#Ive been spending too much time thinking about Dark Rise and i wish to know what happens to them

[captivemasterpieces]

Girls only want one thing and that's the 2nd book of CS Pacat's Dark Rise series to come out

(it's me, I'm girls)

[youhideastar]

Fit for Purpose Deleted Scenes IV: Rut

Today's deleted scenes from Fit for Purpose deal with the question of LWJ's rut/a beta's ability to satisfy a rut or heat in general in this universe - a question to which I gave waaaaaay too much thought haha. Other deleted scenes posts are linked in the masterpost. NSFW text. I hope you enjoy!

Okay, so. WWX says several times during Fit for Purpose that, as a beta, he can’t satisfy an alpha’s rut or an omega’s heat. It’s not clear in the story whether that is literal, i.e., there’s a biological incompatibility, or just societal, i.e., “can’t” because it would be scandalous or otherwise transgress social norms. Originally, I figured it would be the latter, which gave rise to this scene:

“It’s kind of too bad you can’t take my rut,” the bold girl says, afterward. She’s breathing hard, still. Sweat gleams in the valley between her breasts. “You’re so good at that, da-shixiong.”

Wei Wuxian props himself up on his elbow. He’s eighteen now, and he’s done a lot of things, but he hasn’t done that, and now that he thinks of it, he’s not sure why. “I could, if you want,” he offers.

He knows right away that it’s a mistake.

She looks like she’s smelled something bad. “That’s for—don’t joke about that. Rut is for your mate. It’s not—” She shivers.

Wei Wuxian smiles, ingratiating. “Ah, forgive this one, shijie – how would I know about mates, ah?”

She laughs. “Good point. Well. Ruts and heats are for your mate, da-shixiong. Serious, you know? Not just for fun. Not like this.”

That would then be followed by this scene:

LWJ’s rut happens during Sunshot. WWX hovers around outside Lan Zhan’s tent. Thinks about how he can’t help Lan Zhan.

Afterward, Lan Zhan asks him why he was hovering.

“How—”

“Scent,” Lan Zhan says succinctly.

“I don’t… I don’t have a scent.” That’s the whole point.

“You do. Now.” A negative.

“And what do I smell like? Now?”

Lan Zhan hesitates.

“Tell me.” Rasp.

“Like death.”

Beat.

“Ah.”

That would have been way too bleak for the finished fic, so I cut it quite a while ago. But I kept ruminating on the topic, and I changed my mind: I wanted the source of the problem to be a supposed biological difficulty (just like the lack of fertility backs up the “no kids” and the lack of a scent gland backs up the “no claim”), because the societal take above was just too bullshitty. It didn’t seem like something that would prevent WWX from believing he could be LWJ’s mate. There needed to be at least a grain of truth to it.

“But Dea,” I hear you say, “did this question need to be answered in the story in the first place?” Well, I ultimately decided the answer was no, and the final posted fic leaves the question open:

“I can’t—” satisfy your rut, Wei Wuxian almost says, parroting what he’s been told his whole life. But those same voices told him he couldn’t have a mate. Or a son.

So instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

But for, like, a month, I was convinced that if I left this worldbuilding thread unresolved, readers would not find the story satisfying. They’d be left wondering whether WWX and LWJ’s relationship is about to fall apart the first time LWJ goes into rut. Explaining it like this, it sounds so irrational. But I really worried about this! I was sure I needed to get into the nitty-gritty. So I wrote stuff like this:

“Lan Zhan.”

“Mn.”

“It’s all right if you want to spend your ruts with someone else.”

“No.”

“Lan Zhan—”

Kiss in the dark.

“If Wei Ying does not wish to share my ruts, I will continue to suppress them. At my level of cultivation, the techniques to do so are not harmful.”

Beat.

“If Wei Ying would wish to share my ruts. It would—that would bring me joy.”

Beat. WWX swallows. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t. I can’t—” he’s blushing. “I can’t take your knot.”

Lan Zhan’s hand slips between his legs; his fingertips circle WWX’s hole. He sounds almost amused when he says, “Wei Ying imagines his body can stretch no farther than this?”

“Lan Zhan.” WWX’s cheeks flaming.

“You can take more,” Lan Zhan says, with perfect unconcern. “With careful and patient preparation. But only if you wish to.”

This kind of worldbuilding nerdery is so fun for me. (And I flatter myself that this scene is hot.) But this is SO in the weeds, and it was making the final sex scene SO long, when really, that scene needs to be as short as possible so as not to compete with the actual climax of the fic. In fact, I ultimately did not include any sex in the final sex scene at all, for that very reason!

So then I tried an abbreviated version that would answer the basic question during the sex itself:

“I—I’m sorry I can’t do this for you in your rut.” WWX all apologetic.

“Why not?”

“I can’t—you know. Take your knot. Physically.”

Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow. He twists his fingers inside Wei Wuxian; tugs at Wei Wuxian’s rim with his thumb, making him gasp. “Wei Ying’s body stretches no further than this?”

“Lan Zhan!” Blushing furiously. He has to admit, “I… don’t know. Maybe it does.” Everybody says—but then again, everyone says all kinds of stupid things. Maybe he can satisfy an alpha’s rut. Lan Zhan’s rut. Maybe he could have all along.

But (a) like I said, I was starting to realize that I didn’t need to write the sex itself and (b) this bit doesn’t actually resolve the question (although it suggests an answer) and if I’m not going to answer the question anyway, then I might as well just set the question aside super briefly, which is what I eventually did in the two lines of the finished fic quoted above.

I hope this was interesting! Tomorrow, we’ll go through all my failed attempts at getting Jiang Cheng to talk about his feelings. 🤣

[sacredsanguine]

pillow talk: iii a joesme flash series | parts (i), (ii), (x), (iv), (v), (vi)

They’d planned to spend this night together, likely snuggled close under soft blankets after the heady heat and laughter of a few drinks had faded into pleasant, weightless sleepiness.

Joel had joked over the morning coffee she’d brought him about bringing over a pillowcase of groceries in case Esme forgot to pick something up to supplement the wealth of alcohol, tea biscuits, and condiments currently residing in her cupboards. She’d stuck her tongue out at him good-naturedly and made some silly reply about knowing which tomatoes were best for sauces and which were better for cocktails, thank you very much.

That had been before. Now there’s lightness at her ring finger and betrayal bruising violet in her throat.

Esme raises her head just enough from her kitchen table to pour herself another tumbler full of vodka. Her hand shakes, but the bottle and glass are already blurry. At least there’s no one in her apartments to scold her. The groceries she’d had time but not the will to put away stare accusingly from the counter.

“Santri,” she slurs before the vodka peels her memories one layer farther from painful proximity as it burns down her throat. Against her own will and all the odds drained from the near-empty bottle, a memory lurches to the forefront of Esme’s mind: warm hands in hers, the smell of sun-warmed violets, and a low laugh like pure sunshine.

I’ll teach you to toast in the old Aixoisi way.

Joel’s eyes had sparkled in response to her teasing glance. I’d like to teach you to heal even if you didn’t offer. But that’s a fine deal.

Teach me to heal? What an interesting proposition, Physician. Trying to get me to stop coming to you for every little scrape and sorrow?

A laugh that felt like summer. Never.

Liquid hits Esme’s lap in cold, thin drops. Neither the burn of the vodka or the sweet golden spice of involuntary ginger warm her. Not with the way the ache in her gut insists on freezing her from the inside out.

She’s always been lonely here. Of all lessons to learn from Pheles, how to wake up alone was one of the first. Foolish to think that this would have been anything different.

Glass clinks onto wood; the sound is hollow.

Joel inhales and lets himself slouch back into his chair. The sun will be rising soon and he will be expected along with it, but for now he is alone with his thoughts, half a bottle of wine he’d bought with someone else in mind, and a rosary whose cool, well-worn beads cannot clack loud enough to silence the hurt hurricane in his head.

It spins faster, juggernaut thrown between the deep-set ache of a wound that does not know why it was inflicted and Joel’s automatic desperation to prove himself worthy, if not innocent and maledicted. If not good. His hand flexes—not as if into a fist, but to grasp something already slipped away, fingers digging deep into flesh as in the aftermath of missing a rope already swung by.

The sound that rolls from Joel’s throat is not a growl or a sob but a creak; violets and gold burst from his hands in swirls too soft for what he feels. The incandescence of the unspeakable illuminates green glass as Joel reaches out to turn the label of the bottle away from himself until the crimson paper is just a dark shadow through the bottle and its lightless contents.

Even without the label’s pensive cherub staring beseechingly at him, Joel’s thoughts do not quiet. He sips, alternating between the last of the cherry-red wine and the water beside it, and wonders if he will ever learn how to stop bringing things upon himself. If he will ever stop wanting to.

His dearest wishes repulse their subjects, perhaps with their fervency. His ragged sigh flutters against the hand he raises to press to his face, uncomfortably flushed and swollen from an earlier round of crying.

Joel knows his scripture by heart, but it was not verse that taught him that unfettered desire of something corrupts it.

Joel the student, Joel the healer, Joel the man who strove to be the best he could, the man he had needed as a boy—and none of it enough. Good, but never good enough to keep things in his grasp from withering at the force of his want.

He had always wanted a family. Always wanted a child. Children. Had walked with open eyes and arms into wanting the woman whose name he now cannot speak without feeling something sharp rising to choke him like an unholy noose.

The city loves him like a son, but for all his glory, all his radiance, Joel could not keep something from being too good to be true.

They’d planned to spend this night together. Alone, they share instead an echoing and inescapable emptiness.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

HIIII I see that u hv a match up goin on and Id like to try! Would u mind doing one for me with Obey Me?

Pronouns : She/they

Sexuality: Im not sure exactly??... still discovering but I know that I like both sexes

Infp 4w5 / Cancer sun Taurus moon n Scorpio rising (I saw some doing not just the sun sign so i think it would be fun if i include all 3 lol)

Appearance: Im South East Asian. Around 5'2. I hv shoulder length black hair, black eyes and olive toned skin. My hairstyle is akin to the jellyfish hair. I rarely wear makeup and would just hv my bare face out due to its sensitivity to breakouts. And my clothing, its mostly modest/covering for academic places or just comfy and quick with any cool baggy tees i hv. Its my current closet, since i dont hv much occasions to go grand and i just wanna blend in with everyone around me lookin like an npc. But id love to wear more self expressing stuff in the future, to my desire. More accessories, colorful makeups and fashions like dark couquette/gyaru or so!

Personality: My personality, id say its two sided. I guess hv an open mind and easy going (to some degree ofc). A dream chaser and a listener. Sometimes (just sometimes), i can get my mind through a problem and stay grounded. Im also empathic? I like consoling with people and I appreciate the smallest details. I feel for people's struggle and I hold hopes in them. However, i can get moody, its so unexpected and intense that even im scared of it. I can be very quiet then, and dissociative. Id just want to be alone by that time to figure out my situation. Ive been said to appear gloomy or hard to approach too :cry: If im pissed, im venomous. And im actually an anxious person, of all sorts of things. Self deprecating too, i almost forgot abt that. But if i feel suitable, i get funky and enjoy myself hehe.

Likes/Dislikes : I like visual novels, rhythm games and those with good storytelling; a variety of music genres that focus on melody, instrument, composing; local asian food; sleeping with plushies; arts n crafts; esoteric things; philosophy study; my friends; solitude and continuation; aesthetic or hidden values and uhhh nice, mannered intriguing people.

I dont like smelly people doe. People who are narrow minded icks me oops. Pls dont tryna barge in on me when im busy unless it helps. I hate the sun... And not getting myself tented after a long day. I dislike my parents as well, yikes. Worst of all, being opressed.

Hobbies : doll, bracelet making; drawing, online shopping, rhythm game arcade, reading philosophy works, uhh getting invested in random medias...

Anyways, thats my submission! If u do reply, tysm for the matchup!!!

Hi Anon! Thank you for the request! I hope you like your matchup!

In Obey Me, I match you with...

Asmo is the best person to hype you up about wearing more self-expressing things. He’s great at putting outfits together and will give you honest and genuine feedback.

Doesn’t mind your personality changes. He knows what mood swings are like so he’s very understanding.

Please go online shopping with him! But set a budget because you’re both liable to get caught up in the energy and spend too much. But online shopping with Asmo would be so much fun.

Not great at giving you alone time but if you say you need some space, he’ll respect your wishes. While you’re enjoying your alone time, he’ll do a spa day or hang out with some of his friends.

Asmo loves your plushies. He thinks they’re really cute and, if you’re okay with it, would love to borrow some of them to sleep with as well. He’ll take good care of them and swaps them out occasionally so you’ve got a constantly rotating roster of plushies in your room.

[17wishbones]

Here is the FINAL part (3) of Chapter VII: War’s End! So glad that you made it all to the end. A rather bittersweet sort of sensation but, it was fun writing this to the very end. I so wanted a happy ending, but I still sort of followed Rengoku’s path and cried my eyes out again but it was worth it. Again, this one I know I could write better so I’m going to work on it. Thank you all for reading through this and sticking with me. This was just so fun to do!

- - - - - - - -

                                      Chapter VII: War’s End

“Everyone ready to go?” Tanjiro asked his ‘lively’ crew.

Zenitsu was sitting with Nezuko who was comfortably set in her box. “Yep, yep! Me and Nezuko-chan are as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“Finally! I can get out and stretch my legs!” Inosuke shouted with glee as he grabbed his two blades.

“Hope you have room for one more.”

“Oh, sure, we do-- _____, is that. . . is that really you?”

“In the flesh.” You stepped through the doorway in just the uniform. Over the weeks, you garnered a leveled bob cut of your locs, an eyepatch over your left eye, and scars littering your arms and around your face. “I’ve missed you all so much.”

“COOOOOOK!!!” Inosuke bum-rushed you into a hug, sniffling loudly beneath his boar’s head. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?”

Zenitsu joined him, well, more like pushed him out of the way as he hugged you next. “____, WE WERE WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU!! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE A GONER!!”

“I’m so sorry for up and leaving just like that. There was a lot to process after the Mugen Train incident, and I didn’t want to muddle your healthy minds with my emotions. I wanted to be mentally strong for you guys.” 

‘Her scent is still sad. Of course, she has a reason to be. She lost Rengoku-san, and has had to cope with that loss on her own. I know how tough that can be, but I have Nezuko with me still. She doesn’t have any kin or home to return to. Demon slaying is all she has. . . and us.’ Tanjiro’s eyes lit up. “That’s right! You have us.”

“Hmm? What was that, Tanjiro?” You asked.

“We’re a family, isn’t that right, _____?”

His words surprised you, and it made your heart jump with joy. You looked at all four of them as a part of your family. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them. “You’re absolutely right. That’s why I want to come with you. Besides, as a Hashira, it is but my civic duty to protect Kyōjurō’s juniors.” Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you spoke fondly of him. “He was so ecstatic to have more apprentices under his belt. Therefore, I must follow in his footsteps and watch over you.”

“YEEEESS!! Having Cook with us will make traveling even better.”

Zenitsu frowned at him. ‘As if traveling with you has been anything pleasant.’

“Now, before we go. I want to see Senjuro. Did you relay the message to him already, Tanjiro?”

“Mhm. As soon as we got back, and when I was able to move. Do you want us to come with you? We’re heading through that direction anyway.”

“Perfect! Let’s be off then.”

You all travelled down to the Rengoku Estate, seeing Senjuro sweeping out of his home. He was caught off guard when you embraced him.

For a moment, there was silence as he held you back tightly, his eyes swelling with tears. Seeing him reminded you of all the times you spent together. The three of you were a team when you and Rengoku were training for the Final Selection. Senjuro, sweet and kind, had a quiet fire burning in him. He was going to be something amazing, just like his brother.

“Senjuro, how have you been? Are you alright?” You inspected him from his ember-tipped hair down to his sandals.

“I’m better now, after seeing you. You left in such a hurry, I was worried that you weren’t going to come back.”

“You’re stronger than I, Senjuro, and I wanted to be that for you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, _____. Are you leaving with Tanjiro and the others now?”

“Yes. I want to follow in your brother’s footsteps and protect those that I love and those that can’t protect themselves.” You knelt down, looking into his big, soft eyes. “I really wanted us to be together.” You said this, not knowing when death would knock at your doorstep. “I love you, Senjuro. I know you’ll be a great man in the future.”

“Mmm, I think I will be, too.” He hugged you one more time. “I love you, too, _____!”

You returned the favor before you both let go. You reached for your belt, pulling out a small box of goodies. “For you. Hope you like them. Take care, Senjuro.”

Your days, though filled with amazing memories, came to a close as you fell protecting the children. More than anything, you wanted them to succeed. Sacrificing yourself was the only way to win. It was a swift pain, a slow burn, and then darkness bled into your vision as your soul lifted towards the light and your warm, wavering aura vanished from your body.

You were sorry that you couldn’t stay as you walked halfway across the red bridge, spotting flame-tipped hair just over yonder. He peered over his shoulder, a proud smile spread on his handsome features as he held his hand out to you.

Over the red bridge did you both cross, fading into the distance.                                                          

                                       ( B O N U S - E N D I N G)

Summer had come and college was out! Most couldn’t wait to spend it goofing off on a beach, traveling across the States, or going right back into school a couple weeks later for summer courses. Many people had many things to look forward to, but you? You had woken up at the ass crack of dawn, taking in the morning air as you raced down the steps with your suitcase fully packed.

“Mom! Dad! Come on! We have to get the airport now! I can’t be late.” Your parents were so slow sometimes and that made you anxious. You could leave them here and catch a ride there or make it on your own but they were not having any of that.

“We’re coming, _____, we’re coming!” Your dad said with a mouthful of foaming toothpaste.

“You usually don’t wake up this early with this much energy.” Your mom added. 

“It’s not everyday you get to study abroad in the land of the Rising Sun! I have a day’s worth of traveling to do so I can always sleep later.” Yeah, you didn’t get any kind of sleep last night as you’d be spending most of it in the air.

You hurried them up and sped to the busy airport to meet with the group of classmates you were leaving with. You said your goodbyes to your parents, boarded the plane, and wished for a safe trip. 

As soon as service was offered, you grabbed a couple drinks, ate whatever they served in the trays, and knocked out until landing - save for the few bathroom trips -. 

Your horizon suddenly expanded the moment you walked out of Japan’s airport, looking around you in amazement. You had to keep murmuring to yourself, “Do not weeb out. I repeat, do not weeb out.” You loved anime, you loved Japanese culture, and you loved their idea of cuisine. Japan felt like the place for you.

“Okay everyone, please come together,” spoke your sweet, endearing Japanese princess of a teacher, Mayamoto-sensei. “We’ll be heading two hours out by bus to Kimetsu Daigaku (Kimetsu University). Rest up and be ready for a little surprise set up by a few students who were interested in meeting you guys soon after arrival.”

You internally squealed with glee. You weren’t dressed up for the occasion but who was going to tell you that you couldn’t wear a pair of sweats on the ride there. With your short locs retwisted and your good outfits packed, you were set to go!

So set that you were the first off the bus and getting your things out. “This is going to be a great experience, I know it!” 

“Nn! I agree!” 

“Oh my god!” You jumped, scared by the booming voice beside you. “Oh… oh my god.” You had laid eyes on one of the most unique men you had ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. He was different, what with his flame highlighted tips, dazzling eyes, and charming smile. 

“Yes. . .?” He slowly stood, his eyes never leaving yours once locked. This man, a vocal and expressive man, was left speechless. He ogled you for much longer than he’s ever done, going over your brown skin, your brown eyes, your short locs, everything! He immediately bowed before you, introducing himself. “Konnichiwa! Rengoku Kyōjurō to moushimasu! Yoroshiku onegai-shimasu!” (Formal: (Hello!) I’m called Rengoku Kyōjurō! Nice to meet you!)

Your eyes bugged out of your face. ‘Shit! Wasn’t he speaking English a minute ago? Okay, okay, what did he say?’ You looked back to see your sensei and the students watching the two of you interact. This was not how you kept yourself out of weeb trouble. Hell, you were still trying to figure out what his fine ass said so fast.

“Onamae wa, nan desu ka?” (Polite: What’s your name?)

You sighed, being able to understand that. “Watashi no namae wa… _____ _____ desu. Doozo yoroshiku.” (Casual: My name is _____. Nice to meet you.)

‘_____?’ He eyed you for a second longer before he placed his hands on his hips, smiling wide from ear to ear. “Very good, _____! I’m Rengoku Kyōjurō, and I am with a few classmates to meet you all. Welcome to Kimetsu University!”

“Woooow, his English is so good.” You thought. Aloud.

“Thank you! I have been learning since elementary! Your pronunciation is good, but your flow is slow. However, I am sure you will improve after being here for a month!” 

‘Oh, thanks for putting me out there!’ You smiled nervously. This handsome, wild man was nothing like you had expected. “That’s what I’m hoping for as I’d like to work, live, and travel here in the future.”

“Is that so?” He faced you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Be my student!” Your mouth, along with the others, dropped at his proposal. You looked to your sensei for help, and she encouraged it with an approving nod and smile. “Great, then it’s settled! You’ll be fluent in Japanese in no time!” He looked off to the distance, laughing loud as you smiled in confusion.

(Modern AU Sequel coming SOON!) - - - - - - - - - Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: pretty girl Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: : In which you finally meet the perfect girlfriend of Miya Atsumu and he starts to slowly accept the fact that whatever happened between you two is long gone (or is it?)

authors note: 

here to give my thanks again, literally feels so surreal with how much love this story is getting despite the angst sjjsdjsjd i-

also ive released the prologue for my first ever smau! its a more lighthearted one compared to this one between sakusa and an older gn!reader, if you’re into that check it out here uwu

previous  next   masterlist  

You’ve never actually seen Miya Atsumu and his girlfriend.

This was your first time today during Sugawara’s house party, Daiki had forced you to go and insisted that the three of them needed to have their manly bonding time (it actually only consisted of stuffing themselves with junk food and watching shounen animes), “...Also don’t you want to bond out with your ex-boyfriend that you chose over me? I’m hurt, I didn't know you like fake blonde volleyball players.” he fake-sniffled, in which you replied with an arched brow.

You didn’t know how he ended up knowing about Atsumu, you were expecting a talk from him but he simply shrugs it off and says, “No matter how much I tell you that you should tell him, you won’t listen. So I won’t bother wasting my breath, just know that you’re being selfish by denying these boys the right to have a father and you're denying that blonde shrimp to be a dad too.” 

“Y/N-san, I’m surprised you came!” Sugawara grins.

“Daiki took charge of the kids.” You replied, fiddling with the keys in your hand.

“He looks very reliable.” the teacher exclaims, handing you a drink in which you completely deny because you weren’t very good with alcohol, “You guys would make a great couple!”

“Oh,” You voiced, you were very familiar with those words, many people had always thought you and Daiki would make a good pair. It was definitely a shock to many when they found out you were pregnant and that the basketball player was not the father despite being there most of the times, “I’ve never seen him that way.”

“He did mention that, he even openly confessed to Miya-san that he’s jealous of how he was your first boyfriend.”

You choked on your saliva, that fucking sly bastard-

“Anyways, make yourself comfortable! I have to go say hi to my old friends from college!” he exclaims, patting your shoulder. You immediately turn around to find Miya Atsumu cozying up with a beautiful girl in his arms.

Ah, that must’ve been the beautiful model with legs for days.

“You’re kind of staring.” comes a very familiar voice.

You want to roll your eyes but you decided against it, “I didn’t know you and Sugawara-san were close, Inunaki-san.” you greeted your annoying senior.

“Suga-san’s a friend to the whole team…” he grins, “Also, I’m just here to warn you that Osamu might be here later, he’s not as nice as Atsumu towards you.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” 

“Come to think of it,” Shion Inunaki paused, tapping his chin in deep thought, “Atsumu still follows you around like a lost puppy. He’s been spending his off days with you instead of his girlfriend. I’m actually surprised he even brought her here today.”

“What are you implying?” You reply, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, L/N-san. I love how you still don’t care about my kohai’s feelings up till now.” He grinned, sarcasm oozing out of his sentence.

“Don’t be silly.” You glazed,“What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” he turns to you, hand on his hip, “Even I don’t get why he’s so into you after all this time and the shit you put him through. He’s got someone better in front of him. Physical looks and emotionally speaking, Ri-chan’s a whole lot better than you… No offense…”

You knew he was rubbing salt to the injury but you couldn’t really bring yourself to argue with him, after all, he was right at the most part (you technically considered yourself as the big bad villainous ex in Atsumu’s life) 

“You sound like those girls who used to threaten me back then when I was dating Miya-san.” You replied coolly, Inunaki even notices the amusement dripping in your tone, it's as if he hadn’t insulted you right at the face and called you a lesser being, “It’s almost pathetic.”

You ended up on the balcony right after, so much for trying to socialize, who were you kidding? It’s good you manage to escape the scene before Osamu could see you there, you couldn’t handle Inunaki and the grey-haired twin together. Thank god that Aran wasn’t around the area.

“Figured you’d be here.”

You turn to find the one and only source of all your problems these days, Miya Atsumu, you narrow your eyes in annoyance, “You should leave, people will get the wrong idea.” You simply replied, “I’m not in the mood to be in the middle of that.”

“I just came here because I wanted to apologize about that night with your brat.” the blonde casually leans against the doorway, “It was my fault for riling him up.”

“Yuuto has a temper, he’s more of his otosan than me.” 

“What was he like?”

“Who?”

“The bastard that you miss, those brats father…”

You tilt your head and press your lips together, surprised by his choice of words, “Special.” you openly-confessed as you gaze at the very man in front of you. Oh, the irony of it all. 

How you wish it was that easy to let go of all your fears and anxiety, if you had told him six years ago about your pregnancy, would your life probably be different? What if you told him now? How would he feel?

“He’s lucky,” he admits, gaze fixed on you, “I mean - other than the part that he died  - he was a lucky guy, Y/N.”

It dawned upon you that moment that this had been the first conversation you had with your ex that held no hatred, malice, or anger. He seemed to be slowly accepting the fact that you wanted to do nothing with him. Like you, he had no choice but to move on.

“ ‘Tsumu! What the fuck you moping around alone for up there? You got a girlfriend here!” Osamu calls down from below. You both snap back to reality at his brother's voice, “Guess that’s my cue to leave, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” he uttered softly and as he turned away, you suddenly spoke out.

“I’m sorry.” He freezes in place, somehow this apology seemed different than the rest, “I know I’ve said that a lot these past few weeks and that night but I want you to know that every apology was genuine. I just, I’m not very-”

“I know.” He suddenly turns to you, the very familiar and warm grin that you're accustomed to decorates his features and you feel like its that night in fall and you're back in college again, “I guess I was so wrapped up in wanting to get an emotion out of you that I hadn’t  realized, it’s not you if you did that. You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

You feel your insides clamp and your lips tremble lightly, you feel the air turn heavy around you. How is that he was always the one pulling the strings and doing all the work between you two? How could he forgive you this easily?

“Don’t be silly.What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” 

“I’m proud that you’re trying hard for your kids though,” He chuckles, “Those brats are lucky they get to see all sides of you everyday.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” you muttered, watching his figure walk away and vanish in the dark, leaving you all alone in the night of spring.

“...I now pronounce you husband and wife…”

You stare at your father and his new wife looking at each other with complete love and adoration, something you never saw when you were growing up. It sickened you to the point that you turn slightly pale and feel the bile on your throat rise. You watch them exit the church as sakura petals fall, the idea of a picture perfect wedding and happily ever after like the fairytale books you used to scorn when you were a child.

You loathed it.

He even had the audacity to invite you and your mother. She ended up not going and was probably drowning herself in cheap saki at home.

You sat at the back during the reception, along with the people who were not exactly ‘close’ to the bride-groom. You feel like an utter fool, why were you even here? You should’ve gone home or attended that stupid party and get stupid drunk with people you barely knew like your mother.

Yeah, that’s right.

You’d rather be there than here.

“Ah,” you hear a glass clink, you saw one of your dad’s friends stand up, ready to make a speech, “First off, I’d like to congratulate my friend. Finally!” laughter resonates throughout the room but you don’t follow suit, instead, you hold onto the wine glass tightly as if you don’t like where this was going, “I know how unhappy you were back then but ever since you met Yui-chan, your life seemed to have become better. I could never be more proud!”

You could feel yourself getting sicker by the moment, especially after you heard the words you dreaded to hear the most, “Let’s not make anymore mistakes shall we?” he jokes.

All you could see was red right after, grabbing your clutch on the table as you made a haste exit. Was this the reason he invited you? To shove it on your face that you were a mistake made?

That you shouldn't have been born?

You ended up breaking a heel and tripping on your own feet soon after, shakily, you adjust your posture and sat at the concrete for a few moments, trying to gather yourself but desperately failing, "I didn't… I didn't ask to be born too, you know?" You murmured to yourself bitterly.

You let it all out, it shouldn't have hurt to be called a mistake. You were an adult already for crying out loud! Yet when they toss that word around like it was nothing especially at that wedding, you feel like you're eight years old again and you're hearing your own mother curse at you for being born into this world, the harsh words she said were as clear as the day, "if you probably hadn't been born, we would've been happier. We'd have better lives, Y/N. So don't go around and cry and think you got it bad, you hear me? Your sadness is nothing compared to ours. It's nothing, Y/N. So stop being ungrateful."

You ended up at the frat house that night, people would occasionally glance at your disheveled state but you just downed the alcohol, ignoring their stares as usual  and when you get a text from your mother asking why you left the wedding so early in such a manner, you feel the pent-up emotions bubbling within you again. 

Blocking her number and taking one last swig of the cheap vodka in your hands, you head up to one of the rooms upstairs. You hold it all in well, you don't want to showcase such things to strangers.You feel the alcohol and emotion about to hit you when you open a door that you thought would be your safe space for the next ten minutes but you're immediately greeted by two people on the bed, ready to hit it off and have a good time.

"O-Oh sorry… I-Wrong room...” you stammered, lips quivering and small tears escaping since you couldn't hold it in anymore.You immediately bolted out the door, So much for sobering up and crying by yourself for ten minutes, you might as well call Daiki, maybe he was available-

“Hey! Y/N!” a very familiar and a very unexpected voice calls out your name on the quiet street.

You hesitantly turn only to find your project partner and classmate standing there, a bit out of breath as if he had just squeezed through the very crowded party in a hurry, you're confused by his actions. You weren’t exactly close? What was he doing?

“Hey.” he softly says, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket to hand it to you. You hesitantly look at it and take it from his grasp as you try to get rid of the runny mascara. You're taken aback by his kind actions so far, although he had always been nice and tried to make conversations with you, you weren’t exactly very participative and it had always been one-sided on his part. 

When he suddenly stopped talking to you recently, you didn’t bother to initiate anymore because you didn’t want to get more involved with people like him.  It’s not like he was a bad person, per say, he just had such a loud presence that made everyone stop and stare. You weren’t exactly a big fan of those kinds of people (save for daiki since you grew up with him)

“Come on, Y/N.” the blonde sighs, taking off his jacket to place it on you, “Let's take you home.”

"You don't have to."

"You look like shit, Y/N. I’m not takin' no for an answer" Atsumu points out forwardly, "Actually, before we head home lets disinfect that wound, yeah?"

"Miya-san, I-" you tried to tell him you were fine but he didn’t seem to be having it.

"Atsumu." He corrects, despite his forwardness and brash attitude, you know he means well, "You let me call you by your first name so please don't call me Miya-san, sounds fuckin weird coming from ya."

You're thankful that he doesn't pry or ask questions about why you looked like this. He just mumbles throughout your whole journey that you shouldn't wear heels when you can't even walk on them.You also start to notice the slight accent from his tone when he got annoyed by your insistence that you were alright, you had always thought that he was a city boy with the way he carried himself.

When you arrive at the drugstore, he pays for the necessities himself despite you protesting again and even buys you a sugar-free treat on top of that, "You said you were diabetic one time." He shrugs off as he lets you sit on the concrete steps.

“Oh,” You faltered, “You remembered.”

“It’s one of the few things you said. You don’t talk to me that much so it's not hard to remember the things you say.”

“Sorry.” You tried to apologize, brows furrowed in deep thought and the only reply you got was a gleeful laughter from the blonde setter.

“You don’t really mean that do you?” he observed but he didn't look insulted by it at all, instead he seemed amused by it, “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. My twin told me I could be an annoying shit at times.”

“No,” you mused, “Not at all, you’re not annoying.”

Atsumu stares at you right in the eye, his corners crinkling just a bit as the amused smile never leaves his features, you’re starting to like it when you see him smile that way, it reminded you a lot of the youth you craved for, the problematic-free youth that you wanted and wished, “Is it safe to say that you don’t mind my company?” he guessed.

“Well, you’re here now and I haven’t left you.” 

He doesn’t reply,  instead he bends down to your level and takes the antiseptic and band-aids from your hands. Before you could object, the setter dabs it on your wound and as you seethe quietly in pain, he blows on it. You’re getting more and more perplexed by his actions tonight especially with the words he says next, “I may not be close with you to know what happened tonight but I hope I made you feel a little bit better, Y/N.” 

The next time you see the professional volleyball player is at work,You’re tasked to send out some documents to your boss again and it just so happens they’re wrapping up the shoot for the advertisement at the studio.

Something’s different now. 

After your little talk with him at the terrace, the air around you doesn’t feel tight, your anxiety around him seems to decrease, and your feet doesn’t get cold anymore. Of course, Inunaki would throw in a jab or insult but you took it like a good sport and didn’t bother with him.

“Ah, L/N-san! How are the boys?” Hinata jumps up and down excitedly as he sees you enter the studio, you still couldn’t get used to this big (small) bundle of energy.

“They’re doing fine, Hinata-san.” 

“Oho, L/N-san, you’re looking better these days.” Inunaki teased, you gave him a brief nod and just ignored the jab, Atsumu slaps his seniors back in retaliation, “You’re not the one she broke up with Inu-san.” he joked, “Hey L/N-san.”

“Miya-san.” You greeted.

“Does Yuuto still want to skewer me like a kebab?”

“He feels sad that he wasn’t able to say sorry to you before you left.” You replied, a hint of amusement laced on your tone as you recalled Yuuto frowning on the dinner table the night before because Sugawara had informed the club members that Hinata and Atsumu wouldn’t be visiting as much because training was about to start.

“Shame, wanted to see that brat say sorry too.” He let out a grin, your conversation is cut short though when a new presence joins the room.

“Oh, Riku-chan!” Inunaki calls out.

You lick your dry lips as you see the very beautiful and tall raven-haired woman approach you, wow, Miya Atsumu outdid himself with this one. You recalled her being on Vogue magazine once and on tv a few times as a fashion model of an underwear brand.

“Oh, hey babe.” Atsumu greets, you note how stiff he became. He probably thought this would be an uncomfortable situation. The woman, unlike you, was very open with her affection. She gave him a brief kiss on his jaw.

Hinata greets her and you’re left wondering if you should excuse yourself before you could make Atsumu more uncomfortable by your presence but Inunaki, being an asshole, decides to make the choice for you, “L/N-san, this is Miyazaki Riku! I’m sure you know her, she’s a supermodel!” he introduces you to her.

“Good day.” You greet the model.

She tilts her head slightly, “Have we met before? You look very familiar.”

“She was my kohai back in Uni and Atsumu’s classmate!” Inunaki grins, patting your back, you hold back a glare since you didn’t want to make it more awkward than it was.

“Oh?” she chirped, immediately letting go of Atsumu’s hand, she grabbed onto yours, “What was he like? I bet he was so cool and chic back then too!”

Chic and Cool?

Memories of a rather clumsy and corny Miya Atsumu in college slowly wormed its way to your head and out of nowhere, you burst into a low chuckle. Inunaki was startled by the sudden reaction and Atsumu feels his insides mush up when he hears that very rare sound, “Yeah,” you croaked, shortly after recovering from your small laugh, “Definitely chic and cool.”

“That’s so cool! I definitely want to hear stories about you back in college, baby!”

“Maybe some other time,” you voice is back to its smooth and cool tone, realizing that you needed to leave from this uncomfortable conversation and start your job, “I have to finish up my work here and get home early.”

“That’s a shame, I could definitely tell you guys were close.” a frown tugs her lips as she notices how quick you were to say goodbye to her, “Bye, L/N-san!”

After that rather dry and one-sided enthusiastic conversation, you finish your work quickly and Daiki messages you just in time that he and the boys would pick you up, you say your goodbyes to your director, the staff, and the volleyball team. You don’t notice the lingering gaze of Atsumu as you left nor do you notice Inunaki telling him that he’s got his girlfriend right in front of him and he shouldn’t look your way.

They shortly wrap up right after and they’re ready to go home. After deciding that they’d all grab a good meal together (much to sakusa’s dismay), Atsumu feels his mood lighten up as they exit the studio to see you standing there along with Yuuto, unwrapping his onigiri. As he’s about to call the brat to talk to him and even drop in to say hi to you, he sees a familiar tall figure emerge from the convenience store with Youta in his arms.

The blonde decides against it.

“...You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

He watches the interaction from afar and notes how easy it was for the man to interact with you, he even catches on an amused smirk from you as the man tries to tell you a joke, “Is that L/N-san?” he hears Riku ask, “I didn’t know she had a family, that’s so cute!”

Atsumu doesn’t really know what to say as he watches the domestic scene unfold in front of him, he was trying to move on, wasn’t he? Yet why can’t he look away? 

“Baby? You alright there? You’ve been staring at the empty space for a while.” Riku calls out, sounding a bit worried as she snaps him out of his daze. You were already gone, probably far off with that scrub and the brats.

“I’m good.” he tried to affirm himself, wishing it was true, “I’m good.”

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ;  @svtbitch  ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii ; @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @jungshookmeup ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily ; @agaassi​ ; @yams046​  ; @dope-squish​ ; @chrisrue15​ ; @vermillionwaves​ ; 

@misosamu  @Etherynaw  @ryaaaax @differentballooncollection @keniloveshaikyuu @allysasteaparty  [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

[timep3tals]

ive been a sucker for dad peter and grandpa tony fics lately, maybe a drabble about that please?

i’m always down for grandpa tony. 100000%

Tony couldn’t believe how time had flown.

Morgan was in high school, which Tony couldn’t begin to explain how terrifying that was. Every day she came home talking about a new technique they’d learned about in art class, splattered from head to toe in paint, but eyes shining with excitement as she talked about her passion. She’d graduate in a year, and head off to Bard College to pursue a degree in painting.

Where she got her artistic talent, Tony would never know, but he’d encourage her to do whatever she most loved. If that was painting, he’d give her every last penny to paint her next masterpiece.

(Of his totally unbiased opinion, every one of her paintings was a masterpiece.)

Peter was graduated thrice over, first from high school, then with a bachelors degree, and now a master’s, too. He was half-way through his Ph.D. in biochemistry, and Tony couldn’t be prouder of his oldest kid. Two years ago, he’d reluctantly handed his baby off to Michelle Parker, nee Jones, and a year and six months later, they gave him his first grandchild.

Benjamin Anthony Parker.

Tony couldn’t begin to describe how hard he cried when Peter (grown-up but still Tony’s baby boy, with a scruffy five o’clock shadow and tired eyes from eighteen hours of labor that he sat with MJ every second through) handed him Ben’s birth certificate and saw his first name in Peter’s looping handwriting scrawled across the page. Pepper had to take him out of the hospital room to calm him down, because his hysterical sobs had upset Ben.

Which only made Tony cry more, and yeah, it was a whole cyclical baby cried, grandpa cried, everyone cried. It’s over, they’ve moved past it.

Even if Peter still won’t let him live it down, six months and three days later.

Today, the little Parker family was driving up to the lake house to visit for the week. Earlier that morning, Tony had left their apartment after spending the weekend with them. On Saturday, MJ had a conference she was speaking at, and Peter had some graduate seminars to attend, so Tony had readily volunteered to watch his grandbaby.

Watching Ben for a day turned into a three-day extravaganza, letting Peter and MJ go on a much needed date night while Tony got to bask in baby snuggles again.

That does not mean he was any less excited to see Ben again as Peter pulled the car to a stop at the end of the drive, next to Morgan’s (Tony still couldn’t believe she was driving, now) Audi. MJ waved as she climbed out of the car before stooping to pull Ben out of his car-seat.

Peter came up the porch steps at a light jog. Tony’s arms were already open before his son reached him, forever ready to keep his precious child bundled up in his arms for just a little longer. It was never enough, but he savored every second he got.

“Hey, dad,” Peter said as he pulled back from the hug. “Been a while.”

The smile on Peter’s face was older than Tony wished it was. This precious kid had seen too much; they both had. Years had weathered them, body and soul, and while Tony wished he could still shield Peter from all the pain and hurt, he knew it was no longer his job to be the wall standing between his son and the darker sides of the world.

Peter Parker had known that darkness long before they ever met.

“Half a day,” Tony mused. “Practically an eternity. Now where’s my grandson?”

“Dying to see his grandpa,” MJ said. She was rising up the steps, Ben laid out across her arm on his belly, her hand right under his chin. “As usual.”

Tony reached out to scoop up Ben when MJ shifted the baby around to pass him over. Ben’s whole face lit up when he spotted Tony, reaching up at him with chubby, flailing arms and letting out Tony’s favorite, high-pitched squeal.

“Hello to you, too, little one,” he crooned. “Did you miss me?”

Ben gurgled and tucked his face into Tony’s chest. Inside his chest, Tony’s heart threatened to burst with the sheer love pounding through his body. There would never be enough words, enough love in the world, to encapsulate how much he felt for his family. How much love he’d given, and had yet to give.

“I swear he likes you more than us,” Peter said fondly. Tony found a familiar look on Peter’s face, one he’s sure he’s worn many a time and had yet to still wear, as Peter watched his son mumble and blow bubbles all over Tony’s clean shirt. 

“Of course he does, I’m wonderful,” Tony said haughtily. “You two hungry? Pepper made lasagna, homemade, so it’s got vegetables from the garden.”

“I could eat,” Peter said.

MJ smiled fondly and looped their fingers together. Peter turned to press a kiss on her forehead, barely standing taller than her since he’d passed his final growth spurt. MJ usually wore heels, simply to spite him, and it never ceased to amuse Tony.

“You could always eat,” she said. “You’d eat us out of our salary, if you could.”

“Thankfully, I won’t let that happen,” Tony said. “Nor will it ever when Peter takes over Stark Industries.”

Peter rolled his eyes. Tony decided to ignore this blatant disrespect and invite them inside. Morgan was helping her mother set the table, but she quickly dropped the task in favor of tackling her brother. Ben laughed hysterically at the two of them, and MJ shook her head, tired of her husband and his sister, and went to help Pepper finish setting the table.

The lasagna tasted better than it ever had before. Tony liked to think it was because he was surrounded by his family again, and he hoped, for that one moment, this joy could last forever.

Tag List:

@keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @riseuplikeglitterandgold @just-the-daydreamer @roaringgay @serendipity--goddess @tony-wheres-my-supersuit @baloobird @spider-beep @swagfictonreadingnerd @tcny-stcrks @josywbu @zuusiee (Let me know if you want to be added or removed! Also sorry for spamming y’all these past few days lmao.)

[techgoddessdeluxe18]

SidGeno Parent Trap AU!

Will someone please write this i stayed up till 1 aimlessly typing this, ive already fleshed it out for you pleaseee

So Sid and Geno played together as Rookies for the Penguins in the 2005-2009 seasons, lighting up the NHL world as they had done always, slowly finding love and happiness together (after the Me 3 years Super league convo, you saw how blushy Sid was), quietly getting married in an discreet court house somewhere in Pittsburgh, having blissfully unprotected sex before and after the 2009 Stanley Cup win, just happy and in love and their life and success was just beginning to blossom.

But Sid finds out that he’s been pregnant with twins for some time now, having been nearly 12 weeks pregnant already by the time the final round was played. Geno finds out that there are some legal issues from escaping the KHL in order to play for the Penguins, and so to settle some ruffled governmental feathers, it would be best if Geno went back to Russia to fulfill those duties. Sid is extremely worried about the awful timing of the pregnancy and the sheer amount of alcohol consumed during the Cup celebrations, and Geno is worried about Russia ever letting him out of the country, or worse; finding about his relationship with Sid.

They hole up in a remote corner of Canada for the off season, just trying to soak in the time they have together before Geno goes back to Russia. Days are spent going to doctors visits, holding hands as they walk around the lake, cuddling on the couch at night, Geno’s big hands rubbing Sid’s belly, little feet kicking as hard as they can, while Sid giggles and twists round to kiss Geno.

Sid safely delivers the babies, two identical adorable boys, who have thankfully have not had birth defects as Sid was fearing, and so the rest of the off season is spent trying to decide what to do, how they could go back to their respective corners of the world and try to raise their kids. They agree to split the kids, and keep silent on where they came from.

Geno returns to Russia with a little baby boy, who will mostly be taken care of by his mother and father. Sid does the same, heading back to Cole Harbor more often than he would during the season, always glued to his phone and even taking phone calls from his mother on game days.

So then the actual story goes, 16 year old Daniel Patrick Crosby and Dimitri Evgenevich Malkin meet at Worlds to play for their respective countries, and like a random dinner clash between Russia and Canada find Daniel and Dimitri really confused because they look exactly the same; dark curly hair, strong solid bodies, angular doe eyes. Their teammates chirp them, saying they wouldn’t know who was who if they switched sweaters before the tournament.

They meet up again after Russia wins, meeting in Daniel’s hotel room while his roommate is away. They’re like 

“oh when were you born? September 1st, 2009”.

 “Oh shit me too”. 

“ oh who’s your parents?” 

“Evgeni Malkin, big KHL superstar” 

“Sidney Crosby” because duh who doesn’t know the greatest player ever. 

Maybe they have a ripped picture like in the movie, like with Sid and Geno holding the Stanley Cup like they did in 2017. Daniel has Sid, and Dimitri has Geno, and they’re like “ yeah Dad never talked about who Papa was, but that he loved him, but they couldn’t be together”. So they whip out the picture halves, stashed in their wallets, and tada they fit. They’re twins!

Since the tournament for them is over, Russia with the gold and Canada with silver, they have a few days to themselves to watch the rest. On a midnight run to Tim Hortons, sharing a box of Timbits, they agree to swap places to meet each other’s dad, and then switch back during the Olympics, let say it’s somewhere in America, in a few months time. Daniel and Dimitri spend the next precious days coaching each other on how to be each other. Daniel is conveniently mostly conversational in Russian and can understand better than he speaks, but Dimitri is a quiet kid so it works out. Dimitri works hard to soften his Russian accent and worm eh into his normal syntax more. They get haircuts together, the barber laughing at these rambunctious twins and their beautiful curly hair, and they laugh at the ridiculous stripes they agree to shave onto the sides of their heads.

Before they separate at the airport, they exchange necklaces, a #45 from Daniel and a cross from Dimitri.

Dimitri flies back to Cole Harbor, and finds his dad waiting for him. He looks older than the picture he has, more lines on his face, Definetly shorter and grey-er hair, and sad eyes. If Sid notices his son hugging him tightly and for longer than he normally does, he doesn’t say anything. They chat through the drive home, to the lake house that Daniel told him about. Dimitri can only stare and try and absorb who this man was, the man who birthed him. Sid asks him if he’s ok as they eat dinner on the dock, bare feet dipping into the cold water. Dimitri can only mumble “you’re the best”, as he snuggles his head into his fathers chest. Sid can’t help but think that his son’s voice sounds different; the way he pronounced best sounded just like Geno.

Daniel manages to not say too much on the flight back to Russia, desperately trying to memorize more vocab and grammar before landing and being picked up by his grandparents. The cooing and lecturing is the same in either English or Russian, so he smiles and just lets it wash over him. He tentatively asks where his Papa is, and Grandmama Malkin says he’s probably wining and dining his latest girl. They go home and Daniel is stuffed full of food, everything Grandmama could have possibly made for his arrival. Geno comes home later that night, tired but eager to congratulate his son for winning Gold for Russia. He notices that his son perhaps looks a little different, ruffling the funny haircut that he had gotten, but more at the expression of awe on his face; a similar expression Sid had on his face when he told him he usually went out last before a game, many many years ago.

So yadada ya, they’re enjoying the time that they have with their respective dads, occasionally wringing out a small story or a sad look of their faces whenever they mention anything about each other. So the Olympics are rolling around, and they’re all going to be in one place (lets just say that Sid and Geno had never attempted to make contact whenever they played against each other, afraid that they might get caught) But Daniel has frantically been calling Dimitri over Geno’s new girl and how he might propose and would ruin their plan to get their parents back together.

Shenanigans during the Olympics, one groups disappearing before the other can see them, until Geno is in the elevator shmoozing his girl until he sees THE ASS tm across the room by the front desk. Sid turns around and just smiles sadly as the elevator door closes.

Then the scene where Sid is walking down the hall and Dimitri and Daniel open the doors at the same time and suddenly Sid is confronted with what he thinks is the son he hasn’t seen in 16 years. They pull him into a room, and explain the whole swicheroo, and Sid is mad because there’s nothing they can really do, he’s prepared to let Geno move on and do what’s he needs to, but resigns himself to being alone.

Then the pool scene, where Geno and his girl are lounging with his parents, and Sid walks his fine ass down the stairs and Geno falls in, scrapes up his nose a bit, Sid bandages him up a bit. Daniel and Dimitri reveal themselves to Geno.

Some time in between tournaments, with Russia and Canada on the rise to be competing for the Gold Final, Daniel and Dimitri bully their fathers into a family dinner at a nice restaurant. They cut a handsome swath at dinner, good looking men in good looking suits. Geno instinctually files in last, whether it being his remembered deal with Sid, or merely to ogle a bit as he pushes in Sid’s seat for dinner. For fun, after dinner, they find a nearly empty outdoor rink, equipped with rental skates. Daniel and Dimitri take off, chirping each other and racing and checking each other into the low boards enough for Dimitri to flip over and out of the rink, Daniel wheezing with laughter as Dimitri hefts himself back over. Sid and Geno skate around at a sedate pace, both having played a round that day and simply watching their sons fool around. They don’t say much. They can’t really. They can only quietly enjoy each others presence, wondering where had all the time gone, all the plans they had had.

The final round for Mens Ice Hockey has arrived, Russia vs Canada for Gold, and Daniel and Dimitri can only watch and wonder to see who will come out on top, and what will happen with their parents, watching as Geno checks Sid into the boards. Sid refuses to give up, and so Canada ends up winning the Gold. Like the 2014 picture where Geno and Sid hug after the game, what the camera doesn’t see but their sons see from behind the glass is the shaking hands of Geno and the single tear from Sid.

Like in the movie, before everyone hops onto their respective planes to their respective corners of the world, Sid and Geno make sure their sons aren’t faking this time, and that they go back to who they belong to. It’s how it has to be.

Cue the rain sequence, the sad music, the umbrellas.

Sid and Daniel return to Cole Harbor, still down pouring and quiet. They don’t say anything in the car ride back to the lake house. They finally arrive at home, and take some time to unpack and get comfortable. They silently look at each other, each longing for their other halves. Daniel had become so close to Dimitri, finding out who he was and planning the whole quest to meet their fathers. Sid just missed his husband, and playing against him after fighting so hard to play with him just made him wish for retirement sooner. They hug, and with Daniel under Sids arm, quietly wander down the bank of the hill towards the dock.

Although there seem to be two people already sitting there, with their feet in the water. Geno and Dimitri turn around, identical smug looks on their faces. Dimitri says, his accent hovering somewhere between the hard Russian accent and the rounded Canadian pronunciation, “hey Dad, did you know the Penguins still have those private jets?”

“Ye-yeah, they do bud”, Sid murmurs, still looking at the tall Russian slowly making his way towards him. Daniel duck out from under his arm to sit with his twin and watch the two goofballs that are their parents figure it out.

“I made mistake of not coming for you once, Sid. I’m not do that again, no matter how brave you are.” Geno says

“And I suppose you expect me to go weak at the knees and fall into your arms, and cry hysterically and say we’ll just figure this whole thing out, a bi-continental relationship with our sons being raised here and there, and you and I just picking up where we left off, and growing old together and… And, c’mon G, what do you expect? To live happily ever after?” Sid warbles, his tired eyes welling up with long withheld tears.

“Yes—to all, except you don’t have cry hysterically.” Geno murmurs, cupping Sid’s face and wiping a lone tear as it falls.

“Oh, yes I do—” Sid is cut off as he is kissed (AKA THE BEST KISS SCENE EVER, CUE THE MUSIC)

Daniel and Dimitri can only grin and fist bump as their parents finally kiss after 16 years apart. They put and end to it when Geno starts to dip Sid into a deeper, more lurid kiss and some major groping, and they push both of them into the water.

During the epilogue with This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) by Natalie Cole, scenes flash by of Geno and Sid holding hands in front of a press conference, their sons standing by their sides, as they announce their retirements from both the NHL and KHL after 20 years, and their relationship and their sons to the hockey community.

Another scene where Daniel and Dimitri attention Shattuck St. Mary’s to finish up high school before inevitable being drafted when they turn 18. It would be the first and only time they play together on the same team, Crosby-Malkin proudly spelled onto the back of their sweaters.

Another scene where they’re all playing shinny on a frozen pond somewhere, Geno getting distracted and just sweeping Sid into his arms after he scores a goal, kissing and swinging around until they both fall into a snowbank, their sons launching themselves at them at top speed.

Another scene where Daniel Crosby-Malkin from the Chicago Blackhawks and Dimitri Crosby-Malkin from the Dallas Stars face off for a Stanley Cup final

And finally, a small wedding held in Sid’s backyard in Nova Scotia, where Daniel and Dimitri stand with Flower and Tanger and Kuni and Duper and Talbo and most of Geno’s Russian buddies as their parents finally get married again, kissing happily under the sunset and the lake shining behind them.

Bonus scene: A few months after the wedding and a few days before the season starts up again, with everyone home, Sid comes down the stairs for breakfast with a strange look on his face and something in his hands. He’s a graceful 43 now, grey hairs really pushing now, so when he says “you boys up to being big brothers?” Geno spits out the tea he had been drinking and jumps up and envelops his husband.

[pondermoniums]

A little post season 3 ficlet (2749 words) featuring some holiday fluff <3 See tags or read on ao3 here ~

• • • •

Billy still feels it. He wishes his muscle memory had died with him, but it just came back with him too.

The things he felt.

The things It felt.

Everything It made him do.

His psychiatrist tries to tell him that his scars are his body claiming his soul back. Billy couldn’t agree. He didn’t like touching the starbursts on his torso because the shiny scar flesh felt tissue-paper thin—not to his fingertips, but underneath. His heart trembled as if he could just push a little too hard, and enter his ribs—

“Hey, the new place opened up off Main Street. You know those new roads they’re building? There’s already a Greek place there. Let’s get a menu.”

Billy frowned at him. Steve Harrington. He’d been at the mall. Billy didn’t remember seeing him…during…but afterward. In the spotty shreds of memory that were all his own, he remembered Steve looking nearly as bad as he felt. The memories swirled together like a circus dream. Steve and…Robin. Her name is Robin…in striped costumes. Steve carried Max away from his body. Robin practically did the same for the girl with a number for a name. All of them glowed with Starcourt neon pink and purple and red.

Steve’s car hummed around them, and fell silent when he turned onto the fresh asphalt of Hawkins’ new road. Steve laughed a little. “Farmer Higgins is probably still fuming. Last thing the mayor did before he got booted out of here was steal land for these businesses.”

“What’s it matter?” Billy exhaled. There were less people in Hawkins to fuel the shady economy anyway.

“Well I can’t speak for your Camaro, but my car doesn’t last long, driving brodies with trees in the way.”

His little sapphire. A dark mixture of humor and apathy seeped into his blood at the memory of Steve Harrington, of all people, slamming into him. He didn’t do it hard enough.

Now he sat in the car Steve drove. Not because the Camaro couldn’t be fixed, but because Billy wasn’t fit to drive yet. Maybe there was something full-circle about it. Or a broken circle; an open-ended thing, like Billy.

“As if you could do a brody.”

Steve smirked. “Thankfully I’ve ruined enough fields for practice.”

And then he pulled right off the road, slipped through a tiny thicket of trees framing the road, and burst upon a dry, yellow field. He turned sharply, throwing Billy against him…until the car locked into a paradox of calm and chaos. The back wheels revolved around them to dig a doughnut in the earth. Steve let the wheel go, and they rocked as the car jerked with the front tires straightening.

Steve looked around them to find the road again and made a mock sound of getting sick. “Glad we didn’t eat first.”

He grinned at Billy, making him realize a smile had stuck on his face like a cramped muscle. He pushed a hand over his mouth, physically melting it off.

The food was good. The flavors shoved their way over his pallet. It was kind of hard to enjoy food now. He ate when his body needed it but he didn’t get the emotional reaction to it—

“I didn’t know we had Greeks in Hawkins,” Steve conversed openly. A small, lost part of Billy remembered Steve calling him out for being mouthy during basketball, but Steve could talk. He wiped his mouth and dug back into his rice plate. “Then again, Robin and Dustin always have something to say about authenticity. Like you spend a day outside of Indiana and you’re worldly.”

“Did you forget where I’m from?” Billy spoke before he meant to. California didn’t seem to matter much any—

“Did you?” Steve tossed back.

Silence fell over their booth while Steve waited. Then he went back to his food when Billy clearly didn’t care about responding.

Over and over again.

Steve picked Billy up.

Hospital.

Food.

Back to Cherry Lane.

Steve talked. Sometimes Billy replied.

Then things began to change. Steve took Billy to the grocery store after Billy’s therapy. Billy had emerged ruddy-eyed liked he smoked a pound of weed, and Steve had merely said, “I’m feeling tacos.”

Only instead of a restaurant, he took them to the store. And then the Harrington house. Billy talked more there.

“No, no, it’s queso fresco.”

“It’s just cheese, though?”

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the one who grew up with farmers. Different rain waters different grass. That makes different cows, which make different milk. Do you know anything about breweries?”

“Do you?” Steve challenged while they made a mess of his kitchen counter. Crumbles of white cheese, lettuce, and other tacos toppings littered the fancy granite.

“I know that breweries stay put. Because the water’s different. They have to have the right water to make the right beer. I haven’t had my favorite lager since I moved here.”

“What’s it taste like?”

Billy told him. Billy told him a lot of things. Steve just…got a rise out of him the way his therapist couldn’t. Then again, Steve never asked about all the things Billy wanted to burn out of his brain.

Then Cherry Lane fell off the list. Billy couldn’t say how exactly he moved into Harrington’s house. Maybe the food flowed into Billy falling asleep, and starting the next day from Steve’s house just happened too many times. Maybe Max used Steve’s pool too many times. Maybe it was when Billy realized Steve wasn’t just driving him to his physical and mental therapy sessions.

He walked out of the physical therapy gym at the back of the hospital to meet Steve in the same lobby they parted ways in. But Steve wasn’t there. Billy asked the nearby receptionist if “the guy with the hair” had gotten lost to the bathroom, but she only replied, “He’s running a little overtime, but he should be on his way.”

Billy’s appointments took hours. It made sense for Steve to leave and come back—

But the elevator dinged, and Steve was too busy reading something to not walk into a passing nurse. “Oh! Ow—sorry! Sorry,” he exclaimed, holding his arm…

He rolled the shoulder of that arm on the way through the parking lot, swinging the arm round and around like he was warming up for tennis. Inside the car, Billy cornered, “What were you doing in there?”

Steve glanced at him but shrugged as he turned the ignition. “Blood work. An IV drip. MRI’s. My usual stuff. The drip took longer this time.”

“Usual stuff? How come I’m just now hearing of this?”

“Remember, Robin used to meet us here? She got cleared faster.”

“Cleared out of what? How are you more broken than she was?”

Steve stared at him for an unnerving minute. “They…kind of beat the shit out of me. So… I mean, you pack a wallop, but Russians with an agenda put you to shame.”

Billy suddenly wondered if he’d overstepped a boundary. Steve just talked so much, and took whatever Billy gave him without flinching that he never considered…

“Getting concussed and doped up with unknown chemicals isn’t everyone’s normal Thursday.”

Billy had forgotten that Steve had been through shit like this before. Not with the same variables, but… “I forget that your normal got thrown out the window before I got here.”

“It’s not a competition,” Steve tried to say lightly. He waved a hand in front of the vents as if their lingering in the parking lot was just to wait for the heating to kick on.

“And if it is, who’d win?”

“Oh, I think Will Byers has us beat.”

That…hit differently than Billy expected. A laugh burst out of him, like it had just been waiting for a weight to lift off of him to break free. “Yeah. Maybe he does.”

Then they went to Steve’s house, where more and more of Billy’s clothes had accumulated. The kitchen had been stocked with food bought from Steve’s wage and Billy’s top-secret government allowance—which turns out, was rather high. Steve, for all his fancy furniture and basically bottomless bank account thanks to his parents, had to pick his jaw up off the floor when Billy finally revealed the monthly check to him.

“Holy shit. Don’t let the nerds see that; they’ll siphon quarters out of you for the arcade.”

“They’re old enough to want beer and condoms.”

Steve scoffed as he flipped their dinner pancakes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think they’ll sooner pop their cherries than go for beer.” Then he grimaced and waved his spatula. “New subject! Change the subject.”

Billy laughed from the breakfast bar, where he was arranging his medication into a days-of-the-week organizer. It was just a bar of little snap-closed boxes, but it helped him keep track of the pills he took—and the ones he ignored.

Steve had asked him once, “Why do you always leave the red ones?”

“They turn me into a vegetable.”

“Oh. You can’t, like…split it in half? Half vegetable?”

Billy couldn’t say why he felt comforted by Steve’s uniquely clueless way of thinking. Perhaps the guy actually made sense, or maybe he just over-simplified things in an over-complicated world.

Now, though, he set the spatula down with the announcement, “Oh! I got you something. Well, I hope I got the right stuff.”

Billy didn’t go with him to the garage, but he did follow Steve with his eyes. Blue irises locked onto the shockingly familiar box of lager when Steve returned. “Where in the hell did you find that?”

That dopey, thrilled grin made Steve glow like the Christmas lights they’d thrown all over the open floor plan. “Dude, there are professional shoppers! I mean, that makes each can like…a twenty-dollar beer, and this is the only box I got, but this is the stuff you were talking about, right? The lady on the phone said they released other flavors, but you only said ‘lager,’ so it’s what I got.”

The cans were practically frozen from being in the garage, but Billy tore open the box as well as he could to pry one out. “I don’t think I’ve been given the okay for alcohol.”

“We can water it down.”

“You don’t water down beer!”

“Then split one with me. I’ve chilled glasses somewhere…”

He went digging in the freezer drawer and pulled out plastic wine glasses. Billy snorted as he accepted one. “This is so cheap.”

“Yeah well, even mom’s fancy bimbo friends break wine stems around the pool. Gimme that.”

Billy appreciated that Steve made it sound greedy, instead of pitiful. Billy had trouble with his hands.

The can snapped open with a satisfying metallic crack. Billy teased as Steve poured, “Is this your first rodeo? Look at all that foam.”

“We’ve got time. The pancakes are almost done.”

Billy pushed his pill organizer aside to rest his chin on his arms, listening to carbonation sizzle while he watched Steve’s shoulder blades move under his sweatshirt.

“When do you get cleared for pot?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be officially cleared for that—hey, hey!”

Steve had turned around, leaning back against the counter with a pancake in his hand and a full cheek. “Whuh?”

“You’re eating my dinner! Dump the skillet over a plate and get over here!”

Steve came around to sit on the stool next to him with a pancake in his mouth and—

“Are those my slippers?”

“You mean my slippers that I hadn’t worn yet? Yeah, I took them back,” Steve retorted.

Billy successfully knocked one off his foot. “They still had the tags when I got to them. So dibs.”

Steve kicked the other slipper into the living room. “No dibs if you don’t have both.”

“You’re wearing my sweatpants. I get your slippers.”

“I get your beer and you get my pancakes.”

“Not if you eat all of them! Syrup, now,” Billy demanded with a grabby hand gesture.

Steve disintegrated into giggles that made him sound as much like a little kid as movie heartthrob. He finished pouring and passed the bottle.

So it went. Back and forth. Back and forth.

First Steve took Billy’s time. The minutes that built into hours driving to and from the hospital. Then Billy ate his food. Steve covered the restaurant tabs until they switched to cooking at his house. Steve washed his clothes and wore them like his own. Billy took Steve’s car keys and drove for the first time with Steve practically hostage all the way to the tree farm.

“I didn’t take you for a real tree kind of person.”

“You have the ceiling space for a nine-foot tree.”

“How the hell are we hauling a nine-foot tree?” Steve practically blanched. “And with what car?” He adjusted his earmuffs because he’d rather be caught dead than wear a proper hat. Billy, meanwhile, strolled through the greenery and the first snowflakes spitting from the sky with leisurely ease in his beanie.

He laughed, “I like how you’re not saying no.”

Steve didn’t do much to hide his mimicry as he trudged behind Billy, who chuckled to himself. “For once it actually smells nice. The trees really cover up the cow shit of—oh my god, there are actual cows.”

A line of tables displayed other living decorations like wreaths and garlands, but beyond them was a field of black and red cattle. Billy moved under a line of wreaths hanging over their heads to see how they actually had blankets on their backs. “Are the cow jackets norm—”

Steve caught his mouth in a quick, firm kiss. The sound of their lips parting echoed in Billy’s ears. Steve’s fingers lifted off his jaw to touch something noisy above their heads. Billy dumbly looked up to see the tiny bells interwoven with a mistletoe wreath. “Careful. We have real mistletoe here. Not whatever plastic California has.”

He left Billy stupefied, having the audacity to stroll away with a whistle on his lips before Billy snapped out of it and nearly tackled him. “OW! Agh, fu-shit, Jesus—”

“You’re better about planting your feet,” Billy breathed against Steve’s earmuff. He held Steve’s arms trapped against his body.

“Are you always this mean when someone kisses you?” he strained in Billy’s tight grip. The gravel under their boots grit and rattled as Billy dragged Steve deeper into the trees. “Alright! I should’ve asked! I’m sorry—”

Steve might’ve stolen the first kiss, but Billy shoved him into a tree and took it back. He took Steve’s cold shock against his lips, until hot breath warmed them up between nervous stares. Then Billy took his lips, his tongue, the taste of the mint brownies Steve ate on the way here. The cold tip of Steve’s nose pushed into his cheek, and Billy’s heart felt fragile against the softness of Steve’s mouth.

His breath trembled as he asked, “Why did you do that?”

Why do you give me rides? Give me food? Why do you cook every night? Why did you give me a bedroom? Will you let me into yours?

Steve’s arms around his waist moved, tightening a little but also moving up Billy’s spine as if to comfort him. To anchor them together. Steve swallowed, and the fragility in his eyes made Billy’s throat hurt. “I didn’t get to the first time.”

Billy couldn’t stand it. He pushed Steve’s earmuffs off in his effort to press his face against Steve’s neck. To absorb the delicious little sound that escaped him when Billy’s cold nose found the warm pocket inside his collar.

Billy didn���t think he’d be able to kiss anyone ever again.

Not after…

But all he wanted was to keep Steve’s lips on him. To steal him away like some fairytale winter troll and either keep him or devour him if he tried to leave.

“Billy?” His name was muffled against his own scarf, so tightly did Steve hold onto him.

But if Steve was taking…maybe Billy could let himself be stolen again.

“When we’re home…” he sniffled on his way back up to standing on his own. “Kiss me again.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

Billy laughed through his tears. “No, you’re buying me the biggest tree your car can carry. And I’ll steal that wreath while they’re distracted.”

“You have the money to buy it!”

“That’s no fun.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: Christmas Eve

I rocked back and forth in a glider chair, eyes scanning the wall murals around me. Cute images of foxes, owls and deer peeked behind tree trunks and bushes. Little raccoons hung out in the branches. A bear reached for a hive of bees for the small bead of honey dripping out the bottom. Each image was painted in loving detail and in good humor.

I shifted my vision to the corner of the room where a small artificial tree twinkled with simple white lights. Gifts were piled under it, mostly for the baby. Each toy had marked on it a name and a brief description. 

“Ru’yi’s duckling.” 

“Ru’yi’s bear” 

“Ru’yi’s Hello Kitty”

On the door hung a simple plaque. 

“Ru’yi’s room.”

I checked my phone. It was getting close to midnight Oslo time. My eyes shifted to the table next to the rocking chair. A white unopened envelope from Comemnus Corp lay waiting. I turned it over face down, next to a box of tissues.

 I didn’t want to open that envelope alone. 

My phone buzzed. I exclaimed with delighted surprise. It was Johann and he wanted to video chat!

I immediately accepted and his face filled my phone screen. I grinned. “Heeeey!” My smile faded when I noticed the dark rings around his golden eyes and his pale complexion. “Wow you look sleepy...”

“Jet lag..." He shook his head. “The mission itself was simple. No problems.”

His expression softened, looking into my eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, it’s definitely getting harder.” I rested my hand on my round, distended belly. “She’s sitting really low on me right now so I waddle like a fat penguin...” I rolled my eyes. “...and yeah going to the bathroom every half hour is no fun at all.”

“That’s disturbing your sleep.” He observed.

“Yes, but I sleep a lot during the day. I’m trying to get as much as I can, while I can get it. At least, I can breathe now that her head isn’t under my chest.”

“Any contractions?” 

I shook my head.

“Bleeding? Pain?”

“I’m fine. I promise.” I raised my arms, flexing the muscles I’d managed to cultivate over a year of training. “We made sure I’d be strong for this. Remember?”

He nodded. “I remember.”

“So... I have a bit of a surprise.” I reached over to the envelope. “I got this last week but... I haven’t opened it yet.” I held it to the phone camera.

“Is that the prenatal dragon blood purity assessment?”

“Yep. It’s either good news or bad news...” I turned it over in my hands. “I didn’t want to open it without you here... just in case... you know.” My eyes shifted downward, voice trailing off.

“No matter what the news, I know we’ll be able to handle it. Go ahead and open it.”

“Okay... drumroll please?”

Johann obliged, lightly drumming his fingers on the desk. My words were light hearted, but I bit my lip as I tore open the envelope.

I unfolded the letter. “Thank you for choosing Comemnus for your genetic testing needs... we take pride in the accuracy of the results...blah blah...” My eyes scanned down the page. “...keep in mind that prenatal checks are just a marker to establish a history and not entirely predictive of the future...” I took a breath. “It’s recommended to do continual testing to monitor fluctuations.”

“We regret to inform you that Ru’yi’s dragon blood purity is 48.5%... putting her at... high risk...”

I set the letter in my lap. Disappointment welled up in my eyes. Warm tears slipped down my face. “I knew it... I knew it... I knew this was going to happen...”

“Meixiu.” Johann’s voice was gentle.  “You know you have a stabilizing effect...”

“Yes but after she’s born? When she’s separate from my blood?” I reached over to the tissues and wiped my face. “If she tests over 50 percent they’re going to take her.”

“No one’s going to take her. At most they’ll have to monitor her for a while.” He reached out to his screen. “No one’s going to take her. I won’t let them.”

I wished he could reach through the screen. I rested against the back of the rocking chair, willing the tears to stop.

He brought the camera a bit closer. “She’ll be fine. Your Soul Skill can help her. She’s not going to end up constantly dying like Erii. And even if that were the case, you’re in a unique position to help her live out a long healthy life. But I don’t think she’ll be like Erii.”

I put the letter back on the night stand. “What do you think is going to happen?”

A small smile played on his lips. “I think she’ll be born beautiful... and very strong. We’ll have to train her early and often. We’ll have to protect her and watch her very closely. Our lives won’t be our own for quite some time. But... that’s alright.”

“Will we be shipped to the quarantine island...?” I asked him.

“She’s a baby, she’s not that dangerous. Meixiu, relax. Take a deep breath. Please.”

I took a deep breath, held it, and let it out. 

Johann’s eyes didn’t shift away from me.  He breathed with me, helping me calm down. He stared, intent and serious, holding my gaze like an anchor. “Don’t let this stress you out, not in these final days. Make sure you’re getting enough rest. If you feel your mind racing, just remember it’s going to be fine. Alright?”

“Okay...” Relief flooded me. 

“Everything else is okay with her, right?” He asked, his soft voice guiding me through my panic.

“Yeah. She’s otherwise normal.”

“Good. Meixiu... Now... there’s something else.” He hesitated.

I detected a shift in mood from the way his brow creased when he glanced away. “I finished the mission a bit early. I should have called you earlier, but I was thinking about a lot of things... and I couldn’t sleep.” 

He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “I met someone who... was doing all this work for a woman who was stuck in a coma in a hospital. And I thought... he should be by her side. And it hit me... that I was not at your side.”

I hurried to reassure him. “I said it was alright...”

He held up a hand. “Please... hear me out.”

I bit my lip. “Okay.”

He sat for a bit, eyes distant. “To be honest... I forgot it was Christmas until I saw the decorations here. I’ve been that busy. Right now in Norway the sun doesn’t come up. It just flashes below the horizon. People have to work for their bodies to function normally. They spend a lot of time together to pass the time. I... I was alone.”

“A year ago. I would have been fine with nothing but my sword and a suitcase. But now... I’m not so sure.”

“The whole reason I joined Cassell was out of my own desire for revenge over something that happened to me when I was younger. I obsessed about it every day. I didn’t care what I did, so long as it kept me getting closer to my ultimate goal.”

“But I have gotten no closer.” He rested his forehead against his hand. “And I’ve left you alone. I’m sorry, Meixiu.”

He looked at me again. “I’ve been getting offers for where I will be stationed as official commissioner with the Executive Department. I haven’t answered any of them.”

“I’d just keep doing what I’m doing now, rising through the ranks of commissioner, to special commissioner, to senior... until I’m given a desk job when I’m too old or injured to take on missions any more.”

“I might never find what I’m looking for. And what’s more... I... I’m not sure if I want it as bad as I used to. When I fall asleep all I do is miss you.” He looked away suddenly.

Did he not mean to say that? I wondered. Was he ashamed?  I tilted my head in confusion. This way of thinking was nothing like the man I knew.    I held my breath, following his line of reasoning. I had kept my silence before such an unusually long speech, stunned at what I was hearing. Was he thinking of ending his dragonslaying career? 

“You want to quit?” I asked quietly, gently.

“I’m not sure... this is the first time I’ve felt like this. I don’t know how to tell Schneider.”

“You’re tired...”

“Yes...”

“Come home... get some sleep. Give it some time.”

He looked at me through the camera. The desperate, frustrated look to his eyes began to fade. “I just know that so long as that...” His jaw clenched. “... thing is out there, there’s a risk it might come after you.”

We sat silently a few seconds. “I’m strong, Johann.”

He shook his head.

“Then why don’t you tell me what we’re dealing with?” I asked. “You’ve been hiding this from me for years!”

I watched as the thoughts ran across his expression, his eyes shifting, weighing the pros and cons. His breath became shallower, his lips pressed together. Was what happened to his father really that hard for him to talk about?

“Please...” I said.

His voice was halting and soft. “I was... in the car with my father. It was raining so hard, we could hardly see the road...” He suddenly stopped.

I leaned forward. “Yes... and?”

He didn’t move or speak. A notification popped up. “Connection Lost.”

I sighed. “Are you kidding me!” I checked my wireless signal. “Johann? Are you there? Can you hear me?”

The screen went black. I clucked my tongue. I sat waiting and waiting for the connection to re-establish, trying again and again to call him.

“Unable to Connect with Chu Zihang.”

I sighed loudly and growled to myself. It was so rare for him to open up like this. Maybe he’ll get back online. I propped the phone up on the table and watched for his call, rocking back and forth. In an attempt to keep myself awake, I  sang to myself. Johann’s song, a very familiar tune.

The trees, they grow high, and the leaves, they do grow green Many is the time my true love I've seen Many an hour I watched him all alone He's young but he's daily growing...

I patted my stomach as I sang. I got to the end of the song, but there was no sign of him.

I got up to go to the bathroom. I turned out the lights to the rest of the house, showered and changed into my night robe, checking back after each activity for a return call. Thirty more minutes had passed but there was none. The connection was truly out.

“Come on... Johann...” I whispered, sitting back down in the rocking chair.

I picked up the phone to dial again.

“Relax Meixiu... what time is it?” I checked phone time. I hadn’t heard back for nearly an hour. I continued to rock myself and wait. I told myself to give him a few more minutes. He was clever. He was working on it.

 My eyes suddenly grew heavy but I forced them open. I had to stay awake in case he called.

The lights in the apartment flickered. My vision blurred and my eyes shut. I tried to force myself to open them. Twisted images swirled behind my eyelids for a moment before they opened again. 

I hadn’t moved from the room, but it wasn’t the room I’d just been in. The walls were different. They were just plain pink. The paintings were gone. The toys were different toys. The tree lights were multicolored!

Confused and frightened, I reached for my phone. I looked at it but it wasn’t the same color or the same model as I’d just been using! I dropped it.

“Johann!” 

A cold chill ran through me from top to bottom, followed by a profound numbness. There was no response from Johann through my soulbond any more. His presence in my mind and heart had been as large as a mountain. Now it as snatched away, leaving an agonizing vacuum. In desperation, I reached out to him again and again. “Johann! Johann!”

I grabbed the unfamiliar phone and flipped through my recent contacts. I couldn’t find his name. I threw it across the room.

“Where is my phone?! Where’s my phone?!” My words blended together until I was just screaming, crawling on the floor, knocking things over trying to find it.

My howling was like a wounded beast and a crying baby blended together. The unearthly wailing and crashing furniture carried through the walls, the ceiling, the floor and window. 

I lay my back against the wall, one arm over my eyes. My sorrowful pleas squeezed my lungs until my voice thinned to silence. Only for them to billow open again for me to cry out. “My love! Oh, my love! My love! My love!”

My love was gone. 

Johann, my beautiful Johann, was gone.

[let-it-raines]

For the lovely @xemmaloveskillianx who asked me if I would write something inspired by this little prompt above. It’s a little on the saucier side because, come on, look at that prompt. ❤️❤️❤️

~~2,400 words

-/-

It has been a day.

Seriously. A. Day.

One of those where Emma wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, very literally, and then there’s no coffee in the house so she has no caffeine to help wake her up so that she won’t fall asleep driving to work. And, honestly, no coffee can be fine. She’s not dependent on it or anything, but when she doesn’t sleep well, she wants it.

This morning, Emma really, really wants coffee.

But there was no coffee, no pop-tarts either, and she knows that as a grown ass adult she should probably eat better, but she works her ass off – very literally sometimes – to be able to occasionally waste four-hundred calories on a sugary breakfast. She also works her ass off – more figuratively this time – to make sure that she can have working air-conditioning in her car, but that wasn’t happening for her today either.

It’s July. She needs air-conditioning in her car so that she can irrationally wear her jacket no matter the temperature.

So, it’s been a day that she thought would get better once she got to the station, but the moment she walked in the door David asked her if she could fix the computers as if she works in IT. Then when she couldn’t fix them, all David could do was complain. Instead of picking up the phone and calling someone who could actually help, he sat on his ass and waited for her to call. David is usually so great about taking care of things, usually much more on top of things than she is, but with Mary Margaret in her final month of pregnancy, he’s been a little frazzled. Emma can’t even imagine what it’ll be like when the baby gets here.

She doesn’t want to. That’s…terrifying.

To sum it up, today has freaking sucked, it’s now noon, and she still hasn’t had her coffee.

She needs coffee in an IV ala Lorelai Gilmore.

Rising from her desk chair, Emma moves across the bullpen to the break room, walking through the open archway and heading straight for the coffee machine. Her favorite mug is gone, of course, so she grabs one of those disposable paper ones only for the entire stack of them to fall to the ground and scatter across the tile floor.

“Oh, fuck me,” Emma mutters, bending down to start picking up the cups only to hear a familiar accent behind her.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

She drops the two cups she’d managed to pick up, the paper somehow louder when it hits the ground this time, and if Emma could disintegrate into the ground, she would.

Most definitely.

“That wasn’t an invitation, Killian,” she scoffs, bending down again to start picking up the cups once more only to see the flash of black skinny jeans that pretty much signals Killian’s presence in a room. He’s picking up the cups too, quickly stacking them, and while she shouldn’t be angry at his efficiency, she is.  “Fuck off, Jones.”

“Darling,” he leers, holding his hand out to take the cups from her hand as he steps further into her space, his proximity and the way that his lips are curled into a devilish smirk making a shiver run down her spine, “that’s what I’m trying to do.”

Emma gulps, any and all words she had stuck in her throat staying there, and it’s ridiculous that he can flirt like this and make innuendos the way that he does. It’s ridiculous that he smells the way that he does. His cologne is her favorite thing in the entire world, but right now, she really, really hates it.

She also really wants to take him up on the offer to fuck some of her frustrations out.

But she can’t do that right now for quite a few reasons. Needing caffeine is the main one.

“Leave me alone,” she mumbles instead of all of the dirty thoughts in her head. She snatches a cup off of the top of the stack Killian is holding and sidesteps her way out of his space, which was once her very precious personal space, and moves to start the coffee maker so that she can get the caffeine that she needs.

“What’s wrong, Swan? Are you sure it’s nothing I can help you out with?”

“Nothing is wrong,” she lies, wondering why the hell her drink isn’t ready yet even though she knows that it’s been ten seconds.

“Liar.”

Killian hums, and she doesn’t even have the chance to protest him calling her a liar before the heat of Killian’s body is covering hers while he steps up behind her, one hand pressed against the countertop near her hip and the other cupping her chin to make her look at him. Damn him. Damn him and the way that he can express so much with the arch of an eyebrow or the curve of a corner of his lips. That’s not even fair.

Neither is the blue of his eyes.

Damn him, damn him, damn him.

Or fuck him.

That’s also sounding much more appealing than it was three minutes ago. Must be the caffeine deficiency.

“You know,” Killian whispers as his thumb runs across the dip in her chin in a way that has goosebumps rising on her arms, “I’ve always quite fancied you when you’re angry.”

“That says a lot more about you than it says about me.”

“True,” he chuckles, deep and low and in a way that has heat curling between her thighs. “Swan, would you happen to be on your lunch break?”

“I can be,” she says hesitantly, the beating of her heart quickening.

“Well, darling, I think I can get you coffee somewhere else then.”

-/-

They only have thirty minutes for lunch, something she bemoans on a daily basis, so when they stumble through the front door, there’s no time for talking. Killian kisses her slowly but with deliberate precision, very obviously trying to get her where she needs to go as quickly as he can without rushing her and making her feel used. It’s the gentleman in him. She knows this, and as much as she appreciates that, sometimes she doesn’t need the gentleman.

Heat builds between them even as Killian’s jacket drops to the floor in a heap of black leather. Emma moves to do the same with hers, but then Killian’s mumbling something about liking the red leather jacket and licking his tongue into her mouth in a warm slide that has her groaning into his mouth. Suddenly she’s forgotten about everything but the way that he feels when he’s kissing her and when he’s running his deft fingers through her hair, yanking the slightest bit to help control the kiss. It’s glorious, and for this moment, the unfortunate morning that she’s had disappears in favor of the taste of tea on Killian’s tongue and the way that his scruff pricks around the skin of her mouth. It’s too many sensations all at once and yet not enough.

Overwhelming but only in the best way even if Emma thinks she’s never felt as frustrated as she is right now, and sexual frustration is far different than the frustration of this morning.

Nope. She’s getting those thoughts out of her head and focusing on threading her own fingers into Killian’s hair and feeling the long, soft tufts of hair as her nose presses into his cheek, breathing him in as Killian’s lips close around her upper lip and pull.  

“I love the way you sound when I tug on your upper lip. So delectable.”

“Shut up,” Emma huffs, both because she wants him to do that again and also because she doesn’t know any other words right now.

“So caring, love.”

“Shut up.”

“As you wish.”

And then the back of her knees are coming into contact with the arm of the couch and she’s toppling down onto it, her lips only leaving Killian’s for a split second. He makes sure of it with the way that he’s holding onto her, devouring her, and the heat of his body standing behind her in the station is nothing compared to what it is now. It’s consuming and overwhelming to the point that sweat is already beading at the nape of her neck while she arches her back and Killian’s hips roll into hers.

Fuck.

If she could feel like this for the rest of her life, she’d never have a bad day.

There are no other sounds but the beating of her heart and the sloppy sighs of their kissing, lips moving against lips and tongues tangling together. If she listens closely, she’s sure that the hum of the ceiling fan can be heard, but that’s the absolute last thing Emma cares about as Killian’s hands fumble with the zipper of her jeans and rough fingers brush against the aching flesh where she’s already ready for him.

“Have you been thinking about me then?” Killian sighs into her mouth, his tongue flicking over her bottom lip as his fingers flick against her clit in the way that makes her lose control of the bottom half of her body.

So. Damn. Good.

“No,” she lies, a smile on her face as her hands run down the curve of his arms and over the front of his shirt, twisting a bit of exposed dark chest hair around her fingers.

“Such a liar today, sweetheart.”

He smiles the words into her skin, but then he’s pulling back and yanking her jeans down her hips so that they settle at her knees. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but Emma doesn’t care as her hands grip into the material of Killian’s button down while Killian unzips his own jeans just enough for his cock to spring free and press into her swollen flesh.

If she didn’t love food so much, this is how she’d spend every lunchbreak.

With hooded eyes, Emma watches as Killian moves her underwear to the side, only getting it out of the way enough for him to slowly slide himself inside of her, his warmth filling her and filling her and filling her all the while his teeth bit down at the small patch of collarbone that’s visible underneath her jacket.

Fucking each other with their clothes on during a lunchbreak. The height of professionalism.

At least they’re not at the station.

“I am desperate for you,” he huffs as his hips roll into her and her eyes roll into the back of her head at the deep movement. “Always.”

A moan escapes her lips, a sound that she knows drives him crazy, and he bites against her collarbone harder in response. There’s going to be a mark there tomorrow, and they both know it. The bastard.

The rocking starts as slow, the two of them reveling in how it feels to be together, but that doesn’t last long until Killian is insistently pressing into her, alternating between fast, short strokes that hit her bundle of nerves and slow, deep ones that touch the spot inside of her that makes her lungs stop functioning. It’s enough to drive her mad, to not let her body know exactly what to expect next, but then the rhythm becomes steady, familiar, loving, and every careful thrust is meant to drive her into her bliss.

He’s always so good at that.

It’s a bit overwhelming.

And yet she wouldn’t change a thing as flames flicker across her skin at the feeling of Killian moving inside of her, his fingers working against her bundle of nerves, and his lips slowly moving over hers as the two of them both work to catch their breaths while simultaneously making each other’s heart beat far too quickly for normal life.

She falls with a stuttered breath, the steadiness never returning, and from the guttural groan that Killian emits, she knows that her walls are fluttering around him in the way that makes him rut into her at a quicker pace that means he’s coming too as sweat drips off of his forehead onto hers and the hair around her neck becomes damp.

Fucking while still mostly dressed is either the best or worst idea of her life.

It could be both.

She’s going to need a shower.

That does not at all matter right now.

“You,” Killian sighs, still inside of her as he presses his body weight down on top of her, “are a siren.”

“Even with how shitty I looked today?”

Killian pulls back, his brows furrowed together, and she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him look this affronted. “You have never looked shitty.”

“Oh, come on,” Emma laughs as her fingers curl into his hair and brush the damp strands off of his forehead, “you’ve seen me in the mornings. You know how rough I can look.”

“Aye,” he agrees, propping himself up on his forearms so that she can breathe a little more easily. She loves the way the fringe of his hair falls over his forehead. “I know. But I also know that I love you even when your hair hasn’t been brushed in two days and there’s a questionable stain on your pajama shirt.”

“You bagged a prize, Jones.”

“First time in my life I’ve ever been so lucky.” He pulls out of her then with a slight hiss, and she doesn’t even want to imagine how messy this couch is going to be now. “Though, I do get lucky pretty often now if you know what I mean.”

Emma barks out a laugh at the way that Killian waggles his brows across his forehead, the smirk that was annoying her earlier making her smile now. It’s funny how things work like that.

“Go make me some coffee while I get cleaned up, okay? I don’t want David to know that we used our lunch break to have sex.”

“Darling,” Killian sighs pressing one more kiss to her cheek before he stands to pull his jeans back over the dip of his hips, “I think he knows that we have sex. We are married after all, not that not having the rings on our fingers ever stopped us before.”

[sonderwalker]

haven’t posted any writing in a while but chapter 4 of welcome home is up!

summary: A misunderstanding between a Obi-Wan and Anakin boils over into a fight where feelings are left unsaid... for a little while that is. Obi-Wan is perplexed by what seems to be a sudden change in Anakin's mood. Anakin runs away after the confrontation comes to a head, and Obi-Wan searches to find his apprentice in the cold, rainy night of Coruscant, before someone else does, or something else gets to him first. They have a heart to heart after that.

chapter four is under the cut!

Obi-Wan watched as healers, nurses, and doctors passed by, moving through the halls of healing. With his back against the wall, he watched as time slowly passed, waiting for news about Anakin. He knew that several hours had passed- the ache in his joints from sitting in one position for so long was telling him that more than anything. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. Not until he got more news about Anakin.

He felt his eyelids drooping, but they would snap open after a moment as his anxiety fought with his exhaustion. Master Che came from around a corner and Obi-Wan quickly stood up, eager to hear any news.

“Master.” He said, his voice hushed. Obi-Wan looked at her- while she was a stern and stoic woman, he had never seen her look weary the way she did now. She started at him for a moment before speaking.

“Padawan Skywalker is going to be fine.” She said before he could say anything else. Obi-Wan let out a huge sigh of relief, releasing hours of anxiety that had been building up.  

“But,” She continued. “It will take some time before he is back to feeling like his normal self.”

“How long?” Obi-Wan asked.

“At least a month.” She said and shrugging. “It could be longer.” Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth again, unsure of how he was going to break to Anakin that he was going to have to spend the next month sitting still and not doing very much. Master Che sighed.

“I know that your Padawan is an active boy. But trust me, he will not have the energy to be moving around like how he did before for at least two weeks.” Obi-Wan frowned and reached a hand up to stroke his beard to hide the concern in his expression.

“Obi-Wan.” Master Che said in a soft voice. “While the chest infection wouldn’t be that much of a problem on its own, it’s the infection on his arm that is worrisome. Do you know anything about when he could have hurt himself?” He crossed his arms, deep in thought about when Anakin could have done something to injure himself.

“Well…” He began. “If I didn’t know about it until now, that means that he was probably doing something that he didn’t want me knowing about.” Obi-Wan muttered. “And my first guess would be that he was working on some project somewhere and didn’t want me to find out about it.”

Master Che nodded. “That makes sense. Had he been more closed off than usual?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan replied. “His mood got worse as the week went on.”

“Well, I think that tells us what we need to know. He probably was doing something he shouldn’t have been doing- was worried about your reaction and decided to hide the wound instead of getting help.”

“But what about the chest infection?” Obi-Wan asked, trying to push down the guilt that was rising.

“For that, I would assume that he was trying to hide that as well.” Master Che said. She sighed.

“It is obvious that your padawan has learned many things from you, including a lack of self-preservation skills.” Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry when he heard her say that. He decided to change the subject.

“When will he wake up?” He asked, anxious to see his apprentice.

“It’s hard to say. We had to sedate him to stop the convulsions. It should wear off in a few hours, but he won’t be in any condition to hold any kind of conversation. Right now, we are more focused on clearing the blood infection than the chest one.” She paused to look at Obi-Wan’s confused expression before continuing.

“The chest infection, while probably a nuisance, is not life threatening. Had Skywalker waited longer before getting help for the blood infection however, it would have been very likely that we would have had to consider amputation.” Obi-Wan gasped softly.

“He is a healthy child. I am sure he will make a full recovery. It will just take time.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“But for now, I would suggest that you focus on getting some rest yourself, Kenobi.” Master Che said. They heard Bant call her name from another room and Master Che walked off, leaving Obi-Wan alone with his thoughts once again.

 Obi-Wan had never seen Anakin be so still in his life. His padawan was always on the move, and never seemed to tire out. Asking more questions than Obi-Wan had answers. Pushing whatever limits he could. But now, as Obi-Wan stood by Anakin’s bedside, he wished that he were dealing with a hyperactive teenager instead of one who looked like he was on death’s doorstep. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, and his face was pale aside from the fever. Obi-Wan looked at the machines by his bedside: an oxygen monitor, heart monitor, several IVs, and data pads with notes and charts. He looked back down at Anakin- who was now wearing a white tunic and saw the infection in his arm. Obi-Wan winced while looking at the angry, red lines that ran up and down his arm. He looked out the window, at the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. Speeders passed by, casting temporary shadows against the buildings. He watched them go by, not really focused on what was in front of him.

Yes, he was definitely going to have a serious talk with Anakin once he was well enough.

He heard a cough and jumped. Obi-Wan quickly turned around and saw Anakin trying to sit up while coughing. He quickly rushed over and helped him sit up, and felt his body shake as the coughing continued.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan said sternly, “How are you feeling?” He watched as Anakin blinked a few times, like as if he were trying get rid of the mind fog from the fever.

“Tired.” He rasped out. He brought a hand up to rub his eyes, and then looked down at the IV that was inserted into his wrist. He frowned, and then looked back up at Obi-Wan, who had now sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Anakin,” he repeated as he watched his apprentice lean back into the pillows, his eyes half open. He lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Obi-Wan sighed.

“I should go get a healer. I’m sure they will want to check in on you and make sure everything is alright.”

“Later.” Anakin whispered, his eyes closing again.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed.

“Master, I’m tired.” Anakin replied, his voice cracking on the last word. Obi-Wan felt that tug on his heartstrings.

“Fine. Later.” He said.

 “It is now later, Anakin.” Bant said as she approached his bedside. Anakin’s eyes cracked open, and they still looked dazed from the fever.

“You’re lucky Obi-Wan let you rest some more- if I was your master, I would have had the healer check on you as soon as I saw you were awake.” She said as she picked up a nearby data pad and began to read through its contents.

“Oh, I wanted to, believe me.” Obi-Wan reported from her side. A ghost of a smile formed on Anakin’s face, but his eyes still stayed mostly shut.

“Well, his fever has gone down, so that means that the antibiotics are working.” Bant said as she continued to look at the data pad. “Although you’ll have to stay on bedrest for at least another standard week, Anakin.” He hummed in response, his eyes closed again, and she glanced at Obi-Wan who was trying to conceal his worry in the force.

“Don’t worry about it.” She whispered. “I’m sure Master Che told you that he was going to be really out of it for a while. Until his fever breaks, he won’t be very responsive.” Obi-Wan nodded.

“The only concern we have about that is that if he’s too tired to eat on his own we might have to insert a feeding tube.” Bant muttered. She leaned over and gently shook Anakin’s shoulder, who groaned and then coughed.

“Do you feel like eating anything?” She asked him gently. He shook his head.

“Not even some juice? Some tea?” She questioned. Anakin shook his head again. Bant stood up straight and looked at Obi-Wan. She sighed.

“We can try asking him again later, but if he still says no then we would have to consider inserting the tube. Do you know when the last time he ate was?”

“Yesterday, lunch, I think. He ran out before we had dinner.” Obi-Wan replied. She nodded.

“His body isn’t going to be able to fight off these infections unless we are able to get some more nutrients into him.” She commented. Obi-Wan leaned over and shook Anakin shoulder again.

“Anakin.” He said softly. “If you keep refusing food, then the healers will have to insert a feeding tube.”

“And you don’t want that.” Bant added on. “So, it would be better if you could try and eat a little something on your own.” Anakin whined into his pillow, but after a moment he began to sit up, using shaky arms to help push himself up. The two of them leaned forward and helped him sit up.

“Great!” Bant said. “I’ll be back in a moment with a juice pouch.” She said as she walked away. Anakin leaned forward, resting his head on his master’s shoulder and sighed.

“I know you’re tired, Anakin, but I promise you can sleep after this.” Obi-Wan whispered softly as he rested a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. While he knew that Anakin’s fever had gone down, he could still feel the intense heat against his neck that was coming off of him. He felt Anakin nod, and the wave of chills that overtook his body. He heard the door open and Bant walked in, holding a purple juice pouch in one hand.

“You don’t have to finish it, but you have to try and take a few sips.” She said as she handed Anakin the drink. He took it with shaky hands and Obi-Wan was pleasantly surprised when he was able to finish about half of it before handing it back to her and curling up underneath the covers. Bant chuckled slightly.

“It must be weird to see him so quiet.” She remarked. Obi-Wan nodded.

“Quite.” He replied, watching Anakin’s chest rise and fall as he slept.

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars

read the full story on Ao3...

iv. if i was a man, then i’d be the man

I’m so sick of running as fast as I can,

wondering if I’d get there quicker if I was a man.

And I’m so sick of them coming at me again, 

‘cause if I was a man, then I’d be the man

-Taylor Swift, “The Man”

“The Falcon is en route,” The bodyguard reported.

Daenerys despised her code name. Falcon. Compared to the other code names of the family, Dragon, Eagle, Swan, and Raven, Falcon was terribly underwhelming. The falcon was a bird people trained to hunt for them. It was a bird for enjoyment, not a bird that commanded respect.

Stepping through the automatic airport doors, her eyes and ears were assaulted. The flash of cameras and the shouts of the paparazzi were much louder than she remembered. After six years in Essos, she supposed she’d lost her resistance to them. 

As the car door shut behind her, the security detail fell in line. Sir Jorah sat in the backseat beside her, with another in the passenger seat and an armed chauffeur. The sirens on the police cars started up and they pulled away from King’s Landing International Airport and into the busy streets.

The airport was located in the new city. An entrancing view of sleek and modern high rise buildings. Business headquarters, vegan restaurants, and clothing stores advertised themselves in the clear windows. The sun was absent, leaving room for the rainstorms that heralded her arrival. 

As they entered the old city, Dany remembered why she wanted to leave so bad. The air still smelled terrible and people crowded the streets. When Dany applied to the esteemed Braavos University, they were more than ecstatic to accept a member of the Westerosi royal family. Dany was just as excited to leave King’s Landing.

Studying overseas was the best decision. People cared less about what was going on in Westeros and weren’t phased when Dany and her security officers were out and about. Granted, there were still a few paps waiting outside her apartment but it was a much needed reprieve from her life in Westeros.

People stopped and gawked at the heavy vehicles maneuvering the narrow streets. Did they know Dany was back, or were they waiting on an official announcement from the crown? She missed being able to smile at people as she passed them and take in the sun, instead she was hidden away under an armored hood and tinted windows. 

She tore her gaze away from the saturated image of the world around her and looked at herself in the rear view. The bags under her eyes hadn’t improved and her skin was dry from the airplane air. She was in no shape to see her family again. They expected a perfect princess and the best she could give them was a tired college student. 

“Everything alright, Your Highness?”

The voice of Sir Jorah brought her back to reality.

“Nothing,” she assured Jorah, “It just feels weird to be back.”

“I know what you mean. A few years of people not giving you a second glance and now everyone’s on your arse.”

The chauffeur coughed to show his distaste for Jorah’s language, to which he muttered an apology. Dany chuckled. They had grown too relaxed while in Essos, too comfortable with each other. That would have to change.

Of course it hadn’t always been like that. When Jorah was first assigned to Dany, he took his duties with extreme seriousness, as they were drilled into him by years of experience. But when she had a breakdown while studying for her Essos Political Science class, he broke protocol and offered her solace. An odd friendship grew between them and soon enough she had Jorah trying to drink her under the table at college parties.

Despite people in Braavos not caring about Westerosi politics, they hesitated to befriend a royal. Probably afraid of the customs and rules that came with it. There was one girl in her Valyrian Studies class that managed to get over that fear, Missandei from Naath. Dany wished Missandei was with her. 

The motorcade came to the front gates of the Red Palace. It had once been a great keep built of red stone that looked over the whole city, but Dany’s ancestors had a great love for the grand mansions in Essos and had the Red Keep destroyed and replaced with a sprawling palace in red marble. It looked even more imposing than the original. Although Dany had only seen portraits of the old keep, she knew the pinkish stone couldn’t have put fear into the hearts of those that would steal it. 

Her ancestors knew what they were doing because the sight of it filled Dany with dread. Years of lessons and protocol, always in the shadow of her older brothers. She tasted freedom in Essos and was now expected to give all of it up to fit the family mold. She took a deep breath in an attempt to control the increasing speed of her heart.

The iron gate opened with the grace and opulence it commanded, allowing the princess through. The cars took their usual arc around the enormous fountain in the front courtyard. A silver scene of three dragons breathing water instead of fire. Come to think of it, Dany hated that fountain too. 

She slid out of the car, trying to move quickly so the paparazzi outside the gates couldn’t capture her dressed in leggings and athletic sneakers. Varys would have her head if even an inch of her body got published in something so casual. She added the dress code to her list of grievances. 

Petyr Baelish met her inside the doors, matching her brisk pace through the cavernous entry hall. Their footfalls echoed in the space, a haunting sound.

“Princess Daenerys, it is so good to see you again.”

“Wish I could say the same to you,” she deadpanned.

Baelish was never her friend and Dany was more than willing to take out her frustrations on him. 

He sighed and continued, “As I’m sure you know, the annual charity gala is tonight. The seamstress has already prepared selections for you to choose from and is waiting in your room. I suggest you hurry there.”

Dany rolled her eyes.

“It would also be in your best interest to know that the King of the North, Eddard Stark, and three of his children will be in attendance tonight,” Baelish reported.

“The King of the North?”

“Yes. And his three children. Crowned Prince Jon, Prince Robb, and Princess Sansa.”

“What are they doing down here?”

The North was an independent country. When Aegon the Conqueror sailed from Valyria he respected Torren Stark’s refusal to kneel, leaving them independent from the United Kingdoms of Westeros, but not without repercussions. The North was cut off from the rest of Westeros, no access to trade or military support. Members of the royal family hadn’t traveled south since the last long winter a hundred years ago.

As far as Dany was concerned they were a boring lot. Their names were rarely mentioned in the tabloids and they never did press interviews. They never appeared on TV and the paparazzi seemed uninterested. The complete opposite of the Targaryen family, whose faces were plastered on every magazine cover and nightly news editorial, who existed to be seen.

“The charity represented tonight is the champion cause of His Majesty, Eddard Stark. The palace extended an invitation to them and they accepted,” Baelish explained.

Dany hummed in acceptance of his statement, but she had the suspicion there was something deeper going on. Rhaegar learned from their ancestors to always have an ulterior motive, to never allow a stranger into your home unless the stranger had something to offer. That philosophy was one Dany lived by, although she employed it specifically for romantic partners.

Another set of footsteps entered the hall. The excited patter of little feet made Dany’s heart lurch. 

“Auntie Dee! You’re home.” 

Her niece and nephew, Rhaenys and Aegon, sprinted through the corridor. She bent down to hug them, giving them kisses on their foreheads. She didn’t want to let them go. The ache in her chest reminded her of just how much she missed them.

“How long are you going to be home this time, Dany?” Rhaenys asked, hope in her dark eyes.

“I don’t know yet, Your Royal Highness,”

“Longer than a day right?” Aegon begged.

“I think I can manage that.”

The children’s governess appeared from around the corner, red faced and out of breath.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness, they saw your car pull through the front gates and took off. I told them that you’d want to be alone, but it appears they no longer listen to me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dany assured the woman.

“Do we have to go back to lessons?” whined Aegon.

“We’d much rather spend time with you!”

Dany laughed, “I’m afraid your lessons are more important than me. How else can you become the greatest Queen and Prince there ever was?”

The kids groaned, but didn’t protest when Dany took their hands and led them back up the stairs. The whole way back Rhaenys and Aegon filled her in on how well regular school was going and all of the friends they made. And she praised them for their wonderful jobs and promised to see them as soon as she could before handing them off to the governess.

As soon as she turned around, there was Baelish, looking rather upset at the distraction. 

“Your Highness, if you would please pick up the pace. Or you’ll go to the gala half dressed and Gods know we do not need another headline like yesterday.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Of course, she did know. Maybe drinking Red Priestess vodka all night was a terrible idea, but in her defense, she wasn’t buying the drinks. Braavosi custom dictated that it was rude to refuse a drink when someone else was buying. 

“I see. And the naked sunbathing incident with the Khal off the coast of the Summer Isles? That wasn’t you either?”

“What are you implying?”

“Your Highness, your exploits in Essos are not lost on Westeros. People talk and what they have to say isn’t nice.”

Dany rolled her eyes, “So what? Dragons don’t care about the opinions of sheep. Besides Baelish, if there was an issue here Rhaegar would’ve told me.”

She lied straight through her teeth. Of course Rhaegar said something about her behavior. And she was confident Baelish knew too. 

“Of course, Your Highness. Whatever you say.”

Baelish made a gesture for her to walk ahead of him as they approached her apartments. 

They hadn’t changed since her graduation from secondary school. She ran her hand over the painted walls. Scenes of courtyards, gardens, and ancient castles painted like they were straight from a medieval manuscript. She tapped her finger on the nose of a princess engaged in a dance with a prince, as she did every time she passed. The princess was supposed to be the fair Alysanne but there was a surprising lack of a dragon anywhere near.

The plush bed looked inviting and Dany could feel the exhaustion under her eyes. She had too much to think about and doubted sleep would come easily. When she turned the corner she laid eyes on Elia Martell, resting on the ottoman in the closet through another set of archways. She stood and opened her arms.

Dany ran to her sister-in-law, crushing her in a hug. Elia squeezed back and rubbed Dany’s back reassuringly. 

“I’m sure you know all about it,” Dany sighed into Elia’s chest. 

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” she warned, “but Rhaegar was very upset.”

“I figured.”

“Dany, how did this happen?”

“Elia, I don’t know! I wasn’t even drunk.”

The in-house seamstress was well prepared for Dany’s arrival. A rack of red gowns waited for her. Red was Dany’s favorite and she always wore it to important functions, much to the dismay of Varys. He claimed the color was too bold and harsh for a young, unmarried princess.

“Either way, there’s a stinking mess and it’s stressing Rhaegar out. If his hair wasn’t already so light, it would be turning grey. And who was that man you were leaning on?”

Dany ran her hand over the expensive fabrics. Velvets and silks, embroidered with silver and detailed in black. They were perfect for an evening amongst high born and elite.

“Daario Naharis.”

Dany selected the first dress and held it up to her frame. Dark red knit with a shimmer. Shape hugging with a slit up the back and low cut neckline. She stepped behind the privacy screen to try it on, slipping out of her regular clothing.

“You mean the Tyroshi tech millionaire?”

“His father’s the millionaire. Daario will just inherit all of it,” Dany called from behind the screen.

“Why do Rhaenys and Aegon have lessons? It’s summer.”

“I wanted to make sure it was just you and I today.”

The seamstress zipped up the dress and Dany stepped out and onto the fitting platform. As she turned about, her many reflections mimicked her and the sparkling dress she wore.

“What do you think?” she stuck out her right leg to accentuate the slit.

“It’s a little plain,” a voice said from the doorway.

Dany whipped her head around to see her best friend all the way from Essos.

“Missy!”

She hiked the skirt away from her feet and charged at her friend, wrapping her arms around the girl’s slim frame.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had a family emergency in Naath,” Dany questioned.

“That’s just where my flight connected. Elia called me a few days ago and told me I should be here.”

Elia gave Dany a playful glance.

“Well, it’s good you’re here. I need someone to agree with me on everything.”

The seamstress coughed and Dany left her best friend’s arms to try on the next option. A crimson A-line piece in chiffon, dark and flowy.

“Are you sure you don’t need someone to make sure your boobs stay in your dress?”

Elia snickered but Dany rolled her eyes.

“We get it! I made a bad decision and it came back to bite me in the ass. Add it to the list.”

Dany let out a strangled breath as the seamstress pulled the ties tight around her. The dress was supposed to flow, why did it need to be so tight? She stepped back up to the platform.

“I like that one,” Elia offered.

“Too sweet,” Missy and Dany said at the same time.

She stepped down and back behind the screen, the seamstress undressing her again.

The last time she tried on that many dresses was for Rhaegar’s coronation. They were still mourning for King Aerys so everyone was dressed in black. Dany remembered the dress she chose. Strapless, black a-line, covered in dark flowers that turned silver at the bottom. She remembered standing in the front row of the Sept, weighed down with silver jewelry and watching Rhaegar ascend the steps. And all she could think of at that moment was their father and how gaudy and disrespectful it all felt.

The seamstress pulled the ties of the next dress painfully tight and sent her off. The soft red satin pleated around her chest in structured pleats like a seashell. It hugged her hip and gathered into a burst, fanning around her feet. Dany did a few turns and twists, her many reflections copying her.

“That’s the one,” Missy praised.

Elia hummed in agreement.

On her way to change Dany said, “We can figure out the jewels later. We need to discuss my fall from grace.”

She wrapped a black silk robe around herself and walked straight onto the settee at the end of her bed, turned, and let herself fall. The thick duvet and memory foam mattress broke her fall. Missandei crawled up beside her and stroked her silver hair.

“Remember at Galazza’s lecture when she said that there’s no such thing as bad publicity?”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way for royalty. We try to keep our names out of the papers these days,” Elia stated as she appeared at Dany’s side. “The more invisible we appear, the more the public likes us. Although they seem to love when we dress up and spend time among them.”

Her dark hair fell over her shoulder. They used to have girls’ nights where they would watch sappy movies, eat popcorn, and braid each other's hair. They always watched a dated Dornish film about a Rhoynish prince disguised as a Meereenese pit fighter. Dany would always gush about the leading man and Elia said she went to school with him and they dated for a brief time. She wondered what Elia’s life would be like if it weren’t for the arranged marriage between her and Rhaegar. 

“I need a drink,” Dany pouted, sitting up.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Missy asked, the tone in her voice made it clear what she was referencing.

“If I’m going to get through this evening of ass kissers and sticks-in-the-mud, I’m going to need something stiff.”

“I think alcohol is the last thing you need,” Elia said sternly. 

“This is so unfair. If I were a man and that picture got out, this wouldn’t be an issue-”

“Dany,” Elia warned.

“-but because I’m a woman my boob is deemed offensive and-”

“Dany!” 

She looked to Elia, who never snapped at her, with wounded eyes.

“I know you’re upset and that’s understandable. But it’s our lives. So please, do me a favor, and deal with it.”

Missandei watched Elia with enraptured interest. She’d never seen someone put Dany in her place before. But then again, Dany was usually in the right. 

“How long am I going to be stuck here?”

“What?” Missy asked.

“We called Dany home because she needed a time out,” Elia explained to Missandei before turning her attention back on Dany, “And that’s indefinite for right now. You need to tell me more about this Daario.”

“We’ve been hooking up for a year and he wants to make it official.”

“Well I hope you told him no,” Elia gasped.

“Don’t worry about it Elia, he won’t be coming to Westeros anytime soon. And Rheagar would never let me formally date a Tyrohsi.”

“Why?” Missandei asked.

“The monarchy is already in a delicate position because we represent an outdated establishment. Allowing Dany to seriously entertain a foreign millionaire would make us seem unpatriotic.” Elia stroked Dany’s hair and tucked it behind her ear.

“Your Majesty, the hairdresser has arrived,” Elia’s assistant reported.

She sighed and got up, brushing the wrinkles out of her pants.

“I’ll see you two at the gala.”

Dany groaned and Missandei giggled, “You still have to find me a dress.”

[stillness-in-green]

Changeling: The League (3/3)

Bonus Miscellanea!  A sampler round of various other villains and some AU-of-the-AU versions of the story and characters, including some alternate takes on characters using other game lines from the World of Darkness.  

This post is the last one I have in mind for the concept, but I hope everyone who was curious enough to read them enjoyed them.  There’s some fun stuff in this post in particular, I think--the Word of Darkness really is a very versatile setting.  Find the explanations and the League of Villains here, the follow-up with the Meta Liberation Army here, or just hit the jump for the bonus material.

THE MINIONS

All for One’s direct loyalists and followers.  All are dual-kithed or otherwise eyebrow-raising in kith/seeming combination, and all have a high enough Wyrd that their kith abilities are starting to evolve--serving AFO does have its benefits.  With AFO imprisoned back in Faerie and the cycle stalled out, AFO’s followers are finding themselves facing an unclear future, and so each is having to come up with what they want to do going forward.  Mostly want Tomura to come back and get things moving again, having little sense that there is a world out there that’s more “real” than the one they currently inhabit.

Kurogiri

Type: Palewraith Darkling, Chatelaine dual kith.  Once a caretaker for Tomura, he opts to find Tomura out in the real world in hopes of resuming that directive.  When Tomura does not show even a shred of recognition, Kurogiri opts to set up a bar in the local Hedge, making himself “available.”  

Mantle: Winter, season of secrecy.  Has a servant’s circumspectness with a loyalist’s desire to keep his secrets, as well as a deep, very old melancholy that even he doesn’t really remember the reason for anymore.  

Contracts: Fleeting Winter I, Sorrow-Frozen Winter I-III, Dream I-V, and Smoke I-IV.  For Smoke, he has the old 4-dot Smoke-stepping clause rather than the more modern Murkblur, which is something of a tell regarding his true age.

 Ujiko

Type: Chirurgeon Darkling, which shouldn’t actually be possible by the categorizations as the fae understand them.  He’s been in AFO’s hands for a long time, though.  Current fear: what’s going to happen to the realm if the cycle continues to stall?  Gears can only grind against one another for so long before something explodes!

Mantle: Autumn.  A mad scientist with a deep appreciation for breaking things open to find out how they tick.

Contracts: Artifice I-III, Shade & Spirit I-IV, Spellbound Autumn I-III, and Goblin Delayed Harm III.

 Gigantomachia

Type: Stonebones Elemental, Gargantuan dual kith.  AFO’s most loyal monster.  Would have tried to find Shigaraki sooner, but he’s far too removed from the human he once was to be able to find his way through the Hedge without aid.  Probably spends the first few parts of the story giving All Might trouble in Faerie.  

Mantle: Courtless.  Has no emotional affinities that don’t track back to All for One.  

Contracts: Oath & Punishment I-V, Communion (Earth) I-III, and Stone I-V.  Like Geten, a close replica of his canonical powerset.

OTHER VILLAINS 

Muscular: Bloodbrute Ogre.  Ex-gladiator; current terror.

Moonfish: Gristlegrinder Ogre.  Current cannibal; also current terror.

Mustard: Blightbent Elemental.  Looks cuter because he doesn’t have to wear the gas-mask to protect against his own fumes.

Stain: Razorhand Darkling, give or take a Pischacha dual kith.  Broken very deeply by Arcadia from the strict and upright man he once was, but Lost society was pretty much created to provide a safe haven for that kind of damage.  A Summer Court enforcer of some notoriety.  

Gentle Criminal: Windwing Beast.  Refuses to be ground-bound, and is posting videos of himself doing impossible stunts that are drawing some attention, for better or for worse.   

La Brava: Drudge Wizened.  Falls in love with Gentle for showing her that you don’t have to shrink into what other people tried to make of you.  Has absolutely dyed her hair bright pink.  Somehow amazing at stealth anyway.

Gag Inclusion That Makes No Sense With the Lore But Is Perfect Anyway So I’m Not Changing It: 

Overhaul: “Don’t be ridiculous.  There’s no such thing as magic.”  

A banality-riddled Dauntain, from the previous incarnation of the game.  This is how Magne survives--he doesn’t kill her, but rather nukes her glamour reserves/Wyrd score access so badly she has to spend the next three months in the motley’s Hollow living in as much fae decadence as they can afford her, dining on hedgefruit, pampering herself, and keeping up with her various dream pledges while she recovers.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSES, ALTERNATE TAKES  

Hero Court, Villain Court: There is a version of the story where Heroes and Villains are old labels from a time when the freehold was built around a now-collapsed Sun Court/Moon Court dichotomy, headed up by All Might and All for One.  In the days following the catastrophic last battle, changelings of the Hero Court and the Villain Court alike have begun picking up the pieces and realigned to what everyone hopes will be a more stable Seasonal Court model.  Endeavor is the Summer King, a changeling who somehow had four three children when it’s all but unheard of to have even one.

Final Boss Shigaraki: There is a version of the story that centers on Deku, and in that version, what Shigaraki learns is this: everyone and everything has an end waiting for them somewhere.  As the game story progresses through power creep and mounting stakes, dramatic revelations and shifting priorities, Shigaraki moves away from Autumn and becomes more attuned to the fatalistic but liberating philosophy of Dusk.  As such, he gains the Entropy Contract clauses, I-V.  In this fashion, Shigaraki is paralleled by Final Battle Deku, rising champion of the Dawn, who is likewise gaining mastery of the Contract of Shonen Protag Powers Potential.  Will they be enemies in the end?  Allies?  Either way, their fates are connected.

Changeling All for One: There is a version of the story in which All Might and All for One are both changelings, in which the entirety of My Hero Academia is a story being played out in some far realm of Faerie.  All for One here is not Shigaraki’s Keeper, but merely a mentor who, when expy!Kamino happens, takes the opportunity to get Shigaraki out, knowing that he himself has been gone from the world for far too long to ever make the return trip through the Thorns intact.  In this version, All Might is an unknowing Loyalist who follows Shigaraki out, determined to capture him “for the good of society”--which would, of course, entail dragging him back to Faerie.

Destro the Revolutionary: There is a version of the story in which Desto is not one of the Gentry, but rather a changeling from years past, one who was spearheading a huge movement advocating that the Lost should reveal themselves to human society writ large--that Faerie predation could never be stopped as long as humanity didn’t know about it, and changelings had the power to, well, change that.   And weren't they tired of living in hiding; didn't they wish they could tell their loved ones the truth?  And that was a message that a lot of changelings liked, but it was also a message that terrified changelings in equal measure, and so in the end, an operative/operation from the Seasonal Court freehold put Destro down.  

In that take, Re-Destro is a successor to Destro as someone who came out of a similar durance and the MLA is a group planning a retributive war against the Seasonal Courts for their perfidy.  Shigaraki and the League could either stumble across the plot or be actively approached as a potentially sympathetic party after Shigaraki's relationship to AFO comes out and endangers his position in his own freehold.  

Re-Destro the Prince: There is a version of the story in which Re-Destro is not a changeling at all, but rather a vampiric prince, heir to a forbidden blood discipline.  He and his followers catch wind of the League motley: not vampires, but not normal humans, either.  They seek the motley out to find out what their deal is and whether it will be a complication to the MLA’s plans.  Vampires are far more immediately dangerous than changelings, but changelings have so many wonderful little tricks up their sleeve, especially against people who are careless with their battle banter.  (But I’ll be real, I hardly know a thing about Vampire: The Requiem--I’m much more familiar with Masquerade.  This version of the story mostly exists because I’m a Shigaraki/Re-Destro shipper and I am not immune to adventures in sexy blooddrinking.) 

THE WIDE WORLD OF DARKNESS

There are many other spins one could put on various MHA characters that would be fun to explore.  I kept all the relevant characters fae (or Fae) because if I started thinking about all the things the characters could be, I would actually never stop--and anyway, I’m more familiar with Old World of Darkness meta than I am New World of Darkness.  A lot of the ideas were still fun, though, so for your perusal, here are some of the ones I came up with:

The Shie Hassaikai is an extremist Hunter cell dedicated to weeding out supernatural creatures of all sorts.

Ujiko is a wildly amoral retired Hunter running a mad scientist lab funded by dubiously sourced money from his fae patron, as long as he’s spending a requisite amount of time per month working on AFO’s projects.

There exists a Sin-Eater and his resident Geist who have become so tangled in each other that they no longer retain separate identities, and are now merely “Kurogiri.”  

Kurogiri is a changeling.  Yamada Hizashi is a Sin Eater.  Aizawa Shouta is a Hunter, and he and Hizashi both are trying to dig up information on what happened to Shirakumo Oboro, but neither one of them is anywhere near getting at the truth of the matter.  (This one might actually be true for the purposes of the main Changeling!AU story.)

Midoriya Izuru is a mortal taking his first, faltering steps into the great wide world.  He’s had no durance, no first change, no sire, no awakening--he’s just a young man who stumbles across a secret and has to decide what to do with it.

[petersshirts]

The Truth | tom holland

summary: tom just can’t hide his feelings anymore

warnings: none, just fluff

words: 1,7 k

A/N: this is for @hollandsosterfield and @spidey-caps birthday writing challenge, i chose the prompt „I sleep better if you’re around.“ with my boi tom, i hope you enjoy!! and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

„Y/N, you’re up!“ The voice of an unfamiliar man woke you from your daydreams and you looked up, trying to remember where you were. There were people all around you, fixing cameras and talking quietly while you just sat there, waiting for the next interview.

You just nodded and got up to walk to the blue couch that was still empty but as soon as you sat down, you heard a familiar laugh that made your insides churn. Tom walked into the room and shook hands with a few of the journalists, that handsome smile never leaving his lips.

You had always hated press tours. Especially with Marvel - there was never anything you could really talk about and it seemed like you never slept. But with Tom around, you never wanted this to be over. Your co-star always lit up every room he walked in, just like he lit up your heart.

You had met Tom on the day of your audition for the first Spider-Man movie and you were completely overwhelmed. This was your first movie and Tom was just so nice and welcoming - he showed you the food and encouraged you all day, knowing somehow that you would get the part. And since that, you just couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You knew that you were only co-stars and you were just playing one of his classmates - but somehow it felt like so much more. There were stolen glances in between takes and smiles that were just meant for you. But you never dared to make the next step. The two of you spend a few nights in hotel rooms watching movies and falling asleep together, but there was never more. You were too afraid to let him in.

„Hey, you.“ Tom whispered and send you a smile that made you weak in the knees. Thank god for that couch you were sitting on. „H- hi.“ It was always hard for you to talk to him - you always wondered why he even talked to you. There were so many more beautiful girls out there like Zendaya. God, Zendaya. She was a goddess.

„How’s LA been treating you?“ Toms’ eyes were full of curiosity and you could only smile, happy that someone like Tom was around. He really cared about the people around him. But you hoped that he could care a bit more about you.

„It’s been good. The city’s just a bit too big for me.“ Tom nodded, knowing how you felt. Just like him, you were from the UK but you came from a much smaller town than him. Because of that, the two of you hit it right off. When you started talking, it felt like Tom was a long lost friend you’ve been looking for. With him, you were not an outcast surrounded by Americans.

„I know the feeling. I’m so excited to head back home.“ You smiled at Tom but before you could answer him, you were interrupted by the interviewer talking to the camera to tell you that the interview was starting and it was time to put on that smile you just wanted to throw in the trash.

After a few hours of talking about a movie you couldn’t really talk about, the day was finally done. Tom had a few more interviews with Jake Gyllenhaal, so you just waved at him before you left the room. But with you turning your back away from Tom, you didn’t see the longing look on his face.

Since it was already 6 pm, you told your driver to bring you back to the hotel. There were only two more days left until you headed back home to your family for a week. In your room, you ordered room service and changed into some comfy pyjamas and opened Netflix. When you look at the list of your recently watched movies, you had to grin.

Last week, Tom told you that he had never watched the Princess Diaries so you forced him to watch it with you. And he loved it. Tom was such a sap at heart and you just loved watching him laugh out loud and just smile like a goofball through the whole movie. After you finished the first one, Tom insisted on watching the second one and even though it was pretty late you agreed, because you just couldn’t say no to him.

But as soon as the intro started, you fell asleep. Tom covered you with a blanket and when you woke the next morning, he was still there. Your stomach erupted with butterflies when you saw his sleeping face right next to you, his mouth slightly open and his curls all over the place. He looked so peaceful at that moment and you had wished that you could stay like this forever. You wanted to reach out and touch his hair and wake him up with a kiss, but you were just friends.

You sighed and looked for something else to watch to get your mind off the British boy. It was particularly hard when you saw him every day, trying to tell yourself that he was way too good for you.

Room service arrived pretty quickly and you found yourself on the bed, eating your burger and fries while watching a sad romantic movie that was just right up your alley. When you finished the food, the movie was getting more heart-wrenching and you started crying, always really touched by those cliche movies. Suddenly, there was a knock on your door and your eyes widened, wondering who would want something for you this late at night.

You hopped off the bed without a second thought and rushed to the door, only to reveal the by that you couldn’t stop thinking about. Tom smiled at you but as soon as he saw your tears, he looked a lot more worried. He moved forward and grabbed your arms, his eyes searching for what caused those tears.

„Hey, are you okay?“ You couldn’t help yourself and started to giggle, causing Tom to look even more concerned. „Yeah, I was just watching a sad movie. I’ll be fine.“ Tom let out a breath and smiled, happy that nothing was wrong. He would hate himself if there was something he had done.

„What are you doing here?“ You raised an eyebrow, not sure why he had shown up in front of your room. Normally, he would send you a text and ask if he could come over to talk, but it was unusual for him to just show up in front of your door. But to be honest - you weren’t complaining.

Suddenly, Tom started to blush and look to the ground, avoiding your gaze. „Uhm, I kinda need to talk to you. Can I come in?“ Well, this was even weirder. But you just smiled and opened the door wider.

Tom walked in and you followed him, slowly realising that your room looked like a complete mess. There were plates everywhere and it looked like a raccoon just ravished this place. But Tom didn’t even comment on that and just sat down on the bed, his eyes still fixated on the ground. Something must be terribly wrong.

You sat down next to him, unsure what to say. You fidgeted with your fingers, hoping that he would actually say something. Maybe he had girl problems and he needed your help. That would be the worst - how could you help the boy you really liked with another girl??„Okay, I’m just gonna say it.“ Tom finally looked up and right into your eyes. You just stared at him, waiting.

„I like you, Y/N. For quite a while now. And I don’t know if you feel the same but I just can’t stand watching from the side when I just want you to be mine.“ Your eyes widened and you tried to understand what Tom just said The exact words you’ve been dreaming of for a long time. You wanted to tell him the same thing, that you just couldn’t stop thinking about him whenever he was near or gone, but Tom was faster than you.

„And I know that it’s pretty cliche with us being co-stars but when I saw you the first time and I saw you smile, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re my match, Y/N. Whenever we had those movie nights and you fell asleep, I just wanted to hold you close and kiss you, but I was never sure that you felt the same way. But now I’m selfish. And I’m sorry if this is…“ but before he could say anything else, you grabbed his hand to get his attention. A smile was on your lips and you just grinned at the boy, your heart beating a million times a minute.

„Tom, I feel the same way. I always wanted to tell you but I was just too scared.“ Now it was Toms’ turn to look shocked, but soon he started to grin like a 10-year-old. „Does that mean I can kiss you?“ His words were only a whisper and you could only nod, a blush rising on your cheeks.

Tom slowly moved forward and your lips met his and a small whine escaped his throat. Your hands wandered to his waist, pulling him closer, wanting to feel him. Tom nudged your nose and you giggled, happy that everything had finally fallen into place.

Soon, Tom moved you on the bed and the two of you cuddled while you finished the movie you started. And when it was don, you asked him to stay. Toms’ face lit up and he just nodded when he turned off the light turning the room into complete darkness. Tom nuzzled his face into your neck and you sighed, the smile never leaving your lips. Finally, after all those years, things had fallen into place.

„I sleep better if you’re around.“ Tom mumbled into your neck and you laughed at the soft touch, but you knew exactly what he meant. With him, you felt safe. Like everything would be even brighter the next day with your boy by your side.

I would love some feedback! x

Permanent Taglist & Mutuals:

@smexylemony // @ive-got-more-wit // @lou-la-lou // @loxbbg // @seanna313 // @underoos-shield // @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 // @ixchel-9275 // @thejourneyneverendsx // @sideeffectsofyou // @teenwolfbitches2 // @mywinterwolf // @alex--awesome--22 // @wronglanemendes // @keithseabrook27 // @tomshufflepuff // @awkwardfangirl2014 // @embrace-themagic // @ophcelia // @nedthegay // @xxtomxo // @peterpumpkinparker  // @twilightparker // @h-osterfield  // @suncityparker //  @holland-peters // @fratboievans //  @spiderrrling // @hufflebucky // @hollandroos // @naturallytom // @starksparker

[geewithluv]

ESOTERIC [two]

ESOTERIC: intended for or likely to be understood by only a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest.

The ins and outs of the prominent gang, Bangtan, can seem esoteric to the general population that is most affected by their actions.

Ｓｙｎｏｐｓｉｓ： ❝ Jimin is going to take over Bangtan after Hitman falls ill. Not feeling confident that Jimin is ready, Hitman pulls in the pacifistic daughter of a (now deceased) close associate. Kit hasn’t been around Bangtan for years, but now she’s forced to in order to help the remaining members of her family. ❞

Ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Jimin x Female OC (ft. the rest of BTS, Bang PD, members of Seventeen & BlackPink)

Ｇｅｎｒｅ：mafia!au, some fluff & some angst

Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ： cursing, death from illness, mentions of death by gun violence, anxiety attack

Ｗｏｒｄ Ｃｏｕｎｔ：4k

ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ  [part one]

Kit woke up later than she would have preferred. As much as she tried to keep her sleep schedule consistent no matter when she was working, her body always seemed to betray her wishes for a stable sleep cycle. With a yawn, she stumbled into her kitchen, turning the TV on as she passed it. “I could’ve sworn I bought more tea.” Kit grumbled to herself as she glared at the empty glass jar that should contain packets of teabags. But not a single packet sat in that jar, not even the tea she had disliked but kept around for when she had seemingly forgotten her addiction-esque need for the beverage.

 “Late last night popular restaurant, Ossu Seiromushi, went up in flames and the local fire department is still trying to contain the situation. The cause is currently unknown. Please be sure to avoid 4th street during your morning commute as it will be blocked off while firefighters attempt to control the blaze.” 

 Kit hated the morning news anchors voice but this time she let herself drown in the soundwaves coming from her television. She rubbed any remaining sleep from her eyes to look at the video playing and the headline written in the bold black text at the bottom of the screen. “Holy shit.” She whispered as she realized she wasn’t dreaming. The restaurant is burning to the ground. Bangtan’s restaurant. Who knew what else was in there besides food and very expensive cutlery?

  “There’s at least a 5 grand in cash currently taking its final form as a pile of ashes on the damn floor! That’s not even mentioning all the other shit that’s gone because of this! I don’t know if I should hope everything in there is completely burned beyond recognition because the last thing we need is a federal investigation.” Jimin paced around the spacious office in the Bangtan estate. It’s not even 7:30 A.M. and they’re already being reminded that they’re sustained by crime. Taehyung holds the firm belief that it’s much more of a 10 A.M. reminder. 

“Who the hell set Ossu Seiromushi on fire?” Yoongi was hardly awake, trying not to completely slump over in the cushioned armchair.

 Namjoon speaks up. “No one knows if it was even set on fire or if it just--”

 “Don’t even finish that sentence.” Jimin is quick to cut him off. “We all know a fully up-to-code and functional restaurant doesn’t just start randomly burning to the ground at 2 A.M..” The shrill sound of his cell phone ringing makes Jimin groan as he presses the green button. “What is it?”

 “I know it’s 7 in the morning, but would it kill you to sound a little more pleasant?” Kit’s voice came through the other line as Jimin sits down in the leather chair behind the large custom wooden desk. “What the hell is going on at the restaurant?” Kit continued realizing Jimin wasn’t going to answer her remark.

 “You tell me. Seokjin, Jungkook, and Hoseok are there now waiting for an answer.” Jimin glides his hand across the sleek surface as Yoongi, Taehyung, and Namjoon watch him intently. “You’re only a few blocks over aren’t you? You didn’t hear or see anything?”

 “A few blocks is pretty far, Jimin.” Kit scoffed. “And I didn’t because I was sound asleep at 2 A.M.. Some of us have actual jobs that require us to have a schedule and--”

 “Save your 8 to 10 hours and circadian rhythm rant. I’m coming over.” Jimin stood up, making the three other men jump up as Jimin yanked open a desk drawer, grabbing a few things and shoving them in various pockets. 

 “You absolutely are not! What makes you think that you can just come over whenever you feel like it?” Kit huffed, Jimin smirked imagining her practically stomping around her apartment trying to put things away and ‘clean up’ for him despite her apartment being cleaner than any private residence he had ever been to.

 “The fact that you’re a few blocks away from where I need to be right now, the fact that I won’t take no for an answer and the overwhelming fact that you only pretend to be annoyed when I invite myself over.” Jimin grabbed his car keys as he left the office. “You guys stay here, wait for the others to give word. If anything happens, call me. ASAP.” Jimin pointed at the three men who were silently hoping he stayed a little longer so they could hear more of his conversation with Kit. How often did he go over to see her anyway? Nevertheless, the slam of the front door shutting, meant they weren’t going to get any more information.

 “Think they’re fucking?” Yoongi crossed his arms before slumping back in the armchair, he runs his fingers through bleach blonde strands of hair falling into his heavy eyes.

 “Kit? Having casual sex? Didn’t think you were a comedian.” Taehyung laughed.

 “Maybe it’s not so casual.” Namjoon suggested with a shrug, sitting across from Yoongi.

 “You think Jimin’s going to commit to one pussy?” Yoongi moved one of his rings around his finger, a pathetic attempt to stay distracted from sleep calling his name.

 “Maybe, he’s gotta mature if he’s going to run this thing.” Namjoon was correct but no one would admit that it would eventually become time for Jimin to really commit to leading, and that meant he needed to think more about everything he did. Every decision could be life or death for over a dozen people. 

 No one wanted to think about that.

 “You’re obviously sleep deprived.” Taehyung snickered.

  Kit and Jimin stand in her bedroom looking out the window. They were able to see smoke rising just off in the distance. 

 “How much do you think you guys lost?” She asked after a few minutes of standing in silence.

 “We. You’re in this thing too, even if you refuse to say it aloud.” He glanced over at her quickly before he cleared his throat. “In dollars, we’ve lost 10 grand at the very least. Probably much more. A new shipment just came in.” 

 “Is Jin okay? I know he really loved it. Front for deals or not. It was still a working restaurant.” Jimin nearly winced, she was too nice. He worried about it being a downfall. He also winced as he realized that he had not even thought to ask Jin how he felt.

 “He’ll get over it. He can’t afford to dwell. None of us can. We found out who did it, we make them pay, we move on.” He stated simply. Kit turned on her heel to face him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Jimin sighed.

 “Like what? Like I don’t want anyone to get hurt?” Her dark eyebrows furrowed.

 “Don’t look at me like you think you can stop me from doing what I have to do. Don’t look at me like you think I’m better than this.”

 “You are better than this, though. You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

 “How can you think the world is so simple, kitten?” Jimin turned to face her. “You’re so…” he trailed off, thinking for a moment as a hundred words to describe her flood his brain and threaten to pour out his mouth, “optimistic.”

 “Maybe you’re just a pessimist.” 

 A flicker of a smile as he looks into her eyes. “Maybe.” He let out a deep breath. “I don’t know how the hell you’re going to handle this shit. This is light work.”

 “I can handle a whole lot more than you’d think.” Kit looked at the ground, her hair falling into her face. There’s an implication that doesn’t get to be addressed as the ding of Jimin’s phone fills the otherwise silent room.

 “I need to get back, you coming?”

 “You know I don’t like--” Kit cuts herself off, something in my mind tells her to go against the usual. “Yeah. I’ll come.” She said. Jimin raised an eyebrow in surprise as she grabbed a pair of shoes.

  Kit finds the meetings to be more than boring. They’re worse than the ones at the hospital when the protocol changes. So, instead, she finds something else to do. Usually opting to clean up around the large home since the guys won’t do it themselves and had apparently had a recent bad experience with a cleaning crew. So they’ve settled for hardly cleaning. 

 She hummed softly to herself as she passed the master bedroom, well, almost passed it. She had become used to passing it and hearing the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the IV drips. 

 Nothing.

 Complete and utter silence as she walked by except for her own mindless humming. She felt a sinking feeling, the same one that made her stop working the ICU and Trauma floors at the hospital. The feeling of knowing that it’s over. She knows, she knows before she actually knows, before she opened the door and stood in the room and looked at the heart monitor that had been unplugged by the man who wanted to spend his final moments in silence. She couldn’t blame him, who would want to die having to hear their heart slow to a stop. 

 She knew he was dead before she saw all these things. She had known it was coming. Everyone knew it was coming. She didn’t even like the man all that much. She had blamed him for years for the way her life had played out. But she still found herself on the floor and a scream leaving her body because it’s the only sound she could make before her face became drenched in wet sadness. 

 “Kit! Kit!” Her name is being called throughout the house as 7 men fear for the girl’s safety only to realize that she might be the safest she’s ever been. On the ground gasping for air as she sobs. Namjoon is the first one in the room before he calls out to the others. He knows there’s nothing to be done so he moves to Kit, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her up and out of the room as 6 other people run in. 

 “He’s dead!” She shrieked, thrashing around in the tall man’s arms as he takes her into the front of the house, nearly tossing her onto the sofa. 

 Jungkook and Hoseok don’t even enter the room, opting to stay in the doorway. They stared at the bed where the man who had controlled their entire lives, now lay lifeless. 

 Jungkook had never known a life that didn’t consist of being reprimanded and ordered around by Hitman Bang. Even in his final days, Jungkook still felt like the kid who nearly fell over the first time he shot a gun, not prepared for the recoil. Hitman had laughed before telling him he’d get used to it, stabilizing him, and making him shoot again.

 Hoseok was well aware this time was coming, but it didn’t sink in until now that there wasn’t another option. And now it’s here, he’s too late to prepare for a reaction, so his body stills.

 Yoongi chewed on his inner cheek, standing near the foot of the bed. “Fuck.” He mutters to himself, he’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever seen someone dead that wasn’t murdered or otherwise injured. And somehow, it hurt so much more knowing his own body did this to him. His body decided to kill him. The ultimate betrayal.

 Taehyung leaves the room, pushing past Hoseok and Jungkook and walking until he gets to the living room. He pretended he wanted to help calm Kit down. But he really just couldn’t bear being in the room without vomiting.

 Jimin and Jin stand on the side of the bed. Jimin starts casually dumping pill bottles and wrappings from needles filled with morphine into a nearby trash can. Jin tries to talk to him but Jimin quickly cuts him off. “It’s over. He’s dead. Now you can either help me clean this shit up or you can go call the morgue. One or the other. I’m in charge now.”

 Jin decides to call the morgue, coming to the conclusion that Jimin needed that bit of time to himself. And honestly, Jin needed some distraction and a second to breathe fresh air.

  Jimin takes Kit back to her house before anyone even shows up to remove the body. He claims it’s just so Kit doesn’t have to be there and watch. But it’s for his sake too, because he spends the rest of the day lying in her bed, holding her. Only moving to answer a few texts. “You can go home, Jimin.” She had told him more than a couple of times, only getting a hum of ‘I’m fine’ or some excuse in response. She doesn’t want him to leave, she finds resting her head on his chest with his arm around her to be more than comfortable, but she wants to keep enforcing the fact that he’s there because he wants to be in her bed cuddling her, not because he feels that he needs to be. So they held each other in her bed for hours, the television nearly muted. Only interrupted by two phone calls telling Kit that her mother was approved for transfer to the better hospital in the city and that her brother had a bed reserved for him in a rehab facility in Arizona. 

 Bang Sihyuk was a lot of things, but he was a man of his word.

 “Go to sleep, kitten.” Jimin whispered just before 10 p.m., slowly rubbing her back. They had nearly finished a full season of Grey’s Anatomy.

 “You need to sleep too.” She told him.

 “I can handle myself.” Kit shifted her body, somehow moving even closer to him, resting a leg over his.

 “It’s okay to be sad, you know? It’s normal to be upset. It’s not good for your mind to pretend you’re okay when you’re not.” She said softly, tracing the ink of his tattoo with her finger. He doesn’t respond, not sure what to say. She wasn’t really expecting a response anyway. “Goodnight, Jimin.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder.

  “You don’t have to take me to work.” Kit said with a huff as she climbed into the passenger seat of Jimin’s car.

 “You keep mentioning how long the walk from the hospital to the garage is. No telling who might be out there waiting for a pretty little thing like you to come walking all alone.” He started the car and drives out of the complex’s parking lot.

 “How many times do I have to tell you not to leave so fast! The super already came to scold me, saying you’re gonna ruin the pavement.” Kit scolded. The pavement has been in dire need of repair but no one wanted to pay for it so the superintendent decided that suing would be the best way to collect money.

 “I didn’t get a nice car and sit with Yoongi for a month to customize it so I could drive the speed limit.”

 “You’re so annoying sometimes.” Kit rolled her eyes as Jimin laughed, resting a hand on her thigh. “I work a 12 today, are you gonna be able to get me?”

 “Course I am, kitten. What do ya take me for?”

 “A very busy man? Especially at 9 o’clock on a Friday night.”

 “If you’re implying what I think you are, you’re wrong.” He slides his hand further up her leg before wrapping it back around the steering wheel. She doesn’t push further but has a soft smile on her face for the rest of the ride.

  “Took you long enough, my god, thought some psycho patient got ahold of you.” Jimin turned the key as Kit starts buckling up.

 “Sorry,” she whined, “you would not believe the shift I had. All to end with some 15-year-old telling me they went into cardiac arrest and I’m too stupid to figure it out.”

 “Let me guess, she consulted doctor google?” He raised an eyebrow as he started driving.

 “Isn’t it always?” Kit sighed as she leaned back in the seat. “What have you been doing?”

 “Cleaning up the restaurant.” He stated, a curious hum leaves Kit’s body. “Well, hiring other people to do it and watching over them.”

 “Did the police finally say it was arson?”

 “Nope, they didn’t say anything. Made sure they didn’t.”

 “Well, don’t you think the police should investigate?” Kit turned her body as much as she could to face him.

 “Are you-- my god, you’re still so innocent.” Jimin kept his focus on the road, fearing what he’d do if he saw that innocent look in her brown eyes.

 “I just don’t get it. If you can pay them to say it wasn’t arson, just pay them not to arrest you all.”

 “It’s not that simple, babygirl.” Jimin sighed, thanking God that his phone happened to ding and end the conversation. “Shit, shit, shit.” He muttered reading the text.

 “What is it? Jimin!” Kit nearly screamed as Jimin made a very illegal U-turn.

 “These dumb fucks! I can’t leave them alone for an hour!” He slams his hand down on the edge of the wheel. He pulls into a dark street, stopping short of what seemed to be a warehouse.

 “Where are we?” She looked around, unable to even figure out what street they were on.

 “Just…” He huffed as he opened the door. “Just stay in the car.” He got out without another word, slamming the door shut, leaving Kit in a state somewhere between confusion and frustration and on the border of a panic attack as she sees him run around the corner of the building. She started hearing some yelling but she couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. She wanted to get out, be a little nosy, help in some way. But Jimin’s words rang in her head and the look on his face as he got the text, it was better to do as he said. This was confirmed when a loud pop hurt her ears. Then another, a couple of seconds later another pop. Her body stiffened and her eyes widened. She feared the worst. She wasn’t sure if Jimin was the cause of the gunshots or the recipient. She didn’t even know who else was there.

 “Get in the fucking car!” A voice yells, managing to be so loud the soundwaves penetrate the car and she hears it clearly. She sees Jimin, Jin, and Jungkook run towards the car, she lets out a breath when she realizes they’re all fine, but she soon is filled with worry again as the guys scramble into the car. Jimin doesn’t say anything as he speeds out.

 “What happened to you all?” Kit looks toward a panting Jin and Jungkook, realizing Jimin wasn’t going to say answer even if he could unlock his jaw for long enough to talk.

 “Those dumbasses from Seventeen.” Jin groans. “They had a couple girls with them, didn’t even know they had girls in their gang!”

“I cannot believe you two almost got killed trying to get laid!” Jimin yelled and Kit thought she might not ever be able to hear properly again.

 “Well not all of us can bang the only girl in our circle.” Jungkook attempted to defend himself. Kit stumbles over words for a moment before Jimin shoots him a glare in the rear-view mirror.

 “I’m going to assume you said that out of agony and aren’t in a state to know better.” He growled. “Say that shit again and see if I don’t feed you back to Seungcheol.” For once, Kit is thankful for Jimin’s temper.

  Kit is sat in the living room of the estate as the guys talk, knees up to her chest. Jimin is pacing, she wished he would pick another habit because it only made her more anxious.

 “Maybe they’ll change their name to Sixteen.” Hoseok tried to lighten the situation with a joke.

 “Fifteen.” Jin laughed.

 “Nah, I heard Mingyu made it out. Probably wishes he didn’t.” Hoseok nudged Namjoon next to him as he laughed. But Namjoon isn’t listening. His attention was focused solely on Kit, he watched her expression change as the guys talked.

 “Breathe, Kit.” Namjoon stood up, making his way toward the girl.

 “What’s wrong?” Jimin stopped in his tracks, looking between Namjoon and Kit. Kit doesn’t speak, her chest raises and lowers rapidly.

 “She’s having a panic attack.” Namjoon spoke calmly, knowing that if he worried it would only make her worse. He lowered to his knees in front of her. “Kit, Kit, look at me.” She grabbed hold on Namjoon’s hands as she looked into his eyes, anxiety clear on her face as her body shook with her breaths.

 “Why is she having a panic attack?” Jimin rubbed his hands over his face. And why didn’t I notice before? He thought to himself.

 “Is it because we talked about murdering the guys from Seventeen?” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows.

 “Of course it’s because we mentioned how we killed someone, you idiot.” Taehyung snapped, making Kit sob loudly. Namjoon starts speaking softly to her.

 “Everyone needs to leave right now.” Namjoon’s smooth voice replaces the murmurs.

 “You don’t get to make the orders around here.” Jimin responded before glancing back over at Kit, her brown skin turning red as cries leave her mouth. Her hands moved to clench the fabric of her shirt. “Everyone out.” He nearly whispered. For a moment he’s not sure if anyone even heard him. But they soon start leaving. Namjoon gives a small smile to the leader as he follows behind them.

 “You’re gonna be okay, everyone panicked a little at first.” Namjoon sat down beside Kit when the door closed. She didn’t respond, so he continued. “My girlfriend freaked out the first time I ever mentioned it.” He chuckled a little remembering that day. “I forget sometimes that my life isn’t normal.”

 “You have a girlfriend?” Kit mumbled, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Namjoon nodded, a big smile on his face that helped calm her.

 “Yeah, I do. That’s usually why I’m not here. I’d much rather spend my time reading in her living room than taking orders from Jimin.” He said, getting a soft giggle from Kit.

 “He’s a little bossy sometimes.” She said, looking up at him. Her body was still shaking a little, her breathing not quite steady but she seemed to be calming.

 “He is, he means well though. You don’t have to keep doing this, staying here and helping out. Jimin’s got it covered. Hitman just wasn’t sure he could.” Namjoon explained. He was sure it wasn’t her first panic attack steeming from the gang and it probably wouldn’t be her last.

 “I’m not sure he really does have it covered.” Kit sniffled, Namjoon raised his eyebrows, motioning her to explain. “The amount of times I’ve talked to him about his concerns over a situation means he’s not sure. I’ve calmed him down way too many times. He won’t even admit that he’s worried, he doesn’t want anyone to know. But I know.”

 “Well… then... I’m glad you’re helping.” Namjoon was a little shocked. He, for once, wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Maybe I could link you up with my girl. You guys could talk about how dumb we all are.” He placed a hand on her shoulder as Kit nodded giving him a smile before she wrapped her arms around him.

 “Thanks, Joonie.” He pulled her closer into him, the nickname warmed his heart in a way he couldn’t explain. He hadn’t heard it in a while, not since Kit left Bangtan years ago. It was a stark contrast from the harsh yell of ‘Namjoon’ he had become used to.

 “Anytime.” He whispered.

End of Part Two. I’m going to try and get this up once a week by the way! Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think?