#I am a commander of the watch transported to the past to be my own mentor and stop everyone from dying in a violent revolution

[vectorofsins]

I bring you cursed knowledge: Night Watch is an isekai story

[s1ater]

potential.

pairings. levi ackerman x fem!reader

about. levi has an eye on you.

warnings. gifs not mine, foul language

rickey rocks. okay something different for my blog. I know this has some flaws and inaccuracies with the cold and titans but whatever. I am also scheming up a reiner fic hehe

the frigid weather soaked every particle of your body as you trudged through snow that continued to pile up on the mountain you trekked on. the thick flakes that invaded your vision made it hard for you to even remotely focus on where you were going--where you needed to be.

you'd be buried before you'd reach camp.

the 104 cadet corps were set on the footpath of a mountain as a training exercise despite the ruthless weather. the blizzard was weather meant for death, and even as months of training beat down on you and your fellow cadets practically prepared you for such harsh conditions, some of you were still yet to grow immune to rough circumstances.

you pulled daz, a fellow comrade, on a makeshift sleigh in order for easy transportation through the snow. but even with that and as time had passed and snow had begun to pile, it wasn't as easy as the first hour. the boy who had seemed to have fallen ill with the more time spent in the cold was passing the similar feeling on to you.

fucking hell.

sometimes you felt keith sadies only lived to watch you all suffer.

training had to be one of the biggest pains in your ass. especially when your fellow comrades lacked the level of aptitude you solely possessed. and especially after the large interest levi ackerman had shown of you.

the training corps had been bustling for the past week over the matter of you and your level of mastery at anything thrown your way. it was always like that; it was hard for your skill to go unnoticed or grow accustomed to for that matter, but this time, the only difference was the matter of who was noticing you.

levi ackerman was a highly admired man among your comrades--well really anyone within the walls. humanities strongest soldier. he was agile and had genius combat skills. he always seemed to know the enemies next move before they did.

so when levi ackerman, captain of the levi squad, somehow found himself wandering amongst the cadet corps in search of girl who possessed the same level of skill that they said mirrored his own--he couldn't help but come see for himself.

and what he saw... he must've liked.

"god, help me," you grit your teeth, giving the rope you had slung around your shoulder one last tug before halting.

it was quiet here, windy, but quiet. you truly and finally felt alone up on this snowy mountain, even more so that it seemed you were so close to death. but at least it was quiet.

you glance down to daz's bundled up body, almost wishing you were him instead of the one dragging his body to possible refuge. this could all be for nothing... your decision to stay back in hopes to save another body might lead to your death too and--, "no."

you can't think like that. not now.

"gotta keep moving," you pull the rope again. "think of something else, y/n."

think of him.

"you're impressive, miss y/l/n," you sat in the dining hall watching this so called "greatest solider" with careful and timid eyes as he paced before you. "but I'm sure you know that already."

he watched you train. he watched you get tested by your head commander with screams. he watched you send anyone who fought hand to hand combat against you to their ass. he watched and he almost admired you.

even with the slight crack in his usual stoic shell, you were still at a loss as to what he was doing here. he kept his true intentions to himself, not even caring to speak to commander sadies. requesting you to the dining hall was his first move out of observing, but you sat here still, wondering, what did he want?

"I want you, y/n."

your slight recollection is broken by a loud, ground shaking sound.

thump. thump.

you freeze, feeling every bit of your body grow colder than it already was--if that was even possible.

"shit, shit, shit," you knew that sound. you knew exactly what that meant. you were quick to press your pace faster and onward as if to escape it, but you knew better. "not now."

you stop just as fast as you started, looking around fastly; looking toward daz's body. you needed to find coverage.

thump. thump. thump.

your eyes survey the scenery around you, seeking for something that could not only hide you, but the boy that was getting harder and harder to keep alive.

it was like fate didn't want you to be a good person.

your eyes settled on a lower tree line. you had to get higher. to have the advantage, you needed height. there was no way getting away from this thing and there was no way you’d kill this thing at your small height.

you had to climb.

but daz.

“you’re becoming a real pain in my ass,” you grit your teeth, lugging him toward the tall pine trees.

you’ve disregarded the rope, now pulling him by the cotton fabric sleeping bag he was wrapped in. you huffed, shuffling backwards as fast as you could till you felt a wall of branches push against you.

thump. thump.

it was close now. the sound of its footfalls were earth shattering—you could feel it in your bones. this drove you to move faster than you could barely process. you got on your hands and knees, pushing daz’s body into the underbelly of the tree, deciding this would be the best place to store him as you would attempt to butcher the oncoming titan.

you're swift to pull off your pack now, shuffling through the contents inside looking for the thick dagger you didn't go anywhere without. this would be hard without ODM gear, nearly impossible, but your level of skill would be just enough to get you through this.

once you possessed the blade, you dropped your pack under the tree--

thump. thump. thump.

there it was.

it's ugly face barely peaked over the top of the pine trees as it guided itself through them in search of you. it's jaw was already unlatched and salivating at the mouth.

"fuck me," you pulled yourself into the pine tree, now scaling to the top as fast as possible. "levi, you fucking bastard."

"you're from shiganshina."

you nod.

he does as well, slowly his pace, "is that why you want to become a scout? for revenge"

"no," you shook your head, still keeping your eyes strictly trained on the table you sat at.

"then why?" he sat before you now, taking you by surprise and causing you to finally looking at him--just like he wanted.

you swallowed sharply. you didn't understand this level of intimidation that suddenly took over you--you had heard all of the stories of levi ackerman, but you didn't find yourself swooning like your fellow comrades. what was so special about him? nothing--is what you thought... and yet you sat here in slight anxiety as if you were sitting in the presence of royalty.

"I'm not sure... honestly," you glance up at him. "all my life I had my father telling me what I was and what I wanted. he told me my purpose was to become a scout—but now that i’m here, i’m not so sure.”

levi is silent as he thinks over your words, then, humming, nodding slowly, “i’ll give you purpose, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

you now fully look at him, almost taken aback by his choice of words, but intrigued.

levi felt pitty for you. you were polluted with so much potential and yet you lacked a drive to fulfill it. he knew there was more to you than just a skilled soldier who overruled their comrades, and he so desperately wanted to see it. if you were so good now, he couldn’t imagine how good you’d be with the right motivation.

“i want you to join levi squad, y/n,” he folds his hands. “you’re very excellent for your age and i know you know it. your comrades know it. i know it.”

levi is typically reluctant to admit admiration for another, especially upon first meeting. admiration and praise was earned, but it seemed you were different.

“you’re too good for training, i know you think that, but you need it. you already possess an advantage over all your peers, better for them to think they still have a chance rather than initiate you weeks into training,” he gets up now.

“wait,” you stand with him. “what does this mean?”

“this means you’re an upcoming scout of levi scout.”

you curse levi now as you hold your self tightly to a pine tree, attempting to push yourself far from an unlatched jaw bearing its teeth at you.

yeah, fuck levi and his request to cushion the egos of your fellow comrades.

**

"can't believe she would ruin her chances with levi squad this easily."

"what do you propose she should've done; leave daz to the wolves and let him freeze to death?"

jean doesn't say anything to eren's response, knowing that's exactly what he would've done, or at least left him to someone else to drag him along.

"that's probably why captain levi took so much interest in her, jean," armin sets his gaze on the side of his campions face, shining light to what some of them may have considered your act of courageousness, stupidity. "not only is she impressive with battle tactic, but she also looks out for her fellow comrades."

"just like we're going to do," mikasa's hollow voice catches all of their attention.

"you don't mean you want to go all the way back out there?" jean looks at the side of the girl's face like she's almost insane. "after the long trek we already went through?"

“what is that?” eren's voice covers jean's whiney protests once his eyes size onto the faint sight of a dark figure. "y/n?" his voice is faint as he squints, attempting to clear up his vision, but it's no use with the excessive amount of wind and snow plaguing every inch of his sight.

"no way that's not her."

it becomes more and more abundantly clear what they were looking at, especially as they take steps closer--but your appearance doesn't match the one of which they last saw you at.

"I'll go get commander shadis," armin leans toward the cabins, running off.

you are drenched in blood. everything about you is staggered and it wasn't just because of you still carrying daz. you limp roughly, leaving your comrades to their imagination on what could have caused that, but they don't have a choice after you collapse into the snow.

**

"you should've left that boy behind," his voice pierces your ears despite his low tone. "it's not smart to risk your life for another who's deadweight."

you dig the heal of your palm into your eyes as you attempt to push on to listen to levi. you fail. your head throbs and your body still aches from days before.

"what can I say, I like a challenge," you scowl at his distasteful comment once you summon up enough energy to respond.

he resists to roll his eyes at your comeback, staring down at your slouched over figure, "I can't have my best solider dead."

it didn't take long for word to reach levi about his prized possession not only saving a fellow cadet, but also killing a titan--even if that titan was a small baby one.

"technically I'm not yours yet... according to you."

"smartass." he scoffs, "your compassion is admirable, but I'd appreciate it if you kept yourself subtle from here on out. got it?"

"yeah, whatever," your lack of energy and exhaustion was clear now to levi with low of an effort you were putting into being snarky with him. you expect him to say nothing in return but by the way he examines you, it's almost like there's more.

"don't make me regret my decision," he turns on his heal, "not a lot of people are lucky enough to have the talent that you have or the opportunities you'll be given. don't make me look like a fool.”

you watch him walk out without another word, his footfalls echoing in the empty hall outside the private room. you resist the urge to clench your fists too hard at the sound of his last words ringing inside of your head. they make your chest tighten at thought of just one more person to please, especially with it being someone's judgement you actually care for.

you didn't need this.

but you want it.

"fuck you, levi."

[fluentmoviequoter]

I love love looooveee your Victor Vale fics, you depict him so well! Can I please request another (angst to) fluff with f!reader? Plot is up to you. Thank you and keep up the good work!

I am so glad to hear you love them!! Thank you so much; Victor is a character that I really love so I try especially hard to portray him at least somewhat accurately, and you just made my week! I hope I portrayed him well in this; apologies for its relatively short length, but I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Summary: You side with Eli after Victor kills Angie, and it takes you ten years to join the winning team, unable to think for yourself at the hands of Eli and Serena.

Warnings: spoilers for Vicious, I changed a lot of events, angst to fluff, vague depictions of injuries, kind of open ending (if anyone wants part 2 lmk)

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

A/N: This is my last fic of 2023! I am so thankful for each and every one of you who has read, requested, and commented. I appreciate you more than you know and look forward to another year of writing! Happy New Year!✨

Picture from Pinterest

The Winning Team

Victor Vale is one of your best friends at Lockland. Or he was until he killed Angie Knight. While your emotions wage war within you, wondering how and why Victor would or could do that, Eli approaches you. He tells you about Victor’s mindset and how he tried to kill Eli.

“I’m leaving,” Eli tells you at the end of the shocking story. “And I think you should come with me.”

Someone moves in the shadows behind Eli. It feels like your intended answer is just out of reach in your mind, but you answer before you can find it.

“Okay. I’ll come with you,” you say.

“Go pack and meet me outside my dorm at 1,” Eli commands before leaving.

“You’re leaving with him?” Victor asks, suddenly standing behind you. “Don’t. He’s not telling the whole truth. You know just as well as I do that he is not who he pretends to be.”

“I’m going with him, Victor. You’re not who I thought you were, either.”

You brush past Victor, determined to get your things together and to Eli’s side as quickly as possible. Victor watches you go, aware that you’re in danger but unable to do anything about it.

✯✯✯✯✯

Ten years after leaving Victor, you know you made a mistake. You’re constantly aware that you can’t make your own decisions, especially when Eli tells you to do something. When he introduced you to Serena, you felt like she could see a bit too much of you, and things began to click into place.

“Run the search again, see if Victor has been found yet,” Eli demands, not even bothering to look at you anymore.

You stay in place, willing yourself to say no. Eli glances up, his brows furrowing as he repeats himself.

“Run the search.”

You nod, fighting each movement as you approach the computer and search again. Sleepless nights make it harder to fight back, but whenever you lay down, somewhat free to think for yourself, all you can think about is Victor. Wishing you’d listened and chosen to go with him instead brings tears to your eyes, but you aren’t strong enough to change anything now.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Call the police and tell them you were Victor Vale’s accomplice. Serena will help you get into the same room with him, and you can get some answers for us,” Eli says.

Your brain screams for you to refuse, but all you can do is cry and agree to do what he says. Maybe Victor will have found some answers and can help you. Your optimism doesn’t go far, slipping from your grasp as you’re put into the back of a police cruiser and transported to a questioning room.

When you’re put in the second car and driven to the far side of Merit, something loosens, and your thoughts come a little easier. Perhaps your optimism wasn’t entirely unfounded.

✯✯✯✯✯

The police let you go, angry that you switched your story and admitted that you’d only heard about Victor in passing. Narrowly escaping an obstruction charge, you walk out of the station and onto the streets of Merit. A blonde girl and a large black dog catch your attention, and you smile, deciding to talk to her to see if you can speak for yourself.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What do you mean she’s out of reach? Powers don’t work like that!” Eli screams.

“Don’t yell at me,” Serena replies. “And don’t throw another temper tantrum.”

Eli sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Find her and I can get her back on our side.”

“If it isn’t too late,” Eli mumbles.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Victor?” you ask, glancing up from your conversation about Dol.

“Sydney, go back to Mitch,” he says, looking directly at you. “Now.”

“But she-“

“Now.”

Sydney drops her head, whispering goodbye to you as she leads Dol away. Victor looks as dangerous as ever, but you’re glad that shrinking away is your choice.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “I should have listened to you. But I know things that can help you, Victor.”

“You didn’t believe me. Why should I believe you?”

“It’s a really long story. I am so sorry, I know you were right and I’m sorry I left. Please just let me try to make up for it. At least a little.”

You step forward, and Victor steps back, keeping the distance between you. Your heart falls as his eyes remain impassive, and he refuses to listen to you.

“Vic, please,” you whisper.

“Not this time,” he says, convinced that you’re trying to get close to him for Eli.

Turning up the dial, he watches you drop to your knees in pain before he leaves. You watch his trench coat blow behind him, blurring with your tears until you can’t see anything, finally succumbing to the pain.

Victor wishes he could trust you, but he’s learned his lesson. People aren’t what you think. Anyone willing to trust Eli once is too far gone to be saved.

✯✯✯✯✯

Victor and Mitch stand in the shadows, waiting for Serena. Unknown to them, you’ve followed Serena since she arrived in Merit. You know that if she finds you and talks to you, it will be over, so you wear earplugs and keep your distance. Tonight, though, is the night everything ends.

Stepping through the fence, you grab Serena’s coat and pull her back.

“This is my decision,” you whisper in her ear.

✯✯✯✯✯

Victor throws his arm across Mitch’s chest to stop him when he surges forward. They watch Serena slump before falling to the ground. Her killer disappears into the shadows before Sydney screams, and they run into the Falcon Price project.

✯✯✯✯✯

Hearing a scream, you have a paralyzing fear that it’s Sydney. You just killed her sister, but the brief conversation you had with her created a soft spot. Rushing into the building, you realize you’re willing to give your life for Sydney. And, given the choice, you’ll do it. Tears grow in your eyes as you make the first important choice in years, running headfirst into danger.

✯✯✯✯✯

Victor stands over Eli’s body, a knife dangling from Victor's blood-stained hand. You slide to a stop, not expecting such a gruesome scene.

“Where’s Sydney?” you ask, breathless from running through the construction site.

Victor’s eyes lift to yours before he steps over Eli and takes your face in his hands.

“What happened?” he demands, looking at your blood-soaked front.

“She’s gone,” you whisper. “I’m me again.”

Victor immediately knows what you mean. You’re the one who killed Serena. You watch his eyes move as he realizes that you didn’t choose to abandon him, that you did the right thing, that you were telling the truth, and worst of all, he hurt you for no reason.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer than usual as his hands drop to your shoulders.

It isn’t much, but you think it’s Victor’s form of an apology. He’s exactly the same as he was ten years ago, or as close as he can be following ten years of fighting for his life and inflicting pain.

“Let me help,” you say, resting your hands on his chest. “With everything.”

Victor nods, and you smile for the first time in too long.

✯✯✯✯✯

As the adrenaline drains from your system, you begin to feel every injury you’ve encountered doing Eli’s dirty work. Victor notices your limp and offers an arm, letting you lean on him as he supports you. Mitch, Sydney, Dol, and Dom await Victor when you arrive. He ignores their questions, leading you to a private area before helping you sit. 

“What happened?” Victor asks, setting an open first aid kit beside you.

“Serena, I guess,” you answer quietly, bracing yourself as he cleans your wounds. “I know Eli was manipulating me, but there was this tugging in my mind from the moment Eli asked me to go with him. Serena has been around longer than we knew, at least that’s what I think.”

Victor nods, working silently. Your pain numbs with each of his gentle touches.

“You’re numbing my pain,” you accuse.

“It’s my fault. Least I can do.”

“It’s not. Vic, you need to forgive yourself, you didn’t know.”

“I should have. I know how Eli is - was, so I knew what you were up against, and I still left. That’s on me.”

“I forgave you,” you whisper, “as soon as I left. And then again when you left.”

Victor hums, closing the first aid kit and kneeling before you.

“I can’t forgive myself,” he murmurs, “not without your help.”

Victor brushes his lips against yours, but the door opens, and he pulls away too quickly.

“This isn’t over yet,” Mitch says, tossing a newspaper to Victor. He smiles and winks at you while Victor picks up the paper.

You read the headline over Victor’s shoulder, wrapping your hands around his bicep.

“I’m glad I’m on the right team now,” you say.

“Me too,” Victor says, tossing the paper aside and cupping your face. “You were always meant to be on my side. The winning team.”

[silverwings22]

Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter 53: Afterlife- Five Finger Death Punch

Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness

Chapter warnings: Death, exploitation of the clones, violent racism against clones, violence

Translations: cyar'ika: sweetheart Cyare: beloved vod: brother ram'ser: sniper buir: mother/father ba'voduse: aunts/uncles shebs: ass ad'ika: little one ba'buir: grandmother/grandfather

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There were more stormtroopers and less clones now. As much as he'd detested working with regs, Crosshair had to admit that the familiarity was missed. He waited outside a transport for his new commanding officer, leaning on his rifle with his helmet off.

"They're a lot more open now. About hating clones." Mayrin, his ever present shadow that nobody else could seem to see, leaned against the ship next to him. "I dunno why you put up with it."

Crosshair hmphed in her direction, adjusting his toothpick. "Orders are orders."

"Yeah, yeah. Dumb orders." She rolled her eyes, watching a few older regs being led off for their unhappy forced retirement. "They're being thrown away, and those guys don't have anywhere to go. You do. All you have to do is comm her. She'd come back for you."

Crosshair ignored her, narrowing his eyes. She was talking about Miria, of course. She brought the Jedi and the Batch up every time she spoke to him, like she knew them as well as he used to. Combine that with the snippets of her voice he kept hearing, and her appearance in his dreams… "You don't even know her."

"Yes I do."

Before he could snap, a snub-nosed nat born walked up. "CT-9904? I am Lieutenant Nolan… You're out of uniform."

Crosshair quickly stuck his helmet on. Behind him, a couple of the remaining regs were laughing about finally getting back into a combat mission. Nolan sneered. "More clones."

"Problem, sir?"

"I don't like used equipment." 

Nolan walked past him into the transport with a contingency of stormtroopers. Crosshair hissed quietly. 

"See what I mean? They don't like clones, just because you're clones." Mayrin grumbled. "He'll throw you away the first chance he gets, and the Empire will give him a medal for it."

"Shut up." Crosshair grabbed his gun roughly and stomped up the transport ramp. Fucking hell, this kid…

Barton-4 was cold and bleak, and Crosshair wished it didn't remind him of Kaller. He already hated this place, even before the chill seeped into his armor. 

Miria would hate this place. She hates the snow. 

He wasn't supposed to give a shit about what she hated, but the thought lingered stubbornly in the stark white of the landscape. She'd wrinkle her adorable button nose and pull her robes closer at the first icy breeze, taking a step closer to him. 

"You okay, cyar'ika?"

"Yes. It just… reminds me of Illum. I'm not overly fond of snow."

"You sure you're up for this?"

"Yes, my darling. I can do it."

A bedraggled and tired looking clone led then into the facility, which seemed all but abandoned. There were only three troopers remaining from the garrison. 

Nolan seemed determined to be as much of a pain in the ass as possible. "This outpost is disgustingly under-guarded. Where are your men?"

"Dead. Hexx, Veech, and I are all that's left. Barely enough to maintain a perimeter." The commander shrugged. He was bearded, his armor covered in scraps of cloth to maintain some warmth. "You must be our reinforcements. We expected you thirty seven rotations ago. You're late."

"The Empire operates on its own schedule, not yours. You will address me with respect, clone." Nolan sneered.

The commander glanced at the rows of clone helmets resting on crates around them, a memorial of the brothers he'd lost. "In my experience, respect is earned."

Nolan huffed and walked off to inspect the rest of the facility. The Commander sighed, shaking his head before looking at Crosshair. "Name's Mayday."

"Crosshair." The sniper usually wouldn't waste time with formalities, or bother getting friendly with regs. But months of crippling loneliness had a way of worming through his guard in the way a lifetime on Kamino had opened him up to Miria. He was beginning to suspect nothing was going to stop him from seeing her in every single moment, no matter how far she was. 

Is that really so bad? I… miss her. 

Mayday looked at him curiously. "You know the lieutenant well?"

"For about two hours."

The commander huffed. "C'mon. I'll give you the lay of the land." They headed out into the snow. 

"What happened to your men?" Crosshair asked. 

"Raiders, insurgents after the cargo. We've been out here for a year with nothing." Mayday explained. 

"How'd they get around the sensors?" 

"The conditions have degraded our equipment. I requested replacements, but we never got anything." Mayday knocked on a pole lightly, the sensor light on it flickering. "Whatever is in those crates better be worth it."

Crosshair was startled. "You don't know what the cargo is?"

"No. Apparently it's above a clone trooper's pay grade." The bitter tone in Mayday's voice wasn't missed. "If you go to scout, don't go alone and don't go far. You'll freeze to death in your armor if something else doesn't kill you first. They'll like it, though." He pointed up at a circling ice-vulture. "Vicious creatures, but you can't help but admire them. They find a way to survive."

Crosshair glanced up at the circling creature searching for carrion. Keeping themselves alive by the death of others… a part of nature that all too suddenly felt oppressive on his skin. Why did it make him think of that moment on the platform, when Miria reached her burned hands out towards him? He'd been cruel, hadn't he? 

"I don't care what you believe, or what you want."

"I know. But… if you ever change your mind… you can always come home. As long as I'm alive, there's a place for you wherever I am…"

"You won't be for long, will you?"

He was no better than the vultures. He'd been willing to use her death to survive, to stand in the ashes of her slaughtered Order and his own brothers for a chance to be on a winning team. At least the vultures had no concept of right and wrong. What was he doing? 

He glanced to the side at a glimmer of purple and gold, Mayrin shimmering into existence behind Mayday. She gave him a meaningful look, the kind Miria used to give him right before one of her sweet- toned lectures about the value of life. The snow wasn't settling on her armor, she didn't seem cold. 

She's not a hallucination from a head injury. She's one of those Force visions, like Miria talked about…

Like she could hear his thought, the girl smirked. A crooked smile that crinkled around her eyes and mouth.

Before he could start trying to understand what the hell was happening, blaster fire came over Mayday's comm. "Raiders! I'll take west, you go east!"

The two clones split up, heading for the sound of fighting. Battle was at least a comfortable familiarity and Crosshair quickly scaled a watchtower to pick off the raiders. A snow skiff was racing away, not entirely out of range but probably a lost cause with the backup the driver had. So the sniper set his sights on a raider on foot, dropping his helmet scope over the one on his rifle. He'd just lined up when a flare of bright light from an explosion blinded him. 

"Fuck." He snatched off his helmet, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't see, his marksmanship was his defining feature and the onset of a sudden panic that it was useless threatened to snatch his concentration. 

If I can't make the shot, I'm useless. If I'm useless, I'm dead. The Empire won't give a damn about recovery. 

Manda fucking damn it. Mayrin had been right. Miria had been right. Even fucking Hunter had been right! He was never more than a number, and now he was stuck.

He managed to lean into his rifle and fire off a haphazard shot before taking a moment to crumple, rubbing his eyes. They hurt. Everything hurt. He wanted one thing he was never going to get back right now, and he didn't even know how to reach-

"Miria?" He whispered. "I know you can hear me." He repeated what she'd said the last time he'd heard her, when her voice was tight with anger and he could feel the ache of her clenched fists in his own.

Crosshair?!

"I'm sorry, cyare." He mumbled. "For all of it."

Where are you, love? Tell me where to find you.

"You're not coming here. They'll kill you." Crosshair struggled to his feet and headed towards where he'd shot, tracking the blood trail a wounded raider left behind. He could finish this, get Mayday and his men off this outpost before he took a step that he should have taken months ago on Kamino. "I'll… figure this out."

Crosshair. Where are you? 

Her voice was demanding. He'd never heard her sound so forceful… he kind of liked it. That was a voice he could follow orders from. "Doesn't matter. I'll find you." He slid down an embankment after the blood. "Just… wanted to say something first. Something you asked me to say when you started showing up in my fucking dreams."

Cross…

"I still love you."

The radiant warmth that spilled through the bond was a much-appreciated side effect of Miria's delight. Crosshair had a half mind to keep talking, ask her how she was and what she'd been doing, anything to keep hearing her voice. He'd never liked chat before, but it had been too damn long and she was so far away. He'd see her soon, he'd find her and make this entire disaster up to her somehow. 

Mayday slid into the tunnel behind him, startling Crosshair. "So this is how they got through our defenses."

"Looks like it." Crosshair wondered if Miria could hear what he did, because at the sound of the commander's voice she went silent. He almost felt a squeeze in his hand, like an assurance. 

He could still come home. 

They headed into the tunnel until they found the raider, dead against a rock. Mayday nudged him. "I don't know what bothers me more, that he's wearing armor scavenged from my men or that his cohorts left him here to rot."

"No point in carrying dead weight." Crosshair shrugged. He regretted the statement almost immediately, distantly recalling when Rex had decked him in the face for the same kind of callus comment about Echo. 

Mayday just eyed him. "Remind me not to die on your watch."

They crept further into the tunnel, guns up, when they both heard an ominous click. Crosshair froze, looking down. 

"Pressure mine." Mayday groaned.

"Can you disarm it?" Crosshair stared at his own foot on the triangular mine. If he lifted it, they were both dead. He was in no hurry to die now, not with so much at stake all of a sudden. 

"I'm no explosives expert, but I can try. Hold still." Mayday knelt by his feet with a small hammer and a couple L-brackets. "Sure wish I had the equipment for this." He started carefully tapping the brackets into the ice around the mine, not quite flush but enough to hold it down when Crosshair lifted his foot. "Guess it's just us left to look out for each other, huh? What unit were you in before?"

Crosshair’s defenses went up immediately. "Doesn't matter." He couldn't talk about them, as much as he'd like to have Wrecker’s expertise on the mine. He couldn't trust a reg… right? Then again, he was having to trust Mayday so he didn't explode right now. 

"Indulge me." Mayday kept working on another bracket. 

"... Clone Force 99." Crosshair finally murmured. "But they're gone."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Mayday sounded sincere. "I know what it's like."

Crosshair paused. He did, didn't he? He'd lost nearly every one of his squad, kept their helmets and remembered them. He was a reg, but the line between himself and the regs was blurred in the Empire. Maybe he could bring Mayday out of here, like Cody had tried to do for him. He'd fit in like Echo had… Miria would like him. It might even be novel to introduce her to his friend for once. 

"That should do it. Don't lift your foot yet, and when you do go nice and slow." Mayday picked up his helmet and started backing down behind some rock cover. 

"Not confident in your work?" Crosshair huffed.

"I'm confident. I'm just not stupid." Mayday smirked. "Nice and slow now."

Crosshair very carefully raised his foot, breathing out a silent prayer that if there was a divine or the Force or whatever, that it didn't let him come this far just to splatter all over a cave wall. 

Thankfully, it didn't blow. Mayday popped out from behind the rock, giving him a thumbs up. "Let's go back. I'm out of brackets."

They trudged back through the snow miserably, and Crosshair glanced up at the vultures converging on the cave. 

He had to finish this and get the fuck out of here.

Crosshair, beyond the shadow of a doubt, hated Lieutenant Nolan. Not only had he sent him and Mayday to try to recover stolen cargo, but he had refused to let any of his men come with them. It was just two clones on what was definitely a suicide mission. 

"Heard you 99 commandos had a Jedi. She go out in the order?" Mayday seemed to like difficult conversations, or maybe he just wanted Crosshair to think. As comfortable as the sniper was with silence, this was a topic he had plenty to say on… if he could make himself do it. 

"No. She… survived. We were on Kaller." He looked at his rifle. It wasn't the same one he'd shot at her that day with, she was carrying that Firepuncher. He wondered if she thought about that. "She was special."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Smart, kind… started off shy and polite, but she opened up eventually."

"Sounds like she was more than your general." Mayday mused. 

"... she was. I introduced her to 99."

"Shit, really? I'm sorry, then. You said they were gone." Mayday looked immediately apologetic. There wasn't a clone alive who didn't at least know what that had meant, even if they were made after 99 died. 

"What about you?" Crosshair asked, deciding if he was going to make a friend he might as well use some of what she'd tried to teach him. 

"Nah. Wouldn't mind though… not much chance to meet somebody in the Empire though."

"What if you left?"

Mayday looked at him. "Like desertion?"

"That's not what I said."

Mayday laughed darkly. "My whole squad is dead over some cargo we weren't even allowed to look at. If you've got an exit plan, I'm in."

"Let's get this done then. I… might have an idea."

"Good thinking, vod."

They spotted a fire in the distance and Crosshair dropped his scope to look. Being called a brother again felt good, and quieted the screaming in his head that he was supposed to be an Imperial soldier. "Two guards at the entrance and more inside."

"Shouldn't be too hard for us." Mayday smirked, pulling an electro-stun grenade from his pocket. "On the way back, you tell me this plan."

"Deal."

Their approach was direct, stunning the guards and moving in for a fight. Mayday fought much like Echo, like any reg, making Crosshair’s tactics more effective. Yeah, he'd fit right in. Hunter might even have to give up command, which was going to piss him off and delight Crosshair.

Unfortunately, the raiders had explosives and were too stupid not to use them. A thermal went off, sending the cargo crates flying out of the open sided cavern and into the snow. Crosshair quickly finished off the last of them before Mayday could be overwhelmed, eying the cracked rock behind them. 

Mayday shook his head. "Let's get the cargo loaded up and we can take their skiff back."

Crosshair nodded and they slid down the icy cliffside to the crates. When he reached them, the sniper lifted a white helmet from the snow. "Gear?"

Mayday cursed. "Not a clone helmet, either." He picked up a chest plate. "Toys for their shiny new military, while we get the scraps. We were good soldiers. We followed orders… and for what?"

Crosshair didn't have an answer for that, and shook his head. "We've got to get out." He muttered. "Or we're dead." Maybe there was no reason to even return to the outpost, they could just wait out the Imperials until they took the cargo, then scrap together something to get off Barton-4. Maybe he could even call, like Mayrin said, and Miria would-

A deafening rumble above them caught both clones attention. Mayday paled. "Avalanche. Run!" 

The clones took off like bats out of hell, chased by the lethal tumble of snow and ice. There was a rock outcropping a couple hundred meters ahead, safety if they could make it. They were almost there, they were-

Mayday shoved Crosshair to the side as the ice caught up, sparing him being flattened by a huge and heavy pane of it. He heard bones crunch when it struck the commander, before he was buried alive in the frost.

"Ram'ser! Crosshair!" That was Mayrin's voice screaming for him. "Dig up or you're going to suffocate! I can't dig you out!"

Crosshair was dizzy, trying to figure out which way was up. The snow felt heaviest on his chest, so he struggled a punch that direction. His hand broke the frigid crust like a zombie from its grave, and he dragged his top half up. Mayrin was perched on the snow next to him. "...kid?"

"I'm sorry. I can't dig you out, but you've got to get up. Mayday's hurt and I can't help him either."

"I know." The cold wind in his face cleared his head a little and he brushed snow off his head and shivered. "You're… a Force spirit. Right?"

"You figured it out. Better late than never." She sighed. "Yeah. Get your legs under you. The snow is chest high."

Crosshair nodded, kicking the loose slush under him to get enough traction. When he finally got his spindly legs beneath him, he started wading through the snow. "Where is he?"

"By the rock. He got slammed into it, he's hurt." Mayrin was weightless on the snow, leaving no prints. 

Crosshair followed her, digging through the snow until his hands met plastoid. "Mayday! Mayday!" The commander couldn't die. He finally had a friend, somebody to rely on after he'd lost his squad. And Cody, after he'd stupidly pushed them away. 

The bearded clone coughed when Crosshair pulled him out of the slush. "G-go…" He mumbled. "I won't make it."

Crosshair looked at Mayrin, who gave him a weak smile, before pulling Mayday up. The wind was whipping up, they were about to be caught out in a blizzard. He had to find shelter, and get Mayday back to the outpost for medical attention. He'd put off his escape to save this life, because he couldn't imagine Miria ever forgiving him if he walked away now. 

He dragged Mayday's arm over his shoulder and pulled the wounded man out of the snow, heading for another rock ledge to shield them from the wind and sleet. He'd lost his helmet, but Mayday still had his. He tucked them into a shallow cave and leaned against Mayday to keep them both as warm as possible to wait it out. 

Mayday blacked out against his shoulder as the storm raged. Mayrin sat back on his other side, and though he knew there was no warmth to be found in her presence he did notice the wind seemed to break. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't know about this…" She whispered. "I'd have tried to warn you." Her teeth set on her bottom lip, big lavender eyes wide and nervous. Her shoulders hunched inward, hair hanging at her chin. When she finally closed her eyes, long silver lashes rested on her cheeks. 

Only, Crosshair didn't see Mayrin in the moment. He saw Miria Halcyon. 

"You're hers, aren't you?" He whispered. "Her daughter."

Mayrin opened her eyes and looked at him, smiling faintly. "Look a little harder. You're halfway there."

He examined her face for a long minute. The tanned skin around her eyes crinkled again when she smiled… tan skin and silver hair. Hadn't Miria once told him she found that particular combination attractive on him? "... you're my daughter." He breathed. It was so obvious now. Her eyes, his smile, dressed in armor with a star, moon, and crosshairs painted on the chest plate. The child they'd wanted before everything fell apart was sitting right next to him. 

"Of course. You're the only man she's ever loved." Mayrin laughed softly. "Mama figured it out a lot faster than you did, Buir."

"You've seen her?" He hardly dared hope for good news. 

"Yeah. You needed someone to yell at you, and she needed hope." Mayrin hugged her knees. "She's scared and angry, but she's okay. My ba'voduse are looking out for her. They all miss you."

Crosshair leaned back against the rock. "Good… I'll be back."

"Thank Manda. I'd like to be born already. This Force thing is a pain in the shebs."

Crosshair chuckled under his breath. "You've got my smart mouth."

"I dunno. Mama's pretty sassy lately too." Mayrin laughed. 

"Do I turn out to be a decent father?" Crosshair asked after a long minute of listening to the wind howl. He wasn't totally sure he was ready for the answer, but he had to know. 

"You're the best father." Mayrin assured him with one of her mother's kind looks. "Why do you think I came? Even before I'm born, I already love you."

Crosshair closed his eyes and nodded. "... I love you too, ad'ika." The endearment felt right. "Just one last question?"

"Anything."

"Do we give you a middle name? Miria said a lot of nat borns have them…" He'd never put much stock in the practice, except that he thought Miria's sounded nice. Adeline… he'd looked it up once. Miria meant "miracle", and Adeline was "beautiful inside and out". Her parents, whoever they were, knew what they were doing when they'd given it to her. He'd been an idiot to ever think anything else. To accuse that woman of being a traitor made no more sense than to insist hyperspace wasn't purple. 

Mayrin hugged her knees with a smile. "Nina. After my ba'buir, 99."

"Mayrin Nina Halcyon." The name left the sniper’s mouth like a prayer. "Does it mean anything? Mayrin?"

The girl giggled. "Beloved."

Crosshair nodded. That made perfect sense to him. "I can't wait to really meet you." 

"I'm going to sass you the whole time."

"You wouldn't be mine if you didn't."

It was a bolstered and viciously determined Crosshair that dragged Mayday back to the outpost. There was a goal now. He'd get Mayday medical attention, make his escape plan, and take the commander with him out of the Empire. He could do it. He had to, he had to get to Miria and their daughter. 

Nolan was having the cargo loaded when they limped onto the tarmac. "He… needs a medic…" Crosshair was exhausted, dropping to his knees and doing his best to lay Mayday down gently. The commander's helmet rolled off, revealing a pale face pinched with agony.

"You failed to recover the cargo, so your mission was a failure. He's outlived his use to the Empire." Nolan huffed.

Crosshair froze. No… no, he couldn't just watch Mayday die. Not after all this. Not after coming so far. 

Next to him, Mayday weakly squeezed his hand. The whole way back, Crosshair had been muttering to him about Miria and the Batch, promising him that he'd get to meet them. That they'd love him. "... tell 'em hi for me." He said breathlessly before his eyes rolled back and a weak gurgle petered out. Then the commander went limp.

Crosshair checked desperately for a pulse, but there was nothing. "You could have saved him." He gritted out. 

Nolan sneered. "I'm not wasting resources on something that's no use. And if you ever speak to me again with such disrespect, you'll join him. Now leave him and get back to work, clone. He was expendable, and so are you." He turned his back to Crosshair, storming off.

Crosshair looked at Mayday for a long minute, then up at a circling ice vulture. It'd land eventually, feast on Mayday when he was denied a burial by the Empire that had let him die for no reason but spite. Crosshair finally understood what Miria had been trying to tell him for years, that life was sacred and fragile. So easily snatched away, and the good always died young while the wicked survived to inflict themselves on the galaxy. 

Not this time. 

Before he could think it through, his fingers wrapped around one of Mayday's pistols. "Lieutenant?"

"What?" Nolan snapped, turning on his heel. 

"Don't!" Mayrin screeched, but no one could hear her except her to-be father. And Crosshair had had enough. 

Bang.

A hole of burning plasma punched through Nolan's chest, a shot Crosshair could never have missed no matter how tired he was. He crumpled like flimsi, Crosshair following him to the ground as his last energy was depleted. 

"Buir! Buir!" He could hear Mayrin yelling over the din of stormtroopers ordering him to drop the blaster, but everything was going hazy and he knew he was going to pass out. 

"Tell your mother… I tried to make it right." He mumbled before the rough duracrete under his cheek slipped away and he was unconscious. Maybe she'd be waiting in his dreams again, and he could tell her he was sorry himself. If they didn't execute him, he could. If they did…

Sorry kid. I didn't think it through, but I swear I tried…

He said he was coming home. He still loved her, he'd missed her… so what was this room? 

It was dim, but looked much like the research ship they'd found the Zillo in. Her sniper was laying on a table, limp and pale. Was he hurt?

"Darling?" Miria whispered, trying to touch his face when a door opened behind her. A woman in a lab coat passed right through her incorporeal figure to get to Crosshair, drawing something into a syringe as the clone opened his eyes and squinted. 

"Where am I…?"

"CT-9904, or do you prefer Crosshair?"

"What's going on?" He tried to sit up, eyes wide. The woman pushed him back down, bringing the syringe to his neck. 

"Cooperate, and you just might survive. Don't fight."

Crosshair didn't have the strength the struggle when the sedative flooded his system, going limp on the table again. "...M-miria…"

"Crosshair!"

"CROSSHAIR!" Miria sat upright in her bunk, barely managing not to slam her head into the bunk above her. Hunter rolled over in his bunk next to her, yawning. Tech's head popped out from above, ignoring Wrecker falling out of his own bed when he startled awake. 

"Another nightmare?" Tech looked sympathetic. 

"No." Miria clutched her heaving chest, trying to catch her breath. "No, something else. Something is wrong."

"Are you getting sick?" Hunter sat up. "I thought that thing on Thule was-"

"Not with me, Hunter." Her eyes were wide with poorly restrained terror. "Something is wrong with Crosshair."

[artistgoudeau]

Black/fem reader x Everyone “The Do-Over”

Reader is a huge Blerd (black nerd) that gets transported to Attack on Titan universe in the year 843. She “luckily” was coming home from vacation. Fell asleep on the plane and woke up outside the walls (with her bags to make life easier for y/n) Now reader is curvy and has a fat ass (I DO make the rules). This, plus her darker skin and fluffy hair, drives everyone crazy. Erwin, Levi, Miche, and Hange are all very close. Rumors go around about them fucking all the time. But no one could prove it. You didn’t even know if they liked each other. You could only guess. But Erwin is always so interested in talking with you. Clumsy man seems to always drop something on the floor for you to bend over and reach. Hange squeals everytime she sees you and is NOT shy about flirting with you. You’re so pretty and she genuinely is curious about you. She ends up brushing her hands in weird places but that’s just her being extra excited. Levi is canonically a virgin so you wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable with your cleavage and fat thighs when it was hot and you had to train. But it seemed okay because everytime you looked his way, his eyes would travel up from your ass to your eyes and stay there. Miche was the most obvious. He liked to flirt and joke about what your babies would look like. How those kind of hips are rare and he would love to help you with extra training. He would sniff you often. Commenting on how your hair smelled so soothing. You catch the other three vets staring daggers at him if they happen to catch his flirting.

One day you overhear a conversation happening in the commander's office. Eavesdropping isn’t very nice.

Miche: good GOD I can’t take much more of this..

Levi: Are you some teenage idiot who can’t keep it in his pants? Y/n has probably had enough of the fucking flirting! You’re her superior! Act. Like. It.

Hange: Now WAIT A MINUTE! I know for a fact you’ve been beating off to her in the showers!

Levi: And just how THE HELL would you know that?

Erwin: Okay. Okay. Let’s not beat around the bush, y/n is very…ahem… attractive. But we can’t just all gang up on her with our feelings.

Miche: Why not?

Hange/Levi/Erwin: WHAT THE FUCK?!/ Hah?!EXCUSE ME!

Miche: whoa whoa whoa! I didn’t mean FORCE HER! I meant what if we all approached her in our own way and try to actually build bonds with her. She will feel left out if only one of us showed interest and the rest of us just ignore her trying to be nice. Besides, I don’t really want anyone else to have a chance to steal her. If we can learn to share we might be able to make this work.

Erwin: That is incredibly-

Before your commander could even finish his sentence you dropped your papers you were holding close to your chest as you leaned your ear to the door to listen. Up until that moment you had very sinful thoughts about most of the scouts. Muscles + being in an unfamiliar place with no one to relate to or really even looks like you = sad(horny) and desperately seeking an excuse to act out. It was juvenile, you knew. But you had been transported to an ENTIRELY fictional world where you knew everything about everyone and you were the ONLY brown skinned person in the walls! You had been stuck out in the wilderness when you were caught by none other than the Commander himself.

~Flashback~

You both stared at each other for what felt like hours. Him: looking at a woman with features he’s NEVER seen before. A person that only exists in the past and in his fathers stories about the world. You: completely stunned by the fact that one second you were at the airport on your way home from vacation, and now you are staring at a man (that you have definitely read questionable fanfiction of) staring at you. That would just be too good of a cosplay to have a giant naked man also running behind him to catch up to you two. Then you snapped out of it and called him by his name.

Y/n: ERWIN MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!

You were running towards him before you even registered what was happening. You ran to his horse's backside and stood at a decent distance before you smacked its ass and it ran like hell. Erwin seemed to be in a trace as his eyes followed your frame but his hearing stopped working. When his horse suddenly lurched forward he was nearly thrown off but had enough sense to right himself before turning to look back at you trying to run the titan in a different direction. What the fuck are you doing?

Y/n: oh fuck! I’m gonna die! I can’t believe this! I hope Erwin is okay! God if you’re there I need some fucking help!

God answered your prayers that day.

As if on cue (like it’s a tv show or something) the titan suddenly is struck from it’s nape and falls a few fucking feet from you!!! You didn’t even have to look up to know that it was Levi who came to the rescue. Not that you could, you were currently hyperventilating, sweating, and swearing.

Levi: hey! HEY! Look at me! Can you tell me your name? How did you get out here? Are you alone?

You had enough sense (and therapy) to try and focus on his words.

Y/n: my name is y/n. I don’t know. And I don’t know. I just woke up here.

Levi: outside the walls?

Y//n: looks like it.

Erwin finally speaks up after watching Levi save you then listening to Levi question you.

Erwin: How is that possible? There’s no one living beyond the walls and someone as unique as you would’ve been hard to miss inside the walls.

You look at Erwin and you can’t control the deviated look on your face. Both of them catch it but they don’t know what it means. You are crashing now from the rush of life saving adrenaline. You need to be quick and concise here and get your point across.

Y/n: I am not from this world. But everything you know about the Titans and this world has been a lie. *you look to Erwin and stare into his eyes* Your father was right, Erwin. And because he was so close to the truth the MPs killed him. And he WAS very close. I know the truth the king is hiding from you all and I want to make this right.

Erwin and Levi are stunned. The truth of everything?! Dropped seemingly from the sky!? This must be a trap! But Erwin's father being mentioned was entirely too specific.

Erwin: How do you know my father if you aren’t from this world? How do we know you aren’t a mad woman dressed so strangely and speaking in a dialect I can’t quite grasp. Even if you aren’t mad, how could we possibly know you are telling the truth.

You think for a moment then look to Levi

Y/n: Your name is Levi Ackerman. You were born from Kuschel Ackerman, who was a prostitute, so your father is unknown. She died while you were still young and you were raised by a man named Kenny. He taught you how to fight with a knife and then left you when you could defend yourself. You and you friends, Isa-

Levi: ENOUGH!

You flinch away but you understand. You just told a lot of his personal business right next to Erwin and you’re almost sure he didn’t know all of that. But accuracy was key here. You couldn’t be lying or crazy to recount his life in such detail. He and Erwin were stunned.

Erwin: I think it’s best if you come with us.

Y/n: please. I promise I just want to help humanity.

Levi: tch by spilling everyone’s personal information?

Y/n: no. Because I know everything that happens concerning the titans, humanity, and survey corps for the next 2000 years. And in the next five years, if we don’t change the future, humanity and the earth itself will be 80% decimated. The ground will be uninhabitable for hundreds of years. And even when humanity somehow survives. The land you all currently occupy. Your cultures. Your literature. Your pasts, presents, and futures will be completely eradicated by the outside world in the next 2000 years. Please believe me. I DON'T want this to happen and I’m sure you don’t either. What’s more, I can prove it.

Erwin: Show me.

Chapter end

Please leave comments and criticisms. I am just starting out writing fanfics and I want to make sure I’m doing something right lmao.

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 13

The Darkling x Reader

This is more of a filler chapter, I wanted to write something where reader is in action🤭

As much as you loved to keep your personal and work life separate, the life at the Little Palace rarely allowed for such things. Rumors spread and tensions rose and much to your dismay the privacy of Aleksander's chambers only reached so far. Everywhere you went eyes followed you with a sense of interest, poking and prodding for the details of why the Deputy General had stayed in the Darkling's quarters, but more importantly why you raced out of there in the dead of the night, slamming every door possible with loud echoing thuds.

You ignored it all, you had work to do. Currently, you stood waiting in the courtyard for your horses, your recruited Grisha in tow. You had asked Fedyor for the best soldiers, ones who could be ruthless and loyal. Two Heartrenderers, an Inferni and the Squaller you now knew as Zoya waited behind you, shivering from a sudden gust of freezing wind.

The weather had gotten brutal over the past few days but this mission couldn't wait. You had gotten intel that somehow a Kerch merchant kidnapped Grisha while they traveled between camps and was keeping them in a home not far from the Palace, waiting to transport them across the Fold and use them as indentures. This angered you beyond means of explanation.

Your stableboy brought out your beautiful chestnut brown Arabian, and you quickly hoisted yourself up. You would all be going on horseback despite the weather, for a carriage would slow you down significantly.

'Zoya, I'll need you upfront with me, if it starts to snow heavily we'll clear the way.' You addressed the Squaller, patiently waiting as she got up on her horse and came to rest beside you, giving you a curt nod.

'Ready?'

You brought your horse into a quick gallop, cringing as the cold whipped past you.

******

Riding a horse was only comfortable for so long before your tailbone began to ache. It had been around an hour, but you were almost there as a small village came into view over the hill. You stopped your horse and put up your hand signaling the rest to stop too.

'We leave our horses just there, where the forest fades-' You pointed over to a place just to your right, where tree coverage would protect your horses from the cold. '-we walk the rest of the way. All intel pointed to the house being secluded, most likely right before the village grows more populated.'

The thing with these missions was there was never an exact location, which frustrated you and from the loud sigh Zoya gave, it frustrated everyone else too. You all slid off your horses and walked them to the forest, tying them securely to trees and beginning the walk, making sure to stay hidden behind the trees.

'What's the plan?' Asked the Inferni.

'I go in first, neutralize any threats I can see. Fedyor, keep to my side but be behind me. The rest of you, your main priority is to look for the Grisha. Don't kill anybody unless I tell you to.' You could see the surprised look on their faces and you knew why.

Even though Aleksander was extremely powerful and immortal, he never walked into a fight first, he was always the one to walk into a clear path, never cleared it himself. You did things differently, liked to be in complete control.

'What did the General say about this?' He spoke again.

You stopped and turned to him.

'If you have any issues with how your superior is commanding the missions, I suggest you turn around and learn how to be a soldier.' You snapped. Aleksander had these people wrapped around his finger. He stared at you with wide eyes and almost immediately his composure dropped, succumbing to your intimidation.

'I don't have time for this nonsense.' You scoffed and walked ahead to where Zoya was searching for the hideout.

'Is it that one?' She pointed to a cabin about with a man guarding the front door. Bingo.

'He's too far, I need to get closer.' Fedyor's raised hands dropped down to his sides. The other Corporalnik nodded in agreement.

You turned away from the group and concentrated on the man, feeling for his pulse and once you gathered the understanding, gently stopped The flow of blood, watching as he fell to the snow-covered ground with a thud.

'Don't take offense, I'm much older' You patted the Heartrenders on the shoulders and ran to the cabin. You saw Zoya let out a strong gust of wind to open the door, almost knocking it off its hinges.

Shouts erupted all around and shots were fired. You bled shadows into the hallway, rendering the Kerch men blind, hoping they wouldn't shoot in the dark. Simultaneously, you slowed the heartbeats you could make out, hoping the shouts died down. With luck on your side, the cabin turned silent and you retreated your shadows.

Three men dressed in fine vests lay slumped on the floor, a pistol or rifle in each hand. Fedyor automatically bent down to take the guns out of their hands and looked around for something to detain them with. You could hear the rest of your crew search the cabin, the loud squeak of the cellar latch opening. You too went to look around, opening all the doors that could open and listening for the beating of one's heart. Nothing.

You grew angry at the possibility of the intel being incorrect. You came to the last door on the far end of the home which was slightly ajar. You could feel a faint pulse and as you opened the door, ready to protect yourself when your eyes caught sight of a purple kefta. A Fabrikator? The figure didn't move from where they were standing. Their hands weren't bound and neither were their legs.

'Are you here with the Second-Army?' Her voice was quiet but steady.

'Yes. Come with me' You moved away from the doorframe and into the hallway once again to let the Grisha through.

'Who are you?'

'Deputy General, now come on we must get going' You heard Zoya indicate from the cellar that they had found the Healer.

She moved away from the wall and walked to you with her head down, showing no indication of being thankful for being saved. Doubt pooled in your stomach but you let it go. You returned to the main room and stared at the three men tied up in the chairs but quickly averted your eyes to Zoya who appeared perplexed and for once, you shared her thoughts. The Inferni walked out with the Healer behind him and what looked like a Squaller to his right but nobody said anything. What is going on?

'Is anybody injured?' You spoke first amongst the crippling silence. Nobody responded. Suddenly out of the corner of your eye you saw the Fabrikator take one of the disposed pistols and point it at you, not hesitating to take shots. You deflected as best you could, protecting the others from the bullets but quickly realized the girl was a Durast and wherever she wanted to shoot, she could definitely make the shot.

You looked around and to your surprise, your Inferni was lying on the ground as the Healer battled Zoya. Fedyor was seemingly pushed up against the wall by the Squaller. What in Saint's name is going on. These are not my Grisha. Your falter caused your shadow shield to break and you felt a cold bullet lodge itself in your thigh where your kefta peeked open.

The pain was too strong, clouding your mind and momentarily prohibiting you from accessing your powers. Saints this hurts.

You reclaimed your mind, letting the merciless Cut wander out to her. The Durast screamed in horror as her hand dropped to the ground. You ignored it, letting your eyes wander to the Squaller and knocking her out with a wind so strong it rattled the cabin. Zoya managed to subdue the Healer, tacking to the ground and holding her hands above her head. You shot out a tendril of onyx shadow and restrained her, relieving Zoya of the uncomfortable position.

You were beyond angry, you were fuming. You harshly grabbed at the Durast, slamming her against the wall by the lapel of her kefta, your thigh screaming in pain. You could feel blood pooling in your riding boots.

'What is this?!' You hissed

'You're not taking us back. You will not force us to be part of that army'

'You would give up the Little Palace for the dirty streets of Ketterdam' The venom rolling off your tongue was almost paralyzing.

'If I am to serve your kind then of course. You're probably stealing my power as we speak' The room stilled and your pain was forgotten. Zoya held her breath, even the Healer's stomach dropped.

Something in you snapped, and with nothing more than a flex of your fingers, the girl's neck snapped, her lifeless body tumbling to the ground. You didn't say another word. Zoya took that as a sign to tell the rogue Grisha they will be tried as traitors, and restrained them both, taking over from you.

Your previous words came back into your mind, Don't kill anybody. You shame Aleksander for merciless killing yet you just did the same. You broke your own rule because somebody offended you. You fool.

You wordlessly limped out of the cabin, completely forgetting the bullet wound on your thigh.

***

The ride back to the Little Palace was torturous. The two traitors had been subdued and riding with the heartrenderes. Your thigh was in excruciating pain and upon entering the gates, you had felt completely numb. As far as you knew, nobody knew you were shot. You had left them to deal with the mess in the cabin, too blinded by anger and arrogance to help and act as the leader. But now, the only thing blinding you was tiredness which you knew wasn't good.

Your horse diligently walked to the courtyard doors but you didn't get off, you couldn't. Your eyes had shut on their own accord. The tiredness washed over you again and your head spun.

You could faintly make out the sound of your name being called by Fedyor asking about the traitors, but you paid him no mind, focusing all your attention on trying not to fall off your horse. Your head bopped, but you fought to stay awake and pass the wave of tiredness so you could walk to the healers unit, but it was relentless.

You felt somebody pull the reigns of your horse and lift the cloak covering your leg, you didn't argue. Then the shouts started. You couldn't hear what they said as your head bopped again, once, twice, then you let go.

****

The immense itching sensation on your thigh was overwhelming. If that wasn't the reason for you waking up, it was the loud argument taking place at the foot of the bed.

You managed to open your eyes to see a Healer working on your leg, looking very focused. She spared you a sweet smile then went right back to work. Oh Saint's this is so itchy. It took everything in you not to itch the bloody wound. Thankfully, the raised voices dragged your attention away.

'We didn't know, she just left!' Fedyor.

'If you'd have gotten here 10 minutes later she would have been dead' Aleksander.

'We thought she wa-'

'I don't care. Leave before I do something I regret' The door opened and shut. You suspected the only people left in the room were you, the Healer and a fuming Aleksander. If he knew you were awake, he showed no indication of it. You didn't need to look at him to know he was brooding. Was he mad that I'm injured or that the mission went sideways?

Your hands clenched as the itching sensation got worse. You hated being healed, it was even worse than being injured.

'If you clench that fist any harder you'll break your knuckles' His voice carried no anger anymore, it was soft but had an edge of plea in it.

You didn't respond. You didn't know what to say. You hadn't seen him since the other night when you confronted him about Alina, and he made no moves to approach you since then.

'I'll give you a written report mission once I'm done here.'

'No need. Zoya took care of it already' As much as you had tried to convince yourself you disliked the beautiful Squaller, she had really come in clutch today. You were thankful.

'Alright, that's all I can do for now. You did lose a lot of blood, so take it easy for the next couple of days.' The young girl got up and left after you muttered a quick thank you.

'Are you ok?'

'We just got ambushed by rogue Grisha who had personal vendettas against me, what do you think' You sat up and rested your head against the headboard, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand.

'I should've cross-examined the intel. If I knew what they were I would've given you more reinforcements.' He leaned against the wall next to the door, sensing your hostility and keeping his distance

'I didn't need reinforcements. I was just caught off guard is all'

'You killed a-'

'Please, don't say it. , it wasn't my proudest moment.'

'Zoya kept it out of the report. Said she got caught in the cross-fire.'

I love you Zoya.

'Do you want me to leave?' His question made you freeze. On one hand, you were still angry about the other night and the comment he made, but on the other Aleksander always made you feel safe and his presence brought you peace.

'You probably have work to do. I do too anyway' You got up to leave the bed, but he quickly walked over to you, pushing you back down. You grabbed his hands out of reflex.

'Take it easy for the next couple of days. Is that not the advice you got?' He cocked a smile and traced a small pattern on your hand. You stared into his eyes and tried to find a reason to not fold into his embrace, you badly needed a hug, and he gives the best ones.

'Alright, but you can leave' Your answer surprised him, it surprised you too. Apparently subconsciously you still held a grudge against him.

'Y/N, Next time you get hit, please tell someone.' He whispered as he swooped down to kiss the top of your head lovingly, letting his lips linger for a moment. Just as you were about to give in and wrap your arms around him, his warmth left you.

'It won't kill you to take a day off.' He teased as he walked out the door.

I never got that hug.

Part 14

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[johnkrrasinski]

𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

Chapter 2: bad was the blood

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,376

Summary: blessed with telepathic abilities since birth, you were captured by HYDRA and turned into one of their weapons to kill. after the blip, you were pardoned by the government and you were obliged to check up with dr. raynor everyday which you had no clue would lead you to the one soul you’d been waiting for.

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+) angst, mentions of anxiety, nightmares, murders.

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @ohmickeyhenry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for trusting me with your story. i sincerely hope you like it.

It had been a week since you and Bucky reunited and ever since that night, you and him were practically inseparable. Your bedroom was next to his and each night, he always came to yours to catch up on things and some nights, your conversation would go so deep that he would find himself waking up in your bed when the sun rises. He’d always leave your bed slowly to go into his room so that he wouldn’t wake you.

Each night he sleeps next to you, his nightmare became less intense. They still haunted him but they were vague, it was as if the faces of his victims become blurry and the echoes become whispers. One night, Bucky came back home from a small mission late and by the time he arrived at the compound, you were already asleep. Bucky knew the passcode to your door so he could let himself in anytime. He typed in those numbers and slowly opened the door and he smiled at the view of you sleeping peacefully. He would watch you sleep all night if he could, but he was exhausted and so were you, so he left you alone to rest.

Beads of sweat rolled down your skin as the cold air sent shivers down your spine. You watched the emotions in Natasha’s eyes vanished, as if her soul left her body and that’s left was the vessel. Sam, Tony and Bruce stood there like statues, waiting for your order. They had one thing in common with Natasha and that was the void of emotion. You felt a sense of pride in turning the Avengers into lifeless soldiers. They were at your mercy, you could command them to destroy the entire world with only a whisper.

Then you felt a cold grip on your arm, “Y/N… Why are you doing this?” Those steel blue eyes held so much pain in them as if he had just been betrayed by the person he trusted the most. “Stop this now! This isn’t you.” Bucky pleaded.

“Stand back soldier, or you are next.”

“No, I won’t let you do this to our friends.”

“Stand back. I will not ask you once again,” you warned him without a hint of uncertainty.

“Stop this, now or I will.” Bucky opposed.

“Very well,” with merely a glare, you activated the soldier you once knew. Years ago in the cold bunker of Hydra, ready to murder with a single order.

“готов подчиниться.”

You watched his blue eyes turned to ice, imitating his infamous name. You smirked and leaned close to his ear, “welcome back, soldier.”

You thrashed your body in your sheets and woke up with a loud scream. You thought you were doing well but the nightmare returned. You were doing what you dreaded again to your friends, the people you considered your family now. You sat up in your bed and sobbed until you heard Bucky opened your door with a concerned gaze. “Y/N, are you okay…?” He didn’t hesitate in running to you and sat next to you on your bed.

“I didn’t mean to, I- I never meant to hurt anyone…” You sobbed against Bucky’s chest as he wrapped his arm around you. His flesh arm held your head close to where his heart was beating and he tried to calm you down by stroking your hair and shushed you. He didn't know what you meant by that and he had many questions to ask but he understood better than anyone that in this state, integrating you would only cause more damage, so he let you cry it all out and comfort you in every way he could.

“It’s okay, y/n. I’m here, it’s going to be okay.”

You cried as you laid on Bucky’s chest until exhaustion took you over. You didn’t remember when you both began to drift away but as Bucky was sleeping, he saw visions of you doing heinous things to people, innocent souls who were held against their wills. He heard their screams and their pleas, but they weren’t looking at him, they were looking at… Her. Bucky had never seen her gaze so cold. Then he was transported into another scene… The place where HYDRA used to store him. It was one of the Russian Armed Forces, Vasily Karpov who was in charge of him during his Winter Soldier years.

Bucky remembered every second he spent trapped in the chair as he was given his orders. But this time, it was her strapped on that chair, screaming in agony. He watched him spelling out the activation words, they were different than his but just as effective. Bucky tried to reach her out, wanting to punch all those men and get her out of there but somehow his feet were stuck in place.

As the last word was uttered, he watched the woman he had slowly fallen in love with disappeared, replaced by a soulless soldier who was ready to kill anything that stood in her way. Bucky woke up to faint echoes of his name being called, “Bucky…” And slowly, he began to come back to life, and he saw her face, still the woman he knew, not the soldier in his dream, looming over him. “Did you see it?”

Bucky instantly sat up as he stared at her, “you were one of the winter soldiers. You were there.”

You nodded, “I was… They never referred to me as the winter soldier, however, I was treated just the same as you were. I had the same purpose as you.”

“How come you never told me?” His gaze was soft, he didn’t sound disappointed or betrayed, he just sounded… Worried.

“I couldn’t… I just didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t want to ruin what we had so I figured, if I left you first, I wouldn’t have to hurt you too and I was afraid that if you found out, you’d never look at me the same.”

“Sweetheart, we are both haunted by the same things. I’d never hate you for what you did. Don’t you think I didn’t have the same fears before? We’ll get through this together, I promise.” He held your face in his hands, the contrast of temperature in both of his hands was somehow soothing you, reminding you that he was once just as peccable as you were.

“But I don’t trust myself, Bucky. Someone could find the book and if they say the words, I could hurt people again… I could hurt you too. And I don’t know if I would ever come back.”

“I won’t let that happen, I promise you. I couldn’t trust my own mind too until I went to Wakanda and they fixed me. They removed the winter soldier program and now I’m free.”

“Is that… Possible?”

“Yes, I’ll explain everything in the morning but, right now, we need to rest.”

“Okay…” you were feeling rather drowsy, not only physically but emotionally too. It was never easy to unravel such shame and remorse.

Bucky laid back and opened his arm for you to sneak under it. You placed your head on his chest, feeling safe and sound being so close to him. Bucky’s fingers tangled with your hair as he kissed your forehead. “Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?”

“I promise,” he whispered.

The sound of his steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

-

The next morning, Bucky and you had breakfast together. It was early, the dawn had just begun, and some of the Avengers were out for a run or still asleep. You and Bucky had some alone time in the kitchen and you were thankful for the brief moment of solitude.

“So, what I said last night…” Bucky initiated the conversation as he put his coffee mug on the table. “I really think our best option is to go to Wakanda, y/n. They’ve got the best medical equipment, the people are extremely smart, they’ll take care of you. Just like they took care of me.”

“What makes you think they want to treat me, Buck? I mean, they took you in because the king and Steve made an agreement, but they have no idea who I am and even if they do, they don’t owe me anything.”

“The Wakandans may be resourceful and independent, but they are generous people too. I’ll call Ayo and sort everything out. They can spare me a few more favours.”

“If they agree to treat me, I only wanna go if you go too. I don’t wanna be alone in a country I’ve never been to before, Buck. I’m not familiar with their culture, I don’t speak their language, I don’t wanna fuck it up, you know?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you every step of the way. I promise.”

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Because you’re the only good thing that happened to me in the past seventy years.”

You never believed in butterflies, but you swore in that moment, the whole damn zoo went nuts. Bucky had a way to make you feel loved and cherished, and you were falling fast. You just hoped that he’d be there to catch you.

The sincerity in his eyes made you smile like you never had before. Looking back, the only times you had ever genuinely smiled was because of Bucky. His texts, his face, his touches, they were your newfound grace. Bucky told you that you were the only good thing that happened to him in the past seventy years, but so was he to you. Was it possible for two fucked up people who had done heinous things to find such love? You could only hope that nothing would come in the way of that.

-

Wakanda was a breath of fresh air. Figuratively and literally. You loved New York, no matter what, it would always be your home. However, Wakanda could definitely give New York a run for its money. The air was free out of pollutions from vehicles, everywhere you look, the landscape was filled with scenic greenery and not to mention the futuristic architectures yet deeply rooted in their culture. The people were welcoming and kind, yet they were not to be crossed over.

When you and Bucky first landed, the king himself, T’Challa with Okoye and Ayo by his sides welcomed you. It was intimidating to be in their presence, yet you were fascinated by how graceful they were. You were hoping that your anxiety wouldn’t make you do something dumb or stupid in front of them so as soon as you were out of the quinjet that Sam was flying, you bowed in front of the king. “We don’t do that here…” T’Challa declared.

You swore you could pass out from embarrassment. Bucky chuckled when you straightened your pose. T’Challa shook hands with Bucky like they were old friends, so did he with Sam. Bucky had been communicating with Ayo regarding your visit today so he didn’t have to explain why you were there anymore. They led you to Shuri’s lab where the miracle occurs.

When she saw you, she was nothing like you expected. She was younger than you but she seemed so ahead of you. She seemed so ahead of everyone in the room. She was bright and had an effervescent personality. The lab was unlike anything you’d ever seen, even Tony’s lab in the compound wasn’t as swanky as this one. Shuri’s lab had equipment you didn't even know existed.

She greeted you both, “welcome back Sergeant Barnes, and who’s your girlfriend?” her bluntness caught you off guard.

“Princess, this is y/n and y/n this is Princess Shuri. King T’challa’s younger sister. She was the one who fixed me eight years ago.”

“Hi Princess, it’s an honour.” You shook her hands.

“Welcome. Now let’s get you comfortable so we can take a look inside your brain, yeah?”

Now here you were, sitting in front of a burning yule log, the fire illuminated your face in the dead of the night. Ayo was standing across you, watching you with her spear ready but she trusted you, regardless. Bucky sat next to you, close enough to reassure you that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you or anyone.

“It’s gonna work, y/n. I promise.”

“What if it doesn’t? How will you bring me back?”

“Shuri would know what to do. I was sceptical of my own mind too at first, but I turned out fine. Better, even. You’re in good hands.”

“If she comes back, and you can’t stop her, promise me you’ll put her out, even if it kills me.”

“Y/N…” He looked wounded, how could he possibly do such a thing to the woman he loved?

“James! I can’t hurt anyone else anymore, and worse, if I hurt you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He nodded, though his heart was saying otherwise. “Okay, I promise.”

The tears in your eyes crawled down your cheeks and he held you close in the hut you’d been sharing with him. He kissed your hair like he would when he comforted you. The hut was simple and far away from the modern life you were used to in the compound or in New York, but you loved the tranquillity and simplicity of it. Some nights where Bucky and you would lie together, warming each other up, wearing nothing but customary clothes, you’d quietly think, you could get used to this. The simple life, with Bucky. Just you and him, and the rest of the world fade into the background. You wondered, could you still have it? That life? Or was it just wishful thinking? Right now, you could only hope that you’d be released from the demons of your past, that still lived in your head.

“I’ll be here, doll.” Bucky whispered and held your hand until the very last second.

“I won’t let you hurt anyone, Y/N. We successfully removed the winter soldier programs from James’ mind like rotten fur, you have nothing to worry.”

You nodded, “okay Ayo… I’m ready.”

You inhaled and stared at your own feet. The soil seemed like a great distraction at that moment. You wished you could hold Bucky’s hand but you didn’t want to look like a scared little baby. Then you heard it, Ayo’s assured voice spelling out the first codeword and the tension in your body rose. You trembled from the cold air, preparing yourself for the worst to happen as she uttered the next one. With each word, the fear in your veins amplified, thinking that any second now you were going to be a passenger in your own body and the demon that lived within you was going to take over.

But as Ayo uttered the last word, you were still there. You remembered your name, you remember where you were, you remembered the people around you and why you were there. You didn’t feel paralyzed, but rather alive. Freed from chains. You couldn’t believe it, you were never one to believe in miracles but that night, you did.

“You’re free, y/n.” Ayo smile like a proud mother.

“I’m free…” You repeated her words as if you were trying to convince yourself that it’s true.

She nodded, and you looked at Bucky who couldn’t hold himself back from wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your temple. “Oh, baby….” You could hear the genuine happiness in his voice and the shape of his lips forming a smile against you.

“You are both free,” Ayo declared.

You looked into his blue eyes that were gleaming with joy and love for only you. In that moment, you wished you had your phone with you so you could capture the priceless look on his face. You knew he was happy for you, however, you felt like you were celebrating his happiness instead. Maybe that’s what true love really is, celebrating each other’s happiness.

He grabbed your face and kissed you so deeply, taking your breath away. You could taste the saltiness of your tears cascaded down to your lips, but it was okay because you could feel Bucky’s soft lips against yours too and it was all you needed.

You held hands with Bucky, walking down to your shared hut, never wanting to untangle yourself from each other. Each night in Wakanda was an entire voyage itself. The scintillating stars in the sky and the quietness was paradise. You could see why Bucky adored Wakanda so much, everything about this country is perfect.

You laid on Bucky’s chest, playing with his dog tag. Even while sleeping, he never took it off. “I can’t believe I’m finally free…” you whispered.

Bucky looked down at you, “believe it doll, you deserve it.���

You sat up and leaned on your elbow, looking at him, “Thank you for getting me here and for being with me through it all. You’re amazing, Bucky.”

“No, doll, that is you. You’re one of the strongest people I know and I admire that.” Bucky sat up and he stared into your eyes as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

In that moment, there was a sudden urge to have him in a way you hadn’t had. You didn’t care about anything else, you just needed to feel every inch of him, and you needed him to feel every inch of you. You slammed your lips onto his, taking Bucky by surprise yet he leaned into it. Bucky grabbed your arse, pushing your body closer to him, despite the nonexistent gap between you. Bucky licked your bottom lip, and you took his cue as parting them, allowing his tongue to take over your mouth.

You stopped for a second to gasp for air, and you closed your eyes, letting Bucky take the wheel. Bucky moved his flesh hand to your hair, holding a fistful of it to your face in place. Then when he felt like he needed more, Bucky moved his hands to your thighs, lifting you onto his thighs, then he shifted his body around so that he was on top of you and you were lying on the pillow.

Bucky was still kissing you until he started moving his kisses down to your chin, then to your jaw then to your neck, the spot that he knew would elicit a sound of you. Bucky might’ve been over a hundred years old and he hadn’t been intimate with anyone since 1945 but he still remembered how he used to make a woman scream for his name and he wasn’t going to waste that talent.

Bucky lifted the hem of the tank top you were sleeping in and you raised your hands to make it easier for him to get rid of it. This was the first time Bucky had seen you naked, you were always sleeping in clothes next to him, whether it’s a tank top and super short shorts, you were always covered. But now, you were all bare and you were slightly nervous because you hadn’t let anyone see you like this since you were captured by HYDRA.

Chills ran down your spine from the crisp air, but it was also because of the way Bucky was ogling you. You could see how dilated his pupils are, overshadowing the blue. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathed.

Bucky continued his lecherous act, kissing down your chest then to your right nipple, swirling his tongue around like a lollipop while his other hand toyed with your left breast. You arched your back as you shut your eyes, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. You whimpered, needing more of him. “Bucky…”

He wanted to taste more of you so he trailed kisses down your stomach, waking up the butterflies inside until he was breathing to your core. Even in the darkness, he could see how your wetness glistens. He wrapped his arms in each of your thighs and spread them apart for him to dive in. He could tell you were feeling a little shy but he made sure to make you feel otherwise by kissing the insides of your thighs, telling you, “I bet you taste real sweet, darling…”

His words made you open your eyes and looked down at him, between your things. He smirked mischievously at your reaction. Then he dipped into your core, licking a stripe up to your clit, making you moan out his name. The way his stubble burnt your delicate flesh made you want to close your thighs however, Bucky held them firmly in place. He savoured every drop, devouring you like a famished man. Your thighs trembled around him and you bit your lip trying to surpass the moans. The slurping sounds that he made were sinful.

Then he shoved two of his fingers inside you, scissoring you open for him. You gasped, the intrusion shocked you, causing you to open your eyes and look down at his act. “Oh God, Buck, I’m fucking close…”

He dipped down again, savouring more juices flowing out of you. “Shh, I know doll, let go. I got you.” He continued his assault on your cunt until you felt the bubble in your belly exploded, making you see stars. You had forgotten the pleasure of chasing your orgasm until Bucky reminded you. Bucky swallowed every drop you released, not wanting to waste anything. He stayed there until you had nothing more to give.

Bucky rose from between your thighs, kissing you passionately and you could taste yourself on his tongue. It was so fucking debauched yet you fucking loved it. You wrap your arms around his neck and run your hands through his hair, messing it up and he looked so fucking sexy.

“I want you Bucky, please fill me up,” you pleaded in between makeout.

“You want this doll? You want me?” He knew what you desired, he just wanted to make sure one last time before you go all the way so you wouldn’t regret it in the morning.“

“Yes Bucky, I want all of you… Only you.”

“I got you, sweetheart.” Bucky grabbed your hands and put them above your head. He pulled back to take off his pants, freeing his cock out of his boxer. To say Bucky was packing light would be a massive lie. He was long and thick, not to mention he was painfully hard. You really didn’t expect it. You had thought about it and you guessed he was more on the lengthy side yet, he seemed to surprise you more and more every time.

Bucky saw the way you stared at it and he smirked at your reaction. “Like what you see, doll?” He stroked the shaft, getting it ready to plunge into you.

You bit your lip as your chest heaved at the licentious scene, “can I taste it?”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head while still stroking himself, “not tonight, doll. But I’ll hold your word.” He crawled back up to your body and you spread your legs apart to make room for him, you maintained eye contact as he held both of your hands that were still above your head. You could feel the nudge of the tip of his cock on your bud, making your toes curl, “are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes…” you practically whined. “Please, take me.”

Without a second thought, Bucky pushed himself inside you, slowly yet you could feel every inch of him stretching your walls open and you threw your head back, the friction caused your head to spin. You cried out his name as you tightened your grip on his hands, needing to hold onto something.

Bucky grunted when he was fully inside and he took a moment to hide his face in your neck, “ah, fucking hell, doll. You feel amazing.”

“Move Bucky, please…” you pleaded after you adjusted to him being inside you.

Bucky began to move slowly, started with shallow thrusts, pulling back a bit then pushed it back inside. When you didn’t show any signs of resistance, he began to pick up the pace and it made your moans grow louder. “Oh, fuck…” you cursed due to the sensation. “Faster, Buck…”

Your wish is Bucky’s command, he did as you asked and he was enjoying more and more of it. You lifted your legs higher on his waist, locking them there for dear life. You wailed as his cock impaled you, forgetting that there were probably kids sleeping around your hut but you were too clouded with pleasure to worry about that. The onslaught caused you to clench around him and your coil tightened. Knowing you won’t last much longer, Bucky detached his flesh hand from yours and moved it down to your clit, rubbing it in circles over and over again and you plummeted into bliss, electricity ran through your veins as you hit your peak, releasing yourself all over him.

Bucky kept thrusting, seeing the way your face contorted in satisfaction because of him and how your walls tightened around him threw him off the edge, causing him to reach his own orgasm. He spilt himself inside you, finishing with shallow thrusts until every drop was stored. “Ah, fuck…” He groaned.

Bucky laid on top of you while still staying inside you. You loved the intimacy of being this close to him, honestly, you wouldn’t mind staying in this position until dawn. Both of you tried to gain control over your breathing as you were completely spent. Once he regained composure, he pulled himself out of you and laid next to you.

“That was…”

“Fucking amazing? Yeah…” Bucky completed that sentence as he held you in his arms and kissed your forehead.

“You were amazing, doll.” He continued.

“I haven’t had sex since… Well, since as long as I can remember.”

“Me too, doll. You are my first since everything that happened.”

“You are mine, too.”

For a few seconds, you just stared at each other lovingly with satisfaction plastered all over your faces. You relished in each others’ warmth, despite the hut reeking of sweat and smell of sex, you found comfort in each other, putting both of you to sleep.

tags; @ohmickeyhenry @suitofvibraniumarmor @themaddies-obx @beminetokeep @bluemoon-icecream-blog @bluemoon-icecream @harprs @thefridgeismybestie @abitofeverythingg @wolfonthemoonwatchestvshows @julimelodi @bookscoffeandotherstuff @tanyaherondale @artisancowbells @ferxaniti @intothesoul @hallecarey1 @buckybarnesplumwhore @thefallenbibliophilequote @andiyholly @emizla @capxwinter @jevans2 @alwaysreadingimagineschick @swtltlmrvlgrl @extremelyblackandwhite

[chibiwritesstuff]

Could you do a headcanon for how the dorm leaders and their S/O would react if their kid(s) from the future magically appeared on campus?

I might have gone overboard with this... but at the same time, I feel like I rushed this. I’m so occupied by work that I have to slowly work on this from midnight to six am before heading to bed then go to work around 10 am for two weeks now... I hope it turned out the way you like it. Yes, the ones with unique magic is inspired with FGO’s Noble Phantasms... I’m still stuck in that hellhole of a gacha game. I think you can tell who my faves are by the length I’ve written for them XD

Now, let’s enter this twisted wonderland~

“Queen’s Rose Maze!” All five of the Heartslabyul main guys heard. “Traverse in the twisting maze of the Queen of Roses!”

All of them rushed towards the location of the voice only to see a tiny Riddle with (h/c) hair instead.

“What did I do?!” Heartslabyul A-kun whimpered as he seemed to be stuck in a rose maze.

“As stated by the Queen of Hearts’ Rule #186: Never eat hamburg steak on Tuesdays. You just broke a rule and you must be punished.” The kid scolded. “To think this is what my esteemed father deals with everyday…”

“By father, I assume that would be me?”

Surprisingly, Riddle seems to take this information in stride. The kid will turn around and his suspicions were confirmed.

The kid will run and hug him asking if he’s doing a good job. He introduces himself and everything Riddle asked, (s/n) answered perfectly.

Well, until you showed up that is.

“Mother!” He’ll call out in joy as he bounced towards you.

And there goes Riddle’s composure.

Oh great seven, you two have children?! Is his first thought followed by, We will get married, have children, and be together forever!

While initial surprise caught you off guard, you slowly accepted the fact that you and Riddle are now interacting with your future child.

When he can finally go back to his time his final words made both of you blush.

“Farewell, mother and father!” He’ll wave happily as he disappears. “I have to watch over the twins you two just have after all!”

Wanna try betting who’s redder? (It’s Riddle)

Someone – more like two – that is not him or you is on his bed.

Who dares occupy my bed?!

The little girl stirred from her sleep and upon making eye contact with you two she’ll screech in joy.

“(s/n)! Wake up! Mom and Dad are here!”

Both of you flinched both from the high pitch voice and the statement she just made.

The young boy will wake up as well and greets you two in a much calmer way.

They’ll tell you that someone’s unique magic transported a bunch of kids to the past and now they’re here.

Slowly but surely, you both can tell that (d/n) is a daddy’s girl and (s/n) is a mommy’s boy.

You all decided to take a siesta together, with the children in between.

When you both stirred in your sleep, the kids are gone. There’s a note stuck on Leona’s chest saying that they have to return to their time and they enjoy the siesta as always.

“Can’t wait to have you two soon.” Leona will mutter as he pulled you to him before going back to sleep.

A girl is crying in the lounge and it's disturbing the customers causing a bunch of complaints, forcing the twins to abandon current tasks to find the girl.

As soon as the girl spotted the twins, she grabs on them. “Uncle Jade, where’s daddy?”

Oh, Jade and Floyd are gonna have a field day with this. They kept questioning the poor girl about everything about her time to the point of scaring her.

“Aw, what a cute girl.” You’ll end up cooing.

“Mommy!” Tears are forming in her eyes as she hugs your legs tightly. “Mommy, I’m scared.”

“(y/n), I wasn’t aware you have a child…” You hear Azul trail off at the news.

He’s crestfallen on the fact that you have a child already. He will start doubting himself, thinking, of course, your relationship wouldn’t last, he’s not good enough, that he didn’t realize the kid is running towards him.

“Daddy! Uncle Jade and Uncle Floyd are scaring me again!”

“D-Daddy?!” He’s so taken aback he fell on his bum.

Jade and Floyd are laughing at his reaction while you just stared back and forth towards the child and Azul.

Ironically this is the time one of Azul’s customers decided to eat and run. Just as he asked the twins to deal with it the kid waved her magical pen.

“Everlasting Summer Spree!” And the guy is now over buying almost everything in the lounge. “Splurge in the joys of summer and shop to the fullest!”

Azul is so proud and started babying her with the very money she earned from one customer alone.

When it's time for her to leave he’s crying… which made her cry as well.

Looks like I’m going to be stuck with crybabies… is the only thing you thought of as you smile.

“Papa!” Echoed in the middle of the party that Kalim assembled.

When a young boy tackled him, Jamil was ready to grab the said kid until he noticed their features, and boy did he paled up upon the sudden realization.

“Oya, do I remind you of your papa?” Kalim smiled and hugged the kid. “That’s flattering, kiddo!”

“Uh, Kalim you might want to take a real good look on that kid,” Jamil said as he readied to call you on his phone.

When you arrived at the Scarabia dorm, you see Kalim pampering a young boy that has your eyes and complexion. A table full of food, toys, and jewelry scattered around to make the kid happy.

“Mama!” The boy called out to you while your brain is trying to process everything.

“Isn't (s/n) so cute! He’s really smart too!” Your lover kept on praising the kid as he played with Jamil, who looks like he wants to disappear.

Your mom mode instincts kicked in and scolded the two for overdoing things.

They kept saying sorry as Jamil finally got out of the predicament.

When the kid can finally return to their original timeline, he’ll give one last hug to the entire Scarabia dorm’s students before leaving.

“I’m so excited!” Kalim will tell you with a blinding smile. “Arent you excited as well?”

Vil was looking for Rook when he saw the said man playing with a little blonde girl. The archer noticed his presence so he beckoned the girl to come with him.

“Roi de Poison looks like your beauty runs in the family.”

The little girl did a curtsy as she greeted him. “Greetings, father. I’m (d/n), your daughter from the future.”

He’s amused, seeing as the girl acts gracefully by greeting alone. After doing his usual 5-second head to toe judgment, he nods and beckons her to follow to Pomefiore for a spa day.

No surprise but as they walk the premises of the campus, lots of stares and gossip started spreading.

Before either Vil or Rook can do anything, she once again spoke. “Father, may I ask for permission to use my unique magic?”

This piqued his interest, “Very well, show me what you got.”

“Smile of the Princess~” With an elegant smile flashed to everyone, “Hark, for the fairest’s daughter has graced you her smile~”

You just happened to walk by when you saw the commotion. Color yourself surprised when you saw a girl with Vil’s beauty and grace but with your eyes and preference of hairstyle cast her magic.

You might not have magic but you are quite good at noticing the quirks of everyone’s unique magic. A smile crept on your lips as you realized what her magic really does and who she might be.

They all got enamored with her and waited for her command. “Do get lost and focus on your duties, you pitiful potatoes.”

“As you wish, princess.” Everybody affected by her magic responded and went on their merry way.

“Oh my, so your magic is similar to Monsieur Multi.” Rook happily commented after the display.

“That’s incorrect.” (y/n) responded, already figuring out the true nature of her magic. “Smile of the Princess merely makes her target pay their fullest attention to her. It's her charisma that made them follow her orders.”

“So you noticed as well,” Vil confirmed which you happily nodded.

“Greetings, mother.” She curtsied and introduced herself once more. “We’re currently heading to father’s dormitory to treat our skin. Would you like to join us?”

Ah, so your hunch was right…

“She is going whether she likes it or not,” Vil answered for you as he smirked at your flushed face. “We do need a family bonding after all, don’t we, my dear sweet potato?”

“Yeah… what he said.” You sweatdropped as you unwillingly got dragged to their spa day. “Are we seriously ignoring the fact that she just said we’re her parents?”

“Are you opposed to having children with me?” He raised an eyebrow before facing your kid. “How many siblings do you have?”

“My older brother remains in my timeline with his acting job, father.”

You all end up doing the said spa day and enjoyed getting to know your daughter. You can't help but sigh in relief when she told you that she choose following Vil’s lifestyle of her own will rather than being forced to.

When she has to leave, rather than curtsying, she went and hug both of you instead.

“I know father’s at work and barely spend time with you but please don’t leave him…” She looks away with a sad smile. “He doesn’t mean to make you lonely.”

Against Vil’s protests, you grabbed his hand and raised it with a huge smile. “I promise I won’t let him go until he tells me to.”

Cue to Vil blushing, Rook laughing, and (d/n) smiling as she waves goodbye.

“You better keep that promise, you stupid sweet potato…” Vil mutters under his breath with a small smile.

The one rare time he leaves his room is when he visits you or he’s out to get his pre-orders. Today’s reason is visiting you.

He hears giggling from his brother and what sounds to be another child. He’s so curious if Ortho made a new friend that he didn’t even process the fact that there’s another person in your dorm.

“Big brother! Your son is here!” Ortho happily announced as he pointed at the giggling boy on your lap.

“AAAHHHH!!!!” Idia.exe has crashed. Please restart your system to continue.

“Ahaha, dad is still so jumpy as always.” (s/n) stood up and walked towards him. “Hi, dad! I’m (s/n), your son from the future.”

He’s the main suspect from all these time-traveling shenanigans. Creating a time machine wanting to meet you two which led to all the children wanting to go as well.

He explains the mechanics of the time machine along with its timer-based setting to return them to their timeline with no fail.

Idia is now just so invested in how this creation works that he sat down on the couch with his holographic computer typing notes and giving his ideas to the kid.

You’re just happy that Idia is finally interacting with someone else even if it's his son.

Truth be told when he randomly showed up in your dorm, (s/n) geeked out so much on how he unlocked the secret episode on his life story. He immediately bombarding you with questions about your current relationship with Idia.

It was overwhelming… thank god for Ortho’s random visits that you managed to calm the kid down.

In the end you four played video games – constantly yelling hacks when someone else wins – and had a great time.

When the timer started beeping, he gave you three a hug. “I love you guys! Please don’t forget the parent-teacher meeting tomorrow, Dad.”

“I believe that something you should say to future us…” You sweatdropped as Idia held back a nervous laugh.

“I-I’ll try.”

Le gasp from all three of you.

When (s/n) disappeared, Ortho starts chattering on how he can’t wait to be an uncle. Leaving so he can make lots of detailed plans for the future hangouts he’ll have with your son.

“(y/n),” He caught your attention as his face and hair slowly turns to fiery red. “I may be the biggest introvert in the world but I promise I’ll do anything that I can to make you happy.”

“Huh, I guess this is how Hades wooed Persephone to marry him…” You smirked as he covered his face to muffle his screaming. “Should we start planning for our wedding now?”

You two were having a peaceful picnic by the school grounds when a young boy appeared on top of the tree. He lost his balance though and leave it to Malleus’ fast reflexes to catch the boy with no sweat.

“Thank you, father.” The boy with a striking resemblance of your lover spoke as he regained his footing. “This isn’t how I planned to meet you two…”

“Father?” You two both asked.

“Okay, I’m aware that you are god knows how old but I wasn’t aware you have a child?” You can't help but look back and forth between the two boys.

“Neither do I.” He calmly answers, confusion evident on his face. “I haven’t bed anyone in my whole life.”

“My apologies! I’m (s/n) Draconia, your fifth son from the future.”

Cue to you doing a spit-take. “Fifth?!”

Malleus is just beaming in joy from this news, he does love a big family. Oh, he can't wait for the future to come, get married to you and have children… five children!

“There’s eight of us, actually…” He whispered but you both heard it anyways.

Spit-take part two with a bonus of your face being redder than any tomato in existence and Malleus just vibrating in happiness. “EIGHT?!”

He goes on and telling their names and current accomplishments, all to how the youngest sister is about to be born in a few months.

“So, I guess that actually makes it nine.” (s/n) corrects himself one last time.

You passed out while mumbling “Nine… nine kids…”

As much as Malleus wants to keep talking, he chose to care for you first, chuckling at how you passed out from said information.

He brings you and his kid to his room to make sure you have a better mattress to lay on. The two Draconia’s will keep talking about how the future of the family works.

Oh, imagine the horror on his face when tend to always be at doors death every delivery time. Now he knows that it's quite common for humans to die when giving birth.  He second-guesses the idea of having so many children if your life is at stake.

(s/n) have to remind him that they all live, so everything's fine.

After that reassurance, you stirred awake and saw the kid once more. He now wants to snuggle with you on the bed, which Malleus followed suit.

“Mother, please sing me that lullaby again.” He yawns as the older fae encases you two in a hug. “We all love your song…”

You can’t help but smile seeing how adorable your son is being that you hummed the first lullaby your mother has sung to you in your younger days.

You two noticed he’s fading, assuming that he is going back to his timeline once again.

You both placed a kiss on his forehead, saying “We love you, (s/n).”

Malleus chuckles and pulls you close as he peppers your head with kisses. He’s so excited for the future that he’ll share with you and you can't help but feel the same way.

“So… who’s going back to clean up the mess we left at the school grounds?”

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Fated Part 2

Ares x reader

Word Count: 1230

Summary: Ares is hurt, and you are pissed.

When you arrived, Hera was nowhere to be found, but Thanatos was already waiting outside the bedroom door.

“You’re not taking him, little brother,” you warned icily.

He looked sad as he replied, “That has yet to be decided. You and I can quarrel about secrets later. You being with him will strengthen his spirit. Go.”

You kept your eyes trained on him as you walked past to enter the bedroom, but he didn’t so much as twitch from his post. The sight inside the spacious bedroom, however, was one that you knew instantly would haunt you until the end of time.

Hera stood next to the bed, a piece normally piled with comfortable red and golden throws that was now covered only in the stark white sheets that served to highlight how Ares’ normally beautifully dark complexion was a sickly grey color.

Apollo, the god of healing, was speaking to her softly not noticing your entrance. “There isn’t anything more I can do for him,” he was saying. “Now, we just have to give him time to see if he pulls through. Though with Thanatos lingering outside the way he is . . .” His tone made it abundantly clear what he thought of Than.

“Do not speak of my brother in such a way,” you ordered. “If there’s nothing more for you to do, then leave.” You’d already had a low opinion of this Olympian based on what Ares let slip about the event that drove him to Thrace in the first place; this commentary certainly wasn’t helping endear him to you.

His golden eyes--so disturbingly similar to your family’s trademark color yet so violently different in the type of glow--snapped over to you, shining brightly with his anger. “And who are--”

“She’s right,” Hera interrupted, clearly wanting to calm the brewing fight. “Ares would not want us here longer than necessary. He will be well cared for in her hands.”

“And who exactly is she?”

“The wife of Lord Zeus’s only legitimate heir,” was her lofty reply. Normally, you’d hate to hear the scorn in Hera’s voice as she talked down on Zeus’ other children, but right now you just wanted them out.

Clearly flabbergasted, Apollo finally stormed out without a word.

“Watch over him,” was Hera’s command before she, too, left.

Which left you alone and finally able to get a good look at the prone form on the bed.

As you’d noticed before, his skin had taken on a grey edge to it. Even the war paint-like streak around his eyes--already bone white normally--looked somehow paler. His armor was missing, presumably to dress his wounds, and you didn’t care enough presently to locate it. In fact, all of his usual clothing was missing; the only thing covering him from the waist down was that white sheet. You assumed that meant he had no injuries where he was covered since it would have just gotten in the way of healing him.

The thing that drew your attention after that initial scan was the line of burn-like marks diagonally across his chest, each in the shape of a link in a chain, all an angry red that almost matched the color of his eyes. An alarmingly human color on a god of Olympus. Still, the wounds at least didn’t seem to be open or infected. Apollo’s work, no doubt.

His breath was shallow as you gently brushed his light colored hair out of his face. “What happened to you, my love?”

“According to Hermes, giants. They caught him and bound him in an urn for the last thirteen months.” At some point, Thanatos had apparently entered.

Your hand delicately traced the shape of your husband’s face. You said nothing.

“The Olympians are frightened. They now know exactly what it will take to kill a god.”

“Will this?” Your voice was so painfully close to cracking you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment upon hearing it. “Kill him, that is?” Tears threatened to well up in your eyes, but you blinked them back; crying could wait until you were alone.

A gentle, cool hand rested on your shoulder. “Even I don’t know what our sisters have planned.” Thanatos hesitated. “I should have noticed. He and I see each other frequently, and still I failed him in a way he would never have failed me.”

“I am his wife, Than, and I didn’t notice. Your crime is no greater than my own.”

“Then perhaps it is no one’s fault,” he mused. “If you have not already thought of it, I’d recommend sticking to nectar to nourish him since ambrosia may prove too much for his current state.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, sister. I must take my leave; I have mortals to collect. I . . . pray I won’t need to return.” There was another pause. “And congratulations on your marriage. For what it’s worth, I’m happy to hear that Fate worked itself out in that regard.” A bell tolled behind you immediately after that, signaling his departure. 

“Thank you,” you repeated in the silence that followed.

And so began your vigil.

Your first action once you were able to will yourself away from his side even for a moment was to drag one of the room’s couches over to the bedside so you wouldn’t be horribly uncomfortable. Then you went hunting for his most prized belongings: his armor and swords. Fortunately, they were right where they were supposed to be--in the armory. Likely, they transported themselves back home while he was trapped judging from the dried giant blood caked on them and the fact that his family would never have such care for his things.

You gathered them in your arms, unflinching in the face of the seething rage the pieces emitted. “I know,” you murmured as you gathered the tools you’d need to clean and sharpen them. They calmed somewhat upon recognizing your presence. “I’m going to take care of you,” you continued. “Revenge will be yours soon enough.”

His breastplate, the most sentient piece, would need to be cleaned first. It would have to go to Hephaestus soon to replace the various torn clasps--you absolutely did not let your mind linger on how they got that way--but for now you could rid it of the blood and mud. Cleaning each piece to its original beauty, to Ares’ standards was a task reminiscent of particularly vengeful gods, but you were glad for the work. It kept your hands busy in the breaks between carefully dripping nectar into your husband’s mouth, made the days pass by faster it seemed. Your mouth never stopped moving as your regaled both Ares and the items of every passing thought that crossed your mind as you worked.

After that came the swords he normally kept strapped to his back. Still you talked. As you cleaned. As you sharpened. As you gazed longingly at his slack face. Thankfully this time passed without visits from either the Olympians or Thanatos. Your brother’s absence specifically, you took as a good sign.

Your voice was beginning to go rough from use by the time you started tending to his main weapon, the sword with the vicious curve and an edge stained red with the blood of those that’d fallen to it.

Your grip tightened on the hilt when an equally rough voice said, “When is the last time you slept, my love?”

[erzherzog-von-edelstein]

Sacrality and Legitimacy

Summary: The evening before Charles V is crowned Holy Roman Emperor Austria shares a private moment with his husband. For the second day of @aphrarepairweek2021 for the prompt “royalty.”

Characters: Spain and Austria

Ship: SpaAus

Word Count: 1.4K

Austria regarded the glittering crown of the Holy Roman Empire in the low candle light. It was a beautiful glittering thing, set with images of saints. It had been a gift from Byzantium long ago, and it had been handed down from emperor to emperor.

In the morning the pope would place the crown on the head of Charles V, and legitimize his title in a way that had been done since the middle ages. It would also grant the shared crown of Austria and Spain unquestioned legitimacy.

The regalia was laid out carefully the night before, and Austria was making sure that everything was in order. The necessary pieces of the imperial coronation were very familiar to him since Maximilian was elected.

He ran his hand over the embroidered lining of the thick mantle, and then lightly touched each the scepter and crown in turn. The objects were familiar, and he knew that they were in the safekeeping of his royal family, but the reverence that he felt for them had never lessened. They were ancient pieces, endowed with sacred power. Beyond his own political power, which was rooted in Charlemagne’s empire, the holy relics of the empire made his heart beat faster.

He heard the sound of footsteps, but it didn’t alarm him. He had sent a message to Spain to offer him the chance of seeing the sacred regalia before the day. He turned to see the Spaniard standing behind him, as he had expected. If he had learned anything about Spain in the years that they had been married, it was that he had the greatest respect for the sacred and would enjoy the opportunity to be this close.

Spain looked like he had been prepared to go to sleep when he received the message. He had clearly thrown a cloak on over his chemise and not bothered to put on a doublet underneath. There was something incredibly sexy about seeing him in little more than his under-layers, with his hair tousled.

Austria had to focus on not staring at the neckline of his shirt, and the tempting glimpse of tanned skin beneath it. The time in the New World had given Spain’s skin a beautiful amber glow.

Though he found nothing particularly wrong with feeling lust for his husband, he knew that the point was to show him something that would be meaningful to him. He was certain that being able to see and touch the regalia was something that Spain desperately wanted.

Austria spoke,  “I see that you got my message.” Spain strode across the space with the air of a man who commanded the world. Once he was at Austria’s side he answered, “Of course I came as quickly as I could.”

He turned his gaze to the regalia, and his breath caught in his throat. He said, in a hushed voice, “The holy relics.”

For a moment, all of the bravado of a conquering empire vanished, and Austria was looking at a pious man overcome with emotions. He saw someone who had spent years of his life completely devoted to the church.

Silently, Austria watched as Spain’s eyes moved from the crown to the holy lance and the sword of Charlemagne, which had been transported from Aachen for the occasion. In the low light he could see the shimmer of water in Spain’s eyes.

He said, softly, “You can touch them if you want.”

Spain looked at him, and looked momentarily like a little boy who was terrified of doing something wrong in church. Austria was reminded for a moment that he really was still quite young, and had been a unified kingdom for less than a century. For all his confidence, he was still an emergent kingdom not entirely used to this position.

Spain said, “Can I really?” It was so odd to hear him ask for permission, since he rarely asked for it for anything else. But, on this subject he seemed hesitant, and in need of the reassurance. Austria put a hand on his shoulder and said, “You can, I promise.”

Only once Spain had nodded and reached out to touch the imperial cloak did he say, “You usually aren’t one to need permission for anything.”

Spain shook his head. His eyes were still full of wonder as he moved his hand from one item to the other. He was only touching them lightly with his fingertips, like he was worried that too much contact would be damaging.

He answered Austria, “For most things, I would not. But this-“ He put his hand on one of the most holy relics and drew in a breath through his nose, “This is the holy lance. The blade that pierced the side of our savior.”

He sounded like he was choked up, and Austria could see every bit of his piety. No one would ever accuse Spain of being fickle in his love of the church. Spain closed his eyes for a moment as he pressed his palm against the relic.

Austria allowed him the moment with silence. He had always known that he had married a man who prided himself on his faith, and he was not going to interrupt. But he did rub comforting circles on Spain’s shoulder, to remind him that he was not alone.

Spain moved his hand again and opened his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as he seemed to emerge from his revelry. Then, he blinked away the beginnings of tears.

Austria decided it was finally time to break the silence, and he asked, “What is wrong, my dear? Aren’t you happy?”

He had never seen Spain quite so emotional before, and it felt like he was seeing the man truly vulnerable moment. His voice was somewhat steady as he answered, “I never thought I would be able to have anything from my father. Everyone knows that bastards never inherit.”

Austria hoped that his touch was at least comforting, since he knew that the subject of legitimacy was a sensitive one. Spain put his hand very gently on the crown, and Austria could see the swell of emotions in his eyes.

He said, trying to remind Spain of how far he had come, “Tomorrow your king will be crowned Emperor of the Romans by the Pope. That is more legitimacy than blood could ever give you.” Spain turned to meet Austria’s eyes, and said, “Our king. I know that I have been granted this because of you.”

Austria felt his heart beat faster. He could see the gratitude in the other’s face and he was certain that he had never felt quite so in love. Their marriage had not been made for love, but as he looked at Spain he saw a young man overwhelmed with the feeling that he was finally coming into his own, and he could not love him more.

In the candle light, Spain looked soft and handsome, and very vulnerable. He replied, “It’s everything that you deserve, Antonio.”

Spain put his hand softly on Austria’s face, and seemed to struggle with his words for a moment. He finally managed to say, “You cannot imagine how much this means to me. This past decade God’s love has granted me so much. I have the empire that I always dreamed of.”

He drew in another breath to calm himself. Austria took the opportunity to say, “I do understand, Schatz. That’s why I invited you here.”

Spain nodded and the look in his green eyes was enough to melt Austria. He had not realized how desperately and deeply he loved the man he married. Spain replied, “Your love has given me just as much, and I am grateful to have you." He stroked Austria’s cheek with his thumb, and said quietly, “My Rodrigo. You are a blessing.”

He gently pulled Austria into a kiss. Austria leaned gratefully into it. He loved the touches, and he could feel the intensity behind the way their lips joined. The way that Spain was holding his face felt especially tender. His Spanish bull could be gentle when he tried.

The kiss felt like it lasted a pleasant eternity, until Spain finally broke it to take a breath. Austria didn’t want it to stop. This felt like one of the most intimate moments they had ever had, and he didn’t want it to end.

Spain slipped his arms around his husband’s waist and pulled him close. He whispered into his husband’s ear, “Come to bed with me, and I’ll make you feel like a king.” Austria nodded and kissed him one more time.

[ninjettey]

Boys and Aliens

Experiment 626 - A.K.A. Stitch escapes from the Intergalactic Prison Transport.  The stolen police cruiser lands near Hawaii, but Stitch bailed out early, landing on the beach of Santa Carla.

AN:  No Lilo.  The trial dialogue is almost verbatim from the Lilo and Stitch movie.  I do not own The Lost Boys or Stitch.

Chapter One

The Galactic Alliance councilman of all universal species were gathered in the massive coliseum.  The Grand Councilwoman heading the proceedings of one Dr. Jumba Jookiba.  An intelligent alien teetering on the line of insanity and brilliance.  He was being charged with unethical experimentation in genetics.  Jumba was heavily restrained and surrounded by guards on a floating platform in the center of the coliseum.  

The Grand Councilwoman calls for silence before addressing the accused, “Read the charges.”

Gantu, Captain of the Galactic Alliance read Jumba’s charges out loud, “Dr. Jumba Jookiba-- lead scientist of Galaxy Defense Industries-- you stand before this council accused of illegal genetic experimentation.”

The coliseum was filled with hushed conversations in regards to the charges.  Some repeating rumors of horrid experiments gone wrong.  Or of the many times the doctor has relocated his laboratories to not raise suspicion.  When the Grand Councilwoman speaks, every being quiets, “How do you plead?”

Jumba stood tall, confident that his experimentations were safely locked away in his laboratory.  He was not going to lose.  Not this time.  With a clear and concise voice, “Not guilty.  My experiments are only theoretical--completely within the legal boundaries.”  

The coliseum burst in volume as everyone spoke their own opinion.  The doors behind Jumba open.  A massive containment unit floating into the room.  Stopping near the center.  Grand Councilwoman states, “We believe you’ve actually created something.”

The containment unit could be seen by every being.  It proceeded to open.  Jumba laughs, “Created something?! Ha! But that would be irresponsible and unethical. I would never, ever--… make more than one!”  Inside a glass case was a little blue creature with big ears twitching with every sound, two antennae on the top of his round shaped head.  Big, black bottomless eyes taking in his surroundings.  His puppy-like nose is overwhelmed with the scents of every being.  Four arms, two of which have the ability to shrink into himself to become a quadaped, three digits and opposable thumbs on each fur covered paw. Several spikes that act as additional antennae on his back.  He was wearing an orange and red zipper-front jump-suit.

Captain Gantu blurted out, “What is that monstrosity?”  Jumba sputters at the insult, “Monstrosity! What you see before you is the first of a new species. I call it Experiment 626. He is bulletproof, fireproof and can think faster than a supercomputer. He can see in the dark and move objects three thousand times his size! His only instinct: To destroy everything he touches!”  Jumba falls over in his restraints as he cackles.

The Grand Councilwoman is shocked at the sight of the creature, “So, it is a monster?”  Jumba stops cackling like a lunatic, “Only a little one.”  Gantu voices his opinion, “It is an affront to nature.  It should be destroyed!”  Grand Councilwoman lifts her hand to stop the chatter, “Calm yourself, Captain Gantu. Perhaps it can be reasoned with. (to Stitch) Experiment 626, give us some sign you understand any of this. Show us that there is something inside you that is good.”

Experiment 626 ceases his efforts to escape the glass containment to answer the council, “MEEGA NALA KWEESTA! (I WANT TO DESTROY!)”

The audience gasps.  The Grand Councilwoman clutches her chest, “So naughty.”  Experiment 626 laughs hysterically while Jumba claims he didn’t teach him that, still trying to convince the council of his innocence even with the evidence laughing in their faces. Gantu issues the order, “Place that idiot scientist under arrest.”  Jumba could be heard yelling, “I prefer to be called EVIL GENIUS!”  As he put in his own containment unit and quickly shuttled away.

The Grand Councilwoman issues her judgement on the creature, “And as for that abomination, it is fiord project of a deranged mind. It has no place among us. Captain Gantu, take him away.”  Gantu cracks his knuckles, “With pleasure.”

On board the prison transport, Experiment 626 is restrained to the ceiling of a cell, upside down with only his head visible.  Two massive, eight barrel laser cannons pointed in his direction.  Gantu taunts the creature, “Uncomfortable? Aw… Good! The council has banished you to exile on a desert asteroid. So, relax… enjoy the trip and don’t get any ideas! These guns are locked onto your genetic signature. They won’t shoot anyone but you.”  Gantu walks away from the creature as one of the cell guards takes a syringe with the creature’s blood and injects it into the cannons.  “Secure the cell.”

Captain Gantu returned to the bridge, “All ahead full.”  The prison transport and the following brigade started the flight to the deserted asteroid.  Experiment 626 was twisting in his restraints, loosening them up so he could escape.  The cannons followed his every move, and that’s when an idea struck him.  He used his saliva to gauge the reaction of these cannons and found they followed the dribble.  The noise from his experiment captured the attention of the only present guard.  The creature spit a massive wad of saliva onto the guard, triggering the cannons.  This provided the distraction he needed to break free and escape his cell.

A female copilot announced, “Gunfire!  In the cell bay!”  

The creature had gotten loose, ventured into the ventilation system and exited into a loading bay.  Stealing a police cruiser, he blasted through the loading bay doors and flew into space.  He passed by the bridge windows and one alien noted, “He uh… took the red one.”  

Other police cruisers closed in on the creature’s craft.  He had punched through the dash to disable the tracking system.  He could hear the commands flowing through the coms device on the dashboard.  It was then he knew he would have a better chance of escaping if he activated the hyper-drive.  The damage from the punch to disable the tracking system, also damaged navigation.  He activated the hyper-drive with no predetermined designation.  

With no way to track the creature, the Galactic Alliance didn’t know where to begin to look for the creature.  The Grand Councilwoman had issued an order to watch for any suspicious activity anywhere in the universe.  “It is going to take a millennia to find that abomination.  Gantu, I am putting you in charge of tracking down that creature.”  Gantu hung his head in shame, “Yes, Grand Councilwoman.”

Meanwhile

626 comes out of hyper-drive near Earth.  He flies towards the unknown planet.  The pressure from entering the atmosphere has the craft groaning, the internal pressure building up.  626 releases the ejector seat, landing on a desolate beach at night, the craft crashes hundreds of miles away in the ocean.  The advanced craft was not detected on Earth’s radars.  626 released the restraints of the seat, pulled off the suit and threw everything into the ocean.  Getting rid of any evidence of his arrival for now.

He took a look around.  Several hundred yards away were bright lights of some sort of amusement park.  626 cautiously moved towards it.  He was about one-hundred yards away from this amusement park when he heard some loud, rambunctious laughter, then a small voice crying for help.  On the other side of a sand dune was a bonfire and a group of grown, intoxicated men tossing around a small child.  626 being new to the planet needed someone to show him around.  This small, innocent being may be able to help him adapt to this planet before he destroys it.

Rushing towards the group of men, 626 claws, bites and tears apart the men.  Leaving the normally golden sand below his paws crimson red and sticky.  The small being lifts his head from the ground, his face bloodied and swollen.  He looks around and sees various body parts strewn around the area and a strange creature with four arms walking up to him.  626 approaches the boy, “Meega 626.”  The creature gestures to himself, then to the boy, “Yuuga?”  The boy takes a swallow breath, “Laddie.  Thank you.”  The boy promptly passed out.  626 sniffed the boy for his scent and possibly scents of others like him.  He turned his nose to the sky trying to catch the scent of the others, finding it leads to the amusement park.

Picking up the boy with his top two arms, he runs towards the boardwalk, keeping in the shadows.  The scent of the others has become very strong above his head.  He tilted his head listening to the raised voices above him, “You were supposed to keep an eye on him Star!  Laddie could be anywhere.  So help me, if he is hurt, I will tear you apart.”  626 perks up when he recognizes Laddie’s name.  He gently sets Laddie down and climbs the post to the top of the boardwalk.  626 sat on the top railing looking at the five humans staring at him.

The group of four men and one woman turn towards the noise of something crawling up the side of the boardwalk.  It perched on the top railing.  This strange creature just looks at them with it’s big black eyes.  They can see it’s covered in blood.  The man with long, dark hair is the closest to 626.  He could smell Laddie’s blood on him as well as the blood of other men.  The man moves to grasp the creature, but 626 jumps out of reach.  “Where is he?  Where is Laddie?!” The man yells, his eyes shifting to a yellow with red outer line before shifting back.  626 points to under the boardwalk with one of his paws.

The man brushes past 626 and jumps over the railing landing in the sand next to the boy, “Laddie!”  The boy jolts awake hearing one of his brothers calling his name.  “Dwayne, where’s 626?” Laddie asked in a quiet voice as Dwayne picked him up.  The other three men followed Dwayne down.  The man with a really poofy mane asked, “What’s 626?”  “He saved me from Surf Na….” Laddie’s heavy lidded eyes close as he passes out again.  His breathing is raspy and shallow.  A classic sign of broken ribs.  One of the men dressed in all black and short hair spoke, “Dwayne, take Laddie back to the cave.  The rest of us will find where Laddie was attacked.  Star?”  The girl looks at her ex.  He handed her some money.  “Get something to eat.”  His way of telling her to go away.  Dwayne left on his bike with Laddie.

626 was watching from the shadows under the boardwalk.  He looked back and forth between the boy leaving on a motorcycle and the rest of the group.  One of them looked in the general direction of 626, “You can come out.  We’re not going to hurt you.”  This one had on an interesting, colorful, patch-covered jacket.   The creature moved out from behind the pillar he was partially hiding behind.  The men looked up at 626, he was on the under-side of the boardwalk looking down at them.  626 tilted his head, narrowed his eyes at the men.  He didn’t want to trust them, but they don’t seem afraid of him and he doesn’t have a choice.  626 crawled down the post, approaching the men with caution.  

Marko, Paul and David were able to get a better look at this strange creature.  They couldn’t look away from this four armed, big eyed creature that looked like it belonged in a Sci-Fi movie.  The four beings were distracted from their staring contest when a dog barked.  626 looked at the noisy creature running on the beach, then himself and decided to try and blend in better.  These men watched as 626 pulled two of his arms, his antennae on the top of his head, and the spikes on his back into his body.  Now, 626 looked more like a weird species of canine.  Poofy mane enthusiastically exclaimed, “That was so cool.  I’m Paul.”  He pats the one with the brightly colored jacket covered in patches, “This is Marko, and the one in all black is David.”  

David rolled his eyes at Paul.  The stoner is way too cheerful sometimes.  David lit a cigarette before speaking to 626, “Can you show us where you saved Laddie?”  626 nodded his head, “Ih.”  They went back to their bikes.  626 got excited when he saw them.  He climbed onto the gas tank of the closest one, which turned out to be Marko’s.  The guys chuckled at him.  Marko mounted his bike and told 626 to hold on.  Kicking their bikes to life, they drove down the nearest stairs and onto the beach following the general direction 626 pointed.  The closer they got to the slowly dying bonfire, the stronger the smell of blood got.  

The guys parked their bikes and climbed up the sand dune.  They looked back and forth between 626 and the mess he made.  Paul and Marko suddenly bust out laughing.  They laugh so hard there’s tears running down their faces.  David chuckles, “Impressive.  Come on boys, let’s help him clean up.”  626 was a little confused but he helped throw what’s left of the Surf Nazis into the bonfire.  Once done, David crouches to 626’s level, “It would be best if you stayed with us.  Most people wouldn’t react the way we did.”  Knowing David was right, 626 went with them back to their cave that they call home.

Dwayne looked up as the rest of the guys and 626 entered the cave.  He stood from where he was sitting on Laddie’s bed.  The boy had been bandaged, given some blood from the ‘wine’ bottle they keep and was falling asleep.  David asked, “How is he?”  Dwayne ran one of his hands through his hair, “He has a concussion, broken ribs, busted lip, and his left arm was broken.  Did you find the assholes that did it?”  David looked over his shoulder at 626, who was crawling up the wall exploring the cave, “Yeah.  Little guy tore them apart.  Five Surf Nazis have been taken out.”  Laddie’s small voice was heard, “Six.  There were six.”  A sound pretty similar to that of a cat hacking up a hairball was heard from 626.  He had coughed up a wallet and a cheap watch.  The guys didn’t even bat an eye.  Marko picked up the wallet soaked in drool, “Welp, I think we know what happened to Greg.”  The guys all shared a look, “He could be our very own Hellhound.”

Dwayne went up to 626 to really look at him.  He tilted his head, “What are you?”  626 brought his other two arms, antennae and spikes out, “Meega Experiment 626.”  He points towards the outside, “Me crash.”  Those two, broken English sentences explained quite a bit.  “Okay boys, got ourselves an actual alien,”  David sat in his wheelchair.  626 felt a little worried, thinking these beings were going to alert the Galactic Alliance.  Dwayne was still watching the small creature and saw the look on his face.  “We won’t tell anyone you’re here.  We are not exactly law-abiding citizens.”  626 was relieved for the moment.  He still planned on destroying the planet.  But he would need to commandeer or build a ship first.  His thoughts were interrupted by Marko, “Why don’t you make yourself at home.  We’re going to sleep soon.  We sleep during daylight.”

Looking around the cave, 626 spots the boy, Laddie’s bed.  The alien gets on the foot of the bed, burrows under the blanket and gets comfortable.  He was asleep before the sun rose.  Star returned and went to bed without saying a word to anyone.  The guys glared at her back, waiting for the day she either turns fully or they get permission to kill her.  She has one job, and that is to look after Laddie.  Star keeps screwing that up.  If it wasn’t for 626, Laddie would have died tonight.  The sun was starting to rise, so the guys ventured to their subcave to sleep.

[wingsofhcpe]

oh and this one because i love pain: having to watch your lover die, as you’re restrained by the antagonist, unable to fight your way out of their grip, yet your eyes are glued on your lover’s

(@sparklingrainbowdragon you asked for this too so, tagging you here!)

I am very sorry in advance for this. Read below the cut!

--

"Sir. We have captured some of the deserters."

Ivan turned around to look at Galina, his second-in-command, as she walked into the strategy room. She looked rumpled, as if it's taken a lot out of her to capture the rogue Grisha. Possibly, Ivan thought with satisfaction, that meant her squad had caught a lot of them.

"How many?" He asked, and raised an eyebrow when he saw her shift her weight from one foot to the other. "Well?"

"Just... Just two of them, sir." Her heartbeat spiked up dangerously, and Ivan wondered if she was afraid he would reprimand her for not bringing in more captives.

"Well then." He said strictly, but not as cold as he would have usually been. "That's still something worth reporting to the General."

"Sir..." Galina swallowed. "Sir, one of then is- we- we have captured Fedyor Kaminsky."

Ivan stood very, very still. For a moment, he thought it was Galina's heart pounding against her chest like a caged bird trying to be freed; then he slowly realised, the sound of blood rushing in his ears, was his own.

He stalked past Galina and was out of the tent before he could check himself. Another of his Grisha threw a pitying glance at him, but Ivan hardly registered it. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

Fedyor had been thrown into one of the Fabrikator-enforced cages, with a set of sturdy, iron cuffs clamped around his wrists. He sat slumped next to the second captive Grisha (an unconscious young girl who Ivan didn't recognise), but when he picked up Ivan's heartbeat his head shot up like a deer caught in the firelight. Those warm, brown eyes widened impossibly, and to Ivan's shock, he smiled.

"Vanya!" He said, his voice as soft and warm and loving as it had always been. Ivan nearly threw himself on the metal bars, his hand reaching through the gaps as if to reach Fedyor.

There was no need for words; their hearts did the talking. Besides, there wasn't anything they could have said. Not in this situation.

Fedyor didn't move, but he leaned closer to the bars. Belatedly, Ivan realised his right leg was bent in a strange angle underneath him. He cursed under his breath.

"Who did this to you?" He hissed, a spark of his old fierce protectiveness bubbling to the surface. Fedyor shrugged.

"One of the oprichniki decided I wasn't being cooperative enough while we were being transported here."

Of course he hadn't been. Ivan would have been proud of him had it not ended like that. He made a mental note of finding the oprichnik in question and tanning their arse so hard they wouldn't be able to sit for days.

"Does it hurt?" Ivan askes uselessly.

"A bit." The words were breathed out softly; Fedyor was good at masking his pain, but Ivan knew him too well. He knew he was in agony. He longed to lay his hand on Fedyor's knee, ease his pain, call a healer. But... He couldn't. And Fedyor wouldn't want his pity.

Ivan blinked the sudden wetness away and shifted his attention at the other Grisha. "And she?"

"Her name is Mariya." Fedyor said fondly, and for a moment Ivan felt a pang of jealousy. Then he realised Fedyor's heart beat for her the same way it had done for Nina. Protective, a mentor. His shoulders relaxed against his will.

"She was knocked unconscious by one of the Heartrenders. But she'll be okay, I think. Until..."

'Until we're sentenced to death and executed for high treason.' Ivan knew he would have to be the one to pass the sentence. The General wasn't going to let him off the hook for sentimentalities.

"Saints, Fedya." Ivan sat on the ground so he could be at level with the other man. "Why didn't you leave? Why didn't you go to Ketterdam or something?"

"I'm sorry, Vanya." Fedyor said softly, and sounded like he meant it. "I couldn't leave Alina. I couldn't leave Ravka to Kirigan's mercy."

Not the General's. Whatever respect Fedyor had once held for that man, had vanished into thin air. The worst was, Ivan found that he couldn't blame him.

"You should have left." Was all he said, uselessly. It didn't matter anymore. His husband was going to die. And he would be the cause of it.

Fedyor shifted awkwardly as if trying to pass one of his hands through the bars. It was hard with the cuffs on, but in the end he managed to slip his fingers out, towards Ivan's. Ivan quickly held his hand out to hold them.

"It's alright, Vanyusha." Fedyor whispered as their heads leaned close to each other. "We both made a choice. I'm glad to die for it."

"I'm not!" Ivan blurted. "Saints, I don't want to lose you!"

He already had, in a sense. But at least he'd known Fedyor was out there, alive, possibly happy. This... This was different. Permanent.

"I love you." Fedyor replied simply, his eyes twinkling in the twilight. "You know that, yeah?"

"Of course. And I love you too. More- More than anything else, Fedyenka." Ivan said softly. He didn't say more; he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his voice steady.

"Can you stay?" Fedyor asked. "If only for a little while. My leg hurts."

The simple admittance broke Ivan, along with the knowledge he couldn't do anything to help. He let out a choked sob, gripping Fedyor's cuffed hand tighter.

"I will. I promise I will."

---

"Mariya Abramova Svetaeva, and Fedyor Alexeivitch Kaminsky, you are hereby sentenced to death for the crime of high treason against the Second Army, the Grisha, and Ravka as a whole."

Kirigan's voice echoed like the drop of a hammer in the silence of the evening, that was only interrupted by Mariya's muffled whimpers as she cried. Fedyor spoke softly to her, trying to comfort her.

"Silence." The oprichnik that held him hissed, and punctuated the order with a swift kick on the Grisha's broken leg. Fedyor couldn't swallow back a short cry of pain as he nearly crumpled to the ground, and Ivan felt hot rage building up inside of him.

"Soldier." He snapped. "You will not attempt to harm the prisoners before the passing of the sentence."

The oprichnik muttered something about lovesickness and lack of conviction, but Ivan elected to ignore it. Kirigan cleared his throat to restore order.

"The sentence will be carried out immediately."

He announced. Ivan felt his stomach drop to his shoes- no, surely they'd have more time, surely he could have another moment with Fedyor-

"Aleksandra," Kirigan turned to the lead Inferni "build a pyre in the middle of the camp."

For a second, Ivan wasn't sure what the General had meant. Then it dawned on him, and he swore he could feel the ground crumpling from under his feet.

"Sir, that's not-"

"An order is an order, Ivan. They do not deserve a Grisha death. Rather, they will be treated to a druskëlle sentence."

Mariya must have finally realised what was happening, because she let out a heartbreaking wail and strained against the guard that held her.

"No!" She screamed. "No, please, sir I repent, I repent-"

The General ignored her and turned around. "Ivan, I trust you will carry out what needs to be done. It's what's best for Ravka, and for the Grisha. No sentimentalities."

Ivan didn't know what the feeling building up within him was; he had never felt anything like it. Too cold to be called rage, too powerful to be called fear. All he could see was Fedyor chained to a wooden pole, screaming and crying for mercy as the flames consumed him. Looking at him, those brown eyes filled with agony.

Something inside Ivan broke.

Distantly, he heard himself roaring as he hurled himself against Kirigan's back, hands wrapping around the other man's neck. Grisha powers be damned, Ivan was going to kill the bastard with his own two hands-

But Kirigan flipped him around easily, and suddenly his back was pressed against the other man's chest, his hands held painfully behind him. He couldn't move a finger.

"Careful, Ivan." The General hissed in his ear. "Or you will share your lover's fate."

"I'd rather burn than side with someone who would kill us like the druskëlle!" Ivan snapped, straining against Kirigan's grip. "You are a disgrace to the Grisha. To think I believed in you-"

"I am only doing what is best for all of us. Our personal feelings don't matter." Kirigan's voice was cold, detached. As if he had killed whatever warmth remained inside him long ago. He probably had.

"Vladimir." He said to the guard that held Fedyor. "Kill him now."

"No!" Ivan shouted. "No- Fedya, Fedyenka- no!"

Fedyor's eyes met his. Impossibly, he smiled; that damned, irresistible smile that Ivan had fallen for the first time he'd ever seen it.

"It's alright, Vanya." He said easily as the oprichnik fumbled for his dagger. "I'll wait for you, yes? We'll see each other again."

He sounded so calm, as if he was just leaving on a long mission rather than being executed. Ivan sobbed, sagging against Kirigan's grip.

"Vanya-" Fedyor grunted as the oprichnik pulled him back, the cold steel of an ornate dagger pressing against his throat. "Look at me, my love. Look at me."

Ivan forced himself to look. The knowledge that this would be the last time he heard Fedyor's voice, saw him alive and well and smiling, shattered him. But Fedyor kept smiling, his eyes filled with love and tears.

"Fedyor." Ivan whispered. Fedyor closed his eyes.

A moment later, the dagger sliced his throat, and blood painted the ground in front of him red.

[reneeofthestars]

Nerra Voa Numa

** I’m so excited to finally share the fic I wrote for “Found: A Clone Wars Zine”!! This was such an amazing project to be a part of, and I’m so thankful to the mods for allowing me to participate. **

***Leftover sales for the zine are currently open, so check out @foundaclonewarszine if you are interested in purchasing one of these amazing zines!***

Click “Keep Reading” to stay on Tumblr, or read it on AO3 

*     *     *

The bustle of the spaceport felt oddly comforting. Boil squinted against the harsh Rylothian sunlight as he stepped off the hoverbus, letting himself be jostled along by the crowd. Food carts tempted him with sweet aromas, pilots called for cargo or passengers, engines roared and sputtered on the landing platforms, droids and beings alike called and beeped and whistled.

The debarkation processes for civilian freighters and transports were far less organized than those the Grand Army of the Republic had used, but it had a liveliness to it, an energy that reminded Boil of the anticipation that had filled him the first time he watched the oceans of Kamino shrink into a cloudy sphere before vanishing altogether in the blur of hyperspace.

He hadn’t felt that excitement in years.  When the Imperial troops loaded into the cruisers – that is, the Star Destroyers – it was like watching some parody of Boil and his fellow soldiers. The clones set out under orders to drive back the mindless Separatist droids and defend the citizens, and their focus was palatable. The stormtroopers were commanded to instill order – even when there was no disorder to be found – and their energy felt…wrong.  

Boil had worn the stormtrooper armor for years as he trained new recruits. He remembered how civilians had looked at the clone troopers when they came to the cities during the war – yes, there had been skepticism and dismissal; but there had also been relief, friendliness, appreciation. As a stormtrooper, he only felt positive emotions from a select few Core Worlds. Everywhere else, the civvies looked uneasy, mistrustful, even scared.

But he had been able to chalk those feelings up to the vast changes in the galaxy. The war had begun and ended so suddenly; residual turmoil was expected. He went on as he always had: a soldier following orders.

And he had fellow clones in the ranks that he spent time with. They mostly kept to themselves; the natural-born recruits viewed them as either superiors or inferiors. They had quietly complained about the degraded plastoid armor and inefficient helmets, reminisced old battles, spoken to each other like only brothers could. But one by one, they died in skirmishes with criminals, or were forced into retirement by their superiors, until Boil was the last clone at the Arkanis Imperial Academy. He’d never been without a brother before, and the loneliness had almost swallowed him whole.

He had known it was only a matter of time, but that hadn’t stopped the swooping sensation in his gut the day his supervisory officer told him to clear out his bunk and come to her office. He’d signed the discharge doc absently, writing his nickname without thinking. The officer had scowled and ordered him to resign it with his birth number.

And now, here he was: a clone on Ryloth with a limited credit supply, a bag of clothes, his old armor, and no idea what he was supposed to do now.

A passing Rodian caught his eye and frowned, like she was trying to figure out if she knew him. Boil ducked his head and hurried on, securing his headwrap closer to his face, trying to obscure it best he could. It had been ten years since the end of the war, and most civilians seemed to have already forgotten its existence. But there was still an impression that the clones were somehow responsible for the hardships of the war, which could lead to…problems. Boil ran a gloved hand over his face. Getting a job would be difficult.

Maybe he could be a mechanic. Or a mercenary. Or maybe a bodyguard. He’d have to find a place to buy a good blaster – the Empire hadn’t let him take his standard-issue blaster with him. Outside of war, he wasn’t sure what he could actually do. Maybe –

“Nerra.”

Boil froze. The voice was high and feminine, coming from somewhere off to his right. It was said quietly, almost absently, but it struck him to the core. He had a flash of a ghost town in a canyon, a small girl calling after him –

He spun around.

A young, teal-skinned Twi’lek woman was walking past, pushing a hovercrate brimming with electronic scrap. She wasn’t looking at him; she focused on the crowd in front of her, shooing away vendors that got too close.

Boil felt his breath catch, turning to tell Waxer – but no, Waxer had died years ago, what was he thinking?

He didn’t recall stepping forward. All he knew was tripping over his own feet as he hurried after her. “Ex – excuse me? Ma’am!”

She kept walking.

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” Why were his hands shaking? He stumbled to a stop. “Numa?”

She jerked to a halt, whipping around to face him, her head-tails swinging. Her eyes widened. “What did you say?” she demanded in heavily accented Basic.

“I – ” Boil faltered. “You called me ‘nerra’.”

The woman’s face flushed a darker teal. “It’s – it’s just an old habit. I didn’t mean to –”

“No, you – you called me ‘nerra’ when I was here. During the war. Me and Waxer.”

She fell silent. Her wide brown eyes were streaked with violet, taking in his face, his height, his orange-marked greaves visible just below his oversized poncho. Very quietly, she asked, “Boil?”

He laughed. It had been so long since anyone called him by his nickname. He wasn’t sure why it happened, but his knees gave out.

And then she was there, little Numa, alive and healthy, if still a little too thin, kneeling in front of him, her hands holding onto his shoulders as he shook.

“You’re alive,” he gasped. “I’m so glad – you’re alive. So many people died – so many we couldn’t save…”

“Shh.” She looked around, apprehensive. The crowd had parted for them, and Boil realized he was attracting stares. “Come with me. I’ll help you.”

“No, it’s – it’s alright,” he grunted, fighting to pull himself together. The last thing he wanted was a patrol of stormtroopers to see him like this. “I don’t know – what came over me. I just – I’m glad you’re alright, that’s all. I’ll be going –”

“No,” Numa said fiercely. “You helped me. You helped my people. It’s my turn to help you.”

Boil let Numa pull him to his feet, surprised by her strength. Wordlessly, he took the hovercrate from her. She hesitated before nodding slightly and leading him through the winding streets. He wiped his face with the cloth of the headwrap, embarrassed.

He followed her into the residential quarter, the chaos of the spaceport fading away behind them. It was a quiet area, save for the wind whistling through the rocks around them. The homes had been hewn into the stone; they were much better-kept than the village he and Waxer had found Numa in all those years ago. Adult Twi’leks chatted outside of homes as children chased each other. Several of them called out to Numa, throwing Boil curious looks. He kept his head bowed.

Finally, Numa had him park the hovercrate along the side of a particular building. She tossed a large rough blanket on top of it, camouflaging it with the stone. That caught his attention. He looked at Numa sharply, but she either didn’t notice or chose not to respond.

“Uncle Nilim!” she called, leading the way inside the house. The entry room opened into a sparsely decorated common area, with cushions and seats arranged around an outdated holoprojector.

An aging, blue-skinned Twi’lek man appeared from an interior room. It took him a moment to see Boil, then recoiled when he did. He held a frantic arm out to Numa, crying something in Ryl.

She said something very quickly in reply, her lekku twisting and gesturing, and Boil remembered a lesson on Kamino in his childhood; Twi’leks used their head-tails to communicate in tandem with their oral language. He’d never paid attention before. It was like the hand signals he’d used with other clones.

The man still looked skeptical; he skirted the edge of the room before approaching. He and Boil stared at each other for a long time before the Twi’lek finally gave a small nod. “You are older. But it is you.” He pronounced every word deliberately, with great care. He seemed to be practicing his Basic.

“And it’s you,” Boil responded, realization dawning on him. Numa had run to this man when Ghost Company had liberated her village. Boil had always assumed he was her father. But she called him ‘uncle’…

The man smiled. He placed a hand on his heart as he bowed his head. “Nilimb’ryl. Nilim Bril,” he introduced himself. “I am honored to finally meet you, Nerra.”

“My name is Boil. Uh, thank you,” Boil said hastily, bowing his head too.

Nilim gestured towards the common area, and Boil followed the two Twi’leks as they sat on some plump cushions. Boil mimicked them, grunting as he lowered himself to the seat. He was getting old.

“I told you we would meet again someday,” Numa said, beaming as she nudged her uncle. She looked to Boil, sitting forward eagerly on her cushion. “And where is the other? Waxer?”

The air rushed from Boil’s lungs. It never got any easier.  

He didn’t need to say anything. Numa’s face fell. She extended an arm and touched his shoulder gently. “I’m so sorry.”

“He’d be glad you’re okay.” Boil forced a smile. “He always wondered if the war left you alone once we liberated the planet. It sounds ridiculous, cuz we only knew you for a day…but you left a big impact on him. On both of us.”

He set his pack down and reached inside. Nilim shrank away, reflexively grabbing his niece’s arm. “It’s alright,” Boil said quickly, holding up his hands. “I don’t have a blaster. I just want to show Numa something.” He didn’t move until Nilim nodded.

Boil moved his assorted belongings aside until his hand closed around his helmet. He hadn’t worn it since the war, but he’d been allowed to keep his armor, and the detail on the bucket was still intact. He stared at the visor, his reflection gazing back at him.

“When we found you, Waxer realized you might think we were droids, so he took his bucket off so’s not to scare you.”

“I did think that,” she admitted. “I remember being scared – I thought the droids were going to take me too. Then when I saw his face – ” she laughed. “I’d never actually met a Human before, so I wondered where his lekku were.”

“And when I took mine off, you pointed at us both and said ‘nerra’.” Boil was quiet for a moment. “He didn’t want to leave you behind. I did. If it had been up to me, I would have left you there, to continue my mission. Waxer was always a better man than me.” He hung his head, grip tight on the helmet.

“You’re a soldier,” Numa answered, her voice soft. “Sometimes you have to make hard calls. But you made the choice to help me. And you saved me. You saved all of us.”

Boil chuckled. “Heh. Well you saved us, too. Those two-legged insects would’ve eaten us if you hadn’t gotten us outta there.” He lifted the helmet from his pack and handed it to her.

She took it, her brow creasing as she examined the cartoonish figure painted on the side. Waxer had painstakingly added the decal to both their helmets.

Discomfort settled on him as Numa silently stared at the drawing of herself. “We both wanted to remember you,” he offered awkwardly. “When the war started, we knew we were fighting for the Republic, but it was just an idea. It’s not like we’d ever lived in it, or knew why it was better than the Separatists. But we saw what happened to the civilians caught in the middle. Waxer wanted us to remember who we were really fighting for. For you, and for people like you.”

Numa remained silent, her expression unreadable, her lekku still.

Nerves fluttered in Boil’s gut. He cleared his throat and tried to explain. “Our armor was the one thing that was our own. We never had possessions – we moved around too much, and it’s not like we had much shore leave. So, we clones started painting our armor to make it our own. Different colors for different companies, accents for battles, tally marks for fallen brothers… everyone was different.” He fiddled with the hem of his pack, waiting for a response that didn’t come. “It was the best way we had of honoring people. We always said our armor showed who we were, and who made us that way.”

Numa said nothing. Carefully, she set the helmet beside her. She stood abruptly and hurried from the room, refusing to look at him.

Something caught in Boil’s throat and he gulped, rocking forward on his cushion to stand, but Nilim laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Give her a moment,” he advised.

Boil slumped. “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“People end up where they need to be.”

What a strange thought. It reminded Boil of something a Jedi would say. A flash of – anger? shame? – shot through him before dissipating as quickly as it came. Keeping his voice low, Boil looked at Nilim. “Where are her parents?”

Nilim’s gaze drifted, his smile slipping away. “My brother and his wife were killed in the attack in Nabat. I have raised Numa since their passing.”

“I’m sorry,” Boil said. The only family he’d ever known were his brothers. He didn’t know what it felt like to have parents – or to lose them – but he imagined the pain was the same. A wave of guilt drove him to his feet. “I’d better get going. I’m only making things worse.”

The Twi’lek’s eyes widened, startled. “Numa will not want you to go. You are welcomed here.”

“I’m a clone,” he said gruffly. “I’m not welcomed anywhere.”

“Stay.”

Numa stood in the doorway, cradling something decorative. The whites of her eyes looked vaguely red, and her mouth was held in a thin line. She shifted from foot to foot, looking almost apprehensive.

“This is a Kalikori,” Numa said, holding the decorative piece reverently.

“It is a totem,” Nilim explained, “passed down the line of a Twi’lek family.”

“It honors all who have come before. It is our way of remembering our family.” She held it out to Boil, and he took it gingerly.

It was a long series of intricately carved figures, arranged in a T-shape with charms and carvings hanging from the points. Stone, wood, metal, and clay pieces were engraved with symbols and shapes. It was easy to see that great care had been put into creating it.

At the bottom of one of the strands were two small orange and white blocks joined by a teal rectangle with some sort of script chiseled into it. Boil’s mouth went dry, a prickling sensation springing up behind his eyes. “What does that say?”

“Nerra voa Numa,” she answered quietly, watching him closely. “Brothers and Sister.”

Tears spilled from his eyes as Boil held the Kalikori tightly to his chest. His shoulders shook and his breaths turned to gasps and sobs. He turned his face away, ashamed. He hadn’t cried like this since he’d learned of Waxer’s death.

Hands rested on both of his shoulders as he wept; one large and calloused, one slight and gentle.

“Boil.” Numa paused, taking a deep breath. “For the last ten years, every time I saw a clone, I would say ‘Nerra’, hoping that one of them would react to it the way you did. I’ve wanted to find you ever since you left. I don’t want you to leave again.”

“We added you to the Kalikori years ago,” Nilim murmured. “You have been a part of us all this time. You have a home here, if you wish.”

The words stuck in Boil’s throat. “I…I need to think on it.” He dashed a hand across his eyes, fighting to steady his breathing. He handed the Kalikori back to Numa, and she gently set it down.

“Of course.” Nilim squeezed his shoulder. “And while you think, I will be making lunch. You are hungry?”

“Thank you,” Boil said, successfully distracted by the idea of a home-cooked meal. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything that wasn’t rations or Imperial-regulated meals.

Nilim left the room. Boil and Numa sat in near-silence as Boil worked to control his breathing. The tears kept falling, but they were drying, which he was grateful for; Numa was watching. From the other room, he heard Nilim shuffling about, cookware scraping together as he worked. Once he trusted himself to speak, Boil pitched his voice low. “Numa, why did you hide those electronic components?”

She looked to him appraisingly, and suddenly she seemed much older, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was no longer the frightened child that had trailed behind him all those years ago.

“Because beneath those electronic components are blasters for Syndulla’s resistance. The Free Ryloth Movement never truly dissipated. The war never ended here.”

Between them, the Kalikori and his helmet rested side-by-side. “I want to help you.”

She beamed, and before Boil could move, she’d thrown her arms around him tightly. He started in surprise before returning the hug.

When she drew back, her eyes were dancing. “I’ll message Cham and let him know you’re with us. Not a word to Uncle Nilim, though. He’s not on board with me being in the resistance yet.”

“I understand.”

“I’m glad you’re with us, brother. There’s much work to be done.”

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 28 (NSFW)

Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad

Read chapter twenty-seven

Title: You Need Me

Words: 5.9k

Summary: Third time’s the charm, right?

Warnings: Lost orgasm

ST Rambles: WOW! Not me posting a chapter a chapter after only two weeks. Nuts, really. As of now, this semester is much less of... it's just less fucking nonsense, if I am being honest. I am getting very excited about my future and where I will be this time next year. I have an interview on February 27th for a new-grad RN residency program. It's all just very strange and adult right now.

[MASTERLIST] || BANNER // @elmidol​

However short it might be, you thought you would like to spend the rest of forever exactly like this.

The sun remained hidden, and the light of the moon had faded, leaving you shrouded in darkness and engulfed in the heat of Kylo Ren’s resting form. Not a limb had moved from what you could remember before dozing off last night, your legs kept woven with his, cheek melting into his solid chest, the broad hand between your shoulders less stark in its effort to keep you against him. Still, the world vaguely existing beyond the canopy around you, you remained tucked into him, unsure if you had ever felt this amount of peace before. One difference now, something you’d never had the chance to experience, was the faint tickle of deep, rhythmic breath coming from the sleeping warrior who caressed you.

Twelve. Twelve perfect, dazed breaths kissed your forehead and sent mild sparks dancing along your skin; they followed thoughts of absent nightmares, nightmares that always seemed to keep away when he was near. Looking at him, peering up to see the vulnerability in his slackened mouth and long, looming eyelashes framing the dying purple that lay beneath them, you could tell he had not slept this well since Starkiller. Maybe even before then. Quietly, you allowed yourself somewhat of a small victory at the thought.

You did not know what to do, not wanting to wake him, yet aware that you needed to get ready for your shift. The calendar-chip Karmen had given you had transferred its data into your watch, but your watch was rooms away – worlds away – resting on the refresher floor. The transport ship would be waiting at the front entrance at six, but that had to be at least an hour away if you were banking on the soft darkness surrounding you, not quite remembering what it felt like waking up to real sunlight.

So, ever so slightly, making every effort to silence your breath and shifting, you loosed from his hold and led his arm lightly back down to the bed, watching him for any sign of disturbance. Through the distance, you heard the early, soft ebbing of the sea, noting how it complemented the push of Kylo’s exhales. He did not seem to stir, not even a lapse in his breathing when you rolled onto your back and tugged the linens up to cover your chest, the cold of the room taking residence over the skin previously pressed to the hearth of his own.

Your Master. The Commander of the First Order. Kylo Ren. How strange it was to be here, to see up close every healed and healing scar, to witness the slight twitch in his brow, to study the handsome line of his nose and the various moles that flecked along his cheeks. This was the strongest, most feared and lethal man in the galaxy, and here you were fawning over the light spray of sparce freckles sprawled along his cheekbones. A privilege, you thought, to have the man who haunted nightmares keep your very own at bay.

Lips pressed together, eyes full of wonder, you let the very tips of your fingers trace the raven haze of hair that splayed beneath his dreaming face. And when the dark ends met his shoulder, you risked a featherlight touch over the hand you had earlier placed. An intricate, beautiful pattern of veins jutted out on its surface, his long fingers curled into a weak fist, your focus lingering along the scars cut into his knuckles. A life of scrapes and training and battle and bruises lived in his skin, the veins beneath treading paths along them, like a map, like a guidebook to each blight of hurt that ghosted their blue trails. You swallowed a giggle, wondering if you would pick a sixteen or a fourteen-gauge needle to start an IV on him.

Running your fourth finger along the prominent vein that fled gracefully along his entire arm, you kissed the inside of his wrist, watching his face and never wanting to disturb him, but needing to feel him. A slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth made your heart jump, choking back a gasp when a curl of hair swept over his eyes. Another fascination, how full his lips were; you touched them, a sneaking whisper of your fingers, pulling down on the bottom one and leaning in closer and closer, warmth fogging your hand, your face, his features unmoving and mild.

The elegant brutality that now crowned his features – it was healing, its edges no longer raised and red, but flush with their binding. Two weeks ago his face had been unmarred, but the whole of you found this new normal breathtaking, heart-stopping. Beholding him now brought you back to that desperate moment, just before he’d carried you to bed, when you clung to him because you believed you’d never get another chance.

Palm flat to his chest, above his heart, following the lead of his lungs, you closed your eyes and rested your lips to the corner of his mouth, and said, quieter than the very thought of a whisper, “I never wanted to hurt you.” A ghosted kiss. “I never wanted to leave then, and…” The steady beat of his heart remained, the rush of your own silencing the tide of the waking bay. With his next breath, with an aching chest that held nothing of the pain it had previously, you breathed, “I never wanted to leave then, and I never want to leave again.”

Not a single tear, not even the suggestion of one, nothing but adamant truth tapping against the canopy’s silence. You needed him here, no longer caring if it stole the innocence and vulnerability of sleep’s caress.

“Kylo,” you whispered, kissing him with intent, coaxing him awake.

A deep, sharp inhale. You could not trap the smile that broke across your cheeks.

A nuzzle against his nose, curious fingers breeching that sea of obsidian tresses. “Kylo, wake up.”

He hummed, his lips finally leading into yours when he left his dream’s embrace. Like he had not wanted it moved, his hand reclaimed your back and pressed you against him, his other hiking your leg atop his own, the feel of his skin warming you to your very center. Nearly melded against him, his bare torso to yours, you felt him harden, felt the heat of his cock grow and thicken, become weighted as it filled and filled. You caught an unbidden gasp, leaning away from him long enough to see the mischief that danced in his eyes.

His arms coiled around you as he stretched, a cant of his hips to finish off the gesture. He was looking down at you, first at your face, then over your body, the skim of his eyes heavy when you could see their every tick. Kylo slid a rough hand up your leg, stopping just beneath the curve of your ass and anchoring himself to the scorching skin of your inner thigh. When he looked back to your eyes, searing amber swallowed by the shadows of the room, you smiled and ground yourself into his erection. Kylo growled in approval, your lips gracing his and feeling the depth of the vibration on his lips.

“You know,” he sighed, sleep heavy in his voice, “they should add assault and battery to your charges.” Those fingers around your thigh reached deeper.

“Hm, and why is that?”

“Because,” he nipped your bottom lip, “I didn’t consent to any of this.”

His crooning tone filtered into your veins, amusement blooming in your chest. “You were asleep. If anything, I was being considerate.”

“Considerate, mm?” Your fingers fisted at his nape, the hand at your back gliding up to do the same. “I guess I’ve been very considerate both times I’ve woken up before you, then.”

“Kylo Ren: considerate,” you chuffed a giggle, “I don’t know about that.”

“Really?” he rumbled, light yet venomous. Kylo tread parted lips along your jaw, your ear lobe slipping between them before he pulled you in and whispered with pride and claim, “Because that first morning, before I left you to sleep in my bed,” the hand around your thigh shifted upward, just grazing your slit, “I stared at the bruises I’d made the previous night, stared at how they’d grown and how they all belonged to me.”

The tip of his tongue slid along the shell of your ear, a pant parting your lips when his cock throbbed into your abdomen.

Kylo’s tone had lowered and thickened when he next spoke, “I thought about waking you up, then,” the tip of his finger pushed into the wetness that had gathered between your legs, a pleasured hum rolling out of him, “thought about fucking my hand while I watched you sleep, knowing my cum had dried onto your thighs overnight.”

Hot, masterful fingers parted your folds, your breath stuck in your throat as Kylo stared into you, watching you when his touch brushed lazily against your clit. His eyes narrowed in knowing pride when yours seemed to flutter, hiking your leg up further, trying to get another graze of his touch. An effort in vain. His hips canted again, slowly this time, stroking himself against the soft skin of your belly.

“I wanted to fuck you awake, really, wanted the first thing you were aware of to be me splitting you open, wanted to see your eyes lull and widen when you realized what was going on.” A second tease of those fingers, slick slipping past your entrance. “And I could have, you know,” he drawled, a third nudge over your stiffened bud, a tug at the nape of your neck.

He waited, observing you before you asked through shuddering breath, “What do I know?”

An upward slant to those plush lips, a tongue running along his teeth, a viper behind his eyes. “You know that I can have you whenever, however I want—” his fingers began a slow, circling pattern, passing over and over that sweet spot “—because you’re always ready for me, always wet.” His hand shifted so it was his thumb rolling over the buzzing nerves, and the tips of three bare, slickened fingers teased your core. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You ground into him, begging for more of him, the length of his cock burning into you, slipping against your stomach as precum slicked his shaft. With as much nonchalance as you could muster, which was near zilch as you held back hums and winces with each pass of his thumb, you sighed, “Maybe, or perhaps you’re forgetting my life doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Maybe not right now,” he purred, pumping and circling his fingers, effectively inching you toward climax, “give it time. Give me time.”

“What are you talking about?” you panted, pushing your body into his hand, reaching the very brink of pleasure.

His hips canted, he grunted, and when you winced, seethed with pleasure, felt it tighten in your belly and quiver along your legs, Kylo stopped.

“No,” you whined, “no! That’s just cruel,” you pulled his face from your neck, “Kylo, what-,”

He said nothing, but there was something unreadable in his expression that stopped you from readying for battle. It appeared like something had just clicked for him, his eyes so distant he could have been in an entirely different galaxy for all you knew. Just as fast as he was gone, he returned with passive pomp settling a smirk into his face.

You studied him, confused and stunted, but if he wanted to return from wherever he’d gone, so would you. “Hey!” You punched his shoulder. “What the hell?”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

He ground his teeth, sucking them before the most sardonic smile cast over his features. “You should get dressed,” he cooed your name, the sweet tone widening your eyes, feeling the challenge in it, “I would hate for you to be late to your second first day.” He hummed, laving his gaze over the sweat glittering along your heaving chest, tiding viciously with unsated breath. “We both know what happened the first time.”

With a raised brow, “I have two capable hands,” you countered, pushing away from him. “I don’t need you.”

Quicker than you could register, he had both your hands pinned beside your head, his broad, structured body pressing fully into you. “You do need me,” he breathed, nothing feral in his tone, but sure, not a shred of doubt when he said, “you need me, and for this to work-,”

“For what to work?”

He kept quiet for a moment, a decision weighing on him, focus flicking between your eyes and the light that teased beyond the windows, along the horizon. It appeared as if time would have permitted, if the sun had slept in a second longer, he would have answered you. You saw it in his eyes, when he peered down to you, his hair a shield from the rest of the world, you saw that whatever rested against his lips – it would have changed everything you knew. Everything you did not know.

But instead, with a swallow and a sigh, he simply said, “For this to work, you do need me.”

You tested a hand from under his, slipping it so your thumb smoothed along his flushed ear. Flitting your attention between his stark, serious eyes, feeling the panting of his parted lips, you knew you were right when you said, “We need each other.” Your other hand found its earlier home over his chest; staring at its placement, feeling every smooth, unrelenting beat of his heart, you declared, “for this to work, we need each other.”

Another quiet moment, and when you looked up, you found the very beginnings of dawn claiming the shadows that had earlier claimed his irises. Pushing his hair back, you could see that even though you were right – you did need each other – he didn’t want it to be true. Not that it seemed to anger him, but something remained hidden, kept quiet in his gaze, something taut and unyielding; something, it seemed, he did not want to admit – to you or himself.

He nodded. Not a word, not a breath. But more than you would have expected from him in the past.

Equal.

“You could have just let me finish and then been dramatic, you know?” you sighed, easing back from intensity when something of amusement softened his face.

“At least for today,” he purred your name, “your world will revolve around me.”

“And why is th-oh,” the Force nudged your bud, laved at it just as his tongue might.

He leaned down one last time, lips to your ear. “Because you’re not cumming until I let you, and you have a twelve-hour orientation shift to look forward to today.” An icy thrill swept your veins when he promised, “I intend to make each one of those hours memorable.”

“You won’t be anywhere near me.”

“As I’ve found recently,” his hand teased along your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting the very tip of your nipple. When you shuddered, he hummed, “distance is no longer a barrier.”

Even through the haze of lust, there was no hiding the contempt in your voice when you barked, “And you figured that out how? Through training? While you’re still healing from not even two weeks ago?”

Kylo did not say anything, instead leaning back and letting you out from under him. He was still hard, but you had no time or want to care about that fact. Kylo watched as you stormed from the canopy and gathered your clothes from the refresher, nearly stomping. Through the gossamer fabric, you saw he was amused with you, and when you pulled on yesterday’s uniform to make the short distance to your room, he stood from the bed and sauntered toward you.

“Didn’t Belkar give you orders to not strain yourself for at least a month?” Your arms were crossed to your chest, your remaining belongings tucked beneath them. “You know, you aren’t invincible. You have to know that by now, right? Because I sure as hell do.” The image of his comatose form slithered in and out of memory. You shuddered. “Can’t you just do what’s good for yourself? This once?”

He took the step up from the bed’s level, the heightening sun glowing behind him, crowding the pale blue of the sky with every step that brought him closer. Lazily, like you weren’t lecturing him, he ran the flat of his fingers along his shaft, cocking his head when he stopped a pace away from you.

“Why would I listen to his orders?”

“Okay, then it’s my order,” you said, “because if you want to be stubborn, fine. But if I need you, then I need you at your best, not hurt and half-healed because your skull is too thick and your ego is too big to process that no matter if you are Kylo Ren, you are still human. And I am your care provider. And… I… say so.”

His lips twitched. “You say so?”

Although you barely believed the authority in your tone, you held steady, “Yes, Commander Ren, I say so.”

He’d never looked at you quite like he was now, something of stunned pride gleaming behind a much more fortified front of command. Closing the space between you, your back meeting the chilled black of the door, Kylo leaned down and studied your crossed arms. Knowing mischief flashed in them before he sought your gaze and met you with a face full of challenge.

“First,” he rumbled, his breath on your lips, “address me by my name or my title, not that rank. Ever again. Understood?”

Eyes on his plush, dawn-kissed mouth. “Yes. Second?”

“Second,” tongue in cheek, the hand he’d busied with his erection came up and plucked an article from your arms. It was only after his face became the youngest you’d seen it – taunting eyes and a broad, pompous smile – when you realized what hung from the tip of his forefinger. “I suppose mine might be more comfortable than your own?”

Your mouth fell open – in horror or at his audacity, you did not know. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, waiting for you to squirm as you viewed his boxer-briefs just inches from your face. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“They are, actually. So, if you don’t mind—” you plucked them from his grasp, not breaking his stare for a second “—I’ll take these.” He only looked between your eyes, his own glinting with amusement. “And here—” you balled up your own panties and clasped your hand to his, tucking both to his chest and smiling sweetly “—if I’ve put you out too many pairs.”

A few seconds passed where all you did was take victory in the stunned setting of his features, and when you reached to activate the door, he caught your hand and pressed a long, hard, lusting kiss to your mouth. When he finished, both of you panting, he circled a canine with the tip of his tongue and took a step back.

“Good luck today,” the door shot open and your heart thrummed at the whoosh of ice over your back. With the tone of his next words – slithering, toying, smug – and remembering his promise to make the hours memorable, you knew he meant nothing to do with your occupation when he said, “you’ll need it.”

Sighing, you stepped into the vacant landing, and shot him one final smirk. “I have my watch if you need me,” you swept your gaze over his bare, muscled body, “if you want me.” No matter if you’d meant to, you’d initiated a game, and for the first time in so long, you were excited to play.

In the few steps from his room to your own, you waited for the gentle lock that indicated the door’s close, but it never came. For a second, you wondered if it had shut and you just did not hear it, but you felt those dark, peering eyes and knew his gaze was following your every move. So when you activated your door, took one step past the threshold, you pulled the skirt of your uniform over your head and stretched your arms above, your bare back arched and ass on display.

In a marked taunt, you purred, “Think of me fondly in my absence, Master Ren.”

You did not wait for a response before activating the door to shut, but one still came in the form of an overwhelming, buzzing pulse between your legs. A high-pitched mewl accompanied your trip forward, yipping until ten endless seconds passed and the pleasure thrumming along your slit subsided.

Game on.

[HORIZONTILE LINE]

With a fresh uniform, and Kylo’s briefs hugging your curves, you strode through the manor – although, you were still unsure what to call this place – and meandered your way around until you found a kitchen. Some of the staff acknowledged you with a small nod, others too busy cutting exotic fruits and preparing for breakfast. Which, passing by two intricately stacked and arranged platters, you knew most of the food being prepared would just as quickly be disposed of.

A woman in a black uniform guided you out of the bustling kitchen, taking you to a dining room. In it was a long table, undoubtedly used for meetings and manipulation, filled with trays of meats and fruits and carafes of juices, a metal one indicative of milk or cream. A large, insulated pot with a gilded, floral handle, steamed at the far end of the table. Caffeine.

There was limited time to eat, only about thirty minutes before the transport arrive, so you took a plate, painted too intricately with the flowers you’d walked through last night, and gathered whatever sustenance might help you make it to lunch. Most importantly, you filled a delicate mug with piping hot caf and carried everything into an adjoining room.

No lights were on, only the rising dawn filtering through thin veils of curtains, and Talia sat at the very end of the otherwise empty, centered table. She was dressed, but looked disheveled, at least for her typical put-together appearance. She wasn’t working alongside you, you knew – your assignment at Canto Bight’s medbay purely aimed at incriminating you – but it was still nice to have a friend, one who was under the same roof and not acting strangely.

Her hands were clamped onto either side of her head and there was a plate of picked-at food pushed to the side, a glass of water placed before her sunken head.

“Hey, Tal,” you started, noting her subtle jump at your voice. When she gave a subtle wave, you took a seat next to her and asked, however redundant, “How’re you feeling this morning?”

A long sigh, fingers comforting her temples. “Do I look that bad?”

A pause, considering. She looked quite pale, but there was no sheen of sweat over her forehead. She was breathing a bit quickly, and her mouth appeared to be parted, like she could be sick at any second. “Well, you’ve looked better, but I’ve seen you at your worst.” A look around the room, tuning your ears to the clang of the kitchen. “Is it nausea?” you whispered.

“Stars,” she winced, more in theatrics than pain, “I’ve spent more time over a toilet than anywhere else since the beginning of this thing.”

You chewed at a fruit you’d never had before, swallowing before saying, “Is it just in the morning or is it all day?”

“Morning sickness is a cruel lie they tell unsuspecting women,” she cleared her throat, finally peering up to you. “At least that’s what I have concluded.”

“Did you sleep last night?” There were purple splotches under her reddened eyes.

A shy smile slipped onto her face, quickly faltering. “I could have gotten more.”

Your brows raised, realizing Talia had a similar night to your own. “Oh?” you hummed.

“A private half of this villa?” she lowered her voice, swallowing, looking to the arch that peered out of the room, “and then adjoined rooms? It’s like they want us to have affairs with our assignments.”

“Well,” you sighed, recounting your night and morning, “perhaps. If that’s the case, can I assume where you slept last night?”

She loosed a breath of amusement. “Shockingly, no.” She shook her head, closing her eyes again before explaining, “I haven’t told him. Yet. Still. I stayed with him until he fell asleep but made it back to my room before I could hurl up everything I’d eaten yesterday.” A small, bitter laugh. “Do you know how impossible it is to throw up quietly?”

A warm sip of caf and you tapped her wrist, earning her attention back. Eyes filled with concern, you asked, quieter than the distant shore, “Are you afraid to tell him?”

“I’ve tried,” she sighed, completely exasperated, “This past week I have had so many opportunities – traveling here, the last few days on the Finalizer… last night.” Talia ran her finger along the rim of her glass. “I want to tell him. I need to, if I’m being honest. Time sensitive issue and everything.”

“Has he suspected anything, or do you know?”

A gloom shrunk her features, her focus shifting to the window behind your shoulder. “I think that’s why I haven’t told him. Armitage is always busy, running off to this place and that. I love the time I spend with him, I do. But, his lifestyle isn’t necessarily… compatible, I guess. Not with a baby. Not with, not with a partner. Not with me.”

“Oh, Talia.”

“No, I’m okay,” she shrugged, sad eyes going back to her glass, “I think I’m just biding my time. Preparing for the worst.”

“And what would the worst be, here?”

The room went silent, still, a few staff members replacing what you’d picked from the trays. For a few minutes there was only the sound of far-away waves and the kitchen’s relentless clattering, but Talia cleared the silence with a drag of breath. “The worst would be me telling him, him not wanting anything to do with me or my situation, being removed from his service and out of a job, publicly disgraced and shamed for carrying the General’s bastard kid, and just wholly ruined socially, occupationally, and personally.” There was quiet fear clawing at her eyes, but she forced a pleading smile.

“Wow,” you breathed, cutting through the intense moment, “it’s almost like you’ve thought about it before.”

A pitiful laugh. “Yeah, just a little.”

“Well, there’s always the alternative,” you shrugged. “Maybe none of that scary stuff will happen. Maybe Hux will embrace it. Embrace you and your situation. Because it isn’t just yours, Talia,” she considered your next words before you said, “it’s his, too.” You clasped her hand, trying to get across that she could come to you whenever she needed. “When you’re ready, or at least before you’re in labor,” you shared a laugh, “tell him. I think… I think people can surprise you if you let them. Maybe Hux will do just that.”

The pact that bound you seemed to glow, such gratefulness in her expression. She smiled and slipped her hand from yours, sipped from her glass and shook her head. “Well, now that you’ve bandaged my crisis, how are you doing? Only a couple days before everything gets real.”

Though you knew it was true, you’d barely considered the trial. Aside from Karmen’s rundown yesterday, you’d spent most of your time preparing for your shift, worrying about Mason, and cooped up with Kylo Ren. So maybe it would all feel real when you got there, but as of right now you’d scarcely thought of it.

“I think I’m doing better than I should be,” you sighed, nibbling a piece of toast. “Like you said, this place is rather extravagant, and then this whole city is unbelievable. I don’t know, maybe I’m just avoiding thinking about it. And, like you, I’m preparing for the worst.”

A glum smile hardly met her eyes. “Your worst is far worse than mine. I can’t even imagine.”

“You and Mason both, I guess. Although, you’re not as cryptic with it as he’s been.”

“Trouble in paradise?” She notched a brow.

You breathed a giggle, remembering you needed to clarify, “Just trouble, no paradise. Mason and I aren’t together.”

Talia was completely taken aback, no hiding her shocked expression. “Oh. I mean, I just assumed… Are you sure? Does he know you aren’t together?”

“I’d assume so,” her tone made you wary, not sure what was so obvious.

“I’m sorry, I really just thought since seeing him in the medbay so often that you two were a thing. Like, a serious thing.”

“We’re not,” your tone was short, but you breathed before saying, “I’m seeing him tomorrow. I need- ah, ah, fu-,”

That buzzing Force claimed your cunt, drilling both sweet spots and making it impossible to breathe. After a few seconds, its presence – its master – merciless, you crossed your legs and knitted your hands together in your lap, coughing to try and hide the sensation’s vision-blurring effects.

Talia was stunned, but before she could ask, you continued, “I’m see-seeing Mason tomorr-ow, and ha! Wow, and,” it felt like Kylo was thrusting inside of you, your toes curled in your shoes. “And grabbing some clothes for the trial. He also said he wants to ta- oh, okay.” You stomped both your feet to the floor, leaning down to the table and chugging the rest of your coffee.

“Are you alright?” Talia leaned forward, but you waved a hand in dismissal.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. So clothes and then Mason wants to talk!” You stumbled away from her and tried to keep from cursing Kylo Ren outwardly, a few shouts of goodbye falling behind when you eventually got out into the main halls of the manor.

The pulse between your legs finally let up, and you had half a mind to tromp back to his room and knee him where it’d hurt, but there were five minutes before transport would arrive, so you decided it would need to wait for a later date.

“If you can hear this,” you hissed, searching the halls for onlookers, “I’m going to-,” a swirl of pressure laved your sensitive bud, sending you tripping into the foyer. “Kylo.” It let up again. He let up. Maybe you would have tried another retort, but the grand entrance slid open, and at the bottom of the dawn-draped stairs awaited CB-7070.

She had a hand clasped to her wrist, not a blaster in sight, and her face remained hidden by a white helmet. The gold band over her right wrist shimmering with the sliver of sunlight to your left. Consciously, you half-circled her, wariness creeping along your veins. Nothing she had done, but… for a second you dropped your eyes to that familiar break in her uniform. You swallowed when you looked back to her visor, not offering a smile, and keeping at least three paces away at all times.

“Morning,” she muffled out your last name, pivoting to face you. When she took a step forward, you tried not to, but you backed away in suit. She stopped her advance.

Without a word, you nodded, pushing your hands into your pockets.

CB-7070 cleared her throat. “I’ve been informed by Commander Ren that you can assign me a name if you choose.”

“No,” you said, too quickly. “No, that won’t be necessary. CB-7070 is fine. We won’t know each other long.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

“Use my first name,” you commanded, running a finger along your uniform’s embroidery.

“Understood,” this time she used your own name – no titles, no pleasantries.

With only two minutes before transport, you said, “You’re aware you will not be in any of my patients’ rooms, correct?”

“I have been briefed on Cantonica’s privacy laws, yes.”

You peered side-long at her. “Good.”

When she spoke your name, there was a measure of nerves you couldn’t help but notice. “Is there anything you need from me that will make this arrangement easier for you?”

There was little time to think, but something in your head was screaming to request the one thing you felt would minimize the pit of dread rooting in your gut.

Plainly, facing her, arms crossed, you said, “Show me your face.”

Without hesitation, the stormtrooper unlatched and removed her helmet. She was dark-skinned, full lips and deep brown eyes inherent of the desert around her, genetic protection from the lifelong sun on this planet. Dark brunette curls were smoothed to her scalp, twisted into a tight bun at its base. Her face was round, and with the slight smile she gave, her cheeks crinkled a pair of gentle eyes. So young. Too young.

“How old are you?” There was a harshness in your words, not entirely intentional.

CB-7070 did pause at that. After squaring her shoulders she said, “Eighteen. Nineteen soon.” Her voice was kind, warm.

“I don’t need you to prove yourself,” you guessed as much at her posture, “I can assume if you’re here, at this… place-,”

“The Consulate.”

Consulate. “Thank you,” you continued. “Since you’re stationed at the Consulate, I can assume you’ve already done enough grunt work,” those early weeks, before Kylo Ren, flashed in your mind’s eye, dehydrated soldiers, strung out in preparation for the attack on the Republic. Sighing, watching the sky for any incoming ships, you took one step toward her. “No, I don’t need you to prove yourself. But I do need you to have my back.”

She stood even straighter at that.

“I know you’re assigned to watch me and report to the General, and I’ll just say right now that neither of us is the other’s favorite person. But I am not your enemy. I’m not an enemy.”

She looked at you, hearing the approaching ship, and just before it sped too close to blast your hearing, the young Stormtrooper nodded and said, “I was briefed on your case. You are not an enemy. You saved that man, an engineer. One of many who normally go unseen and unnoticed. I will do my job, but I am not biased to you or my General.” She angled her eyes to the sky and tucked her head back into the helmet. “As much as my assignment is to monitor you, I have been trained to protect the officers and officials of the First Order. And given you kept the Commander alive after Starkiller went down – you are one of the most important officers I’ve been tasked with.”

You hadn’t known that was general knowledge, her admission striking through every chamber of your heart. The memory of that day. People had seen such a different side of it, they’d seen you protect and serve when minutes prior you were begging for death in the dark of your residence. The day you could have used a savior, others had painted you as their own.

CB-7070 marched to the transport’s descended ramp and faced you. “Ready when you are.”

With a straight back, hands smoothing over your uniform, you approached the ramp, waiting for CB-7070 to follow behind. She stood next to you, but before you took a step further, you turned to the Consulate, and then to the sea that spanned beside and behind it, and you quieted all that Canto Bight had already presented.

Today was not about Snoke, or Mason, or Kylo. Today was about you and your patients, whoever they would be. Today you were not Commander Ren’s Care Provider.

Today you would be a nurse, and that meant more than anything.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Miami Nights (Ethan x MC)

Warning: 18+, NSFW.

Summary: While in Miami to celebrate their upcoming wedding, Ethan and Naomi sneak away from the festivities to have their own celebration.

A/N: Like all of my NSFW fics, this was 100% self indulgent and written with only me in mind. 

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged. And if your tags do not work, I’m sorry, and blame Tumblr. ~v~ In a perfect world, Ethan Ramsey would be at home, on his couch, a good book in one hand and a tumbler of scotch in the other. The last place he necessarily wants to be is in the crowded bar of a Miami hotel, sandwiched between a 21 year old girl and her friends, and some guy crying into his pint of beer.

The things Ethan does for love.

Coming to Miami was Naomi’s idea. She wanted a fun weekend away for their bachelor and bachelorette parties, and Miami was the only place she even considered going. What better way to celebrate their upcoming nuptials than to go to the city, specifically the hotel that started it all?

He hasn’t seen her all day, her friends kidnapping her as soon as their plane touched down. He misses her. They’ve been attached at the hip ever since they began dating, even more so after she moved into his condo, and being without her feels strange, even if it’s only for a night. And while he’s grown fond of Naomi’s merry band of misfits, spending the entire night with Bryce, Elijah, and Rafael requires more patience than he has.

He’s spent the entire day with them, and his capacity to be around other people has reached its limit. So while the guys were making plans of going to a strip club, Ethan left altogether, quietly slipping out of their room.

Ethan feels a tap on his shoulder. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

He’d recognize that voice anywhere, the slight drawl of Naomi’s accent when she has to pronounce certain words. Once he’s turned around, all thoughts of what he could possibly say are gone.

After two years together, Naomi’s beauty shouldn’t stun him anymore, but she still manages to render him speechless.

“Wow,” is the word his brain finally settles on.

Forever the drama queen, Naomi twirls around so her fiancé can get a full look at the sparkly dress she’s wearing. “I take it you like the dress?”

“You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” Her eyes sweep over Ethan, taking him in. He’s not doing anything in particular, but his presence is still commanding and magnetic. “You look pretty handsome yourself. Now, do you care to tell me why you’re missing your bachelor party?”

“I didn’t want to go to a strip club,” Ethan says simply. “And Lahela kept referring to us in third person, calling us ‘The Boys’ all night. It was becoming tiresome, so I left.”

“You can’t leave your own bachelor party.”

“Says the woman who ditched her bachelorette party,” Ethan shoots back.

Naomi rolls her eyes. “I only left my bachelorette party because you texted me to meet you down here.”

“I was simply over the night,” he says with a shrug. “We did a bit of gambling, we went to a cigar lounge, we got dinner. That’s more than enough entertainment for me. The other guys will be fine for the rest of the night if I’m not there.”

“Well if you’re checking out for the night, so am I.”

“No, you can still enjoy the festivities with your friends.”

Naomi shrugs. “Kyra and Sienna went too hard on the tequila shots at the club, and they’re currently passed out. Aurora, Jackie, and I were just in their room talking.”

“About anything in particular?”

“Mostly hospital gossip, nothing major.” Naomi takes a step forward and wraps her arms around Ethan’s neck. “Take me to our room, we can order room service and have our own celebration.”

One of Ethan’s eyebrows raises at the command. His hand travels to his fiancée’s hip, squeezing roughly. “Oh yeah? What kind of celebration?”

“I don’t know,” Naomi says, playing coy. “But I’m sure you can come up with something, doctor.”

~v~

They manage to get to their floor in record time, after Ethan requests that a bottle of wine get sent up to their room, which is a miracle because they spend entirely too much time stumbling through the halls, stealing kisses and touching each other.

Because they got separated early in the day, Naomi didn’t get a chance to see the room she and Ethan would be staying in for the weekend. As soon as he slides the key card through the door and pushes it open, Naomi just knows.

It’s the same suite she and Ethan shared the first time they visited The Celestial. “Ethan, this is...wow.”

“I take it you’re surprised?”

“I’m more than surprised.”

Naomi wanders around the room, her fingers lightly touching all of the fixtures. The bedding is still the same, white and lavender, the room open and light. It even smells the same, and suddenly she’s transported back in time, 3 years ago.

Leaving Ethan where he’s standing, Naomi heads to the balcony, throwing open the sliding glass door. Everything is so still, weird for a city like Miami that’s constantly buzzing with energy. She doesn’t notice Ethan step out a minute later, a chilled bottle of merlot and two glasses in his hand.

He pops open the bottle and pours them both a glass, handing one to her. “Would you like to toast?”

“Sure.” Naomi raises her glass. “Here’s to us, our upcoming nuptials, and the best marriage the world has ever seen.”

“That’s a bold toast.” Ethan gently clinks his glass against hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

Naomi takes a hearty sip, ignoring all of the tips a sommelier usually gives on how to drink, the fruitiness of the wine taking over. She watches as Ethan heads to the railing, his own glass less than full.

“I still can’t believe you managed to get this room,” she says, sighing wistfully, overlooking the ocean from her vantage point. “How did you pull it off?”

“Everyone has a price. I said money was no object, and when I told them it was a surprise for my fiancée, they were a bit more inclined to help.”

“Really?” Ethan hums and nods in response. 

“I told them the room has sentimental value to me,” he explains further. “It’s the room where I realized I was utterly helpless against your charms.”

“Ethan Ramsey, you’re truly a romantic at heart.”

He’ll never get used to hearing her praise him so openly. Ethan ducks his head down so Naomi can’t see the flush creeping up his neck at the compliment. “You bring out this romantic side of me.”

She goes to join him at the railing. He doesn’t say anything, but he slips his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Butterflies bloom in her stomach at his words. It’s nice to know that their first trip to Miami means so much to him, because it was an absolute game changer for her.

“I remember everything about that night so vividly,” Naomi says, her voice almost a whisper.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Losing to Declan in that poker match, coming out here, sharing a bottle of pinot noir, and talking about Naveen and my dreams for the type of doctor I want to be. I remember it all.”

“And then we kissed,” Ethan adds.

“Oh yeah, we did kiss, huh? I can’t believe I almost forgot that.”

“Ha ha, Rookie.”

“You know I’m just kidding. Of course I remember that kiss. It was the start of quite the journey for us.” A pained look flashed across Ethan’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I kissed you and then I immediately reneged. I started us on that ridiculous journey and wasted so much precious time because I didn’t want to admit that I was falling for you.”

“Hey.” Naomi grabs Ethan’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “I love you, and look at where we are right now. We’re getting married next week, we’re starting the rest of our lives together. Yes, the journey took a bit longer than I had hoped, but I don’t think I’d change anything in our past. It’s led us to this moment right here.”

“How are you so much more...wise and articulate than me?”

Naomi shrugs. “It’s a gift. Not everyone is privileged to possess it.”

“You remember all of the broad strokes of that night in Miami, but I’m more fond of the tiny details.”

“Like what?”

“I remember your blue dress and how it matched my eyes,” he starts. “I remember the sweet smell of your perfume, jasmine. I remember your coconut shampoo. I remember the way your pupils dilated when you saw me step out of the shower.” Ethan pulls Naomi closer to him and one of his hands gently cups her face. “It’s the same look you gave me when you realized that I threw that poker game for Naveen’s benefit, one of pure awe.”

“Your skin was incredibly soft,” Ethan continues, his finger tracing a nonsensical pattern on her collarbone. “Like silk. And it still is. But you want to know my favorite memory of that night?”

“Wh-what?”

A hand underneath her chin, Ethan tilts Naomi’s head up, their lips dangerously close. If she moves just a hair closer, they’ll be kissing. She’s tempted to just take the plunge, but she’s frozen, trapped under a spell of his.

With that, Ethan’s mouth descends on hers, pulling Naomi into a kiss with a ferocity she wasn’t expecting. She melts into it immediately, moaning, her hand flying to the back of his neck, getting tangled in the hair at the nape. She can taste the wine of him, the sweet taste of cherries as tongue slips into her mouth, deepening the kiss.

Ethan pulls away only to nip at the corner of her mouth. “That fucking moan of yours. The tiny little noise you make at the back of your throat whenever you’re aroused. It’s been playing in my head on a loop ever since.”

His beard scratches a path down Naomi’s neck and shoulder as he kisses her.

“You want to make that sound for me again?” Naomi nods frantically, desperate for whatever is about to come her way. “Good girl.”

Taking her hand, Ethan pulls her away from the railing. Instead of heading back into their suite, he presses her into the tall pillar next to them, barely giving her enough time to put down her wine glass. The exposed skin of her back collides into the pillar with a soft thud.

“Out here?” She asks with a squeak as Ethan tugs at her dress.

Ethan shrugs. “Why not?”

His lips are on her neck again in an instant, clouding her judgment and making it harder to respond. “Someone can–” she dissolved into a fit of moans at Ethan’s ministrations. “Someone can see us.”

“We’re thirty floors up,” Ethan deadpans. “And it’s pitch black out here, no one will see us.” He grabs her hips, pulling her flush against him, and Naomi gasps at how hard he is. “Now hearing you, that’s another story. You’re loud and I have every intention to make you scream.”

If he wasn’t holding onto her, Naomi is sure she would’ve fallen over at his words. Ethan’s cockiness is on full display, and arrogant Ethan was definitely one of her favorite versions of him.

Ethan pulls away, giving Naomi a bit of breathing room so she can properly think again. “Does that sound like a plan, Valentine? Me having my way with you right here on this balcony?”

“God, yes.” She ignores the way he smirks at her unbridled eagerness. Ethan has a healthy enough ego without her stroking it.

“Correct answer, Rookie.”

Ethan’s hand wraps around the silky material at the top of Naomi’s dress and yanks it down. Naomi hears the ripping of the material and her eyes fly open in shock at the cool Miami air hitting her exposed chest.

“We’re going to have to talk about the serious lack of respect you have for my clothing.”

“You told me you got this dress because someone you called a “Pictagram influencer” advertised it and had a coupon code making it 70% cheaper,” Ethan counters.

“Yes, the dress was cheap, but you have to stop ripping all of my clothes.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“With a new dress?”

Ethan rolls his eyes at his fiancée’s quip, but he ignores it. “Something better.” He kisses down her neck and chest, stopping to wrap his lips around her nipple, biting down gently.

It takes a second for Naomi to register that the source of the unladylike growl filling the air is her. She grips Ethan’s shoulder to steady herself, her nails digging through his shirt, and her head falls forward at the sensation.

“You’re always so responsive to me,” Ethan murmurs softly. His mouth descends on her other nipple, his tongue flattening over the pebbled bit of flesh. “And I don’t even have to do anything to you.”

“Well, can you do something to me?”

“You young people have no patience,” Ethan clicks his tongue teasingly. Slowly, he sinks down to his knees in front of Naomi, tugging her dress down with him. He’s already ripped it, there’s no use in exercising any more care. The sparkly dress pools at Naomi’s feet and she kicks it away.

“You old people move too slow–”

The words die on her throat as Ethan hooks a finger into the band of underwear and tugs them down at a frenzied pace. His calloused fingers dig into her hips, hard enough to bruise. She always calls him old, teasing him into accepting whatever challenge she’s thrown his way. “I’ll show you old, Rookie.”

Leaving her hip, one of Ethan’s hands travels to her knee, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He hooks her leg over his shoulder, giving him more leverage.

She can feel his breath, warm and tickling on the inside of her thigh, so close, yet so far away from where she actually needs him to be. Her hips fly forward, a silent plea for him to continue this little game they’re playing. Thankfully Ethan doesn’t tease her any further as his tongue flies out, licking at her folds.

Naomi inhales sharply and she nearly hikes up the wall at the sensation. “Oh, God.”

“You’re so wet for me, Naomi,” Ethan whispers against the overly sensitive flesh.

He dives back in, moaning against her and Naomi throws her head back at the vibration. “Always for you.”

She can tell by the way his blue eyes sparkle as they lock eyes that he’s smirking. But Naomi doesn’t have time to care about that because his lips wrap around her clit and he sucks hard. Naomi cards her fingers through his hair, tugging at him roughly, like she will die if he doesn’t keep his attention right where it is. 

It doesn’t last long though, and with ridiculous strength and skill, Ethan manages to grab her wrists in one hand, and keeps her hips planted against the pole with the other. Naomi receives the message loud and clear: he’s in control here, unequivocally.

Secure in the fact that she won’t be doing too much moving, Ethan doubles down, his tongue lapping at her. The familiar scratch of his beard against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh only makes her more delirious with lust.

Molten core levels of heat prick at every bit of her skin, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Her stomach tightens and there’s a tingle at the base of her spine. She’s close and it’s not fair that he can make her come this quick, and she’s not sure if she hates it or loves it. “I’m gonna–”

“I know.”

Ethan pulls away slightly, but Naomi doesn’t get the chance to whine about it. In an instant, he’s slipped a finger inside of her, earning a groan. He is just so...relentless in his goal, and Naomi barely has a chance to breathe before she’s keening (something so dramatic and unlike her. Ethan will never let her live it down). Her orgasm is swift, crashing into her like a tidal wave, knocking her off kilter almost instantly. Ethan doesn’t back away, his mouth still on her, working her through the release.

Her entire body is buzzing, still wracked with aftershocks when Ethan finally stands up. His eyes are dark, no longer the ocean blue they usually are, now taking on something closer to the midnight sky, fully dilated and hooded. His mouth is wet, slick with...well her, and Naomi has never wanted to kiss him more.

“That was a promising start,” Ethan says. “But it’s just that: a start. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

A start? If Naomi had the energy to do so, she would laugh at him, but one look in Ethan’s eyes lets her know that he’s being serious. She gulps audibly. She’s a shaky puddle of goo right now, and that was only the beginning?

“Turn around, hands against the pillar,” Ethan commands.

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Naomi. Hands out, ass up.”

He’s using his commanding doctor voice on her, and she loves it. Naomi does what she’s told, palms flat against the pillar holding up the balcony.

She hears rustling from behind, and she’s sure he’s undressing. Now she’s extremely aware of their power imbalance: she’s stark naked, save for a pair of high heels, while he’s still fully dressed. It’s not fair. Shifting slightly, Naomi lifts a foot and shakes it, hoping to get the shoe off in one fell swoop.

She’s stopped short of her plan as a sharp smack is delivered to her ass. She’s unable to contain the expletive in her throat, a loud, “Fuck!” drifting into the Miami air.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ethan asks.

“Taking off these heels.”

He tsks at her, as if the answer isn’t good enough. “I don’t remember giving you permission to do so.”

The authoritative tone zips straight through her, and Naomi turns to face him, putting on her best doe eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Christ.” Naomi didn’t know it was possible, but Ethan’s eyes darken even further at the word. He doesn’t bother stripping out the rest of his clothes, just quickly undoing his belt and pushing his pants down until they pool at his ankles. Without warning, Ethan wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Naomi’s back collides with his chest with a hard thud. “Kiss me.”

That’s not a command that needs repeating. Naomi tilts her head back in an attempt to kiss him, but their vast height difference and Ethan’s death grip on her make it a challenge. She just barely manages to capture the corner of his mouth before Ethan growls impatiently, and grabs her neck, forcing her head back to deepen the kiss.

It’s overwhelming and heady, and she’s so caught up in it, she doesn’t even realize his cock, hard and pulsing, is poised at the entrance until he plunges into her in one smooth thrust.

If he wanted her loud, he got what he asked for, because Naomi breaks their kiss in order to scream at the welcome intrusion. The air rushes from her lungs, and she can’t even begin to breathe again before Ethan pulls out and enters her again with just as much intensity as before.

She feels delirious, and she can’t pinpoint why. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re 400 feet above solid ground, and one look down makes her head spin. Maybe it’s the fact that someone, somewhere in this hotel knows exactly what they’re doing. Maybe it’s the fact that every inch of her skin burns deliciously as Ethan has her stretched at full fucking capacity, and she has nowhere to run or hide. There’s no sheets she can pull, no pillows to muffle her moans, nothing she can grab onto to anchor herself to reality. She’s suspended in this moment, and she can’t do anything but simply take it as Ethan fucks into her like a madman.

The noises she’s making along with the sound of their skin slapping together is wildly obscene, and it only spurs Ethan on. Abandoning her throat, his hand travels down to her chest, his forefinger and thumb pinching her nipple, bringing the tiny nub to an almost painfully hard peak. He makes sure to give the same level of attention to the other nipple, torturing his fiancée until she’s whining unintelligibly.

His lips find her earlobe and he bites down. “Are you close again?”

“Yes,” Naomi answers.

Instead of speeding up, Ethan slows down, his thrusts slowing down to an agonizingly deep pace, fully pulling out of her and thrusting in again at a leisurely pace, the sole intent of driving her insane.

“Ethan,” she whines. She’s a shaking mess, unable to do much else besides cry out and occasionally moan his name. Her spine curves, back arching and her head falls against his shoulder. “Fuck! Ethan, please.”

“Please, what?”

Despite his teasing, Naomi can tell he’s just as desperate as she is. His breath is coming out in ragged and uneven pants, there’s a thin layer of sweat, slick and coating his chest, and she can feel his heartbeat, wild and erratic against her back. He’s just as tortured as she is.

In a Hail Mary attempt to get what she wants, her inner muscles clench down on him, stopping him mid-thrust. Ethan’s knees buckle, the move unexpected and throwing him off-kilter.

“Shit, Naomi,” he manages to rasp out. “You don’t play fair.”

Being fair has no place in this, she plays to win, but she has no time to throw it back in his face as he presses into her clit with the pad of his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make her yelp.

If her last climax felt like getting slammed with a tidal wave, this one feels like floating down a river: languid and unrelenting, refusing to stop. It consumes her entire body, engulfing her in pleasure so white hot and intense, she’s sure stars are popping behind her eyelids as every bit of pleasure is wrung out of her body until there’s nothing left to give.

Ethan’s thrusts speed up again, messy and spasmodic, all rhythm gone. His hips snap against hers before she feels him coming, his entire body going rigid.

Thankfully, Ethan has enough energy left to pull them into a chair because Naomi was more than willing to simply collapse onto the concrete and stay there. She curls into his side, her face finding a spot in the crook of his neck.

They don’t speak for what feels like forever, both just trying to regulate their breathing and return back to normal.

Ethan breaks the comfortable silence, but Naomi barely realizes he’s talking before it’s too late to fully listen. She tilts her head back so they can lock eyes. “What?”

“I asked if you’re okay,” Ethan says.

“I can’t feel my legs,” is all Naomi manages to say. Ethan chuckles and reaches forward, slipping Naomi’s heels off, the relief pretty much instant.

“Better?”

“Much.” She sighs sleepily, her eyelids growing heavy. She burrows deeper into his side, Ethan’s body heat lulling her to sleep. “This was much better than staying in the girls’ room.”

“And it was much better than going to a strip club with your friends,” Ethan adds.

“You like them. They’re your friends too, don’t deny it.” Ethan doesn’t outright confirm or deny anything, which is all the confirmation Naomi needs. “Told you so.”

“How about a shower, Miss Know-It-All?” 

“Sounds great,” Naomi huffs, but she makes no effort to move.

“This is doing more for my ego than you’ll ever know.” Ethan is careful, extracting himself from Naomi’s grip in order to get up. He then hooks his arms underneath her, lifting her up bridal style to carry her back into their suite.

Naomi might as well be unconscious because she’s dead weight in his arms as he maneuvers his way to the en-suite. Thankfully the shower isn’t complicated and all Ethan has to do is turn a few knobs for it to turn on. He waits a few seconds to make sure the water is the perfect temperature, before pulling Naomi in with him.

They don’t spend too much time in the marble and glass box, as Ethan can see Naomi is probably seconds from passing out. The shower is over almost as quickly as it began. Both wrapped in large hotel robes, Ethan nudges Naomi back to the bedroom where she collapses face down onto their bed.

Once Ethan is in bed with her, Naomi rolls over, her face firmly planted on his chest. Upon making contact, Naomi sighs.

Ethan kisses the top of her head. “I can practically hear your thoughts. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Naomi assures him. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“It just feels...surreal, being back in Miami, being back in this room,” Naomi explains. “We’re getting married next weekend.”

Ethan lifts Naomi’s left hand, her engagement ring sparkling in the moonlight. “It does feel surreal.”

“I think we should make it a tradition, coming out here.” Ethan looks down at her, a curious eyebrow raised. Naomi feels the need to explain herself, the words rushing out of her mouth. “It doesn’t have to be annual or anything, but I want this to be our special place.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Ethan says. The next they come to Miami, she’s going to be his wife, and the thought spends a thrill down his spine.

“And we have to have sex on the balcony. It’s tradition now.”

“I’m starting to think you only want me for my body.”

“Of course not,” Naomi argues. “I’m in it for your money, too.” Ethan pinches her leg for the teasing, and she squirms away from him, laughing.

“When I die, I’m bequeathing all of my money to Jenner.”

“He’s a good boy, he’d share with me.” 

Ethan rolls his eyes and pulls Naomi in for another kiss. They don’t make it very far though, as the sound of a cell phone pierces through the air, making them spring apart.

“Yours or mine?” Ethan asks, eyes scanning the room for the source of the noise.

Naomi bends over and sees her cell phone on the floor by their bed, and not on the nightstand. 

Weird. She picks it up, and her eyes widen at the amount of texts she’s received in the past minute, the vibration so strong, it knocked the phone off of the table. “It’s mine.”

Bryce L: DUDE!!!

Bryce L: Where the duck r u?

Bryce L: ????????????????????????????????

Bryce L: Srsly not funny, did u run away from ur own bachelor party?

Bryce L: Pick up fone. Nay will murder us for losing u. 

Bryce L: But I will murder fist, 4 running away

Bryce L: Oh shut. Naomi, ignore this!!! 

Bryce L: JK, false alarm

Bryce L: Ethan is fine, picky promise!

Between the misspelled words and strings of emojis, Naomi can tell that her surgeon friend is completely drunk, but she manages to figure out what he’s saying. “So Bryce is having a meltdown because he lost you.” Taking the phone from Naomi’s hand, Ethan holds it up to his face, squinting as he reads. “And he thinks he was texting you, when he really just texted me.”

Ethan chuckles slightly, and mere seconds later, his own cell phone rings ‘Dr. Bryce Lahela’ flashing across the screen. “He’s figured it out, and he’s calling me now. Should I answer?”

“No. Let them have their Hangover moment.”

“Their what?”

“From The Hangover. The movie with Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, Zack Galifiniakis where they get totally shitfaced and lose their best friend a day before his wedding,” Naomi explains. Ethan just stares at her blankly. “Oh my gosh, you’ve never seen it?”

“How does this come as a shock to you, Rookie?”

“Well, we can't get married until you’ve seen the entire trilogy.”

That makes Ethan’s brows fly up. “There’s 3 of those movies that you want me to sit through?”

“God Grandpa, you’re so lame,” Naomi groans and her hand reaches out onto the nightstand, grabbing the remote control. She points to the large flatscreen tv in front of them. “Hopefully we can order movies on this. If not, I brought my laptop so–” Ethan plucks the remote from her hand, and tosses it to the edge of the king sized bed. It lands softly. “Hey!”

“I don’t care about some stupid movie.”

“It’s not stu–” He tugs at the knot holding her robe together until it falls open. “Ethan…”

“You have options, soon to be Missus Ramsey,” Ethan starts. He rolls over until he’s on top of Naomi, his arms bracing either side of her cage, caging her underneath him. “We can watch that movie, or we can pick up where we left off on the balcony. Which choice do you prefer?”

“The movie,” Naomi quips back with a smirk.

She laughs at her own joke and Ethan’s eyes darken mischievously, taking on the challenge. “Just for that, I’m going to guarantee that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

[twilitty]

Moonlit ch.2

This is the second chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3.9k words

previous chapter

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella Swan is introduced to a possible new friend and receives a gift. The doctors new family may not be as well adjusted to small town life as Charlie would like.

Chapter Two

The next morning I wake up to a growl of thunder beating against the inside of my skull. I had a night of thankfully restful sleep for once, only waking up to get a glass of water. My hands are clasped against my chest, fingers knotted in annoyance as I hold back what likely will be a spill of expletives. Why must there always be noise? Why can I not sleep soundly and awake soundly, just once?

I open one eye experimentally, hoping the sun has already arisen and I won’t be missing out on any leftover sleep. My room is shrouded in darkness. The expletives, swear words crude enough to make a priest gag, spill out in a muttered breath and my hands squeeze against each other once more before reaching for my alarm clock. The red numbers blink back at me and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light before I read the time. Nine in the morning. I look back to the window where my blinds are drawn closed, but still no light, even filtered through the canopy of clouds, peaks at the edges. 

The thunder, which had gone quiet after waking me up initially, rolls again for a moment before silencing itself. Only, was it thunder? It sounded heavy, like machinery but with a deeper growl. Was there construction nearby? I didn’t recall any on my few trips up and down the street, and I question why there would need to be any construction anyways. It’s not as if this is a booming neighbourhood with a subdivision being built. 

Charlie knocks against my door, quieter than yesterday. “Bella, it’s time to get up.” You’d imagine that with my age being nearly twenty and my status as a legal adult I’d be allowed to choose my own time to wake up. My annoyance dies down quickly when my thoughts bounce back to Phoenix, waking up early each morning to drive Mom into her early morning classes. Nine in the morning really isn’t that early, in fact, it allows me time to get some chores done before class. “Someone has dropped by.”

My lips contort into an annoyed pucker. Who would have stopped by? Mom had warned me before the move that nothing but rumours and nasty mold comes from Forks. Apparently her quick marriage to Charlie, and even quicker pregnancy with me, was enough gossip to fuel conversations for years. I remember a trip to Forks at eight years old, a woman had stopped my mother in the grocery store and asked her over for coffee. “They just want the inside scoop,” Renee had told me afterwards, “Give them anything and they’ll find a way to make it ugly.”

My bare feet brush the ground and a flash of cold spreads up my shins. Apparently, even in spring, the weather is dangerously cold. I tell Charlie I’ll be downstairs in a moment, pulling on a pair of jeans and thermal socks. I was hoping for a relaxing day alone, just me, my sweatpants, and the laptop. I compromise on the socks, regardless of who is downstairs, my toes will not be cold today.

I pull the blinds open, the lawn stretching out beside the house is bathed in shadowy darkness despite the morning hour. The forest that lines our property, secluding us from the neighbours, is eerie and mysterious. The green tones that I initially found alien and too bright are now gone and replaced with navy. I wait a moment, staring into the trees, my thoughts rambling into fairytale imaginations. 

My brain conjures an image of a man, tall and insidious, stepping out of the tree line, long claws attached to his fingers and a nasty grin revealing pointed teeth. His shirt is ripped in the front, a long tear reaching from throat to navel and from inside the shirt tufts of hair stick out. No, not hair, fur. He growls menacingly. 

I close the blinds quickly and blink against the pictures my brain throws at me. 

The landline rings downstairs and startles me, a jolt of anxious adrenaline surging through my cold feet and up into my heart. Maybe one of the reasons I enjoyed Phoenix’s barren, plain landscape was that I would not be subjected to such terrible thoughts. I remember being twelve and watching Scream with my mother, she was on a horror movie kick and had rented a whole stack of DVDs for us to watch. That night when I was tired but my eyes refused to close as I didn’t want to imagine what could be lurking outside my bedroom window. Crawling into my mother’s bed, she ran her warm palm against my forehead and hummed a song until I calmed down. 

“Bella,” she had said quietly, the nurturing lilt of her voice expanding my heart, “We live in a desert. You can see for miles and miles and miles, if some bad man was coming we’d see him from forty minutes away.” I giggled quietly into the comforter, our bodies pressed against each other in near sleep and my mother’s hands maneuvering through my hair with expertise. 

Now, I look out at the grassy lawn from a crack between the blinds. It resembles the set of a slasher movie, the forest borders it with every possibility my imagination can muster. I can see a man from four seconds away, not forty minutes.

There's a chorus of male laughter from below and I sigh, assuming this is my cue to go downstairs and meet with whoever has stopped in.

Charlie is sitting in the living room, facing me and his back to the television which is decidedly blank. On the couch is a head of glossy, black hair. Beside him is a wheelchair with an older man sitting in it, a mug clasped between dark hands. I curse whatever forces brought these strangers into the house so early, I am not in the mood for interaction. I was hoping for a bowl of oatmeal and a quiet morning. 

“Hey!” Charlie braces his hands on his knees and pushes out of the armchair. His face is split in half with a grin. I can’t recall him smiling this large in the past week of my stay. The two men turn, facing me with warm smiles.

One of them is older, perhaps Charlie's age, his mouth creased with smile lines and his eyes wrinkled with sun damage. His skin is a warm russet brown, his eyes deep-set behind pronounced brows and a large smile. Bright white teeth stare back at me as my brain picks over his features, how do I know this man? I know almost immediately that he’s Quileute, from the Reservation to the west of town. I vaguely remember trips to the beach with Charlie and eating hotdogs over fires with some of the children from the area. 

“Do you remember me, Bella?” He asks in a deep, commanding tone. His voice transports me back to the beach, collecting colourful rocks with the other kids and being called to dinner. Billy Black. He lives in a small, red house with a large kitchen perfect for gatherings. He’s older than I remember, but my last time being here for any substantial time was nearly four years ago. 

“Dad, c’mon,” the boy says with a sarcastic eye roll. He stands from the couch, his height towering mine by a few inches and his broad shoulders slumped forward happily. I wonder how tall he’d be if he stood to his full height. His voice is deep, not as deep as his father’s, but still an indicator of the family resemblance. Where his father is strong and sure, this boy is aloof and casual. Jacob Black. “She hasn’t been back in ages, she probably blocked your nasty attitude out of her memory.” 

I bite back a smile, but Billy laughs and shoots Charlie a look that says, kids, am I right? I step forward and extend my hand to Jacob, who takes it gratefully in his own and gives a soft shake. His hand covers mine and is most definitely a few degrees warmer than I am. “Jacob Black, we used to make mud pies together.”

“Best in town,” Charlie adds in from the back of the room. I smile. 

“No, no, I remember you guys,” I tell the Blacks. “It just took me a moment.” Charlies sits back down in his chair and motions for me to take a seat. 

“Billy and Jake just stopped by,” my father explains. I sit beside Jacob on the couch, a cushion between us. But, even with the provided space and the lack of physical contact, I feel heat come off of him in waves like a radiator. I wonder if he’s sick. “Jake here is a mechanic.” A furious blush settles under the boy's brown skin as his mechanical skills are brought up, this is my first time hearing of his expertise. I remember his sisters being twins, both tall and beautiful with matching smiles. They were almost two years older than me, Jacob had followed closely behind and was only born in the same six months as me. Of course, now that I try to remember, the date falls short in my memory. It’s possible he has a career as a mechanic somewhere on the Reservation, but he mustn’t work in Forks. I hadn’t seen a single mechanics garage in town. 

“No, no,” he looks between me and my father with an apologetic smile, “it’s just a hobby. Something for fun.” Billy tsks at his son, shaking his head in a way that makes me believe this conversation has occurred before. 

“Hobbies can bring in money, hobbies can turn into jobs,” the older man says with a scolding tone. Jacob just shakes his head crookedly, not responding. Charlie takes this as his cue to interrupt the trajectory of the conversation, and I’m grateful. I haven’t spoken to these men in nearly four years, that last place I want to be is in the middle of a family feud. 

“Well, now, there was a reason I brought up Jake’s skills,” Charlie interjects with a wave at the large boy next to me. “Bells, go take a look outside.” My fingers twitch anxiously in my lap at being thrust into the center of the conversation. I was hoping I could slide under the radar here, not end up in the middle of it. 

It takes great restraint for me to get up from the couch and not stumble over my ankles in the act, my clumsiness reaches new heights when I’m being watched by a room of people. Even if there are only three people in the room. The window at the end of the room is open, the curtains pulled to the side, and when I reach it my gaze falls on a group of kids biking down the street with a rainbow of helmets. Apparently, the dark sky doesn’t scare them the way it does me. 

They pedal quickly, little screams of delight just barely audible through the thick glass of the living room window. They pass the porch and disappear behind a large red truck parked out front of the house. I blink. It’s still there, rounded fenders and shiny door handles, long bed, ancient grill adorning the hood. It’s beautiful. “Is that your truck, Billy?” There’s a chorus of laughter behind me, the men’s baritones mixing and producing a flaming blush starting at my neck and creeping up into my face. I turn to look at them, my stomach clenching as I turn away from the beautiful vehicle. “What?” 

“It’s yours, Bella,” Charlie tells me. The breath I was holding leaves my lungs through my gaping mouth, I struggle to close it and take an experimental inhale. “Bella?” I turn and look back out the window, the glorious truck still sits there staring at me from across the dark lawn. I can only imagine how beautiful it is in the sunlight.

“I- it’s mine?” I ask. Another series of laughs echo through and then footsteps come up beside me, Jacob stands looking out the window. “You made it?” I question, looking up at him. 

His shoulders shake silently and his lips press together as he tries to compose himself, I’m not sure why he finds my comment so funny but it reignites my blush. “I fixed it up, yeah. But, don’t get too excited. The thing runs at sixty miles max, push her further than that and you’ll be walking home.” 

We all go outside quickly, me leading the pack with an excited skip in my step. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall on my face or stumble over my words as I spoke my thoughts aloud. “It’s so pretty, I love it! Jake, I have no idea how you could make it look so perfect.” The truck sits against the curb, its red paint flaking in places around the tires, but even more perfect than I could have imagined. 

The sky is a disturbing shade of grey, a fact that irritates me more outside than it did in the house. Why does the weather have to ruin such a perfectly good moment? But I spend the majority of my time on the vehicle, petting its sides carefully like I might damage it. Finally, seemingly having had enough of me quietly admiring the vehicle, Billy tells me to hop in and check it out on the inside. 

Jacob produces a set of keys, no automatic locking mechanism, and twists it in the truck's door handle. He holds the door open for me, producing a hand to help me in. I take it gratefully, stepping up into the driver’s seat and letting myself sink into the seat. Jacob closes the door on me, but my thoughts are lost and focused only on how much I love this truck. 

“So,” he says after opening the passenger door and climbing up next to me, “You ever driven a truck before?” I shake my head, fingers curving experimentally around the thin steering wheel. I can see myself now: driving down the empty highway, the sun blinding against the dry pavement, window down and hair blowing, radio blaring. It’s exactly what I needed, a way for me to get around without needing to borrow the cruiser (which, yes, is illegal) or have Charlie drive me around. 

“I can give you lessons,” Jake offers, fingers clasped in his lap, drumming a tune against the opposite knuckles. “If not that’s cool, but she drives a little funny.” “She?” I ask, eyes leaving the steering wheel momentarily to watch his face. He notices, the serene expression dropping from his face and replaced with a quick upturn of his lips. 

“Uh, yeah.” He palms the back of his neck roughly and seems almost apologetic. “I have a thing for cars, y’know, so naming them is kinda part of the deal.” I can barely make out a faint red tinge over his cheeks. “Wait, hold on,” I can’t contain the giggle that slips out but firmly press my lips together before trying again. I can only imagine the toothy smile I’m giving him, a girl all too excited over some old truck. Only, this is the perfect old truck. “What’s her name?”

“Betty,” he responds sheepishly, his hand still massaging the back of his neck. “But if you tell anybody that I’ll have to kill you.” 

“That’s okay, Betty is our secret.” 

And, just like that, I now have a secret with someone. Does this make us friends? Regardless of whatever it makes us, my heart sings happily from within my chest, excited to think that maybe Forks won’t be as lonesome as it’s been this past week. Maybe Jacob and I will become friends and bond over Betty and I won’t only have Charlie and school and books. 

“Well, before you accept her turn the keys,” Jacob instructs. I oblige, setting the keys in the ignition and giving them a gentle twist. A roar of mechanical thunder envelopes us. I nearly leap out of my seat in surprise, the loud rumbling of the engine settling in my ears and blocking out all other noises. Jake says something but I can barely hear him from over the thunderous growl of Betty. I turn the keys back and the truck dies down with one last rumble. “She’s loud,” he says obviously. 

“She’s perfect.” 

Jacob hands me a spare set of keys after we get out, telling me that he’ll be back the day after tomorrow to give me my first driving lesson in the truck. Charlie was all too excited with that idea, even though I already have my license and know how to drive. In fact, other than illegally borrowing the cruiser with Charlie’s permission, I have never committed an illegal act involving a vehicle. If memory serves me correctly, Charlie has two speeding tickets from his youth. 

But, I don’t argue against Jake's offer. In fact, I thank him profusely and promise to pay him for the lessons. “Bella,” he says in an exasperated way, as if we’ve known each other for years and I always say such supposedly outlandish things. “Why would you pay me for something I’m offering to you?” 

We’ve stopped in front of the Blacks vehicle, a large brown and beige truck which seems to only be a decade newer than the red one. This isn’t saying much for the brown vehicle as the red one could be from the fifties. Billy is wheeling his way down the driveway with Charlie walking beside him, laughing emphatically at something his friend had said. 

“That’s crazy,” I respond with a shake of my head. “That’s like me not paying you for the truck.”

“Yeah, I know.” I take pause at this, the words welling up inside my brain and the meaning lost to me for only a moment. Then, like finally finding the missing puzzle piece under the table, I understand what this means and the picture is clear. 

“You- I- This truck isn’t free.” The words stutter out of me, the first two the beginnings of messages I abandoned immediately after starting them. This truck, though old, is not cheap, and neither is Jakes’s skill. I should pay him for labour if nothing else, but I know he doesn’t want to include that in the bill. He doesn't want to send me a bill. 

“It’s a gift,” he states simply with a shrug of his wide shoulders. Billy pulls up beside me, slapping away Charlie's hand as he tries to adjust his chair for him.

“Careful, Swan,” the older Black warns with hostility. “I have more muscle in these arms than you do in your entire body. Touch the chair and you’ll get what’s coming to you.” 

Jacob helps Billy into the passenger seat, folding up the wheelchair and securing it into the truck bed with quick hands. Charlie stands beside me, shooting fiery threats back and forth with his friend until Jacob climbs behind the wheel. “Storm coming through,” Jacob says with a wave towards the dark sky. “If you need any help with anything, tying stuff down or moving let me know.” Charlie thanks him for the offer and I lean in to thank him again for the truck and the lessons. I also assure him that the argument over billing is far from over and that he’ll get an earful the next time we meet. 

The rest of the day is spent restlessly. I log into my online classes but my attention is continuously claimed by my truck in front of the house. The sun never shows itself, content with hiding behind the cloud coverage. I’m sitting in the living room when Charlie gets home for dinner, my book discarded on the couch somewhere beside me. I reach for it once I see his cruiser pull into the driveway, deciding it would be better to look busy than to look like I’m obsessing over my new means of transportation.

“Bella?” He calls, the door shutting behind him with a creak. At some point I’ll have to oil all the hinges in the house. It’s that or I go clinically insane from the constant noise. 

“Yeah, just in here.” 

He comes in bearing a brown bag with the Forks Diner logo written on the side. “I brought dinner, it’ll be on the stove.” I nod and thank him, telling him that we can eat together once he’s down and out of uniform. “Well, actually, I won’t be eating until a bit later.” His moustache twitches irritably and he disappears into the kitchen to drop the food off. 

“Are you meeting with Billy?” I ask, knowing this isn’t the case. It must be an issue with work causing him to feel stressed. And when he comes back into the living room from the kitchen I’m able to see the tension holding his shoulders in place. “Did something happen at work?” “It’s nothing to worry about,” he assures me, but his words do anything but. So much for police chief being a boring job. “Just those new kids in town, the doctors children,” he waves a hand in the air as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Kicking up trouble in their first week here, something about racing.” 

“Oh.” I pull my knees under me and turn to face him fully, my arms hanging over the back of the couch like a child. 

“Anyways, no big deal I’m sure they’re just used to city life or something.” But, my fathers tone indicates that he most definitely does not believe his own words. In Charlie's books a bad apple is always a bad apple, and he’s probably dreading all the other trouble these kids will kick up. “I’ve just gotta go check-in with them, make sure it doesn’t happen again.” His hand moves towards my arm, as if to pat me goodbye but it stutters midair, falling back to his side awkwardly. 

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, biting on it as he mutters a goodbye and leaves through the front door without looking at me again. I wonder when this will get any easier. 

Renee left Charlie a year into their young marriage, taking me away to live with her in Arizona. She had given me partial reasons over the years for her leaving, talking of them being too young, the weather too wet, how she wanted a life where she could be free from responsibilities. I’m not sure whether it dawned on her that a child constitutes a responsibility, but she took me to every yoga class and rarely left me with a babysitter. 

My mother was never too keen on Forks, not that I fault her for it, the weather leaves much to be desired and there’s virtually nothing to do. But, because of her disliking I rarely visited my father, my first extended visit being when I was twelve and stayed the entire summer as Renee travelled with her then-boyfriend. I came back to a scrapbook of kissy photos and pressed leaves from her travels, all I had to show for my trip was a runny nose and a strong distaste for hamburgers. One can only eat so many burgers before the novelty wears off.

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