#anyone got tips for just. the darkest circles under your eyes?

[ayakashibackstreet]

Mum came back, yelled at me for something that wasn't my fault, ruining the somewhat decent mood I had to force myself into

Had to run downstairs to fix the mess she'd made, ran back, she said the fish I prepared wasn't very good, complained that she doesn't want to go (mind you, SHE'S the one who said she wants to go and leave the house), and then FINALLY fucking went

Anyways good mood ruined, ahahaha

[fruitydiaz-archived]

my darkest nights

A post 5.01 sort of speculation fic

Eddie makes it back home after the shift from hell and is grateful that he escaped Buck's persistent questioning - until a nightmare wakes him up and Buck shows up at his front door anyways. Because of course he does.

2,877 words

AO3 link

Eddie’s never been more grateful to be so exhausted after a shift. He’s never found himself standing in the locker room, staring at the slope of Buck’s slumped shoulders, the weight of his head pulling him down, and feeling grateful for it. He slips out of the locker rooms and to his truck without anyone noticing—everyone worn too close to the bone to focus on anything other than stripping off their uniforms and leaving for their respective homes.

What was supposed to be a 12-hour shift had turned into a 24-hour shift that dragged on, the ransomware attack sending first responders all over the city, wild goose chase after wild goose chase after literal wild goose chase. All the while Buck’s eyes rarely left Eddie. Normally, Eddie felt comforted by Buck’s constant presence, the way his eyes never strayed too far from him, especially when he found himself retreating into his head too much on calls.

But ever since the hospital—ever since running into Dr. Salazar—Buck’s eyes on him weren’t gentle and reassuring, equal parts check in with me and I’m checking in with you. They were worried and persistent and they made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up.

By the time the power had been restored and the team had been cut loose, even Buck was too tired to chase Eddie down.

For the most part, Eddie is grateful, as he pulls into his driveway at 9 am, walking into his house and finding it quiet and empty. He’s thankful that he decided to leave Christopher with Pepa the day before, not knowing that his half shift would turn into a full shift from hell. For a moment he considers stopping in the kitchen to clear out the fridge of all the food that was definitely spoiled during the city-wide blackout, but his body screams for his bed and he listens.

He’s grateful when he pulls the curtains shut, switches off all the lights, and slips under the covers.

He’s grateful. Until the darkness settles around him again, until the sheets wrap themselves too tight around his body, until his eyes fly open and he finds himself searching frantically through the dark for a pair of wide, equally startled blue eyes.

He’s grateful until he realizes that he’s alone.

It’s not a panic attack that wakes him up—because Eddie doesn’t panic—but it takes him 10 minutes to get his heart rate back down. This sleep pattern is becoming painfully familiar to him, like finding an old t-shirt in the back of his closet that he hasn’t worn in 5 or so years, the material tight and constricting around his shoulders and chest. It’s 11:45 in the morning and he knows that trying to fall back asleep is useless, so he takes a quick shower and decides to clean out the fridge anyways.

When there’s a knock on his front door 30 minutes later, Eddie thinks he really shouldn’t be surprised.

But he still is when he pulls open the door and finds Buck standing in front of him, curls fresh and wet against his forehead, the circles under his eyes no less prominent than they were three hours ago. The spike of annoyance is almost immediate because Eddie knows that Buck got just about as much sleep as he did—if not less—and it was Eddie’s fault.

“Buck,” He starts to say, ready to wave him off again, turn him around on his porch and shove him back towards his jeep.

“I—is Christopher here?” Buck cuts him off, eyes darting over his shoulder. Eddie presses his lips together and shakes his head gently.

“He’s with Pepa,” He starts again but this time it’s Buck’s body that cuts him off, shoving his shoulder between Eddie and the doorway, pushing his way into Eddie’s house before he’s even had the opportunity to protest.

“What the hell is going on, Eddie?” Buck’s long legs make easy work of the distance between Eddie’s doorway to his kitchen and Eddie follows right on his heels, helpless and frustrated.

“Nothing’s going on, Buck. I told you to drop it.”

“Well I can’t, Eddie,” Buck says emphatically, spinning around and leaning back against Eddie’s counter. He pauses for a moment, wide eyes searching Eddie’s face before they drop to the floor. His fingers fumble with the hem of his sweatshirt and Eddie’s struck by how small he looks, shoulders hunched, bent inward.

He knows Buck pushes because he cares. Hell, if it were the other way around and Eddie had found out Buck had been to see a cardiologist and didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t have ever let them leave the hospital without finding out why. But Buck can’t know about this—whatever it is. Because Buck won’t drop it even after he finds out and all Eddie wants to do is move forward. He doesn’t get why no one else understands that.

“It wasn’t anything serious, Buck,” He tries again, but the way Buck stares back at him makes him feel like his body’s made of glass.

“Because if it was you would tell me?”

Eddie swallows. He holds Buck’s gaze and nods, a jerky aborted movement, before averting his eyes.

“Good, because four months ago you got shot.” Eddie ignores the way his entire body tenses as Buck continues. “And then you sat in the hospital room and told me that if anything ever happened to you I would be Christopher’s legal guardian.”

He doesn’t say anything and when he looks up again Buck has taken a step closer. He hovers over Eddie slightly, eyes soft and imploring.

“If something happens to you, I need to know. I want to know.”

“It was—it wasn’t a heart attack,” Eddie says quietly.

“But you thought it was.”

“The doctor said…they think it was a panic attack.” Eddie’s stomach twists at the gentle recognition that crosses Buck’s face. He’s not surprised in the slightest. Eddie can picture him easily, back at his loft, sitting on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, searching google for an explanation as to why Eddie would think he was having a heart attack if he wasn’t.

Realistically, Buck probably knew what was up while they were still in the hospital. But if Eddie can just pretend for a little longer—

“You don’t agree with them,” Buck says eventually and Eddie feels heat crawl up the back of his neck.

“I don’t panic,” He says as a reflex, the words familiar, having taken up residency on the tip of his tongue over the last couple of days. But the moment they’re out in the air, the moment he says them to Buck, he knows he’s lost the battle.

“Everybody panics.”

“I don’t.”

“Eddie, you got shot—”

“Why does everyone want to talk about that?” Eddie can’t keep the frustration from bleeding out into his words, not even through his gritted teeth. “I lived. I lived and he...he’s dead. I’ve moved on, why can’t everyone else?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide and frantic as he looks at Buck, pleading, and for a second Buck gets a glimpse at Eddie as a child. He gets a glimpse at Eddie before he closed himself off, before he was taught to build up walls around his heart, before he learned to shove every emotion down further and further until the only thing left was his ability to move forward. Before he learned how to control.

He reaches his hand out, settling it firmly on Eddie’s shoulder, thumb skipping over the pulse point in his neck.

“Eddie, it happened. Just because you don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I—I watched you almost die, Eds.”

“But I didn’t,” Eddie repeats, voice small.

“And I’m really fucking glad you didn’t,” Buck agrees on an exhale. “I get that you want to move on but until you actually talk about what happened, you’re not going to be able to.”

Buck hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching Eddie’s face. Eddie stares back at him and eventually, Buck sucks in his bottom lip and drops his hand from Eddie’s shoulder. He steps back against the counter, looking down at his hands.

“Eddie, you’ve been through a lot. You’ve seen things that most people don’t even think to worry about. It all adds up, you know?”

“But I’m used to it—it’s not the first time I’ve almost died,” Eddie says and Buck does his best not to flinch, the way he always does when Eddie casually mentions his own mortality, the number of times he’s stared death in the face only to turn his back on it and fight in the opposite direction. He takes a deep breath and pushes back from the counter, turning and slowly making his way towards Eddie’s kitchen table.

“You know, I still talk to Dr. Copeland about what happened that day, sometimes,” Buck pulls out a chair and slowly sinks down into it, his joints cracking as he does. He looks up at Eddie, who feels frozen in place, struck by the realization that it’s been four months and this is the first time Buck has ever actually mentioned the shooting, the first time he’s ever talked about it as something that happened to him too.

“For weeks I couldn’t look in the mirror because I—I would remember standing in the hospital bathroom after they took you in and seeing…your blood everywhere.”

Buck’s words settle in the pit of Eddie’s stomach like a rock. He wants to say something gentle and encouraging, but his throat feels tight, like it’s closing up on itself, and all he can do is stare back at Buck.

“Some nights I still have nightmares where I wake up and I can feel your blood on my hands. Or—or sometimes I wake up and in my dream…we never made it to the hospital. Or I’m frozen and I watch you die in the street. And it takes everything in me not to call you and make sure you’re alright. That you’re still alive.”

Eddie eventually makes his way to the chair opposite Buck, sliding into it with robotic, stilted movements that feel like they’re made by someone other than himself.

“I didn’t know,” He says quietly, and Buck regards him with a face full of guilt and pain.

“I knew you didn’t want to talk about it. But…maybe I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry,” Buck says and Eddie’s face twists.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Buck.”

“The point is, no matter how much time has passed, I still think about that day. And I wasn’t the one who got shot.”

Eddie’s jaw works and lets his eyes fall to the table, trying to find something else to focus on, his heartbeat rattling in his chest. He traces the surface, noting all of the different dings and marks in the wood, the water stains from years of use, from years of living. He doesn’t remember the story behind each mark—some of them weren’t even made by him (or Christopher, or Buck, or anyone else they know). The table was a late-night purchase off of Facebook one of the first nights Eddie spent alone in their house. He remembers feeling a great sense of pride when he made the purchase like he was finally moving forward, achieving something for himself and for Christopher, doing the right thing. And then he remembers the deep sense of dread and loneliness that washed over him immediately after. A table was something he and Chris needed, but Eddie wasn’t used to furniture shopping alone. He couldn’t help but think about how Shannon would’ve hated the table he chose—and she told him as much when she eventually saw it.

He remembers Shannon and the way she had suddenly fallen back into his life, like a rare kind of meteor, a once in a lifetime kind of thing, crashing through the sky, fiery and fierce, ripping through the ozone layer and leaving a crater in its wake. That’s how he felt when Shannon died—torn and empty.

That’s how he felt in the months after the shooting, too. Even as he fought to get up each morning, fought to go to physical therapy, fought through his mandated counseling sessions, fought to regain mobility so he could get some sense of independence back, so that he didn’t feel so useless in his own home.

None of it cured the emptiness. Not even when he reached his hand out some nights and felt the warmth of Ana’s body next to him. Not even when she held him in her arms, ran her fingers through his hair. He doesn’t feel anything.

Or—maybe that’s not true. Maybe he does feel something, something he’s just been ignoring—an uneasiness deep in the pit of his stomach. An uneasiness that spreads, slow and quiet until suddenly it’s taken over his whole body—panic.

He does his best to ignore it but nothing soothes it—and maybe that’s what he’s been doing this whole time. Trying to soothe the ache, the fear. Reaching for the things he thought would bring him comfort, would help him move on. And acknowledging this pain and panic means that it’s not working. None of it’s working. Not this, ignore it and move on mentality, not this relationship with Ana. Because it’s all connected, isn’t it?

Three days before Eddie got shot in the street, Carla reached across the table and took his hand, and told him to be sure he was following his heart. Three days later he was bleeding out on the street, eyes locked with Buck’s, the two moments twisted and tied together in his history, a knot so tight Eddie didn’t think he could ever untie them.

Looking back up at Buck, Eddie remembers the dream he woke up from earlier. The dream itself isn’t important—it was just one in an endless sea of scenarios that have blended together into one long continuous nightmare; an empty street, a shot in the air, fire, blood, screaming, mud, water, gasping for air—but Eddie remembers what he was searching for when he woke up.

Blue eyes, equally startled.

“I don’t,” Eddie says suddenly, his voice surprising him. He pauses, looks back down at his hands. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Buck asks quietly. His hands slide across the table and hesitate just for a moment before they cover Eddie’s own. The relief is almost instant—not total but enough.

“Ask for help,” Eddie responds. Buck squeezes his hands and he looks back up at him. He swallows, hard, at the sight of Buck’s wide, pale blue eyes staring back at him. Eddie could get lost in them. Eddie wants to get lost in them. He thinks he could be safe there.

“You just did.”

It takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s crying. It takes him even longer to realize this is the first time he’s ever cried in front of Buck. But after everything they’ve gone through, after this whole conversation, he can’t find it in him to feel ashamed of it. Especially not when Buck’s looking at him with nothing but sincerity and honesty in his eyes. And it hits him then that Buck loves him.

Eddie thinks maybe this is what it’s like to be loved in your entirety. He’s not sure he’s ever felt anything like it before. He doesn’t have time just yet to unpack the way it feels to have Buck look at him like that, to feel like he’s been cracked down the middle and opened up to reveal every ugly vulnerability and be met with nothing but love.

But it feels right. It feels like a step forward. A step in the right direction.

Eventually, he’ll have to go back to therapy. He’ll have to unpack the events from that day, the anger he never let himself feel, the fear that his life was about to be cut short, the regret he felt staring across the 20 feet of asphalt at Buck, covered in his blood.

He’ll have to talk to Christopher because he knows his son is too attentive for his own good, and if his trip to the hospital taught him anything (and it taught him a lot) it was that Christopher had no intention of playing along with this charade Eddie had going, and he saw right through it.

He’ll have to talk to Ana. He’ll have to confront the fact that when he searches for comfort in the middle of the night, in the midst of his panic, he doesn’t find it in the shape of her body, but in the image of Buck.

One day, he’ll have to face those feelings head-on. He’ll have to untangle this web of repression and fear, the threads of which had been spun so long before Eddie was ever aware that they’re practically embedded in his DNA.

But for now, he finds peace in his kitchen, his hands in Buck’s, blue eyes on his.

And he feels safe here. If only for the moment.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Enough, For Now

CW: Sickfic, sick whumpee, feverish whumpee, shock collar, brief VERY vague emeto reference, child of whumpee POV, intimate/creepy whumper, noncon touching (nonsexual), noncon kiss (brief)

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with their permission.

"Oh, honey."

The little girl watches around the doorframe as her mother lays a soft hand over her father’s forehead. Her mother’s hair is a waterfall of darkness, the air between the trees on a starless night in the woods behind the house. Her father's is more like tree bark in sunlight, when she doesn't need to worry about what might be hiding in the woods, when they are allowed outside and she can run her fingers over the roughened texture and smell the air. 

Sometimes, her father’s necklace - the thick black band he wears that her mother uses to hurt him - is changed so they can go into the woods. He carries her little brother, who is still a baby, and she walks alongside him proud to help carry things, and the three of them are alone with the whisper of the woods around them.

She saw a bluebird, once, singing. Her father had smiled, just a little, at the flutter of wings when she got too close and it took flight.

He’s not smiling now.

Her father lays on his side on the bathroom floor, his cheek pressed to the impeccably clean black-and-white tiles. His face is flushed and there’s a thin film of sweat sticking his shirt to the curves of his shoulders and stomach. It makes him shine under the gentle warm light even as he shivers, compulsively. When her mother’s hand touches his head, he tenses, just a little, but he still can’t stop shivering. "Miss S-Savvie-"

“Look at you.” Her mother’s voice is simpering-sweet, syrupy, like the maple syrup that her father pours on pancakes when they are alone in the mornings when her mother is out of the house. “Poor thing. I suppose this is because I took you to that party last week, isn’t it? You must have picked something up while we were there.”

The little girl remembers - a swirl of colorful dresses and jewelry, too many adults in too small a space. Everyone wanted to congratulate her mother on getting out of the house just a few months after Jamie was born. A person with a thin smile, who was impossibly elegant, had said her mother’s dress was lovely in a voice that didn’t seem like they meant it. Then they’d looked down at her, and something in their severity had softened.

They’d asked to take the little girl to play with their own child, who was in her bedroom because grown-up parties are pretty boring.

It had been fun, although she had been nervous to be away from her father so long, leaving him without her in the throngs of people and all the perfumes in the air. He’d been nervous, too, happy to sweep her into his arms at the end of the night and carry her to the car with her head on his shoulder, her mother’s hand at the small of his back.

Like a family.

Now, though, her father is sick, and her mother’s eyes are brilliant and sparkling as she presses two fingers into the space just underneath his ear, just behind his jaw. In a real family, the little girl thinks, maybe the mom doesn’t look happy to see the dad is too sick to move. He makes a sound almost like a whine, barely escaping, and the little girl swallows. Her own heart races to see how hard he works to open his eyes. 

“Swollen lymph nodes,” Her mother murmurs. “Jax, did you manage to get the flu from someone? Honestly, sweetie, the first time you’ve gone out with me in two months and you get sick immediately?”

He turns his head to look up at Savvie, and the little girl doesn’t understand it exactly, but she loves the profile of his face because it is her father’s profile, the line of his nose and neck. His hazel eyes are fogged-over and hazy as he moves, and he might nuzzle into her hand, or he might simply hold still and her mother’s hand was already there. 

Then he jerks away, just as quickly, and the little girl goes still and her heart stops with fear - he isn’t allowed to pull away, he isn’t allowed to not smile at her touch, he’ll be in so much trouble. Just as her mother’s eyes go wide their sparkle changes to sunlight off the darkest, deepest ice, Jax begins to cough.

The coughs wrack his body, and he barely covers his mouth. By the time it stops, the first hints of anger have fled her mother’s expression and it has softened again. She sighs and rubs at his back, in soothing soft circles. He drops his hands and turns back to her, a slight half-smile playing on his face, gone, back again.

Wavering, like he’s struggling to remember how to make it.

“‘M sorry, Miss… Miss Savvie,” He says, voice rasping and hoarse. “I-I’m not exactly sure… when I started to feel like this, but…”

Two days ago, the little girl knows. For two sleeps straight, her father’s body has been strange - too hot to the touch, and his hugs have been timid, as though he hurt too much inside to hug as fiercely as he usually did. 

She knows. And he knows.

They don’t tell her mother.

He’s been on the bathroom floor all night. The little girl had found him there when she woke up - not in the big bathroom, but this smaller one in the hall next to her room - and had run to get her mother in her grand bedroom. 

She never ever went in her mother’s room unless she was allowed to or asked, but she’d been so scared when he barely moved at her shaking his shoulder that she had forgotten the rule. He had laid there so pale and listless, collapsed on the cold floor. 

For once, Savvie had not been angry. Instead, she had followed the little girl and told her to wait outside. For a few moments, Savvie had held her hand the way her father usually did, and the little girl had felt… like this was her mother.

But then… then she’d seen Jax. As always, in the little girl's life, the second her mother saw her father, the girl herself was forgotten. Her hand was dropped and she was told to stay out. So the little girl is left on the outside looking in, fingers curled around the doorframe, watching them together.

Her mother's pale pink chemise has a white lace trim that lays across her bare thigh, and her rounded nails are a soft deep mauve as she sighs and moves to kneel, touching his face just at his cheekbone, brushing it with the backs of her knuckles. She smiles, sweet and soft and loving. "It's not your fault, Jax. My poor sweet husband."

Jax only looks up at her, his hazel eyes glimmering and barely focused. But he looks only at her. 

Even sick, he knows not to look away. 

"But... why did you come all the way out here, honey?" Both her hands are on him now, one cupping his face and the other slipping behind his head, to lift it gently off the floor. "Oh, you're so sweaty. Gross.” Savvie's nose wrinkles, a little, and the little girl wonders if her own nose looks like that.

She hopes not.

"Got… Got sick." Her father breathes and it sounds wrong, somehow, too much air or not enough. "Didn't w-want to wake you. You have… an interview today." He coughs again, and Savvie has to let go for him to roll onto his side again and get the awful sounds out. 

Savvie's smile widens. Her blue eyes shine so bright. "How thoughtful," She says, and runs her fingers through the damp strands of his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, again and again. It looks like petting an animal, not trying to be kind to a man. 

If he likes the touch or not, she can't tell. She thinks sometimes he hates every single one. 

“Thought I’d feel b-better afterward,” He says, rough-voiced, eyes closed tightly. “Don’t.”

"Oh, sweetie." Savvie smiles and leans down, presses a kiss to his hair. He holds perfectly still for it. He doesn't even breathe. "I don't deserve you," She whispers, just loud enough for the little girl to hear. "But I'll love you forever anyway. Forever, Jax.”

His eyes open again, turning to look over her face as she pulls away, as though he’s checking for something, searching there. Whatever he finds, he relaxes, just a little. "Love you too, Miss Savvie," He says, and the little girl hears that it is flat, compared to how sometimes he hugs the little girl and says nice things to her. "Need… I just need a minute."

“Of course, darling. We’ll move you downstairs once you think you can walk.” Savvie keeps her fingers moving through his hair, sweaty or not. 

His gaze shifts a little, and he sees the little girl for the first time. He tenses, eyes widening only slightly. "Is-..." He clears his throat. Both of them freeze at how close he comes to the nickname neither of them wants her to know. "Isabella? Why are you-"

"She woke me up," Savvie says, and slides to her knees, slipping her arms around him and carefully helping him to sit up. He leans heavily against her, so heavily Savvie nearly loses her balance, but she manages not to land in an undignified heap. “She saw you and came to get me. She knew you needed my help.”

The girl would have gone to anyone else, if there were anyone. But they’re here alone, and she isn’t allowed to touch the medicine. 

One day, when she’s big enough, she will get him medicine all by herself and she won’t tell her mom anything at all.

“Thank-... thank you, Isabella,” Her father says, in this new sick-voice he has, and when he looks at her, for just a second some of the haze in his eyes is clear. He’s looking at her. It’s only for a second, before he turns back to her mother, and the little girl stores up the way he looked right at her, to save for later times when she is alone. He turns back to Savvie and says, “And th-thank you for coming, Miss Savvie.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Savvie shifts, and the little girl watches as the two of them very slowly stand, Jax working to get his legs under him, standing finally in a way that seems tentative, ready to tip back over at the slightest nudge. His eyes close and his face greys, and the three of them are briefly silent, waiting it out, until the dizziness passes and his eyes open again. “You’re right, though. I do have that interview, and I can’t just be thinking about you, I need to plan… let’s get you downstairs for today. I’ll bring James down once you’re settled.”

There’s a pause, full of meaning and thought the girl doesn’t know how yet to read. “Can… can H-Hannah come to watch them with m-me, or Isaac’s steward, please?” He rarely speaks so many words all at once, unless they’re alone in the sunshine room, where he tells her all the stories about his own family, far far away across an ocean. 

Those are the secret stories, the ones that the little girl knows to never let her mother know she’d heard of. 

He’s not supposed to think about his other family anymore. Her mother says that she made that rule so he wouldn’t leave the little girl and her brother. He never wanted you, anyway. If I told him he could, he’d walk right out the door and leave us all heartbroken, Isabella. So we have to make sure he never thinks of them, so he can’t leave us.

The little girl is scared that her father might leave, if he could. That her mother’s words are true. But she loves the way he smiles when he tells his stories much, much more than she is scared - and he has promised her, over and over with his arms around her, that he would never leave her here alone.

Now, though, Savvie just rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Jax. How is my uncle’s household supposed to stay in order if you keep trying to steal away half his staff?” 

They’re near the door and the girl backs away quickly to stay out of their way, not quite ignored but not needed, either. She watches them move, her mother’s arm around her father’s waist to help him stay upright, and the way he moves so carefully, so slowly, beside her. 

The medicine is in the cabinet in the bathroom, but her mother doesn’t go back for it. Instead, she leads Jax away entirely, towards the grand curving staircase that moves down to the ground floor. The little girl watches, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before she realizes what’s happening.

An interview day. 

That means her father will spend the day in the basement where no one can hear him - that must be where her mother is taking him, to be hidden away. The little girl licks nervously at her lips, and then flies back into the bathroom. There isn’t anything she can stand on in here, but when she climbs up on the side of the bathtub, she can grab the sink and hold, arms shaking with effort as she pulls herself up. 

The cabinet opens for her easily, as she totters, barely balanced on the rounded, shining edge of the sink. Their voices are fading as they move downstairs, her mother’s voice mostly. 

Almost entirely.

The little girl finds what she’s looking for - the last time her father was sick, he was allowed a packet of these little discs that come inside a box. The girl can’t read, but she knows the sun and moon signs on the packages, one for day and one for night. She grabs the whole thing, and then looks down, ready to climb-

Oh.

Oh, it’s farther down than she thought.

Her heart shivers in fear - but sometimes you have to do scary things, her father says it all the time when he tells her he is proud of her after her mother locks her in the dark for time out. This is a scary thing, but-

She jumps.

She crashes hard into the tile floor and lets out a high-pitched cry of pain, rolling along the ground. A bright ache flashes in her knee and arm from how she landed, and she presses her lips together to silence any further sounds. They’re swallowed into whimpers that don’t make it further than the door.

Still, she hears her father call, “Isabella?” He’s worried, he heard her, and the little girl stands back up, clutching the box of medicine with white knuckles on her small hands. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” She calls back, voice shaky, but she tries to sound fine. It will be much worse for her if her mother thinks she wants attention she’s not supposed to have.

“See? She’s fine,” Savvie says, and their steps fade again. The little girl moves with a focus rarely seen in small children to her room, where she picks up a soft little-kid backpack that is pink and lacey. Her mother picked it. She hates it. In the backpack she stashes some crackers and juice, and on top she puts her favorite stuffed animal, and some crayons. Finally, she forces in a coloring book. Then she moves out into the hall.

Her brother isn’t awake yet, no sound from his room, so she moves like a ghost down the staircase, following her parents to the closet with the hidden door. The door is already open, the wooden steps leading down and down and down. It’s scary, to take each step with the single light leaving so many shadows around, shadows that could have monsters hiding in them.

But sometimes, you have to do scary things.

She sets her jaw and lets her chin jut out, raised a little, and makes her slow and careful way down into the chilly basement, where the secret house is. The little place that her father has to hide, when people who aren’t ‘the right people’ come over, so that the ‘wrong people’ won’t know he’s here.

Her mother is already laying her father down in the little bedroom at the back of the basement place. It's so dark it feels like nighttime in there. She can hear them speaking, but not their words, and she tries to be very good and sits very quietly on the couch, out in what looks like a tiny little living room with a television in it, to wait. 

"Thank you, Miss Savvie," She hears, low and rough. "I l-love you, Miss Savvie."

The little girl winces, gripping the little brightly colored cardboard box with sweaty fingers that start to dampen the ink. Love is a wrong word. It's a word of threats and anger, of making things better by being good.

Her mother's voice is low, and soft, heavy with something the little girl is too young to know. "I love you, too, sweetie. Feel better."

There's silence.

The seconds draw out, and every single one of them is awful. 

Then, her mother murmurs, "I suppose we should stop. I'd hate for me to get sick, too. I'll bring James down once he's up and it'll be just you and the kids. That'll be restful."

He hums, and the silence draws out again, and then she sweeps past the little girl and away without even looking at her. Up the steps, up and up, and the little girl knows they are locked up down here, like always. 

Once her mother is for real gone, the little girl moves, silent as any ghost, down the hall herself, leaving her backpack on the couch. In the bedroom her father lays on his side, coughing a little, mostly just shakes of his shoulders. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and coughs again. The room is all dark except for the light in the hallway that frames her when he catches the motion of her shadow and looks up.

He manages a slight, faint smile. "Izzy. Did you follow us?”

“Yes.” Izzy’s voice is soft and grave. “I didn’t want her to need to bring me and get mad.”

He closes his eyes, just for a second, and nods. “I get it. What've you got there?"

She moves up to the bed and shoves the box into one of his hands. The sweat from her hands has buckled the thin cardboard but the packages inside are still good. "Medicine for your sick."

He stares down at the box, blinking. "Alka-Seltzer Severe Flu," he reads, and then meets her eyes. Theirs nearly match - hazel brown for both. “Izzy, honey, you’re not allowed-” The next round of coughing hits and Izzy scrambles up onto the bed, pulling herself up and moving around behind him, rubbing at his back with her hand like he does when it’s her that’s sick. Her mother’s hands move in circles, like the snake’s eyes in The Jungle Book movie, but her father is a straight line down, lifts up, starts at her shoulder blades and down again.

Izzy presses her lips together in concentration and comforts him just the same way. She whispers, “It’s okay, Daddy, you can cough down here, it’s okay.”

There are tears running out of his eyes when he is finally able to stop, and he’s closed his hand so tightly on the box he crushed it in the middle. He jerks in a breath, then another, and gradually the tremors through his body fade. She keeps rubbing his back. “The-... sound. Was that… was that you getting the medicine?”

She licks at her lips, and whispers, “I’m sorry. You’re sick. I didn’t know what, um, what to do-”

“It’s okay. Hey, I’m not mad. I’m not. C’mere.” He rolls onto his back and holds one arm out in invitation, and she snuggles up to his side, skin burning hot through his clothes but still her father, through and through. “I’m not mad. You’re…” He coughs but this round is short and doesn’t seem to hurt him so much. “You’re a good kid, Iz. D’you know that? Not just a good kid, you’re a good fu-, uh… A good person, too.”

Izzy, who is told every day by her mother that she is not a good child, holds onto these soft loving words and buries them inside herself, a barrier against her mother’s sweet-voiced violence. 

“I’ve got you, Daddy,” She says, an unconscious echo of his reassurances to her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you, okay? You just lay down and do rest.”

He doesn’t answer. His chest moves, inhaling like he wants to speak, but then he only breathes out again and turns his head to kiss her over her curly brown hair.

In a minute, she’ll get up and get him a water cup, and watch with him as the little discs fizz and turn to nothing and make sure he drinks every single bit to feel better. Her mother will bring James down, and Izzy will be the best big sister and her father’s helper and keep Jamie quiet and happy while Jax sleeps, and feels bad for having to sleep, and then sleeps some more.

But for now, in the silence and chill of the little space in the basement where Savvie hides them when other people come who might take her father away from her, Izzy holds on to his shirt and his arm is tight around her shoulders.

If a tear soaks into her hair where his cheek rests on her scalp, she doesn’t notice.

All she knows is his heartbeat, against her ear, and the steady certainty of his love for her, and her love for him. In a house where they have nothing else, that’s enough.

For her, anyway.

For now.

 ---

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whumpiary @whump-tr0pes @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @vickytokio @eatyourdamnpears

[cinnonym]

take the day off, get a massage (cause we've got this one all under control)

Written for Day 8 - Winter Solstice of 12 Days of Supercorp @supercorpbb

Read on AO3

***

9:15 am

“Golly, am I looking forward to this day.” Kara yawns and huddles closer against the curve of Lena’s back. Her breath tickles Lena’s neck, warm and comfortable. Lena hums.

“Four.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve said this,” Lena murmurs. “Not that I mind.” She can feel sleep tugging at her eyelids once more and relishes in the thought that she won’t have to fight it. That she can succumb to the weight guiltlessly.

Kara doesn’t reply. She’s probably drifted off again already and will wake in half an hour with the same sentence on her lips once more. Lena smiles a bit about the predictability of it all, before a yawn overcomes her and drags her down with it.

***

9:51 am

“Golly,” Kara says, sleep still blurring her words. “I love this, I really do. What a good idea.”

Lena makes an affirmative sound, somewhere between a sigh and a purr. She hasn’t felt this relaxed in months, maybe even years. The warmth of Kara’s arm around her waist, the cold of Kara’s nose against her neck, what more can a woman ask for?

“I am starting to become a bit hungry though,” comes Kara’s voice from behind, and Lena has to suppress a chuckle as she rolls around to face her girlfriend.

“Of course you are.”

“Hey!” Kara’s eyes were still closed, but they open now, blinking slowly several times until all traces of tiredness have given way to a semi-offended glare. “It’s – “ she pauses and squints at the clock “ – more than two hours after my usual breakfast time. Of course my stomach is demanding attention.”

Lena lets out a laugh. “Demanding, huh? And that although you so dislike to be ordered around.”

Kara’s on her suddenly, pinning her down so quickly that Lena strongly suspects the involvement of superspeed.

“Damn right,” she says in a low voice, letting her gaze wander over Lena menacingly. Unfortunately, the effect is somewhat undermined by Kara’s stomach releasing a protesting grumble just then. Kara blushes, and just like that she rolls off of Lena again.

“Boss said no,” she murmurs, shrugging helplessly.

Lena grins. “Good thing we’ve got all day.”

“Golly, am I looking forward to that.”

***

11:38 am

The phone rings just when Lena is beginning to contemplate a nap. The sun still hasn’t peeked through the clouds once, and so it continues to be exactly the kind of dreary that you could wish for on a day like this. The kind of dreary that practically invites you to sleep.

But the phone is ringing, and that means Lena has to make a decision. She groans as she lifts her head from Kara’s chest to look at her.

“Reject or ignore?”

Kara shrugs. Her fingers are drawing lazy circles on Lena’s back, and she looks about as sleepy as Lena’s felt just a minutes ago.

“Maybe I’ll look who it is and choose then,” Lena decides, reaching for the vibrating device. It’s Jess, and apparently it’s not the first time she’s tried to get through to Lena. They have somehow managed to miss three calls, and if that isn’t proof of a dedicated sex life, then Lena doesn’t know. She chuckles quietly.

“It’s Jess,” she tells Kara, “for the third time.”

“What does she want?”

“I wouldn’t know.” The call stops. A small flutter of worry stirs in Lena’s stomach, even though she doesn’t want to feel it. Doesn’t want to leave the comfortable bubble Kara and she have created for themselves today.

Kara seems to sense where her thoughts are going, because she takes the phone from Lena and puts it on the nightstand again.

“No work,” she says sternly, “no outside world, and no leaving the bed unless it’s for food or bathroom breaks. Those are the rules.”

Lena bites her lip. She swallows the ‘What if’s’ that lie on the tip of her tongue. She banishes the thought of work to the remotest corner of her mind and kisses Kara on her collarbone instead.

“You’re right,” she murmurs, “they’ll get by without me for one day.”

***

2:01 pm

It turns out that Kara is much less relaxed when it’s her phone that’s ringing. Or maybe it’s the amount of calls she gets. But with every time her ringtone sounds out, she gets quieter and quieter, until at one point, she grabs her phone exasperatedly, turns it off, and tosses it into the armchair at the opposite corner of the room.

“One day!” She exclaims. “One day, the darkest day of the year, and a Sunday at that! You’d think the criminals would stay at home voluntarily, snuggle up to their girlfriend maybe, enjoy a good 32 hours in bed, and just take. One. Day. Off. It’s not that hard, or is it?”

“It’s not,” Lena concurs, finishing one braid in Kara’s long and unfairly soft hair and starting another.

“I work the year round, every day. And night, mind you. Weekends, holidays, always. And I do it gladly. I do it selflessly. I do it with a smile on my face, even. But one day off. One day. Is that really too much to ask for?”

“It’s not.” Lena pauses her braiding to put a soothing hand on Kara’s head. “You’re just doing such a good job the rest of the time, people have forgotten how to take care of themselves without you.”

Kara leans into the touch with a sigh and a grateful smile. “Is it wrong that I kind of like how much they depend on me, even though it annoys me today?”

“Of course not.” Lena lightly scratches her nails over Kara’s scalp, drinking up the contented sighs that fall form Kara’s lips. “I think everybody wants to be needed. It gives us purpose. It gives us strength.” She leans down to press a gentle kiss to Kara’s forehead before she takes up her braiding again. “It’s one of the greatest paradoxes of humankind that this strength doesn’t suffice to sustain you. That you need breaks from being useful, lest your strength depletes.”

Kara nods, momentarily upsetting the row of braids Lena has already finished.

“I love you,” she says.

Lena smiles. “I love you too.”

***

3:45 pm

“I think my butt fell asleep.”

“I call your butt and raise you two legs.” Lena groans. “How do teenagers do this?”

“Do what?” Kara asks, giggling a little at the exaggerated noises Lena is making.

“Do this.” Lena gestures at the two of them, sprawled out on the mattress. “Lie in bed all day, barely moving, except to change the video game or whatever they occupy their brains with all day.”

Kara laughs, loud and hearty. “Rao, Lena, sometimes you are so odd.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Not all teenagers spend all their time in bed, dummy,” Kara says, and it’s only her fond tone that saves her from the pillow Lena almost hurdles at her. “I, for example, was a very active teenager.”

“You hardly count,” Lena retorts, sticking out her tongue when Kara narrows her eyes at her. “Because you’re always active.”

Kara wrinkles her nose, but Lena’s point holds. She huffs.

“What about you then, what did you do as a teenager?”

“I,“ Lena says dignifiedly, “didn’t experience an adolescence.”

“Lena, your adolescence was less than ten years ago.”

Lena sighs dramatically and rolls over, facing her girlfriend with a regretful stare.

“Tell that to my back pain…”

***

4:09 pm

“Isn’t it sad,” Kara muses, kneading Lena’s trapezius muscle with blissfully strong hands, “how it’s already getting dark again?”

Lena moans softly when Kara hits a particularly tense spot. “Is it?”

“Yeah.”

They are silent for a while, Kara moving slowly and methodically up and down Lena’s back, Lena shimmying in and out of consciousness. No phone has rung in over two hours, nobody has disturbed them in their self-imposed solitude, no rule has been broken so far. They are doing exactly what they’ve planned for the day, and it is nothing.

“What a good day,” Lena murmurs, “What a good idea.”

Kara gives her ass a squeeze, and Lena, well on her way to another nap, almost jumps.

“The hell?” She exclaims, which immediately earns her another slap. “What?”

Kara’s voice is a melange of amusement and indignation. “You forgot the golly!”

***

6:37 pm

They start speaking at the same time.

“It’s almost Christmas,” Kara says, and Lena murmurs “How am I already tired?” and then they look at each other and laugh.

“What did you say?” Simultaneously. “You first.”

Lena recovers faster, so she pokes Kara, who’s still laughing, between the ribs.

“Tick, your turn, please speak now.” She presents Kara her fist as a mic, which only results in another burst of laughter. Then Kara’s hand closes around hers, pulling her closer.

“Hello hello, can you hear me?”

Lena giggles. She feels carefree in a way she hasn’t felt in possibly all her life. “Loud and clearly. Please repeat your question.”

“Yes hello,” Kara says, pompous in a way that is exactly like on real TV interviews. “I didn’t so much ask a question as rather observing a fact. That fact being of course the upcoming holiday, namely Christmas.”

At this point they have to drop the act, because Lena is laughing so hard that the mic is shaking and “the connection seems to be bad, hello hello?” And Kara grins at Lena like she did when Lena first fell in love with her, wide and open and with her heart in her hands, ready to give it to anyone she thought worth fighting for. Even a Luthor. Even Lena.

“I’m looking forward to Christmas,” Lena says, but what she means is that she’s never liked the holidays much, until Kara came around and made them worthwhile.

And somehow Kara understands.

“Yes,” she says, “me too.”

***

8:52 pm

“There’ll be much work to catch up on tomorrow,” Lena sighs, playing with the thought of looking at her phone and deciding against it. “But that are tomorrow’s problems.”

Kara hums. She’s floating half an inch above the bed because she finds the mattress is too warm after bearing her body all day.

“I’m still looking forward to that somehow.”

Lena chuckles. “Yes, me too. Isn’t that weird? I thoroughly enjoyed today, but I couldn’t do it again tomorrow.”

“It’s about the – “ Kara forms the chef’s kiss gesture minus the kiss “ – purpose.” She turns on her side to look at Lena. “Or so a wise woman once told me.”

“Sounds very wise indeed. Did she also say something about the reason why I’m tired even though we did nothing all day?”

“Nope.” Kara pops the p, then lets herself fall back on the bed. “But here’s my theory: inaction is like negative action. And at the end of the day, it’s the absolute value that counts, minus or plus doesn’t matter. So if you’ve balanced action and inaction, you won’t be that tired, because they cancel each other. But if you have an overload of either action or inaction…”

“… you’ll feel about as exhausted as I do right now,” Lena finishes, her eyes already closed. “Seems reasonable. It’s compatible with my strength theory, I like that.” She yawns, and feels blindly for Kara’s hand. “Either way, all in favour of an early night, raise your hand.” She lifts their entwined hands off the mattress. “Whooo.”

Kara breathes out a laugh. “Also, if we go to bed now, then tomorrow will come faster.”

“Scientifically incorrect,” Lena murmurs, “but golly.”

“What?”

Lena snuggles into Kara’s embrace until all she can smell is Kara, and all she can feel is also Kara. She yawns again.

“Golly am I looking forward to tomorrow.”

[satsuma-saturn]

Why Do I Love You? - Asmodeus x Reader

A/N: I’ve been writing this for way too fucking long lmao. I’ve never written smut before, so this isn’t the best, but I tried. It’s also been a hot min since I’ve posted a fic. Hope y’all enjoy. Requests are also still open, if anyone’s interested.

WC: 2215

Warning(s): nsfw content, oral sex (m), angst (ya gotta squint to see it lmao), slightly graphic details of violence (no actual violence), slight description of the feeling of drowning, but no actual drowning.

fic below the cut .3.

Love is a dangerous game, especially the kind of love where you feel as though your lungs are filling with water, your chest being crushed from pressure. Still, love can make you feel alive, reviving and bringing new life to you. Call it a gamble, a game of chance. Many avoid love, not wanting to play a game they’re gonna lose.

Asmodeus has been alive for so long that he doesn’t even remember how long he’s been in existence. Over the course of his long life, he has had many lovers, who have all come and gone at one point or another. Yet, with each and every one of those lovers, it wasn’t love, but lust. The demon is well versed and knowledgeable with the concept of lust, being the Avatar of Lust. It’s all he knows. Of course, he’s okay with it, as he doesn’t need to love anyone to be adored by all. In fact, it’s not something he often thinks about, since he is the Avatar of Lust, not the Avatar of Love. Everyone will love him no matter what he says or does. At least, that’s what he believed. Was it possible for anyone to not grovel at his feet, lusting after him? Often, he finds himself reassuring himself that, no, it was not possible for someone to not love him. He is perfect.

When the human first arrived in the Devildom, of course he was intrigued. New blood, someone he could add to his body count, so to speak. It had been quite a while since he’d been in contact with a human, other than Solomon, the shady sorcerer. Frustration consumed him as he learned that the human isn’t susceptible to his Charm, which is known to charm even the strongest-willed witches and wizards. How can an ordinary human with no magic whatsoever remain unaffected by his Charm? Still, it’s never deterred him. He is known to be persistent, and won’t stop until he can get the human in his bed and gain their affection. The human is realistic, honest with him. Something he isn’t used to. Everyone has always been so quick to shower him with praise, complimenting his face, fashion, body, skills in bed, whatever. They don’t worship him, unlike his partners in the past. Despite that, he always finds himself wanting to hear the human’s thoughts and opinions on everything about him.

Butterflies fill his stomach at the thought of the human, something he isn’t sure he’s felt before. Why should he care about someone who doesn’t think he’s the best creature in existence? When the human disagrees with him, he finds himself getting frustrated, throwing makeup brushes and lotion bottles around his room. When he calms down, he reluctantly picks them up, wanting to keep his room immaculate, but not wanting to actually clean his own mess. Yet, he keeps going back to them, only for them to be swept away by one of his meddling brothers, Mammon in particular? He doesn’t understand why they would want to even be in the presence of that greedy scumbag. Too many times, he’s had to complain to Lucifer about some of his more expensive skin or hair care products going missing.

Placing his hand on the table next to the human, he leans toward them with a small grin on his face. Their eyebrows raise in a question, as if asking what do you want? He’s getting to that. Be patient, human. “So, I went shopping with Mammon the other day and I bought tons of new lotions and oils. I was wondering if you wanted to try them with me? Of course you do, what am I saying? Who wouldn’t want an excuse to hang out with me?” With a small sigh that he chooses to ignore, they stand up to follow him to his room. Excited, he practically skips to his room, the human in tow.

Upon reaching his room, he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and pulls it open, stepping inside to sit on his bed. The human follows, shutting the door behind them. “Oh?~ Naughty human,” he says, a glint of mischief in his eyes. They just sigh and settle on the bed, not too far, but not close enough. That’s okay, he’ll just close the distance. Scooting over, he reaches over to his nightstand, where he had set his lotions in preparation for the human arriving home from Hell’s Kitchen, where they’d gone with Beel.

“You’re annoying,” they say, rolling their eyes at him.

“Ah, but you love it~” He coos, snapping open the lid of one of the many lotions, squeezing a dollop of the cream into his hand. “C’mere.” The demon gestures to the human, rubbing the lotion onto their skin when they oblige. “This lotion will make your skin so soft~ And it makes you smell absolutely delicious~” His voice drips with seduction, tempting the human to let their guard down. To let him in.

“It does smell pretty good,” they admit, watching Asmodeus massage their hands with his slender fingers. A fanged smile appears on the demon’s face as he works, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on their palms. Once he’s finished, he lets go of their hands, reaching for the lotion bottle once more. Maybe it’s some Devildom magic, but the lotion seems to be working immediately, the human notes to themselves, feeling the soft flesh of their hands.

Humming, Asmodeus massages the lotion into his own hands, watching the human out of the corner of his eye. Just watching them, he feels the urge to pounce on them, ‘helping’ them give into their darkest desires. Unfortunately for him, his Charm doesn’t seem to have an effect on them, which is irritating, to say the least. What made them so powerful that they, an ordinary human being, could resist the temptation of the Avatar of Lust? He was curious, really. Curious to crack open their head and discover what’s inside. Amongst the blood and brain matter, he was sure to find something. The source of their power, maybe. Though he would never actually hurt the human, just the thought of the sickening crack of a skull got him excited, his pants becoming a little too tight. No, he could never hurt them. They mean too much to him. Hell, he can even go as far as saying that he loves them.

“Dude, what the fuck?” The human’s voice draws him from his reverie. Their eyes are a little too focused on his growing erection, he notices. “Are you getting hard from putting on lotion?’

“No. I just love you so much~,” he croons, his tone dark, sending a shiver down the human’s spine. Was the shiver from fear from his sudden mood change, or was it lust? His question is soon answered when the human slides off the bed, slipping in between his legs. They look so pretty on their knees, though it isn’t too often that he gets to see them in that position. The sight excites him.

Looking down at the human kneeling between his legs, he runs his fingers through their hair, as they rest their hands on his clothed thighs. His breath catches in his throat as he stares down at them, their eager eyes shining brightly back at him. Pink eyes follow the human’s hands as it inches closer to his crotch. He swallows thickly as their fingers latch onto the zipper of his pants, pulling it down, all while making eye contact with him. Their eyes are darkened with lust. For some reason, he feels a sudden pang of anxiety, but the routine is the same as it always is. The human notices and pauses, their eyes filling with concern.

“Are you okay, Asmo?” They ask, their voice soft, filling him with a new warmth.

Shaking his head, he swallows again and replies, “No, it’s okay. You can keep going.” As an afterthought, he adds another sentence to his reply, “Only if you want to, of course.”

“I want to.” Their eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting...strange.”

His signature grin creeps onto his face. Is he okay? No. Is he going to pretend that he is? Yes. “Of course, sweetheart. You’re always so concerned about me,” he says, a giggle bubbling from his throat as his manicured fingers brush the human’s cheek. “And I’m not strange! You’re so cruel to me!” A fake pout spread across his lips as he teased the human seated between his legs.

He squeals as the human smacks his inner thigh. “I’m not cruel. You’re just sensitive.” They stick out their tongue at him and he goes to bite it, but they’re quick to reel it back in. “Don’t bite me, you toad.”

“C’mon,” he whines. “Just do what you came here to do and suck me off! I need you right now~” He palms himself through his pants, impatient.

“You’re so whiny,” they remark, smacking his hands away so that they can pull down his pants. He huffs, but doesn’t reply, just closing his eyes instead. Once his pants are down, he feels their hands on him, feeling him through his boxers. A small groan escapes his lips as he opens his eyes to look down at them. They're just a simple human. How could they have enraptured him in the manner that they did? The demon of Lust, pinned under the thumb of a weak, powerless human.

Grinning up at him, they shimmy his boxers down his legs, allowing his hardened cock to spring free from its confinements. A bead of precum oozes from the reddened tip. The human swipes their thumb along the demon’s slit, collecting the precum on the digit. They lick their thumb, looking him in the eyes the whole time. He shudders, the human’s actions exciting him.

Slowly, they lick along his length, starting from the base, slicking it in their saliva. They’ve barely done anything, but he’s putty in their hands, twitching and groaning softly. “You’re so sensitive,” they say, pausing their ministrations to blow on his tip, feeling a shudder wrack through his body. He bucks his hips lightly as they wrap their lips around his tip, giving it a soft suck. Annoyed, they pull away, sitting back on their heels.

“I’m sorry! I’ll be a good boy, I promise!” He whines, trying to slip his cock back between their lips.They’re stubborn, though, and seal their lips shut. “C’mon~ Please?” Seeing that they’re not going to give in so easily, he pulls back, starting to stroke himself, using the human’s drying saliva and his own precum as a lubricant. His hand slides up and down the length of his cock with ease and he can see the human in front of him, watching.

After watching him for a few seconds, they nudge his hand away, replacing it with their own. Asmodeus whimpers softly as their hand glides along his length. The whimpers turn to moans when they start teasing his slit with their tongue. Warmth encases his cock as the human takes him in their mouth, sucking as they slide more of him into their mouth. His hips buck again, and he can feel the human gagging and trying to keep his hips still. Their gagging just turns him on more, making him want to fuck their mouth until he cums. Yet doesn’t, allowing them to keep control of the situation. He’ll be the perfect pillow prince for them. Maybe they’ll even fuck him, if he’s a good boy.

His fingers comb through their hair as they suck him off, gently pulling them further down his cock, feeling their throat clench around the intrusion. They gag again, focusing on breathing through their nostrils. He isn’t going to last long, he can feel it. Their throat is just so warm and tight.

Not too long after, he reaches his breaking point, spilling down their throat without warning. They pull away, wiping saliva and cum off their face. He stares silently at them for a few seconds, before grabbing them and pulling them up towards his bed. His human is so beautiful and he wants to show them how much he loves them, but they pull away, shaking their head.

“No, this isn’t about me. I just wanted to help you out,” they explain, making their way to the door. “This lotion smells really nice, by the way.” The door opens and Asmodeus starts to speak, causing them to pause briefly in the doorway, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“I love you,” he says. His eyes widen as he realizes what he just said, but it’s too late to take it back.

“I love you too, Asmodeus,” they reply, shutting the door behind him. Their response stuns him into silence, though he wants to call them back in.

But why do I love you?, he wonders to himself. Why now? After centuries of only loving himself, why does he love someone else? Loving someone else adds unnecessary complications to his life. For his whole existence, he’s worn his heart on his cheek, not on his sleeve. The bitter taste of defeat lingers in his mouth as he stares at his door that the human had just left through.

[oohnoniall]

Hawk & Sparrow [Rowan Whitethorn x OC] - Chapter 2

WARNINGS; Fantasy violence, cursing, Mirima doesn’t have self-control and that leads to her burning out a Lot, Rowan avoiding his feelings, Mirima having no idea about her feelings, there’s a lot of feelings being avoided, power dynamics in the relationship.

Prologue.

Chapter 1 

        A crooked smile stretched on his lips. She could see his sharp canine teeth, see the feral look in his eyes as he peered down at her. There was a bite of cold steel against the tender flesh of her neck. She could feel it digging into her pulse point. The coppery tang of blood in the air.

        "I was right," his voice was a whisper. "You weren't good enough. You've never been good enough."

        "Rowan," she hated the pleading tone in her voice. Hated the way her eyes burned with tears that she refused to shed.

        His forest green eyes peered into hers, a look of malice and something else. She hated it, hated to know that Rowan was looking at her with anything other than his normal cool indifference. This wasn't her Rowan. Not the man who had pushed her and pushed her but a monster that she didn't know.

        "Goodbye Mirima."

        There was a hot stinging sensation at her throat, his hands on her shoulders like when she was burning out. He shoved her and she fell. Over and over, falling down into the darkest abyss. One that she couldn't see the bottom of.

        It was then that she realized what else had been in Rowan's eyes when she had pleaded with him. When he had killed her.

        Joy.

        Mirima shot up from her bed, gasping for breath as her left hand went to her throat. Nothing. No blood. She wasn't falling off the edge of something. She was still alive. Still in Doranelle, waiting for her one and only opportunity. 

        The nightmares had been happening more often. She hadn't spoken to Rowan about them. Hadn't wanted to bother him with how useless they were. He would have been too concerned or acted like they were another reason to keep her out of the cadre. He wouldn't have been kind or understanding. Hardass Whitethorn would have been annoyed. Yet, for some reason, the knowledge had calmed her. She didn't feel as though she had to say anything about her problems.

        His training was harsh enough that she often forgot whatever was bothering her besides what muscle hurt the worst. 

        How was she going to deal with any of it while he was away? She had never had to train with someone else. Never had to think about how someone's training might differ from Rowan's.

        She had met Fenyrs in passing but that didn't mean she knew him. She thought he was funny and much kinder than Rowan, which wasn't saying much, but she doubted his training would be anything like what she was used to. There was a high chance that he wouldn't know how ... Prone she was to overdoing things. What if Rowan had left that key information out?

        Mirima tried not to focus on her anxieties as she readied herself for the day. Her hands were shaking as she brushed out the white blonde of her hair. Her eyes focused on the scar on her left arm as she slid her tunic on, counting each breath as she stared at it. One of the ways Rowan had tried to teach her control. One of the ways that had only worked to calm her mind and not her magic. 

        She would end up dying by her magic. It would drown her, it would take her under and never release her from its grasp. She didn't mind that. If she was going to die she wanted it to be from her lack of control rather than an enemies' sword. If only so she knew she wasn't a completely hopeless fighter.

        She swallowed once, letting it take all of her worries into the pit of her stomach. Another technique of Rowan's that had never actually done more than making her feel stupid. She sometimes wondered if all his techniques were just ways to make her look like a fool.

        Mirima slipped a few knives into her belt before making her way out of her bedroom. Her head held high, a haughty smirk on her lips. Everyone in Mistward was used to seeing her as the cocky would-be-warrior. There had never been a reason to let anyone see her differently.

        The morning sun had yet to rise over the hills. The clearing that was normally used for her training was flooded with the grey light of early dawn. Before the world changed and turned into something beautiful, something better. The grass was dewy and wet, the world looked as though it had been reborn that morning.

        Mirima loved being out there before anyone else. She loved it when she could breathe in the fresh air and not worry about it being polluted by other people yet. Everything felt fresh, clear. She could clear her mind for once. Let go of everything that bothered her. She didn't worry about not being part of the cadre when she was focused on how beautiful the morning looked, how she wanted nothing more than to just be present.

        She took one of the knives from her belt, flipping it once in her hand. It was a perfect weight. She could balance it on the tip of her fingers. Rowan had given it to her years ago, on a birthday. One that he'd actually remembered. 

        The blade itself was made of steel and was almost as long as her forearm, just lacking an inch and a half. The hilt was the most stunning feature. Gold and onyx entwined to create small flowers with tiny rubies making up the center of each. Rowan had said nothing when he gave it to her but she liked to think that it had just reminded him of her in some way. Wishful thinking but Mirima didn't care.

        She had to be making some impression on Rowan. 

        She gripped the knife, her hold mimicking the one Rowan had been trying to drill into her head for years. He often grew frustrated with the way she would go back to what felt natural, showing her just how wrong she was with a sharp tap on her wrist. At that point, she was certain that she was fucking it up if only to see the annoyance in his eyes. She liked that look on him. When he regretted ever giving Mirima a chance when he debated throwing her in a lake because of her mouth.

        It was better than when he was fully angry with her.

        Her body moved in the fluid motions that Rowan had taught her. Her eyes closing, her knife another part of her arm, her breaths even, the world right for once in her life. Her thoughts were no longer cluttered, just going through Rowan's instructions in her mind had been enough to calm her. She'd never tell him so. He would have been proud of himself or annoyed with her.

        Up. Down. Guard your left. Right. Dodge. Roll. Again.

        She heard his voice in her head almost as though he was standing right beside her. She relished the feeling, the sensation of knowing that she was doing something right. Something that she would do every single day of her life when she was in the cadre. She would have to thank him one day.

        It just wouldn't be any time soon.

        A low whistle brought her back to reality. She did not know how long he had been watching but she knew he had seen enough. Mirima straightened her spine, a smug look painted on her face as she turned on her heel. 

        Fenrys was more handsome than Rowan had ever dreamed of being. His hair was pulled up, with two strands falling pleasantly into his face. His skin was dark and he was slight of build, but the muscles on his arms were well-defined and she could imagine them in the middle of a killing field. While Rowan's face was covered with his tattoo, Fenrys' was mostly clear, his eyes sparkled with mischief and he looked as though he was part of an inside joke with himself. 

        Mirima hated how much she wanted to impress him. Hated how fun he seemed to be with just that one look.

        "I don't see why I'm here," he stated as he peeled himself off of the tree he had been leaning against. "Rowan's got you training on your own already."

        A slight blush crossed Mirima's cheeks at this. "Actually, he doesn't know how early I start my day. I didn't think he'd like knowing just how much I tend to ... overexert myself."

        "Trust me, Rowan already knows everything that you do," Fenrys stated as he stepped towards her. His eyes trailed from the top of her head to her feet. He was scrutinizing everything that had ever made Mirima. She tried not to think if he was impressed by what he saw or if he was certain that she was useless. A waste of his and Rowan's time. She often feared that they would all see her as a fraud. As someone who would never be welcomed into their ranks. "Rowan's told us all about you. How quick you are to anger, how you refuse to listen to him and go home. He said you've had more burnouts than anyone he's ever met before.

        "I know that he thinks you're reckless and that you don't have any sense of self-preservation," Fenrys walked around her, his eyes never once leaving her, as he spoke. There was a tension in him that she didn't expect. "I'm sure that he's found every single weakness of yours and used it against you at this point. Am I correct?"

        She bristled at the accusation, her spine straighter than what should have been possible. "He has. Multiple times, in very different ways."

        Something sparked in his eyes, something that she had seen once before. When she had looked in her mother's eyes before she had left to deal with the raiders all those years before. It was a mixture of pride and determination. Mirima had never been sure what it meant. She still wasn't.

        "Good," Fenrys stopped circling her. "That tells me you don't scare easily. If you can handle quality time with Whitethorn, you're bound to be something. Perhaps not a fit for the cadre, but something we need."

        Need. That one word brought forth a strong feeling of hope in her breast. She had never been told that she was needed before. Not for anything that mattered. Doranelle would need her. Maeve would need her. Hellas, even Rowan would need her if what Fenrys said was true. She was going to be exactly what they needed, who they would look up to. Mirima would be the hero that would be in all the stories. She'd show everyone just what a woman could do. 

        There had been warrior queens and lost princesses but there had never been someone that other girls could look up to. All her life, Mirima had heard tales of men gaining glory and victory. They saved damsels, fought wars in the name of what was true and just. Queen Maeve had always celebrated those men while ignoring the women who could do the exact same. She knew that she could be just as good as any of those men. She could rise up from the bottom and show just who a girl could be.

        It was the only thing she'd ever wanted.

        "However," Fenrys brought her back down to the world with just one word. "We do need to work on your control. Burning out in the middle of a battle will do you no good. We can't have our sister dying on her first outing."

        He grinned at her. Not the feral dangerous grin that she had come to associate with Rowan. It was kind, bright even. Something that made her feel as though she were at home. She wondered what Rowan would say if she told him that she preferred Fenrys' smile. It was perhaps better to keep that conversation in her head.

        "How do we do that?" 

        "Stand in the middle of the clearing," Fenrys instructed her, heading back to his tree. He sat down at the base of it, still and unblinking as though he were just another part of the forest that surrounded them. "I don't want you to do anything. Just stand there and listen. Take in every wingbeat of every insect, every beat of your heart. I want you to try and focus on your heartbeats while you're doing this. Slow, steady. You should be able to make yourself still."

        Mirima looked at him for a moment. What in the hell did any of that mean? It sounded like nonsense. Focusing her heartbeats? Slowing them down? How was any of that supposed to help her with her control issues?

        While she did question the whole thing, she knew better than to question her trainer. If he told Rowan, she was certain to have a punishment of some sort. Probably laps. Rowan knew how she hated them. She took a deep breath through her nose, disregarding her thoughts of Rowan Whitethorn and the laps he could potentially make her run.

        Her eyes fluttered to a close. Every part of her body felt as though this was wrong. She shouldn't have just been standing there. She could have been working on her swordplay. She could have been working on the footwork that she was supposed to be learning. Listening for the bees that were fat with the pollen from the summer flowers was not something she had wanted to do. Why should she care about any of this? She was a warrior, not a farmer.

        "Don't think negatively," his voice seemed to float through the air to her. "I can feel it from here. Just relax your mind and do as I've told you."

        Mirima did not answer him, knowing it was not what he wanted. She focused on the sound of the wind in the trees. The way the leaves gently rustled together, the branches making a soft creaking noise that she normally wouldn't have noticed. She could hear the sea. So far away, yet always calling to her. The waves crashing along the shoreline. Pebbles scratching against each other when the water moved them. Sand turning to mush, the cry of a seabird. Mirima craved being there, craved feeling the water on her bare feet. Not a day went by that she didn't crave the ocean.

        Her fingers twitched, her knife falling to the ground beside her. The water rushing in her ears and making it hard to hear the insects busying lazily by her head or the trees swaying gently in the breeze. Her heartbeat followed the motion of the waves. She could feel it slowing to match the lazy tide of the early morning. It was not an uncomfortable feeling but one that she welcomed.

        She had often felt as though her home was the sea. The ocean breathed life into her. She had been blessed with the gift of water and yet, she still didn't know how to control it. Perhaps it was because one could not control water. The sea did not like to be tamed. Just as Mirima hated for anyone to try and control her. It had been so hard to learn to listen to Rowan. To learn to do as she was told. She still hadn't learned that lesson.

        A voice spoke softly from somewhere. Her name, softly as though it was poetry. Rowan's face flashed briefly in her mind before being drowned out by another crashing wave.

        Her fingers twitched once more. Something cold crept through the leather of her boots, touching her toes. 

        None of it mattered though. All that mattered was the way the sea was calling to her. The currents dancing for her and her alone. She wanted to be in the middle of it all. She could control the ocean. She could feel it in her bones. She ached to use the power that was deep inside of her. It was as though she could not breathe unless she was in the water, as if her lungs craved water instead of oxygen.

        "Mirima," that voice again. Persistent this time. Repeating her name again and again. "Mirima." 

        "Rowan," she breathed out as a hand grasped her arm. It was not tight enough to be Rowan. It was loose, as though they were afraid of touching her. 

        "Mirima, come out of it." The voice didn't match Rowan's. Didn't match the person she had put all of her trust in.

        It was too much effort to open her eyes, to break her connection to the sea. But she did it. 

        Fenrys stood in front of her, his hands on her arms and his face more amused than concerned. Her feet were freezing, the breeze smelled differently. The sky had begun to lighten, pink marking the sky in the place of the grey that had filled the valley just a few minutes before. Had it only been minutes? She felt as though she had been there for days.

        Slowly, she glanced down to see what was causing her feet to be so cold. Water had seeped up from the ground, a few inches covering the ground that surrounded her. Mirima had no clue how she had done it without thinking. She had no idea what she had done. 

        Maybe Fenrys was right about something. Maybe his techniques just worked better than Rowan's.

        "Well, you weren't supposed to do that," he said, one of his brows quirked upwards. "But I can't say I'm surprised. Maybe next time Rowan makes you do something stupid, you'll be able to channel it."

        Mirima rolled her eyes, her arms crossing in front of her chest. "Rowan's training isn't stupid."

        "You're making shields of water, aren't you?"

        "Yes. But that's integral to keeping control!" Mirima protested. Fenrys only shook his head.

        "We don't use our abilities as shields. Well, Lorcan does on occasion but Lorcan's also the worst," he stated as he led her away from the drenched grounds. "Rowan's trying to prepare you for something but I doubt it's the cadre. He has your interests in mind, don't think otherwise." She watched as he grabbed a low-hanging tree branch and hauled himself up. "But that doesn't mean he's going to actually help you get what you want. No one should strive to be one of us."

        "What is with the two of you?" Mirima demanded as she hoisted herself to sit on the branch beside him. "It's like neither of you can deal with the idea that a woman can be just as good as you."

        "This has nothing to do with your gender. You've got more fight inside of you than most soldiers I know," Fenrys stated as he looked at her. His expression was too full of pity for her to stand. "You could do so much better than all of this."

        "No, I can't," Mirima stared out at the clearing, watching as the water drained away slowly. "My gender has everything to do with this. When they see me, they see a woman who should be at home. Having children and mending socks. They don't see a warrior. They don't see me."

        He looked at her then, looked at her as though she was something other than a woman sitting beside him on a tree branch. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Mirima had never felt exposed before. Rowan certainly had never looked at her as though she were anything. Fenrys was making her quite anxious, scared that he would run back to the others and tell them all about the woman who assumed she was good enough to be welcomed into their ranks. She doubted any of them would find it within them to want her after her show.

        "I should go," she cleared her throat as she moved to drop down from the tree. Mirima landed on the balls of her feet, the squelching sound revealing that the ground had turned to mud. "Kitchen duties."

        Mirima did not wait to be released from her training. She turned on her heel and headed back to the fort. She spent the entire walk thinking over everything that Fenrys had seen, everything that he had heard. She was mortified. Speaking like that in front of Rowan was one thing. But Fenrys? That was another. She knew better than to speak her mind around her superiors. She knew better than to leave before her training was over. Yet she had done both. She'd never live this down. She'd just proven that she would never be the type of person they welcomed into their ranks. Fenrys had said they didn't want her.

        What was the point of continuing to fight? What was the point of trying to be someone she wasn't? Would Rowan even notice if she was gone when he came back? She doubted it. He'd probably use her absence as an excuse to return home.

        As the would-be-warrior walked away from him, Fenrys watched her closely. Even with the sting of humiliation, she never let her shoulders droop. Her hand remained on the hilt of her blade. Her head was held high, no one would ever be able to tell that she was spending her day questioning herself and her choices.

        "I see you."

[jessiebanethedragon]

Scuttle, all chapters in one post

Thought it might be kinda nice to have the full story in one post... idk.  

The mission, simple. The planet, a shit show. But that's hardly unusual for Clone Force  99. The elite team of four clones were used to disasters, in fact, they thrive off of them. Arkanis was no different, a rainy planet located in the outer rim. Currently held under control via the separatists. The republic needed to change that, and so of course when their informant’s identity was leaked, they sent the most capable team they had to extract them. 

Enter - The Bad Batch. 

“Did you know this planet is made up of over 10,000 different species, all localized to it’s rainforest biosphere?” Tech was chattering as usual while the team geared up. Assembling their armour and double checking weapons before dropping out of hyped space. 

“How many of those wanna kill us?” Wrecker asked beyond the metallic thunk of his durasteel clicking into place. 

“Does not say, but given Arkanis’s tropical climate i would estimate that most of the life forms are plants.” Tech said clicking about on his holopad. 

“Vod, in here now.” The Sergeant called from the brig of the Havoc Murdader, having already assembled his armour and stashing away his viroblades. “Here's the info we got from Cody.” Hunter said, pulling up a  map of the planet’s capital. 

“It’s a kriffing death trap.” Crosshair barked out looking at the maze of intervening trees, houses and streets, all covered with various mosses, vines and other plants. 

“We’ll have to go solo on this one.” Hunter added. “We need to cover ground quickly  and quietly, remember this is an active warzone so while blasts will blend in we want minimal casualties.” With a flick of his hand he moved the holo so it showed a different area. 

“This is their last known coordinates, we’ll drop ten clicks from here and fan out. Tech?” Hunter looked to his brother, waiting for him to take over and tell them how to go about searching for the informant. 

“There's no choice but to head in all  directions, checking each house, that's our best bet, without a speeder they wont have been able to leave the city.”

“And if they did have a speeder?” Crosshair piped in, attaching an intricate looking scope to his rifle. 

“Well, then, I hope you like rain because we’re stuck there until we find the snitch.” Hunter added. “Wrecker, Tech, let's get this show going.” Crosshair watched his brother’s jump to the front of the ship, rolling the toothpick in his mouth around.

“Sarge.” He said, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Like usual it was chucking it down on Arkanis, the sky was dark by midday and everyone was wrapped in layers of weather proof fabric. There was no wind today, no sunlight, just buckets and buckets of cooling rain. She watched as the droids started ushering people around, being pushed aside by one herself to make way for the spider droids that were crawling the city. She cursed herself for not noticing it sooner, the anxiety of getting caught was dulling her senses. Focus and precision were not things she could go without right now. 

“Yona!” Your mother called, when you had picked yourself up again. Crossing the uneven street with practiced ease. 

“I’m fine mama.” You assured her. She clutched to your clothing like a madwoman. Peering at the droids through the rain. 

“Return to your homes.” the closest one said, before pointing it’s blaster at the both of you. Causing you to latch onto your mother's arm and take off as  fast as you could down the street. 

You pushed the door to your small home open with your knees, the latch had long broken and the door itself did not slide open properly anymore. The tips and edges of your hair were soaked, eyelashes heavy and hands slightly shaking. 

“Papa?” you called into the emptiness that was your house, cold wooden floors and windows left open  allowing the rain to make its way inside. The seprastist propaganda was playing through the Holopad on the main table. 

“Yona.” he said softly, sitting on the chair in the main room. None of the lights were on, the warm glow of homeliness wasn't there, and a feeling of dread settled in your stomach. “What have you done?” he asked gravely. 

“What are you talking about?” You faked innocence, there was no way he could know, you’d been so careful in hiding the transmissions. Flicking the light switch on the biggest lamp in the room you began to shed your outer clothing. 

“Yona…” he started again, and you turned at his voice, shrieking when you saw the figure standing at the end of the room. 

“I have to say…” General Krexx hissed out, the separatists trandoshan calmly turned towards you. “I’m almost impressed by how long you managed to remain undetected, little republican.” Without thinking you turned to the door and bolted out into the rain, weaving through the rocks and foliage as fast  as you could. 

“Go on, scuttle away little roach. Get a good head start.” Krexx laughed, before reaching to his communicator to hail his trandoshan guard. “You’ll need it.” 

Crosshair quickly decides he likes the rain. It’s got a way of blending in so nicely with the rest of the planet that he thinks it would be bland without it.

“Anything?” Hunter asked into the comms, and various grunts and groans of ‘negative’ filled his ear. They’d landed in what looked like an abandoned house, it was situated in the branches of a very tall, and very old tree. How anyone would have managed to climb it was a mystery. 

“How do we even know what we’re lookin’ for?” Wrecker grumbled as they rapelled down the enormous trunk. 

“All we’ve got is that they answer to the name Wren apparently its some animal on this planet.” Hunter grumbled, looking over a tech, expecting a lengthy explanation of what exactly a ‘Wren’ was. 

“Fairywren are small birds that  live in typical families of small groups, they come in brilliant colours of purple and blue. Very rare in the galaxy, but common to this planet.” Tech immediately replied, as their feet crunched into the ground. 

“Okay, Bad batch, let's make this quick.” The sergeant ordered before taking off into the undergrowth. 

It had been hours and they were no closer to coming across anyone or  anything that looked like a Fairywren. Keeping to the outskirts of a small town crosshair watches as a group of Trandoshian guards (from the look of their intense armour) patrolled the streets. 

“What are they doing?” he thought aloud to himself, toothpick ever present in his mouth. His concentration broke when he heard someone laughing at him. A group of teenagers were sitting under a broken piece of metal. 

“What does it look like, Laserbrain?” one of them sneered. “The trandoshans are only good for one thing. The hunt.” Crosshair doubled his pace. 

You were running faster than you ever had before, and for longer than you thought was physically possible. Your one and only advantage was the extent of your knowledge of the forest paths. The guards would be faster and run longer, they had keener senses than any human, and you knew if they put out a warrant, anyone and everyone would turn you in. But you were so close. So, so close. 

It was called the Night Lake by the locals, the canopy here was so dense no light illuminated the water below, giving the area a terrifying essence. But also ensured much needed privacy, and in this particular case, somewhere to hide. You threw yourself into the waters, letting the slightly chilly water envelop you. At least four of them had been on your tail and you knew more of them were waiting at the edge of the city, should you try and circle back. 

You swam as deep as you could manage, before stilling in the water, suspended in perfect anxiety as you watched its surface for any movement. Flares began to light up the dark sky and the water below as they tried to clear the area for your whereabouts. Closing your eyes you prayed to anything listening for them not to find you. 

Turns out. No one was listening. 

Crosshair was sprinting in the forest, creatures disturbed by his arrival scattered in every direction. The Trandoshians had taken off moments before answering a call that he couldn't interpret. But his experience and intuition told him to follow. 

It was then that he faltered and fell down the edge of a small but very muddy hill, being followed only by more water filled dirt that almost buried him. Cursing he pulled himself up, checking his whereabouts for signs of a trap. 

“So small for such trouble.” Something hissed to his right, clearly unaware of the clone that had just tumbled into their presence. His eyes snapped forward, four trandoshians sat at the edge of what was the largest and darkest lake Crosshair had ever seen. 

“Shall we let her drown or yank her out ourselves?” One asked with a snicker. 

“The general wants her alive, something about having fun while making an example.” The first one spoke again. “Right, enough is enough, Drisk get her out of there.” with a nod towards the water, Crosshair watched as the slimmest trandoshan (who was probably still twice the size of the sniper) dove into the black waters. The ripples dissipated for a moment before the reptile emerged carrying a struggling young girl. She was sopping wet, and struggling and turning so much they had no choice but to dump her in the mud. 

“Now, now little roach, don't run off.” The leader laughed as she started to claw her way through the mud, reaching down he grasped her ankle and yanked her into the arms of the other two reptilians. Crosshair lined up his rifle, he could take out the two grasping the girl and then worry about the leader after. He had the trandoshans in his sight when his comm crackled to life again. 

“Crosshair, you missed your check in time, you still out there?” it was Tech, curse him and his punctuality. Because now the other two huge beings were dragging him out of his hiding place. 

“Well, would you take a look at this. A clone!” Crosshair was forced to his knees in front of the leader as it spat at him.   

“Crosshair! Come in!” Tech shouted into the helmet, thus resulting in it’s not-so gentle removal from Crosshairs head. He watched as Tech’s voice faded away as the bucket rolled into the lake. 

“Now that the rude interruption is gone, you wanna tell us whatcha up to in these parts?” he said kneeling down and meeting his newest captive eye to eye.

“Bird watching.” Crosshair deadpanned. Really not feeling in a chatty mood at that present moment.  

“Really?” The reptile hummed in thought, pretending to actually believe his answer. “Have you seen any birds yet?” 

“No.” Crosshair told  him with a smile, “Saw some Bantha-shit - looking lizards though.” He didn't see the flying fist coming, but he sure as hell felt it. 

You clamp you both of your hands over your mouth. Hard. in the smallest attempt to muffle your screams. You can't tell the difference from lake water, rain water, and tears. But you know you’re wailing at an unforgiving volume. Your mother's blank eyes stare at you. A single blaster to the head. Your father, you got a blaster to the face is now unrecognizable. You don’t know which is worse. Krexx didn't even bother to keep you restrained, knowing that the horror of what he made you witness would be enough to paralyze you into compliance. The sound of conflict falls on deaf ears as you continue to shriek from your converter of what once was the family home. 

The Clone, whose name you either didn't know or couldn't remember, was cuffed to one of the ceiling's support beams by a pair of binders, only just coming to a hit to the head like that will do you in. you watch him lift  his head with a groan, the tattoo on his face covered by layers of mud. He starts pulling at the binders before his eyes meet the figure in the corner. 

You’re curled in a fetal position, still screaming bloody murder into your hands. And barely, Crosshair sees that the fingerless gloves you wear are embroidered with a bird. A bright blue bird. 

“Wren.” He grunted out, the pieces all coming together as his brain shakes the fuzz away. You don't move. “Wren!” he shouts over your tears. And you fall into more of a silent sob, looking over at him. “I need you to get these off of me.” he gestures to the binders with a shake of his hands. You recoil in the corner and shake your head, your cries are picking up volume again. 

“Wren, please” Crosshair all but begs. The sound of battle is getting closer and closer. “I need you to uncuff me.” his voice  barely registers in your brain. You know you have to move but you feel like you physically can't. There’s no fight or flight left in you, and it appears your entire system has short circuited as a result.   

“We are both going to die if you don’t get me out of  these kriffin’ binders!” Crosshair renewed his struggles as he shouts at you. But one look at you says that would be a preferable outcome for your current state. So, he switches tactics and tries to remember everything tech has ever told him about shock and trauma. 

“Wren,” he tries once again, softer this time. “I can help you, I can help you out of this. But i can't do that if you don't get these off of me.” Your eyes meet his. ‘Progress’ he thinks. You don't know how you do it, but you try to stand. 

“Just keep looking at me, okay?” The clone who you don't know speaks again, and your eyes meet his. You stare not into his eyes, more like past them. You're not focusing on anything you're just taking one step after another until you reach where he’s awkwardly strewn up. “There's a release button on the-” He starts to tell you, but you're already reaching up with shaky hands and fumbling around until they drop to the floor with a horrible clank. Immediately Crosshair jumps into action checking by each window and door and gathering all he can in terms of intel. 

“We need to move, before anyone-” he trails off again when he’s seen that you’ve slid down the wall that he was against. Curling back into a ball. Slowly, he approaches you. He knows the protocol for a clone with shock, but what you're going through looks completely different all together. And Crosshair, well, let's just say there was never any training for caring for a civilian girl whose entire life just got destroyed. 

“My name is Crosshair.” He whispers to you, crouching down to our height. You look at him with wide eyes. “Is it okay if I carry you to a safer spot?” You nod in response fumbling with your arms to lock them around his tall frame. His strength surprises you, as he lifts you with relative ease. And slowly the adrenaline wears off and you sink into his arms, vaguely you feel him pull your head into his shoulder the blasts sound deafening now as he runs through the uproar caused by the execution of an innocent family. Your family. Crosshair tells himself he pulls you closer so that you are not recognized. And that he does it so you don't have to see that carnage. But mostly he does it in hopes that you feel just a little more safe, and a little more calm in his arms.   

You don't remember passing out in the troopers arms, waking only when he sets you down, in front of the tree that's all too familiar to you. It’s raining  even more now and Crosshair feels particularly inadequate as he paces in front of you. What do you tell someone who’s just lost everything? 

“Crosshair…” Your voice is quite as you say his name, he whips around at the sound, terrified someone had followed him into the forest. He waits for your next words, and it takes a moment but a small ‘thank you’ leaves your mouth. He nods and goes back to pacing in front of you. 

The crashing sound breaks both of you out of your perspective trances. Something is moving towards you, and quickly. In response, you haul yourself up off of the rainforest floor. Looking to the man in front of you for direction. 

“It’s fine.” He tells you, monotone. “Jus’ Wrecker.” You’re not sure what a Wrecker is, but quickly you discover a Wrecker happens to be Crosshair's older and much bigger brother. 

“Crosshair!” He booms, when he clears the undergrowth, clapping a rather large hand on  his shoulder, and you watch as the trooper takes a step backwards. ‘Not one for touchy-feels’ you think to yourself. 

“Ran into some trouble, bucket got chucked in a lake.” He explains. “Couldn't com in.” this ears him a boisterous laugh from Wrecker. 

“Accident prone as always.” He chuckles, before turning away to, presumably tell his comrades he's found Crosshair. You on the other hand, had backed up into the tree bark whilst watching this interaction. Crosshair is watching you watch Wrecker, and he wishes he could pick you up again, just to feel your heartbeat go from crazy to calm as you relaxed in his arms. It would be so much easier than talking or trying to talk,  to just scoop you up and  hide you from the world.  

“Tech and Hunter are only a few clicks out.” Wrecker says to Crosshair, subtle nudging him as if to say, ‘stop staring bro, you’ll spook her.’  Before moving over to you, and bringing his hand out, watching as you recoil more into the branches. Wrecker takes the hint, and  takes his helmet off before trying to shake your hand again. This time you let him, offering a small ‘hello’ in return. 

“You must be Fairywren.” He says, and you confirm the guess with a nod. “Cool name, much cooler than Crosshair.” He smiles at you, and you immediately decide that his talent, even with all the muscle, is undying kindness and radiating happy energy. Crosshair scoffs at his brother. 

“I hate to disappoint but it's just a nickname.” You’re still smiling a little, your old self shining through for that brief moment. 

“Still” He assures you, “it’s way better than any of ours!” You decide to lose yourself in the moment of happiness. Firing back at him with a:

“Oh I don't know, Crosshair isn’t that bad.” Wrecker laughs again, and you see Crosshair pause as he lifts a toothpick to his mouth, a small smile in the shadow of his tall figure. 

“Wrecker” he draws out that voice, so different to any other clone. He gestures to the forest edge he’d been watching as the leaves and twigs break and moves as Tech and Hunter join the three of you. They exchange words, far enough away from you that you don't hear them. A few glances thrown your way. And Crosshair starts to look more and more unimpressed. Breaking from the group with a grumble, and heading over to you, opting to lean against the tree with you. 

“Tech’s the small one.” He whispers to you. “Sergeant Hunter has the ridiculous hair.” rolling the toothpick in his mouth, you look up at him. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you're not trying so rude, but you're genuinely curious.

“I’m telling you, because you’re going to be putting up with them for the foreseeable future.” He sounds a tad annoyed but you don’t push further.  

“You named after the tattoo?” You ask without thinking. Tracing it with your eyes, giving them something to do other than tear up in panic. 

“Got it after.” He responds, and from that you can gather he’s not very social, but what you need right now is a distracted mind, so you decide to test your luck. 

“Why Crosshair though? Like I get it's your name but like why?”  You want to curse at how stupid you sound, but, the adrenaline has totally warn off now and your brain feels like goo.  

“Sniper.” He says blankly, turning around so you see  the huge rifle strapped to his back. 

“Oh…” you say, finally connecting the dots. “Well i'm called Fairywren after-”

“The birds, I know.” Crosshair  interrupts, before moving away from you as the rest of the group breaks apart from what you're guessing was a debrief? Taking small steps towards them, taking in how different they all are. 

“Sergeant Hunter, at your service.” The one with longer hair says, shaking your hand. You take note of his face tattoo as well and wonder if he got his with Crosshair. 

“Wren, thanks for the save.” You introduce yourself, not pausing to think where you’d be without them.

“No problem,” Hunter says, his voice is deeper than Crosshairs but no less gruff. “Shall we get off this kriffing rock?” Turning around to his group, taking in their nods, before scaling the tree. 

The Havoc Marauder isn't exactly what you expected, but then again you don't know what you expected it to be like.  Maybe a bit more cluttered than it actually is but you like it nevertheless. 

“How many species are on this planet?” The clone named Tech asks you, he's the only one that hasn't introduced himself to you, but you're guessing it's only because his brain is working a million parsecs a second. 

“I'm not actually sure,” You say, feeling guilty as his face drops. “There's a number of overall species and all but the variations are so unique it's hard to classify them.” You quickly add, watching his eyes light up.

“So why the Fairywren then?” He asks after a lengthy (and largely one sided) conversation of evolution in rainforest species. You feel Crosshair's eyes on you, tuning back into the conversation off and on again as he took or lost interest. 

“My grandmother once told me that the Fairywrens kept guard on your heart.” You tell him, and you see Crosshair lean forward on his knees to hear better. “She said that every Fairywren watches over someone, they keep them safe. She said my Fairywren was the brightest one there ever was because of how much she loved me.” Tech stays silent taking in the story, and Crosshair seems to be frozen in place. You don't realize that he’s realizing how stunning you are and kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. Of course you're the Fairywren, bright blue and so beautiful it almost seems fake. 

“How do you know Krexx.” Hunter asks walking into the brig area where you had been sitting. And you freeze at the name, Crosshair glares at his sergeant for bringing him up, he hates the way your face falls at the mention of his name. 

“He took over when the separatists showed up, and he was put in charge of keeping everyone in line.” You snap.

“Hunter, maybe we should-” Crosshair starts but he gets interrupted. 

“How many Trandoshans were on your planet?” Hunter interrupts, and if you didn't think Crosshair could glare any harder than he was, you were very mistaken. 

“At least a hundred.” You tell him. “Less now.” 

“Why less now?” Tech jumps in, and his honest interest makes you smile a little. 

“I used to catalog plants when I was a kid, my dad kept journals, because he was a healer. So it was like a hobby of ours.” You explain, “Trandoshans don’t take too well to plant venom apparently.” 

“Genius” Tech breathes and you can't help but flush. 

“Any chance of a tail?” Hunter asks, and this time Crosshair interrupts. 

“No, checked the whole way back to the ship and then some.” His voice sounds taught, like he's about to snap. 

“Good, either way, I'll take the first watch, I don't want any missteps here. Get some rest.” He nods to you all, and even though it's nowhere near close to nighttime you don't argue. Wrecker passes by and ruffles your hair saying “g’night little bird.” Tech offers you a mock salute that makes you smile, before heading to where you assume the bunks are. 

“Extra bunk is down the hall. Door on the left.” Crosshair tells you standing up, and the air seems to shift, you feel lonely thinking about him leaving. So you follow him, hoping he’ll stay up just a little longer with you. He stops in front of what you guess is his door. And you thank every god  out there that it's across from the empty one. You see that there's no blankets in the empty bunk. 

“Need anything?” he asks, and he almost cringes by how rude it sounds. ‘Sure’ he thinks to himself. ‘Be rude to the sopping wet, traumatized girl in front of you, good one Cross.” You turn back to him. 

“No it's okay, i'll get blankets from Hunter or just snoop around until I find them.” You joke, Rubbing the back of your neck as the man in front of you sighs and rolls the toothpick in his mouth around. 

“Stay here.” He says, a little softer, disappearing into his room. In reality he wants nothing more to let you into his room, to drop that cold exterior he’s created. But he already knows he's no good for you. Crosshair slips out his door again with a blanket. 

“Wrecker will be passed out already, Hunter doesn't use blankets and Tech has what he calls the ‘mathematical epiphany of correct blanket weight, fluffiness and size’ to ensure a proper sleep. So the only extra one around is this.” He states, holding out a black fluffy blanket that looks so cozy you want to cry. You take it from him silently, subtly bury your face in it so you can tell if it feels the same way his shoulder does. It's softer but smells the same, and you can't wait to burrito yourself in it. Crosshair has turned away, going crazy as he sees you snuggle into something that's not him.    

“Crosshair,” you call as his door slides open again. “Thank you.” And before you can embarrass yourself you slide into the extra room. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers even though he knows you won't hear it. 

You wake to the sound of a very angry sniper. And even though his default setting is angry, he seems more perturbed than usual. Muffled voices can be heard from outside the small bunk area that you’ve already made your personal space. Wet, destroyed clothes sit on the floor in the corner and you’re wrapped only in Crosshairs blanket, save for your undergarments. You swing your legs over and plant them on the cold metal floor.  As you reach the door, the  voices become clearer.

“Absolutely not.”  - That's Crosshair for sure, only he would be so blunt. 

“I wasn't asking for your permission Crosshair, only your opinion.” The other voice is more of a long sigh at this point. The exhaustion and caring sound to it tells you it’s Hunter. For clones they are all remarkably different you think to yourself. 

“Yeah and my opinion is ‘no’.” Crosshair snaps. 

“The seppies will come after her whether you like it or not.” He counters. 

“Which is why we can’t take her into bounty hunter territory!” You freeze as you realize they mean you. Panic settles in when you come to terms with the idea of being ditched on some degenerate planet with non resources whatsoever. You retreat back into the bunk, pulling the blanket closer to your frame. 

“Just get her up.” Hunter finishes and you hear him tread back down the halfway of the ship. Crosshair grumbles something about not being in charge of you before the door slides open. He’s shocked to see you sitting up and awake, and his eyes rest on the pile of clothes on the floor before meeting yours. His blanket looks far better on you than it has in all his years of owning it.

“Food’s up.” He says before turning to leave. Less time spent interacting with you the better. Means less time for him to stare at the one exposed shoulder that the blanket has fallen off of and less time to wonder if you’d ever spare someone like him a second glance. 

“Where are you dumping me?” He hears a small voice ask. And all the warmth leaves  his body. 

“We aren't…” He starts, not turning around. Because if he doesn’t turn around he can claim ignorance if you're crying or not. 

“I heard you and Hunter and i’m not stupid.��� You interrupt him, voice void of any emotion. 

“Then you'd know i'm not going to let him do that.” He snaps, almost angry at you for thinking he’d leave you on your own. 

“I’m deadweight, aren't I?” It's a question you know the answer to but have to ask anyways. You want to scream at the republic, for using your intel and then throwing you away. Taking advantage of your selflessness and empathy, just like they take advantage of  the clones caring and giving nature at every opportunity. 

“You’re not deadweight.” Crosshair states, leaving no room for argument, “You just need  to be somewhere off the grid for a while.” He hears you stand, and slowly he turns his head, his blanket bunched awkwardly around your frame. His jaw clenches as his heart pulls at strings he swore weren't there. 

“Crosshair…” You start, but don’t continue, words escape you, the right ones don’t exist in that moment. Or at least you can't bring yourself to use the ones you want to. So instead, you opt to blankly stare at the metal floor. He will leave eventually, turn and head out the door. You’re not his problem, your brain explains this as the floor becomes more and more interesting.  Except he doesn't go. And the very tips of his fingers meet your chin, gently pulling your head to meet his glance.  

God his eyes are stunning, you think, before cursing your brain for being in the totally wrong place at the wrong time. But his eyes might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen. Light brown with hints of ashy tones. 

“I won't leave you on your own.” He tells you, but what you want to hear is that he will stay with you. You're already inexplicably attached to the sniper, it's unbearable. 

“Thank you.” You whisper to him breathless just from being this close to him. 

“Now come on, or Wrecker will have eaten everything before you even get out there.” Crosshair cocks his head towards the door, pulling away from you. 

The members of the hold greet you excitedly, Wrecker seems to have really taken to calling you little bird as well as patting your head affectionately. And you find yourself sat wedge in between him and Tech while they both talk your ear off. Hunter is smiling and eating in contentment of his little family and Crosshair is starring, you fit so nicely in this scene. Wrecker piling more and more food on your plate while you laugh at Techs retelling of one of their ridiculous missions. 

“Tell er’ about Nal Hutta!” Wrecker says with an evil smile.

“Don’t you dare.” Crosshair snaps at his vod, who's already laughing his blacks off. 

“It wasn't that bad Cross.” Hunter admits grabbing some empty dishes and patting his shoulder as he walks by. 

“Yes it was!” Wrecker says between wheezes. And you notice the faint flush in his cheeks. 

“Okay one of you needs to spill the details.” You demand looking from Tech to Wrecker. 

“Well, as you probably know Nal Hutta is run by the infamous Hut cartel…” Tech launches off, waving his hands about as he talks. (you've picked this up as one of his biggest habits.) 

“Tech…” Crosshair groans with his face in one of his hands before giving in and leaning back. Preparing for the worst. 

“I can't tell you all the details, classified and all, but the important part is that Cross was working recon and cover, like usual. So he's up this step mountain that's basically all dirt and sand. Looking for this Hut fellow right, and before we can warn him Wrecker throws this thermal detonator and the whole side of the mountain collapses.” Tech tells you excitedly. And your worried eyes look across the table. Crosshair had moved so he could lean back with his arms behind his head looking just a tad embarrassed. 

“He would've been fine, if he hadn't gone rolling right through the window of the house he was collecting intel on.” Wrecker was killing himself laughing by this point. 

“And then the… the” He tried to get out between gasps of air before waving it off and letting Tech continue. 

“And well, sorry Cross, there's no easy way to say this.” Tech laughed a little himself. “He rolled right in on a Hutt reproducing session.” Your eyes went as wide as they could, and a hand covered your gaping and giggling mouth. 

“Wait, so Crosshair burst in on two Hutts doing it?” You gasped, trying to stifle your growing laughter. 

“Gets worse.” The man in question grit out, looking at the mess of comrades before him. 

“How does that get worse?” you exclaimed, leaning into Wrecker with his contagious laughter. Tech turned to you, smiling wider than ever. 

“Hutts reproduce asexually.” He stated, “scientists don't know too much about it but from the condition we found this one in.” he pointed to a grumpy Crosshair. “It gets real messy.” You closed your mouth into a thin line, blinking as you tried not to laugh. 

“Oh…” giggle “no, Crosshair…” More giggles. “That must’ve been awful.” You tried to emphasize you really did, but the look on the snipers face had you laughing all over again. 

“He was covered head to toe in green Hutt goo!”  Wrecker boomed. 

“Well it’s nice to know yet another finds my torment hilarious.” Crosshair grumbled as he stood up to escape the laughing hyenas before him. 

“No!” you objected, “I promise I am not finding this the least bit funny.” You told him, trying to keep a straight face. Receiving a sarcastic ‘um hum’ reply. 

“I mean it, you could have been seriously injured.” You countered, thinking you had successfully hidden your smile beneath your hand. 

“I can see you smiling.” He said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You could've drowned in Hutt goo…” You quietly said with another round of giggles. 

“Ahhh yes CT-7733 of Clone Force 99 killed in action on Nal hutta, death caused by drowning in Hutt goo.” Tech snickered from beside you. 

“He will be dearly missed, and as an apology the Hutt has named the child in his honour.”  You added taking note of Crosshairs millionth eye roll of that morning alone. 

“Okay that's enough of that now.” He said. “Wren, you want clothes or are you spending the rest of your life in my blanket?” He teases, watching you blush a tad. 

“I don't take life advice from a man covered in goo.” You shoot back with the biggest smirk on your face. 

“No clothes for you then.” he smiled as your protests began. 

“Okay, okay, calm down, don’t get your goo in a tuffle.” You say maneuvering yourself from with the blanket and over Wrecker who's still chuckling to himself.  

Down back in your makeshift room, Crosshair shows you where the extra clothes are kept, which means you’ll be swimming in extra sets of blacks all meant for clones that are bigger  than yourself. But you think your pants may survive given a good enough wash, so for now you roll the waistband and the legs until you look somewhat presentable. Greeting crosshair on the other side of the door.  

“See,”  He says, “told ya’ it would fit.” Before he turns from you and starts to walk back down the hall. 

“Wait Crosshair!” You call jogging over to him, a look of fau-concentration on your face as you reach up to where his short hair meets his right ear. Carefully running your fingers through it. He knows his heart has either stopped beating or hammering so fast he can’t feel it. 

“There, all good now.” you declare patting his cheek a few times. hoping he inquires as to why you just hand you hand in his hair. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before deciding on: 

“What was that for?” and if there was an inter-galactic clone flirting competition, Crosshair just lost. You grin up at him, pure evil  in your eyes. 

“Oh no reason,”You say walking past. “Just a little leftover Hutt goo.” 

Tech finds your fascination with hyperspace fascinating. You seem to spend hours sitting by whichever window you have chosen for that moment, watching the universe whizz by. Sometimes he sits with you, and you both talk about your theories for explaining the galaxy. He learns that your parents never left your home world once you were born and nicknamed you Yona after the rain that poured down so often. He mentions it offhand to Crosshair and catches him whispering it to himself later that day. Tech himself sticks to calling you Fairywren, while Wrecker has committed to little bird, Hunter goes with Fairywren like Tech but Crosshair has decided on not using your name or any of the many nicknames the bad batch have for you. 

In fact, he’s starting avoiding you all together. 

You flit around the ship like a plague according to him, Hunter and Tech can’t figure out why the sniper has such a disdain for everything you do but it’s getting out of hand.

“When do we drop out of hyperspace?” He asks one day while you’re perched in the cockpit staring out the window, away from the current conversation. 

“Soon.” Hunter states his focus on his holopad, receiving instructions from Cody about laying low. 

“How soon?” Crosshair presses, keeping an eye on the door that separates you from hearing him. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Hunter says, getting slightly annoyed with his brother, not to be dramatic but you’re literally a joy to have around. All the batchers love you to bits and Hunter is frustrated that Crosshair is being a spoilsport. 

“It matters to me.” 

“Yeah we get it. You can't stand Fairywren, because she’s the problem and you can't wait to get rid of her.” Hunter snaps, putting his holopad down.  “Just days ago you were all over  her, what happened to ‘we aren't leaving her’?” He’s staring at Crosshair, enhanced sense burning into his soul.   

“Just a little leftover Hutt goo.”  You’d said to him, not that he’d heard, his face was on fire, burned from where you had touched it. And he is surprised he didn't flinch away from your touch, had he become that accustomed to you already? Was Crosshair so entranced by you in  such a short amount of time that he was already missing your touch? No. He doesn't  know you. You don't know him. He’s memorized every part of your face, but you don’t matter to him. His heart seems to beat for every smile you give him. But you have no effect on the sniper. Every shot he takes is one to protect you from anymore trauma. But he doesn't give a damn about your feelings. Love at first sight doesn't exist, soulmates are fake. And even if they did Crosshair doesn't want it. 

Kamino broke him, being defected, trained and thrown away for your one purpose does that to person. He tells himself to hate you for putting him back together.

“Nothing changed.  But we aint a charity.” He tells his sergeant, who absolutely knows he is lying. But because he doesn't know why he’s lying, Hunter lets the conversation drop, but mostly because he can hear you get up from the co-pilot's seat and head towards the door. 

“Wrecker says we’re dropping out of hyperspace soon.” You report, popping your head out of the door. “Says it'll look cool.” You add with a blush. Hunter chuckles a tad and says something about going to let Tech know. Leaving you to stare at Crosshair. 

“Ram'ser” you say all of a sudden, slow and precise, testing out the word and being very careful of  your pronunciation. 

“What?” Crosshair spits, more surprised than malicious. Since when did you speak mando’a?

“Tech likes to talk to me in phrases of mando’a  and have me guess what they mean.” you explain slowly. “He uses that word when he talks about you.” 

“Yeah? Good for him.” Crosshair is glaring at his reflection in the table. He hates this, he wants to hate you. He can’t stand the way the words come out of his mouth, but his head reminds him that you will be safest far away from the war. And that means he can't catch feelings and any that have slipped through must be thrown away. He hears the door slip closed as you retreat to watch the stars again. Tech and Hunter follow moments later, Hunter looking down at his vod with a sigh. Stupid enhanced hearing. He heard every word. 

You land on a desert planet you already can't remember the name of, but apparently it’s a neutral system and a good place to lay low. The sand dunes make you frown because they go as far as the eye can see, and Tech makes you take a spare pair of goggles and a makeshift hooded cape that was fashioned out of a lightweight tarp from the hold. That combined with your clean (albeit mud stained) pants and an oversized shirt you fit right in with the mess of inhabitants on the planet. 

“You’ll get itchy.” Hunter tells you when he sees that you’ve sat yourself in the sand and are now in the process of burying your legs in the strange stuff. 

“Sorry, I’ve just never really seen this stuff.” you apologize but Hunter waves it off with a smile. 

“It’s okay, just a heads up. Stuff gets everywhere.” You reluctantly pull yourself out of the sand, joining everyone by the edge of the sand dune, looking over at the nearby city in the distance. 

“So what haven't you guys seen?” You ask as you struggle to walk down the intense slope. 

“We don’t see a lot of water usually.” Tech says, “but only because not many species can survive underwater.” 

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?” The bad batch is used to your barrage of questions. It’s one of the things they like most about having you around, from favourite colours to wild would you rather questions, your brain is always humming with things to discover. 

“Somewhere small and quiet.” Hunter says quickly, the light, heat and everything else already giving him a headache. 

“Coruscant.” Tech answers, the complete opposite of his brother. “Libraries and the Jedi temple.” He explains further. 

“Kamino.” Wrecker says, surprising you. You had assumed they all hated it there. “Home is home.” He explains with a smile. Crosshair doesn't say anything, but he can feel the eyes on him. 

“What?” He says to the four faces looking at him. 

“Cross would go to Hoth, because it’s cold.” Wrecker sasses him with a slight push. 

“Shut up Wrecker.” he snaps, in a very bad mood today. 

“Or anywhere his cyare is.” Wrecker adds without thinking. Making Hunter, you and Tech very confused. That's a word you haven't heard from Tech before and both him and hunter are trying to figure out who Wrecker is talking about while Crosshair looks like he’s actually going to explode. 

“What did you just say?” He says each word is its own sentence. 

“Cross has a cyare?” Tech is now thinking out loud (another habit of his) “no way Cross has a cyare we would know if he did. I mean we are with him all the time so it’s not like we wouldn’t know them or have met them…” His rambling fades into the background when Wrecker speaks up again. 

“Wait Tech, Sarge? You two seriously didn't notice?” He asks, shocked that his clever brothers hadn't picked it up. 

“Wrecker, shut your trap.” Crosshair orders, and a very tense silence falls over the group, and you’re only a third of the way to the city. You decide to ask Tech what the word means later.  And the now very awkward walk continues, that is until a speeding starts  to approach you from the town. 

“Bad batch! Defensive positions!” Hunter calls to them, and within seconds they have their helmets on. except for Cross whose helmet is still in the bottom of that lake, but has a new one waiting for him at base. But either way they’re all ready for combat in record time, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of them hand by where you keep the small knife that's always by your side. 

“Civi’s!” Tech calls, having analyzed the people within the speeder, it’s a Twi’lek woman with a young child. She does, however, raise a blaster before addressing  the group.

“Saw the ship land. Thought someone or something might need help.” She says, eying the group suspisously. “Clones eh?” She adds. “Can't be here. Neutral system.”  She lowers the blaster. 

“We just need a few days.” Hunter says, taking his helmet off. 

“Perhaps you didn't hear me.” She’s more aggressive now. “You can’t be here. One day or a hundred, we don't care. Get gone.” You step forward. 

“Hunter we should go.” You whisper, looking at the mother and her young one. 

“Kriff,” The twi’lek sighs when she sees you. “Huxx has already got a bounty on her.” She looks at you with pity. 

“Thought you said this was a neutral planet.” Crosshair snaps. 

“Bounty is a bounty, no matter who’s side it’s for.” She says shaking her head. She pauses thinking for a minute. “All i can offer you is the fact that any planets around here  will  have been given the same information.” 

“What if I had credits?” You ask, it’s dangerous. But you know if one person saw you and more must know by now.  

“You’d need a lot of credits and a really stupid person to let you camp out here. Especially with clones” she says, beginning to bargain. 

“What about credits, a nice person, and no clones?” You counter taking a pouch out of your pants pockets. 

“That might work. For a couple days that is.” She agrees. 

“Absolutely not.” Hunter interrupts. “We aren't leaving you.” ignoring someone with a sniper rifle mumbling ‘hypocrite’ under his breath. 

“The name’s Leeya” she tells you, ignoring Hunter. 

“Yona.” You reply, moving to hop in the speeder, but stopped by Hunter's hand. 

“This isn't happening.” He says firmly. 

“Get in the speeder and tell your very angry friends to find something to wear other than armour.” Leeya smiles softly at you.

“We’ll be back soon.” Tech speaks up, very nervous, just as the rest of his batch. 

“I know,” You tease, “who else is gunna listen to you if i’m not around?” He laughs a little, and you hug him goodbye, before wrapping your arms around Hunter and Wrecker in turn. Crosshair doesn't move. 

“See ya around.” He says, turning away, and there’s a crack forming in your heart. You know he’s been different recently, you know he’s just putting up with you. But you thought there was something there. The present evidence seems to prove you wrong. Wrecker’s looking between you and Crosshair in disbelief. He sees you swallow tears and he snaps. 

“Wrecker!” Crosshair all but screams as he’s lifted into the air by his brother. Of course he heard him stomp up behind him but he definitely wasn't expecting to be snatched from where he stood. 

“She’s your kriffing cyare!” He booms, before unceremoniously shoving Crosshair down into the sand in front of you. It would be funny if you weren't so shocked by Wreckers actions. Crosshair pulls himself up and whips around, arm cocked ready to throw a punch. The hardest glare you’ve ever seen on his face. But it falls when you gently take hold of his arm. 

He’s taken back to the night he kissed you, and you begged him to keep the nightmares at bay.  He blinks and he’s taken back to the morning he woke with you in his arms. All at once  he remembers and forgets why he was pushing you away.

“Crosshair…” You start, but he pulls you into a crushingly tight hug before you finish. Nose to your hair, and your hands around his neck. Like they were made to be there. 

“I-I” he starts what would be an apology that he knows won't be enough. 

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. “Just be back soon.” and in a haze he watches you pull away from him and get into the speeder. 

“But I promised…” He whispers to himself. “I promised not to leave you…” you’re becoming a speck on the horizon, and he should be happy, he doesn't have to torture himself by refusing to love you anymore. 

Except part of him knows, as he feels his heart get torn from his chest, the real torture has just begun. 

You see him in your dreams. His corpse, destroyed in front of you. And when you wake with a start, on the dusty planet, in another woman's home, he isn't there to comfort you. Leeya is usually up and so you find her in the kitchen pottering around. You spend those nights cradling her infant child, trying to stop his incessant crying. And you learn that the day she met you she was looking for her husband. Who apparently has been missing for quite some time.

They’ve been gone seven rotations and the nightmares and shakes are getting worse, wrecker isn't here to make you laugh, tech isn't here to drown your thoughts out with ones of his own. Hunter Isn't here to take notice of the smallest changes in your well being. And Crosshair, well, Crosshair isn't here either. But you miss the eternity of him. 

Mostly you miss his arms, strong enough to hold you tight but soft enough to cradle the tears away. Wrapping around you away from the universe. An addicting drug at its finest and you’ve only had one hit. 

It was late, late enough that you thought no one was awake. Having been travelling through hyperspace with the Batch for 12 regular rotations of 24 hours, you’ve taken to having panic attacks alone in your room, or pacing around the ship when everyone is asleep, pushing away the memories of a family you once had. 

“You should be asleep.” Comes the long drawl from the sniper, toothpick in  his mouth, wearing only his blacks. You jump back, scared of the sudden noise.  

“I’m sorry.” The apology is immediate. 

“Don’t be.” He states, looking at you, wrapped up in his blanket like usual, he wonders if it smells like you.

“You’re shaking.” He notes with concern, standing up from his  spot and crossing over to you. 

“I just do that sometimes.” You admit, trying your hardest not to bring attention  to the problem. 

“Before we met?” You know what he’s insinuating, did you have a habit of shaking before your parents died. 

“Yes.” A lie floods so easily from your lips. 

“Promise?” He doesn't believe you, he’s heard stories about the famous fairywren from regs on corosaunt. You were basically famous for heroics and intel, and he’s pretty sure someone like that doesn't shake. You don’t answer him, staring at a spot on the wall behind his shoulder in the hopes you can fake eye contact. You hear him sigh, before his arms encase you. 

Once they do, you begin to shake in earnest. From head to toe as if now your mind knows it’s safe, it's letting out all the pent up anxiety. Every breath is interrupted halfway by the next, and tears make trails down your face and into his clothing.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him again, and in response he just holds you tighter. His arms pull you as close as physically possible, and for a moment you let go of everything that's holding you up. Everything you’ve been trying to hide from those you travel with surface with one terrible sob.

“Someone as heavenly as you shouldn't cry.” Crosshair says, placing the gentlest of kisses to your hairline.  

“It's my fault they're dead.” You gasp between tears. 

“No, Yona, it’s not. You didn't start this war, you didn't ask for your home planet to be invaded. And you didn’t give the order.” 

“But I-” You start

“But nothing.” He barges in rather softly. “It’s not, and will never be your fault.” 

“He’s going to kill me.” you whisper into the darkness of the havoc marauder. “He would have the day if the neighbours had not heard the screaming. Before he left he promised me, no matter where I hid, he’d find me.” 

“I won't let him lay a finger on you.” Crosshair professes to you and himself.  His arms that had slacked pull you closer yet again. 

“You don’t owe me anything, missions done Cross. I’m just baggage.” You sniffle, lip beginning to tremble. 

“Not to me.” He says firmly. You pull back from him just enough to look into his eyes. And with a look both of you ask ‘why me’ and answer the other in one breath. Your quivering hands make their way to the edges of his face. And very, very slowly they start  pulling his lips to yours. You stop just before they meet. Waiting for him to pull away, or to ask you to stop, but nothing of the sort happens. His mouth connects to yours as softly as possible and just like that the two of you are kissing. 

It’s soft, slow, nurturing and full of feelings neither of you can describe. You never want to leave this embrace and from the way Crosshair is humming against you, he agrees with that statement. 

The air runs out eventually, and breathless, the two of you pull away. It doesn't stop him from chasing your lips and placing haphazard final pecks to your slightly agape mouth. 

“If i asked you to hold me for the rest of the night, would you?” It's A risky question but you ask it anyway. 

“You think i’d say no to someone as stunning as you?”

He wakes to you curled into his frame, arms locked around his stomach where the blacks have ridden up, and he can't tell where his legs start and where yours end because they’re so intertwined. Crosshair looks down at your face, and thinks that he wasn't made to fight in a war. He was made to love you. 

And the second that thought crosses his mind, he’s taken back to Kamino where the creepy longnecks tell a younger version over and over again, that he isn't a real person. That he will never have a real life. He begins and ends with this war, and he knows that this war has taken enough from you. And it cant take him from you if he doesn't give himself  away. 

So he presses one last kiss to your forehead, a tear falling into your hair. He lets himself think about your future, an older happier you, living a free life. It’s just that, in that image, Crosshair isn't there. 

“How did you know?” Tech asks Wrecker the second they make it back to the Havoc Marauder and crosshair is out of earshot. He’s been replaying the events back and it makes so much sense, but how was it that both him and Hunter had not clued in?

“Mostly the way he looked at her.” Wrecker says quietly, afraid of his brother overhearing this conversation. “He wasn’t very subtle.” He adds thoughtfully. Tech scrunches his eyebrows together and thinks about all the small smiles the sniper gave you, and yes this was normal behaviour for him around the other batchers, but thinking about it now, crosshair should've been much more cold to an outsider. Perhaps you just blended in so well into their little family he never stopped to notice.  

“There's a republic planet not too far from here, we restock there.” Hunter calls to the cockpit, usually maybe he’d poke his head in and check on Tech and Wrecker, but right now, he’s got someone else to check on. 

Crosshair is in his room, having collected his blanket from your bunk he sits with it by his bed while wondering how long it’ll smell like you. He’d be angry if he didn’t feel so empty. And because he feels so empty, there's not much he can do but tinker mindlessly with his rifle. 

“Cross?” it's phrased like a question but Hunter isn't exactly asking for permission into Crosshairs room. He strides  right through the door like he owns the place, (which he kind of does.) 

“Sarge!” Crosshair jumps to attention. It’s funny how when your brain does into overdrive it reverts to its base settings and you fall into old habits, and as a clone, habits are kamino training.

“At ease.” Hunter states with a raised eyebrow, when was the last time he asked his crew to stand to attention? He shakes it off. “Cross we gotta talk.” 

“We aren't together, you can’t court marshall me.” He snaps, Crosshair has already had this conversation in his head, and he knows that in clone force 99 is where he needs to be. So he’s got every rebuttal and reason stacked in his mind ready to go. 

“That wasn’t what I was asking…” Hunter states, and he knows he has to be careful, crosshair is a live wire at the best of times and this, well this is something else entirely. 

“What are you asking me then?” Crosshair stands up, coming toe to toe with Hunter, and you don’t need enhanced sense to know cross feels threatened. So Hunter takes a step back, a sign of non-agression. 

“I am asking why you would push something like that away.” Hunter says, choosing his words carefully. Not ‘why push her away’ because he knows the answer to that. It’s not allowed, I have to keep her safe, she doesn't feel the same, ect, ect. But in reality Hunter wants to know why he would push away the unspoken feelings they both have for the other. Why would Crosshair throw away something every clone dreamed about? Crosshair doesn't respond at first, but when he does, he explains everything to simply. 

“You can’t heal trauma on a battlefield.” and for the first time in  his life Hunter sees one of his men shed a tear. It’s gone the second it appears, lost to a face worn down by violence. Gone so quickly Hunter isn't even sure if it’s really there.

“But Crosshair.” He tells him gently “that isn’t your call. It’s hers.” he receives a small nod in return. And Hunter stands in front of him awkwardly, not sure what he is supposed to do next. 

“Well.” he clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to it then, because you best start working on your apology.” Crosshair smiles softly at that, and nods with more confidence this time. 

“You know sarge, if i didn't know better i’d say you’ve gone soft.”  The classic crosshair sarcasm is lacking a tad, but it’s progress. 

“Yeah, that Fairywren’s a bad influence.” He says over his shoulder as he leaves the snipers room. 

Time has no meaning while they're gone. You decide with an over dramatic sigh while you dig up and plant this strange dessert food. Except it’s not really food, it’s just kind of a thick stemmed thing that oozes out goo that the locals use for a variety of things, including a snack.  But you like plants, and you’re more than happy to be left on your own for a bit. Leeya is in the center of town with her son, selling and buying goods for the week. 

“Yona!” You hear her shouting from the house, frantic, and worried. “Yona!” she’s sprinting toward you fast as she can with the baby in her arms. You run to meet her halfway, tripping as you scramble to get up. 

“What, what is it?” You ask as she collides into you, careful not to squish the infant. 

“He’s coming, he’s coming here. Yona he’s coming here.” Leeya pants, terrified. Through the time of your stay you learn her life has also been altered by the trandoshan that hunts you, the kind twi’lek confessed to you one night when you asked why she agreed to help you. And being kind, you didn't press. Her life was her life, and neither of you seemed keen on talking about either of your lives.

“Leeya” You say trying to keep a level head. “Breathe I need you to breathe.”  she takes shallow breaths but nods to your suggestion. 

“They were talking about it at the market, said someone overheard a transmission.” You look up at the sky for a ship, praying to see one you recognize. But  it’s clear skies today and there's nothing in sight. So you can only wrap your arm around Leeya, coo to her son, head inside and pretend not to be scared. 

Krexx lands two rotations later, and your occasional shaking becomes constant. Sleep isn’t an option because you always have to be alert. You assume he doesnt know you’re here or he  would’ve found you already, but that doesn't ease your nerves. So it’s no surprise to anyone in the household, that when Leeya’s son starts to cry in the  middle of th night, you're by  his side in an instant. 

“Hey little slug, what's got your lekku in a twist?” You scoop him up into your arms and he manages to blow a tear induced spit bubble as a reply. 

“See and then you wonder why I call you slug, you slimy thing.” You smile down at him, bouncing slightly, moving your weight from leg to leg trying to stop the crying before his mum wakes. 

But don’t worry, it’s okay to be slimy.” You hope your voice will calm him, his wailing has stopped but you can tell from the sniffles one wrong move and you'll be back to square one. 

“I know someone who’s got a great story about slime, maybe one day he can tell you about it. Except maybe we’d have to get Tech to tell you, He’s so smart, and because Wrecker, well he’s a lot but you’ll love him either way, and Hunter’s kind rough around the edges but all squishy in the middle…” You trail off, and blink back tears that are a physical manifestation of stress. 

“And Crosshair, he’d take such good care of you, he’s kind of intimidating, got this whole pretended beskar exterior, but it’s all an act. He’d get you the softest blankets and he checks on everyone to make sure they eat and sleep and whatnot. I bet you’d really like him little slug.” you let some tears fall and giggle a little. 

“See now you’ve got us both crying now what am I supposed to do?” you say, except when you look down he’s fallen back asleep. So you place him back down, carefully wrapped in blankets. 

“You know, you don't have to help with him.” Leeya says from the door, with a smile that tells you she’s not being totally serious.

“Just earning my keep.” You joke and she sighs and follows you out of the baby’s room to make some kind of beverage. Pulling cups down and heating water to mix with a scoop of the extract from the plants you gathered today. 

“You haven't been sleeping.” She notes as she hands you a cup. You hum in response, not really knowing what to say. So the two of you sit in comfortable silence, until one of the buttons by her door starts to blink. It’s not the lock mechanism, because it's not red or green. 

“What's the blue light?” You ask, taking a sip of the drink that you decide maybe isn't too horrible. 

“Scanners picked something up, out across the dunes.” She mumbles standing and making her way over to the window to peer out of it. You follow her to squint in the darkness. 

“Leeya…” You whisper, “what’s out there?” 

“Something big if the scanners can get it from that far out.” she turns from the window, rushing to place the cup down and back to the babies room. 

“A ship?” You ask chasing after her, as she scoops up her son. 

“Could be, but if it is, that doesn't make us any safer.” She opens her cupboard and hands you her long range rifle. 

“I know you think it’s them, but I’m telling you, whatever it is, it probably isn't friendly.” she tells you, a sad look on her face.   

“I know.”  You tell her, “stay here with baby slug. I’ll check it out.” You tell her heading for the door. 

“How many times have I told you, his name is Galer.” She sighs, “be safe.” She adds as the durasteel door creaks and slides open. You look back with a smile before disappearing out the door. 

The night on this planet is as annoying as the day, the wind picks up so much that even if you could see through the pitch black, the sand in your eyes prevents you from making anything desirable out. But you know your way to the dunes where you landed, having trekked there almost everyday hoping the Batch had returned for you. 

In the distance there’s a hulking shadow, most certainly a large transport of some kid, but if it's a ship (and not some terrifying Jawa contraption) is it the Havoc Marauder? The sand is loose under your feet, and every step is a struggle to unburry the step you took before it. Your heart feels like it’s screaming for Crosshair, while your brain sush’s it with thoughts of untold peril. 

In the darkness you see movement appear over a sand dune, and on instinct you throw yourself into the grainy stuff for cover, shouldering the rifle and looking through the scope. There’s just the crickets and your breathing as you make out one figure, then another, and another until the fourth and final body comes into view. You adjust the scope with a flutter of frantic fingers. One smaller than the rest? Check? Hulking gentle giant? Yeppers. You make out a pack on the back of the one that seems to be leading the group and….

And then you see the shadow of a rifle. 

You scramble for purchase in the soft sand, like some kind of manic beetle running for cover. Your brain has tunnel vision brought from the gap in your heart. 

“Crosshair!” You scream into the darkness, as you start sprinting towards the group, it was a stupid idea, blowing your cover, even stupider to leave your rifle behind. But you don’t care. 

The entire group whips around at the noise, and you hear them calling out into the night.

“Wren!” it’s his voice, and you  know it’s him that's also running towards you. You’ve counted so many kriffing rotations since you last saw, spoke to or heard from him. 

Crosshair can't think straight, there’s so much he needs to apologize for, so much he needs to tell you and maker, if he can’t get you into his arms soon he might implode. 

But then, he doesn't have enhanced senses for nothing, he sees it out of the corner of his eye, his brain checking the area for snipers without him even being conscious it’s doing so until it actually finds one. 

And so he goes barrelling into you at full speed, hunching down and tackling the both of you into the ground, as the rest of the batch scrambles for cover and to return fire. You feel like you’re being dragged into the sand and you can’t breath, hearing, but not seeing blaster shots. 

“Crosshair,” You reach for him as he pushes you further into the ground trying to shield your body.   

“Stay down!” He shouts, already looking through the scope of his rifle. You try to get to him again, but he sees you move and he abandons the shot in favour of pushing you into the sand again. 

“Stay. Down.” he hisses into your ear. And he registers your mumbles, having forgotten, if anyone knew Krexx and his tactics. It was you. 

“They knew. They knew Crosshair! They were waiting for you to come back!” your hands finally find purchase on a part of him and the latch on like magnetic durasteel. “None of you have armour, they knew.” You press, searching his eyes praying he understands. One look up and he sees a group of trandoshans marching to where his brothers are currently defending. He moves for his rifle and starts making shots as you spot your gun, laying useless in the sand a few meters away. Crawling on your tummy over to it, your hand wraps around the butt of the gun as it’s grabbed by a single trandoshan, who must have been scouting on the other side of the city. 

The blaster rifle is ripped from you as your shoulder takes a powerful kick that winds you as your back hits the ground. He pulls a smaller hand held blaster on you, but you’re quick enough to send a fistful of sand into his face, followed by a flailing kick to his knee cap. As he drops, a gun fires  from behind you, and the creature drops dead. You grab your gun from his grasp and twist to see Crosshairs rifle still smoking, as another reptile runs at him, you pull the trigger on your rifle, sending him to the ground. Crosshair looks over his shoulder, then back to you.  

“Never told me you were that good a shot.” he comments as you scurry back over to him. 

“You didn’t ask.” you grit out, laying down more cover fire. 

“Hot.”  He smirks, and you gape at him, yes he looks fantastic in civilian clothes, in fact, given different situations you might take the time to stare at him.

“Really? That. now?” you shout over the desert battle. “You shut yourself off from me, ditch me for weeks on this hell hole, and now you want to flirt in the middle of this sweet hell!” you gesture wildly to the entire situation. 

“I have an apology ready, but I figured it should wait until we aren't getting shot at!” He rolls over onto your body as a human shield as the trandoshan sniper, rains all hell down on the two of you. Crosshair looks up just enough so that he can see your eyes, and he knows if he’s about to die he needs to kiss you one more time. 

So he does. It’s messy and uncoordinated, less soft than the first one you two had shared. It’s frantic, worried, desperately trying to compensate for kisses he now worries you’ll never get the chance to share. 

You respond in kind, pressing open mouth kisses into him as the only way to try and communicate that you know. You know he’s sorry, you know he missed you, you know he’s going to promise to never leave you again. You know him. Maybe better than he was originally okay with, but right now he just doesn't care. 

“The blasts.” You say thorough kisses, causing him to pause and check his surroundings. 

“They stopped…” he supplies, leaning up a tad more onto his forearms, still keeping you encased beneath him. 

“No help from the two of you.” Says Hunter as him, Tech and Wrecker approach the tiny hill you had both been hiding behind. Crosshair stands up brushing himself off before pulling you up and into his arms, glaring at his vod while he places a (slightly angry)  kiss to the top of your head. 

“Can I say hi to everyone else?” The question sounds squished as you mumble it out from your spot against his chest. 

“Fine.” Crosshair relents, letting you go allowing his brothers to crowd you and basically coo over how much they missed you. “So much for my cyare.” he grumbles to himself, only slightly pouting at the attention that isn't his anymore. 

And from within a twi’leks house, just off the edge of the sand dunes, one last trandoshan watches. And waits. 

Crosshair didn't let you get more than a few steps away from him the entire way back to Leeya’s house. It was almost as if the more you walked the more nervous he got that you would disappear in front of his eyes. His hand slipped it’s way into yours, gently dragging you so that Crosshair could feel the warmth of you. 

“Clingy.” You state, leaning into him as you walked through the sand. He hums in response, not bothering to try and deny it. His brothers marvel at how much he’s changed since you came into their lives. 

“It’s very impressive.” Tech admits, “the Fairywren seems to be able to trigger evolutionary change in humans. Who knew such a small creature could cause such a shift in personality?” Crosshair makes a gesture at Tech that you don’t see but assume it was rude either way. 

“Shove off Tech.” He says over his shoulder. You all but coo up at Crosshair, smiling towards him when he meets your gaze. 

“So you’re done pushing me away now?” You ask, teasing a little, but also hesitant, worried that he’ll grow cold again. 

“Yeah, someone talked some sense into me.” He tells you, briefly glancing over to Hunter, who only smiles and gives him a mock salute. 

“Hmm? And which of your vod do I have to thank for that?” You look at the rest of the batch behind you. 

“I guess you’ll never know.” Crosshair says, wrapping his arm around you again, stealing you away from the others. Maker, he really is clingy when he wants to be. 

Peaking your  head around the corner of one of the edge buildings you check for any other trandoshans. There's nothing. The wind whistles through the city as it sleeps, and you hope by the time morning comes, Drexx hasn't found the mess the five of you left his troop in. 

It’s the door to Leeya’s house that makes you stop, Cross feels you go rigid in his arms, and even he doesn't notice the cause at first. 

“The keypad.” You shakily whisper, it looks as if it's been removed and hastily replaced. Something only someone who’s been watching their back for as long as you have would notice. Without pausing to think you break away from Crosshair and dash inside. You hear him call your  name at the same time a blaster clicks beside your head. 

“It’s nice to see you again.”  Drexx hisses from beside you, Leeya is sitting on the floor in her living room, Galer crying in her arms. 

“He’s just a kid,” You immediately start begging. You’ve been here before, the same blaster, a much wetter planet and two adults shaking in front of you instead of one. Body trembling in its entirety. 

“Please.” you try again, ���he’s just a baby.” Tears fall of their own accord. Like your body doesn't know what else to do other than tremble from head to toe and poor water from your eyes. 

“Should’ve kept away from them then.” Drexx tells you as he places himself on a chair in the room, twirling his blaster happily. Just as Clone Force 99 barges their way in. 

“Oh, looks like your friends have finally caught up.” He snarls. Pointing his gun at you again. “Seems to me they are short of some armour though. I wonder how resilient clones are when they’re not protected by fancy plastoid.” A choked sob leaves your body, what have you done? How could this be happening, again? 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, come here little Fairywren.” Krexx hushes you and you know you have no choice to listen to him. Crossing the room on shaking legs, hearing a struggle behind you as Hunter tries to hold Crosshair back.

“You.” Krexx says moving his blaster to point at Cross. “You, I recognize. Last we met,  you were passed out in binders. Decided to cuff yourself to some new deadweight I see.” He looks at you and then back to Crosshair. Having a superb time with the power he’s found himself in possession of. 

“Krexx…” you’ve got no option but to try and reason with him again, still focused on the family behind you. “Just let these two go. You know you don’t need them anymore. And you know you can’t kill civilians in a neutral system.” His features curl in anger as he turns to you. 

“Who would report me? You? The clones?” He’s just playing with his food at this point. Enjoying the terror he’s bringing, and thriving off of your trauma. He places his blaster down on the table and places his feet atop it. 

“How about we make a deal Fairywren?” He offers, relaxing into the chair. 

“What kind of deal?” You ask timidly. Brain working overtime to try and figure out how to get out of your situation.  

“Someone gets to walk away from this alive, I don’t care who. Could be them, could be mama and baby over there. Could be you.” Your eyes lock with Crosshair, you both know what's about to happen.

“Your call. Who gets to live? And more importantly who else gets to die because the famous fairywren couldn't keep her trap shut?” 

Everything seems to be put on pause for a second as your brain spirals out of control. Almost like your mind swims away from your physical body, and watches what happens next. 

“Me.” You say firmly. “It was my mistake, I am the snitch. I get to die.”Your voice is confident. So much so that you think Krexx might be impressed. 

“Then which of them gets to die?” He asks you, willing, wanting you to continue. 

“Neither, you get me, that’s it. That's the deal.” You do your best to remain as confident as possible but it’s slipping away quickly. 

“And why would I agree to that?” Krexx questions, wondering what plan you've concocted. 

“Because killing them wasn't a part of your orders. You kill an entire force of Troopers and the republic will demand your head on a pike. Kill civilians of a neutral planet and the republic gains yet another supporter. You have orders. So did I, I followed them, it got me here. You follow yours and this stops today.” You’re hoping the dramatic rhetoric is enough. It seems to be enough to make Krexx pause and think for a moment. 

“You say that like if i shoot you in here, your band of freaks won't tear my head off.” Krexx comments after a long period  of time. And you let out the breath you’d been holding. 

“Outside then.” You fire back. 

“Wren.” Crosshair says, and you can’t even meet his eyes. The crack in his voice is enough. 

“Outside then.” Krexx agrees. Motintiong for you to walk onwards the door as he picks up his blaser. “One more thing.” he adds, pausing as the two of you are almost to the door. 

You scream as the bolt hits Crosshair in the left leg. All plans forgotten as you turn towards him. He hits the ground on his good knee as Tech and Hunter crowd him desperate to save what's left of the burning flesh. Wrecker turns on Krexx who promptly grasps your bicep and points the gun to your head. 

“Just needed a little insurance that we wouldn't be followed. And he seemed to be a trouble maker.” He gives a nod to the scene in front of him, like an artist finally content with their work he pulls you from the house. 

Crosshair feels like his leg is being swallowed by Magma, it’s pain that burns bright all up his body. Tech does his best to get the ruined fabric away from the wound, but other than wrap it in non-ruined shirt material and put pressure on it there's not much that can be done. 

“Roof.” Crosshair gasps out, trying to move for his sniper rifle. 

“Crosshair, you put pressure on a wound like that and you might not be keeping that leg.” Tech tells him, trying to find anything resembling bacta. He feels a hand on his shoulder, the Twi’lek, Leeya he thinks her name is, presses a stim shot into his hand. 

“Stairs lead all the way up, on the right.” She deadpans, turning away from the group clutching onto her child. With a grunt, Crosshair stabs the stim shot into his leg, tying the material as tight as he can before the pain becomes overwhelming.  His hand goes for the gun again, and Hunter’s beats him to it. He opens his mouth to argue. 

“All due respect sarge,” Wrecker interrupts, taking the rifle from Hunter, and hoisting Crosshair to his feet. Wrecker goes to add something, but he doesn't, opting for a curt nod to his sergeant before dragging his half conscious brother towards the stairs. 

Krexx leads you to the open sand, the morning sun now on the rise, beginning to warm the land. 

“At least it’s a nice view.” You breathe as he pushes you to your knees, moving the blaster into position. Your mind goes blank, unsure of where to go from here. 

Your body however, knows exactly what to do. And with one last surge of adrenaline it twists in the sand and you use both hands to get a grasp on Krexx’s wrist, standing and using your momentum to pull him over you and into the sand. From there it’s a scurry as you search for the weapon. Only to be yanked by your hair as the trandoshan regains his footing.  A jab with your elbow, loosens his grip enough so that your second jab crashes into his teeth. You make the mistake of kicking him, with such force that you lose your balance in the sand. This gives him time to wrap hands around your windpipe and begin to crush it. You flail in the sand kicking it up in one last desperate fight. 

Crosshair stumbles onto the roof, his eyes are dropping and he’s fighting to even keep them open. Wrecker drags him over to the ledge and points at two figures in the distance. From his guess they are about 12 clicks away, a fully functioning Crosshair might not even be able to make this shot, let alone a half dead one. Wrecker can only stand next to him and squint into the sunrise as his brother desperately tries to line up the shot. A figure drops as he pulls the trigger, but it’s impossible to tell who it is. 

Krexx falls to the side as the blaster bolt comes into contact with his body. It’s enough to dislodge him but not enough to kill him. Rolling in the sand all you can think about is getting air back into your system, but a death grip on your lower leg reminds you the fight isn't over.  You kick the Trandoshan again to dislodge him and you turn to bring your hands together in a devastating hit to where his neck meets his chest. Something in the sand catches your eye as you search for the blaster and your hand goes out to it. 

It’s not the blaster, it’s a rock. But a rock will do. Positioning yourself above him, Krexx just laughs. 

“Go on then, beat me to a bloody death.” And you gulp, eyes flickering from the rock to him. And you wonder if you have it in you to literally bash a man's head in. He continues to laugh at you. Make you cant viciously kill a man with a jagged stone. But you can certainly knock him out with one. 

So you bring the rock down once and then twice for good measure, until he stops struggling with so much power and you can pull him into a choke hold. Eventually allowing him to become unconscious beneath you. Leeya’s speeder is coming towards you, Hunter and her at the helm. She embraces you as Hunter binds the general, he turns towards you, and he picks the blaster out of the sand a few feet away. Pressing it into your hands, you think about shooting Krexx. But you know what good the republic could do with the information he holds. 

Whether you shoot him is your decision. And yours alone. 

But for now, you have more important matters on your mind.

Crosshair wakes up in a medbay, vaguely remembering your face in the morning sun. someone begging for him to stay awake, and that a republic cruiser was in a nearby system. He remembers feeling your soft hands cradling his face, and thinking dying wouldn't be so bad if he had gotten to say goodbye. 

“Wakey wakey.” He hears you call to him, a clean GAR uniform on, but still his black blanket wrapped around you. He tries to shift up, but Cross is stopped by your hand on his chest. 

“M’ fine.” He grunts out, trying to sit up again. You sit yourself on the side of his bed and refuse to move your hand.  

“Humour me?” You softly ask, Crosshair sighs but lays back down anyways. “Medics say you’ll make a full recovery. Tech says that once Hunter gets a hold of you they’ll say otherwise. Something about disobeying orders?” Your hand moves from his chest and into the hair at the side and back of his neck. Nails running gently over the tense muscle. He hums at the feeling, and subconsciously his hands search for purchase by your waist. Rubbing circles over the material and down into your skin. 

“Technically it was Wrecker that disobeyed orders.” He argues, letting his hands drift to the small of your back. 

“You know I could give you the lecture of your life for being such an idiot. But maybe i'll just be mad at you later instead.” You say fondly, letting him shift enough to make room beside his good leg for you to squish in the cot next to him. 

“You just can’t stay angry at someone this handsome.” He gives you a signature Crosshair smirk and moves his blanket over the two of you. 

“I beg to differ. I certainly can stay angry at someone that handsome.” You tease, snuggling closer to him.  Feeling his chest move as he chuckles. Crosshair stairs down at you, and just like the first time you found yourself in his arms he’s thinking about a time when the war is over and you’re living a life without fear or bloodshed. Except this time that older version of you is joined by an older version of him, pulling him close and kissing his lips for the billionth time. 

“I love you.” He whispers into your hair, breathing away tears. 

“I love you too.” You whisper back, shifting just enough to let your eyes flutter closed and press your lips to his. 

Some months later…

The airstrip is packed, and yet the wind still manages to find its way into the smallest of spaces, sending shivers deep into the skin of anyone present. 

“Experimental unit Clone Force 99. They’re defective clones with, uh… Desirable mutations.” Commander Cody explains to a very hesitant Captain Rex

“99, eh? Nice touch.” He says as the ramp descends.

“They call themselves, The Bad Batch.” Cody states with pride as Wrecker appears in the doorway, slaughtering down shouting something about the cavalry arriving. You stifle a giggle at their dramatics. Pulling your custom helmet, courtesy of Tech, over your head. While the boys had their grey and red plastic armour, yours had been painted with a little extra blue, forming wings that cascaded down the plate covering your back. The helmet however, featured foot prints of the bird ini question, each with a very small crosshair encircling them.  

And yes, you had added a delicately placed fairywren painting to crosshairs inner plating beside his ribcage. 

“Sergeant. Good to see you again.” Cody greets you all, as you stand beside your Cyare, eyeing him carefully.  He doesn't work well with others, especially when others involve regular clones. You jab your elbow into Crosshairs side playfully, reminding him to look a little less like he wants to explode right then and there. 

“I see that Wren fits right in.” The commander adds, giving you a smile and a nod, you finally pull off your helmet, much to the shock of Rex, Jesse and Kix. 

“That's definitely not a clone.” Kix says to Jesse. 

“Long time no see commander.” You say returning his smile, you move for a hug but Cody extends his hand to you. 

“Last time I tried to hug you, your Ram’ser almost killed me.” He reminds you with a side glance to Crosshair who looks even more annoyed with every passing second. 

“He’s harmless.” You wave him off and hug him anyways. Crosshair tries not to visibly stiffen, he’s wildly protective and even more so possessive. But it’s understandable considering you’re the only thing he’s ever known to bring him happiness. 

“Sorry we’re late, Commander. We were putting down an insurrection on Yalbec Prime when your comm came in. Had a few unforeseen… complications.” Hunter cuts in, knowing that this whole debacle needs to get a move on. 

“You ever fought a male Yalbec?” Wrecker asks loudly, enjoying the show you’re all putting on for the regs. 

“Um, Can’t say i have…” Jesse responds carefully, still looking at your with confusion, of course he’d heard of the Fairywren, but meeting a hero in person hits a little different than the stories. 

“You’re lucky! Only way to kill ‘em is with one of these.” Wrecker adds pulling out the biggest vibroblade Jessie has ever seen. 

“That’s right. Wrecker here cut off the queen’s stinger while she was still alive.” Hunter adds, still a little pissed off at his vod for the incident in question. “That’s why all those Yalbec males tried to eat us.” You chuckle at the memory, Crosshair had been understandably angry after all you were able to do was sit and laugh your ass off as they frantically ran around surrounded by Yalbec males. 

 “Ah, technically they were trying to mate with us. And, for your information, the stinger of a Yalbec Queen is a delicacy on some planets.” Tech jumps in causing you to laugh even more, and causing Crosshair to softly tap the side of your hip as if to say ‘cut it out.’ (But with a loving tone of course) 

“They call him Tech.” Cody explains to the other three clones who look petrified at the disaster of a family in front of them. 

“Yeah, he can fill your head with useless info for hours. Crosshair, on the other hand, is not much of a conversationalist, but when you have to hit a precise target from ten klicks, Crosshair’s your man.” Hunter boasts, causing a ghost of a smile form on his lips. 

“Actually sarge,” You cut in. “I believe he’s my man, ten klicks away or otherwise.” Crosshair does smile at that, sending you a look filled with sassy adoration and winding an arm around your middle. Hunter rolls his eyes. Crosshair may be possessive but you’re on a whole other level. He’s all you’ve got, and you’re all he’s got, it’s a recipe for the clingy disaster that is your relationship. 

“Don’t get me started on those two.” He grumbles to Cody, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the two of you. “So Commander, what kind of suicide mission do you have for us this time?” He asks, heading back to the ship with Cody in tow. 

“After you.” Crosshair slurs at the blonde captain who bristles at the statement, but follows Cody onto the Havoc Marauder with Jessie and Kix. 

“Play nice.” you scold looking up at him with heart eyes, not that you ever look at him without heart eyes. 

“Make me Cyare.” He smirks at you, before pulling you into a bruising kiss, not hesitating to make it far too passionate to be shared in public. That's another thing about Crosshair, he kisses you when he sees fit, no matter the setting or situation. After he finally officially had you in his arms he vowed never to miss a moment to kiss you.  

“Ugh, jus’ get on the ship already, let's go!” Wrecker booms from behind you, so you cup his face and pull away, letting his lip chase yours as they part all too soon. 

“Come on Ram’ser, we’ve got seppie ass to kick.” You tell him, all butt skipping back to the ship. The love of your life right behind you every step of the way. 

[suphoshi]

LOVE YOU LIKE THIS | Byun Baekhyun x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, maybe the tiniest little bit of angst

Word Count: 2,057

Baekhyun loved you in loud ways. He shouted it from mountain tops, made sure every God knew you were his, kissed you like you were the most perfect thing in the world. You loved him softly. Quietly. Kept him tucked safely under your arm away from everyone else. You would never be good enough for him. He loved you anyways.

--

“I love you.”

He says it in the way he tip-toes into the room at 10 p.m. after he puts the kids to sleep, letting you go to bed early after washing the dishes. He says it when he crawls into bed and pulls the blankets over your shoulders even though he knows you’re going to pull them off of him in the middle of the night. He says it when he watches you breathe, touches your cheek, kisses your forehead. His arms wrap around you for just a few seconds because he knows you can’t stand being held for too long while you sleep. This is how he loves you.

He rolls away onto his back after a few minutes and his soft snores follow soon after. Your eyes peek open to see him and you sit up, moving closer. Even like this, him asleep and laying on his back with his head faced away, you feel so whole. You mimic his action from before and pull the covers up over him, but it doesn’t feel like enough. It never does. Unlike him, it was always so hard for you to show the small ways you loved him. He had a way of filling your heart up with the simplest actions. Making you breakfast even when he was late for work, holding you while you cried, which was often. He tied your shoes when you didn’t even notice they had come loose. He loved everyone. Brought his sunshine smile everywhere he went. Made you laugh more than you ever thought was possible. He made you a mom to the most beautiful children on the earth. Every day, he did something to make you smile. Every day.

When you were five, your mom died. You weren’t even fully able to grasp what that meant then, but you knew she was gone. An absence in your life that would never be filled again. Soon after, your dad left. He was never a loving person to you, never really showed much interest even before your mom died, but still. He was your dad, and he was gone. Your grandma raised you alone. She wasn’t a tender and loving person, but still. She was all you had. She died when you were fifteen. You didn’t cry, but you felt her loss in the same way you felt your mothers. You moved in with your aunt after that. She never wanted you, but she felt obligated as your mother’s sister to at least let you stay through high school, which you did. During your senior year, you applied for every scholarship to get into college just so you could get away, studied harder than anyone. Took every part time job you could manage. Did anything to make ends meet. Four years later, you had a job at an accounting firm in Seoul as a secretary. You had an apartment to yourself, lived comfortably alone. It was enough.

You met Baekhyun at a movie theater. It was the last showing of some stupid cartoon that had terrible ratings.

“What movie has the least amount of people in it?” You asked and the employee looked at you curiously before checking. You can’t even remember the name of it, but you bought a ticket, a box of candy, and a large sprite. The theater was nearly vacant, exactly what you wanted, minus one person sitting in the back corner. You didn’t mean to intrude on their space, but the back row was your favorite spot. So, you sat as far away as you could and put your feet up on the seat in front of you while the  previews came on. It wasn’t long before your shoulders felt heavier, your eyes drooping.

It felt like the next day by the time your eyes opened again, the sound of someone clearing their throat jolting you awake. All of the lights in the theater were on now. Your candy and sprite sat completely untouched beside you.

“Excuse me?”

Your head snapped up at the voice and you pulled your legs off of the seat in front of you so fast that one of your shoes came off. The person beside you chuckled and climbed over the seat below you, grabbing your shoe.

“You okay?” He asked. You looked at him and he was wearing a mask, brown hair poking out from under the hood of his sweatshirt, falling into his eyes some. You nodded your head, holding your hand out for your shoe.

“You slept through the entire movie.” He said with a chuckle and you stared at him, unsure of why he would care.

“I don’t come to watch; I just like the sound.” You said, still waiting for him to hand your shoe back.

“The sound?” He questioned, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Like, the vibrations when it’s loud. I like the sound of it.”

He took that in for a second, humming and looking around before his eyes settled back on you.

“Interesting. You didn’t eat your candy.” He pointed out and you looked down at the unopened box beside you.

“I know. I just got off of work, so I was tired.” You said before looking back at him. “What about you? You seem to have paid a lot of attention to me during the movie, did you even watch?”

You could see the smile in his eyes, even with the mask on, and it made your heart jump.

“I didn’t come to watch either. I just like to be alone and I heard this movie was awful and it came out weeks ago, so I knew no one would be here.”

You were both quiet for a minute, just staring at each other. It scared you how comfortable you felt in that silence.

“Can I have my shoe back?” You asked and his eyes smiled again before handing it to you. You smiled to yourself as you stood up, gathering your things. He didn’t move. Just watched you. You pulled your bag over your shoulder and looked at him while you adjusted your shoe back on your foot.

“What?” You asked and he shook his head. Those eyes were going to be bad for you. You could feel it in the way your stomach kept flipping, over and over when you saw them.

“What’s your name?” He asked and you answered quickly, waiting for his in return.

“I’m Baekhyun.” He said. More silence. It was cute how awkward he seemed, like he didn’t know how to talk to a girl when he had nothing to worry about with you. A girl who never even spoke to a guy before.

He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck before looking away. “Um, so. I come here every Tuesday.”

He said it so innocently that you softened for a second. Somehow, it was the nicest thing you’d ever heard even if he didn’t directly state what he meant by it. It brought the biggest smile to your cheeks and you nodded.

“Tuesday.” You repeated and he shook his head ‘yes’. You nodded in response before walking out.

You came back every Tuesday. At first, you both sat the same distance apart. Sometimes you slept, sometimes the movie ended up being funny, so you laughed. Sometimes you cried. The first time you did, Baekhyun moved to the seat beside you and handed you a napkin. You laughed because it was so embarrassing, but he said it was fine. Once that barrier was broken, he never sat anywhere but right beside you. Not much later, you started seeing him outside of the movies, texting and calling each other, talking about your lives. It was so hard to let him in the way you did, but Baekhyun did everything in his power to know the darkest parts of your heart, and you didn’t know how to make him stop (you didn’t really want him to).

Eventually, things changed from silent movie dates, to movie dates where you held hands. After that, he would walk you to your car, give you a hug. When he kissed you for the first time, you ran away because it brought tears to your eyes. It shocked you how tender and gentle he was. No one ever touched you like that before. He just smiled and watched you go. When you opened your phone that night before bed, scared and certain he would want nothing to do with you anymore, you cried again.

Baekhyun [ 22:37 ]:

You look so pretty in blue. And when you

smile. And when you cry. And when you run.

I hope you don’t run forever.

No one ever wanted you before, but the thought that Baekhyun wanted you filled that void in your life so quickly that it scared you. He was the most perfect person you had ever known. You grew up thinking you never deserved that kind of love, but he gave it to you despite that. And he never let you run again.

Now you’re staring down at him. Your husband, the father of your kids, your best friend, your favorite person in the whole world. You can’t help but cry. You don’t deserve him. You never will.

You sniffle too loud and he wakes up, eyes heavy, turning to face you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. You shake your head and cry harder, not sure how to say all of the things you want to. ‘Thank you’, ‘Thank you for being there for me and the kids’, ‘Thank you for working so hard to keep everyone happy’, ‘Thank you for being my best friend’, ‘Thank you for loving me’.

“Babe,” he says sitting up now and pulling you onto his lap, pressing your head into his chest. “Why are you crying?”

His hand grips the back of your neck, holding you close, while his free hand rests on your lower back. He rubs gentle circles there, breathes love into your soul like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. It’s so easy for him to make you feel calm and you wonder if you’ve ever made him feel that way. If he feels the most at home in your arms, the way you do in his.

“Whatever it is, it’s okay. Don’t cry.” He mumbles into your shoulder and it only makes you cry harder. You grip him tightly and pray to a God you’re not even sure exists that he won’t ever take him away from you. No matter what it takes, you never want to live in a world without him.

All of those feelings sit inside your heart, beg for a way out, beg for a way to communicate to him the way you feel, but you just sit there silently. He grips your shoulders, pulling away from you a little to see your face. He wipes the tears from your eyes, kissing you lightly. His lips on yours ignite the same fire in your stomach they always have, even when they’re only there for a second. He doesn’t ask for more, just looks at you, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, brushing away your tears.

“I love you.” You say. And it’s in the way his eyes smile before his lips do that you know. He can hear your love in the same way you hear his.

He hears it in your eyes when you tear up while he sings the kids to sleep. He hears it when you make him take his vitamins before he leaves for work. He hears it when you play with his hair on the couch while you watch a movie. He hears it when you lay out his pajamas before he gets home and they always seem to match yours. He hears it just like you.

“I know.” He says and you pout your lip a little, tears filling your eyes again. He kisses you just like he did all of those years ago outside of the movie theater and it continues to amaze you that someone could touch you so gently. He lays you back down and you let him keep his arms around you now, because even though you hate being held while you sleep, it’s okay because it’s Baekhyun. And you want him to hold you forever.

--

Hi guys!! So this is the first kind of fic I have ever posted, and I really hope you guys enjoy!!! I was inspired by Valentine’s day and just felt filled with a lot of love, so this is what came from that. Please like or leave me some critiques/reblog, whatever it is you wanna do, I would really really appreciate it!!! Also, if no one told you how much they love you this v-day, please know I love you dearly from the bottom of my soul and I hope you all find your 2020 filled with 100000000x more love. Okay, that’s all, bye bye!

[sebsmetal-arm]

Queen of Everything || Steamy JudeCardan

Disclaimer: These characters and world are the sole intellectual property of Holly Black. I claim no right to this property, this is a work of fan fiction. Any use of known quotes are there as a purposeful callback. I tried my best to stay true to Holly’s writing style and characterization but any difference in character aspects or dialogue is intentional. Please do not copy or repost my work. Hope you enjoy! 

This work is NSFW!! This will also be posted to my Ao3 (sebsmetalarm) and my Wattpad (writingsinspiredby). Inspired by an art piece by honey.and.velvet on IG.

Vivienne,

     I hope you and Heather are well. I’m writing to inform you that Cardan and I will be visiting again at the next full moon. He keeps insisting that we should visit regularly, especially now with so much of our family gone from Elfhame. Although, If I’m being honest, I think he just enjoyed himself during our last visit more than he’s willing to let on. 

     I asked Taryn if she wanted to accompany us, but now that she is farther along she doesn’t want to risk traveling. She sends her love.

See you soon.

Jude

I drop my quill into the inkpot with a sigh, leaning back into the ornate desk chair. I know the sun is likely preparing to peek over the horizon to chase away the night, because from deep within the heart of the hill the sounds of Elfhame’s revelry are beginning to die down.

As I make to pick up the parchment, I hear the almost imperceptible sound of the bedroom door snicking open behind me. The change in air pressure sends a gentle breeze fluttering the tendrils of hair around my ears. I knowingly smirk, making myself look busy by beginning to roll up the letter and tie it off. 

There are two things I am grateful for at this moment. 

One; my dagger, which lay on the desk in front of me, is shielded from his view. Placed there for the purpose of cutting the string of course, but certainly advantageous. 

Two; Cardan was a creature of habit. 

We’d been playing at this game for weeks now, ever since we got back from Vivi’s. He would try to sneak up on me to practice what The Roach had taught him, to best me at my own game. I’ll admit, his technique had improved with every attempt. His footfalls had grown softer and less clumsy, but his approach was the same every single time. He was predictable. 

I grip the handle of my dagger, gathering the string in my left hand with pretense. Just as expected, I feel him approach from behind, his restrained exhales grazing the right side of my neck lightly as he prepares to pounce. Before he can make a move, I gently thrust my dagger up and to the right, catching him just under the chin. I hear his breath catch in his throat followed by a long, disappointed sigh. 

“You’re getting better.” I say mockingly, turning in the chair to face him while keeping the dagger pressed to his neck, “But you’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want to catch me unawares.”

He peers down at me, his face a mixture of surprise and frustration. “I was certain that I had you that time!” he spits, his body tense with apprehension.

“Cardan Greenbriar, leaving a party early? I never thought I’d see the day.” I tease, taking note of the disheveled, black hair framing his face and the crown atop his head, slightly askew in the usual fashion. 

He purses his lips at my jest. “After you left, the party became rather dull. Every creature from here to Insweal was requesting an audience, it was utterly vexing.” He grouses, accompanied by his usual melodramatic gesticulations. 

“You are aware you’re the King, yes? It’s part of the title, you know, to listen to your people.” 

He scoffs in an almost childlike manner, his shoulders slumping. “Talking grows tiresome when it’s others that are speaking.”

“Cardan, just admit that you enjoy hearing yourself speak.” 

“I mean, of course I do. Have you heard me speak? I’m delightful.” He says, perking his eyebrows.

“Delightfully exasperating is what you are.”

He snorts, wrapping his hand gently around my outstretched arm. “Now, Jude, my love. Do you plan on keeping this dagger trained on me all day or-” 

Interrupting him, I stand, keeping the blade at his throat and his hand falls away. “That depends if you still keep your part of the bargain.” I say, leading him across the room and stopping in front of the bed, “I presume you remember what comes next?” I question, fashioning a playful smirk. 

He rolls his eyes, “As if I could forget your perverse demands. You can be quite bossy, you know.” 

I exhale a laugh, stepping closer as I dig the point of the blade into his skin. “And you talk too much sometimes. Now…” I remove the blade from his skin, but keep it aloft and pointed at him, “Kneel.” 

He begrudgingly drops to his knees in front of me and I take a step back, seating myself at the edge of the bed. Unbuttoning his silk doublet, he strips himself of the luxurious, green material followed by the white, cotton undershirt. He inches forward on his knees, positioning himself between my legs. 

“Good.” I say, the dagger still held aloft between us, “Now, I want to hear you speak the words again.” 

His eyes flash with darkness, fueled by hatred or desire I cannot tell, but it edges me on further. 

“My Queen,” he says derisively, gripping my ankle and lifting it towards him, “My wife,” he preaches, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of my ankle, “By you, I am forever undone.” He says, his tail whipping around excitedly behind him. 

“Cardan, you’re being given away.” I chide, clicking my tongue playfully. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying this.” I mock, with a devious grin, the corner of his mouth curling into a seductive smirk at my words. 

“My Queen,” he repeats, kissing my ankle again, “My wife,” he kisses higher on my leg, “By you, I am forever undone.” He croons devoutly, before dragging his tongue up the length of my leg, making my eyes roll with pleasure. 

In the moment my eyes are closed, Cardan seizes his opportunity. He whips his tail around, circling it around the dagger and jerking it out of my hand and into his before I can even react. With surprising precision, he angles the blade up and under my dress, gripping the fabric as he slices up through the skirt and relaxed bodice. 

With the sudden movement, his face is now level with mine. His eyes bore into mine, his mouth upturned with primal desire and victory as he stabs the blade into the mattress next to me. For once, he had bested me. 

“I enjoy chasing my prey just as much as I enjoy feasting on it.” He drawls, his voice oozing with desire. At his words, heat pools at my core and as his free hand grips my waist I realize that I am now laid bare to him. 

His gaze flickers from my eyes to my lips several times, calculating his next move. I make to speak but he crashes his lips down on mine, his hands pushing the now ruined dress off my shoulders. His hands rove over my skin as he kisses me, his tongue melding with mine as he moans into my mouth. 

He moves down my body, his lips trailing kisses down my skin. When he reaches my abdomen he comes to the realization that I had been completely bare beneath the dress and looks up at me hungrily. He pushes my thighs farther apart, before repeating his script of devotion once more. 

“My Queen,” he whispers against my skin, tracing his tongue up the inside of my thigh, “My wife,” he repeats, trailing his tongue again on the opposite leg, “By you, I am forever undone.” He says, his lips mere inches from my core, his voice almost a guttural moan. 

Before the final utterance can leave his lips, he presses his mouth down upon my center, his tongue flat against my sensitive clit. His fingertips dig into my thighs as my head tips back, every languid swipe of his tongue sending undulating waves of pleasure through my body. I revel in the beautiful haze of my own pleasure, my mind and body bleary and numb with self-indulgent ecstasy. 

The sudden absence of his tongue breaks through the haze like the sun’s rays ripping through the clouds, and looking down I see him staring up at me. He is gently biting his lower lip, on which my arousal is evident. He speaks, his words quiet and contemplative. 

“These are the moments, Jude, in which I find myself most enamored with you; when you don’t realize anyone is looking. Your face softens… your walls fall away, and there is a lightness about you that could chase away even the darkest parts of myself.” He says curiously, his brown eyes glazed with his own ecstasy. 

“I didn’t take you for a poet.” 

He shrugs. “We all have our hidden talents.”

“Well,” I say mischievously, plucking the crown off his head and setting it atop my own, “if a poet’s lips can weave words into passion, then make mine your next masterpiece. Or else, you’ll soon discover another hidden talent of mine.” I threaten, spreading my legs wider for him.

He licks me teasingly. “Is this what you want?” He swipes his tongue up my slit again. “Is this what makes you go mad with pleasure? Seeing your King on his knees, bowing to your every whim?”

He leans down to tease me again but before he can speak another word, I lace my fingers through his onyx hair and pull his mouth to my center with fervor. And a masterpiece he does write as his lips caress my own; and his tongue, dancing figure eights, leaves me tense and breathless with unforgiving pleasure. I cannot help the breathy moans that escape my throat, nor the way my body begins to tremble. Then comes that familiar tightening in my abdomen, the sensation that I have come to crave more and more. 

Sensing my impending climax, Cardan pushes two slender fingers into me - slowly and deeply - while his mouth continues its ministrations. He reaches his free hand around my body, pulling me closer to him. The muscles in his shoulder tense as he picks up his pace, his fingers thrusting in and out of me faster. With a few final swipes of his tongue, the building sensation at my core becomes blinding and then explodes, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I grapple for something to hold onto, my hands finding his hair again. My grip is tight enough to make him wince, but he doesn’t let up, determined to see this through. After the pleasure wracking my body subsides, I collapse onto my back as the immediate exhaustion consumes me. 

He withdraws his fingers and I hear him fumble with his trousers before they drop to the floor in a hush. He climbs onto the bed, his lips trailing kisses back up my body and to my own lips, parted in a pant. After a few lazy kisses, I feel his fingers at my lips. 

“Here, taste.” He says plainly. I part my lips and he slides his fingers in, letting me suck my own taste off of his fingers. He groans at the sight, “Sweeter than any everapple I’ve ever tasted.” He muses, “and just as addictive.” 

He leans down, his nose grazing my skin as he kisses my neck tenderly. I feel his hands slide under me and he begins to lift me from the bed. In the haze of my sex addled stupor, I can do nothing but cling to him as he moves up the bed. Sitting down, he brings me to my knees so that I am straddling his legs. 

Brushing my hair over my shoulder, he continues peppering tender kisses over my neck and collarbone, his tongue occasionally flicking out to caress my skin. He makes his way down to my bare breasts, circling his tongue around each pert nipple before taking them between his lips one at a time. 

I graze my hands down his abdomen, one hand about to reach for his hard length when his tail lashes out, coiling around my wrist. He pulls my hand away, tut-tutting at me like a child, “Ah ah ah, not so fast.” He chides, before resuming his torturous assault on my breasts. 

I make an attempt with my other hand but his fingers grip my wrist unforgivingly. 

“What exactly are you doing?” I demand, my body trembling with need. 

“Well, I’m taking care of you of course.” He says matter-of-factly. He continues kissing and licking and sucking every inch of my skin. 

I lean my head back, basking in his devotion for a moment, letting him believe I am distracted. When I sense his attention is solely on my body, I seize the opportunity and rip my wrist from his grip. Reaching back, I pull the knife from the mattress where it had been left and nock the tip of the blade just under his chin, sending his hands flying up in surrender. 

“I appreciate the sentiment Cardan, but I don’t need you to take care of me like I am a fragile petal.” My voice is edged with frustration, “What I need,” I pause, pushing at his chest until he is flat on his back, leaning down until my face hovers inches from his, “is to be filled to the brim by you and ravished until I am senseless and incoherent with satisfaction.” 

He contemplates me for a moment, before reaching up and brushing his thumb along my swollen lip. His heady voice is laced with arousal when he says, “Then, by all means.”

With his permission to take what I want, what I need, I reach below me to grip his already hardened length and position myself above him. I lock eyes with him, his dark eyes swirling with delicious anticipation. I sink down onto him, taking him deep within me, and his eyelids flutter as his eyes roll into the back of his head. He gives a throaty groan and I begin rhythmic movements, up and down around him. 

My head falls back as I move, gyrating my body down onto his. A blurry fog of euphoria begins pervading my every sense, each crack of skin on skin becoming an echo in the distance. The warmth of his fingers wrapping around my wrist brings me careening back. Seemingly, my hand holding the blade had begun to drift. The same hand which he was now guiding back, training the weapon on himself once more. I eye him warily, my eyebrow perking up in a question. 

“Do not think me strange when I confess this, but I find myself yearning every moment for your attention. Even if it means I must stare down a blade of forged steel, I would meet with a thousand more and risk my own blood just to spend eternity in your gaze.” 

His tender admission leaves me fumbling for words and I duck my head, a rose blush creeping up my cheeks. My mind wars with itself, searching for all the right words but finding nothing but a labyrinth of uncertainties. My head jolts up and I can feel the accusation in my eyes. His face contorts into one of concern, his lips parting under my contemptuous gaze. 

“You- you are insufferable, you know that? You say these things that muddle my brain into nothing and everything all at once! I cannot deduce which I loathe more… the fact that I love you so much- so much that it pains me” I say, my voice breaking, “or the fact that I hate you for making me love you.” I grind out through clenched teeth. “You make me feel weak and vulnerable… and I despise it. When I first realized I was no longer repulsed by the sight of you, I plotted your demise over and over. I dreamt of gutting you from neck to navel just so I wouldn’t have to face... feeling.” I lament, my piteous confession arousing those feelings of self-loathing that I had been afeard to confront. 

He reaches up, grasping the back of my neck and pulls me down to his face. He places his other hand on top of mine, wrapped around the hilt. 

“If the day ever comes in which you can truly no longer stand the sight of me, make good on your word.” He demands, tightening his grip around my hand with intent. “But until then, Jude Duarte, hate me, love me, be disgusted with me, or sing my every praise - it matters not. As long as you feel something for me, I will consider myself King of more than just Elfhame. And if spending every night in this bed makes you feel vulnerable, then I will spend every moment thereafter helping you build your wall back up, stone by stone.” He grips my neck once more, his thumb brushing my cheek. He reaches up, softly brushing his lips against mine, letting his tongue dip into my mouth for a moment before pulling away.

“Aren’t I just disgusting?” He jokes, his breath tickling my skin.

“Positively vile.” 

He turns my head, gaining access to my neck and as he plants a tender kiss to my throat, he lifts his hips, sinking his erection deep inside me. The sudden contact is all-consuming, making me moan. With a swift movement he flips me over on to my back, maintaining his position within me. He places one of my ankles on his shoulder and the other I wrap around his back, urging him closer. A tickling sensation encircles my thigh as his tail wraps around it possessively. 

Leaning forward, he props himself up on his forearms, his hands grasping my breasts. He pushes his hips forward, circling his thumbs around my nipples with each thrust. He groans, his jaw slackening with his growing arousal. His lips find the inside of my knee, peppering lazy kisses up my thigh. 

“You feel- gloriously devine wrapped around me.” He grunts between breaths, his voice rumbling against my skin. 

I cannot find the words to reply, so I simply squeeze my leg around his back in desperation. He takes the hint and his pace quickens, the slap of our hips echoing off the stone walls of the bedchamber. His sensual movements are a ravenous assault upon my mortal flesh that I welcome greedily. Feeling that coil deep within me begin to tighten, I exhale a rattling breath. He, too, recognizes his release within sight and his body tenses slightly, his brow beading with sweat as his hands grasp my breasts hungrily. 

My fingers find their place in his hair again, grounding my soul to keep it from leaving my body. My gasps become erratic, that delicious sensation tightening more and more. He begins trailing his tongue across my bosom, dropping a kiss here and there. After a moment, he stops and when I look down he is staring at me, his eyes dark with delight. He frees one of his hands, reaching down between us and his fingers find my clit, rubbing in small circles as he continues to slide in and out of me. The sensation makes me gasp, my back arching off of the bed. I can still feel his eyes on me, observing me as his tongue continues trailing lazy swipes across me, his breath fanning over my skin. 

My fingers leave his hair, my arms flailing out as I grip the bed sheets. I feel myself begin to topple over the edge, that coil releasing inside me in a powerful wave of pleasure. As if Cardan can sense it too, I suddenly feel his teeth sink into the soft flesh of my bosom. The sharp pain mixes with the pleasure, intensifying my release and I let out a strangled cry as my body shakes uncontrollably. Cardan slows his movements, each thrust deeper and harder than the last and he groans loudly into my chest as he finds his own release, the vibrations making my skin tingle. As if his body can give no more, he collapses on top of me in a sweaty heap. My body is buzzing, my chest heaving with exhaustion. A few moments pass, nothing but the sound of our satiated pants filling the room, before his voice rumbles against my sternum. 

“Lest we forget your accusation of my own narcissism, I must infuriate you with another confession.” He says, before lifting his head, folding his hands on my stomach and propping his head atop them. He ponders for a moment, steeling himself before speaking, his voice quiet with uncertainty, “I know you were once Queen of nothing. I know you were exiled to the mortal world at my command with no hope of ever coming home, under the impression that I had betrayed your trust. I- I would never wish that hopelessness on you again… not even in the moments that I hate you. So time and time again, until the light of this world snuffs out, I will kneel before you and try to make you feel like the Queen of everything.”

I cannot help the slow smile that creeps across my face coyly, nor the heat welling in my cheeks. I swallow down the lump in my throat, refusing to let him break me down completely in one night, but I brush a hand through his hair in recognition of his admission. A nagging question pops into my mind and I am suddenly grateful for the distraction. Propping myself up, I look at him intently. 

“Might I ask why you bit me?” I question, feigning anger of which he doesn’t seem convinced. He simply smirks, takes my hand, and presses a kiss to each fingertip before deigning to reply.

“I told you that one day I would hear you scream.” He said, his voice laced with arrogance. I let out an incredulous gasp, but he silences me with his lips. His tongue finds entrance as he kisses me into another stupor, and I soon forget my anger as I let myself drown in him once more. 

( Thank you for reading!! :D )

[kookscrescent]

Baby Don’t Stop (m) │ myg

➤ pairing│Yoongi x female reader ➤ summary│Yoongi has had enough of your teasing for one night and he decides to pay you back by giving you a taste of your own medicine.  ➤ rating│NC-17, mature, 18+ ➤ genre│smut, boyfriend au, pwp ➤ warnings│instant smut under the cut!, soft dom Yoongi??, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (male receiving), slight rough sex, dirty talk, vulgar language, a little orgasm denial i guess, spanking cuz why not ➤ word count│2.3k│semi edited ➤ release date│October 2nd 2019 ➤ disclaimer│This is all fiction! Nothing mentioned/written are facts and/or real! So please just keep that in mind when reading and enjoy! Thank you ♡

⇥ Masterlist

“Shit, don’t stop!” Yoongi pants, the words sounding more like a jumbled mess than a coherent sentence.

He looks down, his glazed over eyes meeting yours as your mouth and hand works his hard cock. You speed up your movements, pumping him faster as you suck the tip of him between your lips, your tongue flicking against the head.

His entire face contorts in pure pleasure, his head crashing against the pillows and his hands at the back of your head trying to push your mouth back down on him.

You resist his push. Instead, you tease the crown of his cock some more, loving the way his face twists in pleasure especially when you pay close attention to the underside of the head with your tongue.

“Don’t play with me like that.” He warns you on a dark laugh.

He’s almost at his breaking point with the teasing. You can see it in his eyes – the way they have turned darker over the course of only minutes, the way his grip in your hair tightens and loosens every few seconds as if he’s trying to control himself, the way he clenches his jaw and the veins in his neck popping out.

You are doing it on purpose now, continue with your slow torture, drawing it out – trying to see how much more he’s willing to take before he finally snaps, and his dominant side takes over. You are keeping him right on the edge.

Above you he growls, a rumble coming from deep in his chest and his hands tighten in your hair to the point of almost being too painful.

Finally having enough of your slow teasing, Yoongi yanks you off him, his cock falling from your mouth with a wet pop and landing flat against his stomach.

Deviously, you smile up at him, but he doesn’t return your smile. Instead a smirk has planted itself on his lips, his jaw clenched and with one skilled maneuver he has you rolled around on your stomach, pinning you down to the mattress with your arms above your head. You can’t do anything but lay there and wait for what he has in store for you.  

His cock lays hard between your cheeks, the feeling of feeling him hot and wet against your own skin makes you squirm against the sheets.

His grip tightens around your wrists as he grounds his hips against your ass, his cock sliding against your cheeks. Your entire body heats up and you can’t focus on anything else than the burning desire inside of you, the need, the want for Yoongi to fuck you.

“Please,” you squeak when he doesn’t make a more to slide into you.

This is his payback. At the time, you got high off of teasing him, loving the way you could make him squirm and the control you had in that moment, but now you’re regretting it. A lot!

Bringing his lips down to the side of your neck, he bites lightly, planting small nibbles all the way up to your ear. “What do you want baby girl?” You tremble against him when his hot breath hits your skin, a moan filling the air.

“I want your cock!”

Grinding harder against you, he bites your earlobe. “Do you think you’ve deserved my cock?”

With the way his rugged voice hits the air and with the way his hard cock feels against you, you seem to have lost all ability to speak for the moment, and all you can do is nod vigorously in respond to his question.

Immediately he laughs. A deep rumble coming from his chest and he while supporting himself with the arm that has a hold on your hands, he brings the other one down between you to roughly grab one of your cheeks.

The move has his cock sliding further down, the tip just about teasing your dripping entrance but Yoongi pulls back, leaving you hanging.

“Beg.” One word. Beg.

At this point you don’t even care what you say, just flinging a bunch of word and sentences into the air, hoping it will get you closer to Yoongi filling you up.

“Please, please… fuck,” His hips continue their earlier ministrations, but slower and you momentarily lose what little train of thought you had left. “Please fuck me! I need your cock… please!”

Before the last word has even left your lips, Yoongi has slid all the way down to your wet opening, his cock slamming into you.

You cry out in both surprise and pleasure, your hands clawing into nothing but the thin air in Yoongi’s grip and you burrow your face in the sheets.

Yoongi withdraws from your soaking heat and slams forward. The tip of his cock reaches a place inside you that makes your toes curl and your walls clench. With what little room you have to move, you raise your hips back against him, doing your best to push back every time he pushes forward.

The feeling is almost too much – too intense, a hint of pain mixed with the pleasure from the way his cock reaches places inside you that you didn’t even know existed.  

You gasp trying to regain control over your breath, while Yoongi’s thrusts become harder and faster. The bedroom fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, and behind you, you can hear and feel Yoongi’s deep pants as he lowers his forehead to your spine.

Just like you, he’s on the verge on coming apart, and he has to stop his movements for a few seconds, pulling out of you almost completely.

Your orgasm gets ripped from you and you whine in protest, trying to look over your shoulder, but with your hands above your head, it’s a difficult task.

“Yoongi!” You whine his name, your ass wiggling against him, trying to create friction.

He raises his head from your back and you prepare yourself for his cock to fill you up again. But it doesn’t come. Instead a head slap lands on your right ass cheek and you yelp at the shock of it.

“Behave.” He growls and spanks you, not once, but two times.

He releases his grip on your wrists and pulls out of you, and without wasting too much time, he has your knees bend under you and your ass in the air.

You lock eyes with him over your shoulder and you bite your lips to hold back the smile. His eyes are totally glazed over and dark. It’s a scary and dangerous look to anyone that doesn’t know him, but to you it turns you on beyond belief. It makes you wet in seconds and just from looking at him, you can feel a new pool of wetness tringle down the inside of your thigh.  

Yoongi sees it too and with his index finger, he gathers some of it on the tip, bringing it to his mouth and sucks. He looks up at the ceiling and hums around his finger, the taste of your arousal hitting his senses.

It must have snapped something inside him, because not even seconds after he’s pulled his finger from his mouth, his hands grasp your ass and he slams into you again.

The force almost sends you flying up the bed, but fortunately, Yoongi’s hold has your secured in place. Slowly, he begins thrusting, his pace becoming faster and faster with each passing stroke.

Your fingers claw at the sheet beneath you, bunching it up in your fists when he keeps hitting the same spot inside you – over and over again he hits it, cries spilling over your lips and urging him to go faster.

At the sound of your cries, his hips begin snapping against your ass with an almost deadly force and the oh so familiar feeling of pressure building in your stomach, spreads to the rest of your body.

“Baby don’t stop!” You plead when you feel him slowing down. The pressure inside you is slowly fading when he stills completely.

Yoongi withdraws from you completely, his hands gliding down to your cheeks to gently massage them before landing a slap on each of them.

“Turn around.” He instructs and with shaking legs you immediately turn over, your legs falling open at their own accord.

The look he sends you, has you arching off the bed. His eyes are still dark, the darkest you think you’ve ever seen them, and a light layer of sweat has appeared on his skin, making him look unreal. His hair is disheveled and somewhat a mess, but you can’t imagine that you look any different from him in this moment.

A layer of sweat has also appeared on your skin, and you are almost sure that your hair resembles a bird’s nest at this point.

Grabbing himself in his hand, he pumps his hard cock a few times, letting you watch him as he slowly squeezes a droplet of pre cum from his tip and smearing it down his shaft.

You nearly combust at the sight, your fingers itching to reach out and touch him. But you don’t get the chance, Yoongi is already guiding his tip to your entrance. He presses in slightly, the pressure making you arch of the bed, but then pulls back, running his tip form your entrance to your clit.

But he never makes direct contact with it. He avoids it, circling around it and back down to your entrance where he repeats the action. Again, and again, till you’re withering mess.  

“Yoongi please!” You beg him on a broken breath. “No more, no more teasing… please!”

“No more teasing?”

You shake your head. “No more.”

He sinks into you slowly, burying himself to the hilt. You gasp. He feels so much bigger inside you in this position, your hands reaching down to cup your breasts.

“It’s not fun being teased, is it?” he pants as he withdraws just as slowly as he entered you.

He’s making you feel how he felt, giving you a taste of your own medicine. Only this is on a much larger level than yours.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You’re really not, but at this point you’re willing to say just about anything to get him to move and to let him make you cum.

And it seems to work. A slow smile stretches across his face and he leans down, covering you with his body and once again he brings your hands above your head with his left hand. He keeps them there while he begins setting a rhythm with his hips.

He brushes his lips against yours, and it’s the first time tonight that you kiss. Eagerly, you kiss him back. You’ve missed feeling his lips against yours all night. Skimming his tongue across your bottom lip, you open up for him and he takes full advantage. His tongue slipping into your mouth, dancing with your own.

Closing your eyes, you whimper into the kiss, his pace going from slow and even to fast and sharp. Gasping, your mouths separate, your head tilting towards the ceiling as the pleasure begins building up once more.

“Shit. Fuck. Fuuuck!” Your mumbling into the pillow and the thin air, your head trashing around each time the tip of his cock rubs against your g spot, stars flying across your eyes.

Letting go you’re your wrists, Yoongi sits back on his haunches, he grabs you by your claves and raises your feet from the bed to bring them over his shoulders. The new position makes his cock slip even further inside you, the new pressure making your head swirl and your vision blur.

“Oh god!” You moan at the same time Yoongi curses loudly.

“Fuck!”

On that note, he begins moving furiously. Now, he’s a man on a mission. This time he isn’t playing around or trying to teach anyone a lesson. This time he’s chasing his high.

Relentlessly, he pounds in and out of you. His cock reaching places you didn’t know was possible to even reach. A tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach, threatening to burst at any moment. You are clenching around his cock like crazy, the action making him lose his focus and his thrusts become erratic.

Your arms are desperately trying to grab onto anything in their reach, eventually settling on your breasts.

“God! Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” He growls, biting the inside of your calf, the drive of his hips never stopping as he fills you up.

You are right behind him. With a loud cry of his name, the knot in your stomach explodes, a sensation of fireworks racing through your body, your vision going white and your breath lost.

Time seems to stop, as you both ride out the last bits of your orgasms. Yoongi’s hips slow down little by little, his face buried in the side of your leg and his lips skimming across your damp skin.

“Fuck.” You are both trying to catch your breath, the aftershock of your orgasms still intense.

At last, his hips still completely, his cock resting deep inside you. He releases your legs, letting them fall to the mattress and lowers himself on top of you. Smoothing your hair away from your face, he lowers his lips to yours, brushing them lightly together before kissing you deeply.

Closing your eyes, you lose yourself in the kiss, your body still tingling from your orgasm. You run your finger up the expanse of his back, your nails scraping delicately against his clammy skin.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He breaks the kiss, asking to make sure that you are okay.

With a hum you shake your head, your eyes still closed. “Not at all.”

Slowly you peal your eyes open, the sight of Yoongi’s handsome face coming into view and making a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“A little mean, but…” you shrug a laugh.

“That’ll teach you not to tease me like that again.” He pecks your lips.

“Well see.”

Well... i think that’s the filthiest smut i’ve ever written and now i need holy water! 

But you know the drill, remember to like and reblog if you enjoyed reading! Thank youuuu

All Rights Reserved © 2020 Kookscrescent

[just-another-ficwriter]

Tattoos Together - Part Two

Pairings: Sweet Pea x Reader

Words: 3200ish

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, mentions of cheating, underage drinking

Summary: When one of Veronica’s old friends moves to town, Sweet Pea can’t help but take a liking to her much to his annoyance. Who would have thought a drunk game of truth or dare would end up at the Wyrm with a tattoo gun?

Notes: Requested by the lovely @p-marie-sp sp! I had so much fun writing this, thank you so much for requesting it! I hope you like it!

Riverdale High was everything but what you’d expected.

You’d been the new girl before, you knew the role that came with the title but Veronica’s close circle had accepted you like you were already their own including Jughead and his gang of Serpents, despite the vicious rumours that floated around about them.

Even a certain dark haired Serpent who wore a permanent scowl that scared many, had been more than welcoming.

Sweet Pea had captured your attention that first weekend in La Bonne Nuit and continued to hold it for weeks later. Even when your friends were practically crying out for you to stop the flirtatious banter back and fore, it only seemed to egg him on more and you were never one to back down.

You couldn’t help but smile at him when you found him leaning against his locker, watching as you, Betty and Ronnie walked down the other end of the hallway. 

“Chuck get out of my way.” Veronica’s words had your gaze falling back on her as she clicked her tongue in annoyance, her arms already folded tightly over her chest as she stared the bulldog down.

“Feisty, I like it.” Chucks lips twisted into a smirk that had you feeling uneasy.

“Just move.” Betty demanded, but her stance wasn’t as confident as Ronnie’s and he seemed to use that to his advantage.

“You know Betts.” He twist his body so his face was inches from hers, his voice dropping as he whispered to her even though it was loud enough for everyone else to hear. “If you ever get bored of Jughead you could break out that black wig again and come around to mine, maybe without trying to drown me this time.”

“Knock it off Chuck.” Veronica’s voice was calm but her eyes darted around the hallway hoping no one else was listening as Betty started to pale, her fingernails secretly digging into her palms at the mention of what must be a past story you knew nothing of.

“Or you could just take a page from Veronica’s book and fuck your way through the football team.” He pushed himself off the locker, stepping around Betty to look down at Veronica, his glare almost frightening. “First Archie, then Reggie, now Archie again. Who’s next V?”

“What did you just say?” Your sudden input had all three of them turning to you, Betty’s mouth hung slightly open, Veronica looked impressed but it was Chuck who seemed the most amused.

“You wanna be careful who you hang around with new girl, associating with psychopaths and sluts never ends well.” He pointed towards Betty and Veronica in turn with each accusing name and you could feel the anger building within you, every word spoken adding another spark to the flame.

You barely had time to think before you clenched your hand, your fist flying up to hit him straight in the face. You weren’t sure whether the punch hurt him more or you as you fought back a string of curse words brought on from the pain throbbing in your knuckles, but the look on his face made it all more than worth it.

Betty gasped behind you, Ronnie shouted your name but the blood was pounding too loud in your ears as adrenaline coursed through you to even hear them now. “You want to say that again?”

“You bitch.” He spat his words, a hand clutching his bloody nose as he straighten up and took a step towards you. “I’m gonna make you pay for that.”

“You’ll have to get through me first.” Before you couldn’t even register what was going on Sweet Pea was in front of you, a solid shield in human form as he blocked Chuck’s path. “And I don’t think that’s gonna end well, do you?”

“Whatever.” Chuck huffed, his eyes momentarily widening before his composer hardened again and he turned to you. “This isn’t finished.”

Sweet Pea waited until Chuck had disappeared from their view, nodding his head towards Veronica and Betty in his own way of making sure they were okay before he lightly grabbed your wrist and dragged you into the nearest women’s restroom.

He didn’t seem to care much about the trouble he’s get in if he got caught as he flicked the tap on, silently holding your knuckles under the cool water, his hand never leaving yours.

You studied his face as he studied your hand, eyes narrowing in concentration as he twisted it gently side to side to assess the damage.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You voice was a whisper, the first words uttered between you making a small smile ghost over his lips, not a sight many were used to seeing.

“Does it hurt?” Every inch of his face, every word that he spoke was laced with pure concern that had your heart racing. Your ex had you sworn off boys and relationships but there was something about Sweet Pea that had you forgetting.

“A little.” You shrugged sheepishly, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink as they heated in embarrassment.

“It’ll definitely bruise, it might swell up.” His tone was serious at first, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes and you couldn’t help but flinch, unsure whether it was directed at your own stupidity or if he was simply annoyed at Chuck. But then his gaze soften, one corner of his lips turning up into a lopsided smile. “Not too much damage though, can’t say the same for Chuck’s face.”

“He deserved it.” You straightened up a little with each word, even if it hadn’t have been the best idea to punch Chuck in a crowded hallway, you didn’t regret sticking up for your friends.

“Do you make a habit of punching guys?” There was a hint of amusement in his tone, an underlying suggestion he was impressed.

“Only the ones who piss me off.” You wink at him, holding his eye contact as his finger tips still brushed over yours, the cold water making them go numb.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side.” He chuckled, and you laughed unexpectedly with him.

“I doubt you ever could Pea.” You felt as if the whole room grew silent as his stare intensified at your confession.

“That’s good to know.” His voice was a whisper now, the two of you deadly still, the only sound was the running tap.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” You broke away from his gaze, clearing your throat and startling him in the process. “A few of us are meeting at the speakeasy if you wanted to come?”

A disappointment ran through Sweet Pea, a silent hope that you were asking him to spend time with you, and only you, but it disappeared as he smiled again. “I’ll be there.”

-

The anticipation of the night ahead almost had Sweet Pea backing out.

He wasn’t sure what it was about you that had him wracked with nerves but the way you smirked at him had him wanting to find out.

When he first got to the speak easy he’d tried to avoid you, play it cool by keeping his distance. But Toni had ditched him the minute Cheryl had walked in and the more Fangs drunk the more he drifted to Kevin, so Sweet Pea found himself alone, tipsy and inevitably drawn to you.

You’d all been together for exactly 1 hour and 36 minutes before Cheryl suggested a game of truth or dare, and despite some initial protest, mainly from Jughead who claimed it was child’s play, everyone eventually gave in.

When you sat next to him, he felt his heart rate pick up, the sound pounding in his ears and he looked around the table wondering if anyone else could hear it as he desperately tried to ignore the way your hand kept brushing against his leg.

Suddenly, he felt like truth or dare wasn’t the best idea after all.

“Okay, who’s first?” Cheryl eyed them all one by one, making them agonise over who might be her first victim. It wasn’t long until she had Fangs doing laps of the bar completely naked, Betty taking a body shot from Jug and Kevin revealing his darkest secrets.

“Okay, Sweet Pea’s turn.” Toni’s voice slurred a little as she shared a knowing glance with Fangs before turning back to the taller serpent. “I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

“What are we, five?” He scoffed, taking a sip from his glass as he adjusted the collar of his jacket, secretly hoping no one would notice the blush crawling up his neck. “I didn’t even get to pick truth or dare.”

“If you don’t want to kiss me Pea then that’s fine.” You couldn’t help but smirk as your eyes trailed over his face carefully, pausing briefly on his lips before you shrugged.

“I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.” He hadn’t meant for the words to sound the way they did but he watched as your smile grew wider, ignoring the way the others laughed as he puffed his chest out.

“Then pucker up Big Boy.” You winked at him, an action that caught him by surprise earning another round of laughter as you leaned in. Sweet Pea instantly finds himself forgetting that anyone else is there as your lips brush against his. He’s hesitant at first, his body frozen from both fear and excitement but then he notices your breath is just as shaky as his and he can’t contain himself anymore. He pulls you in this time, the kiss no longer innocent but passionate and demanding and it takes everything in him to stop himself from grabbing your hips and pulling you on to his lap.

“Okay I think we’ve seen enough.” Veronica’s tone is a mixture of surprise, distaste and humour as she hits you on the shoulder, a curious glance thrown your way when you turn to her.

“My turn.” You ignore the way everyone’s eyes now seem to be fixed on you as you straightened yourself up, a thumb trailing over your lower lip.

“Truth or dare Sweetheart?” You couldn’t help but notice the way Sweet Pea’s body tensed up at the nickname Reggie used for you, but he soon relaxed when you squeezed his thigh.

“Dare.” Your voice is determine, the grin on your face showing the group you were ready for whatever they were about to throw at you. “Make it a good one.”

You could practically see their minds working in overdrive, searching for the perfect dare. It was a while before anyone spoke out, but you could tell by the smirk on Cheryl’s cherry red lips that she’d thought of something good. Or bad depending how you looked at it. “I dare you to get matching tattoos with Sweet Pea.”

“Hey!” Sweet Pea rolled his eyes at the mere thought, his outburst making a few of you jump. “This isn’t my dare, keep me out of it-“

“Deal.” You cut him off with one simple word and he whipped his head around so fast you were surprised he didn’t get whip lash as he started at you with wide eyes.

“What?” His voice was an octave higher as he waited for you to tell him you were just kidding.

“Oh c’mon we’re not talking about getting our names tattooed on each other, we can make it fun.” You smiled sweetly at him despite the dangerous glint in your eyes. “Unless you’re too afraid?”

“Fine.” Your words had sparked something within Sweet Pea, a silent challenge now between the two of you and he was curious to see if you’d back out. “I’m in.”

“How about we move this party to the Wyrm?” Jughead suggested, ignoring the horror in Betty’s eyes as he smirked, his opinion on the game totally different now from when it started. “I’m sure we could find a serpent or two to help us out.”

-

“I hope you’re not planning your escape over here?” The teasing smirk you held on your lips dropped slightly in concern as you noticed the way his cheeks had lost all colour, even his knuckles had turned white as his hand clenched around his beer.

“Who me?” Despite his attempt to laugh, the sound came out strangled, his eyes giving him away instantly. “Never.”

“You know we don’t have to do this right?” Sweet Pea tried to ignore how calming your touch felt as you hand landed on his arm, your skin warm against his as all playfulness between you melted away. “We can just say that I back out.”

“It’s just...” He sighed loudly as he internally debated whether to hide his embarrassment or face it. “I hate needles.”

“You hate needles, but-“ You press your lips together to fight the laughter bubbling in your throat as your eyes roamed over the serpent tattoo on his neck, the action finishing the sentence for you.

“I was drunk.” A red tinge strikes his cheeks at the confession, a hand running through his already disheveled hair. “Like really drunk.”

“Then the answers simple.” You’re smiling again now, grabbing his hand in triumph as you pull him across the room. He can’t help but match it as you leaned over the bar with a giggle, his hands now holding you steady, waiting as you pull out a bottle of liquor and two shot glasses. “Tequila!”

“Tequila?” He raises an eyebrow while his hands still linger on your hips, his fingertips grazing against your bare skin.

“A shot or two to calm your nerves.” He watches in silence as you pour two shots, thanking Toni for passing the salt and lemon. You take his hand in yours, shaking a line of salt along his thumb, your eyes never breaking contract with his as you lick it off, knock back the shot and suck on the lemon. He tries desperately not to groan as your tongue roams over his skin. “Your turn.”

“Okay.” He absentmindedly follows your lead, twisting your hand in his so he could copy everything you did before. Maybe he’s too drunk to care now, or maybe he see’s no point in hiding his attraction anymore but his eyes never waver from your locked gaze.

Kevin can’t help but watch the scene unfold from across the room, giddy at the thought. “Is it just me or was that insanely hot?”

“$10 say they go home together tonight.” Fangs bumps his shoulder against his, a knowing smirk on his lips as he refills Kevin’s glass. He’s all too aware of his friends growing feelings.

“Duh.” Cheryl cuts in, nestling her way in between them. “You can cut the sexual tension with a knife.”

“And at this point, I’m pretty sure Sweet Pea would follow Y/N anywhere she went.” The rest of the group nod in agreement with Veronica’s words as the two of you seem to be totally oblivious to the way they’re all watching you now.

Toni smiles at the way you laugh at something Sweet Pea says while Betty confesses the two of you actually look kind of cute together. But you’re too busy flicking through designs to even care what they’re saying, pointing out all your favourites to a still reluctant Sweet Pea. It takes a while but you finally settle on two matching geometric deers that work well together and apart.

When it comes time to sit down on the chairs, you barely listen to FP and some other Serpent, whose name you’d already forgotten, mumbling about how they can’t believe their actually doing this and warning Jughead that this better not be a regular occurrence.

You leaned back into your chair, surprising relaxed, Sweet Pea on the other hand was anything but. His jaw was clenched, his eyes squeezed shut. FP was on his right, holding his arm down with a slight force while the other was tensed up, his bicep bulging under his T-shirt and you did the only thing you could think of.

You reached over, grabbing his hand with yours, linking your fingers together as you gave him a soft squeeze. He opened his eyes for one brief second to look at you before they were shut again, only his teeth were no longer grinding together. Instead his lips turned up into a smile, his thumb running along yours and he sunk a little further back.

-

“I guess it wasn’t that bad.” Sweet Pea mumbled, his arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders as you follow the others back into the cold night air.

He’s too busy staring at his new ink to notice the way you twist underneath him. “Pea?”

The way you say his name grabs his undivided attention as he stares at you so intensely you’re scared your legs might crumbled beneath you. You can’t bring yourself to say another word, your ability to speak lost somewhere in your chest.

So instead you cup his face, your warm palm flush against his cheek making him blush. You stretch up until you’re on your top toes, his hand falling to the back of your head as you bring his face downwards to close the gap.

He knew what was coming but it still surprises him. Your lips mould together like they were made for each other, his hands now on your lower back anchoring your body impossibly closer to him as if he’s scared you might disappear.

It’s different from your first kiss, this time Sweet Pea knows it’s real, that you want to kiss him as much as he wants to kiss you.

He feels cold when you pull away, and it takes everything in him not to pull you back into him. “What was that for?”

“For being so brave.” You shrugs like it was obvious, but the way you sink your teeth into your lower lips tells him more than your next words ever could. “Plus I really liked the first one.”

“You know-“ His voice is low now, deep and gravelly as he whispers in your ear. “I don’t need to be dared to kiss you.”

He starts to lean in again, your lips inches apart when the others start to shout from a few feet ahead. “Are you guys coming?”

“Change of plans.” You lace your fingers with his again for a second time that night, smiling up to him as you yell back at the others. “You guys go ahead, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Someone owes me $10!” Fangs voice is drowned out as the others erupt in drunken cheers.

Sweet Pea Masterlist

Tattoos Together Taglist: @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @acceptingtheunacceptable @omgitstreeloo @shenbonzi

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @wildberryyyy @hopelesslylosttheway

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

[oumiyuki]

Would you pleaaaase write a story where Anchan is struggling with a dance move and thinks she isn’t a good leader and Shukashuu comforts her? I just saw the miracle wave for the first time and can only imagine how much Anchan struggled before!

MIRACLE SUPPORTER

Summary: Anju struggles with Miracle Wave dance parts – namely the backflip and just as she was feeling like everything is impossible and she just isn’t good enough – her No.1 Supporter appears.

Pairing: AnShuka

Words: 1666

Read me at fanfiction.net or AO3 too~

Author Notes

Hi, Anon~ Yes, I would write Anju’s struggles with Miracle Wave. We all can tell how hard she worked TwT and can feel the struggles!! I’m also 100% sure all the girls chipped in in their own ways to show their support. But since I’m focusing it on AnShuka :) ~~

May you enjoy~!

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Miracle Wave.”

“Third Live.”

“Miracle Wave.”

“Third Live.”

“I have to do this.”

“I need to make this work.”

These were thoughts that weighed heavily on Inami Anju, Leader of Aqours’ mind ever since 3rd Live was announced. She knew her responsibility was even bigger than all the other lives they have practiced and performed.

And so she dedicated countless more hours to training. She never felt like she was talented enough after all. She kept messing up simple dance moves and now she was in charge of a backflip that Chika pulled off.

She did not want to let Chika, the fans, her members, the staff, or anyone down.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ugh!” Anju lets out a groan as she fails another flip. She wanted to splay on the ground and be frustrated. But she holds it back as she gets up, gives her instructor a determined smile as they gave her advice on how to improve and what she’s doing well.

After more tries, they call it a day.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were joint practices for the other songs so Anju could mingle with the other girls of Aqours, feeling slightly better from their smiles and shenanigans.

But it doesn’t last as she bids them goodbye, turning down dinner plans as she wanted to practice more.

“You sure? It’s good to eat more to have energy, Anchan.” Ainya points out.

Anju shakes her head with a smile plastered on. “I’m fine!”

And the rest wishes her good luck, Shuka’s glance lingering a bit longer before Anju went to the training room specifically for her flips.

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

[Shuka POV]

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

Shuka was busy. Her schedule rather packed with photoshoots and radio segments, and Aqours training. But that didn’t stop the energetic girl to stay full smiles and hurry over after her work to the dome where she can find Anju training.

Anju…

Shuka checks the time and jogs towards the dome, showing her entry pass and heads in.

She could hear Anju’s voice and grunts as she neared the stage, she approached quietly to not disrupt Anju’s flow but the flip didn’t go through again.

You’re such a hard worker…

Shuka notices the deep frown and furrowed eyebrows and decides to step in then – her girlfriend needed a break. And Anju was certainly one to not realize that herself.

“Hello, everyone!” Shuka greets with a big smile, bowing to the adults before she catches Anju’s eyes, communicating without words.

“Hey, Anju~ It’s time for a break.”

“Shuka…It’s good to see you.”

On the outside, Shuka simply was a ball of sunshine and smiles as she made her way over in her work attire so she was a bit out of place on the stage as the rest were in sweat pants and t-shirts. “Thank you for your hard work.”

Anju bowed to her instructor. “Thank you for your hard work.”

“We’ll call it a day then. Make sure to stay hydrated and rest those muscles!” The instructor left.

I didn’t say anything but I’m glad I’ve got Anju to myself now.

“You sure like the dome.” Anju wipes her sweat with a towel, noting that Shuka comes by often.

Shuka pursed her lips as she watched. “It is a rather nice dome.”

Anju chuckles. “What’s that mean!”

Shuka chuckles too. “I’m here for you.”

Anju swipes the towel in Shuka’s direction, turning her head away. Shuka grins at the signs of embarrassment.

Anjuuuu, I want to hug you and tell you how great you are. But I guess I shouldn’t since the staffs are still around.

“I brought some snacks. Let’s eat them together!” Shuka pats her bag and Anju grins.

“I’ll be right back!” And the Leader of Aqours hurries to change out of her sweaty training attire.

Shuka is always glad to make sure Anju is back to smiling and eating well whenever she’s free to drop by but sometimes wondered if it was enough considering how hard a time the backflip is giving Anju.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On other nights together, Shuka squeezes Anju’s hand on the way home from dinner and when Anju looks over, she asks, “Is everything okay?”

You’ve been spacing out…

“Yeah…I’m just going to do my best.” Anju gives a small smile.

“You know we’re all here for you.” Shuka returns the squished up smile.

Anju’s body vibrates in laughter from the funny face. “I know, I know…”

Should I continue giving Anju space to not feel overly stressed out..?

Shuka watches Anju; the way Anju’s shoulders weren’t 100% relaxed, the way those eyes looked far out, the way Anju tries to be jolly.

I’ll give her a little more time… My schedule is packed for another week straight too, ughh. I just want to be with Anju more…

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anju was starting to lose faith in herself.

It’s been so many training and she still couldn’t get perfect landings.

“Why.” Her mind screamed.

It’s been months of hard work and tries and help from all her friends and instructors but she still can’t find the way to backflipping perfectly.

“Why!” Her mind screamed louder.

After countless failures among the flukes which she managed to flip. Anju finds herself hating her incompetency.

“WHY!?”

Anju falls and she grits her teeth, she feels her eyes sting.

She told everyone she was fine. She told everyone everything is going fine. She told herself it was going to be fine. She was nowhere fine.

Anju lowered her head, not wanting to show too much weakness. She had to be strong. “I…I’ll take a short break and be back.”

The dance instructor nods. “Take fifteen.”

Anju quickly hurried to the backstage room.

She felt horrible. She felt her vision blurring and sniffles. Rubbed roughly at her eyes and clenched her fists.

“It’s hopeles-”

“An~ju.” Shuka appears like a beacon of light on the worst stormy night at sea.

Anju looks up, swiped at her eyes again to hide those tears.

You can’t hide it from me, Anju.

Shuka smiled at Anju; she knows the taller girl loved it when she does.

“S-Shuka..! What are you doing here?” Anju was surprised to see Shuka. She was sure Shuka had another radio recording or photoshoot today.

Heh, surprise Anju success.

Shuka gives Anju a bigger smile, hoping that helps dispel at least some of Anju’s negative thoughts. “I skipped it.”

“You what??”

Shuka laughs and squats right in front of Anju. “It was cancelled. So the first thing that came to mind was coming over to watch you practice…maybe practice together…and hang out with you…”

And make sure you are okay. Make sure you don’t think you’re any lesser than amazing.

Shuka lowers her head slightly, eyes never leaving Anju as she observed her girlfriend’s eyes widening. Shuka is glad Anju was looking at her and not into the abyss of negativity.

“Hey…” Shuka hops to the side and bumps Anju’s shoulder with hers.

“Shuka…” Anju quietly protests at the sudden movement and physical contact.

Shuka takes Anju’s hand in hers and gives it a squeeze, a much-needed squeeze, and then she intertwines their fingers, rubbing slow circles with her thumb into Anju’s hand.

I’m right here with you, An.

“Shuka…” Anju breathes out quietly again. “I…I can’t-” Anju’s voice cracks. “I don’t think I can do this… I don’t want to fail everyone. But…”

Shuka gives Anju’s hand a firmer squeeze.

“But…I…I have to…I want to… Chika did it. And I…”

Shuka hums quietly. “You can do it, Anju.”

“H-How are you so sure..? All I do is keep messing up…” Anju pressed her face into Shuka’s shoulder.

Cry your heart out, please.

“You’re not messing up. You’re improving. I can tell cause I’ve been watching you.” Shuka puts her hand on Anju’s head, patting Anju’s damp from sweat hair.

Anju’s tension releases ever the slightest as the tears fall.

Anju…If it comes to this!

“Chika failed so many times too, Anju. And you know it.”

Anju presses closer. “…You-chan was there for her…”

“I’m here for you.” Shuka rubs Anju’s back in calming motions.

“You’re busy…You should be focusing on your work… And training, and-”

“And be by my Anju’s side,” Shuka interjects.

Anju raises her head to see Shuka’s determined expression. “…”

“Do you want Shuka-sensei’s tips on flipping?” Shuka gives Anju a playful smile, small but mischievous.

Anju blinks in repetition as she looks to the floor. “Yes pleash.”

They shared a laugh and Anju squeezes Shuka’s hand. “Thank you…for being here.”

Shuka pulls Anju into a warm hug. “I’d like to be here more. And Anju. In case you still don’t get it… Or don’t believe it…” Shuka hugs Anju tighter. “I truly believe that you will be able to pull off those backflips. During the lives and practice. We all believe that.”

Anju holds onto Shuka’s shirt and Shuka rubs Anju’s back to reassure the girl.

“AiAi, Kyan, Kanako, Rikako, Arisa, Osuwa, Nya-chan…and me. We all believe in you, Anju. You’re amazing.” Shuka pulls away and rubs her thumb under Anju’s eyes to clear the tear streaks.

Simply unbelievably amazing…

Shuka cups Anju’s face and presses her lips to Anju’s. A long enough kiss to melt her girlfriend’s mind. Shuka smiles at Anju’s blush.

Unbelievably cute too.

Shuka pats Anju on the head. “Every time you do the flip – whether success or not yet success – I’ll be here to support you through it. C’mon!”

Shuka gets to her feet, letting Anju put her hands in her waiting ones to pull Anju up on her feet too.

“We’ve got a backflip to flip!”

Anju smiles genuinely, a weight off her shoulders and dark clouds looming overhead gone. Shuka had that effect on her. Even in her darkest moments. “Yeah.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that, Shuka got into a habit of reaching over and giving head pats to Anju after each Miracle Wave practice. Anju was too adorable when she gets those head pats as she smiled proudly.

Shuka couldn’t be more proud of her girlfriend as 3rd Live was a resounding success.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author Notes

The struggle is real.

AnShuka is real.

Those headpats Shuka give Anju is real, if you haven’t seen them, go see it. XD

And aahhhhh, Anjuuuuu!! Writing this reminds me of how much love our Mikan Leader needs!! Gosh! You’re amazing, Anju!! Please don’t ever forget that!!

Shukaaaa, thank you for always being by Anju’s side!! TmT aahhhh!

Leave me a comment if you like~ >w< (Would appreciate it 101%!!)

And keep loving AnShuka ;D

[magicmastered]

Evidence that Loki was Tortured

There’s plenty of evidence that Thanos tortured Loki between Thor (2011) and Avengers (2012), and there are lots of posts about it. But I’ve never seen all the evidence (gifs, movie quotes, and interviews) gathered in one place, so I made this for reference and convenient linking. Additions are welcome. (I’ll reblog my own addition because only ten images per post. Ugh.)

(That was really short....I hate writing introductions.)

Gifs:

(Gifs by @tomhiddleston-loki)

Loki holds himself very still while the Other raised (his? its?) hand to his head. His eyes are visibly watering, he blinks rapidly, and he swallows hard in the first gif. He’s terrified, he knows it’s going to hurt, but he doesn’t fight back. He knows better. He’s learned better.

It looks like his face is burned or bruised here (credits scene for Thor (2011)). Given how much you have to do to leave a mark on his skin, that’s...pretty frightening. (I will add evidence for this in my self-reblog; only ten images per post.)

(Gifs by @cannonballonfire)

(Gif by @tomhiddleston-gifs)

Note how much worse he looks here than he does at the end of Thor (2011). (I’ll also address this in the self-reblog.) He’s very pale. There are dark circles under his eyes as well, most notably in this last gif, but visible in the previous three as well. He’s really sweaty, which you can see most clearly in the top two gifs. And then....

(I have no idea who made this gif; if anyone recognizes it, please let me know and I will add credit)

(I got these from @nikkoliferous)

He doubles over when he’s walking out of the lab with his mind-controlled people. And then his back gives out on him when he’s climbing into the Hummer, and he looks desperate, tired, and scared when he looks up, shivering. None of which makes sense unless he was previously injured.

Gifs 4-10 (of all gifs on this post) speak of heat exhaustion/heat stroke, considering....

The most common signs and symptoms of heat exhaustion include:

Confusion (will include a gif of this in my addition)

Dark-colored urine

Dizziness (cause of doubling over)

Fainting (cause of doubling over)

Fatigue

Headache

Muscle or abdominal cramps (cause of doubling over/back giving out/trembling)

Nausea, vomiting, or diarrhea (cause of doubling over)

Pale skin

Profuse sweating

Rapid heartbeat

(From https://www.webmd.com/fitness-exercise/heat-exhaustion#1-2 )

Consider, now, that Loki is a Frost Giant. Consider how much worse that’d make either of those already serious conditions.

Quote(s) from the Movies:

“You think you know pain? He will make you long for something sweet as pain.” —the Other

“You think you know pain?” The Other knows that Loki knows what pain is. How would he know exactly how much pain Loki’d been in? How would he know that he can make it worse than any pain Loki’s felt before unless he’d been there, maybe even caused it?

And Thanos doesn’t shy away from torture; actually, it’s more or less his M.O. when it comes to indoctrinating recruits/his “children”:

“He tortured me, turned me into a weapon.”—Gamora

“Thanos pulled my eye from my head, my brain from my skull, and my arm from my body....”—Nebula (I omitted the rest of the quote because it wasn’t strictly relevant)

“As a child my father would have Gamora and me battle one another in ‘training.’ Every time my sister prevailed my father would replace a piece of me with machinery, claiming he wanted me to be her equal. But she won, again and again and again. Never once refraining. Because of them, I am this. So after I murder my sister, I will buy a warship with every conceivable instrument of death. I will hunt my father like a dog and I will tear him apart slowly, piece by piece, until he knows some semblance of the profound and unceasing pain I know every single day."—Nebula

While we’re on the subject of Thanos’ children...recall Ebony Maw’s speech:

“Hear me and rejoice. You have had the privilege of being saved by the great Thanos. You may think this is suffering, no. It is salvation. The universal scale tips toward balance because of your sacrifice. Smile. For even in death, you have become children of Thanos.”

Doesn’t that sound sort of like Loki’s speech....

(After demanding that a crowd kneels) “Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity....You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

Both have similar undertones of “you think this is bad for you; no, it’s actually good. It’s what you really want.”

Incidentally, Ebony Maw also happens to be a master torturer (as is evident when he tortures Doctor Strange, which I can’t include a gif of until the reblog).

How convenient.

Links to Interviews + Relevant Quotes:

From http://collider.com/the-avengers-tom-hiddleston-interview/ :

“I think somewhere between the end of Thor and the beginning of The Avengers, Loki has been to the Marvel equivalent of the 7th circle of hell.”

From https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=VdfobYiZsVk&t=1050 (it’s at around 17:35 if the link doesn’t take you there):

“I think he went, like with everything else to—Joss Whedon and I discussed it...[...]—it was just, like, the worst place imaginable. I think he went to sort of all the darkest recesses of the universe. I’m sure he had a brush with—several brushes with death. I think he ran into the shadiest characters you can find in the Nine Realms. I think he had to rely on his wits to protect himself. It was really, really, really unpleasant, I think. I don’t have any frame of reference for that except for imagining what it might be like to be kidnapped by a terrorist cell or something and have to survive a very, very frightening and precarious existence. But whatever it was, it was important that when Loki came back for the Avengers that whatever compassion he had left was absolutely shriveled to a minimum because of the experience that he had. Harrowing, I think, and scarring for life—in a way that Thor and Odin and Frigga find very, very difficult to understand.”

(Please don’t reblog without my reblog immediately below; it’s important!)

[fight-surrender]

Chapter 5: So It Goes

Rating: Teen and up

Word Count: 1929

Summary:  “You’re a neanderthal,” I snarl, somewhat petulantly. He has nice feet, I’m distracted. “You were thinking I’m a neanderthal?” He throws the other sock.

“No, you moron,” I dodge the sock. “You’re disgusting, but also, I wonder if I should take you to the vet.”

When you're a vampire, and your enemy/roomate turns into a werewolf, and then you sort of become friends.

Read on AO3

Hey y’all! Here’s the next chapter of my Werewolf fic. Thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz​ for the mad beta read skills and to @penpanoply​ for the beautiful cover art. @nunzibelle​ there’s a tiny Easter egg in here for you, thanks for all the mental health support & friendship ;) 

__________________________________

Baz:

He’s still holding my hand. I wonder if he’s forgotten that he’s holding my hand. Or if he’s forgotten what it means to hold hands. Or if he’s forgotten who I am entirely.

“Simon,” I say.

Snow, lost in thought, snaps to attention, he shakes his head and drops my hand. “Yeah?” He’s so weary. I want to wrap myself around him.

“Do you remember anything? From when you were...you know?”

Snow leans his head back, tapping it to the headboard. He closes his eyes, inhales. He shakes his head slowly, “No.”  His blue, blue eyes cut to me, “Nothing, Baz. It’s all a blank.”

***

Simon:

“Yes, Penny, I understand that monthly absences are sub-optimal for my marks. I’ll get by. Thanks for the notes, by the way.” I run my fingers through my hair, I am barely keeping my shit together.

The moon is in the first quarter, I’ve got just over a week ‘til my next appointment with my “condition.” It’s only been three months and I am sick of thinking about the bloody moon. I fucking hate the moon.

“Simon!” Penny shouts. “Seriously, what is going on? You’re losing weight!” She snaps her fingers in my face to get my attention, I can’t focus on anything lately. “That alone is cause for concern. Add to that the fact that you’ve got circles under your eyes, your hair is out of control, and I barely get to see you anymore, and we have a problem.”  She starts stacking the books and papers scattered across the table. We’re at the library studying for midterms. Which happen to fall during my “special time of the month.” Hence the current diatribe.

“It’s fine Penny. I’ve already cleared it with the professors, I’ll take the exams when I get back.” I feel my temper beginning to sizzle. I don’t know if it’s stress or the disease, but I’m definitely feeling angrier. Or at least irritable. Plus my hair growth has kicked up a notch. Everywhere. I have to shave every day now, which is kind of cool, not gonna lie. I like having the beard option available. Maybe I’ll grow one for the winter.

Penny drops a stack of books onto the table, getting my attention and that of half the library. “These secret errands The Mage is sending you on every month are not worth the damage to your education, Simon. This is ridiculous.” She levels me a cold, hard stare, “I’m taking this up with him.”

This is where I snap. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. There’s so much at stake here. “The fuck you’ll talk to him, Penny. This is my business, not yours.” I’m shaking as I gather my notes. I don’t want to be this way. “Stay out of this,” I growl. I sling my bag over my shoulder and leave.

The winter air slaps me as I stomp out of the library, leaving Penny mid-sentence. This whole situation is so fucked up. Why don’t I just tell her? Baz wants me to tell her. That’s fucked up too. Getting along with Baz. Working with him. Needing his help. Trusting him. What would Penny say about that? We have an arrangement now, Baz and me.  He looks after me when I change, I don’t tell anyone he’s a vampire. Our cover story is pretty thin, with me going on monthly missions for the mage and him taking care of his sister’s dog, but it’s the best we could come up with. That’s new. Baz and me—a ‘we.’ But I’m not ready to think about that right now.

It’s not that I don’t trust Penny. I do, I trust her implicitly. But her mum is on the Coven, and well, I’m pretty sure they frown on werewolves, even chosen ones.

I put my hands in my pockets, where to now? I stand in the courtyard; a chill breeze scatters a few dead leaves across the cobblestones. It’s almost dinner time, I could head into the dining hall for something to eat. Baz is likely to be in our room, revising, even though his scores are already perfect. He could probably fail every midterm and still be at the top of our class. I decide to go to Mummers. Baz probably needs a break anyway.

Baz:

Simon jostles into the room, a dusting of snow on his broad shoulders. He drops his bag on his bed and tips his chin at me. “All right, Pitch?”

“All right, Snow?” This is all so sublimely weird. This kinship with Snow. I fucking love it.

I kick back from my desk, stretching. “You know I’ve been thinking.”

Simon looks up at me from where he’s sat on his bed. He’s removing his shoes and chucking them across the room like an animal. “So?” He says, as he throws a rolled-up sock at me.

I swat it away. “You’re a neanderthal,” I snarl, somewhat petulantly. He has nice feet, I find this distracting.

“You were thinking I’m a neanderthal?” He throws the other sock.

“No, you moron,” I dodge the sock.  “You’re disgusting, but also, I wonder if I should take you to the vet.”

“What?” Simon is standing now, in his pants. Trousers slung over his shoulders. He pulls a pair of trackie bottoms from a pile on the floor. This is new, too. Since the nakedness. He’s changing clothes in front of me. I’m not sure how much my heart can take. I look around the room for something to focus on besides his perfect arse. I know the shirt is coming off soon. I think Snow is trying to kill me.

“Take you to the veterinarian, you know, for vaccinations.” I fix my eyes on a crack on the ceiling. “At a minimum you need a rabies shot and probably something for fleas.”

“Fuck you, twat!” Snow has added his trousers to the pile and snaps a t-shirt across his shoulder. He’s shirtless now, of course. His cross glints amid a sea of golden freckles. I want to rip it off.

I try very hard to look bored while simultaneously imagining licking his pectorals because I’m absolutely deranged. “Don’t use that word,” I remind, “It’s vulgar and misogynistic.”

“Right, well you’re a right prick then. I don’t have fucking fleas.”

“How do you know?” I reply, “maybe you have fleas on your were body, and they go wherever all that hair goes when you transform.”

Snow flops on to his bed, blessedly fully clothed. “Crowley, Baz,” he huffs. “Stop fucking thinking.” He reaches into his nightstand drawer and pulls out a mint Aero bar. He unwraps it and offers me half. I take it.

I need to hunt. Usually I wait until Simon is asleep or gone, but I suppose, in light of current developments, I can just go now and actually get a full night’s sleep for a change.

I stand up and start to put on my coat.

“Where are you going?” Simon says, softly.

“Where do you think I’m going?” That came out a bit harsh.

“I think you’re going to eat rats in the catacombs,” Snow replies, shuffling to his feet.

“I don’t eat rats. I drain them,” I correct.

“I’m coming with,” he reaches for his coat.

“Crowley, you will not.”

“Did I go hunting with you when I was in my other form?” He’s fastening the buttons.

“Yes, but—”

“There’s no ‘but.’ You’ve seen me in every aspect of my—condition. I get to see every facet of yours.”

I can’t even describe what I’m feeling right now. My heart is racing, so: anxiety. But I also feel lightheaded and a bit weepy. And also like I’m falling. I think I’m in an alternate reality. Simon Snow, who knows I’m a blood sucking vampire, wants to go with me, to watch me suck blood. He’s asking nonchalantly, as if he wants to accompany me to the grocery store. I can’t process the level of fucked upness here.

“Absolutely not,” I declare.

Snow crowds into my space. I can feel the warmth radiating from him. “You have been dealing with this shit alone for years. I can’t even imagine that. I don’t know how I could have gotten through this—thing alone.” He jabs a finger into my chest, “without you.”

He straightens up and juts out his chin, “I’m going with you.”

Clearly, I’m dead. Or dreaming. Or both. I’ll just roll with it. “Fine,” I say. “You’ll have to keep up.”

***

We’re deep in the catacombs, there are still torches, but I’m taking us to the darkest depths to hunt. No need for him to actually see what I’m doing. Snow is following me like a lost child at the market.

“How do you not get sick from all the rat germs? You’d think you would at least catch plague or something.”

“I don’t know, Snow. I don’t catch cold either, maybe I’ve got super immunity.” I brush a cobweb from my hair as I walk. “Maybe I have antiseptic saliva, like a hyena.”

“Antiseptic saliva,” Snow ponders. “I suppose then, I could skip the nurse and have you lick my wounds.”

“Merlin, no. I don’t want to lick your wounds.” I want to lick your wounds. “And can you hear yourself? I’m a vampire, Snow.”

“Er yeah, just a thought.”

We’re beyond the torches, now. I can still see, but it’s got to be pitch black for Snow. He takes my hand as we continue to walk. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding. Did the lycanthropy sharpen his human senses too? His hand is warm. My hand is on fire. I feel every whorl of his fingerprints.

“Have you killed anyone, then?”

I stop. I consider dropping his hand, but I’d rather set fire myself on fire first. “Have you killed anyone, Snow?”

Simon looks at me, then looks down, “well, not as a werewolf.”

“I haven’t killed anyone. I’m not—that,” I murmur.

“I didn’t think so.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Dunno. Needed to make sure.”

We walk in silence. Hand in hand.

I stop again. “Look, I have to…hunt. Will you wait?”

“You want me to stand here in the dark, alone? While you kill rats?”

“I won’t go far, just talk, don’t listen,” I urge.

“Talk about what?” Simon asks.

“I don’t know, tell me about your childhood,” I drop his hand and slip away.

“Not much to tell, really. I grew up in an assortment of care homes. Not exactly idyllic.”

I’m working fast, I’ve drained two rats. “Do you have any happy memories of care?”

Snow laughs softly, “not many.” He pauses for a beat. “One home I stayed at in Liverpool got a grant for new playground equipment. I must have been five or six. It had a big red slide and shiny blue plastic swings. Usually the homes had no swings or broken wooden ones with splinters and rusty chains. These swings were ace. I was so happy. Would swing on them all day if they let me. I tried to sleep out there once.”

“That’s lovely,” I say, walking back to Snow. I wipe my hand on my trouser leg. I wish I had some sanitizer. I take Simon’s hand again; I don’t know who I am anymore. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, OK,” Simon says as we walk out of the catacombs.

When we get back to our room, Simon takes off his cross.

[krinatheladysnake]

Lady Snake (and the Jedi Killer) Chapter 2

Summary: The galaxy calls her Lady Snake- a quick and merciless killer. Kylo Ren calls her a nuisance.Krina, a Commander and the only other Force user of the First Order, despises what the dark side has become and wishes to return it to its true state of power but what she hates the most is the naive man-child ruling over it.

Chapter 2: Depereo (To Be Utterly Ruined)

Words: 2,147

As Krina climbed into the cockpit of her TIE Fighter and prepared to take off, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander, the last few moments playing out in her head. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a single mistake on her part. She was ruthless, agile, exactly the kind of killer the First Order needed in order to be truly successful. The only mistake that stood blatantly in front of her was Kylo Ren, a boy pretending to be a man, and barely attempting to be a leader. Outrage and hatred clouded her thoughts, causing her to miscalculate her speed as she made her way out of the planet’s atmosphere. The TIE Fighter jolted forward and Krina threw her hands out to steady herself against the control panel.

“Kriff,” She muttered, placing shaky hands back on the control stick. She wasn’t the best pilot out there but she knew how to handle herself, and her ship, on most occasions. Once she steadied herself and set her destination for the Steadfast, the flagship shared between General Hux, Kylo Ren, and herself, Krina flipped to auto-pilot and stared out at the vastness in front of her. It wasn’t a long trip back but she needed to coast and let the frustrations fizzle out in hopes that Kylo Ren wouldn’t linger under her skin.

Krina couldn’t remember exactly when she was given her current title, the one that fit her better than the name she was given at birth. She did remember the first time she ever embraced it. Overly confident Resistance fighters tried to interrupt yet another mission but were far from successful. Krina was quick to stop them from causing any true damage. A pilot, one of the best in the pathetic bunch, was no match for her. The poor woman should’ve stayed in the sky. The last thing she saw was Krina’s sinister smile as the Force crushed against her throat like a python slowly constricting around its prey.

Lady Snake is a name reserved only for the most deadly and deceitful individual in the entire galaxy. It could only belong to the most devious of people. To Krina, it was endearing that the name was granted upon her. Her name was so feared that when spoken, even in whispers, it sent shivers down spines.

She only questioned if she was worthy of such when a certain masked, intolerable individual had tried to strip her of her power. He had just given her more, let her have a taste of a potential future full of glory and above all, the true victory of the First Order. Every day, every moment she was in his presence, that victory felt far beyond her reach. Lady Snake was slowly becoming a joke, a trophy full of threats that was held up high above everyone’s head- including Krina’s.

She thought back to the days in which she was promised glory. The days when she kneeled before Snoke, her eyes on the ground in front of her and her heart beating out of her chest. He was always so pleased with how she stuck to her training, no matter how brutal it was. Even as a child, Krina was the most promising apprentice. As she developed into her abilities and truly learned the darkest ways of the Force, Snoke knew she was going to be a valuable asset.

Unfortunate events began to pile up as if the Force was punishing her for years of unspeakable and unforgivable acts. The first of which was the turning of Ben Solo. Something in the Force shifted when the son of Leia Organa and Han Solo fell and Kylo Ren rose from his ashes. Snoke felt it before Krina did. He warned her. She should’ve listened. She fell from the ranks as her counterpart continued to climb, becoming their master’s apparent favorite. Krina continued to train hard, keeping her eyes on what Snoke had planned for her all those years ago, yet she was no match for Kylo Ren- or rather, no match for a bloodline that powerful. Every day felt like another event pushing Krina far from anything her mentor had guaranteed through whispers. There Kylo Ren was, constantly keeping her from surpassing him.

He was weak and afraid. He had no true place on the Dark Side. The darkness in him was not a match for the light that constantly threatened to take hold. For Krina, there was no light. There never had been. Life had never been kind to her. For all that she knew, the light and the love that went with it were just a myth. She wasn’t ever going to be worthy of anything of that sort.

Krina was startled out of her thoughts by a beeping from her control panel, alerting her that she was nearing her destination. She straightened up, turned off autopilot, and let out a breath at the sight of the Steadfast. She landed quickly, watching stormtroopers and mechanics flood the docking bay around her. She climbed out, staring straight ahead of her.

“I want this ship fully cleaned and inspected immediately,” She barked, knowing it was completely fine and already spotless. The crew all responded in unison and got to work as she marched out of the bay.

The sound of her own heart working overtime and beating out of her chest filled her ears and overwhelmed her. She had to get herself to calm down and not create a reputation for herself similar to that of her predecessor. Before she knew it, Krina was standing at the entrance to her training quarters.

As she slowed her breathing, Krina reached down to grab her lightsaber. The cold metal of the hilt sent shivers down her spine. When she ignited it, that same cold was engulfed in heat and instantly melted away. With heat came comfort. Krina let the blade fall to her side as she closed her eyes. Her breathing steadied, allowing her mind to clash with the Force and draw power from it.

Krina felt everything and nothing all at once as her connection with the Force stabilized. As she readied herself, her mind flooded with past thoughts and images, mostly from her recent mission. As much as she tried to ignore those thoughts to focus on her training, her mind would not let her forget the interruption from earlier. The way he sauntered in, blatantly disregarding the fact that she was more than capable by herself. Almost instantly, flashes of all the times Kylo pushed her to the side flooded her mind.

When she opened her eyes again, she was met with a perfect replica of Kylo Ren, standing helmetless with his lightsaber in hand. Krina snarled at the image the Force had presented her with and she lifted her lightsaber, twirling it effortlessly. There wasn’t even a split second of hesitation before she struck, slashing angrily at the image. A loud breath escaped pursed lips, shoulders heaving from the exertion of energy.

“Again,” Snoke commanded, his voice booming in the young adult’s mind. Krina pushed herself up off the ground and grabbed her lightsaber from beside her, wobbling with unbalanced pain.

“Master,” She croaked, wiping blood from her lips with the back of her hand. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“It is not about what you can take. It is about the damage you inflict.”

Krina had dealt so much damage: to innocence, to the Resistance, to herself. And none of it truly mattered. Anyone who stood in the way was an enemy. Resentment bubbled in her chest as she stared at the Force vision of the one she deemed her biggest enemy and she slashed at it again. This time, she didn’t let herself catch her breath before she began to circle around it, stepping skillfully on the tips of her toes. Disgust wrote itself into her expression, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.

“Match his movements. Mimic his connection to the Force.”

Krina sighed, defeat riddled in her stance. She knew this was the furthest from a fair fight. Snoke had challenged her plenty of times before but hadn’t dared try anything like this. She watched her opponent, her eyes tracking even the smallest of movements- a deep breath, a twitch, a fraction of a step. She was waiting for the right moment to make her move, the right moment to strike. The man in front of her began to move slowly. It took a few seconds before Krina registered that he wasn’t coming right at her but rather circling his prey. She gulped, trying to stay focused. This was far from her first fight against someone who made her seem so small.

“Krina,” Snoke beckoned. She ignored him, stepping forward in anger, lightsaber at the ready.

“Listen to your master,” A cocky Kylo Ren instructed, smirking at her.

“If I’m not listening to him, what makes you think I’ll listen to you?” Krina questioned, cocking her head to the side.

“One day you will.”

Sweat began to build on the Commander’s forehead the same way tension did in her muscles. Lady Snake. Venomously lethal and unafraid.

“You said she was a worthy opponent. Does she not understand that I can take anything I want?” Confidence spewed from his words that were aimed at Snoke, ignoring Krina entirely. And just like that- she began to run at him, using both of her hands to grip onto her weapon and give herself more power.

Her rival let out a tisk and effortlessly swiped, keeping still. The blade collided with Krina’s cheek and ripped all the way down to her neck. A loud and painful scream covered the hums of lightsabers and the disappointing words from their master.

Krina snapped, letting out a scream reminiscent of the one from her past as she ran forward, striking the Force projected Kylo Ren. As soon as the blade made contact, the image disappeared, leaving Krina bewildered and alone. She stood, frozen in time, coming to terms with the memory she presented to herself. With a shaky hand, she deactivated her lightsaber, placed it back on her belt, and ran a hand through her hair.

The scar on her cheek burned with echoes of a memory she continually tried to forget. The tremor in her hand became impossible to control as she reached up, letting the tips of her ungloved fingers trace over her unwanted trophy. The roughness irritated calluses and she thought back to the moment she decided it was going to be an ever-present reminder.

Krina tried to ignore the smell of burning flesh from the moment she was injured but it was unbearable, worse than the pain she was enduring. The medical droid worked diligently to treat the wound as Krina’s nostrils burned with the overwhelming smell. Sure, she had her fair share of small scars from her from learning how to wield such a powerful weapon but no one dared to harm her with one of their own. Krina hissed and recoiled as the medical droid placed a bacta patch on her cheek.

“Enough,” She ordered, ripping the bandage off in one motion, ignorantly deciding against treatment. She knew a lightsaber wound was far too much for her body to heal on its own but maybe she deserved to wear such a despicable prize.

“I take it that the mission didn’t go as planned?” A soft voice caused Krina to jump out of her skin. Hux. She should’ve sensed him coming, but at the moment she was too disconnected from the Force and mentally unhinged.

“I will not hesitate to decapitate you,” Krina spoke through gritted teeth, pushing loose strands of hair away from her face. Hux threw his arms up, surrendering.

“You were meant to be at a debriefing immediately following your return. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t lost.”

“Do I look lost?” Krina questioned, throwing her hands up.

“Not physically.”

Krina huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow at the General. “You want a debriefing? I wanted to blow off steam and ended up reliving trauma. Even the worst of people have things they don't want to remember. You of all people should know that.”

“I meant a debriefing of the mission,” Hux hummed, trying to keep a smile from creeping onto his lips.

“Oh,” Krina pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Our naive, narrow-minded leader meandered on in and stole my glory right from under me, almost sabotaging the whole kriffing thing due to his uncontrollable weakness for the pathetic Resistance. He made a mockery out of me, yet again.”

“I see. Were you successful?”

“Yes, General,” Krina answered sarcastically.

“Well done. You’re dismissed,” Hux cracked back, stepping on his heels to leave Krina to her own devices. “And Krina?”

“Mhm?”

“Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.” With that, Hux was gone and once again, Krina was alone.

[pffbts]

What if you tried rewriting a short scene from the music videos or Save Me? The plot's already there, just your beautiful words to fill in the gaps ;)

―genre: fluff; angst; crack; werewolf! au

―characters: min yoongi x female reader | ot7 x reader

―w.c: 2.4K

―author`s note: this was requested much long before the other ones but you see i had to think a lot (it turned into an au fic, i`m sorry)  because it was such an interesting request (a challenging one too) nothing least expected from the said sender. thank you for such request. much love

―inspiration: save me (mv) – the dark gloominess of the mv and the way the boys looked.

[05:40 PM] [the dusty smell, the faraway smell of rain gave a trailer of the fire burning as seven figures enlighten the attempt to a bonfire]

― namjoon`s eyes could bleed if it was physically possible. the sight beside him roared up the complicated emotions that stores itself inside the darkest alley of his brain and doesn`t come out not until the eyes witness something out of this world adorable and warm. jimin`s face was pushed against your neck and he was spooning you from behind. being the bigger spoon in the embracement, your back was slumped against his front, your knees almost touching your chest. jimin`s arms circled the whole of your body and the tip of his nose nudged at the soft spot against the end of your hairline.

yoongi glanced over at namjoon and his wide eyes and the loosely hanging jaw of the younger one. he wanted to laugh at this site but controlled himself for the sake of the sleeping figure of both you and jimin. taehyung and jeongguk have retrieved back to the forest, searching for more woods to keep the bonfire glow until the night completely fall on them.

“they`re really something, isn`t it?” hoseok chirped in, a rough yet softness behind each word. yoongi just nodded laying back against the grass, a hand tucked behind his head like a pillow.

“the stars are going to come out soon.” giving a side glance to your sleeping figure, he continued, “it`s almost time.”

a rustle from the direction of the forest and out came under the dusk of the day, the younger ones – taehyung and jeongguk each of them carrying logs of woods especially the latter one.

*

―several months ago

the corridors of the schools always smell like chlorine and bad decisions. it`s like do you even want to walk through these corridors, do you even want to place yourself in those groups of girls and boys who flock the corners. flicking the topmost button of your school shirt, you leaned back against your desk chair. the sky just like the past couple of days has been gathering its clouds for a future downpour every dusk. you hate rain, especially when it happens during the monsoon season. somehow you`ve a different kind of opinion for the rain that comes down during the different season rather than its mother season.

collecting the books and stationeries you walked out of your class. the students next to you passing by giving a simple smile and a once-over. out of habit, you smiled back too. nothing`s wrong giving out some smiles, right?

soon you heard a number squeals and before you could look around anything, slow black dots started appearing and fading on the ground. it had started raining. you pulled out your transparent umbrella and without giving second attention to anyone walking out of the school ground.

the way it was raining, it was really convincing how you would definitely get half-drenched even before you reach half of your distance. the field which you passed by every afternoon after school was near to your sight and if you squint a little, you could see the faraway forest at the end of it. the daylights weren`t knocked out yet and you still had enough time to pass by the abandoned expanse of the field under the still dull daylight.

half way on passing by the field, you heard some guys laughing. it almost sounded childish – the way they were smiling. turning your head while slowing your pace, you saw seven guys standing there like a messed up circle and laughing. someone with a gummy smile caught your attention. it wasn`t until you continued staring at him that you realized he was looking at you too and his smile somehow passed onto you. this time your habit didn`t strike you instead you just looked away from them with the same look of shock.

all you could do that night was think what were the seven young boys doing when it was clearly raining harder than any day. the more you shifted on your bed, changing your position, the more their images started getting clearer inside your subconscious mind. next day, your mother suggested you to skip school but you wanted to go nevertheless not knowing what was in store for you that day.

it was raining that day too and just like any other day, you took shelter under the transparent umbrella of yours and just like last day, you found the seven guys standing there but this time they were scattered like Venn diagrams and they didn`t have the same kind of smile on their face. instead, they were frowning, their face more serious and your pace increased. but the more you walked fast, you felt a tension growing on your skin.

you did one mistake that day – turning back. the moment you looked back, all you could see was two greenish-golden eyes, everything black and large animalistic fangs coming at you from the closest distance ever.

*

―present day

namjoon`s eyes shifted to the mark on the side of your face, just passing by the folds underneath your left eye. the kind of mark only some unrealistic animal could do. something only werewolves could do. his inner wolf got the best of him and soon yoongi smelled the rage flowing from the younger one of the pack. being the leader alpha of three other alphas and sub-alphas, it has always been difficult for yoongi to control his boys but he has grown up with them. he knew them like no other being on this damned world.

“namjoon! let`s go for a stroll, eh?” yoongi jumped from his place, shaking his shoulder and offering a hand to the other alpha. “come on, let`s cool off before we stink more.”

it has been an inside joke for a long time now since you started hanging out with the pack. no, you weren`t some werewolf or anything. you were just as ordinary as the grass that you were lying on. it was just your maternal uncle who died one year ago from some mysterious disease was the teacher of these seven boys during their pre-wolf days. he wasn`t a wolf but he was an acquaintance with their world more than you. later you heard from the boys that it was one of the guys from some other pack who tried to attack him and not being able to stand the injuries, he had to sadly pass away.

that day it was another guy from that same pack. somehow this has been a regular thing, yoongi recalled one day to you, that every time any one of the human worlds compiles with the wolf world, this rival always had their way in hurting them. when you had asked why yoongi had jokingly said that maybe you guys are too tasty for their taste buds. a few seconds later, jimin who always had a soft side for you had tackled his leader and forced him to stay there grounded until he apologizes for the insensitive joke.

thankfully, the guys threw that enraged wolf and had somehow got rid of him. it was the first time you saw this much blood flowing out of you. when you touched your burning face, there was blood covered in both of your palm and half of it was flowing to your school shirt. the last scene you saw before passing out was those seven beautiful smiling boys turning into seven big black, brown and greyish-white wolves and lunging onto the out of pack one.

“hnnggh,” jimin groaned behind you. it has been almost five minutes and your arms felt numb. the warm breath from jimin and the wolfish hotness flowing out of him filled up your whole system. you realized that even after an hour-long shower tonight, you would still smell like werewolves. but that didn`t matter to you because you`re used to such acts. you knew jimin has a soft side for you but it wasn`t like that romantic. it was like having a very special bonding with someone irrespective of their gender identity, like meeting up an old friend and picking up the pieces of the past conversations. like someone who`s a constant in your life.

if there`s one person with whom who had a nerve –wrecking relationship, it was min yoongi. there`s always a different kind of sensation whenever yoongi smiles at you or your eyes meet with his. it`s like he`s calling for you and somehow the more you give him that attention, he draws himself closer to you. but losing patience is not in min yoongi`s agenda. he deals with people far more restless than you. also, humans aren`t capable of being a werewolf`s mate, yoongi convinced himself who had researched their world more than anyone. even if it happens it`s like one in a million chance. so chances are very rare, but people like you who pull him against gravity is rare too.

hoseok tried helping you by slowly and gently putting jimin`s hand off of your body and let it fall against the cold grass while you move from his embrace. letting out a sigh, you thanked hoseok without any words – just a little smile and nod. hoseok winked at you giving you a lazy thumb`s up.

looking around you, you realized it was only hoseok and jimin around you. the other five were missing. you say five because jin, a sub-alpha has got into med school a few months ago after your regular hangouts with the pack started. he never intended to stay in the pack and continue his life as his inner wolf would convey. he always as ever tried to diminish his inner wolf by putting up the human gene in the topmost priority.

last time when you met him, it wasn`t along with the pack. it was just him and you in a small, dimly lit café.

“i want to fall in love. i want to live just like any other normal person lives on this earth. i don`t care what my inner demons call out for. i`m going to fight them and find a solution for myself.”

when you asked about the boys, he had smiled sadly.

“i think it`s time you take the responsibility of turning them into more human. i know you`re only one who can do that because there`s something uncharacteristically ravishing inside you. it`s like you have a fire inside you which you`re trying to hide.”jin continued to stare at your changing expression and when you didn`t let you gaze falter, he nodded his head smiling with second-hand satisfaction, “anyway, take care of the boys and don`t let min yoongi manipulate that head of yours.”

when you said his goodbye, you thought he was just throwing stupid big words at you. everyone around you has high expectation of you and they think they know all about you. it was strange how you yourself didn`t know what you`re capable of. can you throw those big words at yourself? can you even be what jin thought you could be? looking back at it now, it felt like some unrealistic pretentious dream. you wondered if jin is doing well in the med school and not throwing rampage around the campus with his dad jokes.

 “oh look! gguk and tae is here!”

 “it`s getting dark,” lifting your eyes, you took in the orangish hue of the sun and the dark clouds that engulfs the other side of the sky. “i should probably get back home.”

 “what about the bonfire?” your attention shifts to a panting namjoon jogging back at your direction from a small distance with yoongi strolling behind him. no, you shouldn`t be feeling like this. it`s just him walking with his soft pace completely overthrowing his wolfish instinct and be the stud one here. your gaze remained on him, his hands stuffed inside his pockets, his head down. look up, you said in your mind, look at me!

 please!

 everything after that faded against the background. the sounds of namjoon`s pants, the groans of jimin, the soft peal of giggles from taehyung and jeongguk and along with that hoseok`s conversation with namjoon. it was just you and him. his eyes on you, and yours returning the same deed. it was just the empty field of grass in-between both of you. his pace slowed more than before and you felt like something was putting you grounded to the place where you were sitting.

 why? you asked yourself, why were you feeling like this? what is there in those sharp-edged eyes, those lips that part to shamelessly show off the gummy smile?

 “we`ll return before it rains. stay with us.”yoongi broke the emptiness in-between both of you.

 lunatic. he was a lunatic to give you such feelings. he wasn`t even trying and you weren`t even complaining. it was just like two magnets pulling at each other and losing battles but nevertheless going towards each other. coming at last in front of you, he plopped next to you and then without giving you any moment to process or ask about his whereabouts, he rested his head on your lap, turning towards your tummy, he wraps a hand around your waist to nuzzle his face into your stomach.

 “finally.”

 yoongi breathes in your essence. there was no doubt in his mind now. he could clearly hear you a few seconds ago, his inner wolf got tainted with your smell and your voice called for him to look up and meet your eyes. all he needed right at this moment when the clock strikes 05:40 PM was the feel of your hand running through his hair and he would finally sleep with the doubts being lifted.