#but i have stayed around very casually since as i’ve continued to drift and its like…. of course i understand being disappointed

[crownconstellation]

thinking about lrt and just like. the general situation involving it. it provides a good description of the situation at hand but for a tldr for all my non-ensemble stars oomfs — the series has added a ryukyuan character to the unit based around yamato japanese history & culture & have him saying that he wants to learn True Japanese Style from them. they seem to be directly intending to parallel the meiji restoration with his inclusion, as the meiji era is when the ryukyu kingdom (currently known as okinawa) was annexed into japan. his name and character tagline also reference this, and — as said in the petition in my last reblog as well, the first music video with him included involves direct rising sun imagery.

it’s horrific, frankly. it’s horrible and it’s deeply unfortunate, and even more unfortunate is that — while them being willing to make this change was surprising as happy elements as a company is VERY change-resistant to the point of backing down on a unit change that they had been referencing for ~8 years because it would shift things around too much — them being this foul is not surprising. there are so many fans shocked that akatsuki, the unit involved, has been used for this, and it’s like…….. it really does suck, and it’s horrid how blatantly they’re moving all-in on the propaganda, but it’s not the first time akatsuki has been used for imperialism, nor is it anywhere close to ensemble stars’ first blunder with an indigenous character. i feel like to be this surprised means one would have had to turn a blind eye to literally everything involving the series’ history with imperialism and racism - particularly, considering the character involved in this situation, anti-indigenous racism - prior.

like… there’s an akatsuki song (kengeki no mai) that is quite literally banned in KRstars because it’s tied to a set of japanese military uniforms as its associated album cover & costume, which is directly imperialist. it also cannot be excused under the handwaving of “oh, this was really old though” as the series continues to push these views and this imagery due to its being something the series continues to make profit off of to this day as the military costumes exist as paid outfits for 3dmvs. there is their involvement in what is… known by some fans as the “”okinawa arc,”” which is a series of events that kickstarted in submarine & involves what is effectively okinawan colonisation for a project of eichi’s. this “”arc”” is primarily tied to fine and RYUSEITAI, but very much involves akatsuki. like, that potential for imperialist imagery has always been there and has in fact been part of their unit’s expression before. it did not start with ibuki.

none of these issues have started with ibuki. they started with adonis back in 2015, whose family still does not even have a country of origin& who were depicted as cruel and harsh as recently as 2024 (with his japanese mother being depicted as the kindest member of his family to him. do you see the problem here.). they continued with the introduction of the amagi brothers, whose portrayal as ainu characters was considered so offensive that the more direct references to their culture were scrubbed, and mayoi, whose being indigenous i have discussed before and who has been treated as the butt of a cruel joke since his inception, in 2020. with the reveal of kanata’s as being indigenous in 2022's grand slam when combined with his inclusion in the “”okinawa arc.”” with the arc itself, especially with january 2024’s stella maris. with matrix in april 2024. it did not start here, as horrific as it is, and while them committing to this change is surprising due to knowing how resistant to change happy elements is…. i can’t say that them handling something this horrifically is surprising. nor can i say that the way it was written is, considering akira’s lengthy history of anti-indigenous racism. (the amount of people insisting he didn’t have any involvement in this story……… like come on. he is the main writer. this is woven into his track record. even if it was a decision from the higher-ups, someone still had to write the execution of it.)

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Car Repair Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 修车之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This was released on 13 August 2021 ]

Beneath the blue skies and white clouds, the meandering road stretches towards the mountaintop, and the roar of the engine is incessant.

A light-hearted melody flows slowly within the car. Since we’ve already heard this song many times, Gavin and I find ourselves humming along to the music softly. 

Gavin: Are you tired? I could drive next.

Sitting on the front passenger seat, Gavin turns his head to look at me.

MC: I’m not tired. I’m filled with energy right now~

I shake my head, gripping the steering wheel while my gaze focuses on the front.

Gavin and I had originally planned to go on a vacation in a neighbouring city today. However, sudden changes at work caused my vacation to shrink to half a day...

As such, Gavin suggested that we should change our plans to a drive, and that he’d take me to this mountain route he often drives on.

MC: I’ve already watched you driving down this road a couple of times. I’m more or less familiar with this route.

The corners of my lips curl upwards slightly, feeling the fresh breeze brushing my cheeks, along with the comforting and pleasant sensation it brings.

MC: I can now understand why you like going on a spin here. The feeling of rushing among the mountains feels really carefree.

Hearing this, Gavin’s lips hook into a smile.

Gavin: If you like it, we could come here often next time.

MC: Sure. But I’ll be the one to drive you, okay?

I speak with a teasing tone, and Gavin chuckles softly.

Gavin: Why not?

While we’re talking and laughing, a strange sound abruptly drifts to our ears. My brows furrow. Gavin also senses the problem.

Gavin: Let’s stop the car.

I nod, bringing the car to the side before stopping.

Gavin walks over to the front of the car, then opens the hood. Bits of sunlight filter through the leaves, casting a mix of light and shadows on his face.

MC: Should I call the insurance company?

Gavin: No need.

Gavin purses his lips slightly, then waves casually.

Gavin: The spark plug just needs to be replaced. This car’s pretty old, and it hasn’t been maintained much. It’s a good time to give it a thorough check.

MC: I see...

I glance at the long mountain road. Even if we were to head down the mountain now, there’s still a great distance between us and the city...

Gavin: It’s fine, there’s no need to worry.

As though seeing through my thoughts, he gives me a smile.

Gavin: There happens to be a shop I’m familiar with nearby. Since we’ve been driving for such a long time, we could head there for a short break too.

Gavin places his warm palm on the top of my head, rubbing it gently.

Gavin: In short, it isn’t a huge problem and we can continue driving. Let’s get in.

-

Halfway up this secluded mountain, Gavin stations the car outside a shop which looks pretty old. After getting off, what enters our vision is a tightly shut roll-up door.

Gavin: The boss might have headed out.

Gavin calls out the boss’ name several times, but doesn’t receive a response. Instead, the sound of barking drifts over.

MC: This is...

Gavin: It belongs to the boss.

Gavin takes out his phone and dials a number. At the same time, he strides towards a flowerpot at the side, retrieving a key from underneath.

Gavin: I’ve told the boss about our situation. He says we could head into the shop to repair the car ourselves.

MC: Ourselves?

I mumble in slight confusion, watching as Gavin lifts the roll-up door.

Before I can get a clear glimpse of the shop’s interior, a figure leaps out.

??: Woof woof!

A brown puppy circles around Gavin excitedly, nuzzling against him affectionately.

Gavin (voice clip here): Long time no see, Bean Bun.

Gavin squats down, patting its head. Then, he points at me.

Gavin: This is Big Sis MC. Say hello to her.

MC: Nice to meet you, Bean Bun~

I bend down. When Bean Bun sees me, the affectionate energy disappears instantly, and it hides behind Gavin timidly.

MC: ...I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu. Why are these dogs only close to you?

I pout, my tone laced with envy. Gavin chuckles softly.

Gavin: It’s just a little afraid of strangers. Once it familiarises itself with you, it’d naturally stick to you.

Watching as Gavin carries the puppy up with ease, I can’t help but ask curiously.

MC: Do you come here often?

Gavin: I guess so. I often go on drives on the mountain, and got to know the boss here. I’d drop by occasionally to modify cars with him.

Gavin places Bean Bun down, then gives me a slight smile.

Gavin: That’s why I’m more familiar with this puppy.

After saying this, he gets up and drives the car into the shop. I scan my surroundings in curiosity.

All of a sudden, a few photographs on the horizontally striped wall draw my attention-

The photographs feature customers of the shop with their beloved cars. Stepping closer, I find one figure particularly familiar...

MC: !

MC: Gavin, your photo is here too!

Pleasantly surprised, I point at that photograph. The Gavin in the photograph is even more youthful than he is right now. He’s leaning against the car, his amber eyes filled with unruliness.

This isn’t the only photograph. Next to it, there are several photographs of Gavin checking or fixing cars. However, they appear to be candid shots.

There are occasionally photographs of him looking directly into the camera. His brows are always furrowed slightly, reluctance written all over his face.

Thinking of the reasons why he was forced to have such photos taken, I find myself bursting into laughter.

Gavin: Cough...

An unnatural cough drifts to my ears softly. Without realising it, Gavin has come over to stand behind me.

Gavin: I once learnt how to repair cars from this boss.

He follows my line of sight, sweeping a glance at the photographs while explaining.

Gavin: But he’s very strange. He didn’t ask for fees, but just wanted to take some photographs of me to stick on the wall of the shop... he said that his business would be better this way.

Hearing this, the smile on my face grows even wider.

MC: Looks like this boss has pretty good taste. He knows that he can’t let this dashing “model” slip by~ If only I had such photographs of you...

I say this enviously while scrutinising the photographs on the wall. Gavin stares at the photographs of the youthful version of himself, and seems to understand my words differently.

Gavin: “Such” photographs?

MC: Mm!

Gavin: You could take a few photos later.

In a nonchalant manner, Gavin shifts to stand in front of me, and just so happens to block my line of sight.

Gavin: Stop looking. My skills from back then are far different from what they’re like now.

He arches his brows slightly, taking my hand in his.

While looking at the person in front of me, I find myself laughing aloud. A sudden realisation strikes me.

MC: Wait. You mentioned “car repair skills”... So other than motorcycles, you can repair cars too?

My eyes widen in astonishment.

In these photographs, Gavin is always driving a car. Even though I already knew that he can modify and repair motorcycles, I never thought that four-wheeled vehicles were an easy feat for him too.

Probably due to my exaggerated expression and tone, Gavin chuckles.

Gavin: Why are you so surprised? I had an interest in it, so I tried learning a little. It isn’t anything serious. Although cars and motorcycles are two different types of vehicles, the principles behind repairing them are more or less the same.

Gavin says this calmly while retrieving spare parts for the replacement from a cupboard at the side. I support my chin with a hand, eyes focused on him.

MC: You seem to know everything.

Gavin: That’s an exaggeration. It’s just a hobby.

With a faint smile, he walks towards the car while carrying the tools. When he walks past me, he taps on my cap gently.

Gavin: It won’t take long. It’d be fixed really soon. You can sit at the side and take a break for now.

After saying this, Gavin rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his contoured arm as he uses the tools seriously.

I watch on fixedly, realising that I rarely see this version of him. As such, I smile while shaking my head, moving a chair over and sitting down next to him.

MC: I just want to stay here. This is the first time I’m watching you repair a car for real. I want to protect this best observation spot~

Gavin chuckles softly, and doesn’t insist otherwise.

In the next second, something seems to occur to him. He stops in the midst of opening the hood of the car, then casts a glance at me.

MC: Hm? What’s wrong?

The corners of his lips hook upwards slightly, a gentle light overflowing in his eyes.

Gavin: Erm, MC. Could you help me out?

Hearing Gavin’s suggestion, I nod hurriedly.

MC: Of course I can. How can I help?

Gavin tilts his head crookedly and ponders over this.

Gavin: Could you hand me tools?

MC: Only handing you tools...?

Seeing that I’m slightly disappointed in this task which doesn’t require much skill, Gavin smiles as he grabs a clean apron from the rack and ties it on me.

Gavin: It’s inevitable to get grease on you when repairing cars. You’re dressed really nicely today, so don’t get yourself dirty.

The sudden closeness in proximity causes me to soften my breathing. I cooperate by lifting my hands, then sneak a peek at Gavin from my peripheral vision.

His eyes are lowered, and his expression is serious as he ties the ribbon of the apron into a knot. His warm breaths gently brush against my ear.

I blink and nod, my voice turning soft.

MC: Understood. In that case, I’ll be Officer Gavin’s little assistant today~

I say this with anticipation, and very soon grow accustomed to this new role.

While Gavin changes into his work clothes, I purchase two bottles of iced water from a nearby stall. After returning, the both of us take out the necessary spare parts and tools from a work cabinet.

Just as everything is going smoothly, a crisp sound drifts from the side, as though something has fallen to the ground.

Twisting our heads to look, we realise that Bean Bun, who had been drinking water obediently at the side earlier, has moved over to the car, pawing at the tools on the floor.

Gavin: A spare part probably fell underneath the car.

As though punishing it, Gavin rubs Bean Bun’s head. Then, he leans over to look below the car. He supports himself on the body of the car with one hand, attempting to reach for the spare part which rolled underneath the car.

Looking at his tall frame and the amount of effort he’s exerting, I can’t help but chuckle.

MC: I’ll do it.

Without waiting for Gavin’s response, I squat down, reaching out to feel underneath the car.

Gavin: ...do it slowly.

A large hand is lifted up, carefully protecting my head. 

After feeling around the darkness beneath the car, my fingertips suddenly bump into something icy cold. 

MC: Got it!

Seeing how happy I look, the corners of Gavin’s lips lift into a smile.

Gavin: Looks like having an ‘assistant’ around is much more convenient.

He takes the spare part from my hand.

Gavin: I’ll have to trouble you again later.

MC: Mm, leave it to me!

Gavin removes his cap. After using a hoisting jack to prop the car up, his movements are nimble as he burrows underneath the car.

In the meanwhile, I tidy up the tools that Bean Bun had messed up earlier. Occasionally, the crisp sound of clanking metal can be heard.

Bean Bun: Woof!

After a moment, I hear a sudden sound.

Turning my head over, I spot Bean Bun wagging its tail, running towards the car.

MC: Wait, Bean Bun!

Worried that it’d disturb Gavin while he’s repairing the car, I attempt to pick it up. However, Bean Bun manages to evade me nimbly again and again.

In the blink of an eye, it slips underneath the car. I hurriedly bend down, looking underneath.

MC: Bean Bun, come here...

My voice abruptly halts, and my line of sight is involuntarily drawn to the image before me-

Gavin is lying on the ground, his gaze focused as he makes replacements to the car.

His head is tilted upwards, revealing his sculpted lower jaw. A droplet of sweat slides off his face, plunging into the collar of his slightly open shirt.

Despite the grease and dirt on Gavin’s face, it does not minimise his dashing spirit at all.

Bean Bun: Woo...

Bean Bun’s bark returns me to my senses. It’s currently lying at the side, looking at Gavin a little pitifully. It’s as though it wants Gavin to play with it.

I wave at Bean Bun, pretending to look stern.

MC: Bean Bun, come here. I’ll give you delicious, delicious food!

Bean Bun: Woo woo...

Gavin: [laughs] It’s okay, he won’t disturb me.

Following the sound and looking over, I realise that Gavin had stopped his work at some point of time, and is currently looking at me with a shining gaze.

My face flushes, and I avert my eyes while using this opportunity to pick Bean Bun up, who is stuck to his side.

MC: Reporting to Officer Gavin - I’ve successfully kept this Little Rascal under control!

My dead seriousness tickles Gavin to laughter. He plays with Bean Bun while it’s in my arms.

Gavin: Mm, not bad. My assistant is indeed competent. 

After this, he continues with the work on hand, just that the smile at the corners of his lips curls at a greater angle than before.

Gavin: MC, stay here and talk to me.

MC: Mm, sure~

I blink, then retrieve a small electronic fan from my bag at the side. I point it towards Gavin, wanting him to feel a little more comfortable. 

Gavin: Come to think of it, do you know why I wanted to learn how to repair cars?

I look at him with curiosity, and Gavin continues.

Gavin: When driving, I’m the first person who can understand the overall situation of the car. To me, fixing the car myself is most convenient. Also, I can make detailed adjustments based on my own preferences. It takes a little more time, but the process is very interesting.

Gavin’s tone is gentle as he speaks, the corners of his lips lifting involuntarily.

Seeing the bright lights in his eyes, I feel a certain part of my heart being stirred.

MC: So that’s the reason why you like modifying and adding new coats of paint to vehicles? I know how that feels.

I nod while chuckling softly.

MC: Whenever I finished my handcrafts in the past, I’d draw all sorts of doodles on them... It was akin to leaving a mark belonging exclusively to me on the things that I liked.

I mumble to myself, not noticing that Gavin has paused in his movements. After a moment, he slides out smoothly from underneath the car.

Warm yellow sunlight lands on Gavin’s face, smoothening his sharp edges.

My heart stirs slightly. Supporting my hands on my kneecaps, I bend over to ask him a question.

MC: Are you done repairing it?

Beneath the mottled light, Gavin lifts his eyes to look at me, arching his brows.

Gavin: Not yet. There’s still the final step. I’ll need your help.

He pulls me over to him. Amid the hot and dry air in the surroundings, Gavin’s scent and the smell of engine oil blend together.

Gavin places a tool in my hand. Together, we screw the spare part I had picked up earlier.

Gavin: Done.

His scorching breaths land on the nape of my neck. I turn my head, watching as a large patch of sunlight spills on Gavin’s back.

Scattered dust floats in the air, reminiscent of mayflies as they land on the car, which has already been covered with a layer of dust.

The person in front of me has a bright and clear smile which is even more dazzling than sunlight. I blink gently, tugging on Gavin’s hand and swinging it to and fro.

MC: Gavin, there’s something else I might be able to help you with.

-

“Splash...”

I retrieve a towel from the pail, leaning over and meticulously wiping the car which has already been rinsed once.

In the next moment, Gavin stands behind me, grabbing my hand.

Gavin: It’s best to start from the roof of the car. That way, we wouldn’t have to wipe and wash it again. Like this.

MC: Mm...

I cooperate, standing on my tiptoes. Due to our difference in height, I find it a little strenuous.

Gavin: [laughs] Let me do it.

While saying this, Gavin takes the towel from my hand.

I nod and turn around. Only then do I realise that we’re only a finger away from each other.

Stray hairs on his forehead sweep against the tip of my nose, and I can see each one of his eyelashes distinctly.

Warmth climbs up my cheeks gradually. Just as I plan to slip out of this tiny space, my wrist is suddenly tugged on. 

MC: A-aren’t you washing the roof of the car...

Lifting my head, I see an imperceptible smile flashing past his eyes.

Gavin: Before washing it, I have to ask for a “reward” from my little assistant.

After saying this, he leans down, cupping a hand against my ear.

Then, he leaves a gentle kiss on my lips.

I hold my breath. The only thing I can feel is my slightly increased heart rate.

-

On this scorching summer afternoon, the whirring fan moves continuously, and the sunlight along the horizon turns from a dazzling gold into a warm yellow.

Without even realising it, we’ve already wiped off all the soap bubbles on the car, and the body of the car is as shiny as the surface of a mirror.

MC: Done! Is Officer Gavin satisfied with this little assistant’s performance?

I turn my head towards Gavin excitedly. When I see the white soap bubbles on his face, I laugh aloud.

Gavin: What is it?

Under Gavin’s confused gaze, I turn the sprinkler to the lowest level, then head over to Gavin.

MC: Don’t move.

I dab some water on my hand, wanting to brush off the soap bubbles on his face.

MC: Gavin, squat down a little.

Gavin: Mm, okay.

Gavin nods in understanding. Following my instructions, he bends down. In an instant, his sculpted face draws close to me.

Beneath the gem-like and dazzling sunlight, the beads of sweat on his skin reflect light, causing me to be slightly engrossed in the sight.

I brush off the soap bubbles on his face gently. A damp yet soft sensation drifts from my fingertips. Gavin’s eyelashes quiver slightly at the touch.

Gavin: ...are you done?

I turn my head, realising that the tips of Gavin’s ears have turned an unnatural red.

MC: ...nope. There’s still a little bit on your nose.

Suppressing my laughter, I continue caressing his outline, deliberately leaning in closer.

Gavin’s breathing seems to become heavier. His eyelashes quiver slightly, before his eyes open right in front of me.

Gavin: [breathing noises] ...

Our breaths mingle with the heat waves of midsummer, and our eyes reflect each other’s faces clearly.

After a short while, Gavin seems to react. His lips move, as though he’s about to say something. However, two crisp barks interrupt him.

Bean Bun: Woof! Woof!

Bean Bun, who has been neglected by us, releases unhappy sounds of protest. It hops up continuously, pawing against Gavin’s leg.

MC: Sorry sorry, we seem to keep forgetting you today.

Lowering my head, I pat Bean Bun’s head.

Gavin: [sighs] ...

As though not wanting my attention to continue getting diverted by the puppy, Gavin suddenly carries me in one swoop, placing me on the car as he looks directly at me.

Gavin: I haven’t answered your question from earlier.

MC: Huh?

Gavin leans in close. I have a clear view of the smile overflowing in his amber eyes...

Gavin: I’m very satisfied with the “little assistant’s” performance today.

The faint scent of sweat and the fragrance of soap meld into my breaths. Only after listening to him do I recall the question which was interrupted earlier.

Despite the smile surfacing on my face, I pretend to be dissatisfied while speaking.

MC: Is that all? Officer Gavin’s assessment seems a little superficial.

Gavin laughs. He lowers his head to nuzzle the tip of my nose while he continues.

Gavin: This is how satisfied I am.

After a long while, he draws away from me slightly. With an upward tilt of his lips, he reaches out to leave white soap bubbles on the tip of my nose.

Gavin: [laughs] ...there you go. Now, the both of us have soap bubbles on our faces.

Watching as the smile deepens on his lips, I’m in a daze for a few seconds. Then, I recall how I had toyed with him earlier.

MC: Gavin, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?

Gavin: Mm, this is a counterattack.

Gavin admits it with ease.

MC: I didn’t expect Officer Gavin to launch such a childish counterattack.

I can’t help but laugh. Gavin looks at me, happy warmth reflecting in his clean and clear eyes.

He lowers his head, leaning his forehead against mine affectionately.

Gavin: MC, what you said earlier was very accurate. When there’s something I like, I’d want to leave my exclusive mark on it.

With his gaze, Gavin traces the contours of my face. Along with the warm breeze, his tender words land in my ears clearly.

Gavin: Which is why, over here...

He tilts my chin upwards gently, his voice softening.

Gavin: Let me leave a mark.

The scent belonging exclusively to Gavin wafts over. A soft sensation seals my lips shut.

MC: Mm...

Without giving me any time to react, Gavin rolls my breaths in between my lips and teeth in an overbearing manner.

The sound of disordered breaths dissipate at my ears. I support myself weakly on Gavin’s arms, feeling as though the temperature of my surroundings is rising.

After an unknown period of time, Gavin releases his hold on me. His arms remain tightly wrapped around my waist.

I pant slightly, allowing my breathing to regain some composure. As though I’m unwilling to admit defeat, I lean over towards him, giving him a light peck on his chin.

MC: ...Gavin, me too.

I stare at Gavin, my fingers caressing his outline before sliding down slowly, stopping at his chest.

MC: On you and your heart... I want to leave even more marks belonging exclusively to me.

The light in Gavin’s eyes stir for a moment. Then, he brushes aside the hairs on my face, pressing his lips to my forehead.

Gavin: MC.

I hear him calling my name.

Gavin: Actually, you already did that since a very long time ago. You did it effortlessly.

Reminiscent of a gust of summer breeze, his voice brushes my heart, filling it with a sweet emotion.

I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the mingling of our interlaced breaths as they melt into the rapidly increasing temperature of the surroundings...

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: I want to learn how to ride a motorcycle from Officer Gavin!

Gavin: Sure. MC’s private lessons will begin next week.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

-

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: Can we drive down different routes next time?

Gavin: Sure. Until you have your heart’s content.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

-

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: Sparky: I’ve fallen out of favour.jpg

Gavin: It’s okay, I’ll coax it when we get back.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

💧 Phone calls: First l Second

💧 Translated comic based on this date: here

💧 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[spvce-cowboy]

the hero’s shoulders

ch. 5 of i’ll be here in the morning (the mandalorian x f!reader)

previous- ch. 4: “songbird” 

next- ch. 6: “two suns”

rating: explicit

6.2k words

warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, oral sex f-receiving, unprotected PIV sex (don’t do that!!!), cum eating, slight choking, very soft, then rough, then soft again, both parties are not good at communicating

a/n: i feel so incredibly grateful for all the responses i’ve been seeing from you all--thank you all for being patient & i hope you enjoy !! chapter title inspired by “snow and dirty rain” by richard siken.

**

“Din.” The word sounds fresh and light coming off your tongue. And there it is, hanging between the two of you, his name. There’s a flurry of movement in the pit of your stomach. You take a breath and push forward. “Din Djarin, I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

His hand quickly lowers to brace over the back of your neck again. He traces the corner of your jaw with his thumb. The song on the radio continues its lament of promises, the female vocalist releasing a breathy devotion that fills the space of the hull.

“I’ve,” he clears his throat. You’ve been around him long enough to recognize he does that when he’s nervous. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Is it against the rules?” You try to hide your surprise with a question, grateful for his hand still pressed against your skin. His need to still touch you, despite the topic, feels like a small reassurance.  

“No, no it isn’t. Technically.”

“Okay,” the word leaves you quietly. At a loss for what to do after that, you stay exactly where you are, face tilted up towards his, lips slightly parted.

And then there are lips pressing against yours. Warm and hesitant at first, but when you begin to kiss him back—a part of you so shocked and thrilled you can barely process that it’s happening holy shit it’s happening—they quickly move against your own with a fervor unlike anything you’d ever been lucky enough to experience.

You break away, catching your breath. “Mando—I—Din, can I—your hair?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, impatiently leaning back down to capture your mouth against his once more. Your fingers eagerly tangle in his hair as his arms seal back around your body to crush you against his chest. It’s longer than you expected, slightly tangled with dried sweat but soft. You catch the edge of his bottom lip with your teeth, tugging at it in a small taunt. Din growls something low in his throat, pulling you impossibly closer.

He follows your lead, ever the good student, pressing his tongue into your mouth, tasting you before pulling back and coyly retracing your lips with his own. He’s far better at teasing than you are. Maybe his restraint shouldn’t come as a surprise, but you want him. You’ve chased enough, held back enough. You feel him smile against you, sensing your frustration.

The kiss eventually eases into something slow. Languid. You take your time with each other, until your breathing slows, until it no longer feels like your chest is about to burst.

Din pulls back, holding the back of your neck again as he curves to roll his forehead against yours in a lazy nuzzle. “Need you,” it’s a hoarse whisper. He audibly swallows, just the tips of his fingers tracing the edge where the makeshift blindfold meets the skin of your cheek. “Pel kar’ta. I’ve—” he cuts himself off, unable to continue for a reason you don’t know. “Please.”

You nod without hesitation. Then there is a hand against your ass, the other reaching for the back of your good knee. Once he gets the proper grip, Din lifts you up so your belly presses against his chest. Your squeak of surprise quickly transforms into a giggle as Din kisses you again, your legs immediately wrapping around his torso. You lock your ankles together to keep yourself in place.

Din is now the one to tilt his head back for you, holding you up with both arms as he carefully walks forward. You don’t think you’ve ever been in a situation where you’re the one looking down. It fills you with a feeling of power you aren’t expecting, snaking one of your hands over the crown of his head to grab a fistful of his hair and pulling, pulling his face back even further to deepen the kiss.

He only breaks from you when he stops walking, pressing two more kisses against the length of your neck before loosening his grip slightly. Taking the hint, you unwrap your legs from around his waist and allow him to ease you back onto the floor.

You blindly reach out a hand, trying to figure out where he’s carried you. He takes it, gently tugging you forward.

“In here,” he says. “Watch your step.”

It’s his quarters, you can tell by the smell of it alone. Sweat and musk and leather. The oil he uses to care for his armor. In all your months on board, you had only ever set foot inside his bunk to give him the new blanket you bought him. Besides that, all you’d seen of the room was captured in stolen glances when the he left the door cracked open.

His room held the same lingering objectivity of seeing his facial razors in the bathroom, a quiet reminder that he isn’t just a figure from some fearsome legend. Wasn’t just metal and blaster residue. There was something impossibly soft under it all. Defiantly human.

And now you were here. Now he has led you here.

Just the feeling of his hand holding yours in this space, in his space, felt like a new kind of intimacy. Like you were being invited into something with a depth you could not possibly understand. Where your feet would never touch the ground.

Was it all coming a bit fast? Yes. Were you worried about that? Also yes. But then his hands are snaking around your waist again and you couldn’t possibly care less. You fist your hands into the front of his shirt, bringing him back down to you.

His hands continue their drift over your body. You don’t dare interrupt his exploration, savoring the feeling of his skin against yours. Smoothing his hands over the sides of your torso, he slips his fingers under your shirt, pushing the worn fabric up to dance the tips of his fingers over your stomach. They continue up, over your ribs, just barely grazing your skin.

You think he’s teasing you, playing coy, until he breaks your kiss to rest his forehead against yours. His breathing his hard, slightly pained. It feels like he’s reining something in, trying to talk himself down while tracing looping circles over the skin of your lower ribs.

“We can stop if you need to take it slow,” your eyebrows knit together, the movement only partially visible with the swath of fabric covering your eyes.

“No,” Din nuzzles his forehead against yours. “No I just…”

“You can touch me however you want,” your voice is low, a hoarse whisper. “I’m not fragile. You don’t have to worry about me.”

And he grabs you, crushing your body against his again, palms flat over the length of your bare back. It feels completely different without the barrier of fabric between the two of you. You sink into him again, gladly, as his hands slide down your body again, firm and assured this time. He pushes the waistband of your sleep shorts down a fraction of an inch, definitely teasing you this time.

His fingers trace the lines of the underwear you’re wearing. “What’s is this?”

“Oh, it’s… it’s the only undergarment that worked with the dress Febhana leant me. There would be,” suddenly his lips are scraping against your neck and you let out an unintentional sigh, head lolling back to give him better access. The next words are difficult to muster, “oh… lines in the fabric, otherwise. Something about…” you give a moan as he nips at your ear. The feeling of his hands sliding against your bare hips alone is enough to render you unintelligible.

And then he retreats. In the moment, it’s a loss so great you can’t help but give a quiet whimper. His mouth seals over yours, briefly, in assurance.

“Give me a second, pel kar’ta,” his voice is all gravel and honey. Dark liquor and the warmth of a hearth.

You nod, licking yours lips and keeping your back against the wall of the room. You hear him leave the quarters then return, the rustle of fabric tells you he’s doing something with the bunk.

You play with the edge of your nightshirt as you wait for him to finish adjusting the bed, grateful for the blindfold in concealing at least a little bit of the shyness you are certain is plainly evident, regardless if he could see your eyes or not. You try to say your next words as casually as possible, too curious not to ask. “Have you done this before?”

He pauses whatever he’s trying to fix. “What?”

“I just, um… since I was your first kiss I thought maybe…”

The gorgeous sound of his laugh almost makes up for the heat of embarrassment that has quickly spread from your face to your chest. The sound of it is small, but it’s something totally relaxed. You can picture him shaking his head in that amused way he does when his helm is on.

You feel his hands slide around your waist, pulling you against him again in order to steal another kiss, despite the fact that his chest is still shaking slightly with amusement. You eventually can’t help but laugh against his mouth too.

“I’ve… you don’t have to worry about that, gentle girl,” he murmurs. You feel his fingers brushing alongside your cheek. There’s a low growl to his voice that gives a definitive answer to your original question. The dull pulse at your center quickly turns into an indescribable ache.

Din picks you up again, effortlessly placing you back on the edge of his bunk. You immediately recognize the blanket beneath you as one of your own. Your chest fills with a warmth when you realize how he is trying to make you as comfortable as possible. It was one of many small intimacies you would have never expected from the bounty hunter when you first found him.

Up on the bunk like this, the two of you are eye level. You wrap your legs back around him, kissing his neck as you pull his shirt up. He takes the hint, leaning away slightly to pull it off. You’ve stitched up enough of his cuts and bruises to know the territory well—you basically had it memorized at this point—but you’ve never had opportunity to take your time with it.

Your thumbs explore the lines of his abdomen, the light trail of hair leading down...

And oh.

Like, you had a feeling it would. There’s something about the domineering attitude of him in his suit that just radiates a kind of confidence of someone who does. But oh.

You palm the rigid length of him through his pants, gasping into his open mouth when he starts to lift your shirt, the pads of his thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts. You quickly pull away to take it off, tossing it to the ground and reaching out to pull him back to you. He stops you with a hand at your bicep. You lower your arms slowly.

Taking the hint, you rest your hands on the mattress behind you, biting your lip as you let him look at you. Swallowing, you try to calm your breathing so your chest doesn’t move so rapidly with each inhale. It doesn’t work.

“Maker,” he breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” His hands cup your waist as he presses his lips to your shoulder, his next words barely a whisper against your skin. “I’ve waited so long to tell you that.”

And he’s kissing your neck again, the scrape of his unshaven face against your pulse is enough for your eyes to roll back into your skull, a tingling feeling running through the column of your spine.

You grab the back of his head again, forcing his lips back to yours as you recline onto the bed behind you. He follows your lead, smoothly climbing onto the bunk to cover you with his body. The feeling of his bare chest pressed against you is at once grounding and surreal. It lasts for a fleeting moment, until his lips break from yours and begin to retrace what they had started not moments earlier, licking against the pulse in your neck, a gentle nip at the curve of your clavicle, another wet kiss where your heart is beating, all too fast, in your chest.

When his mouth envelopes your nipple, your back arches off the mattress with a gasp. He slides his tongue over its sharp peak, lazily sucking it before moving onto the other.

By the time Din has traced his patient trail down the length of your body, you’re literally panting, lifting your pelvis in desperate search for his hips—for something, anything, to move against. You feel him shift back, his fingers resting on the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“Is this okay?” There’s a tinge of a warbling weakness to his voice. Like his slow process was just as taxing on him as it was for you. As if, asshole.

“Please, Din,” you’re so wound up you don’t even care that your words come out as an unabashed whine. His hands quickly remove the last pieces of clothing off your body, both the shorts and your underwear being rolled down your legs and thrown to the floor with a soft thump. He pauses for a moment, there. Now understanding his process, you let him.

Breathing just as hard as you are, Din fits the curve of his palm to the back of your good knee, pressing another kiss to your calf as he gently bends your knee towards your torso. The stretch of it only adds to the pulsing ache at your center, and you readily mirror his motion with your other leg. He kisses, licks, and nips his way up the length of your leg.

You’re genuinely shaking by the time you feel his lips against the soft space between your inner thigh and your cunt. He laps the skin of that small space as he guides both your legs to hook over his shoulders.

Desperate for contact, you try to shift your pelvis to find his mouth yourself. Din’s hands seal over the backs of your thighs, keeping them spread and immobile. You make a whimpering sound you can’t control. He might have just given a small smile against you. You couldn’t possibly process it if he did.

Din presses the tip of his tongue at your entrance, dragging it over the length of your slit in one fluid motion. To describe what you see behind your eyelids as sparks wouldn’t even begin to capture it. You’re practically incoherent, hands fisted in his hair, using your legs to press down on his back in order to beg him to continue.

Circling your clit with the flat of his tongue, he uses the tips of his fingers to tease your entrance, gathering your wetness at an agonizingly slow pace.

You press your cheek into the pillow—it’s one of yours, some far, detached part of your brain vaguely recognizes, the fabric soft and familiar against your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you give another moan, the barely coherent plead of “please, Din, please” leaving your lips without thought.

And he pushes a finger into you, first one and then two. Both are slightly hooked, dragging a devastatingly line of pure pleasure onto your inner wall. The sound it makes is so obscene you nearly come from that alone. The gasp you give is nearly a sob, grinding your cunt against his face to urge him to keep going.

Din fucks his fingers into you as his tongue increases its pace. For seconds or minutes you have no idea, it feels like you’d lost control of the ability to speak hours ago. Without warning, something deep in your stomach pulls painfully tight.

You’re barely able to recognize what’s about to happen before your orgasm snaps through your body. You can’t muffle the strangled sound that leaves you, reflexively trying to close your legs as you ride through it. He keeps them pressed open with both hands, gently lapping at your clit as you shake with what feels like your own muscles twisting around themselves.

He expertly draws the orgasm out, keeping the rhythm of his fingers and his tongue at a steady pace. You’re practically a puddle by the time the last pulses of it go through you, his tongue working at your raw bundle of nerves until you flinch away with a whimper. Din pulls away, gently kissing your inner thigh as he eases your legs back down.

Still panting, you impatiently pull him back up to you, shaky hands messily working to push his pants down. He pulls away for a fraction of a second to pull them off for you, then plants a forearm beside your head so he can hover over you again.

Your hand almost goes to cradle his face but you catch yourself before you can, quickly pushing it back through his hair to push his face back down to you. You take your time, tasting the wetness still coating his chin, dragging your teeth over his bottom lip before resuming the kiss. The moan he gives into your mouth is electric. A flock of birds takes flight in the confines of your ribcage.

Feeling down the length of his body, your fingertips trace over his collection of scars. You relearn him through touch alone, relishing in the poorly muffled moan he gives when you rediscover the trail of hair below his bellybutton. 

You take his cock in your hand, jerking it off slowly as you adjust your hips to bring him closer to your pussy. It’s messy and impatient, but Din still stutters something unintelligible as you rub the tip of him up the length of your entrance.

“Is this…” he’s breathing so hard it sounds like he’s in physical pain. “Ngh, fuck you’re so wet.”

“Fuck me,” you breath into his ear, hooking your legs around him in order to urge his hips to forward.

He presses his nose into the crook of your neck, easing himself into you as soon as the words leave your mouth. You inhale sharply, relaxing into the near-painful stretch of him inside you. You think you might be cursing, or pleading, it feels too good to keep track of what’s leaving your mouth.

Din steadily increases his pace the longer he’s inside you, every stroke chipping away at some resolve he was attempting to maintain. He seals a hand over the back of your thigh, pressing your leg back to reach somewhere deep inside you. This combined with the small sounds he makes as he fucks you—the sharp inhales, the restrained grunt of an exhale that eventually follows each one—are enough to have another pulsing wave of desire roll through you.

“Harder,” you’re able to gasp before his mouth is slamming against yours again.

Without warning, he flips you onto your stomach. You barely have time to prop yourself up on your knees before he’s snapping his hips back into you, one hand gripping your hip so tightly you think it might bruise, the other reaching around to rub your over-stimulated clit.

“Maker I—Din,” you’re incoherent, eyes in the back of your skull as his hand releases your hip to snake around your throat, forcing you to crane your head back towards him. Din’s teeth dig into the exposed, tender skin of your neck as he continues his ruthless attack on your clit. The rhythm of his cock pushing into you is unceasing, despite the way he’s twisted your body to accommodate his. You take it.

“Good girl,” he growls in your ear. The praise is taught with desire, razor-sharp. “Such a… fuck—such a good girl. Look so pretty with my cock in you. T—take it so well—”

You come a second time, unable to contain the ragged cry that leaves your already exhausted body. This one picks you up and slams you back down again, hard and fast and unexpected. Din releases his hand from your throat when the height of your orgasm passes. You’re barely able to hold yourself up by your forearms as his hips press into you for a few more hard strokes.

Din pulls out, one hand tightly gripping your hip and the other jerking himself off with your slick. With a low moan, you feel his come spray over your back.

For a moment, there’s only the ragged sound of your joined panting. Din stays kneeling behind you like that for a second. You feel his come begin a slow drip down the concave arch of your spine. And then his tongue, warm and wet, presses against the small of your back, lapping at the length of it. Cleaning you off.

Finishing the job, he collapses against you, forehead rested against the back of your shoulder that’s beginning to ache again.

“Was…” he clears his throat, breathing fast. “Was that okay?”

It was probably the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced and you’re so wrung out you can’t muster anything but a breathy, I can’t believe that just happened, laugh.

“Yeah, Din,” you huff through your giggle. You’re able to reach your arm back to give his thigh a reassuring pat with your bandaged hand. “I’d say a little more than just okay.”

Din joins you in exhausted laughter, kissing your shoulder to stifle the jerk of his chest before easing onto his back on the mattress beside you. You gladly collapse onto your stomach, head still shoved in the pillow below you.

You only rouse when his hand begins to run up and down your back, giving a little hum low in your throat. You turn your head to face him, closing your eyes under your blindfold out of an abundance of caution.

His hand lifts from your back and hesitantly—so, agonizingly hesitantly—brushes the pads of his fingertips against your cheek.

The motion is tiny and brief. But it quiets something within you—a sudden, sacred stillness that comes with an intimacy you’d never felt before. Your breathing goes low and shallow.

Din pulls his hand away, shifting up for a moment to pull one of the blankets he’d taken from your mattress around the two of you. You shift your body to face his as he does, resting your head on a bent arm. He gathers you back in his arms in order to press you tightly against his chest. It feels like a distraction. You readily play into it, even if it is. Especially if it is. You say the first thing that comes to mind, oddly desperate to fill the silence.

“Thank you for bringing this over,” you wiggle into the fabric he’s pulled around you.

“For someone who complains about how cold it is,” he says, propping his chin back at the top of your head. One of his fingernails traces a ticklish line where your hip meets your thigh. “You sure don’t wear a lot to bed, usually I mean.”

You grin against his chest, nipping his collarbone in joking reprimand. “I know you don’t do the whole ‘creature comforts’ thing, but being in a warm bed when it’s cold out is probably the best way to sleep. Highly recommend it.”

“I’ll have to give it a try, then,” he murmurs.

You nestle against, savoring the way his torso feels against yours. His hand continue to trail over your body as you settle, up and down the length of it. There’s something so innocent about the way he touches you, the soft nature of it, that’s hard to wrap your head around.

That isn’t to say he wasn’t gentle or kind. You knew he was more than capable of both of those things. He leads with kindness. That fact has become increasingly clear the longer you’ve been able to spend time with him. In any situation he can, he will. He’s just unafraid to correct that kindness whenever the recipient proves themselves unworthy. After that, Maker help them.

What you really mean is that his ability to be this gentle remains jarring in terms of where he comes from. What it has taken for him to get here, in this moment, with you. All that bloodshed and loss. When you start to consider that, his capacity for compassion becomes a marvel in its own right.

It’s the first time you’ve really noticed that, or at least thought the whole thing through. There’s the feeling as if something was opening somewhere in your chest. You gladly settle into it, relaxing your body fully as your eyes drift shut.

Din inhales deeply before speaking, voice low but casual.

“I saw your project, in the cockpit.” Your body is fitted so tightly to his that the low tenor of his voice reverberates through your chest. You can’t help but sink into the sound of it, an embarrassed smile inching its way up your lips. “You had one like it, at Am’ile’s, right?”

“Yeah,” you wrinkle your nose, stifling a yawn. It seems silly now. “It was something we would do at home. It’s like… a house warming gift, where I grew up. They’re supposed to be given to you but I made my own.”

“Have you ever considered going back?”

The question is so unexpected you half think you’ve misheard him. It pushes off the heavy droop to your eyelids a few moments longer, too intrigued not to stay awake longer. “Huh?”

“Have you ever considered going back, to your home planet?”

“I haven’t… really given it much thought,” you confess. “Honestly never really wanted to. I’m lucky enough that I don’t remember being captured, so it’s not like I have any real reason to be avoiding it. With my parents gone I just... I don’t want to accidentally ruin what little memories I have by chasing after them like that.”

“What do you remember?” As he asks, you feel his fingers trace the shell of your ear. There’s something relaxed about the way he questions you, slightly out of character with the ease in which he continues conversation. Maybe you’re only attuned to it now considering the circumstances. You decide that you like this version of him, whatever that implies.

You tilt your head up from where you’ve laid in on his chest, as if to look up at him. With the blindfold, it’s more of an act of presentation.

“You don’t have to say,” he clarifies, rubbing your earlobe between his thumb and index finger. “I just like the way you describe things.”

“How’s that?” You ask earnestly.

Din thinks for a moment, toying with your ear as he does so. “When you describe things you do it like you’re trying to get whoever you’re talking to right there in the memory with you. It’s generous.”

Your brow furrows. You think that might have been the best compliment anyone has ever given you, and you’re not exactly sure what to do with that fact.

So you tell him what you remember: the cold nights by the fire, trees so thick with moss and fog that the forest would remain a hazy, dull green color throughout the winter months. There were summer festivals, where your mother would braid your hair with long lengths of ribbons. You and the other kids would make a point to try and jump in the lake with all your traditional clothes on in retaliation for having to dress up in the first place. Your father’s joy was always something loud and boisterous enough to fill an entire room. You had long forgotten your mother’s face, but you knew she was beautiful.

Din’s breathing pattern changes slightly once those words leave your mouth. You can’t exactly determine from what, but you shift your stories away from your family after that.

You tell him how you think you needed your time with Am’ile because you understood her desire to retreat from it all. Her cabin reminded you of the one where you were raised, but there, with her, you were your own person. Living with her was a homecoming in its own right, you think.

A part of you knows that’s why you sought her out after escaping. You were arrested by Republic officers--for good reason, you clarified when Din bristles protectively at the idea of you in cuffs. You’d been caught as a stowaway, caked in blood that clearly wasn’t yours so they obviously weren’t going to hear you out until they got you under control. They took you to a med-bay after you were able to tell them what happened.

One of the officers mentioned serving with a Bardottan woman as they interviewed you. He told you how she’d made a name for herself helping those like you. How she now lived a solitary life in the mountains of some remote planet when it got to be too much.

You think he told you that to give you solace in the fact that there was still a life, even after being reduced to what you were reduced to: a shaking mess sitting on a hospital bed, barely able to stutter out a name for yourself, let alone any details of what happened. It was hard to imagine anything beyond the next few seconds, back then. But something in your brain locked onto that story. The promised hope in his voice.

When that soldier came by again to fill out more paperwork, you pressed him more about the healer he told you about. He looked at you strangely, but gave you the information you needed to begin your search for her. You escaped the hospital that night and left, hidden in the cargo of a ship, by that morning.

When you finish, there’s a few moments where you just match your breath to his, unwilling to fill the silence. You’ve never said it all out loud before. Din had stayed quiet the whole time, expect for the occasional squeeze of your shoulder when you plowed through the messier details.

Then, there are two fingers pressed to the underside of your chin, tilting your head upwards towards him. He kisses you, long and slow. It feels like he was thanking you, but it’s too weighted of a feeling for it to be just for the stories alone. You accept it, graciously, regardless.

And there’s a rapid sound of beeping coming from somewhere within the Crest. Din gives a frustrated grunt, pulling away.

“Sorry. Give me a second, we’re almost at Nevarro,” he speaks as he disentangles himself from you. You quickly wrap yourself up in blankets before the cold air of the cabin has the chance to reach you. There’s the soft sound of his bare feet hitting the ground, a pause while he dresses before opening the door and disappearing into the hull.

You dose until you feel the Crest rumble in descent, the ship jerking sharply once landed. A few minutes later, you hear Din enter the room again, sliding the door shut.  

“Is the kid still asleep?” You speak through your yawn, propping yourself up on your forearm. You hear him drop something that sounds like fabric.

“Out cold. Febhana must have spiked his dinner with something,” he sighs with relief as he settles back beside you, naked. You giggle as you open the blankets for him, to which his face immediately presses into your neck. He scoops you up again, settling your chest against his again.

You take a deep breath before you open your mouth to ask what you know you have to. For some reason you think you’re going to need it.

“Din?”

“Hm?”

“What’s next?”

“Drop the quarries off. Hide out somewhere remote for a bit. Karga might give me more fobs but I’m positive he’ll send us somewhere remote. Wait this out a bit.”

“I um… Didn’t mean in that way. I uh—I mean, what happens now…” you gesture at your entwinned naked bodies. “You know.”

The truth of the matter is that you don’t think you’d be able to keep this casual. You care about him and the kid too much to be able to corner this off as a meaningless fling in your head.

And that’s fucking terrifying. Genuinely fucking terrifying.

You feel him swallow. Something in the air shifts. You brace yourself.

“Could we talk about this in the morning?” He’s using his normal voice. You hadn’t realized the tone switch before, but now—contrasted against the gentle hum of his tone just seconds earlier—it’s jarring. Enough for you to physically stiffen.

“I’d like to get an overview,” you keep it short, steely.

Din waits for a long time before speaking again.

“I’m still figuring that part out,” he finally says. “Things were simpler, before the Mando’ade scattered. Before my covert was destroyed. So I don’t know, anymore. I really don’t.” He swallows. You feel it against your temple. “This life, the dedications that come with… with our faith, there’s so many ways you could be hurt--along with the danger you would be put in, if those I associate knew about you. About this. None of it affords room for relationships in the traditional sense. Not anymore.”

You take three deep breaths. You know because you count them, it’s the only thing that keeps you from screaming or weeping or both.

“Would have appreciated that little speech beforehand,” you do your best to keep your voice even, but it warbles slightly on your last word. You sit up to distract from the fact, clutching the blanket to your chest, suddenly mortified by your nakedness. To think you’d just spent the past… however long, giving him some longwinded story when all he wanted was to get his dick wet. Maker, that’s embarrassing.

“I’m sorry—hey! Hey, darling, I’m sorry,” his hand slides over where yours has made a fist in the bedsheets, you snatch it away. He has the balls to keep running his mouth. “I’m just as at a loss for what to do as you are. It happened. We can… we can figure something out. Deal with it later. Please.”      

“Bold of you to call me darling and say some shit like that in the same breath,” you snatch your hand away. You deflect hurt with anger--it was the safest thing to do. The easiest. The most familiar. It hasn’t failed you once. Not once. “Don’t you dare try to sweet-talk me right now, asshole. It’s cheap and something you would never call me and you know that.”

He starts to say something. You ignore him, pushing yourself away from his body and sitting on the edge of the bunk. Your spine curves with exhaustion as you try to will away the tears burning at the corners of your eyes, grateful for the blindfold that wipes them away as soon as they appear.

“Stars,” you scoff. You do a good job keeping the warble out of your voice this time. “You corrected that nursery worker when she mistook you for the kid’s father. Couldn’t even manage that when he’s your damn foundling. Why should I be surprised.”

He’s quiet. Because of course he fucking is.

“You know,” you’re babbling. You know you’re just talking to fill the silence but you can’t help it. “I wouldn’t have asked if—I… You don’t… Maker, you shouldn’t have been so kind if you…”

“Pel kar’ta.” His voice goes gravelly in a way you can’t place. You turn your head slightly as he runs his knuckles down the length of your spine. “Please don’t leave.”

“I—” the fire within you is extinguished almost as quickly as it appeared. You’re so tired. “Mando, I don’t want this to get complicated either, I just don’t think I should...”

“Don’t call me that anymore. Not when it’s only us.” You flinch with how sharply he corrects you. He seems to register your surprise, his next words more soft. If you didn’t know any better you’d say pleading. “Know that I care for you, deeply. Don’t ever think otherwise. I’m only trying to do what’s best.”

You pause, taking a few deep breaths. You know it would be best to just walk away, curl up in your own bed to lick your wounds. Yet, against all rational judgement, all you want is him. The raw comfort of his body against yours. His distinct kindness, though conditional.

His voice again. It’s a supplication, low and taut with some withheld emotion.

“Just… just this one time, stay. Please.”

Collapsing back into him is one of the easiest things you’ve ever done. Din seals both arms around you, pressing you so tightly against him that the pressure is almost uncomfortable. You bury your head back into the side of his jaw, breathing him in. If it were even possible, he curves further into you, a hand threaded through the hair at the back of your skull keeping your face against him. When you breathe, it feels like a shared act.

Closing your eyes, you’re met with a dreamless sleep.

**

taglist: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @walkingthegrounds @roseallisonparker @kaitlyn2907​ @dinsbeskar​ @mandoandyodito​ @kyjoraven​ @ineffableloveforyou​ @hotsforrob @pointy-sharp​ @ironbabey​ @mufflerfluffler​ @pedropascalownsmysoul​ @carbonite-cruncher​ @daddydjarinxx​

[lustbile-archive]

Want To Request a Song?

JohnnyxReader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary/Warning: the third installment of the club x series. Full on public sex and exhibitionism, knife/blood play, and can border on being degrading so read at your own risk. This is also the one best at explaining what tf is going on in club x

Apart of my Club X series: Masterlist

You knew what Club X was way before you even walked through its doors.

A friend of a friend let the details of the gritty part of town spill from her lips when you had gotten together to have drinks and trade gossip in the safety of her apartment. You were equally as guilty of letting your lips loosen from the alcohol swimming in your veins, and you let this girl you knew very little about in on your secret that it had been a while since you had last gotten any. An even longer time since anyone had made you properly come. Why you let her in on such intimate details about your sex life was a mystery, but the advice she shared in response didn’t hurt in the slightest.

“There’s this club you know,” she had said, in a tone that was meant to be a whisper but fell a little short. Her nails that were decorated in chipping polish brushed comfortingly across your shoulder as she wiggled her eyebrows at you, “i’ve only been a few times, but it’s where you need to go if you’re in a desperate need for a fucking.”

You giggled at her choice words, your eyes rolling in disbelief, “so a sex club hm? I don’t know about that.”

“No, no, no,” her words slurred as she returned your laughter, clearly pleased with your doubt, “it’s better than just a sex club. See, you go and it’s like the universe creates the exact person you need right when you walk in.”

“The universe hm?”

“Yeaaaahh. The universe…” her eyes squint as her thoughts drift off momentarily, “like you walk in and they just find you. They find you and it’s like they put this spell on you. It makes you so hot like instantly, and then you’re down to business right then and there.”

“Right then and there?!” you have to admit that you’re humoring her at this point, but you’re still a little scandalized at her words, “like in front of everyone?”

“No! No, no, no,” her hands wave in front of her face like she’s swatting at an invisible bug, “I mean yeah, but it’s like they can’t even see you.”

“What they just ignore the two people just having full on sex in the middle of a club?”

“Yeah, I mean unless you want to be seen,” she explains, her face screwing up in confusion when you don’t seem to understand what she’s saying, “Listen, I can’t explain it the way they do. There’s just something that these people can do that just takes away every worry you have. You’re just there and in the moment. It’s so great you’ll just have to go or you’ll never understand.”

You humor her and let her write the address down in your phone, smiling fondly when she keeps your phone a little longer to add vulgar emojis along side the information.

And for a while that was it. The address remained in your phone, forgotten as it got buried underneath grocery lists and reminders that made little to no sense out of context. All it took for you to finally pay the club a visit was one night.

You found yourself bored out of your mind and far too horny for your own good. You were too frustrated and pissed off at the world to give yourself the satisfaction of masturbating, so instead you just sat on your phone, cleaning out your photos and notepad when you stumbled on the address paired with its mess of emojis.

Without any further thought you were up, getting ready, and calling an uber to take you to the address provided by the bubbly drunk girl. You tried to ignore the wary and judgmental glare from the driver as you pulled up on an old warehouse that was decorated with blaring red neon lights that only read “Club X: Enter at Your Own Risk.”

To say that night was a fluke was an understatement. People approached you of course, but there was no magical hypnosis that you were promised, not that you were really expecting it to actually happen. There were cute people, but no one that cut at your core enough to dull your irritation at the world. Instead you sipped at a drink someone else had graciously paid for, ogled at the pretty man working the DJ booth surrounded by his friends, and then caught another uber home with the personal promise that that would be your first, and last visit to Club X.

Well you told yourself that at least.

It was only about a week later that you found yourself pulling out an outfit and opening your uber app. You chalked it up to needing a good drink, but there was a confused nagging in the back of your mind that told you that you had no good reason for actually returning.

With a different uber driver, but a similar glare, you found yourself back at the dingy club. You sat in the same seat as before, had a new pretty face order you the same drink, as you found your glance being pulled back to the same cute DJ.

You felt some shame finding him so cute. He seemed out of place in the club. Most people here were dressed in party clothes, while he wore neutral toned hoodies, and this time a hat turned backwards. His headphone only left his ears a handful of times so he could laugh and jeer with the men that surrounded him almost like permanent ornaments. Truthfully he was handsome as hell, but other than that what was there to stare at?

You left that night with that thought pulling at your mind, and you returned multiple times after with the same thought nagging you every time.

You were becoming a regular at the club, as embarrassing as it was. Even though you had yet to experience any wild sexual magic like you had been drunkenly promised, it was like the first night your drink was spiked with a magnet that pulled you towards the building almost every weekend at this point. You hadn’t told the girl that had given you the address, and you definitely didn’t tell any of your friends. You just didn’t want them to believe that you were developing an unhealthy dependency on alcohol, even though you would never even finish one glass. And maybe if you were getting shit faced, you would understand why you kept returning, but every time you’d leave so sober that you could convince someone you hadn’t drank at all.

The first few times, you scrambled for an explanation for why you couldn’t stay away, but you always feel short. It was as if your own body was keeping a secret from your mind. It was beginning to be muscle memory they way you’d get dressed and call for an uber every time.

And you’d think with how much time you’d spent at the crowded club, watching random strangers create masses of sexual energy, you’d had seen everything, but you stiffen in confusion when you see it.

A pretty girl hopped up to the dj booth, her wild hair bouncing along with her, as the girl she was making out with only moments before giggled and squirmed in her seat. The look the DJ wears is disinterested, but aware when she leans her hands down on his table to start spilling hiccuped words in his face.

You can only see her mouth moving at a rapid pace, the music and the distance between you making her words impossible to hear. Whatever she asked prompts a gentle nod from the man, and as she prances away he moves his fingers across the knobs and switches until a new song starts to spill out of the speakers tucked into various corners of the room.

Did she request a song change? The questions runs through your mind as your eyes trace her form, your eyes only darting away when she tackles the other girl and shoves her tongue into the space of her mouth.

You had never seen someone request a song from the man, the closest thing maybe being a jab to the back from one of his friends that was a consistent character as he casually suggested something. Realistically, requesting a certain song isn’t incredibly weird, but something about the knowledge that the tall broad man standing on the platform that placed him so highly above the other bodies in the room is actually approachable was frying the nerves in your brain.

A few songs come and go by the time you’re standing up, your legs feeling as if they’re moving on their own. You’re not sure at what point between learning that you were allowed to walk up to him and you actually starting to walk towards him that you decided that you needed to get close, but the time you’re regaining your consciousness, you’re climbing the small set of stairs leading up the stage.

He seems to notice your presence before you reach him, as while you're still a bit away, his head lifts to lock his eyes onto yours. The way he smiles at you makes you stop momentarily and hesitate, one corner of his lips rises higher than the other gives his face a less than good intentioned aura. Instead of making you falter and turn back to return to the drink you had abandoned at the bar, you feel your stomach warm and turn as you pick up your steps.

Your hips bump into the edge of the table as you lean your palms flat on the top, your nails gently digging into the material as you try to form a sentence in your head. Your tongue rolls against your teeth and your lips part before he’s looking down again, but interrupting you with his own words.

“It’s about time you came up here,” he adds a dry laugh when he hears the confused noise that jumps from your chest. He ignores the quiet ‘hm?’ you offer in response before he continues, “I mean I would have made a move first but I can’t really leave my station y’know?”

He shrugs as he returns his eyes to you, clearly entertained by your confusion. Your eyes dart around his face, momentarily moving to glance at the boys that are scattered behind him either holding their own conversations or watching you two in amusement. When you look at him, he looks expectant.

One of the boys jeers at him saying, ‘fuck off John, you know they don’t know what you’re talking about.’ And even though the comment only adds to your confusion, you can’t stop the way your body warms at the spike of embarrassment it puts in you, the man in front of you only responding to the remark by digging his tongue into the inside of his cheek in irritation.

“You came here looking for trouble didn’t you?” it takes you a beat to realize he’s asking you, another moment to realize the question is meant to be suggestive, and one last one to form a response.

“I think I might be,” you feel yourself dumbly nod, as your chest gets fuzzy. Maybe this is when you finally get to experience what that girl had promised so many weeks ago. Could the dj have been your person this whole time?

“Ah ah,” he shakes his head almost disappointedly, “I need a solid yes before I can give you what you need baby. You should know that much at least.”

“I- I mean, okay,” consent you understood, but the way he says it makes your brain swim in confusion. Why wouldn’t you say yes?

“Yes. I’m looking for trouble,” you say, your own confidence finally finding its way into your words, “I’m looking to cause trouble with you.”

The smile he wears is evil, and absolutely giddy with your return of energy. He takes a few steps back from the table and gestures to his side saying, “then please, enter my office.”

You feel a jolt of energy hit you, before you’re rounding the corner of the table. You only have a second to register the sharp pain of where your hip bumped into the corner, before he’s wrapping his large hand around the back of your neck and pulling you to press his mouth against yours.

His warm breath could have been considered an aphrodisiac in the way it fills your mouth and warms your core. His other hand wraps around your waist as he backs you into the table, his hands and lips so suddenly on you is overwhelming, but not enough to distract you from the way his friends begin to start oohing at the spectacle you two put on.

What had that girl said? No one can see you unless you want them to? With the handful of boys surrounding you, you can’t help but to doubt that you can just make yourself vanish from their prying eyes, but even if you could, would you want to? You feel warm in shame, as while his tongue dips behind your teeth and explore the space of your mouth, you start to feel excited at the idea of all his friends watching you get the relief you had been craving for so long.

The moment your subconscious decided you want the boys to see you in such a vulnerable state, one of them lets out a scandalized and excited yelp, before turning to another and exclaiming, “oh shit they want us to see them. Look at that.”

The boys attached to your mouth smiles as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, a warm laugh filling the air between you, “hmm so bad aren’t you? You like to be watched?”

You whine in response, as your hands move to claw at his soft t-shirt. Your hips jump and knock into his when his fingers start to grope and squeeze at your flesh. You’re acutely aware at the way he presses his leg between yours and uses his hand to make you start grinding on his thigh.

“How ‘bout you give them a real show and bend over nice a pretty for us,” it’s not a question, but a demand as he lifts you slightly away from the table, and turns you to push your torso down flat. You try to take deep breaths, as his hands run up and down your sides until the tips of his fingers pinch the hem of your skirt.

“There we go,” he sounds overtly proud, when he flips the fabric up to lay against your back, his friends responding to the newly exposed flesh of your ass with appreciative whistles.

He steps to the side of you, his hands slipping between your hips and the table to lift them up. He uses his grip to move you side to side, shamelessly encouraging you to tauntingly move your hips for the many sets of eyes. If it wasn’t for the way your walls softly clench around nothing, you would be ashamed of the way being watched like this makes you drip.

He begins to drag the thin fabric of your underwear down, to tease not only you, but your engaged viewers. Once the fabric hits the floor, there’s a chorus of hisses and groans at the sight of you wet and excited.

You whimper at the feeling of so many eyes tracing your body, even louder when the man grabs onto the flesh of your ass to spread you for them all to see. You don’t know what comes over you when you petulantly kick the floor and let out a demanding ‘please.’

The only response you get in return is his hand running against you to check the severity of your arousal and the jeers from the boys of how, ‘Johnny got a bratty one.’

If it weren’t for the blaring music, you’d hear the metallic sound of his zipper being pulled down, the only thing you get as a warning that he had pulled himself from the restraints of his underwear, is when the leaking tip of his cock begins to dip into you.

You feel the tense strain on your muscles melt away as he presses into you. The size of him stretching you out makes you feel delirious as you’re thankful for the amount he’s managed to make you wet in such a short amount of time, as if he hadn’t you’re not sure he’d be able to fit so easily.

When his hips finally press tightly against you, he lets out a rumbled groan. His hands hold tightly to your hips as he pauses to give you both time to adjust, and you can only somewhat hear the shuffling of the others as they move in an attempt to get a better angle to watch.

His thrusts are lazy and deep as he moves against you, one hand leaves your skin and the fabric of his shirt moves away telling you he’s lifting it in his own attempt to get a better look at where he fucks into you.

Your legs part farther as you begin to desperately shake, the way he digs into every nerve inside you makes you keen, but you want nothing more than to have him move harder.

“Please John,” you beg, trying to see how his name would taste in your mouth, your own hand moving back to wrap tightly around his wrist.

“Shut the fuck up,” you barely register the pain that burns through your skin from where his open palm meets the sensitive skin of you ass. His tone was harsh, but the satisfied chuckle that not only leaves him, but also his friends, makes a dopey grin fill your face as a moan rolls off your tongue.

“Fuck look at how bad they want it,” the voice from your side tells you it’s someone else, the tone excited and bubbly as if they’re watching something a lot more innocent than a stranger get fucked in the middle of a club.

“So bad huh?” Johnny sounds almost proud at the way you and everyone reacts to the pleasure he’s giving you, “such a good little whore, taking everything I’ll give.”

Pleads and begs roll off your tongue as his harsh words fry your brain. His hips only quicken slightly before he’s grabbing your side to pull you up against him. It feels like a flash of time, when he grabs the hem of your shirt, and pulls it over your head. Once you're bare to the stuffy air of the club and your shirt is thrown carelessly over his shoulder, you're just as quickly shoved back onto the table and he’s pistoning fast and harshly into you.

His hand harshly meets you burning skin again and you squeak in response. His voice is rough as he puts all his strength into fucking you deep and he commands to no one in particular, “someone get it for me.”

His words mean nothing as the way he pulls against you starts pushing to the edge of your orgasm. You can only gasp and claw at the table when one of his friends leans closer and taps at your spine right between your shoulder blades and whatever he holds against you begins to cut into your skin.

Once his friend is moved away, he suddenly pulls out making you clench harshly and whine. You feel the trickle of blood that travels down your skin, but the sting of his warm tongue collecting the dripping red and digging into the new wound on your back. The sting is almost unbearable and makes you squirm against him, but the pain is muffled when he reaches down and begins to roll tight circles onto your neglected clit.

His fingers are unrelenting as he rushes you to your finish. The pleasure between your thighs mixing with the sharp pain against your back makes your vision begin to go fuzzy. You can only somewhat register the boyish laughs of excitement that surround you as you finally start to come.

It feels like there’s a monster inside you that claws at you nerves. Every inch of your body set on fire is so distracting, you can only yell into the air when he moves to push back into you. He thrusts only a few times before he stills against you, the warmth of him filling you making your overstimulated nerves scream.

You can only lie there as he starts to fix your clothes, harsh demands of ‘the show is over, go away’ begin thrown over his shoulder as he drags you away and back to the bar.

You sleepily lean against him as he nods at the stoic man handing out drinks. He brings you a glass of water, that Johnny presses against your chapped lips.

“You can come relax behind the booth while I work once you finish the glass,” he reassures as he pets at your damp skin, “the boys are a lot nicer than what you just witnessed I swear.”

You’re too dopey to truly register what he says as you only nod in response before babbling, “so you’re my person?”

The laugh he lets out is soft, a lot sweeter and warming that any he’d offered before, “yeah I’m your person, and you’re wild ass is mine.”

[misterewrites]

A Part of Something Bigger (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are safe and sound and doing good! The new chapter of the Underground is here and I'm excited for this and the next chapter. I am so happy I finally get to reveal something I’ve had in my head since I first started creating the Underground! Man am I cheek E. oh puns, I’m terrible. 

:D

I hope you are all have a great week! Stay safe, wash your hands, take care of each other, get the vaccine if you can, push for companies to give it world wide all that jazz. Feel free to comment (I love feedback) tell your friends, reblog I appreciate it all!

If you’re new and curious what the heck I’m talking about, feel free to check out the whole story and have access to my other work right in the link below (cuz I’m 95% Tumblr has shadowbanned me) 

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967 (first chapter)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/78927370 (latest chapter) 

Have a great week, E is out!

Summary:  Turns out Oliver is a part of the Choir, a secret organization that operates within the Underground. Something big is happening tonight and It's up to Oliver and his allies to ensure it does not. However, the bard has to figure out what's going on before anything else.

-----

Oliver had been many things in the 18 years of his begrudging existence: An orphan, a thief, a con-kid, hopelessly in love, a scout, fry cook that one week and an aspiring minstrel. Many masks and different roles to survive each new day.

The one he took a quiet pride in was being a member of the Choir, a secret organization whose goal was to keep the Underground free from malicious and devious intent.

Every society had their dark, treacherous shadows where evil did its business (Oliver assumed. He only really ever lived in the Underground but you know universal constants and such.) The Choir’s purpose was to ensure those plans never came to fruition.

Rather than being an openly known identity, the Choir was more a loose collection of independent agents operating under secrecy. The organization employed any and everyone who was willing to fight for the cause, each in their own way: Merchants passed coded information, tavernkeepers offered safe havens, those with some level of magical proficiency gathered to study abnormal phenomenon. Fighters fought, clerics healed with lords and ladies used their influence for the greater good.

Sometimes, as is the case now, one individual was too limited for what was required of the organization’s purpose. In these rare moments, agents were granted permission to request help, often leaving hidden messages and imagery for other wandering members to respond to.

That’s what brought Oliver here to this dark alley in the middle of the night: When he first arrived to the capital, he caught sight of the coded symbol asking for any Choir member to lend their skill set to a mission tonight. No details added but that was par for the course.

Terri was the first to recover, her slivers eyes wide with wonder “A soprano? No joke?!Flora, he’s like you!”

Terri was tall, taller than anyone else here. She wore a red vest with torn off sleeves, probably because her muscles were too thick to actually allow them to exist in the first place. Her long jet black hair was elegantly tied into braids with her dark blue leggings tucked into thick hiking boots.

Flora pursed her lips thoughtfully, irises of lavender giving Oliver a curious look “A fellow magic user? Interesting. Wizard?”

“Bard” Oliver corrected “You?”

“Druid.” Flora spoke before drifting into an uncomfortable silence. Oliver suspected she wasn’t impressed by his response.

Flora seemed unassuming but Oliver knew better than to be lured in by appearances: Long silvery hair with petals of green and yellow flowers scattered within. She wore a white blouse with splotches of brown dirt and a long green skirt. Her feet were bare and free to be soiled by the floor.

Terri rushed over to the petrified Tyrell, dragging him into a bone crunching hug “Tyrell here is a baritone like me!”

Tyrell, the youngest beside Oliver, shifted his brown eyes away from anyone’s gaze. He wore rather well kept clothes: A tunic of purple tucked under a leather vest, his leggings were dark gray that blended fairly well in the darkness. His footwear seemed a little too fancy to be workman’s shoes.

“Fighters” Oliver nodded in understanding “Always useful. And you mysterious stranger in the darkness?”

The cloaked figure had pulled back deeper into the shadows, red eyes gleaming in the shades of night. They were trying to hard to hide their appearance but Oliver caught sight of a smooth featureless bronze face. Metallic armor of a matching color and sheen covered the rest of their body, an automaton it seems.

“You may call me Sel. I’m a tenor.” the figure responded, their voice tinged with scratchy static.

“You are going very useful. Lockpicking?”

Sel shrugged casually “Among other less savory techniques. As per usual for tenors.”

Oliver nodded “Okay, fill me in.”

Flora took a step forward, pulling a letter out of her pocket as she did so “Are you aware of one Reiner Brambleoak?”

“Oh fucking hell” Oliver rubbed his eyes tiredly “Him again? What’s he planning this time: Gonna burn an orphanage? Or maybe sell moldy food to the poor? Wait, I know!” Oliver snapped his finger “He’s going to be a terrible piece of shit.”

“Right on the money!” Terri growled.

Sel let out a mechanical click “He is planning to tear down several homes in West Haven.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes “I thought it was illegal to tear down homes in that area?”

“Not if the owners signed them over.” Flora explained “Then he would have the authority to do whatever he wished with them.”

“Let me guess, he tricked them?”

Terri flexed her muscles angrily “His representatives would change languages and double talk when they spoke to the poor folks. Most hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on and the orc thugs his people brought didn’t exactly make them feel warm and safe.”

“So.” Oliver stretched his arms “He’s strong armed his way into property, going to evict helpless folks onto the street and probably fill them with his own thugs to get the rest of the neighborhood to fall in line.”

“Unless we stop him.” Sel spoke with righteous fury.

“Tonight.” Oliver chimed in “Throwing another party?”

“You are good.” Tyrell whistled.

Oliver gave a playful wink “Naturally. What’s the plan?”

Flora reached into her pack and handed Oliver a letter: it was written in such a fancy hand he swore he was getting a headache just looking at it.

“One for each of us.” Flora explained, distributing the rest to the others “A fellow Choir member secured these tonight’s mission.”

“Helpful. Alright here’s the plan….”

“Wait” Flora interrupted “Who said you are in charge bard?”

“Me” Oliver countered with a grin “Because I’ve been to these types of festivities. Have any of you?”

Flora opened her mouth then promptly closed it, irritation in her glance. Tyrell gave a sheepish but unhelpful smile, Sel remained silent while Terri gave a thoughtful scratch of her chin.

“Thought so.” Oliver tried to keep the smugness out of his voice “Look we just need to work together for tonight.”

“Agreed.” Flora spoke with a softness that did not match her glare.

Sel inched closer to the group “What is the plan Oliver?”

“Where’s the party? Merchant Ward? I assume he’s using his office to host it.”

“Correct” Sel confirmed “His office has been chosen as the venue. He claims to be throwing the party as some sort of fundraiser for a charity that is no doubt a front for his illegal operations.”

Terri huffed, crossing her arms furiously “Probably making some more deals to trick people out of their hard earn money.”

“Without a doubt” Oliver agreed “But without any hard proof, we’re not taking him down tonight. Our mission is to ensure those contracts he forced people to sign mysteriously disappear.”

“Will that actually stop him?” Tyrell frowned unhappily “What’s stop him from forging new ones? Or just bullying people again?”

“He can’t forge new ones” Oliver explained carefully “They’re a special type of document only found here in Haven’s Nest. You can only get them from city hall and they’re magically enchanted to be untamperable with. He’ll need to get the ones he has to city hall on open court day which I assume is soon.”

“Indeed. Tomorrow in fact.”

Oliver continued on “So since open court day is the only day any major changes are allowed to be introduced to the city, if we grab them he’ll have to wait a month for another chance of snatching up that land. He’ll no doubt try to bully the folks again but now that they know what he’s up to, hopefully they’ll won’t be as easily pressured and if a few rough looking folks who can take punches and give them back start hanging around the neighborhood when his goons come knocking again…”

“They’re gonna be less eager” Terri cracked her knuckles cheerfully, already savoring the feel of bruised skin and broken bones that would bless her hands.

Oliver caught Tyrell’s eyes “One problem at a time. If you look at the mountain, you’re going to get scared.”

Tyrell nodded timidly in agreement.

“So.” Sel’s voice crackled with curiosity “What is the plan bard?”

Oliver closed his eyes, mentally mapping out the Brambleoak bank: three stories of corrupted, immoral finance who preyed on the helpless and lost. He could still see the faded green hue and cracked paint of the building in his mind’s eye. The ground floor would no doubt be where the bulk of the party would be taking place: a large space with an elevated stage normally reserved for long winded speeches could easily repurposed for a band or some sort of entertainment. His guests would range from any and everyone with any amount of influence or wealth. The second floor were the offices of his lecherous employees while his office took up the entirety of the third floor.

“Alright” Oliver spoke after a moment “I have a good idea what to expect. We’re going to break up into two teams.”

Everyone stared him expectedly.

Oliver gestured to Terri and Tyrell “You two are going to hang out at the bar across the street: The Stinkeye. Charming place, ran by a former pirate captain. Sunday is sea shanty night I think."

“Whoa, wait a minute” Terri grumbled unhappily “I am not letting Flora go into that place without me! It’s enemy turf and I don’t feel comfortable with the idea."

Flora took Terri’s hand within her own “Agreed sweetie.”

“Look this isn’t exactly a fist loaded, knives out situation. Any sort of brawling inside will be dealt with swiftly and painfully. Brambleoak doesn’t like anything scaring away the prey and causing a scene inside won’t accomplish anything. Outside, however.”

Terri’s eyes knowingly sparkled, Tyrell just looked dumbfounded.

Oliver gestured with his hand, muttering a phrase under his breath as magic formed around his hand in a golden light. A small image appeared in his palm: A heavily scarred elf with ashy blonde hair, one eye a brilliant forest green the other dull and cloudy. He wore an elegant officer’s uniform, dark green with various medals pinned to his chest with a long flowing red cape that trailed behind.

Oliver opened mouth to speak but Terri’s low snarl beat him to the punch.

“Lea Foot.”

“Acquaintance I guess?””

Flora nodded, gently squeezing Terri’s hand to get her to calm down “Lea has been a constant thorn in our sides. I believe he suspects we are a part of some greater organization. He has never seen us but he sends his underlings to bully us.”

“So I don’t need to explain his whole mercenaries for hire deal. Been exclusive to Brambleoak for a while now.”

“Can I punch him?” Terri murmured darkly.

“Yes, can she?” Flora chimed in, unable to keep the plead out of her voice.

Oliver shook his head “Maybe but we’ll see. He’s gotta show up at some point but I doubt he’ll be there right at the start. Likes to push old people around, probably eat a child or two before ‘working.’ Your job is to keep him distracted at all costs. He’s a sick man that likes to watch a good fight and the longer he’s out there, the better chance we’ll have.”

Sel tilted their head quizzically “Why is it important to keep him outside?”

“Basically” Oliver cracked his fingers “He’s very perceptive and the person most likely to catch our plan in action. His crew is made up of a nobodies with a perchance for cruelty and a thirst for violence but Lea is an old hand. Keeping himself outside is the best chance for success and if you guys accidentally get too close and managed to stray a hit his way…”

Terri chuckled manically the idea. Tyrell just looked sick.

“Meanwhile Flora, Sel and I will be inside. We’ll be looking for a chance to get Sel into the stairway so he can break into Brambleoak’s office. Without any sort of information, there’s no point to flesh out a full plan but we’ll make it up as we go. It’s a giant party of people who think they’re special. Shouldn’t be too hard to cause some drama and distractions.”

Flora said silent for a moment before speaking up “It’s not a lot to work with but admittedly better than anything I would’ve come up with.”

“Agreed.” Sel added “Without proper intel, it would be pointless to attempt to formulate any sort of long term plan. This works best to our strengths. Wait and create an opportunity,”

“That’s on us.” Oliver cut in “Your job is to get in and out. Preferably without being seen but who knows what will happen.”

The group, previously lost and anxious, glowed with renew sense of purpose and determination: 10 minutes ago they had no plan and now they were ready to do what they signed up for.

“Get ready team” Oliver gestured about “We leave in five.”

Everyone broke away to prepare for the mission: Terri cracked every bone in her body, ready for any brawl she would start. Sel slunk back into the shadows and remained still among the darkness. Tyrell held leaned unevenly against the brick building nearby, trying to steady his breathing.

Flora, on the other hand, approached Oliver, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Oliver.”

“Flora.”

“I have a question for you.”

Oliver was confused “I’m not sure what about but go ahead.”

Flora pursed her lips “You were coming from West End, delivering a package to a Choir member out there correct?”

“Yeeeeees.” Oliver unsure where this was going “The old man. Lady Rozalin said it was the upmost importance.”

Flora bit her cheek nervously “Before you left, did you see him?”

His stomach turned cold as he remembered how uneasy he felt the day he left with Archie and Abigail, the chill that ran down his spine “No, why?”

“We haven’t been able to contact him. He is not responding to our wizards long range message spells. We’re…..worried.”

Oliver could feel his skin crawl with anxiety, his pulse raced as a horrible realization dawned on him.

“He’s missing.” Oliver spoke what Flora did not.

She nodded in response “As a high ranking member, he is important to our cause and since you were the last person to see him, the higher ups were wondering if anything suspicious happened the last day you spoke with him.”

Oliver remembered it clearly: The free money, rushing them out the door, his ‘tiredness.’ There was no such thing as free money in his mentor’s eyes and Roland was never known for pushing a guest out of his house or being tired in the middle of the day. He was attempting to get them to leave to prevent something from happening.

“He was acting weird.” Oliver admitted “At the time I found it strange but he gave me little room to argue. Now I’m wishing I had.”

Flora’s face was indifferent but Oliver could hear the sincerity in her voice “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this. If you need a moment…”

“No” Oliver cut her off quickly “I’m good. We have a mission to do and we need to focus on that now. Afterwards we can talk about finding out what happened to the old man.”

Flora gave a simple nod before wandering over to Terri’s side, lightly kissing her cheek with affection.

Oliver took a deep calming breath: There was no point to let his mind wander, to worry about things out of his control. Even if he wanted to do something, he was needed here and now. Besides the Choir would investigate Roland’s disappearance and there were agents far more experienced than he about.

He would leave it up to them. For the moment he needed to balance out the universe and root out the evil that laid in the shadows.

[hookingminor]

three lessons (2) - mat barzal

a/n: kinda blacked out and just wrote all of this I have no idea if its even good also thank you for all the love on part 1, I love receiving feedback, I always read the tags y’all add thank you so much

word count: 4.2k

warnings (18+): loss of virginity, smut

*italics are flashbacks

PART ONE HERE / PART THREE

-

“So what made you come up with this idea?” Mat asked when you cuddled back up to finish the movie. After you’d hugged him to death in a thank you, he gave you his shirt to slip on before asking if you wanted to finish the movie. You felt a little awkward just using him to make you cum and then leaving, so you agreed.

He’d been wondering for the past week why you were doing this. When you came to him that first day, he was too in shock to process. You were so confident in your answers, he didn’t question your intentions. Right now, he was hoping they weren’t misguided and that he didn’t just give you your first orgasm because you’d given into peer pressure.

“You’re going to think it’s stupid,” you said, running your fingers lightly over the arm wrapped around your waist.

“Try me,” he persisted.

“Well, my friends are always talking about their sex lives, and I kind of felt left out, you know? It’s not like I was saving myself or felt pressured to do it, I just wanted to get it over with. I know that sounds bad, but I wanted to start moving on with my life, I guess,” you explained, “And it’s not like the opportunity was going to arise for me naturally any time soon.”

“That doesn’t sound stupid, if that’s what you want to do. I know a lot of girls take this seriously, so I just wanted to know,” he said.

“That’s never really been me,” you replied, “I just never got far enough into a relationship with someone to actually do it. I’ve only ever gone on a couple dates,” you added the last part sheepishly.

“Soon enough you’ll be taking on the whole town, though. You’ve got that to look forward to,” Mat said with a laugh, easing the tension in the room. The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel embarrassed or insecure.

You chuckled at his joke, feeling yourself relax, “If they’re all half as good as you, I’ll be having the time of my life.”

“Might be a little hard…” Mat contemplated, “I have been told I’m a very gracious lover…”

“I’d chirp you if I could but I don’t really have any experience to go off of so I’ll let you have this one,” you teased back.

“Give it a few months. I’ll be waiting for your final answer,” he said, nipping playfully at your earlobe.

“I’ll be sure to give you my full reports,” you threw back with an eye roll, sarcasm lacing your voice.

-

When you left Mat’s apartment, he promised he’d text you later to tell you his availability in the upcoming weeks.

His availability happened to be very limited over the next week and a half considering he had two home games before he had to leave for a short roadie. Obviously, neither of you could do anything about that, but as the days passed, you felt your insides grow in anticipation. You’d only had one little taste, and you were already about to beg him for more. Maybe it was a good thing you hadn’t had sex until now, you had a feeling you were going to be an insatiable lover. You’d nearly gotten yourself off daily just replaying the memories of Mat’s tongue on you.

It was almost two weeks from your first lesson when you finally talked about your next one.

Mat: You busy this weekend?

Your heart sped up quickly as you typed your response.

You: I’m free every evening after 5

Mat: Want to come over Friday night around 8? Plan to stay the night

You: Oh? What’s the plan this time?

Mat: Come over and you’ll find out

You: … I guess I can fit you into my schedule

Mat: See you then, baby

-

Friday came quickly, much more quickly than you thought it would. All the mental preparation in the world couldn’t help the nerves that wracked your body that day. The classes you had passed in a blur, you weren’t even sure if you even paid attention to any of your professors. You had a study group session planned after your last class, but you decided to skip since you figured your brain wouldn’t be able to focus for another hour.

Then 5pm rolled around, and you were beginning to get restless. You tried making yourself dinner beforehand, but the thought of eating anything made you want to throw up. It’s not like you were nervous, per se, but more anxious as you thought about what Mat had in mind for the night. You hoped it was sex.

God, you really hoped it was sex. Two weeks had you wound tight like an old clock, and you hadn’t even touched his dick yet.

And now you were thinking about his dick, which didn’t help your focus at all.

You spent the next couple hours getting ready. Forty-five minutes were spent in the shower, shaving just about everything you could. You didn’t know Mat’s preference, but it was better to be safe than sorry your first time around, right? The next half hour was spent blow-drying your hair and doing your makeup. And the last hour was spent deciding what to wear. It shouldn’t have taken you that long, but you couldn’t choose which one was better. Not to say that you bought a couple options of lingerie, but a girl only lost her virginity once; you were going to make this count.

Eventually, you settled on a black set, spending extra time to hype yourself up in the mirror before covering up with a skirt and loose sweater.

Before you knew it, you were standing outside his door, waiting for Mat to let you in.

He greeted you with a warm smile, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt.

“Hey, come on in. You look great,” he said, opening the door wider.

“What’s that smell? Are you cooking something?” You asked, smelling an aroma coming from the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, trying to cook. The only thing I can handle is pasta, so I hope you like alfredo,” Mat chuckled, “I figured I should at least try to make tonight somewhat memorable.”

“You’re going to be the first man I sleep with, I think that already makes you pretty memorable,” you joked, running your hands along the kitchen countertop.

“Uh, dinner should be ready in, like, two minutes, so go ahead and take a seat,” Mat said, rushing back over to turn off the stove.

“Is it going to be edible?” You asked, pulling out a chair at the table.

“We’re about to find out. If you get food poisoning, I’m not liable,” he said, setting a plate in front of you.

“Is that how you win over women? Poisoning them on the first date?” You asked.

“Technically, this is the second date,” he pointed out, “And I usually don’t cook, so don’t get used to it.”

You picked up a forkful of pasta and brought it to your mouth.

“Well, as far as pasta goes, this isn’t the worst I’ve ever had,” you complimented after swallowing your first bite.

“Oh thank god,” he said in relief, “I’ll take that.”

You continued to eat in silence for a couple minutes, glad to finally get something in your stomach. You asked Mat about his latest road trip and the games, and he asked you about school and work. The conversation flowed so well between you two, there weren't any awkward pauses or topics you both didn’t have an opinion on. You found yourself laughing at his stories, like, head thrown back laughing and eyes crinkling laughter. You’d never felt more at ease than you did right now.

Mat’s eyes were bright, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun with someone. He felt his heart sink a little at that thought: he was thoroughly enjoying his time with you, and he wasn’t even trying to woo you. You looked so beautiful in front of him, eating his subpar pasta but acting like it was the best, and smiling so hard he could see the small tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. He probably looked just as ridiculous to you, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Mat began wondering why he’d never talked to you earlier. Sure, you’d seen him at casual hangouts when Anders brought you around, but he’d never really given you the time of day. And for the life of him, he couldn’t recall why he hadn’t.

He didn’t notice you then, but he was noticing you now. And that spelled trouble for Mat in big, bolded capital letters.

You’d stayed at the table a whole thirty minutes after you’d finished dinner, going through another two glasses of wine before the conversation began to settle.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Mat said, quickly getting up to take your plate when you began to pile your silverware up.

“No, I got it. You can’t cook and clean, Mat,” you argued, shifting the plate out of his reach.

In his brief moment of confusion, you snatched the plate from his hand, shuffling over to the sink as quickly as possible.

“You’re not doing my dishes,” he chuckled, slapping your hands out of the way. Water splashed up everywhere, soapy bubbles coating the counter. Even a few flew up into your hair, and you flinched your eyes shut as the water hit your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, fully laughing now, “Actually, I’m not sorry. I told you not to touch the dishes.”

“Sorry for trying to be a good guest,” you snorted, flicking your wet fingers at his face with a smirk.

Mat grasped the wrist in front of his face, tugging you closer. His other hand lifted to grip your waist and pressed your front to his body, and your laughter suddenly died down.

“How about we just leave them for now?” He asked.

“They’ll just be even harder to wash later then, idiot.”

“I’m sure I can persuade you.” You raised your brow at him.

Mat’s signature crooked smirk appeared on his face as he let the hand on your waist drift to squeeze your ass. You let out a squeak of surprise, not used to being with someone this forward. His eyes crinkled at your shocked expression, and he leaned down to press his lips to yours. Your arms slid up Mat’s toned arms, going to rest along his shoulders. Both of his hands were now placed on your ass, and you could feel him harden against your stomach.

You moaned into his mouth, and Mat slipped his tongue into your mouth. You weren’t sure if you would ever get tired of kissing him; he was a phenomenal kisser. You could see why they paid him the big bucks to play hockey if he was half as good at skating as he was kissing.

He broke the kiss shortly after you trailed one hand down the expanse of his chest.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom? I’ve been wanting to get you out of this skirt since you walked through the door,” Mat grunted against your lips, stopping your hand before it could reach his belt.

You nodded your head vigorously (and it probably looked a little psychotic), eyes wide with lust. He took your hand in his and led you down the hallway, the dirty dishes long forgotten. Mat closed his bedroom door behind you, pressing you against it and reconnecting your lips.

His hands came up to hold your waist under your sweater, pulling his face away to move down your neck. Your head fell back to knock against the door and your lips parted in a quiet moan as Mat sucked a mark on your throat.

You took the opportunity to take in his room, and your gaze fell to the candles that were lit on his dresser.

“Did you get candles for this?” You asked breathlessly, arching your body into his. Mat pulled away for a moment, following your gaze to the candle.

“Yeah…” he said sheepishly, “I didn’t really know what to get. I wanted it to be at least a little special.”

“That’s sweet,” you said, running your hands through his hair, “It’s a good thing I also got you something too, then.” You stepped away to give him, what you hoped was, a seductive look.

“I really hope this isn’t some kind of joke about your virginity because if it is, I won’t laugh,” Mat said.

“No, you ass,” you laughed, punching him lightly in the arm, “I was trying to insinuate I was wearing something underneath.”

“Oh? Does that mean I can take this off?” He asked, both brows raised in curiosity as he tugged at the hem of your sweater.

“If you don’t, I will,” you teased.

After your confirmation, Mat pulled your top off easily and casted it to the side as he took in your appearance. His hands came up to trace the lacy designs along the cup, gently squeezing your clothed breast.

“Holy shit,” he said in awe, “I don’t mean to sound like a perv, but your tits are amazing.”

“Thank you. I always thought they were my best quality,” you joked.

Mat could hear the playful lilt of your tone, but he was still disagreeing in his mind. Your tits were amazing, but they were not your best quality. Maybe second best, but the sound of your laugh erupted in his mind when he thought about what he liked most about you; first he thought about your laugh, then your eyes, and then his mind eventually snapped back to reality where your nearly perfect tits were in front of him.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to take off my skirt?” You asked him, pulling him from his trance. Mat nodded his head eagerly, like a dog being thrown a bone. He dropped his hands to your waist, wasting no time to rid you of the skirt and throwing it to join your top.

“Jesus,” he breathed out when he saw the strappy garters, “Get on the bed now.”

You threw him a saucy smirk, sauntering over to the bed before sitting on the edge.

“Do I get to touch you this time?” You asked when he came to stand in front of you.

Mat brought his hand up to grab your hair, pulling it slightly so your head was tilted up to look up at him. He gave you a searing look before saying “Go ahead.”

You used your hands to brush against his abdomen underneath his shirt, raising it as far as you could from your seated position. He took the hint, pulling back to shrug it off quickly. Your hands stayed on his chest, sliding down until you met the buckle of his belt. You quirked an eyebrow, “This too?”

Mat answered your question for you, using his own hands to move them aside while he unbuckled his pants and shimmied them off. Your eyes followed his hands, noticing the way his boxer briefs bulged. Widening your eyes, partly in shock and the other part in disbelief that you were in this situation, your mouth fell open slightly as you tried to think of something to say.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to say anything because Mat was already pulling your head back and leaning down to kiss you again. He pushed you back against the bed, his hands reaching down to grab your thighs. His knees hit the bed, and he lifted your body up slightly so he could shuffled you back further. Your hands went back tug at the hair on the back of his head, and Mat groaned loudly into your mouth. You jotted this note down mentally, planning to use this to your advantage in the future.

He slid his arm underneath your back and you arched up into him. You could feel the hard press of him against your thigh, and you lifted your leg to wrap around his waist. You tried your best to thrust your hips against him, searching for any kind of friction.

Mat’s hand quickly unclasped your bra, and you pulled your arms down so you could slip it off.

“Fuck, baby,” he cursed, glancing down to your exposed breasts.

His head ducked down to nip at your neck, lips sucking along your collarbone. Mat lifted his hand to squeeze your breast, using his fingers to twist your nipple. He moaned against your skin at the gasp that fell from your mouth. Lowering his head even further, he closed his lips over your other nipple, desperate to pull more sounds from you. He was rewarded when you let out a pitched whine as he lightly bit at your breast.

Feeling yourself grow wetter at his ministrations, you pulled him back up to your lips by his hair, already missing the way he kissed you. You snaked one hand between your bodies, palming him over his boxers. Mat let out a distressed groan, thrusting his hips into your hand. You squeeze his length over the fabric which caused Mat to pull back swiftly.

“I know I said you could touch,” he panted, “but I genuinely think I’ll explode if you do.”

You chuckled at his breathless state but removed your hand from him anyway. He shimmied further down your body instead, taking a moment to unsnap the garters from your tights. Sliding off your panties, he took the tights off with them before resuming his spot between your legs.

“Don’t tease, Mat,” you said with a gasp. As much as you wanted his tongue on you, you were nearing the verge already.

“Fine, but I’m going down on you later tonight then,” he said, looking at your pussy with a longing look. He brought his fingers to run between your folds, gathering at the wetness building up. You could feel how soaked you were, but the obscene sounds you heard as he slipped a finger inside of you only confirmed that. Entering a second one, he slowly thrust his fingers in and out, curling to hit your g-spot.

“I said no teasing,” you whined loudly, tugging harshly at his hair. Mat chuckled darkly, removing his fingers from you despite your protest. He leaned back, stepping off the bed quickly to take off his boxers.

Now, you hadn’t expected him to be small, but being faced with his dick in person, you began wondering if you should’ve started with someone more… average. Your jaw dropped slightly, and Mat laughed at your reaction. He was already climbing back over you, condom in hand, before you could say anything.

“You’re sure you still want this?” He double checked, ripping open the foil packet. You nodded to answer his question, mouth still agape as you watched him roll the condom onto his hard length.

“If you’re not in me within the next minute, I’m going to combust,” you said.

“You flatter me, Y/N,” he replied, hooking a leg over his waist, “Stop me if anything hurts, okay?”

Mat waited for your nod, looking into your eyes for any sense of hesitation, but you couldn’t be more sure about wanting this.

He lined himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing inside of you. You felt yourself stretch open as he pressed into you, the feeling unfamiliar and awkward but not at all unpleasant.

Mat paused his movements when he heard a particular strangled noise leave your throat.

“Everything good?” He asked, checking in on you.

“Yeah, all good. Just give me a second,” you whispered, giving yourself a few moments to adjust to the new sensation. Mat stayed still as he waited for your indication to continue, bending his head to pull you back into a heated kiss.

Relaxing under his touch, you moaned into his mouth, mumbling a quiet “keep going” against his lips. Mat resumed his movements, pushing further into you at an agonizingly slow pace until you felt him bottom out.

“Holy fuck, you’re so ti— nope not going to think about how tight you are,” he said, grunting lowly into your neck. It was taking everything in him to not pull out and just thrust back into you, but he remained as still as he could until you gave him permission.

“Please move, Mat,” you groaned out, finally feeling yourself stretch to accommodate him with more ease.

He pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in at a gentle maneuver, your head falling back in pleasure. Mat took your resounding moans as signs of encouragement, and he crashed his lips against yours in another kiss. He rocked in and out of you, slowly increasing his speed the louder your moans got.

You tangled a hand in his hair, needing something to grip to relieve the tension you felt building inside of you.

It didn’t take long for the discomfort to turn into backbending pleasure. Soon you were arching yourself as much as you could into him, trying to gather as much friction as possible. Your breasts rubbed against his chest, and he was clutching at your back to keep you close.

“I’m close,” you said into his ear, one arm extending over his shoulder to dig your fingernails into his back.

Mat’s hand slipped between you, reaching to press his thumb against your clit. He drew out tight circles against it, and you felt yourself teeter on the edge of orgasm.

“Come on, baby,” he said into your neck, and you squeezed around him in response. He pressed harder into your clit, biting at the skin of your neck before soothing it over with a kiss.

You clenched around him even tighter, and let your eyes flutter close as you came.

Mat’s hand gripped hard on your thigh, and you were sure you were going to feel the outlines of his fingertips pressed into your skin for weeks to come. His rhythm grew more erratic as his breathing stuttered, and soon you felt him still altogether as he released inside of you.

Your breathing slowed down a few seconds after Mat finished, his breaths quickly calming until they were in sync with yours. You whined slightly when he pulled out of you before flopping onto his back. You slowly came back to earth, the pulse between your legs diminishing with each passing minute. Mat leaned over the side to dispose of the condom and then turned onto his side to gaze at you.

You glanced over to see his cocky smile and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Women don’t usually laugh after having sex with me,” he said in mock offense, but the smile remained on his face.

“I’m laughing because I’m happy. I finally did it. I’m no longer a virgin,” you said happily, flipping over to rest your head on your hand, matching his pose.

“We better alert the media,” he joked.

“‘Breaking News: This just in, local college student finally pops her cherry,’” you exclaimed in your best reporter voice, and he laughed heartily.

He had such a contagious laugh. It was the most absurd, yet fun, laugh you’d ever heard. It was impossible to not laugh when he did, which is why you were both laughing hysterically now.

“But really, Mat, thank you,” you said seriously once the laughter began to die down. He nodded his head in agreement, his smile falling until you could only see the playfulness within his eyes.

“Round two in the shower?” You asked hopefully after a couple seconds.

“Already? We just finished,” he teased, bringing a hand to brush your hair behind your ear.

“Are you saying you’re tired already? What about that professional athlete stamina?” you wondered with a raised brow.

“You joke about it now, but you’ll be regretting that soon,” he said, lightly flicking your nose, “Get in the shower, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

You got up eagerly, scampering off to the bathroom in excitement for going another round. Mat glanced over his shoulder, watching you disappear into the bathroom.

It was when he heard the water turn on and the shower door close that he let his face fall completely.

Your second date was over.

Second lesson, he corrected himself. He was nothing but a fluffer for you, and that hurt him more than he cared to admit right now.

His chest tightened at the thought of your time together slowly coming to an end. He wanted to keep seeing you. You were lively, smart, funny, and hot. He had yet to meet a box you didn’t tick for him, and that scared him a lot.

Mat wasn’t the type to catch feelings this quickly, especially for someone he knew he couldn’t have; it’s not like you being his captain’s sister was completely lost on him. God knew he'd been on the receiving end of caught feelings plenty times, and he hated being the bad guy in those situations.

But despite that, he found himself enjoying your time together more than he probably should’ve.

Also, there was the fact that you were probably one of the sexiest women he’d ever slept with and looked like a goddess when you came.

Really, when it came down to it, Mat was left with no other option.

He had to stall your next “lesson” for as long as possible. As long as he needed to convince you he wanted more than just sex.

[megumis-lashes]

Hi can I request Megumi with a very touchy crush

Megumi with a touchy crush HCs!

Fushiguro Megumi x Reader ^^

An: Hello! Sorry for the late response but I hope you can enjoy this anyways! Since it’s not specified I made this headcannons since that was easier! If you want anything different in future requests please specify at least: format, POV and gender! If you don’t I’ll just do whatever ^^

Contains: Touchy reader/physical contact, Megumi x reader, written with a female reader in mind but generally left as gn!, angst if you squint lol, possibly mistakes as my genius self is writing this at like 12am, just fluffff :) oh and you’re shorter than Megumi lol. (Oh and sorry if Megumi is a tad OOC in the drabble cuz his reactions can be tricky to write for 😅)

Word Count: 1.7k (I got carried away once again lol)

Soooo.... Megumi with a touchy crush? Sign me up!

Now we all know that Megumi is rather reserved and pretty straight forward so I think at first his reaction to your touchiness may be a bit awkward

Not awkward in the sense that he’s uncomfortable being around you but more as in he’s a bit.... shy

He’s not adjusted to receiving a lot of physical contacts so initially, he wasn't quite sure how to react 

His overall awkwardness really depends on how long he’s known you 

If he just met you during high school he would probably be a bit shocked at how comfortable you were with casual physical affection

While you would think nothing of it and treated practically everyone you knew (and were comfortable with) like this, Megumi would still be surprised 

While Yuuji and Nobara would adjust to your touchiness quite quickly, Megumi would probably stay blushy about it for a month or so until he wouldn't think much about it anymore 

it’d be a bit different if he knew you for a while or even knew you as childhood friends

Typically being touchy doesn't become a habit overnight sooo he’d be a lot more used to it and barely think about it 

I don’t see him as one to openly accept or adjust to physical affection without being a bit shy 

He’d probably tease you or question you about it from time to time and be one to begrudgingly accept affection 

Totally be one to act really annoyed by your touchiness but in reality, he treasures the soft moments away from danger 

All of this would change when he realizes he has a crush on you though :0

Cue blushy, awkward Megumi and oblivious you featuring another oblivious idiot, Yuuji, and an all-knowing Nobara 

Megumi isn’t one to develop crushes immediately or overnight since he must value that person’s personality most of all 

He thought of you as purely platonically within these first few months of knowing you untilllll his brain just clicked 

He was like.... ‘Oh shoot... I have a crush....”

Having a crush is refreshing for Megumi but also quite distracting with how touchy you are

Instead of just ignoring the affection or casually playing it off, Megumi forgets how to react 

Now he knows that deep down he really likes receiving affection from you cuz he realized how he likes you more than just a companion or classmate  

Cue Megumi being 10 times more awkward than usual 

Normally if you were to walk up to him and throw your arm over his shoulder playfully or something like that he’d either ignore it, pretend it's not happening or just playfully shove your arm off his shoulder 

Now he just freezes and is like ‘oh what to do’

Would be that person who googles ‘how to act normally around your crush’ but at the same time think its stupid and stop reading the article like five minutes in lol

He’d probably have one of two reactions: 

Cease to function and just stand awkwardly still or

Awkwardly pull away 

...

Now as much as Megumi pretends to hate your touchiness, you do know that he’s okay with you playing around so this reaction is pretty unusual

You probably are a little confused as to why he’s acting like this 

Like huhh????? I thought we were good?????

Cue Megumi continuing to be awkward for a while 

Everyone became more awkward than usual since that day because the friendly atmosphere was put off due to Megumi being even more closed off than usual

He practically avoids you at this point

Ofc you start to feel bad about it

Like did you do something wrong??? Take it too far?? 

Touchiness has always been in your nature and seeing someone react so sharply to it makes you feel insecure about your habits so you lessen the touchiness within the friend group

and everyone notices

Yuuji misses your playfulness and Megumi is simply overwhelmed and lost within his own thoughts and emotions 

Nobara is the most.... suspicious 

While examining Megumi lately (not in a weird way she swears) she noticed the sudden change in behavior 

That’s when she realized ‘Does the Fushiguro Megumi have a crush????’ 

Ofc her curiosity gets the best of her so she just has to question Megumi 

So she does

After a small mission the team had gone on, she asked Megumi to talk 

‘So promise to answer truthfully.’

‘Yes I promise” 

‘Do you have a crush on Y/N?’

“Huh’ Megumi deadpans. This came out of nowhere 

As much as he wishes to play it cool and dismiss the girl’s thoughts, he physically cannot and instead goes into blushy cannot function mode

Nobara takes notice to this immediately

‘Aha! So I was correct! Take that Yuuji!’

Yes they totally made bets on this 

Once again Megumi is lost 

‘Huh? Bets on what?”

‘Bets on what?”Are you seriously that oblivious? On your crush! It’s so obvious it’s painful!” She sighed dramatically

Now Megumi is even more lost 

Like sure he was confused about where his crush stands but he wasn’t aware that he was obvious????

Nobara goes on to explain how stiffly he reacts to your touches and how his blush doesn’t really go unnoticed 

She also explains how you were moping around lately cuz you thought you made him uncomfortable

Shocked at this new found information he rushed out of their real quick to go... idk possibly confess but be more focused on apologizing 

AN: Here’s a quick scenario in first person of how that would go since I have zero self-control :0 

I was settled on the small bed in my school dorm room. Placed upon a stack of pillows was my laptop, through which played whatever random Netflix show I chose. It didn’t really matter what it was as the media was quickly discarded by my mind and treated as background noise. My mind was swimming with rather..intrusive thoughts. As much as I wanted to relax and shut off my mind for the night I simply couldn’t. My thoughts continued to drift back to a certain ravenette and the issues that had circled around him for a while now. Fushiguro Megumi, a boy I met a few years back when beginning jujutsu. We were friends... or at least I considered us friends and I had taken quite a liking to the boy. Despite his distant and rather closed off personality, I had developed a casual and comfortable bond with the male... or so I thought. All changed when he started acting strangely, almost as if I had hurt him or bothered him a little too much with my habits. Admittedly I was a bit hurt over Megumi’s actions but I was more confused. I had always been touchy, so why the sudden reaction to it? 

As if the world was messing with me, a knock sounding from my dorm room door shook me from my train of thought. 

“Coming!” I quickly pushed the blankets and began walking towards the door. The person behind that door was definitely not who I was expecting. Behind the door stood Megumi Fushiguro, pacing lightly as his hand slightly ruffled his hair.

“Megumi?! Did you need something?” It was strange to see Megumi at my door as it was nearing 9 PM and he was usually one to avoid unnecessary intrusions. 

“Oh hi Y/N. Sorry to bother you so late but I’ve come to apologize..” He explained, carding his hand through his hair nervously.

“Apologize for what exactly?” I questioned.

“For how I’ve been acting lately..” He stated. I shook my head. 

“Ahh about that... I’ve been meaning to ask you something..” I mumbled. “Megumi.. do I uhh.. make you uncomfortable? I mean I know I’m kinda touchy and I’ve noticed that you uh don’t-”

“No no no! That's what I’m here to clear up about... Look it's not what you think! You don’t make me uncomfortable I’ve just been too focused on my own thoughts to realize why you may think that...’ We’re both way too oblivious’ or at least that’s what Nobara says..” He trailed off. I sighed in relief. I was happy, albeit a bit confused but still happy that he didn’t despise me. 

“Ok ok.. I’m glad you don’t hate me at least!” I smiled, throwing my arm around his shoulder as I did in the past. “I do have one question though!”

“Ask away.” He quietly chuckled, finally at ease in my touches. 

“What do you mean ‘we’re both oblivious’? And what does Nobara have to do with this?” I questioned, leaning my head onto the taller male’s shoulder. His eyes widened a bit as he glanced away awkwardly. 

“Well, you see... I don’t really know how to say this but..” 

“Just spit it out already!” I playfully slapped his back. 

“I have a crush on you...” He mumbled looking away. 

“....huh” I deadpanned. “That’s why you were awkward all of a sudden? All because you like me? Wait you like me?!” I shook my head, leaving the casual embrace we had settled into. 

“Yeah... that’s not a bad thing is it?” He questioned, once again rubbing at his neck nervously.

“No no of course not!” I waved dramatically. “I’ll let you know that I like you too! Quite a lot actually!” I chuckled thinking of Nobara’s words. “Now I understand what she was saying about obliviousness... Now that I think about it you were sooo obvious! I'm ashamed that I didn’t notice sooner.” I sighed, coming down from my small laughing fit. 

“ Hey well, I didn’t know how to act! I was trying my best ok....” He mumbled. I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his left cheek, chuckling at his blushy reaction. 

“Don’t worry about it! I mean we cleared everything up didn’t we?” I pondered.

“So uhh.. do you wanna be my girlfriend then?” He questioned, looking as flustered as ever. 

“I’d love that!” I smiled. Glancing at my watch my eyes widened. 

“Hey, it's getting late! Why don’t you come watch Netflix with me yeah?!” I pulled the ravenette into my dorm, leaving him little time to respond.  That night we drifted off together surrounded by the noise of old Netflix movies and warmed by the feeling of love. 

[shadowsfascination]

Dreams

Hot. Moist. Sweat. It gushed off him while he twisted and turned under the sheets, barely awake and still under the spell of a teasing dream. A soft sound, in between a growl and a moan, managed to escape Shadow’s lips, even with his mouth as dry as a desert.

His eyes were half-lidded, continuously blinking at a rapid speed. He gasped, clasping his hands into the ball of fumbled sheets atop him as if longing to hold on to something. His sub-conscious mind started registering the stimulus of the cold on one of his legs that peeked out under the blanket. He tugged it back under the warm, somewhat clammy sheets and a inhaled with a series of grated breaths.

“Shit… This again?”

Shadow laid his head to rest on the pillow below him and stared at the ceiling in the dark. His spiky quills pressed into the cushion, the cool cotton fabric nicely fluffing against his skin. It wasn’t until recently that he noticed how everything seemed to be the same saturated colour in the dark.

Not until these dreams decided to wake me up at the same darn point every night.

He grunted. Not only did he want to fall asleep again, he yearned to dream on that one particular dream. Shadow wriggled once more, huddling in attempt to find a comfortable position to drift off again- fast. He shut his eyes and snuggled up to the pillow beside him in the bed. A muffled groan carried away from underneath it. He was already too awake, too aroused to glide back in his dream again.

Fuck!

The black hedgehog sat up straight in a bed that wasn’t his. Ever since Amy left town two days ago for her internship, he decided he’d sleep in hers, which he convinced himself was fine… She asked me to check in on her house sometimes and I know where her spare key is hidden. It’s not like I’m doing something wrong…

In the pockets of his black jacket was an unfinished joint and a lighter- almost empty, judging by its’ weight. He opened the window in her bedroom, lit the joint and inhaled the smoke. Shadow rested his elbows on the windowsill, picturing Amy’s reaction to him smoking this stuff inside her home. Undoubtedly she’d show that cute, irresistible, agitated blush spread across her cheeks.

It had been that particular look on her face that lit a romantic spark in him. He remembered scoffing himself for the very first time after tracing the slightest affection for her. She was his friend and it should’ve stayed like that. But it didn’t and he had a love-hate relationship with his feelings for her.

Part of him despised the lack of self-discipline that eventually allowed him to fall for her, but then again: who could not fall for Amy Rose?

The young woman was simply amazing; kind, brave, strong, gorgeous, honest and pure. Hanging out with her was never an obligation to him. Even if he acted indifferent in the past, it was a mere cover. He enjoyed being with her so much that the innocent one-sided crush he made himself believe it’d become, faded over time to be replaced with an overwhelming sense of… lovesickness? Lust?

Shadow had yet to come to terms with whatever stirred inside him- if he’d ever decide to stop lying to himself. He craved being with her, even if it was just as her friend. But friends didn’t look the way he looked at her, the way he saw her, the way his mind was toyed with by her.

And lately it had gotten much worse. A feeling of possessiveness grew inside him when she told him her plans for a yearlong internship overseas. Surely she’d meet new people, make new friends, go out and meet guys. Guys who’d eventually find an interest in her. Shadow feared he might lose his chance with her forever. And yet… he’d just let her go like it was no big deal, casually waving her off like Sonic had. Along with his sigh marihuana scented smoke escaped his lips.

He looked at his phone. Nothing. His inbox was unusually quiet after Amy briefly informed him she’d arrived at her destination. It made him restless and impatient.

“I can’t believe I’m just as stupid as that faker…”

That last part was what made it so ugly. Sonic had taken Amy for granted for over a decade. Shadow had gladly been her shoulder to cry on and often told her he couldn’t understand how poorly the blue blur treated her. And now he had sunk as low as his rival when what he really longed for was to make Amy his girl and walk beside her, showing her off, proud as a peacock.

He imagined pulling her into a passionate kiss, one that would weaken her knees, send shivers down her spine. One that made it loud and clear to everyone that she was his woman. Now that was a decent goodbye! He sighed once again. She should be his!

Shadow’s mind drifted off to the night before she left. Amy went home early from the farewell-party her friends had thrown her. She had excused herself by stating she wanted a good night of sleep before her journey the next day, but asked Shadow to hang out with her in the end. Just the two of them. He knew far too well she’d do that.

Something in the way she acted that night puzzled his mind. It had lit sparks of hope that she felt the same way about him. If he wasn’t mistaken, there’d been this tense atmosphere between them.

____________________________________

 “My turn! Shadow, can you hand me that?”

…

“Shadow?!”

Amy frantically gestured with her hands to make contact with a Shadow whose mind seemed to have drifted off. The introverted hedgehog got sucked into his own mind, quietly moping and pouting to himself in his thoughts about her departure.

Blinking when he finally noticed her, she was already so close to him that it startled him a little. Sucking off the tip of the joint he held between his fingers, he instantly stiffened up. Shaking a little as he watched her, he became helpless to the arousal from the image and the prickling heat that flushed through his body.

The girl looked up to him, colouring his cheeks in a deep red, her lips still enclosing the tip. He was quickly to shift his gaze away from her, feeling she’d see right through him if he stared at her any longer.

“Sorry. I was out of it for a bit.”

She didn’t take it from him. Instead Amy let out a muffled ‘U-huh’ and guided his hand to her lips again to have another pull of the joint. Without warning she tucked her arms behind him, pulling him into a hug and chuckled a delightful laughter.

“Cheer up! I’m gonna miss you too, you know?”

“Tsk, darn right, you will!”

Amy snorted at his silly reply and gave him a playful push.

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

Shadow raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, faking an arrogance that actually fit his personality quite well at times. Amy however saw straight through his act, aware that he found it difficult that she left. Despite everything they ended up being the best of friends and she was sure he’d feel lonely and bored without her.

“We can still catch up on the phone and stuff. It’s only for a year. It’ll be over before we know it. Besides, you’re gonna be busy too in the meantime. I’m so excited for you about the project you were tasked with. You always wanted to do this stuff, right?”

“Yeah, it’s something I’m looking forward to. I’ve always wanted to work with plants. I’ll get to investigate, plant and look after all these rare species the Central City’s botanical garden’s been given after the archaeologist department found this hidden, preserving millions of seeds.”

“A nice change of pace for you, after your last missions. Promise to show me around sometime when I’m back, okay?”

“Gladly.”

“Yay! Now… I need something sweet!” Amy said when a munchie kicked in. “But already I emptied my cabinets… Argh!”

“Wait here.”

Shadow jumped off the roof they sat on and walked up to his motorcycle. Amy watched him lift up the seat and grab something out the space hidden underneath it. He jumped up and pulled himself up on the gutter with two brown paper bags clenched between his teeth. A gleeful smile instantly spread across Amy’s face when she recognized the logo on them. He handed her one.

“I put another in your backpack for your trip tomorrow as well.”

“Aaah, you’re the best!”

Amy opened the bag and couldn’t fight the giddy, happy squeak that escaped her lips. All of her favourite candy from her #1 candy store in Spring Yard was in it, which wasn’t close to their hometown. Shadow must’ve gone out of his way to get this for her and he clearly put in some thought into picking out the confectionary in the paper bag. She happily stuffed her mouth with it and heard Shadow snicker beside her.

“You’re precious.” He chuckled at her.

“What? Oh! I probably look ridiculous.”

“I think it’s endearing.”

She quickly gulped it down and fake-shyly fidgeted, trying to compensate for what she thought was unladylike behaviour. In sudden confusion Amy scratched her quills. Since when did she care about that when she was with Shadow?

She then spotted Shadow unroll a liquorish-fruity roll, her absolute favourite. Tearing the paper bag as she searched for it in hers, her face soured, eye-lids dropping halfway down. She regretted she impulsively ate all the candy in three big bites.

“That’s what you get for eating them all at once.” Shadow said.

He shrugged and put the end of the now unrolled, spaghetti-like candy in his mouth with an amused expression. Amy turned around, bent over him and took a bite from the candy string, her grin turning as smug as his was before. Surprised by the pleasurable tension she experienced from being so close to him, she giggled her unease away.

There wasn’t much left of the candy string. To bite off that last piece, she practically had to kiss him. The thought spread a burning sensation through her chest. With Shadow’s heart jolting rapidly and the blood whizzing in his ears, he slowly sucked up the candy string into his mouth to see how she would react.

Don’t think too much of it. She’s just teasing me! Isn’t she? Shadow thought to himself.

Locking her jade eyes with his ruby ones, Amy leaned in a little closer. Shadow didn’t protest. Amy bit her lip for a second, but then enclosed her rosy lips around the other end of what was left of the short candy string.

He took in her flowery scent and felt her breath gently brush against his lips, their noses almost touching. His palms turned sweaty inside his gloves. Amy’s face was blazing, its’ heat radiating against his own.

He cupped his hands around her back ever so carefully, putting the smallest amount of pressure on them. Aghast and undecided Amy sat down on his lap, one hand on his chest, the other tracing the outlines of his lips.

Shadow decided to take the leap and leaned in a little closer to bite off the string when his phone loudly buzzed in his jacket, startling the hedgehogs. Amy squeaked and quickly slid off his lap, her face and ears coloured in a deep pink blush. Shadow awkwardly hid his face from her, grabbing his phone while he inaudibly cursed whoever ruined this moment for him.

Rouge: ‘Do you really think this is a good idea?’

What the-? How’d she even-? If she’s been spying on us, she will not hear the end of it!

 _______________________________

 After Rouge interrupted them, things became weird. They said their awkward goodbyes like they’d see each other again the next day. But they didn’t because she left for her internship and he went to pick a fight with Rouge. The bat was genuinely concerned about him and what it’d do to him if he and Amy kissed and she’d leave the next day for a whole year.

Even when Rouge meant well, Shadow had yet to comprehend how she’d caught onto his secret feelings for Amy and felt violated in his privacy. On top of that she should have minded her own business.

He put his joint and lighter on the windowsill and snuggled up in Amy’s bed again. With his crimson eyes slowly closing, he concentrated in good hopes the fantasy would sprang from his mind and reignite his dream.

Come on, come on… I’m at the station, where are you? You should be here!

He whispered aloud while Dream-Shadow skated towards the pedestrian-bridge that crossed over the train tracks at high speed. He jumped up the stairs, his heart wildly pounding in his chest, hurrying him forward, pushing everyone aside who blocked his way. The strangers always delayed him in so many, annoying, different ways and every time he was left no choice but to jump off the bridge as a shortcut to get to the platform in time. Although a part of him feared, a part of him knew, he’d be too late -again. A sea of unknown, irrelevant others were standing in his way. Why is it always this crowded?

‘Move! Out of my way!’

The pod had done its’ job and Shadow drifted off into a deep sleep. His gaze locked on to something in the distance, the familiar shape of the one he was after.

‘Wait!’

He clenched his teeth and sped up, screaming to the strangers to make room for him, but his cries fell on deaf ears once more. The empty voices of everyone out here muted his screams before they could reach her.

‘No! Not again! Please! I must…!’

Shadow never seemed to get closer to the train he tried to reach before it’d fare away, even when he was skating towards it at full speed. It drained him, sending stinging pains to his sides, but he never got to it. Like his feet were glued to the ground. Soundless, hoarse, growling cries leaving his throat as the train departed and the crowd suddenly vanished, like it had never been there to begin with.

‘WAAAAIT! YOU HAVE TO WAAAAIT!’

He never mastered control over the rotten feeling, even when he knew it always ended the same way. The fact that he didn’t make it, didn’t reach her, never was fast enough… It was mortifying for him. He was the fucking ultimate lifeform and he didn’t deliver.

He pounded his fists into a brick wall and growled like a beast. His muscles trembled from the impact as he watched the train disappear into the distance. The thought of chasing it tempted him for a second. He let the thought pass on and slid down against the wall, scouring his back to the raw structure and sharp chunks of stone in it. He bled, but didn’t bother. Shadow’s chaos energy always healed him so fast that hardly anything was an actual threat to the ebony hedgehog.

He let his dream counterpart stroll over the platform of the train empty station. It somehow was always empty at this point in the dream. The sun stood low, casting soft beams of light in magnificent deep oranges, reds and yellows, painting long, dark shadows behind objects blocking its’ reach. Shadow sank down on a black, metal bench on platform 3-b, its’ many thin metal lines pressing into his skin. He rested his head on his hand, curling up to a ball.

‘I’m so stupid! So DARN stupid! I should never have let you leave like that!’ He cried. ‘And now you’re gone! ARGH!’

The powerlessness and anger inside the black male came crashing out of him when a chaos sphere ignited from his hands. It destroyed the tracks with a shrieking bang, curling up its’ irons.

‘I thought you were different, Shadow.’ crawled up a voice from behind him.

Dream-Amy’s voice scared him wide awake. His muscles soured, adrenaline rushing through his veins, his breathing irregular and his phone buzzing under the pillow. The disappointed tone in her voice hurt him badly. He seized the phone with trembling hands.

Amy!

Suddenly only seeing her name on the screen made him scared as never before, but also strangely excited at the same time. Nausea sprung in his middle.

Amy: ‘U awake?’

Shadow: ‘Yes.’

An incoming call from Amy popped up on his screen. He swiped it to the right to pick up.

“Why are you still up? Tomorrow’s your first day, right?”

“I went out with some people from the dorm.”

“O-kay... Did you- did you have a good time?”

“Sure did. In fact a really cute guy asked me out. We’re going out Friday night.”

All right. He knew what this was really about. She was trying to make him jealous, trying to make him feel bad about the way they parted. And it was a totally justified thing to do, but her act revealed to him that she wanted him to care. Shadow’s muscles relaxed again and a confident smile curved his lips.

“Is that so? Did you tell him you secretly have feelings for someone else?”

“I’m not in love with Sonic anymore!”

“Who said I was talking about Sonic?”

…

Shadow was unable to fight the amusing feeling inside him from how baffled she was all of the sudden.

“Well- I-! I can’t believe you just let me go like that!”

“I’m sorry.”

Amy shrieked with a high pitched voice when she heard the acoustics of his apology twice. She turned around, the phone still held against her ear to see him standing in her dorm room. In one hand he held a chaos emerald and his phone in the other.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Confessing how much of an idiot I am.” He pouted.

“Go on.”

“It was highly indecent of me to let you go like that and I’m sorry.”

Part of him wanted to confess everything to her, take the leap and come clean, but he didn’t. The repeating dream that haunted him since she left had awakened a new fear in him: that she was only fooling around with him that night. It was yet to be proven irrational. He felt it was her turn to say something for this wasn’t a one way street.

“Thank you. It’s just… That night- I thought you cared about me.”

He sat down next to her.

“I do.” Way too much actually.

Shadow leaned in on her, resting his arms on her legs, his lips close to her ear. He closed her in between the wall behind her and himself in front of her only to whisper: “In fact, I don’t like that you’re going out with someone if that someone isn’t me.”

Amy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She tilted her head and unintentionally tightened her grip on Shadow’s chest fur. Her lashes softly tickled on his muzzle when she blinked. His musky scent and flirting intoxicated her senses. He levelled with her to catch her gaze, internally screaming from how hot she looked in what he realized was in fact one of his sweaters.

“Heh, here I only thought I had the hots for you, but it seems I was wrong.”

He pulled her closer by the cords of the sweater. Slowly he closed the remaining distance between them, softly pressing his lips against hers.

“So wrong!”

Amy smiled against his lips and straddled him, clamping his legs between her own, before passionately pouring into the kiss.

Chaos! I wanted this for so long!

_______________

AN: This one’s long! I decided to care less and just write and draw whatever I want, trying out new styles. Here goes...

Shadow and Amy are both adults here. Where I live smoking marihuana is tolerated.

Like always: send me a note for annoying typos, grammar mishaps etc. 

[neopuff]

title: geneva word count: ~3500 ship: six/holiday summary: Six decides to visit Holiday. Takes place during/immediately after Grounded. warning: sex is mentioned and referenced to ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29868594

The Global Field Exercises were meant to test Providence soldiers and scientists for the possibility of more worldwide events - problems that could lead to necessary collaboration between agents of Providence and the hundreds of other smaller, national organizations dedicated to taking care of EVOs within each country.

Though they had the funding to be the international superpower of EVO containment and curing, Providence couldn’t handle everything and not everyone wanted to play nice. And so they started the biannual field exercises in the hopes to smooth over any rough patches with more reputable organizations and to remind the world that their mission was all about peace and a cure.

As Rex had so aptly stated before Six took off to Tokyo - his mission involved ninjas. Specifically, he was asked to reach out to one of the largest EVO-fighting organizations in the world. They were not ninja in the traditional sense, but the rest of the world referred to them as such and they seemed to enjoy the comparison, so they’d named their organization NINJA just a few years after The Event.

The exercises were supposed to be just three days - Holiday complained that it wasn’t enough time for her to get any real work done while Rex whined that he’d be alone and bored for too long. Six felt it was an adequate amount of time since their relationship with NINJA was already very good. Providence had a few bases in Japan and made sure to reach out regularly from their California headquarters.

Six stuffed his hands in his pockets at the realization that he was finished earlier than expected. There wasn’t much for him to do, and White Knight was busy dealing with some Rex nonsense back at home so he didn’t feel a desperate urge to come back and help with that.

He headed back to his jump jet and pulled out his phone to check the time. Immediately he was distracted by a missed text from Dr. Holiday - all it said was ‘Have fun in Japan!’ but he felt bad for having not responded to it for so long.

The words stared up at him and Six huffed out a loud exhale. She was in Geneva at the moment, and if he left Tokyo right that very second, he’d arrive at CERN a little after dinnertime.

He felt his face heat up as he thought more about this. They had recently made...a change to their relationship. Six wasn’t sure what to make of it entirely. Her feelings for him had been obvious for a while and though she seemed generally aware of his feelings, she’d always kept things professional and respected his need for space. It was just another in the long list of things he appreciated about her.

Showing up at her hotel while not technically on assignment was a whole different thing, though. There was a certain expectation for that sort of thing and though he definitely wanted that with her, he didn’t want to rush things. They hadn’t even kissed yet, thanks to an EVO interrupting their first attempt at a date and Rex interrupting the second.

There were certainly a number of reasons why he shouldn’t go to Geneva during his unexpected free time. But...

...he did want to see her, though. No question about it. Perhaps he could just stop by on his way back to the States and tell her he felt like taking the long way home.

She wouldn’t believe him but she wouldn’t call him out on it, either.

With that thought in mind, and remembering the new life rule he’d adopted after his brush with death just a few weeks earlier - Six started up the jet and made his way west. He needed to be more honest with himself and focus less on why not to do something. He could die any day, with or without the Nanite Event, and both he and Holiday deserved to figure out where this could go.

-

Thanks to being one of the highest ranking officers in Providence, Six enjoyed the clearance to learn exactly where Holiday was staying without having to notify anyone that he was looking. And thanks to his face and suit being the most famous part of Providence at the moment (thanks to that stupid news program), he was able to make his way into the hotel without much trouble.

It was right as he reached her door that Six started to think this was a terrible idea. What was he going to say to her, exactly? That he was in the neighborhood and wanted to say hi? That he couldn’t stop thinking about her and desperately wanted to see her after barely a weekend apart? His thoughts drifted between too casual and too romantic and he didn’t want to push her away by not getting this right.

It’d been over half a decade since he was with a woman and he’d never - not once in his entire life - had a real romantic relationship. Holiday was important to him and if he disappointed her, he’d be tremendously ashamed.

He stared at his slightly raised fist and took a deep breath. He was already here, so there was no turning back. Might as well dive in unprepared and let his brain work its magic in real time.

Three knocks later and his heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice.

“Just a second!”

True to her word, she opened up the door a moment later and her eyes immediately widened in shock.

“Six?” Holiday exclaimed, quickly poking her head out of the doorway and looking down the hallway. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said with a frown as he realized he should’ve brought her flowers or chocolates or something like that. “I just...finished early.”

Holiday stared up at him, one eyebrow furrowed and one raised as if she thought he’d said something very very strange. “So you...came here?”

His hands went right back into his pockets. “I wanted to see you.”

The tinge of pink that hit her cheeks did not go unnoticed and Six was happy to know he must’ve said something right. Holiday smiled and tugged some hair behind her ear. She looked down at the floor for a minute, clearly considering her next move, before looking back at him. “Do you...wanna come in?”

He nodded and made his way inside her room as soon as she moved out of the way. He wondered if the intimacy of this situation was about to become an elephant in the room. Holiday closed - and locked - the door before walking past him to her desk and sitting down to continue what she was working on.

“Sorry, I just need to finish writing something down, give me two minutes,” she mumbled and started scribbling faster.

Six watched her work with slight interest and took a moment to look around the room. With no other chairs available, he sat on the edge of her bed, hands still in his pockets. He thought back to when he was younger and more suave and wondered if Holiday would’ve preferred someone more like that - someone who could really sweep her off her feet.

“Were you able to test your anti-matter theory?”

Holiday finished the sentence she was writing and turned to him, smiling. “Yes! I can’t believe how much I’ve managed to get done in the past two days. Everyone’s been so cooperative and helpful and I worked through the night to quadruple check everyone’s work on the particle accelerator and it’s looking great.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and chose not to comment on how she needed to sleep better. “Last time you were here you said it wasn’t enough time to get anything done.”

She laughed and shrugged. “Well, last time was different. Dr. Moses was here presenting some theories and everyone was so focused on him that I was mostly working alone. Not much of a team exercise.”

Six straightened his back and frowned. “Has anyone here heard from Dr. Moses? Any clue to his whereabouts?”

Holiday placed her hands on her lap and glanced off to the side. “No, no one seems to know anything. They’ve all heard he was a fraud but that’s about the extent of anyone’s knowledge.”

She stood up and walked over to the bed, taking a seat next to Six. “I’m trying not to advertise my gullibility so I haven’t said anything.”

Six turned to her seriously. “He took advantage of you when you were vulnerable. That’s not your fault.” If he was being honest, he did fault her a little bit, but he knew how difficult it was to think clearly when you felt like you don’t have any hope left.

Holiday breathed out a short laugh, staring down at her hands. “Yes, well, my fault or not, I won’t be going on any expensive vacations for a long time.”

Thinking about her emptied bank account set him on edge. Without realizing exactly what he was doing, Six reached out his right hand and placed it gently on top of her left. “I’ll make sure you get your money back. Moses won’t get away with it.”

She turned to him and smiled shyly, a light blush gracing her cheeks again. He couldn’t will himself to look away from her face even as she opened her hand and interlocked her fingers with his.

“Thank you, Six, I really…” She glanced away from his gaze as she considered her words. “...I really appreciate it.”

He turned to stare at their hands. “Don’t thank me til I find him.”

“No, I mean…” She paused and scooted a little closer to him, then leaned against his arm with her head on his shoulder and he could practically hear her heart beating faster. She moved her right hand on top of their locked fingers and squeezed his hand tighter. “...thank you for everything. And for being here now.”

He squeezed back and wondered if his heartbeat was just as loud.

Holiday continued to stare at their hands and took a few moments to consider the situation she was in. The man of her dreams had flown 6,000 miles to visit her and now they were completely alone, for the first time in ages, in her hotel room which was locked and relatively soundproof and oh god she was not prepared at all, she hadn’t been with anyone in years and this was Six and it had to be absolutely perfect and she was so tired but she was so excited to have him here and if they didn’t do this now then when could they? There couldn’t be a better time and place.

“Holiday…”

“Hm?” she responded as she pulled away from him.

“I...um, I realize that my being here is...suggestive.” He was mumbling a bit, which Holiday found adorable for reasons completely beyond her. “But I didn’t come here with any expectations. I just...thought it’d be...nice.”

Nice. She had such mixed feelings about that word, thanks to him. But everything else he said was adding to the warmth in her chest and she knew she had to say something or do something before he got the wrong idea and left. Expectations or not, she had to try.

Holiday ripped her hands away from his and without giving him even a moment to miss the sensation, she’d moved them to the sides of his face and tugged him down just the slightest bit so she could meet him halfway.

Six’s reflexes were faster than most, but it did take him a second to register just exactly what was happening. Holiday’s lips on his felt better than he ever imagined (and he had imagined it quite a lot more often than he’d care to admit). Her thumbs rubbed gently against his cheeks and he quickly wrapped one arm around her waist as she adjusted herself to face him entirely, one of her knees bent under her and her other leg dangling over the side of the bed.

Almost instinctively, Six reached down and grabbed her dangling thigh to pull her fully onto his lap. He would’ve worried that was too forward if not for Holiday immediately grinding against him and lightly biting his bottom lip.

She was going to be the death of him, he could tell. And he really didn’t mind.

Her hands made their way to the back of his head while his hands snaked up her thighs, stopping with his fingertips just under her skirt as she distracted him with her lips and her tongue and her groans.

While one of his hands finally made its way under the fabric to properly squeeze her thigh, he brought his other arm around her waist again and slowly turned them around to lay her down on the bed. Her legs had wrapped around his waist and she kept her lips moving against his, simply humming in affirmation as he kissed her back with fervor.

She tugged at his jacket and Six quickly tore it off without moving away from her, tossing it somewhere and thinking about how he wanted her coat off, too.

Rather than focus on herself, Holiday reached down and started to untie his tie, which proved to be more difficult from her angle than she anticipated. He broke their kiss and backed up a few inches to give her more space to work and as the fabric finally came loose it really hit him that this was actually happening.

Just as that thought came to mind, Holiday seemed to freeze. She was still breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but her hands were unmoving against the top button of his shirt.

He wrapped a hand around one of her wrists. “What’s wrong?”

She blinked up at him and shook her head. “Nothing, sorry, sorry!” she said nervously, moving her fingers back to his button.

Six squeezed her wrist and pulled her hand away from him. “Maybe we should...slow down.”

“N-no, no,” Holiday yelped, shaking her head. “It’s nothing like that, I just-” She was interrupted by her own yawn, which she kept small and hidden under a hand, but her face lit up in embarrassment all the same.

He smirked down at her. “That’s certainly not my best review.”

She moved her hand up to cover her face but knew there was no point in hiding it now. “It’s absolutely not that - I do want y-this, I…” She couldn’t look him in the eyes and turned her head away while moving her hands to his shoulders. “...so much. But it’s just…”

Six moved one of his hands to her face, pushing her bangs out of the way and cradling her temple so his thumb rested under her eye. She looked tired - not the most tired he’d ever seen from her, but certainly not awake enough for this. He thought back to what she’d told him just ten minutes earlier and asked, “When’s the last time you slept?”

Holiday smiled guiltily and squeezed his shoulders. “Um...38 hours ago? Give or take?”

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her, just briefly, before leaning up again and rubbing his thumb against her cheek. “You should go to sleep, Doctor.”

She nodded reluctantly, a deep red still visible across her cheeks. “I know this is terrible timing when this is literally the best possible time and place for this but I really want our first, um...well, I’m just rather not be so out of it.”

Six wrapped his arm around her waist again and tugged her up into a seated position, feeling awkward trying to have an entire conversation while leaning over her. “I meant what I said before. And there’ll be plenty of other...opportunities.”

Holiday smiled at him warmly. “It’s hard enough to get a full night’s sleep without interruption at Providence, I can’t imagine trying to work sex into my schedule.”

He almost laughed at that - almost; relationship or not he was still Six - and instead leaned closer to her, his mouth hovering less than an inch from her ear. “We’ll just have to go on a trip together, then.”

She shuddered at the feeling of his breath against her ear and blushed somehow even deeper at his words. “I guess we will.”

Six smiled at her and she smiled back warmly, feeling the awkwardness and anxiety of this relationship development completely fading away. She wasn’t unconfident about Six’s feelings for her but she never knew exactly what that meant for them or what he was comfortable with and she didn’t want to push him too far, but god did she want him badly. She had for years and now that she actually had the chance, she was too tired for it. That was just great.

He leaned down and pressed another brief kiss against her lips. “I should head back to headquarters,” he said as he stood up.

“O-oh?” Holiday mumbled. “You don’t have to go. I mean, if you want to stay, that is.” She groaned internally at her own nervousness. Wasn’t she just thinking about how she was feeling more confident about their relationship?

Six stared down at her, glancing at her bed and then back at her. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes!” she answered quickly - a bit too quickly and enthusiastically for her own liking but it was too late to change that now. “I’d...I’d really like you to stay.”

He nodded and sat back down next to her. “I’ll head back in the morning, then.”

Holiday tucked some hair behind her ear again, having just noticed how messed up her bun got during their little make-out session. “That sounds good. If White noticed us coming back together he’d probably make a huge fuss over nothing.”

“He would.” Six didn’t need to regale Holiday with stories of all the things Knight had suggested about their relationship over the years, and he certainly wouldn’t be informing his former partner of this new development.

He stood up and reached down to grab his jacket and tie off the floor. “You should get to sleep, Doctor.”

She followed suit. “And where are you going?”

“Just have to grab some things from my jump jet.” He took a step closer to her. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Holiday stood up on her tip-toes to kiss him again, realizing at that moment that was going to get addicted to the feeling of his lips on hers. Keeping this from Rex was going to be a challenge, that was certain.

Six nodded at her and grabbed her room key before heading out the door. Holiday watched him go and sunk back down onto the bed so she could properly soak in everything that just happened.

Her heart started beating faster and she couldn’t stop smiling. He was…! They were…! She laid down on the bed and closed her eyes, trying to will her heartbeat to settle down, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of his lips and his hands and his…well. His everything. She stayed like that for a minute and then tried to sit up, but her entire body had shut down and decided it was time to go to sleep.

When Six entered the room again, he was not surprised to find Holiday fast asleep, still in her work clothes, and only halfway on the bed. He put his overnight bag down and walked over to help her out.

Dragging her into her bed after she overworked herself was something he’d done a hundred times before, but the domesticity was really hitting him and Six felt himself blush as he tugged off her labcoat and boots and picked her up into his arms. He managed to get her under the covers and hesitantly reached down and tugged at her hair tie until it snapped and her bun fell apart.

He stared at the broken elastic and tossed it onto the table. He thought about just leaving anyway, but...she’d asked him to stay. So he quickly changed and put his sunglasses down on the nightstand before quietly crawling under the covers. He felt oddly exposed next to her despite her being fast asleep, and started his usual pre-sleep breathing exercises.

A few moments later, he felt Holiday reach out and grab his arm. He looked over at her and saw she was still very much asleep - even as she tugged him closer and scooted herself over she didn’t seem to have any awareness of her actions. She stopped moving once her head had reached his shoulder and Six felt himself blush at how comfortable and natural she looked.

He could definitely get used to this.

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 2

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

Alright, here it is! All of your responses to my first post were so encouraging, so I thank all of you for that! I was so nervous to post anything that I’ve written, and y’all made me feel so welcomed. Anyway, here’s the continuation of my angsty Nessian fic, This Time. It’s a long one, but I wanted to give some insight into Nesta’s headspace while also setting the occasion for the next part! Hope y’all enjoy it.

If you missed part one, you can find it here.

———————————————————————————-

A dull throb in her temples caused Nesta to stir in the early hours of Sunday morning. She was vaguely aware that it was raining, thunder rolling in a steady rhythm. She turned onto her back and gritted her teeth at the intensifying pain in her head. It suddenly radiated from her temples, meeting in the middle of her forehead and behind her eyes. For the briefest of moments, she wondered about the luck she had (or didn’t have) to wake up feeling like this. No recent illness, no allergies, no alcohol the night before. She blinked into the darkness as she considered, willing her cognition to catch up to her conscious state. Her answer became apparent when her eyes felt gritty as she blinked, and upon rubbing them, she felt a faint tenderness over and around her lids.

Ah, that’s right. The crying.

The events of the previous night flooded her memory.

I’m so gone for you...

You should go...

We can’t be friends after this conversation.

You don’t mean that...

The maddeningly soft click of the door echoed in her mind repeatedly, emulating the rhythm of her heartbeat. She slammed her eyes shut and turned sharply onto her side to bury her face into the pillow.

So often, people talk about the all-consuming relief that comes with waking from a nightmare and realizing none of it was real. These are the stories told at dinner with family or friends, at lunch with co-workers, or at larger social gatherings. Account after account is shared of cheating spouses, car accidents, home invasions, etc., followed by an expression of overwhelming relief at realizing it was all a dream.

Almost never do people discuss the ugly alternative. The micro-interval of time immediately upon waking where one exists in blissful ignorance, followed by the sudden gut-punch of recollection. The ambush of emotions surrounding some life-altering event.

Nesta caught herself grasping for that tiny shred of time, just moments prior, where she was only navigating a headache.

She felt her pulse quicken and her body start to flush, both being clear indicators of her heightened anxiety. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she felt a slight tremble starting to run through her chest and stomach. She closed her eyes as tears threatened to pool yet again and focused on taking a few deep breaths. She lazily reached out, feeling around until she located another pillow across her too large bed. She clutched it tightly against her chest and abdomen, willing it to ground her somehow. Tucking it close to her body and keeping an iron grip, she started to count her breaths until she finally drifted back to sleep.

———-

She had to cancel lunch with Elain and Feyre that Sunday, having slept long enough that she didn’t have enough time to make herself presentable. After explaining that she was suffering from a crippling headache (with no mention of its origin), they sent their well wishes and told her to call if she needed absolutely anything.

Her mornings persisted in a similar manner for the rest of the week. Usually one to rise on her first alarm, she couldn’t find the motivation to do so no matter how hard she tried. She snoozed her alarm a half-dozen times, finally dragging herself out of bed to dress quickly, grab a protein bar, and fly out the door for work.

Work served as a decent distraction from current events. She stayed busy and engaged, allowing her to completely ignore her phone and avoid any personal questions. She knew her sisters would be worried after telling them she was ill, and it was a matter of time before news of her and Cassian’s fight permeated their group of friends. Her sisters would likely put two and two together. Busy bodies. Fiercely loyal, protective, and supportive, but busy bodies all the same.

Several evenings that week she had received several variations of “check in” texts from them, as well as a couple of their friends.

Elain:

”Hey, Nes! Hoping you’re feeling better. Just wanted to check in and see how you are!”

Feyre:

”Just checking in, sister! I hadn’t heard from you since we cancelled lunch, so I hope you’re doing okay! Love you!”

Mor:

”Hi, love! I haven’t seen you in DAYS. Far too long. Please tell me I’ll see you soon! And that you’re alive and well. <3”

Amren:

“Alright. Spill. What’s going on with you? You haven’t responded to anything I’ve sent you, and I’ve sent you some funny shit.”

Nesta drafted one text, copying and pasting it to each and every one of them. She didn’t have the emotional energy to answer the question at all, much less several times over.

“Hey! Thanks for checking on me. I’m sorry I’m just getting back to you! Things have just been crazy this week. I’ve been busy, but I’m fine! We’ll get together soon.”

She stared at the lie over and over again.

I’m fine...

I’m fine...

Although, deep down, she knew. If she were fine, she wouldn’t keep scrolling to a certain text thread. She wouldn’t be reading and re-reading their previous conversations, and she definitely wouldn’t be focused on the date and time stamp of the last received message from days ago.

———

Nesta had been conflicted about Saturday all week long. She had very specific plans: sleep as late as her body would possibly allow, have coffee on the back porch, catch up on her reading, take a long nap, stream as much nonsense television as she could handle, have a bottle of wine, go to sleep. She had been looking forward to the peaceful oblivion of deep sleep, yet she found herself dreading the passage of her free time. It had taken a couple of days to land on an acceptable itinerary, and she felt better with a certain course of action.

She awoke to her covers being abruptly pulled away and the pillow pulled off the top of her head. She groaned dramatically and turned over to identify the offender, fully prepared to sling insults their way for interrupting her sleep. Before she could formulate a cohesive thought, a deep, familiar voice interrupted her.

“Enough of this, Nes. Get up. We’re going to brunch,” the voice announced, his tone dry and neutral.

Nesta’s eyes shot open, falling on a pair of hazel eyes that dared her to be uncooperative.

“What the fuck, Az? How did you even get in here? And what if I were naked?!”

”Look, I pulled the short straw. You’ve barely spoken to anyone all week. When you did, your responses were short and contrived. Your friends and family are worried, and I got volunteered to enter the lion’s den as the only one who isn’t afraid of waking you up.”

”That doesn’t answer all my questions,” she muttered as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“I’ve driven you and your sisters home on enough drunken nights to know where your spare key is. And I saw the sleeve of your sweater before I pulled the covers off. Give me a little credit.” He turned away from her to walk out of her bedroom. As he crossed the threshold, he paused with his hand on the door jamb. He glanced over his left shoulder as he said, “You have 15 minutes. I’ll be in here waiting for you.”

Nesta really contemplated throwing a full-scale temper tantrum by throwing herself under the covers and refusing to get up. A deep rumble in her stomach ultimately made her decide against it, so she stood up and padded over to her closet. She selected her favorite pair of jeggings, silently thanking the Cauldron that she had worn them once already so that they were perfectly stretched. She grabbed a sports bra and a long-sleeved tunic, put on some casual sneakers, and walked over to her bathroom to finish getting ready.

She wasn’t one for much makeup anyway, so she opted to wash her face, moisturize, and apply a little mascara. She brushed her teeth, applied a generous layer of chapstick, and quickly French-braided her hair down the center of her back. She glanced down at her phone; 12 minutes. Suck on that, Azriel.

She walked out of her bedroom, down the hallway, and found Azriel perched on the arm of her sofa, scrolling through his phone. Sensing her approach, he locked his phone and stood.

“All ready?” He grabbed his keys from his front pocket.

“Sure. Whenever you are.” She looked around for her small purse and grabbed it off of the coffee table. “Wait... did you clean up in here?”

She knew there was something different when she walked in, but it had taken her a minute to realize what. Gone were the take out containers from her countertops and coffee table. All the various cups she had left all over her apartment were nowhere to be seen, and her blankets were folded neatly in a stack.

Azriel cleared his throat and looked around. “Not really. I noticed your trash can was full when I threw my gum away, and I thought it would be pointless to bring it out and not get everything.”

She bit her cheek to stop her smile at his sheepishness. He had always been a good friend to her, but she knew he preferred when it went under the radar. No one blushed faster or got more awkward than Azriel on the receiving end of appreciation or a compliment.

“Ah. I see. And I guess the blankets folded themselves, then. Or did you need to fold them to ‘get everything?’”

“Nes, you know I cleaned up in here, so can we go already?” He was already turning toward her door, flustered and mildly irritated with her teasing. She gripped his bicep to turn him around before he made it outside.

“I’m sorry, Az. You’re a wonderful friend, and I don’t deserve you. Let’s go have some brunch and forget it, ok?”

He gave her a sideways smile and playfully shoved her shoulder. “Fine. But next time, you’re walking.”

———-

The drive over to the small cafe was short, so the pair sat in comfortable silence on the way. Upon arriving, Azriel found a small table in the corner of the patio, instructed her to sit, and walked inside to place their order. When he returned, he was holding a mug of coffee for Nesta and a mug of earl grey tea for himself.

“The food should come out in about 10-15 minutes. I couldn’t remember how you take your coffee exactly, so I just brought you a ton of shit.” He wasn’t exaggerating. He placed a handful of different creamers and sweeteners in the center of the table.

Nesta gave a small chuckle at his gesture, noting that it felt good to laugh for the first time in days. She couldn’t help but feel grateful that it was Azriel who had pulled her out of bed this morning, if it had to be anyone. They were more alike than most would assume, and they had made very fast friends all those years ago. She loved the purity of their relationship, built on years of trust and mutual respect, but never crossing beyond anything other than platonic. Cassian had always joked about being “outnumbered” around the two of them, commenting on their likeness and how he managed to find kindred spirits as his best friends.

The thought of him elicited a slight pang in her stomach, and she quickly shoved it down. She was pulled from her thoughts by Azriel’s voice.

“So. You want to talk about what’s going on?”

”Gods, Azriel. I haven’t even gotten the caffeine in my system.”

He took a sip of his tea, only breaking eye contact to blow gently on the hot liquid. He regained eye contact as he set his mug back down.

“We haven’t heard anything genuine from you in a week. Forgive us for being a little worried. I’m assuming it has something to do with Cassian?”

As she suspected, hearing his name struck a nerve and caused a certain heaviness in her chest. She felt herself becoming defensive, and even though her logical mind knew it had nothing to do with Az, she was snapping at him before she realized it was happening.

“Why is everyone acting like I’m off the deep end?! Maybe I’ve just been busy for a week. Cauldron forbid if I take some time for my damn self. And why the fuck would you immediately jump to him? As if my life doesn’t exist beyond all of you? And beyond him?” She felt herself flush out of anger. Or embarrassment. Who the hell knew anymore?

Azriel seemed almost entirely unaffected by her verbal lashing. He took a couple of seconds, leaned forward with his forearms on the table, and clasped his hands in front of him. He looked at her intensely, and she knew she was not going to get anything sugarcoated in this conversation.

“Need I remind you that I know both of you like the back of my hand? I’m not shooting in the dark here. You’ve been essentially MIA for a week, and that timespan directly correlates with Cassian being an absolute terror to be around. The odds of that being a coincidence are incredibly low. So, Nes, I’ll ask you to please cut the shit.” He voice remained even and steady. There was no true malice in his words, just the bluntness that exists between two close friends. He picked up his mug, leaned back in his chair, and waited.

Nesta’s posture softened slightly as she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and middle finger. She let out a long breath and looked up to meet Azriel’s gaze again.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. And I should also realize by now that you notice fucking everything.”

He merely nodded, acknowledging her apology and prompting her to continue with one simple gesture. She blew out another breath, preparing herself to explain everything. In the meantime, their food arrived, so she waited until the waiter walked away before beginning her story. She told him everything, even the uncomfortable details. Cassian’s confession. Her reaction. His anger. Her anger. The devastation on his face. As much as she could remember of their interaction. And finally, the words she couldn’t stop replaying in her mind. This time, it’s on you.

He listened intently, only offering small nods or slight facial expressions during the more intense parts of their conversation. Once she was finished, he let out a long whistle and said, “Damn, Nesta. You’re officially the most savage of the Archerons.”

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I’m not saying that to be insulting. I just meant that you kind of handed him his ass there.”

Nesta started at him, urging him to elaborate before she felt inclined to jump down his throat again. He picked up on her prompting and continued.

“Well, to be fair, Cassian’s full of it. The fact that he thought he was going to be able to sleep with you and continue being friends is short-sighted at best. Can’t blame him for trying, but considering how long he’s been in love with you, he was setting himself up for failure there.”

Now, she was gawking at him. How was he being so nonchalant about this bombshell? How long had Cassian been in love with her? And why the hell had he waited until now to say a damn word about it?

”How long, Azriel?” Her voice was so quiet that she wasn’t sure that he’d even heard her.

It was his turn to look surprised. “Are you telling me you didn’t know? Anyone within a mile of the two of you could have seen it.”

She shook her head, realizing she didn’t think she could handle the direction of this conversation. “Never mind. Regardless, we had an agreement that our friendship was too important to risk on anything serious and that it was supposed to remain purely casual. It’s done now. It’s not like it matters.”

A few seconds passed before she glanced up at Azriel. His brow was furrowed, conflicted with what he was going to say next.

”What? Just tell me.”

“Don’t you think that’s kind of bullshit, Nes? I get that you both agreed on those terms, but I think it’s kind of fucked overall. You’re telling me that the potential of a relationship wasn’t worth the risk but casual sex was worth it? That doesn’t make sense.”

She breathed sharply out of her nose before she responded. “Had the agreement been honored, we could have enjoyed our time together, and we could have stopped once life events called for it. If one of us started dating someone... if one of us moved... things like that. It’s fairly straightforward.” She wasn’t trying to hide the bite behind her words, but he still didn’t seem offended. She tried not to find his level-headedness infuriating, but her patience was thinning by the second. To her surprise, his composure slipped a little.

”And how did you think that was going to play out? You both would shake hands, go your own ways, and continue to hang out with each other as before? You would have been totally fine with Cassian dating another woman? And do you really think Cassian would be a-okay with sitting in the front row at your wedding one day? Has it ever occurred to you that you two always dislike anyone that the other dates? No one ever loves Cassian the right way. No one ever makes Nesta happy enough. Why do you think that—“

”Alright, alright! I get it.“ She held her hands up in supplication. “The fact remains, though, that it’s over. It’s done. We screwed up, and it cost me my best friend. We’ll never be the same.” She felt her eyes brimming with tears.

She was vaguely aware of Azriel apologizing for his outburst and suggesting that they head back. She forced a nod, stood up from her chair, and walked to his car. Once inside and buckled, he turned to her.

”Hey. I really am sorry.”

”Don’t apologize. You were being honest with me, which is something I’ve always valued so much in you. Don’t go soft on me now.” She managed the smallest of smiles.

“Deal. But the same goes for you. Our mutual honesty has saved us a lot of trouble over the years. Makes our friendship easy.”

”You’re right. Why couldn’t it have been us to fall in love?” She huffed a laugh, making sure he knew her comment was in jest. She turned to look at him as he finished backing out of their parking spot.

Azriel hit his brakes a little harder than usual at her words. He chuckled, turning to look at her with a small smile. “What good would that do us? What would we do for fun? Brood?”

Nesta laughed, truly laughed, at the truth in his words. Azriel made a wonderful friend to her, but there would be very little personal growth within their hypothetical relationship. She smiled at him, squeezed his forearm briefly, and said, “Fair enough. I guess we wouldn’t push each other to grow all that much.”

He continued to drive, eyes straight ahead. He still wore signs of amusement on his face, but his tone turned a little more serious. “No. We wouldn’t. I think that’s why Cassian has always been a great balance for people like us. We get way too comfortable in the dark.”

”Mmm. People like Cassian, for sure. Maybe people like Elain, too?” She gave him a knowing smile.

He pulled up in the driveway and placed the car in park before looking at her. She could see the faint blush on his cheeks at the mention of her sister, but she wouldn’t push him. She knew he was smitten with Elain and had been for some time. She hadn’t spoken to him plainly about it, but she could tell by the way they interacted that they were a matter of time. Inevitable, even.

“We’re not talking about me today. Only you.”

She giggled at his deflection. “Thank you again for today. I needed the coffee, the waffles, the venting, and the swift kick in the ass.”

”Of course. Speaking of Ellie, what’s your plan for her birthday party next weekend? You know Cass will be there.”

“Oh, man. I think I blocked that out.” She opened the door, stepped out of the car, and peered down at him before adding, ”That, my friend, is something I will have to play by ear.”

——————————————————————————-

A/N: Sorry for no Nessian interaction this time, but I just love the idea of a Nesta x Azriel brotp. I couldn’t help myself. Nessian interaction to come, I promise!

Tags are below! If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, you can comment, reblog, or message me!

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy

[wonderwafles]

Kiss prompt: Tallulah/Caliban, #17?

Funnily enough, you caught me in the midst of writing a fic about them already! Your prompt fit in perfectly. (Now on AO3!)

...

The rain pouring down turned the roads into mud-slick quagmires that threatened to pull him down and never let him go again, which Caliban-8 figured was really just as well, today of all days.

The Hall of Consensus awaited ahead, framed by low buildings and the dark clouds above. He stood at a street corner, the eyes of several civilians on him (he was, after all, famous-by-proxy) and straightened up. He looked devastated, out in the rain. Just as well.

The doors of the Consensus now stood before him. He schooled his features, raised his hand, and knocked.

Consensus was in session; he wasn’t supposed to knock. But this news could not wait.

The doors opened, by the hand of a minor Faction representative — for which, he couldn’t remember. Perhaps there had been a change, since the last time he was in the City.

“Ah,” he said, looking him up and down. “And you are…?”

“Caliban-8,” he said. His voice grated like broken glass in the aftermath of tears. Most people did not think Exos could cry, and yet, by some quirk or feature of their design…

The man still looked confused. Caliban sighed. “Second in command to Talullah Fairwind,” he added.

A few more agonizing moments of silence, making Caliban’s job much harder than it needed to be, before a gruffer voice from behind the door made them both jump.

“Hello, Caliban,” Osiris said. “Open the door, man, open the door! This one has come from long and far to meet us again.”

As with anything Osiris said, there might have been a rebuke buried in there somewhere. It was one of the things that always caused strife between Osiris and Tallulah, who hated the idea of someone talking out of both sides of their mouth at her. Today of all days, Caliban did not ask.

“Osiris,” he greeted the Warlock as he stepped inside.

“I received your message,” Osiris replied, straightforward as ever. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you come bearing good news?”

Caliban looked around. At the table in the center of the Consensus, the surrounding audience having depleted to only a few stragglers and many empty chairs, Saint-14, the Speaker, and three Consensus leaders sit. A session is in full swing. Part of that must be his fault, for the news he had all but told Osiris he had.

He decided to turn away from Osiris, and make his way down the stairs. “Thank you, my friends,” he said. (Politician speech, but he feels it truly.) “It’s true that I have some bad news.”

Saint turned away, just so. The Speaker is inscrutable behind the mask. Caliban can tell they already know what he’s going to say.

“A couple of days ago, Tallulah Fairwind was killed,” he said. His voice broke at the appropriate moment. He didn’t even need to try. “An Ahamkara got to her. She…”

He took a moment to compose himself, and to remember his instructions.

“She took on a bet with the dragon in order to save a distant village,” Caliban continued. He looked around. All eyes were on him, including what few spectators there were. The rain pounded outside, noiseless and deafening. He closed his eyes, blocked them all out. “She lost the game. She argued that instead of the village, the price should be her life. The dragon accepted.”

He opened them again as he heard the scraping of a chair. In an instant, Saint had wrapped his arms around Caliban, tightening around him like servos in a steel trap.

“My friend,” Saint said. “I am truly sorry to hear this news.”

“As am I,” Osiris said, laying his hand on Caliban’s shoulder. “Tallulah was… a true friend. And a fierce defender of the City’s people, not just its doctrine.”

“I bet she went down like a hero,” Sagira added. “Like always.”

Consolation was murmured across the table. The Faction leaders — he recognized New Monarchy and the War Cult, but who was that third one? — joined in.

Eventually, it all died down, and Saint finally released him. Only the Speaker was left sitting at the head of the table. He had not risen, nor did he say anything while the others spoke.

Now, however, his soft voice drifted throughout the room. “I am sorry, Caliban,” he said. “It was… I first met Tallulah in what feels like the bleakest part of the Dark Age. She was such an excellent Hunter. I thought there was no better choice for the position of Vanguard. I still feel that way now.”

Caliban nodded. He couldn’t help but agree, even knowing how much Tallulah longed to be free. And what she would do to get there.

The Speaker’s mask tilted down slightly, towards what Caliban had in his hands. “I suppose she has named you her successor?”

Caliban held up Tyranny of Heaven. “Her Dare was that whoever got her bow would replace her,” he said, speaking carefully, telling no lies. “She gave it to me just before the end.”

It was a fine piece of work, silvered and made by a hand that almost seemed alien in its precision and beauty. Caliban had always said that it was the first, and only, nice thing that Tallulah owned.

“Look,” New Monarchy’s man said, standing up. “This is grave news, and the City has a long time of mourning ahead of it. But I feel I must say, as a member of the Consensus, that this whole Dare thing is ridiculous. And if Tallulah intended to choose her successors based on Hunter bravado—”

“We’ve had this discussion before, Executor,” the Speaker said. “Mandating a Hunter Vanguard would only serve to drive any potential candidates further away. In any case,” now inclining his head towards Caliban, “we have a very clear-cut scenario here. Tallulah has named her successor. If she trusts him, then so do I.”

Uh oh.

Caliban swallowed, a vestigial tic from the time before the creation of the Exos. All eyes turned to him again. Now was the hardest part. “I’m afraid I have to decline,” he told them all.

Before they could say anything, he pressed forward. “The dragon is still out there, and still a threat,” he said. “I feel… bound to hunt it. To make sure that nothing like this happens again. And I am aware that would conflict with my duties as Vanguard.”

“This does not need your hand, Caliban, skilled though it is,” Saint said, full of patience and grief. “This dragon… we could start a search party. You could lead them, from the City.”

Caliban had always hated Hunter bravado. But now, at least, it made for a good cover. He summoned up every inch of acting ability he had, as well as every ounce of resolve he could muster, and broke his friend’s heart.

“I am bound to this,” he insisted. Real grief filled his voice as he looked around the Consensus. So many friends to say goodbye to. So much left undone here. “The Ahamkara was mine and Tallulah’s responsibility. And now it is only mine. I would not risk any other Guardians to clean up my mess.”

Saint and Osiris bowed their heads. They understood duty. The others… it was hard to get a bead on them.

“Fine,” the Speaker said, a twinge of anger making its way into his voice. “Go, then, and have your vengeance, so long as you leave us another successor to replace a lost friend.”

Caliban cringed. A thread of razor wire tightened around his heart, and he almost thought about calling it all off, telling them all the truth they deserved to know. But not now. Not now that he’d already passed a million event horizons.

“Be kind, Speaker,” Osiris said. “I understand what he’s doing. And I sympathize with it entirely.”

Osiris met Caliban’s eye, and something in there made the Hunter think that he had entirely underestimated the old Warlock.

“Kauko Swiftriver,” Caliban said, as the silence deepened. “He’s a good man. He’ll take up the job, I know it.”

“Good man indeed,” Saint said. “And what of the Dare?”

Caliban thought deeply about this. He couldn’t offer Kauko the bow. And his conscience couldn’t take it if he Dared his friend to do something dangerous just to cover for him.

Then, the answer crashed over him like a waterfall. “I will Dare him to tell everyone here my greatest secret,” Caliban said. And smiled. It was the first time since he had gotten to the Consensus that he felt like smiling. “You all will get your Vanguard.”

…

“That’s a damn evil choice your boy gave me, Tallulah,” Kauko Swiftriver said.

Tallulah laughed, and brushed the hair out of her face. She had decided to wear it loosely now, in honor of new freedom. “I told you,” she said. “He has a dark side.”

Kauko scoffed. “Yeah. Maybe you’ve been getting to him.”

“I’ve been getting to him for a while now.” Tallulah smirked. “But hey. Don’t be too upset. It’s not such a bad life, you know. Saint and Osiris are good people. Just prepare to be the biggest third wheel in the history of third wheels.”

“I think I know what that’s like,” Kauko said. But he smiled. “Fine, fine. Anything for you, Fairwind. Just… be safe out there. And yeah, I know what I said. I mean it. It’s retirement. Enjoy it.”

“I’ll try,” she replied. “Thanks, Kauko. For real. Stay in touch?”

“Sure thing.”

Wishful thinking, maybe. But neither of them said anything else as the terminal blinked out, and Tallulah was left alone in the tiny ship with her thoughts.

Not alone for long, however.

“That,” Caliban accused from the other end of the ship, “was horrible.”

“Cal!” Tallulah brightened up. She couldn’t help it. “Was wondering if you’d skipped out on me!”

But her spirits fell as she saw his face. For a second, a horrible fear that he had changed his mind washed over her, and for a moment she had no idea what she was going to do.

“Was it that bad?” she asked, keeping her voice casual, making her way over to him.

“Saying goodbye to your friends is always hard,” he said. He shook his head. “But I wouldn’t have agreed to do it if I didn’t want to go with you. I just… I hated having to lie to them.”

She sighed. Sometimes, he knew her better than she knew herself. “I know, buddy,” she said. Nothing at all came to mind to make him feel better. “How can I make it up to you?”

Caliban sighed, and wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Really?” she said, returning the hug. “You’re aware you’re turning down a favor from the one and only Tallulah Fairwind, Hunter extraordinaire? One time offer of me owing you, never to be admitted again?”

Caliban smiled into the crook of her shoulder. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “I know how this life was getting to you, getting to both of us. I’d do it again in a heartbeat if you asked me to.”

I owe you everything, she thought. Everything, every day, for all the days there ever will be. Sometimes the thought of this truth staggers her, nearly knocks her to the floor.

“Tell you what,” Tallulah said, separating from the hug. “If, in a hundred years, Saint and Osiris are still standing, we’ll pop back to the City and explain ourselves. I bet that’s enough time for them to stop being angry with us.”

Caliban laughed. “You promise?” he asked.

Always, always, always. “Let’s seal it,” Tallulah said, and pulled him closer. Caliban leaned inward and returned the kiss, and for a second it didn’t even matter that their cramped jumpship had Caliban stooping even before the kiss, or that they were leaving behind everything they had ever known for a chance at something better.

Caliban broke away and laughed. “Okay, okay, I believe you,” he said.

“Then let’s get gone before Osiris figures us out,” she said. She went over and sat in the cockpit, keying the engine.

“Nice ship, on such short notice,” Caliban said. “I don’t suppose it has anything to do with the fact that the representative of the new Faction, which just recently rocketed out of obscurity to gain a seat on the Consensus, wears the same logo as the one on the hull?”

Tallulah winked. “Probably just a coincidence,” she said.

“Sure. Last question, then. Do you know where we’re going?”

“I do indeed, so you can stop that tone of voice. I was talking to this Iron Lord pal of mine—”

“All the Iron Lords are dead!”

“Hey, hey! Let me finish the story...”

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 15

15/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: Anasazi/The Blessing Way | T | 5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

After shooting Mulder to prevent him from implicating himself in his father's murder, Scully takes Mulder & Melissa on a road trip to Albert Hosteen's Navajo reservation in New Mexico.

TW for mentions of guns/shooting, death, funerals

----------------------------------------------

His eyes flutter open to some place like Heaven, which pisses him off cause that’s not supposed to exist, and if it does, then how in the hell did he make it here? A fiery-haired angel lays a gilded hand upon his chest, her touch made out of air. Tendrils of hair fall against her face, and Mulder wonders where one gets haircuts in Heaven. 

He must be floating on a cloud, so close to the sun that it is stained an earthly golden-yellow. His sky accommodation is not as comfortable as all those Renaissance painters made it look, and for that he feels deceived. Is the soul so solid that it is weighed down, even in Heaven? And if it is, well, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a soul?

He is fatigued, and it’s bullshit, in his opinion, that he could be dead and still feel anything but blissful numbness. He’s about to voice this particular grievance when he realizes where he is, and sure English is turning into a lingua franca of sorts, but something tells him that God isn’t spending his spare time teaching the angels the difference between too and to. So he keeps his mouth shut, unnerved by not knowing whether he’ll ever be able to speak his mind again. 

“Hey,” a soft voice breathes, and he’s surprised to understand it, but not altogether upset. He tries to respond, but his tongue has tethered itself to the base of his mouth.

“Mulder…” the voice says, and it registers in his mind that it’s not an angel--not technically--but Dana Katherine Scully, and my god, what atrocity has dared to send her to Heaven so damn soon? 

He coughs, then grumbles from deep in his throat. He’s got to be the most undignified person in this joint, and he can only hope his welcome dinner with God isn’t anytime soon. The angel’s hand that is actually his partner’s drifts over his forelock, her fingers guiding his hair back into its part. 

“Mulder, can you hear me?”

He nods, hungry for some sense of things.

“You were shot, Mulder. By me. Because you were acting very stupid.”

She killed him?!? Maybe he shouldn’t be so shocked by this, but he can’t help himself. And she’s here too, so how did that happen? Murder-suicide?

Her hand sweeps his shoulder, and he looks down to see the space where her bullet must have pierced him. Patched up right above his heart. He didn’t expect to carry wounds into the afterlife.

Her eyes meet his, blue as ever. “I’ve been taking care of you, and you’ll be just fine.”

His lips form an O, but no sound follows. 

“Let me get you some water.” Scully disappears from his line of sight, and he realizes that his cloud has a roof and an open door. You can’t see those from the ground.

Scully returns with a plastic water bottle. Deer Park, to be exact--another thing he didn’t expect to find in Heaven. She holds it to his lips, tilting the liquid gently into his mouth. He revels in it, vitality slowly being returned to him.

At last, his tongue functions as it should. “Where are we, Scully?” he asks, his voice creaky. He’s beginning to think it’s not Heaven after all, but the back of his partner’s Chevy. Which feels about as equally likely, if he’s honest.

“At a gas station In Texas, about two miles off I-40,” she answers, twisting the cap back on the bottle. “We’re headed to a Navajo reservation in New Mexico.”

Met with the realization that his life is not, in fact, over, Mulder tries to piece together the last moments he can remember. He squints, the sun outside the vehicle colliding with the darkness in his brain. He remembers a fever and a bed that was not his. 

“Did I sleep in your bed?” he asks, fairly confident that more important things before and after have slipped his mind.

“You did indeed,” Scully replies. And before he can get to it--”Melissa and I shared.”

“Ah.” He pushes himself up, every muscle in his arms rebelling. 

Scully pats his shoulder. “You should stay reclined.”

“I’m like a whale in a fish bowl back here,” he protests. And he’s not wrong, Scully knows this. To fit him in, she leaned his head against the driver’s side windowsill and let his bare feet push against the passenger side door, then said a silent prayer that there would be no potholes. 

“Why can’t I come up front?” he whines. “I’ll lean the seat back.”

“Because Missy’s sitting there.”

Mulder glances into the front, his expectations of privacy shattered. Still, an empty passenger’s seat meets his gaze. “Well, where is she then?” he pesters, more pointed than intended.

Scully chuckles. You can put a hole in the man’s chest, but you can’t take the restlessness out of him. “She’s inside getting snacks.” Scully smiles at her partner, fondness flowing out in a way she rarely lets it. He’s been out for a couple days now--and while she was closely monitoring him and knew he was okay--she’s so glad that he has come back to her. “Do you want sunflower seeds?” she asks with a sparkle in her eyes.

He nods. “Sp--”

“Spitz.” The moments that have gotten them there, that have indebted her with that knowledge, flash through her mind. “I know.”

And it feels almost prophetic, to Mulder, that she does.

--------------------

The plains of North Texas roll past them, headlights and moonlight meeting in a demure embrace. The two-lane road bears a great resemblance to many they’ve gone down in days past. There’s no one else in sight. 

Mulder has been relieved of his back seat duties, taking Melissa’s place at the passenger side so she could get some sleep. He’s slipped on the shirt Scully swiped from his apartment, a Knicks 1990 tee that she must have found in the corner of the living room where he throws his dirty clothes. He wonders if she even packed anything for herself before she hightailed it out of the city.

He couldn’t have imagined that punching Skinner would lead to his father dead, him shot by his partner, and them on the run across the country. And yet, there’s no place he’d rather be. The desert gifting them with a stunningly clear night, he’s opened the car’s sunroof and kicked back to stare up at the stars. The radio having long turned to static, quiet permeates the car.

“I’d gladly live in the middle of nowhere if I got this view every night,” Mulder remarks, drinking in the night sky.

Scully glances at him. There’s a rogue part of her brain that hoped he’d be looking back at her. Alas, the sky is his mistress. 

They continue barreling down the highway, about seven hours out from their destination.  The speedometer reads 87 mph...Scully is prone to speeding when she can get away with it.

“Keep it up and we’ll beat the sunrise,” Mulder jests. 

“That’s the plan.”

Mulder pulls his seat back into place, popping suddenly into Scully’s peripheral vision. “Hey Scully, can I ask you a question?”

“If I said no, would that stop you?”

“Negative.”

“Go on, then.”

“Setting aside the why--though I’d be interested in that, too--how exactly did you decide that shooting me near the heart would be the safest bet?...Unless you wanted to kill me.”

“Well, I was pretty certain I’d be able to remove the bullet with what you had in your apartment, since the wound isn’t near a bone. That also makes it easier to prevent infection.”

“So you either have an insane amount of confidence in your shot, or you don’t value me very much,” he quips.

Scully smirks. “Lucky for you, I consider target practice a great stress reliever.”

“Does the Bureau psychologist know that?”

She bats his arm playfully, the car swerving as she does.

“Hey, that’s no way to treat a patient. Now I know why you’re not practicing.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention…? I’ve decided that I prefer Dr. Scully to Special Agent Scully, so this is the last you’ll be hearing from me.”

Mulder chuckles, though the very idea that there could be any truth to that gives him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. “There are millions of doctors out there,” he says, “and some of them aren’t even the cool type. Special Agent? That’s way sexier.”

“Oh, is that the metric we’re measuring at now?”

“That’s the metric I’m always measuring at,” he deadpans. 

“Mmm.” Scully looks at the rearview mirror, her sister’s steady-breathed sleep reflecting back at her. Good. She’d never hear the end of it if Missy overheard this conversation.

Mulder rubs his eyes, the events prior to his blackout having flowed back to him through the waking hours. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking this,” he begins, “but am I a fugitive?”

Scully glances out the driver’s window, as if she were going to change lanes though there is nowhere to go and no one else around. “I took your weapon to ballistics and proved it wasn’t the one used in the murder.” She says it so casually, Mulder notices, distancing them from the fact that the victim was his father. “But you’re still the only one placed at the scene, and it doesn’t look good that you called the police then ran. Still, the evidence implies that it wasn’t you. Of course, there’ll be suspicion…”

“Especially since we’ve both disappeared…”

“Hey, we’re on FBI business,” Scully declares. “We didn’t go through the official channels, but this is related to the X-Files.”

“Maybe Skinner will believe that if he hears it from you.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

Mulder smiles. She’s using her reputation to pull off a ruse. And damn, does that turn him on. 

He breathes in the scents of the car--the McDonalds fries they bought with Melissa’s credit card (just to be safe), his own eau de cologne from three days without a shower, but, above all, Scully’s sweetness. Her, just...her. A hint of strawberry, a swipe of gardenia perfume, and her honey-suckle skin. Smoke was never a fitting scent for her, and he is glad she has given it up.

“I’m guessing it’s safe to say you never caught up to Krycek,” Mulder mutters, balling up the fast-food straw paper and tossing it in the air. “Unless you’ve got him in the trunk.”

Scully shakes her head. “No stowaways besides you. He ran off after I shot and catching him wasn’t exactly my top priority.”

“So you do value my life…”

Scully flashes a brilliant but bashful smile. “You caught me.”

What a relationship they have. They are each other’s slayer and savior;  a cut of the knife stitched by a meticulous hand. Hurt then healed on the other’s command.

“Fox…” 

Mulder glances at the backseat. He finds Melissa sound asleep, snoring softly, and his gaze snaps back to the other Scully in the car. What glitch in the universe has led her to address him by his dreaded name?

He has never been so sure as in this moment---his partner is an otherworldly being, something supernatural. Not an alien, nothing so sinister...but perhaps the angel he imagined, or a fairy who has guided mankind for millennia, or a genie granting his wishes in freeze-frames. She looks through him...not in a way which makes him invisible, but one that takes the physical aspect out of it entirely. She sees his soul. He knows this.

“Fox,” she continues, layering on the vulnerability, “I’m sorry about your father. I know you loved him, above it all.”

Mulder pinches the bridge of his nose. “Something like that...I don’t know, honestly, that he ever loved me.” He looks at his lap. “He spent his last breath asking for forgiveness. You have to wonder what he’s done with his life to end up there.”

“It all becomes clear at the end,” Scully responds, not so much a hypothesis as a statement of fact, drawn from experience. “His regrets caught up to him, and he loathed some things he did while cursing himself for the things he left undone...And in that moment, an apology was all he could do to right some wrongs.”

Mulder looks at her through the corner of his eye, somewhat disturbed by the oracle she has become. “He asked me to forgive him,” Mulder replies. “That’s not the same as an apology.”

“Isn’t it, though?’

Mulder crosses his arms over his chest, the lumpy gauze of his wound rubbing him through his shirt. “Well, first of all, he didn’t even specify what I was supposed to forgive him for, so I don’t see how that can yield any sort of apology. And the very fact that was saying it at the end of his life means that it wasn’t actually about soothing my feelings, but lessening his guilt. Really, it didn’t have a damn thing to do with me.”

“So you’re saying it was a selfish apology, and that doesn’t count.”

“Exactly.”

“So do apologies only work if the recipient accepts them?” Scully interjects. “Is there no value in the attempt?” 

Mulder bites his lip.

“I’m not trying to play devil’s advocate,” she clarifies. “I’m genuinely curious about what you think.”

He sighs. “I think...what matters is not necessarily if the apology is accepted, but the intent of it. Like in this case, it was ill-timed, and so I don’t accept it. Maybe if he had said it to me ten years ago, it would have mattered, even if I were too stubborn to accept it at the time.”

“So if your father had apologized to you ten years ago, you would accept it now that he’s dead…?”

Mulder shrugs. “I think I’d realize that he actually meant it, and so I should cut him some slack.”

“Interesting.” Scully says nothing else, keeping her attention straight ahead.

Mulder smirks. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

She pulls her lips into a tightly-knitted line. “No, no, that makes sense. I just think there are instances when a poorly-timed apology is accepted, and what then? Is the inevitable misunderstanding that will result the recipient’s fault for being so naive? Or do they get to place all the blame on the dishonest person?”

“How about a little bit of both, ey? Spread the blame out nice and evenly. A sprinkle there, a pinch here...”

Scully cracks a smile. Of course he’d make this conversation dirty. “You know, you scare me sometimes, Mulder.”

And just like that, they’re back to his preferred name. He lets out a sideways smile. “Yeah? Why?”

“Because I think that maybe you’re truly crazy, you’re not just faking it.”

He laughs, deep and sudden. Pulled from the trenches of his being. “Glad to hear it,” he snickers. “Glad to hear it.”

-------------------------

As the motorcycle rumbles over the desert dust, Scully wonders how she could be so stupid. Barely out of psychosis and she sends Mulder to a burial ground. She didn’t intend for it to be his final resting place. 

Eric had tried to warn him before the helicopter men, as he called them when describing the scene to Scully and Melissa, burned the place. But Mulder couldn’t hear him over the whirl of the blades--that’s what Eric suspected. As he recounted to the girls, the smoking man had threatened him, had laid a grotesque hand on him and forced him to show the way back to his house. They interrogated his father Albert and bruised and bloodied him. The conclusion, all around, was that nobody knew where Mulder was. Regardless of whether he had burned in that boxcar or somehow disappeared into the desert beforehand, he was gone.

Scully has a pretty clear idea of who’s responsible, and she wishes she had a helicopter she could ram into their dumb black helicopter to wipe them off the face of the Earth... and prevent them from wiping anyone else off the face of the Earth. Thwarting their ambitions will have to be enough.

But how? Desert heat mixes with smoldering ash as she stands over what’s left of the boxcar, making the moment unbearable. It is obvious to her that if Mulder was still in the boxcar when the ignitor went off, he is now dead. No human can survive that magnitude of burning--he would, in fact, be incinerated. Not a piece of him left behind, identifiable even to Scully’s trained eye. 

And if he wasn’t in the boxcar, if he heard the helicopter and gave himself over to the desert? What then? Surely he would have found his way back to where she was standing by now. Surely she’d be able to see him, hear him, touch him. There’d be proof he was something more than ashes. Maybe even, he might have made it back to the motel. But Melissa is keeping watch, and she hasn’t said a word. Missy would not play games about this. 

Logic prevailing, as it often does with her, Scully lets Eric drive her back to the motel. If he’s not here, then he’s there. And if he’s not there then--well, she knows. And isn’t it just like Mulder to leave her enough evidence to point one way without giving her the proof she needs to conclude? She imagines a funeral sans a body and shutters. 

When they get back to the motel and Missy opens the door and she is alone in the room, Scully is not surprised. She is shattered. It’s like learning the day you’ll die, then waking up on that day and recoiling at the calendar. What will be cannot be stopped. Not by any power of persuasion. Any.

She wants to scream, cry, file a personal complaint with God. Instead, she walks through the door, thanks Eric for his help, then asks her sister what she wants for dinner. Scully’s not hungry--she rarely is these days, and how could she be at a time like this?--but Melissa, she’s human, and she’s been waiting around all day, and all they have in the room is a quarter-full bag of gummy worms, so yeah, Scully decides, Missy probably is hungry. And that’s something she can take care of. 

Missy looks at her sister like--well, like she said she just saw an alien. “Dana, you’re not well.” Then, after getting no reaction--”It’s okay to be upset.”

Scully throws her blazer over a chair. ”I didn’t say I wasn’t upset.”

Missy sits down on the bed and pats the space next to her. “Come on, let’s talk about it.”

Scully throws her hands in the air. “He’s gone, Melissa, what else can I say?” She paces through the room. “If he was in the box car, he burned to death. And if he wasn’t, then shouldn’t we have found him by now?”

“Not necessarily,” Missy counters. “Albert told me about the Anasazi, a tribe that lived here hundreds of years ago.”

“I know, I know. They disappeared, historians have no explanation for it.”

‘“That’s what they say. But, honestly, Dana--nothing disappears without a trace. Mulder included.”

Scully shoots her a look. “So what is your explanation? That he was abducted, despite there being multiple witnesses who didn’t see a thing?”

“He called you, he said he saw something in the boxcar.”

Scully nods. “Bodies...lots of them. He said they didn’t look human. And they all had smallpox vaccination scars.”

“What do you make of that?”

Scully shrugs. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the Anasazi.”

“So why did the men burn the boxcar?”

“It could have been because Mulder was in there, and they wanted to kill him. Or because what’s in there was damning to them.”

Missy bites her lip. “Did the boxcar blow up?”

“No, but it’s still smoldering.”

“Could you go in tomorrow and take a look? See what you can find?”

“Missy, I doubt there’s anything left. And besides, I’ve already ignored about thirty calls from Director Skinner. I need to get back to DC...I’m lucky if I’ll still have a job.”

“Fuck the job. Think of Mulder.”

“I need to consider both if I’m actually to uncover any of the conspiracies that Mulder--and his father and so many others--died as a result of.”

Melissa frowns. Dana’s already counting her partner out...that’s hard to come back from, being christened as a corpse. She sighs. ”Alright, I’m going to preface this by saying that I truly don’t believe that Mulder’s dead, and I know you will find him.”

Scully’s eyes narrow, intrigued by her sister’s shift in tone. “Okay…”

“There’s a technique that I learned from my therapist friend,” Missy begins, already setting off alarm bells in Scully’s head, “that is meant to help process complicated feelings about a person.” 

Scully purses her lips as Missy continues--”It’s used to find clarity and--if it’s someone you’ve lost, literally or metaphorically--to give closure. I think it would help you establish a clear motivation to keep up your work on the X-Files.”

Scully’s forehead creases right between the eyebrows. “I just told you, I have one.”

“Yes, but if you go back to Washington, bureaucracy’s gonna get in the way of all of that. That’s why you drove out here in the first place, isn’t it? To avoid bureaucracy and push forward with the case?”

“I suppose,” Scully mumbles.

“And that’s exactly what Mulder would have done, and that’s what he would want you to do now.”

“This is beginning to sound like one of those ‘if x jumped off a bridge, would you?’ scenarios,” Scully retorts. 

“But with the opposite sentiment,” Melissa clarifies. “You and Mulder have never been closer to finding the truth. Now do you want to hear my suggestion or not?”

Hands on her hips, Scully’s silence commands Missy to continue. 

“Let me remind you that Mulder is not dead, and this is just an exercise.”

Scully nods, more to keep her moving than in agreement. 

“I want you to write a eulogy for him.”

Scully’s mouth drops open in protest. “And this is going to advance the investigation how?”

“By giving you emotional clarity. Essentially, you’ll realize how much he means to you, and it will push you to do whatever you can to complete the investigation.”

Scully scoffs. “You act like I don’t even like him or something.”

“You like him, but you’re afraid of imitating him. There’s a lack of...respect for his methods. And they’re the only way this case is gonna get solved.”

Scully crosses her arms. “Gee, apparently you should have gone to Quantico in my place.” It’s not that she’s afraid, per say, but that she doesn’t think Mulder’s unconventional approach will work. Two plus years in and she still believes herself more than him. She wishes she didn’t.

“You don’t have to read the eulogy out loud,” Missy coos, knowing full well that she’ll be sneaking around during the night to get her hands on it when her sister refuses to share. 

“Wow, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better,” Scully groans. 

Melissa squeezes her sister’s shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll find him, and this will help you know what to say when you do.”

Scully leans into the hug. “For the record, I think this is insane, alright? I’m only doing it because it’s getting too late to search the desert.”

“Understood.” Missy stands up. “Oh, and to answer your question, Albert invited us over for a traditional tribal feast at his house.”

“What?”

“You asked what I wanted for dinner. Those are our plans.”

“Oh.” Scully looks at her lap. It seems unfair to have to face the world at a time like this. Especially when her head is plagued with thoughts about what she would--will?--say at her partner’s funeral. And still, she continues.

--------------------

Crowding around Albert’s dining table, the party finishes the last bites left on their plates. It has been a long day--or days, more accurately--and the desolate black sky outside makes Scully feel like it’s 4am, though the clock only reads 7. She blinks toward her company, trying to remain present.

“I am thankful we could share this meal,” Albert says, nodding to Scully and her sister. “It is not often we get outsiders here, and even less often that we’re able to indulge in the foods of our ancestors.”

Missy reaches for the final piece of fry bread, biting into it daintily. 

“There’s not a lot here,” Albert tells them, eyes downcast. “Nowadays, we take what we can get, and that means eating to survive...your processed foods and non-perishables have become the staples of our diets.”

Scully tries not to frown. “Well, we’re very glad that you prepared this for us. It was delicious,” she says, trying to inject enthusiasm into her downtrodden heart. 

“Yes, thank you very much,” Missy affirms. 

Albert casts his eyes in Scully’s direction. A shadow falls over her. From where, she is not certain. 

“You are hurting, but you do not need to be. What is yours will find you. There is no such thing as disappearance.”

Scully pulls her lips into a solemn smile. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“It is the truth. The desert acts in its own way, and it is never wrong.”

Scully nods, trying to believe him. Trying to have faith. “Thank you, Albert.”

From across the table, he extends his palms toward her. “Pray with me.”

She clasps his hands and closes her eyes. Prayer is not normally something she engages in with others around, but neither is grief. 

Albert begins speaking in the language written on the Defense Department files. She doesn’t understand the words, but his sincerity transcends semantics. The spirit of faith--the spirit of God--is there.

She has been thinking lately of faith. The faith she has been feeling is not that of Sunday mornings and ‘forgive me Father for I have sinned.’ It’s something else entirely, something that has compelled her to do things she would never do... until she looked down at her hands and she was doing them. 

So many transgressions to count, and yet she hesitates to even call them that. Injured her partner--a suspected fugitive--to keep him from implicating himself, tapped her sister as her sidekick to take him halfway across the country, and deserted her duties at the FBI, all in favor of the truth. 

Maybe truth is faith that good will prevail. 

--------------------------

When Scully sits down that night with the motel notepad and a pen, she becomes a conduit for everything she couldn’t say out loud. She copies the entire Mulder file from her brain, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t capture any of his essence, the unique flavor of humanity that he bravely faced the world with which made him so...him. 

It is then that Scully realizes you can know all the details of someone’s life without ever really knowing them, and that scares her because she gets the inkling that she has never truly let Mulder in--though he has opened up to her--and what if he dies feeling like he never got further than the young woman whose physics thesis he read? That’s not fair, not when she knows him so well.

She takes a breath and puts the pen down. She can’t compose Mulder to life. Resurrection doesn’t work that way. What she can do--and what she realizes is what every person does in this situation, and there must be something wrong with her because it wasn’t her first instinct--is write about how the man she knows (knew?) made her feel. About the impact his life had on her life. 

Her vision blurs as she works to consolidate her unauthorized biography of Fox William Mulder into a passage that suggests the joy their partnership brought into her life. Though Missy said she wouldn’t have to share, Scully can’t shake the feeling that she will need this at some point in time, that having a eulogy on call might not be such a bad idea. It’s a terrible thought, but a truth every agent knows. After all, she and Mulder witnessed each other writing their wills, and that was considered a customary work duty. Nothing is out of reach.

And so she wrote as if she’ll have to read it one day, letting her emotions flow within the confines of her finely tuned self-awareness. The end product turns out somewhat more sentimental than she envisioned, but she caps her pen and walks away, giving herself permission to take up space. 

--Fox William Mulder--

As he despised being called by his first name, I must take the liberty of referring to my partner as Mulder one last time. I was lucky to know him. Not as Spooky or the alien-obsessed man in the basement, but for who he truly was. Nothing was more important to Mulder than the truth. And the truest truth I know about him is that he loved his sister, and he wanted justice for her. It’s what he spent his life on, and ultimately, what he sacrificed it for. I am honored to have played any role in his mission, and I hope to continue it in his memory. 

If there’s one piece of Mulder that I hope to carry with me for the rest of my life, it’s his tenacity. Mulder never, never let any obstacle get in his way. I can’t tell you how many times I wasn’t sure where he was, only to learn that he had flown to the ends of the Earth to investigate whatever lead he found promising that day. I doubt that I’ll ever encounter anyone who lives up to the passion and determination he contained within him. And it’s a shame because the world needs that...The world needed him. 

I needed him too. He challenged me in ways I never dreamed of. Sometimes I wanted to pull my hair out, but mostly, I just kept thinking about how boring my life would be if I never met him. And now...I don’t know what’s next. There were so many possible futures ahead for us and the X-Files. This isn’t just a eulogy for Mulder, it’s a eulogy for all that could have been. He was my best friend. There’s nothing more I can say. 

When she reads it back the next morning, she falls to her knees in conversation with God, pleading for a miracle to bring the man she has finally realized she loves back into her life.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Business Trip Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 出差之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

Note: This date features S2 Victor, but contains no main storyline spoilers!

[ This date was released on 13 May 2021 ]

"This flight will be reaching its destination soon. Please fasten your seatbelts...”

Hearing the announcement, I shift my gaze away from the notebook laptop, rubbing my slightly swollen eyes.

The company recently took up an important collaboration, which is why I had to make final amendments to the proposal even in the middle of a business trip.

Drawing up the window at the side, what enters my vision is a patch of deep blue. Above the vast water, the small islands are reminiscent of dark emerald gems.

MC: So beautiful...

It’s as if I’m able to sense the greenery from across the window, and it adds a tinge of anticipation to this trip.

Even though the reason why I’m here is to attend an international meeting spanning three days.

The moment I step out of the airport, I see the apologetic expression on the staff’s face.

Staff: Hello, are you Miss MC?

MC: It’s me. Did something happen?

Staff: I’m incredibly sorry. Because of our negligence, the car that was supposed to pick you up is scheduled to arrive only in the afternoon. However, another guest has agreed to share a car with you to the venue.

MC: That’s fine, as long as the other party doesn’t mind.

-

When we reach the carpark, my brows arch at the sight of a long Bentley. I can’t help but criticise silently that the host would use a car with such high specifications.

The staff steps aside to pull the door open. I bend and enter the car, prepared to thank this important guest whom I have disturbed.

MC: Hello, thank you...

Lifting my eyes, I meet an indifferent face.

MC: ...Victor?!

In the spacious car, Victor is wearing a black suit as he typically does, a thin picture album in his hands. 

Since Victor, who should be at another end of the earth, has appeared before my eyes, I’m unable to react immediately.

MC: ...what are you doing here?!

Victor: Why can’t I be here? LFG receives an invitation from the host each year. This year is no exception. 

He glances at the time on the television screen installed in the car. He taps his knuckles against the picture album, his tone calm.

Victor: Also, who else would be willing to wait fifteen minutes for you.

I clear my throat hastily, displaying a brilliant smile.

MC: I have to give CEO Victor a proper thanks for waiting patiently then! But I really didn’t expect you to attend the meeting personally. Didn’t you always refuse in previous years?

Victor looks at me with slight surprise.

Victor: You remember these things really clearly. I happen to have time this year, and...

He pauses, his gaze landing on me.

Victor: I wanted to see if a certain acclaimed producer is just as skilful and at ease when faced with an international collaborative partner.

Hearing the mildly teasing tone in Victor’s words, I can't help but crinkle my eyes into a smile.

MC: In that case, I definitely won’t disappoint CEO Victor. This meeting is really important to our company. I’m bringing out one hundred percent of my fighting spirit, which I haven’t done in a very long time.

While speaking, I scoot backwards into the soft chair. With Victor at my side, the tension that I’ve been experiencing is finally alleviated slightly.

MC: Fortunately, the host arranged for the venue to be at a resort. We can have a good rest too. I heard the scenery on that small island is pretty good. And there are lots of kittens...

Victor: I’m guessing the reason why you came here to attend the meeting was for the resort.

Hearing this, I stare at the picture album in his hands. The page which has been flipped open happens to be the view I saw from the plane. It’s clearly a brochure for this place.

MC: CEO Victor, aren’t you looking at a brochure?

Victor: It was to while the time away while waiting for someone.

Even though I’ve exposed Victor, his expression remains unchanged. He closes the brochure composedly, which has a few images of cat paws on it.

Victor: Do you want to look at it?

MC: No need. Actually, the main reason why I came here isn’t for the resort.

Victor: Then what is it?

The expression in my eyes changes, revealing a smile.

MC: My reason is very obvious. It’s to expand our company’s influence internationally, and obtain a few more million dollars’ worth of LFG’s investments.

Victor doesn’t refute my words. Instead, he folds his arms in front of his chest and leans against the wall of the car, meeting my eyes calmly.

Victor: What do you plan to do?

MC: Before coming here, I noted down the organisers and brands, then wrote proposals based on their preferences and styles. But from the looks of it, there seems to be a faster method.

I smile while facing Victor, speaking unhurriedly.

MC: For instance... getting close to an extremely important guest at the meeting.

Victor arches his brows, the upward curl at the corners of his lips softening his well-defined features. 

Victor: I’ll look forward to it then.

-

The meeting that spanned the entire afternoon finally comes to a temporary end. After politely turning down an invitation to the dinner banquet, I leave the venue, standing outside and taking in breaths of fresh air.

Victor: Why are you hiding here?

Turning my head, I see Victor who appears to be leaving as well.

MC: I’m heading back to rest and prepare for tomorrow’s main event. What about you? What are you planning to do?

He glances at the insuppressible fatigue on my face, then continues walking.

Victor: Like you, I’m heading back to rest.

He doesn’t walk quickly, as though waiting for me to chase after him. Curling the corners of my lips, I speed up my footsteps and follow him.

In this resort surrounded by water, exquisite glass houses sit among the elegant scenery, reminiscent of illustrations from a fairytale.

Two small wooden signboards with cats drawn on them attract my attention, and I continuously turn my head around to peer at them.

Victor: What are you looking at that has left you unable to walk properly?

MC: There’s a story written on these wooden signboards, and I find it interesting.

It’s a simple yet heartwarming short story: a mysterious kitten knocks on the door of guests, giving them a secret, warm gift.

MC: Do you think a kitten will knock on my window tonight?

I turn to Victor, saying this jokingly. However, he’s the same as always, shattering my imagination with his words.

Victor: It’s just an advertising tactic by the resort.

Kitten: Meow~ 

Before he finishes speaking, a soft sound drifts from the thick clump of grass at the side. My eyes brighten instantly.

MC: See? The Cat Resort lives up to its name.

Very soon, a calico cat leaps out from the thick grass, its black eyes seeming to scrutinise the both of us.

I squat down, wanting to reach out to play with it. However, it’s incredibly proud and aloof.

MC: ...what a cold cat.

The “cold” calico cat avoids my outstretched hand and goes to Victor’s feet, circling him in a clingy manner.

MC: Why is it only warm towards you?

Victor: Your earlier enthusiasm probably gave it a scare.

Kitten: Meow~ Meow meow~

The kitten lifts its tiny head, raising a paw and “condescendingly” leaves two paw prints on Victor’s trousers before leaving in a leisurely manner.

Victor: ...

Watching it jump back into the grass, I retract my gaze, continuing forward with Victor.

MC: I didn't expect you to have an affinity with animals. Whenever I want to get close to the stray cats below the company building, I have to “give offerings” of cat food first.

The gentle evening breeze brushes past. In this leisurely atmosphere, Victor’s tone is casual and relaxed.

Victor: Maybe the cat food you bought doesn’t taste good.

MC: I buy high quality cat food, okay?

Engaging in idle chatter while walking, we soon reach the houses that have been prepared for us.

Detached glass houses scattered in a disorderly fashion appear before our eyes. What surprises me is that the small house Victor is staying in happens to face mine.

The two windows aren’t that far apart, and they face each other, conjuring a carefree atmosphere. 

MC: I didn’t expect our residences to be so close by. This way, we could start chatting just by opening the windows.

Victor: ...I won’t do such a silly thing with you.

MC: I was just kidding. See you tomorrow! Rest early, CEO Victor.

Waving at him happily, I turn around and push open the door to the small glass house.

-

Everything in the small house is as exquisite as the exterior. Through the transparent ceiling, I can see the glow of sunset.

Now that I’ve returned to the residence, the exhaustion from the journey immediately spreads through my four limbs. With a “plonk”, I fall onto the soft bed.

It is only after releasing a huge breath that I think about shutting the curtains. When I walk over to the small balcony, I see the person standing opposite.

Victor is holding a cup of coffee at the window, and is currently meeting my gaze.

He has removed his outer jacket and has his sleeves rolled up, making his entire person seem much more relaxed. I can detect a smile from the expression in his eyes.

Recalling how I looked sprawled on the bed earlier, my face instantly heats up.

MC: [whispering] That’s so embarrassing...

Pretending to be calm, I shoot Victor a smile, then tug on the thick curtains firmly.

The room instantly descends into dimness, and also covers the slight tinge of red on my face.

Buzz buzz - at this moment, my phone vibrates.

Victor: There’s a meeting tomorrow. Sleep early, and don’t get overly excited.

-

Upon waking up, the room is so dark that there doesn’t seem to be any light coming in. Drawing the curtains, I realise that the sky’s almost dark.

Warm yellow lights from the opposite house enter my vision, reminiscent of tender candlelight in twilight.

At some point of time, it had started raining outside.

And behind that curtain of rain, there’s an indistinct figure.

Victor seems to be reading documents while sitting by the window.

MC: He’s still busy with work at this time?

After thinking about it, I put on a coat and sneak out of the door.

-

MC: Thanks for your help.

Carrying the congee I purchased as a take-out, I walk down the glass-roofed corridors. Falling rain patters outside the corridor, embellishing the night with even more coldness.

Kitten: Meow~

At this moment, a calico kitten suddenly appears at the side, and it’s clearly the same cat Victor and I met before.

With the same happy and contented gait, it comes up to me, then lifts its head to stare at me.

After being confused for a few seconds, I lift the congee in my hand, and the kitten’s line of sight slowly shifts upwards too.

MC: Turns out you’re just a little greedy cat despite your aloof appearance. But I can’t let you eat this. I still need to feed a “big cat”.

Despite me leaving mercilessly, the calico cat follows behind me all the way.

MC: Fine, you can visit Victor with me then.

It lets out an excited “meow”, though I’m unsure if it understood what I said.

MC: I’ll take that as an agreement.

When I walk to the small glass house, Victor’s room is still lit. I pick up the cat and lean towards the window, tapping on the window with a thud.

The figure sitting in front of the window pauses. The curtains which weren’t closed completely are pulled open.

Victor’s face appears in the window clearly. When he sees me and the cat in my arms, he’s slightly stunned for a moment, obvious surprise flashing across his face.

Warm light illuminates the room with a soft and comforting glow. Even Victor, who is sitting amidst the warm colour, seems to become much gentler.

Lifting the kitten’s paw, I wave it a few times in greeting.

MC: Hello Mr Victor. We’re here to give you a present.

He chuckles in resignation, the word “dummy” leaving his lips silently.

Victor sets the documents down neatly, then gets up to open the window. While supporting the window frame with a hand, he looks down at me with a scrutinising gaze.

Victor: What are you doing outside this late instead of sleeping?

MC: I should be the one asking you that. Why are you still working this late!

Hearing this, he lifts his hand and rubs the space between his eyebrows, but the veins in his eyes can still be seen faintly.

Victor: There’s an issue related to an acquisition by LFG. Goldman called and asked for my opinion.

MC: Is the issue serious? 

Victor: It’s manageable.

He sets down his hand and brings it to me. I stare at this unfurled hand, blinking in confusion.

Victor: Didn’t you say you brought something for me?

Only now do I remember my official business, and I hide the thermal bag with the congee within it in my arms.

MC: Victor, are you going to take my congee and then ask me to leave?

Victor: ...when did I say that. It’s just that a certain someone has a “tough battle” to fight tomorrow, and has to maintain her vigour.

MC: I’m fine. I just took a nap and feel so much better.

While we’re talking, the kitten in my arms suddenly meows impatiently. Then, it leaps out of my arms. 

It jumps into Victor’s room deftly, then stands on his desk, licking its paw calmly.

MC: ...it really likes you. It doesn’t even want my congee now.

I grumble, and Victor suddenly chuckles softly.

Victor: Didn't you buy the congee for me? I don’t intend to share it.

Hearing this, I recall the serious matter I came to attend to by making this trip.

I scan my surroundings. It’s still raining, and there’s quite a distance to the door. And this window happens to be sufficiently low.

After giving it some thought, I roll my wrists, then speak.

MC: Victor... move a little to the side.

Victor: What are you planning to do now?

Victor arches his brows in a lack of comprehension. However, he follows what I said and shifts away from the window.

In the next second, I support myself on the window frame, hopping across smoothly.

When Victor sees the faint footprints on the windowsill, he’s silent for a few seconds.

Victor: ...

Victor: Looks like you truly had sufficient rest. You’re full of energy.

MC: This is a special situation. Scholars in the ancient times would leap over walls to meet beautiful women. Today, I’m leaping over the window to bring you congee.

I retrieve the piping hot congee from the bag, placing it in front of Victor.

MC: For you. Have some supper before continuing work.

Victor lowers his head to look at the congee, the corners of his lips curling upwards indistinctly.

Victor: Is this what you called “catering to my tastes”?

MC: That’s right. So I hope CEO Victor would help me out tomorrow in preventing awkward silences.

Victor: It depends on your performance.

He picks up a spoon, stirring the slightly solidified surface of the congee slowly. The fragrance of rice makes my stomach grumble uncontrollably.

Smelling the fragrance, the calico cat circles our feet, meowing coquettishly.

MC: It seems hungry. The congee I ordered is pretty bland. Why don’t you share some with it?

Victor: Looks like it isn’t the only hungry one.

Victor gives me a meaningful glance, then splits the congee into three portions. The portion that he blows cool is placed in front of the kitten, and another is pushed in front of me.

Victor: After you’ve finished eating, go to bed.

MC: I didn’t even say that I wanted to eat...

I can’t help but mutter to myself while happily taking a spoon and sending a scoop of congee into my mouth.

Victor: The proportion of water and rice is wrong, it wasn’t cooked long enough, and it doesn’t bring out the taste of congee.

Hearing VIctor’s comments, I pause in my movements, then release a soft ‘hmph’.

MC: I wasn’t the one who cooked it, so your words don’t hurt me.

Ten minutes later, three completely clean bowls convey the greatest gratitude towards the chef’s hard work.

The satisfied calico cat has long since found a space on the carpet and rolled into a ball, snoring and sleeping soundly.

Victor: It’s also time for you to return and sleep.

MC: I still don’t feel like going back. I just had a nightmare, so I don’t feel drowsy at all. Why don’t I stay behind and accompany you while you work? I could wait for tomorrow’s sunrise too.

Victor: ...seems like you just want to use my room to watch the sunrise.

Seeing that he remains unmoved, I raise my hands, looking at him with a face filled with sincerity.

MC: I’ll definitely keep quiet throughout, and won’t disturb your work!

Victor doesn't say anything, returning to his documents. He seems to have tacitly allowed me to “run amok”.

I sit on a sofa chair at the side obediently, supporting my chin with a hand while sneaking peeks at him.

Beneath the warm lights, the side of his face seems to become much gentler. However, his slightly furrowed brows reveal a faint sharpness.

Rain patters down outside the window, a stark contrast to the tranquility within the house.

Looking at Victor’s figure, my eyelids grow heavier and heavier...

Victor suddenly senses a weight on his shoulder. He turns his head, only to see that the girl who claimed that she wasn’t drowsy is currently sound asleep, eyes shut tightly.

Victor: MC? 

The girl wrinkles her nose, as though she’s having a beautiful dream, or feeling nostalgic for the delicious food from earlier.

He recalls the story written on the wooden signboards earlier in the evening about the kitten which taps on windows and sends gifts. A soft chuckle rises from his throat.

Along the horizon, a hazy ray of light sneaks in through the window in front of them.

🐈 Phone call: here

🐈 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Surprised by a storm with Nozel (part 5/5)

You ate and drank, at first it was mostly just eating as you were practically starving after a long day, but later you made small talk. That small talk grew into a casual conversation during which you smiled and laughed, more precisely Nozel smiled and occasionally chuckled at best, but you laughed. You laughed and if it was possible, you could feel the pull to him grow more intense. It was as if your heartstrings had been floating towards him, inching closer every day since you met him, but now they had wrapped themselves around him. Those strings that were being spun into yarn, and as a result of being spun, they pulled you closer to him. Those strings were becoming thicker and stronger, and you wondered if you could hold still.

Evening started to turn into a night, and you only noticed how time had spanned from how the creeping cold from the outside had you holding yourself again. Nozel got up as soon as you rubbed your sides and walked to the fireplace. “I’ll throw a couple more logs in,” he said firmly. You hummed as you looked outside, where darkness was prominent. “Thank you, but I do think that we should turn in for the night.” “True,” he simply remarked as he crouched by the fire and throw logs in it.

You got up from your seat, rubbing your sides. “Which side of the bed do you want?” You inquired carefully. “Hmm. Doesn’t really matter I suppose. This side is closer to the fire and your belongings are on this side so…” He trailed off once his eyes caught your underwear laying in the chair next to him. “Wait. She’s naked under that make-believe-dress? Okay. Alright. I can do this. I can do this. Just calm down. Calm down. Calm the Hell down! We are both adults. We can do this. We can respectfully sleep on our own sides of the bed, even though the bed is quite narrow for a double bed… Why is the bed so narrow?! Calm down.”  The veins on his forehead throbbed. “So, I should take this side?” He had barely registered you moving closer to him, now seated on the very god damn, bloody bed that was so god damn narrow, in front of him asking such a thing with that innocent tone. His brow twitched. “Ah… yes.” He remarked.

Nozel started to circle around the bed, his heart and mind racing. “Should I sleep with my shirt and pants on? But it’d be weird if I was fully dressed and she isn’t, right? Plain boxers? But that’d be too bold, right? Shirt I should take off in any case, right?” He dragged his steps as he thought, and ended up tossing his shirt onto the chair he had sat on, while you climbed under the covers. “If I start undoing my pants now, she’d get the wrong idea. Yes. Better to just leave them on.” He sat on the edge of his side, taking the last couple of seconds to try to gather himself and climbed in as well. You laid there on your backs, not touching each other, for a while in silence until you let out a nervous chuckle. “What?”, he asked gently. You stared at the sealing and smirked. “Nothing really. It’s just that this moment is… so absurd. I mean I… it’s just that.” He too let out a small chuckle. “Yeah. I understand what you mean.” He paused for while and continued without thinking that much. But the absurdity of the moment made it easy to blurt out ideas he wouldn’t otherwise have uttered. “We are acting like a couple of virgins not really knowing what do. What position to sleep in and so on.” The smirk faded from your lips as you turned to your side, facing him. “Well actually… Can I… tell you a secret?” Nozel turned his head to you and lifted an eyebrow. A small silence lingered between you before he replied with words. “Sure. I’ll keep it.”

Your inquiring eyes stayed in his for a moment longer, before drifting into the sheets. You opened your mouth, closed it and shifted a bit before separating your lips again to tell him. “I… This actually is the furthest I have ever gone with anyone.” Both of his brows rose up, shock prominent in his complexion. “Um. Come again? Did I hear that right? She’s… She’s still untouched? I’m the first person she’s sleeping with? We are just going to sleep, but still. “ His mind was at a standstill and didn’t know what to reply, so you continued instead now feeling a familiar weight in your chest. “I’m sorry, I – I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve made things even more awkward.” He turned his head towards the ceiling as he wasn’t sure if he’d manage to speak, would he lay his eyes on you at that moment. “No, no. It’s… I’m glad that you told me.” As the words left his lips, he scolded himself “What kind of a thing is that to say?! Why are you happy about she telling you that she’s a virgin?” Your brows furrowed slightly. “… Um. Forgive me sir -no, um- Nozel, but that…sounds a bit… strange thing to say.” It was true and he couldn’t deny it. “See?! Why the Hell did you go and say THAT to her? Of course, it’s weird! What was I supposed to say?!” He thought, but he started speaking. It was as if his mouth had a mind of its own. “It’s different trusting someone to have your back on missions and to trust someone with personal secrets. Even the most powerful combat mage, might not be one that you want to trust with your innermost thoughts and emotions. So, I’m glad that you trust me enough.” The words reached his ears as well as yours, and he was rather proud of himself, as well as surprised. “Huh. Good. That was good. And true. Good job.”

You looked at him, astonished. The corners of your mouth rose to your ears and there was a sparkle in your eyes. “Of course I do,” you told him with words like velvet dropping from your lips. You leaned closer to him. His eyes were still fixed on the ceiling as he continued to think: “There you are again. Saying things with that tone. As hard it is to not touch you, hold you when you do that, it makes me happy.” You press a faint kiss on his cheek. “Good night,” you whisper before turning on your other side. His fingertips found their way to the point on his cheek that was now warm. A smile rose to his face and washed away every trace of scowl or coldness in his complexion. “Good night,” he whispered. “I love you,” he thought.

He laid awake until cold started to creep further into the room and the fire in the fireplace started to die down. He glanced at you and carefully got out of the bed. The cold floor made him shiver, but he dared not hurry his steps as he didn’t want to wake you. He retrieved his cloak and got back into the bed, laying the cloak on you first. His movements were hushed and soft like silk, but the collar of the cloak tickled your cheek, waking you up. “Hmm? Nozel?” You said drowsily. “Yeah. Sorry for waking you up. Are you cold?” He asked. “Hmm. A bit. But you’re warm…” You answered as you rolled over and scooted closer to him. His heart thumped so hard; he was afraid it’d break free from his chest. “Can’t I…?” You mumbled against his chest. “Yes.” He replied, speaking almost on top of you. “Yes, you can. Come here.” He said while wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer. “After this I’m taking you on a proper date.” He said with a smile and his muscles tense, but his hold tender. You turned you head a bit to nuzzle against his neck with a smile. “I’d like that.” Nozel hadn’t known that happiness such as that could exist, happiness such as he was feeling at that moment, let alone that there was such instore for him. A single tear rolled from the side of his cheek as this time he whispered into your ear: “I love you.” It was quiet and tender and soft, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it would reach you, but it did. “I love you too,” you replied before drifting back to sleep.

[mytwilightimagines13]

Amnesia (Book Two)(Part Twelve)

The witnesses

Two things happened at once. Caius's eyes focused on Aro, and the tiny cruel smile came back. And Edward hissed, his hands balling up in fists so tight it looked like the bones in his knuckles would split through his diamond-hard skin. Carlisle glanced anxiously at Edward's face, and then his own face hardened. While Caius had blundered through useless accusations and injudicious attempts to trigger the fight, Aro must have been coming up with a more effective strategy. Aro ghosted across the snow to the far western end of the foe’s line, stopping about ten yards from Amun and Kebi. The nearby wolves bristled angrily but held their positions. “Ah, Amun, my southern neighbor!" Aro said warmly. "It has been so long since you've visited me." Amun was motionless with anxiety, Kebi a statue at his side. "Time means little; I never notice its passing," Amun said through unmoving lips. "So true," Aro agreed. "But maybe you had another reason to stay away?" Amun said nothing. "It can be terribly time-consuming to organize newcomers into a coven. I know that well! I'm grateful I have others to deal with the tedium.” Aro said and many took a quick glance at Maeryn before returning their attention back to Aro. Alec grabbed Maeryn’s hand and squeezed it lightly. Maeryn returned his gesture by stroking his hand with her thumb once. “I'm glad your new additions have fit in so well. I would have loved to have been introduced. I'm sure you were meaning to come to see me soon." Aro continued. "Of course," Amun said, his tone so emotionless that it was impossible to tell if there was any fear or sarcasm in his assent. "Oh well, we're all together now! Isn't it lovely?" Amun nodded, his face blank. "But the reason for your presence here is not as pleasant, unfortunately. Carlisle called on you to witness?" "Yes." "And what did you witness for him?" Amun spoke with the same cold lack of emotion. "I've observed the child in question. It was evident almost immediately that she was not an immortal child - " "Perhaps we should define our terminology," Aro interrupted, "now that there seem to be new classifications. By immortal child, you mean of course a human child who had been bitten and thus transformed into a vampire." "Yes, that's what I meant." "What else did you observe about the child?" "The same things that you surely saw in Edward's mind. That the child is his biologically. That she grows. That she learns." Maeryn still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that Bella and Edward had intercourse when she was only human. Maeryn had to admit she was impressed by Edward’s ability to restrain himself. But she was also disgusted by it at the same time. She couldn’t ponder on the fact how he could bring his mate in so much danger. Not just by having intercourse, but also by impregnating her. Overall, she found it foolish. "Yes, yes," Aro said, a hint of impatience in his otherwise amiable tone. "But specifically in your few weeks here, what did you see?" Amun's brow furrowed. "That she grows... quickly." Aro smiled. "And do you believe that she should be allowed to live?" Hisses escaped multiple mouths on the foe’s side, once Aro’s words had been spoken out loud. Half the vampires in the foe’s line echoed in protest. The sound was a low sizzle of fury hanging in the air. Across the meadow, a few of the Volturi witnesses made the same noise, including Maeryn. Edward stepped back and wrapped a restraining hand around Bella’s wrist. Aro did not turn to the noise, but Amun glanced around uneasily. "I did not come to make judgments," he equivocated. Aro laughed lightly. "Just your opinion." Amun's chin lifted. "I see no danger in the child. She learns even more swiftly than she grows." Aro nodded, considering. After a moment, he turned away. "Aro?" Amun called. Aro whirled back. "Yes, friend?" "I gave my witness. I have no more business here. My mate and I would like to take our leave now." Aro smiled warmly. "Of course. I'm so glad we were able to chat for a bit. And I'm sure we'll see each other again soon." Amun's lips

were a tight line as he inclined his head once, acknowledging the barely concealed threat. He touched Kebi's arm, and then the two of them ran quickly to the southern edge of the meadow and disappeared into the trees. Maeryn was sure that they wouldn't stop running for a very long time. Smart move. Aro was gliding back along the length of our line to the east, his guards hovering tensely. He stopped when he was in front of Siobhan's massive form. "Hello, dear Siobhan. You are as lovely as ever." Siobhan inclined her head, waiting. "And you?" he asked. "Would you answer my questions the same way Amun has?" "I would," Siobhan said. "But I would perhaps add a little more. Renesmee understands the limitations. She's no danger to humans - she blends in better than we do. She poses no threat of exposure." "Can you think of none?" Aro asked soberly. Edward growled, a low ripping sound deep in his throat. Caius's cloudy crimson eyes brightened. Renata reached out protectively toward her master. And Garrett freed Kate to take a step forward, ignoring Kate's hand as she tried to caution him this time. Maeryn watched the scene closely, holding her hands out, ready to weaken Bella’s shield at any moment. Siobhan answered slowly, "I don't think I follow you." Aro drifted lightly back, casually, but toward the rest of his guard. Renata, Felix, and Demetri were closer than his shadow. "There is no broken law," Aro said in a placating voice, but everyone on both sides of the meadow could hear that a qualification was coming. Bella was becoming furious, and hurled the fury into her shield, thickening it, making sure everyone was protected. Maeryn smiled and used her gift slightly, giving Bella some resistance. Not enough to break the shield, but enough for her to lighten up Bella’s fury even further, and use more energy than originally asked for. "No broken law," Aro repeated. "However, does it follow then that there is no danger? No." He shook his head gently. "That is a separate issue." The only response was the tightening of already stretched nerves, and Maggie, at the fringes of their band of fighters, shaking her head with slow anger. Aro paced thoughtfully, looking as if he floated rather than touched the ground with his feet. Maeryn noticed every pass took him closer to the protection of his guard, and felt more relieved with every pass he took. "She is unique... utterly, impossibly unique. Such a waste it would be, to destroy something so lovely. Especially when we could learn so much .. ." He sighed, as if unwilling to go on. "But there is danger, danger that cannot simply be ignored." No one answered his assertion. It was dead silent as he continued in a monologue that sounded as if he spoke it for himself only. "How ironic it is that as the humans advance, as their faith in science grows and controls their world, the more free we are from discovery. Yet, as we become ever more uninhibited by their disbelief in the supernatural, they become strong enough in their technologies that, if they wished, they could actually pose a threat to us, even destroy some of us.” Aro said, his face looking troubled. "For thousands and thousands of years, our secrecy has been more a matter of convenience, of ease, than of actual safety. This last raw, angry century has given birth to weapons of such power that they endanger even immortals. Now our status as mere myth in truth protects us from these weak creatures we hunt. This amazing child" - he lifted his hand palm down as if to rest it on Renesmee, though he was forty yards from her now, almost within the Volturi formation again. "if we could but know her potential - know with absolute certainty that she could always remain shrouded within the obscurity that protects us. But we know nothing of what she will become! Her own parents are plagued by fears of her future. We cannot know what she will grow to be." He paused, looking first at the foe’s witnesses, and then, meaningfully, at his own. His voice gave a good imitation of sounding torn by his words. Still looking at his own

witnesses, he spoke again. "Only the known is safe. Only the known is tolerable. The unknown is... a vulnerability." Caius's smile widened viciously. "You're reaching, Aro," Carlisle said in a bleak voice. "Peace, friend." Aro smiled, his face as kind, his voice as gentle, as ever. "Let us not be hasty. Let us look at this from every side." "May I offer a side to be considered?" Garrett petitioned in a level tone, taking another step forward. "Nomad," Aro said, nodding in permission. Garrett's chin lifted. His eyes focused on the huddled mass at the end of the meadow, and he spoke directly to the Volturi witnesses. Maeryn raised an eyebrow, wondering what this nomad could possibly say to still put an end to this tension. A tension of a starting battle, waiting around the corner to blossom like a deadly flower. "I came here at Carlisle's request, as the others, to witness," he said. "That is certainly no longer necessary, with regard to the child. We all see what she is. I stayed to witness something else. You." He jabbed his finger toward the wary vampires. "Two of you I know - Makenna, Charles - and I can see that many of you others are also wanderers, roamers like myself. Answering to none. Think carefully on what I tell you now. 'These ancient ones did not come here for justice as they told you. We suspected as much, and now it has been proved. They came, misled, but with a valid excuse for their action. Witness now as they seek flimsy excuses to continue their true mission. Witness them struggle to find a justification for their true purpose - to destroy this family here." He gestured toward Carlisle and Tanya. "The Volturi come to erase what they perceive as the competition. Perhaps, like me, you look at this clan's golden eyes and marvel. They are difficult to understand, it's true. But the ancient ones look and see something besides their strange choice. They see power. I have witnessed the bonds within this family - I say family and not coven. These strange golden-eyed ones deny their very natures. But in return have they found something worth even more, perhaps, than mere gratification of desire? I've made a little study of them in my time here, and it seems to me that intrinsic to this intense family binding - that which makes them possible at all - is the peaceful character of this life of sacrifice. There is no aggression here like we all saw in the large southern clans that grew and diminished so quickly in their wild feuds. There is no thought for domination. And Aro knows this better than I do." Maeryn watched Aro's face as Garrett's words condemned him, waiting tensely for some response, a sign to end this nomad. Who does he think he is? Questioning her Master like that?! But Aro's face was only politely amused, as if waiting for a tantrum-throwing child to realize that no one was paying attention to his histrionics. "Carlisle assured us all, when he told us what was coming, that he did not call us here to fight. These witnesses" - Garrett pointed to Siobhan and Liam - "agreed to give evidence, to slow the Volturi advance with their presence so that Carlisle would get the chance to present his case. But some of us wondered" - his eyes flashed to Eleazars face - "if Carlisle having truth on his side would be enough to stop the so-called justice. Are the Volturi here to protect the safety of our secrecy, or to protect their own power? Did they come to destroy an illegal creation, or a way of life? Could they be satisfied when the danger turned out to be no more than a misunderstanding? Or would they push the issue without the excuse of justice? We have the answer to all these questions. We heard it in Aro's lying words - we have one with a gift of knowing such things for certain - and we see it now in Caius's eager smile. Their guard is just a mindless weapon, a tool in their masters' quest for domination.” Maeryn frowned at his words, but quickly shook them off. This Garrett is a liar, nothing more, nothing less. "So now there are more questions, questions that you must answer. Who rules you,

nomads? Do you answer to someone's will besides your own? Are you free to choose your path, or will the Volturi decide how you will live? I came to witness. I stay to fight. The Volturi care nothing for the death of the child. They seek the death of our free will." He turned, then, to face the ancients. "So come, I say! Let's hear no more lying rationalizations. Be honest in your intents as we will be honest in ours. We will defend our freedom. You will or will not attack it. Choose now, and let these witnesses see the true issue debated here." Once more he looked to the Volturi witnesses, his eyes probing each face. The power of his words was evident in their expressions. "You might consider joining us. If you think the Volturi will let you live to tell this tale, you are mistaken. We may all be destroyed" - he shrugged - "but then again, maybe not. Perhaps we are on more equal footing than they know. Perhaps the Volturi have finally met their match. I promise you this, though - if we fall, so do you." He ended his heated speech by stepping back to Kate's side and then sliding forward in a half-crouch, prepared for the onslaught.

[hoaqins-funk-house]

Hoaqin

Yandere

Part 2

"Y/N, stand up."

"Why?" You ask, still laying down.

"There are people approaching. I believe they're here to awaken me."

You hum, lazily pushing yourself to your feet. 

Being, well, the size of an adult, you towered over the half-pint next to you. You place a hand on his head, next to his crown, hearing him click his tongue. "You'll stop treating me like a child soon enough."

"As long as you look like one, my view won't change."

"If I'm getting out of here, it won't be very long until I look like I did previously." He smirks, taking a seat in the chair that you had been ignoring for the better part of five or six hundred years.

"Shouldn't you turn the chair around? The back is facing the door." You say, him sighing. 

"Don't you know how to be dramatic?"

"Maybe I would've cared about such a thing before I was sealed." You yawn, leaning on the chair and facing the door as it slowly opens, revealing a dirty blonde man with freckles. His eyes widen when he sees you, but he quickly rids his face of any shock as Hoaqin looks over his shoulder, staring him down with red-rimmed eyes.

"You're finally here. It's been a while, Daniel."

"Hurry on out here, we don't have much time." The blue-eyed man, Daniel, says, staring at you suspiciously.

Hoaqin stands, walking around his chair before pausing as he spots the lady in red. "A guide, huh? Filthy. You brought someone with tainted blood here with you? How revolting. Still, I suppose you are pretty useful."

Her fist clenches. "You-"

"Quiet. Even if you are knowledgeable, you shouldn't speak your majesty's name so casually. My name is Hoaqin." He introduces, beginning to walk forward as his outfit's trail follows close after.

You, yawning, stretch your arms above your shoulders and begin to follow after, catching up to his side quickly.

"My aim is for my throne. And I will get there with FUG assistance. Soon, the entire tower will know my name." As he fully exits along with you, he notices everyone's expression. "Why is everyone looking at me like that?"

"You look like a kid, Hoaqin. Why wouldn't they." You answer flatly.

He huffs, lips twitching down in irritation. "I could guess that, Y/N." 

"Then why ask?"

"You-" He sighs. "Fine. You, with the brown hair." Her head perks up. "Can you really not feel it? My power? Even if I look like a weak kid."

Your eyes drift over to her, still half-lidded. She clams up, your gaze moving once more as the hooded man beside her begins to speak.

"Not true, Sir Hoaqin. I am Sir Yamah's Loyal Dog, Buelsar Elliot, and I can easily sense your great power is still within you." 

Hoaqin's head tilts back as you look around, unfazed. He was a Slayer, as far as you're aware.

"Hmm... A Dog of Slayer Bayroad Yamah?" 

"Yes. Please, use my power."

One of your eyebrows raises as you look over the group that had been gathered for the boy at your side.

Daniel continues eyeing you strangely, you meeting his gaze.

"Hoaqin... Who's this?" He asks, eyes narrowing.

"I'm Y/N. I was sealed in the room he was contained in, and I woke up as he was sealed." Casually, you raise a hand in greeting. "I've been with this brat for 600 or so years."

Hoaqin huffs, arms crossing. "I'm not a brat, I'll show you soon enough."

"Sure. Until then, you'll still be a brat to me."

Daniel continues staring, now confused. You, an unknown Regular, seemed so close with that monster. You were seemingly uncaring, not emoting, well, at all. 

And Hoaqin...

Hoaqin made absolutely sure to never create bonds that couldn't be broken at a moment's notice, but it seems you're the exception.

His brows furrow as Hoaqin walks past him, you stretching once more as you stay in your previous spot. 

"Oh, I need to ask; who are they?" Hoaqin inquires, pointing his sword at the two women in the back. Your eyes move between them, stopping on the one with freckles. Your eyes narrow slightly. 

You didn't trust her smile.

"Ah, hello Sir Hoaqin. I'm Rachel, and this is Yura Ha. We're here to aid you."

"And how will you do such a thing?" 

"With this."

You watch as she holds up a strange device, its screen colored purple with a cartoonish face in the center. Hoaqin gets handed it, observing it.

"What is it?"

Rachel smiles. 

As she begins to explain what 'Emily' is, your eyes drift to the door behind her. It had been quite a while since you had seen the train. And… were there people back there? There was some chatter from behind the door. 

No one else seemed to notice it. 

Walking around the rest of the group, you approach the door. Hoaqin's gaze drifts to you as he hands back the phone. 

"Is something the matter?" He asks.

You tilt your head as you observe the door, staying silent. Humming, you watch passively as the large doors open, revealing two people's shocked faces as they gaped at you. 

"Hoaqin?!" They yelp, you sighing. 

"No. Who are you?"

Your group faces you, the sword-wielder moving over to you to see the two who were there. 

"Are you here to greet me?"

"I highly doubt that. Just look at their faces." You say, Hoaqin nodding. 

"Yes, I suppose you're correct."

The red-haired guide lurches forward, shouting. "Wangnan, use a bomb!"

"Alright! Flamethrower, support me!"

The golden colored man grabs a two toned ball from his inventory, and as he goes to throw it, his arm gets impaled by Hoaqin's blade.

The red guide starts to run up to the injured man, but stops as Hoaqin begins to speak. "If you wish for your friend's hand to stay attached to his arm, I'd suggest staying right there."

"Even if his hand stays attached, I don't think he'll be able to use it." You yawn, shrugging. "Which sucks, but hey. It's better than dying I suppose." 

The fire lady stares at you incredulously. 

"It's been a while since I've sliced meat, thank you for the reintroduction. Still-" Hoaqin pauses, ripping his blade from Goldy's arm and laying it next to his neck, still stained a dirty crimson as the blood dripped off. The man grunted, barely holding back a scream. "Tell me. Who are you? Are you and that guide on a team?"

He pauses, a smirk growing on his lips. "Now that I've looked a bit closer… you seem tasty."

The sword scrapes against the man’s neck. “Speak, Yellow Monkey. What is your little group after?”

The injured man grits his teeth, unable to properly form words as his arm bleeds freely. 

“Hoaqin. He can’t speak.” You inform. “Having your hand half cut off is pretty painful.”

The golden-haired man looks over to you, your expression remaining blank.

“Seriously? He can’t talk because of pain? How pitiful.” Hoaqin scoffs.

“He’s a normal Regular. And a regular person. Being injured that badly isn’t very pleasant.”

“What, are you sympathizing with him?”

“A little. I’m not a fan of forcing people to endure torture before dying.”

Hoaqin huffs, pouting.

“Hoaqin, we don’t have the time to mess around with them.” Daniel says. “Besides, they’re the friends of Jue Viole Grace, the new Slayer Nominee. They will be useful to keep around.”

Hoaqin turns on his heel at Daniel’s words, you still facing the two intruders. 

“You’re Wangnan, right?” You ask, the woman rushing to his side as he grips his arm, looking up at you with sweat dripping off of his face. She also looks up at you, unnerved by how calm you were. He nods. Kneeling down, the woman gets defensive, and you just stare into his eyes, then focusing on the fire user. “And your name?”

“Y-yeon Yihwa.”

Abruptly, you stand, looking down on the two. “You’re strong. Both of you.”

“Who are you?!” Yihwa cries out, you sighing. 

“No need to shout, I’m right here. I’m Y/N. I’m a Wave Controller, and I was sealed in the same room as Hoaqin.” You drawl. “I was sealed a while before him, though.”

“Y/N.” Looking over your shoulder, you see Rachel walking over. 

“What is it.” 

“Could you bind them? They’re valuable hostages.” 

You shrug. “Got any rope? Oh, and bandages.”

She nods, handing over the materials and watching as you tie Yihwa before turning away. 

Sitting down in front of Wangnan, you prepare the bandages, grabbing the top of his forearm and pulling it towards you. “This’ll have to do for now. Don’t squirm too much.” You begin wrapping the gash, him wincing and sucking air through his teeth as you do so, finishing soon after. 

You then turn him around, tying him up.

The two hostages leaned against each other as you stood once more, briefly looking down at them before turning and walking to a wall, where you leaned against it, eyes closing.

They stare at you, confused about your intentions. You carefully wrapped Wangnan’s arm, and complimented them, but you also tied them up. They both jump as Hoaqin walks over, a frown on his face. He also crouches down, looking at both of them, before standing once more, sword over his shoulder. He huffs. “I don’t get it. Why did Y/N treat you like that? You’re both weak.”

His eyes narrow at them. “Still, they’re mine. Don’t forget.”

Turning, he walks up to you, the two on the ground watching as you open your eyes when he approaches, beginning to have a conversation with you. 

They glance at each other. 

-

“Y/N. You say you’re a Wave Controller, right?” Rachel begins, you glancing over. "How many Baangs can you create?"

You look away, eyes tracing the many details of the room, emptied by Hoaqin's impatience. "I never really focused on the offensive, so I only have four.”

"Four is still impressive." She compliments, smiling that untrustworthy smile of hers. "Baam can make five."

Your head tilts. "Like the explosive? Interesting name, I suppose."

She giggles. "No, it's spelled differently. Still, you'd probably know him better as Jue Viole Grace."

"Oh, him. Having five Baangs is rather admirable.” You yawn. This was the longest you’ve gone without sleeping in many, many years. 

“You said that you never focused on offense much, right?” She asks, you humming in affirmation. “So the shinsu you use is mainly defensive?” 

You nod. “It’s been a while since anything was able to pierce it. I have no clue as to my durability at this point, but I’ve worked on enhancing my Shinsu from the moment I entered this tower and the entire way through my sealings.” 

“Wow, I bet you’re really tough.” She says, you mindlessly nodding. 

The large doors in front of your group attract your eyes, staring with a raised eyebrow. As it opens, you casually walk in, ignoring the group and Hoaqin telling you to stop. You stare up at the large fish, its scales a glittering obsidian. 

“This is the boss for Level 36?” You ask, the beast roaring. “What were they called again?” You wonder, continuing to stroll in, uncaring as both Hoaqin and the fish charged forward. “Deep-Sea King? No, that was from a manga…” You hum, thinking, suddenly snapping. 

Hoaqin’s eyes widen as the fish coils around, blocking you from view as it consumes you.

His brows furrow, red hot anger coursing through his veins as he rushes forward, bringing his sword up. He hesitates, however, as he notices the creature’s body halt, quivering. 

“These things are called Deep-Sea Fish.” You call out. “Right?”

Hoaqin, jumping onto the fish’s back, sees your hand, holding back its face from eating you whole. “Well, whatever it is, it can’t get through my defenses.”

Quickly, he swings his sword, effortlessly slashing through the beast’s thick scales, killing it near instantly. Jumping down to where you were, he sees you looking at the many slices that permeated its hide. “Hoaqin, that was-”

He cuts you off by whipping his blade to barely touch your neck, your eyes widening for less than a moment. Sighing, he moves it away, walking over to you before staring up at you, a snarl on his face. “Never do that again. If you had died, who knows what I would have done. Right now, I will be your reason for climbing the tower, and I refuse to climb further without you. Know that, and don't forget it.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” You breathily answer, a sigh woven into your words.

“Good. You’re still mine.”

“You’re still on that…? Well, whatever floats your boat I guess.”

“You’re still underestimating me?! I killed that huge Deep-Sea Fish in one slice!”

“Hey, when did I say that? Besides, with how many pieces it's in, it looks like it took more than one slice.”

“It’s an Arie family specialty! It was only one slice, I promise you.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

“You’re still not taking me seriously!” 

-

Laying on the futon, you see Daniel standing and Hoaqin sprawled out on his own. 

“Man, I’m so hungry…” Hoaqin complains. “I’m craving souls, and also the death of that new Slayer Nominee.” He pauses, glancing over to your lazy form before shifting his sight to Daniel. “Hey, Viole will still chase us if I eat the hostages, right? It’s a win-win situation.”

“Stop the whining. We’ll be getting to the station soon, and you can eat as much as you want. Just be patient.” Daniel promises, Hoaqin huffing.

As Hoaqin begins to speak again, you let your eyes close, finally sleeping again.

It took him a little while to notice the fact that you were sleeping, him only realizing after Daniel had laid down and began resting up. 

He sits up, moving to the end of his futon. Daniel glances over, seeing him brush your hair out of your face with a rather tranquil expression, his lips slightly upturned. His eyes held a familiar emotion, one that was close to the one he had seen with Roen… 

But not quite the same. He seemed a bit more possessive, if how he threatened Wangnan and Yihwa meant anything.

"Say, Hoaqin…" Daniel starts, Hoaqin's expression falling as he looks over. "What's your relationship with them?"

"They're mine. Right now, they don't take me very seriously, but when I become complete again, I'll show them how serious I am." He pauses, looking back at you for a moment. "Do you have any devices I can use to track?" He asks.

Alright. He was more than a bit possessive.

Daniel nods. "You can get one from Rachel. We can track it using Emily."

"I can do that later."

“Attention, all regulars aboard the train.” The loudspeaker began, you awakening to its voice. “We will be arriving at the Wooden Horse Station on the 37th Floor shortly.” 

It repeated its message, you sitting up and paying no heed to how close Hoaqin was. “Is it time to move again?” You ask, flexing your back and rolling your shoulders. Your question gets answered as Hoaqin stands, picking up his sword. 

“Finally…” A smirk grows on his lips. “I can eat as much as I want.”

You stand up as well, grabbing the pillow as Daniel follows suit, minus the pillow. 

As Daniel eyes you weirdly, you sigh, dropping the cushion and walking out behind the silver-haired Arie. He takes up the back the entire walk to the exit, even as you move to Hoaqin’s side. 

“Finally! Let’s get out of here and feast!” Hoaqin celebrates, his fun ruined by the man behind him. 

“Not yet. Let’s wait for a bit longer, there’s no good in causing a fuss this early.”

Hoaqin chuckles. “No. Why would I, when all that’s filling my ears are the sounds of fresh prey awaiting me?”

You yawn. “I’ve been listening to him complain for the past 600 years about how hungry he is. I’d rather not have to go through that again.”

“I’ll eat you.” Hoaqin threatens, you shrugging. 

“If I actually believed you would, maybe I’d be scared.”

Hoaqin huffs, turning from you to the doors and striding forward. They begin to open, and you slip out right behind Hoaqin, managing to get past him before Daniel grabs him.

“Fresh air…” You mumble, hearing the squabbling behind you come to a stop. “I wonder how far it goes down.” You peer over the edge, staring down into the clouds. 

“You better not try and check.” Hoaqin warns, abruptly getting yanked back into the train. 

“Huh…” You say, stretching your arms above your head. “There sure are a lot of people here.”

The crowd was on guard, even more so as the doors reopened, Hoaqin stepping out again. “Y/N, take this.” He says, handing you a small device. You pocket it, and as he walks forward, his revival group joining you on the first platform. 

“Hello, you cute little D-class.” He greets, continuing down the steps. “Oh my, some of you look so tasty…” 

He laughs. “Still, I’m glad to see how many of you have showed up. You are all blessed, since you’re going to be my first meal. Now, let’s start this event, shall we?”

His lips turn up as he holds out his hand, thumb folded inward. “In order to get on this train, you will need to cut off four heads.”

The D-class begin to shout as you yawn once more, turning. “You have fun with that, I’ll be inside.”

Hoaqin glances back, brows slightly furrowed. You were avoiding the slaughter, huh?

Man, this wouldn’t be half as entertaining without you… 

He would just have to enjoy what he could. 

As the Regulars on the platform continue to shout, he lifts his sword, slashing through a group of them and stealing their souls.

“If need be, I will make you obey.”

You enter the room that you were in previously, flopping down with your face buried in your pillow. 

You only lift your head as the lights flicker, small bolts of electricity traveling through the train’s metal sheeting. “Someone can use electricity…?” Standing up, you sigh. You wanted to sleep some more. 

“Eventually I’ll have to go back to how it used to be…” You mumble, exiting the room. Before getting sealed, you worked tirelessly, climbing and training, day and night. Sleep was foreign to your overworked body, so it was a welcome break when you were trapped in a coma for half a millennia and then got to sleep so much for the other half.

Walking down the hall, you see a head of short white hair a bit further up. “Hey, who’re you?” You call, the boy turning. “You look a lot like Hoaqin.”

“So, you know another me. Could you lead me to him?”

“Sure. Just follow me.”

As you begin to walk with the other Hoaqin, he looks up at you. “Are you one of his henchmen?” 

“Not really. We got stuck in the same room for 600 years… Oh. looks like they’ve escaped. Wangnan, Yihwa!” 

The two turn to face you, not expecting to hear your voice, especially raised. With wide eyes, they notice the boy at your side. 

“Hoaqin?!” Wangnan yelps, you approaching before stopping due to the knife pointed at your throat. 

“I’m not gonna turn you in or whatever. Also yeah, this is Hoaqin, but not the one you knew.”

Hesitantly, the Heavenly Mirror is lowered from your neck.

“As they said, I am Hoaqin. Now, let’s head for where the other me is. I’d guess he’s looking for me as well.”

You nod, looking at the two behind you from over your shoulder.

“You coming?”