#but at the same time just the hint of possibility when she tamed a wild dragon in this magnificently obvious and intuitive way

[zazikels]

Nettles's story matters because of her lack of privilege. Because of the place she comes from. Because her heritage is left up in the air. The valyrians were shepherds before they were dragonriders and there's an inherent power to this person who was a nobody taming a wild dragon in a way the valyrians first could have attempted when they discovered dragons. She tamed Sheepstealer the way anyone might try to tame a wild animal, feeding and building a bond with him gradually. It can never be given to another character and have the same effect, especially if said character is the highborn daughter of two powerful families. She was literally just a girl and she tamed Sheepstealer and that story loses all of its power when it's Daem on's trueborn daughter whose own dragon hatching for her was meaningful in its own way, imo.

[yanderenightmare]

could we get the bnha yanderes with a darling that’s actually really fond of their dark side and revels in the attention

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: anxiety, arson, drugs, guilt, delusions, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, mind control, DUBCON, yandere-themes

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He had planned to be sweet, similar to his scent of caramel as opposed to what destruction he was capable of. He had planned to be patient, to tolerate whatever screams and cries his darling might have reacted with, but what he was met with wasn’t horror, but… something strangely akin to what he would call gratitude or even excitement or even lovesickness. He thinks she surprised herself more than she surprised him with how easy she folded, but once he got over the shock and not to mention the suspicion her compliant nature beckoned from him, he was only motivated to go harder, to be rougher, to be as intense as he had wished but had held back. She likes the attention, despite it being overwhelming and scary and brutal at times, she still likes it, maybe even because of it. Once he got over the fear of her acceptance crushing under the full weight of his obsession, he became cocky about it. She’s his little freak and he has the confidence and the reassurance to tease her for it now, thoroughly amused with how her eyes cross paths and her brows knit together, drooling and mewling with his hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing her neck with her tight little pussy clenching around his shaft as he drives into her. He exploits it, finding such great amusement and entertainment in hearing her pray for him to go harder and faster, even as she begins to cry, limbs shaking as she continues to beg for him, eyes like opium, wide and void with pooling darkness.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Dabi had expectations. Expecting his little darling to not fully be at peace with his self-proclaimed ownership of her, he had decided to not pay her objections any mind. He decided that the hard way was the best way from the very start. But… his darling didn’t meet him with the type of reluctance he had expected. Sure, she was crying, but when he reached out his hand she didn’t bite like the sort of animal he’d expected, but rather, reached out ever so timidly and eyes so wide and glossy and sparkly and in search for some comfort. He couldn’t be harsh when she was being so sweet, he couldn’t be anything but appreciative when she curled up on his lap like such a soft little thing, hands gripping onto his shirt, sobs that seemed too tame for him to scold her, besides… it felt… nice. It felt nice to be the source of comfort as opposed to the factor of discomfort. It felt like absolution. He used to think he’d find clinginess annoying, but his little darling is clingy in all the right ways. Latching onto him when she’s crying, after a bad dream, all throughout the night, even when he’s the source to her pain, when he makes her jump up and down on his cock, her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers intertwining in his raven locks, legs around his torso, running to hug and welcome him home, kissing him, telling him how she missed him, how much she loves him, how much she needs him.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

He’s so confused. He kidnapped her. Kidnapped her. Took her, abducted her, stole her, forced her away from a life with little regard to her feelings on the whole ordeal, subjugated her to a tiny room with more flying specs of dust than light allowed to shine through the windows. It’s not even like he’s a handsome kidnapper either. Is she insane? Why is she looking at him like that? Why isn’t she afraid, why isn’t she swatting his hands away when he reaches to touch her? Why is she touching him? How can she touch his wrinkles, his scars, his cracking breaking skin? How can she touch his hands, his scarred deadly bloodied hands? And what is that look on her face? If he didn’t know any better he’d call it fascination, curiosity perhaps… adoration? No. No, no, no, no way. No way she’s simply just… accepting… enjoying… just as simple as that. To be honest, he’s feeling slightly freaked out, alarmed, concerned. This isn’t natural. This isn’t healthy. She should at least cry, if only just a little bit. But no. No, her fingers playing curiously with his hair when he’s playing videogames. At least she doesn’t talk to him like they’re chummy old pals, then he’d really feel the thin hairs at the back of his neck rise. But, when he touches her milky skin with his sandpaper-fingertips she doesn’t squirm, and when he pushes those same fingers knuckle deep inside her she doesn’t tell him to stop. He finds himself quickly enjoying testing the boundaries of his little darling, boundaries he’s yet to have found proof of.

SHINSO HITOSHI

He was expecting for there to be some debate surrounding his ownership of her, he was preparing to teach his little pet a thing or two about who was boss early on, but… she seemed to slip right into her role so naturally. Instead of him teasing her, she’s teasing him, mocking him, making him feel as though he has no control even as he stares into those wide milky orbs who no longer have the ability of mobility, yet still has the power to inch her lips into that eerie playful catlike grin, as though she’s excited, as though spiked with untamed thrill. She’ll talk to him as though there’s no danger, as though he won’t have her mind in his clutches by the end of it, almost as if she’s counting on it, waiting for it, coaxing him with words of her own. They’ll play like cat and mouse, one always either tempting or chasing the other. She’ll even laugh, eyes bright and vivid and spiked and twirling as she lets him catch her time and time again, in a way that makes him believe he’s the one that’s been captured. He’s surprised, to say the least, surprised because his little darling is in fact a little devil, a little baby-faced angel-eyed demon, who enjoys how the darkness feels against her skin, who loves how his inky-fingers feel when tampering with her mind, and has darkness of her own to drown him with too.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

He was preparing for a wild beast, but was happy to find his little darling settling in as though she understood that in the comfort of his house is where she belonged. Calling it a kidnapping became weird and sounded foreign when referring to their arrangement, especially when he came home to his darling in her apron, cooking, cleaning or sleeping so soundly on his couch you’d think she’d done so her whole life. She doesn’t flinch when he touches her, she rather leans in to greet the touch, her eyes heavy-lidded and joined with his gaze. And when he comes home, some days all broken and bruised and bloodied and smoke-ridden, his feathers ragged and plucked, she’ll fuss. Fuss and pamper and coo and take such good care of him, softly and sweetly patching him up, messaging wings, give his torn lip a kiss, stroke a careful hand through his locks. She’ll be so perfect, like an angel, a living breathing real-life angel. Or a guardian, something he’s always wanting. Someone to make him feel safe and loved and protected, despite him being the hero and his darling being the victim to his villainy.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Here he was thinking she couldn’t possibly be any more of an adorable little darling than what she already was. He’s not used to being wrong about his calculations, he’s not used to liking finding faults in his calculations, but he has to admit he was pleasantly surprised with how his darling accepted his feelings easier than what he had expected. He had assumed it to be a lengthy and gradual and careful process, he was prepared to take his time, be patient, be supportive, but… his darling portrayed little of what anxiety symptoms he had imagined: panic-attacks, quaking, crying, screaming. She seemed more honored than anything. Amazed to have caught the eye of the Midoriya Izuku, the number 1. Hero of not just Japan, but arguably the whole world. She felt proud, bashful to be getting the attention, but thriving in it despite herself believing it was misplaced. Wanting to return Izuku’s worship, cherish, awe with appreciation of her own at every given turn. She would still yelp when he picked her up to carry her about, but who wouldn’t when his arms are the sizes of pillars. Though, the sound of surprise would always be followed by the sound of laughter, school-girl giggles that felt like the fluttering of butterflies against his chest. Also, when she slept on top of him. With one of his hands placed on the dome of her ass and the other holding a book up for him to read, the small feel of her drumming pitter patter heartbeats against his ribcage, so cute and comfortable and safe.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL 

He was expecting a fight, he was expecting annoying migraine-evoking screams, he was expecting thrashing, causing waves to fall onto the bathroom tiles when she was in the bathtub. He was expecting the worst, because that’s what good business men do: expect the worst, prepare for the worst, and find refuge in the fact that it was far from what hell they had imagined. But… it’s rare to be met with the exact opposition of what you had predicted, which was what had happened. There was no war, there was no fight, there was no riot, there wasn’t even the hint of resistance. There were still small tremors of fear though, yet far less than what he had foreseen. The type of fear you find when bringing home a new pet, more careful hesitant curiosity than actual fear, as though trying to find comfort in your surroundings, as though trying to settle in. He looks like a dangerous man, yet… her eyes aren’t terror-wide but big with anticipation, with a strange form of thrill. And though her actions remained feather-light she was still the first one to reach out, she was still the one to ask to witness the demolition and recreation of his quirk, she was still the one that chose to tie the knot to his tie in the morning. Though he was the one to have found and taken her, she was the pioneer.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Not much can change what Shoto has planned for his darling’s future. Whether she enjoys it or hates it, it will be accepted. What he plans to do with her, what soft-tinted or red-violent passions he plans on bestowing upon her, the fact that she likes it from the start hardly matters when through time she was going to learn to enjoy it anyway. He was always going to lick up her skin with his flames or make her skin whisper upon the threat of being frozen, until she’s a sweat-slicked feverish mess in his lap, and he was always going to take good soft care of her afterwards. But, he must admit, he’s surprised to find that the aftercare is such a sweet pleasure, seemingly rivaling what blissed-out state he can reach when playing with his little darling. He knew he would enjoy it, but… he could never have imagined the motherly touch his darling gifts him with, what tender smiles and heavenly laughs and the way she tangles herself with him, limbs an unruly yet comfortable knot. What more, when she asks to see his quirks, wants him to make frost-flowers on the windows or in the shower on the glass-walls, when she holds his hands as he creates little lanterns of dancing tendrils and wisps, ones she can tickle with her fingertips as they twirl in his palm. The way her eyes light up with that childlike-wonder he never seemed to possess when he was young, makes him feel a different type of warm far from burning.

TIP-JAR

[farfromharry]

Brightside | CEO!Dad!Tom fic

summary: a sudden and unexpected turn of events with your little boy, leaves him in the hospital with an unknown diagnosis. tom has to fly home and the two of you have to face each other, properly and civilly, for the first time since your breakup. will this negative experience turn into a positive one, in more ways than one?

word count - 10.3k

warnings - warnings - language, hospitals, needles, fainting, mentions of seizures, mentions of blood

a/n - angst for once, but obviously ending in fluff because i can’t hurt myself like that🥰 also i’m super nervous to post this so lets see how this goes :)

A loud, irritating noise filled the kitchen as your phone began to ring. You groaned, annoyed. The once calm silence was now filled with your curses of panic as you tried to wipe off your messy hands as quickly as possible. You found an unused cloth on your kitchen side and decided on just using that, wiping off the remnants of the food you’d been making. You grabbed your phone from off of the counter, pressing the green accept button, lifting the device up to your ear.

“Hello?” you asked. Having not bothered to look at the contact name, you had absolutely no idea who you were even talking to right now.

“Hi, is this Miss Y/L/N?”

You mumbled a quick ‘yes.’ You wedged the phone between your ear and your shoulder, picking up the knife you’d been using a few minutes prior to continue cutting up the vegetable in front of you.

“This is about your son, Theo,” she said, “I work in the reception at the school.” You rolled your eyes, assuming that your angel of a four year old had somehow gotten into some trouble that you were now going to have to deal with.

The lady proceeded to explain to you quite the opposite of what you’d originally thought. She’d told you how Theo had thrown up in class, prompting him to be sent to the nurse where he then fainted, almost escalating to a seizure.

“What?” you asked. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, a sick feeling beginning to bubble in your throat. The knife had carelessly slipped from your fingers, making a loud clattering noise as it hit the counter. You gave the woman your undivided attention, listening to every word she spoke to you. She confirmed again what you’d thought you’d heard, your heart starting to beat out of your chest.

“We’re taking him to the hospital just in case,” she said, “Can you meet us there?”

You were panicking, her words barely even registering in your head until she called your name again. You muttered a quick yes in response. Your hands were beginning to shake and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep hold of your phone.

“I’ll be right there.”

You looked around at the mess, scrolling through the contacts on your phone and calling your mother. She picked up quickly, happily greeting you on the other end of the line. You quickly explained to her the situation and asked nicely if she could clean up what you’d been doing while you’re gone.

She thankfully said yes, promising everything would be fine. You were in such a rush after that, that you didn’t take anything with you except your phone. You slipped your shoes on as quick as you could, grabbing your car keys out of the small wooden bowl on the side and rushing out of the front door.

It was a miracle that you somehow didn’t crash your car on the way to the hospital. There were tears welling up in your eyes and it was impossible to properly see clearly. Your hands were still shaking as they gripped the wheel with so much strength you were scared it could break. Your head was a mess and you could barely process which direction you were going, you knew you shouldn’t have been driving like this.

It was almost a daze when you thought about how you got from your home to the hospital, your brain couldn’t piece together being in the car.

As soon as you’d parker, you were rushing inside, probably looking insane to others as you frantically turned your head in any direction, trying to find where you could ask for help.

You were clearly distressed and people were beginning to notice, one of those people being the lady that had called you earlier.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

Your head whipped around to where the voice came from, spotting her standing a few metres away. You made your way over, seeing her motion to the room where you could see your little boy laying inside.

Your heart broke even more at the sight of him. There were wires connected to him, ones that you didn’t understand, and it scared you to the core.

You frowned, stroking your hand through his messy curls, trying to tame the wild hair as best you could. It was one of the many things he’d inherited from his dad.

“Do you have anyone else you can call?” she asked, politely, “I just don’t want to leave you here alone.”

You smiled at her in thanks, nodding your head and forcing yourself to move away from your baby boy.

“I should probably call his dad,” you stated.

You heard a quiet groan from your side, turning your body to see Theo’s eyes fluttering awake, his body shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh thank god, you’re awake,” you gushed. You kissed his head over and over, wrapping your arms around him tightly. You heard the boy whine about you almost suffocating him and letting out a relieved giggle, you loosened your grip.

You still held him to your chest, just long enough to calm your racing heart.

“I’ll leave you both,” she spoke, reminding you she was still in the room.

You nodded your head, flashing her a genuinely thankful smile.

“Thank you for helping him,” you whispered. You gave her a friendly hug, telling your son to wave goodbye before she left. You sighed deeply, taking a moment to let everything sink in to not overwhelm yourself.

You heard the four year old calling for you, prompting you to turn around to see what he needed.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” He jutted his bottom lip out, looked absolutely adorable as he started up at you with those soft, honey, brown eyes.

“I’m bored,” he whined. You pouted for him, eyes scanning around the small room for anything he could possibly amuse himself with.

“Do you want me to go ask for a colouring book or something?” you asked him. He rapidly nodded his head, a smile breaking out on your face for the first time within the hour, since the school had called you.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a second.”

Before you walked out of the door, you turned back to him and pointed your finger at him accusingly. “Don’t get into any trouble, mister,” you warned, a hint of playfulness in your tone. He giggled loudly, making your heart melt at the adorable sound.

“I promise.”

Being on a children's ward meant that the front desk always had things like these at hand. The ladies were more than happy to give you one of the books they had left, not having many options to choose from though.

They handed you some crayons and other colouring items. You thanked them profusely, knowing that you now wouldn’t have to deal with a cranky little Holland boy, because you knew how they could get.

You made your way back to the room quickly, having your doubts about leaving the toddler alone in an unknown place for any longer than necessary.

“Here you go, little man.”

You handed him the book with the wide variety of colouring items. You had to explain to him that the only books they had left were animals and flowers and you thought the animal ones looked much more fun.

“I’m expecting to see a rainbow frog,” you told him. He giggled, shaking his head.

“You can’t have a rainbow frog, mummy.” You gasped, furrowing your eyebrows teasingly.

“Why not, mister?” you asked. You saw him huff, trying to hide your giggle.

“They’re not real,” he said, like it was just so obvious.

This time you couldn’t hide your giggle as you watched his tiny brows furrow in annoyance at you. You leaned forward and placed a kiss to the tiny crease in the middle of his eyebrows. Once again something he got from his dad when he pulled the same face.

“I was just teasing bub.” He rolled his eyes at you, making you gasp and poke his belly teasingly. He giggled loudly, the noise echoing around the room as he tried to get you to stop tickling him.

You had considerably calmed down from when you arrived at the hospital to now, feeling your heart beating at a much slower pace, one that was at least calm.

“Will you colour with me?” he asked.

Originally, you were going to take this time to call Tom, but seeing the boy’s puppy dog eyes, you absolutely couldn’t resist.

You stayed and coloured in the animals with him for a while, just enjoying bonding with your bub.

You’d help him stay in the lines of the drawing, helping him out where he needed helping, while also working on your own animal, surprisingly enjoying yourself.

Noticing the time on the clock, you made the decision that you had to call Tom, it had already been long enough, it couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’m just going to go call daddy, okay?” He nodded his head, content with going back to his colouring book. You sighed, leaving the room and finding a quiet space in the corridor.

You pulled up Tom’s contact on your phone, one you’d contemplated deleting probably a hundred times, hovering over the call button hesitantly.

As soon as it started ringing your heart ached, you weren’t even sure if he’d pick up, possibly too busy with work once again.

You gasped when you heard the phone connect, almost shocked that he’d take the time to answer you.

“Hi, Tom, um-“ He cut you off before you could even finish, something that irritated you beyond belief.

“Look Y/N, now’s really not a good time, can this wait?” he asked, telling someone on the other side of the phone that he’d be two minutes.

“Tom, I had to take Theo to the hospital,” you cried, finally letting out the sob you’d been holding in all day. You didn’t mean to cry or guilt him, it was just bad timing. You’d been trying to be strong for your little boy, knowing he was already scared out of his mind, he didn’t need to know his mum was scared too.

“Woah, hey, calm down, breathe Y/N.” You listened to his smooth voice, taking deep breaths until you were able to talk again.

“What do you mean you had to take him to the hospital,” he said, “What happened?”

A sense of overwhelming panic beginning to overtake his entire body. He was across the ocean, there was nothing he could do.

You explained everything that had happened up until now, Tom listening intently to every word.

“Shit, do they know what’s wrong?” he asked, nervously. You could hear the worry in his voice.

“No, we’re waiting for them to come and do some tests,” you said, glancing back at your boy through the window in his room. Just to check that he was okay.

“Is he okay right now?” he questioned. His brain was a mess, there were so many possibilities of things that could be wrong running through his head and he hoped to God that none of them were true.

“Yeah, I think so, he’s just colouring at the minute.”

Tom sighed. “Okay, well um-“ He tried to organize his thoughts, listening to you telling him to take a minute. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said. You suddenly felt awful, knowing he was halfway across the world. The last thing you wanted was to guilt trip him into dropping everything, especially if he didn’t want to. Your tears had come to a stand still, trying to explain to him that it was okay and you had this under control.

“You don’t have to, I know you’re busy and-“ He cut you off again.

“Nothing’s more important to me than him, I’ll be there, I promise.”

After going through the later years of your relationship, you knew not to trust Tom’s promises, and you also knew how stubborn he was. His promises were often broken and just ended up hurting people in the end, and you didn’t want that to be you all over again.

“Y/N, did you hear me?” he asked, after not receiving a response from you.

“Yeah, I heard you, I’ll see you soon,” you said. You said your goodbyes, hanging up the phone and heading back inside the hospital room to see your boy.

“Change of plans, cancel the meeting,” Tom demanded, taking his coat from behind his chair and throwing it on his body in a haste. The women and men sitting around the table stared at him in shock, gasping at how unprofessional the CEO seemed to be.

“Mr Holland, this meeting is important, we can’t just cancel,” she tried to reason. He waved her off, shaking his head and dialling another number on his phone, the one of his personal assistant.

“Harrison, hi, I need you to book me on the next flight to London, asap.”

She apologised to them on his behalf, but the woman refused to give up, following Tom out of the meeting room and all the way to the set of lifts at the end of the floor. Tom was rapidly pressing the button to call the lift, hoping it could come quicker than it was. He hung up the phone with Harrison after confirming all the details of the flight.

“London?” she gasped, “You can’t go to London, we’re in the middle of one of the biggest deals of your career Tom.”

Tom rolled his eyes, almost up to his limits with everything. He didn’t know what was going to cause him to break down first, the woman or the fact that the lift still wasn’t here. He knew it was silly to get so worked up over something so small, but his concern for his child was above anything else.

“I don’t care about the deal, Y/N just called, Theo’s in the hospital,” he said. She frowned, an apology already on the tip of her tongue. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, referencing the meeting with the big investors that was due to happen any moment.

“Whatever you think is best, but please don’t tell them about Theo, I don’t want this getting out.” She nodded, heading back towards the office to explain what was happening with the meeting, unfortunately having to come up with something on the spot.

While Tom was being driven to the airport, you were trying to convince Theo to get in bed and go to sleep. It was late for him, almost eleven, and he’d had a very long day.

“Please, it’s already past your normal bedtime.” He pouted, making grabby hands at you.

“But this bed isn’t comfy and-“ You rolled your eyes, gently squeezing his cheeks together to get him to stop making excuses.

“Do you want me to sleep with you?” you asked, seeing him nod his head. You smiled softly, climbing under the covers and seeing what he meant when he said it was uncomfortable. You let him curl into you, resting his small head on your chest, his arms clinging to you.

“Mummy?” he whispered. You hummed, running your fingers through his curly hair, something that you usually did when he was scared, because it always calmed him down. He shifted in your arms, pushing himself up on the small bed so that he could lay his head next to yours on the soft pillow.

“Do you still love daddy?” he asked, looking up at you with his big brown eyes that perfectly resembled Toms. Your heart ached. In all honesty, you didn’t know what to say to the boy, because you didn’t know yourself. You thought it over in your head quietly.

On the one hand you hated how obsessed and committed he was to his work, but on the other, he was an amazing dad to Theo, and he always treated you like a princess. Your eyes flickered over your baby’s face, admiring all the parts of his features that he got from his daddy.

You realised in that moment, looking at those tiny features, the ones that resembled the ones you studied for hours on end once upon a time, you truly did hold a soft spot for Tom, even now. You sighed, stroking your boy’s cheek, ready to give him his answer.

“Of course I do.” you admitted. You saw the corner of his lips twitch up as he tried to bite back a smile.

“Then why don’t you live together,” he asked, “Everyone else at school’s parents live together.” You frowned, not having the heart to tell him about your break up properly, even after all this time. You simply pulled him closer to you, wrapping your arms around his tiny body and kissing the top of his head.

“We needed some time apart, to focus on what needed our attention,” you said, “We couldn’t do everything at once.”

You saw him staring up at you with his wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest even thinking about what happened with Tom. You weren’t quite sure Theo understood what you meant, because he still looked a little confused.

“So, your daddy had to focus on his company, making sure everything was going well and I had to focus on my little rugrat,” you said, poking his belly to tickle him. He giggled, trying to squirm away from your hands.

“Is it like-like in Captain America, when Steve has to leave Peggy to save the world.” You raised your eyebrows, thinking it over. You were a little bit shocked by his surprisingly good analogy.

“And then Peggy has to focus on Shield,” you added, “It’s exactly like that Theo.” He nodded his head, understanding where you were coming from.

You saw his big eyes begin to blink more, but also slower, a tell-tale sign that he was going to knock out any minute.

“Mummy?” he asked again. You smiled.

“Yes Theo?” you said, brushing his overgrown curls out of the way of his eyes.

“Are you more like Steve or Peggy?” he asked. You giggled, amused by the idea of him relating yours and Tom’s relationship to a fictional, superhero one.

“Well you see, I’m more like Steve, because I had to sacrifice everything for my world, just like he did.” You kissed his head when you said ‘my world,’ clearly referring to your boy.

“Wow,” he mumbled, letting his eyes finally flutter shut. “My mummy’s a superhero.”

Your eyes began to water happily, cradling his head to your chest as he finally fell asleep. You took deep breaths, trying to bite back the heart wrenching cry that was threatening to come out.

After a while of laying in the silence of the hospital room, you gave in and closed your eyes, letting your son’s rhythmic breaths ease you to sleep.

You were completely unaware that Tom had gotten the first flight out to London after he ended your phone call. You assumed he would have arrived in a few days time, at least, probably having left over business to finish up first.

[His heart] was racing the entire journey, feeling utterly useless from halfway across the world and he couldn’t stand it.

Harrison had tried to calm him down as he helped him pack for his flight on the private jet, telling him he needed to be positive about this. Tom had snapped at him, asking him how that was even possible while he wasn’t with his own child.

Tom felt bad but Harrison made it clear that he didn’t take it to heart, knowing he was stressed and there was nothing he could really do to help.

He offered to go with his boss, thinking it’d be better if he wasn’t doing this all alone, but Tom refused with minimal explanation. He knew you wouldn’t want a stranger lingering around the hospital room if anything went badly.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Tom?” he asked, standing on the runway at the entrance to the private jet, ready to go with him to England if he just so much as asked.

“I’m okay, really,” he promised, ascending the steps of the plane with his luggage.

The plane ride was gruelling. Tom didn’t know what to expect when he arrived, and he certainly didn’t know how it was going to go between the two of you while he was there. The flight was long and he tried to get as much sleep as he could, barely managing a couple hours with the worry bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

Everything seemed to be going so slowly, right from landing to getting through the airport.

It felt like he was waiting for a taxi for days, tapping his thumb on his arm anxiously, his eyes focused solely on the ground, trying to control the thoughts in his head.

The ride from the airport to the children’s hospital was agony for the young father. Tom’s leg was bouncing nervously, his hands shaking and his eyes glancing down at his watch or his phone every few seconds. He hadn’t gotten any updates from you recently, assuming you’d fallen asleep because of the time.

He knew that with it being this late he’d have to see you and Theo tomorrow morning. Before he left he didn’t really consider the time difference.

When the taxi stopped he was quick to toss the man the right amount of money, practically sprinting out of the car to grab his luggage.

It was as if he ran into the hospital, looking around frantically in search of the reception area, just like you had done hours prior. When he spotted it, it was like his feet were working before his brain. They led him to the woman before he even had time to process that he was moving.

“Hi, I’m here for Theodore Holland,” he announced. The woman at the front desk clearly didn’t notice the sense of urgency in Tom’s voice.

“Sir, I’m sorry, visiting hours are over,” she said, “They start again tomorrow at nine,” she explained calmly. Tom shook his head, running his hands through his hair for the hundredth time today. He was sure that by now it looked a complete mess, a contrast from his normally styled and gelled hair.

“I can’t wait, I have to see him,” he whined pitifully, “Please,” he begged.

She took pity on the young man, nodding her head and waving the rules in his time of need.

“And who are you?” she asked, typing the little boy’s name into the computer to search for his files, so slowly, like they had all the time in the world.

“I’m his dad,” he stated, looking around the hospital ward in a panic. She nodded, looking at the details for Theo on her computer.

“Can you just confirm his birthday?” she asked. Tom recited the little boy’s birthday to her with ease, the six digits being the password to his phone for the last four years and the day also being the best moment of his life.

“Alright, Mr Holland, you want to go right down that hall, turn left and then it’s the first door on your right, room 106,” she instructed. Tom thanked her, taking long, quick strides down the hallway, carrying his bag with his belongings in his hand.

After finding the plaque with the correct door number, he noticed the lights were off. He carefully opened the door and creeped in, closing it quietly behind him, to not disturb either of you. He noticed two figures on the bed instead of one, his heart melting at the sight of your four year old curled up into your chest like an infant again.

He let out a quiet sigh, placing his bag on the floor, taking a seat next to Theo’s side of the bed. He could now clearly see your face as you slept, still as beautiful as he remembered.

Yours and Tom’s breakup was messy. Breakups always are when there’s a child involved.

You simply hated how much Tom was working, barely ever home to see you both, leaving, what felt like, all the responsibility to you. You were both still young, only twenty-two at the time and you were struggling. One more missed dinner and crying baby finally tipped you over the edge, to where you couldn’t take it anymore.

When Tom finally came home that night you confronted him about it all. You didn’t mean to start a fight but that was evidently what happened anyway. You thought it could’ve been a civilised discussion that would be solved within the hour.

Tom left the house that night to go and stay with his brothers, hoping he could give you time to cool off and then everything would be back to normal when he next saw you.

However, what he didn’t expect, was for you to tell him you were really done, just like you’d said in the argument. He seemingly couldn’t choose between his job and his girlfriend and child, so, you chose for him.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He didn’t realise how much he was focused on work instead of the people that mattered to him, and he pretty much lost everything within a night.

The next week, Tom was off doing more and more business deals to distract himself from his loss, his family claiming he was overworking himself. He never listened to them though, and that’s how he ended up in the states, far away from you and far away from his son.

From next to the bed Tom saw his baby begin to stir, shuffling over closer to his side of the bed and smiling down at the beautiful boy.

“Daddy?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his tiny fists.

“Hi precious.” Tom stroked his cheek softly. This was the first time he’d been able to see his son in months, and he’d almost forgotten how amazing it was to see him in person. Yes, he’d seen him on facetime frequently, but there was something much more heart-warming about seeing him in the flesh and being able to hold him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked rather loudly, Tom shushing him and pointing to you.

“We don’t want to wake mummy,” he said, seeing Theo nod his head. He extended his arms out for his dad, wanting him to pick him up. Tom carefully scooped him out of bed, trying his hardest not to wake you from your peaceful sleep.

Theo wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck in one of his hugs, giving Tom a chance to look over his shoulder and finally admire your sleeping figure. Just you this time, no toddler cuddled up to you obscuring part of his view.

He admired all the things he used to- well, still does love about you. The way your eyelashes rested just above your cheeks, the way your lips parted just making him want to constantly kiss you. The way the sun shining through the window perfectly illuminated your face, making you look like a perfect angel. He took a few steps closer, just enough to brush some hair out of your face that looked like it was bothering you. Even the simple touch had you nuzzling your cheek, subconsciously, into the warmth of his hand, having missed his touch, even if you’d refuse to admit it when you were awake.

“Daddy?” Theo whispered, taking his note of trying not to wake you up.

“What’s up, bug?” he asked, turning his head to look at him. He always felt it was like looking into a time machine. You were convinced right from the day he was born that he didn’t get any of your features, looking like a clone of Tom when he was a toddler. But Tom was always adamant that Theo got your personality and mannerisms.

“I’m hungry,” he pouted, resting his tired head on his shoulder.

“Let’s go find you something to eat,” he said, following the hospital signs that pointed in the direction of the café.

Tom, stupidly, didn’t think to leave you a note to tell you that he’d arrived, or that he’d just taken Theo for food.

You didn’t really remember falling asleep in the uncomfortable hospital bed, nor did you remember Tom pulling a blanket over you and Theo in the middle of the night, or Tom even arriving for that matter.

You opened your eyes, groaning quietly as you were pulled out of your sleep. You turned your head to see if your son was awake, which you had no doubts he would be, but you frowned when you noticed he was no longer even in the bed, the sheets now cold on his side.

You sat up, looking around the room to find you were completely alone, except there was now an unfamiliar bag sitting next to the door. Your motherly instincts kicked in and you began to panic not knowing the whereabouts of your baby.

You were about to call for a nurse, asking if she’d seen him when Tom walked through the door with your son perched on his hip, laughing loudly as he nibbled on a sandwich.

“Oh thank god,” you said, taking Theo from Tom’s arms into your own. You kissed his head, running your hands over his hair.

“I didn’t know where you were,” you whined, glancing up at Tom. Theo nuzzled closer to you, his silent way of telling you he was here.

“That was my fault, sorry, he was hungry so I-“ This time you were the one to cut Tom off before he could finish his sentence.

“It’s okay, just scared me s’all.” Theo tucked his head into your neck, his small hand still clinging on to his food. After a few minutes, your heart had calmed down, reminding you that he still hadn’t eaten.

“Okay, go and eat buddy.” You let him down, watching him scurry off back to his bed where he had a little table he could eat on. You watched him for a couple seconds, making sure he was okay before turning back around to face Tom.

“Hi.” He said, staring right at you, that oh so familiar face looking as perfect and handsome as he had the first time you met.

“Hi Tom,” you said back. There was a painfully awkward tension between you both, one that could’ve been cut with a knife. Neither of you really knew what to speak about, both of you trying to start a conversation at exactly the same time, something that only made it even more awkward.

“You go first,” he said, trying to be polite.

“When did you get here?” you asked. You noticed the bags under his eyes, feeling yourself start to worry about him, but part of you told you to stop.

“Just after four, they almost didn’t let me in,” he explained. You nodded your head, nervously fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt.

“Well, he seems pretty glad that you’re here Tom,” you said, flashing him a nervous smile.

“H-how do you feel?” he asked, “About me being here?” It was silent for a few minutes. Tom was nervous, immediately regretting even asking as soon as the question came out of his mouth.

“I’m happy you’re here too.” His eyes widened in shock, taken aback by that answer. He smiled, his heart beginning to beat slightly faster.

Neither of you said anything more as you entered Theo's room, choosing to make small conversation with the boy about anything and everything, rather than with each other.

At some point in the afternoon Theo had grown sleepy, crawling under the blanket to take a nap. It was now just you and Tom sitting in yet another awkward silence. You were sitting in the chair next to his bed, making sure you were there if he needed you for anything. Tom was sitting across from you in another chair, watching you interact with your son. He noticed you visibly shiver in your thin, short sleeved shirt, rubbing your arms to try and warm yourself up.

“Are you cold?” Tom asked, almost rhetorically as he pulled off his own jacket and wrapped the material around your shivering frame.

“Thank you, I-I was in such a rush when I left, that I guess I forgot.” He nodded, flashing you a tight lipped, awkward smile. The tension in the air was uncomfortable, neither of you really daring to speak up.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he said, his eyes filled with regret. You tried to tell him it was fine, but you could feel your emotions rising in your throat, making it harder to keep them down.

He could see you breaking down inside just through your eyes, and he didn’t know how long you’d been holding this in. You took a glance at Theo to make sure he was asleep before looking back to your ex-lover.

“Fuck Tom, I was a mess, I-I had to call my mum and ask her to sort the house for me,” you cried, burying your head in your hands. His heart broke, a mental debate going on in his head about whether he should go over there to comfort you or stay sitting in his chair across from you.

He definitely didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with his presence but he also hated seeing you cry like this.

He eventually decided to help, coming over and wrapping his arms around you timidly. He was shocked when you curled into his chest, tightening his hold on you and running his hand over your hair. To make it easier for you both, you switched places. Tom letting you curl up into his lap on the chair.

“Shh, it’s okay, he’s okay,” he said. He didn’t know if he was convincing you or himself though. His voice was calming to you, somehow bringing your tears to a slow stop as he whispered sweet words to you. Just being like this with him reminded you of all the times you’d spent together dating, normally in more positive circumstances than this.

“Why don’t I call my mum or someone, have her come here and watch him, and I’ll take you home for a little bit.” You nodded your head gratefully, tucking your face into his neck as he pulled out his phone.

The phone call between Nikki and her son was rather quick, the woman agreeing to come and watch Theo with no hesitation, especially after Tom had explained the whole hospital situation that only made you tear up again.

“Thank you,” you whimpered quietly. He nodded his head, kissing your temple lightly.

“Of course.”

You were still sitting in his lap with Tom rubbing his hand up and down your back when Nikki walked in, not even half an hour later.

“Hello,” she greeted, trying to hide her grin at the scene in front of her. If you weren’t going to fall back in love like she’d hoped, at least you were on talking terms.

“Thank you for doing this,” you said, getting up to wrap her in a tight hug. She told you that it was no problem, ushering you both out, making a playful comment that you smelled bad. You scoffed, feigning offense, even if you knew she was partially right.

Tom drove you home in your car, back to the home the two of you once shared together. It was silent on the way there, not even the radio turned on for just some form of noise. It was quite emotional for Tom walking back inside the house, looking around and seeing everything was pretty much identical to how it was when he left. His mind replaying all the memories you both shared in different places all over the house.

“Do you want anything?” you asked. He simply asked for a glass of water and you nodded, heading over to the kitchen. It made you frown slightly, remembering what had happened here only the day before. You quickly filled up the glass and then headed back to where Tom was standing, admiring the living room with a tiny grin.

“Why are you smiling?” you asked. He turned his head in your direction, not even realising he had been smiling, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“I don’t really know, i-it just hasn’t changed,” he said. You could still see traces of a grin as you handed him a glass of water, telling him you were going to take a quick shower.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said, heading up the stairs to finally have a moment to yourself for the first time in two days.

You didn’t take very long. Taking a quick shower like you said and then drying your hair so you didn’t catch a cold in the winter weather. You got Theo’s stuffed bear that he sleeps with, his blanket and then some new pyjamas for him and you were ready to head back.

“Got everything?” he asked. You nodded, handing him the bear and taking the car keys from him.

“I want to drive,” you stated. You didn’t really know why, but a part of you just wanted to. Tom didn’t argue with you, following you out to the car and climbing into the passenger side.

There was a brief conversation this time around, however still not much, the silence filled with more awkward tension.

“Is this the bear I got him when he was born?” he asked, playing with the small piece of ribbon that was tied around its neck.

“Yeah, he loves it,” you told him. You noticed him wipe away a stray tear that ran down his cheek, making your heart pang in your chest. You reached over the console of the car with your hand, lacing your fingers with his while keeping your eyes on the road. His eyes widened and he stared at you, heart filled with hope, your eyes never glancing over in his direction.

It felt like Deja-vu arriving back at the hospital, except this time you knew where you were going. You entered the room to Nikki sitting quietly beside your still sleeping son, a smile spreading across her face, the woman noting how much better you looked already.

“I should start heading home.” She gave you another tight hug, Tom offering to walk her out because of the now darkened night sky. You bid her a simple goodbye, waiting until they were out of your sight to head over to your boy.

So while Tom went to take his mum to her car, you planned on giving Theo his bear, gently cooing to wake him up.

“Mummy?” he asked groggily. You smiled, handing him his bear and kissing his head.

“You can go back to sleep now, bub.” He hummed, nuzzling his head into the soft fur of the stuffed animal. You also placed the soft blanket over top of him, knowing the thin hospital sheet did little to keep him warm.

“Thank you.” He whispered, adding a quiet goodnight that made your heart swell.

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

                                                       <<<>>>

The next morning, you were informed by his nurse that Theo needed blood tests and some other evaluations to check everything was okay. You knew it was going to be a long day for the four year old so you tried your best to plan out in your head where he could take quick naps in between his check-ups to keep him energized enough.

He didn’t seem fazed by the information when you told him, having no negative experience to relate to having any kind of needle; at least not that he can remember.

Unfortunately for him though, the blood tests were first, meaning he was going to have to deal with a sore arm all day.

The three of you were guided by a nurse to a small office, one with all different kinds of confusing machines that you didn’t know about.

You helped Theo up onto the examination table, still standing close by.

“Mummy?” he asked, his big brown eyes staring up at you nervously.

“Yeah, bub?” you asked, kneeling down so you were just a bit lower than him sitting on the table.

“Can I sit in your lap?” he asked, nervously fidgeting with his hands..

After checking with the nurse, you nodded your head. “Of course you can, come here.” You helped him climb into your lap, sitting with his back against your chest and your arms around his stomach. Tom stayed near the door, ready to leave if it got too much for him; he never was very good with needles, or seeing Theo cry.

The woman explained to Theo that she was just taking blood for them to examine and find out what was wrong. He nodded his head enthusiastically, ready to let her do what she needed.

She prepared what she needed while Tom nervously bit at his nails, seeing the reassuring smile you sent his way.

“This is going to hurt a little bit buddy,” she said, finally pressing the needle to the vein in his skin. Tom winced even before Theo did. The boy clearly hated the feeling, beginning to cry softly from the pain of the syringe in his arm.

You saw Tom struggling in the corner, tears welling up in his own eyes as he watched his son squirm in pain.

“You’re okay, bub,” you whispered reassuringly, kissing his head and his cheek, trying to calm him down enough for the woman to take the blood safely. When she’d gotten what she needed she took the needle out, cleaning up his skin and letting him choose a themed plaster.

“Which one would you like?” she asked, showing him his options. His eyes widened and any trace of sadness was gone, pointing straight to the blue and red masked figure.

“Can I have a Spiderman one, please?” he asked. You giggled, seeing her nod her head. She gently flattened it over his skin, making sure it was properly stuck down.

“You can go back to your room, we’ll run some tests and then we’ll be with you as soon as we can.” She informed you both. You nodded your head, helping him off your lap and letting him take Tom’s still sweaty hand.

“Hey, Theo,” you cooed, bending down to his height. He looked at you with a small smile, letting you wipe the drying tears from his face. “That wasn’t so bad was it?” you asked. He shook his head, showing you his plaster again.

“ ‘Cause I’m a big boy, mummy.” You smiled, nodding your head.

“And, you’re just as strong as Spider-Man,”

you whispered.

“And Hulk?” he asked in a tiny voice.

“Even stronger than Hulk,” you confirmed. He giggled, letting go of his dad’s hand to wrap his arms around your neck, being careful of his sore one. You rubbed his back, continuing to praise him for how good he was. You didn’t notice how Tom was staring at you with complete adoration. His heart was melting seeing you interact with your son like this, having gone without witnessing it in person for a while.

He ran back to Tom, gripping his hand and showing off his Spider-Man band aid to his dad proudly. You smiled, shaking your head, following behind them as they walked back to his room.

He was already used to the routine by now, running to his bed when you all entered the room.

“Okay bud, we’ve got a couple hours until they do some more testing, d ’you wanna take a nap or watch a film with me and daddy?” He sat quietly as he thought about it, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration so he could make the right choice.

“Can we watch Iron man?” he asked. You nodded your head, knowing that was one of Tom’s favourites as well and he’d be more than happy to agree. He jumped down, clinging to you while Tom set up the film on his computer.

You grabbed the fluffy blanket you’d brought the day prior, throwing it over your laps to help you get comfortable enough to watch the two hour film. He cheered quietly when it started, being scooped up into Tom’s lap so the two could quietly talk about it, something that had always annoyed you.

You knew it was going to happen, barely even halfway through the movie Theo had started to fall asleep in Tom’s lap, his head resting on his chest. His head kept falling, making him snap his eyes awake and pretend as if he was still watching the film playing on the laptop.

You giggled, trying to tame his messy hair with your fingers.

Tom eventually placed his large hand on Theo’s head, basically smushing his cheek against his chest, softly stroking his bedhead, helping to keep him in place so he could fall asleep. His other arm was around his back, making sure he didn’t fall backwards off his leg.

“He’s missed you.” you said after a while, catching Tom’s attention, forcing him to move his eyes off his sleeping son to look at you. He smiled, kissing the top of his head.

“I missed him too,” he admitted. You and Tom watched as much as you could of the film, checking the time every so often.

Fifteen minutes before his next set of tests were due to start, Tom gently cooed the boy awake, with soft whispers and kisses to his head. He whined, trying to hide his face and fall back to sleep.

“No, no, you’ve got to wake up bub,” he said. Theo begrudgingly opened his eyes, lifting his hand to rub the sleep from them and look at his surroundings.

“ ‘m tired.” You pouted at him, leaning forward to try and tame his messy curls.

“I know, but you can take another nap later.”

The rest of the day dragged on for the boy. He was practically a zombie by the time he was finally able to go to bed, even with the frequent naps.

You had once again taken the seat beside his bed, running your fingers through his messy hair to try and soothe him to sleep quicker.

He was out like a light in minutes, cuddling even deeper into the pillow.

You let out a sigh, slowly moving away from him to lean back in the chair, realising just how uncomfortable you were. Your constant shifting caught Tom’s attention, his gaze burning holes through you, making your face flush.

You noticed Tom trying to keep his eyes open, looking like a little puppy every time he’d slowly shake his head, trying to shake away the impending sleep.

“Hey.” you whispered, catching his attention, again. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

He shook his head, assuring you he was fine. You rolled your eyes at his blatant stubbornness, remembering this is how he’d always been.

“Why are you so stubborn?” you asked, not meaning for it to come out of your mouth sounding so vicious.

“I wanna stay and talk to you.” You were convinced your heart had stopped beating. You cocked your head in confusion.

“You do?” you asked. He nodded his head, a small smile on his lips as he watched you get over the initial shock you were in.

“Well, what do you want to talk about?” His smile faded, worry forming in the pit of your stomach.

“C-can we talk about us?” he asked, his voice sounding just as unconvincing as his body language looked. You took pity on him, slipping your hand into his, the one that was resting in his lap.

“I guess, but what is there to talk about?” Tom seemed defeated already by your unenthusiastic answer, it sounded to him like you didn’t want this, but after seeing you again yesterday, he was determined to win you back.

“I never really apologized for everything I did,” he said. “I was a dick, and then I just left you both.” You’d spent months hating Tom for him just leaving you with a toddler, but looking at his face now, you could tell he felt awful.

“I want to do better, be a better dad-“ You cut him off, shaking your head.

“You’re an amazing dad.” You saw the hint of a smile when your words registered in his head.

“I want to be better to you, Y/N.” You froze, staring into those brown eyes, trying to see if he meant it. “I’m so, so, sorry, for everything I did,” he whispered.

Over the course of his apology he had managed to shuffle closer to you. Your knees now touched, preventing him from coming any further forward.

“Do you ever think you could give me another chance?�� he asked, almost scared to know the answer. You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand.

“Only if you can promise me one thing.” You explained. Tom’s eyes widened, his heart beginning to race.

“Anything,” he mumbled, fully prepared to dedicate himself to you and your child.

“Please come home.” It wasn’t a difficult decision for time this time around like it was the first time. As soon as he saw your puppy dog eyes, he was sold. He rapidly nodded his head, making a mental note to deal with work later.

He reached his hand up, cupping your cheek, seeing you nuzzle your face closer to his touch. You placed your own hand on top of his, turning your head to place a quick kiss on his palm.

“I know i fucked up, big time,” he reiterated, emphasising the big time and pausing for a minute, rubbing his free hand over his mouth. You watched him intently, the thing that was probably making him most nervous.

“But, do you think we could try again?” Your silence scared him. He didn’t know if he’d ever been this worried to hear an answer from someone.

“Yeah, I think we could give it a go.” Tom grinned, his cheeks flushing a light pink shade. He couldn’t wait a second longer, leaning in to press his lips onto yours. The kiss was perfect. Slow, passionate, everything you’d missed since you’d broken up. “But you’re going to have to prove you’re sorry,” you said.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised. “I’m really glad to have you back,” he whispered, his forehead leaning on yours and his hand massaging the back of your head. Part of you was screaming that you shouldn’t have taken him back that quickly, but the other part of you had been waiting for him for two years, and you were so happy to have him back.

“Me too.” The moment wasn’t very long lived

after you heard the blankets on the hospital bed rustle, turning your head to see Theo pushing himself into a sitting position. “I think someone else will be too.”

The little boy stared at you both in confusion, not understanding what you were referring to, or why you were suddenly so close again.

“C’mere buddy,” Tom said, motioning for Theo to climb into his arms. The boy climbed down from the bed with minimal struggle, running towards Tom and colliding with him with a loud giggle. Tom made a grunting noise, whining about how strong Theo was and how that hurt.

The boy just laughed at his dad, telling him to stop being silly.

“Do you want to tell him?” Tom asked. You shook your head, flashing him a smile.

“You got this,” you said. Theo looked between you both confused, having no idea what you were talking about, but the nosey part of him really wanted to know. Tom grabbed the boy’s full attention.

“So, daddy’s going to be coming home, is that okay with you?” His eyes widened, his head whipping in your direction, silently asking if it was true. You nodded, your heart melting as tears welled up in his brown eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Tom cooed, rubbing his back as he buried his head in his dad’s chest. He glanced at you, unsure what to do in this situation.

“He’s just happy.” Theo nodded, agreeing with what you said.

“Things are finally going to go back to normal.” You chose not to mention anything about a possible diagnosis with Theo, something that would be far from normal, instead just choosing to soak up the moment, rather than burst your bubble and ruin it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, watching as Tom’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“For what?” You smiled, kissing his cheek and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“For coming home.” He chuckled, kissing his son’s head and then yours.

“You two are my home, no matter where I am.”

                                                         <<<>>>

The morning that the doctors announced they had Theo’s results were nerve wracking to say the least. You were panicking almost all day, knee bouncing, driving Tom insane, your hands shaking out of fear. Tom tried to calm you down to the best of his ability, telling you to take deep breaths, holding you or just your hands and constantly trying to reassure you that you needed to be positive. If not for your own sake, at least for Theo’s.

The boy himself had no idea what was happening, he was just happy to be in his mother’s arms more than he usually was, purely because you refused to let go of him.

“Y/N, you have to put him down,” Tom said, trying to pry the boy from your arms. You pouted, scowling at Tom as he took Theo away from you.

“I’m only taking him to the bathroom, we’ll be right back,” he promised, softly kissing your lips before taking him out of the room. You sat down on the hospital bed with a sigh, picking up his teddy and beginning to fiddle with the ribbon tied into a bow around its neck.

You were too in your own head, thinking, to notice Tom come back. You jumped when his hands slid onto your shoulders, turning your head to see his sympathetic expression.

“I know this is hard, but please, just for him,” you nodded, trying your best to put on a brave face for him.

You spent the next few hours watching one of Theo’s favourite cartoons, one you’d seen a million times before, the time seeming to pass by ridiculously slowly for you. Tom was laughing along to the children’s show, making you roll your eyes and cuddle closer to him. It wasn’t until halfway through, possibly the thousandth episode, that the nurse finally entered the room, saving you the torture of having to watch another episode of the cartoon again.

“We’re ready for you,” she smiled. Tom instructed you to take a few deep breaths.

They led the three of you to an office to discuss, letting you take a seat and having Theo sitting comfortably in his dad’s lap.

It felt like you were in there for hours. You knew you should’ve been listening to what they were saying but you couldn’t concentrate at all.

You were pretty sure the woman had started by explaining the reason Theo had fainted and reacted like he did a few days prior. Everything was falling on deaf ears to you, just sounding like muffled noise coming from another room.

Tom was nodding along with what she was saying, asking the occasional question that let you know that at least he was listening. Your four year old was playing with the loose strings of Tom’s hoodie, wrapping them around his fingers and trying to make them curl. It was unfortunately the only thing he had to amuse him right now. Tom hadn’t noticed you weren’t listening, or that your eyes were focusing on your baby boy.

Theo noticed though, turning to you and flashing you a gappy smile that in return made you smile.

It felt like your heart was pounding but simultaneously wasn’t even beating, in this moment you were too scared to.

They’d obviously brought up something about the test results, Tom suddenly reaching over to take a hold of your hand, kissing the top of Theo’s head for comfort.

Tom’s sweaty hand was gripping yours like a vice, you were glad that he was here and he’d flown in, because if it was bad news, you don’t think you could do it alone.

Your mind went blank, not registering any medical words she said until you recognised the two words that made your heart begin to beat again.

“He’s okay.”

You let out a breath of relief, turning to Tom with a grin. He wrapped his arms around you, giving you a quick hug before showering the little boy in kisses.

You carefully lifted him from Tom’s lap, taking him in your arms to give him the tightest hug you could muster. The doctor explained that you were then free to go, letting you go back to collect your baby's stuff and tell him the good news.

“I hope we never have to do this again,” you mumbled, laying your head on Tom’s chest. His hand came up to run over the back of your head, placing a gentle kiss on your crown. 

“Me too, but look on the Brightside,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips, “We got our family back.”

You smiled softly, nodding your head against his chest. “Yeah, I guess we did.” You and Tom both turned your heads to look at your energetic baby boy, happy to finally be allowed to take him home again.

“Are you ready to go home, bub?” you asked. You saw his eyes light up, his head nodding rapidly as he clutched your hand. He grabbed his teddy bear, leaving you and Tom grabbed the rest of his stuff.

The three of you left the hospital for what was hopefully the last time. Theo practically skipped to the car, telling you both how excited he was to sleep in his own bed again. Your heart was warm as you looked at your little family, completely over the moon to have them back.

The first thing Theo did when he got home was rush upstairs to his room, telling you he was going to take a nap in his own bed. You shook your head with a smile, feeling Tom’s arms wrap around you. He guided you to the couch, throwing his arm around your shoulders. He started to look around again like he had the other day, taking it all in.

“It feels really good to be home.” You grinned at him, practically attacking him with a sweet kiss. He laughed, letting you pin him down on the couch playfully. “I still can’t believe I gave this up, he said, pushing a few strands of loose hair behind your ears.

“Don’t think about it now, okay?” He nodded, straining his neck to kiss you again.

“Mummy, daddy?” Your head perked up at the sound of the little voice, turning your head to see him coming down the stairs. You climbed off of Tom, giving him the opportunity to sit up.

“I thought you were taking a nap bub?” He pouted, clutching his bear to his chest.

“Will you come with me, just until I fall asleep?” You nodded your head, not giving Tom a chance to answer before you were tugging him with you. Tom scooped him up, carrying the tired baby in his arms.

“Why don’t we get in Mummy and Daddy’s bed,” you said. Tom tried to conceal his smile at what you’d called it, happy you were so ready for things to go back to how they were.

Theo climbed in your bed first, laying right in the middle with a sleepy grin. You got in after, watching Tom stop to take in how much the room had changed.

“I pretty much got rid of everything that reminded me of you,” you explained. He frowned, nodding his head and climbing under the covers of the bed. “ ‘m sorry,” you said.

He shook his head, grabbed your hand to press a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“I deserved it,” you giggled, nodding your head. Your eyes were locked on each other.

“You kind of did.” Theo made a sound of disapproval between you both, trying to get you attention to be on him.

“Sorry bub, were we not paying attention to you?” He shook his head, laying it on your chest just under your chin. You smiled, your heart melting at his affection.

“Goodnight angel,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his head. He curled deeper into your chest, a smile spreading across your face.

“Goodnight, little man.” Tom gently ran his hand over the back of Theo’s head, earning a hum in response from the boy.

“You know,” you started, keeping your voice quiet so the boy could sleep, “I’m pretty tired too.” You yawned. Tom threw his arm over you both, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, keeping Theo tucked securely between you two.

He chuckled at your sudden sleepiness, lifting his hand to run through your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to fall asleep.” You tried to bite back your smile, feeling him shrug his shoulders playfully.

“S’okay, go to sleep.” He smiled, nuzzling his nose into the top of your head.

“Will you be here when we wake up?” you asked, sounding like a scared child.

“I’ll always be here, now and forever baby.”

tom holland taglist - @seutarose @lmaotshollandd @photoshopart15 @hopelessly-harry @drie-the-derp @bvttercupbby​ @call-me-baby-gir1 @fallinfortom @iwearheadphones @kerrswriting @geminiparkers @blossomparkers @siriuslyslyslytherin​ @musicalkeys​ @itstaskeen​ @icyhollands​ @tpwk-grande​ @zspideyy​ @chrisosterfield​ @starkweasley @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ @lowkey-holland​ @hollandcrush​ @wizkiddx​ @sannie-san-shine​ @sonnydoesrandomshit​

[oloreaa]

Vencuyanir Ch. 6 - The Departure

Summary: Elana runs out of time to protect Bean as they depart Arvala-7

Words: 6.2k

Warnings: References to canon-typical violence, hints of unresolved trauma, discussion of grief, worry about the safety/future of own children, anxiety/mental breakdown

Notes: Hello there :) big thanks to both @mndalorians and @teaofpeach for looking over the first and second draft respectively, I love you both so much and thank you for all your help!! 

▪ Previous ▪ Masterlist ▪ Vencuyanir ▪ Next ▪

After a short period where Elana and Bean delved into their bond, simply feeling the other's presence after nothing but silence for so long, Bean started to become fussy. He wanted to move around, to make up for the days of lying still in the pram, and started to become a little bright bundle of energy that Elana sat down on the ground. She watched him like a hawk as he took off, stumbling and heading towards some rocks, picking them up, throwing them, running some. Repeat. 

Squeaking as some mudjumpers started to appear, he began to chase after them, giggling happily. He played for several hours, always under the watchful gaze of his caretaker, catching up on movement he had missed the last few days, brimming with energy.

Elana leant against a rock and simply rested, feeling completely at peace for the first time since the Mandalorian appeared in their lives.

Speak of the devil.

"He's all right?" the Mandalorian suddenly asked and she flinched, not having seen him coming. Automatically tensing up, her heart started to race, fear paralysing her limbs, and dug her nails into her palm, the sting sharp. She turned her head, and saw that his gaze was fixed on the child, his shoulders relaxed.

"Seems that way," she chose to reply carefully, barely hiding the tremble in her voice, "He worked up quite an appetite."

"Won't he choke on the mudjumper?"

"He has done it often enough. Also, I fed him a few hours ago, he is probably only playing with them."

The Mandalorian scoffed, shaking his head slightly. There was a silence between them, and in that moment, between the sun setting, casting long shadows that contrasted with the beautiful sky and the rugged mountain line, it was almost comfortable. It was a pity, Elana thought. The Mandalorian seemed like a decent person half the time. 

Decent enough for a bounty hunter, at least.

"We're going to Nevarro, right?" Elana asked, almost absentmindedly. He turned his helmet towards her, and gave a sharp nod without saying anything. "You'll get your reward, and they'll get Bean," she continued, not really looking at anything, "Do you know what will happen to me?"

It was a genuine question. Would she go with Bean? Would they even let her stay? Would she be stranded on Nevarro? Would the Mandalorian keep her? Elana felt a shiver run down her back at the last thought, and she barely resisted the urge to scoot away from him.

"I don't know," he said haltingly, "You're not the bounty."

She did not know how to respond to that, so she settled on watching Bean, exhaling slowly. He did the same, and again Elana got the feeling that he could actually be rather nice to be around if he was not a bounty hunter. But what did it matter? Her thoughts were running at hyper speed levels, and every possible scenario played out in her head. He could help them escape. That was unlikely though, since he had gone through all that trouble to secure them. The Mandalorian cleared his throat after a while, and straightened, taking a step away from her.

"The Crest will be finished soon," he said, "We will depart tomorrow."

"All right," she said, fighting to keep the emotion out of her voice. The sun was disappearing behind the rough mountain ranges, and dusk started to settle in.

"I'm glad Bean woke up," he then added in a low voice as he started to walk away, "I'm sorry about the Mudhorn."

Elana stared after him as he made his way to Kuiil, something like hope starting to bloom in her chest.

Bean. 

He used Bean's name. 

Not quarry, not it, not the baby.

Bean.

Maybe, just maybe... the Mandalorian was starting to become attached to them.

Elana picked Bean up, who did a great job at protesting, wanting to chase some more mudjumpers, and tilted him onto her chest. "We'll go to them, all right?" Elana murmured to him, bopping Bean once, a giggle escaping him at the movement, "It's gonna be really dark soon."

The sun was setting on Arvala-7, the scorching heat dissipating, and the unexpectedly cold breeze made goosebumps appear on her skin. Suppressing a shiver and the urge to rub at her arms, Elana straightened her posture even more, pushing her shoulders back as she sat down near Kuiil's heater, where a pot of stew was currently being warmed up on a portable stove.

The Ugnaught gave her and Bean a smile, as he slowly stirred, reaching for a small shaker and adding a few dried herbs to it. Looking up into the night sky, she soaked in the view, knowing that it was probably the last night she would be on Arvala-7. The galaxy above them was becoming more and more visible, so clear that it seemed as if the atmosphere around the desert planet did not even exist. With no clouds on the horizon and no light pollution from the inhabitants there was nothing that inhibited the view of the star-speckled sky.

It was weird, Elana thought. To think that she would leave the planet she had been trapped on for so many months. But each time she had thought it would be different. She always thought that she could maybe save enough of the meagre wage the Niktos gave her. That she would be able to convince someone to help her and Bean get off the planet. Or an elaborate escape plan, something that included taming a wild blurrg and heading to the first settlement she found, like those old Empire-approved holomovies she and her friends used to go to cinemas to watch, celebrating another week of school finished.

But it was nothing like that. Her departure from Arvala-7 would be unceremonious and undignified, and the fact that she could not know how long Bean would still be with her left a bitter taste in her mouth. Elana held the baby a bit closer at that thought, a shiver running down her back.

Should she be counting the days she still had with him? 

Should she be hugging him at every chance, feeling the comforting weight of the baby in her arms, relishing in the way he snuggled up to her, the tickling fuzz on his head, his soft ears? Bean's sweet noises when he was happy, the way his eyes would light up, a smile on his chubby face? Elana felt tears starting to rise as she thought about how she might very soon not be able to hear Bean wheezing softly and snoring at night, lying peacefully on his back, tiny hand wrapped around the soft blanket he adored. Blinking fast, and tilting her head upwards, she pretended to be watching the stars as Kuiil hummed and stirred the stew.

If she had to be honest, she was not in the mood for any company that night. She had not been ever since the Mandalorian appeared in their lives but in that moment, especially that night, Elana wanted nothing more than to be able to lock herself into a closed room, Bean safe in his pram and just give herself time to grieve for what was about to come.

Even if she was starting to feel the freezing cold of the night, she did not want to move closer to the heater, did not want to feel obligated to say anything in company. Bean made a small distressed noise, and looked up at her. His dark eyes were wide and he started to point at the heater.

The mental impression of warmth pressed against her, and a fuzzy picture of him and her near the device was clumsily put into her mind. Elana frowned and told him no quietly. 

I don't want to talk to them, she sent as an explanation, I'm unhappy with them, I don't want to be here.

Bean's ears drooped, and he frowned right back. An image slammed into her mind, of her from his point of view, hunched into herself, shivering. Elana stared at him, eyes wide. He wants me to be warm, she realised, and could not help the touched smile that flitted across her face.

"All right", she murmured, an arm snaking under the little bottom of the child, holding him securely, and scooted closer. 

Settling down near the others, Elana ignored how the helmet of the Mandalorian turned towards her, the beskar reflecting the light. Kuiil was gazing at her kindly, and smiled. "Do you want something to eat?" Kuiil asked.

She accepted quietly with a nod, and smiled back. A small bowl with the stew was given to her, a spoon already sticking in it, and Elana blew on it carefully before tasting it.

It was fine enough, so she blew some more and fed it to Bean. He chomped down on the spoon with a loud click of his teeth, making her chuckle at that. Sharing the meal between them, it did not take long until the stew was finished.

The Mandalorian was fiddling with his vambrace, seemingly fixing some of the wiring in the low light, probably waiting for them to be done so he could eat himself. Maybe her nagging had gone through his thick skull. Elana still does not know why she cared so much, but out here? Other than Kuill? He was their enemy and safest ally at the same time, and the logistics made her head hurt the longer she thought about it. Elana wondered why he did not just go into the almost finished ship, but figured that it was purely his business and it was not as if it was important to her.

Bean babbled happily to himself, his little claws scratching at her arms in a gentle manner, and she pressed a kiss onto the top of his head, soaking up the warmth the little child has to offer, feeling pure love across the bond with a soft sigh. The cold was starting to become uncomfortable at this point, but she felt too self-conscious to try to scoot even closer to the device.

Bean started to squeak at her, almost indignantly, before he stilled. Turning his head towards her, eyes wide, he gave an almost comical shiver. Elana squinted down at him, the corner of her mouth curving up.

He shivered again, holding eye contact, eyes big and watery. "Are you for real?" Elana asked, highly suspicious, a smile creeping on her face.

Bean basically started to vibrate, ears flopping up and down while shivering as dramatically as possible. She could not help the quiet laughter that escaped her. "All right, sweetpea," she told him, giggling while stroking his cheek affectionately, "You're a good actor, I know."

His eyes started to shine, and a low "aaah" escaped him, clearly happy that his plan is working. Elana scooted closer to the fire, still smiling, not missing how the two others have their heads turned towards her, clearly having been watching them both.

"The child is cunning for his young age," the Ugnaught said, voice level, kind eyes twinkling at her.

"I think he is cold," she replied, her smile almost playful, and nudged the little one, who gave a coo.

The Ugnaught nodded, and looked at the green child. "You are a smart one," he told Bean, "Able to recognize what others need." Bean cooed and tilted his head at Kuiil, ears held up high, before snuggling into Elana's chest again.

You're the sweetest, best behaving, most wonderful baby ever, Elana thought at Bean, scratching his back in a circular motion, and it was not long before the combination of having a full belly and being held by her lulled him to sleep. Even though there were not many words exchanged, the atmosphere was almost comfortable, no tension in the air.

"I will return to my home now," Kuiil said after a while, and stood up with a grunt, "I have spoken." Raising a hand in a wave, he gathered what he needed, and mounted the blurrg that had been tied to a rock formation. As he patted the side of the blurrg several times, he called out: "I bid you all goodnight."

The Mandalorian nodded, and she did the same as well. "Do you want to eat the rest?" Elana asked after a while, pointing at the leftover stew. 

"Later.”

Elana raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'll go into the Crest," he said, almost defensively.

"Do it before the stew turns cold," Elana told him, adjusting Bean on her lap, his limbs akimbo while he cooed in his sleep.

The Mandalorian just sighed, before helping himself to the food. With a full bowl in his hand, he turned, gave her a nod which she chose to interpret as thankfulness, and started to walk towards the Razor Crest.

Gathering one of the blankets and the sleeping roll that Kuiil had left for them, Elana made herself comfortable on the ground, the motion practised after a few nights out there. There was no one out here other than blurrgs and lizards, and they had stayed away the last few nights, so she figured that it would not change. Putting Bean into his pram, maneuvering her roll close to him, she lied down and stared at the lamp in the middle of the camping site.

Elana did not know how much time passed before the Mandalorian's steps sounded again, but she closed her eyes and pretended that she was asleep. She heard him getting closer to them, and he stopped at Bean's pram. After a while, he pressed the button, and the pod slid shut.

Not knowing what to think of it, it took a while until Elana could fall asleep.

  The next morning, they readied everything for departure. 

With an approving nod, Kuiil declared the Razor Crest safe for deep space and hyperspeed. The Mandalorian gave a relieved sigh at those words, and it was only a reminder of how time was running out, how it would not be long until he would hand them over to his client.

The bounty hunter cuffed Elana to the pram for the first time in days when he and Kuiil went into the ship for a final inspection before takeoff. Fuming on the ramp of the Razor Crest, worry and fear churning in her stomach, she stared hard at the horizon, trying to take in the way Arvala-7 looked like. It was unlikely that she would ever return again, and even if she did not always enjoy life here, she would not have met Bean without landing on this planet. Bean was the most important thing for Elana right now, and she would do everything for him, anything, trying to keep him safe. 

He was still snoring, the golden light of the sunrise illuminating his face gently, and she hoped that he would not wake up until they are in space, wanting to avoid him being fussy during takeoff, since it could irritate the Mandalorian. Elana would not take any chances.

"I can't thank you enough," she heard him say to Kuiil, "Please allow me to give you a portion of the reward."

Crinkling her nose at those words, she scoffed lightly, nails digging into her palms.

"I cannot accept," Kuiil said, and it did not surprise her. He had helped them for free the entire time, wanting nothing more than to bring peace to his valley. His next words only worsened the sour taste in her mouth. "You are my guest, and I am therefore in your service."

The Mandalorian was quiet for a while, before speaking up again. "I could use a crew member of your ability. And I can pay handsomely," he offered.

"I am honoured. But I have worked a lifetime to finally be free of servitude."

Blinking away furious tears, she stared hard at the ground. If Kuiil can understand the worth of a life free of it, why was he... simply giving Bean up like that? Surrendering an innocent child, just like that?

"I understand," the Mandalorian said, "Then... all I can offer is my thanks."

"And I offer mine."

The Ugnaught was quiet for a few moments, and she felt his gaze on her back, but she refused to turn around. Elana simply straightened, taking a look at the sleeping Bean in his pram.

"Thank you for bringing peace to my valley." It almost sounded as if he was talking to the Mandalorian and her at the same time, and if she pondered on his tone, she thought that she could find a hint of regret in his words. But what did it matter?

Heavy steps sounded as Kuiil descended the ramp, and she stood up the best she could, facing him. "And good luck with the Child," the Ugnaught called from on top of his blurrg, "May it survive and bring you a handsome reward."

The Mandalorian nodded at him, and Kuiil raided a hand in goodbye, old, wise eyes on her, meeting her gaze.

"I have spoken."

Elana clenched her jaw, frown on her face as the ramp raised, cutting off her view from the planet.

"Get up," the Mandalorian said, took off her binders, and pointed towards the ladder. Elana winced at the air that brushed the sensitive ring around her wrists, the skin feeling raw. She climbed, head tucked in low with the new environment, not wanting to bang her body against something, and when Elana arrived in what looked like the cockpit, she quietly inched to the side, letting the Mandalorian step into it as well.

He walked past her, used his vambrace to gently nudge the pram to the right of him, onto a co-pilot's seat. As Elana looked around, there was a symmetrical seat on the left side as well. Sitting down into it, hands in her lap, she watched the Mandalorian as he started to prepare the Razor Crest for takeoff.

Ignoring the whirr of the engine as the ship raised into the sky, and ascended in the atmosphere, she tried to calm her pounding heart and the sinking feeling in her chest. When the ship arrived into orbit of the planet, the warm glow of it slowly fading into the cold and infinite space, Bean woke up. Pushing himself up, and cooing loudly, both adults turned to look at him.

"Morning, Bean," she whispered, and gave him a shaky smile. His eyes went huge as he took in the viewport speckled with stars.

The Mandalorian shifted in his seat, pulled at a lever, and they entered hyperspace. Elana stared at the tunnel of swirling lights, heart beating fast in her chest. It had been so long since she had last seen this...

Bean made a loud squeak, eyes bright as he took in the new sight. Pointing excitedly at the lights, she felt a Pretty! coming from him. 

The Mandalorian turned around, took a look at the babbling baby, and gave something like a huff of amusement. Bean squealed happily, and made grabby hands towards the blue swirling tunnel, little body wriggling as his ears were raised high. Smiling at the sight, Elana subtly took a deep breath, feeling the claw around her heart easing slightly. Only slightly, though.

  They stayed in the cockpit for a few hours, not a word passing between them, the only noises coming from Bean.

Elana wondered whether the Mandalorian would play music, or put on a podcast, or watch a holomovie, anything that she herself would have probably done, but he just stared into the hyperspace tunnel, not moving an inch, with no indicator that he would do anything else.

Maybe he's meditating. Elana tried to find an explanation for why someone would choose to pass the time in hyperspace like that. Or he is sleeping, resting his eyes, whatever.

Because there was no way the Mandalorian simply stared into space for hours at an end without doing anything.

... right?

At some point, the Mandalorian started to fiddle with the sleep cycle on the console of the ship.

"You and the baby can go down for rations," he said. Flinching at the first words that were spoken in hours, she had to calm her fast beating heart. He’s just saying something normal. Not threatening, Elana told herself, and offered a quiet "okay" in response.

Looking over to Bean, she saw that he was chewing on his blanket, and she stood up and gently took it out of his mouth. "Come on," she told him, "We're gonna eat."

Scooping him up, ignoring the slight pang her wrists gave, the skin red and raw after many days of constantly wearing the cuffs, Elana turned to the Mandalorian. "Do you want something as well?"

He was quiet, before saying: "I'll be fine."

Elana blinked in confusion, but walked towards the closed door of the cockpit. It suddenly opened with a hiss, making her jump. When she turned her head to shoot a glare at the Mandalorian, his helmet was still in the same position, the blue light of hyperspace reflecting off it.

He did that on purpose, that bastard, she thought viciously, hiding a grimace.

Setting Bean down, before climbing halfway into the hull, Elana propped her upper body against the ladder so she could grab the baby, nestling him against her shoulder. 

With a slight struggle, she got both of them down safely, and looked around the hull, her wrists burned fiercely. Spotting a cabinet on the side where there could be rations, she pressed the button next to the ladder.

When it opened to a drawer full of weapons, she could not help but sneer. He seemed to be a tough enough adversary without all those ridiculous guns he had organised so neatly inside the drawer.

What was it again? He's a Mandalorian, weapons are part of his religion. Elana scoffed quietly, and muttered "Nutjob" under her breath. Bean cooed curiously, reaching a hand out to the drawer. She balked at that. "Don't even think about it, honey," she scolded him, and quickly pressed the same button so the door would shut, "You're too young for this violent nonsense, you hear me?" 

Pressing another button after carefully inspecting it, it seemed to be the right one, filled with packaged ration bars organised in some compartments. With a raised brow, she took in the contents, and started mentally filing away the different types of bars he seemed to have. Apparently he cared enough to upkeep a variety of selection, and with a smile she saw with a smile that he had those that the encampment had as well, those that Bean loved.

She fished that bar out, and showed it to the baby, who made a happy noise as he recognised the packaging. Bean promptly pointed at in expectantly, waiting for her to open the bar for him.

Elana nuzzled the side of his head with a fond smile. "Yeah, honey, give me a moment," she said, before taking out two random ration bars, and closing the closet. 

Seeing an open cubicle, she sat Bean into it, and pointed at him sternly. "You stay here, I'll be back in a minute, okay?" Bean just looked up at her with big dark eyes, and gave her a gummy smile.

Opening the packet for him so he could chew on it, she left the little one in the cubicle, and pulled herself up into the upper level of the Razor Crest. Clenching the ration bar in her hand, she entered the cockpit, and put it onto the console. “Here,” she said quietly.

The Mandalorian's helmet snapped to her. "Thank you," he said hesitantly, "That's... very thoughtful of you."

Elana clenched her jaw and looked down, already regretting this. "You're welcome," she whispered, before turning, preparing to leave.

"Why are you like this?" the Mandalorian suddenly asked.

She did not turn around, her nails digging into her palms, it hurt, but she could not bring herself to unclench her fist.

"Why are you so…" kind? Was that what he wanted to say?

The Mandalorian never finished the sentence, but the question lingered in the air. She felt her ribcage pressing in, her breath escaping her, heart thrumming against her sternum, and did not know how to respond. The words bubbled up and pressed against her throat, almost painful, and even as she swallowed, the pressure did not disappear, continued to hurt as she stared at him with burning eyes.

Because the universe has not been kind to me. 

Because even though she had lived a fairly privileged life, she had to see her planet's destruction on a newscast. Because she had lost everyone she ever knew in a blink of an eye, stranded on a foreign planet where no one showed her kindness when she needed it.

She wanted to say everything and some more.

Because no matter what, kindness costs nothing and is worth everything. Because even though you're our captor, you are decent enough for not hurting Bean, for not doing worse to me.

"I don't know," was the only thing she could manage, staring into the blank visor, feeling everything and nothing at the same time, body numb. She took a step back, then another, before fleeing the cockpit, feeling her eyes burn fiercely as his gaze lingered on her, almost intense enough to scorch. 

Dropping down into the hull again, choking down her heavy breaths from the confrontation, hands shaking and limbs trembling, she was greeted with the sight of Bean standing in front of the open weapon drawer. A ration bar was in his hand as he chewed slowly.

"Bean!" Elana admonished, hands on her hips as she watched him turn around slowly, ears flattening against his head as he realised that he had been caught.

He gave a coo at her, his dark eyes wide as if trying to appeal at her maternal instincts with acting cute. And damn it, it is working.

"You're in big trouble if I see you doing that again, you understand?" Elana told him sternly, trying to get her emotions under control, "It's dangerous! Those are not toys, those can hurt you if you touch the wrong parts."

His lower lip wobbled, and he looked up at her, eyes heartbroken. She scooped him up, and stepped closer to the drawer. Pointing to the various things mounted in there, she explained. "Those are blasters, they'll shoot a laser bolt out of the parts there, you see? It hurts a lot when you're shot with it, so stay away from them, okay?"

Bean blinked up at her again, and then ate the last bite of the ration bar, gurgling. Elana sighed, before closing the drawer. Taking a look around the hull, she sighed again. "Now, where are we supposed to sleep? You don't suppose on the floor, right?" Elana asked Bean, who did not give an answer. Not that she expected him to. 

She started to carefully explore the ship to avoid thinking of the bounty hunter, holding Bean tightly so he would not even get the idea of going off on his own again. Elana took note of the different crates, the nets hanging above holding various tools. The location of the standard issue medicine cabinet that was well stocked, and the carbonite freezers in the back.

Elana stared at them, feeling her heart drop. 

She had only heard horror stories about them, how the frozen person would still be completely aware of their surroundings the whole time they were in. How it would hurt to get frozen and that they would be sick for a long time after they were released from the device. Was it that there was a sixty percent probability of survival? Or was it lower? How did the Mandalorian even get his hands on these?

Suddenly she realised how lucky she had been to not be slabbed by the bounty hunter, how he had tolerated every time she had snapped back. Did he only slab dangerous quarries or did he refrain from doing it to her because he would have to look after Bean without help?

Elana did not know the answer to that, but one thing she was certain of. She was running out of time with which she could escape. Bean gurgled at her, and she could do nothing but sigh. What a mess. What an absolute, horrible mess.

Turning away from the carbonite freezer, she settled down onto the floor of the hull, ignoring the biting cold of the metal. >"You're not going anywhere near there, all right?" Elana told Bean in a stern voice, "It's dangerous, okay? In fact, everything on this ship is very, very dangerous."

She pointed a finger at him, and Bean lowered his ears, mouth down turned.

"No."

He whined loudly, and raised his hands up at her. Elana sighed, and pulled him onto her lap, holding him close.

"Oh, honey," she whispered, and pressed a kiss onto his forehead, "What have we gotten ourselves in?"

He seemed to understand the weight of the question, and did nothing but coo and nuzzle her skin, ears hanging low.

How do we get away now?

It was long until she was able to settle down, from pacing along the hull of the ship, trying to work out some of her nervous energy. She was quietly panicking until Bean had fallen asleep on her shoulder and is currently snoring quietly while his warm breath puffed against where his little face was. Then, she had carefully lowered herself onto the ground, back leaning against the hull, giving Bean the opportunity to snooze some without her pacing like a nervous Mid Rim chicken. As his breaths deepened, she started to quietly hum a song, letting the melody soothe both her and the baby.

He snuggled into her chest even more, and she carefully traced a finger over his cheek, looking down at him with the utmost devotion. There is nothing she would not do for Bean. Her scalp hurt, so she reached up, taking care not to disturb the baby, and started to methodically loosen her braids, sighed in relief as the tension lessened, massaging the ache away.

The little lump on her chest gave out a little coo and sighed contentedly, nose twitching slightly. She stroked the soft ear, tracing the shell of it with her fingers, and started the song from the beginning again. She was close to falling asleep herself, she noticed, but was so tired that she actually did not care. 

She will deal with it tomorrow.

Elana jerked up, wide awake once more, the panic swelling up again. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow Bean will be delivered to the client. She exhaled shakily, feeling her heart beat fast.

She propped herself up a bit, looking up and saw the Mandalorian watching her. She did not know how long he had been standing there, but she definitely had not heard him. They stared at each other for a few seconds, Elana's eyes wide, and his visor trained on her. Who knew what kind of face he had underneath the helmet. Who knew if he was sneering at her or mocking her.

Bean let out a yawn that cracked his face wide open, and then pressed his face into her shirt, little legs scooting up froggy style, straddling her stomach. She automatically moved her arm under his little bum, supporting the child, and looked down at the green baby.

His face was squished into her, head turned slightly upwards, button nose twitching. He started to snore softly, and Elana felt her heart break.

That was what the Empire wanted to destroy, that little, wonderful, precious creature, her child. They would take his innocence away, and she would probably never see him again. For the rest of his life, he would be experimented on, he would never have a childhood, he would never have friends, he would only know the hands of uncaring scientists that would toss him away as soon as they finished their examinations.

Hate welled up in her, white hot anger, pure despair and helplessness swirling inside her as her eyes started to burn. 

The Empire would take her child away and give him a horrible life. They would take Bean away and there was nothing she could do. The only thing that could happen is that the Mandalorian changes his mind, but that was unlikely. If he did not want to turn them in, he would have left them on Arvala-7. Elana felt wetness on her cheeks, her vision of Bean blurring more and more. Careful so her tears would not drop on the sleeping child, she tilted her head back and stared hard at the ceiling. 

"Could you move the pram to me, please?" Elana could not recognize her voice, hoarse and meek. 

The Mandalorian just nodded in her peripheral vision, pushed a button on his vambrace, and the pram floated to her, nearly at ground level. Setting the sleeping Bean into it, she was glad he did not wake up when she shifted him.

As soon as the lid of the pram closed with a slight hiss, she clenched her eyes shut and inhaled deeply, making no noise other than slightly hitched breaths. She did not shift in her seat, did not move or change position. Elana just could not stop crying. The tears rolled down her cheeks without her consent, and she did not bother to wipe them away, her limbs not cooperating anyways.

Elana couldn't fight against the Empire. She was not able to when they destroyed her planet. She would not be able to save her baby as well. She could not fight against a Mandalorian. 

I hate you, she thought at him, jaw clenched tight.

She saw how the Mandalorian's helmet tilted in her direction, observing her. Her vision blurred some more, new tears welling up.

I hate you, Elana thought again, heart aching, choking on a sob that caught in her throat. I hate you so much.

The Mandalorian just kept watching her, not moving an inch. She finally looked back, tears obscuring her vision but she gave him the fiercest glare she could manage. Pushing herself up from the ground, away from the pram, she knew that she looked exactly into his eyes.

Elana stepped closer to the Mandalorian, and he straightened. Leaning into the Mandalorian's personal space, getting into his face, she wanted nothing more than just stab him in the neck. Never before had she felt such hatred towards anyone. 

He is the one who will give my child to the Empire.

"Go to hell," Elana heard herself say, her voice barely above a whisper, breaking on the last word. Before he could say anything, she pushed past him, and disappeared into the tiny fresher, slamming the door shut. Back leaning against the door, she slid down to the ground, biting her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood.

Never before had she felt such loathing. She hated him. And that was apparently all that was needed for her to completely break down. Burying her face into her hands, she sobbed, shoulders shaking under the strain of keeping quiet.

It did not matter to her anymore. The notion that she had to maintain the stoic facade in front of the Mandalorian had gone up in smoke, she did not care at all if he found her pathetic. Let him mock her for all she cared, let him laugh himself stupid at the sight of her tears, reduced to rubble under his silent judgement.

She felt like a complete fraud, everything she did before to protect Bean? It was worth nothing, because he would give them up anyway. She could have tried to kill him before they left Arvala-7, but she did not. Never mind what would have happened, she could have killed him, stabbed him in his sleep while they were repairing the Razor Crest. She and Bean could have stayed at Kuiil's place until they would have to leave again, seeking shelter somewhere else. If she had done that, Bean would not face capture tomorrow. If.

Elana cried until she was trembling, every single one of her limbs shaking uncontrollably. She cried until there were no tears left, and then some more, until exhaustion took over her and she fell asleep on the floor, against the door of the fresher, heart aching too much for her to handle. 

If. Oh, only if.

……………

Thank you for reading!!

[dimitribelikov]

The Belikov Chronicles: Becoming a Mentor

✶ What if I rewrote different scenes but from Dimitri’s point of view? I have no idea if this is something people are interested in, but this was too fun not to write. Honestly, for all the times Rose is going on about what a god Dimitri is, it’s too amusing to imagine that he’s thinking he’s a total weirdo most of the time. ✶ trigger warnings : some adult language ✶ ship : none but hints of romitri I guess, as well as hints of Dimitri/Ivan ✶ notes : All dialogue is taken straight from Vampire Academy, chapter 2, written by Richelle Mead. The rest is mine.

                                                                   ✶✶✶

       As the double doors opened and we walked into the commons, it seemed as though every set of eyes in the place turned on us. Ok, not much as us as they were on her. Rose Hathaway had been walking by my side, but clearly feeling the effects of scrutiny, she began to lag a little. It was certainly a cruel punishment to walk her though the throng of her peers, like dangling a piece of meat in a lion’s den. Headmistress Kirova had requested it, wanting to teach her and the Princess Vasilisa a bit of humility. Honestly, after the stunt they pulled, I couldn’t help but think a slice of humble pie would do them some good.

But my thoughts weren’t on the effects of a public, teenaged shaming. I was still thinking about the short conversation I’d had with Rose on the plane. Meeting her had exceeded my expectations. When I was tasked with apprehending Janine Hathaway’s daughter, I honestly didn’t know what to expect. Janine was a well respected guardian, one that I’ve had to honor of meeting on more than one occasion. Her work, the stories of her past, continue to inspire me, but if I’m being honest, she also terrifies me. Janine is someone not to be messed with, so naturally her daughter would seemingly follow suit.

From the moment Rose squared off with us, ready to take on a whole team of experienced guardians by herself, I knew she had her mother’s fighting spirit. But when I asked her about it, why she’d do such a thing when she was clearly outnumbered, she answered with such conviction that I couldn’t help but be taken aback. “Because I’m her guardian.” 

She wasn’t of course. Not yet. But while I was supposed to be reprimanding her for such a foolish tactic, I couldn’t help but be impressed. Perhaps I even admired her. It wasn’t too long ago, after all, that I felt the same way about my own charge. I would have stood against armies of Strigoi by myself to defend Ivan, but in the end, not even that was enough.

Finally reaching our destination, I took up my stance in the back of the room, across from Alberta. The captain of the school’s guardians was another person I had admired. I mirrored her stance and unreadable expression, knowing my place. Being reduced to nothing more than furniture was a good chunk of life for a guardian. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded, though. Being ignored and overlooked meant you pick up on all sorts of things. I’ve always been curious about the world around me, so I had learned years ago how to take in every detail while standing as still as a statue. 

The only move I made was when Rose shot up and yelled at the Headmistress in outrage. She was angry, but not threatening to I stayed in my spot, eyes trained on her. She was unruly, stubborn, and very reckless. Damn, I admired her spirit.

“I kept her safe!” she continued to yell. The dark curls of her glossy hair bounced against her back as she shook with anger. I wasn’t going to admit that she was pretty when mad, but... “I kept her safe when none of you could do it. I took her away to protect her. I did what I had to do. You certainly weren’t going to.”

I could feel the concern radiating from Alberta, but I actually had to work to keep a small smile from my face. Sure, the teenaged girl just insulted my own capabilities, but I didn’t take it personally. She had a point. Seeing the way she had thrown herself in front of Vasilisa to protect her from us back in Portland, I had no doubt that Rose truly believed she was protecting her. She needed guidance, though. Proper training. Her brash attitude made her jump to conclusions and solutions were way out of left field.

I ignored the voice in my head that told me how I wasn’t much different with Ivan before he’d died. Sure, I never took him out of school and fled the Moroi authorities, but I’d still concocted some pretty crazy schemes to keep him safe. He was my best friend after all. More than that. Ivan was everything and if there was a threat big enough, I didn’t entirely rule out the possibility that I’d have done exactly what Rose did. His death had sobered me, though. Tamed me from my more headstrong ways.

“You will be sent away as soon as possible.”  It the Headmistress who had spoken. She was talking about Rose, of course. That was the exact opposite of what she needed. Didn’t Headmistress Kirova know who she was dealing with? The daughter of Janine Hathaway had too much potential to be wasted, especially with guardian numbers as abysmal as they were. The verbal sparring match that continued after that was intense. I followed every word between the two, and noted the look of sheer panic in the princess’s eyes. Those two couldn’t live without each other. If Vasilisa was my new charge, I had to keep her best interests a priority. This couldn’t stand. Surely Alberta would have an opinion? But she was remaining rooted the spot. The argument was getting more heated. Shit. I had to do something, to speak up or–

No, no, no, no. Furniture. You’re just a piece of furniture. I internally berated myself, biting my tongue. This doesn’t involve you. Stay out of it. 

“They have a bond,” I said. And just like that, I dragged myself in the middle of something I had no business being in. Fuck it, I decided as all eyes turned on me. I kept my expression neutral as though my speaking was fueled by perfectly rational thoughts. I always hated being in the spotlight, so rather than deal with the whole room, I stared solely at Rose. There was something comforting about her, as though if anyone in the room could understand me, it was her. “Rose knows what Vasilisa is feeling. Don’t you Rose?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the headmistress look entirely startled by the claim. “No... that’s impossible. That hasn’t happened for centuries.”

Her doubt only encouraged me to continue as I felt a better handle over the situation. “It’s obvious,” I said. “I suspected it as soon as I started watching them.” My eyes were still locked on Rose’s. She was defiant and strong, and I couldn’t help but feel my own strength bolstered by her presence. Perhaps I was starting to come off as a creep, though, because she quickly looked away from me as Prince Victor gave this theory praise. 

Turning my gaze onto Kirova, I continued. “The best guardians always had that bond. In the stories.” I added the last part, hoping that I didn’t somehow sound like a total loon. I technically wasn’t supposed to be talking at all, yet here I was, spouting of old myths straight from fairytales. But every word I said was the truth. I had seen it, and it was something that couldn’t be ignored.

“Stories that are centuries old! Surely you aren’t suggesting we let her stay at the Academy after everything she’s done?” Kirova countered.

I guess I am just a loon, after all. With nothing more to lose, I shrugged. “She might be wild and disrespectful but if she has potential–”

“Wild and disrespectful? Who the hell are you anyway? Outsourced help?” It was Rose who had interrupted and I wish I had a way to tell her to shut up. Couldn’t she see that I was the only one actually standing up for her? I suddenly thought of a few more adjectives to add to “wild and disrespectful”.

“Guardian Belikov is the princess’s guardian now. Her sanctioned guardian,” Kirova corrected. I know I wasn’t supposed to be on her side, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit triumphant.

That feeling fell immediately with Rose’s next words. “You got cheap foreign labor to protect Lissa?” Thank God I had mastered an unreadable expression, because if I could have thrown daggers at the novice, I would have. She knew nothing about me, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt by the statement.

Kirova threw her hands up as though her point had just been made. “You see?” she said, directed at me. “Completely undisciplined! All the psychic bonds and very raw potential in the world can’t make up for that. A guardian without discipline is worse than no guardian.”

I couldn’t disagree, which brought me back to my original point. Pushing my irritation over the insult aside, I knew I had to stand up for the guardian Rose could be. “So teach her discipline. Classes just started. Put her back in and get her training again.” Honestly, wasn’t that the whole point of school? If being undisciplined got students kicked out, there wouldn’t be any left.

“Impossible. She’ll still be hopelessly behind her peers.”

“No I won’t,” Rose finally spoke up. If she was standing up for herself in a rational manner, then surely we could sway Kirova to let her stay at the Academy by Vasilisa’s side.

“Then give her extra training sessions,” I quickly added, feeling victory within our reach. And just like that, the negotiation started. It was the first real hope I felt in this battle. We continued for a while and I could feel Alberta’s eyes on me the whole time. Surely there would be words when we were back in the guardian’s headquarters.

“Who’s going to put in the extra time?” Kirova sounded tired of the conversation and I knew I had my foothold. She was ready to accept, she just needed the logistics of it all hammered out. Just as I was feeling triumphant again, the rug was once again pulled out. “You?”

I froze. Me? Train Janine Hathaway’s daughter one on one? The princess needed her and I could respect that, but Rose was quickly becoming a thorn in my side with her harsh comments. The two of us alone together in a sparring ring would surely end in blood being drawing. “Well, that’s not what I–” I trailed off, feeling like a total idiot. I didn’t think this through at all.

“Yes. That’s what I thought.” Shit. Just like that, Kirova won.

My eyes fell on the two girls, and when I looked between them I saw... Ivan and me. For the hundredth time that day, my mind came back to my old friend. I loved him more than I could put into words. I would have died for him, but instead, it was the other way around. One day off, one day away from him, and disaster of the worst degree had struck. I could imagine with painful clarity how Rose would feel if anything were to happen to Vasilisa while she was sent away. Of course, I would make sure to never again lose a Moroi on my watch. No more day-off’s for me. But if Rose had no choice...

“Yes. I can mentor Rose.” I almost didn’t recognize my own voice as I spoke. The moment the words left my mouth, though, I knew I didn’t regret them. I made a vow, and Vasilisa was now in my care. I couldn’t hurt her chances by taking away someone she was bonded with. And Rose... Rose deserved a fighting chance. “I’ll give her extra sessions along with her normal ones.”

We agreed that Rose should still be punished for her actions in addition to the extra training. With words of encouragement from Victor and Vasilisa herself, Kirova finally caved. Yet I’d hardly call it a victory. I’d just traded in practically all my free time to train a wild and disrespectful girl. She was my responsibility now and as I held her gaze again, I had a feeling I had my work cut out for me.

[ironmandeficiency]

feelin’ like a woman

pairing: hardcase / reader

word count: 4322

summary:  you’re desperate to go somewhere where proper conduct isn’t expected, and you perk up at hearing about a clone-friendly bar called 79’s. fox gets protective over you and his worry only increases when the object of your affections is a member of the five-oh-first.

warnings: implied smut, the reader and hardcase are thirsty af, that along with the drinking makes me think rated m is most accurate for this fic

“come on, padme! i need someone to come with me!”

“you seem to forget that i’m painted on the sides of several of their ships, any clone would pick me out from a crowd just as quickly as my husband could.”

“then let them enjoy a night with the highly esteemed senator fighting for their rights as people!”

“that’s why you’re going, is it not?”

you groan in defeat, flopping onto padme’s bed theatrically. that was the exact opposite of why you were going. you were indeed an avid fighter for the rights of the clones, but you didn’t have the notoriety that padme did. no, you were planning on going to 79’s to let loose and drink people under the table without shame and have enough fun to satiate future boredom at the upcoming senator’s gala.

“you can have a disguise, or claim to be a body double for the former queen of naboo!”

padme rolled her eyes at the idea. “any member of the coruscant guard will see through that immediately. and speaking of, aren’t you going to need one of those disguises you’re so keen on making me wear?”

“nah, i’m not as popular as you, my friend. i don’t think i’ll be picked out as quick as you would be, or even at all.”

“but i’ve heard that anakin and his men have returned from their last campaign. surely some of their men would recognize you after your rescue from separatist lines a few months ago.”

“lucky for me that the men in blue aren’t snitches.”

--------

you were mostly right about not being widely known.

fox, when he saw you in a dress much tighter and shorter than anything he’s ever seen you wear, nearly had a stroke. at first he tried to blame the glass of unknown substance shoved into his hand by someone in the 327th for making him hallucinate stewjon’s senator wearing a scandalous dress while drinking at a clone bar. then he heard your voice when you asked for stewjoni scotch, and he knew for certain it was you.

his steps were fast and wide as he approached you, a hand gripping your arm almost vice-like to keep you from pulling away. “senator, what do you think you’re doing here?!” he spoke through clenched teeth akin to the way parents chastised their children in public.

“what i’m doing, foxy boy,” you smirk as the bartender sets the bottle and two glasses before you, “is getting shitfaced.” he filled both glasses, extending one towards the commander of the coruscant guard. he didn’t pick up the glass (which you expected) so you picked up yours, clinking the transparisteel against his chestplate with a wry smile.

fox does not approve of this, not at all. but he loosens his grip slightly because he’s aware of how that could possibly be twisted against him if the wrong person saw him. “do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here, senator? you could have been murdered or kidnapped on the trip here, and a drunken senator would be quite easy to take advantage of after half a bottle of this scotch.”

he was worried about you, which was really sweet of the overworked commander (although quite unfounded because you were surrounded by soldiers of the republic, you’d be fine). you had enough faith in their morals to know if anyone got too handsy, clone or otherwise, one of them would defend your honor.

“my friend, you seem to forget that i was born and raised around this stuff,” you raised the drink to your lips and downed it in record time as you continued. “it might as well be in my blood at this point, foxy. but could you do me a favor and refrain from exposing my position? it’ll ruin my chances of any fun, and that would mean i’d have to leave the relative safety of dozens of soldiers.”

fox was resigned to his fate. you did have a fair point, he can monitor (protect) you much better when in a clone-friendly bar than he could in a place where he wasn’t even allowed inside because of his clone status. guess you were staying here.

“well not every brother in here has the same respect for women, sena-“ he cuts himself off and is unsure of how to address you without the title. fox was rightly worried about addressing you by your name. names were near-sacred to him and his brothers, and they held the same power to those in high positions of power like you were. would you be comfortable trusting him with something so precious as a name?

you pick up on his trepidation and immediately give him permission to call you by your first name (again), your other hand grabbing the untouched scotch and downing it with practiced speed. it isn’t like you haven’t been friends with fox since the first time he was assigned to float with your protection team, and you trusted him with your life. he wouldn’t take it lightly and most definitely would be professional whenever decorum was called for.

“alright y/n,” fox’s mouth wrapped around your name with calculated hesitance, almost doubting whether you had even given him permission in the first place. “from now until tomorrow, or as long as we’re in this bar, i’ll only address you as y/n, a random civvie that came to drink with a few soldiers.” the second time he spoke your name it was with a bit more confidence and a twinge of humor.

you brought a hand to the bar top with two rapid hits, drawing the attention of the bartender. the man took the hint and refilled the glasses in front of you both. before he could walk away, you grabbed one of them and gently slammed it back onto the bar, the bartender once again refilling it with the amber liquid.

it was almost comical, the way fox’s eyebrows shot up at the speed with which you took the third helping of scotch. “oh i’m here to do a lot more than drink, my friend,” you grin widely and rest an arm on his shoulder. “i’m here to party!”

the words had been out of your mouth for mere seconds when a clone with blue paint on his armor and inked onto his face approached your right side that was unoccupied by your favorite member of the coruscant guard.

the geometric blue on his armor clearly distinguished him as five-oh-first material, but you had never met this particular soldier before. he had a wild side to him, that much was obvious with the loud confidence he used when he invited you to hang out with him and his group toward the back.

there were a couple familiar faces occupying the booth he gestured to and you grinned at the sight of a cog-headed man downing a shot of something purple. it had been too long since you had seen jesse and co. and you figured that since you were here to party, who better to do it with than some of the rowdiest clones in the gar?

this was another thing fox didn’t like, and the list seemed to only be growing. many of the men under rex’s command had a well-known reputation for being something far less than tame. the idea of his friend (apparently you considered him a friend and it would only be fair of him to do the same since he was now given permission to do so) getting “shitfaced” with the loud men worried him.

they were vode, there was no reason for him to fear for your safety.

your manicured hand came to pat his cheek with affection, bidding him a farewell and directions to find you if he needed you. the other trooper grinned as he offered his hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he guided you to where his closest brothers sat.

fox grabbed the remaining glass of scotch and downed it the same way you had. it was gonna be a long night.

--------

when hardcase returned to the booth with you as his plus one, every head turned (echo and rex choked on their drinks as well) once they identified you.

“jesse! long time no see!”

“y/n! wouldn’t have pegged you for a 79’s kind’a girl, good to see ya!”

“senator y/n! you look stunning as always!”

“why thank you fives, but you know that flattery won’t get your hands anywhere closer to where you wanna put ‘em.”

laughter bounded from everyone around hardcase as you slid into the booth next to jesse, your interlaced hand pulling him next to you.

he was stunned. he had just invited a senator to his table with that much confidence and she actually followed him? a senator?! that knew his brothers?! how did she recognize fives and jesse (and presumably everyone else) in the first place?! part of him hoped the honorific was an inside joke he wasn’t privy to but common sense paired with the way echo and rex choked at the sight of you told him that you actually held that title.

it didn’t take a genius to know where exactly fives wanted his hands to go and the fact you didn’t lose your shit at the implications had hardcase reeling. what kind of senator were you? apparently a fun one, if the finesse you held when downing the scotch earlier held any weight to the idea.

“you know me too well, gorgeous.”

“knowing you at all is too much for anyone, fives.”

your laugh at echo’s snarky comment was loud and without inhibition and hardcase loved it. you were a breath of fresh air, something warm and bright amidst the murky, choking cloud that was the war and he wanted you to stay next to him as long as you were willing.

kix returned to the booth loaded down with drinks and was pleasantly surprised to see you laughing it up with hardcase and the others at something said that (what he correctly guessed) was at fives’s expense. you greeted the medic with a grin, quickly extending a hand towards him that he quickly filled with a brown bottle.

before you could open it and take a sip, jesse gently nudged your side with an elbow. an eyebrow quirked up as he gestured to his bottle and then to yours, and you quickly understood what he wanted to do.

“you’re on, jess.”

everyone else at the table (minus hardcase and tup, the only other man at the table you didn’t know prior to tonight) knew what was going to happen now. with an amused sigh, kix resigned himself to having to deal with an insanely drunk jesse later tonight as the latter opened his bottle and set it in front of him, waiting for the countdown. being the designated vodsitter was a necessary nuisance because they clearly couldn’t be trusted to get themselves back to the barracks safely.

fives began the countdown at three, a hand smacking the table with each number before shouting “go!” you and jesse quickly snatched your drinks from the tabletop and began chugging at a speed hardcase hadn’t seen a civvie (well, non-clone) drink with.

hardcase couldn’t help his eyes from wandering down your body as a couple drops escaped the corner of your lips, slowly making a path down your exposed neck and chest and disappearing into your dress. there had never a been a time he wished he was a tiny droplet of beer, but tonight had him thinking that he’d be content with such an existence if it guaranteed him gliding down your body the way your beer did.

damn his mind was weird sometimes.

he was pulled from his thoughts at a victory yell emitting from your throat, an empty bottle banging against the table. jesse’s head was in his hands, a playful groan making itself known at his now apparent loss.

you beat jesse?! he was the champion!

guess not anymore.

you playfully half-bowed at the cheers of the rest of the table’s occupants before wiping the corner of your mouth with a thumb. what he didn’t expect was the way you licked the tiny bit of beer away from the tip, or the way he felt something stir in his abdomen at the sight of your tongue flicking out for a brief second. did you know you had this affect on him?

conversation came back for a few minutes, everyone joking around and having a great time. you were going on about something to do with the ryloth senator’s bothersome lack of ability to shut up when you cut yourself off mid-sentence, seeming to notice something the others didn’t.

“y/n, what-“

you hold a finger up to silence him and after another couple seconds, your eyes light up at the familiar tune beginning to play from the music box in the corner by the dance floor.

“hardcase, move your ass! i love this song!” he quickly does as you ask, secretly relishing the way it feels when you lightly push him out. what would your hands feel like on him without his pesky armor in the way?

you’re barely out of the booth when a female waitress approaches you with another brown bottle the same as the one you finished off a while earlier.

“the three gentlemen from the three-twenty-seventh enjoyed your little show earlier, wanted to see if you’d do it again.” you could hear the eye roll in her voice, seeming a bit bothered for you at the gall the men she pointed to had.

you shot her a sympathetic smile before sending a flirty wink towards the men who bought you the drink, taking it from her hands with a flourish. she seemed to visibly relax when you were nonchalant about the whole thing, turning to go back to work.

if they wanted a show, they’d get one.

it took a tiny hop on your part to get yourself sitting on the table, being careful to avoid spilling the drinks of your blue-painted friends. you crossed one leg over the other as you sent a small salute with the bottle toward the table before bringing it to your lips. the liquid sent a warm burning sensation to your throat, and you tilted your head back with an almost seductive elegance.

another couple drops escaped your lips and followed a path similar to the prior bottle’s contents, and hardcase was once again enraptured at the sight. when the bottle was empty, you hopped off the table and set the bottle down. now that you had a few drinks in you and a great song was playing through the bar, it was time to dance.

hungry eyes burned into your body as you made your way to the dance floor. you knew there were a couple five-oh-first boys eyeing you as well as the three men who gifted you the last drink. disguising your curiosity as a flirty twirl to the song, you spun and took a head count of your admirers.

at least eight soldiers’ eyes were glued to you, the men having varying motives as to why you had their attention.

fox was casually nursing another glass of scotch at the bar but that nonchalance didn’t fool you. if you gave even the tiniest indication that you were less than comfortable with something, the guardsman would immediately come to your aid. it was the calculated calm that one would see in predators in the wild and you were thankful fox was on your side.

you didn’t pay much mind to the three-twenty-seventh members that sent the second bottle your way outside of knowing that they were watching you. the battalion was familiar to you only by name and paint color, and you weren’t looking to get chummy with men from a group whose commanding officer you weren’t well acquainted with.

tup, who you had discovered was the youngest of the blue men group you were drinking with tonight, was in absolute awe. he’d seen plenty of women who were able to fake a confidence like yours, but yours wasn’t even the slightest bit artificial. your name has popped up among the men with stories of how you were shooting down clankers right along with the five-oh-first during your rescue from seppie space. the fact you were as wild as the stories led him to believe was startling and quite validating.

most of your blue-clad companions were watching your departure the same way they’d watch a commando kick ass: with excitement and barely-contained anticipation. it was entertainment to them. they knew that you knew about the lingering eyes on you. you were just playing the part of the naive but sexy party girl that wanted nothing more than to drink and dance.

what you pretended to want was mostly true, but you had a more concrete goal in mind now than you did when you first arrived: your new goal was to jump the bones of a certain tatted heavy gunner.

a blind man could see the heart eyes hardcase has been throwing at you since he approached you at the bar. the trooper was everything but subtle in his enthusiasm to please you. the lust in his eyes as they roamed your body reminded you of the drought you’d been stuck in for far too long, senator work not leaving much time for the finer pleasures life has to offer the bold.

there was a tall and vibrant pitcher of water in blue paint that you hoped would be more than willing to flood your desert later tonight. maybe if you played your cards right and made your intentions known things would go your way.

only one way to find out.

among the cards was a little extra sway to your hips as you walked and a half-spin, urging him to follow you to the dance floor with a wink.

his brothers were encouraging him to get up and go, but he was suddenly nervous about you for the first time tonight. did you really want to dance with him? he didn’t think so. you were absolutely phenomenal and he wasn’t even an arc trooper, what would you want with him?

doubts were shoved away from his head when you went back to the booth and pulled him from his seat, a wide smile gracing your features. fives, tup, echo, and jesse drunkenly hollered in celebration of his good fortune as you laced a hand in one of his and he swore to the maker that he could never forget the way your hand felt in his.

once you found a prime spot on the floor, you turned to face hardcase and pulled him closer to you. your hands made their way to the nape of his neck and your hips began to sway. the trooper took the hint and his hands moved down your body and came to rest comfortably on your waist.

did all clones have such large hands? if so, how did you not notice that pleasant physical feature earlier? more importantly, would they feel as large as they did now when spreading you open for him before absolutely railing you the way you hoped he would?

the song continued and with it went what little structure your dancing had. hardcase was right on board with it, the two of you dancing like fools just enjoying each other’s company. you laughed as he playfully twirled you out of the blue and wow, his smile is dazzling. he was laughing right along with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make him more attractive than he already was.

then he pulled you closer, chest flush with his. callused hands returned to your body and traveled lower and lower, one resting on your ass while the other pressed into the small of your back. his eyes became softer as he lowered his head, whispering a question of consent, whether it was okay for his hands to have gone so far down your figure.

it was endearing you even more to the mirthful soldier and if you weren’t careful- oh who were you kidding? you were too far gone to contemplate what it meant for you to have something so intimate with a trooper and frankly, you didn’t care now the same way you wouldn’t in the morning.

he was flesh and blood and dazzling smiles and playful jokes, and you wanted to continue being the reason he smiled so wide. you had half a mind to send a holopic of your lips on hardcase’s to the longneck senator burtoni just to piss her off because look at this man, he was spectacular and you dared anyone to imply that he was anything less.

you were snapped back to the man in front of you when his hand kneaded your ass in the most heavenly way possible, not even bothering to conceal the soft moan that worked its way out of your throat. there was no way hardcase didn’t hear it, not with how he tensed for just a brief moment before doing it again with both hands just to see what you’d do.

another moan added emphasis to your growing arousal, slightly louder than the last one but still quiet enough that the dancing strangers on almost every side couldn’t hear.

hardcase grinned like a loth-cat at the sound. he couldn’t believe his night was going so wonderfully and for a brief, blissful moment he forgot that he’d have to leave 79’s before the end of the night and in three days’ time, return to the front lines.

the harsh slap of reality obliterated what little jitters and anxiety he had about you on the spot. he tightened his hold on you before asking for permission to kiss you the way he’d wanted to since you sat down next to him.

the reply you granted him was simple enough and got the point across with zero chance for it to be twisted the way some fellow senators would twist the words of themselves and others. honesty and openness were rare in politics but they were abundant when hardcase was this close to you, and they only grew in size as your lips collided with his.

you could taste the beer on his tongue and something else you didn’t recognize that had you hungry for more. it was sweet and strong and distinctly hardcase and oh fierfek, if his mouth was this good right now, imagine how skilled it’d be when-

rough kneading elicited another moan that wasn’t as private as the others, your mind storing away the humorous sight of a couple veering their path away from you and hardcase’s affection in thinly veiled disgust.

“is there somewhere we can go for a bit more privacy?” the aroused timbre of his voice was something you weren’t prepared for and if he hadn’t been holding you so tight against him, you were confident in the assumption you’d have melted to the spot.

but the implications didn’t lose their intended effect; in fact, quite the opposite. you pulled him in for another kiss and this time, decided to push yourself against the codpiece of his armour, see how he’d respond.

there was something almost primal in the noise he made and you were desperate to hear it again. you repeated the motion and received the same response, deciding to answer the pressing question he posed as he relished in the pressure you were giving him. “i can get us into a hotel in the middle levels where no one would know me, see what happens from there.”

the confidence in his next words struck you like lightning. “i think we both know what’s gonna happen from there, sweetheart.” his lips began setting a path along your jaw and down your neck, pausing only to lightly bite the soft skin resting above your collarbone.

“what are we waiting for, then?”

hardcase’s tongue lapped at the spot his teeth just released for a moment before lifting his eyes to yours. “a cab to get us the kriff outta here.”

he (almost unwillingly) detached himself from your body and intertwined his fingers with yours, smiling as you guide each other towards the exit and right by your former table. as predicted by hardcase, his vode that were still conscious drunkenly shouted their congratulations and reminders about protection.

you laughed right along with them for a moment, bidding them a good night and safe trip home.

before getting to the bar doors you paused. fox would want to know that you were safe, and you’d feel immensely guilty for letting your friend needlessly worry. scanning the bar, he wasn’t at his previous spot and you cursed for a moment before finding another trooper with red paint, telling them to pass along a message.

they nodded and turned to do so, at which point you pulled hardcase closer to you and emerged from the doors hand in hand.

a speeder cab nearly passed you up, jerking to a stop at the loud whistle of hardcase. another thing his mouth could do. interesting.

the cabbie asked where you wanted to go, your answer sounding almost out of breath since hardcase thought that mid-conversation was the perfect time to slide his hands up the exposed skin of your thigh. never had you been grateful for the solid divider that isolated cabbie from passenger before this moment.

at the end of the night, you both had predictions turn into truths; hardcase was correct in guessing what exactly would transpire between the two of you, and his hands did feel as large as you hoped they would as he split you open with calculated ministrations before nailing you to the hotel bed.

[shinidamachu]

No Place I Would Rather Be

Summary: We're a thousand miles from comfort. We have traveled land and sea. But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be. Word Count: 3.617 Genre: fluff Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

Boredom was eating him alive.

Days had passed without a single lead about the jewel fragments. So much that their little group had disbanded for the time being. Sango went back to what was left of her old village. It had been a while since she last paid homage to their dead. Kirara, of course, was her loyal company — and also ride. Miroku was visiting Mushin’s Temple, as if the place hadn't been profaned enough, already. Shippo was still around, but keeping his distance due to InuYasha’s stormy mood.

The frustration of it all got him desperately wishing for some kind — any kind — of action. Something that didn’t involve sulking under a tree and watching time crawl. Every second of this idleness meant another second Naraku was out there, still breathing. Collecting the shards was a small mean to achieve a bigger, imperative ending. It gave him purpose, a sense of getting closer to his ultimate goal step by step. Waiting got them nowhere. It only granted him to be alone with his thoughts and the combination was nothing but disastrous.

Lucky for him, his private source of distraction was not too far away.

Kagome was humming a foreign tune, the same one she liked to sing whenever she was happy. Following the melody was almost mandatory. InuYasha didn’t realize what he was doing until he arrived to the other side of it, where the girl thumbed through her hair in a futile attempt to tame her hair, the lake’s surface a natural mirror at her convenience. InuYasha made his presence known before his own reflection joined hers.

“It’s no use, ya know.”

“Jerk!”

The girl glared at him and retaliated by splashing water on his direction — of which he easily dodged. InuYasha had to admit her reaction was justified, given his past tendency to be utterly unkind to her. This time, however, although his tone wasn’t devoided of casual teasing, he was being completely honest. When you spend sunrise to sunset with someone for so long, it was inevitable learning a thing or two about them. Kagome had a wild hair. Not in a bad way, but it sure had its own will. Especially in the humidity, which was definitely the case of that afternoon. To an outside viewer, the strands could pass as straight. Noticing the shy waves at the end and how they used to stand out after getting wet was a privilege for the few allowed to look closer — a privilege InuYasha cherished. She always had her hair down and he liked that she did. It was destined to be free, to go with the wind. And it had grown a hell of a lot since they first met. The half demon wondered if Kagome was aware of how much. He certainly was.

Then she got up, revealing clothes that were undoubtedly new to his eyes. It was one piece, all lime flowers and malleable fabric against her cream skin. A bit longer than what she usually cared to wear, but leaving her arms and shoulders at plain sight in compensation. The view was thrilling, until his eyes caught the yellow backpack laying by her feet, causing his grin to falter. He understood the implication behind it, even if the question had yet to pass his lips.

“What’s with the weird kimono?”

“Oh, this.” Kagome lowered her gaze, inspecting for herself. Her combative attitude swiftly turning into a cautious posture. “It’s a sundress. I’ve been meaning to ask… can you please give me a ride to the well? I’m going home.”

There it was.

Somehow, getting his suspicions confirmed did nothing to prevent the scowl from forming on his face.

“Thought the school thing were over for the summer.”

“Well, yes...”

“Then why the fuck ya going home for? We still have plenty of supplies!”

“Because I promised I’d go to the movies with Hojo and now that we’re on vacation I don’t have excuses not to go, anymore. My grandpa literally ran out of diseases I could have. And what’s the point, anyway? Jewel hunting is going through a dry spell, everyone left… and I haven’t seen my family in weeks.”

Half of what she said didn’t make any sense to him and InuYasha positively hated the half that did.

“What if something comes up? I can’t see the damn shards like you do.” He argued.

“You jump through the well and get me.” She shrugged, as if the idea was highly unlikely. InuYasha opened his mouth to list the many, many reasons her solution was flawed. She bit him to the punch. “Listen, it’s not a big deal. I’ll be back tomorrow. I bet Miroku and Sango won’t even be here yet.”

It wasn’t fair.

In general, storming off to her era was Kagome’s way of punishing him for being a massive asshole. He got that. To tell the truth, more often than not he deserved it. But InuYasha was in his best behavior — despite feeling rightfully entitled to throw a tantrum, given the circumstances — precisely because he needed her close. He needed her to stay. Picturing Kagome hanging out with someone else instead was the worst kind of self torture. Would she change her mind if he swallowed his pride long enough to say so? Would he ever get the guts to let it out? She hadn’t invited him to come along. Was this Hojo guy really that important to her? More than InuYasha was? Trying to talk her out of it was a dangerous move. He’d put his foot in his mouth, she’d put his face on the ground. That’s what they did.

Either his expression betrayed the turmoil inside or Kagome became too good at figuring him out. Whatever it was, her smile shined, reassuring and warm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be so quick, you won’t have time to miss me.”

“Who says I’d miss ya?” He dismissed, his indifference unconvincing even to himself.

InuYasha perceived another presence approaching. Shippo. His arrival couldn’t be more providential. Kagome had a soft spot for the brat. If anyone could get her to stay, it was him.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just the runt.”

Like he had been announced, the kid emerged from the trees in a hurry, Kagome’s bow and quiver looking gigantic on his tiny hands.

“Kagome! InuYasha!”

“Shippo-chan! What’s going on?” She asked, as soon as the boy reached them.

“There are rumors of a jewel fragment, two villages to the west.” He explained, with the pomposity the information called for. “Kaede sent me.” His chin was up high, like the statement added a final hint of importance to the message. “Here,” continued the kit, offering Kagome her weapon in a formal manner.

She hesitated.

“Kagome, let’s go!” InuYasha was prepared to move at the sound of the word ‘jewel’, their earlier argument happily buried and forgotten.

“Wait! Don’t you think it’s strange? For days we had no leads, and now, just when we splitted up…”

“Yeah, well, so what if it’s a trap? It wouldn’t be the first.”

Coward that he was, Naraku resorted to the nastiests schemes in order to get what he wanted. His disgusting fingers laid on every happenstance that had ever caused them harm. What choice did InuYasha have, though? Ruse or not ruse, he had to check it. Regardless of anyone else’s help, it was his duty to get vengeance on the bastard — for Kikyo, for himself — and Kagome knew that.

She sighed and took the bow and arrows from the fox’s hold.

“Thank you so much, Shippo-chan! Now can you do me another favor?”

“Anything!”

“Go back to Kaede. Tell her InuYasha and I are on our way.”

“I’m not coming with you?” He whined, as confused as InuYasha. They never traveled without the child.

“That’s right. We don’t know how dangerous this may be. I need you to stay and if we don’t come back tomorrow by noon, get Miroku and Sango and send them to us. Can you do that for me?”

Shippo resolutely nodded .

“I won’t let you down, Kagome.”

“I know you won’t.”

And through the same path he had appeared he went. Kagome fixed a pleading glance at InuYasha.

“Can I at least change clothes before we g—”

“No time to waste.” He said, grabbing Kagome and her bag to leap towards west.

Kagome was whistling that same song again.

It took him an enormous amount of self restraint not to whistle along.

He was happy. So wonderfully happy. It was astonishing, the effect that tiny, bossy human girl had over his humor. The fact they were following the possible whereabouts of a lost jewel piece also played a role on his attitude swing, there was no denying that. But even if this turns out to be nothing at all, it would be a small price to pay in exchange of spending more time with her.

“Weren’t you mad about not coming home just now?”

His curiosity was genuine. Kagome had been angry since they left and InuYasha would be the person to know. She had two kind of anger. The one he could hear and the one he could feel. Even though she had been unusually silent, her frustration was palpable at first. Mercifully, it seemed to fade away the more ground they covered. Her one complaint was the soreness that too many hours on the same position inflicted upon the muscles, which was why they were both walking. As a rule, he was strictly opposite to anything that might slow them down, and the human pace was unbearable once you had a taste of demonic speed. Running free, with trees and people alike turning into a blur on each side of him, was an unparalleled sensation, amplified tenfold whenever Kagome was riding his back. He didn’t regret giving in, though. They weren’t far from their destination, after all. In addition, her comfort came to be a priority, despite him still being unaware as to when or how.

“Well… yeah, but… what can I do, right? Besides, I haven’t realized how much I missed this.”

Clueless, InuYasha searched their surroundings, unsuccessfully intending to spot what she could possibly be referring to.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“This!” She spinned around, open arms and face to the sky, chasing daylight like a sunflower, the movement bringing her garment to life. “You. Me. An adventure. Don’t get me wrong, I love Shippo and the others, I’m glad they joined us. It just feels like we haven’t had as much quality time together as we used to, after they did.”

“Y-you miss that?”

She shook her head up and down with enthusiasm and a content smile fought its way across his lips.

“I know we could hang out in Kaede’s village, but it’s not the same as going out. O-on a trip, I mean.”

Although InuYasha couldn’t make out why her cheeks were suddenly burning red, he did see the logic her reasoning, and the feeling was mutual. There was a certain level of closeness only the road could provide. No curious eyes. No sly comments. No need to explain themselves. InuYasha had missed that as well.

He often played with the thought of stealing her away, of placate his selfish thirst for her undivided attention. Not once had he imagined Kagome would be as eager to go as he was to take her. Regardless, the timing wasn’t right. It never was. From the moment they met, they were tossed into a mission and there was hardly space for anything else. So he settled for whatever he could get until it was over.

“Why would you miss those trips? It ain’t like I was nice to ya back then.”

It didn’t make sense to him that she would. His memories were of a spoiled little girl, complaining about the bugs and her aching legs and the fact she hadn’t bathed in days. There was no escaping InuYasha’s share of responsibility on the issue. He could have made her life easier, had he bothered to. But at the beginning he saw Kagome as a potential threat he would eventually get rid off. How could he have guessed, after the many betrayals he had endured through the years, that his heart would be safe on her hands?

Kagome limited herself to a shrug.

“You are now.” She stated, as if it made up for his unexcusable former behavior. Her unconditional forgiveness amazed him, no matter how regularly she had shown it to him. “Also, it feels like old times.”

“It doesn’t unless you get kidnapped, somehow.”

“It happened once or twice!”

“Keh! Stop kidding yourself.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“No, shut up. I’m sensing a shard and it’s moving away.”

Wordlessly, InuYasha returned the backpack to her and offered her his back.

They raced at full gallop, Kagome guiding their course. The forest transitioned into arid highland, where dirt, thorns and rocky surfaces took place.

“Hey, you!” Kagome yelled at the youkai emerging in their camp of vision. Their target. Over his shoulder, the startled creature sneaked a peek at them and increased speed. Growling, InuYasha matched his rhythm. “Wait up! We won’t hurt you.”

“I’m pretty sure Imma hurt him.”

“Give the jewel fragment to us peacefully and you’ll be free to go!” She went on, his snide remarks as ignored by her as her plead was by the demon. InuYasha’s patience was wearing thin. Now that the rumors turned out to be true, his focus was entirely aimed at the task at hand.

“Are those fancy arrows of yours just for show?”

Kagome let out a deep breath. Shooting was her last ressource. She preferred to sort things out with words first. It rarely worked. Still she always tried.

“I suppose we have no choice.”

The arrow hit the creature in the calf and his groan of pain reverberated through the field. Not lethal, but enough of a nuisance to make him drop the run. InuYasha closed the distance between them within seconds. Kagome climbed off him and together they inspected their opponent.

On the floor, a possum demon hissed and exhibited his fangs at them, his ugly face twisting in agony while he pulled the arrow out. A cascate of blood immediately flowed from the wound. InuYasha was not fooled by it. Being a full youkai, he would be healed soon.

“Where is it?” InuYasha asked Kagome, not daring to leave the bastard out of his sight.

“His belly.”

“Step away, you filthy half breed!”

“Excuse me?” Kagome defied, any trace of courtesy forgotten.

“That was quite the damage she did on ya, there.” InuYasha released Tessaiga from its sheath as he approached the fallen man. “Think I can top it, though.”

“Step away, I said!”

His fear was palpable. InuYasha could feel it. See it. Smell it.

Smell it.

Faster than realization, the odor filled his lungs. It burned his nostrils, his throat. He could taste the toxic substance on his tongue. It was unbearable. And gasping for air only resulted in the pungent scent flooding him further, overwhelming his senses. A defense mechanism, he thought, his vision blurring, his knees giving in. I’m going to faint. No. No, no, no, no, no. Kagome. He had to protect Kagome.

There was a cry of his name.

And then an awful lot of darkness.

InuYasha came to abruptly, uncertain and alarmed by the new reality.

In one minute, the sun was up and he was succumbing, his consciousness leaving him to drift. In the next, he was awake and crickets sang the night’s arrival.

It was tempting to think he had dreamt the whole thing. A stupid, ridiculous, crazy ass dream. However, the lingering smell left no room for argument. It happened. The scent was weaker. Fading. But was there, overpowered by a significantly nicer aroma. A familiar one, sweet on the nose and soothing to the soul. Kagome’s.

He was lying half naked in her sleeping bag.

Sitting up, InuYasha seeked for the priestess, desperate to make sure for himself she was safe and sound.

The fragile light of her modern lantern illuminated the cavern that sheltered them. At its entrance, a girl rested — her silhouette contoured by a starry sky. 

“Kagome.”

“You’re awake!”

She rushed to him, tripping over her own eagerness. Her beautiful clothes were dirty and a bit ripped at the hem. A small scratch cut her cheek, remnants of dry blood tainting her skin.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m fine!” Kagome kneeled in front of him, a gesture he appreciated. There was no peace for him without an up close inspection of her well being. “I purified the demon after you blacked out. Turns out it was a trap. Thousands of Naraku’s second-class demons came for the shard when I took him down. I tried to purify those too, but more of them kept coming and I ran out of arrows, so I casted a barrier and—”

“You casted a barrier?”

InuYasha was beyond impressed. Barriers required great power and discipline. Even from Kaede or the monk. Kagome had apparently done it all by herself. Effortlessly. On the spot.

“To be honest, I don’t know how I did it. I just… I saw you lying there and I… anyway, the barrier purified the ones who touched it. Eventually they all died or left. How are you feeling?”

InuYasha didn’t answer the question.

“I’m sorry, Kagome, that you couldn’t rely on me.”

Guilt pulsed within him like a heartbeat. Constant and compulsory, expanding the outcomes of its work through every inch of his body.

“It’s not your fault. Your nose is too keen, of course you’d be affected the most.”

“But you got hurt!”

“In the thorns. I was careless. Don’t worry about it, it’s not even going to leave a scar.”

“It shouldn’t have even happened. I’m supposed be the one protecting you, not the other way around.”

It could have been worse. InuYasha should be grateful for that. He wasn’t. It could have been worse. And he wouldn’t be able to help her, to save her from this insignificant peril while she had already saved him in every conceivable way there was for a person to be saved.

“I’m not as helpless as I used to be, you know? I’ve grown a lot.” She had a point. InuYasha himself had told her that much, once. Kagome had faced scarier dangers than that. And she could absolutely take them. But he didn’t want her to have to. “Not to mention, it was totally worth it.”

As a proof, she exhibited a jewel fragment, glowing in the healthiest shade of pink.

“You got it!” InuYasha captured the shard, glancing at every angle of it in awe.

“Don’t act so surprised.”

Kagome went for her backpack and came back, falling on her knees again. Her hand dove in and emerged holding the glass container in which they kept the other pieces. She opened it and tilted the receiver to InuYasha, hinting for him to do the honors.

It was as if she had been waiting for him so they could do it together.

As if it was their private, sacred ritual.

He did as she wanted, mirroring her satisfied smile.

“Where’s my haori?”

“Oh! I… I put it away.” Blushing, Kagome tore her gaze from his and InuYasha followed it to a corner of the cave, where a huddle of scarlet fabric laid forgotten. “I figured you’d heal faster with that smell gone and your haori is soaked on it. Sorry.”

“D-don’t apologize, stupid. It was the right call.” To feel useful — and to occupy his brain with something other than the image of Kagome undressing him — InuYasha searched her backpack for the first aid kit, a tool from her era he was sadly too intimate with. “Now let’s take care of this cut.”

“Okay. You have to g—”

“I know what to do. I’ve seen you do it a thousand times.” Her lips parted, and InuYasha added: “Don’t act so surprised.”

He cleaned the wound with cotton, water and soap, then used a different ball of cotton to carefully apply the content of a smelly little bottle to the extension of it. Kagome hissed, but he ignored it in favor of wrapping it all up with a band-aid. To ensure it was properly stretched, he gently ran his thumb through it, allowing the touch to linger more than necessary and his stare to go from her cheek to her eyes.

Her eyes.

The most stunning maze.

Let yourself get in, you are sure to get lost.

She blinked before he could, keeping them closed and leaning into his palm, her hand lifting to cover and caress his.

It would be so easy to grip her chin. To turn her face to him. To bring her to his lips. 

So easy to steal a kiss.

Why do the easiest actions have to carry the most difficult consequences?

Clearing his throat, InuYasha transformed present into a loving memory.

“Take some rest. We leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.”

On the way to claim Kagome’s prior guarding position by the entrance of the cave, InuYasha collected Tessaiga while she busied herself with getting cozy inside the sleeping bag.

“Kagome?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“InuYasha, I think we’re way past saying thank you for saving each other’s lives.”

“No, not for that. I mean, for that too, but... for coming. For staying by my side.”

“Stupid.” She mocked him, her voice lethargic as exhaustion finally caught up to her. “Where else would I be?”

A/N: this was some serious self indulgent bullshit. I regret nothing.

@inukag-week​ here is another piece of contribution. Kind of merged the Loyalty and the Instinct prompts here. Oops.

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 1)

I’ve got two words for you all: Time Travel. Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything. Stupidity ensues. Enjoy everyone. @redqueenetwork (this is what I mentioned to ya’ll in the chat, it’s finally here!!!) If you want a tag let me know. I don’t even know who is in the fandom anymore. 

“Don’t back her into the corner, whatever you do. We still don’t know what she’s capable of.” I hiss into my receiver as I sprint down another tight alleyway with Ella close on my tail. My hair sticks to my face as raindrops roll down my nose, and thunder rolls overhead. I swipe my hand across my forehead to push the annoying strands out of my face as we go. Behind me, Ella puffs out an annoyed sigh.

“She helped blow up a building Mare, I think we have a pretty decent idea of what she can do.” She admonishes as we round the corner, following Kilorn’s quickly relayed instructions from a moment ago. Ella and I had originally gone after the accomplice but after he hoped a fence and vanished into thin air, we had realized our mistake. He was a fucking teleporter, and therefore the perfect goose for our wild goose chase. We should have guessed something like this would happen. We needed the girl more than anything now. Sometimes I really hated being called into things like this. 

“Ella has a point.” 

“Agree with her one more time, Cal. I dare you.” I grumble into the receiver, pissed he is even chiming in. “Shouldn’t you be more focused on following our suspect and getting her to a place where we can make an arrest?”


“Trying.” Is his reply, followed by a burst of static from Kilorn probably messing with his receiver again. I reach up and bat at the piece in my ear, grinding my jaw against the sound. I could always just short the thing, but that wouldn’t really help with my frustration. It was my fault we lost the teleporter. I’d let him get too far ahead of me instead of just trying to incapacitate him. The last thing I wanted to do was cook him by mistake though. We wouldn’t get any information from a dead body. We needed that information if we wanted these bombings, and other things like them to stop though. 

We rounded the corner and I almost slammed into Kilorn’s back. He manages to dance out of my way. HIs expression is drawn tight, as he puts his arm out to stop Ella. With a quick gesture to the alley beyond the corner he says, “Cal is trying to talk her down.”

I push his arm out of my way and say, “No one engages Ardents alone, it’s a rule.” 

“She’s a kid Mare, they tend to respond to him better.” He says with a shrug, making me shake my head. If there is one thing Cal is still incredibly good at, it’s being a royal pain in my ass. He shouldn’t face anyone alone. Tyton had learned that the hard way when a young Ardent had put him in intensive care for three days. The last thing I need is Cal getting his leg broken because a kid hears what he has to say and doesn’t like it. My mother will never forgive him if he so much as has a bruise going into our wedding planning. Not that that was happening anytime soon, not now with the information I have tucked away to share tonight. I step around my best friend, who only passively tries to stop me. He knows that’s futile and steps back to stand with Ella as I slide around the corner.

My skin barks in protest as a wave of heat rolls over my skin. I hold my hand up to cover my eyes from the flames that circle Cal and the girl who has her back pressed up against the wall. She glares at him, her palms pressed to the brick and stone. I reach a hand out for the flames, knowing Cal will sense the shift in the flames distribution. Sure enough, the flames die in a small me-sized hole, giving me a chance to slip through them. They kiss the edges of my jacket and burn away the rain there.  

As soon as I enter the makeshift ring, the girl’s eyes fly to me over Cal’s shoulder. I know a cornered animal when I see one. She reminds me of myself too, which screams trouble. She’ll do anything to get out of that corner. Talking her down might not be an option, but we have a duty to her to at least try. Forcing my hands to remain at my sides I say, “We want to help.” 

“The last thing I need is your help.” She spit with a sneer and a raised chin. Definitely red, I realize in the light of the fire. She’s either an Ardent or a Red. I’m praying for a Red, they are far easier to apprehend and deal with during interrogation. 

The girl takes a step off the wall and holds a hand up in threat. Immediately my own hands light up with sparks, and Cal takes a step back to give me a clearer shot. The flames around us die as he channels that fire to a more useful source. Hopefully Ella senses the shift in the air and joins us to apprehend this kid. She can’t be older than sixteen, but that just makes her that much more dangerous. Younger Ardents were untapped fonts of power. 

The shadows from the early morning cut into the alley, and my lightning bathes us all in a deep purples glow. The dark shadows under the girl’s eyes are like bruises in this light. Her ragged breathing turns her into a woman possessed though. I try to dim my electricity, to prevent her from acting too brashly. She doesn’t take the hint, and instead takes another step closer to us. The air around us condenses until my ears pop painfully. 

I cry out at the sensation, almost dropping to a knee, and press my hands to my ears. Next to me, Cal pushes himself in front of me, using his own body to shield mine. I wish he would stop doing that, but no amount of arguing is going to change instinct, I’ve figured that out. Four years is a long time to spend with someone. You knew the intricacies of everything. In fact, if this still goes to plan, I can name exactly what he will want for breakfast after, down to how many cups of coffee he will need to stay awake for the rest of the day. 

A wicked wind snaps at me, ripping strands of hair out of my braid and extinguishing Cal’s flames completely. His hand on my shoulder is both a question and an order. If I’m incapable of standing, I need to get out of his way. If I’m capable, then I need to stand and help him. His voice carries even with the hurricane building around us, and he speaks to her like she hasn’t already made herself a danger to us. “Giselle, at least listen.” 

I have no idea how he got her name, but I file it away for later as I look up. She laughs at his attempt to negotiate, and brings her other hand away from her body, palm side up. The wind whips her auburn hair into a frenzy, but she does nothing to tame it. She should do what’s best for herself and listen. If she blatantly attacks us, her punishment will be more severe than blowing up an abandoned building. 

I grab onto Cal’s sleeve, as the wind tears at me as well. If I could just get a well-placed shot off, then I could disable her. Bringing my hand up, fingers spread, I take careful aim for the space right below her heart. Her eyes fly in my direction, and her lips fall into a tight line. “Don’t make me do it.” 

“Whatever you plan, you won’t be as fast as me,” I assure her, trying to rise to my feet completely. She shakes her head, her eyes growing just a hint wider as she states, “I can’t stop it now.” 

My stomach plummets, and my blood runs cold. What has she done? Is there another bomb? Is she about to set another one off somewhere else in the city? Somewhere that might actually be populated? 

“Whatever it is, we can stop it, if you just stand down.” Cal argues, keeping a tight hand on my arm, while his other arm tries to shield his eyes from the debris in the alley that the wind kicks up. Giselle shakes her head one more time, before looking down at her hands. Her entire body begins shaking, and with a smirk she says, “I’d tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not even sure where you’ll land.” 

My brows fly up into my hairline, and I grab Cal to pull him out of the way as she holds her hands out again. A body blow sends us flying backwards though, and through a wall. 

Immediately, my body goes into free-fall, and instinct kicks in as I try to flip myself over. There’s nothing but a wash of color around me though, and I end up tumbling in circles, simply trying to keep myself in one position. 

My hands seek purchase, and I manage to grasp Cal’s jacket again. His hand latches onto mine and I try to pull myself closer to him. I’m gasping for air though, unable to breathe. It feels like I’m being squished through a pipe the size of my pinkie, like how it used to feel when Shade teleported me. I wish I had opened my eyes during those times, maybe I would have seen the same wash of colors. Those trips always took a heartbeat though; this is taking seconds. I had never seen an Ardent that could teleport people and not themselves. Were Ardents evolving again? Julian said it was a possibility, but it should have taken hundreds of years, just like it had taken that long for us to appear in the first place. 

“Don’t let go,” I managed to gasp to Cal, as he tries to wrap an arm around my hips. I grip the front of his jacket with two hands, terrified of what will happen if I lose him in this tunnel. His answer is to squeeze me tightly to him. 

I press my face into his shoulder trying to inhale the scent he always carries with him. He smells more like the lake in Monfort now, probably because he keeps wearing this jacket when he walks around the lake with Kilorn. He should know better. It reeks of moist lake water. 

I glance over his shoulder only for something to catch my shoulder. I try to scream an alarm as my fingers release Cal, and I go spinning off to the side. My vision is limited but I still see him go limp from whatever hit he took. I scramble to grab at him, my fingers managing to catch his sleeve before we both collide with the side of the tunnel. 

It is like passing through a window, with multicolored glass shards explode around us. I spiral into darkness then, losing my weak grip on Cal completely. My chest heaves for air, and I try to force myself to be as loose as possible in case I end up hitting the ground. It’s a pointless exercise, any hit will kill me at this point. The pressure around me changes again, making me ears pop once more. Only a heartbeat later, I slam into something else, and finally fall unconscious.

[talpup]

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud.  He knew there would be trails.  He knew trouble would come his way.  Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant.  What he didn’t know.  Didn’t expect.  Was that literal Chaos would come his way.  That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble.  Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.  For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Someone asked about Teris’ riding dress.  If interested you can go to my Tumblr’s homepage to see pics of what Fuegoleon and Nozel’s preferred choices were.

Chapter 73

When Nozel exited the dress shop yesterday to find a non-murderous Teris, he had been worried.  An angry Teris always meant one of two things. A murderous Teris.  Or a simmering silent Teris.  But Teris hadn’t exploded at him.  Nor had she given him the silent treatment that all but promised she was quietly letting her anger stew as she brewed plans of vengeance.

Instead she had done something more worrisome than any outrage or silence. She had spoken to him as if nothing happened.  Even Fuegoleon had been taken aback by that never imaged reaction.  Too unsettled, it had taken Nozel till supper to come to the dumbfounded realization that Teris wasn’t holding his knowledge of her measurements against him.  Simply put, Teris Nova was incapable of bluffing her lack of anger that well.

Still relieved the next the morning, Nozel sat to his Father's right at the breakfast table with Teris to his left.

“The Decoration Ceremony will be held this afternoon, followed by an informal gathering with finger foods so eat up while you can.” Nathyn instructed Teris and his children.

“Will my brother be returned by then?”  Teris asked.  It wasn’t so much that she wanted to see more of Fyntch; but being alone with the Silva’s felt a little too much like a sampling of a future she refused to be a part of.

“I don’t believe so.”  Nathyn answered.

In fact the Silva knew Fyntch wouldn’t be returning since it was he who had ordered the Nova patriarch away for the day.  Nathyn wanted Teris to arrive at court on his sons arm, not behind her brothers shoulder.  He wanted Teris and everyone else at court to be reminded who she was meant for.  Who she, despite Leonidas words to the contrary, belonged to.

Looking down the table at Teris, Nathyn assured.  “I’m sure your brother be back by the morrow.  I doubt he would want to miss your birthday.”

“If only all this could have waited a year.”  Nebra pouted.  “Then I too would get to stand before the court and be honored.”

“What makes you think that?”  Solid laughed.

“Because I would have been a Magic Knight and part of brother, Nozel’s, team.”  Nebra said.

Unlikely as that was, Nozel didn’t dissuade his sister her fantasy.

“One of the Kings men will be by shortly after breakfast to fetch you and walk you through the ceremony.”  Nathyn told Nozel and Teris.  “I doubt there will be much time to change after, so as soon as you’re done with your breakfast, excuse yourself and dress for the ceremony.”

“In that case.  Please excuse me, my Lord.”  Teris said, setting down her fork and wiping her mouth.

Nozel quickly stood, pulling out her chair and helping her to her feet. Nathyn and Solid stood as well, Nathyn’s eyes watching his eldest son excuse himself and following Teris out.

Appearing hopeful, Solid asked.  “May I be excused as well, father?”

“No.” Nathyn told, retaking his seat and turning his attention to the mornings paper.

Outside the breakfast room Teris sighed.  “I’ll be glad to be rid of dresses and stupid shoes, if only for a while.”

Teris had been surprised at how easy it was to be open and friendly with Nozel after Mereoleona’s words yesterday.  As much as their relationship strained every time Teris was reminded she was Nozel’s intended, or Nozel hinted at his romantic affection; Nozel truly was a dearly beloved friend.

Teris had thought of and occasionally mourned the lost she would suffer in Fuegoleon.  But she had foolishly never really considered how her friendship with Nozel would suffer once things came to a head.  Of course it would be so much worse between Nozel and her than her and Fuegoleon.  She would be refusing to wed Nozel after all.  With all the royals and nobles knowing they had been intended to wed since they were children, the hit to Nozel’s pride alone would create a rift that time would never fully heal.

“What do you mean rid of dresses and proper shoes?”  Nozel questioned.

“For the ceremony.  We’ll be wearing our squad cloaks.”  Teris said.

“Yes.” Nozel cautiously agreed.  After a beat, he said.  “Teris.  You are aware that you’re expected to wear the riding dress.  Right?”

Teris’ brows furrowed.  “What?”

“Why else would we have picked one?”  Nozel questioned.  “It’s not as if we had any plans of going out riding.”

“But I’m a Magic Knight.”  Teris argued.

“You are also a royal lady.”  Nozel replied.

“But I’m going to court to be recognized for my deeds as a Magic Knight, not as a royal.”  Teris said.

“Which is why you are allowed to wear a riding dress instead of a proper court gown.”  Nozel said.  “You know these things.  At least you should.  How do you not?”

Teris shrugged.  “I skipped a lot of ladies guild stuff before they kicked me out.  Even when I went I never paid attention.”

Nozel sighed heavily.  How could he love a woman as irregular and insufferable as this?  They were so different.  There were so many things about her that bothered and annoyed him to no end.  But as much as he wanted to mold and tame her, he didn’t want to change her.  Of course she’d have to look and act the part of his wife and represent the family as Lady Silva.  And he hoped that Teris would come to find some enjoyment in doing what was socially expected of her as Lady Silva.  But Nozel also wanted Teris to keep some of her wild and free ways.  So long as they were kept privately between them.

Still, this was a lapse in her teaching that shocked even him.  Did Teris truly think she could show up to court and stand before the King in her everyday clothes?  Granted she had been allowed stand in court like that the day the war had been announced.  But that had been a completely different circumstance.  Magic Knight or not, Teris was a royal lady.  And considering she would wed him, she would always be a royal lady.  The same couldn’t be said of her always being a Magic Knight.

Looking at her, Nozel bid.  “Riding dress.  Please.”

“Fine.” Teris rolled her eyes.

Was it the entire royal court or just the men of court that demanded the women of rank constantly be harassed by unyielding skirts.  Bound up in corsets.  And at the mercy of a mans assistance for the simplest thing such as sitting down and standing up because of such stupid uncomfortable shoes and garb.  At least riding dresses were less voluminous and bore far less unnecessary frills.  Teris repeated Mereoleona’s sagely words in her head.  Who knew if she’d ever be in court as a royal lady again.  Not that she would miss it.  But as Mereoleona had said, it was something that would soon end.  Never to happen again.

Teris gave Nozel a smile.  “Thanks for making that clear.”

Nozel blinked.  He watched her turn off toward the guest wing wondering if Teris had somehow traded places with a transformation mage.  His brow lifted.  The Black Bulls had a Transformation Mage.  His eyes narrowed.  No, he thought shaking his head.  Even Teris wouldn’t dare do such a thing.  Besides, Abril was far more ill behaved and lacking in proper courtesies than Teris was.

Continuing down the hall, Nozel turned the corner to his quarters.  He was quickly grabbed and roughly pulled.  Nozel cloaked himself in mana only to let the cloak drop when he saw his would be attacker was Fuegoleon.

“What in mana’s name?”  Nozel jerked free of the mans hold.  Noticing the Crimson Lions state of disarray and dark circles under blood shot eyes his nerves were put edge again.  “What’s the matter?”

Fuegoleon stepped to him.  “I have to know.”

Nozel stepped back.  His rival was not acting at all like himself.  Between Teris and now Fuegoleon, Nozel was beginning to wonder if he was experiencing a lucid dream or some sort of unfunny joke.

“Know what?”  Nozel asked.  He took another step back when Fuegoleon took another step toward him.

“I have to know.”  Fuegoleon repeated.  His violet eyes shot about the hallway, making sure they were alone.  “Did you know?  When did you know?”

“Know what?”  Nozel asked again, impatience rising.  He had an hour at most to prepare before the Kings man came to walk them through the ceremony.

“About Yami!”  Fuegoleon whispered harshly.  “Did you know your father tired to have him killed?”

Nozel’s eyes snapped around the hall.  Grabbing Fuegoleon roughly by the arm, he dragged the Vermillion to his soundproof chambers.  Closing and locking the door with a click, he spun around to face the Crimson Lion.

“Who told you that?”  Nozel demanded hoarsely, keeping his voice low despite the quarters soundproofing.

Fuegoleon shook his head.  “No one.  I heard it.”

Nozel’s eyes widened.  “Heard it?  From whom?”

“So it is true.”  Fuegoleon had hoped that his father and Mereoleona had been wrong.  Or that he had somehow misunderstood what they had been talking about.  Not that their words and meaning hadn’t been clear enough.  “Did you know?  Of course you knew.  You would have reacted differently if you hadn’t.  When did you know?”

Growling, Nozel gripped the Vermillion by his crimson squad cloak.  “Who did you hear it from?”

“I didn’t mean to.”  Fuegoleon told, feeling guilty for overhearing his father's private conversation.

“Who!” Nozel demanded.

“My father and Mereoleona were discussing it.”

Nozel looked away cursing.  Slowly, he let go of Fuegoleon’s cloak and stepped back.

“When did you know?”  Fuegoleon asked.

Unable to look him in the eye, Nozel spoke to the floor.  “My father summoned me to Silva Manor one day.  Had me sit in front of his desk and told me what was about to happen.  There was nothing I could do.”

Fuegoleon exhaled in relief.  “So you weren’t a part of it.”

Nozel’s head shot up.  “Of course I wasn’t a part of it!  You know me. How could you even think such a thing?”

“Sorry.” Fuegoleon apologized.

“Yami knows--”

“Yami knows!  He knows your father--”  Fuegoleon stopped, unable to say the terrible words again.

Nozel nodded.  “We’ve—talked about it I guess you could say.”

“And?”

“And...” Nozel sighed.  “Even if my father were to hire and send people a second time, I’m pretty sure they’d meet the same fate as the first.  As much as it pains me to say it.  Yami is a formidable opponent.”

“A second time?”  Fuegoleon repeated.  He stared a moment at his friend.  “So did you not know about the first time?  Or did Lord Silva try again without informing you?”

Nozel blinked.  “Pardon?”

“I heard them.  My father was rather upset about yours trying not just once but twice.  Even admitting that there could have been more that they weren’t aware of.”  He stared a moment, concern and dread coursing through him.  “Nozel.  Just how many times has your father attempted to have Yami taken out?”

Nozel shook his head, mind in a daze.  “I... only knew of the one.”

73.2

It was telling to how busy they were that five days after the war had ended Greywright was just now meeting with Sir Jorah to discuss King Morris’ ten minute talk with Teris.  The Knights Commander had already sent the Wizard King his report of the discussion; but reports didn’t allow for an incidents nuance or questions Jorah might have.  So a few minutes had been carved out for the Wizard King to ask those questions and Greywright to relay those nuances.

Jorah got right to the point as soon as the Magic Knights Commander entered.  “What do you think King Morris hoped to gain meeting with Teris Nova like that?”

“You read in my report saying King Morris tried to get her to agree to a conversation before I was ever brought in.  I’m sure he would have led their talk down a completely different path if I hadn’t been there.  But with me present Morris had to be more mindful.  Honestly, I think he was trying to get a feel for her.  You read the questions he asked.  More stuff a friend would pose.  Nothing overly alarming, other than his last words and the amount of detailed info he had about her.  But we already surmised he had spies watching her and Yami.”

Jorah nodded.  “Morris tipped his hand with that last question.  Purposefully so, I would image.  He’s smart.  And thanks to the disturbing amount of information he seems to have gathered on Teris, and probably Yami, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows those two are in a relationship.  Likely knows the Nova’s and Silva’s intend for Teris and Nozel to wed, and Teris’ unruly plans to disobey her family’s command.  ’Would you consider coming to live here?’” Jorah repeated Morris’ last question and sighed.

Whether Yami Sukehiro followed Teris Nova into banishment or not; that was something the Wizard King could not allow.  His duty to protect Clover Kingdom and its people meant he would have to kill the girl before letting her be banished and go to either the Diamond or Spade kingdoms, possibly aligning with them. Light magic was just that rare and powerful.  And if Yami Sukehiro did follow her into banishment…

“You did good ending things before she answered Morris’ question.”  Jorah said.  Still, a seed had been planted in Teris’ mind.  ‘When the time comes, know that I would accept you and Yami into my kingdom.  Such powerful weapons would be a welcome addition to my ranks.’ Jorah thought of Morris’ parting words to the girl and sat back.  In two years time things could potentially be a real mess.  All because a spoiled royal girl wouldn’t do her duty and wed who her family told her to. “Do you think Morris was trying to appear friendly to her?”

“If it was anyone other than King Morris, I might be tempted to think so. Other than his parting words, there were a few questions he asked that stood out.”  Greywright answered.

“And those were?”  Jorah prompted.

Greywright glanced at Ellara entering and replied.  “Morris asked Teris how she liked being a Magic Knight.”  He caught Ellara’s eyes dart to him, her shoulders stiffening ever so slightly.  Was it the mention of Teris that had the Advisor reacting?  Greywright chided himself. Humoring Julius’ concerns about Ellara was making him paranoid.  He went on.  “Morris asked if she was happy here.  Happy with her family.  Had closed friends.  Basic, simple questions.  But also questions that would give him a better idea of her allegiance and contentedness here.”

“We already knew Morris was interested in Yami and Teris.”  Jorah said.

Greywright nodded.  “Like you said, Sir.  He tipped his hand with his final question and parting words.  Odd that he didn’t ask that last question sooner though.  Like you said, he’s smart.  He had to be as aware of the passing seconds as I was.  Yet he saved such a question for last.  Waiting till time was close enough for me to call its end.”

“You think Morris timed it thus?  Knew you wouldn’t allow Teris to answer?”  Jorah asked.

Ellara set down a stack of papers in front of the Wizard King and shuffled through a pile at the end of his desk.

“I’m sure of it.”  Greywright said.

Jorah clicked his tongue in annoyance.  “So Morris asked questions that gauged Teris’ happiness here to see if she could be tempted to the Diamond Kingdom.  Then remind her of the banishment she might face. And say that he would welcome her and Yami.”

“There’s little doubt in my mind Yami would follow her if things ended with Teris banished.  If Morris could get them to willingly seek refuge and home in the Diamond Kingdom—”

“That’s not going to happen.”  Jorah cut in.

“What’s that?”  Greywright asked.

“Teris being banished because of her unwillingness to do her duty as a royal daughter.  If that girl does remain a stubborn brat, and refuses to bend and obey her family's command, I may be forced to act.”

Greywright and Ellara shared a look wondering what the Wizard King would, or even could do.

“But that’s a possible problem for a later date.”  Jorah went on. “Right now I am more disturbed about King Morris knowing Yami and Teris are in a relationship.”

“Sir?” Greywright’s eyebrows knitted together.

“You think Morris and other ill intents wouldn’t exploit their relationship for their own aims?  That they wouldn’t take and threaten one to bend the other?  The Agents of Chaos already used similar methods against them and found success.”  Jorah shook his head in tired displeasure.  “The less people who know about their relationship, the better and safer it is for them and ultimately us.”

Thinking about Lord Nathyn Silva having hired two gangs of assassins to kill Yami, that they knew of, Greywright couldn’t help but agree.

“Sir, it’s time.”  Ellara said, looking at the timepiece behind the Wizard Kings desk.

“Yes, yes.”  Jorah got to his feet.  Straightening his robes, he told Greywright.  “The decoration ceremony for our acting Magic Knights Captain and his squad.”

“One of the few good things to come out of the war.”  Greywright commented, proudly.

“As trying as these days have been, I’m going to enjoy this.”  Jorah agreed.

73.3

Teris hadn’t been keen to arrive at court on Nozel’s arm.  A part of her wondered if that was why Fyntch had left for the day.  It was odd though.  While Nozel always took on an overly formal persona when in the Kings Palace, he never did so to this extent.  More than that, he had been acting odd since this mornings breakfast.

Nozel’s inexplicable distant quiet had turned Teris solicitous.  With the ceremony over, she and Nozel made their way with everyone else to the informal gathering held in one of the Royal Residences many gardens. Her hand fidgeted on his.  Short as the ceremony had been, Teris had figured Nozel would’ve been happy.  Proud.  They had done more than survive the trek into the Diamond Kingdom.  They had completed the task the King and Sir Jorah had given, winning peace for the kingdom. But instead, Nozel was lifeless, merely going through the motions.

After trying and failing to get Nozel to converse with her, Teris broke down and asked.  “What’s with you?”  When he didn’t respond but continued leading her to the garden in line with everyone else, she stopped walking and turned to him.  “Nozel.”

Nozel’s eyes slid to her, his face unreadable.

“Are you mad at me?  Cause I’m really trying here.  After what Mereoleona told me—ow!”  Teris winced.

Nozel’s hand turned under hers, clasping and squeezing her fingers too tight. Teris tried to pulled her hand free, the rings on her fingers bruising in his unforgiving grasp.  But Nozel’s grip remained firm.

“Excuse us.  Pardon me.”  Nozel said, his position and upbringing making him mindfully polite as he weaved between nobles and fellow royals, pulling Teris along.

Teris was half led, half dragged down the main hall and then rushed down a side hall.  Her skirts, tight corset, and stupid shoes making it impossible to keep up with his pace.

Nozel flung the doors to a withdrawing room open, startling two courtly lovers.

“Out!” Nozel snapped, barely giving them a look as he entered, pulling Teris in behind him.

The lady slapped the gentleman for whatever reason and stormed out.  The nobleman bowed.  “Your Highness.  My Lady.  Congrad--”

“Out. Now.”  Nozel growled dangerously, cold blue eyes turning on the nobleman.

“Highness.” The man gave a hasty bow and raced from the room.

Nozel closed the doors and turned to Teris, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders.  “What did Mereoleona tell you?”

Out of breath and confused, Teris stared up at him.  “I--I don’t-- What--”

“Tell me.  What did she say?”  Nozel commanded.  His hands tightened on her shoulders.  It was a struggle to take care and not shake her.

Teris winced and tried to free herself from his grasp.  “Nozel.  You’re hurting me.”

Nozel barely heard her, his racing heart roaring in his ears.  All he knew was that Teris hadn’t answered him.  Gripping her tighter, he demanded.  “What did the Vermillion tell you?”

“That this time was fleeting and I should enjoy it before it all changed in a couple years.”  Teris answered, her voice   trembling in fear. Body shaking in pain from his too tight hold.

Nozel blinked.  For the first time he took in her beautiful face filled with a mix of fear, anxiety, and pain.  He realized just how tightly his hold on her was and released her, the fabric of her dress keeping the divots where his fingers had clawed into her.

“S--sorry.” Nozel swallowed and took a step back.  Dazed, he reached behind him searching for something to steady himself.

Eyes glazed with fearful tears, Teris was about to tear into him until she saw how distressed Nozel was.  Her once fearful, angry expression softened in concern.

“Nozel? Are you alright?  Here.  Let’s sit you down.”  Teris stepped to him and guided him to a lounge.  Watching him carefully, she asked. “Should fetch a healer?”

Nozel wrapped a staying hand around her wrist.  “No!  Please, don’t. There’s no need for that.  I’m... feeling better.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t need a healer.”  Nozel assured.

Teris reached out a hand to comfort him, then thought better of it. Thankfully he was staring at the floor and didn’t noticed the canceled movement.  After a moment, she asked.  “What’s going on?”

Nozel took in a long deep breath and exhaled.  “Nothing.”

“There you go lying again.  At least when there was something I didn’t want or couldn’t tell you, I told you as much.”

Nozel lifted his head and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Mana, she was beautiful when she pouted and sulked.  He ran a still shaky hand over his mouth.  He didn’t know what he would’ve done if Mereoleona had told Teris the truth he was so fearful of Teris learning.  He couldn’t imagine what they would do if Teris ever found out what his father had done.  Had attempted to have done. Nozel was positive Teris wouldn’t differentiate between his knowing but unable to do anything, from him being complicit.  Not when Yami’s life was involved.

Heart rate slowing, adrenaline ebbing, Nozel felt silly for thinking Mereoleona would have told Teris about the hired assassins.  His relief made him laugh softly at his foolishness.

Teris’ expression of concern grew.

“It’s alright.”  Nozel assured.  “While I can’t say more.  I can tell you that much.”

Teris looked him over wondering what he wasn’t telling her.

“Stop it.”  He commanded with more bravo than he felt.  “You’ll ruin the surprise I thought Leona told you about.”

Teris’ brows furrowed.  “Surprise?”

Nozel nodded, wondering how he was going to come up with a surprise that even slightly justified his reaction.  Fuegoleon would have to help him.  After all it was the Vermilion's fault for coming to him this morning and dropping all this in his lap.

Worse than learning that his father had made a second time on Yami’s life, was finding out that others knew about it.  Nozel couldn’t help but wonder who else besides the three Vermilion's knew.  What if Yami had told his friends?  No, Nozel told himself.  Yami didn’t want Teris to know any more than he did.  Yami wouldn’t tell anyone and risk it possibly getting back to her.  But if Mereoleona and her father had found out and discussed it where Fuegoleon could overhear, what was there to stop Teris from somehow learning about it all as well?

“Nozel?” Teris prodded after a moment.

“I told, you that’s all you get.”  Nozel said, somewhat harshly. “Sorry.”  He sighed and gave what he hoped was an apologetic and reassuring smile.  “Still working out the details.”  He stood, offering her his hand.  “Shall we?  We don’t want to stay closed up in here over long.  People might get the wrong impression.”

Teris rushed to her feet and quickly made for the doors, swinging them open.  She sneered the small gathering that had been attempting to eavesdrop, watching them scatter like a flock of startled birds.

“That’s my fault.”  Nozel muttered, at her shoulder.

“Yes. It is.”  Teris growled, silently repeating Mereoleona’s words like a mantra.

“I apologize.  Your image and honor is of paramount importance to me.” Nozel told, truly sorry for any whispers about her this might cause.

Teris shrugged.  “Nothing happened.  If they were able to hear they’ll know that.  Even if they weren’t.  Who cares?  We know the truth.”

Nozel blinked.  Was her image and honor more important to him than it was to her?  He thought of how she had so openly cavorted with Yami the night of the Lava Springs and ground his teeth, trying to push the unwanted memory way.

“There you two are.”  Julius said, turning down the hall.  He had seen Nozel pull Teris out of line and had followed as best he could; but too many people had been in his way, many of whom he had to politely promise to find later because they had wished to speak with him. “May I steel my sister for a moment?”

“Certainly.” Nozel gave Teris a slight bow and headed off to the gathering.

Julius gently nudged Teris back into the room she had just exited.

“Stop shoving me.”  Teris snapped.

“I’m not shoving.  Lower you voice.”  Julius closed the doors behind them and turned to her.  “What was that about?”

“I don’t know.  He pulled me in here demanding to know what Mereoleona told me.”

Julius’ brows furrowed.  “What Leona told you?  Why?  What did she tell you?”

“Basically to have a better attitude and outlook on these stupid boring events and the hateful people I’m forced to deal with at them.  To enjoy the societal relations I have while I can.  Which,” she looked at her brother, “you’re making quite difficult to do.”

“And Nozel pulled you in here for that?”

“No. He pulled me in here mid-sentence.  I told you, I don’t know.  It was weird.  He’s been weird since morning.  Even by Nozel standards.”

“So it was nothing you did or said?”  Julius questioned.

Teris glared up at him.  “No, Julius.  It was nothing I said or did.  You got your message across perfectly before you abandoned me to my fate. Yet again.”  She regretted the last bit as soon as she said it but couldn’t take it back.

Julius blinked.  He couldn’t have been more stung if she had slapped him. Just when he thought she had forgiven him for leaving so soon after their mother's death, Teris went and said things like that. Swallowing his emotion, he apologized.  “Forgive me for thinking it was something you’d done.  Nozel isn’t the type of person that would do something like that without great reason.”

Thinking of the stolen kiss in the stables at Nova House and the bruises she’d likely have on her still aching shoulders, Teris muttered.  “You have no idea what type of person Nozel is.”

“What’s that?”  Julius questioned.

Teris shook her head.  “Nothing.”

“Has he done something like this before?”  Julius asked.

“No. Nothing like this has happened before.”

“Teris. You’d tell me if—if he had attempted anything untoward or overly harsh, wouldn’t you?”  Julius asked scrutinizing her every movement.

Teris sighed.  “Really, Julius.  You tell me that you’re busy and won’t be around, and now you pull me in here harassing me.”

“Teris--”

“May I go?  Or is there anything else you’d like to accuse me of disappointing you in?”

“You aren’t a disappointment.  Not to me.  Couldn’t be even if you tired.”

“I’m sorry for my comment about you abandoning me.”  Teris apologized. “It was more than untrue.  It was uncalled for and childishly mean spirited.”

Julius gave her a weak tentative smile.  “You’re a brat.

“Thanks?” Teris huffed, smiling back and making a face.

“Come here.”  Julius pulled her into a hug.  “You’re precious to me.” He told, resting his chin on her head.  “You’re the only thing that gives me pause when I think about possibly one day becoming Wizard King.  To not be able to call or even think of you as my sister...”

Teris’ heart seized.  It was too much.  Needing to lighten the mood least she tear up, she pulled away.  “It’s alright, Juls.  Whether you’re Wizard King by then or not, you won’t be able to do that in a couple years anyway.”

Julius smiled sadly at the effort she made to sound playfully confidant.  As much as she had left to learn, she had had numerous hard lessons in her young life and had learned quickly how best to deal with hardship, going on when others would have broken.

“You would tell me though, right?  About Nozel?”

Teris sighed.  “Julius.  If there was a problem like that, I’d take care of it long before you heard of it.  I can take care of myself. If you doubt me, we can head over to one of the training yards at Magic Knights Headquarters and I can prove it to you.”

He knew she was deflecting which only served to make him certain Nozel had done something.  He remembered finding her crying in the stables at Nova House and piecing together what had happened.  Hopefully that was the only thing Nozel had done to distress his sister.  But Teris was right about being able to take care of it herself.  She had done so in that cell when she and the rest of Nozel’s team had been captured.  It wasn’t that Julius doubted she could take care of herself.  It was that he didn’t want her to have to.  A selfish part of him wanted his little sister to rely on him even though he wouldn’t always be there for her as her big brother.  In any case, she and Nozel appeared to be getting along fine, most of the time at least.  So Julius figured whatever it was, Teris had indeed handled it, forgiven him, and trusted Nozel not to attempt anything like it again.

Given her persistently hard stance, Julius didn’t pressure her anymore and instead apologized.  “Sorry.  I’m well aware you’re a powerful Mage.  It’s only your third year as a Magic Knight and you’re already ranked as a Second Class Senior.  It’s just... Seeing you like this...”  He gestured to her outfit.  “It makes me think of you more as a young lady who may need assistance.”

Teris forced her small smile to hold in place, thinking that dressed in this garb made her feel more like a submissive lady who required assistance.  It was one of the main reasons she hated wearing such outfits.  She wasn’t completely herself in them.  That, coupled with her still dealing with the emotional effects of what happened in the cell was why she had been more frightened than fearsome when Nozel pulled her in the room.

“Then there’s the whole I’m your brother and all.”  Julius shrugged a shoulder and smiled crookedly at her.

“And an excellent, caring brother you are.”  Teris put in.

Becoming serious, Julius felt the need to say.  “But you can come to me. You don’t have to shoulder everything on your own.  As your brother it’s more than my duty to protect you.  It is my honor and privilege.  If anyone did anything that made you feel uncomfortable or threatened, I would hope you wouldn’t feel that you had to handle it on your own.”

Teris knew this wasn’t going to end unless she gave him that much, and so said.  “I know.  And if I wasn’t up to it I would most definitely come to you.  Without hesitation.”  Changing the subject before things became even more uncomfortable or sappy, she said.  “When Nozel and I first entered, there was a couple in here necking.”

“Really, Teris.  Gossip.”  Julius scolded.

“It’s not really gossip if it’s true.  Beside, I know you’re not gonna go around telling everyone.”

“Who were they?”

Teris gave her brother a playful censuring look.  “Really, Julius. Gossip.”

Julius smirked and opened the doors, leading her out.

73.4

Nozel stopped beside the nobleman talking with Fuegoleon.

“Your Highness.”  The man greeted Nozel, bowing slightly. “Congratulations on your Golden Clover Medal of Honor.”

“Thank you.”  Nozel replied, his eyes never turning to the noble.  “Will you excuse us?”

There was a slight moment of confusion on the nobles part as Nozel had been looking at Fuegoleon when he had spoken; but he quickly realized the words were meant for him.

“Yes. Of course, Your Highness.”  The noble bowed at both Princes. “Your Highness’”  There was another moment of awkward silence where the man realized that Nozel didn’t actually want be excused with Fuegoleon; but wanted him leave them.  He clumsily bowed again. “If Your Highness’ will excuse me.”

Despite his stress and the pressing need, Nozel gave a tired sigh surprised that they would let someone so lacking in courtly graces within the walls of the Royal Castle.

Fuegoleon turned to the Silva.  “Sometimes your rudeness even catches me by surprise.”

“Shut up.  I need your help.”

“Well that’s an interesting way to ask for it.”  Fuegoleon commented. “Don’t know how effective--”

“I need to figure out a surprise for Teris.”  Nozel said over the Vermillion.  “A substantial one, but nothing too big that will make her uncomfortable or refuse it.”

Fuegoleon’s eyes narrowed.  “What’s this about?”

“I messed up.”  Nozel confessed.

“You seem to do that a lot with her.  Something else that shouldn’t surprise me but still occasionally does.”

Nozel stepped closer to the Crimson Lion and whispered.  “I overreacted when she said she was really trying due to something Mereoleona told her.  I dragged her off and demanded to know what your sister had said.”

“Why?”

Nozel looked about.  Stepping even closer, he lowered his voice further. “You know why.”

“You thought Leona told her?”  Fuegoleon questioned, voice raising at the preposterous thought.

“Keep your voice down!”  Nozel whispered harshly.

“She would never do that.  Why would you think Leona would do such a thing?  What were you thinking?”

“I clearly wasn’t.”  Nozel growled.

“Clearly.” Fuegoleon huffed.  He went on, sounding offended.  “Leona would never tell Teris.  No one who truly cared about Teris would tell her. I can’t believe you thought Leona had.  Not to mention if Teris knew, she wouldn’t have been calmly speaking to you.”

Hearing Fuegoleon spell it out made Nozel feel all the more foolish, which he supposed was the point.  Irritated, Nozel questioned tersely.  “Are you going to help me or not?”

“I’ll help you.”  Fuegoleon answered.  “For Teris’ sake.  Not yours.”

“I don’t care why you’re doing it, so long as you do it.”

“Because if you screw this up,” Fuegoleon continued on as if Nozel hadn’t spoken, “Teris will wonder why you overreacted.  She’ll start poking around trying to figure out the real reason.”  He frowned at the Silver Eagle, hands curling into fists.  “I swear, Nozel.  If she finds out about all this because of your thoughtless paranoid reaction I’ll kill you myself.  You know it’ll only drive her further away and closer to him.”

Nozel’s jaw tightened at the thought of Yami Sukehiro.  Glaring at Fuegoleon, he clipped.  “Just help me think of something convincing.”

“First, I’ll need to know how badly you overreacted.”  Fuegoleon said.

Nozel made a face, thinking of the way he had grasped Teris.  The way his fingers had ached upon releasing her.  He wouldn’t be surprised if he had left bruises on her shoulders.  He’d be leaving that bit out when he told the Vermillion.  There wasn’t anything Fuegoleon could say about that that he wasn’t already angry with himself over.

“We have a couple of hours between this thing and the royal dinner and ball.”  Fuegoleon said.  “Come to Vermillion Castle and we can talk more freely in my study.”

“Why must I go to you?”  Nozel questioned, tersely.

“Because you’re the one that screwed up.”  Fuegoleon said, heatedly.  And, he thought, Teris will be at Silva Castle getting ready for the evenings events.  He wanted them to be as far away as possible from his cousin while they discussed this.

73.5

Tobin staggered as he shrunk down to his normal size.  “Well that wasn’t easy.  You think we’re just overworked and tired”

“No.” Yami rolled his neck and shoulders.  “They were just that good. And, unlike us they worked well together.”

“That’s not my fault.”  Tobin stormed.  “It was you and--” he gestured to Iban, “--that one.  For a while I thought you two were gonna start fighting each other.  Think this lot did too.”  He kick a toe at one of the magically bound thieves they had subdued.

Yami couldn’t argue against that.  Iban had been staring at him the entire time they had tracked the gang.  That hadn’t bothered Yami so much at the time.  He was use to people staring for whatever reasons.  He didn’t care.  It was the fact that he was certain Iban knew more than he was telling about the whole Chaos and zealots mess. Granted when he had spoken with the Blood Mage out in that field the day Iban had attacked Teris, Yami had believed the answers Iban had given.  But that didn’t mean the man didn’t know anything, it only meant that Yami had asked the wrong questions.  Between Iban first attacking him and later Teris, Yami had stayed on guard and mindful of the Blood Mage.  Treating him as Olsen had suggested a year ago, like a wild Saber Wolf that could turn from watchful to attacking without warning.

They had been doing alright on this mission until Iban had commented that the battle reminded him of a year ago.  Yami had turned quickly to Iban at that.  Iban’s bright golden eyes had been focused on him. The Blood Mage wearing the same stupid smirk he had worn that night in the cave nearly a year ago.  Things had gone downhill fast from there.

Yami sheathed his katana in disgust.  Their difficultly had been of his own making.  He refused to go any further until he made certain such a thing wouldn’t happen again.

Looking at Tobin, Yami ordered.  “Watch them.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re not going anywhere.”  Tobin said, impressed by Yami’s dark magic binding spell.

“Then just stay here.”  Yami snapped.  “Iban.  With me.”  He ordered, making his way to the meadows treeline.

“Woah!” Tobin turned, worried.

“Shut up!  Do as you’re told!”  Yami ordered, without giving his friend a glance.  He might not be Vice Captain yet; but he was the highest ranking Magic Knight here and he’d be damned if he let someone question his command, friend or not.

Iban smirked, eyes traveling from Yami to Tobin and back.  “Yes, sir,” The Blood Mage sang, following.

Tobin watched the two men walk away.  The further they got the more he worried.

Reaching the treeline, Yami stopped and turned.  “I refuse to chance a mission or put a comrade in danger like that again.  Even if it is your creepy ass.  So tell me everything you know and maybe we can put this bad blood behind us.”

Iban’s gold eyes danced.  “Interesting choice of phrase.”

Yami’s left hand rested lazily on the hilt of his katana.  “Why do you think I used it?”

“Most find you dim and slow Yami Sukehiro.  But there is so much you see and know that you never let on.  Tell me, does it suit you to let everyone believe that you are dumb?”

“It comes with far less expectations and the occasional benefit of surprising folk.  So yeah.  It suits me fine.  Now tell me what you know.  All of it.”

“Very well.”  Iban sighed.  He gave a seconds thought and smiled.  “You will not like this but I assure you, all my family’s ties to the Agents of Chaos have long since been severed.”

Yami’s eyes narrowed.

“My grandmother’s grandfather was once the Master of the Agents of Chaos.”  Iban’s smile grew at Yami’s reaction.  “Thought that would get your blood pumping.”  He closed his eyes, breathing deeply from his nose, sensing Yami’s blood as it coursed through the mans veins.  It was intoxicating.

With difficultly, Yami kept his control.  “How is it that the family of a former Master of those crazies now has nothing to do with them?”

“My grandmothers grandfather was outed from his position as Master of Chaos.  Killed in a ritual duel that the members believe Chaos himself oversees and gives his strength to whom he deems worthy.” Iban answered.

“Killed by who?  The Master before Alowishus Spade?”  Yami asked.

“By Spade himself.”  Iban told, enjoying Yami’s struggle to hide his shock.  “Alowishus Spade far older than you or his followers could imagine.  I’m sure even his wife has no idea.”

Yami raised an eyebrow at that last bit, unsure why he found it surprising that Alowishus Spade had a wife.  Women liked all sorts, just the same as men did.  Though Spade was a rare case, pieced together as he was by parts of powerful dead mages.  “How old is he?”

Iban shrugged a shoulder.  “I have no idea.  My grandmother only told me that Spade was at least three times older than her grandfather at the time of the challenge.”

“How’d she know that?”

“Blood magic.  It runs in our family.  And blood does not lie.”

Iban didn’t say that his grandmothers grandfather had thought he had won the duel.  That Alowishus had been laid out in ceremonial sparring circle, his heart no longer beating.  That his ancestor had turned his back, guard lowered and begun to raise his hands in victory when Alowishus, heart still stopped, had risen from the ground and hugged the man from behind.  That his grandmother, a young girl at the time, had seen her grandfather wither and decay before her eyes.  First to a mummified corpse, then to bleached bones, and finally crumbling to nothing more than a small pile of dust.

“After putting an end to the previous Master of Chaos’ reign Alowishus Spade allowed my family to leave and live peacefully so long as we didn’t interfere with the Agents of Chaos’ goings on's.”  Iban told Yami.  “Before my great-grandfather and his family were cast out of Sanctuary, he managed to dip the tip to his cloak into a bit of blood that had spilled from Alowishus Spade during the dual.  My great-grandfather was certain that Spade had somehow cheated and thought the mans blood would prove it.  Given that the sample was tainted and no longer fresh by the time he was able to examine it, his findings were frustratingly unclear.  But what little he learned was enough for him to forgo vengeance and keep his promise to stay well away.”

Yami stared silently, wondering how Alowishus Spade could be so old.  The corpse magic the man used could only go so far.  Julius had been clear that the internal organs of a person likely couldn’t be replaced.  How long could a heart pump if the body it was attached to was healthy enough to go on?  What was the lifespan of a persons insides?  Yami pressed his teeth together at the thought of such macabre things.

Iban watched Yami, gold eyes glinting in the fading light of the setting sun.

Finally, Yami asked.  “So you know what they believe?  Why they’re so interested in Teris and me?  What sick rituals they have planned for us and all that.”

“Possibly.”

“What do you mean possibly?”  Yami growled.

“When Spade took over, much changed.  The purpose, beliefs, and plans of the order of the Agents of Chaos turned on its head in many regards. That is why my grandmother’s grandfather accepted Spades request of a dual so readily.  When Spade was first a member of the Agents of Chaos he was always challenging the Master of Chaos, my ancestor. Spade was often often caught holding his own secret meetings with a large number of fellow followers where he instructed them on his own beliefs and teachings.  It got to the point where the Master wanted to put an end to Spade’s growing influence as quickly as possible. The dual Alowishus challenged him to for right of who would be Master was the perfect opportunity to not only be rid of Alowishus Spade but to negate whatever wrong and dangerous teachings he had infected the followers with.”

“Only your ancestor lost.  And in everyone’s eyes your beloved Chaos deemed Alowishus Spade right and worthy.”  Yami said.

Iban inclined his head.

“So you’re part of the old, dare I say, saner guard.”  Yami said, recalling how Sir Jorah had made clear everything he finally divulged to Teris and him came from what little knowledge they had of the Agents of Chaos before Spade had become Master.

Iban inclined his head once more.

“So anything you tell me would be of little to no use.”  Yami sighed in disgusted disappointment.

“As I already told you.”  Iban said.

Yami made a face and shook his head.  It was one mess after another. Every thought he had or road he took to find answers always led to a dead end.

Looking at Iban, Yami commanded.  ”You don’t tell anyone this. Especially Teris.  She’ll hound you to no end and I don’t want her anywhere near you.  I still don’t trust you.”

“Nor should you.”  Iban agreed.

Yami gave him a look that had even made Bronn look away nervous; but Iban only stared back in amusement.

“Let’s go.”  Yami rumbled.

“One more thing.  If I may.”  Iban ventured.  “Have the dreams, the ones like Teris experienced, begun for you?”

“Why?” Yami questioned, uneasily.

Iban shrugged.  “Just figured Chaos would have more to say to you given that Darkness is the child of Chaos and Death, and Death has a closer connection to Chaos than Life.  Not to mention, Death is the one trying to awaken Chaos.”

Yami’s jaw clenched at that.  He wasn’t sure he believed all that primordial forces business but he knew Alowishus and his Agents of Crazies did.  All Yami was willing to admit at the moment was there was something more to all of this than rare, strong magic.

“And I suppose you all think Light was born from Order and Life.”  Yami huffed.

Iban smirked.  “Far from it.  Light was born from Life and Chaos.  I suppose you could say Light is Chaos ordered.”

Yami’s brows furrowed, not understanding.  Annoyed, he turned away.  “What’s it matter if the stupid page speaks to me?  I wouldn’t remember anything anyway.  That’s how that works.  Isn’t it?”

“It need not have to be.”  Iban said, watching Yami’s back tense.  “I can help you remember.”

Yami looked back at him.  “Even a Communications and Time Mage working together couldn’t do that.”

Iban smirked, knowing he had Yami interested, if not temped.  “Marx and Julius weren’t using the right magic or correct incantation spell.”

“And you just happen to have the right magic and know the correct spell?” Yami said, dubiously.

“My grandmother’s grandfather was once the Master of Chaos.”  Iban reminded.

“Then how is it that the current so called Master of Chaos doesn’t know of this spell?”  Yami asked, certain that Alowishus wouldn’t have bothered questioning him and Teris about the pages communication if he had such a thing at his disposal.

“My grandmother took her grandfather's Rights and Rituals Book after Spade killed him in the dual.  Snuck it out of Sanctuary without anyone the wiser.  Since it was a secret item, shared from Master to Master and their families, neither Spade or the other followers knew of its existence and therefore wouldn’t have missed it.”

Yami eyed the Blood Mage.  “And you still have this book.”

“I do.  It is a fairly painless ritual.”

Yami huffed.  Iban’s definition of fairly painless probably meant it would be excruciating.  But it wasn’t fear of pain that kept him from agreeing.

Heading back to Tobin and their captives, Yami said over his shoulder. “Thanks.  But no thanks.”

Iban watched Yami, wondering how long it would take for him to come and demanded the spell be done.

So this 'arc' started with chapter 71 and will go on until the end of 'Book I' which is chapter 83.  To date, this arc has been one of my favorite to write for this fic.  Which has me wondering.  So far what has been your favorite arc, scene, or event?  Also, if you have one, I would love to know which oc in this fic is your favorite so far.  Really wanna make my day?  Let me know which oc you like and hate the most.

Don't forget to check to see Fuego and Nozel's riding dress preferences for Teris, if you want.

As always, THANKS for reading.  Comments, questions, keyboard smashes, and reblogs are always welcome and very much appreciated.

Next chapter snippet:

“We can still be friends.”  Teris said.  “Our friendship is more important than any hurt feelings he may have about Yami and I being together.”

“Especially when he still thinks you’re going to marry him.”  Olsen put in.

[dalekofchaos]

The Fireflies’ vaccine wouldn’t have worked or why Joel did the right thing

In the last part of The Last of Us, Joel kills all the fireflies and saves Ellie but by doing so he may have doomed humanity by ending the possibility of a cure being made, making the ending bittersweet and morally ambiguous. The thing is, Joel didn't really do anything wrong, and saving Ellie was the right choice, here are my reasons:

The doctors would remove Ellie's brain to try to create a vaccine, but that's not how vaccines works, a vaccine is a tamed version of a pathogen that "teaches" your body to defend against it, to do a vaccine you need to use the pathogen in small quantities or a modified version of it, Ellie is immune to it, you don't create vaccines from the immune system, that's called a serum, and it works differently, a serum is used when someone comes in contact with a disease and it contains a series of antibodies that fight the infection, but it doesn't make anyone immune. So what they were trying to do was pointless;

Even if the doctors know what they were doing, it was a wild shot a with no guarantee that it would work;

Even if a vaccine was successfully made they wouldn't save the world, the world was destroyed 20 years ago, society collapsed and was rebuilt again on a new way, and everyone already new how to deal with it, also the greatest threat were not even the cordyceps fungus anymore, it was the infected (that the vaccine couldn't do nothing about) and the crooked humans that walked the earth. Besides that, the fireflies had no way to distribute the vaccine worldwide, not even in a national level.

If you listen to the tapes in the Colorado segment, it pretty much confirms that Ellie is not unique and they wouldn’t be able to make a vaccine anyway. The doctor has practically lost his mind and Ellie is just his white whale. Ellie was not the first subject and she most likely wouldn’t have been the last. 

The doctor pretty much went against the common ethical code of all medical practitioners just for a CHANCE at a vaccine/cure.  

And wouldn't it take a lot of time to study her? A day to do all the tests is outright impossible. Just look at the corona vaccine. With all the tech the world has the biotechnologists are going to take more than a year to make a vac.

Vaccines for Fungal infections are nearly impossible and are a logistical nightmare.Even in today’s world,they can only be treated with antibiotics and anti-fungal medicine. They didn’t even bother with thoroughly researching Ellie’s blood and trying to extract the fungal specimen without killing her. The tests were blood samples and samples from the area where she was bit and then only cutting her brain open as THE LAST POSSIBLE USE for her, then when their step 1 was "lol just kill this incredibly rare specimen" I was shocked.

BTW, PS4 version actually removed a piece of paper that's available in all the other forms of the game. What is this piece of paper? Just the one that describes how they've tried this process dozens of times before and how they've NEVER gotten any useful info.

The Fireflies are terrorists. The Fireflies are terrorists, and not even competent ones. Here we go. We first hear of the Fireflies in credits, where they are taking credit for attacking the Federal Disaster Response Agency. Not a good start.The next time we start to see hints of them is through graffiti in the quarantine zone. What does this graffiti say? Fireflies will take it all back. That sounds great! Burn it all down. ...oh. That’s, uh, a little less great. Fucking die, pig. Um… Uh, that’s uh, not a great look here guys.And that goes on and on. The graffiti does not exactly inspire. All it does is get angry.Next time we see them, it’s when they literally bomb a checkpoint and supply truck, then begin firing wildly all over the place. This is straight terrorism. They don’t care if there is collateral damage, in fact, Joel gets injured in this scene.Then we meet Marlene, the so-called Queen Firefly. Injured and on the run, the military is slowly wiping them out. This leads to a line of dialogue that is absolutely hilarious. Marlene starts to preach about “We’ve been quiet. Been planning on leaving the city, but they need a scapegoat. They’ve been trying to rile us up. We’re trying to defend ourselves”Those are big words from someone who just bombed a checkpoint.This clearly shows us that Marlene cannot be trusted as a narrator. She has an agenda and is lying to Joel and possibly herself. And that despite how effective guerrilla tactics usually are, her group is still managing to get absolutely devastated. They are failing so badly that they have to recruit smugglers just to try to get Ellie out of the city.So begins the trek showing dead Fireflies at every turn. Downtown subway station? Dead Fireflies. The Capitol building? Dead Fireflies. Pittsburgh? Oh, let’s talk about Pittsburgh.Pittsburgh is a monument to Firefly failure. Pittsburgh was originally another Quarantine zone held together by FEDRA. So what happened here? Well, times got hard, and the Fireflies instigated a civil war or insurrection. This fighting lasted for months, with Fireflies lynching soldiers that they caught alone, burning soldiers alive after dousing them in gasoline, and FEDRA retaliating by executing Fireflies. FEDRA finally gave up and retreated from Pittsburgh, putting the Fireflies in control- and then it all fell apart. The people of Pittsburgh discover that the Fireflies had planned to move right into the space FEDRA had previously occupied. And so, after this was discovered, the Fireflies were driven out just like FEDRA had been. Only much faster, and with less fight. And now Pittsburgh is nothing but anarchy. People gunned down in the streets for nothing. Rooms full of bodies, clothes and shoes. Almost looks like after images of Dachau. Bravo, Fireflies. Excellent revolution.Next up, we meet Tommy, Joel’s brother, and disenfranchised Firefly. He worked for them for years, going all the way to Colorado for them. Somewhere along the way, he lost faith in them and left their cause. He doesn’t specify exactly why, but it seems he might have lost faith in their methods.Then we come to the University. This is where we really discover how incompetent the Fireflies actually are. One of the first notes you see at University is about a guy who is angry he got yelled at for falling asleep on guard duty. Real professionals. This same note indicates that while they’re still getting some supplies, it’s not enough for what’s needed, with gasoline being particularly short. The next note comes from a recording, telling us that they’re losing more guards, with the doctor clearly concerned about how much equipment and data will be lost if they have to move. The doctor even calls the Fireflies incompetent in this note. And then we have this genius.. That’s right. Bitten by his own lab monkey. Because he just had to set it free, rather than putting it down humanely. Brilliant work sir. Brilliant. He kills himself before turning though, but not before informing us that they hadn’t accomplished anything for over five years. And even that small breakthrough was ultimately a failure. And now the entire lab is compromised, and abandoned.And then there’s a long break from Fireflies until Salt Lake. Ellie, having just gone underwater, isn’t breathing. Joel attempts to perform CPR on her when our hero Firefly shows up, and knocks Joel unconscious. Ah, violence. The first solution. Willing to forgive it, since it strongly mirrors the scene with Sarah, only the Firefly is in the soldier’s shoes this time. But still. Military was gentler.And now for the hospital. The final failure of the Fireflies. This is where so many people are convinced that Joel screws the world by preventing a vaccine. But somehow, I just don’t think so. This is one last desperate bid by the Fireflies for control. How do they intend to do this? Comprehensive bloodwork? No. Vigorous testing with laboratory animals, like, oh, maybe monkeys? No, someone let all their monkeys go. Crack open her head and hope for the best? Hell yeah! Does the fact that they’ve lost their biologist concern them? Nah, it’ll be fine! Does the fact that this is the only time they’ve seen immunity to this degree even give them pause? Pfft, crack her open! Does the fact that there has never been a successful vaccine against fungus give them pause? PASS THAT SCALPEL! No need to think this over, let’s blow our whole load on this once in a lifetime lucky strike as fast as possible. No, I’ve never heard the story about the goose who laid the golden eggs, tell it to me after I finish butchering surgery. Even if we make this vaccine, how will we deploy it? You're thinking too hard, hand me the saw!This is just bad science. Done by bad scientists. Cheered on by fools. Fools who wanted to murder Joel after he made that long trip.And for people who insist on government and democracy, it’s funny how they didn’t risk telling Ellie their “plan” and just sedated her and rushed her to the table.

Even by SOME MIRACLE they managed to make a vaccine, the world ain't gonna automatically return to what it was. It's a dog eat dog world and that is the new normal. Infected, cannibals, more psychos like David and raiders are still there and it ain't going away soon or maybe ever. On top of that, mass production and distribution of a vaccine is an absolute logistical nightmare in a post apocalyptic world- they simply don't have enough resources for that. And who's to say The Fireflies wouldn't use it to as a bargaining tool to put everyone, willing or not, under their new rule? And even given all that, they debated killing Joel after he delivered Ellie. He did the job and the payment he received was getting knocked out and being marched outside of the safe zone AT GUNPOINT WITHOUT HIS WEAPONS AND SUPPLIES! The Fireflies broke their deal and fucked Joel over. Joel had ever right to kill them and save Ellie.

So I believe what Joel did in the end was the right thing, the fireflies was an extremist group that was willing to do anything not to save the world, but to prove their point, even kill an innocent girl under a delusional precept. 

[signs-of-the-moon]

Moon Rise: Chapter 43

Only two days passed when the clan needed herbs again. Swiftcloud and Rabbitstorm travelled along the snowy path, led only by Ruby, back to through the Twolegplace. They paused at the fence by the large Twoleg's den, looking to their guide as they prepared to jump over.

"I shall wait for you right here. Please try not to take too long, it's very cold today," Ruby meowed, seating herself by the Twoleg fence. Swiftcloud and Rabbitstorm gave her an agreeing nod, leaping into the yard on the other side. Tabitha was already there, patiently waiting for them outside by the door. Fat Louie was also present, though he didn't appear as cheerful as his mate.

"Oh no. Not them again!" He griped. His expression was sour as he glanced from the Grassclan warriors to his mate and back.

"There you are!" Tabitha bounded towards the clan cats. She completely ignored Fat Louie's remark. "I've been waiting for you. I was worried you wouldn't come back."

"We told you we would. A warrior's word is their bond," Rabbitstorm responsed with his tail raised in greetings.

"I didn't mean any offense by that remark," Tabitha insisted,"it's just that I never know when you're coming back. For all I know, I could be waiting seasons to see you all again."

"Well, I can garuntee we'll never stay away that long," Swiftcloud promised, touching her nose to the other molly's assuringly.

Tabitha purred, turning to press her side into Rabbitstorm's. She didn't stick to the topic of their discussion anymore, now that her favorite cat was here to dote on. "Brr. It's so bitter outside today, don't you think?"

Rabbitstorm began to lick his chest fur, avoiding Tabitha's sunshine yellow gaze. "I hadn't really noticed," he mumbled.

"I bet it's because you have all that long fur, hm? No cold can get through that handsome pelt of yours, I'm sure." Tabitha nudged him. It was so obvious that she wanted the tom's attention. Probably in more ways than one. Swiftcloud thought it was cute.

Rabbitstorm shuffled his paws around in the snow, looking at them as if he suddenly found them fascinating. Swiftcloud resisted the purr of amusement that wanted to rise in her throat. She could tell just how flustered her friend was by how he was behaving. Tabitha was the only cat who could push his buttons this way, besides Heatherwing. If fate would have allowed it, Swiftcloud could have seen the pair becoming mates some day. But they came from two different worlds, and lived too far to maintain any sort of bond. Besides, Tabitha had Fat Louie as her mate already, despite how much of a fox-heart he'd previously shown himself to be. And despite how flirty and flustered he'd get, Swiftcloud doubted that Rabbitstorm was ready to move on from Heatherwing yet. It was still too soon since her passing.

"C'mon 'handsome' let's get that catmint," Swiftcloud teased, ignoring the memories of the deceased molly her mind tried to hold. Rabbitstorm perked up right away to glare at her, though a hint of mischief was noted in his expression.

"Haha, funny." He rolled his eyes, bounding ahead with Tabitha right beside him. Swiftcloud purred, falling in step with her companions. From behind, she could feel judgemental eyes upon them. Swiveling her ears back, Swiftcloud could hear an extra set of paws shuffling through the snow. She paused just outside the Green House door.

"You guys go ahead. I think I'll wait outside this time. Tabitha, can you bring a bundle of herbs for me please?"

Tabitha trilled, leaning herself against Rabbitstorm. "Sure!" Though her words were addressed to Swiftcloud, her attention was still placed on the lynx point tom next to her. Tabitha batted her eyes at him dreamily before following Rabbitstorm into the den. Swiftcloud was left outside alone and ignored. She watched the pair slip away into the tamed undergrowth before turning herself around. Her eyes narrowed as Fat Louie appeared before her.

"Can I help you with something?" Swiftcloud asked the fat tom, not disguising the distrust she had for him.

"Yeah. You can help me by getting your mangy hides off my territory," Louie hissed. "Y'know you're all Tabitha's talked about since you came by the other day? It's always 'Swiftcloud' this. And 'wild cats' that. It's driving me batty! And if I have to listen to her gush one more heartbeat about 'Wabbitstorm~' I'm going to claw my own ears off."

"Is there really a problem with that?" Swiftcloud prompted. "Surely you'd want Tabitha to be happy? To have friends?"

"Tabitha doesn't need any cat but me. She's been fine the past six moons, with just her and I. And she'll be perfectly happy when you're gone! You're ruining everything we've planned for. Everything we've been brought together for."

Swiftcloud tilted her head, unsure of what Louie was referring to. "And what would that be?" She asked.

"To have kits, of course. Tabitha and I are supposed to have a few litters of kits for our housefolks."

So that was the reason why Tabitha was so open to flirting with a tom that wasn't her mate. She wasn't in love with Fat Louie at all. They'd been made to be mates by their Twolegs. Tabitha didn't have a choice. Swiftcloud resisted the urge to cringe at the realization. She'd only ever known of something like this happening with show cats; like her parents. Swiftcloud's parents had been coupled together to produce award winning kittens. Luckily, the two of them had found true love for each other over time. But Swiftcloud couldn't see that being the case with Tabitha and Louie. Especially when Tabitha was so infatuated with Rabbitstorm. What a miserable life she'll lead, Swiftcloud thought bitterly.

"You being here's putting too many ideas into that molly's head. She's thinkin about being a clan cat, yknow," Fat Louie added, looking disgusted.

She'd definitely be happier if she was, Swiftcloud wanted to say. But she held her tongue, her nubby tail wiggling in agitation.

"So why don't you all just stay away? Go home to your fields or something. Keep out of housefolk neighborhoods. And especially our territory." Fat Louie took a few steps closer, his nose only a mouse-whisker away from Swiftcloud's. From this distance she could see the scratches Rabbitstorm had left on the tom's muzzle. "I heard your story, yknow. You made your choice to be one of those wild cats. Let Tabitha stay where she belongs; don't force her to make the same decision as you did."

"Nobody is forcing her to choose. Tabitha is her own cat. She can decide to follow whatever path she pleases. You have no right to keep her from her happiness."

Fat Louie drew his lips back in a snarl. "I make her happy. We are happy. You're just too blinded by your wild lifestyle to see it. Maybe you had been a house cat before, but that time has passed. You've forgotten what it's like. You can't possibly begin to understand anything about our relationship. I'll warn you one last time; stay away from our territory, or else."

"Or else what? You'll drive us away? Sick you Twolegs on us?"

"I'll do something I'd rather not. I'll hurt Tabitha. I'll make sure our housefolks see her injuries. And when they do, they'll never let her outside again. She's declawed, yknow. There'll be no way for her to defend herself."

"That absurd," Swiftcloud growled, "there's no need to take things that far. We visit your territory to gather catmint for our sick. Once the greencough has been eliminated from our clan, we won't need to come around anymore. We'll be gone for good within the next moon or so. Besides, the clan can't handle any new mouthes to feed right now." Swiftcloud was careful with how she worded things, knowing that whatever she'd say would make its way to Tabitha through Fat Louie. There was no need to give him more ammunition to use to try and prevent his mate from running away to the clans.

Louie grunted in response, "I'll believe it when I see it... Heed my warning, wild cat." With that, the fat tom stalked off, giving a grumble as he went. Nasty old badger, Swiftcloud thought sourly, turning to meet with her clanmates inside the Green House.

A quarter moon went by. Swiftcloud had returned for another needed round of herbs. A new set of cats had joined this patrol, cats she was eager to introduce to her new kittypet friend.

"I can't believe we're so far in Twolegplace!" Frostfeather exclaimed as they entered Tabitha's yard from the fence. She shook out her pelt as snow sprayed over her from the impact of her landing.

"I think it's awesome," Tulippaw chimed, having regained her spunk after recovering from greencough. "I know aunt Whitestar approved of us coming here. But crossing into unknown territory makes me feel like a rebel spy."

"Are you interested in being a Spy?" Swiftcloud wondered aloud. She'd be thrilled if her apprentice wound up following in her pawsteps. And even if she didn't, she was glad to give the young cat a taste of what the job may intell. Ambereye would probably approve as well.

Tulippaw gave an unsure shrug, bristling slightly as she noticed the door to the Twolegs' den swing open. Swiftcloud followed her apprentice's gaze. Tabitha came bounding over the moment she noticed the clan cats waiting for her. She waved her tail in greetings, coming to a stop in front of them. Disappointment momentarily took over her expression, a look Swiftcloud figured was for Rabbitstorm's sake. He hadn't been assigned to join the herb patrol this time, even though he insisted.

"I see you've brought some new faces," Tabitha remarked to Swiftcloud, glancing at the strange she-cats.

"Hi there!" Frostfeather beamed. "I'm Frostfeather!! Gee, you sure smell funny," the silver and white tabby mewed, giving Tabitha a sniff. Swiftcloud giggled, reminded of the time she'd first met Frostfeather. She'd reacted the same way then, too.

"Well, so do you! Actually, you kinda smell like some other clan friends I have," Tabitha noted.

"You must be talking about Rabbitstorm and Mistyleaf, right? They're my littermates!"

Tabitha gasped happily. "You're Rabbitstorm's other sister?? How is he? Has he mentioned me at all? I miss him so much!"

Frostfeather let out a trill of amusement.

"Hey!" Tulippaw caterwauled. "I thought we came here to pick up catmint, not to gossip like elders."

"Tulippaw's right," Swiftcloud agreed. Across the way, she could see Fat Louie watching them through a window. His eyes were narrowed, teeth exposed. Swiftcloud felt a little anxious at the sight. She didn't want to distract Tabitha for long in fear for the kittypet's safety. But at the same time, she was feeling a bit spiteful. Louie wanted to prevent Tabitha from becoming too enthralled in clan cat culture. But that didn't mean Swiftcloud couldn't teach her a thing or two about survival.

"Tulippaw, I'd like to assign you to a special task," she mewed. "I know you think herb gathering is boring. So, as compromise for coming along, I'll let you hang out here and play with Tabitha. Maybe you can show off your talented hunting skills, hm?"

Tulippaw perked up at the suggestion, an excited grin forming on her face. "That'll be fun! Hey, hey Tabitha, have you ever tried catching a mouse?"

Tabitha shook her head looking curious. "No, never. I wish I could though."

Tulippaw's grin widened, "then stick with me, I'll teach you everything you need to know."

Swiftcloud and Frostfeather let out a mrrow of laughter, letting the two excited cats play while they went and gathered up everything they needed. Swiftcloud felt relieved, having someone there to protect Tabitha during their visit. It felt good to do right by her. It was the least the clan could do for her generosity. And for potentially breaking ger heart in the near future.

*******

After a moon and half of continuous visits to the Twolegplace, the need for catmint had been completely fulfilled. Today would be the final visit to Tabitha's den, to tell her the good news, and to say farewell for good. It was a bittersweet day for everyone. But it was one they all knew would come. Soon, life would return to normal. With every cat well again, Grassclan could get back to business as usual. And Tabitha could go back to living the life that had been chosen for her by the Twolegs.

"Swiftcloud, Frostfeather, Mistyleaf, Chicorynose!" Tabitha cheered as she saw the warriors approach. Her eyes became particularly sparkly when she looked towards the final cat in their patrol. "Rabbitstorm!" The round tabby launched herself at the tom, slamming him into the padded ground below. They slid a mouse-length, leaving an indent the snow. Tabitha sat on top of Rabbitstorm, beaming down at him.

"Get off me you great big furball!" Rabbitstorm meowed, though there was laughter laced within his tone.

Tabitha smiled that much brighter, rubbing her cheek against his. "I missed you all so much."

"It's only been a few days." Chicorynose purred with amusement. Tabitha sat up, allowing Rabbitstorm to slip free from her grip. She lifted a paw to lick, casually running it over one of her ears.

"I know, but it's always so hard when you have to go away."

"Hey Tabitha, we have something amazing to tell you," Swiftcloud informed the kittypet molly. Tabitha perked up. "The last of our clanmates has been confirmed well again!"

"Really? Oh, that's fantastic!" Tabitha cheered.

"Grassclan's grown strong thanks to you," Chicorynose added. "We're very grateful for the aid you've provided, Tabitha. Thank you... I know our visiting is payment enough for your assistance. But, I wish there was something more we could do in return for your charity."

Tabitha shuffled her paws. "There's only one thing I'd ask for, if I could. I'd love to be taken back to Grassclan with all of you... But I know I wouldn't do well in the wild. I have no claws. I can't hunt or fight. I don't have much of a way to provide for a whole group of cats the way you can. And...I'm expecting kits."

"There's plenty of ways to hunt that don't always require claws," Swiftcloud pointed out, her bird catching technique standing out in her mind. "Plus in our clan, cats have partners. You'd always have somebody around to help you catch prey."

"And not every cat in the clan hunts for the rest," Rabbitstorm added. "There's cats who repair dens or help the medicine cats gather their herbs. And our queens tend to the entire clan, and their mental wellbeings "

"Really?" Tabitha was intrigued.

"Yeah!" Frostfeather chimed. "If you joined us, there would be plenty for you to help with. Besides we all really like you, you'd fit in with Grassclan perfectly."

Tabitha's eyed began to sparkle with hope. She smiled, chest puffing out excitedly.

"Hang on," Ruby interjected. "Surely you need to think this through. As much as I hate to agree with Fat Louie, its true you belong here. You aren't like these clan cats, Tabitha, please see reason."

"No I don't," Tabitha argued. "I don't belong here at all. In fact, I hate this place! I'm always so bored. There's nothing fun to do. And Louie doesn't care about me. He has no interest in what I talk about or in spending time with me. He hardly even reacted when I told him that I'm expecting. The most excitement that's come from my life has been from interacting with you, and with all the wild cats you've brought to visit me." Tabitha turned to address the Grassclan patrol. Tears began to well in her eyes, her voice was pleading. "I want to be warrior. I want crazy adventures, and friends that I can count on. I want my kits to be born wild and free in the meadow. Not miserable and lonely in some dusty old den like I was. The only thing I want in return from you is a home. A family. Please, take me with you!"

"Well." Chicorynose twitched her whiskers. "Typically, this decision would be up to Whitestar. However, the clan could use fresh blood now that so many of our warriors have passed on. And you've proven yourself capable of loyalty to our clan. I see no reason why we shouldn't take you."

Tabitha's pelt fluffed with excitement.

"But be warned," Swiftcloud cut in. "Living as a clan cat is not all fun and games. There's danger everywhere. The cold seasons are harsh, and food will not be so readily available. There's predators; and the other clans can be vicious, too. Know that by coming with us, you're giving up comfort, warmth, certainty. For you and your kittens. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"All of that sounds pleasant, compared to the dull life I've had to lead. I'd rather die than stay here a moment longer. At least in the clan I'll know that I've truly lived. And I'll know that my kits are happy too."

Chicorynose beckoned the others with her tail. "Then come. We'll be off to the meadow at once. Whitestar will want to meet you. And we should probably move quickly, before Louie comes along to try and stop you."

Tabitha let out an excited trill, doing a little spin of joy. She bumped her head against Chicorynose's, purring. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!!"

"Well." Ruby stepped closer to her kittypet friend. Her purple-ish eyes narrowed down at the plump molly, her ears twitching. "I suppose, if there's no stopping you..." Without warning, the large she-cat snatched up Tabitha by the collar. She gave a few hard yanks, ripping it right off her friend's neck. Tabitha let out a surprised gasp, her fur standing on end. She stared down at her collar, which had been dropped by her paws. Tabitha looked up at Ruby with wide eyes. Ruby in turn lowered her head to touch noses with her. "Take care, Tabitha. And good luck out there."

Tabitha blinked and purred once more, licking her friend's muzzle. "Thank you," she whispered, stepping back. Chicorynose flicked an ear, beckoning the Grassclan patrol to come along.

"I'll lead the way," Swiftcloud offered, padding on ahead. The rest of her clanmates followed, Tabitha rushing over to join them. Ruby traveled with, eventually allowing the clan cats to move on without her. She watched as her friend and the rest of the Grassclan patrol disappeared over the horizon.

When they were back in familiar territory, Mistyleaf piped up from the back of the group. "Swiftcloud, could I speak with you for a few heartbeats?"

Swiftcloud turned, following her friend's request. The two she-cats hung back, while the rest of their clanmates continued ahead towards camp. They fell in step with one another, speaking softly.

"I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for the help you've provided these past couple of moons. Starclan knows how much of a pain it was to get Snowfrost to agree to allow you to assist. But I think if it weren't for you, Grassclan may have been suffering from greencough until Newleaf."

"I just did what any other cat would do," reasoned Swiftcloud.

"That's not true," Mistyleaf disagreed. "You've gone above and beyond what was expected. You let yourself go hungry so others could eat. Pushed yourself to keep going even though you were tired. You volunteered to help Snowfrost and I with your immunity. And you were the one to insist we look in Twolegplace for catmint. No other cat was able to do all that. And now, Grassclan is strong again. It's all because of you."

Swiftcloud felt herself flush beneath her pelt. Her head dipped bashfully to avoid Mistyleaf's gaze. She couldn't bring herself to believe that what she'd done was out of the ordinary. I was only fulfilling my duty as a warrior.

Mistyleaf moved to press herself against her friend's flank. She purred softly, drawing Swiftcloud's attention onto her with a flick of her thick tail.

"I knew you were important," she whispered. "I never realized how much of an impact you'd make, until now... I admire you so much, Swiftcloud." Mistyleaf pressed herself against her companion further. "Maybe even more than that..."

Swiftcloud gulped. "More..?"

Mistyleaf nodded, "I suppose, well...It's taken me a long time to consider my feelings about you. I thought I just wanted to be friends, but... Stars, I can't hold back my affection for you anymore...! Swiftcloud...I-"

Swiftcloud suddenly curved around to stand in the medicine cat's path, interrupting her. She trembled slightly, but stood tall. Her eyes sparkled and heart fluttered as if butterflies had found their way into her chest. Mistyleaf blinked. Confusion showed in her pretty silver features. There was a silence that settled between the pair. What felt like eternity lasted only heartbeats. It was clear what Mistyleaf wanted to say. But Swiftcloud couldn't let her be the first to speak those words.

"I love you too," she finally confessed, moving to touch her muzzle against Mistyleaf's.

Mistyleaf's eyes began to water. She pressed her face to Swiftcloud's, her purr rising to a loud elated rumble. The she-cats nuzzled one another, shedding a couple of happy tears. After so many moons of pining, they could finally give into their desires and be together. Swiftcloud couldn't be happier. Now she could call both of her greatest loves her mates.

The two she-cats trotted on ahead, flank against flank, back to Grassclan's camp. They arrived just in time to make it to Tabitha's apprentice ceremony.

"Ah, there you are,"Whitestar meowed. "I was just about to make mention of you, Swiftcloud. I've assigned Chicorynose to be Tabitha's mentor. And I'd like to ask you to help as well. Having a cat from a similar background to teach her our way of life would be most beneficial. I hope you can handle training two apprentices."

Swiftcloud blinked, glancing from Mistyleaf back to Whitestar.

"I'll manage just fine. Thank you, Whitestar," she replied, padding over to the base of the Tall Stone. Chicorynose and Tabitha stood their waiting, the second of the pair turning to touch noses with Swiftcloud. At once, the clan broke out into cheers. Swiftcloud basked in the excitement of it all. Of the energy in the air, and of the strength of her clanmates. Perhaps now everything could return to normal. And with it, perhaps Grassclan could live in peace. And maybe at last, Swiftcloud could indulge in life's simple pleasures.

[lady-divine-writes]

Afterglow (Rated NC17)

A winter storm, a roaring fire, a bear skin rug - the most cliche set-up for the most memorable first time in the universe. And at the end of it all, angel and demon struggle briefly for the perfect word to describe it. (1361 words)

Notes: Written for @drawlight‘s ‘31 days of ineffables’ prompt ‘gold and silver’. Mildly NSFW.

“A---A---Aziraphale …” Crowley sighs, eyelids fluttering shut. A bright and bitter sampling of an unrealized cosmos dances behind them, swirling in a dizzying display of silver and gold – stars known to him but unknown to the world, since he took their signatures with him when he fell. “Dear God …” He swallows “… bless it all …” The universe behind his eyes continues to spin, but the one around him slows, and then stops. The heat that once encircled him like a blanket begins to slide lower down his body, pooling around his middle. Cold air hits his exposed shoulders and Crowley shudders.

"Mmm ... God ..." He moans – loud and long, with a thump on the d like a smack to the head. In the cheek of his post-orgasmic bliss, he giddily wonders if repeatedly taking Her name in vain the way he had over and over and over again might succeed in luring the Almighty down from on high to ask Her long forgotten Fallen what on Her Earth pleased him so.

And boy, would he have a mouthful to tell Her!

Amusing, but probably not.

She hasn’t answered any of his prayers thus far.

He refuses to consider Aziraphale part of that line up. Aziraphale is an angel, fully capable of answering prayers on his own. The wonder that is his presence in Crowley’s life, the gifts he bestows by simply existing, and the miracle of moments ago, Crowley attributes entirely to his angel and his angel alone.

Besides … why should She show up now?

To give them Her blessing?

Like he’d care.

No. Her showing up would be unwelcome, inconvenient, and grandstanding. That’s why She would.

In that vein, She’d probably send Gabriel in Her stead, but wouldn’t that be hilarious?

Crowley might consider paying money for that; to have that stuck up, pompous imbecile materialize and find them lying naked on the floor of this cottage in South Downs. And because Crowley is a bastard of a very specific variety, one that would tell either God or Gabriel off to their face while standing before them in the nude, he does it again.

“God …”

“You’re tempting fate, my dear,” Aziraphale murmurs against Crowley’s torso, his head too heavy to lift so he can look in his demon’s eyes and scold him properly.

“Am I?” Crowley smirks, running trembling fingers through his angel’s sweaty hair. “Good then. That’s my job done. Temptation.”

Aziraphale smiles. Crowley feels it against his skin. It makes him glow on the inside. “And you accomplished it brilliantly. Bravo.”

"You mean wahoo." Crowley reclines on his elbows, much in his leisure, content and more satisfied than he's felt in thousands of years. Though he has to admit, it didn’t quite happen the way he’d pictured it. The whole ordeal from start to finish was terribly cliché - bottle of wine; bear skin rug; a dozen long-stemmed red roses fragranting the room; roasting chestnuts lending their earthy scent to the chill, winter air; a bowl of berries and fresh whipped cream (some of which he’s wearing, smeared in places he can’t see without disturbing Aziraphale, and that he has no intention of doing. Not for the world).

A chestnut pops sharply by Crowley’s left ear, drawing his attention to the flames. He isn’t a big fan of fire, even though a fire lives within him. A fire lives within all demons. Hellfire - the fire an angel falls into when they’re cast out of Heaven. A fire that should keep him and Aziraphale at arm’s length. But like his sword, Aziraphale has found a way to tame Crowley’s fire, keep it from raging wildly out of control.

Keep it from devouring him when they kiss and hug and touch.

But the fire - like the wine, the rug, the roses, the chestnuts, and the berries - were essential elements of this moment.

Their first time.

Ambiance. Crowley wanted ambiance for Aziraphale.

He went so far as to summon a squall. He appreciates what a storm adds to the atmosphere of the small cottage room. He hears echoes of it in the soft tinkling of the sleigh bells hanging from the wreath outside their door. There’s even a book of poems lying around somewhere. It wasn’t part of the seduction – just what Aziraphale was occupying himself with initially, reading aloud a poignant verse about now or never.

And Crowley - moved more by Aziraphale’s reading than the words, his emotion, the catch in his voice, its softness and timber and cadence - chose now.

If asked, Aziraphale would have said all he needed was Crowley to have a perfect first time. And Crowley felt the same about Aziraphale. But in Crowley’s mind, Aziraphale deserved more. He deserved romance. He deserved the fairy tale, the bells and whistles. He deserved Oscar Wilde and D. H. Lawrence whispered in his ears.

He deserved magic.

Crowley can only hope he delivered.

He’s a bit too self-conscious to ask.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his fingertips traveling long strokes across the angel’s shoulders.

Aziraphale sighs, his breath a warm ghost curling over Crowley’s stomach, making his demon shiver. “Well, I …” The words stop, spoken before conscious thought sparks within his brain. But regardless of the pause, it doesn’t come, and Aziraphale starts to laugh.

Crowley frowns so deep Aziraphale hears it when he speaks. “I’m curious to know what you find so funny.”

“Don’t be a grump,” Aziraphale teases, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist and hugging him tight. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“Then what?”

“I … is it ridiculous that the only word I can think of is wonderful?”

Crowley grins, a hint of smug twisting one side of his mouth. “No. You might be a bit too distracted to think clearly.”

“Possibly.”

“Let me help you then.”

“Please do.”

Crowley clears his throat, mentally reaching as hard as Aziraphale for an adjective a few steps up from wonderful, probably more seeing as he doesn’t read half as much as Aziraphale. “Incandescent?”

“Hmm …” Aziraphale hums, the buzzing of his throat tickling Crowley’s skin. “Sounds like a light bulb, but a good start.”

“Sublime.”

Aziraphale nods. “I do like that one. Reminds me of meringue.”

Crowley laughs fondly at that. “It means to elevate to a high degree of spiritual excellence.”

“I’ll admit, it’s apropos, but let’s weigh our other choices.”

“Delirious?”

“That sounds like we were drunk at the time, and that sets a bad precedent. So no.”

“Rapturous?”

“Mmm, that rings of end times.”

Crowley makes a face. “Been there, done that. Blithe?”

“Not one of my favorites.”

“Blissful?”

“Overused.”

“Overjoyed?”

“Too simple.”

“Euphoric?”

“Sounds like a disease.”

“Chuffed?”

“Confusing. How about resplendent?”

“Oh no.” Crowley snorts, clenching his abs hard to keep from bouncing Aziraphale around. “Heavens no!”

“Why not?” Aziraphale asks, offended as resplendent has always been one of his favorite words.

“I knew a bloke back during the American Revolution went by the name Resplendent.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not an inch. Resplendent White. Right tosser he was.”

“Okay … well, I guess that makes sense.” Aziraphale takes a deep breath in and then exhales, sinking into the warmth of Crowley’s soft stomach. “How about … complete?”

Crowley’s first instinct is to object simply because they’d been bantering back and forth. He’d gotten into a rhythm. But he catches himself quickly.

More accurately, his heart in his throat catches him.

Complete.

They’re complete.

Together, they’re complete.

And they don’t need Heaven or Hell’s approval or permission to feel this way. They simply are. The way humans do when they eschew religion and choose a way on their own.

But this feeling, the reality of it, belongs to no one but the two of them.

And that makes it perfect.

“Yes.” Crowley reaches down to gather up his angel in his arms and hold him tight. “Yes, I think that’s it.”

“Do you feel that way, too?” Aziraphale asks, eyelids growing heavy as the angel slowly drifts to sleep.

“Yes,” Crowley says, miracling them a blanket and a pillow, lowering the lights and drawing the curtains. “I do.”

[inspirationdivine]

Where the Heart is || Jared & Lydia

Timing: Before Mushroom Jared  Parties: @themidnightfarmer  & @inspirationdivine Summary: After Lydia’s injuries, Jared comes to check up on his friend, and learns a secret Trigger Warnings: Brief reference to domestic abuse, head trauma

Cap was covered with a blanket for the walk, Jared holding the Raiju under his arm until they were right up to Lydia's door and waiting for her to answer. Cap sat patiently on Jared’s feet as they both waited. Maybe Lydia didn’t want the extra help, but it was harder to deny it if it was already looking at you in the face with its adorable little face. Or at least this is what the nymph had told himself. And even if Lydia still denied Cap to stay with her, it was good for the creature to leave the farm now and again. Especially on more calm errands than the trip they’d taken to the ring last time. As soon as the door opened Jared smiled holding out a small basket of flowers. None of the blooms were typical for a bouquet, but rather they were usually sold to the magic shops and at the market for ingredients for things. But it was the best the nymph could do, he was -as always- strapped for cash. 

After Cece had left, Lydia had collapsed into her new couch, a futon that she could comfortably drape herself over without putting any weight on her wings. She wore a camisole with a low back to put as little pressure on anywhere as possible, and despite the entire White Crest anti bra brigade picking a fight with her, Lydia was in fact not wearing one at the moment. Her points about support and structure still stood all the same. She’d set aside her phone for the while being, lying in empty silence as she tried to ignore the call of distant mushrooms and the pain rocketing through her body. Her phone beeped as her doorbell let her know someone was looking to come in. Lydia looked at the camera image, and groaned softly, before speaking into the mic. “Door’s unlocked, you can come in.” 

Jared held out the basket in front of him the entire time he was entering the house, looking around each corner tentatively until he found who he was looking for. “Hey.” He greeted her politely, nudging Cap to sit patiently just out of her sight to be on the safe side just in case she really truly was upset at him for not taking her answer seriously. Not realizing she’d maybe had a camera system to see who was waiting at the door and had likely seen him already. He set the basket of odd flowers on a side table and tried not to be too obviously nosey and trying to figure out what had happened to his new fae friend. “How are you feeling?”

Lydia slowly shifted, enough to roll to face him a little, still staying mostly lying on the bed. With no glamour on and no desire to put one on, it was impossibly easy for him to see the pallor to her skin, the heavy bruising and swelling along the side of her face. One ankle in a cast and heavy bandage around her back. If he counted her wings - well. Lydia tried not to think about that. “Hey,” she said hoarsely. “Did I… misunderstand something? I didn’t know I was expecting anyone tonight.”  She didn’t answer his question, because her throat closed up the moment she tried to. 

He politely held back a sharp intake of breath at her condition. Even if Jared was very advanced at glamour, it didn’t help mask the expression on his face. He was at war with asking and simply looking. He wanted to know what had occurred but looking at her he also felt like he could see exactly what the answer would be. “Oh well uh.” he stumbled over his words for a moment before catching his stride. “Maybe I should have called, sorry about that I just wanted to drop off that something to hopefully cheer you up, and when you said you were going home I figured it’d be a good time...I uh….also wanted to maybe drop off someone else as well if you’d let me leave him. I know you said you didn’t want a guard Raiju, but…. surely, it’d help? He’s very good, he won’t bother you.”

Jared was many, many things, but he was never going to be good at poker, Lydia thought as she watched his face shift from surprise to horror. Already, in just seconds of him being here, it was too much to bear. Some fae believed it was better to be dead than to lose a wing, and for a brief moment, as Lydia looked away so she couldn’t see his pity, she agreed with them. What a shameful sign of weakness, to let someone hurt you like that. When it came on top of everything else - Lydia burned with a shame so heavy it physically hurt her chest. All the same, she slowly made herself sit up, or at least sit up enough so that she could lean her side against the couch, gesturing at the chair near her. Still not looking at him. “That’s very kind of you… I’m just, I’m just a little confused sometimes. You can sit. Your Raiju too, if he likes.”

Their minds were worlds apart. Whilst Lydia was dwelling on fae custom, and the reaction he must be having to her situation from that standpoint. Jared was taking a very human outlook; it was the only way he knew how to process the image of what he thought may have happened. And while he was horrified, it was more at the thought that someone would do something like this to such a lovely woman that was catching him up. He’d never seen someone so battered and bruised knowing that they hadn’t picked a fight or gone to do something dangerous. She’d only been at home. She’d been at home and this had happened to her. Jared sat down when she offered and put a hand down past his knees for Cap to run to and settle on his feet looking up at Lydia. “This is Cap……. I think we spoke about him before for a little bit uh…. Thought he might be good company for you?”

After a long moment, Lydia looked back at him with a practiced smile, made lopsided by the bruising and swelling on one side of her face. “Yes, I remember, my dear. Hello, little one,” she said to Cap, looking down at what at first appearance might have been a coyote, especially as Lydia had never seen a coyote either. But when she looked more closely, she saw tiny electric sparks in its fur. His fur. “This is the one that was domesticated, right?” She asked, remembering their conversation about wild things being left wild. “This is very sweet of you, but you don’t have to take care of me. We can just spend time together like normal- “Lydia winced and shut her eyes. “Or as close to normal, anyway.” Which wasn’t close at all.

Jared could sort of tell she was just trying to be polite and told himself as soon as she even remotely hinted that she wanted him gone, he would be. Cap shuddered like a chihuahua at being spoken to, his body shivering as if he was cold, the little electrical pulses in his fur increasing for a moment until the bought had passed. “He was used as a power source for things before I got him. But he’s friendly once he's introduced to someone. He can stun people easily if he needs to, and sometimes a little bit more than that. But he was sick a long time before I got him so he’s not incredibly dangerous…. And I mean I know you’re probably fully capable of taking care of yourself but...I don’t know I’m the dad friend sometimes. Not often. But sometimes. And I worry all the time. We don’t have to talk about it, I'd just really like if you’d let Cap stay. He’ll stay outside. I brought his blanket. I’ll come feed him. He won't be any trouble I pro- I really don’t think he will.”

Ever so tentatively, Lydia lowered her arm, extending her hand for Cap to interact with, like one would a dog, or a cat that would inevitably walk away regardless of what you did. She had to trust that Jared was right, like he had been about the bodenoggles. “It sounds like you’re lucky Jared found you,” Lydia told Cap softly, listening to Jared as she watched the unnerving little creature. She laughed, harshly and cruelly, at his words. “Does it look like I’m capable of taking care after myself?” As quickly as she’d laughed, tears had sprung to her eyelids, which she batted away furiously. “I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’m just- I want to show you so many things about our world. I wanted you to have the best possible introduction to fae life. Not this.”

Jared wiggled his toes under the Raiju when Lydia extended her hand kindly to Cap. The Raiju in response got to his feet and tentatively padded closer to the woman. The creature would always look alarming, his species dictated that, but his movements were always that reminiscent of a shy dog. He’d been tamed in an odd way and despite it being awful in Jared’s eyes, in this instance it might work in his favour. Cap liked having a job to do, something to be done. And while Jared refused to let the creature work on the farm doing anything other than being a companion and maybe herding cockatrice, standing guard with Lydia seemed right there with something he would enjoy. The nymph cringed as she laughed and recoiled a little in shame. He was always saying the wrong thing lately. “This ain’t your fault though, and the situation doesn’t mean you can’t look after yourself, it means that someone came prepared to hurt you. That’s different. And…” he trailed off, what could he say? Nothing that would help likely. She had been attacked; he couldn’t fix that.

It was terrifying, letting it cautiously move closer and closer to her hand. Once, a little spark of lighting ran across the fur of its mouth and Lydia flinched away momentarily, before lowering her hand back down. Was Jared sure Cap would behave once he was gone? He was the nymph of vicious beasts, not her, and Cap was looking more vicious the longer she looked at him. She looked back up to Jared when he cringed, immediately regretting her own response. “Oh, Jared-” She said softly, reaching out for his hand after a moment. Was it different? Did it matter now, when she needed a team of eight security guards just to keep her safe, especially when one was driving her around? When she fell asleep at the most random hours, but terror kept her awake most nights. “You’re so sweet. I wish I’d met you months ago.”

Cap sniffled at Lydia’s hand for a moment, his tongue darting out for a very brief moment before he backed up again to assume his comfortable position on Jared’s feet. He would stay out of her way, and so long as he was introduced to anyone else coming over, he wouldn’t cause them any issue either. He was an intuitive little creature and Jared was sure he could help at least a little. As she reached out to him, he did the same for her, taking her hand eager to offer her his apologies in any way that couldn’t turn into another verbal mistake. “Wish I’d -” he had to stop himself from saying something else insensitive by mistake. He wanted to offer support, and maybe they were just new friends, but he cherished the people he got along with, lately he was trying to do this a lot more than he used to. It was important to him to be compassionate with people just as he was with his kids. Everyone needed to feel safe and he just wished he could provide that. “I was a hermit months ago, literally on migration living with a herd. You’d not have enjoyed that.” he tried to joke lamely, but his tone fell flat. 

“No, maybe not,” Lydia replied with a huff of a laugh, less flat that his joke but still deflated at a sad balloon. “Where did you migrate through?” Now that she had his hand, she was loathe to let go, taking comfort in the presence of his warmth, and how his very presence made her chest ring soothingly as if she was being sung to, a blanket to guard away her icy fears. As Lydia sat there silently, focusing on his presence and warmth, she realised it wasn’t just her fear gnawing at her. Shit. Before Jared had gotten here, Lydia had told Chloe to bring a finished lyric set. Except she couldn’t while Jared was here. The double promise was eating at her. Shit. “Chloe, you can come over.” Almost immediately, the blond woman did, looking pale and exhausted as she handed over some sheets. 

“Followed a kerashag over the border. Just wanted to know more about them mainly.” Although his migration felt like it had been years ago rather than only this past winter. So much had happened since he’d gotten home, but that was how this town had always been. One thing after another to overcome. It was a wonder some families lasted as long as they did in this place. Jared didn’t let go of Lydia’s hand, he didn’t want to break that trust, if she needed him to hold her hand all night he’d stay. He always wanted to be someone his friends could count on. The arrival of someone he didn’t know didn’t even have him breaking that contact unless Lydia pulled away. He motioned to Cap that this person was alright and then looked up with a friendly smile. “Uh hi?” He shifted his eyes to glance at Lydia in question.

“Do you do a migration every year?” Lydia asked mildly, not really understanding what a kerashag was either. It could have been a single animal, a group of animals, a party, a species, anything, really, but she always liked listening to him telling her things, even when she didn’t have the faintest idea. She didn’t let go of him when Chloe arrived, but she did tense a little. He was the nymph of vicious beasts, surely, he’d understand. “This is Chloe,” she said for Jared’s comfort, taking the sheet from Chloe without sparing her much of a second glance. “She’s my dinner. Chloe, say hi.”

“Hi,” said Chloe. 

“Not every year, just the last three winters. I got lucky with species passing through. Not all species migrate either, so I imagine it’ll be harder the more I try and do it.” Jared spoke softly in return to her question. He would always be happy to share, especially considering she seemed to be just as kind with his own questions. He opened his mouth to greet the new face but instead sucked in a breath at Lydia's words. He floundered for a moment on what to say. He looked up at Chloe with his mouth uselessly open. This carried on for a few moments before he caught his breakings and he mumbled “Oh, hi.” His gaze dropped from the girl and to Lydia and His joined hands. “Dinner?” he asked quietly, he knew the answer was likely going to be no, but he asked anyway. “Like a guest?” Didn’t hurt to try.

 “You can go now,” Lydia said to Chloe, and as if her feet had been unglued from the floor, the bolted, down the hall and up the stairs. Oh, Jared frightened her too. All of Lydia’s friends did. Even if Lydia couldn’t quite meet his gaze as Jared fumbled. She wasn’t ashamed, she wasn’t, but maybe it had been too soon. Maybe he was still too human, too empathetic to them, maybe he couldn’t accept that Lydia couldn’t do anything but. That was what made it easier for most people to stomach. She couldn’t drink cow’s blood or eat cow brains, there was no vegan substitute. But even if there was, why would she wish to stop herself from tasting that kind of rush? “No, not like a guest. I eat human lifeforce, Jared. That’s what Leanan-Sidhe do. In return, she writes the most amazing music she could possibly write.”

He was still holding her hand. Jared didn’t want to let go, he didn’t know what to think about what he was hearing just yet, but he didn’t want to remove the comfort he’d come to give without hearing the rest. He finally looked up at her and caught her eye as she spoke. “You… to live you need to?” he asked. He just knew so little about anything. He was so behind, so out of the loop with everything from his own species that it hadn’t crossed his mind that any of them wouldn’t eat food like humans needed to for life. “Do you...eat normal food too or just...people?” It was an odd thing to ask, nothing he’d ever imagined having to inquire about in his life. But here he was, being fae truly was a whole new world. A world he was jumping into very late in the game. 

Once Jared looked at her, Lydia met his gaze, and barely even blinked, so unwilling to drop it. He was already beginning to understand. He wasn’t pulling away. She could talk him through this. “I have to,” Lydia confirmed again, watching for every little flicker, every little hesitation. Her lips quirked downwards as he accused her of eating people. Lydia never would unless it was an emergency, and even then, she’d only take the tiniest sliver. People didn’t deserve it, but humans were prey. “I can eat human food, and I can enjoy it, but it doesn’t provide any nutritional value anymore. I haven’t been able to live off anything but humans since I was a teenager.”

Have to was something Jared never argued with. It went hand in hand with what was in a species nature. And as such a big advocate for defending his kids for things they couldn’t help or that were ‘in their nature’ he’d been slowly applying his logic to people as well the more he found out about others. The divide between what he used to consider morally wrong and what he was becoming to accept as truly morally wrong was widening, but he didn’t notice. But he needed the clarification. She’d been so patient with him before now, he hoped she’d extend it now even if Jared was the one who had initially arrived to show her the support, he now needed from her. “How does it work?” he asks her. “Is it, specific to Leanan-sidhe?” 

“It is specific to us. I think it’s one of the reasons we’re so rare. Humans can’t stand it. Hunters would kill us as soon as looking at us.” Lydia’s headache was starting to return, so she let her head back on the couch, squeezing his hand to let him know she was still there as she closed her eyes so that the light could not hurt her. “It’s permanent. You can’t grow back life the way you can grow back blood or anything like that. There is no substitute. I can feed from just standing near people, but it’s like snacking on an apple, it isn’t enough. Mouth to mouth contact is how I need to eat, every few days.” Maybe her headache wasn’t the only reason she’d shut her eyes. Lydia held him even tighter now, like she was afraid he might leave. She was. “How does that make you feel?”

Jared knew the hunter mentality well and he didn’t like it one bit. He was biased against, in fact, far enough to truly despise the whole system of humans that trained to take out the beings he protected for simply existing. It wasn’t right. His beliefs were challenged by the upbringing he’d had, his ‘parents’ had raised him to believe every human should be allowed to live, but the whole balance of the earth defied that, an earth he was much more closely tied to than his human non blood related family. And yet it was hard to shake. He wasn’t like other fae, he’d grown up loving the humans around him and he still did. It was a hard pill to swallow, but he would. He squeezed her hand tightly and gave her a half shrug- not that she could see it. He combined his parents’ ideals and his own as he said “You’re part of the world, you deserve to be here just as much as anyone else. And if it’s natural to you…. If it's in your nature...who am I to say otherwise? It’d make me a huge hypocrite to advocate for balance, and then not support what you need to do to live…”

His words loosened up the temporary knot in Lydia’s chest. It would be a terrible thing, to love someone so much and to lose them so quickly to so pesky a thing as human morals. “Just like that, you’ve summarised something so few understand. I’m not wrong just for existing, no more so than any other predator. Hell, I do what the humans do.” Her victory speech was cut short by a sharply increasing pain in her back. Her face went pale as she looked up at him. “You’re a very good friend, you know?”

He gave her a small smile. She was teaching him about the world they were both part of, he trusted her judgement, and he appreciated her asking what he thought even if she wasn’t sorry about it. She gave him the time to decide and that would always mean something to the nymph. He wasn’t intelligent like others but given the time he could come to some alright conclusions. Jared noticed her face pale and he looked down at her soft look. “I’m sorry for barging in Lydia. I just wanted to contribute to your safety now that you’re home. Will you keep Cap here for me? Even if you don’t need him it’d make me feel like I don’t have to swing by every day, I’m sure that’d be annoying.”

“I will,” Lydia agreed, looking down to Cap again with a soft little smile, her nerves dissolving under his kind words. Maybe this was enough, for right now. Not talking about it, not trying to find words to describe the nightmares that ate at her, but instead leaning into the acceptance and comfort of her friends. They didn’t need to heal her, to be therapy for her, just this. Lydia took her his hand both of hers, tracing the veins of his arms idly. “You’re always welcome here, Jared. Always.”

Jared would think about what she’d said, but ultimately, he couldn’t imagine coming to a different conclusion about all she’d said. He believed in balance, and if her species existed and this was how they lived that was that. The earth had spoken. He was pleased also to find he was welcome; he’d surely be stopping in more often now he knew that. “I’ll take you up on that.” he hummed in response. 

[angelaiswriting]

Good Luck | Tommy Shelby x Romani!fem!reader

[Photo by Andreea Ch from Pexels]

✏️ Pairing: kind of platonic Tommy Shelby x Romani!fem!reader

✏️ Summary: Sabini thinks he’s smart, but she’s smarter. All Tommy needs to do when the Italian kidnaps her is wish him good luck. (Requested by @kind-wolf)

✏️ A/N: I’m trying to work on a writing schedule that could fit me and my uni life, so hopefully I’ll be back with content soon!

✏️ Beta-read by @sweetvengeancee

✏️ Warnings: none I can think of

✏️ Word-count: 3,620

It’s almost comical, the horrified look on Polly’s face as Tommy absentmindedly listens to what Darby Sabini in person is telling him on the phone. She’s standing there, as still as a statue in the frame of the door of his office, right hand covering her mouth and left hand clutching onto her right wrist for dear life.

So un-Polly-like, Tommy thinks as he tries his hardest not to chuckle.

She has a slightly-more-than vague idea in her mind and the thought is fleshing out before her eyes as she torments herself about Y/N’s possible conditions. She’s heard enough – she’s probably heard more than Sabini would like to know, but this is still Polly and she has her ways.

“The situation doesn’t look as golden anymore, Mr Shelby.” Sabini’s voice is unctuous and even through the phone, Tommy can see that smirk tugging the left corner of his lips upward.

He’s proud of that – Sabini. He’s proud his men managed to get their hands on one of the most important friends the Shelbys have – or so they think. He can now use her however he pleases, can send threats to the Peaky Blinders and exploit her to do it.

“Oh, about this, you’re right.” Tommy is smirking, too, but for a completely different reason than the one currently boiling and fluttering inside Sabini’s twisted mind.

Y/N is a wild horse – free and uncontrolled and untamed. Reckless, more reckless than the other gipsies back at her camp would like her to be. She stands her ground, bares her teeth, hisses with the same fearless energy of a stray cat cornered against the wall of a house.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.” He’s slow, unhurried, and Polly is horrified by it. She’s seen Y/N grow up, she’s seen her blossom from stray kid into tempestuous woman, and the last thing she wants is for that girl to end up in danger’s claws – or to be the dangerous claws that could fuck them all up. “I’m going to hang up the phone,” and he exhales smoke from his mouth as the cigarette dances between his fingers, “and give you one day, two at most.” His voice is rough, beaten by cigarettes and alcohol as he stretches his legs under his desk. “More than enough to realise the extents of your mistake. When she’s done, we will meet and discuss whatever topic you’re trying to use her to threaten me for. I’m sure my brothers will enjoy hearing it straight out of your rotten mouth.”

Sabini doesn’t have time to answer: true to his word, Tommy cuts the call to its end.

Polly is silent – for now. He sees the storm raging behind her eyes, sees the frown on her face, even the set line of her lips when she lets her arms fall to her sides. She’s desperate to yell at him what kind of a dick he is, but she’s refraining herself from doing it. It’s already as bad as it is that someone like her is in Sabini’s basement possibly getting beaten up for intel she doesn’t have; she doesn’t want to add more petrol to the fire.

“Yes, Pol?” Tommy is relaxed against the seatback of his chair and as peacefully as ever, he’s finishing his cigarette. In his mind, he’s thinking about the evening slowly approaching and the meeting he’ll hold at The Garrison to inform his brothers about the new turn of events.

She’s stern, as stern as she had been that day many years ago when he had been seven and had come home from the market with stolen apples in his pockets. She’s the stern mother he’s never had, but it doesn’t bother him – he doesn’t fear her, not for this. “You could have done something.”

And Johnny, too, he scolds himself. He has to inform someone from the Lee camp about the reason why Y/N is missing and Dogs is the only one he doesn’t have some sort of trouble going on with.

“I did something.”

Sure, he will probably have to face Zilpha again, tell her that the Shelbys and the Lees are facing yet another obstacle, but that there’s no need to reopen the wound John’s wedding to Esme has closed. Zilpha will spit in his face, of that much he’s sure, but she won’t curse him – she knows Y/N just as well as he does, probably even better. Both of them know she is more than capable of keeping herself safe.

“Leave her in that bastard’s hands? Is this your grand plan?” Polly is dismayed. Her shoulders hang lower, almost heavied down by Tommy’s stupidity, and her eyes are open wide as incredulity slowly paints a thick layer on the canvas of her face. “Are you insane?”

It’s a luck Ada isn’t present – this is what both of them are thinking. Tommy considers not telling her about tonight’s meeting at the pub, Polly contemplates not meeting up with her and Karl the following day. Both of them wish she’d just leave for a day or two – or seven, enough for them all to fix the situation before she’s back so that they can never speak about it again.

“She’s more than capable of getting out of this situation on her own,” he replies, voice flat and steady as he reaches out for the bottle of whiskey standing forgotten on his desk. “She’ll be back before we even know she’s escaped.”

He doesn’t say her name and while Polly wants to fight him on this, wants to force him to pronounce it, she keeps her tongue between gritted teeth.

“You will lead us all to our demise, Thomas Shelby.” It’s a stab to his stomach, that full name of his coming out of his aunt’s angry mouth, but it doesn’t sting as much as it used to before the war. He’s been desensitised to it and now it’s just an inconvenience he can almost completely ignore. “You wouldn’t be doing this if you had listened to me ten years ago.”

She’s referring to the past prospect of a union between him and Y/N. Again. Tommy hates it when Pol goes back there, hates the fact that he didn’t want her back then but does want her now – now that he can’t have her.

“That’s dead and gone, Pol.” His voice remains as flat as before, but there’s now a hint of annoyance lingering on the tip of his tongue that makes Polly square her shoulders as she stares at her gone-mad nephew. “And even if she were my wife now, this would still be my reaction.”

No, it wouldn’t. Polly doesn’t say it out loud, but both of them feel those three words pricking the skin of their faces. Tommy would be angrier, for starters – angrier and thirstier for blood.

“She can’t be tamed,” he says, putting out the cigarette in the glass ashtray with a little more harsh strength than he intended to. “You know this. I know this. Everybody in this fucking town knows it. Zilpha and the clan will understand and when she’s back, this will all be forgotten.”

*

Polly doesn’t forgive him. She also never forgets, so Tommy will probably still feel the consequences of his reaction ten years from now – just like the turned-down marriage proposal that soured the shared soil under his family and the Lees’ feet.

Zilpha won’t forgive him, either, he’s sure of this.

The late-September sun shines palely behind the thin clouds blocking out the blue of the sky. It’s an unforgiving sky – as unforgiving as the women in-between which he’s standing and as unforgiving as the cutting breeze sending shiver after shiver down his spine.

He’s glad Johnny Dogs is there, too, or as glad as he could be when his best friend is selling Y/N off to his god-son. That’s his one and only possibility of making Zilpha come back to her senses if things were to go downhill. Again.

He would have loved to have Esme to wait in the car, just so that in case of need and emergency, she’d be by his side as the new addition to the Shelby family she is, to help him calm the waters back down to a state of placid tranquillity. She’s not there, though – she won’t be standing in the eye of the storm when gipsy blood and curses will be spilt. She knows all too well not to go against her own people.

“If I understand this correctly,” the Lee matriarch starts, voice measured and eyes squinting through the fog of anger clouding her sight, “you chose to do nothing.” There’s a sense of condemnation to her words as they bite the air between them like rabid dogs tied to a much-too-short chain.

She’s holding back – and even Polly is holding her breath, next to him.

“You chose to leave a member of my family in your enemy’s hands to prove what? Your untouchability?”

“Tommy knows what he’s doing.” It’s weird to have his aunt on his side after the twelve hours she’s spent avoiding him like the plague. But it’s also comforting to know that, after all, she still has his back.

Even though Tommy needs no one to speak for him.

“I wouldn’t have gone for it if I weren’t completely sure Y/N would manage to muddle through it.” He’s staring straight into the snake’s eyes and he’s hoping it won’t bite him back in the ass.

Zilpha is calm – or so she poses. There’s turmoil boiling in her veins like acid and he can see traces of it in the steely gaze of her eyes. There’s no denying it’s scaring him – not enough to truly be afraid, but definitely more than he’d like to admit.

He’s walking on a fine thread, not on thin ice. This is way more dangerous than crossing the freshly-frozen river at the shy beginnings of winter. He can sense the void under his feet, can feel the knotting in his stomach churning him alive – and everything is giving him vertigo.

Fuck Sabini and fuck his men. Fuck Solomons, too. Fuck London and fuck rum, fuck cocaine, fuck expanding his business. Tommy wants to go back to horses and races, to fixing them, to strolling through the doors of a pub he doesn’t legally own yet.

Fuck Y/N, too – and not in the way he’d like to help her with.

Fuck Pol, who doesn’t want to fully stand by his side, and fuck Ada, who’s given him the headache of a lifetime just this morning, when she learnt of the news.

Fuck Arthur for being by his side and fuck Johnny for the man he proposed to Y/N with.

Fuck everything and anything, and fuck himself for putting himself through this.

Avoidable. That’s the one word he doesn’t like, not at this moment, and that’s the word he so stupidly decided to avoid. But if there’s one thing he wants to avoid the most right now, that’s the possibility of fucking his expansion up in a whim.

“If anything happens to her, Esme won’t be able to save you all.”

She’s closer now, Zilpha, standing toe-to-toe with him like the fearless chief she is. Unafraid and unable to be scared. Unbending. Dominating, with those dark eyes and straight posture of hers. She doesn’t care about who he is nor about who the Peaky Blinders are – she doesn’t give a single fuck. She only wants her daughter-like girl back in one piece and she’s going to fight like a lioness to make that happen.

“There will be no need for Esme to save anybody.” Or so Tommy hopes. He’s more than capable to save himself but he doesn’t want to have to protect his clan from two fronts – the Lees on the left and Sabini on the right, both slowly closing in on him to take him down.

“There better not be.”

*

On the early afternoon of the fourth day, Tommy gets word that Y/N has left London thirteen hours before. He doesn’t divulge it – he knows better than to trust rumours just as he knows better than to make known something of this reach. Ada would cause a scene and as a reaction, Polly would probably do the same; Zilpha would be sucking the blood from his neck and he’d have to deal with more trouble than he likes to take on.

So, he resolves on waiting – and the wait is excruciating. It seems to burn the outer layer of his skin as he sits around his office first and The Garrison later. He drinks, he smokes, he chats with John as though nothing was.

The need for opium slowly crawls its way up his neck, makes him tick like the clock of a bomb ready to go off and he feels as delicate as a bar of dynamite. Handle-with-caution Tommy Shelby sits in the private room at the pub and stares off into the void without seeing Arthur sitting in front of him trying – and failing – to teach Finn how to write his name.

He’s on the brink of the abyss he himself has dug and there’s no stepping away from it, not until she is back – safe and sound and all in one piece, without a single hair missing.

Presumption – that’s his sin. Back on the phone with Sabini, he had been sure she’d be out of his grasp in a matter of hours. It’s been four days. The fear that something – something he gives no name to – might have happened to her has already started to crawl its way to the very base of his mind, munching away pieces of grey matter and neurons and blood vessels. He can almost feel those seeds, fat and heavy inside his skull, pulsing in his temples as though they wanted to bloom into worms of their own.

Maybe he’s thought too high of her – or too low. Maybe he’s miscalculated what she’s capable of. He wished Sabini good-luck with her but he didn’t wish her good-luck with Sabini. Maybe that is the mistake, he reasons. He thought she could do it effortlessly and he got his maths wrong.

But she’s out of London, he has to remind himself. And if she’s out of London, then it means she’s alive.

He finds himself hoping for the rumours he did his best to silence to be true.

She’s on her way to Birmingham and she’ll surely be here come morning. Maybe she’s had a little more trouble than he had estimated her to have, maybe that’s it.

She doesn’t walk through the door of the pub like he thought she would, though. It irks him – it probably annoys him more because he knows he’ll have to face Polly sooner rather than later. His aunt is probably already waiting for him in his living room, nursing some spiked tea as she makes herself at home on his couch.

This is what he thinks about as he walks back home. Each step is heavy, almost as though his shoes were filled with lead. He doesn’t fight it, though: he wants to postpone his return for as long as he can. It’s stupid and childish, but he has better and more pressing things to do than to put up with his aunt’s rebuke. He’s no child anymore. He knows what he does – or so he likes to think.

The entrance of his apartment is nestled in the darkness of the night. He can vaguely make out the greyish light of the moon through the tiny window at the other end of the corridor, but it’s not enough to shed light into the pokey space.

The lack of artificial light is a good sign, though. It means Polly is not there. She’s back home, doing whatever it is that she always does at this hour of the night, but with one more worry than usual today.

It’s a good thing. It’s a great thing. He’ll come up with something to tell her on the dawn of Y/N’s fifth day missing – he’ll have eight more hours to conjure up some lie in waiting of Y/N’s return.

He can put that off a little longer, though. He’s still thirsty, of a thirst that’s not for water nor opium nor pussy. It’s a call for some more whiskey, the bottle he keeps hidden away from his brother Arthur under the sink in the corner of the cramped kitchen-mixed-with-living-room. He’ll grab the alcohol, skip the tumbler and go sit on the old and worn-out couch for five minutes, ten at most. Then, he’ll go to sleep.

It sounds like a plan to him and it’s what keeps him going as he takes off his coat and shoes and abandons them next to the door as he locks it closed.

There’s no need to switch on the lights: he knows his way around his own place. He knows where he’ll find a stray chair, remembers where he’s left the case with the firewood he brought up from the cellar. He also knows how to reach the bottle of whiskey without problems and as he kneels down in front of the cabinet, the dim red light of his burning cigarette is just an added bonus to the wonder his memory is.

But just as he stands back up on his feet, his head slightly dizzier than usual thanks to the drinks he’s had at The Garrison with his brothers and Jeremiah, the light turns on and the bottle almost slips from his grasp. He’s quick to turn around, revolver in his right hand and whiskey in his left, but he’s not quick enough – he’s not as quick as he usually is.

“It was about time you made your appearance, Mr Shelby.” The cackling voice feels as though it’s scratching his eardrums, a nail screeching against a window.

“For fuck’s sake,” is all he manages to mutter as his wrist trembles for a second too long before he can put the gun down on the table. “I could have shot you.” And I’m not sure I would have minded.

“You were free to try. I’m like a cat, I have nine lives, so you would have had to be careful. I would have bitten your ass.”

“What took you so long?”

She doesn’t even move from her spot next to the light switch. A closer look at her and he notices her clean clothes, her clean shoes, even her clean hair. He wonders whether she’s stopped somewhere to get cleaned up, or if the rumours were lies and she left the capital for longer than people said.

“I had never been in London before,” she shrugs, hand still on the switch almost as though she was contemplating turning the lights off again. “I thought I could as well seize the opportunity to see some of it.”

“We were worried,” he groans, “and you were sightseeing?”

“And shopping,” she adds with a smile. “I bought this dress there, if so one could say. And who was worried? You? Zilpha? Pol?” She chuckles at the thought, laughs at the sheer absurdity of her own words. “I sent word to Zilpha three days ago, when I left your Italian friend’s care, and I’m sure she told Polly since we share a past.”

Tommy doesn’t like the look she gives him – accusatory, almost venomous. It’s almost as though he’s fifteen again, when a marriage with her had been brought up for the first time. She hadn’t been as pretty as Greta, that girl he was trying to court at the time, and he had called her a ‘filthy witch’ as he threw the possibility of a union between them straight into the flames of the campfire. At the time, she had been in love with him, Y/N – or maybe it hadn’t been love, maybe it had just been a crush, but he knows he broke her heart that night.

What a turn-around, he thinks, to find himself in the opposite situation he had been in that night. To now stand here, in his house, craving for someone he can’t have, pining for someone who has feelings for someone else. She’s Tommy, chasing her own Greta while he stands there, unable to push her away from the man she now has feelings for.

It has taken them long enough.

“Why didn’t I know?”

“It would have been too easy, eh, Tom?” She winks at him and the grudge for the past disappears into thin air. “You left me there, told your friend ‘Good luck with her’ in your own way… I wanted you to worry about me, at least a little bit.”

He can’t hate her for that, can’t bring himself to, not even when he’s spent the last twenty-four hours with worry churning his stomach, digesting it, even. “Well done, then, you’ve succeeded.”

“So, are you going to offer me a drink for playing you just right or not?”

If the situation were different, he would tell her this was the time he took her against the wall, fucked her arrogance out of her in the only way he knows of, but they aren’t fifteen anymore. Instead, he swallows his pride – that one thing that is trying to push him to teach her a lesson – and points a chair with his forefinger. “Be my guest.”

I apologize to @kind-wolf for the mega-long wait haha wow, I’m terrible.

How was this fic, though? Did you like it? Let me know!

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi​ @becs-bunker

Peaky Blinders: @whimsylavender​ @thethyri​ @friendleyneighbourhoodvillain  @flowers-in-your-hayr @oddsnendsfanfics @medievalfangirl @inforapound @niamhmaria @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy

People that might be interested: @kellydixon01

[mininky]

Crash Landing

Summary: Jung Hoseok. Notorious hot dude on campus. Excellent dancer. Bad boy. Tattoos. Your best friend’s older brother. There were a lot of reasons why he was a terrible idea. Scratch that, fucking awful life ruining idea. But hey, you’re here to win ‘dumbest idea of the century’ award apparently.

Pairing: Dancer!Hoseok x  Uni Student!reader (fem)

Genre: Slow Burn, best friend’s older brother AU, Uni AU, smut, romance

Warnings: mentions of divorce, mentions of Hobi having been cheated on, protected sex, oral sex (fem. receiving), Hoseok with tattoos 

Word Count: 13.4K

   Meeting Hoseok had been a freak event unlike anything else in your mostly uneventful life, and in that way, it was completely fitting. He had quite literally stumbled into your life. Well, crash landed is more like it. While seated on a bench spacing out into another dimension that was void of any sentient thought after finals he had face planted into the bush right next to you. You're not sure how long you'd been sitting there on the bench, possibly long enough to grow moss, and really you didn't think that anything could get you to move from your spot. You were on the fast track to becoming a Buddhist monk until Hoseok's ill-timed passing out had finally gotten you to move. At a lightning speed that you didn't think was possible after five finals back to back in one day fueled by sheer willpower and too much caffeine to be safe for human consumption you were next to him.

   You had been convinced at the lack of protest or noise at falling face first into a very thorny bush that the man had most certainly died. Fight or flight responses had miraculously kicked on and as adrenaline surged the first thing you thought to do instead of asking him if he was okay was to slap his face as hard as possible. He groaned but otherwise didn't stir until you started to pull out your phone with trembling hands to call 911. You recognized him as his hands suddenly came up to move the phone away with surprising strength. The man you were sure was dying in front of you was none other than Jung Hoseok. Your best friend's older brother, who normally looked the spitting image of the sun and good health in all of the pictures you'd seen of him but now looked closer to a strung out druggy who took one hit too many. You've also noticed that he has a ton of tattoos that weren't in any of the pictures you've seen of him. Intricate poke and needle types, all littered around his arms.

   "Holy shit, Hoseok?" He groaned again before struggling to sit up, hand clawing away some leaves and thorns stuck in his hair.

   "Please don't call 911. I don't have insurance. Just tired. Please let me sleep." With that, his head slumped back with an unnervingly loud thwack on the concrete.

   You had a few options at this point.    Option #1: Leave and just let him possibly die of a concussion after hitting his head that hard    Option #2: call your best friend and let her know that her brother is dying and won't let you call 911 because of his lack of health insurance    Option #3: slap him again, try to get him to move and drag him back to wherever he lives    Option #4 (should probably be the first but your brain is fried and adrenaline is a hell of a drug): call 911 anyways and then be forced to work three jobs and drop out of school to pay the medical bills you've forced on him    Option #5: try to drag him yourself back to your dorm which is only a short distance from the very bench you've been spacing out at.

   You went with a combination of option five and three. In which you slapped him (open-palmed and left a beautiful red mark behind and your palm stinging unpleasantly) and forced him to get up. In a bizarre zombie state he slumped over your shoulder and it took you the longest fifteen minutes of your life to finally get into your dorm and throw him into your bed. Now you'd like to lie and say that at this point you tried to give some sort of shitty and iffy medical aid, but your own exhaustion had taken over and you'd fallen asleep slumped at the edge of your bed only five minutes later.

   It was hours later that you'd finally woken up to the sound of Hoseok stirring and groaning before freaking out at his unknown surroundings. "Where the fuck am I? Who are you? What the fuck is going on?"

   "Wow, first of all, I'd appreciate a thank you for carrying your deceptively heavy ass up three flights of stairs when you were mostly unconscious. Second of all, I'm (Y/N), your knight in shining armor and also I happen to be Sam's best friend. You biffed it face first into a bush and told me not to call 911 and that you just needed to sleep. So after slapping you...twice actually...I carried you into my room." You wipe away a few crusties from your eyes as you look at the man in front of you.

   He's unnervingly handsome. In a way that makes you wonder how humans can be created his way. Perfectly well-shaped nose, a jaw that's both soft and chiseled, pouty lips, hair that flops in that painfully sexy disheveled way that some men spend hours to get just so for a picture on Instagram but refuse to admit that they did, eyes that hold a hint of playful mystery in their murky brown gaze. Even with bags under his eye and lackluster pallor from finals week he still looks like he deserves sculptures and shrines dedicated to him.  

   But the real sucker punch gut-wrenching charm was his laugh. The way his eyes crinkled up and perfect teeth shined as he heard this news had all the breath forced out of you slowly like a careful pinprick to a balloon. You should have known then that nothing good could come from Jung Hoseok. You should have known. But instead, you just stared up at him the floor like you were staring straight at the sun. So dazzlingly beautiful that looking right at it caused physical pain, although looking at him didn't cause you to sneeze at least.

   "Well, thank you for saving me oh knight in shining armor. Also, sorry for bailing every time Sam asks me to hang out with you guys. But you know, if the guys see me hanging out with freshman girls there will be inevitable questions and then I'll have to fight a horde of douchebags to protect my sister or whatever so really I've been doing you guys a favor." He gets up from the bed, carefully so as to not kick you straight in the face as you scramble off your knees and walk over to the door with him. "Oh, and do me a favor. Don't tell my sister. As far as you're concerned this never happened and you never met me."

   Just like that Hosoek was gone, as if he hadn't stumbled face first into a bush and nearly died. As if he hadn't made your finals addled brain nearly short circuit and all the breath leave your lungs from simply laughing. You kept your end of the bargain. You never told Sam what happened. Partially because you were convinced that it never did actually happen. You were sure that you had conjured up an obscure illusion or that it all had been some sort of strange dream. Until you met Hoseok again that is.

   It would be another three months before you would be destined to see Hoseok again. This time he would have that natural glow back to his skin, and the bags under his eyes were gone. Sam had dragged you to the coffee shop he worked at, fueled with a rage that was rather unnatural for her as she slammed into the quiet business with steam coming out of her ears and foam around the mouth as she tore into her brother with little care of innocent bystanders in her path. "Oy, you. You think you're too good to text me back asshole?"

   "Sam, not now. I'm working." He glanced at the one lone customer sitting at the worn leather couch three feet away who was staring openly at the debacle unfolding in front of him.

   "It's always not now! You're always too busy for me!" You made the mistake of trying to slip away, but Sam was too quick for you. She grabbed your hand before lighting back into her brother. "It's one thing to skip out on me, but really? Skipping out on dinner with mom last night?"

   "Shit, that was last night? I thought that was supposed to be tonight. God, I'm so sorry Sammy, I promise I'll make it up to you and mom. I promise."

   The beast would not be tamed, however. Sam, you're typically sweet best friend had a side to her that luckily rarely showed. The angry side. The side that could be heard across the county. The side that would slash all your tires. "Well, you fucking better Jung Hoseok." With that, she turned around and dragged you out of the coffee shop while you tried mouthing 'I'm so sorry' to the bewildered and painfully embarrassed Hoseok.

   Sam would later explain that she brought you along for the wild ride for two reasons. First, so you could stop her from committing a crime. Secondly, but most importantly, because you were the one with a car and she didn't want to pay for an uber over to the coffee shop.

   You know that in her heart of hearts Sam was angrier at the general shit show her family had turned into than Hoseok per se. He had just been the one closest in proximity and therefore the line of fire. Her parents were getting divorced, her family falling apart, and Hoseok had just kind of ghosted her. Bullshit reasons about fighting off the guys or whatever that had been earlier weren't good enough. She was angry at being abandoned. By her parents, by her brother, by the world. College was supposed to be the start of freedom, but for her, it had started in shambles. The two of you hadn't known each other before university, but you were in the same major and worked at the same small used bookstore and had fast become friends and then inseparable best friends. She spent more nights than you could count on the floor of your dorm just to get away from it all, and because you had lucked out and gotten the smallest room that was honestly more like a closet and could only house one bed so you had no roommate.  

   After that incident, she had broken into a fit of angry tears in your room and explained all of this to you. A word vomit of pain, anger, and angst. This all should have done something to dispell Hoseok to you, and yet it hadn't. Instead, you wondered what was going on in his head. You were curious about how and why he had withdrawn from his sister when she explained that before he went away to school they were closer than close. That he had always been her protector, her best friend. Sure they fought, they were siblings after all, but they were each other's rocks. Until he was just gone. And she thought going to the same school as him would fix it. Instead, the distance somehow felt larger now. So close in proximity but emotionally miles and miles away. Again, this should have shattered the perfect image of Hoseok that had been crafted in your brain after that odd encounter months ago but instead, it lent depths and layers to the man that made you want to peel everything back and study it closely.

   The third time you would meet Hoseok would be proof that the first encounter had, in fact, happened. It was two in the morning approximately a month later. You stumbled out of bed in a zombie state, sure that the only person who could possibly be knocking on your door this late at night could be Sam. It wasn't (unfortunately) entirely uncommon with her insane sleep schedule. So when you swung the door open in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear you could feel all color drain from your face at the sight of a very tired and sweaty Hoseok standing in front of you.

   "I know this is going to sound really weird, but my girlfriend and I broke up and I've been crashing couches but my friend has someone over tonight so then I tried sleeping in the library but it was just too uncomfortable so would you mind if I crash here? I noticed last time you didn't have a roommate. I can take the floor." Now you had two options at this point. (You're too tired to come up with 5 this time, thank god it was a lot of work having to detail your thoughts last time. You really should stop overthinking, I'm a little worried for you at this point. Sorry, I'll get back to the story.)    Option #1: slam the door on his face and crawl back into bed. You don't technically know him and it's not your problem.    Option #2: have pity on this painfully good-looking man and kiss a decent night's sleep goodbye because lord knows you won't be able to sleep when he's in the same room as you a second time.

   You went with option number two. Who are you kidding, you aren't evil enough to go with option number one. You just pray that his new distance with his sister and break up with his girlfriend isn't because he's actually secretly a serial killer and is going to chop you up into tiny bits. Although...on the plus side of that...no student loans!

   You opened the door wider and stepped off to the side. Covering your mouth for any offending morning breath as you spoke. "Sure, I've got an extra pillow and blanket too." You wanted to say more. There were so many questions about this random appearance, but really you didn't feel it was very polite to ask any of them. Not that knocking on the door of a near stranger at two in the morning to see if you can crash there is polite, but really one of you needs to respect boundaries. Right?

   "Thanks, I really appreciate it. Free coffee and baked goodies for life when I'm on shift. I promise." He stretched and let out a loud yawn as you tried to grab a pillow and blanket for him without bending over. He took them from your hands gingerly and you watched him try to get comfortable on the floor before you turned around, shut off the light, and crawled back into bed.

   You tried counting sheep. You tried doing simple math. You tried willing sleep to come. But everything brought your thoughts back around in a vicious cycle to the man laying on your floor. The man you knew almost nothing about. Save that he was your best friend's older brother, worked in a coffee shop, and went to the same school as you. Dance major, and that had earned him being cut off from his family financially if you remembered correctly. But that doesn't mean you know him. You've never actually had a proper conversation with him.

   At the sound of you stirring in bed once again you can hear his gravely voice from the floor calling out to you. "Can't sleep (y/n)?"

   You thought about playing dead or asleep or whatever. But figured there was no point. So instead you mumbled a quiet, "yeah."

   "Me neither. Can't sleep for shit lately." He pauses for a moment before sighing. "I'm sorry for just showing up here. I know we don't know each other, but I wasn't sure where else to go."

   "Nah, it's cool. Mi casa es su casa." You can hear him give one of those small snort laughs, the kind that's more like a loud exhale through the nose, and you can feel little butterflies start to hit your ribcage.

   "Well, I really appreciate it." You wait for a moment before calling out to him.

   "Are you okay, Hosoek?"

   "Ah, the million dollar question. I don't know. Are any of us?" There's something about the way his brooding words contrast sharply with his typically sunny appearance that has your heart singing. All of those layers around his heart built up like an impenetrable fortress has your curiosity in overdrive. It's not a safe place, you know that. But there's something about Hoseok that just lights things up around you.

   You've never been interested in another man this way. Every single person you've ever dated or hooked up with has been out of convenience. You were actually starting to question if you were some subcategory of Asexual. If there was a sexual category for people who couldn't hold romantic interest but did still get horny. That's a thing right? Aromantic? But Hoseok, now Hoseok is the type of guy that you can picture curled up next to after sex tracing at all of his tattoos and talking about everything and nothing for hours at a time. The type of guy that makes you start to understand why high school crushes are so painful. And you know it's slightly irrational. You know next to nothing about him, but god do you want to. If you could change your major to Hoseok you fucking would.  

   After a long pause, he starts talking again. His voice hoarser, as if he's trying to hold back tears. Or maybe he is crying, you can't tell in the dark. "No, I'm not okay. And I don't think I have been for a really long time. My parents weren't exactly the loving type. I tried my best to be there for Sam, but the moment I could get my freedom I took it. I rebelled, and my father cut me off for it as I'm sure she told you. But I didn't care. I was finally free. I was finally doing what I wanted, and I met this girl. I thought she was the love of my life. The one, you know? Listen, I don't normally give good advice but never date someone who tattoos you because it's going to end and you're going to wish that you didn't get all of them from her. I used to go into the shop just to see her. And then we started dating. And then she started cheating. And now we're not together and I don't have a place to live and it's middle of the year so I can't do dorms again and apartments are way too expensive. My boss said he'll give me the room in the back of the coffee shop tomorrow after he clears everything out, so at least after tonight I'll have a place to stay. But everything's a mess. My family is a mess, I'm a giant fucking mess, my grades have been slipping lately and I might lose my scholarships, and I've been homeless for a week now."

   Why did you have to really like the guy with all the baggage? The one with neon blinking signs that say 'no trespassing!' The best friend's older brother who has serious emotional issues to hammer out who's spilling his guts to a near stranger at three in the morning? And why is it that you have the emotional skills of a fucking rock at this moment? "Wow, that fucking sucks man." Really, that's all you can muster up? You tack on, "I'm sorry," for good measure.

   "You don't have anything to be sorry about. I'm sorry for dumping this all on you. I uh...I don't usually talk about this kind of stuff. To anyone. I guess you're just easy to talk to."

   "You should try talking more about it. It's not healthy to keep it all bottled in, you know?" You can hear him shuffle on the pillow, nodding his head you assume while you try not to squeal when he said you were easy to talk to.

   "How's Sam doing by the way? I've been a really shitty brother..."

   "Good right now. She had a few mental breakdowns, but she's on the quick road to recovery. She's taking the family falling apart in stride. She said that she kind of always knew this would happen, I think the harder thing has been the lack of contact with you. But don't worry, I won't tell her anything you told me. Just...talk to her when you're ready." You pause for a moment, trying to organize your thoughts before you add softly, "you know it's not always a bad thing for something to fall apart. Think of this as a new clean slate. There's still plenty of time this semester to pull your grades back up. And like you said you've got a place to stay lined up. And your parents...well there's nothing you can do about that. It honestly sounds like it was all for the better from the stories I've heard. Just...work on things one at a time. Don't try to do everything at once because then you won't do anything. And if things ever feel overwhelming like I said, mi casa es su casa. Think of me as like the emergency friend therapist or whatever."

   "Thanks (y/n)..." You can feel your cheeks heat up from the tone of his quiet voice and pray that your voice doesn't sound too squeaky when you call out a quiet goodnight.

   The next morning Hoseok is already gone by the time you wake up at ten. He's folded up the blanket and left a note on top of the pillow. "(y/n), thanks again for everything. If you ever need anything just let me know. (###) ###-####. -Hobi."

   It wasn't fair the way your heart hammered away first thing in the morning. It also was admittedly really creepy that the next thing you did was pick up the blanket to see if it smelled like him. It did. And you very much approve of his cologne choice. It's woodsy and citrusy and you're incredibly thankful that no one is around to see your face buried in the blanket. After your brain clicks back on and you realize that you're a certifiable creep at this point you slowly enter him as a contact. A strange, unfamiliar part of you wanted to give him some cutesy name but you realize how bizarre that would look and instead you simply enter him in as 'Hoseok' with no additional heart emojis.

   Part of you really wants to text him. Perhaps use the excuse of checking up on him, because you were actually really curious. There was a lot going on in his life and by the sounds of it he was cracking under pressure and not talking to anyone about it. Instead, though you simply stare at the contact, take a deep breath, and get ready for work.

-----------------three weeks later--------------------

   "Oh, come on (y/n), it'll be fun! Please? You always turn down my party invites but I promise this one won't be too over the top. It's not even at a frat house or anything!" You try not to glare in Sam's direction as you put away the last of the books received in this morning. You aren't exactly a party person. You're the mom friend, that's your role and while you don't readily admit it it's the truth. You're the friend that at parties always inevitably gets stuck trying to corral your pathetic, drunk, and often times sick friends back home. Which is why you don't do parties. That and they make you slightly claustrophobic. It's not that you hate people, you just prefer more conversationally stimulating environments than a party has to offer. Also, you hate the smell of shitty beer and body odor, which is the main fragrance of all college parties. And random creepy drunk dudes who smell like said hated fragrance mixed with cheap body spray trying to get into your pants? Yeah, that's a big no for you.

   "Sam, I don't know. I mean, you know how I feel about parties. Listen, I love you. And I love hanging out with you. But I've seen you drunk, and it ain't pretty. Besides, I still have that paper I need to finish for my Lit class." You try to avoid her potent puppy eyes as you walk behind the counter to slap price stickers on the rest of the books.

   "Listen, if you don't wanna go that's fine. But like, when's the last time you got some? It's been months since you broke up with Aaron, and from the sounds of it he didn't know how to find a clit so do yourself a favor and just come with me for a little bit? If there are no guys there that spark your interest ditch me. But don't use the paper as an excuse to stay in your fortress for another lame Saturday. It's not even due for another week and you're already in editing phase. We literally had that conversation half an hour ago." You make the mistake of glancing over at Sam. She's giving you more than just puppy eyes, she's even giving you a full quivering bottom lip. Ugh, why do you have to be such a sucker for her?

   "Fine. Fine, I'll go." You hold up your hand as she starts squealing, "But I make no promises on staying for very long."

------------------------

   Two hours later and you're nursing a warm Smirnoff ice in the corner. Not surprisingly thirty minutes ago almost immediately after entering the party, Samantha ditched you for a guy who looks like he does keg stands professionally. You swear she has the worst taste in men. The obnoxious little voice in the back of your head cackles at the sentiment, reminding you that at least Sam isn't pining after a guy who just so happens to be her best friend's brother that she knows next to nothing about other than he has a mountain of baggage and most certainly isn't interested. You take a swig of the warm, sweet drink in spite until your eyes lock onto the man standing in front of you. You're pretty sure you have a class with him, what was his name again?

   "Jimin." Shit, can he read minds? "Sorry, didn't mean to freak you out you just looked like you were trying to place my name. We share that intro to lit class."

   "Ah, yeah sorry about that I'm-"

   "(Y/N), yeah I know. You're kind of hard to forget."

   "Oh." You'll admit, Jimin is very cute. But cute is really the key word for him, and try as you might to summon an urge to jump his bones you just don't feel anything. There's no spark there, no lust to drag him into the nearest bed and explore all he has to offer. Too bad getting over a one-sided crush isn't that simple.

   Jimin is about to say something, but he's soon tackled by someone behind him. "Dude, it took me forever to find you. Yoongi's refusing to play beer pong on my team. Please, help me?" Jimin narrows his eyes on the other guy before swiveling back to you, his lips jutting out into a formidable puppy pout that your sure would make most women swoon.

   "Do you wanna come with? You looked a little bored." You should say no, you should just crawl back into the comforting confines that is your bed and pray to whatever deity to allow you to go back to a normal life where you didn't know a demigod walked the campus but no instead you fall prey to the puppy pout. Again damnit. (Y/N): 0, puppy eyes: 2.  

   "Sure." Jimin looks triumphant as he grabs your hand and weaves through the throngs of people until you arrive at the back porch where things seem to be much more comfortably quiet. Until you lock eyes with the earlier mentioned demigod himself.

   "(Y/N)?" Hoseok stares at you in disbelief for a moment in front of the beer pong table, before smiling. Oh god, that smile. You swear you can feel your heart trying to escape from you again, you can hear corny Disney music playing in the background, an angel halo placed above his head as a random backlight makes his tan glow nearly gold until you blink away the momentary insanity. You wish you could blame all of that on alcohol, but you haven't had nearly enough liquid courage to induce that montage.

   "Uh, hey." Fuck, why did you have to say uh? Jimin is staring at the interaction and oh god, he knows. He fucking knows. And you can't kill him, not here. Too many witnesses. Instead, you'll just have to pray for the world to open up and swallow you whole. Or a zombie to come over and take you first in the zombie apocalypse. Jimin, thank the sweet heavens, doesn't say anything. He just looks at the two of you a moment before winking at you and taking his place across from Hoseok.

   "You ready to go down, Hobi?" The other boy looks eager to start, he's stretching his wrists while glaring at the other team.

   You cast a glance behind you and take a seat at an empty bench to watch it all unfold. The boy that roped Jimin into all of this is Taehyung, and the one on Hoseok's team is Namjoon. Yoongi, the one who refused to play, at some point ambled over to you and offered a cigarette before beginning to loudly tell you why everyone playing sucks each time they miss. You're assuming based off of the shit eating grin on his face that he's doing it solely to mess everyone up, and it works on just about everyone. Except for Hoseok, who seems completely unaffected.

   It doesn't take long before everything is over and Jimin and Taehyung are forced to chug the remaining drinks. You polish off the last of your sugary alcoholic drink and start looking for the nearest escape before Hoseok is ambling over towards you.

   "Hey, I didn't expect to see you here. Is Sam here?" You nod quietly before slowly adding.

   "I wouldn't...uh...go looking for her though." Hoseok sighs and nods before sitting next to you on the bench.

   "You don't seem like much of a party person."

   "I'm really not. But it's nice out here, it's quiet." You glance over to see Jimin giving a now very drunk Yoongi a ride on his back. "Your friends are interesting."

   Hoseok snorts. "They're idiots, but loveable."

   "Did you get that room situation at the cafe all figured out?"

   "Yup, got all my stuff moved in and everything. Thanks for not telling Sam by the way. I've been talking to her you know."

   "I know, she's been over the moon about it. Oh, you know your mom is coming over next week?"

   "How do you know this and I don't?" Hoseok sighs but adds a quiet thanks.

   "Oh, uh, sorry. But, I know that they're planning on doing dinner again. I think we're going to Olive Garden, which means plenty of breadsticks to swipe."

   "We're?"

   "I was invited." Hoseok chuckles at this before shaking his head.

   "I think I should be offended that I've been replaced."

   "You haven't been replaced by me. I'm telling you all this so you can make sure to talk to your mom if you want to go. Or avoid it like the plague, it's your choice."

   "Thank you. I suppose I've done enough avoiding though, I'll try texting her." At this point an awkward silence begins to fall and before you start babbling you decide to finally make your exit.

   "Well, I should probably get going. I'll see you around." Hoseok jumps up, shaking his head.

   "I'll walk you home." He holds up his hand as you start to protest. "I need to get going anyways and you're on the way. Besides, it'll give me a great excuse to get out of here before they try to wrangle me into another round."

   You nod and start to walk forward before you call out behind you, "I'll see you in class tomorrow, Jimin!" Jimin sends a bright smile to you and waves, sending another all too knowing wink before Yoongi accidentally (at least you hope it's accidentally) starts strangling him.

   You weave your way to the back gate with Hoseok in close proximity as you start quietly making your way to your dorm. There's a lot that you want to say, but you aren't sure really what you should say. After all telling him that he's breathtakingly handsome probably won't end well. You mean, it might, but probably just for a night and for once you're not really interested in catch and release.

   "So...you never texted me."

   "Well...I haven't exactly had a need to." Oh god, you sound so harsh. "I mean, I didn't really want to bother you unless I really needed help or something. I figure you're pretty busy."

   You glance over at Hoseok to see him...smiling? He's actually smiling? "Well, it doesn't have to be an emergency or anything. Text me, whenever you want. I mean it (y/n). I appreciate all the help you've given me, so even if you just need someone to like vent to or something I'm here for you." God, he isn't helping matters. Why can't he be an asshole that you could just hatefuck and get everything out of your system? "Looks like we're here. Have a good night (y/n). It was nice seeing you again."

   "Um, you too Hoseok!" You turn away quickly and dash into the dorm. Never have you been more grateful for your tiny dorm room and not having a dormmate before as you squeal into your pillow before flipping onto your back and staring at your phone.

   It feels like ages before you finally type out on the too bright screen, "Did you make it home okay?"

   You get a response just a moment later.

[Hoseok]: Yes mom

   You groan before staring at the typing bubble pop up and disappear repeatedly. God, what is he typing? Why won't he just fucking say it? Does he hate you? Did he not really mean it when he said to text him whenever? Do you look clingy? CURSE THOSE THREE PERIODS! Oh god. You heaved a sigh of relief when you finally see the text appear.

[Hoseok]: Just kidding, it was nice seeing you again btw

[you]: How have things been going for you btw?

[Hoseok]: Better, I took your advice. I'm doing better in my classes, I've been talking to Sam more. Things are starting to actually look up.

[you]: That's great! I'm glad things are doing better!

[Hoseok]: How about you though? Any dudes I should beat up?

   Have you just been banished to the sister realm? You're pretty sure you have been.

[You]: No I'm pretty boring. Just trying to finish all of my papers.

[Hoseok]: what's your major?

[You]: Creative writing, made the mistake of taking ten classes this semester, and most of them are morning lectures.

[Hoseok]: Are you a superhuman? Like, how???

[You]: I've given up on free time

[Hoseok]: You sound like you need a break

[you]: When I space out too long I can actually hear my grades falling

[Hoseok]: ah, the woes of college. I'm glad I don't have to do many papers for dance

[you]: Yeah, but you still have to practice and perform and honestly I'd rather have someone shoot me in my face than have to perform in front of people

[Hoseok]: Wow, those are some intense feelings you have there

[you]: Most sane humans don't enjoy being in front of others like that. I don't know how you do it.

[Hoseok]: you get used to it. I promise. Hey, I have a performance upcoming that you might really like. It's in a month

[you]: Oh yeah! Sam told me about that, she already got us tickets

[Hoseok]:...she could have just asked me for them? I can't believe she actually paid for them

[you]: I think she was trying to surprise you. Please don't tell her I told you

[Hoseok]: It'll be our secret. Again. We seem to hold a lot of secrets, huh?

[you]: I blame you.

   After that the two of you send a few memes back and forth before you finally fall asleep, your dream being an odd montage of Hoseok dancing and kissing you in the rain until Sam starts screaming at you. Luckily the Sam screaming at you part seems to do more with her poorly timed wake up call.

   "WAKE UP ALREADY!" Sam unceremoniously rips your blankets off of you as you blearily open your eyes. "Christ, I swear you could sleep through anything. Wanna go get coffee? I have so much to tell you."

   You grunt in response before slowly changing and trudging behind Samantha as she heads over to your car. Luckily she doesn't even protest when you toss her the keys and try to squeeze in a few more minutes of sweet sleep before you pull up to Hoseok's coffee shop. God, why now? Why couldn't you have spruced up a bit more? Worn something other than a ratty t-shirt and leggings to see him again? And your face still has pillow marks, god this is horrible. You take a deep breath and follow behind Sam, praying she hasn't noticed your delay.

   The world must truly hate you because the moment you walk in you see Hoseok behind the counter smiling over at the two of you. "Hey sis, you won't be screaming at me this time, right?"

   "Unfortunately today I've decided to be civilized. Also, I came for free coffee." Hoseok snorts before nodding for her to continue. "Um, two flat whites. Also whatever muffins you recommend."

   "Got it, I'll be over to you guys in a bit." You try shrinking away as quietly as possible to the couch that Sam flops down on.

   "Listen, so I was going to go you know hang out with Bobby last night,"

   "Ew, his name even sucks."

   "Shut up! Anyway, as I was saying, I was going to but then all of a sudden that girl Heather the cheerleader all the guys are goo goo eyed for? Well, she came out of nowhere and started screaming at Bobby for knocking her up! Swear to god, I felt like I was living an episode of the Maury show." Samantha goes into more detail and you can feel your eyes glazing over. You actually have no clue who this Heather is, and you honestly don't care. You feel bad that Sam got stuck in the middle of it all, but this kind of drama has always been uninteresting to you. You're not sure if you should shriek that Hoseok has to once again witness you in this state or thank the gods that Sam finally seems to be finished telling the tale at the sight of her brother.

   "Hey, Hobi, wait! Before you go I've been meaning to tell you that Mom asked me to invite you to go to dinner with us next Friday. Do you think you can make it?"

   "I'll see what I can do. What time?"

   "Around six I think? At Olive Garden, which means all the breadsticks we can steal for later!" Hoseok winks at you as Sam occupies herself with her blueberry muffin for a minute.

   "Got it, I'll be there." You try your best to not get caught watching him walk away. God, even his ass looks great. How do some people get all the good genes while you're sitting here looking like an unwashed potato?

--------------------1 week later---------------

   You're munching on a breadstick, listening to soon to no longer be Mrs. Jung go on and on about how proud she is of Sam as your eyes narrow in on Hoseok sauntering over. No man should look that good in just a white T-shirt and jeans, and you're having a hard time not staring. Over the last week, the two of you have texted nearly nonstop. He's sweet and funny, and he has an arsenal of really good memes that he sends you at the most unexpected of times. It's just not fair. You can't have it all. You can't look that good AND have such a killer sense of humor and be witty and intelligent.

   Sam keeps pestering you asking who you could possibly be texting, and at one point you blurted out Jimin. Which isn't entirely a lie. The two of you have actually hung out a few times this last week, and he is convinced that he needs to be a wingman for you and Hoseok so you're pretty sure he'd have no problem covering for you. Apparently, you need to work on your poker face better if Jimin caught on so quickly. You hate that you've lied to your best friend, but at the same time you're not sure how to spill the beans that you have a thing for her older brother who she's incredibly protective over. Someday either you'll get over it or you'll finally buck up and tell her. Today, however, is not that day.

   "Hobi, my baby!" Mrs. Jung jumps up at the sight of her son and wraps him into a tight embrace before reluctantly pulling away so he can have a seat. After quietly wiping away a stray tear her eyes laser in on the tattoos. "When...did you get all of those?"

   "Uh, about a year ago I guess." His eyes cast down at the table, guilt clearly washing over his features at not having seen his family in so long. "You know mom, I uh, I have a dance performance upcoming and I have a solo part. I'd really like it if you could come."

   Her eyes finally look away from the tattoos and back up to his face before she nods. "Of course, of course, I'll come. You know, I always did think you were a great dancer it was your father who-"

   "Mom, mom it's okay. We know. Let's just enjoy tonight." Sam interjects and you find yourself awkwardly cramming a breadstick into your mouth as you try to astral project out of this family conversation you're intruding on. Hoseok glances between the three women around the table before cracking up loudly at the sight of your cheeks stuffed to full bread capacity.

   "Oh, Hoseok I guess I've never properly introduced you to (y/n). (Y/N), don't let his looks fool you. He's super lame. He once failed a test because he was up all night playing pokemon go and he's super loud which is totally not cool."

   "Sam! Be nice to your brother!" Hoseok laughs as he waves off his mother's warning.

   "Well, at least I don't still sleep with Mr. Porky your childhood stuffed pig."

   "YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!"

   Your eyes dart between the siblings as they quarrel with one another. Siblings look like fun, and there's something so heartwarming about the way how they interact even when fighting. Okay, well maybe not that time that Sam ripped him a new one at his job, but this time it looks fun. It's also nice to see Hoseok so relaxed and happy, so comfortable and not like the world is going to fall apart or with a bunch of thorns sticking out of his hair.

   The rest of the night you try not to glance over at Hoseok too much. It's hard to keep up the conversations and not include him, but you realized rather quickly that speaking to him too much cause your cheeks to burst a flaming red and words to come out slightly wobbly. It's so easy to text him, but in person (especially while trying to keep your friendship as a secret) it's like fighting a boss battle. By the time you get back home you're exhausted, utterly wiped out from trying to keep yourself sane.

-----------

   A month later and you're sitting next to Sam as the performance finishes up. You've never seen modern dance before, but you can guarantee it won't be the last time. The way he moved, the raw emotions that each movement gave it was like watching a silent movie but knowing all the dialogue. It's also at this moment that you realize you don't like Hoseok. You don't have a crush on Hoseok. No, you love him. You love his quirky sense of humor, you love the darker brooding side of him, you love the way his eyes turn into little crescents as his cheeks press up when he smiles, you love the way he's so effortlessly him. Perhaps you fell in love the moment you started texting him, the moment you started unraveling this. But this is dangerous and unfair to your best friend and to Hoseok who most likely sees you as only a friend. So before the very end of the show, you fake a stomach ache and head home, you're in far too much of a mess at this stunningly obvious realization to see Hoseok face to face with his family around.

   The guilt that already felt heavy to begin with now feels like a boulder on your shoulders when you get a text from Sam followed by one from Hoseok shortly after, both of them concerned how you're feeling. While at first, you wanted to save your integrity instead you just say, "I ate too much ice cream and didn't take a Lactaid." There, embarrassing but believable and certainly easier to admit than "I'm head over heels in love with Hoseok and I've been secretly texting him." It's at this point that you do something even dumber, you text your secret ally Jimin.

[You]: I have a problem

[Jimin]: ?

[You]: I'm in love with him. Please shoot me.

[Jimin]: No thanks, I don't handle blood well. But you just noticed this? How are you slow on the uptake about your own emotions?

[You]: Ouch, could you try to comfort me. I don't know what the fuck to do

[Jimin]: Put your big girl pants on and tell him

[You]: Fuck no. Are you crazy? My best friend, his fucking sister, doesn't even know we talk

[Jimin]: Yeah I know. Just tell her.

[You]: Life isn't that simple assface

[Jimin]: I'll take that as a compliment, I have a great ass. Also it is that simple. I assure you. It only doesn't seem that simple because you're afraid. Don't be. I know Hobi and...just trust me if his sister is anything like him tell her and trust me when I say just be honest. What's the worst that can happen?

[You]: I'm not ready to hear no, I think I might die from heartbreak

[Jimin]: Ohmygod you are so freaking dramatic. Tell them bitch or I will!

[You]: You fucking wouldn't

[Jimin]: Well someone has to...

   It's at this point that you throw your phone at the wall out of frustration at the same time as a few knocks are heard on your door. Fear seizes you at the thought that it might be Sam or Hobi. Fuck. Fuck. Oh god, you really screwed yourself over. "Open up loser, I know you're in there."

   For someone so cute and tiny with such a quiet voice you've learned that Jimin certainly has a snarky side to him which you've clearly awakened if his tone through the door is anything to go by. "Don't wanna. Let me die in peace."

   "I will kick the door down in five four three" You begrudgingly open the door for him before shutting it and shuffling back under the blankets.

   "What are you doing over here Jimin?"

   "Trying to talk some sense into you. Besides, emotional support is better in person. So, I saw you at the show tonight. Snuck out early huh? I left as soon as I got changed to stop you from blubbering alone."

   "Got changed? You were there?" You don't remember seeing Jimin in the crowd, although you were rather focused on the show.

   "Ouch, I'm one of the dancers remember? How cruel and heartless." Jimin fakes a sob before he socks a punch on your shoulder and wraps you up in his arms. "Seriously though, I know it's scary but just tell them already. Look at you, you can't keep this a secret much longer. It's like ripping a bandaid off, you need to let it happen."

   You try to weigh everything out, and you spend the next hour formulating a plan with Jimin. He's right, you do need to tell them. And while Jimin thinks you should tell Hobi first and get it over with, your allegiance to your friend holds more importance to you. Instead, you decide in the morning you'll talk to her first and then you'll try to talk to Hoseok. It might ruin the friendship that you've built, but it's no use pining after him from a distance. As much as you hate to admit it, Jimin is right. It's time to finally come clean after months of this.

-------------

   It was now or never. It was d-day, game time, time for the world to possibly collapse and have your best friend punch you in your throat. You're nervously clutching at the hem of your hoodie as she blabbers on about dinner with her mom and her brother, and you can feel yourself almost bursting. You have to tell her, and soon.

   "Ugh, I feel so bad that you had to miss dinner though. We went to this little Mexican place and they had this flan that you would have loved. I would have saved you some but one I have no self-control, let's be real, and two you would've just forgotten to take a Lactaid and gotten sicker."

   "Sam," You take a wobbly breath and interject her thousand words a minute rambling. She looks up from her phone and rolls over on your bed, an eyebrow cocked at the serious tone in your voice. "Sam, I uh, I have something to tell you..."

   "What, you're fucking Jimin? Yeah, I figured that one out already. So what, are you guys dating or just-"

   "What? NO? Oh my god, no why would you-"

   "-Well, why wouldn't I? When I was talking to Hobi about it last night even he agreed that you guys must be dating. Especially when he took off so fast after the show suspiciously around the time that you left. You don't have to lie about."

   "Oh. Oh god, oh no. Hobi doesn't really think that, does he? Fuck. Okay, Sam, Jimin was right I need to be honest. I'm not fucking Jimin, nor have I ever-"

   "That's a shame, he has a great ass."

   "Yeah, sure, back to the point." You can feel a cold sweat start to take over as you gulp in air, "I'minlovewithyourbrother." You say the words as fast as possible, eyes squeezed shut as you brace for impact.

   "What? You're...howzthatevenpossible? Since like when? And...love...not like...girl I am so confused." You slowly open your eyes, one at a time to see a very lost look on her face.

   "Okay so it's like this...I've met Hoseok before the incident at the coffee shop. Way before. Only once though. He passed out on campus and I helped him out. We didn't talk. But then at that party where you ditched me for Mr. Keg stands-"

   "-His name is Bobby, and I told you we didn't have sex he-"

   "-Knocked up the cheerleader, yeah I know. Anyways, we ran into each other at the party and we got to talking and then we started texting and I know he sees me as just a friend or maybe just a friend of his sister...but...I really like him. Like him like him, like love like." Great, now you're incoherent. Sam is dumbfounded, and for once she isn't talking. After a moment of awkward silence, she clears her throat.

   "You do realize he's a dork? Like a giant dork? And that he freaking lives in a coffee shop? And that he has a lot of baggage? And that honestly, as your friend I should warn you, probably has gotten an STD at some point in his life? Like...you're way too good for my dipshit older brother. I love him, but like honestly. Him?" Well, this wasn't the direction you expected at all. "I get that some girls think he's cute and all, but you've never had to do his laundry. It's gross. He smells like gross boy."

   "He smells like citrus and pine needle most of the time, you can't blame him for sweating when he dances."

   "Did...did you just defend his body odor? And how the fuck do you know that he smells like citrus and pine needle? What, are you some kind of scent expert? You know what, no please don't answer that. I don't want to know." Sam shakes her head before clasping your hand. "Listen, I'm not here to police who you date or who my brother dates. I'll support you. Or console you." Gee thanks for the vote of confidence. "But I think I might have fucked everything up. You should talk to him soon."

   "Well yeah, you did kind of make him think I was fucking Jimin. How bad was it?"

   Sam tilts her head, eyes narrowing as she recalls the memory. "Well...he was pretty surprised, but then he put on his typical 'nice guy' smile and said that you guys made a good pair and he could see it."

   You groan in frustration as you grab your phone, getting ready to send him a text before Sam slaps it out of your hold.

   "No, nope, you're not texting him this. Listen, there's a party tonight that I know he'll be going to after he finishes up work. You're going. That'll be the best way to talk to him." God, not another party. This isn't at all how you wanted to admit your stupid feelings. Damn emotions, you swear they're like dandelions growing in the least expected places. But the look on Sam's face says she's not going to take no for an answer. But she's right, if he's working right now the best time to get a hold of him today will be at that party.

   You take a deep breath in and nod resolutely. Just because she's right doesn't mean that you have to like it and you still stand by your hatred for parties. At least this time you have a reason. As long as you can find Hoseok. "What if I can't find him?"

   "I'll text him, dummy. I've got your back."

   "More like you'll have the popcorn to watch this all unfold."

   "Well, yeah that too. But I mean, I'm rooting for you." You pick up a pillow and hurl it at her face before groaning as you flop over her on the bed.

   "What time is the party?"

   "Well it starts at 9, and it's five now. So if I were you I would start getting ready now."

   "Now? What for?" Uh oh, you know that face.

-------------------

   There are few things in life that Samantha Jung loves more than giving people makeovers. You've been thoroughly groomed and primped to perfection and it somehow took the full four hours. Your skin is glowing in a way you didn't realize it could but after enough exfoliating, a clay mask, a sheet mask, and a hydropack later it's sparkling in a way that shouts "I drink tons of water and eat my weight in kale!" Not that you do, you probably should though. You're highlighted and contoured to perfection, and while Sam is clearly proud you have zero problems with admitting that it will never look this way again. She did at least let you wear your own comfortable choice of jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers.  

   "He's in the backyard, playing beer pong again." Jimin appears by your side the moment the two of you walk in, answering the golden question before you can even think it.

   "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me Jimin." Jimin snickers as he hands both of you drinks.

   "Sorry about that princess. Well, what are you waiting for? Go show your very dewy face off to him."

   "Oh god do I look like an oil slick?" Sam hits him as you pull out your phone and check in the camera.

   "No no no, you look great." Jimin is trying to stop the blows Samantha is hurling his way as you sigh and glance around the party. You don't know most of these people. Apparently it's mostly music and dance students celebrating that they've finished all of their showcases. You can feel dread fill you with each step closer to the door as you move past the crowd. It feels like ages before you're finally standing in front of the door. You take a swig of the Kool-Aid and bottom-shelf vodka concoction before finally stepping out.

   If you weren't oily before you know that you will be soon. It's humid, sticky, and sweltering even after the sun has gone down. You can see the fireflies already coming out, cicadas can be heard buzzing in the distance, and you're sure mosquitos are actively hunting. If it weren't for your eyes landing right on Hoseok you would've walked right back into the comfortable air conditioning. Why anyone would want to play beer pong outside in this weather is beyond you.

   You take a deep breath before promptly taking a seat next to Yoongi. You'd like to lie and say you walked right up to Hoseok, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him...but that's not asking for consent for one, and you also would probably fall flat on your face if you tried. Yoongi nods your way before offering his cigarette, you shake your head in a silent response before taking another swig of your drink.

   "Hey Yoongi, who's the new friend?" A man you don't recognize stops playing beer pong momentarily and you try hard to not sweat as you feel Hoseok's gaze land on you.

   "(Y/N), what are you doing here? Oh! Jimin just walked into the house if you're looking for him." You try not to laugh too pitifully as you wave your hand as if to shoo the thought away.

   "No, no. I know where he is." You're so sorry Sam, but it's your turn to throw her under the bus. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he's still with Sam. She had some sort of uh...misunderstanding that I think she's rather eager to sort out." You look up from the dandelion you've been concentrating on when you hear his sing-song laughter and you feel like you've been sucker punched in the gut. His hair is slicked back for once, cheeks glowing a pretty shade of pink under the patio light, sweat trailing down his temple onto his collar bones and all of his tattoos on full display in his tank top. Lord give you strength to not die from thirst on the spot.

   "Sam has a bad habit of jumping to conclusions."

   "Hey, are we going to play or what?" The guy you don't know throws an empty cup at the back of Hoseok's head as he speaks. Hoseok rolls his eyes before sending you a wink and turning back to the broad-shouldered stranger.

   "Yeah yeah Jin. Ready to get your ass kicked again?"

   There are a few things you learn in the next few minutes. Hoseok is really good at beer pong, you figured that last time but considering that the defeat only took a total of three minutes it's much more obvious now. You've also learned that Jin sucks and that Yoongi loves nothing more than to pick on him each time he misses. Which is every time.

   "Aish, that's it. I'm done. I quit." Jin groans after chugging back the last cup before he ambles over to another group further in the backyard. Yoongi coughs before winking at you and heading over with Jin, leaving you and Hoseok alone. Bless that tiny angry man for being the best unexpected wingman. Hoseok glances around for a minute before sitting down next to you.

   "You were really good by the way. The show I mean, the beer pong too though. I had no clue someone could dance like that. You chose the right pursuit in life, I'm sure of it."

   Hoseok laughs as he takes a swig of beer. "Thanks, I appreciate that. It's a shame you had all that ice cream. Lactose intolerant huh? I've been fucking you up with all those free coffees and I didn't even know it." You can feel your cheeks burning bright red as you jump to your feet. The sudden movement causes Hoseok to jerk back as you point your finger at his chest.

   "For your information that was a lie, although I would appreciate if you used almond milk in the future. But that's beside the point! I was completely fine, just a scaredy cat. So here goes nothing, Jung Hoseok I'd like to take you out on a date!" You can feel the blush travel from your cheeks up to your ears but force yourself to look at Hoseok. He's smiling, ear to ear with cheeks pushing his eyes into those cute little crescents you love to see.

   "Okay. Let's go."

   "What?"

   "You said you want to take me out on a date. I'm saying yes, let's go. Come on, what are you waiting for?" Your mind goes blank as he stands up and clasps your hand in his. It's so warm (kind of sweaty if you're honest, but hey, so is yours) and so perfect. Your brain freezes, your mental record scratches as you follow him through the house and out to the front lawn. (Excuse me, this is your friendly narrator, I'd like to interrupt for just a moment. This story could have been much shorter if you didn't overthink everything so much. Believe in yourself more! Okay, that's enough interruptions. I'll get back to the story now.)

   "Wait, wait, Hoseok where are we going?" Hoseok gives you a bright smile as he looks down at you.

   "There's a diner a block away from here. You didn't bring your car did you?" You shake your head no as you follow him. "They do really good pancakes. Breakfast for dinner is the best." At the sound of you suddenly going mute Hoseok looks back down as he squeezes your hand reassuringly. "So why'd you ask me out?"

   "Why wouldn't I? You're hot for one, but you're also really funny and sweet and relatable, and honestly, it's impossible to not fall for you. You have this bright sunny smile, but under all these layers is this really sweet but vulnerable man that I..." Hoseok stops walking for a moment, his face turned away as if to hide the blush creeping up his face. You take a deep breath before asking, "...why...why did you accept?"

   "Why wouldn't I?" You laugh at the way he imitates you before he starts walking again. "You're beautiful, and you've saved my ass twice because you're either insane or insanely nice, you're funny, smart, and the moment we started talking my life turned around. Honestly, yesterday I wanted to punch Jimin in the throat but then I realized it was my fault for not beating him to the punch. I would've asked you out if you hadn't, you know. Ah, we're here." Hobi leads you into the diner and slides into a booth as you slide into the other side. You stare down at the shiny black lacquered table for a moment before peeking up to look up at Hoseok.

   He's peering intently at the laminated menu. You've never noticed before but he has beautiful, long fingers with well-groomed cuticles. "Do you get manicures?"

   "No, but Sam recently had one of her makeover moments with me and decides that my nails had to have some work done on them."

   "She did a good job, they look nice." Hoseok glances up and smiles at you before sliding another menu to you. You take it and stare down for a moment before a waitress comes up to your table.

   "What can I get you guys?"

   "Oh, uh I'll just get a water and a small stack of pancakes."

   "A sprite and the stackhouse, eggs over easy." The waitress nods as she scribbles it down before walking away. Hoseok fiddles with a napkin for a moment before piping up. "Okay, so really important question here, what are your top songs right now?"

   "What genre?"

   "Rap?" He looks hopeful and you pull up your phone.

   "Well, always J Cole and Kendrick, but let's see...songs...hmm. Recently I've been listening to Justin Bieber by Coogie a lot, Uzuhan by Uzuhan, Pink Blue Dawn by Dumbfoundead. Honestly, I've been listening to more R&B lately. Lots of Sabrina Claudio, Sinead Harnett, and Steve Lacey."

   "Holy sweet Jesus, mary me."

   "Were you praying to Jesus and his mother or asking for my hand in marriage?"

   "A bit of both."

   "Oh well Kevin in first grade and I got married by the swingset after he gave me a ring pop so I think I'll have to get those divorce papers first. Sorry. My turn for questions. In a dream world, what would you be doing?"

   "Well marrying you because Kevin never gave you that ring pop obviously, and I'd be working as an established choreographer with my own studio."

   "You'll get there. I'm sure of it."

   "Such confidence. What about you? What would you be doing?"

   You want to say 'you' to him but you would definitely die from embarrassment. You can see the shitty epitaph now just thinking about it. "Well, I guess I'd be an established author on a much-needed vacation on a beautiful island basking in the warm sun without a worry because I've dug myself out of student loan debt."

   "Ooh, that sounds nice. I'm thinking Hawaii, ooh or maybe Jeju, you know it's the Hawaii of Korea?"

   At that moment the food comes out and the two of you spend the next hour or so discussing random topics until finally, you get up to leave after not so subtle hints from the waitress that you've overstayed your welcome. The two of you choose to walk back to your dorm rather than wait for an uber. It's only a few blocks away and it gives both of you more time to just bask in each other's presence. You never guessed that he would say yes to a date, or that it would feel so natural. All this time you've been able to hide away with text messages, making it easier to be unguarded the way face to face conversations typically make you a nervous ball of anxiety. But with Hobi? It all just feels so right, so easy as if it was supposed to be this way all along.

   You can feel your heart sink though with each step closer to the dorm, and you're pretty sure that Hoseok feels the same way based off of how he slows down. By the time you're standing in front of the building, you're suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to not let the night end, afraid that you'll wake up tomorrow and the fairytale spell that's been magically cast will vanish.

   His hand is still tightly gripped around yours, the moon and dim security lights casting a silvery glow over his skin. Cicadas are still buzzing, fireflies glowing in the distance as if to remind you that the night isn't over yet. You glance up at Hobi and notice that it looks like he's trying to say something but no sound is coming out. His lips are slightly open, brows furrowed together. God, his lips look so soft and perfect and pillowy. Before you can even think you're standing up on your tiptoes and weaving your free hand into his hair as you softly plant a kiss on his lips.  

   What starts out as a soft and unsure peck quickly escalates as he grips your hip and deepens the kiss. He tastes like syrup and sprite and everything right. You can feel yourself growing dizzy, hungry for more as his tongue parts your lips. You always assumed he'd be a good kisser, if you're honest you've fantasized about it far more than you'd ever willingly admit, but he's even better than you could have guessed. A soft breathy moan leaves your mouth as he brings your bodies closer together and the guttural groan that leaves him as he finally separates and the two of you try to breathe has you reconfirming that you really don't want this night to end.

   "I, wow that was..." Hobi's eyes are glittering, the world cast in a haze of twinkling euphoria as you look back up at him.

   "Hobi, would you like to come up with me?" You're suddenly regretting your sudden boldness at the way he stops moving for a minute. Perhaps you're moving too fast, maybe he thinks you're a floozy or something and you've ruined it. Your overthinking goes into overdrive before his hand cups your chin and forces you to look back up at him.

   "I would love to, but if I go up there I...listen I really want you. So if you just want to hang out I need you to give me a second so I can calm down." At that, you peek down to realize that he's clearly grown excited, and you can feel a surge of need trickle down your panties.

   "I...I don't want to just hang out. I want you."

   "Ah, fuck. Are you sure?" You nod your head before reaching back up and placing a firm kiss on his lips. The green light seems to go off in his head at this, his hands gripping you tightly to him as tongues melt together before he pries away and you quickly lead him up. Unfortunately, the elevator has been broken for almost the entire year so you have to make the trip by jumping up the stairs, fever clawing at you the closer you get.

   By the time you're finally in your room you can feel sexual tension hanging thickly in the air. The moment you shut the door he hooks your legs around his waist and presses you against the wall, mouth quick to find yours again. Your hips jut against his, desperate for friction at this point and the groan of pleasure that leaves him has you clawing away at his shirt. You knew that he had a great figure, you've seen it before at the recital but to see it so close in person is another story. Your hands etch over his firm abs, dipping down to that oh so drool worthy V as you unbuckle his pants while his lips attach to your neck.

   "I don't think you understand how long I've wanted you." Hobi stops his ministrations as he speaks, eyes boring into yours before he moves you off the wall and onto your bed. You watch as he shuffles out of his shoes and pants before crawling back over you. In a matter of moments, the two of you are both in just your underwear, his eyes trained on the obvious wet patch of your pink underwear. "You look so beautiful, so perfect."

   The feeling of his soft fingers trailing over your body raises goosebumps, your eyes shutting at the sensation as one hand trails from your calf up to your inner thigh. "Look at you, so wet for me. All for me, all mine." His words have you whimpering, your hand gripping his.

   "Please touch me, I need you. Please, Hobi." His eyes squeeze shut for a moment as he grips at your thighs, shuffling until his face is just millimeters from where you need it.

   "How can I say no to that face?" Finally, he's tearing off your underwear. For a moment you're afraid that he's just going to stay there forever, face hovering over before finally he dips down. You're so wound up that even just the lightest pressure when he lays his tongue down and licks one long stripe has both of you groaning in satisfaction. "Fuck, how do you taste so good?"

   "Please stop talking and just help me. I need you. I need you so bad." You weave your hands through his hair, trying to move him closer to where you need him most. Hoseok shoots you a smirk before relenting, finally diving in like a man starved. His tongue is everywhere all at once, diving between your folds one second before reaching back up to swirl around your swollen clit. Your hands grip tighter into his hair as your hips roll on reflex at the sensation. If the rumors are true and Hoseok really has fucked half the campus at some point then you must admit that the studying has been worth it. If the rumors aren't true then he's either a sex god or a prodigy because holy shit you've never felt yourself come so unglued just from oral sex before.

   His hands grip your asscheeks to bring you closer as you mewl out his name, his own pleasure rumbling deep from his chest and vibrating through you. God, this is so much better than your own fantasies. "Fuck, fuck, you're so good. Don't stop, please don't stop. I'm going to cum." The tell-tale knot deep in your belly is on fire, legs quaking around his head as you throw your neck back. The feeling of two of his fingers gliding into you as he latches onto your clit is all you need to tumble head first into euphoria. Everything feels fuzzy as if cotton has been stuck in your ears and your muscles have become weightless. Floating. Flying. Breezing right into heaven.

   You don't even realize that you've been moaning the entire time, or that Hoseok has stopped moving to watch you as you fuck yourself onto his fingers slowly, coming back down to reality as the stars fade from your vision. "You're so beautiful, I could watch you all day." His voice is gruff with desire as he leans down and captures your lips in a wet, needy kiss. "I need you, I need you right now." His lips lead a sticky trail down to your chest as he finally pries the offending bra off and flings it off to the side of the bed with an ominous sounding crash that neither of you pay attention to. You're too absorbed in your own lustful world to notice anything else.

   As his teeth bear down onto your nipple your hand grasps his clothed erection. God, why is he still in boxers? The sudden attention being placed back on him has his eyes closing as a guttural rumble of pleasure leaves his throat. You try to pry his boxers off, but at the angle you're positioned in you can only manage to get it down half his ass. In lightning speed he's standing before you bare, his weeping cock bobbing proudly in the air. The sight has you drooling as you shuffle closer to see him. Veiny, thick, shining with precum. It looks delicious as he slowly fists it, eyes boring into yours the entire time.

   "Do you...have a condom?" Hoseok's voice breaks you out of your spell and you nod before reaching over to your nightstand and pulling one out. He quickly grabs the foil and you watch with keen interest as he rolls it on and tosses the foil into your small waste bin. "You're...you're sure about this right?"

   "Hobi, I've thought about fucking you more times than I can count. Please, fuck me already." His adam's apple bobs at the admission and he pulls you up into a heated kiss before twisting you around and placing you on all fours. One hand pulls your ass apart as the other grips your hip for support. The feeling of him finally entering zaps you with electricity, each small movement as he sinks further into your dripping cunt has your eyes rolling back into your head.

   "Holy shit, how are you so tight?" You clench at his words, hips rolling back to urge him to move. "Keep doing that baby girl and I'm not going to last long." The pet name has you moaning, hands gripping the sheets tighter as he slowly pulls out and slams back in, balls slapping against your swollen clit. Hoseok sets into a steady pace, hips slamming into yours each time he hits your cervix. You feel so full, so utterly filled and the knowledge that it's Hoseok, finally him deep inside you has your head reeling and your second orgasm fast approaching.

   "Faster, I'm going to cum!" He grunts as he twists your hair around his hand, pulling you up so your back is flat on his chest as he drills into you at a brutal speed. The sound of moans, flesh on flesh, and wet sex fills the room.

   His mouth lowers to your ear as you start spiraling out of control, "come on, cum with me baby girl. Let go." For the second time you see blinding white, toes curling as his hand circles over your clit, walls clenching around him as you milk him to his own completion.

   The two of you remain there for a few moments, panting as you try to come back down to earth before you finally slump forward, his softening cock slipping out. When you turn around you see him grinning back down at you, pushing his hair out of the way as he flashes you that full crescent eye smile you love so much. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he ties up the condom and tosses it. He rolls onto the bed and pulls you into his arms before speaking.

   "You know, I can't remember the last time I was this happy? You're just so beautiful, and funny, and nice and I don't want you thinking that I was only in it for this. I...I know the rumors about me but I haven't been that guy in a long time. And I really want this..us...fuck do I sound super lame right now?"

   You place a soft peck on his cheek as you beam up at him. "No Hobi, you don't sound lame at all. I kinda figured on the rumor front, considering your ex and how serious that seemed. Besides, I don't care even if it was still true as long as you...only want me...now..." Your voice trails off towards the end, cheeks heating up as you look away before glancing back up at the sound of his loud laugh.

   "Trust me, you're the only thing that's been running through my mind for months now. I'm all yours."

   "All mine?" You watch him smile and nod before he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. The act feeling somehow so intimate. That night you fall asleep in his arms, trying to count all his tattoos as the two of you whisper about everything and nothing all at the same time. You were right, he's certainly the kind of guy that you can lay in bed with for hours after sex so that's exactly what the two of you do.

   One year later Hoseok graduates and the two of you are more in love than you thought possible. Two years later the two of you are living together as you try to finish up your degree. Three years later and you're working for a publisher while trying to establish yourself as an author as Hoseok finally opens up his own dance studio. Four years later Hoseok proposes to you in front of the slides at a park with a beautiful morganite ring, sneering a comment about 'take that Kevin' after you tearfully accept. Five years later and you're walking down the aisle as Sam bawls her eyes out as your maid of honor. There were ups and downs in the relationship (luckily usually between the sheets), but the two of you worked through everything. Somehow that crash landing all those years ago brought Hoseok into your life, and you wouldn't change how anything happened for the world.  

[notbang]

burning up again

R/N. Set in some vague overlapping future universe of this, this and this, but requiring prior knowledge of none to understand.

(read on ao3)

“You know, this place sounded a lot more whimsical and fun when I was reading about it in letters.”

“I don’t think I was ever speaking specifically about the accommodations,” he says, wry, “so much as the symbolic act of coming here itself.”

“I know,” she shoots back, almost sulkily, and wriggles up the mattress to better rest her head in the crook of his arm. He stretches, and the fingers of her left hand cakewalk idly up his chest in her contemplation until he catches them and traps them in his own. “If anyone’s guilty of romanticising mediocrity, it’s me. I’m aware.”

“Well,” is all Nathaniel says, the smug twist of his mouth intended to tease, more than anything else.

Rebecca’s restless, perpetually in motion with an energy he doesn’t share. He’s been jungle-dwelling long enough that the humidity doesn’t bother him so much anymore, but there’s a difference between being able to sleep beneath a sheet in a sticky room and having to accommodate someone else’s body heat as well as your own. Still, the tightly-wound demeanour that had always felt like second nature to him has never really had a place here, and despite the queasy anticipation that has been slowly fraying his nerves all week in the lead-up to her arrival, having her sprawled out alongside him now, Nathaniel feels nothing but a sleepy sense of calm.

Even if her insisted-upon sleeping arrangements leave a little to be desired.

“This bed isn’t exactly built for two people,” he tells her when she starts to squirm, his eyebrows creeping upwards with a familiar cocktail of fondness and exasperation.

“You’re telling me. It’s not even built for one people, if the people is you.” Rebecca grunts, shifting again, trying to get comfortable and elbowing him sharply in the gut in the process. “You should really speak to someone about the quality of the facilities.”

“The facilities you were provided with are perfectly fine. You’re the one that was determined to play stowaway in mine.”

“Mm, yeah, but your room is so cosy and romantic, with the canopy, and the candles.”

He raises his eyebrows, dubious. “The mosquito net and the citronella coils?”

She waves him off, nearly clocking him in the face. “Okay, so the smell isn’t particularly enticing, but it’s fun, right? Being a little sneaky. Having a sleepover. Hmm?”

“It’d be a lot more fun in less than ninety percent humidity.” She pouts up at him, and he appeases her with a warm press of his palm to the small of her undeniably damp back. His lips graze across her forehead on his way to nosing into the cloud of her humidity-frizzed hair. “But yes—practically every defining detail aside, this is… nice.”

Rebecca sighs her agreement as she inches up his side, a greasy koala on a eucalyptus oil-slick tree. It should definitely be more off-putting, the mix of perspiration, pungent insect repellant and the remnants of lotion that only barely saved her shoulders. Instead he drinks in the sun kissed bridge of her nose, the pinking of her cheekbones and the abundance of freckles dusted across her face like constellations that can only be seen in clarity out of the city limits. It’s a hundred times better than any piece of paper, and every possible protest dies as a result on the tip of his tongue.

“I can’t believe you live like this,” she says eventually. At his frown she hastens to add, “I’m not passing judgement. Emphasis on the ‘you’, not the… ‘this’. You’ve always been so…” She trails off, gesturing vaguely at the length of him, and he huffs out a laugh.

“I know. It astounds me most days, too.”

“Was it hard? Getting used to everything?”

He considers that for a moment, knowing for a fact he’d spent a good number of days unavoidably rankled by his new circumstances, but unable to put his finger on the true moment of transition.

“I guess. But… hard in a good way. Hard in a way I was looking for, to wake me up. As embarrassingly cheesy as it sounds, even when I hated it, it felt… good, and important, to be following my heart for once, instead of something my father drilled into my head.”

She takes the hand not tangled in his and presses her open palm to his chest, fingers splayed out across his sternum, radiating warmth. “I mean, on some twisted level it makes sense. If you were a Planeteer, you’d definitely be the heart power,” she says, then to his confused look elaborates, “Apparently it means you can talk to monkeys.”

“I see. And you would be…?”

“Fire. For obvious reasons.” She tilts her head, considering. “Or maybe wind. For other, also probably obvious, equally unflattering reasons.”

He winces, and shakes his head as if to will the insinuation away. For all their overwhelming similarities, there’s still a lot of things they don’t have in common, and Rebecca’s penchant for toilet humour is one of them.

Her tone turns suddenly coy. “Speaking of saving the planet, here’s a thought on our current predicament with global warming. What if we shower—together, obviously, gotta think of the earth—and then just… don’t bother towelling dry?”

“Mm, that’d probably feel good for about thirty seconds, tops. Then: sticky. Also—and while I’m not sure that’s what you’re implying, it’s usually a pretty safe bet with you—you are not going to want to do anything sexy once you step foot in that shower. Believe me.”

“Believe you because you’ve tried?” she asks, eyes narrowed, frowning her suspicion.

“Believe me because I know what my shower stall looks like.”

She hums, apparently too skeptical to be truly appeased. “So the shower’s out. But we have prior experience. We’re intelligent. We’re innovative. We can find a position with minimal contact points and maximum air flow.”

There’s no question of what she’s implying now, even if her tone is still currently set to teasing, and his stomach tightens in acknowledgement. He’d been too cautious to take it as a given that her trip was intended as a romantic one, even if it was difficult to read between the lines of her intentions and find them to be anything else. Just because his most recent trip back to West Covina had led to them falling back into bed together didn’t mean anything concrete—their letters since have been as carefully choreographed as always, deftly walking the tightrope between tentative flirtation and outright propositioning without either of them being bold enough to quantify the true nature of their long distance relationship.

If the hug she accosted him with upon her arrival and all the excuses she’s found to touch him throughout the day haven’t adequately telegraphed her intent, though, surely her presence now in his tiny standard issue sanctuary housing cot has well and truly dashed any illusions that the purposes of her visit are purely platonic.

The woman in question pulls him from his musings with a drawn-out, nasally whine. “God, I just have to…”

The rest of her sentence is lost in the fabric of her t-shirt as she squirms to get it up and over her head, and sure, he has to actively tamp down on the impulse to jerk away when her moist skin hits his, but then certain parts of his anatomy waste no time in sounding the alarm that for the first time in longer than he can currently properly recall, Rebecca Bunch’s scantily clad body is in unmistakable, maddening proximity, and his breath leaves him in a shaky huff. Despite the fact they’ve been engaged in banter around the topic for the last ten minutes at least and in fact, most of the day, it’s a very particular jolt calling attention to the impending physical reality of it now, running through him like electromagnetic muscle memory.

“Oh,” she says quietly, as if sharing the exact same revelation, eyes dropping down and to his mouth.

They shift minutely against one another until he takes her by the waist and twists, orienting her so she can feel the the fan on her face. His fingers smooth through the resulting restless waves of her hair.

Just like that it’s back at full force again—the stubborn twist of heat that exists between them, both impeded and exacerbated by the suffocating jungle humidity, like an itch you couldn’t stop yourself from scratching, if only you had the energy to move.

It’s unnerving as it’s always been, the ways in which she tames him and makes him wild.

“Hello,” he says, going for suave but falling somewhere a lot closer to shaky.

Rebecca lets out a soft giggle and bends at the knee, toes leading the way to twist her leg between his.

“Hi,” she breathes into his mouth, the cartilage of her nose crushing against his own.

Apparently, that far-from-sophisticated call and response is all the encouragement they need before they’re crashing back into each other’s orbits, an alignment of single-minded satellites colliding for the thousandth time.

It’s not as needy as their last kiss, instead whittled down into languidity by the slow burn of whatever it is they’ve been allowing to rekindle between them over months of correspondence and an overnight temperature that lends itself to a leisurely pace. I’ve missed you, she tells him in no uncertain terms, and he feels unhurried in his efforts to lay out his supporting arguments of every way he intends to miss her back.

Her nails drag across his scalp and he groans, fingertips hinting at the band of her bra.

“Nope, I can’t,” she blurts suddenly after another enthusiastic minute of making out, pushing back at him and scrunching up her face. The disappointment doesn’t even have time to sour in his stomach before she’s rushing to make the grounds of her rejection clear. “I’m sorry. It’s just so sticky. Like, disgustingly sticky. An I-can’t-expend-the-energy-that-would-only-make-us-stickier sticky.”

He obediently withdraws, rolling off of her and back towards his side of the bed, as much as their cramped shared space currently allows and what ultimately ends up being much the same arrangement as before, albeit with his body being the one caged by hers against the mattress as she holds herself away in something reminiscent of a reluctant push-up. “Absurdly,” he agrees, unable to deny himself the skin-to-skin contact of combing her matted hair back behind her ear.

“Like, I can’t tell where my body ends and yours begins, and not in a… well, it is in a hot way, technically, but not in a sexy-hot way? More in the way that I’m just melting into you until we form some kind of amorphous, perspiring blob.”

“Charming,” he says lightly.

He takes some satisfaction that he’s not alone in the dull throb of his frustration, judging by the way she shifts to squeeze her thighs together.

“Can we maybe just, I don’t know, sleep on the floor? With a companionable inch of breathing space between us as we gaze wantonly into each others’ eyes? That concrete looks cool and I mean, heat rises, right?”

“Sure, if you want to hang with the scorpions.”

Her upper body, which had been in the process of relaxing back towards his, slingshots back up off of him at that, eyes going disproportionately wide to the rest of her face. “Dude. You get scorpions in your room?”

“Sometimes. Also: lizards.”

“That’s it—I’m taking the next flight home.”

His palm skirts her shoulder blades, coaxing her back down. “Uh-huh.”

Amused as he is by her theatrics, there’s another more obvious option, one that he would have offered hours ago if only she’d given him the chance, stubborn as she’d insisted on being in response to his attempts to organise her transport back into town. He absently wonders what their chances of getting a taxi are at this time of night.

“Nathaniel?” she ventures tentatively, her voice small amongst the encroaching outside chorus of cicadas.

“Mmm?”

“Do you want to sneak into my hotel room with me? I’m pretty sure it has air conditioning.”

His smile stretches wider as he pats her encouragingly on the back. “There you go.”

She carefully peels herself off of him, and he lets her drag him, good-natured, from the bed.