#bearing in mind I’m STILL waiting for my blending brush so I had to blend it all literallt with my fingers

[dicketysplit]

y’all………i just did my very first self portrait

[beautifulblhell]

Something Better To Do

Mafia! Suna x F! Reader

A/N: So this is for @nkogneatho​‘s FMFM collab! Thank you for letting me participate and I’m so sorry for the late posting!! My procrastinating ass couldn’t do it in June and when July came life hit me like truck-kun 😭 Typed this with one brain cell as the heat has melted my rest and not proofread, so if there’s any mistakes please let me know!! (Or just pretend you didn’t see it T_T) Not super proud of this, but lately my creativity has been 📉

Tags: smut, fluff, mafia! Suna but nothing dark, all characters are 18+, protection (be responsible) smut is at the bottom part if you are only interested in the smut lol

WC: 3177

The day had started off so well. Your parents had to leave for an abrupt business meeting abroad and left at the crack of dawn. Usually you would meet up with Suna whenever your parents were away, but he has been away for ‘work’ for the past few weeks.

You knew it was for something important for the Inarizaki gang, and Atsumu had been tasked to go on this trip. But he had an argument with Osamu a few days prior, and with the latter refusing to cook for him, Atsumu gave himself food poisoning when he tried to cook for himself.

So Kita had told Suna to attend instead.

Your finger hovered above the messaging app, wondering if you should text him. The last message he had sent was from a week ago. With a sigh, you decided not to disturb him and closed your phone.

Still, this was the longest you had been without seeing Suna.

As if your daydreams blended into reality, you heard the familiar purr of a motorcycle. At first you thought you were dreaming. However, when you looked down from your bedroom window, you saw Suna coming to a stop below your window, the morning sunlight reflecting off his motorcycle. He lifted off his helmet, and those yellow eyes raised up to meet yours, his lips curved up lazily when he caught sight of you.

He was already standing at your doorway when you opened the front door and flew into his arms.

“Rin!” You cried happily.

His name has hardly left your lips when his mouth descended upon yours. He cupped your face and pulled you towards him, your lips repeatedly met together, making up for lost time. It was only when you felt Suna’s lip against yours did you realise how much you missed him. Your head was spinning when you finally pulled apart. The comforting scent of the cologne he wore and a hint of cigarette enveloped you.

It’s been too long, you thought, looking up at his face.

One of his thumb wiped across your glistening lips.

“Somebody missed me,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming back?���

“Thought I would surprise you.”

“Well, you certainly did.” That’s when you realised.

“How did you know my parents weren’t home?” You asked in surprise. Suna never came to your house unless your parents weren’t home, and you usually told him beforehand.

The image of your parents’ initial shock was still fresh in your mind when you broke the news about you and Suna being together, which morphed into disapproval then anger when you said you won’t break it off with him when they told you.

“But he’s part of Inarizaki, the yakuza!” Your mother had said in horror. She would have been less shocked if you told her Suna smuggled pandas for a living.

It would be easier if you moved out of your house, but Suna knew how much your parents meant to you even if they didn’t approve of your relationship, so you would meet up in town whenever both of you were both free or when your parents were away.

“Hmm,” Suna only hummed as his arms encircled your waist and he nuzzled your hair, but you caught a faint glint in those narrow eyes of his.

With a sigh, Suna relaxed his whole body, and you stumbled at the sudden weight you had to bear.

“R-Rin, you are heavy!”

He leaned into your ears and whispered, “You didn’t  say that last time I had you under me.”

“Rin!”

He sniggered seeing your red face, and stood back upright.

“Get dressed. I don’t want that nosy neighbour of yours to notice that I’m here and tell your parents once they are back.”

“Where are we going?” You asked, pulling your arms back unwillingly.

Sensing your reluctance to let him go, Suna’s lips brushed against your forehead.

“You’ll see.”

“Are we going to your place?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around his waist behind him on the motorcycle.

“Is that what you want?” Suna flashed you a teasing smirk.

You felt heat build up on your cheeks, and you buried your face behind his back.

“I don’t mean that! Just thought we could watch a movie or do something relaxing since you just came back.”

Suna did look a bit tired. And the smell of cigarettes has been stronger than usual. It was a habit of his, he tended to smoke more when he was irritated or stressed.

“If you continue to be so cute I’ll really take you to my place right now.”

“Nope, take me where you wanted to.”

“Later then,” You could hear the laughter in his words.

Then, with a twist of his wrist, the throttle thrusted the machine forward.

It was always exhilarating sitting on the back of Suna’s motorcycle. He drove fast yet with precision. Instead of driving, the term flying would be more accurate to describe what you were feeling. The familiar scenery of the city blew past as Suna expertly maneuvered between the traffic without slowing down. It was only when he started slowing down did you realize where you were going.

It was a few months ago when you made a passing remark of wanting to go to the aquarium when they finished building the underwater tunnel.

It was one of the things you love about Suna. Sometimes you would make a casual remark about a certain place that you were interested in going to, but Suna would always remember and take you there whenever he had the chance.

As you arrived closer, you noticed the long queue extending from the entrance. It didn’t come as a surprise seeing it was the opening weekend, but you were worried about how long you had to wait.

Instead, Suna simply sped past them and came to a stop at the back staff entrance.

A man in a suit and name badge stood next to a door that said ‘STAFF ONLY’. He had an anxious look on his face, which only deepened when he saw Suna.

“Ah, S-Suna-san, I’ve been waiting for your arrival.” He smiled, sweat running down his face. “I’m the manager, very pleased to make your acquaintance.” He bowed deeply, to which Suna only replied with a curt nod after he got off the motorcycle.

“This way, please.” He gestured towards the back of the entrance.

You turned towards Suna as you walked behind the manager.

“He looks so scared of you. What did you do, hold his whole family ransom?” You whispered, your eyebrows raised.

“No, I told him that I would let Atsumu cook for him for a week if he doesn’t let us into the aquarium.”

You choked back a laugh, trying to hide it since the manager turned around to hold the door open for you.

You had just stepped into the aquarium when Suna’s phone rang.

Suna took out his phone. With one look at the name displayed on the phone screen the decline button silenced the noise. Yet within half a second his phone rang again.

“Just ignore it,” Suna muttered, and turned his phone on silent.

As if knowing the calls will be ignored, your phone chimed.

Sender: Atsumu

‘TELL HIM TO PICK UP THE PHONE!!’

Then

‘I KNOW HE IS WITH YOU’

“Shouldn’t you pick up the phone, in case it’s something important?”

With a look of resignation on his face, Suna picked up his phone. Even with the phone next to his ears, you could hear Atsumu’s excited voice on the other end.

Suna’s eyes flickered to you, and from the look of his face, you knew your date was going to end before it even started.

“Fine, but I’m bringing her with me.”

After he hung up his phone, Suna turned to you with a look of exasperation.

“Atsumu. He said it was an emergency.”

“Oh,” you could feel your heart sinking.

“I told him that you are coming with me, so afterwards we can head back here.”

“Can I?” Your eyes lit up. Suna had taken you with him to a few informal gatherings before

“Doubt it’s anything of importance, seeing who was calling,” Suna muttered.

He glanced at the manager. “We’ll be back later.”

“Ah, that’s absolutely fine, sir,” the man bowed, and you can’t help but feel he was relieved to see the back of Suna.

By the time both of you arrived at the private VIP room in one of Inarizaki's nightclubs, all of the top members have already assembled on the sofa in the middle of the room.

Atsumu had greeted you both enthusiastically when you first entered.

And unfortunately for both of you, his enthusiasm didn’t abate one bit. An hour and a half later, you were still sitting at the back of the room, with the prospect of listening to Atsumu’s voice for the rest of the day hanging gloomingly in front of you.

You looked up at your boyfriend on the sofa, the only one sitting facing you. Thin wisps of smoke rose from the cigarette dangling between his lips. He made a non-committal ‘mmh’ whenever Atsumu’s words seemed to be directed at him, but from the look on his face you knew he was hardly listening.

By now, even Osamu was heaving a sigh at Atsumu.

“Samu, what are ya sighin’ for?!”

“Just wonderin’ how that single brain cell of yours could work for so long without overheatin’.”

“Hah?! At least I got one unlike yer-”

“Osamu.” Kita’s quiet voice was enough to bring an end to the twins bickering in an instant. He nodded at Atsumu to continue, and no one dared to say anything seeing that Kita wanted Atsumu to speak.

You stared in boredom at the sudoku puzzle on your screen, wondering if you threw your phone at Atsumu’s head it would solve the puzzle. You finally get to see Suna yet the precious time you had together was ticking away, wasted here.

That’s when the idea entered your head.

You raised your arm slightly, trying to catch Suna’s attention. He glanced at you questionly.

With a teasing smile on your face, you placed a finger on your lips. Then, you ran your finger down, until you came to a stop at the button of your blouse.

Slowly, you opened it.

Suna’s eyes widened and he froze. It was rare to catch him off guard, and you suppressed a giggle. Holding his gaze, the next button fell open. His eyes darkened instantly as he realised what you were doing.

In the dim light of the room, a sharp light has entered Suna’s eyes. He leaned back, his eyes narrow, as if daring you to see how far you could go.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. If any of the men turned slightly, they would be able to see you. But seeing the burning lust swirling in Suna’s eyes, the way his sharp gaze raked down your body, as if stripping you even more bare, it was more than enough to heat you up and fuel you on.

Biting onto the collar of your blouse, you lifted your bra up.

If only you knew what you were doing to Suna. It took everything he could not just to take you there and then.

Every muscle in his body was tense. He took his cigarette and mouthed the word ‘bathroom’.

With a small smile on your face, you left the room.

The moment he walked into the bathroom, his mouth crushed against yours. One of his hands held the back of your head, and his other arm slammed on the partition of the toilet stall near your head, trapping you with nowhere to go. His hips were pushed against yours, and you could feel the hard bulge throbbing against you. The kiss was hard, furious. The taste of cigarette entered your mouth when his tongue slipped inside, exploring your mouth, twisting around yours. By the time he let you up, both of you were gasping, the sound echoed in the empty bathroom.

“What do you think you were doing?” His voice was low.

“Just thought I would give you something better to do,” you grinned at him. You looped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you.

With the partition supporting your back, Suna lifted one of your legs until it rested at the crook of his elbow. His other hand reached down between your skirt and slipped inside your wet folds. The feeling of his long finger sinking inside you so suddenly made you gasp and you tightened around them. His eyes thinned as he felt your wetness coating his hand.

“So wet. Did it excite you that much to flash yourself in front of other men? Do you want to see you like this?” His voice took on that dangerous low tone as he hissed out those words.

You shuddered, temporarily lost in the feeling of his finger reaching so deep within you. It was a good thing you already took your panties off before he arrived, because it would have been torn into shreds otherwise.

“Only you,” you whispered once you got your breath back.

Hearing that, Suna added another finger. He was stretching you hard, finger curling inside you, reaching depths where you couldn’t on nights when he wasn’t by your side.

You pushed yourself against his fingers when his movements turned languid. Suna watched you lazily as you fucked yourself on his fingers, but the heavy desires clouding his eyes betrayed his expression.

“Rin,” you whined. Because you wanted him to fill you up.

His only response was easing his fingers out of you. You whimpered, clenching around nothing.

The sound of a belt being unbuckled never sounded so glorious to your ears. You looked down. Suna’s cock stood erect, precum leaking at the tip. Just seeing the sight of it made you yearn for him.

“Hurry,” you begged.

He ripped the small foil packet with his teeth.

“Don’t think your family is gonna be even more pleased with me if you get pregnant, but is that what you want? Maybe I should just fill you up.” The sound of his low voice made the coil in your abdomen tighten. His fingers traced along your stomach. There have been so many times when he imagined just filling you up, stuffing you full of his seeds until it dribbled out, marking you as his.

But not today.

He hooked his arms underneath your knees and lifted you up easily. Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders and your legs settled around his hips. You lifted your hips up. Suna stroked his cock along your slit, teasing your entrance.

Then in a single stroke, his whole length sank into you. A strangled gasp left your lips.

“S-So big,” you choked out those words.

The stretch burned. His fingers earlier did not prepare you enough for the thick girth that forced its way into your walls, and you struggled to accommodate his huge length that was splitting you open.

Suna cursed under his breath. He rested his forehead against the crook of your neck. The feeling of your wrapped so tightly and deliciously around him made him shudder. He gritted his teeth to suppress the overwhelming urge just to fuck you and ruin you right here.

“Been wanting to do this since I saw you this morning,” Suna groaned.

His mouth ran down your neck, his hot tongue leaving a blazing trail in its wake until he reached your breasts. He sucked on your skin, leaving marks all over. Then, his hot mouth captured your nipple. He rolled it with his tongue, his teeth occasionally grazing it, earning a whimper from you.

Once you got accustomed to his length, you rolled your hips a few times, and seeing the pleasure was greater than the pain, you tried to lift up your body and move on your own seeing he wasn’t moving, but Suna grabbed your hips firmly. “Move,” you begged, close to tears. Suna simply rolled his hips, thrusting shallow thrusts that didn’t satisfy you.

A part of him knew you only wanted his attention, yet another part of him was angry that the other men almost got to see you. A sight that belonged to his eyes only.

“What do you want?” His voice was hoarse. Because he wanted you as much as you wanted him. All those nights he spent alone thinking of you, and here you were finally in his arms.

You looked at him straight in his eyes. “Fuck me, Suna Rintaro.”

The words snapped his last restraint.

Suna pulled all the way out, then slammed your hips back down, hitting the deepest part of you.

You would have screamed if it wasn’t for the fact that all the air was knocked out of your lungs by his sudden movement. Every nerve in your body was on fire. Your fingers digging into his biceps, leaving crescent marks.

The question of how you were going to walk briefly flitted through your mind, but by his next trust, your mind was empty because he had just hit that sweet spot of yours.

‘S-slow down!’

Contrary to your words, your hole was eagerly sucking him back in every time he moved, slick dripping down onto the floor.

His hips snapped to yours repeatedly as he fucked you relentlessly.

It took all you had just to hold yourself up. The pace he set was brutal. Lewd squelching sound and your moans reverberated in the enclosed space. The waves of pleasure crashing through your body threatened to drown you as Suna hit that particular spot that sent your nerves ablaze again and again.

Suna watched the way your eyes glaze over from the pleasure he gave you. The way you looked so perfect taking him all in.

You knew you weren’t going to last long.

“I-I’m coming, Rin,” you managed to say those words in between your moans.

“Then come,” his own voice was strained as he was nearing his own edge, his thrusts losing their rhythm.

It was the sight of you coming undone that led Suna over the edge. The way you arch your back, your walls spasmed around him, clenching so perfectly around him. And the way his name tumbled out of your lips as you came. Suna gripped your hips and with a few particular heavy thrusts, he came with a shudder.

For a few moments neither of you said anything. You were trembling from the high that you’ve just descended from, your heart racing in a furious double time.

Suna’s lips gently brushed against your forehead.

“You okay?” He murmured.

You nodded weakly. “Give me a minute.”

Suna nodded, his lips left light kisses across your collarbones.

Except…

“Wait, Rin, what are your hands doing?!”

Suna looked up at you with a smirk. “Time for round two.”

Masterlist | Ko-Fi | 2021.07.21

[pleasantanathema]

Erwin Smith | Out of Breath

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Choking, Slight Dom/Sub themes, Established Relationship, Teasing, Erwin’s in charge but the man likes experimenting

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This is part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read more fanfic I’m writing to celebrate. I just...I had to get my hands around Erwin’s pretty neck and I’m not sorry for it. 💚

          Erwin’s voice was part of his power. It was rich, a distinctive blend of smooth and militant; it was seductive. It felt good beneath your hands.

           He was panting below you, golden hair dipped in sweat and pressed against his forehead, to the pillow. Gorgeous, glowing, gasping, his thick neck encased by your hands.

           “Harder,” he wasn’t begging, he was demanding, “you won’t hurt me.”

           It was addictive to feel the vibrations against your palms, feel his pulse beneath your fingers.

           You could get used to this, to choking Erwin.

           He wasn’t inside you yet, the hard ridge of his cock resting between the hot folds of your cunt. Your thighs already ached from being spread across the width of his hips; he wasn’t an easy man to straddle. His massive hands were on your hips, thumbs circling against your skin as he rocked against you, cock twitching against your heat.

          “You’re so impatient,” you purred, leaning down to slant your lips against his, your breasts flattening against his plush chest.

          “Not used to being teased.” Every syllable kissed your skin.

          You squeezed your fingers a little tighter, felt the resistance in the solid muscles of his neck.

          The moan that echoed from his throat was sinful.

          Your slick was drooling onto his cock, dripping down throbbing veins. You shifted your weight on your knees, sliding your pussy against him, feeling the flared head of his cock brush against your clit, wet folds enveloping him.

          But you knew you weren’t in charge, even with your hands controlling his breath. Erwin had asked for this, wanted to see what it felt like to have his vision go a little blurry, wanted to know what it felt like to be pinned down. He wanted to experience what you had so many times before.

          “Fuck,” you loved hearing him curse, his resolve slowly breaking, “need you, darling.”

          Strong hands were lifting your hips for you, freeing his cock from your soft, teasing cunt.

          “Do I get a please?”

          Erwin smirked up at you, thick brows raising at your request.

          He pressed against your tight hole, and you thought he’d ease you down his fat cock like he usually did, but instead you lost your breath when he slammed himself inside of you.

          A cry poured from your mouth, your hands instinctively gripping tighter to his neck at the shock of pleasure that exploded over your nerves.

          “Please,” he said after the fact, a very satisfied, lopsided grin on his face.

          Your pussy burned from the spread, your body feeling so full as you sat on his cock. He stilled his hips and let you start the pace, hips rolling as you got used to his size. His arrogance spurred you, had you bearing down harder on his throat like he asked.

          His head tipped back from the blurred pleasure, neck arching underneath your firm touch. He groaned, long and deep, the sound making your skin prickle. He liked this—he loved it.

          “You look so-,” you gasped as his cock brushed against your insides just right, “so pretty with my hands around your throat, Erwin.”

          You were sure he’d said those same words to you before. They were foreign in your mouth, but tasted sweet all the same. You watched a pink blush bloom across his high cheekbones. His fingertips sunk deeper into that fat of your thighs, urging you to move faster, to bring him closer to that brink of absolution.

          “Can’t wait to f-feel you cum inside me.”

          Even his ears were burning, flushed with his arousal as you rode him, body bouncing with a quick rhythm. His lips parted and looked so tempting, full and rosy and begging to be kissed. You obliged your desires, slipping your tongue into his mouth and swallowing heavy groans.

          His lips were hungry, greedy, practically fighting against the current of your own. Your moans were soaking into his mouth, his cock drumming inside you and making your toes curl against the sheets. You could swear his cock was made for you, the slight curve of it always pressing against that soft spot inside you that had your stomach churning with ecstasy.

          “Harder,” he murmured again, “you’re strong, darling, show me.”

          You pulled away from his lips, keeping the steady, building pace of your hips as you looked down at him. His hands were gripping your waist tighter, pushing you down against him so he could match you, cockhead skimming your insides over and over again.

          Your thumbs overlapped on his neck, tucked carefully beneath his Adam’s apple. You were careful to keep the pressure away from the center of his throat there, instead curling your fingers tighter against the sides of his neck where the blood rushed to his pretty head. Your arms felt the tension, strength stemming from your triceps, fingers flexing against the solid sinews.

          The way his pulse quickened had you moaning, moving faster, pressing beyond the burn of your hips.

          “S-so good,” he choked out, and his praise had heat spreading over you.

          You loved pleasing him, loved knowing whatever you did brought him delight and satisfaction, you just never expected it to be from fastening your hands around his impossibly thick throat. Sweat was beading against your hands—his sweat—as his body got used to the lack of oxygen to his mind.

          His hold on your hips was lessening, and you marveled over watching him lose himself to the overwhelming experience. You felt so powerful to be responsible for his pleasure, your tight cunt and even tighter hands edging him closer to the edge of euphoria. You couldn’t help but mewl when you felt him swallow beneath your grip, robust neck bobbing and gasping to regain breath.

          Is that what it felt like to watch you come undone below his hands? You wondered if you looked as pretty, if your lips parted in the same way, if it was just as delectable to watch you lose yourself.

          Erwin was slipping, the thrust of his hips against you getting more erratic. You could feel his cock twitching inside you like a heartbeat, a tell-tale sign that you were going to get what you asked for.

          “That’s right, baby,” you felt a little vindictive with the control, teeth gritting as you constricted his throat harder than before, “fill me up, cum for me.”

          You caught his roar beneath your hands as he came, brows pinching together and his hands locked onto your body so tightly you knew you’d see remnants of him tomorrow. But you didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop chasing your own high, which had him gasping as you rode his sensitive cock for all it could give. Hot cum was spilling onto your thighs, the sounds so, so wet as his seed was fucked into you.

          “S-so good for me, little girl,” the words were strangled and they still lit you on fire.

          You came so hard that colors painted the edge of your vision, ecstasy curling over your body like vines wrapping around you. Your own fingers must have become like too-tight tendrils as well, Erwin’s hands wrapping around your wrists and tugging. Even in your fucked-out haze, you were quick to unwind your fingers from their home on his neck.

          Your hands hurt from being clenched. Your body hummed from the orgasm that lingered in your veins, both you and your lover taking a moment to bask in the warm afterglow.

          You caught your breath before leaning down to pepper his lips with kisses, smiling in their quick succession.

          “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

          “No, no, that’s what I intended. Wanted to see how much I could take.”

          You giggled, brushing hair away from his forehead, still content to warm his cock inside you.

          “Sex doesn’t always have to be an experiment, you know.”

          “Next time we’ll see if you can pin me down if I fight back.”

[smutty-ki113r]

🎠Laughing Jack🎠|| Carousel

Fluff one-shot x gn!reader— only warning is angst (2.6k)

Inspired by: Melanie Martinez

After months of endless nagging you finally convinced Laughing Jack to let you visit his amusement park. He had claimed it was too scary and you would get creeped out but you weren’t one to take no for an answer.

Giving you a piece of candy so the trans-dementional trip wouldn’t be too hard on you. Tasting the sour lemon taffy he gave you and making a tense face as the flavor pulled at your taste buds and stuck to your teeth.

Your head getting dizzy as your surroundings warped and his room became red and white vertical stripes. Blinking a couple times as he leaned into your face, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” You told him, almost falling back at how close he was. As soon as your perception adjusted you looked for the exit to the tent you were inside. “Onward!” You said excited, marching comedically to the entrance flap.

“This isn’t exactly the safest place”, he called from behind, catching up with ease because his legs were so long. “You need to stay close to me at all times” you smiled at him, it’s not like you were complaining, “got that?”

Giving him a keen nod you stepped out of the grand tent. Squinting at the sky, which was tainted a dusty gray, swirly clouds amber of scattered around in the background. The carnival was beautifully revolting, with littered attractions as far as the eye could see.

The place looked somewhat abandoned, if you get past the faint cries of children, from their souls stored in toys. Rides that once colored a vibrant red had paint chipped, specks of dull metal flaked over the bars.

Game stands broken down and leaning unsteadily, disturbing toys with eyes and limbs missing hanging from the top. It looked like it might fall down at any minute, but you couldn’t help but notice the newer looking boxes of supplies lying around next to the stands.

Fairy lights hung from the tilted signs, decorating the food court. A fresh trail had been made between the rides.

It warmed your heart that he had made subtle efforts to fix the place up, he certainly didn’t think you would notice.

Looking back at his nervous smile, Jack was terrified you would hate the place. You thought all but the opposite, giving him a big grin. Your expression relaxed him, assuring him that you wouldn’t think he was a freak and leave. His whole demeanor shifting, making him more comfortable and even enthusiastic.

Straightening out and giving you jazz hands, “what are you waiting for?” putting one hand on his hip to motion you to the park with the other “lets go have fun!”

Following behind you with a giggle as you approached the carnival games. The ring toss looking somewhat appealing in between the other activities, so you told him you wanted to play.

“Basically you get 5 rings, if you get at least 3 in the pins you win a prize” he explained.

“Alright alright lemme try” you waved him off, snatching the rings and giving one a toss. It missed, you brushed it off. The second one made it in and Jack gave a little cheer, it still wasn’t enough.

Hyperfocusing on the pin in the middle make a soft throw upward, the edge hitting the top of the pin and falling to the side. You gave a groan, calculating your last two throws.

Your forth throw made the pin to the side, and you only had one more try left. Aiming for another pin at the side to release, the ring clanging against it and falling to the floor.

You went to look at Jack with a frown but he wore a happy expression, “you won!” He exclaimed. Confused you turned back, finding the ring you had just tossed around the last pin. You were completely certain you had missed it, racking your mind for an explanation as jack handed you a small purple bunny that was missing an arm.

Realizing that Jack had manipulating the game so you could win, throwing him a knowing glance. He just happened to be looking away, whistling guiltily.

Squeezing the bunny you moved onto the next game, it was ballon dart toss. The stand had pale red and black balloons scattered across a board. Excitement was written all over his face, you cocked an eyebrow in question.

“It’s a two person game!” He said, “whoever pops more balloons wins!”

He handed you four darts and kept four for himself, “you can go first” he motioned with a grin. Pacing the dart in two fingers a couple times before throwing at a balloon. Giving a groan when you missed and waiting for him to go.

Being as skilled as he was he managed to land one in a bullseye. “Oh it’s on” you dared, getting one point yourself. LJ got the second one too, staring at you intensely as you evened out the score.

Giving him a small smile as the dart broke the surface of the balloon with a sharp noise “pop goes the weasel right?” You laughed, referring to his famous song.

He looked at you almost in shock, taken aback by your joke. Shaking himself into reality he broke out in a light blush, a part of him touched, as if you were accepting him for who he was.

Too distracted by your eyes on him to play the game with concentration. Missing the third one with a growl he waited for you to take your turn, which you lost. It was the last point and Jack was a shoe in, so obviously he took the victory.

You were happy for him, passing along a “good job!” as he retrieved the big brown teddy bear that was half his size, and all of yours. It was missing an eye, thin stands of makeshift fur pulled out and a silky red bow around it’s neck.

“Here” he said, dangling it in front of you.

“For me?” You asked, “but you won”, trying to look up at him but the bear blocked most of your view, only letting you see above his nose.

“Just take it” he practically pushed it into you, making you blow out an oof.

Holding it to the side at the torso with one hand you broke out in a grin “thank you for the plushie” you said, hugging him from the side and squeezing his torso “but I want you to be my teddy” you laughed. He looked incredibly flustered, frozen as you broke away.

“You’re big and tall” you tippy toed up to give his shoulder pad feathers a ruffle “and fluffy”

The man looked like he was about to faint so you decided to knock it off, laughing and telling him you wanted to go on the carousel next. Quickly, LJ happily led you too it, skipping in front of you (mostly to hide his blush).

Standing at the controls to cue a round, watching you walk around to find a pretty horse. Given, all of them had dark spots and chipped paint, but they worked all the same. Leaving the bear on another horse and climbing onto a white one that had a yellow saddle, intricate lacy designs patterned on the sides. Royal blue reigns across it’s chest and a lion on a crest.

It was beautiful, and you traced your fingers on the drawing. It must have been stunning, but the weathering of time and agony had gotten to it. A painful reminder of what was, a mere reflection of the chipping away of a joyful being.

Prying away from your thoughts as you felt the vibrations of Jack stepping onto the walkway- with one of his big smiles. Even after everything, he still wore a smile. It made you want to tear up, he really needed all the love he could get.

He was too tall to get on a horse, so he just stood by you. His big hand gracing the golden pole and holding on, watching as you peeked up at him. Even though his eyes were constantly bright he displayed something…deeper. It was a sort of shine, a sparkle if you will, luminosity glazed over in such a way that one can only get lost in its vastness.

The looped music in the background was secondary as you rose up and down with the horse, giving Jack a little smile and thanking him for bringing you here. “I’m having a lot of fun with you” you noted.

“Well of course you are! It’s a carnival” he said with joy.

“No I mean with you” you clarified “you’re pretty great Jack”. This time he didn’t avoid your gaze, his mouth open slightly, not knowing how to react to the sincerity of the compliment.

The ride slowly came to a stop, and you were feeling slightly tingly. Maybe it was the air, or the loss of focus. “How about a roller coaster?” You dared, to which he gave a tense face.

“Those are pretty broken, you’ll probably die riding one and that’s not what we want” he said, stepping off the carousel. “How about some cotton candy instead?”

You nodded your head vigorously, following him in the pursuit for the fairy floss, the bear falling behind forgotten. Passing by more unused rides that had long past rusted and a house of mirrors to get to the food court.

Jack humming happily as he dipped a paper cone into the bowl of revolving fibers of sugar. Whipping up a swirly pink and blue cotton candy and handing it to you with a proud smile.

He went to make another treat until you spoke, “I’m not that hungry so we can share” you proposed. “If you want”

“Are you sure?” He asked, concerned that you didn’t have much appetite. “Do you want some candy or maybe a funnel cake?”

You shook him off, taking a bite out of the cloud-like dessert. It was absolutely delicious, honeyed and saccharine on your tongue in a blend of flavor you had never tasted had before.

Soft as it disintegrated onto your mouth, leaving behind a remanence of something too sweet. Bringing it up to Jack, who was so tall you had to extend your arm fully to get it to his mouth.

He simply laughed at your struggle, taking a bite before giving you a thin smile and taking it from your hand. Sitting down at a bench so that you could both share comfortably.

By the time the candy had finished you noticed little bits of the silky texture stuck on his nose. Painfully stifling a laugh you turned away.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a genuine smile.

When you didn’t answer his tone changed, “what’s so funny huh?” he sounded a bit angered.

Hiccuping through your laughter you faced him, leaning in real close to his face, enough so that you could feel the heat emanating from it; taking a bite of the pink woven candy on his nose and holding it in your teeth.

His face went red at the sight, embarrassed that he had cotton candy on his nose. Well, that and for a moment he thought you were going to kiss him.

Noticing your hands were all sticky you asked him if there was a sink somewhere. After both of you washed your hands you sat back down at the bench.

The sky was going dark, the poofs of dusty cloud fading in with the night but still managing to remain visible. You heard a whirr as Jack turned on all the rides at the carnival, lighting the whole thing up.

You sat in awe, a mere spectator in the empty yet live amusement park. Admiring the music that added to the ambiance, watching Jack approach you.

“Wanna take a walk?” He asked, but there was something…off. LJ seemed nervous as you got up and walked next to him.

He had been thinking about it for a while now, probably even before he brought you to the carnival. Even though he had washed the gooey candy from his hands they were still sticky, but it was from sweat. Giving you side glances as you paced the trail with him.

Debating to himself whether or not he should do it, if you would hate him for it. Telling himself that he would regret it if he didn’t, but thinking about the potential negative reactions you could give.

Passing the carousel once again as you noticed the usually loud and happy clown was silent, lost in thought as he stared into the distance, his lips forming a tensing line.

Wondering if he was ok, but brining up the topic might make him uneasy. Perhaps you being there at his haunted amusement park was ticking him off, or if you taking that cotton floss off his nose was too much, or if you were pushing your luck, or worse what if you triggered hi-

All thoughts faded from your mind the moment you felt a slow, shaky hand grasp onto yours. You had to look to where he held you because he was so gentile you thought it was the wind. Holding onto you softly enough that it felt like a feather, somehow still creating a little pocket of warmth between you.

A glowing thump of heat pulsing inside your chest, happiness digging into your cells and giving you the confidence to squeeze his hand.

He let out a sharp inhale at the feel, still avoiding your gaze as he relaxed into your touch. Not daring to move his hand too much or he might risk ruining the moment, afraid of hurting you with his claws.

Approaching the Ferris wheel he finally spoke, “this is probably the one ride that won’t break”, not a peep about holding you. “Do you want to go on?”

You finally caught his gaze, absolutely melting at the smile in his eyes. Responding with a ‘yes’ and letting him open the door for you. Sustaining his grip with you as he helped you on, not letting go even after you sat.

The cart wasn’t exactly small, but with a guy the size of Jack it was pretty compacted. It’s not like you minded, the lack of space gave you an excuse to bunch up alongside him. The feathers from his pads tickling your face as you rested on him.

Watching the view as the cart took you higher and higher, it was perfect. The evening set in the rich obscurity of the night, lights of the festival blinking as if they had a life of their own. The bulbs on the stands making z’s as they illuminated the red and white drapes of the far off tents.

Jack held your hand with such care and caress, you gave him a reassuring press to let him know it was ok. He was so enveloped with the passionate act that he squeezed as well. Letting you feel all the dips and curves of his hand. Clutching onto you, as if you might disappear too.

Facing him to cup his cheek with your free hand, caressing him and tucking a stand of hair behind his ear. Trailing your thumb across his skin and feeling him lean into your touch, swearing that between the lines on the pad of your finger there was a tear that you had wiped away.

Getting lost in the breaths you shared as you inched closer to his lips, giving him a second of warmth longer to prove that you weren’t going anywhere.

[scxrlettwxtches]

a life with you | hwang hyunjin

genre: assassin au, epilogue(?), inspired by @chaninfused​ “row, row, row your boat” universe

description: when you have doubts about your future with hyunjin, the assassin is more than happy to reassure you that all he wanted was to be with you. 

word count: 2.8k+

a/n: i am officially a month late and terribly sorry, furat dear. TT happy (very belated) birthday to you! thank you so much for screaming with me about hyunjin, rrryb, and everything else in between. most of all, thank you for being such a dear friend. <3 i really hope you enjoy!

For the first time since Hyunjin became your friend, your confidante, and then your darling, doubts about your relationship began to fester into gnarly thorns, sitting in the deep recesses of your heart. 

It didn't have anything to do with your love for Hyunjin. On the contrary, your love for the man was stronger than ever, built upon a bond of trust and deep care for one another. Hyunjin had stood by your side through the highs and the lows, just as you had watched him discover what it means to love someone, watched him discover that he himself was capable of being loved. 

No, your doubt stemmed from an instinctual fear that the two of you were simply not compatible because you would never be able to assimilate into the lifestyle he grew up in. 

You thought you could do it, at first. After all, what's so hard about being well off? What's so hard about being able to splurge a little extra money on your clothes, your food, your overall lifestyle? 

You quickly learned that noble life wasn't quite as simple as that. 

For one thing, it was overwhelming to the highest degree. Ever since you agreed to attend the banquet with Hyunjin as his significant other, you'd been thrust into an endless cycle of dress fittings, shoe fittings, and practically any other type of fitting that exists. The party itself was also an overstimulation of all your senses; there was so much to see, so much to comprehend and hear and say that it all just got a bit too much for poor you.

So that was why you were here alone, standing on an empty balcony to find some fresh air, some quiet, and some peace. The wind felt nice against your skin in comparison to the stuffy rooms and banquet halls, and you couldn't help but wonder guiltily if you could head home by yourself. You didn't want to bother Hyunjin, of course, who was born noble and was probably enjoying himself. 

“Oh, thank goodness, I've finally found you!” 

As if the stars had heard you, Hyunjin stepped out into the balcony, his expression wrought with relief as he made his way towards you, taking your hands in his. 

As you gazed upon him, those long lashes, those soft lips, and above all, those gentle eyes that held nothing but love, affection, and concern as he studied your face, you found yourself once again falling deeper in love with him, as if that was even possible. 

“Why did you abandon me in there?” The assassin almost whined, and you fought back a smile as you rubbed your thumbs against the back of his hands.

“I just needed some air, and you seemed preoccupied,” you explained, ducking your head slightly as Hyunjin shrugged off his long coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“But you didn't need to escape so quickly without telling me,” he argued like a petulant child when his eyes suddenly flashed with a sharpness that you hadn't seen in a while, “Unless...did something happen?” 

Damn Hwang Hyunjin and his ridiculously fine-tuned awareness. 

You shook your head, running your hand up and down his arm, “Nothing happened,” you smiled soothingly. 

“But you look unhappy,” he insisted, cupping your cheek with his gentle hands, worry filling his dark brown irises, “My darling, please tell me what is wrong.” 

Inside, Hyunjin was panicking. He knew you better than he knew himself, and he knew the look of uncertainty on your face when he saw it. Were you beginning to have second thoughts about him? Was being with him becoming more of a burden than a blessing to you? Was the constant little weight in his coat pocket something that he’ll have to throw away soon?

Logically, Hyunjin was almost sure that any of those possibilities weren't true. You loved him, and you loved him dearly. The two of you have been through thick and thin together, and he knew your love for him was as deep as the darkest oceans and as pure as the sunrise sky. But yet, the coil of doubt could not totally recede from his mind. After all, you were always so much more than he could ever dare ask for. 

“Hyunjin,” you spoke softly, your smile so knowing that the assassin felt more at ease just at the sound of your voice, “Relax.”

“So something is wrong, my love?” 

You sighed, cursing at Hyunjin’s endearingly insistent nature. Hyunjin was a fixer at heart. Whatever was bothering him, whatever was bothering the people he loved, he was proactive about finding a solution. He’d go to the ends of the earth to find one if need be, which was what he did for your precious daughter all that time ago. 

But this, this wasn’t a problem that you were sure he could fix.

“I don’t know if this is going to work, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin had never experienced such physical heartache until this very moment. His eyes widened with alarm, a terror that he could hardly keep clamped down, but ever the gentleman, he waited for you to finish before interjecting.

“I know you were so eager to introduce me into this world, to give me luxury that I didn’t experience before, but truthfully, I don’t enjoy this lifestyle,” you confessed, gesturing to the ballroom where the party was still ongoing, where the lords and ladies chatted and drank the night away, “It’s stifling for me, Hyunjin. But this is your life, and I don’t want to take that away from you--”

You found your answer in the searing kiss that closed the gap between his lips and yours. Hyunjin’s kisses were passionate, palettes of red and orange that swept you off your feet time and time again, but they weren’t all consuming. His fire was warm, homely, loving, and you quickly found yourself wondering why you had any doubts in the first place.

“Is that what was worrying you?” He murmured, pulling away with bright eyes as he brushed the hair away from your face, “That I wouldn't want to leave this life for you?” 

“Oh, I didn't doubt that you'd leave if that was what I truly wanted,” you assured him, your hands resting against his chest as he listened intently to every word you said, “And that worried me. I don't want to make you choose between me and your life here.” 

Hyunjin shook his head, brushing your cheek with his gentle, yet calloused fingers, “You've got it all wrong, my darling,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours for a short moment before pulling away, “Come with me?” 

Confused, excited and only slightly worried, you followed him wordlessly, placing your safety in his hands without question, as you've always done. Hyunjin led you back inside the estate, but not back towards the party that you were so obviously trying to avoid. Instead, he took you somewhere the music seemed to blend into the peaceful silence and where the mindless chatter faded  into nothingness. 

"Am I even allowed to be here?" You were pretty sure you had no need to whisper, but you still found yourself doing it. 

“I'm allowed, so you're allowed by association,” Hyunjin said with a smile, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face as he laced your fingers together, tugging you down the hallway until he stopped at a particular room. 

“Miss?” He bowed dramatically, making you giggle as he opened the door, pulling you in. 

You looked around the space, a quaint little thing with a small office desk and a simple bed, but everything was clearly expensive and high quality. Even though most of the design and decor was quite minimal, there were little touches like the choice of wooden, the scent of the candle, the distinct stuffed animal that you remembered was once Nari’s. It all just screamed Hyunjin.

“Is this your room?” You asked with a soft laugh, brushing your fingers against the wooden surface of his drawer before picking up the small stuffed bear.

“Yes. I didn't need much space, and I'm not here often, so I just took one of the smaller guest rooms,” Hyunjin chuckled before turning and seeing you with the familiar stuffed animal in your hands. His expression morphed into one of nostalgic happiness at the memory of someone that meant the world to him and pain at the reminder of his own failure, “Oh, that was one of Nari's stuffies.”

“I remember,” you found yourself smiling sadly, lost in the memories as you squeezed the stuffed animal gently. 

Hyunjin walked over, eyes distant as he gently placed his hand on it's head, “Wherever I used to watch over Nari while you ran errands, she always wanted me to play with this stuffed animal in particular,” he chuckled softly, “I always want to have a part of her in my life, so I held onto it. I hope that's alright with you.” 

Your eyes watered as you gazed up at the man who you loved unconditionally. Such a gentle soul, a person who'd treasure all that were close to him, a man who had such a natural instinct to nurture and care for others. 

“Of course, it's alright,” you smiled, placing the stuffed animal down, “I-it's more than alright. She always loved it when you came around to see her.” 

Hyunjin chuckled, wiping the corner of your eye with a delicate swipe of his finger before gently guiding you to his desk, “Close your eyes, my darling.”

“Why?” You raised a suspicious eyebrow as your hip leaned against the desk and Hyunjin stood before you. 

“Because!” His lips curled into a pout, “I have a surprise for you.” 

“You better not have bought me another shawl, darling. I don't mind that the last one got a small tear in it,” you berated him preemptively, worried that Hyunjin had fallen back into his habit of overly indulging you for the sake of making you happy. 

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkled, and you wondered briefly if he was the only person who seemed to enjoy being nagged at, “Just close your eyes, darling. Please?”

Oh, he wasn’t playing fair anymore, not as he flashed those irresistible puppy eyes, and you could do little more than let your eyes flutter shut. You felt his hands take yours, guiding you to open your hands with your palm facing upward. Giddy with anxiety, your confusion was palpable as you felt a featherlight weight fall into your hands.

“Alright, open.”

When you opened your eyes, you could barely hide your puzzled expression as you inspected the piece of paper that Hyunjin placed in your hands. Unfolding it, you scanned through the contents to get to the chase and then--

The paper fell to the ground as you let out an audible gasp, whipping your head up to glance at your lover. It was his sheepish, excited and slightly anxious expression that truly made it real to you.

“Was that a good gasp or a bad gasp?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“It’s…” you swallowed, still trying to sort through the plethora of emotions that were clouding your mind, “it’s real.”

Hyunjin couldn’t fight his smile, realizing that he’d made you speechless for one of the first times in his life, “It is, darling.”

“B-but, it’s right in that secluded area outside of town, the place that I always--” you spun around to face Hyunjin, utterly dumbfounded, “How did you know?”

The assassin laughed, picking up the deed which you had rather unceremoniously dropped on the floor, “We were taking the carriage back to your bakery once, and I noticed the way you looked at the cottages in that area. Plus, you mentioned once that you’d want to live a simple and secluded life, and this location fit your description quite perfectly. It’s nothing really--”

Your lips pressed against his as you shut him up with a sweet kiss, cupping his cheeks and holding him close, “I love you,” you murmured without an ounce of hesitation as you pulled away from Hyunjin, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

Hyunjin looked dazed, utterly lovestruck as he gazed into your eyes, pulling you towards him as he sat on the edge of his desk, “Do you like it?” He asked softly, playing with your fingers and making you smile. Oh, Hyunjin, always so eager to please, so eager to do things right for you, to make your life easier. You wondered how you ever deserved such a lover. 

“I do,” you smiled softly, looking down at your hands.

“It’s a small cottage, but it has enough space for us and...more...if that situation ever arises,” Hyunjin’s ears seemed to redden, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he was so gently insinuating. 

“I love it,” you whispered, watching as your fingers laced together. 

Hyunjin’s eyes brightened, “You do?”

“I do,” you smiled at his eagerness, “Do you? Do you want this life? I won’t fault you at all if you do not--”

“Oh, my darling,” Hyunjin murmured, gazing into your eyes as you drowned in his loving gaze, his bottomless affections for you that gave you the butterflies even after so long, “When will you realize that I want nothing more than to live a quiet, simple life with you? When will you realize that some of my most treasured moments were with you and Nari in your cramped little bakery? All I've ever wanted was to find a nice, quaint little location that wasn't too far from the town, and for us to grow old there together…”

Your eyes welled with unshed tears as you brought his hand to your lips, kissing it gingerly, “That’s all I want, too,” you confessed, “I want to live quietly and happily with you, put our suffering behind us…”

Hyunjin was silent for a moment before he tugged you towards him, “If that’s what we both want,” he trailed off, red dusting his cheeks as he looked down, “would you like to get married?” 

It wasn’t a sudden proposal. Hyunjin and you had vaguely mulled over the idea for months now, especially since it was becoming increasingly clearer that the two of you loved no one but each other. But to hear those direct words falling from his lips, with no lighthearted quips or jabs to deflect the sincerity of it, it utterly floored you.

The assassin took your silence for doubt, and he looked back up at you with shining eyes, “I know you had bad experiences with your past marriage. My line of work isn’t exactly stable either. But, Y/N, I’ll spend my life showing you that a future with me will be worth your while. Would you,” he swallowed nervously, “would you let me do just that, my darling?”

“Oh, darling,” you murmured, reaching forward and cupping his cheek with your hand. He leaned into it almost desperately, “You have nothing to prove, nothing to show. We’re equals in this relationship,” you smiled, standing on your tiptoes and gently pecking him on the nose, “And yes, I’d love to marry you, Hyunjin.”

The childlike sparkle in his eyes made you giggle as you watched him physically process your words. Slight confusion, then disbelief, then awe. 

“Really?! Oh, my love, I’m so happy!” Hyunjin lifted you in his arms, spinning you around as you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. When he placed you down, he fumbled around in his back pocket, eyes wide, “I-I can’t believe I forgot this! We were having such a soft moment and the question just slipped out of my mouth--”

Giggles burst from your lips as Hyunjin finally managed to pull out a black velvet box, revealing a small, simple, yet priceless diamond ring. It was so undeniably Hyunjin to get so caught up in proposing that he’d forget to present the engagement ring to you, and you found the two of you chuckling about it up until he gingerly slipping the silver band onto your third finger.

“Oh, I do have a request from Jisung, who wants to be present at the wedding,” Hyunjin said when the two of you were finally curled up in his bed, embracing each other’s warmth.

“I’d be happy to invite him,” you chuckled, looking down at your finger and at the glimmering stone that now rested on it, “It’s beautiful, by the way. The ring.”

Hyunjin smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair, “I passed a jewelry shop when I was running some errands for your bakery, and it just reminded me so much of you,” he said, brushing his fingers across is, “Elegant and beautiful.”

“Such a flatterer,” you complained to hide the heat in your cheeks.

“Oh, no no. There will be much more of that now that we’re engaged,” Hyunjin teased, tickling your waist, “I hope you’re prepared.”

And you were prepared, alright. All of the trials, tribulations, and the joys of marriage, you were ready for all of it as long as Hyunjin was by your side.

fin.

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Eight]

Summary: 34 ABY.

Warnings: Angst, smut (a large amount of smut!), fluff but it’s sad, I’m sorry this one hurts. WC—+12K

A/N: Wow I can’t wait to get your feedback on this. BUCKLE UP!

34 ABY - Location Unknown - Aboard Star Destroyer ‘Finalizer’

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the resistance on board,” A cold, modulated voice woke Poe from his troubled slumber—his pathetic attempt at rest, considering he was strapped upright, his hands and legs restrained from moving at all.

The First Order goons had been on him for hours before finally giving up, realizing with each slice into his skin or blow into his side that he only grinned wider. He wasn’t going to give up anything, even if they pulled his eyes from his head, and they seemed to understand that and left him alone, he wasn’t sure for how long now. He’d assumed they’d left him to die.

He tilted his head up, his neck protesting at the movement before his eyes landed on the figure across the dark room. The man was tall, covered from head to toe in black, his face covered by a dark helmet. The modulated, amused-sounding voice spoke again when Poe made no reply, “Comfortable?”

“Not really,” He admitted, glaring even though he was curious as to who this new arrival was. He didn’t seem bothered by Poe’s sarcasm.

“I’m impressed,” The First Order man stepped closer to him as he spoke, “No one has been about to get out of you what you did with the map.”

Poe looked where he guessed the man’s eyes would be, “You might want to rethink your technique.” He challenged, his body tensing in preparation for whatever violence it was about to endure.

Only, the man reached up a gloved hand, palm open towards him. For a beat Poe was confused.

For a beat, nothing.

And then the oddest sensation, like a hand dipping beneath his skull and squeezing his brain, and he almost gasped. He let out a small breath, his eyes dropping from the masked man because—he needed to focus, to push this pain away, to prevent...what was he doing to him?

The pain and pressure doubled and Poe slammed his head back into the headrest, unable to hold in his pained groan, his entire body protesting at the invasion. He tried to push at it, but there was nothing he could find to push against, it was invisible, it was nothing.

The man tilted his head, “Where is it?”

Ah, he was trying to get to the map. In Poe’s brain, using a-a something that he’d only ever heard tales about, never seen, thought was long gone. He hadn’t been prepared for this sort of attack, this form of torture that seemed to make his brain want to cooperate, just for relief.

He thought of you, then, and what you said any time there was a close call, an enemy with the upper hand. It spilled out of his lips, automatically, “The Resistance will not be intimidated by you.”

The pressure increased again and fuck, fuck if it didn’t hurt worse than any other pain in his life, the pain of losing Charlie, of losing you, the pain of stab wounds or blasters to the leg. This hurt so much worse and he wanted it to stop but he couldn’t let it—as long as he was in pain, the information was safe. He’d go down burning, he had to!

“Where is it?” The man sounded frustrated, his hand moving closer to Poe as that pressure continued to build and build and he had to swallow it, let it happen, let the pain exist.

He tried something, then, in desperation. Poe let his brain flood with the memories he had of you, each one like a movie, and thrust them toward his interrogator, let him see the most vivid thoughts he had instead of the location of the map.

Poe stared down at you, his eyes threatening to blur with the tears he was shedding, and he had to keep blinking to clear his vision. You looked beautiful, standing before him in a simple lace dress, your lower lip trembling as you gave your vows.

“...and that was how we met, on the day of your mother’s funeral—the woman whose ring I’ll wear now, honouring her. Honoring you. I’ve loved you my whole life, Poe Dameron...”

“Pretty,” The man murmured, and Poe wasn’t sure if it was working or not so he kept thinking of the day he married you, pushing the memories at the man before him.

You were wiping at your tears as he spoke, holding your hands tightly in his own and working hard to keep himself from sobbing through his vows.

“...you and I were never honest with each other like we should have been. We built up our whole lives around each other, and then we lost Charlie,” He paused there, leaving a moment of space for your brother. “And we crumbled, each in our own way because we didn’t have a solid foundation. The truth is, the day Charlie died there were only two ways that could have gone, and we both know that the version where you died, where he didn’t save you, was never really an option. And I was-was angry at him for doing it but angrier at myself for how happy I was that I didn’t lose you. And now we’ve come back to each other and we have that foundation and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for lost time, sweetheart.”

He pushed the memories from his mind. As if eager for the man to see the greatest moments of his life. Like a movie. Because he had to protect the map, he had to.

And he didn’t need to protect you any longer.

The last memory slipped through, he hadn’t meant to think of it. Tried not to, always-but he was weak and the pressure and pain were blinding him. It just appeared, and the man saw it, Poe knew he did when he saw his head tilt a little more as if interested in what he saw.

“Pity,” That cold, modulated voice didn’t sound like he thought it was a pity at all. “Well she certainly can’t have it, can she? Tell me where it is.”

The hand hovering in front of Poe’s face twisted and the pressure on his brain increased rapidly until he couldn’t bear it any longer and he let himself scream, and scream, and scream...

Right before he passed out, he thought first of BB8 hurrying away with the map on Jakku. And then Poe thought of you, his beautiful wife, and how fucking much he already missed you.

Life was now so surreal to Poe, in the best ways, that just the knowledge he could touch you whenever he wished made it difficult to stop himself from doing just that. A hand trailing down your back, a brush of his lips against your temple, his body pressed against yours, even reaching up to cup your cheek. And while you seemed to enjoy the attention, often shooting him little smiles that made his insides warm, he could see that currently, it was irritating you.

“Poe, we’re supposed to be blending in here and if you keep giving me those ‘I’ve seen you naked’ eyes it’s going to attract attention.” You carefully adjusted the scarf you wore, which served both to protect you from the suns of Tatooine, and keep anyone in Mos Espa from being able to identify you.

Poe wore one similar around his neck, his hair gelled back in a way he thought looked awful (and confirmed when he’d stepped out of the ship’s fresher earlier and you laughed, hard). Today’s mission was more personal, though it had been approved by General Organa. Jess Pava had located, purely by accident, the location of the Twi’lek man, Dario, who had tried to capture you and Poe back on Takodana months prior after giving over First Order intel. He was in hiding from both the Resistance and the First Order now.

Poe sighed dramatically, dropping his hands to his sides as you continued walking, his eyes sweeping the crowds of the busy city street, “I can’t help it. We’re still in the honeymoon phase.” He argued, and you giggled in response.

“We’ve been married five weeks, Poe, the honeymoon phase is the entire first year.”

Poe mulled this over, biting back his smile so as not to stand out to those passing by in the opposite direction. He still couldn’t believe you had agreed to marry him if he was honest. It all felt too good to be true, but if there was one thing he’d learned as a Rebel all these years it was to enjoy the good while he could—he wasn’t spending a lot of time ruminating. He was instead regularly replaying in his mind how quickly you’d said yes, the excitement and joy and adoration that had split your face into a wide grin as he kneeled before you the morning after your feelings for one another finally came out.

“Let’s get married, flyboy.” You’d said, and he’s not sure he would ever come down from the high those words provided.

It had been a bit of a whirlwind, after that. You had still needed a few days' rest to get your voice healed up, and Poe was only able to spend that day with you before being called back to duty. While he’d been gone on a mission, you had organized everything from the comfort of his room, first telling only your closest friends—Tahla, Temmin and Kare. Then you had located the base officiant to ask for her to wed you and Poe in a private ceremony upon Poe’s return.

It was amusing how everyone took the news. You’d described to Poe how Temmin and Kare had high-fived one another, while Tahla had merely laughed, nodding his head in an annoyingly knowing way.

When Poe had arrived back on base, he’d sought you out in his room to find you being examined by Tahla and a medical droid, the former happily declaring that your voice was as good as new. He had then congratulated you each on the happy news and assured you both that he could remain for the ceremony with a cheeky sort of grin.

Poe married you the very next morning. The ceremony was small, just you and Poe, your three friends and the officiant. BB8 had also been present, happily beeping the moment Poe began to cry-which was around the time when you’d surprised him by taking your father’s wedding band from his droid and presenting it for Poe. You told him that as much as you were meant to wear his mother’s wedding band, the same went for him wearing your fathers. You said Charlie would have wanted it to end up in his hand, regardless of who he married, anyway. Poe had replied that he was always going to marry you.

That had been, quite easily, the best day of his entire existence.

After the ceremony, Poe had whisked you off to a nearby beach, the flight a mere ten minutes, where you would enjoy a short three-day honeymoon together camping, surrounded by nothing but sand and water, sunshine during the day and the stars twinkling by night. Temmin had helped Poe to pack camping supplies and promised to keep BB8 safe as he and Kare went off with the droid on a mission alone.

He made love to you on that beach—sand got everywhere, of course, so he took you again in the water that you’d entered naked with the intent to clean up. And again in the tent after dinner. He woke in the middle of the first night and spent a good twenty minutes eating you out before you’d woken, your orgasm ripping through you moments later when you realized what he’d been doing. You’d returned the favour the next night, pulling Poe from a deep sleep by sucking his cock so expertly he saw stars, then drinking down everything he’d given you when he came while moaning sinfully.

“Alright,” You drew his attention from his thoughts—thankfully as he was starting to get hard thinking of the honeymoon. Stepping out of the way of foot traffic, you peered nonchalantly across the road at a grubby-looking cantina. “Jess said he’s in there about this time every day. We just have to wait for him to come out.”

“Uh-huh,” Poe stepped closer to you, an eyebrow quirked, “And not shoot him on sight, right Major?”

You bristled immediately, “I am not going to kill him. Here.” You jerked your chin up stubbornly and Poe chuckled, leaning down and capturing your kips against his softly.

When he pulled back, you threw him a mock glare, “You shouldn’t get me all worked up when you know we don’t have the ship to ourselves, Commander.” You made busywork of adjusting your scarf, eyes back on the cantina.

Poe grinned down at you, “We could knock Dario out-“

“Yeah? And what about our dear Captain? You think Snap would mind?”

He blinked, momentarily having forgotten Temmin was waiting on the ship for them, even though Poe had been the one to ask him along as backup.

“Shit,” He mumbled, and you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly.

He let you think he was annoyed at the lack of privacy, but the truth was Poe had asked Temmin along because he had become extraordinarily overprotective of you since the wedding. After the honeymoon, you’d rejoined him in the field and the first moment he saw you with your blaster at your hip, something inside of him had just...snapped.

He’d realized after your attack on Canto Bight that losing you wasn’t an option, that your life was worth more than winning the war to Poe. It had scared him, to think like that, and everything after that had happened in such quick succession that he’d pushed the thoughts back. But then that first mission together as a married couple had occurred and he realized how intense those protective, selfish thoughts were. And he was being selfish—because you were one of the best fighters, best pilots, the Resistance had. Which was why you’d been brought to D’Qar to join his team in the first place, of course. Limiting your fieldwork would have been as much as a disservice to the Rebels as it would have been to his marriage, so he didn’t even consider asking you to stop.

Well, he’d only considered it very briefly.

He knew what you would say, if he did ask, anyway. And truly, his belief in your capabilities hadn't diminished in the slightest; he simply couldn’t fathom the idea of you being hurt. Even here on Tatooine, he was keenly aware of all possible threats to you—to YOU, not to the Rebels, not himself. Hell, at that very moment he could see you were covered in a layer of sweat, courtesy of the over-hot planet, and the urge to whisk you somewhere cool and out of the sun was almost as powerful as his desire to complete this mission.

He was aware that his scales were not, in fact, balanced.

No, they’d tipped right over in your favour, though he kept you unaware of that knowledge, and every day now was a struggle when Black team was on a mission. The best he could think to do was bring back up, just in case, and always keep you close to him. If he had to jump in front of gunfire for you, he would in a heartbeat.

If he ever started to feel guilty over these feelings, he would think of your brother. Charlie would, no doubt, be thrilled that Poe and you had married, that Poe had officially made you his top priority.

D’Qar Five Weeks Ago

“I know I said you didn’t have to help,” Poe crawled towards you on the makeshift bed you’d put together inside the tent, his voice low, “But I’m glad you did, sweetheart. Got us to this part quicker.” He wiggled his brows at you and you giggled, your eyes following his movements hungrily as he climbed over your body.

“What if I tired myself out, flyboy?”

Poe smirked, pressing his body over yours, “That’s okay, sweetheart. I can take care of you, just relax for me.” He began to kiss a trail up your neck and along your jaw, lifting one hand to gently coax you to settle into the cushions. You allowed your warm body to go limp, signalling a trust in Poe he still had trouble feeling worthy of, and let out a small sigh of content.

He wasted no time in ridding you of your clothing, immediately devouring newly exposed skin with his mouth as he did. He was marvelling over how much his life had changed in the last week, how incandescently happy he was. When a whimper fell from your lips as he circled his tongue over one of your nipples, he drew back and saw your eyes blown wide with lust.

“You’re such a tease.” You mumbled, reaching down to palm his erection over his khakis. Grinning widely, he leaned away and quickly stripped himself before bringing his body to settle over yours again, this time skin to skin. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close.

“Oh sweet girl,” He murmured into your ear as he reached between your bodies to run two fingers through your slick, “So wet for me already.” He withdrew his hand and gently rocked his hips forward, moving slowly as he sunk into you, a gasp falling from his lips at the sensation of your tight heat clenching around him. Perfect, you were utterly perfect.

Your back arched slightly as Poe filled you, angling to allow him to sink deeper, “Poe, Stars!” You whimpered, your hands sinking into his curls while he lazily worked his hips, drawing sweet little noises from your lips. It wasn’t the first time you’d made love that day, yet the intense desire you felt for one another was clear, heavy in the air around you, drawing you back to each other as nothing else could.

Being with you like this felt too good to be true, the sort of euphoria that must come with a limit, and so he savoured every second, drawing each thrust out as long as he could as he peppered your pretty face with kisses. “I love you...wife.” He joked, and you giggled beneath him, your legs tightening at his waist.

“I love you too, husband.”

You pressed at his chest then, signalling your desire to flip over, and Poe clutched your hips as he rolled, keeping himself buried within you as he laid on his back. When you relaxed atop him, his cock sunk even deeper and he grunted at the sensation, “Fuck, baby, so tight for me.”

With a moan, you started to move, rolling your hips to keep him deep within you and chasing your own pleasure, hands braced on his chest to hold yourself steady. Watching as you rode him, your breasts jiggling temptingly and skin gleaming with sweat, was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. He never wanted to leave this beach.

“That’s it, sweet thing, bounce on my cock,” He gritted out, lifting his arms and grabbing at your tits, “Be as loud as you need, baby, no one can hear us out here, fuck.” His head dropped back onto the pillows as a wave of pleasure seemed to roll through your body, the resulting tightening around his cock pulling loud grunts from him and threatening to make him cum.

You started a steady stream of moans then, your pace remaining consistent as you whimpered and cursed, the hands on his chest pressing hard enough that he could tell you were attempting to prevent him from taking over; you wanted to be in control. The realization made his cock twitch, and you seemed to sense his thoughts as you glanced down and bit your lip, meeting his gaze.

“Poe, I’m so close,” You sighed, and he let go of one of your hips to rub his thumb over your clit, circling just how he knew you liked it, how he’d learned over the past few days.

The resulting orgasm rocked your entire body before you seized up and he swore your pussy was gripping him almost too hard, and then he was coming too. It was different, in a good way—he wasn’t moving his hips at all, yet you were milking his cock as you came around him, your hips still moving back and forth, and the surprise of it made Poe come even harder, “Oh stars, sweetheart!” He grunted, his entire body twitching until you finally collapsed and he caught you, holding you close while you both panted heavily.

“Poe?” You whispered, your face nuzzled into his neck.

Poe’s arms tightened around you and he kissed your hair, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m starving. No more sex, please feed me.”

Laughing, Poe lifted you lightly, each of you groaning at the sensation as he slipped from you and your mixture of fluids spilled out onto his thigh.

“Okay, sweet girl, let’s eat.”

It went without saying that you would enjoy one another for dessert.

You perked up suddenly, eyes still on the cantina, and Poe casually glanced over his shoulder. Spotting Dario ambling out of the door, he felt a lick of heat crawl up his spine; that asshole had pointed a blaster at you. He was going to turn you both over to the First Order, who would have tortured and killed you. Maybe Poe should have been more concerned that he would kill Dario, rather than arrest the motherfu-

“Let’s go.” You grabbed Poe’s arm and tugged, starting forward as Dario turned to walk up the road. Considering the Twi’lek was in hiding, he didn’t exactly hasten to return to the comfort and safety of his temporary home. It was easy to catch him up, and you tossed Poe a delighted little smile before surreptitiously unholstering your blaster and pressing into Dario’s back.

Dario made to turn, a small noise of surprise huffing out, but Poe threw an arm around his shoulder before he could see you and smiled. “Dario, dear friend, it’s good to see you.” He tightened his hold to an uncomfortable pressure.

“Ah, fuck.” Dario grumbled, putting up no fight. His eyes widened when you used your free hand to search him for weapons and pulled out his old blaster, tucking it into your waistband.

“Fuck is right,” You hissed, pressing the blaster a little harder into his back, “You’re coming with us, Dario. The Resistance has questions for you.”

Poe smiled at you proudly as you each led Dario through the streets towards the waiting ship. He saw you biting back your smile—you were much better at acting appropriate in the field than he was, though he had to admire his strength; the urge to kill Dario on sight had almost made him see red.

But that would have made the mission a failure, as Dario could have information the Rebels could use, and getting him out of the reach of the First Order ensured that he could not give them information about the Resistance.

Still, Poe would ensure his capture was far from comfortable.

Poe’s hand had found its way to your lower back, where he pressed it gently as you walked along beside him from your post-mission check in with the General. “You didn’t need to punch Dario the second time, Flyboy.” You teased, the memory of Poe punching the traitor before pushing him into the base’s lock-up making your lips tug up at the corners.

He laughed, shrugging as you weaved through the busy hallways, both nodding polite greetings to those you passed. Everyone referred to you as Major Dameron, now that word had spread through the base these past six weeks that Poe Dameron and (y/n) Horn had been married. You knew for certain you’d never been happier in your life, and based on how Poe could barely keep his hands off of you, he was enjoying life just as much.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just tag along for your check-up?”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at your husband with mild exasperation, “Poe, it’s an annual,” You reminded him, stopping in your tracks to step close to him and peer up at his handsome face, “Go work on your mission report and I’ll see you in the room later, alright?”

When he merely grinned at you mischievously, you giggled before sliding your hands up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips first, something you noticed he did a lot, as though he were testing that he was still allowed to kiss you. He then cupped your jaw in his hands and met you again, this time in the sort of kiss that made your knees shake, his tongue tracing along your lips teasingly before he pulled back and pressed a more chaste peck to your forehead.

“See you later, sweetheart.” He murmured, his tone suggesting your evening would be a long continuation of that kiss. You felt very warm when you smiled up at Poe before spinning and walking down the hall to the med bay, fully aware his eyes were on your ass.

The med bay was fairly quiet when you arrived, the nurse at the main desk seemed to be peering off at nothing, lost in thought. You cleared your throat awkwardly and she started before a polite smile appeared and she rolled her eyes at herself.

“Sorry about that,” She said, and you waved your hand to show there was no need, “What can I help you with?”

“I have an annual, Major H-um, Major Dameron.”

The nurse smiled more broadly and winked at you before standing, “Come with me, dear.” She led you through to the back, past the emergency section and into the further depths where offices and operating rooms were located. She gestured for you to enter a doorway you had plenty of times before, where annual checkups and post-mission physicals were done. “The medical droid will start on your readings after you change into your gown and the Healer will be here shortly.”

You thanked the nurse before she left, then walked over to the bed and plucked the gown from where it was folded. You changed out of your clothing quickly before tugging it on, then hopped onto the bed to wait. When the droid came in moments later, you stuck out your arm and let it begin its work taking your blood pressure, a small sample of blood, examining your eyes and ears, everything all so routine you were as zoned out as the nurse had been when you arrived.

A younger female Healer walked in as the droid took your temperature, smiling warmly. “Good afternoon, Major. I’m Healer Boyd.”

“Nice to meet you, Healer Boyd,” You replied, watching as she looked down at the droids readings displayed now on her tablet. All was quiet for a few minutes until the droid was at the implant in your arm performing the routine scan. The droid beeped after the first scan, then scanned again and this caught your attention as you’d never needed multiple scans to get a reading on the birth control implant.

Healer Boyd glanced up from her tablet and walked over to the droid, “Let’s do that once more, please.” She directed, and the droid repeated the scan once more, then beeped indignantly. Her eyes narrowed fractionally in confusion and she stepped up to you, her hand reaching for your arm, “I’m just going to have a feel, seems the implant isn’t giving a reading—which I have seen before; we might switch it out today.”

Her fingers gently prodded around the skin until she pinched up a small section of your upper arm and the droid attempted the scan again. The Healer hummed when the droid beeped indignantly, and then walked over to a supply cabinet and began riffling around.

“I thought these implants lasted longer before needing to be changed out?”

“Usually, yes, but sometimes the implant does have to get exchanged earlier, it’s not an exact science,” She turned and settled onto a stool next to you, offering you a smile, “But that’s why we do the scans. And of course, the implant still does its job while it’s in your arm. I’m just going to ask you to lie down for me while I do the switch...that’s great thank you.”

You closed your eyes once you were laying on your side, grateful the procedure was painless but not interested in seeing it for yourself. The Healer worked quietly while extracting the implant and you had begun to mull over how they even worked, your medical knowledge in the area fairly basic, when she made a sudden noise of surprise.

You glanced up at her, then followed her startled gaze to the implant held in the extraction prongs. Even you could tell it looked wrong like the tiny medical device had been set on fire, no longer sleek but rather mangled and lifeless.

Healer Boyd stared at the device for a few beats, then looked up at you. “I’m going to have to make a call.”

You waited impatiently for half an hour for Healer Boyd to return, no longer laying on the bed but instead pacing around the small room nervously. You seriously hoped you weren’t about to find out you had some sort of disease or illness, because that seemed like the sort of luck you would have. Though you hadn’t ever heard of any that disintegrated medical devices.

When the Healer did finally reappear, the expression on her face was tightly pleasant, like she was readying herself. “Major, I’ve just been in touch with Healer Martell and his team,” She began, gesturing for you to take a seat.

Tahla had gone back to the outpost he worked from the day after your wedding. So why he was the one Healer Boyd had called only further confused you. “Okay, why...” You trailed off, swallowing heavily.

“I believe you were told that the pollen you and Commander Dameron were exposed to during your mission earlier this year was very rare. So rare in fact that some after-effects are unknown,” She glanced at her droid, which moved forward and began to bandage up your arm where the implant had been removed from, first peeling off the gauze that had been placed there temporarily. You watched with narrowed eyes—they still needed to put in a new one. “And we haven’t ever had a situation where those who were exposed were left untreated for as long as you and your husband were. I ran a few tests on the device while I spoke to Healer Martell. It appears the long-term exposure allowed the pollen to...treat the device as white blood cells would a foreign contaminant.”

You stared, “The pollen destroyed the implant?”

“Yes,” She replied slowly, taking her stool and sitting on it directly in front of you now, “Of course, checking the implant was never a thought-we’ve simply never seen this before. Your implant hasn’t been working since around the time you and the Commander collapsed on base.”

You didn’t understand why she was sitting so close, nor why the droid had left your arm bandaged. “But I can get a new implant, right? Tahla assured me-assured us both, that we no longer have pollen in our systems.” You tried to keep your voice steady, unsure of what emotion you were even experiencing at the moment, just that you could feel it bubbling up inside of you.

“He was correct, you both are free of the pollen. And we can put a new implant in, however not at this time,” And she reached out then, her hand grasping one of yours firmly, “You’re pregnant, Major. Based on today’s check-up, it appears you are about six weeks along.”

Well, fuck.

The first thing Poe noticed when you walked into the room was the bandage on your arm. He’d been sitting at the desk, typing out his report, when you arrived, your expression unreadable.

“Sweetheart,” He shot out of the chair and crossed the room in two strides, one hand landing on your cheek and the other gesturing at your arm, “Did a med droid malfunction?”

You laughed, “No, I’m alright,” Your voice was an octave higher than usual, and your eyes were glassy, not meeting his but instead looking somewhere over his shoulder. “Do you think Charlie would be proud of me? Of how far I’ve come, that I hold the same rank as he did?”

Caught off guard by the question, Poe glanced behind him and found you were staring at the picture of the three of you he had on his corkboard. “Yes, of course, he would,” Concern now flooding him, Poe led you to the bed and helped you take a seat. You still didn’t meet his eyes, your expression torn. “Charlie was proud of you before you even joined the Resistance. Once you did join—hell, he bragged about you all the time.”

“And you? You’re proud of me?”

Poe stared at you for a beat before dropping to his knees in front of where you sat. Sliding between your legs, he gripped your thighs tightly, “What’s going on? Did you get pulled from duty? Are you sick?”

You shook your head, then dropped it to Poe’s shoulder where he could hear you taking slow, measured breaths. “They didn’t pull me. But they suggested different duties.” Poe wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pushing you back so that he could look at you again. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking to his and then away. Poe waited as patiently as he could for you to elaborate. “They said—it might be best for me to keep away from the riskier missions. From combat. Because of my condition.”

Poe frowned, his stomach tying itself up in knots of concern, “Condition?”

He saw it then, a brief flash of the emotion you were holding back—joy. It was fleeting like you were scared of it, but it made the whole odd conversation you were now having with him make a little more sense, made your next words a little less shocking.

“I’m pregnant, Poe. My implant was destroyed by the pollen before we...” You trailed off, rubbing your hands over your face and then meeting his gaze again, “They said about six weeks along, so still early which is why I haven’t had any symptoms.”

Poe had lived his life since joining the Resistance with the knowledge that each day that he didn’t get hurt, captured, or killed, was a day to celebrate. After Charlie had died, and you had left, he realized that a single moment could alter his entire existence. One night could change everything, and he only had so much control.

You coming back into his life, that had been a gift. After forgiving one another for the past, you had a chance for a fresh start. And he’d been happy with that, just knowing you were his friend again and that you cared for him--it was enough.

But then you’d told him you loved him. And it had been like every moment, every breath he’d ever taken, had been leading up to that night-as right as it felt, that feeling of coming home, joining his body with yours. Finally saying everything he’d held in for so long, that was as good as life could get. It was perfection, and he had no right to demand more—until he did, and he asked you to marry him, and you’d said yes so quickly and smiled so widely that he remembers, distinctly, thinking to himself, ‘yes, this is enough.’

Pregnant.

The reality of having a child when you were soldiers in the war against the tyranny of the First Order, weighed heavily over the good news. But his first emotions, which hit him like a tsunami, were of radiant joy, the best kind of tears springing into his eyes as he gazed at you, his beautiful wife, his best friend, his soulmate, in wonder. Because surely, even though it was unexpected, life could not be this good? He wanted to ask you to pinch him, just to prove he wasn’t asleep and dreaming up this life with you, but he found words hard to come by, so he smiled broadly.

You had been watching him warily, but the moment his face split into a painfully wide grin, your own broke through and for a minute you just looked at one another, soaking up that happy, astonishing feeling.

“Sweet girl,” He breathed after a while, tears still blurring his vision, “Maker I—pregnant? Are you...how do you feel?”

“Physically, normal? I don’t know about the rest of me, I think I’m in shock.”

Poe reached one hand up to cup your jaw, stroking his thumb over your lips, “Have you...did you, uh,” He paused, wanting to word this right. He knew he didn’t need to ask you but was determined to treat you with the respect you deserved. It was your body, your choice, and the reality was you had that implant for a reason—he could not just assume your willingness, he had to be sure, to let you know he supported any decision you made. “I will support you here, no matter what you want to do, alright sweetheart? I know this is...this is huge.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his and Poe saw a flurry of emotions cross your features as you considered the implication of his words. “Thank you,” You reached up and placed your hand over the one he had cupping your jaw, “This is huge...and unexpected, and fucking terrifying. I’ve thought about us starting a family, you know—one day. But this is, Maker, Poe, this is our baby. Ours.” You brought both hands cradle over your stomach, a mixture of protectiveness and happiness colouring your words.

The sight of your hands pressed where you were growing his child, the way you spoke so strongly, it did something to Poe. Like it was the final piece of his life, slotting into place and completing him, his chest expanding from the force of it all. He suddenly felt stronger, wiser—and more in love with you than ever, if that was even possible.

He reached out somewhat tentatively, placing a hand over the top of yours where it rested on your so far unchanged stomach, his eyes moving upward until he met your gaze. You drew in a breath at the expression on his face, your eyes widening.

“Ours,” He repeated, his voice low and thick with emotion, “Our family.” He leaned forward then, and captured your lips in a soft kiss, losing himself in the moment. You kissed him back eagerly, your eyes on his lips when he eventually drew back.

“I realize what this means—what keeping the baby will mean,” You admitted sadly, “Even without the Healer’s recommendation, I understand I can’t go into the field any longer. You and I were already blurring the lines of protocol to keep each other safe.”

Poe nodded in agreement, his hand tightening slightly at your stomach, “You are sacrificing a lot to do this, sweetheart. Please know that I understand and I’ll do anything I can to make sure you’re happy. I’ll talk to Leia in the morning, ensure we get you a good assignment here.” He felt a little helpless, now, realizing that you had nine months of pregnancy to endure and he could only do so much to help you.

“We’re going to figure this out,” You spoke almost as much to yourself as to Poe, your brows pinching together, “Family comes first, always. So we’ll figure this all out. Together.”

Outwardly, Poe nodded and smiled at you encouragingly. Inside, however, a spark illuminated the stark reality--that he was currently sitting with the love of his life, who was pregnant with his child, in the secret base for the Resistance.

Arguably one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy.

34 ABY - D’Qar

Five months pregnant.

Shit, you were exhausted.

It had been another long day. You wanted to blame the baby for draining your energy, but you knew that it wasn’t realistic—you were more mentally exhausted than anything.

Anytime Poe was away for more than a few days at a time, your anxiety spiked and you had trouble focusing on much else. You had surprised yourself, when you first found out you were pregnant, over how quickly the resolve to pull yourself from combat and flight had come over you. You didn’t even miss flying because Poe would bring you out for ‘test flights’ whenever he could get the time, give you a chance to stretch your wings, figuratively, and break any monotony in your schedule.

But you didn’t find your new job boring, because you worked directly for General Organa. You advised and planned and aided her on the daily, in whatever capacity needed, which sometimes allowed you to get a glimpse of the kind of horrors the First Order was performing across the galaxy and it only fueled your internal fire to work hard-not just for her, but for everyone. For the oppressed, those captured, those who had been lost, and especially for your little family. If you could bring this baby safely into the galaxy and give them a good home, then it was easily worth the long hours.

But you worried constantly over Poe. He was out there with Temmin and Kare on dangerous missions; you could do nothing to calm your nerves, and it drained you. Sometimes there were several days between communications and you would inevitably begin to spiral, convincing yourself he was captured or dead, always waiting for the dream that was being married to your best friend to turn into a nightmare.

His missions lately had been especially dangerous, as Black team had been finalizing the search for pieces of a map that lead to Luke Skywalker, Leia’s brother. The infamous Jedi went missing after a tragic event no one knew the details of. Even Leia kept that one close, and you never tried to ask. She simply told you that it felt necessary to bring Luke back, not only because he was her brother but to fight the First Order. That was enough for you—if you could bring your brother back, you would stop at nothing to do it.

When you reached the door to your shared room with Poe, your eyes fell heavily shut, relying on your memory of the space to shuffle forward, contemplating if you could manage a shower while this tired or if you should just go straight to bed. You were convincing yourself to shower when an amused voice cut through the air, startling you.

“Are you sleepwalking, sweet girl?”

Your eyes snapped open to find Poe sitting on the edge of the bed, his flight suit discarded on the floor nearby so that he only wore his briefs and a white tee.

“Poe!” You gasped, launching yourself across the room and into his waiting arms. “Stars, you’re home! I thought you’d be gone longer.” He pulled you onto his lap as you spoke, settling you against him and wrapping his arms securely around you before burying his face into your neck. He inhaled you deeply, a new habit he’d established since you’d left Black team as if grounding himself with you.

His breath was warm against your skin when he spoke, “We were able to wrap things up quickly,” He tightened his hold on you with one arm so that he could reach between your bodies with the other and gently place his hand over the slight belly you now had. “How are you two doing? You look so tired, sweetheart.” His tone was laced with worry that you knew you wouldn’t be able to fully quell.

“We’re doing good, Poe, really. Remember what Healer Boyd said—“

Poe sighed, his lips tugging up at the corners, “It’s exhausting work, growing a human?”

You nodded and gave him your best grin, though you imagined it was more sleepy than anything. You studied your husband, from the worry in his face to the bags under his own eyes, the tension in his jaw.

You had sensed there was something he wasn’t saying for a while now but hadn’t figured out how to ask him what was going on. You had no real reason to suspect he was keeping anything from you, it was more of a feeling, and you didn’t want to cause him further stress by accusing him of anything without a better idea of whether you were right.

You usually ended up convincing yourself it was just the weariness and nerves of becoming a parent, a feeling you shared. With how unexpected your pregnancy had been, and the fact that he was off-world more often than not, he must have been feeling a great amount of guilt and concern. So you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, to distract yourself from everything. To welcome him home and show him you were just fine, that you missed him.

Every time he came home from a mission, the reunions ended up like this—it was like the relief only lasted so long, therefore you each needed to try and extend that feeling by getting yourselves as close to one another as possible. Skin to skin, bodies entwined, the assurance that you were safe and loved. Your hormones were such that even just a casual look from your husband ensured you became slick with need, and it was as though Poe was experiencing his own version of the same, meeting your insatiable desire with his own at every turn.

You loved the feel of him stretching you, tonight you’d barely been able to get out of your pants before he was pulling you back onto his lap and driving into you, the need to feel one another outweighing the parts that usually preceded; foreplay, clothing removal. You were already soaking and ready for him, rolling your hips as he scooted further onto the bed so that he could brace himself to thrust upward. When he found that angle, the one that made you see stars, you let yourself scream; for him, for more, for everything.

Poe delivered, never faltering in his need to ensure you reached your peak over and over, as though he couldn’t feel pleasure unless you did. You’d never known such an unselfish lover as Poe, and it made you love him even more. Even if sometimes, you thought you might combust from the way he pleasured you, or the way he spoke when making love to you.

The reality was, you and Poe had only just begun to explore one another fully when you found out you were expecting. Newlyweds, your relationship still fresh, and then you were with child—his child—and you discovered he wasn’t only passion and sweetness and slow lovemaking, he was also commanding, cocky, and you loved it when that side of him came out.

When you’d started to show—your belly bulging slightly and your breast swelling, that part of Poe seemed to evolve, as though the sight of you swollen with his child was the sexiest thing he could ever imagine. And as you pulled your shirt over your head now, you saw that glint in his eye, the way his pupils blew out as he gazed at you, how he bit his lip before letting out a groan that you swore was the single most erotic sound in the galaxy.

“Like what you see?” You teased, running a hand down your body to rest on your bump, your hips still rolling.

Poe growled, his grip on your hips tightening, “Fuck, you are sexy,” He leaned forward and licked over your breasts as he pounded up into you and you whimpered. “Think about you t-the whole time, when I’m gone, sweet girl.”

“I know, Poe, I miss you too. Think about you when I touch myself-”

Poe’s half-lidded eyes widened, and he was suddenly flipping you carefully onto your back on the bed, his breathing erratic, “Is that true, baby? You touch that pretty cunt while I’m g-gone, wish I was here filling you with my cum?”

He started to rut his hips down at a near brutal pace and you cried out in pleasure, unable to find the words to respond. He didn’t like your silence—commanding, dominating Poe now in full force, and he leaned down to bite a mark into your neck, a snarl tearing from his throat.

He needed to hear you admit it.

“W-wish you could fuck me all the time,” You whispered, your voice cracking as he fucked you into the bed, “Isn’t nearly as—oh shit, Poe I’m gonna-“

Your back arched as the pleasure that had been building up inside of you finally snapped--that hot, wet sensation wiped all coherent thought from your mind, stars painting the inside of your eyelids. You heard yourself repeating his name as you soaked the bed with your orgasm, your walls fluttering and clenching around his cock until-

“Oh sweet girl,” He groaned, his hips stilling as he pressed deep into you and spilled his cum, his body shaking from the force of his orgasm; you clutched him close. He didn’t allow any of his weight to fall over you, pulling out slowly before flopping down onto the bed next to you and tugging you into his side. “You okay? Did I got too hard?”

You were panting, completely blissed-out, and it took a moment for his words to register, “Oh, I’m more than okay, flyboy.” Giggling, you rolled onto your side and peered up at Poe, meeting his warm eyes and smiling. “How about you, are you okay?”

You didn’t mean for the level of concern to show in your voice, but it slipped out and he caught on to it immediately, his eyes never leaving yours as he seemed to consider your question.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke, “I’ll be honest with you, sweetheart, I worry about you...things are—they’re getting intense out there. Leaving you here doesn't feel as much like I’m keeping you safe as it once did. If this base is ever discovered, the First Order will make its destruction top priority. They won’t hesitate to kill every single person on this planet.”

His voice was heavy, the words coming out easily enough that you knew he’d been thinking this for a long time. He sat up, sitting crossed-legged on the bed and staring across the room at nothing, and you felt a sense of dread begin to grow at the back of your mind. You suspected you might be closing in on what he’d been keeping from you, and suddenly felt afraid to know.

“Poe, we have a lot of things in place here to keep us safe. There are escape plans.”

Still looking across the room, Poe gave a small nod of his head, “But none can guarantee your safety. I know you worry about me when I’m gone—well I’m fucking terrified for you, too. And I—I...” He stopped talking, his mouth snapping shut as if he had to physically fight to keep the words in and you frowned, watching him.

You sat up, moving slowly and then reaching down to push the comforter off the bed—it would need to be laundered. You had a few extras for this exact reason. Poe was silent as you moved, his eyes staring unseeingly across the room.

“Poe,” You reached out one hand and touched his shoulder, keeping your voice level despite the nerves coiling in your stomach, “Just say...tell me what you’re thinking.”

Silence.

“Poe Dameron, look at me.” You commanded, and his eyes shot up to meet yours, widening in surprise at the fierce expression on your face.

“I—I’ve got another mission,” He began shakily, a hand coming up to rest over yours on his shoulder, “And it’s big. It’ll just be me and a lot could go wrong, and I can’t stand the idea of leaving you here, that you would stay here if something happened to me.”

You opened your mouth to argue that nothing would happen to him, that, of course, you would stay, only he turned suddenly and brought both hands to cup your jaw, the look of fear on his face like nothing you’d ever seen; you’re Poe didn’t scare, he laughed in the face of fear.

“Sweetheart, I’d be letting you down, letting Charlie down, if I failed to protect you. To protect our baby,” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and you didn't like how it felt like he was saying something in that kiss. “I spoke to Leia, a few weeks ago. I asked her...begged her to help me keep you safe.”

Your frown deepened, “I work alongside her every day, Poe, I probably have the safest job in the entire Resistance.”

He shook his head, “What I mean is, I asked her where the safest place would be to hide you until this war is over.” Poe was looking at you cautiously now, and you leaned back to assess his face.

His words confused you. You stammered your reply uncertainly, “Hide me? What do you mean—I’m not going-”

Poe’s face tightened, tears now threatening and his voice came out choked, “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to, sweet girl. I have to keep you safe, and the truth is if I do get captured and the enemy finds out about you, about both of you, I wouldn’t be able to do that,” Poe dropped one hand to press over your belly, the gesture both sweet and protective. Your ears were ringing, though, and you didn’t have time to appreciate it. “I don’t want to send you away, you know it’s the last thing I’d ever want, but if you go somewhere safe, then I-“

“You can what, Poe? Fight the First Order all on your own? You do realize what you’re saying, right? We both know how this war is going, it could be years before it’s over. Years before...and what if you get caught and they find out where I am? Then what?” You felt your anger and despair growing by the moment, no doubt exacerbated by the flush of hormones coursing through your system.

Poe’s eyes flicked away from yours briefly, and he gulped almost comically before looking back at you and continuing, “Well, Leia thought of that. She seems to think that...our minds aren’t always going to be safe, that the First Order has a weapon that could break through...so she knows where she is going to send you, but I won’t know. No one else will.”

You stared at your husband for a very long, tense moment.

“B-but if you don’t know where I am-“

Poe blinked and several tears began to stream down his face, “It’s the best way, the only way, to do this. And I promise I’ll fight every day to stay alive and then I’ll find you.” He tried to pull you close again only you resisted, pushing his hands away so that you could give him your harshest glare, which he flinched under the heat of.

“What if, Maker forbid, something happens to Leia? I could be anywhere, in any system on any planet, and you’d have no way to find me, you-“ Your voice started to raise, an almost hysterical surge of emotions bubbling up your chest, “It could be years before the war is over and then a decade before you’d be able to find me! That-that’s bullshit, Poe. You’re going to abandon us on some fucking random planet and we could never see you again!”

You were crying now too, the tears blurring your vision as you shouted, refusing to accept this plan. But the sad way he looked at you as he cried told you Poe was serious, that he saw this as the only way forward, and you wanted to fucking scream.

“Sweet girl, I will never abandon you. I love you so much that even if they do somehow capture me, I won’t ever break, I’ll keep fighting and then if I have to tear this entire galaxy apart, I’ll find you. I promise I will find you,” He wiped harshly at his face, then grabbed your hands and held them tightly in his own, his expression desperate, “I want to meet our baby and watch them grow. I want to give them a sibling or two, even, and grow old together. Leia has everything figured out--she’s even going to have my dad flown here; he can go with you, so you won’t be alone.”

You wrenched your hands from Poe’s and shot off the bed, your eyes widening in betrayal, “Leia has everything figured out?” You repeated, and you saw the realization of what his words had revealed flash across his face, “You-when exactly did you think I was going to get shipped off, Poe?”

He didn’t answer, and you thought back to the beginning of this conversation when he’d claimed to have a big mission in a few days. You gaped at him as the realization hit that he was here for the next several days to get you ready to leave.

To say goodbye.

You burst into tears, heavy sobs pulling from your chest because there was no arguing this, was there? If you didn’t go, he could be out there too worried about you to be focused and then it would be your fault, wouldn’t it? And he was right, this base, even if you were glued to Leia twenty-four-seven, was still a hot zone for attack should its location ever be revealed to the First Order.

And did you truly expect to raise your baby on this base? There wasn’t even any space in this room you shared with Poe for a fucking crib, no places you could go to play, no other children for your child to play with. You had known all this the moment you’d found out you were pregnant, but now the reality of it all was crashing down around you because you’d never thought it would mean having to leave Poe. Again.

Another thought occurred to you, and you ignored the way he was trying to soothe you, now sitting on the edge of the bed but keeping his distance, his expression making clear he wanted to pull you back into his arms.

“What if I don’t want any of that?”

Poe tilted his head, confused, “What do you mean?”

“What if I told you I was staying, that I would have the baby and then you could go get shipped off somewhere safe with them, that I wanted to be the one to stay and fight?”

Poe gaped at you only for a beat, “You said—sweetheart, I asked you if you wanted this and you said you did, I thought that meant you wanted to stay with the baby, that you were okay with leaving the fight. I never wanted you to feel forced to do it!”

“I know,” You agreed evenly, your voice hardening, “But I didn’t know that it meant I was going to be fucking shipped away, Poe!”

You saw him falter then, his entire argument crumbling and he slumped where he sat on the edge of the bed, his head falling into his hands, “You’re right...I’m so sorry, of course, I can’t just expect you to...Fuck.” His shoulders shook as he tried to bite back his sobs, and for a moment you stared down at him, his words doing nothing to calm you.

Because he wasn’t wrong. Sure, it was a misstep for him to just assume as the mother that you would be the one to go away and raise the baby, it was old-school thinking. But you were aware of who you married, weren’t you?

He was the best pilot in the Resistance, the strongest fighter, the best of the best. If anyone was going to win this war, it would be your Poe—and while you used to think it would include you being at his side, fighting right along with him, that was no longer the reality. You couldn’t pull the best chance the Rebels had from the fight, and you couldn’t stay and fight yourself.

Which meant you had to leave.

You stepped forward and knelt before Poe, your hands tentatively touching his thighs and he started, his head popping up, “Oh sweetheart, don’t crouch down like that-“

“I’m fine,” You interjected, sliding between his knees and reaching up to cup his face, mirroring the way he’d embraced you so many times before, “And you...you’re right. I’m sorry for—well, I hate how you’ve just sprung this on me, but I know I can’t stay here and raise our baby like this.”

Poe searched your face and you wiped your thumbs under his eyes to clear away the tears, even as the reality of what you were agreeing to settled within you. He shook his head lightly, “I didn’t know how to do this. It’s the last thing...we only just found each other again, the idea of not knowing where you are, not being able to check-in, it terrifies me, sweetheart.”

You sniffled, nodding your head, “You aren’t going to be there when I...” You trailed off, the picture in your head of giving birth without Poe by your side too hard to say aloud. He understood, pulling you close against him as he dropped to the floor, hugging you tightly as you both sobbed.

“I’m so sorry,” He murmured, one hand stroking your hair, “I promise I will find you the moment I can, and I’ll never leave your side again.”

You couldn’t help but think, at that moment, that you had been right.

The dream really was a nightmare.

35 ABY - Aboard The Falcon - Sinta Glacier Colony

Poe looked up as a distant noise sounded, peering around Chewbacca to see a wall of Tie-fighters approaching where they were docked in the Falcon. He shared a terrified look with the Wookie.

“FINN! We’re about to be cooked!” He shouted back, hoping that the transmission of the message from their unknown spy in the First Order was nearly complete-they needed to get going.

“We’re almost there!” Finn hollered back, his voice cutting off as he ran to check R2D2, and after a tense moment...“We’ve got it, Poe!”

Poe didn’t hesitate, meeting Chewie’s eyes briefly before launching the Falcon forward and away from the informant, the knowledge heavy in his mind that there was a good chance Ovissian Boolio was going to be murdered for giving them the message. But there was nothing to be done for it now; this message was of vital importance to the Resistance, they needed to get it back to base.

The Falcon raced through the bay as fighters gained on their rear. Poe had no doubt that Finn was hurrying to the shooter station, but maintained the high speed and steered as carefully as he could. They hit a corner a little close and there was a shudder throughout the ship as it made contact.

Chewie exclaimed worriedly at this, “I’m sorry, I know, I know!” Poe apologized, frantically readjusting as they heard Finn begin to fire from below. He could see a lot of bogeys on the radar still, “Finn, you’re supposed to be getting rid of those things!”

He heard Finn make a noise before he shouted back, “Got one!”

“How many are left?” Poe swivelled in his seat and started making adjustments to the ship's systems, an idea forming in his mind. Not his best, but definitely not his worst.

“Too many!” Came the response from below. Shit.

The next few moments were incredibly tense as they worked together to outmaneuver the enemies on their tail until each one crashed or was shot down by Finn. Adrenaline was running high aboard the Falcon now as the near-death moments started to pile atop one another. Mission success was currently not guaranteed. Your image appeared in his mind briefly, the memory of the last time he had seen you, the love in your eyes.

He swallowed, swerving the ship up and seeing another wall of fighters ahead, “How thick do you think that ice is?” He asked Chewie, who made a loud noise in caution but Poe only gunned it forward, until relief swept through him—they were able to break through, free of the station and in open space now.

There were still fighters in pursuit, though, so they weren’t in the clear yet. Poe gritted his teeth, briefly glancing over his shoulder to see Finn standing behind him, before bringing the ship into light speed. When he pulled back out, most of the ships had managed to follow and after a bit of complicated flying, he put the Falcon back into light speed as Finn shouted in fear from behind him.

“What are you doing?” Finn cried, gripping the back of his seat. Poe fiddled with the controls, fully aware he was pushing the ship to its limits but not willing to go down without exhausting every last effort to survive.

“Light speed skipping,” He grunted in reply, reaching up to set his parameters with one eye on the fighters still in pursuit.

“How do you know how to do that?”

Poe hit the throttle forward, throwing the ship back out of light speed, “My wife.” He replied, leaning forward and steering around the onslaught of obstacles in their direct path, simultaneously readying the ship to jump again. He heard Finn begin to react to the knowledge the Poe had been married, surprise evident in his friend’s tone, but Chewbacca’s words of caution were louder and Poe glared at him instead, “Yeah, well Rey’s not here, is she?”

He gunned it into light speed, then almost as quickly pulled them back out. His stomach was in his throat as a very large, very alive obstacle was now dead ahead, and Poe silently thanked you for having taught him about light speed jumping before readying the ship to jump again.

“Last jump,” He yelled, leaning forward, “Maybe forever-hold on!”

When they landed the Falcon back on Ajan Kloss, Poe was furious beyond all measure. It wasn’t just that he’d nearly died, again. Almost cost the lives of his friends, again. It was that Rey hadn’t been there, and she was one of the best pilots he’d ever met. She was almost as good as him, nearly as good as you had been. He was heartbroken that you weren’t there to fight anymore—but Rey was and yet she chose to stay on base and train when her joining them on a mission like this would have been a much-needed boost, a much greater chance at survival.

They hurried off the Falcon and Poe lingered momentarily to instruct the ground team, “It’s on fire! Whole things on fire!” Maker, he was getting tired of these close calls. He’d been through a lot—survived a great deal, over this last year, but today was close enough that he had felt the hands of death creeping toward him, momentarily.

When he turned away from the burning ship, Rey was approaching, her face excited despite the condition of the Falcon. He marched over to her with his face straining, attempting to keep his cool.

“Hi! There’s a spy?” She asked brightly, her gaze surveying his stiff posture.

Poe huffed, “Really could have used your help out there.” He admitted, unable to keep the vitriol entirely out of his tone.

Rey frowned, then attempted to change the subject. “How’d it go?”

Poe stopped before her, hands landing on his hips, anger flaring, “Really bad, actually. Really bad.”

“Hans ship!” She exclaimed then, gazing over at the burning Falcon and gesturing in dismay.

Before he could reply, BB8 came whizzing up to Poe, beeping excitedly in greeting. At first, he was happy to see the orange and white droid, until he looked down and realized it was pretty beat up. He glared up at Rey, “What did you do to the droid?”

“What’d you do to the Falcon?” She countered stubbornly, her arms crossing.

“Falcon’s in a lot better shape than he is, Rey!” He exclaimed, gesturing at BB8 incredulously. This was why he found her difficult-here she was, safely on base ‘training’, with the one task of minding his droid. And not only did she fail at that, but she also dared to get angry at him for getting Finn and Chewie, the intel, and himself back safely to base.

“BB8 is not on fire, Poe!”

“What’s left of him isn’t on fire!” He shouted, knowing full well that this was about more than his droid and yet struggling to see past his rage and form a proper sentence in Basic.

Rey seemed to sense his anger and took a breath, steadying herself, “Tell me what happened.”

“You tell me first, Rey.” He deadpanned, scowling.

Rey glared straight back at him, holding up her hands in frustration, “You know what you are—you’re difficult. A difficult, stubborn man.”

“You—you are-” Poe cut himself off as he heard Finn call for Rey from behind him, and instead stepped around her to drop before his droid, shaking his head. “You okay, buddy?”

BB8 beeped merrily, sharing with Poe what had happened that afternoon but cutting off to ask if he was alright. Poe sighed, running his hands over his face, but nodded to his droid.

“I’m alright. Just thinking about her a lot today,” He admitted quietly, “Now what happened to you?”

Before BB8 could reply, Chewbacca yelled to Rey and Poe heard his name mentioned before she was walking toward him again, this time with Finn in tow. “You light speed skipped?”

“Yeah, well it got us back here, didn’t it?” He shot back, his hackles raising again. Finn caught Poe’s eye, his expression bright with curiosity—he wanted to know more about you, no doubt.

“You can’t light speed skip the Falcon!” Rey cried in exasperation, her eyes wide and for one moment, Poe wanted to scream. He’d come this close to dying today and had managed to get them all home safely, even if it did mean the Falcon needed a lot of repairs. She couldn’t just thank him, maybe?

His voice was rough when he replied, “Turns out you can, actually.”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up, “How do you even know-“

Finn interjected this time, “Turns out our friend here hasn’t been completely honest with us, eh, Poe?” He grinned, glancing from Rey to Poe, then winked, attempting to diffuse the tension.

With a sigh, Poe frowned before responding. Stepping closer to his friends, he kept his voice low. “That information stays between us, and Chewie, Finn.” He’d mentioned you in the heat of the moment and wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about you. But he’d spent an awfully long time holding back his truth from Rey and Finn and it was starting to feel wrong.

“What information?” Rey looked between them, confused.

When Poe looked at her, he hesitated, his gaze hardening while he considered what he was about to tell her. He trusted Rey, and Finn for that matter, but he’d chosen to keep quiet about you all this time for a reason, and it was hard to break down those walls and talk about you. He’d built them up to protect himself, to keep his pain and sorrow buried down deep.

Poe pointed between them both, his jaw set, “Between us!” He growled, giving them both a harsh look.

Finn clapped Poe on the shoulder, eyes serious, “Of course it does, man. Between us.” He agreed, and Rey nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Poe hesitated for another moment, and then finally confessed.

“I’m married. You uh...you know about my best friend, Charlie...” Poe began and Rey’s expression became understanding while Finn merely gaped, his brows knitting together now in confusion.

“Charlie died,” Rey whispered sadly, recalling the conversation they’d shared a few months prior after Han had died and they were discussing loss. “And didn’t you say...you told us his sister died too—Maker, Poe-!”

Finn gasped, his face morphing in horror, “Brother, you aren’t saying your wife is d-“

Poe couldn’t even stand to hear the words, so he cut Finn off with a rough shake of his head, peering around to ensure no one overheard. “No, that’s just what Leia and I let everyone believe, who knew her. She’s alive.”

Finn’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, but Rey kept frowning at Poe, her expression uncertain. “Why did people need to think she was dead? She was one of the best fighters we had, wasn’t she? If she’s alive, can’t she come back?”

Poe shook his head, the emotions he’d held in this past year threatening to spill, and he had to pull in a few breaths to focus. He wanted his friends to understand why he kept fighting, why living and winning were so fucking important.

“I had to send her away, not long before I met you, actually, Finn,” Poe smiled at him, “I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen or heard from her since I said goodbye, back on D’Qar. I had to ensure she was safe, even if I got captured. And no one could get her location out of me if I didn’t know it. So she’s out there, somewhere, and one day I’m going to ask both of you to come with me to meet her.”

He wiped aggressively at his face, hating the tears that spilled, and waited for their replies. At first, they were both quiet, regarding Poe with dawning comprehension, suddenly understanding exactly what he was saying.

Finn was the first to speak, his voice laced with sadness, “You haven’t seen her for over a year?”

Poe shook his head, and Rey reached out and touched his shoulder gently, her eyes softening, “You said you had to send her away...what does that mean, Poe?”

He gazed down at his feet for a moment, and when he looked up he guessed he must not have kept the emotion off of his face, as each of his friends looked at him in surprise, stilling entirely as they waited for him to reply.

“There wasn’t anything in this galaxy that could ever stop her from fighting. She was my second in command, and would still be to this day, only she-” He thought of you then, how you had long since delivered the baby, wondered how that had been for you, whether you’d recovered well. He knew his dad would be doing everything to keep you both comfortable and safe until Poe could come for you all. His heart still ached. “It’s a long story, I guess. But she got pregnant, and we both realized she couldn’t stay on D’Qar—which was the right call, because look what happened there. Leia smuggled her somewhere far away and didn’t tell me a single detail.”

Rey had brought a hand to cover her mouth in shock, while Finn’s grip on his shoulder had tightened substantially. They both stared at Poe, their expressions a mixture of sadness and joy that he felt every day.

“Poe, man, that’s incredible,” Finn breathed, shaking his head slowly, “You have...a family, you have-“

Poe cut him off with a small smile, “I’ve got a wife and a baby out there somewhere. They’re waiting for me to finish this fight and find them.”

Taglist

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @itsdameron @alex-sulli @generousrunawaydonut @wildmoonflower @onlyferorder66 @deanandbobbymcgee @afootnoteinyourhappiness

[djarinbarnes]

🕷️ october 4th - breeding kink - b.barnes 🕷️

Author: dina @softboibarnes​

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: non-con, breeding kink, stalking, yandere elements, mentions of porn, kinda slow burn.

A/N: okay i got a bit carried away with this one. this one is written from Bucky’s point of view. this is a dark fic. 18+ proceed with caution. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

masterlist

If there was one thing that turned Bucky on, it was pregnant women. He didn’t know what it is specifically, but there was something about the way their faces glowed, and their stomach swelled.

It had always been like that. Not that he was always turned on by pregnant women, but he had admired them for longer than he could remember. He remembered how his mother’s stomach swelled with his little sister, how it was hard, yet soft to his touch. How her feet kicked against his hand as he laid it on his mother’s stomach during the last trimester.

How the pregnant women at the supermarket cradled their stomachs as they admired the next thing they would add to their baskets. The way some of them adorably waddled like penguins during the last month of pregnancy, and the way you could still tell the woman had just had a child, even a few months after.

When he discovered pornography at the age of 13, he felt like he’d hit a goldmine. He could watch the videos for hours, admiring every little detail about the pregnant women getting fucked in so many ways for hours. What turned him on the most, though, was how they would come so quickly, so hard. He knew that the women had to be more than sensitive when pregnant.

Whereas those thin, playful girls who took huge cocks in their every hole could last for hours with no end, the pregnant women were easily pushed over the edge, in what appeared to be mind-blowing orgasms. Bucky didn’t understand why the guys in his year thought those skinny whores was the best of the best.

He never talked about what kind of porn he watched after Brock bullied him in the 9th grade, after he accidentally slipped out that he had seen the most sensual porn with a pregnant woman. To Brock, porn was anything but sensual.

He told Bucky how he liked to watch women who were tied up, gagging on whatever, bring punished in whatever way the master deemed appropriate. Apparently, it was amusing to watch women get big unidentified objects into whatever hole was available. It made Bucky shudder.

He did find it interesting how a female body could go through such a wild transformation though and turn back to normal. It made his interests peak and his cock hard. As he got older, it turned into an obsession for him.

He knew he wanted to get a girl pregnant. Watch her swell with his seed, carry his baby for nine months. He knew he wanted nothing more in the world than to make use of the sensitiveness that followed with the hormones, the breasts full of milk and the soft stomach straining against his hands.

God how he longed to reach out and caress a popped belly button, to feel a child kick against his stomach as he pounded into the woman carrying it. He knew he would do anything to make it a reality.

The first time he’d had sex with a girl, she’d begged him to wear a condom. He’d hesitantly agreed. He hated every second of it; the uncomfortable feeling of latex against the sensitive head of his cock, the tight ring choking his cock at the base.

He knew he had to restrain himself though. He knew the good girls these days were more than careful with their partners, and he just had to take his time to charm them warm. He knew that one of them, someday, would give into him and let him fill her womb with his seed. It just never happened like he wanted it to.

When he first saw you at the supermarket, he knew he had to have you. It had been way too long since he’d had anyone. He felt his heart as well as his cock swell as soon as you had let out a delightful little laugh, your hand coming up to brush your hair over your shoulder.

He walked just a little closer to you, leaning against one of the shelves stuffed with different kinds of chips. You were crouched down in front of a small child, holding out a pack of popcorn you had retrieved from one of the higher shelves, giving the little one a soft smile along with a “here you go, sweetheart.”

Bucky watched as the kid took off running, back to their mother. He felt his heart swell in his chest as you turn to face him, the soft smile still plastered on your face. He knew in that exact moment, that you felt the same way about kids that he did. And he knew, in that exact moment, that you would be the one to carry his children, no matter the cost.

You jumped slightly when you noticed Bucky smiling at you from a few feet away, not having noticed him before. You approached him, a smile coming back on your lips before you walked right past him, to where the employees had their back room. He felt his heart fall in his chest, before making a quick decision, turning on his heel and letting out a small “excuse me?”

You turned back to him, your hand on the swing door, ready to walk through. “yes? How may I help you?” your smile had already embedded itself into his brain. He was so fucked.

“I was wondering where you kept the wines? And if you had any good ones?” he stuttered out a makeshift lie, watching as you pursed your lips, thinking over his question. You smiled before walking back towards the shelves, motioning for him to follow you. You both stopped before the shelves filled with white, rosé and red, looking over the countless possibilities.

“Anything you can recommend?” He cleared his throat, watching you out of the corner of his eyes. He felt his heart pick up the pace as you bit your lips, turning towards him with a frown.

“I’m sorry, I don’t drink. I need to be healthy and… Sorry, that’s none of your business…” you blushed before looking down at your feet, your cheeks reddening slightly.

“No, it probably isn’t… Well, then I guess I wouldn’t have much success in asking you out for a glass of wine?” Bucky smiled down at you, watching as your head shot up, your eyes wide and doe-like. He felt his heart flutter in his chest, noticing how you had the smallest of rips in your bottom lip. He knew you had to bite them a lot.

“Oh, I… No, I guess not.” You let out a small laugh, your arm coming up to grab your opposite elbow, shielding yourself. He felt the disappointment bubble just under the surface before you spoke again. He muttered out a quiet thank you for your time, before turning on his heel to leave. “But… I do like tea. And pastries?”

He turned back to you with a smile playing on his lips before nodding. “Alright. When are you off?” he looked at his watch. 3:49.

“At four. Unless Tony asks me to work overtime, again.” You sighed, before hoisting your phone out of your pocket, handing it to Bucky. “You can… add your number. Then I can reach out to you when I’m off.” You smiled softly as Bucky grabbed your phone, clicking on the home button before it opened, without a passcode. Too damn easy.

“Alright. I’m Bucky, by the way.” He quickly typed his number into your phone before sending himself a text, so he had yours. You told him your name as he handed your phone back to you. “If you want, I can wait out front until you’re off? Then we can go to this place I know. They have some really good pastries.”

“Oh. Yeah! That sounds alright.” You giggled and blushed at his question. “It’s a date.” He watched as you turned around to walk back where you came from, turning once, twice, three times to look at him still standing there in the aisle, a smile playing on his lips as a plan formed inside his head.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but you mentioned you didn’t drink?” Bucky asked as he watched you swirl your spoon around your cup of earl grey, one teaspoon of sugar now blending in. He admired the soft tint of your cheek that appeared when he asked, letting him know it was something very personal to you.

“It’s just… I really want to be healthy, you know? For when I’m one day am going to bear children. I don’t want to ruin my body with unnecessary consumption of alcoholic beverages. So I’ve never had a drink in my life.” You softly grazed the spoon over the rim of your cup, letting the tea run off before you put it down.

“That’s smart. I admire you for that.” Bucky smiled as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips, blowing on it slightly before taking a sip. He watched as your eyes lit up in admiration, along with a rounding of your cheeks as you smiled. God, you were literally perfection. “How many do you want?”

“Two or three. I don’t want my child to be an only child, because I know how lonely it can get.” You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “How about you?”

“I guess I’ll know how many I want when my hands are full, and I can’t take anymore.” Bucky let out a heartful laugh, getting a small giggle from you in the process. “I want a big family. I have a lot of love to give.” He looked you directly in the eyes as he said the last sentence and noticed how you suddenly squirmed in your seat.

You nodded before blushing, maintaining eye contact as you licked your lips. “Just need to find the right partner.” Bucky felt his cock twitch in his pants as you spoke, countless images running through his head at that point. You sucked in a breath before biting your lower lip. Bucky expected a you wanna get out of here? But instead he got a “I better get home…”

He felt his heart drop in his chest, feeling both the sadness and anger overcoming him. He smiled though, rising from his seat as you did from yours. You offered him your hand and he shook it, a courteous nod from him. “It was a pleasure, y/n. Maybe I’ll see more of you soon?”

You smiled with a small nod before collecting your things, leaving the small café. Bucky threw a few dollars on the table, following you out of the café, but keeping his distance. This was where his plan would go into motion. He pushed his hand into his deep coat pocket, feeling both pairs of wrapped up handcuffs laying securely in the fabric.

He followed you as you turned corners, watching as you smiled at strangers, handing over a few cents to a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk. You are really something else, he thought. He hid behind a set of stairs as you walked up to an old apartment complex, pushing your way through the front door and disappearing into the building.

Bucky walked up the stairs to your complex warily, looking at the different buzzers and doorbells before squinting his eyes. He sighed when he found only letters of first names and full last names. He scurried down the stairs, making his way into the alley on the side.

He found the fire escape quickly and hoisted himself up, hoping he was on the right side of the building.  He looked through the blinds of the first three floors, coming up with nothing. He let out a small laugh when he ended up in front of the fourth-floor window, slightly ajar, hearing a soft humming under the sound of a shower running.

He lifted the window open wider, sliding into the warmth of your apartment before sliding it closed. He looked around your personal space, kicking off his shoes before making his way to your bed. He lifted a pair of your stockings off the railing before bringing the garment to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent of you.

He looked over his shoulder to where the bathroom door was barely open before walking up to the headboard. He unraveled the handcuffs from the silencing fabric, clasping the metal around the metal frame of your bed. He smiled before making his way closer to the bathroom door. He halted in his steps as he heard the shower turning off, the rings of your shower curtain being pulled back.

Your soft humming continued as he imagined you drying off your hair, drying your dreamy body. He shrugged off his coat and hung it over one of your chairs. He walked over silently to the big, brown armchair in the corner of your apartment before sitting down, crossing his legs.

He waited with anticipation for a few seconds until the bathroom door swung open, revealing your towel-clad body. You let out a yelp when you noticed him seated in your armchair, a smug smile adorning his face. You clutched the towel to your body, the fear blossoming in your stomach.

“Bucky? What on earth are you doing in here? How did you even get in here?!” you shuffled backwards as he rose from his seat, walking towards you with silent steps. You scrambled backwards to your wall, Bucky quickly pressing against you, trapping you against the wall.

“I want to clarify a few things, doll…” His hand came up to grasp your throat while his other hand fumbled with where your towel was tied around your breasts. The towel fell in a pool around your feet and you shut your eyes, feeling both exposed and humiliated. Your arms hang limply down your side. You were too shocked to fight him.

“First off… God damn baby…” Bucky leaned in and breathed in your ear, making you whimper as he tightened his hold on your throat. He leaned back slightly, looking up and down your body with hungry eyes. He admired the way your nipples hardened into tight buds from the slightly cool air and how the goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Second…” The fingers on the hand that wasn’t clutching your throat found its way in between your legs, swiping through your folds before pushing in slowly, one knuckle, then deeper, until his pointer finger was buried within your tight heat. He watched as you turned your head away from him, tears wetting your eyes.

He tightened the hold on your throat. “Eyes on me.” He growled out, inserting another finger into you. You whimpered out as his fingertips played with your cervix, your eyes reluctantly looking back into his blackened eyes.

“I’m gonna fuck you. You want that, hmm?” He felt how you slicked up on his digits. “Gonna fill you with my cum. Watch how you swell with my seed.” Bucky moaned as he imagined you with a baby bump. His baby. “We want the same thing, doll.”

A whimpered no left your lips, and Bucky saw red. He tightened his hold on your throat as he yanked you forward, forcefully throwing you on the bed. He let go of your throat shortly, clasping both your wrists within the handcuffs. You whimpered as you strained against the handcuffs, fear overtaking your body even more.

Bucky watched you as he undressed himself, watched as you squirmed on your bed, the handcuffs clinking against the metal of your headboard. When he stood naked in front of you, his cock full of desire and his balls full of cum, you started to panic. He could tell from the way you started thrashing about.

He looked around your apartment as you started screaming. He grabbed the stockings he had previously inhaled the scent of; pushing the garment into your open mouth, muffling your screams. Your legs kicked about, hitting him in his stomach.

“Shouldn’t have done that, baby doll.” His strong hands gripped behind your knees harshly, pushing your knees to your shoulders. The tears streamed down your cheeks so prettily, he noticed as he sat between your legs on his knees.

He looked down at your cunt, his cock twitching painfully. He needed you desperately. Just like you needed him to fill you with his cum, needed him to bury a child deep within you. He kept his hands locked behind your knees in a painful, tight grip as he spit on your pussy, making sure everything wasn’t too dry for him.

He shifted on his knees, leaning over your body, looking up at your face, hearing your whimpers through the stocking. “You want me to fuck you, huh?” You whimpered, mumbled, looking up at Bucky with wide eyes. “You want me to fuck you hard?” He smirked, hearing your whimpers again. “You want me to knock you up?”

He angled his hips slightly, thrusting forward, his cock sliding through your wet folds. His hands wrapped around your knees, spreading your legs and pulling your legs on each of his shoulders, entering you in one swift thrust.

He watched as you shut your eyes tightly, tears streaming steadily down your cheeks. It was so beautiful. He groaned as he slammed his hips against yours, burying himself to the hilt. You strained against the handcuffs, twisting your body violently. Bucky’s grip tightened on you, his hips retracting before slamming into you again, hitting your cervix.

You screamed, throat strained, body tired. “We could’ve done this the sensual way,” he told you through gritted teeth, his hips slamming against your ass in a steady rhythm. “You could’ve gotten pure vanilla,” he groaned out, your walls tightening against his cock. “But instead you decided to act like a brat!” His hand briefly left your knee to slap your breast.

“Gonna have to show you how to behave.” He pushed your knees to your chest again, folding you in half, leaning over you. He kissed your wet cheeks despite your attempt to turn away from him. His hips ground against you, his cock burying itself deeply inside of you. “Gonna fuck you full of my babies.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head, orgasm overcoming you as your body started shaking violently. You breathed out harshly, your face red but so beautiful. Bucky felt his balls tighten uncomfortably. He pushed into you faster, harder, before he finally let out a yelp as his hot cum spurted into you, his scrotum convulsing more violently than he’d ever felt before.

He caressed your cheek as you kept crying, sobs racking through your tired, worn out body. Bucky slipped from you, pulling back, helping your legs laying comfortably against your bed. “You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, his hand stroking over your hair. You nodded, sniffing. He reached down and pulled the stocking from your mouth, watching as you coughed.

“Please Bucky.” You whimpered, looking up at your restrained hands. Bucky knew you would be good for him. He knew he had a good chance of succeeding this time.

When you’d handed over your phone, he’d bugged it. While he waited in his car, he checked your Flo app calendar. It was perfect timing. You were at the peak of your ovulation cycle. He had no time to waste. You just needed a push in the right direction.

Bucky hoped this was it.

[sanktnikolais]

this is what love does

A/N: so here is your friendly neighbor zoyalai who rewrote that scene in the Os Kervo main hall (Rule of Wolves chapter 46). Idk man this is what I have in mind and I just wanted to put more monologue and make some drastic changes KJHASDFLKHASDF 

i think their scene in this chapter could have gone better ngl ahjsfkajsf but if you’re okay with canon, i’m absolutely glad you are. I just needed to make this bc my zoyalai heart said so HHAHAHA

as always @wafflesandkruge enabled me again and volunteered to edit this mess so thank you ily  🥺

contains some spoilers for Rule of Wolves so pls beware before reading :> 

Word count: 4169

When the doors to the hall finally closed, Zoya released a breath of frustration. She wanted a moment of total silence, where she could shut out the voices of the people chanting her name or the affirmative tones of the dukes that agreed with Nikolai in nominating her as Ravka’s new queen. A bottle of brandy would be good too, and yet it didn’t materialize out of thin air just as she wanted it to.

          She put a hand to her forehead, feeling the fatigue from the war slowly drain what was left of her strength. This was madness—everything that had happened in the past few weeks. Headache after headache, they kept coming like the barrage of Fjerdan firepower they had just encountered in the battlefield hours ago. 

          But the biggest headache of all was standing right in front of her in all his confident glory, the small grin never leaving his lips even as Zoya scowled at him. Nikolai Lantsov was a royal through and through. And despite the dirt that still smudged on his face, or the dried blood on his collar, he never lost that spark in him, no matter what he said about not wanting to claim the Lantsov bloodline. 

          How could he suddenly expect her to do this on her own terms? 

          "Are you out of your saintsforsaken mind?" Zoya hissed at the smiling king. He still was the king, and would continue to be as far as she was concerned. "I could strike you with lightning right now but I don't think I have the energy left for that."

          Nikolai's grin turned into a wince. "Ah, but I'm always in the right state of mind," he said as he approached her with rather careful steps as if he was testing the waters around her. "And I have never been more sane and sober than now, Zoya."

          The urge to summon lightning at him was still strong, but she shoved the thought down. Ravka didn't need another funeral right now, and especially not for its king. 

          "Say something spiteful." 

          Zoya furrowed her eyebrows. "What?" 

          "You're scowling again, and I think the only way to really know you're angry is when you combine your scowl with harsh words." 

          “Do you really have a death wish?" 

          The infuriating king pretended to think for a moment, his eyes narrowing curiously as he scratched the spot behind his ear. “I think we’ve had enough of staring down death today—”

          Thunder rumbled in the skies as Zoya’s anger flared, and Nikolai flinched. But Nikola, being himself, recovered quickly with a grin. She looked at him in disbelief. It was both baffling and amazing how fast this man could change into one of his masks in just a matter of a second and then he was another person entirely. 

          It was their difference—Zoya didn’t have that skill. She’d never had the capability of pretending. Where she had walls around her heart to hide the girl who once believed in fairy tales and love and other nonsense, Nikolai wore his masks like they were his second skin, and it blended with the boy who just wanted what was best for his country, until he didn’t know who he was anymore. 

          She had never shown any signs of weakness or vulnerability, and even if she did, she would still deny it until she convinced her heart it had never happened. But he was different. He was ready to wear his heart on his sleeve if he wanted to, displaying his emotions at all times. And if he didn’t get anything out of it, he would put his mask back on like nothing happened.

          Zoya hid; Nikolai pretended. If she were to look at it, pretending was better than hiding. 

          “Is it really that bad?” Nikolai asked softly. 

          Yes. 

          No.

          I don’t know.

          If she were still the same person she had been three years ago, she knew she would have accepted the offer right away. But things had changed and progressed since then, and whoever she once was, someone who wanted so much power, was long gone. 

          “We both know I’m not cut out for this, Nikolai,” she replied.

          He didn’t say anything else, and just waited. Zoya huffed in frustration.

          “You’re the diplomat, the charmer.” She gestured in the air vaguely. “Even if you’re not of the royal bloodline, there is no denying that you’ve always had the knack for this. I’m just—”

          She was just what? A general? A Grisha who broke the boundaries of the Orders and achieved the impossible? An actual living saint? 

          Zoya let out a breath. A shadow passed on Nikolai’s face, his expression darkening to some kind of disappointment as if he already knew what she was going to say. But considering everything they had been through, it was definitely safe to say he knew her no matter how good she was at hiding. 

          She still said it anyway. “I’m just no one.”

          “Don’t even go there.”

          “You know I wouldn’t say anything I don’t mean, Nikolai. I was meant to be a soldier, to train and lead armies to their victory and be with them until our very last breaths. It was always like that.” And when Nikolai looked like he was about to contradict her, Zoya beat him to it by raising a finger to silence him. “Don't. There's nothing to say. And don’t start with me by saying you were never meant for the crown, nor the throne. That may have been the case, but you are what Ravka has needed for a long time. You fought for it instead of selling it. Hurt for it, bled for it, almost dying twice just to keep it from the mud. If that’s not what a king does, then I don’t know what I should call it.”

          “A job well done?” he offered, laughing lightly when she gave him a glare that could silence the Second Army in a heartbeat. “I’m merely joking, Nazyalensky.”

          “Can you be serious for once?” Zoya shook her head, heading over to one of the benches and slumping down on it. 

          It was only then she felt the weight of today’s war come back to her, and she found herself not wanting to stand up for a moment. Maybe she would just stay here until  the madness outside passed, though she knew it would take a while. 

          She hunched forward with her eyes trained on her hands clasped together on her knees. She couldn’t bear to look at him as of the moment, and it irked her as it felt like she was hiding yet again and she was already tired of doing that. But when an enormous responsibility was suddenly presented to her, along with the ability to hold power over everything else, didn’t she have the right to hesitate or even think about it? 

          It felt like being appointed to the Grisha Triumvirate again after the war the Darkling waged that almost took Ravka down with it, and they were forced to stand up on their own feet to save the country from drowning right after fighting for their lives. It was never fair, but they braved through it. 

          But at what cost? 

          It doesn’t stop with us. It never does.

          It was what David always used to say, and Zoya found those words haunting her every night after his death, knowing all too well she could have done so much better to protect him and save Genya from her pain. If it didn’t stop with them, what difference would it make if it was her seated on the throne? 

          Ravka was finally free, even if not completely yet, but the light at the end of the tunnel they had long since walked through was already bright as any star could have been. 

          A shadow on the marbled floor caught her eyes, and she looked up just in time to see Nikolai kneel in front of her, taking her hands in his. She almost—almost—wrenched away from him, but then she realized that it was him, the boy who wore his heart on his sleeve and bared everything to her without a second thought. He was looking up at her with such a soft, understanding expression on his face that she wondered if she was seeing right. 

          She blinked, and then she felt as if she was back at the ship again, hearing his confession that took the breath out of her lungs and made her heart beat like it had never been before. 

          And for the past years of her life and the rest that would still come, Zoya was sure she would never feel as frightened as she was now. 

          You promised yourself you would speak your heart when you had the chance, didn’t you? she scolded in her mind. Only the saints knew how much she had waited for this moment between them after the war. She almost didn’t have the chance. So why was she trying to run away from it again?

          He was so, so near, and yet she was still terrified to reach for him. 

          "I can't do this, Nikolai," she said instead. 

          "I will be by your side." Always, was what hung at the end and not said aloud, but she knew he meant it. 

          Zoya felt a small smile on her lips, the urge to touch his face becoming stronger than her will to fight it. What was stopping her? Her pride? Maybe it really was that, but her damn pride had already cost her enough. 

          So she reached a hand up to his cheek, her touch gentle as the breeze that fluttered in the room when her skin met his. 

          Nikolai learned in her hand almost immediately, a content sigh coming from his lips. 

          "I would give my life for Ravka over and over again, as I know you would too," she whispered, her thumb gently brushing his cheekbone. She dropped her hand and put it on top of his. "But I don't think this is what's best for Ravka. We have fought and lived through the wars it suffered. We vowed to drag it from the mud it had fallen into until our last breaths, and now that it can finally stand up on its own, I think it's had its fill of kings and queens and wars. Ravka now needs to listen to its people."

          Zoya knew it sounded ambitious and audacious, but it could be a start, a beginning of a new age. The journey would be a tedious one, as always, but she knew it was worth the try. Ravka was always worth the try, no matter how much it took from them. 

          Silence stretched between them for a moment, and Zoya was thankful for it being a comfortable one rather than a tense pause. She searched his eyes, trying to find the stubborn glint in them as a sign that he was thinking of arguing back. But she didn't see it. 

          There was only the look he had always sent her way, the same one he had when he bared his heart to her in the airship, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She really ought to strangle him for making her feel this way. 

          "Spoken like a true queen, I'd say," said Nikolai with a laugh. 

          Zoya scoffed, grateful for the sudden distraction. "I remember that I didn't agree with the proposal of me being the new queen, so that means you're still the king, Your Idiocy." 

          There was a hint of an amused grin at the corner of his lips. "What can I say? When I thought of what's best for Ravka, my mind instantly thought of you." 

          "Didn’t I ask you to be serious even just for once?"

          "You speak as if I were making those words up." 

          "If you know what's best for you and Ravka, you would stop trying to change my mind because my decision would remain the same."

          Nikolai smiled ruefully. "I know." He paused, turning his attention to their joined hands. There was an unusual slump in his shoulders, something she rarely saw him have. He sighed, and then slowly pressed his forehead to her knuckles. "I thought I lost you today," he said quietly. 

             Her heart clenched at the pain in his voice, but she understood it. She almost lost him today too. "You won't be rid of me that easily, Nikolai," Zoya said. 

          He chuckled, and it sounded more in pain than in amusement. Then he drew in a shaky breath before looking back up at her. "When I saw you fall, I thought the worst and I—" He stopped with a dry laugh. "But I guess you're right, I won't be able to get rid of you that easily." 

          She felt a smile curl on her lips. "I should be the one telling you that, but I figure it can go both ways," Zoya said, and before she could make herself hide away again, she gave in and lowered her forehead to touch his. In a soft whisper, she said, "But I've never been more grateful you're still here with me." 

          They were still here, alive and breathing, and she was glad they both got to see the end of the day. When she felt herself plummeting to the ground, she thought that it was her end, and she had accepted it. Exhaustion crept in her bones, her own strength not enough to whip up a draft to cushion her fall. But there was a gust of wind—from Nadia or from Adrik—that caught her, saving her from the deadly impact. 

          And then a voice. His voice, full of worry and hurt and pain, pleading her to wake. He was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes again, and it was during that moment she allowed herself to wish that he would be the one she would wake up to every morning, and the last one she’d see when she fell asleep at night. 

          It had reminded Zoya of the time she saved the king from falling once, back when they were just soldiers fighting for their lives in the Fold, and she wondered if he had been glad to see her when he opened his eyes.

          Nikolai reached a hand up to touch her cheek, his fingers light as if she were the most important thing in the world that he was finally allowed to touch. His eyes never wavered from hers. 

          "I would still choose you, you know," he suddenly said, his voice trembling. "Even if you didn't want to do anything with me anymore. Even if you were in some place else, reassigned to another position. Even if you didn't want me." He tried to smile, but it seemed to take more effort than just not. "I'd still want you. I'd still want you with everything in me."

          Zoya already knew how he felt for her beforehand, his confession back in the ship sharpening into focus in her mind. And yet she still felt like she heard him bare his heart to her for the first time, even when he had already been doing it for years. 

          It would be so easy to tell him that she felt the same; those three words that were hanging between them for a long time begging to be set free. But still a small, terrified part of her held back, and she realized that it was the girl she had once been, the girl who believed in everything before the cruel world took that magic away from her and replaced it with fear. 

          This is what love does. It took away everything, blinded one's logic and reasoning, and even brought pain that no one should feel. Why should people hurt when all they ever wanted was to have and feel the love they deserved? 

          “I know I’ve already told you this on the ship,” Nikolai continued, the rueful smile returning to his lips. “But I wanted you to hear it again, as I almost didn’t have the chance today. No prince and no power could ever make me stop wanting you.” 

          Zoya felt her breath get knocked out from her lungs again, but her doubts and insecurities continued to cloud her, lingering in her as if they were the only ones her heart knew of. “Maybe for now you will want me.” She paused, unexpected tears stinging her eyes. She closed them instead; she didn’t think she could bear looking at him. “But soon enough you will grow to hate me. I’m too sharp. Too angry. Too spiteful.” And you deserve so much better than that. “That’s who I am, Nikolai.”

          “Zoya,” Nikolai murmured.

          She felt his breath ghost over her skin, and yet she still refused to look at him. She couldn’t. But if there was one thing she knew about Nikolai Lantsov, it was his persistence for everything. 

          “Zoya, my love. Look at me,” he said softly, and this time Zoya finally obliged him. 

          An unwanted ache clogged her throat as she met his gaze, bright and warm and open. There was nothing in them except the sincerity he always had around her. In this light, his hazel eyes looked almost golden. He had a golden spirit. Then it struck her, as she remembered the words from a memory a long time ago, that maybe she was finally looking at that boy in her aunt’s story. He had been in front of her all along.

          Nikolai grinned, his eyes brighter than she had ever seen them, and there were tears clouding them as well. “You speak as if I haven’t seen you at your worst,” he said. 

          “You will grow tired of me, Nikolai.”

          “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. A tear escaped his eye, and she felt it land on her hand. He let out another breathless laugh. “I’d want you for the rest of my life, Zoya.” 

          Something broke inside her chest, and then a tear fell from her eye as well. Her fingers intertwined with his, their hold on each other’s hands tightening as if the other would disappear if they let go. He brought her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. A few tears slipped on her hand as he did, but he had a look of contentment on his face, like he finally felt he was home. 

          More tears fell from her eyes as she pressed her forehead back to his. For years, she had let herself believe that she wasn’t worthy of being loved, that she was only made to be a soldier, a weapon to be used by her own country. 

          This is what love does. Zoya had been wrong from the start. Because in the end, Nikolai’s love for her was what made him see past her worst self. Every flaw and every scar, he accepted them wholeheartedly. She didn’t know how he’d come to love her, someone who had avoided any signs of kindness and sincerity he gave her, thinking that it would be used against her later. 

          There was no denying the pain they had caused each other through the years, when their words were too sharp and they wounded their hearts and pride before they could even have the chance to think of it. And yet they always came back to each other, their faith in each other still there if not stronger before. 

          Love was never without pain. It would still be felt over and over again because it was real. 

          And if tearing down the walls she had built around herself and giving her heart away would make her vulnerable to hurting, then perhaps it was something she was willing to do. 

          Because Nikolai Lantsov was worth every pain.

          So Zoya took the leap, drawing him up to her and pressing her mouth to his, and everything felt like it finally clicked into place. He acted immediately, and she could almost feel his smile against her lips. After the long days of wanting, her heart was at peace for once. The Fjerdans could have come back and waged war against them again, but she didn’t care about anything but the warm press of his lips.

          When the need for air became stronger than the need for each other’s lips, Zoya pulled away and rested her forehead against his. Her eyes were still clouded with tears when she finally said, “I love you.”

          To say that Nikolai’s grin was bright would have been an understatement. In the dull colored room they were in, he seemed to be glowing. He let out another breathless laugh. “I never thought I would hear those words come from you,” he said, his eyes alight with utter bliss. “But for what it’s worth” —he wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb— “I love you too.”

          Silence fell around them and everything focused on the man in front of Zoya. Perhaps she could stay here in his arms for another while and ignore the looming responsibilities standing right outside the doors. 

          She was his, and he was hers. For now, that was all that mattered. 

          “Is there really nothing that can change your mind?” Nikolai said, breaking the comfortable silence between them, and Zoya wanted nothing more than to strangle him right now.

          “You really had to ruin the atmosphere, didn’t you?” 

          He laughed lightly. “My ruthless Zoya, I am merely joking,” he said, and then his face became serious. For a moment, a small twinge of fear clawed at her heart. “Then what do you think about being a regent? At least until we find someone to rule properly, or until we could transition the monarchy towards something else.” He wrinkled his nose. “I mean, I said I would give you a crown, and this is my last chance to make good on my words even just for a short time. Besides, Regent Nazyalensky does have a nice ring to it.”

          Zoya raised an eyebrow, the idea not occurring to her until now. She furrowed her eyebrows. “You actually suggested something reasonable,” she said, earning a pout from the king. She looked at him with mild concern then, realizing the meaning of having a regent. “Are you really abdicating the throne?” 

          “I’m not joking when I said that the crown was never meant for me, and I think my bloodline really solidified that fact. I realized I was only fighting for this country, not the throne.” He shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And if that’s really your decision, I would be with you in every step of the way. But I hope we can stabilize Ravka until we can have a solution to my....sudden resignation.” 

          “What’s your plan if ever that time comes?” Zoya knew she was asking so many questions, but she couldn’t help it. This man continued to surprise her with his declarations and she had no idea what could come next. “Play pirate again?”

          Nikolai scowled at her, and she wanted to laugh at his expression. “Privateer,” he corrected like always. Then he smiled, his eyes suddenly having a faraway look. “For once, I don’t know. But maybe I would play privateer again as I’ve missed the seas terribly.” Then he turned to her, his expression gentle. “If I ask you to come with me as my first mate then, would you agree?”

          Would she? Zoya had never known anything outside her life in Os Alta. For years, it had been a continuous battle for the freedom of the country that took everything from its people, and she had no time to think about her freedom if she ever did retire from being a soldier. 

          But she could already see glimpses of a future ahead, a quiet and easy life, without any fear of having to go back to war. And in those glimpses, she could see him. 

          Zoya huffed, making it sound as disbelieving as possible. But she already knew her answer. “I’d make a horrible first mate as I easily get seasick,” she said. 

          “Ah, but I don’t mind. As long as you’re there with me,” Nikolai said, taking her hands in his again. He pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “So what do you say, Regent Nazyalensky?”

          The future was something she had no control over, she always knew that. The only way to know what it held was to continue fighting until she reached it, and as long as she had the right person beside her, she knew she would be alright.

          They had always been a team, she and Nikolai, and they would continue to be like that for as long as they lived.

          So without another hint of doubt, Zoya intertwined her fingers with his, squeezing his hand gently. “Alright, dearest privateer,” she said. “Let’s keep this country standing upright until then.”

          And they would. Together.

[luxekook]

ego | jjk | harry potter au

⇥ pairing: gryffindor jeongukk x hufflepuff reader

⇥ genre: harry potter AU, smut, fluff, angst

⇥ summary: in which jeongguk is a cocky lil shit and the reader has to take him down a few pegs 

⇥ warnings: 18+, dirty talk, light smut, cursing

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

The wind whirled around me as I careened towards the glistening goal posts, imagining the opposing team’s Keeper darting back and forth in hopes of blocking the Quaffle that was currently tucked under my arm. I feigned left and the imaginary keeper followed suit. I threw right – Quaffle sailing through the rightmost gold hoop.

I smiled and dove down past the posts to catch up with my own throw. Even though it was still the first week of the new term, I was determined to prove my newly acquired captain-status. Hufflepuff hadn’t had a female captain in ages; and, paired with that, I was only a 6th year.

Luckily, I had a strong team behind me with mostly returning players who I knew would fiercely support me. Us Puffs stuck together. It was inherently in our blood to be loyal as hell to our own, and I thanked Merlin for that every day since receiving the captain’s badge.

As soon as I had hopped on the Hogwarts’ Express a few days prior, I had immediately been swept up in a giant bear hug by Jeong Yunho, one of the Hufflepuff beaters.

“Oh, captain! My captain!” he had dramatically cried, spinning me around. His Dead Poet’s Society reference was not lost on me since I had a muggle parent with excellent taste in movies. Similar reactions from the rest of the team followed suit over the course of the train ride and the Welcoming Feast.

Trials for our only open position of Seeker would take place this weekend with practices immediately starting Monday. We had high hopes for redemption this season after being crushed by Slytherin’s team of goons early on in the Cup tournament.

The Slytherin team’s head hooligan Kang Dokyun led his team with a nasty blend of intimidation and violent tactics. I was convinced that Slytherin didn’t even hold trials and that they just lined up the Slytherin boys, picking out the biggest of the lot. Basically, Slytherin was strong, but slow and slightly uncoordinated. We could beat them by exploiting their weaknesses – of that I was certain.

Ravenclaw would be a bit harder to conquer. Their team played with a level of elegance and intelligence that was so utterly Ravenclaw that even us Puffs got annoyed. Ravenclaw’s captain Yoon Jisoo constructed tactical plays so tricky that she was already recruited to play for Puddlemore next year. Their team was smart, but not completely unbeatable. The Ravenclaws sometimes got so ingrained in their methodical maneuvers that they failed to notice some of their opponents’ counterattacks. That was how they lost the Cup last term to Gryffindor.

Gryffindor was our toughest competition. Winning the Cup last term, the Gryffindor team was a nauseatingly perfect balance between brains and brawn. Their captain Jeon Jeongguk, now a 7th year, was renowned for his tyrannical practice regime that he put his team through. We’d only played Gryffindor once in the regular season last year, and we had held our own for a while until we started getting tired and they didn’t. Seems like Jeongguk knew his shit when it came to conditioning. Something that I was determined to emulate with my own team.

Jeongguk was also the best damn Keeper that Hogwarts had seen in a long time, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the looks of the professional Quidditch scouts that avidly attended his matches. He was way bigger than a typical Keeper – extremely tall with broad shoulders and giant paws for hands. However, the only thing bigger than his stature and talent was his fucking ego.

He carried himself like he was the king of the school, and, unfortunately, most people treated him like it. Girls especially flocked to him – mainly for two reasons: 1) Jeongguk was undoubtedly hot, and 2) he held the promise of a rich future. Personally, I cared for neither of those traits considering his appalling personality and pride.

That damned ego would be his downfall this season. I would make sure of it, I thought as I circled around the stadium and then landed to get a drink.

I was definitely above average on the Quidditch talent scale. Holding the current school record for most assists in a season, I considered myself the glue of the Hufflepuff team – a fact that our Head of House obviously agreed with. However, no one really talked about the glue of a team, they talked about the flashy glitter and the gold stars. I was fine with that. Being the underdog was nothing new to a Hufflepuff, and I planned on using that to our advantage this season. Who said Puffs couldn’t be a little devious?

I smirked to myself as I grabbed my broom, ready to get back to practicing. This would be our fucking year.

“Hey,” a deceptively sweet voice rang out from above me, “You mind sharing the pitch? I need to practice.”

My mood soured. I knew who that was. Kicking off the ground, I flew to face him, “Sure thing, Jeon, just stay out of my way.”

It was almost as if I’d slapped him across the face, “Excuse me?” he choked out, “Do I know you?”

Unbelievable. Jeongguk’s head was evidently so far up his own ass he couldn’t recognize opponents he’d been playing for years. “I guess not,” I countered. And with a flick of my ponytail, I took off towards the opposite end of the pitch.

Unfortunately, he followed, “Are you a Gryffindor? If so, you should come to tryouts tomorrow. You’re pretty fast and we need a new Chaser.”

“Not a Gryffindor,” I called out, dipping low to the ground to scoop up my old practice Quaffle, “But I am a Chaser.”

Jeongguk was still tailing me, and I pulled to a stop to face him, “I thought you had to practice?”

He mirrored my position and crossed his arms. I tried (and failed) to stop myself from noticing how his biceps flexed and how a hint of his famed phoenix tattoo curled up his neck. Merlin, even I couldn’t deny he was hot as fuck. The recent summer months seemed to have blessed his skin with a glowing tan that accentuated the warmth of his dark eyes. It also seemed like he forgot what a haircut was as I watched the wind tousle his slightly curling hair.

“I do,” his eyes were narrowed as he cleared his throat, “I just have to make sure you’re not spying for another team.”

All thoughts of him being fine flew out the Owlery as I scowled. I refused to be intimidated by some arrogant asshole, “Did you not hear me when I said to stay on the opposite end of the pitch, Jeon? What kind of self-respecting spy would ask that?”

“You’re a Slytherin,” Jeongguk declared, his tone too sure for my liking.

He was really aggravating me now, and it took a lot for a Puff to get pissed off, “So, just because I have a semblance of a backbone, I’m a Slytherin? You need to brush up on your House knowledge.”

He was quiet, his expression contemplative, his jaw clenched. His eyes were scanning me with an intensity I was not sure I liked. And then he did something I liked even less: “I propose a game,” his mouth twisted upwards in a smirk, “You say you’re a Chaser?”

I gave a slight tilt of my chin in affirmation. He resumed, “Well, then you must know I’m a Keeper.” He paused, grinning wickedly, waiting for me to react to the double entendre. Eyebrows raised at my pointed silence, he continued, “And we both need to practice… So how ‘bout you try to score on me and for every shot I block you have to answer one of my questions.”

This motherfucker right here. I summoned my inner Helga to give me the strength to deal with this Gryffindor prick, “Say I was to agree to this, what would I get if I score on you?”

The laugh I got in response made all thoughts of remaining a kind and patient Puff evaporate faster than a weak Patronus.

He was still laughing when he noticed I looked ready to Avada him wandless, “Okay, okay. What do you want if you score?” He barely got the words out in between chuckles.

“To come to a Gryffindor practice.”

That shut him up real fast, “No fucking way. I don’t need you distracting my players.”

My nose crinkled, “Distracting? I would just be sitting in the stands, you prick.”

His jaw ticked as he rolled his eyes, “You could be on the furthest corner of the pitch and you’d still distract them, jagi.”

“Don’t call me that. And, pray tell, why I would distract them?” Our brooms were now practically touching as we had instinctively moved closer to one another. I could see the sweat glistening on his brow and the shadow of stubble on his jaw. Merlin, he was potent.

“Because,” Jeongguk paused, acting like this was the most obvious answer in the world, “You’re hot.”

I blinked. And blinked again, “Are you serious?” He opened his mouth to respond. “Nope, don’t answer that, Jeon,” I brushed right over his attempt to answer my rhetorical question, “So, do we have a deal or not? If you’re the esteemed Keeper that you clearly think you are, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to block all my shots, should it?”

My words echoed around us. He looked conflicted, but I knew his ego would not let my challenge go, “Deal. Five shots from the penalty mark.”

He flew towards the goal posts, “Looking forward to getting my questions answered, love,” he bellowed back at me.

I mentally flipped him off as I took off after him, clutching my Quaffle.

Sending out a plea to Merlin, Helga and everyone in between, I pulled to a stop at the penalty mark and pondered how I wanted to play this. He obviously thought he would save all five attempts. I spared him a glance and glower as I notice he was slouching on his broom with a lazy smirk, clearly not taking me as a serious threat.

Fine, I would just have to hustle him. He was asking for it at this point.

I got into formation. As much as it would pain me to mess up this shot on purpose, I knew that I had to in order to make my plan work.

Taking off towards the posts, my movement caused Jeongguk to finally move into a somewhat defensive position. I feigned right, doing so in a way too obvious manner. Hurling the Quaffle towards the top hoop, I watched expectantly as he deflected it with just a slight flick of his hand.

“Come on,” Jeongguk laughed, “You can do better than that, jagi.” He flew over to me and when I stretched to take back the Quaffle he now held in his hand, he shifted it out of reach, “Uh-uh, nope. It’s question time. What’s your name?”

How predictable. “It’s (y/n). Now give me the Quaffle.”

“Last name?” Jeongguk kept the Quaffle out of my hands.

“That’s a separate question, Jeon. You never specified that I give you my full name.” It was my turn to smirk as he threw the Quaffle back at me and headed back to the posts mumbling about loopholes and how I must’ve been a Ravenclaw.

I lined back up for the second shot. I had to make this one a little bit better than the last to show that I was trying, but not too much better that he’d be prepared for my final shots.

I ducked down, twisting around to head towards the right post with my full focus on the hoop. I launched the Quaffle. Jeongguk swooped up to catch it in a way that was entirely too elaborate for such a lame throw. He was clearly showing off – an action that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the meaning behind.

Jeongguk made his way over to me, grinning, “Second question, jagi. Full name, please.”

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n),” I muttered, eyes scanning his face for signs of recognition and hands grabbing the Quaffle away from him.

He looked puzzled, “(y/l/n)? Why does that sound so familiar?”

Before he could think on it further, I pushed his shoulder, “Back to the posts. You got your answer.”

Well, I had attempted to push his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch at my shove. His eyes darted to where my hand now laid on his chest. I removed it faster than a Wronski Feint, trying to ignore the tingles that shot up my arm.

Our eyes connected and his were blazing as his mouth crept into a slow smile, “Like your hands on me.” Before I could formulate a reply, he flew off and I resolved that I would make this next shot as if my life depended on it.

We faced each other. I shifted the Quaffle from hand to hand and took off towards him. I gave him no tells, no feints, nothing. This seemed to throw him off for a split second, but that second was all I needed to send the Quaffle sailing through the bottom hoop.

“What the fuck was that?” Jeongguk yelled as he got all up in my face.

I bit back a smile. “Beginner’s luck?” I quipped, loving how his face had darkened perceptibly, “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can pick up some more tips at your practice.”

Unable to keep my grin in check any longer, I smile widely as he lets out a stream of curses that would make even my old crotchety aunt blush.

We resumed our positions. This time he seemed more alert and watchful. He was getting wary of me, despite my claim that it was just luck. Maybe he knew better after all…

“That won’t happen again, (y/n). Don’t get used to it!” he shouted from the posts.

…Or not.

I took off. Luck be damned. I zigzagged back and forth towards him. Throwing the Quaffle up in the air, I quickly rolled off my broom, sharply grabbing its end and swinging it up to hit the Quaffle mid-air through the center goalpost. A perfectly executed Finbourgh Flick. Regaining my seat on my broom I sailed back to the penalty line and turned back to face Jeongguk.

He looked utterly gobsmacked, “Beginner’s luck? Beginner’s fucking luck? Who the fuck are you?”

I grinned victoriously at his wounded ego, “You know my name, Jeon. Now you can use it at two practices.”

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n), (y/f/n) (y/l/n)… fucking hell,  you’re the new Hufflepuff captain,” he gawked at me.

“Bingo, Gryff,” I laughed, “Took you long enough.”

“Why did I think you were a bloke? I would have remembered such a—” he cut himself off, “You hustled me! There is no way I’m letting you into my practices now.”

We were nose to nose now as I responded, “A deal’s a deal. I thought you Gryffindors were all about honor.”

His face was thunderous, “And I thought you Hufflepuffs were all about fairness.”

“We are,” I said plainly, “We just don’t take lightly to intimidation. Now come on, we’ve got one round left.”

A range of emotions moved across his face to settle in a heated look that I couldn’t quite decipher, “Fine, jagi,” his molten gaze darted to my mouth, “Give it your best shot.”

Swallowing hard, I shook my head, trying to clear my brain of entirely too inappropriate thoughts of me and Jeongguk. As much as I attempted to refocus on making my final shot, my attention wasn’t fully there.

And I fucked it up. Jeongguk dove to catch my throw mid-air, and he sped towards me triumphantly, “Slipping already? What was that?”

I blushed. He noticed.

“Come on,” he said, “I need a drink and then you need to answer my last question.”

I followed him to the ground, cursing my treacherous body for reacting so obviously. My subconscious battled:

‘He’s a player!’ the imaginary Dumbledore on my right shoulder boomed.

‘Kiss him. Now!’ hissed the fictitious Voldemort from the other side.

However, all thoughts evacuated my brain at the sight of Jeongguk peeling off his shirt and taking a long sip from his water bottle. My traitorous eyes flew over his torso. I took in his defined abs, his chiseled arms and his fucking beautiful phoenix tattoo that spanned the entirety of his left shoulder, left upper back, and a portion of his neck.

Then I noticed his eyes were watching me right back. And they were all to amused to be innocent… “Are you seducing me?”

He spit out his mouthful of water, laughing, “Why? Is this working for you?”

My eyes now resembled slits as I glared at him, “Is that your last question?”

“No!” His response came so fast I jolted back on impulse, “No, it’s not…”

He trailed off as he prowled towards me. I stepped back. He kept coming. I stepped back further.

“Why are you running, jagi?” his words were too soft and too intense for my liking. I took another step back and bumped up against the stands. His grin in response was predatory as he caged me in between the stands and his body, his arms on either side of my head.

“Nowhere to run now, little Hufflepuff…” he dragged a finger along the hollows of my throat. He definitely felt the rapid pounding of my pulse, his eyes darkening to the point that they almost seemed black.

I glared defiantly at him, refusing to be daunted by his size or his words. He smirked, “Your last question: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

I stopped breathing. He waited, a look of uncertainty flickered on his face so briefly I almost thought I’d imagined it.

That little flare of vulnerability – that should not have been as appealing to me as it was – helped me to regain some of my bearings, “And how much do you want to kiss me? I need a scale of reference.”

He smiled crookedly as he leaned in even further, lips brushing against me as he whispered into my neck, “So fucking bad.”

His tongue darted across my skin as he dragged it up towards my ear. Biting it softly, he murmured, “Well?”

Fuck it all.

My hands latched onto his shoulders and his head snapped up. Raising to my tiptoes, I kissed him. He let out a rough groan, sounding like I was killing him. His hands slid down my body to squeeze my ass before hoisting me up. My legs circled his lean hips as his teeth caught my bottom lip in a faint bite. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling slightly. His hips pressed into mine, drawing a moan from my lips. He smiled against my mouth.

I nipped his lip now in retribution, but it seemed to only urge him on. One hand came up to remove my hair-tie, flinging it over his shoulder. I made a noise of protest, but he just kissed me harder.

How the fuck was he holding me up with one hand?

I prided myself on being a pretty thick bitch, and he was over here acting like I weighed nothing. My fingernails slid down his back, raking over the hard muscles and feeling how they flexed and shifted under my touch.

I don’t know how long we spent making out against the stands, but soon enough we heard voices coming from around the corner. Ripping my mouth away from his, I jumped out of his embrace, landing on shaky legs.

His arm wrapped around my waist as he steadies me. He was breathing just as hard as me and I could feel his heartbeat racing. I tugged away from him to retrieve my hair-tie from the ground and put my now wild hair back into its ponytail.

I could feel Jeongguk’s eyes on me all the while. I looked at him. His lips were swollen, his hair was a disheveled mess, his neck was displaying a rather nice hickey that I was sure was mirrored several times over on my own neck. A rare feeling of pride shot through me, and as he opened his mouth to say something, I shook my head and placed a finger over his lips.

“I’ll see you at your practice, Jeon.” I placed a quick kiss on his cheek, grabbed my broom and walked off.

As I strode away, I heard him grumbling under his breath: “Everybody warns you about the Slytherins. Nobody fucking warns you about the Hufflepuffs. Fucking hell…”

I smiled all the way back to the Common Room.

[froog-water]

howdy y'all, again! 

just quickly before the chapter starts, i wanted to say a HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who reads this! i have received a lot of support for this thing (more than i had hoped) and i am beyond grateful for it!

again, if there are any mistakes in this chapter, just hmu and i will fix it. i am just tired rn :)

also, slight warning for the beginning of the chapter, there are vivid descriptions of blood and gore and death. but nothing really troubling past that ;P

be safe out there my friends and thank you again

Upwards Over the Mountain

(Bloodhound x Reader)

previous; Chapter 2

Winter is in full swing and the entire world is covered in a thick blanket of white snow and eternal cold. For the most part, you had forgotten all about Bloodhound and the stranger circumstance of your meeting. Because there was not much for a bunch of fishermen and farmers to do during the stagnant times of chill, your bar had become a most frequented hotspot for these idle workers meaning you had very little time to yourself. Busy hands kept your mind busy too and soon some, if not most, of that night had been pushed back to the recesses of your consciousness.  It also did not help that they never took you up on your offer of returning to the bar. They retreated back into being merely a story to you, a faint memory of a person long moved on. You could hardly even remember if it had even really happened at all. Oh well, you supposed they had better things to do.

Early morning light was barely seeping in through your bedroom window when you managed to open your eyes. Groggily you yawn and stretch and slowly go to open the curtains. Greeting you was the pleasant sight of a land half-asleep, the sky a brilliant warm pink despite the rest being draped in an unimaginable freeze. Your breath collected as fog on the frozen glass and tentatively you reach out to touch it. It was a lovely morning indeed and it would have stayed that way had you not looked up into the sky.

In the distance, large birds circled. Tiredness shifts to dread as you adjust your eyes to try to get a better look. Those were no ordinary birds, you remark taking note of how large their bodies were and of the swooping patterns of their flight. Those were scavenging birds. And there is only one thing to bring scavengers out during Winter.

You dress quickly, putting on your best and thickest jacket and pants, before grabbing your hunter's knife and bow. Andante was a man of many talents, most of which he passed on to you. One of those talents was his hunting skills. The summer before his knees went, was spent mostly out in the heart of the wild woods. It was an interesting experience, to say the least, and though you were nowhere near what could be considered good, you understood the basics of the hunt and of the weapons you wielded and you knew how to read signs. Signs like scavenger birds circling in the sky. Signs like there was something dying.

Into the snow you run without much of a second thought, your head locked upwards as you follow the shapes of the birds eyeing their next meal. What confused you most about this strange encounter was not the presence of the birds themselves, but the proximity that they were to you and the rest of the town. This was wild country, home of beasts and lands untamed and untouched by man’s iron hand. That much you knew, encounters like this were commonplace if you dared to leave the safety of human comforts. But you were not out in the uncomfortable forest which meant that whatever had caught the bird's attention was either very far from home or of a more concerning matter.

You edge into the outskirts of the white forest, the trees around you nothing more than empty sticks bearing only wind and ice. Overhead, the birds caw and swoop and through the boney fingers of branches, you can see that they are getting lower. You had to move quickly before they did. As you go deeper in, approaching what you assumed to be the border of someone's field, you hear something. Faintly, carried on the morning breeze, was the mewling of an animal. Your pace quickens and quietens as you zone in on the source, painfully aware of how loud the snow was underfoot but pushing on regardless. The relief that you had felt at knowing it was not a person in danger eases some of your mounting anxieties and offers you momentary strength to continue on in pursuit. If given the choice, you would have gladly left whatever animal lay in wait to its own devices, you had no business intruding in on their affairs - your presence would only bring them distress no matter your intentions. But something about this situation told you otherwise and guided your feet to where you would most certainly be needed. On the outskirts of a clearing, you spot something and crouch behind a leafless brush.

There before you, not even 20 meters away, was a fallen elk. You swallow down your gasp and try to focus over the noise of your beating heart, which becomes only louder as you start to take in the entire situation. The animal has toppled over a wired fence of some farmer's land, its hind leg still entangled and bleeding from its restraints, held high above the rest of its body at an uncomfortable angle. From its bloody mouth, it screamed weakly, puffs of dying hot breath escaping with the haunting noise. Your first guess was that this misdirected elk had simply gotten itself stuck in the fence, a most unfortunate event but not entirely implausible, but upon closer inspection at the rest of its heaving body, your guess died on your tongue.

Horrible, long gashes run down the length of the animal's side, pooling blood into the snow around it turning white to red. Its powerful neck was sliced deep in odd places and one of its front legs looked twisted or broken. This creature had not done this kind of destruction to itself - it was attacked. By something. You slowly turn your head around to scan the morning shadows of the forest clearing for any glowing eyes of an animal on the hunt. But there was no predator to be found. There would be none of course, because if there was such a predator here, then why would it not have killed its prey by now? Animals do not find enjoyment in torture and no man, you hoped, would ever do such heinous crimes to such innocent life. For now, at least, it was only you and the elk and the circling, hungry birds.

The elk cries again and you notice how its kicks have become lethargic and stifled by freezing joints and waning energy. It was suffering. Without much debate you ready an arrow in your bow, pulling taut the string with trained proficiency. You whisper to yourself a prayer, hoping that it would only take one arrow to kill the poor thing. You line your aim up, try to cease the shaking in your hands and shoulders, breathing deeply. Your arrow flies prematurely and misses its target, rather than piercing its skull you instead strike it in its neck, right behind its ear. The thing wails, although much softer and with more subtle movements - you must have hit its spine. Seizing the opportunity, you rush forward, ignoring the lurching of your stomach and pulling out your knife. Without a moment's hesitation, you drive it deep into the elk’s heart, right to the hilt of the blade. A little excessive, you deride, but a necessity given your previous inability to finish it quickly.

The thing stops moving. The pained cries fade off into the cold wind. You are left alone with your thoughts and the smell of fresh blood. Beneath your hands the elk lay motionless, its beautiful, soft fur a gentle texture against your trembling form. Andante had made sure that you had killed a few animals before he had honored you with a knife of your own. Still, experience did not dull the sharp sting of shock nor quell the rising weight in your chest. It was suffering, you reminded yourself, lightly dragging your fingers down the side of the animal's large and strong back.

These elk were beautiful creatures, graceful and nimble; they pranced through the wilderness in powerful, delicate strides showcasing the ultimate wonder of the natural world. You had encountered a herd of them once, all the while mesmerized as they strode past your hiding spot without a care in the world. It was quite distressing to see one now crumpled and lifeless. Emptiness sits heavy in your chest and though you know you are not going to throw up, the pressure erupts and you fall to your knees. A red hand clasps the arrow lodged deep in the neck of the animal and sharply pulls it out. You blink hard but cannot stop the tears that threaten to burn your eyes.

It was an animal. It was suffering. You did the right thing.

From somewhere behind you, the softest snow crunches, and your pity party abruptly ends as you draw another arrow and spin around. For a few tense seconds, your fingers quiver around the bow’s string, ready to shoot down if you so dared it. You only hesitate when you finally recognize the figure.

Bloodhound quietly raises both their gloved hands, fingers spread apart in an unarmed, peaceful gesture. You remain poised a moment longer until your eyes start to prick with new tears and you are forced to look away. You drop your arrow and turn back around to the elk, furiously trying to wipe your face with the clean sleeve of your jacket. Now, this was a predicament. What god had you spite so hard to deserve this kind of cruelty? True embarrassment blends with your established disgust and you fear now you may really throw up. Here was a true hunter, a beast born in blood and forged to kill. And here also was you, wallowing in pity. If only you could sink into the floor.

You can hear Bloodhound approach and soon feel their impending presence standing right next to you, taking in the sight of the poor thing on the ground. No one spoke, only the wind dared whisper in the dead world around you. The silence was stretching on for far too long and you knew you had to break it before it became too uncomfortable.

“I’m…” You sniffle hard, trying to force strength into your voice knowing full well that you had very little left to offer. You cough and stand up straight. “I’m not going to do you the dishonor and assume this was your kill.” You say, your voice somehow managing to sustain itself despite your state. Bloodhound does not respond right away, instead, they remain motionless, eyes scanning every detail of the elk and committing it to memory. You shake loose the last of your unstable emotions and grab ahold of your knife again. You move to the elk’s tangled leg and set to work cut free the wires.

“You cry for the animal.” Bloodhound finally speaks, sounding more like an observation rather than a question. With your attention focused on your task, you manage to answer in a more steady and calm attitude.

“Yes.” This was your admission of guilt, not just to Bloodhound but to yourself as well. God, how pathetic you were. “Yes, I cried. I know it is natural. That this is how it is meant to be but,” You hesitate, your lapse in concentration misguiding your knife and almost slicing the tip of our index finger. “This is not a hunt nor a kill. This poor creature was driven away from its home and family and pushed to our borders by some deranged and cruel beast. This is not natural. It was not killed to feed mouths. It was tortured. And it died confused and alone.” The leg snaps free from the wired fence and you wipe your blade clean on the snowy floor, ugly red stains being the only reminder of your deed.

“There is no shame in veeping.” Bloodhound murmurs a brash reassurance and kneels down, tracing their fingers from the elk’s wounds. “Vhat did this?”

“My guess is,” You state taking a step back and allowing Bloodhound to proceed with whatever they were wanting to do with the body, “A few years back, an illegal trading ship hit a bit of trouble just beyond our planet's frontier and had to quickly dump its cargo on the East mountains. Some of that cargo was the creatures we call ‘Shrieks’. They are alien to this ecosystem but even though they are terribly small and their numbers were minimal, they dominated the local wildlife - killing not just for food but for fun. The town’s people tried to cull some of their numbers but,” You explanation stutters off and you hastily take in a sharp breath, the icy air burning your nose and lungs. “Well, they could not get them all. It appears now that they are growing in size again. And in courage.”

Bloodhound does not respond, their attention wholly directed at the study of the animal. You wait a moment longer, the adrenaline of the moment finally ebbing off and allowing the freezing cold to seep into your bones. You shiver and wrap your arms around your body. Bloodhound stands, all the while their attention remains downward.

“You can leave it there.” You say, passing one more glance over the body before averting your gaze elsewhere. “If you want nothing from it, leave it for the birds. They could use the meal.” As if aware of their mention, the still-waiting scavengers call loudly from the tree-top. A raven answers with a caw and you look around to find many black birds scattered around the clearing. The birds do seem to follow their raven stranger everywhere they went. The wind howled through the desolate forest and you grimace upon thinking of returning to your empty house with such a shallow heart. The smell of blood lingers cruelly to your clothes, reminding you of what you had just witnessed. You had to think of something to keep your mind off it, thinking of your act for people, play your part until you finally were normal again. But your bar would not be open until at least noon and there was no one else who would be willing to distract you.

“Did you track it all the way here?” Your voice breaks the silence, your mind subconsciously switching to your more charming persona. They do not answer immediately.

“I sensed distress and followed its blood.” They weren’t giving you much to work off of and you shuffle in place.

“Then I suppose you will need a ride back?” This garners their attention and they turn to face you, the nerve of being under their masked gaze still sending jolts up and down your spine.

“I cannot accept your generosity again.” Bloodhound tries to talk you down but you scoff and lift a hand to silence them.

“Please, I won't be needed until lunch and I really don't mind.” Your tone successfully managed to hide that you had a third reason to be so insistent - you just hoped that they could not see the desperation in your face. They could. They take a moment to consider your offer, whatever expression lay under their mask you would never know. The raven to their left caws and they turn to look at it. It takes off after a final noise and Bloodhound lowers their head back to you - some secret understanding passing between bird and hunter.

“Then,” Bloodhound motions for you to lead the way, “By all means.” Though strained and almost painful, your first smile of the day pulls at your lips and you turn around to walk back to your house.

~

Bloodhound, as bizarre and strange as they were, never afforded you the opportunity to truly draw a defined picture of their personality. Wrapped so totally in mystery and gear, your perception of them was created on a flimsy base of shadows - beyond what they portrayed on T.V, you knew nothing of. But in the frozen forest of that Winter’s morning, something changed and you felt your world flip upside down onto its head.

Bloodhound was a lot more talkative on the way to their cabin than they had been the first time. Or any time really that you had interacted with them. It had started with you asking them the simple question of how they managed to track the injured elk and although their initial answer remained vague, a tangent soon manifested and from there the spiral began. To your utter surprise, and mild enjoyment, they proved themselves to be a great storyteller and had many wonderful and whimsical tales about their Gods and hunts that had made the drive over to their place seem almost too short.

“Most people stop me at this point.” Bloodhound commented, drawing a snicker from you as your eyes were glued to the ice-capped road ahead.

“Well, most people are not here. And I am very much enjoying myself. I love stories.” You could not see it, but your response brought a cracked smile to Bloodhound's hidden face.

By the time you had reached their cabin, they had entranced you in a tale about wolves and the true essence of the hunt. Though you thought your morning could not get any more surprising, Bloodhound steps out of your truck and extends an offer to share warm drinks with them inside. In the heart of Winter, you could not resist the temptation.

The interior of their cabin was much as you expected - totally unpredictable. It was like a bear and a machine had a fight, a complete subversion of everything you had come to know as normal. On the floor was a multitude of animal rugs, the couches too were draped with the furs of Bloodhound’s past, presumed, victories. Yet despite the clear aesthetic for ruggedness, a definite sense of modern order was showing through. The fireplace was quaint in its design but unmistakable retro. The furniture too, the chairs and tables, shelves and windows, were all of a very contemporary era. A perfect combination of the comforts of the past and the conveniences of the present. But all and all, the only word that came to your head when you first stepped in through their front door was - cozy.

Bloodhound leads you through their small cabin, past the living room, and into the small kitchen. They motion for you to take a seat at the wooden table in the center of the room and you marvel at the smells and sights around you. Hanging from strings draped across the walls were various herbs and spices and on the counter in bowls were fresh fruit and vegetables. They must have visited the town if this was their food supply and you feel a twinge of apprehension pluck at your light mood. You brush it off as Bloodhound asks if you would prefer tea or coffee.

“I find myself the one in honor of sharing breakfast with you this morning. Fair varning must be made, however,” Bloodhound extends a steaming cup towards you, “I have been told I am not the most accomplished of hosts.” You smile gratefully and take the cup into your shivering hands. The drink was shockingly and terribly bitter and you barely manage to hold back your gag at the first sip. Bloodhound snickers at your reaction and produces a tub of honey for you to add to your drink. “And that my tastes are mostly unagreeable.”

“Oh please,” You wheeze weakly after drowning your taste buds in the soothing honey, “This is nothing. Besides, I assume that, with your choice of isolation, you don’t particularly want to be anyone's host.” Bloodhound hums at your comment, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with it. They pull up to the opposite chair and take a seat and you notice how their drink has a straw in it.

“I am not entirely opposed to indulging certain people. And even fewer dare to give my delights a try. Therefore I rather keep them to myself. I do, however, give special heed to those vho show interest in my stories.” This draws a smirk from your lips as you bring the hot liquid up to your mouth for another sip. Content silence passes through the room and you focus intently on the warmth now spreading through your hands and to the rest of your body. “I did not think that anyone vould be out on such a morning like this.” Bloodhound admits, causing you to slowly look at them and lower your cup.

“Most are too old or too busy to take time out of their day to notice these things, or to even care. And I do not do well in the cold. Today was a special exception.” At the mention of the temperature outside you quickly raise your cup to your mouth and down another gulp. When you open your eyes again, you finally notice the bird in the room who had before blended so seamlessly in with the other oddities of the kitchen. Sat on a perch made of carved wood to the left of Bloodhound was their signature raven. It tilts its head at your attention, letting out a meek calling before eyeing you up and down. Bloodhound must really like their raven friend if they were kind enough to invite them inside. The sight alone was enough to bring a bemused grin to your chapped lips and Bloodhound watched it all happen in mild fascination.

“Do you often listen to birds?” They ask, breaking you out of an almost trance and extending to their raven a piece of freshly sliced apple.

“It is not so strange.” You breathe a laugh, “It was what led me to finding you in the rain that first evening.” Bloodhound turns their disk-like lenses towards your face and wordlessly implores you to continue. Despite the warmth now residing in your bones, you still shiver under their daunting gaze. “Your friend I mean,” You motion to the raven who has also turned to look at you with its beady, brown eyes as if aware that it was the topic of conversation, “Its cries were all I could hear. Which is saying something, considering it was storming pretty hard.”

“I do not think it skrýtinn.” Bloodhound replies without missing a beat, their voice mellow and their words an alluring symphony of strange syllables, a true joy to listen to. “Just an uncommon trait in most people. And his name is Artur.” You pass the bird a look and slightly tip your head in acknowledgment of his name. He squawks and fluffs his chest feathers, clearly enjoying being the center of attention. Bloodhound smiles at the bird. “Ravens are the messengers of the Allfather. They guide and aid me on my hunts. I do not think it skrýtinn to listen to them. Only that someone else does also.”

“You give me too much credit.” You bashfully avert your gaze, dropping your eye level to the rim of your mug no longer steaming. “It has only been a few, very odd occasions. Mere coincidences if nothing else.” Bloodhound shrugs off your deflection, unpersuaded by your argument.

“Even so.” The room falls into a content stillness after their last comment and you are left wondering how you had even ended up here. On T.V, Bloodhound was a truly mysterious character, never talking or partaking in the more rowdy activities as the others did. Sure, you were not an avid watcher, but from what little time you had spent gazing at the screen, you had made Bloodhound out to be a vastly stoic, isolated person. And by all means, they had mostly proven themselves to be exactly that person, what with their initial reluctance to meet your extended friendliness and the way they had so precariously placed themselves on this mountain all alone. However, sitting now with them in their own house, you did not feel intruding or unwelcome. And the way they spoke to you, the ease of words and conversation, came as soft and comfortable as if from someone you had known before. From them, you could feel nothing but gentle amity.

“Do you hunt?” Bloodhound’s voice wafts through the air and to your ears, bringing your head up in a hum. You snicker, a twinge of embarrassment pulling at your chest.

“Not if I can help it. Though Andante did try, I simply cannot,” you inhale deeply through your nose, suddenly aware of the gaze trained attentively on you, “Find the strength to actually kill anything. Much to the dismay of my patrons.” This peaks Bloodhounds attention and they motion for you to explain yourself.

“Every year around the beginning of Summer, before the birth of the first lambs, the town gathers for a sort of Summer festival. With my bar being the sole provider of food and alcohol for such an event, it normally fell upon Andante to supply the people with a freshly killed elk. A make-shift banquet we would all share. Everyone has so much fun.” Your head drops and your shoulders give inwards.

“But with him gone, I doubt I would be able to give the people what they want. Last year I barely managed to scrape by, I had to do a lot of ass-kissing to get the more hardened townsfolk back on my side. But this year,” Your story fades and you sigh miserably, the relief of finally expressing this concern aloud only seeming to momentarily dull the growing sense of shame.

“It is stupid, I know.” You run a hand through your hair, the bubbling self-hatred in your stomach threatening to go overboard. You were oversharing again. A lot. But you could not find a way to stop. “But, what right do I have to take the life of an animal when I already have frozen meat stored in my fridge?” Strength wanes from your knees and you are glad to be sitting down - oh, you were definitely going to kick yourself over this one later. Perhaps staying at home all alone would have been the better option after all.

In the silence that followed your last words, you felt incredible judgment bare down upon your shoulders and you wanted nothing more than to shrink away from it. Under the menace that was your own self-scrutiny, you were unable to recognize that Bloodhound was not, in fact, judging you. From behind their goggles, they watched you closely, noticing the subtle shudder of your shoulders, the downward twinge of your head, and the way your eyes seem to have lost that burning. This was something that troubled you deeply and for a terribly long time as well. So instead of what might be predicted of them to feel or do, mainly berate you for your lack of spine in the face of their profession, Bloodhound only leaned back in their chair and their mind wondering on how best to help you.

“It is not about vhat is right or vhat is not.” Bloodhound finally speaks, their tone mellow and coaxing you to look up at them again. At your acknowledgment, they continue with their explanation. “The hunt is a matter of vill - the vill of the hunter and of their prey. If your vill as a hunter surpasses that of the prey's vill to live, then you have every right to take it.” They ball their hand into a fist in an expression of power, shaking it slightly for emphasis. “You as a hunter must have an unwavering ákveðni, and strong belief in your skills. Trust your veapons and abilities, know that you are verðugt of the hunt.” Their voice lowers and they watch you for any signs of apprehension or disagreement. You only manage to look at them, eyes an unreadable ocean of something at war. They bring their fist to their chest and hammer it hard on the fabric, an attempt to ignite passion from you.

“If the hunter is humble and honors the hunt, then they have every right to taka their prey. Reap their rewards. You must just believe yourself vorthy of it. I have already seen that you have the ability and skill. Your bow, through troubled, aimed sure. And your knife brought a swift death. Now…”

“Just need to practice it.” You finish their statement, your gaze drifting a thousand miles away. Sure their wisdom was easy to take, generous even given the circumstances, but your mind was too frazzled to digest even a single word. Worthy? Not someone who hides in the forest and plays pretend bar-keeper. Bloodhound could see how you hesitated at their words, not necessarily rejecting it but not truly considering them either. They felt the urge to lean in more, to keep talking and chipping away at your pseudo mask until finally, they struck home. What were you thinking right now? Why were you so disgruntled at the thought of being worth something?

“You listen but my vords are not heard. You disagree vith vhat I say?” Bloodhound asks, their arms folding over their torso as they sit themselves upright, alert to your every movement and utterance. At their question you stir, a tired laugh that sounds more like a sigh escaping your nose and your eyes dropping their gaze.

“No, not at all. I am just… surprised.” Your response is framed with quiet complacency, your expression shifting to one of meek placidness. Bloodhound could tell that you were retreating back inside yourself, falling behind curtains of a trained profession such as the first night they met you. No longer were you that desperate person standing in the woods over a kill they mourned, instead you were a fake silhouette of someone who once was. They frown, unsure why they felt so unhappy to watch you shrink away again. Without speaking, Bloodhound asks you to elaborate.

“Forgive my rudeness but,” Your eyes snap up again and Bloodhound sees nothing in them. “I don’t really know you. And what little I do know, well, is that you are a most proficient hunter of both man and beast.” A hand lifts to your chest and you laugh. “You have seen it all and must think I am most annoying. Yet,” You pause, Bloodhound hanging off every one of your words, “You are so kind to my troubles.”

“I do not hunt in the Apex Games to prove anything. I do it for my folk and for the Allfather. I am no better than any other hunter.” Bloodhound speaks plainly, their heart thumping in their chest and their stare never once leaving your face. You smile unknowingly under their attention and they stare at your weak imitation of the real thing. Your true smile was the one they saw whilst sitting on the grass with you or when they told you stories in the car. Right now, you were faking it. Pulling away from them. Returning once more to your charade of sensibility. Whatever genuineness they had somehow managed to draw out of you was waning and they could do nothing but look on as you slipped away from them.

“I didn't mean to offend.” You ease them, your words lacing themselves with accommodation. “Your people must be very proud of all your titles however. No denying that it is impressive regardless of your motive.” You chuckle lightly. Suddenly you frown and you tilt your head at them. “May I ask,” When they did not oppose, you continued, “Why are you here? On this planet I mean. Why are you not with your people?” Bloodhound looks on like a marble statue, hardly even breathing beneath all their armor. You worry you might have overstepped your boundary and you open your mouth to apologize but they quickly cut you off.

“My folk vould not understand my decisions. Nor vould they approve of most that I do.” You can tell that the conversation was over and the warmth your bitter, hot drink had offered you only minutes earlier faded with the atmosphere. You nod in resignation.

“Then,” You say, standing and bowing your head in anticipated gratitude, the raven stranger’s attentive gaze not once shifting off your form, “I look forward to the Winter when I do not hear your Artur's call.”

~

“Oh my sweet, gentle Bar-keep, I am in need of your assistance!” Your eyes snap upwards from their work of stacking away cleaned glasses and you cannot help but grin at the one calling you. Seated at a table in the middle of your bar was a very drunk Thomas waving you over in exaggerated and hurried movements. He rocked backward in his seat and nearly looked as if he would fall over. You sigh and think it better to listen to him, lest your bar never know quiet again for the remainder of the evening. You step out from behind your bar table and carefully stroll over to him, a playfully condescending expression plastered to your face. Thomas beams a lop-sided smile and extends his hand, which you ignore and instead pat him lightly on his shoulder. He hums and overlaps your hand with his own seemingly unperturbed by your refusal.

“Ah my dear,” Thomas hiccups, swaying slightly in place despite being perfectly still, “Do not worry. I have not called you here to cause trouble. I just could not bear to see you stand behind your bar so lonely. I simply had to call you here. So troubled and worried over something.” Thomas squeezes your hand lightly and you roll your eyes at his obnoxious and misplaced concern.

“Though his words are slurred, they come from a genuine place.” From across the table, the farmer Mallory spoke. She offers you a sympathetic smile and silently apologies for her friend’s unruly behavior. Her heavy arms fold defensively over her large chest and she scowls at Thomas who sheepishly chuckles under her glare, retracting his hand and shrinking away slightly. Mallory sighs and looks to you again, the same concern that claimed her companion now sprinkled into her brown eyes. “You look a thousand years away tonight. What has upset you so?”

The two patrons turn their attention onto you and you gently shrug off their worries with a mild hand wave and flash of your smile. “You are looking for smoke signals when there is none, Mallory. And Mr. Thomas, you are concerned over the wrong things. You should be more concerned about returning to your own home before it gets too dark and I have to phone Rohan to come fetch you again.” Though the woman remains unmoved by your deflection, Thomas scoffs and shakes his head.

“Rohan’s bed will stay warm regardless of where I am. And he would excuse whatever lateness I cause if he had also seen how,” he stutters, his fingers flexing as he tried feebly to grasp at words that would not come, “ sad you look tonight.” You let out a tired laugh at the drunk fisherman’s antics and punch lightly at his shoulder.

“I assure you, my ‘sad looks’ are merely just that. Looks.” You gesture to the various empty beer glasses scattered around the table and after a nod from Mallory, you begin to place them on a tray to take back to the kitchen to be washed. “How ever could I be sad when I have your fine company to make my evenings so noisy?” This draws a cackle from the bitter woman, who relishes in your pecking at the man. Thomas gasps and feigns hurt under your judgments, a teasing hand placing pitifully over his broken heart.

It was all a lie, of course. There was some deep sincerity to your sadness that evening and it was not over Thomas’ painful crooning. Try as you might, your mind could not rid itself from the events that had occurred only the day before. What had happened with Bloodhound plagued your every waking moment. During the more lively hours of the day, when your bar was packed with singing, intoxicated patrons, you thankfully had a very loud and engrossing distraction. But now, as the evening winded down and the last table still waited to be cleared, your mind was awash with bitter thoughts.

It was all going so well, they had been so welcoming and friendly and you sat in their home confident and assured. They had shared in you their many stories and experiences, pulling you deeper into a conversation than you had ever been with them. And yet the moment you opened your mouth, allowed it to run unchecked and unguarded, the walls came down and the party ended. You were a fool, you kicked yourself. A damn, stupid fool for allowing yourself to speak so freely. To express to them a most sensitive part of yourself that not even your bathroom mirror had known. It was because of your inability to keep yourself in line that caused the rift to tear and now separate you from the person of your interest. Bloodhound told you such wonderful stories and now you were sure they would never want to speak to you again.

But you put on your brave face and pretend as if nothing is wrong. And that is true, of course. Nothing is wrong. Your life was fine before their intrusion and it shall be fine thereafter. The show must and will go on. Eventually, forced routine will become natural again and you will slip back into ease and complicit quietness. You will learn to move on and most certainly, so will they. If ever, you doubted greatly, you even left that much of an impact on them and all their glory.

“It is because you are so lonely, that's why you are so sad.” Thomas chimes, drawing both yours and Mallory’s attention back on him. He hums with content and leans back in his chair, sure that if he had a beard he would be stroking it thoughtfully. “We must find you someone to work with. Someone you can boss around and pull on their ear.” He winks at you and you smirk back, playing into his needful childishness.

“This is not the dark ages, Mr. Thomas.” You tease, taking your loaded tray to the bar counter and speaking over your shoulder. “We do not arrange marriages anymore.” The fisherman jeers and Mallory kicks him under the table. You return to them quickly, bringing with you a wet cloth and a glass of water requested by the woman. She presses it to Thomas’ face and commands him to sober up.

“Then how else are we supposed to get you hitched?” Thomas continues, paying no heed to the violent death stares of the woman sat across from him. Mallory kicks him again and he nearly spills his drink from the movement. You grin at the two of them, stepping back from the freshly wiped table with your arms folded over your chest.

“People don't need to be with others to be happy. I am perfectly content with myself as company.” You announce with your nose pointed in the air. “And you, as occasional annoyances.” The man chokes on his drink and Mallory snorts at your comment. You decide to continue playing along, matching their extended friendliness with your own enthusiasm.

“Y’know, I always thought it a vile rumor that fishermen were mad people.” You joke, taking the cloth and wringing it out before throwing it over your shoulder. “Nothing to do all day but sit in boats and think. But with every word you speak, my dear Thomas, I begin to believe that the rumor has some truth behind it." This arouses a snicker from the woman farmer and she shakes her head in amusement over you and disappointment for her friend. Thomas whines a noise that does not sound like any language you would know and Mallory leans forward.

"Finish your drink, my friend. I will see you home tonight." She urges the glass of water to his attention. "I cannot bear to watch you be torn apart any longer." Thomas darts his eyes between Mallory and you, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish out of water. You smugly smile at him, charming with all the beauty and grace of a snake. After a moment he relents, slumping down into his seat with a defeated huff, the water glass in hand.

“I swear, that mouth of yours,” Thomas moans into his glass weakly as if greatly wounded on a battlefield, “It is more vicious than any beast I’ve come across. Godspeed to anyone who dares to try to face such a monster.” At his last comment, you exhale loudly through your nose and shake your head dismissively. With one final look from Mallory, you leave the two late-evening patrons to finish their drinks and return to your work behind the bar.

The mood in the bar is somewhat lighter now and your hands worked at an easier pace with your mind quietly wondering over Thomas’ words. This was not the first time you had been scolded over your sharp words and you were sure it would not be your last. Conversation was your master and you were always one quick with your words, whether that be for the better or worse. Over the sound of you wiping down plates and glasses with a cloth, you could hear Thomas and Mallory talking faintly, the wind whispering outside your walls, and the gentle nothing of the world beyond. It was a peaceful evening, much more so now that you had dealt with your rowdy patron and the thoughts that curled like rats in a drowning cage. Though his comments were unnecessary, you thank Thomas for his distraction and for his unwitting lifting of your spirits. At least now you would be able to sleep soundly and with less of a worried mind.

Suddenly, a knock at the front door. Curious, unsure if it had even happened, you cast your attention over to it. It was far too late for anyone wanting to pop in for a drink and even if it was you were sure to turn them away. But still; there was no denying that you had, in fact, heard something. Or someone. Wordlessly, you slip out from your bar and quickly stroll to the door, pulling it swiftly open to reveal a cold night and a strange visitor.

“Oh,” You mumble, blinking numbly like a star-struck owl. You shake your head and revive your best smile to be planted on your lips. “What a lovely surprise.”

Standing before you, Bloodhound tipped their helmet, specks of accumulated snow falling off in the process. “Good evening,” They respond formally.

“And to you.” You nod back, familiar shivers running up and down your spine as you stood under their gaze. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You swoon, curling your words with over-exaggerated sweetness so as to hopefully hide your utter shock at their being here. They always seem to have a knack for popping back into your life when you least expected it. But now of all time, why?! You could hardly even look at them straight after what had happened not even the day before! Fresh embarrassment boiled in our stomach and you wanted nothing more but to go back into your quiet existence. This had to be some cruel dream from a most hateful deity, cursing you out for some horrible act you had unwittingly done. Why could they not just go back to being a figure on the T.V, an unknown? Why did they have to be here, standing before you, talking to you?!

“I vish to speak with you.” Bloodhound says, voice terribly low and near-emotionless. It caught you off guard slightly at how plain and devoid of anything they sounded, nothing at all like the passionate hunter you sat and drank with yesterday.

“My bar will be closed soon.” You explain after a moment of debating on what to say. A strong part of you begged for an excuse to say no, the refusal even gracing the tip of your tongue in eager desperation. But your hospitality overrode your anxiety and you stepped to the side to allow entry into your bar. “If you do not mind waiting a few minutes then you will have my undivided attention.”

Bloodhound considers your words, eyes darting between your face and the warm interior of the business. They too notice how your own words seem guarded this evening, jaded behind bars of entertainment and false care. You smiled, yes, but it was not genuine. Again, you reeked of fakeness and it irked them for some unknown reason. They hum their agreement and stride quickly inside. Upon their entrance, two faces turn to look at them.

You shuffle between Bloodhound and the skeptical table, closing the door and guiding your new patron over to the bar. They follow closely behind you and seat themselves on a red cushion stool. You resume your position as host and perform your duties accordingly, offering them something to drink while they wait. Bloodhound silently refused, only lifting their hand and shaking their head.

“I don’t think I mentioned it before,” You say, works trickling out like a spring in a dessert, soothing all worries with a trained presentation. “A while ago we had a fellow pass through our humble town who had a similar accent to yours. He was a swindler and tried to persuade me to purchase from him strange pickled meats and other strange things.” While you spoke, you resumed your wiping of the glasses and plates, talking over your shoulder as you worked in a most casual manner.

“Though everyone tried to steady my hand, he just was so compelling and I caved. And now I have, stored in the back for the foreseeable future, a bottle of the most potent alcohol anyone has ever seen.” Your face softens into a smile as you recall the memories of that night when a brave soul tried to drink from that poison. “Someone once tried and no one has since. Perhaps it is a drink you know?” You cock your question at Bloodhound, leaning over the bar table and grinning.

“Your intuition values you, but perhaps another night I can provide you an answer.” You take Bloodhound dismissal with grace and nod your head in swift acknowledgment. They were cold tonight, the very definition of stoic. Whatever they wanted to discuss with you, you could only hope would somehow be more lighthearted than this. From behind the hunter, movement erupts as the two patrons stand up.

“We are off, my dear Bar-Keep.” Thomas sings, waving a hand at you in an irritating manner. Mallory follows close as they make their way to the front door, her eyes practically burning holes into the raven stranger’s dead-straight back. She passes you a flash of a concerned look and you calm her down with a cool smile.

“Have a good night and a safe journey home.” You call after them, mildly glad that now your ears would know rest from the fisherman’s chanting. However, as his hands grace the front door’s handle, Thomas quickly spins on his heels and points towards you and your new arrival.

“Don’t you dare try anything with my Bar-keep!” Thomas threatens, standing with his hackles raised like a chihuahua to a bear, “If I hear that you have touched even a single hair, so help me I’ll-”

“Thomas.” Mallory punches the man's shoulder causing him to drop his ill-backed threat and wince in pain. Without a moment more, the farmer shoves the man out the door and the two disappear into the night with the door closely swiftly behind. You stare after them, the atmosphere suddenly seeming to shrink and grow cold as you become painfully aware of your aloneness with the hunter.

“They seem nice.” Bloodhound remarks and you are so stunned by their nonchalant attitude you nearly snort.

“It is a small town. Everyone here is like family.” You explain, turning to face those unreadable, immovable lenses. “Besides, I serve him beer. I get special privileges.” At this Bloodhound seems to stir and you feel slightly more room to breathe. Relax, it was just conversation. Don’t get carried away again and you will be fine.

The conversation halted, however, neither you nor Bloodhound knowing what next to say to break the forming ice that had started growing between you two. Though you wanted to know what exactly had compelled them to travel all the way to visit you on such an odd evening, you could tell that they were not ready to answer so instead you plucked random topics from the top of your head.

“Winter is moving slowly this year,” You begin, regaling the exact dialogue you had shared that afternoon prior with a patron and reusing it word for word, “No big snow storms as of yet. But that just means that towards the end of the season, Mother Nature will rear her true head and drive us all inside our houses.” You sigh and rest your elbow on the tables’ surface, your busy work of drying cutlery all finished and packed away. “Many people tell me, warn me in fact, that the late-season storms are the worst kinds. Impossible snow and hail and everything else to make the shit pie complete. And I thought the cold now is hard to handle. I have no idea how I’ll-”

“Stop that.” Bloodhound interrupts you harshly, their voice an almost growl as they sit behind their undecipherable armor. You are slightly taken aback by their outright force at the command, flashbacks to the first time you met them in all their rage reappearing in your mind. Bloodhound remains still, fists clenched over the table, shaking beneath the heavy red fabric gloves.

Though you cannot see, they squeeze their eyes shut in an effort to understand why, so suddenly, they were getting so worked up. Why were you just talking to them? So nonchalant and practiced - it felt as if talking to them was a chore. Some kind of business transaction or task that was only being done as a means to an end. But that is not what muddled Bloodhound’s mind, not your lack of genuine interaction, your quiet was not what drove them out of their house and to your bar this evening. What made them toil in confused agony, was why they even cared so much for your genuine company?

“What?” You murmur after a minute of stale silence, the wind picking up the rising atmosphere inside the bar and clawing at the windows to join in. The raven stranger does not respond right away, instead they fight with what words would be best used in this kind of delicate situation.

“Stop that.” They repeat their vague statement sternly, staring at you through their goggles with great intent, noticing any slight change in your features or body language. “Stop trying to sell me your company. I do not vant it.” At this you frown and straighten your back, confused beyond anything at what they could mean. You open your mouth to speak but Bloodhound stops you with a raised hand.

“You talk but there is no life. You smile but there is no light behind it. Do you think I am not worthy of your trueness? I have seen your true self but always you hide it. Do you think you are not worthy of enjoying yourself?” Utterly and so completely shocked at what was being said, you stood wordless with your face a mix between anger and bewilderment. Bloodhound watched you, eyes scanning up and down your form for any signs of egregious discontent. Why weren’t you speaking? Why weren’t you reacting in any way? Had their visit and accusations not even struck a nerve with you? You only stood there, placid and unwavering, like ice waiting for the sun to melt it.

“I have talked vith this free person, sat in silence vith them and felt þægilegt , calm. And I came here this evening because…” Bloodhound falters at this, unsure at what best to say when describing the reason they themselves still had no answer to. Why had they come here to bother you? Why had you not left their thoughts since yesterday, or even, since that afternoon on the grass? Why is it that when the world goes quiet and they stand still to listen, it is you who looms in the corner of their vision, beckoning for them to find you? In such a short time of meeting, somehow you had trapped them in some unforeseen and unbreakable cage - an ever-present urge to lean in more, to seek you out. But why, exactly, it was you of all people who had proclaimed that spot of interest, was a mystery that the Allfather cruelly hid from them.

“Vhat is it you vant from me?” Bloodhound lowly asks, their tone hollow and their demeanor stone-cold. Perhaps that was the reason for their spontaneous visit - to search for an answer themselves. To find out if maybe you felt at all the same way they did.

“Nothing.” The words leak from your lips like a whisper yet hold the strength and bite of a scream. Devoid of all anger, hostility, confusion, and regret, you gaze back at the raven stranger, “What ever could I possibly want from you?” And there it was - their answer.

“Now if that is all you came to ask me, then I must now say good night.” You motion with your attention towards the door, still shell-shocked over what had just transpired. Why are they so angry towards you? So taken aback by, what you were sure to be, great and comforting hospitality? This was the reason you had so ardently avoided opening yourself up to people, allowing yourself to talk unchecked often leads to situations where people get angry. And now Bloodhound was angry and you were sure you could never fix it.

The raven stranger slowly rises from their seat, tipping their helmet in a stiff manner before silently making their way over to the front door. This is how it will be, forever. You made a mistake, let your mouth have free rein over your conversations, and brought ruin to a person that made your chest ache. And as you watched them slip away into the snowy night, the only thing you can say was, “Have a safe journey home.”

[digitalstowaway]

No Winners: Chapter Three (Mia & Miles AU)

Read on AO3 | After failing to win a guilty verdict at his first trial, Edgeworth is denounced as von Karma's protege. Mia finds him, alone and traumatized, and decides that befriending him is like picking up a lost, wounded puppy on the side of the road. But it turns out they're connected in more ways than Terry Fawles' death. 

--

It was Friday afternoon by the time Lana knocked on Miles’ front door, holding a thermos of soup and smiling. 

Miles stood in his doorway, squinting at her. He wore his pajamas still—a comfortable set of flannel bottoms and a large t-shirt that hung off of his scrawny frame—and his hair was ruffled and messy. Lana could see how it stuck up in the back while the fringe had become frizzy and laid flat against his face. 

“I thought I’d check up on you,” Lana said. “And bring you soup.” 

“That was… thoughtful.” His voice was hoarse, and it sounded like he strained to get the few words out.

He would have looked adorable if there wasn’t a worrying flush to his face and glassiness over his eyes. But he did look younger than Lana had ever seen him. And smaller. If Lana didn’t know any better, she would have assumed he was a teenager taking a day off school. 

She just had to take care of him. She couldn’t leave a sick child home alone. 

“Mind if I come in?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Lana pushed past him and was walking into the house. His home was cute but definitely belonged to a 20-year-old boy. There was hardly any decor, and all of the curtains were drawn shut—though, the latter could have been due to the poor thing looking like he had just crawled out of bed—leaving the rooms to be dark and stuffy. The kitchen was bare, most notably. The only items on the countertops were an electric kettle and decorative containers that Lana suspected held nothing in them.

“May I ask what you’re doing?” Miles asked, standing behind her as she unscrewed the top of the thermos. 

“If you don’t eat the soup now, it’ll get cold.” 

If I don’t watch you eat right now, I don’t think you’ll eat at all. 

“I’m capable of taking care of myself.” 

“Sometimes it doesn’t matter if you’re capable of it or not, it’s just nice to have someone with you.” 

She began rifling through his cabinets. She was happy to see full sets of plates and bowls and cups. She wasn’t very happy to see, though, the lack of food on his shelves. 

She motioned for him to sit at his island. He did, looking like he was obeying the command of a superior. 

“I can make you tea as well,” Lana said, pouring out the soup in front of him. 

“Are you always in the habit of inviting yourself into people’s homes and invading their kitchens?” 

“I’ve been known to do so on occasion. But usually, people are more accepting of it than you because I’m also known to be a good cook.” 

Miles looked down at his soup. He stirred it, mixing up the vegetables and noodles in a whirlpool, and then set his spoon down.

He was tucked into himself, arms discreetly wrapped around his middle. Lana recognized the position as someone who couldn’t stomach the thought of food. 

And all of her forged maternal instincts that came from taking care of Ema rushed forward. Really, a 12-year-old girl and Miles Edgeworth couldn’t be too different to look after.  

Lana pressed her hand to his forehead. He allowed it, closing his eyes. 

“You’re really warm,” she sighed. “Do you have a thermometer?” 

Miles shook his head. Lana tutted. 

“Do you have cold medicine? Or any medicine?” 

“I have aspirin.” 

He was barely old enough to take aspirin. Lana prided herself on her knowledge of over-the-counter meds, and she clearly remembered the warning label on the back of the aspirin bottles to not give any to a person under 20. And god, the kid was just old enough to take such a simple drug? He was just entering the final stages of his coming of age?  

Lana had had a thought or two upon first meeting Miles that he was truly too young to be in a prosecutor’s office. Not for the uptight, snooty reasons her colleagues had. But because she couldn’t bear to think of the toll it would take on someone so young—so bent on perfection. 

“Do you have anything else?” she asked.

Miles shook his head. His eyebrows raised as if he was in trouble and scared of being scolded. It was always the subtle things that made Lana worry.  

“Well, lucky for you, I carry everything in my purse.” 

As she dug through her purse for her trusty bottle of acetaminophen, he coughed harshly into his elbow. It sounded worse than the night before. Like his lungs were trying to come up his throat. He winced and grimaced and struggled to breathe through it. Lana forgot about the pills and pulled out her phone. 

“I’m going to have Mia pick up a few things for you,” she said. 

“No—”

“Miles, you’re not going to get better like this. I’ll have her drop off something for your cough and a thermometer at some point today, okay?” 

“And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make sure you finish your soup.” 

—

By the time Mia arrived with a little bag from the pharmacy, Lana was waiting in the doorway with her phone in hand. She tried to smile when Mia met her, but she looked tired and worried. 

“Is he okay?” Mia asked. 

She tried not to care. People got the flu. People lived through the flu. Miles was going to be fine in a week. 

“He’s in rough shape,” Lana said with a shrug. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.” 

Mia passed her the bag with the highly specific requested items inside. Two types of cough syrup—antitussives and expectorants. Whatever those were. Lana had said a balance of both was necessary. A bottle of acetaminophen and another of ibuprofen. There was something about alternating between the two that wasn’t explained well over text. And cough drops (of which Mia had bought three kinds), acetaminophen, ibuprofen, and a thermometer. Any thermometer, Lana told Mia. 

The shopping list had been followed by a notification that Lana had sent Mia more than enough money to cover it all. There was a note in the money-sharing app that said and buy yourself something nice ;) xo Lana 

It had been a nice break from her anxiety-ridden text messages. Mia had bought herself a pack of gum and two lollipops.

“That’s for you,” Mia said when Lana pulled out the second lollipop. 

“How sweet,” Lana said. 

“Can I see him? I want to look at the scary prodigy all sick.” 

“Yeah, but be quiet. He just fell asleep.” Lana led her in. “Why do you want to see him like this?” 

“Blackmail. In case he ever tries pulling something, I’ll have a picture of him all snotty and gross.” 

“Mia, don’t take a picture of him.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s mean. And isn’t your whole thing being anti-blackmail?” 

This was different. There would be no one to truly show the picture to. And Miles would catch on to that. The threat would be superficial and empty. 

The living room was dark and quiet, and Mia nearly missed Miles on the couch. He was curled up under a blanket, blending into the upholstery. But looking closer, Mia could see how pale his face was and the light layer of sweat covering his forehead.

Lana unpacked the pharmacy bag on the coffee table, careful to not make a sound to disturb Miles. But he woke himself up anyway, his uneasy breathing turning into a coughing fit. A hand emerged from the blanket, and a crumpled tissue in his fist was pressed to his mouth. His cough sounded awful. Mia nearly gagged in sympathy when she heard something deep in his lungs get stirred up. 

“Miles, Mia brought you some stuff,” Lana said. “Can you take your temperature real quick?” 

She assembled the thermometer. Mia had picked one up with multiple tips in hopes that the fancier it looked, the better it would work. 

Lana handed the thermometer over, and Miles laid it under his tongue. Mia was surprised by the lack of fuss he made, and he did close his eyes immediately and seemed close to sleep by the time the thermometer beeped. 

Lana slid it out of his mouth for him as a mother would. 

“103.5,” she read. 

Mia grimaced. That wasn’t good at all. 

Miles’ eyes opened, but they didn’t react to what Lana had said. Instead, they fell on Mia with a glare nastier than what he usually served. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“I delivered you half of a pharmacy,” Mia said, gesturing to the table. “Be grateful.” 

Lana interrupted them. “Miles, if your fever gets much higher, I think I’m going to take you to a hospital.” 

And the glare towards Mia immediately changed to a scared look to Lana. He shook his head. 

“I’m fine,” he said. 

“But if you get any worse, I think you’ll need help and there’s no clinics open at this hour. It doesn’t sound like you’re breathing very well, either.”

It didn’t. Every other intake of breath was raspy.  

Miles shook his head again. Lana sat next to him on the couch and brushed his hair back from his face. It was absolutely out of character to allow himself to be coddled in such a way. 

How childish he looked, Mia thought. He certainly always carried the air of a brat, but he had never looked so small. So helpless. So in need of a person like Lana Skye. 

“Only if you get worse, okay?” Lana said. “And Mia brought you a lot of medicine, so hopefully you start feeling better by tonight.” 

But Miles still looked scared, and Mia wondered what his damage was with hospitals. Not that anyone particularly liked having to go into hospitals. They were genuinely acknowledged as places no one ever wanted to be. 

“Let’s try to get this cough under control first,” Lana said and reached for one of the bottles of cough syrup. 

Hours passed, and Mia stayed. She felt bad about leaving Lana alone with the possibility of Miles needing to be taken to a hospital hanging in the air. 

It was also nice to see Lana mother Miles, waking him so often to take a different pill or to press the thermometer into his mouth one more time. When she wasn’t doting on the prosecutor, they snuck into the kitchen to talk like children. 

“He really needs a doctor,” Lana said. “But it’ll be best if I can get him to a clinic tomorrow instead of putting him through the emergency room tonight.”

 “You’d go with him?”

“Do you think he could drive himself?” 

Mia rocked against the countertop. “No.” 

“Then, I’d have to go with him. Or someone would have to go with him, and I don’t really see anyone else lining up to escort him.” 

Lana picked up her phone and, looking over her shoulder, Mia could see her texting Ema and then Damon Gant. One a reassuring conversation and the other a semi-desperate beg to ask anyone at all if they could do her a favor. 

“You know,” Mia said, “if someone needs to watch Ema tonight, I can do it.” 

Lana looked up, perhaps embarrassed that she had been caught in such weakness. “Would you?” 

“Unless you need someone to wrangle Miles to the hospital.” 

Lana smiled. “We’ll see which child needs the most supervision. But if I did ask you to watch Ema tonight, you wouldn’t mind?” 

“Of course not. I have nothing better to do.” 

“And if I asked you to help me get Miles to a hospital?” 

Mia tilted her head back. She had little reason to say no. “Sure.” 

— 

As the sun was finally setting, coughing turned to choking. 

Miles struggled to pull himself up. He rested on his elbows, his head bowed, coughing too hard to take in any fulfilling breaths. 

Lana tugged him up so that he was sitting against her. His shoulders heaved and with his coughs, small strings of bile spilled from his mouth. 

“Can you get towels please?” Lana asked Mia. 

Mia ran down the halls until she found a closet and stacks of towels. It was an unnecessarily large house for one kid. Mia had a one-bedroom apartment with barely enough room to accommodate Maya when she visited. And there was Miles living in a house with, if Mia counted right as she passed them, two bathrooms and a bedroom on the first floor alone. 

But she couldn’t be mad at him if his sleazy mentor gave him the money to buy the house. If anything, it was good for Miles to keep whatever that man had already given him. 

Mia grabbed all the hand towels and wash clothes she could, wetting a few down, and ran back to the sitting room where Lana was trying to keep Miles up. 

“It’s okay,” she was repeating, and Mia could hear Miles mumbling apologies as she handed over the towels. 

Lana got to work cleaning up his face and then his clothes. Miles’ thin hands were limp on his lap, only being moved by Lana to scrub at the bile that hand landed on his sweatpants. 

“Do you want to change?” Lana asked. 

Miles shook his head. He was usually so pristine, Mia was surprised he didn’t want a fresh pair of clothes. 

“Okay. We can lay back down for now.” Lana helped him shuffle around until he was lying back down. 

She covered him with his blanket again and left one of the damp cloths over his forehead. Mia stood awkwardly off to the side. 

“It’s getting kinda late,” Lana said. 

“If you want me to watch Ema now, I can,” she said.

“I don’t know. I think I should really get Miles to a hospital, but I think it’ll take at least the two of us to get him anywhere.” 

“Is there anyone else who can watch Ema?” 

Lana didn’t say anything. Mia didn’t know many people who could really be left alone with a child. Not any that could be called at the last minute. 

“What about Diego?” she asked. 

“Ema’s never met Diego before. I’ve barely met Diego.” 

“Yeah, but he’d probably be willing to stay with her for the night. He mentioned to me once that he likes kids.” 

“Miles is a kid, and he doesn’t seem to like him.” 

“Miles is 20.” 

“I’m 20,” Miles agreed sleepily. 

“And Ema isn’t Miles,” Mia said. “She’s… less difficult.” 

“Okay,” Lana said. “If he doesn’t mind, tell him I can give him our house key if he meets us here and helps us get Miles into my car.” 

Mia didn’t hesitate to grab her phone and begin texting Diego, her newest message harshly juxtaposing her previous, half-flirty ones. Miles whined next to her, telling Lana that he would be okay. That he didn’t need to go anywhere. And Lana gently cooed to him that it would be alright. He needed more help than she could give him, and she and Mia would stay with him. 

Mia didn’t remember when she volunteered to stay with Miles in the hospital. She thought that she would be there long enough to get him inside and moved on from the waiting room before going back to her own apartment. She watched Miles cough into his pillow and Lana brush his damp hair back from his forehead and knew that she was well past the point of any further negotiations.

[eideticmemory]

FINE LINE | SPENCER REID

Two decades and two children later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting.

Word Count: 2,604.

Warning: Daddy issues, mommy issues, angst, drama, romance. Love to see it.

You could feel it. The light illuminating your face, touching it with a gentle heat that made your eyes flutter open. Your head felt heavy, as if your neck was attempting to support the weight of a canon ball. You rested your skull on the back of the chair you sat in, eyelids dropping just above your irises. Just in the distance, you could make out a cinema screen. Large, blurry, projecting a bright white screen.

Her image appeared in the center of the square, perfect, in place, still. But you could make out the grin on her face. Watching her dark red lips release the words, “Hello, sleepyhead.”

You could just barely muster up the strength to part your lips, pushing out a small gust of air. It was hot and made your mouth feel like it was on fire.

“H—“

“Oh,” she interrupted you, gently, quietly. You jumped at the feeling of her touching your arm, her palm tight around your forearm. She was cold, freezing, but you could still feel warmth radiating off of her. “I’m afraid you can’t stay too long this time. It’s time to wake up.”

“Hm?” You whined. “Mm?”

“Wake up,” she repeated. “C’mon, wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake u—“

“Up!”

You jolted, violently, harshly, your eyes springing open to reveal the usual sight of your bedsheets.

“Mom, wake up,” an exasperated voice sounded from beside you, the words catching your attention instantly. Tightly.

“Huh?” You mumbled, flickering your eyes up to the figure at your side, sitting on your bed, looking at you with a concerned stare. “Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Eden asked. Sunlight shone on her face, giving her the appearance of an angel. Sent to wake you, pull you back into reality. “What were you dreaming about?”

You let out a long sigh, as if you could even begin to explain your subconscious mind to your 15-year-old daughter. “Oh, y’know,” you whispered, sitting yourself upright and resting back against the headboard. “Just...lions, and tigers, and bears.”

“Oh my,” Eden responded, her big brown eyes concentrated on your face.

You chuckled underneath your breath, and let out a quick huff. “Oh, shoot, is your brother up?”

“He’s up, he’s dressed, he’s fed, and reading the Illiad.”

“Oh?” You stepped out of bed, pulling the duvet over your legs to reveal your pajama pants. “What happened to War and Peace?”

“He finished that yesterday.”

“He gets quicker every hour,” you shook your head.

“It’s a genius thing,” Eden shrugged. She fiddled with the ends of her hair, watching the strands brush over her fingers as she chewed her lip. “Hey, mom?”

“Yeah, kid?” You replied, standing in the bathroom mirror as you began to get ready for the day.

“You—you know dad, right?”

You stopped in your tracks, any and all movements coming to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you spun on your heels, slowly, until you came face to face with Eden. “Uh . . . your dad?”

“Yes.”

“Tall? Long, brown hair? Hazel eyes? Has a birthmark on his right thigh?” You listed, toothbrush hanging from your mouth.

“Ew,” Eden cringed. “Yes.”

“Never met him in my life,” you shrugged.

“Mom.”

“Kid,” you tilted your head, face softening as you realized how nervous she was. “What’s up?”

She sighed, ducking her head down to avoid eye contact. “I invited him to my sweet 16.”

“Oh.” It came out like reflex. You said the word before you could fully process the information.

“Are you mad?”

“No—huh? E,” you rushed to sit beside her. “You don’t have to hide inviting your father from me—you—you don’t have to invite your father at all. He’s always welcome to visit on your birthday. And of course he should be at your sweet sixteen.”

“Really?” Eden questioned, eyebrows raised. “So, it will be a nice day? A nice party? Everyone will be nice to everyone?”

“Yes, yes, girl scouts honor.”

“Good,” she nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh, babe,” you murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It—“

“Mom!” A shrill voice struck both of you with fear, coming out of nowhere.

“Yes, my love?” You directed at Emerson, watching him fidget with his hands in the doorway. His shaggy brown hair covered his face slightly and his button up was tucked into his khaki shorts.

“My chess tournament starts soon, are you coming?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world, kiddo. You and your sister go downstairs while I get dressed.”

They’re obedient, your kids. Kind, driven, smart — with an average IQ of 187.5. The could take over the world if they really, really wanted to. But they don’t. They just want to go out for pizza, and get their twenty dollar allowance every week, hang out with their friends, focus on school, and . . . to see their father. You solemnly set your toothbrush down in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror — tired, worn out, nauseous from another . . . dream? Nightmare? You’re not sure, and frankly, you don’t want to think about it.

So, you pushed on. You got dressed, fixed your hair, used light makeup to cover your exhaustion. Stepping out into the bedroom, your eyes quickly fell on your cellphone — the device laying on your bedside dresser. Hands on your hips, you shook your head, telling yourself not to do it. It’s not necessary, it’s overbearing to even think about.

Then, you remembered who you were dealing with here. And you rushed over to picked up the phone.

“[y/n] Reid,” he beamed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you talked to E,” you whispered, pacing back and forth in your bedroom.

“I did,” Spencer confirmed. “She called me the other day.”

“To invite you to her birthday party.”

“Yes.”

“And are you planning on coming?” You asked.

“Of course I’m planning on coming. It’s my daughter’s sixteenth birthday.”

“Right, right, it’s not like you missed her fifteenth, or thirteenth, or her twelfth, or her actual birth, or anything.”

“[y/n]—”

“Listen, I didn’t call to argue, or even talk,” you sighed. “I just called to tell you that this party isn’t an option. You will be here Saturday at 10 o’clock sharp, you will help decorate, you will spend time with your children, and you will make this the best damn day Eden Reid has ever had. Understood?”

“I have to help decorate?”

“Spencer—“

“I will be there. 10 o’clock. I will help decorate, I will spend time with my children, I will make this the best damn day Eden Reid has ever had. I understand.”

You released a quiet huff, like your lungs couldn’t stand to hold the breath any longer. “Thank you.”

Spencer let out a soft, sad laugh, “Haven’t done that in a while.”

Chess gives you anxiety. You understand it. You can conceptualize it, and even play it. Well. But the bubbling in your stomach every time you witnessed a game — particually one where your eight year old son is playing — comes back to haunt you again and again. You don’t worry about Emerson, he can take care of himself. He’s like his father in that way, the game is in his blood. But the tension, the speed, the risk. It made your breath lodge in your chest, and every so often, you had to sigh to regain control.

The only thing that could pull you from that stress is Em. Emerson Derek Reid, the little half smile on his face when he wins a match. It makes the three hour tournaments worth it. Watching your boy play against college level students who have been playing all their lives. Yeah, so has he.

He jumps off stage in an excited state, rushing towards you with open arms. “You’re a tiger, kid!” You exclaim. “You killed it.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he shrugged. “It’s really my opponents’ fault, they wouldn’t know a queen from a rook if it was looking them in the face.”

“Ooh, cat fight.” E remarked, causing Em and you to laugh.

“Hey,” you said. “Since you’re both already out of school today . . . wanna play hookie?”

“Mom? I am shocked!” E gasped, trying hard to contain a laugh.

“Oh, c’mon, we never get to hang out anymore since you guys started these college classes and my business went up. I’m off work, you’re already out of class, let’s just do it. Let’s go shop and eat and hang out and I will write you guys an excuse for tomorrow, okay?” You rambled, putting your hands to their shoulders.

Em and E looked at each other, and after a minute, they looked up at you and nodded.

Your very, very favorite people on the whole planet.

You took them to the mall. Bought Em some new clothes, but he wasn’t really interested. You and E did most of the picking. He sat in the corner of the store reading and only participated to try on outfits you guys had picked out. You both squealed and told him how cute he looked, and he scrunched up his nose. Just like . . .

And then you bought E some shoes, some vans. There was a huge sell, and she fell in love with everything she tried on. And you fell in love with seeing her happy so you ran up a bill.

“Okay, which one of us is dying?” E said as you sat at lunch. Em bursted out laughing.

“Wha—neither of you! I just wanted to spoil you guys. You kill yourselves all week with school, even though it’s summer. And I never see you, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” Em hummed, an unconvinced look in his face as he eyed his sister. “I bet someone died.”

“Em!” You exclaimed, E’s laughter blending in. “God, you guys are morbid.”

“Our parents both worked in the FBI, we’re basically trained,” E giggled.

Just then, you got a call. Work. Fuck. You stood from the table and stepped outside, excusing yourself first.

“[y/n].”

“Can we close the Pickett case tonight?”

“Raven . . .”

“I don’t want that boy in that house for one more second. [y/n], I will send you more of my notes, but . . . read them, read them. You will understand. Please.”

You sighed, “I’ll be there at ten. If you are not there at ten . . . I’ll wait for you. Let’s do it.”

“Thank you! Thank you, thanks! Bye. Sorry. Bye.”

You took in a deep breath and shook your head.

Nothing was going to spoil your lunch. Not today.

The car ride home, the three of you vibed to music. Your kids knew every word to Fleetwood Mac’s discography and it was your greatest accomplishment. They even developed their own dance routine to Dreams when they were younger.

Your very, very favorite people on the whole planet.

You pulled up to your house, and as you approached the driveway, you saw a familiar car parked out front. Your stomach flipped, caved in, skipped, hopped, and jumped.

Words can’t even described what it did when you saw him.

Sitting on the porch swing.

“Dad?” Em exclaimed loudly in excitement. You parked in the driveway, eyeing Spencer the whole time.

“Dad?” E said quietly, confusion in her voice. “Did you—“ She directed at you, interrupted by her brother hopping out of the car.

Em ran up to Spencer, and his father scooped him up in a quick motion, spinning him around and kissing his head.

You let out a quick huff, turned to E and smiled, “C’mon, go say hi.”

You followed E out of the car, and watched as she tip toed towards Spencer. She suddenly skipped and jumped into Spencer’s arms.

“Hey, dad,” she said.

“Hey, kid!” He replied, before putting her on her feet. “Your hair is getting so long!”

“Yeah,” she twirled her hair and laughed. “What are you doing here!”

“I wanted to see you guys . . .” He turned to you. “And your mom, who’s quiet as a mouse.”

“Hello,” you shrugged, giving him a kind smile.

“Are you staying for today, dad?” Em asked, tucked under Spencer’s arm.

“I was actually hoping to stay until Sunday, if that’s okay with your mom, of course.”

Your very, very least favorite person on the whole planet.

“Please, mom? He can be here for my birthday!” E pipped.

Em. E. Em. E. Those big, pouty eyes of theirs staring you down. “You can stay in the guest room,” you told Spencer.

“Is that close to your bedroom?” Spencer smirked.

“Heh,” you huffed. “Don’t push it. You can stay upstairs.”

“Yes! C’mon, dad! I made a new model that I wanna show you!”

Later that night, you made the kids pasta. It was one of your finer cuisines, taught to you by an old friend, and they asked for it all the night, especially when they needed to study.

Spencer wandered into the kitchen after getting settled upstairs. “Woah! I thought we could go out for dinner, huh? My treat?”

“We would, dad,” Eden said. “But we both have tests tomorrow. Calculus and Physics. Maybe tomorrow.”

You set their plates down and looked up at Spencer. You walked over to him, eyeing him knowingly as you led him out of the kitchen.

“They’re nerds,” Spencer laughed.

“They’ve also both got an eidetic memory. It’s gonna take them all of three minutes to study, then they’ll be all over you again,” you told him, walking out onto the back patio.

Following you, Spencer closed the door behind him, isolating you two on the porch.

You sat down, plopped down, and looked up at him, “Why are you here?”

“Subtle.”

“Spencer.”

“I mean it, you should be a federal agent.”

“Spencer.”

He sighed heavily, “I have some things I want to . . . handle.”

“Here?” You asked.

“Yes,” he hesitated. “I haven’t been enough a part of the kids’ lives—“

You rolled yours eyes. Yeah, you knew that.

“I want to fix that, to have a real relationship with them.” He continued.

“You’ve always been able to,” you shrugged. “You get distracted.”

“Work,” he muttered.

“Always is.”

“And . . .” he whispered, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the ground.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “And?”

“I — I want to fix my relationship with you.”

Huh.

“I want us to go to therapy.”

Huh.

“Wha—“ You stuttered, rising from your seat. “Spencer, what?”

“Not couples therapy. Nothing . . . romantic,” his voice cracked. “But we can’t keep acting so . . . poorly around the kids. They’re smart, they notice things. They always have.”

“Spencer, how are we gonna go to therapy? You’d need to dig up Freud himself and have him work on us full time.”

“I just think we need to talk,” he murmured. He stepped closer to you, breathing deeply as he towered over you. “Will you please just think about it?”

You stared him in the eye, let out a heavy exhale.

Spencer.

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Different but the Same (pt. 18)

tw: possessiveness, cursing, an emotional breakdown, mentions of bullying/gossiping, very brief mention of cat-boys 

Word count: 4.8k

Rating: R18+/M

Omegaverse AU, Rating: 18+/M

Pairings: Iwaizumi x fem!reader, Ushijima x fem!reader

Summary: An unexpected encounter at the Inter-High tournament tossed you into a whirlwind. Being tugged between two males, two different packs, who will reign supreme in this battle for your heart?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch 18: Normalcy

“C’mon!”

“Tendou, where are we going?” She whined, stumbling as the middle-blocker dragged her arm. “I have to go to the office.” 

“You can go later,” he replied as they approached the volleyball gym.

“Oi, why are you taking me here?” She squeaked, tripping. “I’m not supposed to be at practice until Wednesday!” Tendou shrugged, ignoring her protests as he threw the door open. The lights flickered on, revealing the Shiratorizawa pack. Goshiki’s face was flushed as his hands shook, bowing steeply at the sight of the Omega. The others grinned. Semi was wearing a party hat, a party horn perched on his pink lips. The others were just smiling at her, all wearing an assorted mess of party hats. 

“Surprise!” 

Her jaw dropped. “You boys didn’t have to do this for me!” 

(Name) looked up at Semi who offered her a lopsided grin before he ruffled her hair.

“Don’t be like that (Name). Of course we did.” 

She squealed, throwing herself into Semi’s arms - ignoring the flicker of irritation and jealousy that spiked through her mark - burying her face into his chest. “Thank you, thank you!” 

Semi grunted, holding her while his cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t just me,” he muttered. “Tendou planned most of it.”

Her (e/c) eyes landed on Tendou, detaching herself from Semi before hurling herself into Tendou’s arms. “No wait!” Tendou squawked, dropping the boxed gift in his arms in favour of holding her. (Name) giggled loudly, the chimes filling the Shiratorizawa gym. 

Immediately, everyone felt at ease. The crease in Shirabu’s forehead straightened out, Taichi had a pleasant smile on his face. Yamagata was teasing Reon over one thing or another, a wide grin breaching his face. 

(Name) giggled, tears welling up in her eyes at the sight of all these familiar and happy faces around her. She had been scared - petrified even - that the boys would leave her once the whole mess between her and the pack’s head Alpha had occurred. She was grateful that they still wanted to be around her. Her thoughts were interrupted as Goshiki bounded up to her, cheeks dyed a cherry red as he held a box in his hands. 

“What’s this for, Goshiki-kun?” She tilts her head.

A shiver shoots down Goshiki’s spine as he bows and holds out the box to the Omega. “F-for you!” 

She opens the box carefully, eyes widening at the splotches of maroon and white fabric. Her hands shake slightly as she pulls it out, fingers tracing the soft fabric. “This, this is-” she whispers, heart humming.

“We made it. All of us,” Semi supplied, appearing behind Goshiki. He helps her unfold the blanket, pointing at the various patches on the quilt. “This patch was from me,” he grins as he taps on the square with a guitar and their silhouettes on it. 

“And me!” Tendou did a little wiggle of a dance when he tapped onto a different chaotic square. A blend of Studio Ghibli characters laying on top of a cookie-patterned square decorated it. 

Goshiki shyly taps on his square - an image of an eagle on top of a pattern of a mother bear holding a baby bear. “This is me.” His cheeks darkened as his eyes flit away from (Name).

(Name)’s entire face felt hot as her mouth drops slightly. She had never received such a thoughtful gift before. Flipping the corner up, her fingers traced the plush velvet lining. “This is so nice of you guys,” she sniffles, looking up at their faces. The boys are quick to surround her, enveloping her into a pack-hug with Ushijima keeping his distance. His fingers twitched, longing filling him as he ached to be beside her.

As they break away, Semi ruffled her hair. “‘Course, you’ve done so much for us. It’s the least we could do.” 

They all exchange glances before they simultaneously chime, “Happy birthday (Name)!” 

“Now let’s party!” Tendou cheered, pulling out two bottles of sparkling apple cider. 

*****

“So?”

“So what?” She glanced over at the Alpha, brows furrowed. They were sitting off to the side as the rest of the pack partied - the blanket over her lap. Her fingers idly traced a navy blue square with a volleyball pattern mixed with white roses on it, a majesty eagle superimposed over it.  

“You’re avoiding him.” 

His brown eyes flicked from the square over to the captain. Tendou and Ushijima were standing on the complete opposite side of the room, his olive eyes flitting to her every few seconds.

She sighed. “Yeah.” 

“What’s running through your head, little one?” 

The Omega swatted at him, “don’t call me that dumbass.” Semi chuckled, ruffling her head. “I don’t really know,” she admitted with a sigh. “I marked Hajime this weekend.”

Semi hummed, “We all figured as much. Your scents have mixed.” Semi looked down at her. “And what about Wakatoshi?” 

Her fingers played with the bottom of her shirt. “What about him?” 

“You’ve been avoiding him.” 

“Maybe.” 

Semi’s fingers reached up to brush against the mark. Ushijima’s head snapped to the movement, feeling the touch through the bond. “Have you decided?” 

Her nostrils flared as she let out a deep sigh. “No.” She raised her face to meet Semi’s brown eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Semi.” 

“What does your heart tell you to do?”

(Name) snorted at the cliche advice, rolling her eyes. “A little late to ask that, isn’t it?” She took a sip from her cup. “My emotions have been all over the place since they marked me...since I helped him with his rut.” She scowled. “Ever since I met him at Interhigh this year actually.” 

Semi’s baritone chuckle caused her eyes to snap up at him, glaring. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not funny.” He rolled his arm back, stretching it. “Be honest with yourself right now.” His brown eyes froze her in place. “Do you want Wakatoshi in your future? You obviously saw some type of future when you accepted his courting gift.”

“His what?” Her jaw dropped. 

Semi grabbed her hand, pushing her sleeve back to reveal the silver watch. “This? Didn’t you know that was his courting gift to you?”

Ushijima turned back to her, the watch in hand. “Will you accept this gift?” He firmly - but gently - grasped her hand, pulling it towards him as he placed it into her hand.

“Ushijima-san, that was expensive, you didn’t have to get it for me.” 

“I’ve already bought it. Will you accept it?” 

She pouted before giving him a small nod. “Thank you, Ushijima-san.” 

“No!” She spluttered, yanking her hand back and staring at the watch. “I thought he was just being nice and bought it for me to replace the watch I broke.” She groaned, slapping her hand to her face. “No wonder he started getting closer and started scenting me more.” Her head whipped up as she glared at Semi. “Did you know?” (Name) demanded, eyes narrowing as she jabbed a finger into his chest.

Semi stumbled back, holding his hands up in defeat. “We all did, we thought you’d changed your mind and was seeing where it went. I didn’t know that you weren’t aware.” He snorted. “Can I just say that I’m honestly not surprised that Wakatoshi didn’t even say it outright though?” He flicked her forehead, jaw clenched. “Do you accept all Alphas gifts?! What on Earth were you thinking, dumbass?”

“Hey!” (Name) whined, rubbing her forehead. “He just invited me shopping, I had just broken my watch so I was looking at some, and by the time I knew what was happening, he’d already bought it for me.” 

Semi thumped her again. “Stupid Omega,” he rolled his eyes. 

“Stop that,” she pouted. “I didn’t know.”

Semi pinched his nose, “well now you do.” She sighed, nodding. “Well, how long until your next full heat?” 

(Name) pulled out her phone, checking her calendar. “November.” 

Semi raised an eyebrow, “oh wow, after Spring prelims?” She nodded, humming as she crossed her arms. “Guess you’ll need to have your decision by then.” Semi’s lips quirked up teasingly. “How will you handle your mates competing against each other? Will you comfort one or celebrate with the other?”

Her nostrils flared as she smacked his chest. “I don’t even want to think about that right now, Semi.” She headed towards Goshiki and the other first years, throwing one final glance at Semi. “Though Seijoh is definitely going to win this time.” 

Semi chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, little one.”

“I said stop calling me that!” 

*****

“So, where is she?” 

“Where’s who?”

“(Name)-chan, of course!” Iwaizumi shrugged his shoulders, tugging his jersey on. “What do you mean? It reeks of strawberry in here.” Iwaizumi sent his best friend a sly smirk, humming in response. Oikawa gasped, fumbling to catch his bottle. “You guys--!”

Iwaizumi snorted, “obviously. Did you think I wouldn’t fully bond with my mate?”

“Eyyy, nice goin’, Iwaizumi!” Mattsun grinned, clapping the male on the back. 

“So, I’m guessing she’s not keeping the bond with Ushijima?” Iwaizumi pursed his lips at Makki’s question, shrugging again. “Why are you shrugging?”

Oikawa gaped, scandalised. “She isn’t thinking about taking that asshole as a mate, is she?”

“She hasn’t really said anything about it to me,” Iwaizumi said dryly. “She promised me that she only wanted me, but maybe she’ll change her mind.”

The expressions of the other third-years darkened. “We have to keep her away from them,” Oikawa growled, his scent stinging their noses.

“Oi! We gotta finish getting ready first,” Makki chided, smacking his shoulder against Oikawa.

“Yeah, clean that scent up or this fundraiser won’t go as well.” 

It was the day of Seijoh’s annual cultural festival. The volleyball team was hosting a retro Western diner where they would be selling typical Western fast meals in their volleyball uniforms. Considering that Oikawa was one of the biggest names in their school, they couldn’t have his bitter scent driving away people. As the Seijoh third-years made their way to the gym, they were greeted with the sight of bustling tables that the first and second years were managing. Immediately they hopped into position, flitting between the curtained-off kitchen and the rest of their cafe. 

“Got any room for me?” 

Watari looked up from the menu, grinning. “(Name)!” 

At the call of her name, the other males’ heads snapped to attention. Iwaizumi itched to approach his mate, but he was busy serving a table of Omegas, who were all busy gawking at his arms and giggling. 

(Name) had changed out of her Shiratorizawa uniform, wearing her favourite blouse and skirt. It had been a rather hot fall day, the seasons still changing. “Right this way, (Name).” Watari led her to the open table closest to the kitchen - giving the pack an opportunity to greet her when they were walking to and from the main cafe. 

“How’s it going so far?” (Name) asked Watari, glancing around. Her eyes lingered on the Omegas, her nostrils flaring slightly as one of the Omegas giggled even louder, leaning forward in an attempt to grab Iwaizumi’s attention. 

“It’s been good! We’ve had a really steady flow all day,” Watari grinned before placing the menu down onto the table. “I have to get back to the front, but I hope we can chat more later!”

“Of course, Watari-kun. Don’t forget to drink water, okay?”

“Yes Mama,” Watari rolled his eyes playfully before taking back his position.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

(Name) glanced up to see both Mattsun and Makki standing beside her. Behind them, Iwaizumi was glaring at their backs. He had planned on waiting on his mate, but the two idiots had snagged the chance as Iwaizumi was currently preoccupied with his own table. “Well don’t you both look so handsome,” she teased. They were all wearing their volleyball uniforms with a silver tie loose around their necks. 

Mattsun ran a hand through his hair, giving her a cheeky grin. “Don’t we just?” 

“What can we get for you, miss?” Makki winked, pinching his shirt by his shoulders and pulling it forward slightly in mock importance. 

(Name) scanned their menu. “I’ll just have a milkshake and some fries please.”

“Anything for you madame,” Makki bowed with a flourish. The Omega rolled her eyes as the two walked away, arguing about who would be the one to fetch what.

Her eyes scanned the room once more. Each table was full. Oikawa had his own section, several Omegas sitting there in an attempt to vie for his attention. Oikawa threw (Name) a flirtatious wave, blowing her a kiss to the distaste of those hopeful Omegas. 

(Name) rolled her eyes before she looked back at Iwaizumi - black filling her vision at the sight of a bold Omega grabbing onto his bicep. Blood rushed to her ears as she abruptly stood up, pushing the seat back before she strutted over to her mate. 

“Oh, (Name)!” Iwaizumi’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of his mate - anger pulsing through their shared mark. 

He didn’t know how to react when her hand darted forward, grabbing a fistful of his jersey in front of his chest as she yanked him towards her. He let out a confused mmph as their lips met, easily succumbing to her touch as his eyes shut. 

 “Wow,” he breathed as they pulled apart. 

(Name) turned back to the Omegas, who visibly flinched before (Name) gave them a wide smile. “Sorry, I must have missed you there. Please keep your filthy paws off of my mate.” The Omega turned back to Iwaizumi, eyes darkening. “Haji, do you have your spare jersey?”

“Yeah, it’s in my duffel in the kitchen,” Iwaizumi replied, head still spinning from his mate’s actions. 

“Thanks!” She chirped before strutting back towards the kitchen - leaving heads to turn and watch her. The Omegas were mortified, Iwaizumi was in a haze. The Seijoh pack, however, had an array of reactions. Kindaich was especially pale, unsure of what to think about the exchange. Yahaba’s jaw was slightly dropped. The third years, especially Oikawa, were busy trying to hide their laughter. Never before had they seen such a possessive display by (Name). 

The two “quieter” ones of Seijoh Four approached (Name) just as she was unbuttoning her blouse. They both threw their heads back in laughter, Makki wiping tears from his eyes. “Damn, (Name), I didn’t know that you could be like that.”

“Like what?” The Omega’s nose flared as she finished tucking the jersey into her skirt. She fixed her hair slightly before turning back to look at the third years. 

“Nothing! You’ve just never really been that possessive of Iwaizumi before,” Makki glanced over at the ace, who’s eyes were darkened. 

“Yeah, that was kinda hot,” Mattsun admitted, ruffling her hair. 

Iwaizumi let out a sharp growl at the contact, glaring at his packmate before he focused his energy on calming down his Alpha. His Alpha was more than prepared to claim her again right then and there after that display of dominance she had shown everyone. 

She rolled her eyes, tugging the jersey more so that her marks were shown off to the world. “Am I not allowed to be possessive over my mate?” She sniffed, before retreating to her table. “Those silly Omegas should have seen his mark or smelled my scent on him.” With that, she spun on her heels and stalked off.

“We get it, Iwa’s yours, (Name),” Makki chortled, calling after the Omega who promptly ignored him.

A flush of lust and admiration filled Iwaizumi. His mate had never reacted so negatively when it came to other Omegas interacting with him. Though he hated that Mattsun had been the one to say it, it was definitely hot. 

“She’s never done that before.” Iwaizumi muttered as he collected the dishes, briefly thanking Kindaichi and Kumini who were working in the kitchen.

“Done what?” Mattsun glanced over at the Omega. 

“Been possessive.” 

The other two exchanged glances as Oikawa came up. “What did you do to piss (Name) off, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “None of your damn business, now go take care of your tables before I beat you up.”

“So mean,” Oikawa lamented, rolling his eyes before heading back. 

The males all watched as (Name) tugged down her shirt even more, broadcasting her bonding mark to the room as the scent of pine-mixed strawberry permeated the air. Iwaizumi frowned slightly. Just why was she being more possessive? He spared another glance over at his mate, a slight smile on his face. 

He had always loved how his jersey looked on her.

*****

“It’s fine, we’ll take care of it. Go study!” 

Semi waved the last of the first years off before turning back to the gym. The party had long since ended and now it was a matter of cleaning up before tomorrow’s morning practice. The Alpha bent down, gathering some fallen paper plates from the ground. 

Footsteps caught his attention, but Semi kept his face down as he continued to collect the trash. Cinnamon washed over him. “That was fun.”

Silence.

“She seemed a lot happier.” 

Semi’s lip twitched. “She really did.” Tendou’s scent soured the slightest, causing Semi to finally look up over at the middle-blocker. “What’s bugging you?” 

Tendou frowned, leaning against the broom handle that he was holding. “I don’t want her to leave.”

“(Name)?”

“Yeah.”

Semi pursed his lips as he looked around the room. Just a few hours ago, (Name) was amongst the pack members, laughing. Looking like she belonged. It felt right to have her in the pack as she rubbed Goshiki’s back after he choked on his drink. 

As she easily found Yamagata’s phone and made sure that the male had all of his items. 

As she studied with them and made sure they all stayed on track. 

As they had never felt as happy or as peaceful and the way that even the stoic Ushijima Wakatoshi became more expressive around her. 

The Alpha shook his head, shrugging. “What do you want me to say, Tendou? She has a bond-mate.” 

Tendou sighed, nodding. “As much as I don’t like Seijoh, she seems happy with him.”

“They are happy.” 

“Oh, Semi! This is Iwaizumi, my bond-mate.” 

The two males stood facing one another. Iwaizumi’s arms were crossed as he surveyed the other Alpha critically. Semi stood straight, unflinching under the scrutiny of the wing-spiker. Semi and (Name) had just finished a long study session on-campus, and Semi had walked her off-campus to ensure that she got home safely only to be greeted with the sight of the Seijoh player.

“Nice to meet you, Iwaizumi.” 

“...Likewise.”

Both males remained silent. They had met one another prior to this, facing each other across the net and it wasn’t that (Name) wasn’t privy to that information. After all, she had yet to miss one of Iwaizumi’s matches. 

Iwaizumi glanced over at his mate who stood completing the triangle, beaming before the two males - his eyes softening as he looked at her. Semi raised an eyebrow, both clearing his throat. “I’ll see you later, (Name)-chan, okay?”

“Sounds good! Thanks so much for everything.” (Name) hugged the Alpha before waving at him. 

As she turned to walk down the street with Iwaizumi, the Omega laced her fingers with his, swinging their arms. The scent of pine peaked, rolling with waves of contentment. “Can we get ramen on the way home?” 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, pulling her close to place a kiss on her forehead. “If that’ll make you happy, princess.”

From the moment that he had met Iwaizumi, Semi knew that (Name) and Iwaizumi were happy with one another. That they completed one another. It was a surreal experience seeing how gentle he was with his mate when on the field, he became a monster. But the one thing that Semi could say was that it was unsurprising how well they fit together, though. Iwaizumi was nothing if not reliable and considerate, similar to his mate. They took care of each other in a way that others would be hard-pressed to reciprocate. 

“What does Wakatoshi think?” Semi asked, remembering that Tendou and the captain had spent a majority of the party with one another. 

“I’m surprised you aren’t over there with her, Wakatoshi.” 

Tendou sipped from his cup, eyeing the Omega who was standing with Semi.

Ushijima gave the slightest shoulder lift. “I thought it would be for the best that I gave her space.”

“Why’s that?”

“She asked me for it.” Ushijima’s grip tightened on his cup, knuckles whitening slightly. He cleared his throat. “(Name) asked me to give her space in order to see how she truly feels about me and the potential of our relationship.”

“So she’s considering whether she’ll accept you as a mate?”

“Yes.” 

“Hopeful.” Tendou supplied, leaning the broom against his chest as he stretched his arms. 

Semi hummed, nodding. “Hopefully it’s not unfounded.”

Tendou shrugged. “Even if it was, does it matter?” His scent got stronger, the sorrow seeping through the facade he put on. “I don’t wanna lose (Name),” Tendou said softly.

The Alpha threw Tendou a surprised look before quickly averting his eyes and clearing his throat. “Her happiness is what matters at the end of the day.”

“What about our happiness?” Tendou fired back before he shook his head. “Sorry. I do care a lot about her, but I’ve never felt so comfortable with anyone else.”

For once, Tendou was quiet. 

In front of him was Ushijima, who wasn’t the type to make conversation to begin with. The sound of a tray being placed on the table caught his attention, but Tendou couldn’t bring himself to face the newcomer. 

A soft hand grasped his, shocking him out of his stupor just as strawberry greeted him. “‘Tori, are you okay?” 

His face cracked as he shook his head, abruptly standing up. “I have to go.” His footsteps rapidly retreated as he threw himself into an empty classroom. Tendou slumped against the wall, hiding right beside the door as he slid down.

The door opened and quietly shut as the warm strawberry scent entered, waves of concern hitting him. “Tendou, what’s wrong?” 

Tendou shook his head, throat constricting. He hadn’t felt displaced in so long. It was rare for him to be affected by people’s comments, but hearing some of the first years complain how terrifying he was, it hurt. No matter how much time had passed, it still hurt him when even his paradise hurt him.

(Name)’s eyes softened as she sat down beside him, gently patting her lap. Tendou swung his legs over her lap, burying his face into her shoulder as his shoulders slumped, hands on his lap. The Omega hummed slightly, one hand stroking through his crimson locks as the other held his hand. They sat in silent for the rest of the lunch period - tears soaking her uniform as Tendou wept.  

“T-thank you.” Tendou mumbled into her shoulder, breathing heavily as the strawberry gently caressed him, enveloping him in a blanket of comfort.

“You don’t have to thank me, ‘Tori. I care about you.” (Name) murmured, giving his clammy hands a light squeeze. “Are you feeling better?” 

He sniffed, nodding. “I always feel better around you.”

“I’m glad.” She let out a breathy laugh. “I’ll always be here for you, ‘Tori. All of you.” 

Semi let out a sigh. “Let’s hope for the best, yeah?” 

“Yeah...”

BONUS

“Let’s all meet back here in 15 minutes, okay?” Reon instructed, clapping his hands as he looked at the rest of the team. Various chimes of agreement came from the crowd before they all darted off into various directions. 

“Do you think she’ll like this?” Taichi asked Shirabu as they looked at the flannel fabric together. 

Shirabu shrugged, face blank. As much as the setter respected the Omega, he thought that this whole excursion was a bit too...extreme. He’d rather buy her a gift-card for a restaurant or a store that she would shop at. The idea of making a home-made gift for an Omega he wasn’t interested in the slightest was tedious. On their other side, Goshiki was eagerly flicking through all the fabric options, excitement evident in his face.

The Beta shrugged before he put the roll back, shrugging his shoulders. “Man, this is hard,” Taichi complained. He looked around, seeing Tendou and Semi sitting at the computer. “What are they doing?” 

Shirabu shrugged before they meandered over. Tendou was arguing with Semi as he pointed at the screen. “What are you idiots doing?” Shirabu huffed, blowing his hair up as he shook his head at his senpais.

“Don’t speak to your Senpais like that,” Semi snapped. “We’re trying to design something custom for (Name).”

At the moment, Tendou had a graphic of Haku going around the border of the square. The background was of a chocolate cookie pattern. Tendou stuck his tongue out as he carefully added a Totoro to the middle of the box. 

On Semi’s screen, he just had a guitar pattern for his background. He pulled out a photo of him and (Name) from their second year, deciding that he wanted to throw it onto the fabric as well. He turned it into a black shadow outline where it was still clear who the people were before throwing it and centering it on the box. 

Shirabu shook his head, walking away as he decided to settle for a soft grey fabric with stars on it. Beside him, Taichi picked out one with a starry-sky type print. 

Ushijima paced the aisles, charged with getting the base fabric for all of them to use as he had already designed and finished his own fabric design. Ushijima paused, feeling the velvet plush fabric before placing the other fabric on top of the one in his arms. He walked towards the counter, waiting patiently for an employee to cut the fabric. “How much would you like?”

“Half a yard of this one.” He tapped on the navy blue fabric, the white rose prominent on it. 

The Omega employee looks between him and the fabric before nodding. “Of course.” She pulls out her scissors, carefully measuring out a yard. “There’s a lot of you here,” she comments, looking around her store.

“Yes.”

“I’ve never seen so many Alphas together in a pack before.” Ushijima nods. “I suppose you’re buying a gift for a pack Omega then?”

“That’s right.” 

The Omega hums as she folds up the rose fabric. “And how much for the other one?” 

“Three yards please.” 

The store-owner remained silent, it was clear that Ushijima wasn’t the most talkative person. The door chimed open, a pleasant lavender scent entering. Her head snapped up, smiling. “I’ll be right with you, Azumane-kun.” 

Ushijima glanced curiously over at the entering wing-spiker. Asahi froze, his face paling at the sight of the entire Shiratorizawa pack. Beside him, Suga and Daichi entered, jasmine and coffee following their arrival. At this moment, Tendou and Semi appeared behind Ushijima, finally finished with their designs. 

The six Alphas stared at each other. “Aren’t you from Karasuno?” Tendou tilted his head, recognising their volleyball jacket. 

Daichi smiled. “Yes, we are. And I suppose we’ll see you again on the court.” 

Ushijima raised an eyebrow. “You will have to beat Aoba Johsai in order to do that, and based on your previous loss, that may be difficult for your team.” 

The three Karasuno third-years stiffened, jaws clenching slightly. “I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” Daichi replied tersely before looking over at Asahi. “Why don’t we go get what we came for, Asahi?”

“R-Right!” 

By now, the Shiratorizawa pack members had finished and were watching this little exchange. “Let’s head back to campus,” Ushijima told his pack, walking out the door. “I wish you the best, Karasuno.” 

“Likewise.”

*****

“Why not a cat cafe?” Kindaichi suggested. 

“Where are we going to get a bunch of cats?” Iwaizumi asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or did you mean for us to wear cat-ears while we worked?”

Oikawa raised a hand, brown eyes narrowing onto the male. “Kindaichi...are you a cat-boy?” 

The rest of the Seijoh pack turned to face Kindaichi, eyebrows raised in various forms of amusement. Makki and Mattsun were barely able to stifle their laughter. Kumini looked like he wanted to die. Yahaba’s face scrunched up in horror. 

The first-year’s cheeks flushed cherry red as he violently shook his head. “N-no! I meant having actual cats. But, you’re right, Iwaizumi-san.” Kindaichi lowered his head, pulling his jacket all the way up so that his face was covered before he shoved his hands into his pocket.

“Why don’t we just wear our volleyball uniforms?” Iwaizumi sighed, rubbing the creases out of his forehead. “Since everyone, especially Stupidkawa’s fans, will support us anyways.” 

“Yeah that sounds good.”

“Yep.”

“That’ll do it.”

“Alright, I’m going home now.” Iwaizumi stood up, shrugging his bag on as a semblance of a headache began to creep in. “And Kindaichi?”

A shiver went down the male’s spine. “Yes, Iwaizumi-san?”

“We won’t judge you if you’re a cat-boy as long as you’re happy.” And with that, Iwaizumi stalked out the door leaving a roar of laughter in his wake.

*****

FUN FACTS

💟 Tendou had been the one to plan the entire birthday party for (Name) from the menu to how they’d make it happen. 

💟 Tendou made all the desserts while the others made the other party foods. Turns out, Semi is incredible at making sushi

💟 The Shiratorizawa pack enjoyed the comforting and calming presence of (Name) so much, they would all be sad if she left the pack

💟 It was Ushijima’s idea to make the quilt. He had planned to make it himself but when he was shopping for fabric, Tendou brought up the idea about making it a pack-gift so that all members would be able to contribute 

💟 In Japanese culture, white roses represent innocence, devotion, and silence

💟 Tendou picked out Haku, Totoro, and Princess Monoke for the Studio Ghibli characters for his patch

💟 Semi considers himself (Name)’s closest friend from the pack and she definitely is more open with him than she is with the others. She often babies the other members such as Goshiki and Tendou 

💟 As much as Semi wants her to stay with the pack, he knows that she’s happier with Iwaizumi. He just hopes that she won’t forget about them if she does decide to leave officially

💟 Though Semi had yelled at her for accepting “all Alphas gifts”, he has also given her gifts

💟 Semi rotates between calling (Name) ‘little one’, ‘tiny’, and ‘baddie’ in an attempt to fluster and/or piss her off

💟 Oikawa totally forgot what happens when you complete a bond and had a total brain-fart about why Iwaizumi smelled like (Name)

💟 Only Kyotani wasn’t involved with the cafe. He did show up later and sat at (Name)’s table, taking delight in his chance to boss his team-members around

💟 The first years and other Omegas often call (Name) ‘Mama’ for her mothering nature, though it’s more playful than anything

💟 Both Mattsun and Makki decided they wanted to ‘spice things up’ and threw on the ties to see if they’d get any compliments. They were delighted to hear that there were some Omegas swooning after them because of it

💟 (Name)’s possessive behaviour triggered Iwaizumi’s Alpha. When they got home, he definitely took the time to reclaim her. all night long. 

💟 Tendou has abandonment issues and is anxiously waiting for the day where (Name) will leave him too. He’s not sure whether he’d rather hear it from her directly or if he’d rather have her just disappear. 

💟 Life for Shiratorizawa generally got better with her around to help them maintain themselves

💟 Tendou isn’t the only one who benefits from (Name)’s company during breakdowns. Even Semi, Taichi, Goshiki, and Shirabu have had their own breakdowns around her. 

💟 Ushijima had to convince Washijo to allow them to end practice early in order for them to go to the store. (Name) was still on medical leave which is why she didn’t know about it 

💟 The photo of Semi and (Name) were from one of their late-night study sessions at a cafe. They were going crazy and decided to take silly pictures together to relieve their stress 

💟 Most packs will have a pack Omega, not necessarily a female. After this excursion, Semi, Tendou, and Ushijima decided to make a similar quilt for Reon to commerate his years with Shiratorizawa and causing a new tradition for the pack 

💟 Asahi was supposed to go to the fabric store with his sister, but she ended up cancelling last-minute. He was supposed to help her design an outfit for her upcoming work event         

💟 Kindaichi will never live down the “cat-boy” jokes for as long as the third-years are there, but the poor lad really just wanted to play with some cats. (Name) eventually found out and reprimanded the third-years before taking Kindaichi and the rest of the pack to a cat cafe, banning the third-years from coming

*****

AN: We’re getting close to the end! Next week will be the last chapter before the ending.   

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[theclockworkmonk]

Cultural Exchange

Written for @kataang-week

Day 2: Blending Cultures

Words: 2,009

Read on AO3

Read on FF.net

Summary: Katara has some selfish reasons for encouraging Aang to explore Fire Nation culture.

*******

Katara was starting to get worried as she walked up to Zuko's old family house on Ember Island. The outdoor furniture was smashed and splintered, and the door was ajar, hanging off its hinges. She sped up, beginning to panic, and ran up the stairs onto the porch.

She threw the door all the way open forcefully. "Hello!? Aang?"

She was greeted by a chorus of pained male groans.

"Close the door!" Haru wailed, shielding his eyes from the bright morning light that was now flooding the front room of the house. All the other young men, basically every male friend their group had made since leaving the South Pole, gave similar cries of distress from where they were strewn haphazardly across sofas and armchairs.

Katara sighed in relief, but then grew annoyed at the boys for scaring her. Instead of closing the door, she moved to the windows and threw all the curtains open.

"You're evil!" moaned Te'o from the floor, where he had fallen out of his chair.

"What exactly happened to those plans for a laid back, calm bachelor party?" Katara asked the room harshly, "How did it go? 'Oh don't worry, Katara, Zuko's not one to throw wild parties!'"

"Uggghhh, I"m not, but I'm friends with a lot of bad influences," came a weak voice from under a coffee table.

Katara laughed at the sight of the soon-to-be-married Firelord crawling out from under the table, looking like he had been put through a dozen successive Agni Kais. But her laughter died and she gasped when she saw what was on Zuko's head.

"Zuko, what happened!?"

"What does it look like? Your brother got us drunk."

"No, I mean what happened to your hair!"

Katara bent all the water from a nearby vase and froze it into a flat, shiny mirror, and held it up to Zuko's face. His eyes widened in horror and he leapt to his feet, upending the table.

All of his hair had been reduced to a narrow strip down the center of his head. That hair had been left long, and was tied back, but both sides of it had been shaved down to his scalp.

He recognized this look. It was exactly the way Sokka had his hair when Zuko had first encountered him.

"Aw Zuko, I'm touched!" crooned Katara dramatically. "Showing your support for rebuilding Southern Tribe culture by sporting a warrior's wolf tail!"

Zuko stared in disbelief at his reflection. He raised his shaking hands to the sides of his face.

"I look like I stuck my head between two grinding stones," Zuko muttered.

"Oh, don't say that, I'm sure once the Firelord is seen sporting this hairdo at his wedding, it will be all the rage across the Fire Nation," said Katara with a grin.

Zuko buried his face in his hands. "Oh, spirits, the wedding! Mai's going to kill me."

Katara was about to agree, but was interrupted by a scream of anguish and horror coming from the bathroom.

Katara and Zuko both bolted across the room and down the hall. She whipped out her bending pouch, ready to slice the door open, but lucky it was still unlocked. She kicked the door open and her blood froze in fear again as she saw Sokka doubled over, his face buried in the sink and his hands over his head.

"Sokka, what's wrong!?" asked Katara urgently, placing her hands on her brother's back. "Are you hurt—oh…."

She jumped back and gasped when Sokka turned to face her, his lip quivering.

He was completely bald, with a crude painted blue arrow leading from the back of his head, ending between his eyebrows.

Katara's chuckle at Zuko's expense was nothing compared to the explosion of laughter that erupted out of her now. She had to put a hand on the wall to steady herself as she shook until she was out of breath.

"Well, it was just a regular festival of cultural exchange last night, wasn't it?" she squeaked out.

"This isn't funny, Katara!" said Sokka desperately. "You don't understand, it's not coming off! It's real! And my hair! Next time I visit home, my brain is gonna freeze!"

"Oh, calm down," she said dismissively. She grabbed her brother's cheeks and pulled him down to inspect his new body art. "There's no inflammation on the skin, it's not a real tattoo. You just found some...wow, really durable face paint."

She looked him in the eye suspiciously. "Where did you get this stuff?"

"Uuuuhhh," said Sokka uncertainly. He turned to Zuko. "Where did we get this stuff?"

"Uuuuhhh," Zuko concurred.

Katara rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You don't even remember last night?"

"I can remember most of it," said Zuko defensively. "Things just get a little fuzzy after that bottle of moonpeachshine got opened. He was the one who brought that, so really this is all his fault."

"Hey, I don't remember tying you up and forcing the stuff down your throat, Lord Lots o' Shots," replied Sokka.

"Where's Aang?" Katara suddenly said, her grin wiped from her face.

For a moment, they just looked at each other in silence, then ran through the house again.

After searching the whole house and not finding Aang, Katara was beginning to panic again. But when she checked the back garden, she found Appa there sleeping soundly. A lumpy mass was sitting on the bison's head: a human body, the top half covered by a blanket, but long legs protruded from underneath, with blue arrows ending at the feet.

"Aang!" Katara called as she ran towards him, and thankfully the tattooed feet stirred. Aang slowly sat up, squeezing his eyes shut at the sunlight as the blanket fell from his face.

"Oh come on!" Katara sighed in relief. "You too?"

"What?" he mumbled, getting his bearings. He reached up to scratch his head, and discovered what was itching him.

Aang was wearing a wig. Avatar Aang, the mightiest being in the world, was hungover with a lopsided wig of black hair glued to his head. The foreign hair was pulled back into a knot that was contained by what Katara recognized as Avatar Roku's old hairpin.

Aang reached up and felt the hairpin, and winced. "Oh Spirits, I had hoped that was a dream."

"So you actually remember what happened?" asked Zuko, joining them outside along with Sokka, who had put a hat on to avoid getting sunburned.

"Well last night, Sokka got excited by this idea of me wearing Roku's hairpin at the wedding, as a sign of the Fire Nation's commitment to the Avatar and the balance of the world. I wasn't as intoxicated as he was, so I pointed out to him that one needs hair in order to wear a hairpin crown."

"Oh yeah!" said Sokka, remembering now, "Seems like a short sighted fashion decision."

"It's not short-sighted, that's the point," said Zuko irritably, "When royals or generals suffer a great defeat, they cut their hair off. The crowns of the Fire Lord and Prince are designed so that you can't wear them unless you've gone long enough without a defeat to have enough hair to wear it."

"Yeah, you said all this last night," said Aang. "Then Sokka suggested that I could borrow some hair, and we asked who would have extra hair to borrow, and that's how we ended up partying with the—"

"The Ember Island Players," Zuko finished in horror. "Oh, kill me now, this is going to be the subject of their worst play yet."

"I certainly hope so," said Katara. "I'll be there opening night."

"The wig and the facepaint….seemed like a good idea at the time," finished Aang painfully.

"Well if this stuff doesn't come off my face soon, then the Firelord is going to have to have them interrogated about how they undo it," said Sokka.

"Oh I will?" asked Zuko, raising his eyebrow. "The way I see it, I just have a bad haircut, I didn't put any crap on my head, so you can go begging for them on your own."

"It is not a bad haircut!" said Sokka angrily. "You're now the best looking guy here, saving my dignity is the least you can do."

"I might need help getting this thing off me too," mumbled Aang, futilely pulling at the wig. "And we should probably put this back in a safe spot."

He detached Roku's hairpin crown from his knot, and Katara gasped as his hair (that wasn't actually his hair) fell from it.

The messy black hair fell to the base of his neck, covering his ears and hanging in bangs over his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. He scrunched his face in annoyance and brushed the hair away from his face. Katara felt her face grow hot as she watched her boyfriend's fingers run through the hair, and an image floated up in her mind of her fingers replacing them.

Zuko and Sokka went back into the house, Zuko cheekily offering to melt the facepaint off of Sokka, and promised to keep most of his face intact, as Aang climbed down off of Appa, still pulling at the mop glued to his head.

"I need to find a way to get this thing off me," Aang grumbled. "It won't stay out of my face, people can't see my arrow."

"Well, we can't have that," Katara chuckled. "The world can't know that the last airbender has broken such an important air nomad requirement as the sacred chrome dome."

"Well, it's not a requirement," said Aang, "but I still suspect I look far too much like Zuko for my taste—"

"Wait, really?" Katara cut him off, her eyes widening.

"Well you tell me. I don't have a mirror, but I suddenly feel the urge to sulk and reclaim my honor— "No, I mean, shaving your head isn't a requirement or anything?" Katara asked quickly.

Aang seemed surprised by her question. "Uh... no. Most of the boys did anyway, because it gives you a slight edge in airbending, since your skin is in tune with the air currents. We all had to shave it once, when we got our arrows, but most girls grew it back."

He continued to fidget with the wig as he started walking back towards the house, seemingly oblivious to the blush creeping up his girlfriend's face.

Katara tried to act casual as she fell in step with Aang and linked her arm with his.

"Sooooo...hypothetically speaking," she began, not looking at him, "you could have a full head of hair. If you wanted to."

Aang shrugged. "Yeah. But I've never really felt the desire to. With hair, you have to wash it, and there's so many different haircuts to pick from, it's easier to just shave it in the morning."

He turned to look at her curiously. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason!" she said innocently.

They walked in silence for a few seconds, then a strong morning breeze blew past them and Katara felt her knees grow weak as Aang's messy "hair" whipped in the wind, dancing around his handsome face beautifully, in a way his real hair had never grown long enough to do.

"I was just thinking Sokka might be onto something!" she blurted out before she could stop herself. "You know, about wearing Roku's crown. Maybe the Avatar adopting a few Fire Nation fashions will placate a few of the naysayers, who say that you're a foreign interloper. It will show them that you're their Avatar too. It would be a great exchange and blending of cultures, to reflect peaceful cooperation."

Aang frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I….guess that kind of makes sense." He shrugged and chuckled. "I'm still definitely going to get this hair off me, though. Then I can decide whether to start growing my own."

"Hmmm….yeah," Katara whispered greedily under her breath, "I bet that'll look even hotter."

"Hmm? What was that? I didn't hear you."

"Nothing!" she squeaked, and ran back into the house.

[pterodactylterrace]

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 2

Chapter Summary: Cat’s out of the bag now

Rating: 18+ for later chapters

Warning: None for this chapter... maybe some swear words, idk

Prologue Chapter 1

Ever had a bad day? Like, a really, really bad day? Just... one thing goes wrong, and then everything else gets progressively worse from there? Then, just when you think you've finally reached rock bottom for the day and gotten a handle on it, it somehow manages to get even worse?

Well, that was the current situation Faye found herself in. Absolutely everything had gone wrong that morning and now she found herself in a bit of a pickle as she rushed about the, thankfully empty, makeup trailer.

"Just, sit here and watch your tablet, ok?" Faye instructed, sitting the toddler down on a stool tucked back in a hidden corner, praying this would work.  If it didn't, she had no clue what she was going to do.

She rushed back to the chair just as Henry squeezed his massive frame through the tiny door, flashing her a blinding smile as Kal pushed his way in past his legs to settle in his favorite, sunny spot by the door. "There's my favorite artist!"

"Oh, you're such a liar." Faye laughed, leaning into his welcoming hug and giving him a quick squeeze around his midsection, breathing him in when her head pressed into his chest.  Smelling that good should be against the law.

"I would never lie to you." Henry assured, playfully bumping her with his shoulder as he seated himself in his usual chair.

It seemed everything was getting better, things were finally turning around and going well, she was actually going to pull this off! She had already applied the prosthetics, so the hard part was already done with. With a sigh of relief, Faye turned back around to get the foundation ready to blend over the fake scars when she heard it.

"Oh, hello there." Her stomach dropped.

"Hi, I'm Briar!" The little girl greeted enthusiastically, beaming up at the large man sitting in the makeup chair.

"What are you doing here?" Henry asked gently.

"Tablet not working." Briar whimpered, holding the device up despondently, her lower lip sliding out in a pout as tears began collecting in her eyes. Always the drama queen.

"Then let's take a look at it, shall we?" Henry suggested, absently lifting the girl and sitting her on his knee to examine the tablet in her chubby little hands. Faye could swear her heart was going to beat right out of her chest as she watched him tapping away at the screen, the sounds of cocomelon soon spilling from the speakers again, much to the child's delight.

"Yay! Cocomelon, cocomelon!" The little girl cheered, fixing her eyes on the screen.

"Now, sweetheart, where's your mother?" Henry asked, his brows drawn together as he looked at the little girl already mesmerized by the show in front of her.

"That's Mama." Briar quickly explained, pointing directly at Faye before diverting her attention back to her tablet. Henry's brows rose almost comically high as he looked up at Faye, waiting for confirmation of what he was just told. Faye had a daughter? He'd known her for months, how was this just now coming up?

"I... I'm so sorry." Faye quickly apologized, panic beginning to rise in her throat. This was bad, so very bad. Not only did she look like the world's most unprofessional makeup artist, but she was probably in the running for worst mother as well. Who just leaves their kid in the corner while they work? "The babysitter called and canceled this morning and I couldn't find a replacement before work. I thought if she had her tablet she would be quiet and out of everyone's way for the day, but then it stopped working and-"

"Faye. Faye!" Henry interrupted, pausing to make sure she was paying attention. "I need you to calm down. Everything is ok. Things come up, it's not a big deal." He assured, his voice taking on a soothing tone. "Sweetheart, do you like dogs?" Henry asked, turning his attention back to the little girl as she nodded enthusiastically. "Well, you see that dog over there?" He asked, nodding towards a snoozing Kal. "He's mine, and he just loves pets."

"I pet him?" Briar gasped excitedly, passing her tablet off to Henry and squirming out of his lap to scurry over to the sleeping bear, patting him on the top of his head with a clumsy little hand.

"That should keep them both busy enough for us to finish up here." Henry pointed out, settling back into the chair as though nothing had happened. Faye glanced between her daughter, cooing over the bear of a dog by the door and back to Henry a few times, her mind trying to catch up and process what just happened. She shook her head once to clear her thoughts and shakily returned to work, glancing over to the toddler every so often out of habit.

"So were you going to tell me you had a daughter?" Henry finally asked, raising a brow at the woman painting his face.

"I-... It never came up." Faye mumbled, looking back to her daughter as she curled up into the dog's side, babbling away to him about the bedtime story she'd been read last night.

"But why would you hide that?"

"I don't know." Faye lied, focusing her efforts closer to his mouth to end the conversation. Of course she had a reason. A rather simple one at that.

Guys like him aren't interested in single mothers.

Sure, it was a bit silly looking back on it. After all, what chance did she have with Henry? A slim one, if any. That still didn't stop her from hoping he may see something in her. Of course if he did show any interest, she would have eventually told him. Having a child isn't exactly something you can hide, after all. However, she had been hoping to wait until he was more invested in her than just being "his favorite artist".

Too little, too late.

"How old is she?" Henry asked once the brushes moved away from his mouth.

"She'll be three next week." Faye informed quietly, keeping her gaze averted.

"Next week? Do you plan on celebrating?"

"Not really.  All my family is back home in the states.  I was just planning on making her a cake or something, but I'm kind of a crap baker, so I'm on the fence about even doing that."

"I hope you don't mind my asking, but what about her father? Is he going to celebrate with you?"

"No." Faye answered simply, biting her lip and trying not to dwell on the past any more than she had to.

"So exactly how bad are you at baking?" Henry changed the subject, closing his eye as she worked around it.

"Briar, do you like mommy's cakes?"

"No!" Briar quickly answered, Kal's head popping up at the sudden outburst.

"Why not, sweetie?" Faye pressed.

"They're yucky! Bleck!"

"Does that answer your question?" Faye retorted, raising a brow at the man in front of her.

"Would you like help?"

"What?"

"Making a cake. I could help you." Henry offered, locking his eyes on hers.

"You bake?" Faye blurted out, wincing at her sudden outburst as Henry laughed.

"In fact I do. I have a few days off from filming next weekend. If you'd like, I could come over and help you make her a birthday cake."

Was this real life? This couldn't be real life. In real life, handsome men don't just swoop in and offer to make a cake for your daughter. This was some elaborate dream.  Or a very drawn out strip-o-gram.

"I mean... that would be great, but-"

"Perfect, what day works best for you, Friday or Saturday?"

"Uhh... Saturay, I work on Friday."

"Alright, I'll give you my number so you can text me your address. Ten in the morning alright?"

"Yeah, umm... she naps around eleven, so ten is fine."

"So ten on Friday." Henry confirmed as he stood, pulling her in for another hug.

What. Just. Happened?

[random-mha-thoughts]

Cuddles (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Bakugou comes home after a long, tiring week of being a hero and you’re not paying him enough attention, so he’ll just have to take it.

Word count: 1,223

Tags:  @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: A touch starved Baku is a dangerous Baku indeed.  Just a little Baku fluff I wanted to write because my BioChem exam ruined me today. I used the “you” pronoun again here because I wanted to keep this gender neutral.  Enjoy~

Bakugou had a really difficult day, to say the least.  Actually, it was more like a trying week, if he really wanted to stretch it.

He loves being a Hero, it's been his dream since he was a young boy, but work was getting tiring.  This week, there's been more gang activity in Hosu City and he's had to work with the police force to help solve it.  The criminals had been expertly covering their tracks and leading the force down false positives leading to traps.  It frustrated Bakugou, infuriating him to the point where he wanted to just show up at all their possible strike locations and burn the entire place down.

But that wouldn't be very hero-like now, would it?  Kirishima's teasing remark still sticks in his head like an annoying record.  He found himself cursing his crazy-haired best friend multiple times a day.

Every night the entire week, Bakugou came home exhausted and sometimes hours late just to stay for the police debriefs.  In all honesty, they weren't helping the problem and he wished they would leave it to him and the other heroes.  At least he wouldn't have to come home to a dark house.  By the time he returns, his precious teddy bear is all wrapped up in bed, the space empty and waiting for Bakugou to take it.  Being a good boyfriend, Bakugou doesn't want to bother you out of your sleep, so he ends up staying on the other side of the bed.  And he wakes up before you wake up.

It's the most frustrating thing in the world.  How is he supposed to shower you in all his love if he doesn't have a chance to talk to you all day?

Finally, the end of the week rolls around, and - by no surprise at all - Bakugou and his team managed to round up the gang of villains by themselves, the police just an accessory to the whole thing.  It took all Bakugou had - and a few sidekicks holding him back and correcting everything he wanted to spit at them - not to completely go off on all of them.  Instead, he assigned all the necessary paperwork to some other person in the agency that was nearest to him and sprinted back home.

You were shocked to see him home so early.  It wasn't normal for him to work on the weekend anyway, but you figured he had gone out just like a regular day and wasn't expecting him home at all.  Not being able to see your favorite explosion boy all week disappointed you too, to say the least.  You tried text him messages in the middle of the day to keep in contact with him, but nothing is better than the real thing.

Bakugou flops onto the couch with a heavy sigh.  "God, it's amazing to be home so early."  He stretches out all the aching muscles he never knew were so tight after the entire fiasco this week.

"I'm really glad you're finally home again, babe," you turn around to smile at him before focusing your attention back on the cutting board.  While Bakugou was showering, you thought it would be a great idea to cook a meal the two of you can finally enjoy together, and then cuddle for the rest of the night watching a movie.

Bakugou, on the other hand, doesn't want to wait until much later to cuddle you.  He wants cuddles and he wants them now.  But he won't ever come out and say that explicitly, being the stubborn boy he is.

Rolling over onto his side, he stares at you across the room in the kitchen, your back to him as you prepare your meal.  "Babe, what are you making?" he calls.

"Fajita, you want it spicy, right?"

"Yeah."  He's upset that you haven't looked in his direction for very long since he got home.  "What were you doing before I got back?"

"Nothing, just watching TV."

Bakugou feels fidgety just waiting for you to come back.  He gets up and stands at a distance, leaning against the counter behind you.  He notices that your knife skills have gotten better, thanks to him teaching you in your earlier dating phase.  His eyes follow your figure as you run around the kitchen space, getting spices out from the cabinets and other bowls to mix the food in.

It annoys him.  Any other day, he would look on at you cooking with pride knowing that you learned with his help.  But today, he's exhausted, annoyed, and he just wants to cuddle for god's sake.

You pass by him, scanning him up and down.  The furrow of his brows and the clenched fists in the way his arms cross over his chest shows how tense he looks.  "Do you wanna help me, babe?"

"No," Bakugou answers a bit too roughly.

You brush it off with a shrug, thinking he's just had a long week and he still has residual anger and returning your attention back to the cooking.  The chicken is marinating in the blend of spices and all the bell peppers and onions are sliced.  All that's left to do is cook everything together.

Just as you place the large skillet on the stove, your legs are off the ground.  Bakugou's arms tightly wrap around your torso as he carries you out of the kitchen.  "Katsuki, what about dinner?"

"Screw dinner, I'm not hungry for food," he growls next to your ear.  "I'm hungry for something else."

Your body is thrown onto the couch with a yelp.  The spiky haired boy hovers over you, crimson eyes boring into yours for a moment.  The intensity stops your breath, making you slightly fear what will come next.

"You haven't paid any attention to me since I came home," he mumbles, laying himself on top of you, his head on your chest and his arm circling on top of your body.  "All I wanted was to be next to you."

Softening at his behavior, your fingers naturally thread into his soft hair tickling your face.  "Why didn't you just say so?"

"Do I have to say it?" he snaps, "I haven't even touched you all week, I missed you like crazy."

"Okay, no need to be grouchy, little Pomeranian," you kiss the top of his head, "You've got me right here next to you now."

Bakugou's head nestles right onto your steady heartbeat, playing with the fingers of your free hand on your stomach.  "I'm sorry I haven't been home.  I had this stupid case to take care of all week and the police were useless."

You give him a knowing look.  "Do you really want to talk about work right now?"

He pauses.  "You're right, I don't.  As long as you're here, I'm not a hero anymore, I'm just plain old Katsuki Bakugou."  He kisses the palm of your hand.  "And you're my teddy bear who I love coming home to every day."

"And you're my lovable, impatient explosion boy."

He snuggles his head closer into your chest, closing his eyes.  "Do you mind if I take a nap on you?"

Stroking his head, you answer quietly, "Only for a little while, I'm hungry."

"And don't wake me up," he opens an eye to shoot a pointed look at me.

"Yeah, okay."