerned with what is playing out as he pokes at his uncle until the bounty hunter has had enough and pretends to drop him to the ground. He catches him an inch before he hits the ground and Kad acts like it is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

Another family member, Bardan, calls his name and he’s off like a shot the second his feet hit the ground without a single look back. It must be nice to be a child without a worry in the world.

Jessa pushes up, resting back on her outstretched hands. She can count on one hand the amount of times she’d seen him out of beskar, the amount of times in this state of undress less than that.

The matte grey of his pauldrons had only served to highlight how broad his shoulders truly were, and now without the added cover she can get a good impression of the muscles that moved down from those shoulders. Biceps and forearms defined by his work lead to the hands she’d mentioned earlier. He flexes his arm. Jessa’s eyes snap back to his. Caught. Scorch grins from ear to ear.

“Did you have a good nap?”

Jessa nods. The sun still has her feeling drowsy and content. “Wasn’t ready to be done with it,” she admits. He drops down to his knees and then flops lazily at her side.

“I’m not Kad, but I’ll offer myself up as a cuddle buddy.” He holds one arm up, inviting her into his personal space like the night she’d had a nightmare and he’d held her until she’d fallen asleep.

A soft breeze blows cool against her exposed skin. Goosebumps rise to the surface. Jessa slides next to Scorch. It’s out of necessity, she tells herself. He’s a human furnace, suiting his name, and she was going to use that to enjoy the last bit of time she would get outside sans layer upon layer of clothing. His arm braces behind her back as she leans into his side.

“You fit good there,” he notes. Jessa says nothing. She feels good this close to him. The light scent of sweat and salt radiates from him.

“You stink,” she murmurs quietly.

“You like my stink,” he hums back. He doesn’t exactly smell bad and she doesn’t argue. She’d spent too many nights with her arms around one of his pillows, buried under his covers to deny what he said.

“What were you fighting about with Yover?” She watches him from the corner of her eye. Scorch looks out across the field, seemingly staring into nothing. There’s a boyish smirk plastered across his face that makes Jessa think all sorts of things, not least of which is what his lips might feel like if he kissed her again.

“Nothing you need worry about.”

Thankfully he’s good at chasing away her soft, reckless thought. It’s not the answer she wants and he laughs at her irritated growl. “If you keep making that sound how are people supposed to tell you and Sev’ika apart?”

She can think of a few ways, but keeps them to herself. She rolls away, putting a shred of distance between them so she can turn to look at him fully. She missed him - them - so much. Scorch opens his mouth as if to say something and then shuts it suddenly. It’s not like him. With a puff of air past his lips he flips onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes.

Given the opportunity, Jessa seizes it. She lets her eyes rove now that he’s not watching. From his arms to his broad chest and tapered waist there is a light smattering of scars. None are particularly deep with the exception of a few to his forearms.

“I can feel you staring.” Brown eyes peek out from under his arm. “Something you like, Mesh’la?”

“You’ve got a lot of scars,” she notes, gaze not wavering from its exploration. Now that she’s begun she can’t find it in her to stop.

“Ah yes, my marks of personality.”

“Marks of…” She offers him a confused expression.

“Buir- Sarge back then, always said scars gave you personality. He helped shape our inherent charm. Have you seen Atin’s face? Vod has tons of personality.”

“Where did this scar come from?” Jessa reaches out and touches the slick looking slice on his flank. Goosebumps rise up under her fingers. A quick glance at his face shows nothing amiss.

“Sev has this great trick for slotting Trandoshans he picked up from the old man”

“But why do you have a scar?” She’s sure that her mind shouldn’t go where his words were leading it. Sev would never- well at least not Scorch, she thinks realistically.

“Spicy dreams.”

Jessa jerks. Scorch’s arm tightens around her. Sev blocks the sun from shining on the pair as he towers over the two.

“Aww Sev, was that a joke? I knew ya had it in ya.” Scorch sits up and Jessa follows, crossing her legs neatly as she does. Scorch eyes her. There must be something akin to the growing horror she was feeling painting her face because he tries to explain more.

“Sev doesn’t like to be woken from his beauty sleep.” As if to accentuate it, the man in question makes a lazy wave at his face as if to say ‘see’?

“I need every bit I can get.”

Undeterred by the look she is wearing, Scorch encourages her to stand up, giddiness and glee coloring his tone like a small child excited to show off a prized rock or funny shaped stick it had found.

“Show her!” Scorch nudges her gently until she has no choice but to stand with a roll of her eyes. “It’s a great trick.”

Sev rolls his eyes back but motions for her to stand in front of him. She’s still angry about this morning but her sense of curiosity is getting the better of her. Sev hesitates as if he knows he’s still not in her good graces but it lasts only a second before he pulls her close and spins her around. It’s a familiar position, the line of his body pressed against her back. They’ve done this once before and she flushes at the thought now of how vulnerable she’d been in the locker room and how Sev had taken care of her then.

“You ever deal with a lizard?” Sev’s voice is gruff. Jessa nods. Transdoshans made excellent slavers. Two had held her still while a fat fingered Gamorrean had branded her after she’d been bought. She presses back into Sev, seeking more of the heat he transferred without the layer of beskar between them.

“They got these… what do you call them?” He looks to Scorch.

“Plastron?”

“Like the belly of a lily turtle?” Jessa asks. “Mother kept them in the water garden.” A strange look crosses Scorch’s face as he nods at her explanation.

“Yeah, Princess, like a turtle,” Sev murmurs, reminding her how close he was. “So they’ve got these plastron across their bellies and the rest of their bodies have these thick scales that do a damn good job of blocking most sharp pointy things.” Sev’s hand comes to rest at her waist just back slightly, his thumb pressing into a spot above where she knew her kidney to sit. “Except right here, where the plastron and scales connect there is a soft spot.”

To emphasize the point, Sev presses his first two fingers into her flesh. Jessa winces and he lightens his touch enough to take the edge of the discomfort off.

“The trick Buir taught us is you’ve got to adjust your grip accordingly so when you get the chance-“ his fingers press forward, sliding along her side til they reach her belly, “you can spill their guts.”

The way he lets them sit there for a minute before he steps away makes her tummy flutter. She’s glad for the separation. Jessa folds herself faintly back into a seated position.

Curious eyes watch from afar. Jessa feels them acutely and glances past Sev. Ordo Skirata is not being covert. He holds eye contact for a second before moving on, one of his young sons clinging to his leg.

“Wonder what Ord’ika is up to?” Scorch says, more to himself than anyone.

“Better be minding his own damn business.” Sev’s voice is a reassuring growl as he flanks her other side.

——-

His belly is full of spicy skewered nerf and deliciously fatty bits of shatual. Sev has never been one to search for a buzz in the bottom of a bottle like some of his vode (Scorch included), but a bottle of sweet Ne’tra gal dangles lazily between his fingers. The abnormal heat from earlier in the day has bled away to an appropriately crisp autumn evening as the sun set an hour before. It felt good.

He alternates between staring up to the cloudless expanse of sky and taking the occasional pull from the bottle in his hand, allowing himself a moment or two to enjoy the sweet barley and hops of traditionally brewed ale. Unfettered by the light pollution of the larger Mandalorian cities to the south, the stars shine like gemstones above. It wouldn’t last long. Fireworks were coming next - Scorch had already kriffed off with Corr for last minute preparations. They’d be lucky if Doc wasn’t working on a new prosthetic by morning with those two at work.

After fireworks the kids would be shuffled off to bed and - so he was told - the real party would start. It sounded like a big excuse to drink too much and do something incredibly stupid by an open flame. Probably would be fun. He still wasn’t sure about the whole thing. He’d been through a few celebrations since being brought to Kyrimorut, but this was his first fall and Scorch had been doing his best for months to talk it up and try to get Sev as excited as he was.

He’d seen lots of things blow up in his life. From one side of the shabla galaxy to the other, he’d seen enough to consider himself an expert of sorts.

Jessa lies in the grass by his side. Her eyes are fixed on the sky above. She’s been quiet since she laid down next to him. It was wrong. She usually said something. Anything. Most times he’d have no fault in the silence, but all around them people were talking and laughing and they were just there. Being weird. Somehow he thinks it’s probably residual from this morning. He sighs heavily. Blue eyes flash out of the corner but then focus back above.

“You looking at the stars?”

Jessa makes a soft hum of agreement.

“Kriff…” he curses lowly, turning toward her, “You still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad.” And Palpatine was a well loved public figure.

“You were,” he asserts, “You looked like you were ready to slot me”

“I would never.” She finally turns, fixing him with eyes that affirm his previous assertion.

“But you wanted to.”

She sighs, rolling onto her side and tucking an arm under her head. In the growing dark with her hair spilling around her she is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. It’s taken a while, but he’s finally willing to admit that attraction.

“Too much beskar,” she states bluntly, “Besides, I’d miss you if you were dead.” There’s a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Sev feels a strange pull in his chest somewhere between asphyxiation and taking a barely controlled ascent down a fast line.

Her smile drops away. “Sev?”

“Yeah Princess?”

“If you ever do something like that again? In front of the rest of the family? I will do it.”

The bark of laughter that leaves him has heads turning all around them. Curious and concerned eyes fall on the pair. Jessa’s eyes narrow. That feeling in his chest intensifies. She looks like a pissed off loth cat waiting to attack. Fekking gorgeous.

“Roger that, Princess. I won’t even fight back.”

She softens visibly, pushing herself into a seated position only a hairs breadth away from him.

“Good.”

With that settled, the pair turn their eyes back up to the darkening sky. The silence doesn’t feel weird anymore with the issue between them blasted to dust.

Sev feels content in the moment.

The sound of the first mortar being released into the air catches his attention. The light of the small explosion comes just a few beats after in the form of neon red that lights the sky. It’s impressive. More follow at regular intervals, different colors and sizes, sounds and shapes. Like burning flowers in the night sky they flash to life only to die a few moments later. The smell of explosives rolls like a fog from the launch point to the onlookers.

Sev glances around and finds the small children staring transfixed as the fireworks erupt into life, their tiny mouths cracked in o’s of delight. He tries to remember the first time he ever saw anything explode or heard a bomb and he can’t quite place how old he must have been. He’d been fascinated, but not nearly as much as Scorch had. Scorch had been obsessed. No one loved blowing something up as much as his vod.

The next mortar explodes with all the force of a sonic boom and Sev finally notices Jessa’s stiff posture next to him, the way she twitches when each firework ignites.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine.” The words rush out of her mouth in a way that lets him know she’s not.

“You don’t need to be scared.”

Her head swings around. “I’m not-“ A pair of twin explosions follow each other in rapid succession and she nearly comes out of her skin. Sev remembers watching another squad when they were just tiny cadets, the way they had all crowded in around a vod who obviously was having issues with the sounds, pressing in until their pod mate had calmed.

“Come here.” He motions to the spot in front of him. Jessa shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she lies again.

Sev huffs. Did she not see that he knew? Stubborn dal. He should let her stew in her own fear. That would teach her, but then he’d have to listen to a lecture from Scorch and he hated when he got lectured. Before the next can go off he leans over, closing the paltry distance between them and loops his arm around her waist. She squeaks as he pulls her effortlessly into his lap, spreading his legs and tucking her into the spot between them. She struggles for a second. He notices, not for the first time, the she never curses, not in Mando’a nor in Basic. He thinks if she did she would be right now. She squirms against him and he regrets not putting armor back on.

“Stop wiggling,” he grunts into her ear. She stills and Sev takes the opportunity to wind an arm around her and pull her tight against him. Sev doesn’t see the eyes that have followed them or the way other members of the homestead lean in to whisper to one another because Jessa is relaxing back into his grip, melding with him and his brain isn’t sure what to do. The next volley of decorative ordinance pop and she barely twitches. The purple shimmer of rhydonium paints her features in a soft glow as it fizzles out of existence.

He holds her tighter and by the round after she doesn’t move at all. Her head rocks back and rests against his shoulder. He can feel the heat of her all along the front of his body and his mind travels to places it hasn’t in ages.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she murmurs.

“If you say you were fine, I swear-“

“They kept the barracks near whatever tunnel we were working in at that time,” she begins.

Sev nods. This was a Kappa Black thing. He should have known.

“We worked in shifts. You had to try to sleep while they were blowing through the asteroid around you.”

It made sense. If you’d seen any amount of osik the galaxy had to offer you weren’t likely to leave it all behind.

“Odds are you're not gonna get blown up here.”

“How do you shut it off so easily?” She twists, glancing up at him.

“Turn off what?”

“The fear.”

Sev stops. He’s never really dwelled on it. “I don’t turn it off. I focus it. Fear is a tool.” He recites an early lesson. “It’s a blade. You either use it on your quarry or you use it on yourself. Never been much on killing myself.”

Jessa goes quiet, thoughtful. She wiggles in closer as reds and greens and blues light up the sky in front of her.

“Cold?” It seems like the right thing to say. Sev had seen a holomovie once on a stakeout that reminded him of this. He’d had to read lips because he’d been perched in a Corrie window watching it from his scope in a building two over. He got the gist of it though. Romantic osik that made him want to gag on the warra nuts he’d smuggled along. Now though it doesn’t feel nearly as unrealistic as he’d thought back then.

“Maybe a little.”

From the cargo pocket of his tac pants Sev retrieves her scarf, the same one she’d left on Scorch’s bed earlier. It’s not easy to unfurl it one handed, but he manages and drapes it over the front of them. She makes a soft sound, a sigh of contentment as she burrows under the fabric.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

——

If the flames of the bonfire grow any higher, Walon is sure they’ll be able to see it from Keldabe. Not that you could tell any of the celebrating adiike that. No, drums and Bes’bev and various stringed instruments of unknown origin had been pulled out and now not only was their fire and drink but also music to go with it all.

Rav is beating out a rhythm on her bucket next to Atin, using a hide covered drum of his own making. The rest of the Bralors take turns on the winds and strings. Fi chortles out a bawdy song about a twi’lek dancer and the battalion of troopers that had loved her. Walon can make out the words “seduced by her lekku of love” before uproarious laughter drowns him out. Off to the side, Laseema rubs tears from her eyes barely able to control her laughter.

“They don’t work like that vod!” She manages to get out between giggles.

“Atin?” Someone asks. The former Commando in question offers a toothy grin but says nothing. Walon rolls his eyes. He’d like to think his adiike were better behaved, but Scorch is taking shots of ti’haar with Corr in celebration of a pyrotechnic display gone well. Sev, while not drinking like his vod is encouraging it.

“You gonna let a trooper get one up on you?”

Jessa is pressed shoulder to shoulder between the pair. Her cheeks are flushed with life and she looks happier than he’s ever seen as she fidgets with the thick braid of hair draped over her shoulder. Corr offers her a shot and she takes it like one of the Commandos. She barely flinches. Mandokarla indeed.

Even slightly inebriated himself, Walon can see Scorch’s keen gaze watch her like a mother nuna. Sev’s is more fixed on Corr. A pair of guard massiffs if he's ever seen them.

No, Walon didn’t need to worry about her overdoing it with Sev and Scorch present. Likely, he should be more concerned of their safety should they need to cut her off. The murderous look she’d given his sharpshooter this morning spoke volumes of the personality that was starting to bloom.

“Vau.” His musings are painfully disrupted by the shorter merc easing himself into a sitting position next to him.

“Skirata,” Walon greets.

“We need to talk about earlier.”

Like an obnoxious fly buzzing about, Walon tries to ignore him. Still, Kal’s eyes continue to bore into the side of his skull until, like a fly he cannot help but give him his full, irritated attention.

“You’re trying to ruin my Kyr’vhetine, aren’t you?”

Kal gives him a bemused smile that slips quickly into something more serious. Yes, he was going to ruin it.

Walon’s eyes drift to his children. The makeshift band has begun to play a song the is unmistakably Ryl. It’s heavy drum lead beat and accompanying strings lends itself for dance and Laseema throws her head back and laughs from her spot near Parja.

“Am I being called out?” She asks the group of musicians. There’s an uproarious cheer as she sets her drink down and pushes up off the makeshift log bench. “Fine then.”

Walon watches her bunch her tunic in her hand, tying the loose fabric just above her hip. Blue skin peeks out as she extends her hands at her sides and begins to dance.

Traditional Ryl dancing is almost impossible to look away from. The movements are fluid and driven by the rhythm of the music being played, steady drum beats with a mixture of plucked and strummed strings.

It’s not merely a dance but a delicate balancing act played between the musicians and the dancer. Laseema knows this game better than many he’s seen. Her hips shimmy and roll with the beat as she steps delicately about the circle of aliit. There’s cheers and hoots from the crowd and the smile that graces her face is radiant. Like so many others she had blossomed and truly begun to thrive in Kyrimorut. He was sure no small amount of that was in part to Atin. While he’d taken the Skirata name, Walon had quietly patted himself on the back for creating the man and survivor he was today.

“The auction…” Kal begins and Walon sighs deeply. From his spot at its Master’s foot, Mird glances up, tongue nearly too large for its mouth lolling out to the side. It’s warm by the fire but the strill is loathe to be anywhere Walon isn’t.

“The auction,” Walon agrees. The thought gives him a headache. A year ago he had just become reacquainted with the idea of having an ad and now here he was with three healthy, somewhat adjusted adiike. He was loathe to upset the newly formed balance, but he knew somewhere deep in his gut - as he didn’t trust his dead heart on such matters - that they needed to be part of whatever was set to happen. Each of the Cuy’val Dar sitting around the fire had trained multiple squads and so few were accounted for outside of those that had already been known to have marched on. If there were others they deserved a chance and their buir'e deserved a chance to give it to them.

Kal seems to understand he’s finally got his attention. When he speaks it’s not of someone trying to convince a friend in a fool's errand but instead a hardened mercenary beginning to plan for an op.

“We’ve got so little time to prepare. The lads will do fine but-“

Walon holds a hand up, “I know. I know.” His gaze travels over to how newest acquisition. Laseema is pulling the giggling girl to her feet while Scorch eggs her on. Sev watches with his hands on his knees. He appears relaxed, laconic, but Walon knows what lies beneath - always alert and on guard.

Laseema slows her movements, working her hips in a tight figure eight and Jessa imitates. It’s uncoordinated at first, but with each rotation she seems to sync into the music a little more, so Laseema shows her another step and then another. Parja joins the fray with absolutely no rhythm but shereshoy that cannot be argued with.

“You can’t deny that she’s our only option.”

“I never said I did.” Walon watches as Mereel enters the small fray of dancers and pulls Laseema close. Fi slides in and grabs his wife. He’s just as off rhythm as she, but they both seem oblivious to anything but one another. Jessa spins happily, the green scarf tied in a triangle at her hips twirls out like the layers of a skirt and Walon can imagine her being spun around a dance floor in another life. She’s happy and content and what is about to come could very well ruin that but she’d do it. He knew that in the same way he knew Scorch would spring to his feet the second one of Yayax squad attempted to move in her direction. Honestly, it’s astounding it takes as long as it does but after the correction earlier maybe it’s not too shocking. It’s Cov this time who gets two steps to near before Scorch is sliding in between the Yayax squad leader and the girl. Jessa only seems to see Scorch, beaming up at him as he slips in behind her.

Walon raises a brow. He hadn’t expected either of his lads to move like that.

“Sev and Scorch are not going to like this, I take?”

Walon chuckles. “I don’t imagine, but they also know their place and what an op like this means. They can give their hormones a backseat long enough to get the job done.”

“That’s going to be a mess when they work that out between them.”

From her spot pressed against Scorch’s chest Jessa finds Sev. He’s nursing another drink, only the second of the night by Walon’s assessment. She reaches out, palm up and curling her finger. Sev raises a brow and shakes his head, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as Jessa sticks out her lower lip and pouts. Someone shouts about making her the filling in a commando sandwich. Kal chokes, coughing violently into his drink.

Walon’s never known Sev to willingly do something commonly perceived as fun and dancing… he imagined it would be a cold day on the plains before he’d see his Ad’ika do that.

“I don’t doubt they’ll work it out in a way all their own.”

“That’s what I worry about.”

From the corner of his eyes, Walon studies the Skirata patriarch. He considered (if only to himself) him a friend for a few years now - since Mygeeto at very least - but there was a time when he’d have happily put his fist through the other man’s orbital bone if given the chance. Sometimes he still said things that made Walon’s old arthritic knuckles ache in anticipation.

“They’re not yours to worry on. I feel you have enough without adding my adiike to your plate.”

Kal hums and Walon knows this will not be the last time he will have this conversation. The song being played ends as he’s thinking of the inevitable irritation of having to repeat himself.

“Jessa.” The girl turns her head at her buir’s sharp call of her name. Scorch’s hands tense where they rest at her hips, but she shimmies out of the bounty hunter's grip.

“Yes, buir?” The musicians are mumbling amongst themselves about what to play next.

“Naberrie Waltz.”

Confusion flitz across her face, settling along with the crinkles between her eyes.

Walon is undeterred. “Do you remember it?” Jessa nods once and Walon rises to his weary feet. Scorch hover protectively behind her. With an irritated flick of the wrist Walon shoos him away.

“Show me the waltz.”

“But the music isn’t-“

“I’m aware, Ad’ika. I’m sure your parents spent large sums of money teaching you how to do things that didn’t always fit what you wanted at the time. Has their money gone to waste?”

A bemused look crosses her face as Walon offers a hand. It’s been a long time since he’s waltzed. Far longer than his new daughter has probably been alive but the steps come back as if it was just yesterday as a light hand on her waist guides her in a slow turn. He knows eyes are on them. He can see the flash of mirth in the eyes of the other Cuy’val Dar but that is none of his concern. Jessa’s spine is straight, her head, carriage uniformly perfect. Even though the song is all wrong she doesn’t miss a step. She slipped into it as easily as he feared she would. She could do what Kal was asking, maybe not perfect but she could figure out how to play the part. He glances down and catches her wondering eyes.

“Very good, Ad’ika. Very good.”

She smiles at the praise and allows him to continue to spin her around. Sev and Scorch’s looming shadows stand at the edge of the circle. Those two weren’t going to like what was to come one bit.

———

aglist: @bylightofdawn @leias-left-hair-bun @skdubbs @passionofthesith @haloangel391 @fractiouskat @peacelandbread @clonewarslover55 @cherry-cokes-world @nelba @jedi-mando @shadylightbearherring @poppunkdee @iamassbuttkingofhell

@royalhandmaidens @wolfswing @generic-geek-girl @captainrexwouldnever @kesskirata @ahhrenata @apathetic-catastrophie

Mando’a translation

Kyr’vhetine Tuur- harvest day (one of four Mando holidays @crimson and I dreamed up)

Mando’ade- sons and daughters of Mandalore

Adiike-children

Riddur- spouse

Din’kartay: sit-rep, or sharing of information/planning

Gett’se- balls

Nehutyc- gutsy (also feisty)

#soul lies #clone Commando sev #clone Commando Scorch #clan Vau #recommend #republic Commando #sev/oc/scorch

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annerly-san · 3 years ago

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Progression - [Chapter 2: Limits]

Primary Character Pairing: Choso x Reader/Female OC Story Summary: Life is never stagnant. It progresses and changes as does the people who live through it. Like a complex differential equation, it twists and curves with its ups and downs with each person having their own unique curve. But for her, the rate at which she progressed in life was zero as she moved linearly despairingly with no end in sight. That was until she met a cursed spirit who set her life back in progression. Chapter Navigation: Previous Chapter

“He said that we could test out our new forms, didn’t he, Nii-san?” The flesh-colored curse spoke this time. “As long as we bring her back alive, right?” It sighed. “I’m not too keen on hurting her since we weren’t told to do so.”

While the sentience of the curses surprised her, the sentiment that they expressed bewildered her slightly. It was strange for a curse to not only not bear open hostility against sorcerers such as herself, but it was also strange for the curse to express itself in a sentient way with some resemblance of human emotion.

“Don’t worry, Eso. We won’t have to as long as she comes along with us willingly,” the human one answered.

“Nii-San, Nii-San, I want to play with her, Choso-nii~,” the turquoise one whined as he looked towards the one named, ‘Choso’, with as much emotion the strange curse could emote with his features.

“Be careful, Kechizu. She’s supposedly a Grade 2 sorcerer. Eso and I will be here if you need us.”

At the command, the turquoise curse launched itself at her and she immediately activated Differential and applied a derivative to the constant speed at which the curse was traveling to freeze him in place.

“E-eh? Nii-san, I’m frozen!” Despite that, the curse then bubbled up something within its mouth and she instinctively moved to evade the onslaught of blood splatter that was spewed her way.

The splatter of red fluid on the ground oozed with a strange pungency. It was potentially corrosive or poisonous, and she elected that it would serve her best interest to avoid it at the moment.

Her hand gripped at the pocket at her side and fingers found the touch of cool metal clinkering softly within its pouch.

Grasping at the wrapped handle, she pulled out an interlocking series of metal links and a pair of throwing knives.

While the other two curses stood a ways back from the turquoise one that had charged at her initially, this situation was dynamic and a confrontation between all four individuals was bound to happen.

A sudden strike of red pierced the ground at her feet just where she had been standing moments harkened the intervention of the second curse.

“Kechizu, are you alright?” the disfigured flesh-colored one had gotten to the turquoise curse and was in the process of helping him become unstuck.

“Uuuu-, Eso-nii, I’m stuckkkk-. Oh wait, I’m not anymore-”

The three seemed to share a familial bond considering their constant reference to one another as brothers from what she had observed so far. While the question of curse relationships may prove insightful for identification and research, she was more preoccupied with the present state of the battle in front of her.

Kechizu-- the turquoise one-- as he was called, was stuck in place due to her derivative. He would remain as such until she released the technique, and she wasn’t intending on doing that anytime soon. The curse seemed to be the weakest of the trio with the range of abilities involving spewing what seemed to be corrosive blood from his mouth.

Eso -- the disfigured flesh colored one-- seemed to be significantly stronger in terms of his ability and mobility. The launching strikes that he seemed to fling from wing-like lattices on his back were incredibly more precise and potent than that of his younger brother.

Both he and Kechizu were out of her range now that she had stepped back to evade that initial attack; slight remorse at not applying a derivative on him to hinder his movement simmered in the back of her mind.

Though that was not her main concern.

Her main concern was the eldest brother of the group, Choso. The most human looking one of the bunch and the most calm. He had been standing back in observation and she could tell at this distance that he had the most cursed energy of the three. His intervention would be detrimental to her chances at victory in this fight.

The curses began to speak.

“It looks like what he had said was right. Her abilities are primarily stopping things in place,” she heard the eldest brother muse from afar.

‘Stopping things in place?’

Her ability was more nuanced than that; however, that comment in addition to the earlier one on her rank as a second-grade rather than a semi-first grade showed that the three had an outdated source of information.

This was advantageous for her.

Though the lack of information regarding her ability did set her ahead slightly, she was still at the overall disadvantage of having three special-grade curses in front of her in addition to not knowing what the extent of their techniques and abilities are.

Her limits needed consideration.

Differential’s effective range was five meters with the technique of stopping the rate of movement being instinctual and without thought. Her maximum application of Differential is five concurrent techniques, though the time limit on her holding the skill was contingent upon the complexity of the change she wanted accomplished.

The cool touch of the weapons in her hands helped to lay out the framework of her next attack. They were two sets of rather simple cursed tools that worked in tandem to accommodate her lack of effective technique range. The first was a nine-section whip chain that enabled the extension of her effective Differential range at its furthest swing point when she applies cursed energy through it; the second was a set of two throwing knives which have the ability to store and apply a user’s cursed techniques regardless of the range.

She set herself up.

Leaping backwards to set a fair distance between herself and the curses, she quickly flung the two throwing knives before applying Derivative to temporarily freeze them in its trajectory. Quickly prepping, she moved forward with her chain swinging at a constantly increasing rate and subtly applied Differential to it as she approached the curses.

The sudden change in hostility and engagement from her end caused all three curses to shift in their demeanor.

The turquoise one, Kechizu, was readying himself to launch at her. Perfect.

The second one, Eso, had a wing-like lattice of bloodwork spewing from his back-- no doubt ready to launch and pierce at her at a given time.

The last one was concerning. While he had stood quietly on the sidelines in observation prior, he now stood with his arms extended and his hands clapped together. From this distance, she saw small spheres of what also seemed to be blood.

A tense silence fell between them as each one of them observed one another like a hawk.

She quickly sidestepped and dashed back.

As anticipated, Kechizu launched himself at her and she waited for him to fall within anticipated trajectory before adjusting the derivative on one of her throwing knives from zero to a hundred kilometers per second. The knife pierced the side of the curse and he let out a bellowing cry as he was frozen in midair.

“KECHIZU!” the curse’s name was simultaneously cried out by the other two.

Eso, the ones sprouting the wings, launched a barrage of his blood at her while she dodged and evaded its path.

The swing of her chain allowed for her to subtly slow the rate of the pursing wings, but the collision of the chain against the blood lattice caused the liquid to burst from its form and splatter everywhere. Droplets got onto her skin as she felt it burn at her flesh. Quickly wiping it away with the sleeve of her shirt before ripping the garment and tossing it aside, she dodged three more wing lattices that had been sent her way.

The eldest brother was in her peripheral vision; he stood in the same stance, though he had been positioning himself to face her as she moved.

Eso had closed the distance between the two of them sufficiently and she began to sidestep back to where she had hoped to lure him to in order to send the second knife at him.

As soon as he stepped in the appropriate spot, she started to adjust the rate of the throwing knife when a sudden voice made her stop dead in her tracks.

“Piercing blood.”

Too fast.

She barely registered the bullet of blood that had been shot her way and a sharp pain blossomed in her right shoulder.

The attack and injury led to stumbling as she clumsily dodged a few more of Eso’s attacks before successfully managing to put some distance between herself and the other two curses.

The injury throbbed and an immense pain was struck in her nerves as it burned in radiating waves across her right side.

“I’m sure that you realize that our blood is poisonous by now.” Choso, having remained impassive up until now, had stepped up to his younger brother and glanced to the side to see if his youngest one was doing alright.

The turquoise curse had stopped screaming and had long since healed the dagger wound, but was frozen in place with the knife stuck and embedded in his side.

“Nii-san, I’m stuck…” the curse whined sadly as he flailed his limbs around in the air.

“I know. Are you healed? Does it hurt?”

“No… doesn’t hurt…”

The two older brothers seemed relieved by the state of their younger one.

“That knife might be a problem, Nii-san.” Eso spoke up as he glanced at his older brother. “While it might not do much in terms of immediate damage, if it hits, we’re going to be left susceptible.”

Choso nodded. His response was too quiet and low for her to hear, but it was difficult to concentrate on their words with the amount of pain erupting from the wound on her shoulder.

She had four applications of Differential left at her disposal. Undoing the one on the youngest curse would not be in her best interest, and she felt bitter at having gotten so severely injured without making further progress on the two stronger curses.

The rate at which the poison, pain, and injury spreads will need to stop here. Grabbing the throwing knife from the air, she undid the Differential applied to it and applied it to the rate of her injury’s progression before it got any worse. The pain was still present, but it was tolerable for now.

Three Differentials left.

She stood back up much to the two brothers’ surprise and began to swing the chain around.

Considering what was shown thus far, the brothers have the ability to launch and manipulate poisonous blood with the precision, accuracy, and speed of the two differing with the age gap between them.

She took her stance.

The battle will have to move to closer combat.

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

Mahito had said that the girl wouldn’t be too much of an issue to bring back since all three brothers were going on this simple mission.

From what was known about her and how it was explained, the essence of her ability seemed to be stopping things in place much like Satoru Gojo’s Infinity. It made sense for an ability that was a derivative of the main Gojo technique.

Choso narrowed his eyes at the sorcerer in front of him— sight wandering from the quickly rotating chain in her left hand, to the throwing knives in her right, and finally to her stance — guarded and ready to attack at a given moment.

“Nii-san, the poison doesn’t seem to be affecting her too much. I didn’t hear anything about poison resistance from those curses,” Eso commented to him in a low voice.

“It seems that our information was outdated. Her abilities are that of a first-grade sorcerer at the very least.”

The knives were bothering him.

When she had thrown them earlier, it wasn’t going nearly as fast as it did when it hit Kechizu. It was faster.

The realization of her ability clicked for him.

“Eso…” he muttered lowly to his brother. “She can change the speed of things.”

“Changing the speed-?”

“She’s able to stop the speed of things moving like she did with those knives and Kechizu, but she’s also able to make things move faster and slower too.”

Considering how fast Eso had launched his wing king attack, she wouldn’t have been able to evade that easily unless she was also capable of slowing the blood down as it approached her.

“She’s approaching her limit though. Considering that Kechizu is still stuck in place, she’s using a good amount of effort in maintaining that,” Choso began to say aloud. “She’s also probably slowing the speed at which the poison in our blood is spreading. That’s why she’s not kneeling over completely yet.”

He looked over at Kechizu who had given up on flailing around and simply hung in mid-air with a strange contentment to him. Choso sighed. His hands clasped together to activate Convergence as the drop of blood condensed to its limit and was prepared to instantaneously fly at his command.

He took a few steps forward.

“We’re here to bring you back with us. If you want to continue this little fight, then by all means.” Choso didn’t care too much for engaging in a fight with the sorcerer, but given how the four of them started off their initial interactions, it most likely can’t be avoided at this point. Kechizu was fine at the moment, but he wasn’t keen on putting either one of his brothers at risk of injury if he could help it. He felt Eso take a similar stance beside him.

“I don’t think you gave me a choice in this to begin with.” The response was soft spoken, but held a tenacious tone.

The air between them was tense as both sides awaited the other’s move.

It broke with the chain throw.

The spinning metal chain came launching at Eso and Choso with great speed and it took a significant amount of effort and luck to avoid the barreling weapon.

Choso evaded and looked back at the sorcerer.

She was gone.

His eyes widened as the intense presence of cursed energy swelled and manifested behind him.

“Sh-“

A hard blow hit him against the arms as a strong, swift kick came at his way. He had barely the chance to throw up his arms to block, but it came in the nick of time.

Choso was sent flying a ways back.

His body throbbed with a strange resonating pain. He had no time to glare at the sorcerer as she immediately came to hurl a barrage of blows at him with a speed he wasn’t able to process fully.

Blood rushed in his ears as he instinctively moved to manipulate the blood contained in his body.

Flowing Red Scale: Stack.

The enhancement of his senses and physical strength enabled him to parry her to the best of his ability, though she landed several hits on him.

Choso winced.

They were reinforced with cursed energy and the original kick sent his way had injured his arm to a certain extent. She was wearing some sort of metal shin guard — the armor had given an extra layer of damage.

Eso had been using his Wing King attacks— careful as to not hit Choso, but she was moving much too quickly for either one of them to land a hit in.

‘She’s using her ability to increase her speed,’ Choso noted. He was pushing Flowing Red Scale to its limit as well with him barely keeping up with her to avoid any lethal blows. ‘I doubt that she can keep this up much longer with keeping Kechizu in place and preventing the poison from her wounds from seeping too much.’

Eso was on the offensive with his long-ranged Wing King attacks while Choso kept her occupied in physical combat with his Flowing Red Scale.

It was a war of attrition. This would be won by both Choso and Eso in the end. They would outlast her. In terms of cursed energy, they were incomparable as special grade curses, and in terms of overall advantage, they outnumbered her.

She would lose this war of stamina and endurance.

Choso blocked another punch and jumped back to avoid the sweep kick she sent.

Eso touched down on the ground and a barrage of the blood lattice was sent their way.

A defining moment.

Choso locked eyes with her as he raised his arms defensively to block and parry her incoming blows. Eso’s blood was hurdling her way and he needed to keep her occupied with him just a moment more so that Eso would land the hit or cause a distraction that would allow Choso to gain the upper hand.

His eyes bore intently into her own as he watched the world around him still to a halt.

He blinked.

And blinked again.

Everything was frozen.

“CHOSO-NII!!!”

Kechizu’s scream sounded out in his frozen world.

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

She had thought that the curses had solely long to mid-range attacks. Considering the blood lattice and the blood bullet that was sent her way early on in the fight, she figured that a close range combat would take her opponents off guard and turn the tides of the battle in her favor.

Flinging the chain was the first distraction. The rate of its spin and hurtle were increased as she discarded the weapon to favor a more personal close-quarter combat with her knife and fists. The long weapon would only risk more blood spilling to poison and corrode at her.

Differential activated on her body as she rushed forward. Pushing herself to accelerate at the fastest rate her body can feasibly handle, she managed to get behind the most troublesome curse and sent a strong kick his way.

Channeling her cursed energy into the blow, she let out an irritated sigh as he had managed to get his arms up in time to block it.

She dodged the blood lattice springing her way and leapt forward and accelerated once more.

The metal braces that she wore on her forearms and shins were heavy, though they came to pay off in instances such as this.

Momentum.

While the initial startup of running, throwing a punch, or kicking was slow due to the weight of the metal, it allowed for acceleration and her adjustment of it to make things unbelievably fast.

She wondered if she had picked the right curse to go after a few exchanges of blows.

The strange black stripe on the curses’s nose had transformed into a line with arrows at the end and a vertical deviation that ran up to the curse’s eyes. He was adept at close-combat.

Another blood lattice blow was evaded as she continued to bombard the humanoid curse in front of her with punches and kicks.

He dodged again and the realization that this would be a race of endurance became abundantly clear to her. If it became as such, this would be a battle that she would definitely lose.

The flesh-colored curse behind her was on a constant barrage of blood.

She decided that he was the more pressing threat.

But she doubted that the one in front of her would allow for her to switch targets so easily. The versatility of his combat range had surprised her, but it was a given that she would instantly lose the battle if he were to send one of those blood bullets at her again. She doubt that she can catch the orb in time to apply Differential and she wouldn’t be able to maintain a constant radius of the ability with her usage of it on so many things at the moment.

She needed to take his attention away.

The first time she realized the extent of her ability application was when she had overheard a conversation at the engineering department on a mission to eliminate a curse at a college in the city.

“You know why engineering, math, and physics is so hard? It’s because we’re trying to find a way to describe the natural world using equations! Everything can be described by some equation. Some of them are easy, others are hard. And it’s precisely for that reason that we’re needed in the world.” It was an engineering professor at the university talking to his colleague.

She liked the Professor.

Coming up to him later once the mission was done and reported, he had welcomed her into the lecture hall under the impression that she was a high schooler exploring the various majors and fields for college later on down the road. It was a fair assumption as she had just begun as a first year student at Tokyo Tech.

“We can’t truly ever find a completely perfect equation for everything in the world, Gojo-Chan.” She had tailed after him once his Differential Equations class had ended. “But we use these equations to model what actually happens in order to understand and control the things that would seemingly be out of our hands.”

She could see equations and numbers everywhere after that.

And with that, her ability blossomed as an entire realm of possibility was opened to her.

While the perception of vision is a complex system of the light’s reflection in the eye, transmission through the optic nerve, and processing in the brain, she could model the eye’s rate of perception as constant.

The rate at which you see is constant.

She took the derivative of that.

The humanoid curse froze in anticipation for a blow that would never come. His world would appear frozen. And that was exactly what she needed.

Taking away his eyesight, reducing the rate of perception in his eyes to zero, she quickly spun around and bolted towards the flesh-colored curse with the blood lattice wings.

His eyes widened in surprise at her sudden change in course, but was quick to gather himself back into an defensive stance rather than his previous offensive one.

Though it wouldn’t matter much.

The throwing knife was in her hand and she would hurl it at him as a distraction.

He would know what the risk of getting hit by the knife entailed with how his younger brother had gotten frozen in place.

It flung forward with a trajectory aiming at his right side.

He moved left to dodge just as she anticipated.

The opening gave her a means to act upon her true intent.

Hovering equations and constants floated in front of her eyes as she honed in on the specific rate she wanted to adjust. It was crucial to select the appropriate one.

A linear equation by the stomach of the curse caught her eye.

Considering the variables in the split second it took for her to reach out with a hand and touch him, she knew it was the correct one.

It was the equation that governed his progression as a manifested curse.

The derivative of the equation was shown to her as she changed the rate of manifestation into a negative value— driving the curse back in time to his unmanifested form.

A fetal form was revealed to her, and she came to the dreadful realization that the object was one of the special grade objects— a Cursed Womb: Death Painting. The school had these in their possessions as objects which could not be destroyed due to their properties as special grade objects. Chills ran down her spine as she carefully clutched it in her hands. These must have been stolen. She gulped. The context of the situation was more severe than she had originally thought.

A piercing scream rang out— interrupting her stupor.

It was the curse that was frozen in place.

The hairs on her arms rose as her senses rang amok to signal impending danger. In a panic, she dashed forward and ducked as the humanoid curse rapidly gathered particles of blood and began firing them in haphazard directions.

Many were far off.

But relief at their miss was short-lived as the moment they drew close, they exploded into a million smaller pieces.

She couldn’t count how many had hit her as excruciatingly painful stings of the blood resonated throughout her body.

Her concentration dropped.

Differential disappeared.

Consequences emerged from the aftermath.

The humanoid curse blinked several times as he regained his sight.

The turquoise one fell to the ground with a soft thud.

Her wounds began to flow and the effects of the poison began to seep into her from the outside in.

Fortunately, the curse she had unmanifested remained as such for reasons unknown to her.

Her eyes were blurry and a high pitched ringing was deafening her ears. Somehow, she was on the ground. The world spun about her disorientingly.

A large blur of white and black was approaching her, but she was unsure as to where it was.

It was most likely that humanoid curse.

All of her Differential was off now, and her cursed energy was almost negligible.

She can try for one more.

As the curse approached, she squinted and breathed deeply.

Seven meters.

Six meters.

Five meters.

He was in range.

Equations and constants bombarded her senses again as she hastily tried to find a similar linear equation stuck near the center of the curse’s body.

Eyes widening slightly as she caught the blurred image of one, she quickly applied Differential and took its derivative.

The rate of the equation was changed to a large negative value, but she could not manage to hold onto her technique for much longer than she had.

Differential dissipated and she heard a small thump by her legs.

She couldn’t check to see if it worked.

The ringing in her ears were so loud. The world spinning around so quick was making her nauseous. The pain in her body was hot, scorching, and throbbing with an overwhelming intensity.

Weights bore down on her body as she drowned in a surrealistic trance of what was happening around her.

If this was it for her, then she hoped that acknowledgement of this biased situation would be considered before her corpse would be burned and forgotten as though she never mattered in the first place.

A low aching in her chest and a bitterness in her mouth were the last things she felt before it all went cold and dark.

#choso fanfic #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso #choso x reader #jjk fanfic

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alexandenigtscreations · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Warnings: Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel

summary:

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

Part 1

It wasn’t cheap, executing the heist of the century that is. It wasn’t cheap to maintain their transportation or stock up on supplies, it wasn’t cheap to acquire insider information and it wasn't cheap to run a series of operations set as mere preamble for the Cure Mother Prime heist. If the rumors were true, it would be well worth the trouble.

It wasn’t cheap, so that’s how they found themselves in the heart of Galactic Stars First Bank, hacking into the on sight servers to relieve the institution of surplus creds.

The whole affair had gone smoothly, down to Rita’s ‘Juno proof black box’. The instrument allowed them to disarm the electronic security system with ease and extract the necessary information from the database. It also sported Rita’s flare for the dramatic by making absurdly cheerful chirping sounds when connecting and completing commands.

Juno was pacing behind him, restless as ever. Keeping an eye out for the security.

“Isn’t that damned thing done yet? We’ve been here too long.” and he continued his anxious treed across the floor. Back and forth, back and forth.

Nureyev gave a non-committal hum. “Careful not trip dear. This space is cramped enough as it is.” A long finger probed the screen of the black box, he wished Rita had thought to install some sort of progress bar-

Juno had been particularly…. vocal… . about the myriad of concerns that drew his keen eye. What Vespa might affectionately refer to as his whining . He gets like this on big jobs. Nureyev had become skilled at half listening to Juno when he got like this. Flagging important information and letting the vague grumbling slip into obscurity. They all have their different coping styles, who is he to deprive the one he loves of theirs?

“And what’s that supposed too- Ahhh!” there was a loud clatter and some cursing.

Nureyev didn’t even turn “I did try to warn you.”

“Ransom-” his voice took on a cautionary note.

“Another minute Detective,” the box had given a warning chirp signifying it was nearing the end of records. He did not want to withdraw prematurely “the download hasn’t been completed yet.”

“Did Buddy say anything about booby traps?”

The lights danced across the black box, “What? Oh, no. There was nothing on the schematics to suggest their presence.” he went back to monitoring the download, just as his mind sorted this question into the important category. “Why do you ask?”

“I think I found a floor switch-”

“A floor-” he turned looking down and saw a tile recessed into the otherwise flush floor. The chamber filled with a hissing sound. Could it be gas? It was clear, they had to leave. Now.

They were too far away from the door, some hundred meters away, which meant the vents- A good thief always had multiple escape routes after all, even in a building like this- He could see all the possible roots, outlined in red in his mind’s map. The stares were no longer an option and the elevator shaft would be to risky which left-

“Juno, head for the center vent on your right!” he instructed, hurriedly disconnecting the black box from the server. He hoped it had enough time to store the data- it had to be enough.

“On it!” Juno sprinted ahead, sliding on his knees to the vent pulling out his plasma cutter and making a few rushed incisions. Not a moment too soon. Panels were sliding open on the walls, small tubes slid out of the orifices. A great ticking sound filled the corridor, getting faster and faster. Juno glanced side to side then back at Nureyev “Ransom?” he voiced as the ticking reached a fever pitch. The first flash of color slid across his vision, pining off the tile opposite. “Ransom, Get down!”

But there was no time!

Juno rushed, flattening him to the floor as the air was infused with cyan blue feathers, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, protecting his face.

“Juno! I-” he panted, having the wind knocked out of him. His detective wasn’t paying attention though.

“How the Hell, did we not know about this!” he was shouting over the sound of ricocheting metal.

“Love-” Nureyev said as soon as he could breathe again, “The vent-”

“Yeah.” He rolled off, keeping low and belly crawling through the opening, Nureyev on his heels. He took a moment to snag a few of the projectiles before receding into the security of the air ducts.

“Are you alright?” Juno asked over his shoulder.

Nureyev took quick stock, everything seemed to be intact and there weren’t any unwanted punctures- That was a stroke of luck.

“Quite, thanks to you.” He gave an affectionate squeeze to an ankle “and you?”

“Gonna need more than a few technicolored darts to take me down.” he said cheekily “Like a master thief who memorized the map to this god damned maze. Mind sliping ahead?”

“Well, it’s going to be a tight squeeze, but, I know you don’t mind Detective.”

“Save it, Ransom. We gotta keep moving.” Juno was right of course.

“All work and no play is dreadfully dull love.” Nureyev pouted, but couldn’t resist a nip at Juno’s colar as he shimmied past. Sharp teeth grazing warm skin- he was rewarded with a delightfully flustered expression. Some of the tension easing from Juno’s shoulders. Which was good, because he wasn’t going to like the next part at all. Sure enough, he screamed all the down the shoot. So much for stealth-

With Nureyev up front, they moved swiftly. Even with Juno grumbling about giving a lady a little warning. The vents were mercifully free of traps, but that didn’t mean that the floors they darted across were safe. Juno took out guards and drones with a few well aimed stuned shots.

“My Detective, you’re getting quite good at that.” he grinded, with a sly glance through his lashes before disappearing.

His voice crackled with warmth “Less talk, more cut- Hey, wait for me!”

Nureyev loved this. Loved this test of strength, endurance and whits. The thrill of the escape was intoxicating. Above all, he loved the company. He was acutely aware of Juno’s presence at his side, the sound of his breath, the shifting of his limbs, the glances of him between floors, coat tails twirling as he set up for the next shot and the brief moments their eyes met. He loved what a team they were.

By the time they got to the ground floor, Juno was breathing hard, his hands slipping on the slick metallic surface. His grumbling had gotten more intense with every floor dropped, his aim more... unsure. Fatigue, no doubt. He wasn’t as accustomed to navigating crawl spaces as Nureyev. The vents seemed to have treated him rougher than anticipated, poor dear.

Unfortunately, Nureyev couldn’t focus on that now. No doubt the security would know how they were moving from floor to floor by now. The building was in full lock down mode, if the red pulsating light was anything to go by. Sure enough, as soon as they punched through their last grate, a guard shouted into their coms, their blaster trembling in novice hands.

It was another stroke of luck.

Nureyev dove forwards, latching on to their wrist while they were locked in indecision and twisted the arm up behind their back in a flourish. “Juno!”

A shot was fired, the guard slumped bonelessly to the ground. Nureyev relieved their blaster of the laser cartridge and the corridor filled with the reverberations of many, many footsteps.

“Aw Hell! How many of them are there?!” Juno griped. “This wasn’t what we were told to prepare for!” he shouted to no one in particular. That was true. If all had gone according to plan then, there shouldn’t have been more than two guards per floor- Even with tripping the alarms, there shouldn't be this many people in the building at this hour! The bank seemed to be overcompensating for- for something .

“Cover me.” Nureyev said, darting towards the door. Using his own blaster to incapacitate one unlucky employee of the Galactic Stars First Bank. The weapon set to stun, to satisfy his lady’s- sensibilities.

Juno swore loudly behind him, making his insides flip in excitement? Nerves? he couldn’t say- then all he could hear was the air sizzle with blaster fire. In one smooth motion he extracted the black box from a pocket and connected it to the doors panel. There was nothing to do but wait for it to do it’s work, to set them free. Moments like these were his least favorite parts of a mission.

The seconds ticked by and Nureyev’s excitement gave way to a writhing bubbling mass of anxiety. He couldn’t shake the idea of being cornered, pinned down like a butterfly in a glass case. Waiting for a little black box to decide whether or not they were getting out of the building.

He glanced back at Juno, his back to him, framed in the brilliant flash of blaster fire, like the goddess he was. A reminder that he had someone to rely on. They were a team.

The next thing he knew the black box was chirping cheerfully and the door slid open.

“Juno!” he called, unclipping a few pepper smoke bombs from his chest.

“R-Right!” he called, hot on his heels.

They took the steps two at a time, bursting into the open night air, twin moons flooding the city with light. Harder to hide but but there were plenty of shadows to slip into and the security would also have to deal with night blindness. It may be enough for them to get away.

Nureyev tossed the peper smoke bombs into the bank as they fled. There were shouts and a string of desperate coughs. The red light illuminating the miasma pouring from the open door turning it into a hellish portal.

They ran towards the city streets, trying to put as much distance between them and their pursuers as possible. Juno’s stride, normally a steady pound, was growing fainter. For the second time that day he heard a cry from behind and a skidding thud.

Nureyev’s insides twisted. Turning to see Juno sprawled out on the cobblestones and a red thread of light trained on his back. A few security guards had made it out, the farthest from the door had their pistol drawn, at the ready.

Changing direction seemingly mid air, Nureyev sprang back, unceremoniously yanking Juno to his feet by his collar as the first shots were fired.

He couldn’t help the cry that tore out of his throat, as the seering white pain slid it’s way across his leg, knocking him into Juno. The man stiffened, bracing him as best he could, concern on his lips- Now wasn’t the time, the ground sparked with blaster fire.

“This way-” Nureyev rasped, pulling the detective to the nearest ally way out of the line of fire. A timer set in his mind, counting down the minutes and seconds before he would really start feeling the wound. It felt-bad- Not even a minute fresh and he was already forced to favor that leg. But he knew he had time before the pain truly kicked in.

Till then- well- they needed to put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as possible.

“You’re hurt!” Juno gasped, barely keeping pace to Nureyev’s long legged strides as they transitioned from a full sprint to slipping from shadow to shadow.

“Not- ideal-” Nureyev affirmed through gritted teeth; regretting that his studies hadn’t been as deliberate with the city plans as the building. They were already off his planned routes. What's more, the pain was starting to scramble his internal navigation system. He could just detect the signs of the chase.

One thought came back over and over again, ‘too slow, too slow, too slow too-’

Whether it was luck or the pepper smoke bombs or the pair’s stealth; they managed to put some distance between themselves and the bank. Juno was lagging worse than ever, calling out Ransom with a growing sense of urgency. It was too hard to focus on that though, between the pain in his leg and that dogged need to push onwards, to escape- to-

“Ransom! Goddamnit- I need a break!” there was something in the way his voice tore that stopped Nureyev in his tracks. He turned to find Juno sagging against shipping crates, wrapping an arm around his middle and sucking down great gulps of air.

“We need to- to keep moving.” Nureyev said, unable to keep the strain from his voice. “We can rest later- Detective.”

“Jus- just a minute-” Juno puffed, closing his eye and leaning over. Nureyev hobbled closer, noting the exhausted lines on his beautiful face and the sheen of sweat. Apparently, he needed this- Juno wouldn’t ask otherwise- and the fact he did ask was- significant.

“Fine- but only a minute love-” he reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the heat roll off his flushed skin. That was new. He moved in closer feeling his concern deepen before he knocked his leg into a crate. Nureyev hissed in pain. The pulse of the burn cutting through him with every breath, every step, every-

“Christ Ransom- your leg-” Juno drew nearer, drawing the hem of Nureyev’s coat back to get a better look, but there wasn’t time for that.

“Nothing a good skin graft and laser treatment wont mend-” he gave a tight lip smile. Juno looked like he was going to say something more, but was mercifully cut off by a call from their coms.

“Pete, Juno, this is Buddy, report.”

“Captain-” Nureyev greated “We’ve downloaded most of the financial files and managed to escape the facility but-” he took a steadying breath, trying to maintain his composure. “We’re having some trouble dodging the security.”

“Ransoms hurt.” Juno added.

“A scratch.” Nureyev dismissed. There wasn’t anything to be done at the moment.

“You were hit by a goddamned blaster sh- ahh-!” his knees seemed to cave and Juno caught himself on the crates. His eye closed tightly once more as he focused on breathing. His expression twisting into something sharper- heavier.

Something was very, very wrong-

“Juno-” The anxiety was back, constricting his chest, threatening to overtake him as he floundered- then Buddy’s voice cut through.

“Pete’s hurt?”

Fold it away. Nureyev told himself. You won't be any use to him if you lose your head!

“It will have to wait till we get to the ship, Captain.” he said truthfully.

There was a long pause before “Think you can make it to the rendezvous point?” her voice was clipped, almost- distracted. Like something wasn’t going according to plan.

“Yes- we should be able to Captain.” he said, breathing deep against the building throbs of pain in his thigh, threatening to paralyze his hip. He wasn’t about to let Buddy Auranko down because of a scratch. “Is there something we need to know? Captain?”

“Hold up your end of the bargain and we’ll do the same Pete.”

Nureyev closed his eyes and nodded “A fair arrangement Captain.”

“Excellent, keep us apprised of your situation dears. Buddy out.”

Nureyev exchanged a look with Juno. “Well that was-”

“Odd.” Juno cut in, brows crinkling with puzzlement in that way Nureyev loved.

“I was going to say interesting but the point still stands.”

Juno opened his mouth, clearly wanting to discuss the exchange more when snatches of conversation drifted their way. Nureyev hushed him with a hand finger to lips, Juno picked up right away. He couldn’t hear much but they were throwing around words like capture and shoot, it was clear who they were. Nureyev hummed disdainfully and Juno’s hand found his own and squeezed. It wasn’t wise to stay in one spot too long, they had to keep moving.

“Time to go-” he grasped the Detective's hand, they had to run, they had to get out of- he moved and agony forced his leg to buckle.

#tpp #the penumbra podcast #fan fic #my writing #AlexandeNight #Juno Steel #Peter Nureyev #Jupeter #multi chapter fic #tw weapons #tw gun shots #tw injury #tw needles #I really love stressing these boys out #they are so cute #Juno verse

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sweebat · 4 years ago

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Short segment of an au I have. 2k mini-fic under the line.

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence

“Drake…?”

Standing at a height of over twenty feet tall, armed with razor-sharp fangs and poignant talons and claws, with its muscular body adorned with thick armor and glimmering scales that illuminated through the darkness of the night, the beast loomed over the motionless body of his dragon—his childhood friend whom Ryouga raised since he was a hatchling.

Drake laid upon the moist ground in a bloodbath. His limbs were strewn about in a haphazard manner as though he was tossed and thrown around like a ragdoll. Along the entire length of his body, spreading from his face to his chest, torso, flippers and all, were deep, gaping wounds. Burn marks littered his skin. His arms and legs harbored bite marks and scratches with entire chunks of flesh missing. The leather of his wings was shredded until only a handful of loose sheets remained, dangling from the frame by mere threads of tissue alone. His blood leaked into the soil as much as it stained the rest of his scales. But then, Ryouga caught sight of it. At the base of his throat, Drake’s impermeable hide peeled away, leaving behind a dark crater that oozed with his own blood. The loose flesh struggled to hang onto his body as best as they could; however, even from his position, he saw that the wound deep enough to reveal bones underneath. With his throat torn out, his poor dragon suffocated in his own blood and…

The other behemoth snarled lowly as it inspected its mauled prey.

Ryouga tore his attention away from Drake and towards the killer.

Frozen with fear, the man watched while the massive dragon hovered over the corpse. Blood trickled from its crimson-soaked mouth. A slimy, purple tongue slithered out from the crevice of its maw before stroking along the bloodied pathway along its lips. It lapped up the remaining fluids before releasing a low bellow, a satisfied rumble of some sort.

A lightheadedness overtook Ryouga as the scope of the tragedy set in. His heart sank into the pits of his stomach, pounding heavily while doing so. His lungs refused to breath, and when it did, it was short, erratic, and ragged. His hands trembled, and his legs quivered. A painful bubble swelled at the back of his throat—tears formed at the corners of his eyes, worsening his blurred vision before a single blink cleared his sight for a brief moment.

“N-No…” Ryouga uttered.

Decades of raising his dragon, all that work and care and…

The iridescent dragon ushered another snarl. With its massive teeth protruding from its maw, the dragon leaned towards the fallen Drake. Its mouth unhinged completely, and it prepared to devour and further mutilate the body of his cherished companion.

His frozen hands balled into a tight fist.

His sadness shifted into a fit of rage.

Without a hesitant thought, he screamed at the glowing dragon. “Get away from him!”

The gigantic monster came to a sudden halt. It steadily closed its mouth while raising its head and turning away from the dragon below it. Before Ryouga knew it, a pair of glowing eyes pierced down at him. It released a low growl as the spiny armor running down its backside gradually rose in agitation. The dragon hunched onto hinds, twisting its body until it faced the small human standing behind. The spines and scales on its backside fanned outward, adding more girth to its already-impressive size.

Ryouga flinched when it locked its eyes onto him, but he shoved the fearful sensation into the depths of his heart.

He refused to let this fucker eat his friend. “Come on, you bastard!” He barked at it, swinging his arms to affirm its attention on him.

It unleashed a deafening roar.

The ear-piercing sound caused him to recoil in pain, but as he was recovering from the stunning effect, the large dragon lunged towards him. Its tuckered wings extended outward fully, engulfing the area in its shadow—with the same illumination as the rest of its form, the shroud of light from its wings blinded Ryouga, forcing him to cover his face with his arm if he valued his eyesight.

As he braced himself for a fatal impact, for claws to pierce through his skin, or fangs to rip his body in half, crushed in the powerful jaws of the beast—

A sharp whistle reverberated through the field.

Seconds passed. Ryouga noticed that the light was prominent, still, yet his body remained intact; not crushed or swallowed or blasted into oblivion.

He slowly lowered his arms. Eyes squinted to nullify the effects of the bright light, the first thing he saw was a gigantic, bloodied snout hovering inches away from him.

“Gah!” He cried as he stumbled backwards and away from the merciless killer. The spontaneous movement as well as his shock caused him to lose his balance. With a noisy thud, he fell onto his back.

The dragon, however, remained motionless.

Another whistle rang out—this one sounded more like a specific and ghastly tune than a single sharp noise.

Like an obedient dog responding to the commands of its master, the large beast retracted from the human, folding its wings back towards his backside; although, it released a series of low growls and grumbles as it did so.

“You really are foolish if you thought you could go up against my galaxy-eyes.” A deep voice sounded from above Ryouga’s position.

He jumped in surprise at the voice of person, and then he jerked his head towards the source of the sound, towards a small, rocky outcrop overlooking the clearing.

Through the radiance of the dragon, he caught the clear form of a humanoid. A man, in fact. The man stood on the rocks with his chin held high, arms crossed, legs straight. He gazed down at Ryouga with callous bluish-gray eyes—it harbored a hint of arrogance that crawled under his skin and infuriated him. The man’s blond hair was bulbous, almost, with a curled tip at the ends. Dark teal bangs encircled the base of his yellow hair, where it appeared almost like a crown of antlers. White trousers with a white undercoat, as well as white leather gloves, clung onto his pale and toned body. A large metallic belt wrapped around his waist, and attached to it were bundles of small, brown sacks. Over this, he wore a dark coat with a flaring tailcoat lined with markings of some sort, but Ryouga was too far away to tell what they were. He was dressed modestly with class, yet by his rugged appearance, he appeared more like a lone bounty hunter than a law-abiding enforcer.

Ryouga’s eyes hardened into a fierce glare. Shaking with rage, he scrambled to his feet before screaming at the newcomer. “That thing’s yours!” He pointed at the monster, the galaxy-eyes. “It murdered my friend, you fucking bastard!”

The man scoffed. “Friend? That thing of yours is no friend.”

His teeth gritted. Ryouga raised a fist, and the desire to pummel this guy into a pulp rose exponentially. “What did ya say!”

“It’s a Number,” explained the blond matter-of-factly, as through the designation was enough to justify Drake’s death. “My job is to exterminate every single Number out there. It’s not my problem that your so-called ‘friend’ happens to be one.”

Before he could berate the stranger for killing his dragon for no particular reason—and even if he had one, Ryouga would still be furious—the man continued.

“I was going to let my galaxy-eyes nourish himself, but I guess I could have a heart and let you finish mourning whatever’s left of it.”

“You bastard! You’re gonna pay for this!”

The man snorted in amusement. Finished with the conversation, the blond whistled yet another tune.

The galaxy-eyes rumbled lowly. Its wings gradually unfolded once more. After reaching its maximum length of several meters long per wing, the dragon propelled into the air through a series of gradual flaps. The gusts of wind knocked Ryouga off his feet, while the man above remained unfazed by the increasing flurries. The dragon took to the high skies; in a wide turn, it swooped down at the man on the rock.

Ryouga could do nothing but watch as the dragon quickly seized its master in its claws before launching above the canopy of the forest. The dragon and the man disappeared over the tip of the leaves, and as the distance between Ryouga and the killers grew more and more with each passing second, the powerful glow diminished until it disappeared entirely.

Ryouga was left alone with no one except for the cold body of his dragon.

He growled in annoyance. They got away so easily, but then he let out a frustrated sigh. There was nothing to be done about that even if he wanted to…

He turned his head to the large, unmoving form a little while away. The earth around him was scorched, yet it was also moistened by the blood spilling from his lifeless companion.

He somberly staggered over to Drake. A shaky hand stroked across the water dragon’s tough beak and smooth scales. As his fingers ran down the surface, it stained itself in the dragon’s blood. He stopped as his bloodied fingers traced under a hazy and dull eye.

His anger dissolved into sadness.

Not even an hour ago, the dragon was nuzzling into his lap, purring and lively, and now…

“Drake…”

Utterly exhausted, with his arms wrapped around the dragon, uncaring of the crimson sludge that smeared on him as he did so, Ryouga shifted into unconsciousness, wondering what he was supposed to do now that his dragon was gone.

— —

He awoke at the dawn of sunrise to the sound of boots on gravel. It was approaching him from behind—slowly, steadily, but not discreetly.

Who…

“You are grieving,” stated an unknown voice. It was high-pitched and child-like, but at least he knew it wasn’t that jackass from last night.

Ryouga grunted. He held onto the stiff body of his dragon. Off the corner of his eyes, he noticed scavengers creeping their way from the edge of the clearing to the exposed wounds, starving to pick the flesh off of the bones.

An annoyed growl erupted from him. “What does it look like.” He snapped at the child, or whoever this was.

He just wanted to be left alone.

The child laughed. “It looks like you want revenge.”

Ryouga froze upon hearing the assumption.

He jerked his body around. How does this kid know—

It was him.

A child bearing a metal mask—he heard of this mysterious figure in passing within towns.

The boy stood there with the horizon rays of sunlight illuminating him from behind, making it difficult to examine him apart from the most jarring characteristic of the boy. Engulfing his entire face was a silver, elegant mask. It had a slit for his right eye and half of his mouth, but other than that, the rest of the area was covered completely, making very difficult to read his expressions.

“What are you doing here,” he started with caution.

He heard that this child was a pawn of some otherworldly beings.

He heard that this child had no soul.

He heard that this child was not to be mingled with.

“I simply sensed your sadness.” The child laughed. “And I have a way to get rid it.”

Get rid of his sadness…?

“No thanks,” Ryouga muttered before turning around. He looked down at Drake. The dragon’s eyes glazed over, and it appeared more lifeless than ever.

As much as he wanted revenge against the murderers, it won’t bring his dragon back to life.

The child manifested directly over him, standing less than a foot away from where he kneeled. “What if I said you can bring him back to life and let you have your revenge?”

Ryouga jumped backwards in shock at the sudden appearance. As he absorbed the words of the child—"You—You read my thoughts!?“

The child giggled manically. "Perhaps~”

His eyes squinted. He had no idea what this child was playing at, but the thought of it intrigued him. Although skeptical, he pressed on. “What… What do you mean by that? What sorta trick is this?”

“No trick,” answered the child. The child ran his gloved hand across Drake’s scales. The blood was dried by now, and the stroke was so light that it left no stains on the flawless silk. “I mean exactly as I said. Your little precious dragon will be reborn, and you can get your revenge on that meanie Kaito for hurting him.”

“Kaito, huh…”

The child’s smile grew wide behind his mask. “There are powerful forces out there, Ryouga,"—he never told him his name—"and I can connect you back to them.”

#sweepat art #blood cw #violence cw

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bubblewrapjogja · 1 year ago

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Ö88ᑫ•8585•౩8Ö8 (WA) Bubble Wrap Cara Bacanya Bubble Wrap Bubble Wrap

Harga plastik gelembung kulon progo bubble wrap 1000mm x 100m jual plastik gelembung kulon progo bubble wrap adalah grosir babel wrap wonosari jual babel wrap jogja bubble wrap untuk makanan bubble wrap hitam. Bubble wrap aluminium foil pabrik bubble wrap bantul bubble wrap terbuat dari apa bubble wrap dekat sini harga plastik gelembung jogja jual plastik bubble jogja. Toko babel wrap jogja bubble wrap gulungan bubble wrap 1m bubble wrap 100m beli bubble wrap bantul toko plastik gelembung .

#Bubble Wrap Kardus #Bubble Wrap Gambar #Jual Plastik Bubble Jogja #Toko Plastik Gelembung Bantul #Produsen Babel Wrap Wonosari #Beli Babel Wrap Jogja #Bubble Wrap Untuk Makanan #Bubble Wrap Per Meter #Toko Babel Wrap Bantul #Beli Bubble Wrap Jogja #Grosir Bubble Wrap Wonosari #Pabrik Bubble Wrap Jogja #Beli Plastik Gelembung #Toko Bubble Wrap Wonosari #Pabrik Bubble Wrap Kulon Progo

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orangecreamsoda · 4 years ago

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If Steven Universe was in DBD: DBD Headcanon

How he got into the fog:

After being away from his hometown so, it maybe time for a visit. After being on the road for few days, he decided to take a break at a motel on side of the road before driving the last stretch for Beach City. Later into the night as he slept, his sleep was interrupted by a scream from outside. He washed out to see a young woman being chased by long spider like legs emerging from a thick black fog. As Steven comes to the woman’s aid, the long legs managed to grab the woman and attempting to drag her into the fog. Steven jumps and punch the legs to release the woman. Steven catches the woman and tells her to get to safety. A loud roar echoed from within the fog. He surround himself with a shield to prepare himself. Big mistake. The legs wrapped around he’s shield and dragged him within into the fog. After weeks of not hearing from him, Steven’s family began to worried. As they search all over earth and space. Unaware that Steven is far out of theirs reach.

Perks:

A Bubble For Your Trouble

Start the trial with 2 tokens

A bubble will be summoned protected you or others Survivors from a hit from the Killer. If the Killer hits the bubble with a special attack, the bubble will pop and stun the Killer for 5 seconds.

1 token consume on pond usage

While A Bubbles For Your Trouble is active, the following interactions will be prevented until the you or the Killer pops the bubble:

Repairing a Generator

Healing other Survivors

Cleansing a Totem

Sabotaging a Hook

Vaulting

Opening Chests

Throwing down Pallets

Unhooking other Survivors

A Bubbles For Your Trouble can only be used once per a Survivor.

“A bubble for your trouble” - Steven Universe

I Believe In Us

in dire times, you encourage others to keep fighting on even if it seems hopeless.

If a Survivor is within 12 meters of you and are affect by a status effect from a Killer, Survivors gain Action speed by 1%/2%/3% when mending or recovering from suffering a Killer’s status effect. (Wake up, snap out of it, cleansing, etc)

“We've had some good times and some pretty bad luck But we're still in this together And we're still not giving up We're still not giving up I'm still not giving up” - Steven Universe

Independent Together

While healing an injured or dying survivor, your aura is shown to other survivors within 35/40/45 meters.

If Survivors are within the Killer’s Terror Radius while still healing, they gain Endurance status effect for 10 seconds.

“I’ve got you,You’ve got this. We’ve all got each other!” - Steven Universe

#dbd headcanon #dbd #su #steven universe #suf #su future #dbd headcanons

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aureumjeon · 5 years ago

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while you’re at it (m) || pjm

pairing; poolboy!jimin x noona!reader.

genre; smut, fluff, tiny angst.

summary; After finalizing your divorce papers, there was still one thing that had to be taken care of. That stupid swimming pool. Over there course of a few days, you ended up harboring feelings for one of your pool boys. Will things go as planned? Or will everything be flushed down the drain?

warnings; brief mentions of divorce, infidelity and toxic relationship, sub!jimin, dom!reader, barely there bondage, exhibitionism, female masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (both receiving), body worship, tit fucking, noona kink, praise kink(its jimin ofc), mild degradation, impreg kink, its basically jimin being a whiny soft baby for noona, unprotected sex, multiple orgasm, creampies, cum eating

word count; 11K+ (this was supposed to be around 7-8K only, iduno what happened really)

a/n; ahhhhhh! three minutes late but who careeees. im done, i want to sleep. the smut feels so rushed butill fix it... eventually... lmao, unedited as hell, dont mind the errors... will fix someday. bye

@m0chilattae @ruinedbyjin <33

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

Breaking away and cutting ties from your previous and definitely toxic marriage was the best decision you've made bar none. You could no longer stomach the abuse that your now ex-husband had put you through. It was a complete and utter living hell being bound to a man who wasn't who you initially thought he was. Having him crossed out of your life (legally, too) made it a million times easier. It has been exactly seven weeks since you chucked out all of his belongings through the front door. No regrets. And you still didn't want to take notice of the huge elephant in the room — or in the backyard per se. There it sat in the middle of the unkempt grassy area surrounded by leaves and trash, in all of its filthy, disgusting, bacteria and algae infested glory. Your dreaded swimming pool.

You had put-off cleaning it the first week after your separation, saying you're too busy doing this or too preoccupied taking care of that. When in all honesty, you just didn't want to deal with it. You had no goddamn idea how to maintain it. Heck, you didn't even know how to swim. Wonwoo was the main reason why the two of you bought a house that came with it after your wedding. He said he wanted to keep his hobby of swimming alive, understandable since that's where it all began. The two of you met at a university swim meet. You were the designated journalist for that event, assigned to interview all the winners after the competition for the school's paper. Wonwoo bagged the gold medal for the two hundred-meter freestyle, and you interviewed interviewed him and that's where it took off. Everything was running smoothly. One by one every item on your life's checklist got checked-off. After five years of dating, he proposed. A year later you got married and purchased a house together and planned on having children. You even put-off your job as a columnist writer for a high-end magazine company to play out the role of a perfect wife who'd soon take care of her children. You had the ideal life with the ideal husband in an ideal house that any married woman could wish for. You had everything, and in your own little world it was perfect. Until two years into your marriage, everything went into turmoil. Wonwoo suddenly grew cold and insensitive. He didn't answer your calls and text messages whenever he was away. He didn't make love to you the way he used to during your honeymoon phase. And sometimes he would just downright refuse, saying he's too tired and that he wants to sleep instead. You endured and tolerated his behavior for another year, giving him a chance to change his ways. But we all know what happens to second chances, they're wasted. One day, Jihyo sent you a picture of Wonwoo sucking faces with a female swim trainer at the city's public pool. You could not believe it at first, you refused to. Until she sent another image, this one clear as day. It was Wonwoo, positively Wonwoo. You called your older brother Yoongi and told him everything that had happened starting from the day your relationship spiraled into disaster. Like any brother would be; he was furious. He didn't kill the guy though, only gave him a black eye and a broken nose before you threw his belongings out on the pavement. To cut the story short, you found love beside a swimming pool and ultimately gotten your heart broken because of it. When people fall out of love, heart breaks are inevitable. All the more reason as to why you just shoved the idea of cleaning the pool under the rug like small particles of dust and dirt. You just wanted to forget about it, pretend like it didn't exist. If you could only haul that thing out of the ground and throw it out like you did to him, it'd be more painless for you. You took your phone out of your handbag and texted Namjoon. You asked if he still had the number to that all around cleaning service, to which he did, thank god. After saving the number, you called it immediately. Wanting no time to be wasted. "Hello, Good morning! This is Mr. Park of Mr. Park's Cleaning Service, how can we help you?" The bubbly old man chanted his spiel. "Ah, yes, um. This is Y/n Y/l/n, I was wondering if I can avail your services?" "Of course, ma'am!" He chimed, the sound of rustling papers can be heard in the background "What will we have the pleasure of cleaning for you, Ms. Y/l/n?" His tone never changed, still enthusiastic. "Well I have this pool..." You replied quite hesitantly, "And It's been sitting here uncleaned for almost two months." You let out a breathy laugh, fairly embarrassed at your confession. "No problem, Ms. Y/l/n! We've handled worse cases. Two months is nothing! Is it just the pool or would you like us to give your whole yard a fixer-upper?" You sighed in relief. "Y-yes, that would be great! My backyard could use the help, too." "Alrighty then! You don't need to worry about anything! Can I get your contact number and full address Ms. Y/l/n?" Mr. Park sounded like a charming old man, he never judged or asked unnecessary questions, only the ones that needed to be answered. "My number's xxx-xxx-xx and my full address is xxx street, corner xxx at xxx village. When can I expect you to visit, Mr. Park?" "I'll get the boys ready and will be there in about an hour or two to check on the conditions and come up with the most effective strategy. The duration of the process usually takes about three days to a week depending on the situation. It's always better to asses the area first. We'll do the best we can do, Ms. Y/l/n!" You can hear the smile in his voice, never have you encountered someone who's this passionate about his job as much as Mr. Park. "Great! That sounds excellent! Thank you so much Mr. Park! I'll see you later!" "Thank you, too, Ms. Y/l/n! Good bye!" The call ended and you checked the clock. It was a quarter to nine, still a lot of time left before they arrive. You decided to tidy up the place, picking up dirty laundry, washing the dishes, and anything that demanded to be put in its proper place. You accomplished everything in under an hour and decided to lounge around on your couch, still in your black silk nightwear dress that rested a good five inches above your knee. To be fair, you did wake up too early for your liking, and it made you thrice as sluggish than usual. 'Only ten minutes' you reminded yourself because you still needed to shower. Your eyelids felt heavy and the softness of the pillow you were resting your head on didn't help either. 'five more minutes, then it's time to shower, I swear.' Things didn't always go according to plan, of course. You fell asleep.

Your little nap was interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing multiple times, "Ms. Y/l/n?! Is anybody home? This is Mr.Park's Cleaning Service." The man on the other side of the door yelled. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. You scramble about you couch only to fall on the floor with a loud thud, "W-wait! Just a minute!" You squealed, heading out to the nearest bathroom to grab your bathrobe and wrap it around your frame. You chugged down and gargled a cup full of mouthwash before spitting it out. "Shit..." You hissed, taming out the fly-aways of your hair and tying it up in a loose bun. Your bangs rested messily on your forehead but you didn't have the pleasure of curling it. So you opted for just sweeping it to the side, making yourself more presentable. "I'm coming!" You yelped, treading to your front door and opening it. The three boys who stood at your doorstep gave you a courteous ninety degree bow. They were wearing those baggy grey work jumpsuits but the sleeveless kind. The boys looked fairly young, with glowing skin and youthful dispositions. They moved back to their upright position and the one in the center greeted, "Good day Ms.---" his eyes widened like saucers, he looked like he had encountered a ghost, and suddenly you were extremely conscious about your disheveled appearance, tucking in stray hairs that dangled around the frame of your face behind your ears. "Ms--" he knew what he wanted to say, it was waiting for its turn to spill out from his suddenly parched mouth. But he couldn't because he was too awe struck at the image of this lovely woman standing before him. They'd done this job a couple hundred times and it was all professional, but this was the first time his heart was completely enamored by a female client. His tongue was undoubtedly caught at the back of his throat and an elbow to his rib by his friend snapped him out of it and transferred him back to reality. "Y/l/n.." He continued, shades of pink trickling his face. "My name is Park Jimin..." "You're Mr. Park?" You giggled, the way your cheeks rounded when you smile matched with your cute dimple almost sent him into the ER due to a cardiac arrest, "You sounded older on the phone." "Uh.. That was my father. I'm just Jimin." He smiled, flustered like a little boy confessing his love for his crush. You beamed at him once more after discovering his name, eyes twinkling more that ever and he caught that. He freaking caught the way your eyes glimmered at him. "If you're just Jimin, then I'm just Y/n." What the hell was that?! You internally screamed at your choice of words, pulling out the non-existent life plug in your head because you wanted to shrivel up like a dehydrated grape desiring to be a raisin and just die. "O-okay, Ms. Y/n.." the way your name rolled so sweetly out of his lips made you shudder, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long, long time spark a flame in the deepest pit of your stomach. You shouldn't be experiencing this urgent sense of infatuation towards a person you only just met, not to mention to someone this young. You reckoned that he was likely five or six years your junior, probably even more. It was a weird sensation. You had no idea where it came from but you were kinda skeptical about the concept of it and where it might lead. Did you hate it? I mean, no, not at all. Were you confused? Most definitely. "This is Jungkook," he gestured to the lad on his left. Jet-black hair, doe eyes, piercings and tattoos, okaaay he's attractive "and this is Taehyung." Your gaze moved to the left, honey brown hair, sultry stare, sharp nose and a chiseled jaw, woah he's attractive too. No wonder Mr. Park's acquiring all the deals in town! His cleaning team is total eye candy. "My dad-- I mean Mr. Park's rheumatoid started acting up a little while ago, that's why he wasn't able to come with us. I hope that's alright with you, Ms. Y/n." There it is again, he said your name again but his voice a little softer this time. He was hoping his father's absence wouldn’t upset you too much. And didn't leave a bad first impression on you. Your name slipping past his lips sent another shock wave throughout your body, faintly stirring up your insides. It took you a good second to reply because you were too busy staring at the way his tongue prodded out of mouth to wet his pink and plump lips. Shit “I-it’s fine..” You gulped, drifting your gaze to your backyard assuming he didn’t see what you just did. “I hope your father feels well soon.” You stepped back a few feet letting the boys with their big tool kits in hand enter. “May we look at the pool, Ms. Y/l/n?” The black haired boy spoke, opening his box of tools and pulling out a smaller black container. “Taehyung and I will do the water testing and everything else while Jimin-hyung here will walk you through the whole process.” “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish!” Taehyung beamed, boxy smile and all. They all did what they said they’d do. Jungkook and Taehyung were handling all sorts of gadgets and gizmo to test the pH balance, chlorine levels and whatever they need to test. Jimin explained everything in meticulous detail, from the tools that they were using to how they’d clean it. You tried listening intently. You really did! But the addictive saccharine tone of his voice had gotten you too worked up. “And that’s about it,” Jimin happily concluded. “We can start cleaning tomorrow if it’s okay with you,” “Y/n?” He asked reluctantly, watching you stare vacuously at him. “Ah-- Yes. You guys can start tomorrow.” You smiled, flustered and red on the face. He was worried for a moment, he thought you found everything he said was boring. Because all honestly, he knew it was. Jimin dropped out of college to support his father with their family business, being the sole son and successor. It was a gamble, most of his friends would say. "Why'd you give up having an education?" or "What if it goes bankrupt?". Those words were frequently thrown around, but he stuck to his gut. Jimin never wanted anything more than maintaining his father's legacy alive. The one that his father and late-mother created and grew from the ground up. "Great! Kook, Tae, how's everything going?" He hollered to his friends who were still tinkering with their devices at the edge of the pool. "Will be done soon! Give us a minute," Taehyung replied, signaling a thumbs-up to his hyung. "Ahhh! That reminds me," You teetered blithely straight to your equally neglected shed that Wonwoo kept all his tools in. "If you need any tools, feel free to--" You tried to pry the door handle open but it wouldn't budge. "Let me get that for you, Ms. Y/n." Jimin insisted, worrying you might hurt yourself. "I'm okay," You assured the boy, solidifying your grip on the handle, and giving one last firm pull that just might do the trick. Jimin was right. Because the moment you exerted more effort into opening the door, the slim strip of metal that was affixed on the wooden surface snapped off and sent you stumbling back a few steps. You shielded your eyes with your hand and just when you thought your sorry ass was about to hit the grass, you felt something or someone, cradle your fall. A small groan from behind startled you, "W-what?" You removed your hands from your face and saw Jimin lying beneath you, hold on to you by your waist."Oh shit!" You shrieked, promptly scooting away from his lap to check if he's hurt somewhere. "J-jimin! Are you okay?!" concern laced your voice. You scanned every inch of his body for any cuts or bruises. While your face unintentionally came too close to his, he felt your warm minty breath dancing on the tip of his cupid's bow, tickling his lips that were mere centimeters away from yours. And the way his left cheek was conveniently purchased in your hand made him feel the heat blossom under his skin, and presumably creep up to his ears too. Wide-eyed and totally red in the face, Jimin hurriedly stood up from where he was planted, not forgetting to help you as well stand up as well. “I’m fine, Ms. Y/n. You don’t have to worry about--” Before the boy could barely finish his sentence, you were already pulling him by the wrist and ushering him back inside the house. He was trying so hard to resist the blush that had been wanting to be set free. “Jungkook, Taehyung!” You waved, calling out their attention. “You can come inside if you’re finished. I’ll tend to Jimin and see if he has any injuries.” “Yes ma’am!” The two boys chuckled, giving Jimin a playful smirk. “Sit down. I’ll go get my first aid kit.” You spoke before scooting towards the direction of your bathroom. The moment you’ve found yourself looking in the mirror in what seems to be the safest place you could’ve been at this moment, you allow all the accumulated steam out. “F-fuck.” You breathe out a sigh of relief. Finally being able to inhale and exhale enough air with your lungs. Every single moment with Jimin feels like there’s something constricting your chest, blocking all possible airways and cutting off the oxygen in your body. “Get it together, Y/n” You scold yourself, looking at the reflection in the bathroom mirror “You are an adult. An adult who will not let a young man fracture the little sanity you have left.”

On your tiptoes, you reached for the small plastic box on the shelf of your bathroom, taking one last determined look in the mirror and declaring, “You got this.” With that, you step out of the enclosed space with your recovered confidence, not looking back. And there he is again, puppy dog eyes lighting up when he saw your figure reappear in his line of vision. “Ms. Y/n.” He smiled, and there you knew how truly fucked up you were. “God, give please give me the strength.” You chanted in your head, “I got the first aid kit. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Was all that you could say.

It has been exactly five days, eight hours and forty-five minutes since Jimin started working on your backyard. Why do you know that? Well, that boy with those galaxies induced eyes, impossible plump lips and unbelievable muscular body had been lurking and finding his way through the deep recesses of your mind, desperately searching for that imaginary finish line.

Every cell in your body was hyper-aware of your surroundings whenever he was near. You’d get chills when you feel his hot breath fanning against the skin of your nape when he’s behind you asking for some kind of permission. A jolt would run down your spine when he says your name like it’s the only name he’d known besides his. And the way an innocent stare from him would ignite a flame in your core, burning like coal inside a furnace during those cold winter nights. You know of his presence; you know how he makes you feel even when you don’t want it and that scares you.

And now you’re here with your overly eager friend who's ready to lay down all her life savings and then some, just to see you finally get laid after that hideous tragedy.

“Gosh, what do I do?” You groaned, massaging your temples. The headache that you experienced the first time you encountered the boy only tripled in magnitude. It was like the soft tissues of your brain decided that it would be best to act like tectonic plates and tear each other apart. No matter how many pain killers you’ve ingested or how early you slept at night, it always comes back the next day, with a vengeance.

“Give in,” she shrugged, taking a sip from her warm cup of tea. “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

“The only thing I’m losing right now is my sanity.” You grovelled, wanting to pull out all of your hair from its follicles. “I–” You sighed, voice cracking and tear attempting to fall.“I honestly don’t know what to do.”

She offered you a sympathetic look, consoling you with a hand gently stroking your back. “I know, hun. Wonwoo was a douche bag and your divorce was the absolute worst. But… Look at the bright side,” She nudged you on the shoulder and points a finger westward.

“Now that he’s out of the picture, you’re a free woman now, y/n.” Your friend stated as-a-matter-of-fact, wriggling her perfectly done brows at you. She was right, though. There was nothing holding you back except yourself. The two of you looked beyond the glass sliding doors of your patio and watched the group of young men pull every bone and flex every inch of muscles in their bodies trying to make your backyard look like the way it was before.

“I don’t see anything wrong with flirting with your pool boy now that the ring on you finger is gone,” a small tug of her lips went unseen by you as your gaze was still attached to the blond haired boy whose dusting of sweat seemed to reflect and shimmer under the blazing sunlight like those vampire characters from that teen movie. God, how can someone look that ethereal while raking up the pile leaves in your backyard?

“While you’re at it, seeing that you’re too invested in watching him, play with piles of dead leaves,” your head snapped toward her direction as your cheeks turned pink from embarrassment, “might as well fuck him too.” she grins from ear to ear.

Day eight came faster than you had imagined. The boiling of your insides has simmered down immensely since you've accepted all your feelings like the grown adult that you are. You didn't confess, though, there will be a time for that. Also, you can say you've gotten used to Jimin's presence in the short time you've spent with him. He was kind, sweet, caring and considerate to you 24/7 and you've considered every bit of it endearing. You friend was right. "Give in," she says, so you did and you hope everything will eventually fall into place at the right time. Like usual, jimin and his bunch were outside. They were eighty percent done with the pool and all that's left was the landscaping. One by one, bags of dirt, rocks, sand and all the likes were carried by unfamiliar faces to the back yard through your house. Trails of sand were left on the floor akin to a snail's. "We're really sorry for the mess, miss y/n. Don't worry, we'll clean it up." A new face stood beside Jimin. This one looked more mature than the three boys you're already acquainted with. This was your first time seeing him. Raven hair, brown eyes, a attractive face and shoulders broader than the horizon. Wow. Mr. Park's boys just keep getting hotter and hotter. But there's something oddly familiar about him. Maybe you've met him before? Casually crossed paths as strangers? You can't quite wrap a finger around it. "Y/n, this is Jin-hyung." The fair-haired boy stated. "He's Jungkook's older brother." You gasp, finally it connects "R-really?! No wonder you looked familiar!" You heard the boisterous laugh of the younger brother draw closer and then draped an arm around his brother's shoulder. You habitually thought Jungkook was the tallest in the bunch but now that you've seen his older brother and the way he stands a good two or three inches taller says otherwise. "Sooo, who's more good looking, Noona?" Jungkook asked cheerfully, arching his brows as if coaxing you to choose him. "Hmmm..." You hummed dramatically, crossing your arms with one hand cupping your chin. "I really can't say, Jungkook. Your hyung's pretty handsome." You teased. "Nooooona~!" The youngest whined, flailing his arms around like a child. If you hadn't known their ages, you'd assume that Jungkook's an eighteen year old boy with a baby's face attached to an adult man's body. +Flashback+ You learned that over the course of yesterday's dinner. That day marked the seventh day since the boys worked on you backyard. You decided to treat them to a special samgyupsal dinner since they had been working so hard all day and all afternoon. It was a quarter to five, and the boys were about to call it a day when you call them over enthusiastically. Gesturing them to come inside "Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook!" Their mouths hung wide open when their eyes met with the dining table. A dazzling array of meats, soups, vegetables and side dishes were gloriously scattered on the surface. "Wow, Ms. Y/n!" Taehyung beamed, his boxy smile seemed like it was engraved on his face. "What's the occasion?” "Well, since you boys have been working so hard I decided to arrange a little party for you guys. It's the least I can do." You smile. Taehyung and Jungkook looked like they were about to combust. The fragrance of the food delighted their every senses. You hear a faint growl in the background. "Sorry. That was me." Jungkook confessed, his stomach was now hungrier than before. You all laugh. "What are you waiting for? Dig in!" It was like a gun was shot and the race to eat the most food began. You watched them eat heartily, wishing that you had done this sooner to express your gratitude for all the effort the exert. "Aren't you gonna eat, y/n?" You were startled by Jimin voice. You turn to him and receive the look of concern on his face. "I've had my fair share while cooking, if I eat more I feel like I'll throw up." You softly giggled, a shade of pink dusting your cheeks. "And this is all for you." For every little thing he does whether it was deliberately or not, Jimin feels like he's simply digging his own grave. The sound of metal rutting against soil, just a few more digs and he's sure he'll be six feet under. "Ms. Y/n, Ms. Y/n!" Jungkook called, outstretching his hand like a student asking for his teacher's attention. "Yes, Jungkook? Oh, and you can call me y/n, by the way. No need for 'miss'." Jungkook scratched the back of his neck before answering, "Uhm, I dont think I'm in the position to call you that, ms. Y/n " "What about noona?" Taehyung who sits across Jungkook suggested. "Ms. Y/n really been nice to us, like a big sister. Always making sure we're okay." Sister. You practically forgot about your age gap with these kids. With the five-year difference for Jimin and Taehyung, seven for Jungkook, you really felt like an older sister. It wasn't bad, it was lovely actually. Knowing they see you more than just an ordinary client pinched at your heart. And you perceive them as little brother's you never had. One of them, you wished went beyond that. "Yeah!" The black haired boy exclaimed,"Can we call you noona, ms. y/n???" Jungkook looked like a dog, with his eyes all round and tail raised and wagging about. It must feel so great to be young. "Of-- Of course! You can call me noona!" The two boys cheered in unison. The only one quiet was jimin who sat parallel to you.

"Are you okay jimin?" You asked meekly. "I'm fine." He didn't sound like he was fine. "Is there something wrong?" "Ahh, I--" he was stuttering, "Is it okay if I call you y/n instead?" Your eyes widened, you haven't even drank anything alcohol but your face already feels hotter. "S-sure, Jimin." You tried to change the topic by standing up walking over to the refrigerator. "Since all of you are of legal age." You gradually push open metal door and pull out bottles of soju. "You're the best, noona!" The youngest howled, eager to get his hands on the alcoholic drink. "Just promise me you guys won't drink too much. You still have work tomorrow" Like twins, Jungkook and Taehyung held their hands over their heart and recited, "We promise, noona!" With the magic liquid, conversation started flowing more naturally. You promised not to drink but they insisted, nothing worse than your friends peer-pressuring you. "So, noona, where do you work?" Taehyung questioned. He probably noticed you were always at home. "I'm a writer for Seoul Life Magazine, but I do all my work here at home. I rarely have to go to the office." "Really???!!!" His eyes blew up, Taehyung told you he was a fashion design graduate. You expected this reaction from him so you felt pride in telling him where you work. "Wow, noona!" Jungkook said, "My dad said only those who were absolutely good got to work there." "Stop flattering me," You shyly dismiss his praise. "I was an intern there during my concluding year of college. I worked for about three or four years before I got married." Taehyung did a spit take, spraying water all over poor Jungkook who almost choked on a lettuce leaf. Jimin just sat there, watching you laugh at the two comical boys. He didn't know how to react, his hands suddenly went clammy and he couldn't stop shaking his leg under the table. "M-married?" Jungkook said, still not believing what he's hearing "w-where the h-husband?" He felt out of breath due to that damn piece of leaf. "Are you really married, noona?" Taehyung poked, looking at your ringless finger. "I was," Your smile grew weaker, talking about something it always felt weighty. But they deserved to know, they're helping you heal by dealing with something you'd rather not face. "We got divorced." The room went silent. The sound of the crickets outside and leaves swaying with the wind that were previous white noise behind your chattering and laughter seemed like the were obscenely amplified by huge bass speakers. "Can I ask why, noo--" "Jungkook!" Jimin scolded his junior, and this was the first time you've heard/seen him raise his voice to anyone. "Apologize." He stated sternly, not breaking eye contact with Jungkook. "I'm sorry, noona." His head hung low, hair covering his eyes. "J-jimin, I'm sure Jungkook didn't meant to." You reached out to to hold his hand that was resting on the table. "I'm not mad or upset." You looked over Jungkook's direction and continued, "It's okay, I promise." Jimin squeezed your hand tighter, comforting you. "You don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable, y/n." "Y-yeah, noona." Taehyung added, "You don't have to. It's none of our business." Jungkook sat still, eyes glassy and mouth pouty. He absolutely looked like a puppy that had been punished for chewing up its human's shoe. "It's alright," You giggle, extremely touched. "It's been months, I can talk about it." "We met during sophomore year. I was a journalist for the university paper and he was on the swim team." The three boys listened intently, like toddlers during story time. "After five years of dating, he proposed. We got married a year later and moved in here. That," you pointed to the pool outside "belongs to him." "It was his idea to get a house with one, I agreed of course. Only two years after getting married, I found out he was cheating on me." Jimin's features softened at your words. He knows it wasn't easy for anyone to talk about their past heartbreak and traumas. He made sure you weren't alone, he took his free hand and placed it over your hand that he was already holding with the other. He held it tight. "It broke my heart, I really thought he was the one, you know? Almost eight years together thrown in the garbage disposal and shredded to pieces." "He doesn't deserve you, noona." Jungkook finally spoke. "He was an asshole and he doesnt deserve you." "Yeah!" Taehyung agreed, "I kinda don't want to finish the work now." Out of nowhere, you burst out laughing. An invisible weight, sort of a thick blanket was lifted and the atmosphere brightened. "No, no, no!" You can't stop your laughter at this point, what Taehyung said tickled a funny bone. "I still plan on living here, Taehyung! Even if I dislike the pool, it's still part of this home. And the make over was sort of a therapy, you know. Out with the old, in with the new, right?" You ended it with a smile, lips curved beautifully. It was a smile Jimin has seen never seen before. It was light and airy, bright and transparent. There was no pain or distress, just carefreeness. He wished you would smile like this more often, and he also wished he'd someday be the reason for it.

"Just kidding, Jungkook! You're the most handsome." You assured the boy, patting his back. "Sorry, Jin. Your brother's grown on me." "Kook one, Jin zero." The youngest boast over to his brother. "Alright, alright!" Jin interrupted, "Unlike you, some of us need to work. How 'bout you and Taehyung get the transport van back to the office and let Jimin, Hoseok, Yugyeom and I get things done, yeah?" Jungkook clicked his tongue, "Whatever." Their sibling banter has got you missing your brother, mentally reminding yourself to call him later. "Hey, Yugs." You hear Jungkook faintly speak. Two more new faces stood beside Jin. "This is Hoseok and Yugyeom. We'll be responsible for landscaping." Another attractive guy with a million-dollar smile on his face and a tall man with the physique of a runway model. Curse, Mr. Park!! Where does he get all these boys?! "Thank you for having us!" The pair recited. "Oh, no! Thank you for helping out with the renovation." "Ms. Y/n, The boys and I will be outside. We'll be mapping out a plan for the design," Jin announced. "Oh, sure." You answer back, "Take all the time that you need." "Great! We'll report to you once we've finished the draft design. So you can the necessary make changes and adjustments." He beamed, walking towards the back yard. Jimin stood silently beside you, "You do landscaping?" You randomly asked, seeing that Jimin was the only one left from their bunch. Jungkook and Taehyung had long gone. "No," he chuckled, "I just need to watch over these guys. Make sure everything goes well." "That's nice, you're very involved with the work you do." His cheeks blossomed pink, he didn't expect a compliment since he was just doing his job. "I try." He shyly replied, bowing then heading for the glass door. "If you need me, I'll be outside." You waved him goodbye and went about your own business. There were still some articles in your workload that needed to be finished and those emails weren't gonna answer themselves. ++ By the time you were done, it was half past two in the afternoon. You noticed as the days progressed, so did the temperature. You check your phone, only to see that today is the hottest reading yet. Since everything has been taken care of, you decided to take a shower. Appreciating the cold refreshing water on you warm skin. After that, you put on your favorite robe and wrapped it around your damp body. As you were about to step out of the bathroom, you noticed Jimin leaning against one of the pillars of your patio, shirtless. Have your eyes been deceived? They say that seeing believes, but you didn't expect Jimin to be this fit. You offered yourself some slack, since the only part of Jimin body's you've oh so graciously seen are his muscular arms. It wasn't as big as those of a body builder, but the amount of muscle in them has already got you mouth watering. But being blessed with the site of his bare skin and taut abdominal muscles has got you feeling wetter than being in the shower. You couldn't keep your gaze off of him. It was an image that you want to engrave at the back of your head. Your eyes roamed his entire body. Face, neck, shoulders, chest and abs. You wanted to memorize every detail. Every mole, every freckle, every scar that adorned his ivory skin. Just as you were taking your time scanning his entire figure, you were startled when you saw him looking at you staring at him. Your heart began to race inside your chest and you almost forgot you were standing in the middle of your house with only a robe covering your very naked body. You scanned around the area of the yard and Jin and the others we're not in plain sight. You assumed they were working on the farthest side of the lot, where your small garden used to be before you abandoned it all together with the pool. You lock eyes with Jimin again, but this time there was something odd at the way he ogles at you. His gaze was lustful and burning with flames devouring your entirety. His were pupils blown out at the display of your skin. He looked pained, his teeth biting harshly at his bottom lip as if he wanted to draw blood. At that point it dawned on you. You know why he seemed so agitated, squirming in his seat. He wanted to see more, see more of you. A wave of unknown confidence washed over you. You didn't know where the hell it came from. Maybe it was from his deadly stare, maybe it was just you. Either way, you were so totally taking advantage of it. Without breaking eye contact, you found purchase at the same seat from which you watched the boys worked while having a chat with your friend. Sensually lifting the hem of your robe up your thighs and spreading your legs open for Jimin to see. "F-fuck," He groaned, hands balling into fists. He glimpsed over to the other men who were still occupied with what they were accomplishing. His attention was back on you, giving you a small nod. The fervor that coursed through your body was incomparable to anything you've experienced before. The Adrenaline was starting to kick in, and you felt hot-blooded. You temperature went up ten degrees higher and you felt delirious. You knew there was a possibility that you were gonna get caught, but screw it. You've never felt like this in your whole twenty-nine year of life. You're gonna enjoy it, basked in it. Jimin's eyes were plastered at your dripping core, lump in his throat and completely mesmerized at its beauty. Your juices sinfully coating you slit. He swore if there wasn't anybody else around, he would have ravished you pussy like an animal. Since you're out here giving him a show that he'll never forget, might as well savour it. He thought things couldn't get any better with you sex on display for him, you open up your legs even more in a whole new different angle. Putting all those gymnastics training to good use. He can virtually see your pink walls with the position your in. He couldn't stop imagining him burying his hard cock inside your tight cunt. Sucking him in when every thrust he made. You left hand slithered its way down to your soaked core, playfully stroking your folds. If Jimin was beside you, he could no doubt hear the way your cream coated skin squelched with every motion you made. Your idle hand managed to loosen the knot of your robe, allowing it fall from your shoulders exposing your round, supple breasts. Nipples instantly hardening at the sudden exposure to the air. Shit, he'd kill just to have his lips around those perky little nipples, sucking on then voraciously until you moan out his name. You could not take all this self-teasing anymore. Jimin's eyes gauges out of its socket as you dip a finger into your damp hole. Jimin thought the heat from the sun was bearable. He'd worked for long hours under it and never complain. But this, you fingering yourself with one hand while the other pulls and twists on your abused nipple was unbearable! The ache between his legs was excruciating he had to casually palm himself. Slightly shifting and bending this leg so that he wasn't noticeable. Another finger goes in, and he's cupping himself harder. He observed your face contort with pleasure at the way you're plunging and curling your two fingers inside of you. Your arousal spilling at the edge of you battered hole, streaming down and accumulating just above your puckered hole. That should be him, he mumbled to himself. Your slender fingers wouldn't be able to satisfy you, unlike his throbbing cock caged inside his boxers, wanting to be set free. Jimin's practically squeezing his dick at this point now, he just wants nothing but to release his ropes cum on you breast while you pleasure yourself. You felt your walls clench around your digits, signalling you that you were nearing climax. You gotta make this quick, Jin, Hoseok or Yugyeom can walk in on you anytime. Adding one last finger, hoping the stretch will help you jump over the edge, you pummeled your cunt with all the strength that you had left. A small moan left your lips and your release came squirting. Coating the marble floor beneath you. Jimim was just as wrecked as you were. His chest was heaving heavily up and down. The only difference was you reached climax, and he didn't, he couldn't. You were steadying you breathing just when you hear Jin yell, "Yo! Jimin! I need you to--" his voice was getting louder and closer. Wide-eyed, you look at Jimin. Mouthing him "Do something!" While you pull yourself together and grab a piece of tissue to wipe your juices off the floor. When you looked up, Jimim wasn't there anymore. He somehow managed to stop Jin from coming any closer to the house from how faintly you hear his voice outside. You sighed and went back to your room. “We’ve done everything we could do today, Ms. Y/n,” Jin happily announces, standing in front of you with his million dollar smile adorning his equally valued face. “We’ll continue everything tomorrow!” “G-great!’ You croaked, substantially tilting your head to see what’s going on behind the tall man’s back. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Jimin. “Ms. Y/n?” he waved his hand in your face, snapping you out of it. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” You barely reply. Before he could turn his back on you, you managed to pull on his sleeve. “W-where’s Jimin by the way?” He looked surprised, pondering why you’re asking for the boy. “He went back first,” Jin witnessed your facial expression drop, “He said he wasn’t feeling too good.” “O-oh,” you frowned once more, your browns knitting together at the center of your forehead. “Please tell him to get well soon.” “Of course,” He bowed and bid farewell.

Tomorrow comes and Jimin was nowhere to be seen. Jin said Jimin was still feeling under the weather and took the whole day off from work. While that may seem plausible, it didn’t sit well in your gut. You felt like there was something off with Jimin. Never has he been absent since the first day he worked for you. What is that little stunt you pulled off yesterday, you thought to yourself. Were you really that repulsive to the point that it had gotten him sick? Did you ruin your chances of having something more than just a short time fling with the most charming boy you’ve ever met? What if he never wanted to see you anymore, what would you do then. Those kinds of thoughts were inevitable, of course. It was all you could think of the entire day. So that night, you decided to send him a text message, the first one too. From you: Hi Jimin. Jin told me that you fell ill. Try not to over work yourself next time. I hope you get well soon. -yn Jimin stared stupidly at the screen. Thinking of what to reply or if he should reply at all. Several words typed then deleted. He genuinely didn’t know what to say to you. He was ashamed of what he’s shown and with his lack of self-control. He felt appalled with himself. How could he disrespect you like that? You were a client. A client and worker relationship weren’t prohibited, not at all. It was just his work ethics that wanted everything to be strictly professional, he knew how important your role is to their business. The last thing he wanted was to tarnish what his father built from the ground up with a scandal. So he decided to not let his personal life get involved with his work life. It just makes things complicated, like it is right now. The ‘can’t go to work, feeling sick’ wasn’t wholly a lie. The pain wasn’t physical, it was abstract. And no medicine can induce the pain go away, until he saw your following message. From you: Also, I wanted to talk to you about something. It doesn’t have to be right away, you should rest first and get your health back up. Just message me whenever. Goodnight, Jimin.

There really was no way out, huh. The next day comes and still no Jimin. That was when you confirmed it. You’ve completely and utterly ruined everything. He did not reply to your messages and didn't even want to see your face. It felt like the ground underneath you cracked opened and devoured you whole. That was the very first time in your life that you’ve acted so venturesomely, look what is has cost you. You blame yourself because there was no one else you could point a finger at. Things wouldn't end up the way they are now if you just stayed in your fucking lane. All of this was your fault. You looked back at all the events that happened to you and realized, maybe it was inevitably your fault. Wonwoo wouldn’t have you left if he saw a reason not to. Jimin wouldn’t be ignoring you if he had a reason no to. The course of the entire day was spent with you cooped up inside your room, wallowing away in your own self-pity. You politely told Jin that you needed some time to be alone and he can decide whatever is best for the landscaping. It was around seven in the evening, Jin bid farewell and suggested that if you needed anything, you could call him up. That was extremely thoughtful of him, you think. Another hour passed and the doorbell rings. You weren't expecting anyone though, so you were quite puzzled as to who it might be. The front door open and you see Jimin. He was wearing a navy blue dress shirt that was folded up to his elbows, wow. Sleek black slacks for pants that cinched his slim waist and leather dress shoes to put everything together. What's the occasion, you thought. "Oh, Jimin" you hid the nervous of your voice by pulling him into a hug "I-its good to see you again, what brings you here? Are you feeling better?" "Ah, yes. I'm sorry for being absent these past few days." His head was hanging low and his eyes were looking elsewhere just to avoid yours. "I wanted to apologize." He finally looked at you with his brown orbs that were displaying sincerity. You ushered him to come inside and take a seat on your couch. "Apologize?" You asked, a little bit perplexed "For what exactly?" "For what I did," his voice grew feebler "I shouldn't have done what I did. I shouldn't have disrespected you like that. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you just because I felt the heat of that moment. I'm sorry, y/n. I swear I'm better than that." "Oh, Jimin." You smiled tenderly, cupping his plump cheeks with your hand. "I think it's the other way around. I should be the one apologizing. Back then, I couldn't control myself when I should have. After seeing you, all the emotions I've put aside unexpectedly erupted." With your unoccupied hand, you tightly held his. "The truth is, you really have grown on me in all the best way possible. Initially, I thought it was just the backlash of my divorce egging me. I thought maybe my mind was looking for a rebound to dull the ache. But..." Your eyes started becoming glassy. You felt him clutch you hand tighten spurring you to continue "I think that's not it. I know it isn't. You've been nothing but a blessing to me, Jimin. An absolute angel. You're sweet, kind, caring, understanding, ugh--" You mocked frustratingly, letting out a small giggle. "You're perfect. I couldn't see anyone that wouldn't fall for you like I have." Jimin's face reflected what he felt at that moment, relief. This wasn't what he was expecting, hence why he averted the confrontation as best as he could. You were the one who was perfect and completely out of his league. You were a beautiful and capable independent woman that any man would kill for. Your ex-husband was beyond stupid to play with your feelings like he did, he knows. But if it wasn't for your ex's stupidity, he wouldn't be here facing the only woman he'd want to be with for the rest of his life. "I thought you wouldn't like me since I was older--." "Stop." He interrupted, stroking his fingers through your locks while gazing at your gorgeous features. The staring contest ended with the both of you smacking lips, eager to taste what has been endured for so long. Impatient longing was evident in every kiss, lick, bite and tug. You kissed him so fervently that his back was digging against the backrest of the sofa. One of your legs seemed to have a mind of its own and positioned itself to straddle him. "Are you sure you want me?" You queried the boy beneath you, your tone much mischievous from before, it was like there was a flipped switch somewhere. The noticeable change in the atmosphere has got him simply nodding, excited to know there was this side of you that he has not witnessed before. He watched you as you steadily unravel your blouse's satin belt and started to gently caress his wrist. "Would you mind if I tie up these pretty hands of yours?" You hummed, pulling on his hand up to you face and sucking on his middle finger and ring finger. The sensation of your wet mouth around his digits caused his brain to send signals down there. He could already feel himself get rock hard inside his jeans, thinking about how tight your mouth would be if he shoved his dick down you throat. But he'll save that for another day because right now he just wants to let you do what you want to do with him. Right now, he is yours for the taking. You urged him to lean a little closer to you. His face now between the valley of your breast as you meticulously tie his hands behind his back. You pushed him back to his previous position and inquired, "Do you want me to cover your eyes as well?" He shook his head in protest and said, "N-no. I want to see you." There was a pause as he manages to catch his breath, "I-I wanna see you while you make me feel good." You nodded, brushing his hair out of his sweat slicked forehead. From his head, your hand slid lazily down to his neck, to his chest, to his stomach and finally to the growing bulge inside his pants. You palm him unhurriedly, taking your time. Tracing your fingertips over the curve of his caged penis. "Y-y/n.." Jimin griped, observing your hand press against his erection. Somehow enduring the excruciating pain, your teasing had sown. "Can I ask you one last favor?" You purred, peppering his neck with kisses and sucking purple bruises here and there. "W-what is it?" he managed to reply, reveling in the way your teeth nipped against his delicate skin. "Call me noona," Jimin was silent, somewhat waiting for an explanation. When you told him the first time, he met you that he can call you by your first made him feel special because only he could do that. The other workers call you 'Miss' and Jungkook and Taehyung declared you as 'our noona'. "N-noona-" Jimin whined, bucking his hips harder against you hand. He saw your pupils dilate as the word escaped your lips, inflaming something inside you. "Jimin," you growled, squeezing his around his girth ferociously. Buttons were unfastened one after the other, exposing his refined chest and taut muscles. Out of nowhere, you felt raunchy. The tips of your fingernail slowly dragged themselves across his torso, leaving streaks of red in its track. He flung his head back, enjoying the sting that danced on his skin. Jimin squirmed as he felt your weight suddenly leave his lap. His neck snapped back to your direction and damn, what a sight to see. You tucked between his legs and unzipping his pants exposing his angry red-tipped cock oozing out beads of pre-cum. He smirked as he saw you involuntary lick your lips. "You like what you see, noona?" "God, yes." You exhaled, wrapping both your hands around his shaft not because you wanted to, but because it was necessary. Your tiny, little hand could barely encompass his circumference. "Noona's gonna me you feel good, baby." You felt Jimin's dick twitch by the given pet name. "Noona," he groaned, thrusting his member in your grip just to feel any sort of friction. Sensually, you undid your bloused and hurled it somewhere on the floor followed by your bra, exposing your bare chest to the boy. Jimin jerked in his seat, wanting to grab and knead you breast with his own hands. It looked even better up close. The skin smooth and flawless, nipples pert and hard due to the frosty air. "Fuck" he hissed through his teeth, if he could get his mouth on those buds he'd suck them dry and pull it between his teeth making you cry out. "Behave." You scolded him, eyes staring daggers. He stayed in place once again, not wanting to vex you in any way.

You ran the flat of you tongue on the underside of his length, feeling his skin pulse at contact. Salaciously making your way to its head, you began circling his narrow slit with the tip of your tongue. Feeble moans were the only things escaping his pretty mouth. You seized this moment to swallow him whole down to the hilt, fighting your gag reflex. Your mouth has never felt this stuffed as you moan in satisfaction. Jimin felt the vibration of your throat around his cock, tightening around it. You languidly started bobbing your head up and down, bottoming out with every stroke. With a lewd pop, you tried pulling your mouth off his cock. Strings of saliva dribbled from your lips connecting to his tip. You push yourself up slight and proceeded painting your nipples with the concoction of you saliva and his pre-cum that was coating the tip of his penis. "How does this feel?" You cooed, sandwiching his hard member between your two breasts, erotically pumping the tender flesh up and down his length. "So so gooood, noona" Jimin wheezed blissfully. The sensation of his cock wholly enveloped by your soft mounds is inclining him over the edge. "Noona," he wailed shutting his eyes, the urgency of wanting to release washing over him. By the look of things, you guess he's close. You quicken the pace, feeling the skin of you breast chafe due to friction but you don't care. You clamped your hand on your boobs harder to tighten its hold around his cock and pump faster and faster and faster until he's cumming on you tits. "Shit, noona," Jimin stressed, his breaths labored. You watched as his chest heaved up and down, supplying him with the oxygen he needs after such an intense climax. "Oh no. Look at the mess you made, Jimin." You shook your head, pointing to your breast painted with his milky liquid. "I don't like messes," You sing-song, pushing yourself back up to straddle him once more. You clasped your finger under his chin and commanded, "clean it." His heart stammered in his chest. This is it. This is what he desired. Your perky nipples snug between his lips while your back arches in euphoria. He aggressively lapped up his juices from the skin of your chest with his tongue, leaving no trace of the substance behind. Up and down, left and right, there was no area left untouched by his wet greedy muscles. If he could only see the contorted position he put himself in just to taste you. He doesn't give a shit anymore, he'll gladly eat his cum out of you asshole if you asked. He obscenely sucked you left nipple first, earning the tiniest moan from you. Alternating between light nips and starved slurps, abusing your bud. He then moves to your right nipple, the more sensitive one that has you immediately grinding your clothed core against his semi-hard on. "Let me make you feel good, noona." He desperately whined, concealing his face in the nook of your neck inhaling your fragrant scent. You quirked a brow and asked while weaving you digits through his sweat-damped hair. "What does my baby have in mind?" "Let me.." he croaked. "Louder. I can't hear you." "Let me eat you out, noona. Let me make you feel good." He begged with pleading eyes , fidgeting his hands that were behind his back, trying to untie the belt that was restraining him. "I can make you--" "If you take those off I am kicking you out." You threateningly glared at him, voice deadly like venom. Jimin was scared shitless. He could do nothing but sit silently and obey. "I-I'm sorry, noona. I didn't mean to make you mad." This boy. It may seem like you're the one in control but it is you who are actually wrapped around his little finger. Giving in to what he wants. "It's okay, baby." you massaged his tensed shoulders, soothing him down. "I'll still let you eat me out if you promise not to take off your restraint." You sounded so sweet, the exact opposite of what you were minutes ago. Not wanting to piss you off more, Jimin nodded. You helped him lay down the sofa, propping his head underneath a throw pillow. You stepped to the side and shimmied your pants off. His eyes trailed the article of clothing peeling off your body. When the pair of jeans were long gone, his gaze was attached to your still clothed core. A small wet patch sticking to your folds in the middle was visible. You prop a leg over him, climbing on top of his chest, finding purchase when his face is below your pussy. He could smell the scent of you arousal. Filling up his nostrils and intoxicating his entire nervous system like it's some kind of poison. This by far was the best angle he's seen you in. Seeing it up close, he wished he could at least touch you… You moved into a considerably better position, if you buck your hips the slightest bit, if will directly collide with his mouth. "This what you want baby boy?" You teased, lowering you center on the tip of his nose. Overpowering him even more. "Yes, yes, yes!" He cries out, "I want nothing but your pussy, noona!" You snickered at how desperate he has become, "Who knew you were such a little bitch, Jimin. Loving the way you hands are tied up and thirsting over my pussy." "Yes! I want to taste you, noona. I want to make you feel good until you're squirting all over my face like you did before on the floor. Then I'll eat you up so good, so clean." "Good boy." You thrummed, ultimately taking off your underwear. Letting him marvel at the sight of your woman hood. Clean Shaven, baby smooth, and tulip pink. Without warning, you hastily maneuver yourself, grinding your core against his face. "Put your filthy mouth to good use and make me cum." The sounds he was making were borderline pornographic as hell. His slurps and moans blessing your ears, making your insides rut. He'd occasionally prod his muscles inside your hole then flick on your clit relentlessly. The tensed coil finally snapped and you chase you high by grinding against his face. He's devouring you out like a man starved, sucking out and drinking all the juice your pussy was providing him. Wanting nothing but to be selfish, and have you for himself. He licked you clean, not wasting a single drop of your delicious cum. "I didn't know you were such a disgusting slut for pussy, Jimin." "I, I only want your pussy noona… no one else's." He confessed. "On your knees." You demand. "H-huh?" "I said on you knees. You slut." Jimin dropped down on the floor waiting for your next command like the slut he is. "Tell me how much you want to fuck me." "I-I.." He stuttered with his words, and it made you infuriated. "I said. Tell me how much you want to fuck this tight pussy of mine." You bellowed, your words bouncing off the walls of your living you. "I want to fuck you so much, noona! I want to bury my cock so deep inside your pussy until I reach your cervix then I'll fuck you some more. I want nothing but to fill you up with my seed and put a baby in you, noona! I'll fuck you so good that you'll want to you pussy filled by me every day!" He cried, plunging his head on the floor in a begging for your life bow. "Please, please, please!" Jimin was hysterical at this point, screaming and begging you to let him fuck you. "Noona, please. I'll fuck you so good that you'll forget about all your problems." You shiver at his submission and once again, he's got you eating at the palm of his hands. You freed his wrist and he lunges at you, hustling you up against the wall. "Noona," he breathed in the smell of your shampoo, steadying his hands on your hips fingers digging into your skin. "You don't know how much I wanted to put my hands on you. I can't take it anymore, noona." he pressed his erection against your slick folds "I need to be inside you." "Then show noona what that dirty cock can do." you smirked, challenging the boy. He gripped both of your thighs and carried you to the dinner table. Laying you down before spreading your legs open for him. He aligned his cock to your entrance, pushing gradually, inch by inch until he bottomed out. The stretch was incredible, you were already dripping wet but there was still the sting that lingered from his size. Your walls were trying resisting the force, convulsing around his length spontaneously. "You're tighter than I've imagined, noona." You did kegels around him, eliciting a sharp groan from the boy. "Fuck, Noona. You were made for my cock." You hummed in agreement, relishing the sensation of him pushing in and out of your tight hole. "Baby.." You moaned wantonly, elevating you butt so that he could have a better angle while penetrating you ruthlessly. "Your thick long cock is the best I've ever had. Better than my ex-husband's pathetic excuse for a dick." His ego doubled at your praise, pride blooming in his chest. "More, noona.. please tell me how great my cock is for you.." "Ahhh-- ahh. Jimin!" You bit your lip, clenching around him. "You're taking remarkably good care of noona. Fucking your noona so good. I love your cock so much. I want you to fill me up with you cum. Yeah? Hmmmm. Make your noona the happiest by cumming inside my pussy." There was the push he needed, he was plunging further into you. He felt the barrier of your cervix and broken through it before spilling all his seed into your womb. You quickly followed when you felt the warmth of his juices flowing into you. Your velvet walls convulsed around his cock, milking him for all his worth. Silence fell on the both of you, only the south of your panting and harsh breath resonated. You supported yourself up with you elbows as Jimin pull out his now flaccid penis. You felt the trickle of both of your releases slobber out of your sore hole. "Baby, do noona a favor and clean up the mess you've made with your mouth." Jimin without hesitation obeyed and dove right in. Making sure to get every last drop of yours and his cum with his tongue. He lifted his head, mouth glistening from your juices. You pulled him closer to pet his held. "You were such a good boy for noona. Bring me to bed." He obliged, carrying you bridal style to your room. His muscles rippling under your stripped body. "Noona?" He questioned while his face was still cuddling your tummy. "Hmm?" "Did I make you feel good?" You lifted up his face and said, "You made me feel so good, baby." You assured, loving the way his eyes turn into crescent moons endearing when he smiles. "Can we do that again? But this time I want the blindfolds." He flashed a cheeky grin. You smirked at his innocence, placing a kiss on his temple. "Of course, baby. We have all the time in the world." ++ The sound of knocking on your front door wakes you up, seems like this is will be a regular thing now. You managed to put on an oversized shirt and underwear on before heading to the source of the noise. You opened the doors at was bet by Jungkook and Taehyung. "Good morning, boys." You yawned, gesturing them to come in. "Uhm. Good morning, noona" Jungkook croaked, pushing his senior to speak on his behalf. "See, we haven't heard from Jimin since last night so uh-- it's just jungkook and I that'll be finishing up work today." Taehyung stated. "About that…."

You heard the door of your room creak open and out comes Jimin with nothing but this boxers on and hickeys all over his neck and chest. The two boys looked at each other dumbfoundedly and once they've put two and two together, huge grins were plastered on their faces. End

tell me what u think pls

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vannahfanfics · 5 years ago

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Romance Dawn

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Lucy Heartfilia

Requested by: @searchfortheonepiece (Tumblr)

“-Happy birthday dear Luuuuucyyyyy! Happy birthday to youuuuu~!”

Lucy’s cheeks were glowing an animated, happy pink as they hollowed for her to suck in a breath, then inflated as she released it to extinguish the sputtering little flames ornamenting the handful of candles that were decorating her birthday cake. As soon as the fires were diminished, Lucy’s eager fingers plucked the wax constructions from the cake; the sooner she could have that mouthful of delicious confection in her mouth, the better! Mirajane’s cooking and baking skills were both legendary, and the creamy texture of the buttercream icing and the flecks of moist cake dropping from the ends of the candles had Lucy’s mouth nearly drooling. Mirajane, seeing her squirm in anticipation, chuckled and wasted no time in carving a large sliver from her creation. No sooner than it dropped down on a plate in front of her did Lucy dive into it was a plastic fork. She nearly melted into a puddle on the spot.

“Oh my God, Mirajane, it’s delicious!” Her compliment was a bit distorted from the square of cake that was bulging in her cheeks, but Mirajane received it well enough.

“Why, thank you, Lucy. Happy birthday!”

As per tradition, the guild had orchestrated a massive birthday party to celebrate Lucy turning one year older. Following the eating (or, absolute destruction of) the birthday cake, the members participated in a number of fun, zany party games that of course took a turn for the deadly as the more monstrously powerful mages got a little bit too competitive. Juvia had to put out at least four fires that Natsu started, Natsu and Gray got in no less than seven fistfights, and somehow poor Wendy got suspended by the back of her dress from the chandelier and cried until Gajeel got her down. It was no less than what Lucy expected from a Fairy Tail party, and she thoroughly enjoyed it; however, even she had her social meter, and thus when everyone was occupied watching Cana and Erza in a beer-chugging contest, she stole out of the front entrance for a brief moment of respite.

They had been at it since about ten in the morning. As she closed the guild’s door quietly shut behind her, she was a little amazed that the sun was setting already. How time flies, she marveled silently. The sun was only halfway down the sky, a thin streak of blue hovering over a cascade of yellow, orange, then deep red as the burning ball of light encroached on the cityscape that housed the Fairy Tail guild. The buildings were thrown into deep shadows as they eclipsed the roiling sun. Violet began to spill down from the north, slowly seeping into the slimming trail of blue sky like ink traveled down a page. A small, content smile was on Lucy’s face as she leaned up against the outside wall of the guild watching the beautiful sunset. Life really was all able the simple pleasures. One by one, the stars blotted into existence, little glittering diamonds on a fluttering cape of night.

“Hey, Lucy. What’re you doin’ out here?” Lucy’s brown eyes tore away from the splendorous display as she was suddenly address. The wooden door clicked shut behind Natsu as he stepped out onto the cobblestone street, looking at her with curious green eyes slightly offset with the tilt of his head. Before he could ask if she was dissatisfied in some way, she gave him a light, reassuring smile.

“Ah, I just came out here to get some fresh air, that’s all! Who won the drinking contest?”

“Cana did, of course. Now Erza’s sloshed,” he answered. The sag in his shoulders and weary expression combined with the faint rumbling of upended tables and slung chairs echoing from within the massive building indicated that Erza’s rage had been released upon the poor denizens of the guild. No wonder Natsu snuck outside too; he was sure to be caught up in it in one way or another if he lingered too long. His face only held that uncomfortable frown for a moment before it brightened to that beautiful, sunny smile that Lucy loved so dearly. Lucy loved so many things about him- that cotton-candy tufty hair that she so longed to run her fingers through, his magnetically energetic personality that seemed to draw her in so powerfully, those green eyes that shone like a grassy summer meadow threaded with emerald flowers… Yet, it was that smile that always captured her, so pure and alight with unbridled joy and child-like affection. Seeing it always made Lucy’s heart clench in her chest- both from the absolutely absurd adorableness and the fact that Natsu likely didn’t see Lucy in the way she saw him. Ugh, don’t think about stuff like that right now… It’s your birthday, dammit!

“Wow, it’s gettin’ dark fast,” Natsu commented as he walked over to lean up against the wall beside her, hands slipped into the pockets of his baggy shorts. He was entire head taller than her, so she had to crane her neck to look at him; the way he was intently staring up at the setting sun made her suck in a small breath. The light played over him beautifully; his sharp jawline was accented into a ridge sharper than Erza’s blades as the shadows passed over his body, and in other areas his skin took on a golden hue from the intensity of the sun’s final moments. His green eyes sparkled with hidden flecks of treasured gold, while his cotton-candy hair seemed to burn all the brighter atop his head, almost the color of azaleas. Lucy’s cheeks flashed that color as his green eyes flickered to meet hers; she was all but caught red-handed gawking at him like a lovestruck teenager. His canines flashed at her as a smug grin spread across his features. “Anyway, Lucy, I have a present for you.”

“Oh?” Her embarrassment was immediately forgotten at the promise of a gift. He turned such that he was propped up against the wall at an angle, large bicep molding into the grain of the wood as his other hand fished deep into his pocket. Lucy’s eyes widened as, with a triumphant grin, his arm flew up to reveal a fist wrapped around the slightly swaying silver chain of a pendant necklace. A couple of little star charms hung on the end of the necklace, and the celestial mage immediately felt her heart swell to the point of bursting with gratitude. “Oh, Natsu… It’s so pretty…” she whispered as delicate fingers rose to run over the white enamel decorating the little silver star shapes. Natsu grin was brighter than the setting sun overhead.

“Lemme put it on for you!” he said with a motion for her to turn around. Lucy did as bid, her hand smoothly sliding her blonde pigtails away from the nape of her neck to allow him unrestricted access. She could not hide the sharp inhale of breath as his fingers ghosted over her skin, raising the small, light hairs at the base of her scalp at his feather-like touches. His nimble, sure hands attached the clasp at the back of her neck and the charms fell down against her chest, and Lucy thought that would be that; however, her entire body stiffened as she was greeted with an unexpected and riveting sensation- Natsu’s lips, pressed against the small patch of skin just above where the chain wound around her slender neck. The tension of the chords of muscles in her body prompted him to push his lips further against her skin and give a sultry murmur of her name.

“N-Natsu,” she stammered and compulsively reached up to enclose a hand around the star charms dangling at her neck, though she hadn’t the faintest idea why; perhaps, she was in desperate need to ground herself on something corporeal, lest she float away from the sheer amount of helium-like bliss bubbling up inside her body. Natsu seemed to realize that she was in no way resisting. Lucy audibly evidenced that as she breathed a deep, shaky sigh at the feeling of his hands returning to her neck, one steadying over the pulsing beat of her jugular while the other slid forward to gently cup her chin, slowly pulling her face back over her shoulder. Lucy’s hazy brown eyes were met with emerald pools of yearning desire and she lightly parted her lips on complete reflex. “Natsu,” she breathed again, an open invitation.

Natsu didn’t waste it.

A low moan hummed in her throat as his mouth enveloped hers. His lips were softer than clouds and sweeter than honey, melting over hers like the finest chocolate. The fluffy pink fibers of his hair weaved into her own long, trailing blonde strands as he moved rhythmically against her, like he wanted to feel every centimeter of her mouth and then some. The hand resting at the side of her neck slowly crept forward to push over the hand that was holding the star charms in a white-knuckled grip, slowly teasing her fingers apart to entwine them tightly with his. When they finally broke apart, they were both a little winded, their huffing pants for air mingling in the very thin stretch of July air between their faces. Lucy’s eyes fluttered as she remained momentarily suspended in the lusty haze, while Natsu beamed broadly and rested his forehead against hers.

“Happy birthday.” After the fog had finally lifted from her brain, Lucy blinked before giving him a sweet smile.

“Hehe, thank you, Natsu. I couldn’t have asked for a better present.”

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon to allow the curtain of night to fall, it signaled a new romance dawn for Lucy and Natsu’s relationship…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#fairy tail #nalu #natsuxlucy #lucyxnatsu #lucy x natsu #natsu x lucy #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail fanfiction #faniry tail fanfic #fairy tail fic #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #oneshot collection #romance #fluff

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ranxiaolong · 6 years ago

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She Shot Me

Summary: How the woman had lived this long and never played laser tag was beyond the humans aboard the TARDIS, but that would change today.

Pairing: The Doctor (13) x fem!reader

Warnings: There’s some very steamy kissing and a bit of suggestive content

A/n: Please tell me your thoughts! I love feedback!

“I can’t believe that you’ve been alive two thousand years and have never played laser tag.”

The Doctor shrugged.

Yaz, Ryan, and (Y/N) exchanged a glance before nodding simultaneously.

“We’re taking you to laser tag,” Ryan gave an authoritative nod.

“I’m not getting a say in this, am I?” the Time Lord stated, half glum and half amused.

“Nope,” (Y/N) chirped cheerfully, “Besides, It’s a crime you haven’t done it at least once.”

The Doctor opened her mouth, ready to dive into one of her long explanations, “Actually—”

“Shut up, Doc.” The Doctor was cut off by an exasperated sigh.

The Doctor landed the TARDIS on a primarily humanoid populated spaceship. Well… gameship. According to the Doctor, the ship primarily held various games that people came from all over the universe to play. The largest arcade in the galaxy, complete with a ball pit that took both (Y/N) and Yaz over ten minutes to pull the Doctor out of.

After Team TARDIS managed to drag the Doctor through the distraction riddled spacecraft, they finally reached a long line that disappeared into a dark entryway, a neon sign blinking above it, giving a very retro look, that read “Laser Tag.”

Graham raised an eyebrow at the winding line, “Do we have to wait in that?” He turned to Yasmin, Ryan, and (Y/N) who looked at each other before grinning.

“Well...” Ryan starts.

“Don’t need to,” Yaz looked at (Y/N).

“See?” (Y/N) dangled the worn leather wallet that held the Doctor’s psychic paper.

Graham looked slightly incredulously at Yasmin, “Aren’t you a police officer? Shouldn’t you be against pickpocketing?”

Yasmin shrugged with a grin still on her lips, “This is a special case.”

“Yeah,” Ryan slung his arm over y/n’s shoulders, “we’re fixing a crime. The crime of the Doctor never playing laser tag.”

(Y/N) and Ryan quickly dabbed before bursting out laughing.

Graham couldn’t help but roll his eyes but a smile tugged on his lips.

(Y/N) clapped a hand on Ryan’s back as she craned her neck to see the employee who was letting people into the laser tag area. “Right, you go drag the Doctor over here,” (Y/N) jerked her thumb in the direction the Doctor was trying to go unnoticed towards, “while I...” (Y/N)’s tongue poked between her teeth as she analysed a frizzy, dark haired girl in a uniformed black t shirt and pants, “go do some convincing.” (Y/N) winked towards the rest of the group then bounded off towards the unsuspecting woman who was standing somewhat bored at the entryway.

Yasmin starred after her for a moment in confusion before her eyes widened slightly and a snort left her mouth. “Go get the Doctor,” Yaz nodded towards Ryan, “It won’t take long for (Y/N) to flirt with that girl and get us in.”

“Sweet.” Ryan turned around to chase after the Time Lord and drag her back towards the group.

Graham continued to watch (Y/N) as she conversed with the woman, tapping Yaz’s arm and pointing when (Y/N) disappeared behind a black curtain with the employee after showing the woman the psychic paper. Yasmin and Graham were both intently watching the spot where the two had been standing for a few minutes before seeing (Y/N) emerge from the dark curtain, hair slightly mussed and a light pink smear across her mouth and neck.

“We’re good to go,” (Y/N) had a wide grin plastered to her mouth as she fiddled with a few loose buttons on her shirt, “you catch the Doc yet?”

Yasmin rolled her eyes while she fished out a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped at the smears on (Y/N)’s skin.

“Oi! I got her!” Ryan yelled as he dragged the Time Lord behind him.

“Great, let’s go.”

“Okay, so for our first timers here or for anyone that needs a refresher, I’ll be going over the rules of the game.” A boy that looked to be in his late teens or early twenties was buzzing with energy while standing in front of a large screen in the dim room filled with people. “You will be split into two teams, and each team has a base you need to protect. The goal is to both protect your base and infiltrate the other side’s base. Whichever team scores the most points at the enemy base wins.”

Ryan exchanges a subtle fist bump with (Y/N).

”You score points on a base by shooting at the sphere on the ceiling inside until the defense bar reaches zero.” The screen behind the boy lit up with an image of the said sphere, “The amount of damage is displayed next to the sphere, so you will know exactly how much it more it will take to score a point. The room is set up with various mazes and other obstacles that you can use to your advantage in protecting your territory.”

Ryan leaned over towards (Y/N)’s ear, whispering, “A bit techy, but still good old fashioned laser tag.”

“We have a variety of different items you can use in the room that mimic human technology of the time period, ranging from small handguns to larger models like rifles and snipers. The guns do have a limit of up to three shots per second, depending on the model, and they need to be ‘reloaded’ or recharged to fire more ammunition. On the side of the gun will be a bar showing how much ammo you have left before you need to recharge.”

(Y/N) lightly bumps against Ryan’s shoulder, “But definitely good techy, eh?” A grin pulls on both of their lips. “Oh, yeah.”

“Now, would everyone please look at the black wristband we had you put on when you entered the room? Could you all please tap the display screen? The wristband does a full body scan and can detect if you have been hit by a laser by detecting the infrared light and an electromagnetic charge on a localized spot on your body. You will feel a slight zap and hear a small beep to notify you if you are hit, but it is completely harmless. If you do get hit, a timer will appear above your head, counting down from sixty seconds, and you are stuck within a one meter radius of where you were hit until the timer reaches zero, then you will be teleported back to your base’s teleport pad. Are there any questions?”

(Y/N) turned around to see if the Doctor was unclear on any of the rules of the game, when (Y/N) noticed that the Doctor’s gaze was not on the boy who just gave the rules, and her eyebrows drawn together with a frown tugging on her lips. (Y/N) followed the alien’s line of sight to the frizzy haired woman from before. As soon as (Y/N) locked eyes with the woman (who had apparently been looking at her the entire time) the woman sent a flirtatious wink towards (Y/N). (Y/N) gave her a half smile in acknowledgment before turning back to the Doctor, who’s expression had become even more sour.

“Hey Doc, did you get all of the rules? You seem a bit distracted.”

“Protect the base, invade the opposing base, don’t get shot.” The Doctor didn’t look away from the woman and her voice was a bit more tense than usual.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened at the Doctor’s stiff tone. The always bubbly and excitable woman was hardly ever like this. There were times where she was more serious and tense, sure, but that was when they were in situations that were significantly closer to the life or death of an entire planet rather than listening to instructions on how not to get zapped by a blue beam from a toy.

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed, “Is something wrong, Doctor?” Her puckered frown deepened but she shook her head, not taking her eyes off of the frizzy haired woman.

That was odd.

Was the Doctor intrigued by the woman?

No, she looked too grumpy for that to be the case.

Did the Doctor not like the attention the woman was giving (Y/N)?

Well that seemed pretty obvious given the limited information.

Did the Doctor think the woman was attractive?

Well, who knew really? She never expressed who (or what, for that matter) she found attractive.

Did the Doctor want to take the woman with them to travel?

From what (Y/N) picked up from various things left around the TARDIS and scattered pictures in a few rooms, the Doctor certainly had a history with woman in some form or another, many looking like they had all of ten seconds preparation before hopping aboard the TARDIS.

Did the Doctor like her?

That one tasted particularly bitter in (Y/N)’s mouth.

A small grimace made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips as she leaned her head against Yasmin’s shoulder.

Yasmin rested her cheek on (Y/N)’s head, “what’s wrong?”

A grunt bubbled up (Y/N)’s throat, all intelligible words lost in the process.

Yasmin’s gaze slid over to the Doctor.

“Ah.”

“Mhhh.”

Yasmin wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and rubbed soft circles with her thumb.

The Doctor didn’t notice that Yaz had caught the Doctor’s eyes glancing at her hand.

“So how are we going to do this?”

Ryan placed a hand on Yasmin and (Y/N)’s shoulders.

“We should probably split up onto different teams, especially,” Yasmin pointed at the Doctor, “her.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry Doc, you got all the instructions. Besides, we haven’t won at any games against you yet, and we want to win this one.”

“I’ll team up with the Doc, then,” Graham piped up, “I’m not sure how good I’ll be at this but it should be fun.”

“Great. Yaz, Ryan, and I will go to the Blue Team and you two go to the Red Team.” (Y/N) cracked her knuckles.

“What will the winner get?” Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed, “If we’re having a competition we need a prize—”

“A kiss from me. We can figure it out later,” (Y/N) interrupted, “we need to get to our sides soon.”

As the words fell out of (Y/N)’ mouth, the rest of the humans comprising Team TARDIS glanced at the Doctor, whose face had flushed momentarily at (Y/N)’s proposal.

“How about dinner on the looser?”

“You want to chance leaving dinner up to her?” (Y/N) jabbed a finger in the Doctor’s direction.

“Oi!”

“Right, bad idea.”

“Hey!”

The boy who explained the rules clapped twice, “We need everyone to split into teams!” The boy held up a hand, lines on his glove and shirt glowing red. “Those on the Red team, gather here so I can take you to your equipment. Those on the Blue Team gather by Mir-Lek.” The boy gestured with his other arm towards the frizzy haired girl who's glove was glowing blue.

“Those on the Blue Team gather here, I’ll be taking you to your base and equipment.”

Yasmin and (Y/N) turned to follow Ryan, who was halfway towards towards Mir-Lek. “I guess we’ll see you guys in the arena.”

The Doctor waved after the group as they walked away. Her eyes followed (Y/N) as Mir-Lek smiled at (Y/N) and the frizzy haired woman’s posture became more flirty.

The Doctor grimaced before trudging off with Graham to the group for the Red Team.

“Don’t you think she’s a bit too good for her first time playing this game?” Ryan’s out of breath voice sounded from behind (Y/N)’s crouched form. “She’s scored more than ten points on our base for this round already. I thought it was beginner's luck in the first few rounds we played, but this is getting ridiculous.”

A grimace graced (Y/N)’s lips, “We really need to step up our game this round or we are going to lose this one too.”

Yasmin raised her hand to her mouth in thought, “Is there a surefire way to distract her?”

Ryan’s face lit up, “That’s it!”

Both Yaz and (Y/N) turned to look at Ryan. “What? You have an idea?” Yasmin’s head tilted slightly.

“We play dirty.”

Yasmin and (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed before understanding passed through their eyes. (Y/N)’s brows furrowed.

“But she’s not interested, that’s only how it work on other people.”

“Come on, (Y/N). Open your eyes and you would see she’s looking at you, not someone else.”

(Y/N) bit her lip.

“Hey. And if it doesn’t work out, rounds on me.” Ryan lightly patted (Y/N)’s back. “I’ll also get you that ice cream from that place you like on the corner next to the bakery.”

(Y/N) let out a sigh and nodded.

“Sooo, can you get the Doctor?”

A smirk edged it’s way onto (Y/N)’s face, “Don’t worry. Leave the Doctor to me.”

(Y/N) was crouched behind a barrier near the edge of a maze, where she found out from the sniper on the top of the tower the Doctor used as a way to pass through most of the main defenses by the front of the base.

(Y/N) closed her eyes, her senses concentrated on any approaching footsteps. She pressed an ear to the ground, soft footfalls reverberating through the floor. The (h/c) girl lifted her head and pressed her fingers to the floor, ready to pounce on the incoming person.

The Doctor rounded the corner, not seeing (Y/N) crouched on the ground, in a half sprint. (Y/N) launched up from her hiding place at the Doctor, who turned around and was raising her gun when (Y/N) slammed into her. The Doctor’s gun slips from her hands, clattering on the floor, and (Y/N) backed her up and pins the Doctor’s hands to the wall behind her.

The Doctor’s breath hitched and her heartbeats quickened. The Time Lord’s teeth grazed her lower lip and her arms tensed, hands clenching. (Y/N) was close. Too close. Not really, but too close for for her sanity to take at the moment. She could feel (Y/N)’s warm breath coming out in quick puffs across her flushed skin. She wasn’t red from running, compared to most of their adventures, the running was light. Very light. But (Y/N)’s scent was flooding her nose and her brain was short circuiting. She had to get away. This was bad. The Doctor’s eyes darted from (Y/N)’s eyes down to her lips for a fraction of a second. This was very bad. She wouldn’t be able to control herself in this position. She needed to—

The Doctor’s eyes went wide as soft lips crashed against her mouth. The Doctor’s limbs went limp, her legs weak and barely supporting her weight. (Y/N)’s hands moved to one resting on the Doctor’s shoulder and the other cupping her cheek as she was raised on her toes. The Doctor’s eyes fluttered closed as (Y/N)’s lips moved against hers.

(Y/N) pulled away and the Doctor stood dazed, her eyes fluttered open. The air was heavy and a buzz dulled the Doctor’s senses. She barely processed as (Y/N)’s eyes flicked between her eyes and lips, bringing (Y/N)’s face to hers again. This time was more desperate, more needy. The Doctor brought (Y/N) as close to her as she could, as if this was the last time she would breath the sweet oxygen that was (Y/N)’s lips. The Time Lord felt (Y/N) moan against her mouth and a spark of heat ignited in the pit of her stomach.

The Doctor lost her hands in (Y/N)’s hair, tangling them in an effort to bring the rambunctious human impossibly closer to her lips. She felt fire where (Y/N)’s hands were trailing down her sides. (Y/N) pressed the Doctor more firmly against the wall with her pelvis, a moan drawn from the Doctor’s lips as her hips automatically jerked towards (Y/N)’s.

(Y/N) teased one of her hands down the Doctor’s hips, and the Time Lord whimpered when the human’s fingers retracted from their trail along her side.

The Doctor felt a small pressure between her breasts, and her heart rates increased. She felt a small electric zing and a faint beep that didn’t fully register in her brain.

(Y/N) pulled away, and the Doctor leaned forward, trying to chase her lips before processing the sound.

The Doctor’s eyes shot open as (Y/N) took a step backwards, a cheeky grin splitting her face, the gun still held up and level with the Doctor’s chest.

The Doctor’s jaw dropped open in disbelief, turning her gaze to above her head. Red numbers flashed above her head. 53.

“That’s not fair!”

(Y/N) bit her tongue while grinning, “All’s fair in love and war,” (Y/N) sang. The Doctor felt her heartbeats quicken. (Y/N) spun around on her heal, a flirty sway in her hips right before she dashed off.

A sway the Doctor very much enjoyed watching.

The Doctor sighed and lightly traced her lips with her fingers, waiting for the timer to finish.

Yasmin, Ryan, and (Y/N) were cheering loudly in their booth in a bar, their victory being celebrated with food and drinks.

Their win was stifling. After (Y/N) had cornered the Doctor, the Blue Team’s look out had been sending (Y/N) in the Doctor’s path, and every time the Doctor caught sight of (Y/N) she would fumble and either (Y/N) or a nearby sniper would hit the Time Lord. The Red Team had been heavily relying on the Doctor for points, and with her being distracted, they had to send more people out to infiltrate the Blue fortress, leaving their defenses weaker to the mass raids made by the Red Team on their base.

The Doctor and Graham sat across from the energetic group. Graham smiled at their enthusiasm. The Doctor was pouting at her loss, but was trying not to let on that she didn’t care as much as she was letting on. She was still having trouble keeping eye contact with (Y/N), but (Y/N)’s lack of gaze in her direction at the moment was a small relief and sting at the same time.

Ryan leaned more on top of (Y/N), “So what is our prize for winning?”

Ryan and Yasmin’s arms around (Y/N)’s shoulders, (Y/N) squished between the two other humans in the booth.

“Yeah, what should we get?” Yasmin popped the foreign snack on the table into her mouth, small deep fried local vegetables of some sort, heavily inspired by Earth’s Asian cuisine.

(Y/N) grinned, “I thought it was decided.” (Y/N) pecked Yasmin’s then Ryan’s cheek. “A kiss from me.”

Yasmin broke out laughing and Ryan lightly hit (Y/n)’s shoulder, a smile on his face. “Well, I suppose it will have to do.”

(Y/N) gasped in mock offence, “Rude.”

“But you know you love us,” Yasmin sang beside (Y/N).

“Unfortunately.”

The Doctor bit her lip at the display, remembering the kiss she received, and a bubble of satisfaction rose in her chest that her kiss was better.

She felt like she was the one who had won.

(Y/N) was walking down one of the many criss-crossing hallways inside of the TARDIS with a bounce in her step, lightly humming to herself, hands crossed behind her head.

As (Y/N) was mid-step, she was pulled down an adjacent hallway. (Y/N) found herself trapped against the wall between the Doctor’s arms.

“I think you owe me for what you pulled in that last round,” the Doctor growled out, voice slightly raspy.

“Oh? I do, do I?” (Y/N)’s eyes flicked down from the Doctor’s eyes to her lips momentarily, and the Doctor felt her breath catch in her throat.

Barely a whisper was breathed out, faces centimeters apart. “Yeah.”

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