#comments about looking forward to new material without saying anything about the part already posted is in the

[onyxbird]

I think a lot of this comes down to context cues: The norm for AO3 comments is commenting on fics you read and liked, and most authors will interpret comments within that positive context if it's plausible. If it's clear you're commenting outside that norm (e.g., haven't read the fic), then your comment is more open to misunderstandings/more negative interpretations and may need to be more carefully written and explicitly positive to have the same effect.

If you're trying to compliment on a fic you read and liked, the AO3 norms work in your favor. Context says the default answer to "Why did this person leave this comment?" is "Because they liked your fic!", so if your comment can be easily read as meaning "I liked your fic" then it probably will be. As a result, an enormous range of comment styles, from a single emoji or keysmash up to paragraphs of detailed commentary, tend to be taken as compliments. That's true even if the comment never explicitly says "I liked this" because the norm is that that's what drives people to comment. You generally would have to say something that comes across as specifically negative for the comment to not be understood as a compliment.

(I think this is what people generally mean when they say "All comments are appreciated," even though we're all on the internet, which is well known to have lots of genuinely mean and ill-intended comments. Readers who are worried about their phrasing not being perfect are presumably not leaving explicitly negative/nasty comments, so their comments are generally going to land inside the general range of "cool, they liked my fic!")

Comments outside the norm, e.g., on a fic you explicitly haven't read, lose a lot of that default positive spin. That's going to leave your comment more open to interpretation, as is obvious from the notes here. If the commenter didn't read the fic, then the answer to "Why did this person leave this comment?" is clearly not "Because they liked your fic," so individuals are going to make their own guesses at intent and meaning based on the wording. Those guesses will be influenced by many factors from their own experiences/attitudes. In general, if you want such a comment to be read positively, you're probably going to need to err more on the side explicitly positive and specific comments.

E.g., here, "so excited to read this when its completed" is a nominally positive statement--something about what they posted excited you. However, 1) it implies this does not mean "I already read the part you've posted and liked it" so you lose that default positive interpretation, 2) it's not clear what specifically you did like, if not the fic contents, and 3) it's expressing excitement for a thing that doesn't actually exist, i.e., the completed fic that may exist in the future (note that comments just asking for updates are a fairly common point of frustration--similarly, they put the emphasis/enthusiasm on what the commenter expects to be written in the future without saying they liked what was already written/posted). Some authors will find the sentiment encouraging and motivating; others will find it disappointing or discouraging (especially those who know the fic might never get finished or doubt you'll actually return to read and comment); others will probably find it neutral and just wonder why you're telling them this before you have anything to say about the fic itself.

As alternatives, I would first consider if you really need to specify that you haven't read it yet. If you're excited to read the fic, then something like "Wow, I love this premise!" or "___ is an amazing concept!" is presumably accurate and a specific compliment but will likely be read as "I liked this fic." Many people comment more than once (due to re-reading or just leaving a quick comment and coming back when they're prepared to comment in more depth), so you can just leave another regular comment later when you read the full fic. IMO, this is probably the "safest" way to leave a compliment before reading the fic if you don't know the author. (It probably means a stranger will inaccurately think you already read their fic, but does that matter?)

If it's important to you to comment and convey that you haven't read it yet (e.g., because you interact with the author elsewhere and it might become awkward if they think you read it and you didn't), then maybe comment on what you like about the fic description plus "Looking forward to reading this!" It's a specific compliment and expressing enthusiasm, but doesn't tie that to something they need to do, i.e., finish the fic, before you consider it worth reading.

(You're also likely to get more benefit of the doubt from an author you "know" in some sense, even if just through previous positive comment exchanges, rather than being a complete stranger, but that again comes down to being aware of the context you're working in. Hopefully in that case you'd already have some sense of how your comments might come across to that individual.)

I've got a question about the general feelings? etiquette? of commenting on in-progress fics with "so excited to read this when its completed" or something along those lines. Because I personally like them, and thought they were generally well recieved and encouraging, aka I've seen authors replied positively. But then the one time I tried to leave a similar comment, the author basically went "I don't know why you comment if you hadn't read it." So, whats the general feeling?

Oof. This is one of those things that's kind of a crap shoot anon. Some authors will take it as a compliment, others will absolutely hate it. It all comes down to how that author feels about readers who don't read works in progress.

Some authors don't post their works until after they've finished writing them - or at least not until they have enough chapters finished that they have a buffer built up and then they can post on a schedule. Other authors post each chapter as they write it.

In either case (but maybe more so for the latter group), authors rely on getting feedback as they post a work in order to know that the work is being received well by its intended readers. If there's silence (a lack of kudos or comments), the author might decide to stop posting the work. They'll assume no one wants to read it and therefore they shouldn't bother to post it.

For a writer in that mindset, someone saying they won't read it until the work is complete feels... bad. Like that person doesn't want to support you during the hard part (writing and posting) and is only going to show up when the work is done.

An even bigger factor, and one that could be in play no matter how the author goes about writing their story, is that comments are kind of a big deal to most writers. They're few and far between and each one is precious because it's a signal that someone is reading and they care and they're telling you that they're reading and they care. But your message explicitly says that you're not reading (yet) - which some authors may take to mean that you don't care, but which either way means that they saw that wonderful comment notification only for it to be "check back later".

Obviously not every author is going to feel this way about things, but I hope that by explaining why some might you can understand it a bit better? Some suggestions for other comments that might be more universally appreciated:

this is just the kind of fic I love!

this one's going in the bookmarks!

this is such a great premise!

All of which you might mean, but they leave out the part where you won't be reading the fic itself for weeks and/or months.

I will caution, however, that if you leave a comment like this when they post chapter one and you don't come back again within a couple of chapters, a certain percentage of authors (and it's not a small percentage) will assume that you loved chapter one and hated chapter two and that's why you didn't come back to comment again.

[ah-ga-seven]

No More Pain | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Fem!reader 

Synopsis: The lingering wounds of your miscarriage have reopened. Now that you are broken up, an unforseen change in Jaehyun’s life has brought him back to your doorstep. Will he be able to fix you this time? Or will he fail just the same as before?

Genre: Angst, One Shot. 

Warnings: mentions of the reader having a miscarriage, depression, alcohol addiction and heartbreak.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Probably one of the heaviest angsts I’ve written. I know the subject is rough but the idea came from a dream so I just had to write it down.

This was a different kind of pang to your heart.

You’ve had your fair share of tragedies, heartbreaks and disappointments, but this…

This feeling was nothing like anything you’ve ever felt before and quite frankly, you wouldn’t wish this upon your greatest enemy.  

It was a Thursday night, one like many where you decided to stay in and recharge from a busy day at your demanding job.

You were seated on your couch with a hot cup of tea as you mindlessly scrolled through your Instagram feed. Completely wrapped in the warmth of your favorite fleece blanket. But even the thick fluffy material couldn’t protect you from the cold shivers that ran down your spine.

You blankly stare at the post your best friend forwarded to you via dm and stiffened.  

Memories of the night you miscarried 4 months into your pregnancy flood back to you as you stare at his comment.

You remembered how broken he looked when the doctor couldn’t find the baby's heartbeat anymore.  

You remembered how he held you as you cried in his arms, promising that he’d love you just the same as he tried to console you to his best ability while suffering himself.

You remembered the pain and the relief of having Jaehyun by your side through it all. Glad that even though your life was about to change forever, he’d be the one constant thing you could rely on.

You remembered all of these moments like they happened yesterday, wishing future you could mentally prepare past you for what was going to be the hardest time in your life.  

The man who swore never to leave you did just that, and not even 6 months into his new relationship, your biggest insecurity was made into a reality.  

He had moved on for good, and even though you have no ill feelings towards him, you can’t help but feel anger over sadness right now.  

It was that easy to replace you. And that easy for him to find someone that could give him what you couldn’t.

Even though your miscarriage wasn’t the direct cause of why he left, the effects of the incidence on your mental health dragged him down with you. So both of you felt it’d be better to part ways for the sake of not wanting to hate or resent each other in the end.  

But God…you hated and resented him now more than ever.  

It didn’t matter to you that both of you started to date new people, because a part of you always held on to the fact that you’d somehow find your way back to each other, though the probability of that ever happening again turned to ash.

Your miscarriage broke you.  

No appetite for weeks, no motivation to get yourself out of bed and no cure for the monsters in your head who told you that Jaehyun was only sticking around out of pity for your broken state.

That same insecurity is what drove him into the arms of the women he told you not to worry about, and now they’re having a fucking child together.  

Knowing that that should’ve been you was a thought that was just too much to bear right now. You suddenly feel sick to your stomach, tears prickling your eyes as you rub the spot on your belly where the mini bump used to be 8 months ago.

You were finally doing better, thriving in your job and social life. Meeting new people and dating a few loose ends here and there, but you can already feel yourself spiraling back into old depressional habits as you stare at the picture once more.  

You pettily decide to like it, hoping it would spark interest from none other than your ex, and much to your surprise, it did.

Not even 20 minutes later your phone started to buzz on the counter as you poured yourself a glass of wine. You mindlessly retrieve it, expecting it to be your best friend but when you see his name as you take a sip you almost choke.

Is he serious?

You try to come up with what to say for the next 3 to 5 minutes but nothing in your head seems to translate your exact feelings to your fingertips.

You sigh in agony while leaning over on your kitchen counter with your phone still in your hands, reading his messages over and over again. You subconsciously start to bite your lip in deep thought, getting startled by your ringtone as your phone starts to ring in your grasp.

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself, taking a big chug of the alcoholic beverage in front of you, putting on the bravest face and straightest posture to make yourself feel better before accepting the call.  

You knew you didn’t have to answer, but you were dying to hear what he had to say under these circumstances.  

“Y/N? Is that you?” His voice was unchanged. You didn’t know why, but you expected him to sound different, be different. Yet the same worry he’s always had for you was evident in his tone this time as well.

You clear your throat to avoid a voice crack and sigh. “Congratulations,” you tried to sound as genuine as you could, but you knew you sounded like shit.  

You start to play with the ends of your hair out of anxious anticipation, waiting for him to respond on the other end of the line.  

“I meant to tell you,” he starts. “I just…I didn’t know how and Chaeyoung suddenly uploaded the picture and-”

“Jae…please spare me the details,” you interrupt him. Saying his name like you used to felt like speaking a foreign language. He stayed quiet upon hearing your voice again and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Do you still live in the same apartment in Itaewon?” he suddenly asks, immediately alerting you to stand up straight because he could only be asking for one reason and one reason only.

“Y-yes.”

“Good, I’m on my way.”

Just like that, he hung up and just like that your heart rate starts to race uncontrollably.  

You down the remnants of your wine glass and hope he’s isn’t too close because your place looked far from neat. For the next 15 minutes, you run around, shoving things into random cabinets. Whether those items belonged there or not was the least of your concern and just as you fluff the last pillow on your couch, your doorbell rings.

You take a deep breath, calming your nerves as you walk up to your front door, taking it off the lock before you open it with a dramatic swing.

There he was. Jung Jaehyun.

As beautiful and put together as he always looked, no matter the circumstance. You forget how to breathe when you lay eyes on him and gulp. It’s actually him.

His big dark orbs widened as he laid eyes on you after months of not seeing you. His facial expression softened, slowly parting his lips to speak but you beat him to it when you broke out of your trance.  

“What are you doing here?” your shoulders fall as you look into his eyes for answers. The same eyes that once looked at you with so much love and adoration, but right now his pupils were stressfully darting back and forth, trying to read you like he used to be able to but he had no idea what you were feeling right now.

“Because I feel like shit y/n. Please let me in and let me explain,” he pleaded with a defeated tone.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “What is there to explain? You knocked up your girlfriend and finally got what you wanted. Why bother coming here? To rub it into my face?”  

Your plan of staying calm and collected went completely out the window just now and you could tell by the shock on his face that he did not expect you to be angry with him.

He took a step forward, backing you into your own hallway. His height towered over you when you stepped back and without looking back he closed the door behind him.

“Y/n. I would never purposely do that to you. Ever.” You ignore his statement, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t remember inviting you in Jaehyun. Does she even know you’re here?”

You hold your ground, crossing your arms over your chest as you wait for him to counter your attack, but he simply shook his head. Knowing damn well that you’re acting tough just so you won’t get emotional.  

As he’s scanning the premises, his eyes linger on the red wine bottle on your kitchen counter and with a look of utter disbelief, he averts his attention back on you.

“You’re drinking again?” he asks with an almost condescending tone.  

“Did you come here to practice your parenting skills because no thanks Jae, please leave,” you bite back as coldly as you could, but he wasn’t having it.

“That shit almost killed you and you’re just casually drinking again?” He runs his hand through his locks out of pure frustration, not knowing what to do with the misplaced feeling of still caring for you just the same, while also knowing he has no business to tell you how to live your life.

The truth is, Jaehyun had no idea what he was doing here. Everything about the situation felt wrong and he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. Ever since Chaeyoung told him she was pregnant; he couldn’t be fully happy about it. He couldn’t commit to fatherhood knowing how much it broke your relationship. How much it broke the women he loved most to this day.

“A little red wine didn’t hurt anyone,” you mumble under your breath and that comment alone send Jaehyun’s emotions into overdrive, unable to hide his disappointment and worry for you any longer.

“IT HURT YOU Y/N. DAMN IT!” He raised his voice at you as he roughly grabbed your arm to make you look at him, which is the last thing you expected. He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. Mad at the fact that he wasn’t there when you needed him most and mad at the fact that this is what your lives had come to.

You might have previously dealt with your pain by drinking, and you might have mindlessly mixed your anti-depressants with your drink once, which…just might have earned you a trip to the hospital, but that was your lowest low and you made sure it’d never happen again.

You beat your demons by yourself when he had already moved on, so he had no place to waltz back into your life when he felt like it, just to judge you.

You’re absolutely fuming by now because of that same reason and much to your dismay you feel new tears well up in your eyes.  

“NO, YOU HURT ME!” you yell back at him as you smack his chest, the salty droplets streaming down your face as you kept hitting his chest to make him feel your pain. “YOU LEFT ME.”

Your knees got weak and you knew you looked absolutely pathetic as you crouched down in front of him. Shock took over his features as he got down on his own knees just as quickly, pulling you into the comfort of his arms. The warmth that you used to call home and the warmth that always seemed to calm you down engulfed you completely, a feeling your favorite fleece blanket from before could hardly imitate.  

He patted your head with assuring strokes, whispering sweet nothings to you as he held you on the floor of your apartment. Letting you sob the pain away in his black shirt. “Shhh, it’s okay…” he kissed the top of your head, caressing your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

You calmed down slowly, ignoring the suffocating ache in your head and heart while he made you feel safe and sound like he always did. You sat there like that for God knows how long, letting your minds go into overdrive as silence comforted the both of you.  

Ironically enough, this scenery was the exact same as the one in the hospital 8 months ago. You cried in his arms just like this when you had lost your child, but now you were crying because you had lost him. For good now.  

“I would never purposely plan to have a baby this quickly y/n, you have to believe me. Chae was on birth control but it just…happened,” he whispers, finally breaking the agonizing silence.

You stay quiet, closing your eyes to the sound of his low voice, letting his words register. “I was going to tell you. I was planning to ask you out for a coffee but as soon as she passed her first trimester, she was just so excited and made the announcement…it was just bad timing.”

“All of this is bad timing,” you mumble, which made him nod in agreement. He sighed into your hair as he continued to explain. “Y/n, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care for you anymore. I wish things were different, but they simply aren’t and I’m sorry.”

You sniff, dabbing your tears and your nose with the sleeves of your blouse before looking up at him through your lashes.

“You don’t have to apologize for moving on and being happy Jaehyun. It’s all I ever wanted for you.” You wipe the single tear that remained on the corner of his eye, not having realized that he shed a few tears himself too.

He leaned into your touch as he looked into your eyes before closing them, leaning his forehead onto yours while taking a deep breath.  

“I just want you to be ok.” He says suppressing a sob. “I can’t live this picture-perfect life knowing that you’re in pain y/n. It makes no sense; you deserve so much more it’s not fair.”  

Your lip starts to quiver as his words hit you, and you build up the courage to look at him again.  

He stared at you longingly and lovingly for the first time since forever and you knew a mistake was about to be made when he inched his face closer to you, but it was too late.

His lips made contact with yours and you completely gave in. Letting him lead you into a slow yet passionate kiss that took both of your breaths away.  Before things could get more heated, you realize what was happening and froze.

You take a hold of his wrists as you pull away, your eyes staring into his equally electrified ones as you recompose yourselves.

“I-I’m sorry,” he started. “I should’ve never confused you like that. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing.” He covers his mouth as he got up. Frustrated with his own behavior, he digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands to suppress the urge to swing at your door or any other object in sight for that matter.

You get up just as quickly as well. Straightening out your clothes before shaking off the nerves of what just happened.  

You take a deep breath followed by a shaky exhale as you opened your front door, turning around on your heels to look at an equally distressed Jaehyun.

He was about to speak; about to confess that he still loved you, but you stopped him by raising your hand, motioning for him to keep whatever he was about to say to himself.

Your eyes find his own and you take one last glance at the man that was supposed to be the pillar to your family. The man you used to call yours, and the man that you had hoped to still have a future with, despite everything.  

But you knew better.

You knew what was right and you knew what you had to do before things would start to spiral out of control again.

You stepped aside so he could pass by you, trying to avoid eye contact all while you could still feel his burning stare lingering on your fragile state.

You swallow harshly, licking your lips before you spoke as clearly and steadily as you could.

“For the sake of your family, please leave Jae…and never come back.”  

[sweetestlamb]

I've Got You Under My Skin Part 2

Author's note: Can you tell I'm inspired? A double fic post who is she? Dedicated to @serxeins because I know I can always count on you to read and comment and give me some good vibes.

Summary: She's not jealous.

He's not there the next day and it puts her in another foul mood, honestly who was he to invade her life like this and then leave as he pleased? She would be the one to send him away not the other way around, she was the one in control here.

She goes all the way to his house after work to inform him of this, slightly more prepared for his state of dress- he's only wearing a thin white shirt and flowy pants, both made of soft looking cotton.

"No wonder you're still sick. Look at you're wearing." She rolls her eyes at him not waiting to be invited in, he never waits for her and ignores her when she tells him to go away. It's their thing. Blatant disregard.

"That's shaming, that's no way to speak to a sick person. What medical school did you go to?"

"One that taught me to prioritize honesty over niceties."

She has more porridge but it's her mom's recipe the one she used to make when she was feeling sick and it was hard to keep anything down. She had suddenly remembered it the night before and woke up early to prepare it from sensory memory alone, she was hardly a chef but this was the only meal she could make without fail. If her eyes had prickled with instead tears as she stirred the pot that was no one's business but her own. She hadn't been able to make it for years now but for some reason she couldn't stop herself this morning.

"What's this?" He asks curious over her shoulder, his chin barely grazing her skin. She doesn't move away ignoring the thrumming his closeness elicits.

"Porridge."

"It smells good. It doesn't look like grandma's porridge. Where did you get it?"

"I made it." It's embarrassing admitting that she made anything for him, she feels like she's showing her hand far too much but can't get her mouth to stop revealing her heart.

"You're full of surprises. Let's heat it up."

He looks better now, no longer flushed and sweaty. The fever must have broken over night, he looks rejuvenated scooping the food into a pot and warming it up.

His house looks a bit cleaner today as well, the windows are open allowing a wonderful breeze to fill the space and sweep away the stench of sick in the air. She walks aimlessly until she sees a bit of material on the floor, bending to pick it up she glares at the material in her hand. It's a light pink scarf, thin and almost sheer. He has an eclectic style but this is indubitably a woman's scarf, she almost throws it on the ground in a fit.

"What are you doing?" He breaks her from her shock, walking towards her with twin bowls in his hands.

She almost hides the scarf away feeling ashamed of the searing hotness that rips through her chest like a current. But foolishly she swings her hand up presenting the offending item instead, narrowing her eyes as she peers at him.

"What's this?" She challenges, a voice in the back of her mind begs her to shut the fuck up but her anger pushes her forward recklessly.

He tilts his head looking intensely at the item before pursing his lips and answering, "I think it's a scarf."

No fucking shit Sherlock.

She looks at him unimpressed and unamused not quite understanding why she cares so much that there's a scarf- a feminine nother scarf in his house.

"I had a guest earlier. She probably left it." He replies lightly sitting their food down on the table and she follows him briskly still not satisfied with his answers.

"Give me back my porridge." She says childishly snatching away his bowl just as he's about to eat, the look of annoyance on his face brings her nothing but pure joy.

"What's your problem now?" He argues reaching for the bowl but she tugs it further out of his reach. With a long suffering sigh he stands up, stepping closer to retrieve the bowl but that move brings them chest to chest and she stares up at his bright eyes.

Bringing his hands up he touches the scarf in her hand, she drops it abruptly not wanting him to touch it at all now.

"Don't."

He stares at her long and hard, Adam's apple bobbing as their eyes lock. He shakes his head a tight smile on his face now and she wants to kiss that smug look right off his face. Wait.

What. What am I thinking?

The sound of his doorbell chiming breaks them free of this heated staring match, but not immediately he looks at her puzzled and is that something hotter, before slowly turning and walking towards the door.

"Hey, I think I left my scarf--"

A decidedly female voice sounds from the door and before she can second guess herself she grabs the discarded scarf from the ground and sashays over to the door. He looks completely surprised to see her walking over but barely reacts when she barrels next time, pulling the door open wider to see who's here to see them.

It's the new teacher that just moved into town, she hadn't yet been introduced to her but she'd heard nothing but bad things from the landlord. She was supposedly a man stealer.

"Oh! I didn't know you had a guest." The woman's gentle voice lifts in awe at her sudden arrival at the door.

"Here's your scarf." She thrusts the item fiercely at her, watching as the other woman jolts in surprise.

Du-sik looks curiously between the two seeming to feel the weird energy surging in the air.

"Miss Yoon this is--"

"Was that all you needed? We were in the middle of eating. He needs to regain his energy." She cuts him off, having no desire to be introduced to the other woman. The school teacher glances between the two of them being nodding slowly as if realizing something.

"Yes that was all. I'll leave you to your meals."

She watches as the school teacher disappears from sight, turning to walk back to the table.

"That was rude. Do you two have a problem with each other?"

Shrugging non-committally she pushes his porridge back across the space already digging into her own.

"Your meal will get cold. Stop saying nonsense and come eat."

He stares at her for a long time before retaking his seat and tasting the thick broth, she tries not to watch and wait for his reaction but it's probably a failure.

"It's delicious. I can't believe you made this."

Overlooking the backhanded compliment she hides her smile behind her spoon before looking up with a glare, "I'll never make it for you again." But it's an empty threat because she already made three containers worth in case he falls ill again.

"I'll turn off your electricity until you do."

She guffaws at the threat, grabbing the closest thing (a pen) and throwing it at him. It pings off his forehead and falls to the ground.

"Ow. That hurt."

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, no doubt her roommate asking about her whereabouts she had just suddenly disappeared out of nowhere after running out of the office. Swiping to open the phone she prepares for the onslaught of messages.

"---kiss it better."

She freezes at the words, dragging her eyes from the phone back up to his steady gaze. He's staring brazenly seemingly unashamed but the tint of red on his ears give him away, he's not at confident as he's pretending to be.

"What did you say?"

"I.....said you should kiss it better."

She has no clue what he's talking about but instinctively her eyes move down to his lips, blush pink and tempting they stand out on his pale skin. She wonders how they would feel under her own, if they would pucker up and press or bloom open giving her their sweet nectar. She wonders how many women he's kissed and if he's ever thought about kissing her.

"My forehead. I meant my forehead... because of the pen. I was just joking." He looks dazed now, still under her appraising gaze and she coughs swiftly moving her eyes and staring out the window.

"Mi-seon's looking for me. I should go."

Thankfully he doesn't comment on her running away again, he merely nods and collects their bowls.

"Thank you for the meal." She nods in response, her voice lost at the moment terrified of why she keeps coming here, what could she possibly want?

He walks her to the door, both of them dragging their feet and taking their sweet time.

"That was the worst part about not having parents."

She halts at his sudden confession, squeezing her fists tightly as she glances over at him.

"Not having anyone who cared when I was sick. It was never clearer how alone I was until those fleeting moments, there was no one to pat my back or bring me food or tell me I would be okay."

It's an ache she's used up, the ache of wanting something she'll never have. Years spent pretending she didn't miss her mother everyday. His honesty forces her own to the surface.

"That porridge was the one my mom used to make for me. I haven't made it since she...."

She doesn't finish her sentence but the look in his eyes tell her that she doesn't need to, he understands loud and clear.

"Thank you for making it for me. I'm honored." There is reverence in his voice as if he's never meant anything more in his life, it makes her heart tremble.

They don't speak anymore as she puts on her shoes and lays her bag across her body, reaching behind her he tugs the door open for her.

With a solemn nod she turns around ready to leave but a moment of temporary insanity makes her turn back and grab his shoulder for support, there's a look of genuine shock of his face before she leans onto the tips of her toes and presses her lips against his forehead.

Her cheeks are on fire as she draws back and his face looks painful from his red it is.

"You're going to be alright." With her last strand of courage she wraps her arm around and pats him on the back in comfort, his eyes are glossy and he looks years younger.

"I'm going."

She's aching to run but she walks away calmly until she's out of sight, throwing herself to the ground as soon as she turns the corner grabbing handfuls of her hair.

So much for being in control. Fuck.

[drabbles-mc]

Take A Little Ride

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Request from @bishopslosawife​: What if one of the Mayans’ S/O was an NFR professional barrel rider from the south? Like S/O plans a trail ride for everyone to get them to relax and someone recognizes her and asks her to show off her moves? Maybe S/O has a horse boarding at the stable?

Warnings: language

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: (Sorry if this is the second time you’re seeing this fic! I’ve had some issues with posts disappearing from my blog and the tags and I’m trying to get everything back on track haha.) I know we talked about this fic forever ago, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since lol. We threw around a lot of ideas and I tried to fit as many into this fic as possible without it feeling cluttered. Also, I know this is technically an Angel fic, but we get to see a lot of our boys in this story. Hope you enjoy! xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @encounterthepast​ @helli4nthus​ @lilacyennefer​ @angelreyesgirl​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @starrynite7114​ @rosieposie0624​ @queenbeered​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @mijop​ @sadeyesgf​ @xladymacbethx​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @blessedboo​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @holl2712​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @georgiaaintnopeach​  @plentyoffandoms @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction​

“Oh come on,” you pleaded as you sat in Angel’s lap, “It would be so fun!”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Yea, for you maybe. I’d have no fuckin’ clue what to do.”

“It’s really not that hard,” you reassured him.

EZ sat down across from the two of you, “What is Angel fighting you about now?” he smirked.

You laughed, “I was saying that we should go for a trail ride sometime soon—all of us. It’s such a good way to unwind.”

“What’s the issue then?” he was clearly confused.

“She means a horseback trail ride, Boy Scout,” Angel piped in with a shake of his head before returning his gaze to you, “Anyone besides you and Taza even know how to ride?”

You paused, trying to think back on your conversations with everyone. Truthfully, now that he said it out loud, you couldn’t say for certain if any of the guys knew how to ride. You didn’t want to cop to that, but you weren’t a good liar, “I have no idea,” you chuckled, “I mean for some reason I wanna say that at one point Riz said something to me about it but I’m not sure. You guys could learn, though! It’s not like we’d be competing or anything, just a nice mellow trip. Like a hike! Besides, it’d be good for you boys to learn something new.”

“Y/N,” Angel started, “I’m not gonna fu—”

EZ cut him off, “I’m game,” he was genuinely interested, but he also loved being a little bit of an instigator when it came to things like this between you and Angel.

Your eyes lit up, “Yea?”

“Bro,” Angel shook his head, “What the fuck?”

“Put it to a vote!” you said excitedly, “That’s what y’all do, right?”

EZ laughed, nodding, “Yea, that’s exactly what we do.”

“What, we gonna go to Templo for this?” it was getting more and more difficult for Angel to keep a straight face.

“We’ll do it right here,” you leaned forward and grabbed your empty beer bottle off the table, rapping it on the wooden surface a few times to get everyone’s attention, “Hey! Boys! I have an offer for ya.”

If Angel had the ability to melt into the couch cushions, he would’ve. The guys could see the look on his face and it only made them more interested in what you were going to say. EZ was sitting back with a smug grin, extremely invested in where this was all going to go.

“What’s the offer?” Taza asked with a soft smile.

“So,” you got up off Angel’s lap, “I know y’all have had a rough couple of weeks. And I think it’d be good for everyone to get out and unwind,” they were all nodding along in agreement so far, “I just so happen to know of a really great ranch about forty minutes North of here. What would you guys say to a day trip and a trail ride? Switch things up a little.”

Taza’s response was immediate, “Sounds good to me.”

You could see the apprehension on some of their faces, so you tried to reassure them, “If you don’t know how to ride, they give you a rundown of the basics. Plus, the horses that they have there are all push-button—absolute gems.”

“How do you know about this place?” Bishop couldn’t help but to ask.

“I’ve been boarding my horse there since I moved to Cali,” you paused, “So, what d’you say?”

Sure enough, everyone started to speak up in agreement. You had never felt so excited. You looked back at Angel, who was shaking his head trying not to crack a smile. He had a feeling it was going to go this way.

“Majority vote,” Bishop said with a laugh, “It passes.”

“Yay!” you clapped, “Alright, I’ll call and get it all set up for this week. It’s gonna be so much fun, trust me.”

As the week passed by, Angel and a few of the other guys asked you questions about just what exactly they had gotten themselves into. They all knew that you rode, but they never thought it would have any crossover with their lives.

You all met up at the clubhouse late Saturday morning. You had your jeans and boots on, along with a tank top. You’d packed a backpack with water bottles and a few snacks, as well as your riding helmet. There was a palpable sense of excitement in the air, along with nervousness.

“You guys might not wanna take the bikes,” you warned with a laugh, “Your legs might be a little sore afterwards.”

They all stood and thought about it for a moment before deciding to take your word for it. They split up and piled into the few trucks they had, allowing you to lead the way since none of them knew where you were going. It was one of the very few times that Angel ever rode shotgun and let you take the wheel. You’d seen EZ crack a smile as his brother begrudgingly handed you the keys.

You rolled into your parking spot at the ranch, instantly jumping out of the truck once it was in park. The rest of the guys weren’t far behind, their vehicles falling into line with yours. You waited for them all and then waved for them to follow you as you confidently strode across the grounds to the barns. A few of the other people there smiled and waved to you, recognizing you from your frequent trips there.

The man who ran the ranch came out of one of the barns, arms out wide as he approached you, “Y/N, so good to see you,” he gave you a hug, “I was excited when they told me about your call.”

“Who’s this fuckin’ guy?” Angel murmured to EZ under his breath, elbowing him when he saw his brother trying to bite back a laugh.

You hadn’t heard the exchange, but you turned around to introduce everyone regardless, “Boys, this is Matthew—owner of this fine establishment and also one of the first people to help me settle in when I moved here to California. Matthew, this is my crew,” you laughed, “Best group of troublemakers you’ll ever meet.”

He laughed, nodding in acknowledgment, “Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure. I’m here to help and get you guys up and running, but you’re in good hands with Y/N here. She knows the trails out here like the back of her hand.”

“Well,” you chuckled, “I wasn’t gonna say it, but he’s totally right,” you clapped, “Let’s get you boys all saddled up and ready to go!”

It was refreshing to see them a little out of their element, with the exception of Taza, and surprisingly enough Coco seemed rather comfortable in the barn. You didn’t comment on it, wanting to see just how much he knew. But so far he had gotten all his tack on without much of an issue, and he seemed really comfortable with the horse they had provided for him.

You went back and forth with the guys about wearing helmets. Angel was adamant that he would be fine without one, “You’re not even gonna wear one! Or Taza!”

You laughed, “And when you’ve clocked as many hours as we have, you won’t have to wear one either. But for now, you’re gonna have to. Deal with it.”

“Yea,” EZ chuckled as he clipped his on, “Gotta save all the braincells that you can.”

“Shut up,” Angel shoved him as they both broke down in laughter.

Your horse was waiting patiently in her stall, all tacked up and ready to go. You were thankful that she was so mellow and patient, because you didn’t have to worry about her while you got everyone else situated. Up until that point, you had never realized just how diverse the ranch was when it came to breeds of horses. Most of them were rescues in some capacity, bought at auction when they weren’t competition or breeding material anymore, but they still made great companions, especially for beginners.

The fact that Taza let the boys struggle on their own a bit wasn’t lost on you. He was already perched atop his horse, waiting for the rest of them to get their acts together. You were certain that it was the most entertained that he had been in a while—you could see it in his eyes. To make up for the lack of Taza’s guidance, you were running around helping however you could.

“C’mon,” Coco taunted as he hoisted himself up onto his horse with ease, “What’s takin’ you guys so long?”

“Since when do you know anything about horses?” Angel said with a hint of bitterness to his voice.

“Psh, you don’t know everything about me, ‘mano. Don’t worry about it.”

Once everyone was on and ready to go, you finally went back to bring your own horse out. She was waiting patiently as ever in her stall. You slid the door open and stepped inside, gently resting your forehead against hers. It was exciting to be able to share this part of your life with all of them, even if it was going to be a little extra chaotic the first time around. You hoped, though, that they would enjoy it enough to want to come back and do it again. You thought that it would be good for them, because it certainly was for you.

You led your horse out of the barn, not that you really needed to be holding onto her reins anyway—she’d follow you wherever you went almost without question. You had her stop so you could slip your foot into your stirrup and hoist yourself onto her. The guys looked on in slight awe, not able to believe that it was so easy for someone of your height to climb up that easily onto a horse that was so tall.

Once you were situated in your stirrups and adjusted your backpack, you turned and looked around at your crew with a wide smile on your face, “Everyone feel like they sorta know what they’re doing? Matthew give you an overview of the basics?” there were various mumbled of agreement as they nodded their heads and you had to laugh, “You’ll be fine. Just remember, gentle on the reins—it’s attached to their mouths. Squeeze with your legs and nudge with your heels if you wanna go faster. These horses are super well trained so you shouldn’t need to kick, or be loud with them at all. Just use a clear voice,” you paused, “We should probably do a couple laps around the arena first before I take you guys off-roading,” you laughed, “Follow me.”

Admittedly, you were pretty impressed at how well the guys were picking it up. A lot of it had to do with the horses that they were riding, but still. It was the first time you could ever remember Bishop seeming out of his element and you had to admit that you found it amusing. Angel and Gilly found themselves struggling together while EZ practically rode laps around them, of course.

“Show-off,” Angel said with a laugh and a shake of his head as he shifted slightly in his saddle.

“You’re just mad because I’m already good,” EZ chuckled as he made his way over to where you and Taza were watching the rest of them.

Once you started making your way towards the trail, you and Coco found yourselves side by side. You glanced over at him and had to smile at how comfortable he seemed. For a man who seemed to be a little jumpy at baseline, he seemed really calm.

“I have to admit,” you said as you glanced back to make sure you didn’t lose anyone yet, “you surprised me a little bit with all of this,” you gestured to him and the horse.

He laughed, “Yea, I’m full of fuckin’ surprises.”

“You ride for a long time?”

He shrugged, “Not in a while. Started when I finished my four years. One of the guys who came back with me told me to try out equine therapy. Seemed kinda pointless but I really wasn’t in a position to be sayin’ no to anything—I was pretty fucked up. And it helped. Stopped when I started getting in with the club.”

You nodded, unable to hide how invested you were in everything that he was telling you, “Got it. That why the guys didn’t know?”

“Yea. Plus, they don’t gotta know everything,” he chuckled.

The topic fell by the wayside as the group of you continued on your little adventure. It was peaceful, and it was nice to hear all of them laughing and joking around with each other. You felt like you were constantly turning around to make sure that you hadn’t lost track of anyone, but you really didn’t mind it. It was hard to not be a little amused at how out of sorts Angel still seemed. The downside of being as tall and lanky as he was, is that it’s impossible to miss when he is feeling uncomfortable or out of his comfort zone. It was written all over his body language.

You looped around so you could land yourself next to him. You smiled over at him as he focused intensely on his reins, “Still getting the hang of it?”

“You guys make it look so easy.”

You laughed, “We’ve got years of practice. You’ll pick it up.”

“Gilly wants to know why he’s the only one that didn’t get a horse,” Angel laughed.

You chuckled and shook your head, “Mules are great, he’s got nothing to complain about. They’re strong, and smart, and a little stubborn but that’s just like the rest of you guys so it should be fine.”

“I know I’m not good at this shit,” he shifted slightly in his saddle, “and I dunno if I ever will be. But it’s nice to see you enjoying yourself like this. I don’t think I’ve ever really seen you like this.”

You smiled, feeling your face get warm, “Well, now you know,” you paused, laughing, “Plus I think this is one of the only times that I’ve been better than you at something.”

“Couldn’t let it be a sweet moment, could you?”

You chuckled, “Is this how you feel all the time with me?”

“I’m not better than you at everything, querida. Stop bein’ dramatic,” he smiled.

“Cooking and horseback riding are the two things I definitely have over you. And I’m holding onto those for dear life,” you laughed.

“I’ll let you have them. Just for you, I promise I won’t get any better at this.”

“For me?” you pressed a hand to your chest with a smile, “You’re too sweet.”

You nudged your horse onward so you could get back to the front of the pack. You’d ridden the trails hundreds of times but they never got any less beautiful. They were different than where you used to ride back home but the change was nice. The trail that you had taken them on was one of the easier ones—no crazy inclines or anything like that. It was a slow but steady ride up one of the smaller peaks that surrounded the ranch. The view from the top was beautiful—you could see for miles. You had a feeling that the guys were going to love it.

“We’re almost to the top,” you called back over your shoulder.

Within a few minutes, the whole group of you had made it to the clearing at the top of the peak. They were all letting out their own murmurs of approval and you felt so proud of yourself. A few of them hopped down, wanting to get a little closer to the cliff edge so they could look down over it. There was nothing but the sound of the breeze and the screaming of the birds while you all stayed there and took in the view. It was the most peace that they’d probably felt in a while.

“Pretty great, right?” you looked over at Angel, who had managed to guide his horse to they were right next to you.

He nodded, “Beautiful. Had no idea any of this was out here.”

“This is what I used to do with pretty much all of my free time when I first moved here, back before I really knew anyone.”

“You gave this shit up to hang out with us?” Angel chuckled as he gestured to the rest of the guys.

You laughed, shaking your head, “I didn’t give it up. I still come out here at least once every weekend, if not more during the week if work allows for it. I still make the time.”

“I love you,” he had a starry look in his eyes as he gazed over at you.

You smiled, “I love you too. Thanks for doing this—I know you weren’t really all that thrilled about it.”

“I’m glad I did. It’s nice to see something that means so much to you.”

After a few more minutes of lingering, chatting, and getting photos of everyone, it was time to complete the loop and head back towards the ranch. You were glad that the guys had pacified you and allowed you to do a little impromptu photoshoot of them with their horses—it was a moment that you wanted to remember. They were quite the diverse pack and you couldn’t help but to smile.

The ride back down was smooth. It was evident that for the most part, the guys were starting to feel more comfortable in their saddles. There weren’t as many, “oh fuck’s” said under their breath. There was a little more talking and joking going on and it made your heart feel fuller.

Cutting through the quietness of the trail was Angel’s voice, “Shit, fuck, oh fuck,” he wasn’t yelling but you could tell that he was worried.

You whipped your head around to see what was wrong, and you had to bite back your laughter as you watched the scene that was playing out. Angel’s horse had bumped up from a walk to a jog and clearly it wasn’t Angel’s doing. The panic that was on his face was priceless. Realistically, the horse wasn’t even going that fast, but it was enough to send Angel into panic mode.

“I’m just gonna fuckin’ jump off.”

You laughed, “Do not jump off. Just apply a little pressure to the reins and tell him to walk. He should slow right down. They don’t understand curse words.”

He did as you instructed, and sure enough the horse dropped right back down to a leisurely walk. You were trying not to laugh but the rest of the guys weren’t as kind and forgiving as you. You knew that that was going to be something that he wasn’t going to be living down anytime soon.

The rest of the descent was uneventful. The whole squad made it back down to the base of the trail unscathed. You hopped down off your horse and began to help all of them to do the same. You told them where to go and put all of their tack once they took it off, and also told them that if they could walk their horses for a couple minutes just to help cool them down it would be appreciated. It wasn’t the most intensive ride but it would still be good for them. Besides, it would be good for the guys and their legs too.

You were getting ready to bring your horse in when a girl came walking up to you, trying to politely get your attention. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. Her t-shirt and jeans were streaked with dirt but there was a giant smile on her face as she walked up to you and your horse.

“Hi, excuse me, are you Y/N?” her voice was quiet, shy.

You nodded, slightly confused, “I am. Everything alright?”

“Yea! I just, um, god sorry I don’t mean to be weird. I used to watch you race, though. I went to almost every NFR circuit event for a few years back when we still lived in Nevada. They said you moved but I had no idea it was here and I,” she stopped herself, “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

You shook your head, smiling, “Don’t be sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever had a fan before,” you laughed.

“Well that’s not true,” the girl laughed. She paused for a few moments, “Would it…would it be weird to ask if I could see you do a run?”

You raised your eyebrows, “A barrel run?”

She nodded excitedly, “Yea.”

You laughed, “I mean, I don’t see why not. I’m a little out of practice but I think we can still manage it,” you patted your horse on the shoulder.

“Oh my god this is so cool. The big arena inside is already set up—I just finished my lesson.”

The two of you walked together, your horse following behind without you having to hold too tightly on the reins. You listened to her gush and talk about riding and it made you miss what it felt like to be training for competitions. You didn’t regret stepping back from it to live the life that you have now, but there was nothing quite like that rush of adrenaline.

The guys had heard the entire interaction and all of them had since gotten their own horses situated so they could come and see what was about to happen. EZ and Angel were leaning against the side of the arena, their voices carrying in the echo chamber it created.

“You know she used to compete?” EZ asked as he watched you hop back up onto your horse.

“Yea, I mean, she mentioned it,” Angle replied, “Didn’t know that she was a fuckin’ celebrity, though.”

“Paparazzi is gonna show up any minute,” Bishop materialized next to them, chiming in with a laugh.

You settled into your saddle, getting both you and your horse positioned so that you could start your run. You could tell that she felt the shift in energy as the two of you stood at the entrance to the arena. You could feel her starting to get a little antsy, a little wound up. It had been a long time since you ran the pattern, but you had no doubt that it would be like riding a bike for the two of you.

As soon as you nudged her with the heel of your boot, your horse took off. You couldn’t stop the laughter that erupted out of you as she flew around the first barrel, gliding seamlessly into the turn. You could faintly hear the guys from the sideline over the sound of the wind in your ears. You felt your hat fly off your head and you didn’t even care. You’d almost forgotten how fun it was to neck-rein at that high of a speed.

You looped around the second barrel, and the third, and your horse all but flew down the center of the pattern as she ran out of the arena. You sat back in your saddle, trying to get her to slow down but you didn’t really want her to. It had to have felt just as good for her as it did for you—the two of you hadn’t done more than a light canter in a while and she was clearly itching to get out some pent-up energy.

Finally she slowed to a walk as you turned her around to head back towards the arena. The young girl came running out of the building with a huge smile on her face, your hat hanging from her fingertips.

“That was so cool!” she handed your hat back to you.

You hopped down off your horse with a smile, “That was the most fun I’ve had in a while, I can’t lie,” you laughed, “I’m glad you asked us to run it—that felt amazing.”

“Do you board here?” she looked at you expectantly.

You nodded, “I sure do. Here every weekend, pretty much. Not that we’re really training to compete anymore, but you know.”

“If we’re ever here at the same time do you think that you could give me some pointers?”

You nodded, feeling your heart swell inside your chest, “Absolutely.”

“Yes! Oh that’s so awesome. Thank you so much. I’ll, um, I’ll let you get back to your friends. But thank you so much.”

You smiled, “Of course. I’ll see you around.”

She bounded off, an excited spring to her step. You chuckled and shook your head as you started to lead your horse back to the barn so you could take off her saddle and bridle. As the two of you meandered, Angel and the guys all came out of the arena, looks of surprise all over their faces.

“What the fuck was that, querida?” Angel laughed as he shook his head in disbelief.

“What?” you feigned ignorance.

“When were we gonna find out that you know how to do all that?” EZ piped up.

“I told you guys that I ride!”

“That,” Angel threw his arm around your shoulder, “was not just riding. That was insane! You guys were fucking flying.”

“Shoulda seen how fast we could go when we were actually training for it.”

“Also, didn’t know that you were apparently a celebrity,” there was a smirk on his face as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

You laughed and shook your head, “Not a celebrity. The horse world is a small one.”

“You gonna be able to teach us how to do all that?” EZ asked with a laugh.

“Not a fucking chance,” you smiled over at him, “But you guys are more than welcome to come here with me any time.”

“Well now we definitely have to,” Angel said, “Gotta see what other moves you’re holding out on.”

“Oh,” you laughed, “you’ll see. Don’t worry.”

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 02 / all for us

summary: you’ve finally decided it was time to eat and bathe, but now that you aren’t worried about starving to death, you’re getting homesick. maybe a cup of tea and a movie is the best.

note: i, now, have a taglist for this series especially!! here’s the taglist form!! it will also be posted on the series masterlist!! much love <33

word count: +3.0k

warnings/notes: starvation, manipulation, abuse, slight panic attack, thoughts of suicide

IT'S been five days since you've had anything to eat.

your body is so weak from the lack of nutrients that you can't stand up on your own. your head is constantly aching from lack of food and you keep getting dizzy.

you feel like you're on the brink of death now, you can't even get out of bed to get yourself water out of your sink, shortening your life span if you keep this up. you feel yourself crying as you roll your body off of the bed and onto the floor.

hissing in pain, you dig your nails into the spruce hardwood floor.

"you are not weak for this. you're surviving," you whisper to yourself as you push yourself forwards with your arms.

it's so painful with the bruises. they rub up against your clothing, already irritating them a bit more than before, and now it's having pressure added onto it. your tears are blocking your sight, but you push on anyways. the door has never felt so far away.

you almost perk up when your nails scratch at the door. with weak fists, you bang at the door and call for one of the men that has captured you. your tears are dripping on the ground below you, forming a small puddle as they all bunch together.

"please," you croak, "please..."

the door is being unlocked and you feel as if all of your strength has been used at that moment. you lay still as your breath falters from your sobbing.

the door bumps against your head, shooting a sharp pain through your head. you can't find strength to care about it.

"so you're finally ready to listen. you look pathetic," you don't have to look up to tell it's levi speaking to you.

he calls out to erwin, telling him to fix you small and easy meal and to get you new clothes. he squats down and takes you into his arms bridal style.

if you weren't crying and letting out weak sobs, he would think your dead. you're so limp in his arms and your eyes are empty and droopy as they stare right through him. and it creeps him out.

he takes you into a bathroom with a tub, setting you gently on the toilet. he doesn't bother locking the door behind him, you're too weak to run away right now. levi's preparing you a bath, walking back and forth as he gets towels and soaps and checking the water.

you hiccup as you watch levi starting to remove that collar and chains around your neck, and you feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, literally. he's undressing you, obviously trying to avert his cold eyes away from your body. you're gently laid in the bath, head resting against the rim.

levi's quiet as he pours a warm cup of water over your hair and face, squatting down to reach your level.

"stupid," he scoffs as he lathers up shampoo in his hands. he washes your hair gently.

"this isn't mine and erwin's fault," he shakes his head while he pours water over your head, "it's your fault. you refused our care."

you don't argue back, too tired to even think of a comeback. you also don't feel like getting beat any more than you already are. your eyelids are getting heavy, immediately shutting them as soon as you feel the pressure on them.

levi stares, mouth slightly parted as you breathe in and out through your nose. your cheek was sprinkled in the color crimson, his own handiwork made him cringe. he just sighs, now brushing through your locks of hair with conditioner coated on his hands.

he rinses his hands off, letting the conditioner stay there just for a few seconds so it can soak in. his eyes trail down your body, stopping at your bruised breast. he didn't even realize he hit you there.

he shrugs it off and gathers water into the small cup in his hand, pouring it over your head. he expects you to jump up at the water over your head but all you do is mumble. he wants to wash your body, specifically your underarms, but with you half asleep and barely able to stand on your own without him holding onto you, he can't.

he clicks his tongue and pulls out the cover up blocking the drain. he grabs you by the arm, ignoring the whimper of pain that you let out, and pulls you up onto your wobbling feet. he helps you step out of the tub and wraps a fluffy pink towel around your shoulders, carefully sitting you onto the toilet again.

the bath water is a little murky and levi cringes at it because he knows it'll leave a ring around the tub. he'll clean it up later.

erwin's opening the door, a pile of clothes in his large hands.

"she's all tuckered out," he chuckles, handing off the clothes to levi.

"yeah. don't know how, she's barely done anything. must be the hunger or something," levi shrugs and watches the folded clothing come undone as he holds the hemline between his fingers.

"maybe we were too harsh on her."

"no, we weren't. we can't trust her. believe it or not, but forks can hurt whenever you put force into them when you stab someone. she could've hurt one of us or herself," he folds the clothes over his arm and holds out a hand.

erwin hands him underwear, "i suppose you're right."

"i'm always right," levi carefully puts on your underwear for you.

erwin rolls his eyes at levi's comment, "make sure to dry her hair."

"i know what i'm doing," he snaps, "go put her food in her room."

erwin complies, swinging the door shut behind him as he goes to fetch your food.

you've barely processed their conversation, too focused on levi's hands putting you in a satin light grey nightgown that ends just below your knees. the bishop sleeves keep your arms warm and cold at the same time, in fact, the whole material of the dress does as well. the neckline is a v-neck, not that you mind too much because of the risk you might get too hot.

"do i...," you manage to mumble, "do i have to wear this to sleep...?"

"yeah, unless you feel like sleeping in just underwear. i don't think you want that though," he scoffs as he towels off your damp hair.

you don't reply, far too tired to even say a 'whatever' to him. you let your forehead come into contact with his hip, taking in the cold temperature radiating off of his body. you want to nuzzle into his hip, but thankfully you have enough will to not do so. it reminds you of your friend, pieck, and her cat like tendencies. the memory has you letting out a pained laugh.

levi can feel his face getting warmer at every movement you make with your head, but he manages to play it off because of the towel blocking your view. he throws the towel into the basket by the tub, hand silently stroking at the back of your head in comfort.

it doesn't give you comfort. but you don't let it show.

levi's grabbing a hair brush, a clean and new one, and running it through your (hair type) locks. there are far too many tangles from the lack of care you've been giving your hair, but not enough to make a knot.

levi then pulls out a block of deodorant from the cabinet below the sink. it's unused and you can smell the scent of flowers on it as he brings it closer. his hands slide up your dress with caution, trying to avoid coming into contact with your bruised body.

he manages to put on the deodorant easily. he picks you back up with a grunt, eyebrows furrowing at your pained expression. he's placing you back onto your bed in just a matter of seconds, throwing the covers over your legs.

erwin's sitting at the edge of your bed, holding a fork with food already on it. your eyes are droopy while you look at erwin.

you don't eat a lot, they're in fear that you might throw everything up if fed too fast. you don't blame them, you haven't eaten in five miserable days. it's best to be cautious.

"scooby...," you manage to whisper out, eyes fluttering shut.

"she wants to watch scooby doo even though she's already asleep," levi huffs with the shaking of his head, grabbing the tray from erwin's hands.

erwin follows after levi, closing the door behind the both of them and locking it.

"she seems to be getting adjusted," erwin notes while standing behind levi and watching him wash the dishes.

"only because she was on the brink of death. let's just hope she learned from it," levi's aggressively scrubbing the plate with a sponge.

————

you lay in your bed a few days later, the feeling of homesickness is eating you up inside. did no one care? did anyone even notice you vanished? where was everyone? what were they doing?

you think of zeke. the man you were sort of dating, it's complicated. well, it was. now, it's just nonexistent.

zeke was out of the country for a bit, something to do with work. he left you with a kiss on the forehead and a hug. you wonder if he's texted you.

you think of pieck. oh my god, she's had to have noticed by now. she's your best friend, she lives with you. but the memory of the two of you fighting right before you were kidnapped comes flooding back, and you deflate. if you weren't in the house then pieck would probably think it was normal.

what about porco? reiner? your guys friends who act like guard dogs towards you. where were they? did they notice? surely they had to, you never not text them back.

bertholdt? your close friend that you also worked with him. he was a music prodigy and he texted you almost everyday. did he notice?

you're breathing erratically as you sit up and clutch your hands over your ringing ears. where were they? where even was your phone?

you're gonna get killed before you can tell any of them that you love them. the thought has you crying and tugging at your hair. you were so mean to pieck before you were kidnapped. you hadn't talked to zeke since the day of your kidnapping, who probably wasn't worried because he was busy with work.

when will you see them again? will you ever even get to see them again?

'maybe after death,' you think, eyes darting up to the mirror on your vanity.

you slap yourself upside the head, slapping away the thought. you struggle to get onto your feet, but when you do, you're banging at the door for levi and erwin again.

you have to know if they're okay, to know if they know you're gone. you step away from the door at the sound of keys jingling and their footsteps.

"what are you freaking out about now," levi's being followed by erwin.

"my friends... did.. did you tell them i was okay," with a boost of confidence, your gripping at levi's biceps.

"get your filthy hands off of me," he smacks them away.

"yes, we did tell them you were going away. we said you decided on a vacation," erwin speaks and watches your eyes dart back to the mirror.

"fuck," you whisper to yourself. everyone would believe you'd go on vacation, you had been stressed with your job for the past month.

"levi's gonna make you some tea and then we can all chat, we were about to do so anyways," erwin's hand rubs at your back as he pulls you close to him.

levi leaves the room, following the orders of erwin. erwin, on the other hand, is cooing at you.

"no one's going to miss you," he whispers in a sweet tone and it gives you goosebumps, "no one at all."

you know it's not true. it can't be true. zeke would miss you. reiner would miss you, pieck, porco, bertholdt. they'd all miss you.... right?

"we're the only ones who care, no one else cares," his grip tightens.

"want to know what that girl said," you hear the arrogance in his voice, and you can't do anything to stop it since he's buried your face in his chest.

"she said she was glad you were on vacation. she said that it was good that she didn't have to see you," yoy hiccup against his chest, pieck couldn't have said that, right?

he pulls away finally, satisfied at your expressionless face—if you overlook the tears. you can't give in, pieck would never say that. never in a million years would she say that, even if she hated your guts.

right?

levi comes back in, hands holding a tray that has teacups and a pot of tea on it. levi goes to the area with three chairs, setting the tray onto the coffee table and sitting himself down in one. erwin follows behind him, leaving the chair in between them open for you to sit.

they stare at you expectedly, it makes you uncomfortable so you decide to just deal with it and sit with them.

"what tea is this," erwin asks while levi pours everyone a cup.

"earl grey, what else do we have," levi hands a cup to erwin and then to you.

you hold it by the handle, silently admiring the cup's delicate and intricate design. you try to ignore the voice in the back of your head to break it on the ground and slash your neck open. you want to drink it too, it smells absolutely perfect, but if you hold it any longer you might just listen to that voice.

you set it back down, left hand immediately grabbing at your right wrist. you didn't trust yourself to make a move on your own, if you did you fear it might end up with a shard of glass at your throat.

erwin's ice eyes stare at your wrist and hand, taking in how your knuckles were white and the skin on your arm was reddening.

"just say if you want handcuffs," erwin sips at his tea and looks away.

"what," you flinch at his voice interrupting the quiet that was once there.

his comment has you looking at your hands, which you let go of at the sight of the irritation.

"sorry," you shrug and lean back in your chair.

"good. can't have you hurting your hands," levi comments, eyes staring outside of the bay window.

"speaking of that," you sigh, "why do you always leave my hands alone. you've shown no mercy to my arms, so why my hands?"

"when you're good enough, you'll be allowed to play the piano," erwin crosses a leg over the other, ankle resting on his knee.

"play? for who? there's no one in this empty house but us," you scoff and cross your arms.

"me. and there's more people here than you think," levi's giving you a small smirk, "you're just separated from them."

"it's hard to believe that you have friends, levi," you mumble loud enough for them to hear. your comment has erwin chuckling and levi rolling his eyes.

"i have friends, believe it or not. watch your attitude," he's putting his tea back onto the tray.

"i don't have an attitude," you sound like a child arguing with their parent.

erwin butts in the conversation before levi can get mad, "anyways, we will allow you to play if we think you've been good enough. levi likes the piano, remember?"

you bite down on your tongue to stop the words 'no but i remember getting kidnapped!!' from coming out of your mouth.

"when can i leave this room, it's too stuffy in here?"

"did you not just listen to erwin? he said when we feel you've been good enough. you've got to start by loosing the attitude," levi snaps his fingers irritatedly.

"how am i supposed to act?!"

"obedient," erwin's now standing over your chair, hands gripping the arms as he leans over you.

"like a dog," you look to levi at the sound of his voice, you try to make yourself smaller.

"you have on a chain and collar for a reason, don't you," erwin smiles gently, hand taking ahold of the chains while he stands up straight.

you choke when erwin tugs the chains towards himself, head knocking right against his stomach while the chains swing in the air and curl around his arm. his other arm swiftly grabs at jaw and forces you to look up at him with your chin pressed to his body.

erwin feels himself harden at the sight, your eyes are widened and your mouth his agape and panting because of the sudden cut off of air.

"just like that," he strokes his thumb along your jaw while you wonder what's caused a sudden change in him these past few days; he used to be so gentle. oh right, kidnapping.

his words have you turning hot, embarrassment hugging you from behind. it wasn't like you easily complied, you were forced to do so. you're also embarrassed because you can feel his hard-on against your sternum, and while you haven't thought about it before, you realize that erwin is fucking hung. you hope that you're not too good for them.

you're saying prayers in your head whenever levi speaks up, "i thought we came in here to watch a movie or something."

erwin lets you go, chains dropping from his arm as he does so. you sigh in relief as erwin grabs the remote from your bed and turns the tv on. you huff while you flop onto your bed and crawl up under your covers, knowing that you'll probably just fall asleep as you watch the movie.

unfortunately, this gives off the impression that you would like to be cuddled. levi's sliding under the covers with you, chest pressing against your back with arms wrapped around your waist. erwin follows soon after, inserting himself in your arms as he scrolls through the different movies at his disposal on the television. you're slightly frustrated at all of the physical contact, but you know that if you reject their advances it'll end up bad for you.

"put on heather's, please," you ask, which erwin obliges to.

as the movie goes on, you hope that they get the message.

you'll be veronica, and they'll be jd.

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 5]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, use of toys(sybian), squirting, the long awaited chapter 5 😳💕 do they finally meet?!?!?!?! hehehehehehe also sorry for not being able to post this yesterday, had a busy week and when I tell ya I woke up at 3pm today 😗 💕💕💕💕 as always, thank you so much for your continued interest!! I'm already writing ch 6 and im SOOOO EXCITEDDDD hHEHEHEHEEHEH 💕💕💕💕💕 HAVE A GREAT REST OF YOUR WEEKENDS! 🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ? 

“You guys! I--you have to see this!”

You can’t wipe the smile off of your face when you shimmy to the side, excitedly showing off the new gift that Seungcheol had sent in the mail.

sleepy_wonu: holy hell

universe_WZ: that mustve costed hella

alphagyu97: nothin like feelin extra poor amirite lads

angelhan: it was only a matter of time before dom.cheol was untouchable lol 

You giggle slightly as you adjust the camera so that you and your new sybian are in frame. “Hey~ Don’t say that!! Y’know it’s not the amount of money you spend on me… I’m glad you guys are always here with me~” The sound of coins clinking goes off in the back as you read a few more comments.

dom.cheol: well princess, don’t u wanna show them how you use your new toy? ;)

tangerine_kwan: fuck i bet it can get u to cum so fuckin fast

hoshi_tiger_xx: yessss

dom.cheol has donated $100

hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $50

“Hmm~ How many times do you think I can cum with this? Oh! Why don’t we do this~” You pause, sliding your wet panties down your legs before tossing the material to the side. You grin, swinging a leg over the toy until you’re straddling it. “Rapid fire question! Whoever guesses the right amount of orgasms I can take before I call quits… Wins a special unreleased photoset of me! Go!”

dom.cheol: 5

universe_WZ: 4

sleepy_wonu: 6

angelhan: 3 artist8hao: 5

alphagyu97: everyone took all the good numbers already!!! 7!!!!!

gentleman_josh95: DMAN IT 3

tangerine_kwan: 8, fuck

kitty_junjun: ugh i was gonna say 4!!!!

xcaliburDK: i was gonna say 5!!!!

therealchan99: 2? thats so low tho….

chwenon: as if anyone is gonna say 1, lmao. Uh 6…. If sleepy_wonu happens to disappear

hoshi_tiger_xx: im gonna say 10, but… seems… risky

Reaching for the remote, you situate yourself until the raised part of the toy sits directly on your clit. A shiver runs up your spine at the feeling; already excited for what’s in store. “Um, to be fair I haven’t tried it myself yet so I’m not sure either... Hehe, but I guess we’ll find out together, huh?”

Gulping, you set the sybian to its lowest setting, the air getting knocked out of your lungs immediately as your body lurches forward. “H--holy shit!” The vibrations are already harsh on the lowest setting; your fingers gripping the remote tightly as you try to adjust to the feeling. “O--oh my g-god, I--”

dom.cheol: aww can ur cute lil clit take it?

xcaliburDK: maybe one of the lower numbers was right lol…

The moans spill freely from your lips, garbled noises getting lost in the mix when you start to grind against the vibration. “Fuck, it--it feels suh--so good, hah, already feel like ‘m gonna cum…” You whine, already getting lost in the pleasure. For a second, you’re tempted to raise the vibration intensity but you hold back, letting your wetness coat the toy as you continue to grind down onto it. The sound of donations and comments sound fuzzy to your ears; only the sound of the sybian buzzing reminding you that the camera was still even on.

“Ngh, g-god, I’m--I’m gonna cum!”

tangerine_kwan has donated $75

xcaliburDK has donated $50

dom.cheol has donated $200

dom.cheol: cmon, lets see that pretty pussy cum

Your legs shake as you cum, only a squeak coming out of your mouth as you lurch forward atop the toy. The grip you have on the remote loosens while simultaneously trying to turn it off in the midst of your orgasm.

dom.cheol: awww cumming so hard on the first setting? Cute

therealchan99: lol baby is in trouble now

angelhan: maybe 3 was right lmao

“I--a-ah, fu--fuck!” You cry, shaky fingers finally managing to shut the toy off. Your body immediately untenses; chest heaving with how sensitive you already were and it had only been your first orgasm and the lowest setting of the toy. “O-oh my g-god, I--I didn’t know i-it was that s-strong…” You mumble, body buzzing with the remnants of your orgasm.

sleepy_wonu: well mr dom.cheol did pay top dollar

gentleman_josh95: imagine if u had this for yesterdays show lol

“Oh god, if--if I had this for yesterday’s show, I would’ve been too boneless to do today’s show!” You laugh airily, slowly grinding against the toy already. “It feels really nice though… I’m already super curious about how strong the other settings are…” Trailing off, you reach for the remote again, throat dry as you fiddle with the knob.

kitty_junjun: what if u set it to the max setting

chwenon: idk if her cute lil body could take it

dom.cheol: its okay baby, take ur time. I wanna see how sensitive that pussy of yours can get

“But ‘m already so sensitive~ I dunno how much more I can take~” You tease, biting your lip when all the comments flooding the chat are words of encouragement.

You knew when you started camming that it’d be no easy job. Building up your fanbase and subscriber count had taken you months upon months to even get within the thousands and camming was physically exhausting. Some days your viewer counts were low and some days they were above average and sometimes you didn’t make as much in one show than another.

tangerine_kwan: was therealchan99 right with 2 then? Heh

therealchan99: finally FINALLY ITS MY TIME TO SHINE

Giggling, you slowly start turning the knob; body twitching when the vibrations kick in at full force.

Seungcheol watches in amazement at the way your body jerks atop the machine.

He can see the way your legs twitch unbearably when you cum for the third time; your brows furrowed at the intensity of the vibrations and your taut body when you can barely manage to turn the machine off.

Licking his lips, he slowly thrusts up into his closed palm, spreading the precum down his shaft as he watches you catch your breath.

“I--ngh, fuh--fuck, I---I don’t--don’t know if I--I can cum a-again…”

Seungcheol moans at your breathy whimpers; the arousal in his body pooling up quickly when he sees the fucked out expression in your eyes. His eyes flit to the wetness that coats the silicone portion of the toy, smirking when he realizes how much you really seemed to enjoy the gift he’d gotten you.

Mentally patting himself on the back, he praises himself for making the right decision.

angelhan: please tlel me im the winner im begging

universe_WZ: NO

dom.cheol: is the princess tired already? ;)

You catch your breath, not wanting to give up despite how fuzzy your head was getting and how much your body was buzzing. “I dunno… We still haven’t tried the last setting, you guys… And I’m just so curious...” You whisper, hazy eyes staring into the camera.

hoshi_tiger_xx: god u look so pretty like this, all fucked out

artis8hao: right? fuck, id kill to be that guy who can get u off like this

xcaliburDK: goddamn same

The sound of coins clinking mixes with the ringing in your ears; fingertips already on the knob of the remote.

You take a deep breath, letting the adrenaline kick in as you quickly set the knob to the highest setting, a high pitched cry spilling from your lips when you let go of the remote in favor of holding onto the machine instead. Grinding down onto it, you meet the toy's harsh vibrations as it quickly forces another orgasm out of you in the matter of seconds.

Choked cries spill from your lips as your entire body tenses up; body twitching uncontrollably as you cum for the fourth time. You lean back with whatever energy you have left, bracing yourself on the back of the toy as you relieve your swollen clit of the buzzing machine. Your orgasm refuses to stop and you can already tell how obscenely wet everything’s gotten when your head starts to clear.

alphagyu97: fuck you squirted all over the toy baby

universe_WZ: fuck fucki fuck

universe_WZ: wait did i winf kjfhdsjk

You shakily slide off of the machine, resting on your side as the machine still buzzes with life next to you. Your entire body won’t stop shaking, head muddled as you fight the urge to shut your eyes and sleep for the next 5 days. “I’m--I--” You whimper, still feeling the phantom vibrations between your legs.

“I--ho--holy fuck, I, w-wow, I--I don’t--that--I’m, I’m just… wow.”

dom.cheol has donated $400

dom.cheol: knew you’d like it ;)

universe_WZ: THAT MEANS I WON

universe_WZ has donated $150

angelhan has donated $150

therealchan99: well, at least some of us got close

hoshi_tiger_xx: fuckin speak for urself man i said /10/

You end the show after letting ‘universe_WZ’ know you’ll contact him soon, shutting your eyes as you lay on your soiled sheets.

You can still feel your fingertips twitching when your eyes slide shut, chest heaving in deep breaths as you try to relax yourself, momentarily cursing yourself for pushing your body too far for tonight’s show. 

Groaning, you reach for your phone, the screen lighting up with a text from Seungcheol, a simple ‘don’t forget to drink water ;)’ in your notifications and you can’t help but pout.

Seungcheol was nice, almost too nice. Definitely not in a murderer kinda way though, you think. 

He bought you expensive gifts and never asked for anything in return which made you feel bad sometimes. And while the donations and tips you’d made through your camshows was enough to get by with, Seungcheol’s generous donations helped you always make your rent and bills on time without worrying if you’d have enough or not.

You quickly text him back with a smile on your face; hoping that he’ll like what you had to offer.

Seungcheol feels the exact same way he did when you first contacted him offering him a free show, except maybe ten times worse. At first, he’d been a little sad that he hadn’t won your quick little game but this made up for it 20-fold.

The six simple words read ‘want to meet up next friday?’, a small heart emoji next to the question and he’d almost thrown his phone when he read it, hands shakily responding with a simple ‘I’d love to.’ to make it seem like he was calm when he was most definitely not.

His immediate next order of business after replying was to text Namjoon despite how late into the night it already was, begging for the day off and offering to take any shifts or pay cuts in exchange for it. 

All he needed was one day and he swore he’d never miss a day of work ever again.

Namjoon responds with a quick ‘sure, why not’, momentarily confusing him as to why his boss was awake while simultaneously sending Seungcheol into complete panic when he realizes he finally gets to meet you.

The week goes by extremely quickly to Seungcheol; his mood on a completely different level when he offers to pick up Yoongi’s Sunday shift without a complaint. He cleans up all the messes around the roller rink and even offers to do jobs that aren’t his which have Jeongguk raising a brow at the older male.

In the days that lead up to your meeting, Seungcheol looks up a few cafes that you might be interested in and even goes to get an STD exam, not that he’s expecting anything. Safety first, he says.

Your Wednesday show comes and goes, Seungcheol too excited to even get off when he watches you and he even donates an extra $600 at the end of the show; travel spending money, he offers.

And Thursday comes without a hitch and he all but skips to the employee backroom once his shift is over, humming a tune while he changes out of his uniform.

“Hey hyung, no offense, but are you okay?” Jeongguk rests against the locker next to Seungcheol’s open one, brow raised at the blue haired male that beams back at him. “I’m scared, why are you so… giddy. You even offered to take Yoongi-hyung’s weekend shift? What the hell was that about? I’ve never seen him that giddy either.  Man, this place is getting weird, maybe I should quit...”

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh, patting Jeongguk on the shoulder before shutting his locker.

“I have an important meeting tomorrow, that’s all. And don’t quit, ‘cause who else is gonna give me free food.”

While the excitement had him since Saturday, now that it was finally Friday, he was downright nervous.

The two of you had agreed to meet at 2PM in front of the cafe that Seungcheol had picked out and you’d gotten a hotel in town to make it easier on yourself instead of trying to get back to your place too late. Seungcheol had offered to come pick you up, but you had politely declined; instead opting to meet him first before letting him do anything else for you.

And by nature, Seungcheol gets to the cafe 15 minutes early, fidgeting and continuously running his fingers through his hair as he patiently waits. He can feel his palms getting sweaty when he rubs them against his jeans, mentally trying to keep calm and his head floods with all sorts of thoughts; mainly, how he even got into this position with you in the first place. And he gets so distracted that he doesn’t realize you’d be standing watching him zone out for the last 5 minutes.

“Wow, not sure what’s got you so focused but you’re standing so still!”

Seungcheol hears your cute airy laugh that follows, a cherry blush on his cheeks when his eyes meet your smiling face. “I--oh my god…” He whispers, taking in your appearance.

He feels his face buzzing, fingers twitching when he sees you in a cute simple  sundress. “W-wow, you--you’re just… so beautiful. I mean, you’re beautiful on cam too but just, wow, in person? Incredible.” The blush reaches his ears when he realizes he’s rambling, a nervous laugh spilling out of his lips.

“S--sorry, I, uh, usually I’m more chill than this but y’know…” He trails off, to which you nod. You step closer to Seungcheol and he gets a hint of your sweet smelling perfume, mentally groaning when your cute eyes peer up into his.

“That’s okay! I totally understand~ I’m kinda nervous myself too, to be honest…” You pause, a pink blush coating your own cheeks. “But let’s talk over some food, huh?”

Seungcheol doesn’t want to pry, but he’s not sure if he should address you as ‘Cherry’ in person, or if he should avoid calling you by anything at all.

He watches as you go through the cafe’s menu, biting the inside of his cheek as he itches to ask.

“‘Cheol… I can feel you staring, y’know.. Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, concerned eyes meeting his nervous ones.

“I just-- Sorry, I didn’t mean to be awkward, I just was wondering how I should address you in person? I don’t want to overstep my bounds, I know you don’t put your real name out there so…”

You place your menu down, closing it before leaning on your palms atop the small table. Seungcheol is cute, too cute, you think. You knew this would be a question when the two of you eventually met and you had given yourself the time to get used to the idea that he’d know your real name.

He eyes hyperfocus on your glossy lips, watching as you say your name for him for the first time.

Seungcheol’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest when he hears it; repeating it over and over in his head before he says it out loud.

“Wow, it sounds nice when it’s you saying it~” You tease, leaning back in your chair. “I don’t mind if you call me by my name, by the way! The pet names are cute but maybe we should keep that to the bedroom~” You end in a whisper, winking at the male.

Fuck, he thinks, just as his cock throbs at your comment. He really wishes you wouldn’t say things like that because he’s weak and he knows it, especially when it comes to you. “Okay, cool! Yeah, sorry, I just---I didn’t want to overstep, I know you don’t really let that be public information.”

“Of course! And thank you, I really can’t tell you how much you’ve done for me. I really… really wouldn’t be able to do all the things that I do if it weren’t for your constant support.”

You want to say more, but the waiter comes to take your orders, cutting you off until he leaves again.

“By the way…” Seungcheol looks at you with curious eyes, lips puckered around his drink straw. “Tell me about yourself, ‘Cheollie! I feel like we didn’t really get to talk that one time!”

He swallows the water in his mouth, licking his dry lips. Here goes nothing, he thinks.

“I swear, and please don’t think I’m a loser, but I--I work at a roller rink. It’s really not cool, I’m not some high paid CEO or whatever, I--I just, I work hard?” Seungcheol chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he waits for your reply.

“Wait, that’s so cool! Oh my gosh, I kinda wanna go!”

The surprise washes over Seungcheol, eyes wide as saucers when he hears you saying you’d want to visit his workplace. “Wuh---wait, seriously!?”

“Yeah! It’s kinda, like, retro! I haven’t been to one since I was a kid!” He quickly offers to bring you to the roller rink on Sunday so you could have somewhere to hang out while you were in town.

“And sadly, I took a shift on Sunday so you can hang with me while I work.” 

Seungcheol grins, watching as you jokingly roll your eyes at him. “So you did it on purpose, huh…” The two of you share a laugh, glad that your first meeting seemed to be going okay so far.

“Well, I mean, if it makes you feel any better, my best friend works the concession stand so I’ll make sure to get you a free pair of skates and food whenever you want?”

“It’s a deal!”

The two of you continue to talk over your late lunch, Seungcheol telling you of the various work hijinks he’d gone through at his time working at the roller rink.

“Which, by the way, that morning show you did… Hope you know I holed up in the restroom for an entire hour for that ‘lil stunt.”

You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes when you laugh, only feeling slightly bad for the blue haired male. “But I told you! Sometimes it’s just like that, y’know~” You tease back, heart blooming at the way you and Seungcheol got along.

In all honesty, there’d been something on your mind since you first sat down and you didn’t know when the right time to ask was, or if it was even appropriate.

The smile slips from your face as you bite the inside of your cheek in thought.

Seungcheol takes the bill from the waiter, slipping his card into the holder before you can even offer. But he notices the way your expression falls, noting the hesitance in your eyes when he looks at you from across the table.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice is gentle, soft and caring when he leans over the table to make sure you’re alright.

“Yeah! Just---Can I ask you for a favor?”

[novantinuum]

Hi, I was just wondering if you had ever thought about what would have happened in your story "Hollowed Moon" if you had continued it. I always thought it was such an interesting setup that could have gone in so many different directions. And there really aren't other stories focusing on Stevonnie and Spinel, so it was unique!

Hiya!

So, I do have some half-written, half-plotted out material to share. I gave this story some consideration the other day, and came to the decision that I don't have the desire to finish it out, alas- I have far too many other active WIPs to add it to the list. There's a few good reasons why I discontinued it, anyways... intimidation over the huge surge of attention it was getting back in 2019, some rude comments from overzealous Spinel fans, (I know everyone isn't like this, but a certain segment of the Spinel side of the SU fandom kinda burned me over time, hhh), and a future chapter containing a sensitive topic that I wasn't in a good headspace to write about at the time.

But! Anyways! Below the cut is all the existing material I have for Hollowed Moon past chapter 14, consisting of a mixture of descriptions, sketchy dialogue, and prose. It honestly feels nice to finally be able to put this story to an official rest.

__

Chapter 15

“I... I saw her.”

“Who-?”

“I saw Pink Diamond. I saw you, in this exact garden, in a dream. I- it was like I was experiencing everything through her. She explained your game, tapped your nose and told you to smile, then warped away—“

“That’s it, that’s what happened, almost exactly! But how could you even know that, I never—“

“I don’t know,” they blurt out. “I have empathic abilities, and sometimes that makes dreaming a little weird, but I have no idea how or why I saw any of this.”

[Pause for Stevonnie to think]

“Spinel, I’m so, so sorry,” they whisper brokenly. “But I think... she left you here.”

“What...?”

“She said she’d return, but before she warped away she whispered goodbye, like she didn’t actually intend to make good on that promise. She was lying to you,” they choke out, voice thick.

“No. No,” she says in clear denial, “no she’s not. She can’t be! She told me she’d come back! I can wait! I just have to wait—“

“But she’s not! She... she can’t, because Pink Diamond is gone. She- she was shattered, Spinel. Five thousand years ago, on the Earth. I- I should’ve told you this from the beginning, and I didn’t, and I- I’m so, so sorry—! But she left you behind, and now she’s never coming back.”

[Silence. Tears brim in Spinel’s eyes. Her eyes grow dark, pained, and then she glares at Stevonnie with such venom it almost knocks them backwards in alarm. ]

“NO!” she screams, tears streaming down her faded pink cheeks.

[She tears her feet up from the roots and runs away, using her arms like an orangutan to vault herself forward super fast so Stevonnie can’t catch her.]

___

Chapter 16

AN: Content warning for self-shattering attempt. Part of the reason why I had to stop writing this story at the time. I considered pushing the plot another way, but it didn't feel authentic to how I believed this scenario would play out for Spinel when she didn't have a direct target for her anger. Without someone to actively be jealous and upset AT, I could only imagine her breaking inwards instead of outwards, feeling that she's utterly failed in her life's purpose. Nothing more than a description for this chapter... and it'd be a short one.

[When Stevonnie finds her, she’s smashing her fists against her gem in her sheer anguish. She’s already cracked it. She’s glitching. It looks terribly painful. She’s about to strike her gem again when Stevonnie intervenes.]

___

Chapter 17

[Post timely intervention. Spinel is still cracked at this moment, though... her form glitching as she cries.]

“I was... her best friend,” she cries, fat, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was supposed to make her happy! Why wasn’t she happy? Why didn’t she come back?“

[Spinel reasoning that maybe if Pink came back for her, she wouldn’t have been shattered in the first place]

“What did I do wrong?” she whispers hoarsely, gazing pleadingly into Stevonnie’s eyes. “Wha- what am I doing? Why do I wanna hurt myself so badly?”

“Shh, now,” they reply, tears of their own brimming at the crease of their eyes, and pull Spinel’s head to their chest. “I’ve got you...”

___

Chapter 18

They know their throat is tight, and their voice scratchy. They know they’ve never sung this song in front of another living being, since it’s something personal they composed alone on one of their late nights back on Earth, thinking about all the difficult days Steven and Connie have had to face over the months. Pair this with their active crying, and there’s no way their singing will be anything pretty.

But pretty doesn’t matter right now.

Stevonnie opens their lips, and— clutching the broken hearted Gem close, rhythmically rocking with her back and forth— lets the wandering melody emerge from within.

“I guess I have to face That in this awful place I shouldn’t show a trace Of doubt...”

“But pulled against the grain I feel a little pain That I would rather do Without...”

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

[Hoarse, Spinel starts singing with them.]

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

“Free, free Free...”

“From here...”

[Stevonnie holds her tight while crying, their tears healing it back up.]

___

Chapter 19

AN: Don't have anything but a single bit of dialogue in this chapter note- I'm assuming I intended it as being a good few hours after the events of chapters 16-18... when Spinel has calmed down a little and has a moment to reflect on the upsetting news she's just received.

“I think... I always knew,” she says, voice hoarse. “In a way. It was so obvious how she felt about me.

___

Chapter ?

AN: From here on out, the plot hasn't been split into individual chapters.

[At some point shortly after chapter 19, Lars and his crew locate Stevonnie in the garden, and pick them and Spinel up. The next few bits of dialogue and description takes place on the ship.]

Rutile twins: “I haven’t heard of Spinels being produced in over five millennia.” “Me neither!”

Rhodonite: “Yeah, I heard they stopped making them entirely after the rebellion on Pink’s colony.”

[A bit of overwhelming conversation later, no one really noticing Spinel's conflicted emotional response to so many Gems hovering around her at once.]

Padparadscha: “I predict that you’re both going to make Spinel feel very uncomfortable aboard this ship.”

Rhodonite: “I’m sorry, we don’t exactly meet new Gems every century.”

Rutile twins: “Yes!” “It’s just been us until we met our captain!”

Fluorite: “Our new huuuuman friend helped us escape the tunnels on Homeworld. Now... we’re slooowly making our way back... to Earth.”

Spinel: “Earth?? You’re going to Pink’s world? But why? I heard she... was shattered.”

___

[Spinel feeling a sense of kinship with the idea that there’s other Gems who didn’t serve their rightful purpose and are now escaping their life on Homeworld to be free of that. Because now, without her Diamond, since she was unable to keep her happy, she’s an Off Color too. She failed her given purpose same as them.]

[Discussion of Earth, and the rebellion, and how there’s Gems living free there. And how Pink’s colony was siphoning life away, and that’s what these Gems were fighting to protect. Stevonnie points out all the plants and wildlife that used to live in the garden, and asks her if she felt happier when it was around. Spinel says yes. Stevonnie says that this is what the Diamonds are destroying, with each lifeless colony they forge. Everywhere they go, dead wildlife lies in their wake.]

Spinel: “I... guess I never thought of it that way.”

[(Stevonnie adds...) And while they’re very sorry for the personal connection there, and can’t imagine how painful that must be, that’s why Pink Diamond was shattered.]

[Spinel is given an open choice... Lars gives the invitation to stay with him and the Off Colors, and Stevonnie offers for her to come with them back to Earth. It's not a hard decision for her in the end, though. She's always dreamed of seeing what was once Pink’s planet, ever since she heard the Diamonds bequeath it to her.]

___

Stevonnie: “Okay, so… before we go, I need to be honest with you about something." [deep breath] "I’m actually a fusion of two separate people who are close friends. You... know what fusion is, right?”

Spinel: “Duh, o’course! What, d’ya think I was made yesterday?”

[...]

Stevonnie: “But even with that, I can’t be together as me all the time. Steven and Connie, the two who come together to form me... they love hanging out with each other so much, but they also have their own lives! Other friends, other hobbies, their own families. They still talk when they’re apart, but they know it’s okay to do things alone, too. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Spinel: [shakes head no] “No...?”

Stevonnie: [sighs] “I understand you’ve been left behind. Believe me, I know how bad that feels. So the last thing I wanna do is make you think I’m doing that too.”

Spinel: “Y-you— you’re going away?” Stevonnie: “Unfusing, yes.” Spinel: “But Stevonnie, you—“ Stevonnie: “Spinel. No matter what, you are my friend. Steven and Connie consider you a friend, too. And my hope is that you’ll keep making a whole bunch more on Earth, so you’ll always have people around who know and love you. But that can’t always be me, okay?“

___

[At home... on Earth. There's a bit of a close call for Pearl when Spinel arrives, and recognizes her as Pink's second pearl. This is news for Garnet and Amethyst and Steven, the first of which had somewhat suspected that Pearl used to be in the diamonds' service, but never knew for sure. Pearl, of course... can't say much on this due to her gag order... not that anyone else knows about that yet... but does manage a very concise and PD=RQ free explanation about her past in Pink's court, and her transition towards being a Crystal Gem:]

Pearl: “Rose Quartz set me free, and I’ve been a part of the rebellion ever since.”

___

[At some point between the last scene and the next, mention how Spinel had a bit of a relapse... she ended up poofing herself, and reformed differently. A little bit closer to the smudged mascara and frayed pigtails look of canon, but no rotated heart. Unlike in canon, she has a solid support system amongst the Crystal Gems, and she's working hard to recover from the heartbreak of Pink's abandonment.]

___

[Final scene is set post A Single Pale Rose. Steven and Connie fuse, and Stevonnie goes to find Spinel to check in on how she's taking the news. The final line of the fic is as follows:]

Spinel: “I know you’re not her, not really. And I know you’ll always be a better person than she ever was. But in some silly cyclical way... back in that garden... it’s almost like Pink came back for me after all.”

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Understanding the Human World Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Phone call between Victor and Goldman before the date: here

Candlelit Night Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Lucien

Trivia regarding the name of the date:

The date is called 遍阅人间色, which is loosely translated as “reading the colours of the human world”

This could be reference to a quote from 菜根谭 (Cai Gen Tan), a book written by a Ming Dynasty scholar and philosopher Hong Zichen

The full quote is: 阅遍人情, 始知疏狂之足贵; 备尝世味,方知淡泊之为真

A possible interpretation of it is: After experiencing all the things in the world, you will realise that ordinariness is the best

-

[ CHAPTER ONE ]

The date begins with MC, Anna and Kiki in the office, commenting on the work of her new intern (whose name is Wei Wei)

When the intern first started, her work was of horrifying quality. However, she has improved by leaps and bounds since then

The topic shifts to MC, and they comment that under Victor’s influence, she has become much more independent

MC receives an email from Victor at around 7pm telling her to amend parts of her proposal, so she stays behind

By the time she tidies up her materials, it’s already 9pm. She hears someone entering the office - Wei Wei returned to finish her work

MC is stunned by her work ethic and tells her to Relax™

But Wei Wei looks troubled and asks:

Wei Wei: Boss, would you feel upset if you fall for someone who is very bright and out of reach? 

MC: Huh?

Wei Wei: I’m such a mediocre, normal, and plain person. It’s only when I don’t sleep, don’t rest, and keep running forward that I can catch up with him.

I seem to comprehend, yet not comprehend at the same time.

Wei Wei: No matter what, I have to keep running forward!

Victor calls and says he’d pick her up

MC has a sudden realisation - Wei Wei’s fast improvement happened after her visit to LFG with MC... 👀

-

[ CHAPTER TWO ]

All of a sudden, Victor informs her of his agreement to be a cameo in a short film which would be shot overseas by a guy called Ronan, and that they’re flying the next day

MC wonders who exactly Film Director Ronan is for Victor to just readily accept the role, but Victor doesn’t respond

When they arrive, MC is surprised to see that Director Ronan is a tall and slim, curly-haired young foreigner

MC: Nice to meet you, Director Ronan. I’m MC. 

With a cheery smile, Ronan shakes my hand.

Ronan: Hello, bride-to-be.

I turn towards Victor confusedly.

Victor: Did you not hear a single word of what we were talking about just now?

MC: Of course not! You were both talking about... wedding attires, exchanging of wine cups... I understand that, but... I’m also acting?

Perhaps I look overly lost. Victor doesn’t even say that I’m stupid, but there’s a look of resignation implied in his glance. 

MC: So this is what you meant earlier when you said I should prepare... I see...

After half an hour, I finally understand the situation completely. 

Ronan is a very old friend of Victor. Even though he’s young, he is a famous film director in France, and has won numerous international prizes. 

He’s currently on a long vacation, and is planning to prepare a short film. In it, he will convey his attitude towards love through the use of various cultures’ wedding customs. 

The first stop for collecting materials is in China. 

Ronan: It’s called Devotion, and will be my first non-fiction work. I hope it can be presented in a beautiful and well-designed form to convey genuine and believable emotions. 

MC states that if she has the chance, she’d also want to go to different corners of the world to film

Victor responds with his usual remarks - “are you done with your report?”

Ronan laughs softly, revealing an intrigued expression. 

He walks to me and bends down, meeting my eyes and giving me a wide grin. 

Ronan: MC, Victor has a lot of little secrets. If you want to know anything, I can tell you.

At that moment, I feel as though I’m standing in front of a big mine, treasures laid out before me. I have no idea where to begin digging.

Victor: Why am I unaware that I have a lot of secrets? 

Ronan gives him a light sweeping glance. Then, he raises his voice. 

Ronan: I can tell you that many girls want to know his phone number. 

MC: Eh? 

-

[ CHAPTER THREE ]

While the staff help with her outfit and makeup, she overhears their conversion:

Makeup artist: Is that Victor? 

Costume staff: He looks even better in person than on television. No wonder he’s so popular. 

Makeup artist: You like his type? 

Costume staff: Difficult to say. It’s easier to be with someone who’s a little better than a regular human, or someone who’s just two points better. For someone like him, who’s akin to the stars hanging up in the sky... liking him is futile. 

I mull over these words, and several images flash across my mind, finally pausing at Wei Wei’s unbending expression. 

-

MC enters the filming location and sees Victor, who’s looking at his script.

Sensing my gaze, Victor sets down the script in his hands and walks towards me. After looking me up and down, he finally gives a positive evaluation. 

Victor: Not bad. 

Sensing the glances of the staff members, I touch the hair accessories in my hair. A little embarrassed, I look around for the director. 

MC: [blushing] Are we filming soon? Where’s Ronan?  

Ronan: Here!

Without realising it, Ronan is standing behind me, a stunned look in his eyes. 

Ronan: The Chinese wedding attire is so beautiful! We’ll go with what I mentioned just now. Don’t be nervous. The two of you just need to relax a little more, and I’ll be able to capture the best shots. 

They begin filming. MC feels nervous, and strikes up a conversation with Victor

MC: Victor, don’t you think we’re always pretending to get married? 

I’m unsure if Victor is pretending not to hear me, but he has no reaction at all.

MC: Victor, look at the moon tonight. It’s so round!

Victor: Mm.

MC: ...

After confirming that Victor is ignoring me on purpose, I change the topic.  

MC: Victor, after you left the makeup room, Ronan came over and told me a lot of your secrets!

Victor: Did he tell you that many women want my phone number? 

MC: Huh? No!

Victor smiles lightly, then meets my eyes. 

Victor: Continue.  

MC: He told me a story about close friends. 

Victor arches his brows slightly, as though he already knows what I’m about to say. 

MC: I heard that when LFG first started, a director with nothing to his name came looking for an investment. He boldly promised that his work would win a grand prize. The young CEO, with his good tastes, decisively invested after seeing his work. Afterwards, this work won a grand prize, and even three international prizes. Overnight, LFG became reputable in the industry. If that’s the case, he must be a close friend of yours. Why have you never mentioned him?

Victor: We have a good relationship, so there’s nothing to bring up. Also, we haven't met in three years.  

MC: Three years?!

Victor: He’s busy with a lot of things. I am too.

Victor says this in an ordinary manner, but I hear the most moving overtones.

MC: But you dropped all your work the moment he called and asked you to film?

Victor: Encounters between people are very short-lived. The next time we meet, it might not just be three years later. 

His tone is light, as though he’s talking about a normal matter. Yet, it’s as though I’m seeing pages with “The End” written on them. If the page is flipped once more, the book would close completely. 

I suddenly think of many people in my life. People who were once close to me - people who had walked through many seasons with me - and how they silently left at some point in time.

Sometimes, I didn’t even realise that after waving goodbye to certain people, it would be the last time I would ever see them again. 

Noticing that I haven’t spoken in a while, Victor speaks in a softer voice.

Victor: What are you thinking about?  

MC: There are many important people I don’t want to only share short-lived encounters with. 

Victor: For example? 

MC: For example, you.

I answer without thinking, and without a second of hesitation. Even Victor pauses for a while after hearing my response. 

Victor: MC, do you know the meaning of Hejin wine? 

[Trivia: Hejin wine is also known as “The Wedlock Wine”]

For some reason, he changes the subject. He holds up the two wine cups in front of us. 

Victor: “Jin” is a kind of gourd. It tastes very bitter, and is split into two halves and added to the wine. When the bride and the groom drink it together, it becomes Hejin wine. The meaning behind it is - you and I are originally one body. Whether it’s in joy or sorrow, or bitter of sweet times, we will go through it together. 

While Victor speaks, he draws closer to me, placing one of the wine cups in my hand. 

Victor: On this earth, there will be one person who will drink the same cup of wine together with you, and will experience the same taste as you. Other people will leave, but he wouldn’t. If you want to wait for other people to return, he will accompany you in waiting. This is the meaning of Hejin.

The red silk and the colour of his clothes blend together. The overwhelming colour of red envelops me.

The dazzling red candles are reflected in his pupils, and within them holds my dumbfounded expression. 

In this pair of eyes, I see the world’s vastest tenderness. 

Victor: I promise you. I will always be with you.

-

[ CHAPTER THREE: Extras ]

After Ronan is more-or-less done with filming, MC just chills outside

She tells Victor how she feels sad about not taking sufficient photos of themselves in their gorgeous attire

Victor: What other photos do you want to take?

MC: I want to pictures of the palanquin, pictures of the firecrackers, and kowtowing!

[Trivia: MC is referring to traditional Chinese wedding processions]

Victor: There isn’t a palanquin, and the firecrackers have already been set off earlier. If you still want to act, there’s only the kowtowing left. 

I cast a glance towards the inner hall, slightly embarrassed. 

They get into position :’)

MC: A bow to the heaven and the earth--

With the heaven, the earth and the cosmos as my witness, being able to meet you among the vast sea of people is already the best encounter in my life. 

MC: A bow to the parents--

The parents witness the girl, who used to fall a lot when she was younger, grow up. In the years she spent growing up, she finally found someone to entrust her entire self to.

I turn my body slowly. For a moment, I don’t know what expression to have on my face, so I lower my head. 

Victor: A bow to each other. Both witnessing the rest of our lives...

Victor speaks in a deep, unhurried voice. But he stops suddenly.

The mist-like moonlight seems to cage him in a thin and light dream.

MC: What? 

He leans over and whispers into my ear. Every sound is immersed in the night, dim and inviting. 

The familiar aroma of wood is in his breaths, mixed together with the cooling night breeze. I wonder if I should follow my instincts and sink into it, or wake up.

Victor: I’ll tell you next time. 

-

[ CHAPTER FOUR ]

After the filming, Ronan sends MC and Victor to the hotel to rest, but tells them not to change out of their outfits just in case he needs to re-film certain segments

MC actually has no idea when Ronan started filming, or how the film is going to turn out. She only knows that it started the moment Victor lifted up the wine cup

Ronan just told her to keep looking at Victor with fascination in her eyes

MC: Victor...

Victor: Mm?

MC: Don’t you find “Devotion”, the name Ronan gave the film, very appropriate? I once read a poem where the poet used this word to describe the adoration between lovers. It’s a... similar feeling to having faith in each other. Even though two people are already extremely intimate, the ties between a desire for the other person and feelings which are as deep as the sea... they push one forward.

Victor is making tea. After hearing my serious interpretation, he tastes my words carefully. 

Victor: Not a bad insight. 

MC: But...

Victor: But what? 

MC: Victor, do you know that you make people feel like you’re out of reach? 

Victor: What do you mean? 

MC: Something like... always hanging up in the sky brightly and brilliantly, and no one can possibly pluck the stars. Or the feeling of unattainability... You’re smart, strong, and can deal with anything calmly and properly. You give the impression that nothing is too difficult for you. You’re always decisive, wise, having an opinion and having goals. Unlike me...

The more I speak, the more I feel the words don’t match what I intend to say. After struggling for a while, I decide not to continue. 

I thought Victor would feel at a loss in response to my sudden lament and random conversation topic. However, his expression is unexpectedly calm. 

After a short moment of silence, he lets out a light “mm”. He carries two tea cups and walks over, sitting down on the chair opposite me.

Victor: If you want to say something, say it directly. I’m listening. 

I hold my chin. Steam from the two tea cups drift towards his eyebrows. Even before I start talking, I’m already unable to suppress a smile.

MC: I kind of... admit that I’m a dummy.

Victor: ...

Victor lets out a laugh. I seldom hear such bright laughter from him.

I’m unsure if he’s laughing at my display of self-awareness, or because he’s happy that I complimented him. After a pause, he lets out a light sigh. 

Victor: What nonsense do you think about the entire day?

MC: It’s not ‘nonsense’, it’s...

The words are lodged at my throat halfway, and I’m unable to find an appropriate adjective even after a long time. Meeting Victor’s patient expression, I find myself at a greater loss for words.

Seeing that I’m speechless, Victor unhurriedly brings up the topic again.

Victor: MC, does Ronan make you feel like he’s out of reach? 

MC: Huh? 

I can’t find the main point of his words, so I simply go along with his line of thought. After thinking for a while, I shake my head. 

MC: But I only just met him...

Victor: At his young age, he is already a world-renowned director. He outpaces others within the industry, and there are many people who are envious of his natural talent. He is very good in his field - even better than me. 

MC: But...

Victor: Don’t you think so? 

I want to refute him, but he’s actually not wrong.

In the long silence that follows, I rub my fingers against the smooth, porcelain surface of the teacup, slowly taking in the implication in his words. 

I see a streak of light in the entire Milky Way.

Victor: In the future, you’ll see an even broader world, and meet even more great people. At that time, you may think that Victor is actually just an ordinary person.

MC: ...huh?

Still immersed in my thoughts, I’m unsure if I misheard.

MC: What did you just say? Victor is just an ordinary person?

In the next few seconds, I even think of the title of the next proposal - The Ordinary Victor. 

Sub-title: How the legendary CEO of a huge business empire re-defines what it means to be an ordinary person.

Victor sips his tea, putting an end to the conversation

MC: Victor, do you still remember how I went to Venice to participate in a photography exhibition? 

Victor: I remember. It was in September. 

MC: Since young, I’ve always wanted to go to Venice because of movies and stories. So when I was booking the tickets, my whole brain was thinking about the fun things to do once I got there. But on the third day in Venice, I felt like coming back. I kept feeling that being alone overseas, so far away from you, resulted in something being missing in my happiness. It was only when the plane landed and I returned to the familiar streets that this uneasiness finally disappeared. Did you know that... when I got off the car, I smelt a strong scent of osmanthus. I dragged my suitcase looking for osmanthus trees, thinking... “I wonder if Victor knows how to bake osmanthus cakes!”

[Trivia: Osmanthus is a traditional symbol of true love and faithfulness, and is used in old wedding customs, where the bride would bring it to her new family. It also means “giving birth to noble children” 👀]

Victor lets out a laugh, relaxing his posture and leaning against the back of the chair.

Victor: Why didn’t you ask me to bake an osmanthus cake?  

MC: I wanted you to see me in a different light, so I tried it myself while referring to an osmanthus cake recipe. After that... it wasn’t successful. Didn’t I make you steamed pumpkin with osmanthus? You even said it wasn’t unpalatable and that I improved!

Victor thinks for a while, as though grasping around his memory for a trivial moment. The smile which has been on his face this whole time reveals slight hesitance.

Victor: I thought you just made that dish for fun.

MC: That’s not wrong...

Victor doesn’t continue. There were many times I thought he’d definitely call me a dummy, but he didn’t.

He reaches out and interlaces our fingers together.

He holds them lightly, leaving space between his warm palm and my fingertips. 

Victor: You’ve already plucked the star. Aren’t you going to hold it more tightly? 

MC: Huh? 

Slightly overwhelmed, I look at our interlaced fingers. Tentatively, I gather my five fingers together. 

I imagine how my fingertips touch the lines on his palm. I imagine every fragment of time we spent together turning into speckles of bright light, filling up the entire world. 

But Victor probably found that I was too slow. 

He unfurls his five fingers, then wraps my hand tightly into his palm. 

Victor: Remember - when you meet anyone, there’s no need to feel that you’re not enough. You have your own uniqueness, and it’s just as precious. 

I look towards him, seeming to understand his words. I nod my head out of habit, but it’s a more serious nod than usual. 

At this moment, a phone notification chime resounds in the quiet room. Victor takes up his phone and gives it a look. 

Victor: Ronan says he has completed shooting today’s materials, and there aren’t any issues. We can change out of our outfits. 

-

After she’s done changing in the bathroom, she sees the glorious sight of Victor setting the candles alight

[Trivia: On the night of traditional Chinese weddings, the newlyweds will set candles alight in front of the bed. The light of the candles are meant to symbolise a long-lasting love]

Victor: Are you done changing?

-

[ CHAPTER FIVE ]

While Victor changes out of his clothes, MC muses about how she can’t bear to part with the wedding attire. Ronan could only borrow it for two days, which is why Victor had to rush over

MC takes several pictures of the wedding attire on her phone from different angles

She puts on the veil, but since she can’t see properly through it, she can’t take her ideal photos

Frustrated, she’s about to throw her phone onto the sofa when someone grabs her arm

Victor: Why are you barefoot? 

MC: It’s fine...

Before I finish talking, Victor lifts me up. The sudden weightlessness causes me to hurriedly wrap my arms around him.

At such a close distance, I can clearly smell the moisture on the side of his neck.

He places me onto the large bed in the room.

I reach out to remove the veil, but he stops me. 

Victor: What kind of bride takes off her own veil? 

I only see a patch of red in my vision. Because of this, every word entering my ears is made even clearer. 

His undulating breathing and the tenderness in his dull voice enter my heart more directly than before. I find myself feeling nervous.

MC: Oh right-

Seeing me straighten up after remembering something, Victor lets out a sigh of resignation. 

Victor: Aren’t you tired after a whole day of tossing about? You’re still so easily startled...

MC: I remember Ronan mentioning that his plane is leaving tomorrow too. Once he leaves, it could really be several years later till you two meet again. Do you want to change the flight to a later slot so you can send him off? 

Victor: Sure.

Despite a slight pause, Victor’s answer does not contain any hesitation. His words seem to conceal a smile. 

Victor: Why did you suddenly think of this?

MC: It wasn’t sudden. You’re always not saying what you mean. I was afraid you would pretend it doesn’t bother you. When it comes to important people, you have to welcome them when they arrive, and send them off when they leave. Through these interactions, the fate between you two can be sustained for longer. 

Victor: Mm. 

His slender and long fingers hold onto one corner of my veil. Following his movements, my vision slowly returns. 

First, I see his black shirt. Then, every button on it. After that, his slightly trembling Adam’s apple, and his clean chin. 

Finally, I meet his gaze, which is even deeper than the sun, moon, and stars. 

MC: Victor, could you teach me how to bake an osmanthus cake when we get back? A green bean cake, jujube cake, or a peanut cake will do too. 

Victor: Do you really want me to teach you, or do you just suddenly feel like eating them?

MC: Both are fine, they aren’t mutually exclusive. 

Victor reaches out and gently pulls me into his arms. A familiar warmth seeps through his thin shirt. My eyes drift shut, and I press the side of my face against his scorching neck.

Actually...

To me, just the word “Victor” already holds great meaning to me. 

He is the very first ray of light to appear at the beginning of the world. 

He is the ray of light that appeared when God said, “let there be light.”

I grasp his hand tightly. I hold it very, very tightly. As though I will never let go. 

-

At 3pm the next day, Ronan’s plane takes flight. 

His next stop is Southeast Asia, then South Asia, then Europe, the North America... 

The next time we meet, he would have explored the entire globe, taking beautiful pictures that cause people to marvel at them.

Victor: Although it was delayed by two days, the deadline for the proposal is still the same. I hope to see improvements in your third amendment by this Friday.

MC: ...

Goldman: CEO!

Goldman and Wei Wei are at the airport to fetch them 

Wei Wei looks really anxious 👀

MC asks what Wei Wei is doing here, and the latter responds that there are urgent documents requiring MC’s signature 

But MC remembers Anna mentioning that those documents aren’t urgent 👀

Wei Wei drops her pen accidentally, and her pearl bracelet suddenly snaps while she tries to pick it up 

The pearls roll onto the ground 

Before MC can step in to help, Goldman uses his file to stop the pearls from rolling away even further 👀

Wei Wei’s cheeks are red, and she stares at Goldman with a look of anticipation in her eyes.

MC: I see...

It turns out that the sky every person looks towards is different.

Encounters with people are short-lived. The stars in the universe have their own tracks, so if you lift your head and find an exceptionally bright star--

Pick up your feet and chase after him. 

Don’t sleep, don’t rest, and keep running forward!

Till you can hold onto his hand, and drink a cup of bitterness and sweetness - the hundred flavours of life - together with him.

Victor, who is walking in front, stops and turns his head to look at me. 

Victor: Why are you just standing there looking silly? They’re catching up soon.

I can’t help but laugh. Our gazes meet. 

Perhaps the smile on my face looks silly. Victor lets out a soft sigh, turning his body towards me halfway, as though waiting for me. 

I no longer hesitate, taking large strides in Victor’s direction-

And running forward!

-

🍒 Cheri’s thoughts 🍒

That was a somewhat awkward ending LOL

The Goldman x Wei Wei ship... T^T

Reading Victor’s Colours of Rain Date after this is highly recommended. It makes reference to this date, and also shows the other extreme - what happens if you keep pushing yourself and maintaining a strong front

[dalgonachan]

Latibule

pairing: Seungkwan x reader, ft. 95z as a troublesome trio genre: high school au, angst, fluff warnings: none prompt: every day is a new beginning, but today just seems to be too tough to face count: 3632 a/n: i feel like my new writing pattern is updating on the members’ birthdays. this one has been sitting in my drafts for like a year and i was having second thoughts about posting it but alas here it is. happy birthday to best boi boo seungkwan 🥳🎈

Standing in a shower cubicle, as you feel your hair and body dripping wet, definitely counts as one of the most awkward moments in your entire life. Most especially when you’re waiting for everyone to leave the locker room. Forgetting to bring your towel with you was a completely dumb move because you just ran in and took a shower without even thinking of the consequences of being unprepared. Although, first come first serve basis has become a tradition during gym class and you don't want to run out of stalls and wait. Even worse, having to share with someone too generous would be an unpleasant experience. So here you were waiting for everyone to leave so that you can dash out of the cubicle and grab your towel from the lockers.

Maybe I could just wear my swimsuit, go out, and take my towel—no. You thought to yourself, quickly dismissing the thought with a shake of your head. That is just disgusting.

There are around four or five more people left. Silently, you whisper to the air about how much you wish for them to leave so you can be alone right now. Not long after, you hear the locker room door close, followed by a sudden stillness. You carefully open your stall's door, hoping it doesn't creak, and peek outside to check if there's still anyone left. 

Nobody's here. But me. Good.

Without hesitation, you immediately exit the stall and manage not to slip while running. You slam the locker door open as soon as you’re inches away from it, then grab your towel and start drying off. You’re not even close to dry when you change back into your uniform and shoes, but for now, you really don't care. You’re running late for math class thanks to your stupidity.

Your footsteps and ragged breathing echo in the empty hallway. You slow down and start searching for your locker. Upon instantly catching sight of it, you sprint for it and nearly slam against it. You twist the knob to put in the code, however, it doesn't open and you try again. A few more attempts to open it are made, but none succeed.

"Come on! Work!" You plead, twisting the knob one last time.

Finally, you give up and kick your busted locker in anger. Being awfully late for math class is as bad as lacking the needed requirements, but together they're simply distressing.

You turn around and walk down the hall, dragging your feet lethargically. Your backpack seems to weigh heavier than it is... or was gravity also conspiring against you, trying to get your body to drop to the floor? As usual, you shrug it off and try your best to go on.

I'll just get to class and hope that this day doesn't completely go downhill.

Eventually, you reach your destination. Hesitantly, your hand reaches for the door knob, but getting caught standing outside any longer could give you a formal warning. You decide to walk in as casually as possible. For certain, you’ve failed to act normally because your movements become stiff with everyone's eyes on you. Barely reaching your chair, the teacher calls you out.

"(L/n)! You're late," her harsh tone is startling and you freeze.

"My apologies, Miss Kang," you timidly respond.

"I hope you have your materials with you." She taps the attendance chart on her desk. "Don't forget to register."

The attendance chart is where students write in, of course, their attendance. However, that isn't all. Listed above their names is a row of all the requirements needed in class. If they have the specified material, a check mark is put below it, beside their name. Lucky for you, you have none so the space beside your name is left blank.

Miss Kang checks the chart and gives you a look after reading your entry. With her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, and hands on her hips, it's obvious that she's cross. You lower your head in shame as you feel everybody staring in silence, watching the scene before them unfold. 

This must be so interesting for them. Spitefulness drips off your thoughts like venom. (Y/n) (L/n), the pupil who came to class tardy and incomplete, is sent to detention by the math teacher.

You take off the embarrassingly enormous detention tag hanging around your neck and place it in the plastic basket right next to Miss Joo's desk. She doesn't even look up from her computer as she points to your seat—fifth to the right, third to the back. Making your way to the chair, you take a gander at all the other students in the detention room. Some were familiar faces, some others you didn't know at all. Yoon Jeonghan, Choi Seungcheol, and Hong Jisoo, a group of known troublemakers in your school, huddled at the back while palavering about what most likely is their next evil scheme. You get into your seat, pull out a pad paper and pen, then carelessly drop your bag onto the floor.

Miss Kang sent you to detention to write a two thousand word essay about why one should always be prepared and early for class. Could there possibly be a punishment much worse than this? Honestly, it doesn't take long to fill up half of the paper since you were simply stating all the corrections to the mistakes you've recently committed. Just as you’re about to move on to the next page, something slobbery hits your nape followed by an eruption of laughter. You don't even have to turn your head to know who shot that spitball, but still do it to send a death glare their way. Jeonghan shrugs as if he knows nothing, meanwhile the other two are too busy laughing their heads off. If only.

Returning your attention to the paper, you force yourself to ignore them. The pen glides smoothly across the sheet as your thoughts fluidly flow out... but not for long. Another spitball comes your way, but this time it lands on the paper. You can tell they used so much saliva on this one because it created one hell of an ugly blotch on the essay that it actually ruined the ink. So much for effort.

This time, there is no room for mercy. Obviously, Miss Joo doesn't care, so you push your chair out of the desk, letting it screech across the floor, and stomp over to the three boys. The other students in the room watch closely, anticipating the drama about to happen. With arms crossed and eyebrows arched, you shoot them with the most painful glare you can make.

"I'm sorry, but what is your problem?!" You could almost yell at them, but you don't want to get into any more trouble. You’re going up until only this far.

"Nothing. We were just messing around," Jeonghan smugly replies.

You fight the temptation to rip his mouth off his face, but the urge to do so can still be heard in the way you speak.

"Nothing? Oh, sure! I totally believe you, as if you three..." You point an accusing finger at each of them, "...weren't spewing spitballs in my direction!"

The whole room is filled with silence and old Miss Joo is still as deaf as ever.

"We weren't aiming at you," Jisoo defends, leaning forward.

"We were trying to get it to the trash can over there!" Seungcheol points with his thumb, but you don't turn around to look.

"I'm not falling for that and you idiots should know that. Oh, but I guess idiots like you don't really understand anything at all." You feel the tone in your voice getting angrier by the second.

"Fine, fine. We're sorry, okay?" Jeonghan says, but the smirk on his face is still evident.

You squint your eyes and tap your foot impatiently on the floor.

"Right, guys?" Jeonghan glances over at his accomplices.

"Sure," Seungcheol says.

"Sorry," Jisoo mumbles.

"You better be. Just quit bothering me." Turn on your heel, you walk away.

Thankfully, you get to reprimand the three of them for their stupidity. Even so, you can hear them whispering behind your back. Returning to your chair, the tension is thick as you feel everyone's eyes on you. Once you sit down, their gazes divert elsewhere because Miss Joo announces it's time for lunch.

The high school cafeteria is filled with boisterous students, making it almost impossible to move around. You carefully weave through the winding crowd, in search of Seungkwan, your boyfriend, while tightly clutching the lunch tray close to your body. Your eyes sharpen upon nearing each table, trying to identify the people seated down.

The crowd begins to thin when you catch sight of him. He's by himself at the table, staring straight at you with a faint smile on his visage, then you notice he hasn't touched his food yet. Obviously, someone's been waiting. You grin widely, approaching the table he reserved for. Fortunately, lunch time is the most forgiving part of a school day. It's also a good thing because you get to spend time together.

"Took you long enough," Seungkwan comments as you arrive.

"I got stuck in the crowd and I had a hard time searching for you because of that," You respond, still standing in front of the table.

"I noticed," he says with a smirk.

"You could've called me!" I grumble.

"It was fun watching you get lost," he says with a chuckle. "Now sit down already! I want to eat!"

"Alright, alright," You say, placing the tray down and settling into the chair.

In the blink of an eye, a football crash lands on the table, knocking out your lunch and hitting you in the face. Food splatters you from head to toe in less than a second before the whole tray falls on your lap. You lose hearing for a while, your ears ringing. The pain on your face throbs mercilessly.

You look up, vision blurry, still dazed from the hit. Your eyes make out the empty space in front and before you can assume he's left, you feel him tugging you out of your seat. The other students simply look at what all the commotion is about. Turning to the direction where the football came from, your vision clears to see Jeonghan, Jisoo, and Seungcheol with guilt-stricken faces. Unsurprising.

"I should've expected those jerks to have done it again," You mutter.

Grabbing your bag, you stand up from the table and burst out of the cafeteria doors in frustration. This day has been pushing your buttons and you've had just about enough. Perhaps, even, too much. And those three just had to add up with the disasters of today.

"(Y/n)! Wait!" You hear Seungkwan yell.

Not wanting him to catch up, you quicken pace. Hot tears streak down your cheeks as you continue to run away. His constant pleas for you to stop being rendered useless by ignorance, however, he still manages to catch up with you. His hand seizes your wrist, but you yank it from his clutch and push him away.

"(Y/n)!" He calls again, stopping in his tracks.

You don't look back and proceed further on through the corridors, not knowing where to take yourself.

History class helps tone down your emotions, distracting you from the reminder that this day is cursed. The quiz temporarily brings your thoughts to concentrate on the task at hand except for the irritatingly scratchy uniform the clinic let you borrow. Just as how your luck ran out today, so does the ink of your pen. Not to mention, writing an essay to a question which isn't even second to the last of the whole paper. Fingers scrambling through the contents of your pencil case, you realise that this is the last pen.

"Hey," you whisper, attempting to get your seatmate's attention.

No response.

"Hey," you say a little bit louder, worried that she didn't hear you at first.

Her head merely turns to the side, sending a glare your way. Before you can ask, she goes back to answering the paper.

"I need to borrow a pen," you persist.

She leans her head to the other side, letting her hair fall over her face to block you from view.

"Please, I'm still not done," you beg, glancing at the clock. Just a few more minutes and the quiz was going to end.

"I really need to bo—"

"(L/n)!" Mr. Ho's voice booms from behind and you flinch.

He snatches the paper from beneath your arm and shoots an angry look. All you could do was sink into the chair in humiliation since you had no idea how to defend yourself. To him and everyone else in this room, it did look like you were trying to cheat. Therefore, you’re sent to detention for the second time this day.

Mr. Ho's class was the last, so technically dismissal comes next. Right now, as you sit in the same seat during the previous detention session, the bell is all you have to wait for. At least the trio didn't get into any trouble this time or you'd be spending the last period with them. Sleep gets the best of you and you’re consciously aware that you were snoozing off, although decide to let it come. You are really exhausted after all you've experienced.

A crackle of thunder jolts you awake from a dream. Your eyes snap open and see the lack of people in the detention room... which means you're alone.

Wait, what time is it? You lean over to check the clock and it's FIFTEEN MINUTES PAST DISMISSAL TIME?! WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY BOTHER TO WAKE ME UP? Hoisting the bag onto your shoulders, you hurry out of the room and scurry the hallways. Only a few students are left, but they have varsity training or cheerleading practice, anything to keep them busy and give them an excuse to stay late in school.

The rain pounds on you when you exit the doors of the school. From head to toe, you are once again sullied. Well, this has officially ruined the whole day. Unstoppable tears, you've been holding in all this time, flow out of your eyes.

Without re-evaluating your thoughts, you run away from the school and hurry home. The cold wind stings your skin and the reoccurring flashes of lightning blind your vision. Hurried steps splash large puddles on the pavement, drenching yourself even more. You really didn't care about anything anymore, so enduring the bad weather didn't matter at all.

Sooner than you could have expected, you reach the bus stop. You don't take long to go sit under the shed because you’re just absolutely done. Panting and soaking wet, you lean against the cold glass pane. You don’t even notice Seungkwan, who seems to be in shock at your condition, come in.

"You're soaking wet! Why didn’t you wait for me?" He asks sitting beside you.

"I'm just having the most terrible day of my life and I don't want to talk about it!" You didn't expect to yell and you bet Seungkwan didn't too because his eyes widened flabbergastingly.

A fresh set of tears begins to pour down again. By then you knew you've made another error you'd immediately regret. Seungkwan’s face is rewritten all over with worry as he reaches for you, but you push his hand and scoot away, then wrap your arms around yourself. He decides to leave it alone for the time being, allowing you to sit with your emotions. Soon, the bus arrived and he stood up, hand outstretched to you.

“Let’s get home.”

You shut the door and click the locks in place. Slamming your back against it, you slide down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest and sobbing. Hopefully, after you give vent to all this exasperation, you'll eventually tire out and go to sleep. The saltiness of your tears blends with sweat, hair sticking to your face.

"(Y/n)?" Seungkwan’s voice is muffled behind the door.

You suck in a breath and stay quiet. He still hasn’t left after dropping you off at your house out of concern.

"Open the door, please?" He gently knocks. "I just want to talk for a little bit. Maybe it will make you feel better."

"Go home, Seungkwan. I'm fine." I know I can lie better than this, but why didn't I?

"No, let me in and we'll talk about it. You can't carry all your problems alone," he says causing you to stiffen.

Reluctantly, you sigh and get up from the ground. Your eyes meet Seungkwan’s lush brown irises the second the door opens. He comes in and engulfs you into a delicate embrace, rubbing your back and kissing your cheek. That's when you let it all out completely.

You cry onto his shoulder uncontrollably, but he tightens his hold on you. Now that you think of it, you feel like a bunch of lumber being chained together to keep from falling apart.

"(Y/n), what's wrong? Did they do something to you again?" He pulls away, his eyes scanning your face worriedly.

You tug him back, shaking your head. As much as it's embarrassing to know that you've already stained his shirt with tears, the crying doesn't stop. For a while, you're standing in the middle of the room, cradled in each other's arms and not letting go. Soon, the sadness turns into sniffles and you’ve calmed down a bit.

"Are you ready to talk about it now?" The tone of his voice by your ear is so timid, his breath barely grazing the skin.

"I don't know how to say it without making a racket," you reply.

"Just say what you have to." He smiles at you lovingly, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers together.

You inhale deeply then sigh.

"Today has been very... horrible. First, I forgot to bring my towel to my shower stall, so I had to wait for everyone to leave. Second, my locker got jammed. Not only was I late, but I also didn't have the materials for math class. Third, I got sent to detention for that and then Jeonghan, Seungcheol, and Jisoo had to ruin the essay I was writing. FYI, that was a punishment from Miss Kang!" You pause to catch your breath before continuing again.

"Because of that, I got mad at them. Oh! And because they shot a spitball at me, too! Fast forward to lunch, they take their petty revenge on me and thanks to them, I had to borrow an itchy uniform from the infirmary! Then here comes History where my last pen died while I was taking a quiz! And I thought it was such a good idea to borrow a pen from my seatmate, but instead, I get myself caught. Mr. Ho sends me to detention again and I fall asleep, then wake up fifteen minutes after dismissal time. Guess what? We aren't even at the best part yet!" You throw your hands up in the air in utter frustration.

"That does sound like a rough day," Seungkwan opines.

"Oh, believe me, it is," You say, rolling your eyes.

"So, what's the best part?" He shuffles closer.

"I forgot to wait for you, so I ran back in the pouring rain." You finish, shutting down the whole story.

Seungkwan stands up, and with your hand in his, you do too. He moves his palms to cup your cheeks and tilts your head to meet his eyes. The warmth of his touch makes you close your eyes and hum in content, further calming down. Before you could open your eyes again, his lips meet yours and you kiss back. When he pulls away, you grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him more passionately than a while ago. If this is the only good you can get from this extremely horrible day, you’re taking every single bit of it while it lasts.

"Whoa," He gasps just as you part.

"I'm sorry, I kinda got carried away," you shyly apologise, sheepishly scratching the back of your head.

"It's alright," he says before reading the time on the clock. "You know what, after all, you've been through today, I think you deserve some rest."

You haven't had the chance to say otherwise when suddenly he’s dragging you by the arm and you let out a squeal.

"Kwannie! I still need to do my science homework!"

"For science? Nice try, but you don't have science tomorrow," he chuckles.

You puff your cheeks and glare at him.

"You look adorable when you do that, not terrifying. Now go to sleep."

"But Seung—"

"Sleep."

"Kwan—"

"You need to sleep."

You groan in defeat. 

"Fine, but only if you sleep with me." You point a finger at him. Seungkwan thinks for a while before he nods in agreement.

"Hooray!" You move over and let him lay down beside you.

"What made me do this?" He asks while getting in.

"Your love for me, duh. Now, goodnight, darling," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Goodnight to you, too. I love you," He says, pecking your nose.

You tuck into your blankets then close your eyes.

"I love you, too. And thank you for comforting me earlier,"

"You're welcome. You needed it," He replies, standing up to turn off the lights.

When he comes back to the bed, he wraps you in yet another tender embrace. You snuggle into him and bury your face into his chest, to which he responds to with a giggle.

If this is how my day ends, then I'm positively sure tomorrow is going to be a new day.

[chaos-caffeinated]

Emotions can help you remember Part 2 (Sebastian Michaelis x reader)

 A/N: Part two is here, excited as always, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you so much for the comments, for the support. I did not know that I had the date set to that day, I thought it was the 19th, but oh well, it’s done. I hope this second part satisifes as the continuing part. 

Not requested

Rated: NSFT/W, 18+

~~~

Yes, I do love using Gifs that send a chill down your back, it may even help trigger some emotions for sexual purposes ding ding :)

Also extra note, Microsoft Bing Translator was used, so 1) Do not come at me for any mistakes 2) Do not start requesting stories in French please, gracias! 

Part 1: https://chaos-caffeinated.tumblr.com/post/623644027625127936/emotions-can-help-you-remember-13-sebastian-x

The moment you heard the bell when someone walked into the shop, you greeted them. While Nina was busy tailoring in the back, you were in charge with inventory; looking up you greeted the client with a smile, “Hello, welcome to- Earl of Phantomhive, it’s so good to see you again.” You perked up, setting down your quill and walking around the counter to greet him, “What brings you here today, Lord Phantomhive? I can call over Madam to prepare your tailoring.”

The earl nodded at you in acknowledgement, even replying, “There’s no need for that, Miss. (L/N). Actually I am here to ask Nina for a favor, but I need both of your presence.”

Confused, you just had to nod, “Of course, I’ll be right back.”

You head towards the back and Ciel called forward Sebastian, “Sebastian, see what you can know about her and you can decide on it.”

He nods, placing his hand over his chest and leaning forward, “Yes, my lord.” He smirked softly and stood up on point when Nina and you walked out. 

“Lord Phantomhive? You wanted to see us?” Nina asked in a confused manner, but remaining straight.

“Yes, I wanted to ask about Miss. (L/N) living at my manor for a few days. I figure you would be busy, so I wanted Miss. (L/N) to take note on what outfits-...”

While you and Nina listened, Sebastian strolled his way to your side, tapped on your shoulder softly. When you turn to glance at him, he had that same smirk he always possess on his pale face with piercing red eyes and nodded his head subtly towards the backroom, enticing you further. However, you were ready to say no to pay attention to the earl when he raised his hand to yours and pulled lightly, his grip on your fingers were light, but they guided you to the backroom you were previously in.

How he managed to get your own body to obey his silent commands were unknown. Since the last meeting, you were curious for more, you were beginning crave more of him. His comments, his words, his teasing yet professional manners were all getting to you. But you needn't him enough to go after him.

You asked in a whisper, “Sebastian, what is this about?” You asked confused, “Why does Lord Phantomhive want me to spend a few days in his manor?”

Instead of answering your questions, he added a few of his instead, “I was actually just going to ask you about this. Tell me, Miss. (L/N), how did you come about to work for Miss. Hopkins?"

Hesitant about revealing some information, you lightly shrugged, "My father works as a merchant, and I started working with him since I was 8. When I began to work, the sales increased dramatically until Madam stepped foot in the store when I was 17. She said because of my 'beauty' that she would help me obtain enough money to help my parents live a peaceful life without having to struggle. I'll occasionally have some modeling sessions with her clothing, and well...that's about it."

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest, raising the back of his clothed forefinger to the bottom of his lip as he stood there in thought, "So I assume you asked about her teaching tailoring to do more than modeling?"

You nodded with a smile, "Yes, she has such a charisma and how joyful she is to create clothes for people is just inspiring. I would be lying if I said I didn't want to do it."

Your smile shifted into a softer one, gazing back into a memory, "It gives me the power to gift others the opportunity to feel just as good as the elite."

The corner of his lip curved slightly as he offered a deal, assuming that you would take up on it, "Then for a few days, would you grant us the wish of you appearing as the guest of honor in the incoming ball?"

"A guest of honor in a ball? That means a lot Sebastian and I thank you, but...why?"

"My young master is going to host a party in celebration of the successful partnership with the Northern countries. It's because of you that it managed to be so." He charmed his close-eyed smile, "It would be an honor to have your presence. It would definitely be if I got to see you once more." His tone slightly shifted into his sultry one. Even his eyes radiated something, but you couldn't pinpoint what it was.

You felt a small chill down your spine, barely noticeable in his eyes, but you kept pressing, "But me? I didn't do anything but provide a suit for the lord. It's a material for many, so surely it can't be because of that."

He was taken aback from the response, he thought you would be greedy like everybody else, but you had common sense in you. Questioning, acquiring the knowledge needed. It surprised him to see that in you.

"Being the guest of honor grants you the opportunity to meet with many patrons, with future clients for Miss. Hopkins and yourself. You said you wanted to help your parents, your success here in meeting with the guests can aid in your dream at a faster pace."

When he saw your eyes widen slightly in realization, he felt the ease of getting to you was accomplished. He was ordered to get you on board with the invitation, tell his master about your history which cleared out. Because you were a noble woman, you wouldn't back out from an opportunity to help the ones you treasured. With that he had you in his grip, a step closer to not only his master's wish to use her in his plan to trap a murderer amongst the noblemen the Queen ordered to get rid of, but also his desire. He had grown to lust, to search for a simple toy whilst in contract, yet here he was obtaining the information for his selfish wants as well.

"...So Lord Phantomhive is asking Madam for permission so that I stay with you until the ball?..." Your voice trembled with nervousness as you were hit with a dilemma. You wanted to quit the modeling, having the eyes of other people made you feel uncomfortable. You tried so hard that you even asked Madam about teaching you how to tailor, but the man in front of you- the mysterious man- was giving you an opportunity to reach higher by just attending a formal event.

"Yes, at the moment they are. In the meantime, we can discuss about further responsibilities to avoid any problems."

"Well I'm sure Lord Phantomhive can help me on that then-" You were about to walk out when you see his arm place outward in front of you, his hand placed on the wall.

You stopped immediately, looking at his arm before you saw him at your peripheral.

Sebastian leaned his face forward, quiet as he stared at your reaction with his eyes half-lid and his lips pulled into a smug smirk.

“Miss. (L/N), you will be a great addition in our current situation. Having you on board can prove a good time for you as well. My master may be distracted with business partners, but his servants will be in alert if there is any discomfort. If you ever need me -in any case- I will be there in a second.” The hand beside your head guided towards your chin, softly grabbing with his forefinger resting underneath it, and his thumb gently pressing against your lips, "Like I mentioned before, it would be a great honor for me if you attended..." and he leaned closer and closer to your lips.

Your eyes widen as your cheeks darken with a pink/red hue, and you moved your head aside from his hand and face getting closer. You wondered what he was doing, you wondered if you genuinely had that affect on him, but you had to stay alert.

Upon this, Sebastian was surprised as well, smirking softly and closing his eyes before backing away completely. She was smart, and she was indeed unlike other girls who would take up on the opportunity.

“A-A-and this is because... because of my ‘beauty’?... That’s the qualification?” You closed your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose before completely turning to the man ahead of you. If it weren’t for this, you would be blushing as you see him nearly hovering over you. His eyes seemed much darker, his bangs nearly coverng them, “It would be a brilliant way to cast your beauty, and if the compensation is not enough -or interest- we can arrange that in a meeting. I’m sure anything you ask for can be arranged, I assure you as such. It can be for Miss. Hopkins as well.” He smirked softly. 

You thought for a moment, sighing softly in reluctance, “You’re very convincing, but is my presence alone the only thing needed for this event?”

Sebastian stood back, his arms crossed in a soft manner while he brought one hand up to his chin, rubbing softly, “There is one thing. We may need you to speak in fluent French, many guests there prefer to speak French for an unknown reason.” 

“Wait- I-I don’t know French.” you added to which Sebastian stare at you with a semi-surprised expression, “You don’t? Well I assumed that because you worked under Miss Hopkins she would have taught you-”

You shook your head in response, “She always speaks English to me unless they are simple phrases like, ‘Bonjour, Comment-’ ... uhm...vas-tchu?” You were already messing up your pronounciation to which the butler simply stared at you with the best attempt of sympathizing. 

Letting out a breath, he shook his head, “Well, it can’t be helped.” Then he smiled small, “I can provide the help needed to ensure that you do speak fluent French. You can even surprise Miss. Hopkins and avoid any language barriers within.” He offered a warm smile which you reciprocated, “Alright, wait you are going to be teaching me?” you askeed confused.

“Yes, I will.” He nodded, his smile shifting into a prideful one, almost like he was giddy to show off his ability to speak French.

“But you don’t sound like Madam at all.” You bluntly stated as you acknowledged the lack of accent.

What came out of his mouth surprised you nonetheless: “Un humain en particulier que vous devez avoir remarqué de tels détails, mais attendu de la benficiaire de Nina. Ce sera amusant à coup sûr, car je vais m’assurer de vous donner autant que l’attention, mon petit chaton.”

The way he suddenly showed you up with this second language made you not only blush, but sense a chill. His voice enunciating each syllable with ease like it was his native language made your heart flutter. You almost prefer him talking that way from now on, but you were not only blinded, but deaf of his subtle approaches. 

“...So you do speak french.” You confirmed, speechless from the action.

Smiling with his eyes closed, a confident, yet playful smile, he responded, “Why yes, a Phantomhive butler who can’t do this much isn’t worth his salt, I would have high hopes for your success in learning a new, wonderful language, but I know all my students are succesful when it comes to speaking French.”

When he said that, you couldn’t help but ask, “You taught Lord Phantomhive French? A butler?” You asked curiously as you tilted your head to the side a bit.

Smirking smugly, he replied, “I’m not just a mere butler, my lady. I’m simply one hell of a butler.”

A series of chills traveled down your spine as his eyes darken and his smirk remained, catching a glimpse of his whites, a sharp canine tooth showing itself. With his response, you felt pulled towards him, now a sense of being with him getting stronger. INstead of replying, you simply turned to walk to the main room witha  soft blush across your cheeks as Nina was going to tell you with excitement to participate in the ball. Sebastian, on the other hand, had a soft smile on his face, his features no longer had his previous intent. He had gone back to his façade butler character as he hid the fact that he was soon going to take fully advntage of you when you two enter the  manor. 

~~

Currently sitting in front of the earl in the carriage, you simply remained staring at his boots out of respect.

“As much as I respect your manners, Miss. (L/N), I’m sure your neck is sore, please just look up.” He commented, his arms were crossed as he crossed one leg over the other. 

Just like he guessed, your neck was slightly strained from keeping it at a certain angle for a long time, “I’m sorry my lord, I just don’t want to offend you any way.” You responded with honesty as he focus went from the outside fields to your face, “I appreciate that, but you don’t have to worry about that. You are a guest of honor, please do relax.” He smirked lightly, his left blue eye glinting softly, “I’m sure Sebastian explained why we needed you?”

You nodded, “Yes, my lord. A guest honor to your incoming ball?”

He nods in response, “Yes, but in addition you will be further aiding in providing extra clients for Miss. Hopkins which can help your experience with tailoring as well.”

“Yes, but if I may ask, my lord...why go that far for me to be a guest honor when I'm simply a tailor?...”

“Good question, Sebastian commented that since very little people are aware of you, it would be a great way to expand the opportunities from a wider stance. You have skills, you are smart, you need a lot more practice and how when clients occur weekly or monthly. And please, start calling me Ciel, it would be more appropiate."

“Ciel...” You pronounced it, testing it, “It’s a beautiful name.” You complimented, watching as he hesitated a smile, “Thank you.”

“However, if I have to call you Ciel, you can just call me (Y/N).” you smiled warmly.

Now he smiled small, his weight shifting underneath, “(Y/N), it’s a beautiful name.” 

Ciel smiled softly before traveling over at the window to watch the scenary while recalling some events.

~

Sebastian knocked on the door only for Ciel to respond, "Come in."

Opening the door, Sebastian walked in and closed the door. He strolled over in front of the mahogany desk and reached out his arm, "A letter from the Queen, my lord." He gazed downwards.

Ciel was writing on a paper when he sat up, placed down the quill and took the letter. Opening it and silently reading it indifferently by himself, he hummed afterwards, "Seems we have a rotten apple in our bunch." He commented and set down the letter to focus on his dessert Sebastian brought earlier.

"Indeed, if it remains there, the others will rotten as well." Sebastian smirked, "What's your plan, my lord?"

"The murderer seems to appear in the parties, so he is invited." He sighed, "Honestly, if I have to create a party here just to catch it then it would be annoying since I have so much work to do." He chewed on his dessert when Sebastian spoke up.

"It's unfortunate we can't perform the ‘Robin’ again." He smiled smugly as Ciel choked on the last piece, blushing hard as he looked at him with an angry expression, "Shut up! I forbid you to ever speak of that event! That was utterly embarrassing, you know it."

Sebastian raised his hand to cover his mouth, "Really, I thought you were a splendid lady." He teased with a taunting tone as he chuckled into it.

Ciel felt a chill down his back as he was enraged with the teasing demon, "I said shut up!" He huffed into his chair, "Anyways..." He raised a fist to cough lightly in an attempt to brush it off, "We may have to use a decoy to this party, someone rarely anybody knows of."

Sebastian nods subtly, "Yes, I agree. What about Miss. (L/N)? I do believe she would fit the qualifications to be a decoy in the trap."

Ciel picked up the letter and read it again, "She does seem to fit the profile the murderer selects his victims from." He sighs, "Very well-..." He view the letter once more before becoming bewildered.

"Something the matter, my lord?"

"...Fluency in French. For some reason the murderer likes girls who speak french." Ciel commented in an irritant tone, "Does Miss. (L/N) even speak french?"

Sebastian pondered on it, rubbing his chin softly with his finger, "I'm uncertain about that. Judging by her accent, no, but you don't have an accent either despite being bilingual as well. How about we trick her into being a guest of honor, but not disclosing that with that with the guests?"

He sighed as he placed down the letter, "Fine by me, just don’t mention anything to her about the case.” He raised the cup up to his lips and sipped on the tea. 

Sebastian’s cornered lips perked up as he placed his hand over his chest and leaned forward, “Yes, my lord.”

Ciel glanced at the demon ahead of him and pondered what true intentions he had with the lady at the tailor shop. Of all the other women laying around, the name that came out of his mouth belonged to you, it was a recent visit too. Nonetheless, he just wanted the case solved.  

~

When the carriage stopped in front of the mansion, Sebastian opened the door with his head bowed slightly, “We’ve arrived, my lord.”

After Ciel walked out, you followed, admiring the manison. 

You were hopeful that you were going to have fun being with these two without realizing you were going to risk you own life as well. 

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

Carry Me Home (A Din Djarin/Reader Fic)

Summary: Din and Reader find themselves on a jungle planet hunting a bounty, but nothing goes as planned, and secrets are shared.

***Based off this line from a previous fic in this series: "Then the mysterious bounty hunter told you his name one day when you were trying to hold his femoral artery together with nothing but bacta gel and hope."

No spoilers. Set in Season 1 between Episode 6 (The Prisoner) & Episode 7 (The Reckoning)

Pairings: Din Djarin/Reader; Din Djarin/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, gore, & violence. Brief mentions of past slavery. 

A/N: In true Star Wars fashion, I'm just writing shit out of order lol. But the idea for this fic kept bugging me, so i just had to get it out on the page. 

You don't need to read the previous fics to understand this one, though (since the others are set in s2.) I have some more ideas for out of order stories, too, so I'll most likely be continuing this series.But let me know if you'd be interested in a fic from Din's POV! I think that could be fun, but if y'all are digging Reader POV, I'll stick to that.

And in case anyone cares, the title is taken from the lyrics of Arcade by Duncan Lawrence, which I was listening to on repeat as I wrote this. 

As always, I’ve posted this piece on Ao3, but I’ll paste the text below. 

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763814

I’ll also include the links to the other two fics here: 

The Sea Like Glass Ch 1: Here

The Sea Like Glass Ch 2 (includes smut): Here

“Dank farrik!” you hissed as the wire in front of you sparked and sent a jolt of electricity through your already singed fingers. Not for the first time, you wished you could wear your gloves, but some of the pieces that needed repairing were too small to feel through the bulky material, so you could do nothing more than sacrifice your flesh for the cause.

Didn’t make it hurt less, though. You sucked the smarting tips into your mouth, glaring at the trashed circuit board in front of you, but the ruined hardware only crackled in response.

If you were back in Hanger 3-5 in Mos Eisley, you would have probably trashed the whole part and dug through Peli’s stock for a replacement, or gone down to the market and haggled for something newer, but you weren’t on Tatooine. You were smack dab in the middle of a jungle planetoid you couldn’t remember the name of, and it was up to you to get the Razor Crest running again on what you had available.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot.

You sighed as you sat back on your haunches, using the back of your wrist to swipe at the sweat trailing down your temple. The pre-Empire ship towered over you as you dug into her innards, having pried off one of the semi-melted lower side panels to access the appropriate circuits. Your thin tank top was already drenched, and the hair sticking to the back of your neck kept giving you phantom itches. You wanted nothing more than to tie it up completely, but you always felt naked when your nape was exposed. You weren’t necessarily ashamed of the scar there, or the past connected to it, since it wasn’t your fault you were born into shackles, but… still. It was a… personal story to tell, and you weren’t sure you were ready to share it with your new boss.

Well, “new” was relative. You’d been employed on the Razor Crest for several months now, but you didn’t know much more about the Mandalorian than you did when you’d first set foot onto his ship. You knew he was a bounty hunter, from a race of legendary warriors. You knew he had a partially sordid, and dangerous, past if your encounter with Ran and his crew of mercenaries was any indication. You knew the green baby was his ward, or foundling as he called it, and Mando was tasked with returning the little guy to his people. And you knew his Creed forbid him from removing his helmet.

That was about it. The Mandalorian didn’t talk much, but it didn’t particularly bother you. You’d always been a quieter person, and after years of Peli’s constant chattering, you were kind of relieved for the silence.

Most of the time, anyway.

“How’s it looking?”

You gasped in alarm, jolting yourself off balance and falling back onto your ass in the dirt.

“Maker, Mando,” you panted as you craned your neck back to stare up at the bounty hunter. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me when I’m working on electrics?”

The impervious mask of the Mandalorian stared down at you silently, blotting out the sweltering sun and providing you a modicum of relief. A moment passed, then two, and you shifted uneasily under his unblinking gaze.

“I thought you heard me approach,” he said finally, his modulated voice flat and unaffected, but he didn’t move from where he was looming over you.

“Well, I didn’t,” you grumbled as you flopped your head forward and popped your neck, stretching your legs out in the dirt.

The tight leggings you wore ended not too far past your knees, so your shins were streaked with the red soil of this planetoid. The dirt didn’t bother you, but the heat sure did. It was different than Tatooine’s dry desert. This heat was oppressive, stifling, almost cloying, and every time you took a deep breath, a small part of your brain panicked, images of drowning flashing through your mind even though you knew it was irrational. You were just grateful your clothes didn’t look a fraction as hot as the Mandalorian’s all black get-up and what had to be twenty-five kilos of armor.

“So,” the bounty hunter said after a few more moments of silence, interrupted only by the call of exotic birds in the canopy, “how are things looking?”

“Honestly?” you sighed as you pushed yourself off the ground, dusting the red dirt off your hands but not even bothering with your pants. “Not good. The bounty’s guns must have grazed us when we were still outside orbit, and entering the atmosphere certainly didn’t help matters. Some of the side paneling has been melted beyond repair, and a lot of the wiring is fried, too.”

“Can you get it flying?” Mando asked, crossing his arms over his chest and making his silhouette all the more imposing. The sun glinted off his silver beskar, and you squinted in the glare.

“Maybe.” You pursed your lips and averted your gaze, turning back to stare at the charred panels and sparking wires. Sweat trickled down your neck, and you reached back to cup your nape, feeling the bounty hunter’s eyes on you.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes.”

“You’re not paying me at all if you can’t even catch that quarry,” you snorted before your brain could catch up to your mouth.

You froze when the words finally registered, nails digging into the back of your neck. Stupid. Your mouth always did get the better of you. You used to mouth-off to your former owner until he backhanded you into silence, and now you’re starting shit with a bounty hunter you’d seen kill half a dozen men in just as many seconds.

Stupid.

You waited for Mando to say something, staring at the Razor Crest without even seeing it, and even if you didn’t really believe he’d hurt you for a simple off-handed comment, your body didn’t get the message. Muscle memory was a hard thing to forget, and every fiber in you braced for the blow.

The birds chittered in the towering blue-green canopy above your head as sweat poured from every single one of your pores, and you were just about to come out of your skin when the Mandalorian finally spoke.

“Well, to catch the quarry, I need my ship to fly,” he said, and when you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you discovered he’d somehow moved further away from you, like he took several steps back.

Was he… giving you space?

His tone was still flat, but after several months spent in close proximity with the bounty hunter, you were now able to parse out several different minor inflections in his modulated voice. You were by no means an expert, but you knew for a fact he didn’t sound angry in this moment. When he was angry, his voice took on a softer, menacing quality. The few times you’d heard it—thankfully never directed at you—every hair on your body stood on end, and the lizard part of your brain had screamed to run and not stop running until you were in a completely different star system.

This wasn’t anger. This was… something else. You almost wanted to say… amusement, but that would have been crazy.

Still, the tension bled out of your shoulders like sand through a sieve, and you dropped your arms as you turned to face the Mandalorian fully again.

“Alright, this is the best I can do,” you said. “I can get her flying again, I think I can even get her shielded enough to withstand leaving the atmosphere when we’re done here, but it’s gonna take some time.”

“How much time?” he asked.

You glanced over your shoulder again at the damage, did some calculations in your head, and added some padding to give yourself a margin for error. Then you turned back to the bounty hunter.

“At least two days,” you replied, confident in your abilities. “Anything less, and we risk blowing ourselves to the Inner Core and back when I go to start her up.”

“Hmm.” Mando stared at you for a moment and then shifted to gaze into the jungle. “The bounty will most likely be off planet by then.”

“I don’t think so,” you contradicted him, and your heart actually skipped a beat when the T of his visor turned to look at you. There was something nerve-wracking about staring into the dark, reflective glass, but then you noticed your red-streaked appearance, and you cringed self-consciously as you looked away.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because,” you started, stooping down to pick up the tablet beside your tool bag, “when I first came out here and saw the damage, I was afraid we’d end up in this situation. But then I remembered that the quarry’s ship took more damage than we did in our little space battle. I know for a fact we landed at least one solid hit, I saw it myself.”

“And?”

“Well,” you said as you tapped at the screen, “given the make and model of his vessel, and the location of where we struck the ship, I was able to deduce that we most likely damaged his engines. If his engines are damaged, then there is a maximum distance he could have gone before he would have been forced to land, or even crash landed. With all this information, plus the fact that I knew the general location of where we lost visual of him when we entered the atmosphere, I’ve estimated the quarry can’t be farther than five klicks from our current coordinates. And with his entry trajectory, he’s most likely in this triangulated area three and a half klicks to the west, which should be easily reachable on foot.”

You turned the map on the tablet to face the Mandalorian, and he stepped forward to take the device from you. His gloved fingers brushed across your singed ones, remnant electricity shooting through your veins, and you stifled a flinch as you dropped your arm.

Mando studied the map for a long moment, cocking his head and zooming in to get a better look. You shifted uneasily in the silence, scuffing the tip of your boot into the red soil, but then the bounty hunter finally looked back up at you.

“When did you have time to do this?” he asked, and he actually sounded… impressed. “You were out here for less than ten minutes after we landed.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” You shrugged as your cheeks flushed with heat, but you blamed the sweltering sun overhead and the soup-like air.

“I didn’t realize you were so good with numbers,” he said, his helmet staring directly at you.

“Numbers are easy,” you replied, shrugging again as you raised your hand to chew nervously on your nails, but you stopped yourself when you saw the crimson dirt still caked on your skin. “They don’t lie, once you understand the rules.”

“Did Peli teach you how to do this?” he inquired, and you were surprised by all these questions. Most of the time, the bounty hunter asked you one-or-two-word questions and expected one-or-two-word answers. You couldn’t figure out why this situation was any different, but you found yourself responding anyway.

“Partially,” you explained, and you wondered how you could phrase your answer to be vague but satisfactory. “She… taught me a lot of the specifics for bigger jobs like ships and larger machines, but I’ve always been good at numbers and tinkering.”

That seemed good enough. You didn’t think it was relevant that you first started tinkering because your former owner used to lock you in his shop’s basement with broken droids when you misbehaved, and putting the discarded machines back together kept you from going crazy when your punishments lasted days. You also didn’t think it relevant that when your former owner found out and realized he could profit off your skills, you fine-tuned your abilities to become indispensable. The bastard still hit you occasionally, and his other slaves weren’t treated any better, but you had to admit, him locking you in the basement all those years had saved your life. If you hadn’t cultivated the skills you had, Peli wouldn’t have bought you at auction when the bastard bit the sand, and she wouldn’t have dug out your transmitter chip and effectively freed you the moment you walked into Hanger 3-5. The tiny woman had said she needed an apprentice, not a slave, and so that was what you became. Now, you were a mechanic in your own right, and a damn good one if you did say so yourself. Mando just didn’t need to know how you’d gotten there.

The bounty hunter seemed to think the same thing, too, because he nodded once before he looked back at the tablet.

“This is good work,” he said, and something in your chest preened at his words before you squashed it down. “If these calculations are correct—”

“They are,” you interjected before you could stop yourself.

“Then I think I can set out on foot, find the quarry, and bring him back tomorrow just as you’re finishing the repairs,” Mando went on, and he glanced up at you again. “Does that time frame sound right to you?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “Should work for me, but it could take you a little longer. I’m unfamiliar with this terrain, and there are too many other variables, like jungle beasts or indigenous species, for me to be sure.”

“The terrain won’t be a problem,” the Mandalorian said as he handed you the tablet back. “And neither will any beasts or natives.”

You cocked an eyebrow at the bounty hunter but didn’t contradict his confidence. “Alright. Then, yes, I should have the ship up and running by the time you get back. Are you leaving now?”

“Once I grab some supplies,” Mando replied before he paused and seemed to consider you. “Will you be… okay until I return?”

It was a familiar question, albeit still surprising. The Mandalorian was a stoic, usually silent warrior, literally a wall of beskar steel. You’d seen him kill men as easy as breathing, and he threw each bounty into carbonite without an ounce of remorse.

And yet, every time he had to leave the ship alone, he asked you if you would be alright until he got back. The question and concern would have made no sense… if you hadn’t seen the bounty hunter interact with his foundling. He tried to hide it, but he treated the little green baby so gently you knew there had to be a warm, beating heart beneath all that beskar. You just never expected any tenderness to be aimed at you, so it drew you up short every time.

“Yeah.” You smiled. “I’ll be fine. Besides—”

You trailed off as you felt something touch your lower leg, and when you looked down, big brown eyes set in a little green face blinked back up at you. Then little green hands lifted in your direction, and you laughed as you swooped down, picked him up, and set him on your hip.

“Besides,” you continued, still chuckling as you booped the child on the nose and left a smudge of red dirt behind, “I’ll have this little guy to keep me company. Right, kid?”

The baby cooed and reached out, his three tiny fingers settling on the bridge of your nose as he tried to boop you back. When he withdrew his hand, though, his skin was dyed black.

“Huh?” You frowned at the slick ooze on his fingers, your eyes crossing as you tried to bring his hand into focus. “What’s on your hand there, bud?”

“It’s grease,” Mando supplied.

“What?” you asked as you turned your head to the bounty hunter.

“Grease,” he repeated, and he touched the intersection on the glass T of his visor, right over where the bridge of his nose would sit. “You’ve got some just there.”

“Oh.” You blushed, your hand flying up to cover your face. Not only were you covered in dirt and sweat, but grease now, too. Typical. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought you knew,” the Mandalorian said, but there was that faint undercurrent in his voice that you were sure was amusement now. “Don’t you have any rags?”

“I did,” you muttered as you tried to rub at your face with your shoulder, “but I had to throw most of them out after that oil leak we had on the moon we left about a week ago. It’s fine. I’m already a mess anyhow, and I’m just going to get dirtier as I fix up the ship.”

Mando seemed to stare at you intensely for a moment, and you had the feeling he was taking in just how filthy your clothes were. You could read nothing from his body language, though, and since he wasn’t speaking, there was nothing to infer from his voice, either. Embarrassed heat crawled up your neck, and you suddenly felt naked in your tank top and leggings. You shifted the child in your arms a little to bring him more in front of you and block more of you from view, but the effort was useless because Mando was abruptly spinning on heel and marching toward the ship’s ramp.

“I’m going to gather supplies,” he said gruffly over his shoulder. “Don’t let the kid touch any of the wires.”

And then he was gone, his cape flapping behind him as he disappeared into the bowels of the Razor Crest.

“Okay, bye,” you muttered, and you frowned after him before looking down at the kid and lowering your voice. “Your dad’s a little weird, you know that?”

The child blinked up at you and then seemed to nod his head in solemn agreement.

You laughed and kissed the top of his head even though you knew you were toeing a dangerous line here. You knew you were just the ship mechanic, the hired help, but you and the foundling had spent a lot of time together when the Mandalorian was out hunting bounties, and you couldn’t help loving the adorable baby like he was your own. He was mischievous and always looking to put things in his mouth that he shouldn’t, but something about his presence was calming, soothing. Plus, those big brown eyes were to die for. You weren’t even that surprised the kid had managed to wiggle his way under Mando’s beskar. It had only been a few months, but you knew without a shadow of a doubt that if it came down to it, you would give your life to save this child.

Which was wildly inappropriate, but you chose to ignore that fact.

“It’s just gonna be the two of us again for a bit, little man,” you told the foundling, turning back to face the Razor Crest. “But we’re gonna have some fun, yeah? Do you want to help me fix up the ship?”

The child gurgled into your ear and patted your cheek, which you took as an affirmative.

“Alright,” you laughed as you set him on a large root right next to your tool bag. You dug around until you found a tool you would need eventually, and then you handed it to the kid. “Here, hold this until I need it, okay? But don’t put it in your mouth.”

The foundling seemed to pout at that last bit, but he dutifully wrapped his three little fingers around the tool and held it firmly.

“Thank you.” You smiled. Then you turned back to the ship, put your hands on your hips, and furrowed your brow. “Now, where to start?”

You spent the next ten minutes assessing what was completely ruined, what was salvageable, and what you had on hand that wasn’t necessary and could possibly be retrofitted to fix the damage. The skeletal beginnings of a plan were already forming in your mind by the time the Mandalorian was clomping down the ramp again. You set down the tablet you’d been tapping away at and picked up the child once more, and the foundling babbled as he waved around the tool he was still holding.

“Be careful with that,” you chuckled, and you craned your head back to avoid getting smacked in the temple. “I’ll need it soon, so keep holding onto it.”

The child cooed and then shifted to wave the tool at the bounty hunter as he approached.

“Putting the kid to work now?” Mando asked as he stopped a few feet away. The crescent-shaped hilt of his favored Amban rifle jutted out over his left shoulder, and a small bag was slung over his right, probably filled with spare ammo, cuffs for the bounty, and possibly some food. You’d never personally seen the Mandalorian eat, though, and a part of you was convinced he didn’t, even if you rationally knew that wasn’t possible.

“Nah, I’m just teaching him a thing or two,” you said as you settled the foundling more soundly on your hip. “You’re never too young to learn something new, and on the plus side, being my little helper keeps him out of trouble. For the most part, anyway.”

“Thank you for watching him,” the bounty hunter said, tilting his visor down minutely to stare at the child, who grinned a gummy grin and waved the silver tool again. “I know it isn’t exactly what I hired you for—”

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you glanced down to smile at the kid. “He’s pretty good company, and some of Peli’s droids have given me more trouble than he does. It’s really no problem.”

“Well, regardless,” Mando replied as his visor returned to studying you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You nodded, flushing again under his scrutiny. Then you cleared your throat and gestured at the bag on his back. “All ready?”

“Yes,” the bounty hunter said. “Days are longer here, but the sun will set eventually, and I want to try and find the quarry before moonrise. If all goes well, I should be back tomorrow before sunset.”

“Good luck, then,” you told him, and you lifted your chin with confidence. “I should have the ship ready when you return.”

“Thank you.” He inclined his helmet.

The baby suddenly burst out babbling something, and you glanced down to see him reaching out with his free hand toward the Mandalorian. His three little fingers made grabby motions, and the bounty hunter sighed.

“Listen to her while I’m gone, okay?” Mando murmured as he stepped closer into your personal bubble and held out his finger for the foundling to latch on to.

The child cooed, swinging the Mandalorian’s finger from side to side, and the breath stilled in your lungs as the bounty hunter’s glove brushed the edge of your mouth. You smelled something like leather and smoke, probably blaster residue, but then Mando was stepping back again, and the baby was forced to drop his finger.

“Keep alert,” he addressed you as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder. “We’re pretty far from any civilization out here, so I don’t think you should encounter anyone, but don’t assume you’re safe. And get inside the ship once the sun sets. The jungle will be more dangerous at night. I’ll have my comlink on me, but it’s affected by proximity, so you most likely won’t be able to contact me until I’m on my way back.”

“Don’t worry, Mando,” you said, and you patted the blaster he’d given you that was almost permanently attached to your hip. “I can defend myself if need be, and I have no desire to be caught outside after dark. We’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. Either way, he seemed to compose himself because he nodded once. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll keep a weather eye on the horizon.” You smiled. “Try not to die of heat stroke.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said dryly, but after one more moment of staring at you and the foundling, he turned on heel and marched off into the jungle without another word. The multi-colored trees swallowed him almost instantly, and suddenly you were alone.

The child cooed sadly as he stared after the Mandalorian, and he turned his big brown eyes on you as if to say, Where’d he go?

“Don’t worry, bud,” you said, turning back to the ship. “He’ll be fine and back before you know it. Now, let’s take a look at those power converters, shall we?”

You set the foundling down beside your tool bag again, but you couldn’t help glancing over your shoulder in the direction the bounty hunter had disappeared in.

He’ll be fine and back before you know it, you repeated silently to yourself.

~~~~~

Two days later, you were starting to doubt the validity of your statements.

The sun had set and risen twice, and there was still no sign of Mando. Now, the celestial orb was steadily making its way across the horizon for the third time, and you sat on the ramp of the ship and glared up at the chattering canopy.

The child was down for a nap in the hammock the Mandalorian had set up in his own bunk, and your eyes burned with a similar exhaustion, but the anxiety slowly mounting in you made it impossible to sleep. The past two days had passed uneventfully. You’d spent every hour of sunlight you had at your disposal patching together the ship, and since days were longer on this planetoid, you estimated you’d spent over seventy-two hours getting the Razor Crest in working order again.

And you’d done it. It wasn’t perfect, but the ship could fly, and you were ninety-eight percent certain it would withstand leaving the atmosphere.

Now, all that was missing was the Mandalorian and his bounty.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you grumbled under your breath as you dragged your singed, cut-up, and bandaged fingers through your hair. “Where the Maker are you?”

The chittering birds and critters in the underbrush didn’t have an answer for you, and you huffed out an aggravated breath as another bead of sweat dripped into your eyes.

By your estimate, there were about six hours left before the sun set again. Part of you, the illogical, irrational part, wanted to charge into the jungle in search of the Mandalorian. You had a general direction and location he should be in. Maybe you could find him.

But the rational side of your brain thankfully pointed out all the problems with that plan. For one, leaving the ship unattended was dangerous. You hadn’t seen anyone in the past two days, but that didn’t mean you were alone in the jungle, and now that the ship could fly again, someone could potentially walk right in and steal the vessel if you weren’t here to stop them.

Then there was the issue of the foundling. Sometimes, Mando took you and the kid along with him when he was hunting a bounty in a more populated area, but he was always there to protect the two of you if something went wrong. What happened if you brought the child with you into the jungle and you couldn’t protect him? And you couldn’t exactly leave him behind. Someone could steal both the child and the Razor Crest in that scenario.

The most compelling reason to stay with the ship, though, was Mando himself. Before he left, he’d confidently declared that neither the jungle itself nor the beasts or peoples therein would pose any problem for him. If he was wrong, and these things had posed a problem for the bounty hunter, what luck did you have of doing something he could not?

Anddddd that’s where the irrational side of you chimed in again with, Well, if he did run into an issue, he could need your help, so you should go look for him.

It was a vicious cycle, and your head was pounding with how fast it was running in circles.

You groaned as you dropped your face into your hands, digging the heels of your palms into your eye sockets.

“Fine,” you sighed into the darkness. “I’ll give him until morning.”

If the Mandalorian hadn’t returned by then, you’d start up the ship and fly over the area you’d triangulated for him. If you couldn’t find him from the air… well, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

~~~~~

You huffed in irritation as you tossed and turned in Mando’s bunk that night. You turned one way, rolled another, but then you found yourself with your nose buried in his pillow, and you instantly flipped back over, face hot with embarrassment even though it was dark and you were practically alone. You weren’t sure if he slept with his helmet on when he was alone in the closed confines of the bunk, but either way, the small space smelled of him intensely. You tried not to put words to his scent, told yourself it was inappropriate and he was your boss, a Mandalorian to boot, and you had no room or right to think of him in any way other than strictly professional… but that apparently didn’t work because you knew he smelled like the cheap soap from the fresher, and the rest was a blend of smoke, leather, and metal, the degrees of which varied by the day and yet was still always uniquely him.

You knew you were playing a losing game even just having these thoughts, but you somehow couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t stop yourself. Ever since Mando stepped between you and Ran’s crew all those months ago, blocking you with his body, a startling, protective rage in every inch of his armored silhouette, this little voice had come to life in the back of your head and wouldn’t shut the kriff up.

What if? the little voice whispered. What if it’s not just you having these thoughts? What if you could have him in more than just your dreams and fantasies in the darkness of this bunk?

Usually, you shoved the voice into the deep, dark recesses of your thoughts and recited equations until it grew quiet. You knew that was nothing but wishful thinking at best and delusion at worst. The Mandalorian was just that: a warrior closed off from the world by a shell of silver beskar. He cared for the foundling, yes, but that was entirely different and bore no correlation to the bounty hunter’s relationship with you. There was little he could possibly want from a former slave turned mechanic, aside from your skills, of course, so you clenched your eyes closed and tried to take shallow breaths through your mouth, but nothing you did could get his scent out of your nose, your memory.

You sighed for the umpteenth time and rolled to face the wall of the bunk.

When the bounty hunter was on the ship, the two of you usually slept in shifts so you could share the bunk, though sometimes the Mandalorian slept upright in the cockpit. It had been his idea originally. You’d been fine with a thin sleeping mat on the floor of the cargo bay, but he’d insisted in his strange, stoic, nonchalant way. So, you shared, and when it was just you and the kid on the ship, the two of you had the run of the place.

The child was currently in the hammock above your head, but you were pretty sure he wasn’t asleep, either. Every so often, he’d gurgle or make some other noise, and more than once you peeked up to find big brown eyes staring down at you in the dimness. You wondered if he could sense your anxiety, and you shifted so you could glare past your feet, out of the bunk, and at the closed ramp door.

You wanted to be angry with Mando, but by the time the sun set a few hours ago, you’d moved past that anger and straight into worry. The bounty hunter had never been gone this long before without contact, and your gut told you something was wrong and wouldn’t let you sleep. You wished you could blame your insomnia completely on your concern, but sadly, that wasn’t the case.

As if on cue, a sudden, piercing shriek echoed through the ship, and all the muscles in your body locked up on reflex.

The child gasped and made a worried noise as he poked his head over the edge of his hammock and stared down at you, and you tried to plaster on a fake, reassuring smile.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, reaching up to gently rock the foundling. “The ship’s closed and locked up. They can’t get us in here.”

The baby made an unconvinced sound, but he settled back into his bed without any further argument.

You sighed as you continued to rock the child, and you did your best not to flinch when another high-pitched screech sounded outside the ship.

You weren’t entirely sure what “they” were, but you knew they were nocturnal and carnivorous. And hungry. The past two mornings, you’d found bloody animal remains torn to bits and strewn along the edges of the clearing the Razor Crest was parked in like gory, crimson confetti. You’d kept the child practically glued to your side during the days because of this, but nothing ever attacked you during the day. They just circled the ship incessantly at night, howling and screeching and keeping you from finding a moment’s peace or rest. They hadn’t outright attacked the ship yet, but you were ready for it, your borrowed blaster a cold and heavy weight tucked under your pillow.

Reaching for it now, you curled your fingers around the familiar hilt and tried to block out the crescendoing, bloodthirsty shrieks of the mysterious jungle beasts.

You didn’t know how or when, but you must have dozed off at some point because all of the sudden, you jolted awake with a panicked gasp.

The bunk was dark and close around you, but since you’d left the door open at your feet, it wasn’t claustrophobic. Your vision was still blurry with sleep, so you swiped at your eyes with the back of your left wrist as you scrambled into a seated position. In your right hand you grasped the blaster, and you pointed it blindly in front of you, toward the rear of the ship.

You couldn’t remember what had woken you up, but it had been something. Your heart pounded a frantic tattoo into the underside of your ribcage, your arm shaking minutely with adrenaline. The ramp was still closed in front of you, so it hadn’t been Mando opening the door and returning. You squinted in the darkness but couldn’t see anything beyond shadows and vague shapes in pale, muted moonlight. It must have still been night, then.

You strained your ears, listening for the howling, but it was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The jungle beasts usually didn’t go silent until right before dawn, but it was dark enough in the ship that you estimated it was still the middle of the night.

Where had they gone?

Your heart rose up into your throat, sweat beading at every one of your pores, and your mouth was so dry that your throat clicked when you swallowed.

The child made a noise of inquiry above you, barely louder than a breath, but it still made you jump all the same. Your gaze darted upward to find brown eyes staring down at you, but they were wide in an alarmed sort of way. One three-fingered hand poked over the edge of the hammock, making grabby motions at you, and the noise he made this time was more urgent, louder.

Had he heard something, too?

“What is it, little guy?” you whispered, reaching up with your free hand and awkwardly grappling him from his sling-bed.

He tumbled gently into your lap with a soft “oof,” but almost immediately he was standing up, turning around, and frantically patting at your cheek.

“What?” you asked with a frown.

He babbled and continued to tap the side of your face, and his noises grew increasingly distressed until he was grunting with frustration.

Then his tiny palm actually slapped down right across your ear canal so hard that both of your ears rang, and you hissed as you jerked your head back.

“Kriff, what was that fo—” you started to ask, but another hiss cut you off, and this one wasn’t from you.

Your heart stuttered, eyes skipping over the child’s head and out into the cargo bay, and your right hand tightened around the blaster you’d lowered to your side.

But there was nothing there. Nothing moved in the shadowy ship beyond you, and you frowned, thinking your mind was playing tricks on your startled and sleep-addled mind, but then the hiss came again.

And this time, you recognized it.

“Oh, pfassk!” you cursed as you craned around and shoved your hand under the pillow. Your fingers scrambled wildly across the sheet but encountered nothing, and you growled in aggravation, shifting the child off your lap and coming onto your hands and knees. You tossed the pillow over your shoulder in a fit of frustration, and your right hand slapped at the wall around your head until the bunk light came on.

You squinted in the flood of harsh light, the child gurgling behind you, but when your vision cleared, you spotted the thumb-sized comlink off the edge of the cot, shoved up into the far corner of the bunk. You lunged forward and wrapped your fingers around the small device, and the words were falling out of your mouth before you were even sure you had hit the button.

“Mando?” you called into the comlink, cringing when your loud voice echoed back to you in the close confines of the bunk. “Mando, can you hear me?”

Mild static crackled back for a moment as you huddled around the tiny communicator, but then a louder burst of static—the hiss from earlier—exploded to life.

And you were sure you heard Mando’s voice in there.

“Mando!” you shouted as you heart did its best imitation of a speeder, and you cupped both hands around the comlink like that would help him hear you better. “Mando, it’s me! I’m here. Can you hear me?”

Another burst of static. Then…

Mando yelled your name, clear as day, followed by a scream of what sounded like “help” and a chorus of familiar howling, and your stomach bottomed out inside of you.

“Mando!” You were gripping the communicator so hard you were afraid you were going to break it. “Mando, where are you? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond. You sat there frozen for a full minute, ears straining to the point of ringing, but only quiet static crackled back at you.

“Dank farrik!” you cursed, punching the side of your fist into the bunk wall.

The child cooed at you, brown eyes big with concern, and he put his tiny hand on your knee as you raked a shaking hand through your hair.

Your chest heaved up and down as you fought for breath, your mind spinning off into a million directions at once.

Mando was in trouble. Mando needed your help. He was fighting jungle beasts, and he was far enough away that you couldn’t hear the shrieking with your own ears, but close enough that he could partially reach you over the comlink. You had to do something. You had to go help him.

But what about the child? What about the ship? You couldn’t take the Razor Crest. It was pitch black outside, and you wouldn’t be able to see Mando below the thick, dark canopy. You had to go on foot.

And you had to take the kid with you.

“Come on,” you said as you tucked the communicator into your pocket, grabbed the foundling and blaster, and scooted to the edge of the bunk. Your boots were on the ground below you, and you shoved your feet in them blindly, tying the laces in three deft movements.

Then you were on your feet, turning on the cargo lights, and jogging the child over to his floating silver carrier. You grabbed the spare remote on top of it, pressing the button and watching the top slide open with a hiss. Then you set the foundling down inside of it, and in the same motion you were tucking the remote into your pocket, turning on heel, and striding for the armory.

Another button press, followed by the hiss of hydraulics, and you were left staring at several walls of guns and weaponry. Some of them you knew. Mando had even taught you how to shoot a few, but those were typically smaller blasters.

And based on those howling screeches, you needed something with more of a kick.

Your eyes skipped over the blaster pistols since you already had the one on your hip, and after a moment’s indecision, your gaze settled on a midsized rifle you’d shot once before. You hadn’t been very good at it, only hit four of the ten targets Mando set out, and you remember it being very heavy.

But it was better than nothing, and you needed something to fight back against the dark jungle.

So, you took the rifle down and looped it around your shoulder, pursing your lips as the strap dug into your skin. You spent a moment checking the power cell and gas canister, and even though both were full, you still stuck a few spares into a belt that you wrapped around your hips. You also added a few grenades to your arsenal, both explosive and ones set to stun, plus a pair of Mando’s vibroknives, as a last defense measure. If you were being honest, if the rifle and grenades failed you, you probably wouldn’t live long enough to use the knives, but it made you feel better to clip their sheaths unto your belt.

The rifle and belt weighed you down with an extra five to six kilos, but you had lugged far heavier burdens through Tatooine’s desert, so you knew you could handle it.

The last two things you grabbed were the head lamp you typically wore when working under or inside ships and the cuff you’d programmed to work the twin lights—along with a variety of other tasks aboard the Razor Crest—resting at each of your temples. The cuff was a haphazard creation of yours made of old leather, metal, and glass, but it worked and was comfortable, which was all that mattered. It also had a small magnetic slot that was specifically meant for the remote of the foundling’s floating carrier, so you fished that out of your pocket and felt it snap into place with a satisfying click.

You were armed and ready now. All you had to do was move.

“Mando,” you said as you stuck the comlink in your ear and synced it to your cuff, which had a built-in frequency booster. You were already moving toward the ramp, tapping at your wrist and listening to the foundling’s carrier humming after you. The rifle felt heavy as you maneuvered it into your slick palms, and your heart hammered a war song in your ears. “Mando, I’m coming for you. Just hold on, okay?”

Static crackled in your ear, and your chest began to heave up and down as adrenaline flooded through you.

“Okay, little man, you’re going to take a nap, alright?” you said as you looked down at the child in his pod, your voice shaking even though you tried to stop it. “And when you wake up, your dad will be back with us.”

He cooed up at you with a fearful expression on his face, but you only spared a moment to press a kiss to his head before you were tapping at your wrist again. The lid of the pod started to hiss close as the ramp of the ship began to clank open, and you slid your finger onto the rifle’s trigger as the door slowly lowered before you.

The ramp finally thudded to the jungle floor, and you took a moment to stare out into the foreboding darkness. The moon was pale and wan in the purple-tinted sky, and all you could see were shadows along the edges of the clearing. Your eyes darted back and forth, every muscle in your body locked and braced for an attack, but nothing happened. Nothing moved save the indigo clouds over head, and the only sound you heard was the muted chirps and hums of insects.

“Okay, come on, quit stalling,” you muttered to yourself even though your heart felt like it was about to roll off your tongue. “Mando doesn’t have time for this.”

At the sound of his name—or at least, the only name you had ever known the bounty hunter by—some of the fear inside you vanished, and you were suddenly jogging down the ramp without further thought. The child’s carrier trailed after you quietly, and you jabbed at your wrist to close and lock up the Razor Crest.

You spared half a glance over your shoulder to make sure the ramp was secured, and then you looked down at your cuff. Mando’s comlink had a built in GPS transmitter, but its range was limited. However, if he was close enough to briefly contact you…

A dot flickered in and out on the grungy screen on your wrist, and you spun in a circle to figure out which direction had the strongest connection. The dot flared brightly when you angled toward the west, and you started running before you even had a plan.

You crashed through the underbrush with the child’s pod hot on your heels, and the thick, humid air sawed in and out of your heaving lungs as you gasped for breath. The lights at your temples provided enough illumination to see several steps ahead of you but not much else, and you tripped and careened over root and vine as you tried not to lose your grip on the rifle.

The good news was the dot on your read-out was no longer flickering, and it was now a strong red point about a kilometer ahead of you.

The bad news?

The jungle was no longer quiet around you.

As your feet pounded into the red soil and carried you forward, static crackled loudly in your ear, and the howling returned, faint at first but growing closer. Shivers wracked your sweat-slicked spine, and every fiber of your being was screaming to run the other way.

But you couldn’t. Because now you could hear Mando grunting and shouting over the comlink, clearer and clearer with each step, and as you vaulted over a protruding root in your path, you distinctly heard a roar of rage directly ahead of you.

You would have shouted his name if there was any breath left in your lungs, but instead you just lowered your head and sprinted as fast as you could.

The howling was nearly deafening now, echoing all around you, seeming to come from every shadow in the jungle. Your ears rang with the soul-piercing shrieks, and the cacophony was so disorienting, you tripped over your own feet and crashed into the dirt.

“Kriff!” you gasped, your knees and palms stinging as you skidded to a halt. Dots danced in front of your eyes as you panted harshly, and the rifle knocked painfully against your sternum.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the child’s pod come to a stop several feet away, the silver orb glinting in the pale moonlight barely filtering through the canopy.

Then you saw something else shift in the shadows behind the floating carrier.

At first, you thought it was your swimming vision, but then the weak lights of your headlamp reflected off several glinting eyes, and the breath stalled in your lungs.

A guttural, wet growl echoed out of the bushes beyond the foundling’s pod, and in the next instant the beast was lunging forward, vaulting over the carrier in one bound.

You yelped as you scrambled backward, fumbling for the rifle’s trigger, and you got the barrel up just in time to block a bifurcated jaw of gnashing fangs. The beast let out a piercing shriek as it snapped at your face, and the familiar sound nearly popped your eardrum at this proximity, but the pain barely even registered as you wedged your legs up under the creature’s chest and heaved it off you.

The beast let out a high-pitched yip as it smacked into a tree trunk, but you didn’t give it the chance to regain its feet. In one swift movement, you brought the rifle up, sighted down the barrel, and pulled the trigger.

The blaster must have been set on full-auto because a continuous stream of energy screamed out of the weapon, and the barrel jerked upward with the recoil. Bolts of energy shredded through the vines and branches overhead, and some kind of bat-bird creature screeched as it dove out of the canopy and swooped over you. It thankfully wasn’t trying to attack, merely flee, and the avian-beast cawed angrily as it disappeared into the jungle.

“P-Pfassk,” you panted, your voice as jittery as your racing pulse. Still, you scrambled to your feet, with the smoking rifle held tight in your shaking grasp, and you stared wide-eyed at the corpse of the beast that had attacked you.

The thing was almost two meters long, and six disjointed looking limbs jutted out from underneath it. Your would-be-killer looked vaguely canine yet also insect-like, with its long snout and what looked like scaled plates along its spine. The combination made your stomach churn. The blaster had carved smoldering holes into most of the creature’s flesh, but the uncharred remains were blackish-purple, mottled with spots of blue and green that matched the jungle’s underbrush. The beast was entirely hairless and slick-looking like an oil spill, and its bifurcated maw hung open to reveal rows of rotted black fangs. Two pairs of pale white eyes stared blindly up at the dark sky, and purplish blood seeped out around the carcass to stain the jungle floor.

Bile rose in your throat, but before you could even process your fear, terror, and revulsion, a very human sounding scream echoed through the dark night, and you whipped your head in the direction it had come from.

“Mando,” you breathed, and you spared the dead beast one last glance before you took off running again, every sense on high alert.

You didn’t dare blink as you crashed through the underbrush, and you pushed your aching limbs as fast as they would go. The din of snarling and howling was so loud now it was rattling your teeth, and all of the sudden you were stumbling out of the thick tree line and into a small clearing.

A clearing riddled with bodies, both living and dead.

Your brain stuttered as it tried to assess the scene before you. The canopy overhead was broken in a perfect circle, so the moonlight here was strong and bright after the deep shadows of the jungle, and it illuminated everything perfectly. The Mandalorian stood in the center of the carnage, half collapsed against a rotten log twice as tall as he was. Carcasses of the canine-like beasts were piled up in mounds around the clearing, some shot but some charred into blackened skeletons, and the stench of burnt flesh invaded your nose and sat heavy on the back of your tongue.

For every dead beast, though, there were two more still snarling, and boy, were they pissed.

The pack of creatures prowled in a semi-circle before the bounty hunter, all their attention centered on him, and they growled and snapped their bifurcated jaws in his direction. They didn’t seem to want to attack him head on, and a moment later you saw why.

One of the beasts must have reached its breaking point, because with the same piercing shriek that had kept you up the past two nights, it lunged for the Mandalorian, the moonlight glinting off the armored plates along its spine.

The poor bastard never made it.

While the creature was still in mid-air, Mando jerked his wrist up, and a blast of flames roared out of his vambrace. The beast screeched as it was swallowed by the inferno, and its charred corpse crashed to the ground at Mando’s feet a moment later. The remainder of the pack snarled in fury as they paced in front of the bounty hunter, but you felt your throat tighten with fear.

The flamethrower was obviously a great weapon at repelling these creatures, but judging by the radius on that last spurt of fire, you estimated Mando had enough fuel for one, maybe two more attacks.

And there were dozens of the beasts left.

What were you going to do?

You heaved for breath as your eyes darted around the clearing, trying to look for a solution, but you knew the answer was obvious: you were going to have to fight.

You blindly tapped at your wrist, and a moment later the child’s carrier rose up above your head and nestled against the lowest branch of the tree you were standing under. You didn’t know if the beasts could climb, but the pod was made of a strong, reinforced metal, so as long as the creatures didn’t notice the kid, he should be fine.

The same couldn’t be said for you.

Maker, you were going to regret this, weren’t you?

You didn’t give yourself the chance to change your mind.

“Hey!” you shouted as you stepped further into the clearing, one of your hands dropping to the belt on your waist.

The chorus of snarls and growls tapered off for a moment as the pack whipped around in unison to face you, and the saliva evaporated in your mouth as you stared at the dozens of glowing white eyes.

At the sound of your voice, you could see Mando jerk upright in your peripherals, but you didn’t dare tear your eyes off the pack as they started to stalk toward you. Sweat dripped down your face and trickled along your spine as you palmed a cold, heavy orb in your right hand, and you watched the distance between you and the creatures shrink bit by bit.

Mando shouted your name, but you ignored him.

“Yeah, that’s right!” you yelled at the beasts instead. “You guys hungry? Why don’t you come and get me?”

“What are you doing?” Mando roared, but you still didn’t pay him any mind as you tracked the pack. There were maybe three dozen left alive, and they bared their black fangs at you as they drew closer and closer.

Twenty meters… fifteen… ten…

Now.

“Take this!” You heaved your arm back, aimed at the beast in the center of the pack’s line, and threw with all your might, and the creature yelped as the stun grenade struck him in the skull.

A moment later, a web of electricity exploded out of the orb and arced through half of the pack, and the poor bastards screeched and screamed as they fell spasming to the jungle floor. The beasts on the edges snarled as they jumped away from their sparking brethren, and you saw some of the canine-monsters retreat into the shadows of the clearing.

This was your chance.

You darted forward the moment you had a clear path to take, and you vaulted over the pack’s twitching bodies in three swift strides. When you landed on the other side of them, you spun around and faced the fallen creatures as they whined and spasmed on the ground. Then you lifted your rifle, aimed haphazardly, and pulled the trigger. You swept the barrel from side to side for a moment, energy bolts tearing and searing through flesh, but then you whirled back around and sprinted toward the Mandalorian’s prone form.

He was propped up against the log with his legs splayed out in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when you saw the dark stain of blood on the ground beneath his right thigh. His Amban rifle lay beside him, but since he wasn’t using it, you assumed he was out of ammo. The bounty hunter listed heavily onto what you first thought was a rock of some kind, but as you skidded to a stop in front of him, you realized the lump was the body of another humanoid, except it didn’t look to be breathing.

“Mando!” you gasped as you crouched down in front of him. “Maker, w-what happened—”

“What are you doing here?” he cut you off with a snarl, and the absolute rage in his voice drew you up short.

You gaped at his visor, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “W-What… you called—”

“I didn’t call you, he did, right before they tore out his throat,” Mando growled and shoved the prone form beside him.

The body flopped over with a thud, and you stifled a gag when you realized the poor bastard had been eviscerated. He was torn open from gut to gullet, intestines and innards gleaming wetly in the dark, and his bulging black eyes stared up unseeingly at the moon.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you breathed in horror. “What happened?”

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet up to look at you, but then his gaze seemed to shift over your shoulder, and he was suddenly latching onto your wrist with an iron grip and tugging you forward.

“Watch out!” he shouted as you tripped over his legs and landed on the other side of him, and a moment later you heard and felt the roar of flames at your back as another beast met a smoldering end.

You scrambled up onto your knees and whirled around, rifle held at the ready, but there were only the two new dead creatures sprawled at Mando’s feet. Their corpses smoked as their blackened flesh crackled, and this time you weren’t successful in stifling your gag. You dry-heaved off to the side, tears blurring your vision, but when the chorus of bone-chilling howls started up again, you blinked away the tears and clenched your rifle in a white-knuckled grip.

“We gotta get out of here,” you panted, your eyes darting from place to place as you tried to track the beasts slithering through the shadows.

“Can’t,” Mando grunted, and all of the sudden, you realized his voice sounded off, slurred.

You whipped back around to face the bounty hunter, and your gaze immediately fell to the dark stain under his leg. It had grown since you’d first seen it, and then you realized a haphazard tourniquet was lashed around the top of his leg, right above the metal plate that covered the front of his thigh.

“You’re hurt,” you breathed. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Mando’s head jerked up and down in an unsteady nod. “Just… happened. One of them got me… when I was trying to save the bounty. Pretty sure they nicked my femoral.”

His words were softer and definitely slurred now, and panic rose up in your throat like a burning coal.

“Then we need to get back to the Razor Crest now,” you said as you reached for his shoulders, but the Mandalorian sluggishly shoved you away.

“I’ll… only slow you down,” he grunted. “The bounty and I… are easy meals. The pack should stay to finish us off while you make a break for the sh—”

“No,” you cut him off, and the snarl in your voice surprised even you. “No, Mando. I’m not leaving you to die. We’re only a kilometer away from the Razor Crest. I have extra power cells and grenades. We can make it.”

Mando’s head thunked back against the log he leaned on as he stared up at you, and even if you couldn’t see the face underneath the visor, you could see the resignation in every inch of him.

And it ignited a fury in you unlike anything you had ever known.

“So, what?” you growled, bending down to bare your teeth in his face. “You’re just gonna sit here and die? What about the kid? You just gonna abandon him?”

You’re just going to abandon me? you didn’t say, but the words rattled against the backs of your clenched teeth.

“He’ll… have you,” Mando said, and suddenly his gloved hand reached up as if to touch your face, but he didn’t seem to have the strength, and the tip of his index finger barely grazed the edge of your jaw. His touch left behind a warm streak on your skin, and you didn’t have to look to know it was blood.

“That’s not good enough,” you snarled before you stooped down and grabbed the ends of his makeshift tourniquet, yanking tightly on both ends until Mando groaned in pain and latched onto your shoulders.

He murmured your name, his modulator crackling in your ear, but you ignored him as you looped his spent Amban rifle over his shoulder and shifted to slide your left arm behind his back, throwing his right arm over your shoulders. You took two deep breaths to brace yourself, and then you dug your fingers into his waist as you tried to leverage the both of you onto your feet.

It was nearly impossible. The Mandalorian had to weigh nearly ninety kilos in his beskar, and with the added weight of the weapons and grenades you carried, you could feel the muscles in your legs, core, and back scream at the strain.

“Dank… farrik,” you hissed out between clenched teeth, but you managed to get the two of you upright, even if Mando was practically limp against you. Still, you had to leverage your back against the log behind you to keep from collapsing.

“We’ll never make it… back to the ship like this,” Mando panted, his cold helmet brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Shut up,” you gritted out, listening to the howling beasts closing in again like they could sense your weakness. “I refuse to leave you behind. So, unless you want to kill us both, you need to get your ass in gear, Mando. I can keep them off our backs as we go, but you need to walk with me. Understand?”

“Cyare,” he slurred, and the unfamiliar word sounded pained as his helmet thunked into your temple. “I… don’t want you to die.”

“Then walk,” you grunted as you tightened your grip on his waist and lurched forward a step.

Mando staggered behind you, half draped over your back, but you widened your stance and refused to go down.

“Please… Mando,” you panted, shoving the barrel of your rifle into the loamy red soil to act as a crutch. “Help me save us. Just… just put one foot in front of the other.”

“Wait,” the Mandalorian said, and he actually lifted his head off your shoulder. “The bounty…”

“The bounty’s dead,” you grunted as your eyes darted to the trees again. You could see the sinuous shapes of the pack weaving between the towering trunks, but they kept their distance for the moment. They’d lost more than half of their numbers by your estimate, and you prayed to the Maker they would just give up, but you knew that would be way too convenient for your life.

“The puck… said dead or alive,” Mando sighed, his arm weighing down on the nape of your neck like a yoke, and it reminded you of the slave’s collar you once wore.

“I can’t carry both of you back, Mando,” you growled in frustration. “I can barely drag you.”

“Don’t need the whole body,” he clarified. “Just… the head. It’s… a big bounty.”

You groaned as you glanced down at the quarry’s corpse, and then you tilted your head back to try and look at Mando.

“Can you stand by yourself for a minute?” you asked.

“Maybe,” Mando grunted, but he shifted his weight off you bit by bit and leaned up against the tall log at your backs. His boots slid a few inches in the blood-soaked dirt as he almost collapsed, but he dug his gloved fingers into the rigid bark and stood there shaking.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes,” you parroted his words from days ago back at him in an attempt to take his mind off the pain, and it seemed to work because he actually huffed out a strained-sounding chuckle.

“Hurry,” he panted, and you nodded as you quickly stepped away from him, stood over the bounty’s corpse, and shoved the barrel of your rifle between his shoulder and neck.

It was so dark, and you were running on so much adrenaline you couldn’t even be sure of what species the man used to be, but you pushed the thought away as you took a deep breath and held down the trigger.

The rifle screeched as it tore through flesh like a hot knife through butter, and you tried to ignore the feeling of lukewarm blood splattering across your lower legs. Moments later, the jittery, rapid-fire motions of the gun ceased, and the bounty’s head rolled away from the smoldering stump of his neck.

Bile rose up in your throat again, but you swallowed it down as you picked up the decapitated head and started punching buttons on your cuff.

Instantly, you heard the familiar hum of the child’s pod drone closer and closer, and behind you Mando inhaled sharply as the jungle dogs yipped in curiosity from the shadows.

“You brought the kid?” he growled.

“Well, it wasn’t like you left me much kriffing choice, but you can fire me later for child endangerment,” you snapped as the carrier floated down to stop in front of you. Then you turned to the Mandalorian and held out your bloodied hand. “I need your fibercord whip. Eject it.”

Mando didn’t even question you, he just did as he was bid. Within moments, you had the thin but strong wire wound up in your palm, and then you started the gory process of wrapping it securely around the bounty’s bloody head. Your stomach churned at the slick warm goo covering your skin, but you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth as you tapped at your wrist again.

The child’s pod opened with a hiss, and you made sure to lower the decapitated head so it was below the carrier and out of the foundling’s line of sight.

“Hey there, bud,” you said as you leaned down and tucked the end of the fibercord into the interior of the pod near the hinges. “Look who I found.”

The foundling cooed and gurgled happily when he caught sight of the Mandalorian, and he lifted his arms and made grabby motions at the bounty hunter.

“Not yet,” you said as you stepped forward and blocked Mando from view. “First, we need to get back to the ship, so I need to close you up again. Don’t worry about anything you hear, though, okay? I promise we’ll be fine.”

The child murmured a soft sound as you bent down and kissed his wrinkled brow, but then you tapped at your wrist, and the pod closed with another hiss, locking the wire with the dangling head in place. You keyed in a few more commands, and the carrier rose up high above you, hovering at least six meters off the ground. Blood dripped from the severed stump of the quarry’s neck as it dangled from the pod, and you flinched when a speck of it landed on your cheek. It might be disgusting, but this way, the child and the remainder of the bounty would hopefully be out of reach of any of the beasts, and you could focus all your energy on getting you and Mando back to the Razor Crest.

“Alright.” You tore your gaze away from the silver pod and shifted your grasp on the rifle, wedging the stock against your right shoulder as tight as you could. You knew your aim would be abysmal since you were going have to shoot one handed while dragging Mando, but you hoped the full-auto setting would grant you some leeway. “Let’s go.”

“You really should—” the Mandalorian started, but you clicked your tongue to cut him off.

“That wasn’t a request,” you said as you sidled up against the bounty hunter and double checked that his tourniquet was secure.

“Fine.” He reluctantly draped his right arm over your shoulder, and you wrapped your left one around his waist. Then the two of you pushed off the log at your backs, and you staggered forward several steps, trying not to trip on any dead jungle dogs.

Mando’s cold beskar felt like it was burning you wherever it brushed against your bare, hot flesh, and he groaned in your ear as he practically dragged his injured leg behind him. The agony of his voice made you want to stop and sprint forward all at the same time, but you settled for stumbling several more steps.

“That’s it,” you panted in encouragement. “One step at a time.”

The pack howled and shrieked as you painstakingly shuffled your way across the clearing, but you haphazardly aimed your rifle into the jungle and held down the trigger. Rapid-fire bolts of energy careened into the darkness, illuminating white eyes and flashes of twining vines and snarling beasts, but several yowls echoed through the night, so you knew you’d hit at least some of them.

“Mando,” you gritted out as you neared the tree line. “I need you to hit my cuff. There’s a button on the side that will turn up my headlamp. I want it at maximum. Since these bastards are nocturnal, I’m guessing they don’t like the light.”

The Mandalorian grunted something that sounded like an affirmative, and then his left hand was swatting blindly at your cuff. After fumbling for a moment, his thick, gloved fingers encircled your wrist, his thumb brushing faintly over your thudding pulse point.

Your feet nearly tangled beneath you, but then Mando found the button on your cuff, and he pressed on it until the lights at your temple were bright enough to blind. The beams of white light cut through the oppressive darkness of the jungle, and the canine creatures yelped in pain as they darted back into the shadows. You swung your gaze back and forth, your lamp dragging over the scenery like a burning laser, and the beasts whimpered as their tails disappeared into the bushes.

“Come on,” you groaned as you dragged Mando forward, and the two of you finally stumbled into the thick of the trees.

You didn’t know how much time passed as you and the Mandalorian struggled back to the ship. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes hours. The moon appeared frozen in the sky above your head, and more than once you had the thought that you were already dead, and this was some messed up version of an afterlife where you were tortured for eternity.

In the end, though, you knew you were alive.

If you weren’t, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Left,” Mando slurred in your ear, half draped over your back, and your feet stuttered as you swung both of you around to the left.

The rifle screeched as it fired off into the darkness, followed by the yelps of dying dogs, and you hissed as the stock dug into your already sore shoulder. The pack snarled and gurgled as they encircled you, but they were hesitant now that you’d killed a majority of them. You wondered why they just didn’t give up, but you realized they could most likely sense you weakening, slowing.

Sweat ran in rivers down your face and spine, and every tendon in your body felt like it was on the edge of snapping. You could tell Mando was trying to take some of his weight off you, but he was becoming more and more unsteady with each step, his breath jagged and uneven as it rasped out of his helmet. He probably wouldn’t remain conscious for much longer, and if he passed out before you reached the ship, you were both dead. You couldn’t fully carry him, and you would not even entertain the idea of leaving him, so it was all or nothing.

Either you both reached the ship together, or neither of you did.

But, as you glanced up at the child’s pod hovering high over your head, you knew the second choice wasn’t really an option. The kid needed you. Needed both of you.

So, you were going to kriffing live, even if you had to break your body down to achieve your goal.

“Come on,” you encouraged as you stumbled over a tree root. “Come on, Mando. We’re almost there. Stay with me, okay?”

You had no idea if you were almost there or not. The homing beacon on your cuff was beeping steadily, but with all the howling, and the blood pounding through your ears, you couldn’t approximate how close you were to the Razor Crest.

“I’m… trying,” Mando mumbled, lifting his head just slightly. “B-Behind us.”

You cursed under your breath, letting the rifle dangle against your chest as you fumbled at your waist. Your fingers curled around a cold, metal orb, and you clicked the button in its center before you lobbed the grenade over your shoulder with all the strength you had left, which wasn’t much.

Then you staggered forward a little faster, dragging the bounty hunter behind you, and five seconds later, you heard the stun grenade go off, followed by the crackling of static and the yelping of beasts.

“That’s my last… stun grenade,” you panted, and the hair on your arms stood on end with all the electricity in the moist air. “I have some explosive ones… but…”

“But we’re not fast enough to get out of range in time,” Mando finished for you, his helmet bumping into the crown of your head as he sagged a little more.

“Yeah,” you huffed, but then a crunch to your right had you whirling and firing in one motion.

The canine yipped and screeched as the energy bolts tore through its chest mid-lunge, and it crashed into the ground at your feet as you staggered into a tree. The bark scraped painfully across your bare shoulder blades, and Mando groaned as you almost lost your grip on him.

“No,” you growled, tightening your arm around the bounty hunter and tugging you both upright. “Dank… farrik!”

The muscles in your arm burned hotly from the strain of keeping the Mandalorian on his feet, and you bit through your tongue to keep from crying out, the metallic taste of blood coating your teeth and whetting your parched mouth.

You stumbled forward blindly as you tried to work through the pain, but all the sudden, the claustrophobic darkness caused by the towering trees lessened a few degrees. You thought you were hallucinating it at first, but then you lifted your head a fraction and realized the trees were thinning out ahead of you.

And the beacon in your cuff was beeping like mad.

You were almost there. The Razor Crest was so close.

Of course, that’s when the snarling behind you reached new frantic heights, and you knew the pack was gearing up for one final assault.

“Mando, listen to me,” you gasped as you shifted to shove him against a tree, using your palm to keep him rooted at the sternum and on his feet.

He groaned as he listed there, mumbling something that didn’t sound like it was in Basic, but he remained upright, so you seized the opportunity to jab at the screen on your wrist. A moment later, the child’s pod swooped down from where it had been hovering near the canopy, and the bounty’s head dragged against the jungle floor with a dull crunch. You tweaked the carrier’s settings half blind, one eye on the encroaching darkness and the beasts therein, and then you grabbed the floating orb and shoved it against Mando’s gut.

“Ugh,” the bounty hunter grunted, his feet starting to slide out from under him.

“No, lean forward,” you rushed out, grabbing one of his shoulders and tugging him toward you.

Mando moaned as he collapsed onto the child’s pod, but since you’d cranked up the carrier’s power output to the max, the bounty hunter didn’t crash to the ground. Instead, he hung there half suspended, the pod whirling angrily from his added weight, his feet limp and dragging behind him.

“Mando,” you said as you tapped the side of his helmet, eyes still on the shadowy trees. “Mando, I need you to hold onto that pod as tight as you can, okay? Can you hear me?”

“Hear… you,” the Mandalorian just barely breathed, and you saw his arms wrap around the bottom of the silver carrier.

“Hold on like your life depends on it,” you instructed as you tapped at your wrist again. “Because it does.”

“What—” he started to ask, but he didn’t get to finish the question because the pod was suddenly surging forward, in the direction of the ship. The bounty’s head and Mando’s feet dragged loudly against the ground, but with one last jolt of power, the pod lifted away from the jungle floor and began to float away.

The pod would probably have just enough power to get Mando back to the ship before it died, but that was fine. That was just what you needed.

The jungle dogs howled and shrieked as they watched the Mandalorian drifting away through the trees, but as you listened to them start to skirt around you in his direction, you finally gripped the rifle with two hands and aimed into the dark.

Then you pulled the trigger, full-auto, and the shrieking of the energy bolts collided with the screeching of the canines and crescendoed into a deafening cacophony. You sprayed the jungle in wide sweeps as you slowly started to walk backward toward the Razor Crest, the rifle stock jolting into your shoulder in time with your racing heart. You just needed to give Mando time to reach the ship. You had programmed the pod to open the ramp at a certain distance, so they would just fly on into the cargo bay, and it would close behind them. Once they were safe, you could make a break for it and—

Suddenly, one of the shadows broke away from the trunk directly to your right, and you turned too late to see it was a slavering beast, its bifurcated jaw wide open and aimed for your throat.

“Ahh!” You stumbled back, trying to crane away from those jagged black fangs, but your feet got tangled up beneath you, and you came crashing down. A root slammed into one of your rear ribs so hard you heard and felt the snap as the bone gave, but you didn’t even have time to register that pain before the jungle dog smashed into your chest.

You instinctively shoved your arms outward, wedging the rifle between those deadly, snapping jaws. One of the beast’s jagged fangs scraped down your forearm as you tried to keep the bastard from swallowing you whole, and you screamed in fury and pain as blood spilled from your rending flesh.

Then you brought your knee up and smashed it as hard as you could into the jungle dog’s ribcage, and this time you felt its rib snap, and grim satisfaction burned like a wildfire through your blood. The warmth filled your limbs until you thought you would burst into flame, and you kicked the beast again and again as it yipped.

You were just starting to think you had the upper hand when the creature’s jaw started to close with a creaking sound of bone on metal, and your eyes widened in horror as the canine jerked its head back, taking your rifle with it. Then its bifurcated jaw snapped close with a horrible crunch, and the rifle shattered into shards of metal and sparks.

The beast roared in pain and rage as it tossed the remains of your rifle aside, but now you were acting on pure survival instinct, not thought, not logic, and you were already wrenching two grenades and a vibroknife off your belt when the nightmare dog finally settled its four milky white eyes on your face.

“Eat this, you bastard,” you snarled as its terrible jaws, rowed with serrated teeth, descended on you.

Then with one hand you stabbed the vibroknife into its neck just above the shoulder, and with the other you activated the grenades and shoved both of them down the jungle dog’s throat.

Warm blood sprayed down on you like humid rainfall, and you twisted the blade in to the hilt, feeling as it tore through flesh in a jittery fashion. The creature gagged and gurgled as its throat muscles convulsed around your other wrist for just an instant, but then you yanked your arms back with all your might, teeth catching on your elbow again, before you crashed into the dirt.

You were scrambling up in the next instant, barely listening to the creature heaving and choking behind you as you staggered forward into a clumsy sprint.

The rest of the pack howled at your back, but you were flat out running now, and you could see the Razor Crest through the trees. The pounding of paws on dirt sounded at your heels, and you couldn’t tell if you were gasping for breath or sobbing as you tore the final grenades off your belt, activated them, and let them fall through your numb fingers.

In the next instant, you broke through the tree line, and you could see the ramp of the Razor Crest, closing. You slapped at your wrist blindly as you sprinted as fast as you could, lungs heaving to the point of seizures, legs at the point of collapse. You didn’t know if the dogs were still right behind you, but the grenades…

You must have finally hit the right command because the ramp suddenly shuddered before it started to lower again, and you were ten meters away when the grenades went off like dominoes falling.

The first two explosions—of the grenades you shoved into the jungle dog—only shook the ground hard enough to make you stumble forward, but then the rest of them detonated much closer, and the combined shockwave hit you moments later and catapulted you into the air.

Thankfully, the ramp was just low enough that you scraped over it and crashed into the ship, smashing into a bulkhead with a dull crunch. The howling shrieks of dying dogs reached you through the ringing in your ears, and you felt a wave of heat hit you as the grenades engulfed the jungle trees. You curled into a ball on the cargo bay floor, your back to the ramp, and you just barely had the presence of mind to tap at your wrist one last time. A moment later, you heard the whirling of the ramp closing, and when it clanked shut a moment later, you rolled over onto your back and stared blindly above you.

You could just barely hear the roar of the building wildfire outside the ship, and the screeching of the jungle dogs died down within seconds. Your entire body—your lungs, your heart—heaved up and down as adrenaline pulsed through you like a bad hit of spice, and your ears ached in the relative silence.

Then the child cooed, and Mando groaned weakly, and you jolted upright like you had just been struck by lightning.

“Mando,” you rasped, flipping over onto your raw hands and bruised knees.

The bounty hunter half-sat, half-sprawled on the floor at the foot of his bunk. The foundling’s pod lay askew on the ground in front of the fresher like it had crash landed there when it finally died, but the child stood unharmed beside the Mandalorian.

Who was currently bleeding out on the floor of the cargo bay.

“Kriff!” You scrambled forward when you saw the spreading stain of blood below his leg, and as you drew closer, you realized his tourniquet must have been loosened when he collapsed.        

The Mandalorian barely even seemed conscious at this point. His chest stirred only slightly beneath his beskar chest plate, and if it weren’t for the soft groans he was exhaling, you would have thought him dead.

“Mando!” you shouted as you shakily rose onto your feet and staggered the rest of the way to the fresher. Your hands were shaking as you tore one of the storage compartments open in search of a med kit, and your voice cracked when you said his name again. “Mando! Stay with me. We made it back. We’re on the ship. Just stay with me for a few more moments. Please.”

You crashed down onto your knees beside the bounty hunter, tearing the med kit open with bloody hands and broken nails. His helmeted head lolled onto the edge of the bunk behind him, and you could barely hear his raspy breaths through the modulator.

The child stood between Mando’s splayed boots, eyes large and frightened, but you couldn’t pay him any mind right now. Your frantic gaze darted between the bacta gel patch in your hand and Mando’s bleeding leg, and even though it felt crazy, you set the patch down for a moment and reached for the last vibroknife on your belt.

Suddenly, Mando jerked awake with a gasp, and you reached out without thinking, pressing your left palm over his heart and feeling his faint, fluttering pulse.

“Mando, I’m right here,” you murmured soothingly. “Keep breathing for me.”

The Mandalorian muttered your name as his head lolled toward you.

“Yes, that’s me, I’m here,” you said, rising up on your knees and leaning over him. The vibroknife glimmered in your hand, looking like a real-life glitch, but you shook off the unsettling feeling and fixed your eyes on Mando’s visor.

“Mesh’la,” the Mandalorian slurred. The word was soft and elongated to the point of sounding like gibberish, but his hand settled firmly on the wrist you still had pressed to his heart, like he was talking directly to you.

In any other situation, your own heart would be fluttering with a feeling you didn’t want to name, but as the bounty hunter’s blood started to soak into the knees of your pants, all you could feel was dread.

“I need you to stay still, okay?” you said as you dropped your hand from his chest to grip the top of his injured thigh. “I need to cut your pants away from the wound.”

“O… kay,” he muttered, and his hand fell to settle over yours again on his leg like he was grounding himself by touching you.

“Nice and easy,” you cooed, trying to blink the tears out of your eyes so you could see to cut through his pants and not his flesh. “I’ll have that bacta patch on in just a moment. Why don’t you talk to me, huh? Mando, talk to me. Tell me something. J-Just stay awake.”

“Aw…ake,” he whispered, but it sounded like he was just repeating you now, barely clinging to consciousness.

Your hand shook as you slowly sawed through the blood-soaked fabric, and an aborted sob rose in your throat. But you shoved your hysteria down, down, down, you had no time for it, you had to stay level-headed, steady-handed, Mando was counting on you, Mando was dying.

“Mando,” you choked as you finally pulled the cloth away from his wound. Three parallel gashes, each nearly five centimeters deep, ran from his hip crease and nearly all the way to his knee, and blood pulsed sluggishly from the wounds in crimson gobs. “Oh, Maker, Mando.”

You dropped the vibroknife with a loud clang as you lunged for the bacta patch, and out of your peripherals you could see the child waddling closer, standing in between the Mandalorian’s knees, the hem of his little robe slowly staining scarlet. You didn’t have the heart or the strength to shove the child away now, so instead you focused on settling the bacta patch over the bounty hunter’s grisly injuries.

Mando twitched and inhaled sharply as the bacta adhered to his skin, and you sent up a million prayers to the Maker that you had administered aid in time.

“There y-you go,” you sniffled, unable to stop the tears from coursing down your cheeks now. “I got the patch on, Mando. You’re going t-to be okay. You… you have to be okay. Do you hear me, Mando?”

You felt like a glitching holotape repeating his name over and over, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You wanted, no needed, him to stay awake, and every time you said his name, he seemed to jerk a little, like he’d been recalled from a long distance at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, there was only the faint, raspy wheeze of the Mandalorian’s breath through his helmet, but then he suddenly mumbled something.

“What?” You shuffled closer, slipping in blood. You practically had your ear pressed against his visor. “What was that, Mando? Say it again. Come on, talk to me, Mando.”

“Not… Mando.”

The words were stilted, sluggish, and you frowned in confusion. “Huh? I-I don’t understand.”

“My… name isn’t… Mando,” the bounty hunter struggled out, and his helmet tilted forward a fraction like he had lifted his head and was looking right at you. “It’s… Din. Din Djarin.”

The shock you felt was muted, distant and removed, like a crack that formed deep in the heart of a glacier, buried beneath the adrenaline, horror, and helplessness warring within you.

“Din,” you breathed, and the word somehow tasted like the exact moment Peli dug out your transmitter chip. It tasted like freedom, like infinite possibility, and you didn’t understand why.

Mando—no, Din, Din Djarin—exhaled heavily as his head thunked back against the bunk, and even if you couldn’t see it, you could tell his eyes were slipping closed. “I… wanted at least someone to know before I—”

“No,” you cut him off vehemently, reaching out to cradle the sides of his helmet like you were cupping his face. “No, you’re not going to die. Not now. Not when… no, do you hear me, Din Djarin? I will not allow you to die. Not when I worked my ass off to fix this ship and drag you back onto it by the skin of my kriffing teeth.”

“Mmmm.” Din’s head lolled in your grasp, the weight of him growing heavier and heavier. “I knew I would like the way… you say my name.”

Oh, Maker. He was nonsensical now, and terror gripped you by the throat and squeezed.

“Then stay awake, Din,” you begged, and your heart felt like it was on the edge of a great precipice. “Stay awake for me.”

“’m so… tired,” he sighed.

“I know,” you breathed as you guided his head back to rest against the bunk, and you couldn’t speak above a whisper because your voice was thick with tears. “I know, but just listen to my voice, Din. Just—”

You trailed off as the child suddenly waddled into your line of sight, and you dropped your gaze slightly to find him standing between the Mandalorian’s thighs, right next to the bacta covered wounds. The foundling stared up at the bounty hunter with a furrowed, seemingly determined expression, and then he closed his big brown eyes as he reached for Din’s leg.

“Oh, buddy, don’t,” you started, reaching out to stop him, but Din—Maker, his name felt delicious and forbidden even in your mind—weakly placed his hand on your wrist to stop you.

“It’s… okay,” he panted. “He can help.”

“Help?” You frowned down at the child. How could he help? Was this one of the “powers” the bounty hunter had vaguely mentioned before? You thought the foundling’s ability dealt with physically moving things, not healing, but honestly you could do for a miracle right about now.

The child gurgled a small noise as his three fingers settled over Din’s wound, and the Mandalorian inhaled sharply at the same time that you felt… something. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was like the very air shifted, became magnetic, charged somehow. The air stilled in your lungs as you feared even the barest breath would fracture this fragile spell you were bearing witness to, and you watched with wide eyes as the gashes on the bounty hunter’s legs began to close right in front of you.

Bacta worked fast… but not that fast.

Several still, endless seconds passed as the foundling healed the Mandalorian, but then just as soon as it began, the moment ended. The atmosphere snapped almost tangibly, time jolted back into motion, and the child suddenly started to pitch backward.

“Oh!” you gasped as you lunged forward, your hands cupping the baby and bringing him close to your body. The foundling’s eyes were closed, his face slack, but his little chest still moved up and down with breath.

“He’s okay.”

You snapped your head up, more tears spilling down your cheeks with the motion.

Din was sitting up a little straighter, and his helmet looked squarely at you. His voice sounded stronger, too, and you gaped at him in bewilderment.

“He’s okay,” the Mandalorian repeated when you continued to blink at him. “He usually… tires himself out when he uses his powers.”

“I d-didn’t know he could do that,” you breathed, and your tongue felt like a disembodied lump of flesh in your mouth. “I… wait, how do you feel? A-Are you okay?”

You suddenly realized how close you still were to the bounty hunter, practically kneeling in his lap, but you ignored this as your eyes darted back to his leg. It was a little hard to tell through the dried blood and blue bacta, but it looked like the three gashes had closed altogether, leaving behind faint pink lines.

“I’ll survive,” the bounty hunter sighed, thunking his head back against the bunk again, but he tilted it to the side to regard you still. “Thanks to you.”

“I-I’m not the one who just healed you with magic,” you stuttered incredulously as your cheeks flared hot, and you cuddled the child against your chest even though you realized you knew almost nothing about the apparently powerful foundling.

“No,” Mando said evenly, “but you did charge out into a dark, unknown, dangerous jungle, fight off a pack of wild dogs, and drag both me and the bounty back safely.”

“Well,” you snorted with an edge of hysteria in your voice, and you gestured to the discarded head that lay sprawled against the corner of the fresher. “I don’t know if I’d say he got here safely.”

Maker, you felt a little crazy, hollowed out and wrung dry by the sheer amount of emotions you’d just experienced in a span of a few minutes.

“I’m serious,” the Mandalorian replied. “You… saved my life. I am in your debt.”

“I-I’m not one for debts.” You shook your head to try and clear it, dropping your gaze to the foundling’s face, nuzzled against your sternum. “I don’t like to owe anyone or be owed. You’ve stuck your neck out for me before, so let’s just call it even… Din.”

You saw the bounty hunter freeze out of the corner of your eye, and you bit your cheek until you tasted blood.

You should have known that was too much to ask for.

“Sorry,” you muttered, peeking up at the Mandalorian through your lashes. “You… mentioned your name when you were—”

“I remember,” Mando said, cutting you off, but you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his expression hidden as always and his voice pitched in a way you didn’t recognize, couldn’t identify.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, feeling the adrenaline starting to drain out of you and be replaced by every ache and pain you had ignored in lieu of survival. “Of course, I can just forget about it. You weren’t exactly in your right mind, after all. I’ll just… using ‘Mando’ is fine for me.”

The Mandalorian’s visor stared you down unflinchingly for what felt like an eternity. Then…

“You can… use my name, if you like,” he said haltingly, then quickly amended himself. “But only when we’re alone, on the ship. I… my name could be a dangerous thing in the hands of my enemies.”

You blinked in shock at the bounty hunter.

“A-Are you sure?” you asked, and you tried to keep the hope out of your voice, but you knew you failed miserably. “O-Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You’d thought giving up his name had just been a delusional, dying declaration, and you didn’t want him to regret it. What you said had been true enough. You were fine using “Mando,” even if the traitorous feelings buried deep in your chest said otherwise.

“I’m sure.” The bounty hunter nodded minutely. “I… trust you.”

The admission flooded your whole body with warmth, and goosebumps broke out across your skin. You’d known the Mandalorian trusted you, he wouldn’t have left his ship or his foundling in your care otherwise, but hearing him say the words felt like something out of a dream.

“Okay, then.” You smiled, heart thudding against where the child was pressed into your chest. “Din.”

At the sound of his name, the tension in the Mandalorian’s worn body seemed to bleed out of him entirely, and he sighed as his helmet fell back again.

“Let’s get off this Maker-forsaken planet,” he grumbled.

“I second that,” you chuckled dryly before you slowly clambered to your feet, careful not to slip in Din’s tacky blood or jostle the sleeping baby in your arms. You very gingerly leaned over the prone Mandalorian to set the foundling in his hammock, but you hissed when the movement jarred the bruised or fractured rib in your back.

“What’s wrong?” Din asked below you, and he was so close you could feel the rumble of his modulated voice against the bare skin of your stomach, your tank top having lifted up a fraction.

“Nothing.” You took a quick step backward, trying to put distance between you and the bounty hunter, but now that he was no longer actively dying, you were starting to realize you were a little more beat up then you’d previously thought.

The moment you stepped back on your right leg, your hamstring seized up, and when you went to grab at it, you realized your fingers were a little numb. You glanced down and saw fresh blood dripping down your forearm—your blood, not Mando’s—and the sight of the wound seemed to flip a switch in your brain because a moment later, pain crashed over you like a wave.

“Dank farrik,” Mando cursed lowly as he tried to shove himself up.

“No, no, no, no,” you babbled, holding out your less injured left hand in a gesture to stop him. “Don’t get up so fast.”

“You’re hurt,” he grunted, and you could practically hear the scowl in his voice as he tilted his helmet back to stare at you. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” you stressed, even though you could still taste blood on the back of your tongue. “Also, you seriously have no room to talk. You were literally just bleeding out less than five minutes ago.”

“How much bacta do we have left?” he asked, completely ignoring your statement. “We should take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“Maker, you’re not even listening to me, are you?” You rolled your eyes as you leaned your shoulder against the bulkhead, but when the Mandalorian started to get up again, you held your hand out once more. “Alright! Alright. Let me at least set the coordinates to meet up with the client and get the ship in the air. I’m pretty sure the jungle is burning down around us as we speak anyway, so the sooner we lift off, the better.”

Din stared up at you silently for a moment like he wanted to argue.

“It will take me two minutes, max,” you reasoned with him. “I won’t pass out or die in that time frame, okay?”

“Fine,” he finally sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. “Just… be careful climbing up there.”

“I’ll try my best,” you snorted, wincing when pain flared through your body, but you still slowly made your way to the ladder.

It took you way longer to climb five rungs than it should have, but you thought not falling back into the cargo bay was a feat in itself, given how every muscle in your arms and legs twitched in pain. The blood pouring down your arm also did nothing to help your grip, nor did your scraped up palms, but you still made it into the cockpit relatively unscathed.

Dawn was just breaking beyond the windows, but you could barely see it through the black smoke that hung thick in the air. Guilt sat heavy in your chest as you saw the charred trees and the birds fleeing the flames overhead, but you told yourself you did what you had to in order to survive.

And it wasn’t like you were walking away scot-free, either. Your arm pounded painfully in time with your slowing pulse, and every time you took a deep breath, you became a little surer that the rib in your back was, in fact, broken.

You punched in the client’s rendezvous coordinates without sitting in the pilot’s chair since you knew if you sat down now there was no way you were getting back up. While you waited for the Razor Crest to power up, you cringed at the blood you were dripping all over the floor, but there was nothing for it at this point. The whole ship would need a thorough scrub down the next time you made a pit stop, but that was a future-you problem. Right now, you were mainly focused on getting off this planetoid and out into orbit without crashing and burning.

You held your breath as the pre-Empire ship rose up above the now smoldering jungle, but no warning alarms or messages sounded. The Razor Crest glided steadily upward, and you leaned heavily on the control panel as you breeched first the clouds and then the atmosphere. Entering orbit rattled the ship and you more than you cared for, but nothing broke off or burst into flame, and before you knew it, you were drifting through the familiar black void of space.

“Thank the kriffing Maker,” you sighed as the autopilot took over, and then you turned and shuffled back to the ladder, exhaustion starting to make the edges of your vision go fuzzy.

Or maybe that was blood loss?

You were a little less graceful with the descent than you were with the ascent, but you at least landed on your feet before you nearly collapsed into the fresher.

“Careful,” Mando’s modulated voice murmured, and suddenly his bare hand was on your left, uninjured elbow, skin against warm skin.

“What are… you doing up?” You frowned as you studied the Mandalorian, trying to make sense of what you were seeing as he led you to sit in the open mouth of his bunk.

“I told you,” he said, reaching over and grabbing another med kit from the fresher. “We need to take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“You should be resting,” you grumbled, but you were too tired to put any real heat behind your voice.

“I’m fine,” Din parroted your earlier proclamation back at you. “The kid did a thorough job.”

Then the bounty hunter sat on a crate before you, a crate that hadn’t been there before, and you realized he was no longer wearing a majority of his beskar, save the ever-present helmet, of course. Instead, a faded but clean pair of duraweave clothes covered his body, and the bloodied outfit you’d basically sliced off him was piled up between his feet. It also looked like he had haphazardly tried to mop up some of his blood with the dirty clothes, and you wondered if you’d been up in the cockpit longer than you thought.

“Hey,” you chuckled suddenly, and you distantly noted that your voice was a little slurred with exhaustion. “Looks like I’ll have some new rags after all.”

You giggled a little loopily as you gestured to the Mandalorian’s blood-soaked clothes and then to the blood and dirt your outfit was also currently coated in, but Mando didn’t seem as amused as you were.

“Let me see your arm,” he said as his helmet stared at you impassively, but then he paused and added, “Please.”

“It’s really not that bad,” you tried to argue as you held out your injured limb, but since it was still actively dripping blood, your words didn’t carry much weight. Then the bounty hunter gingerly gripped your wrist with tentative fingers, and you hissed through your teeth as pain lanced up your arm.

“Osik,” Din cursed in a language you didn’t recognize, slowly rotating your arm to take in the extent of the damage. “Did one of those dogs get you? The bastard almost flayed you to the bone in some spots.”

“Yeah, well I shoved two grenades down his throat, so I think we’re even,” you gritted out.

Din froze and lifted his head, your blood, sweat, and dirt-streaked face reflecting back at you from his visor. “You what?” 

He must have really been on death’s door if he didn’t notice or remember you literally blowing the jungle dogs to Tatooine and back, but you just shook your head.

“Story time later,” you huffed, narrowing your eyes as you tried to breathe through the pain. “Bacta time now, please.”

“Right.” Mando jerked back into action, and in the next moment he was shifting into medic-droid mode.

Few words were shared between you two as the Mandalorian tended to your bumps and scrapes. Beside the deep lacerations on your forearm, your palms and knees were scraped bloody from tripping your way through a dangerous jungle in the dead of night. Your upper back was in the same condition since you’d been wearing a tank top when you decided to grapple with blood-thirsty hounds, and when Din accidentally brushed against your lower back, a small whimper squeezed out between your clenched teeth.

“This rib is probably broken,” the bounty hunter said, and there was a heavy quality to his quiet voice.

“Thought as much,” you grunted, trying to sit up straight without breathing too deeply. “Too bad we don’t have a full bacta tank to soak in.”

“I could always… drop you back off on Tatooine,” Mando muttered. “With the payment that I owe you, of course. Should be enough to pay for a full treatment and then some.”

You froze sitting there in the doorway of his bunk. The Mandalorian wasn’t looking at you, too busy double checking the bandage he’d wrapped over the bacta on your forearm, but you could see how rigid his body was as he awaited your answer.

“Do you… want to drop me back off on Tatooine?” you asked hesitantly, the breath shallow in your lungs. You could hear the child snoring softly in the hammock directly behind your head, and the thought of leaving him opened a dark pit inside you.

And that was nothing to say of the thought of leaving the Mandalorian. Of leaving… Din.

Now that you knew his name, the feelings you had done your best to ignore came surging up to the surface, that little voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

He told you his name. He trusts you. He wants you here. Maybe he wants you for more than just your skills.

You shoved the thoughts away as quickly as they cropped up, but that didn’t stop something small and fragile from unfurling in your chest. You almost wanted to call it hope.

“I—” Mando started, stopped, fidgeted on his crate, and then sighed as he scooted back a little to stretch out his injured leg. “No, I don’t want to do that. You’re a talented mechanic and… good company. I’ve… enjoyed having you on my crew.”

“Oh.” You blushed as the breath whooshed out of your lungs, leaving you feeling lightheaded and buoyant. “T-Thank you. Current circumstances notwithstanding, I’ve enjoyed being on your crew, too. A-And not just for the payment. Seeing new worlds, as dangerous as they are, was something I never thought I’d get to experience. So, even if the price to pay is a few bumps and scrapes, I think that’s a fair deal.”

“You have a skewed idea of ‘fair,’” the Mandalorian chuckled dryly as he reached down beside him, picked up a pair of his gloves, and slipped them back on.

“No kriff,” you snorted, the scar on the nape of your neck tingling. “But it works out in your favor, so I wouldn’t question it too much.”

“Fine.” Din held up his hands, but then he lowered them to his knees and cocked his head at you.

“What?” you asked when he didn’t say anything for a full minute. His gaze made your skin prickle even if you couldn’t see his eyes, and with each passing moment, you grew acutely more and more aware of how dirty and disheveled you looked and felt.

“Nothing,” he said, fingers flexing against his knees. “Just… thank you. Again. For saving me, the kid, the bounty, and the ship.” 

You fidgeted in discomfort. You didn’t know what to do with praise and compliments, having never really received them before, so you shrugged your shoulders as you picked at the bandage on your arm.

“I told you, we’re even,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t feel that way to me,” he argued, and something about his tone told you he wasn’t going to let this go. “So, how about this: after we drop off this bounty with the client, you can pick the next planet we stop on.”

“Really?” Your eyes flicked up to the bounty hunter and widened. He’d never let you pick a destination before. You’d always just been along for the ride.

Mando nodded. “And make a list of parts and stuff you need to keep the ship running. We’ll stock up wherever we stop off next.”

“Okay.” You grinned as your heart did a little jig in your chest, and you stuck out your bacta-wrapped hand to shake on it. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Din Djarin.”

His name rolled off your tongue like a grain of sand spiraling down a dune, picking up momentum as it went, and it sent a shiver of pleasure straight down your spine. You knew you were playing a losing game with your own heart here, but as you stared into Mando’s visor, you also knew there was no stopping yourself now. You would just have to deal with the future heartbreak.  

The Mandalorian tentatively reached out and grasped your fingers in his gloved ones.

“Deal,” he rumbled back.

“Good.” You nodded as a yawn cracked open your jaw, and you reached up to cover your gaping mouth and scratch your nose. “Now, given the client’s rendezvous coordinates, we should have a few days of rest before we reach our destination, and if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to start right now by taking a well-deserved nap.”

You made to stand up, but Din gently placed his hand on your shoulder to keep you seated on the edge of the bunk.

“Take the cot,” he said as he nodded behind you. “I’m going up to the cockpit to send a message to the client anyway.”

“Are you sure?” you murmured around another yawn.

“I’m sure,” he said, but then his gloved fingers were suddenly ghosting over the bridge of your nose. “By the way, you’ve got a little grease right here. Just thought you should know.”

You went cross-eyed as you tried to draw his finger into focus, but when he stepped back, you noticed the fingertips of his glove were shiny, and glancing down at the hand you used to shake his revealed that your palm bore the same black sheen.

“Hey, this is your grease,” you muttered indignantly, but then Din was pressing gently on your shoulder, guiding you to lay back on the cot, and you went willingly.

“Get some rest,” he said, turning off the bunk lights. “We’ll worry about cleaning up later.”

You tried to grumble something, but exhaustion was starting to tug at your limbs and eyelids, and your body unwound bit by bit as you buried your face in the bounty hunter’s pillow with no remorse.

A moment later, Mando’s boots were clomping up the ladder to the cockpit, but he left some of the cargo bay lights on and the door to the bunk open, like he somehow knew you were afraid of the dark.

The beginnings of a smile tugged at your lips, but you spiraled into sleep before you could fully process the thought.

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

A Helping Hand

a/n: It’s been a while since I’ve posted a fic. Ive been working on my health considering how much stress I was under at my old job, but I’m doing much better now. Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this.

This fic is set before Zeta 7 and the reader were dating, and when they were still friends. Set during and before the beginning of The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick series.

In this fic the reader only wants to help.

————-

It was almost time for you to eat again. At times it almost seemed to be more of a chore than a necessity to have a meal or to follow the routine of it, but hunger had led you here. And although there were many other things you might've preferred to do, this was what had to be done at the moment. Anticipatory feelings were lacking as you opened up the fridge; had it been conveniently full of delicious food which didn't need to be put together, and could simply be warmed up, that would have been great, but that was wishful thinking. Of course, you hadn't gone food shopping yet, so your old fridge was bare; eating out was an option, but you already did that for lunch and it didn't feel worth getting properly dressed for.

It had been while you were thinking of a creative way to use elbow pasta and ketchup when a song played through the tiny speakers of your phone; it was a phone call and you didn't have to hesitate to answer; it was from your favorite person; from Rick. You tried not to get too excited whenever he would call, but you couldn't help yourself; hearing his voice alone could make you happy. Pressing the green answer button on your touch screen, you smiled despite his inability to see it. “Hello Rick. How are you?”

“He-hello? I'm um - I'm fine. I hope this - is this a-a good time?”

His usual soft, cheerful voice seemed reluctant, almost shy tonight. You always thought he sounded sweeter over the phone, and it just made you want to tease him a little. Leaning against your kitchen counter, you could not help but laugh. “A good time? It is now. So, what’s up? Other than the ceiling. ”

He chuckled at that and you were relieved he couldn't see you at this moment, for the warmth in your cheeks would take a couple of minutes to recover from. “Gosh," he started, "I-I-I-I-I was just wondering if y-you would like to come over. It’s almost time for dinner and I um - I finished cooking, but…”

“You cooked too much again?”

“Y-yeah.”

"You're going to go through all your groceries that way."

"I-I couldn't help it." he confessed. "This recipe called f-for a certain amount of ingredients, but then a-again I guess it's f-for multiple servings."

You heard him sigh, and the thought of his frowning face came to mind. So, this was simply to invite you to dinner: it didn't matter what he might've called you for; the answer was almost always yes. As of late, Rick had been cooking more than one person could eat at a time; you always did think it was odd that he'd cook in abundance, especially since he lived alone, but he'd blame it on old habits. However, it made you wonder if he was looking for reasons not to eat alone; not that you minded. Interrupting the silence, you commented. “Well, I guess I'll have to help you make it disappear then."

"Huh?" he brightened, "Is that a-a yes?"

"What do you think it means? Yes, that's a yes. Goodness," you giggled. "I'll see you soon.”

You hung up and rushed back upstairs to change. What a silly man you thought. Such a silly…but adorable man, who had so much room for kindness and doubt.

——————

It was lovely to see him, and to listen to what he'd call gossip but was only the latest development of the pigeons which had made a nest in one of his fruit trees. "Y-you gotta see how they've made their nest. Boy, it's - it's fascinating how they used s-some old magazine clippings and hair ties."

Touching his hand lightly, you wondered. "Do you have any pics of them that you can show me?"

With raised brow, he started. “Sh-sh-show you?"

"Yeah," You leaned forward a little, and smiled. "I want to see what you've been telling me about."

Without hesitation, he searched his labcoat pockets and retrieved his phone; scrolling through his gallery until he came across said pictures. "I-I-I-I took these a couple of - of days ago."

Your fingers lightly brushed his palm as you grabbed his phone to glance through the pictures; he had a good eye for angles and lighting, and from the looks of it, the pigeons seemed to be relaxed so he might've fed them first; how nice. "They're so cute. I can’t get over how fluffy they look."

Replacing the phone into his palm, he visibly tensed; your fingers had brushed his palm again. Now, the urge to allow your hand to linger there was strong and the thought of lacing your fingers with his had been tempting, but you did neither. You quickly withdrew, with a new sense of embarrassment over such thoughts. He wouldn't understand how you felt, because he didn't see you that way.

“How do y-y-you like them?”

Hiding behind your water glass, you answered. “Way more than I thought I would.”

_________

Rick was still eating, but not with the same vigor from earlier. You wondered if you had insulted him or something; he had been avoiding direct eye contact for a while. You were no reader of minds, so there was no telling of the feelings inside; of those senses which couldn't be touched. "Rick, is something wrong? Have I….. have I overstayed my welcome and you don't know how to tell me? Is...is that why you won't look at me?"

"N-no, that's not it."

"Then, did I hurt your feelings? I hope not."

He sagged a little in his seat, and he didn't answer, but he shook his head no. You thought back to earlier, and how you had looked at the pictures he took and called them cute, but other than that, you didn't say anything problematic. Was it because you asked? Maybe it wasn't.

It was easy to hurt his feelings being as sensitive as he was, and although it might've been against your better judgment, you reached out and touched the back of his hand. "Please talk to me. I don't know what I did, but I'm so sorry. I don't want you to be upset at me."

With widened eyes, he's gazed at your hand, then back towards you. "No, that’s not th-the problem."

"Then why are you so quiet all of a sudden? It isn't like you."

"It's because I…I'm s-s-sorry I talk so much."

"What do you mean? Where is this coming from?"

"It appeared as though y-you were getting tired of all my talking.” He started in an almost accusatory manner but must've realized how it sounded and continued with more calmness. “Gee, I-I didn't want to sour the evening, s-s-so I thought I should just sh-shut up."

"But I don't want you to do that. I love all your talking."

"R-really?"

His surprise at this pained you. How could he think that you'd tire of it and him? Maybe when you were thinking, he mistook it as disinterest. How could you show him you cared? You did what only seemed natural and squeezed his hand but he stiffened.

You realized that when he didn't answer right away, that the napkin he had been using had been dropped and was now on the floor; a faint blush dusting his cheeks and the tops of his ears. You didn't think that it'd be such a big deal to randomly touch him, but you thought it was sweet that he'd get flustered like that; if he wasn't so shy at times, you'd think there was more to it; if only there was. "It's fun hearing you talk.” You confessed. “I feel as though I have so much I can learn from you. So feel free to talk to me."

The relief that washed over him was palpable and he smiled warmly at this. It made your heart swell, and you withdrew your hand although it appeared that he wouldn't have minded. Still, you didn't want to upset him again with misunderstandings. "Y-you're a really nice person. It's - I'm glad t-to know someone like you."

You were glad too.

____________

"Anyway, it's interesting how they can take one man's trash and turn it into a home, but what could they do if given better materials?"

Taking a drink of water, he managed to recover a little. "I-I bet they could make a-a work of art if given the right materials. Wh-why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know what you were thinking in that brain of yours. Must be interesting, especially with all the things you can come up with."

Yes, you did find the topic of pigeons fascinating but not as much as you found that toothy grin of his inviting. Having finished eating, you listened happily to his delightful little tales and knowings; watching as he'd start eating but then forget his food when he was at the peak of his explanation. He always did seem more cheerful when you were over and had so much to tell you when you were here, but you attributed that to the fact that he didn't have many friends. Though, you didn't mind his need for conversation; rather you enjoyed how random and easy it was to talk with him; his sweetness enriched your soul whenever he was especially happy and attentive in conversation. Handing him a new napkin, you teased. "I'm surprised you haven't made a mini-mansion type birdhouse for them out of whatever spare wood you have in the garage. Unless you already have. I bet it'd be all tricked out with a little warm birdbath and a small mirror so they can check themselves out, fluff their feathers and such."

"Gosh," he sighed, waving his fork a little as he ruminated on his thoughts before the beginnings of a boyish smile appeared on his lips. "did I already tell y-you about that?"

"No," you giggled; happy that your assumptions weren't farfetched. "but I took a wild guess."

He was that kind of guy after all; soft-hearted and fond of the living things around him; it was one of the many qualities that endeared him to you. You wished you could've taken part in its construction. "If you had told me sooner," you mentioned. "I would have helped. I could've helped painting it or something."

"Gosh, I thought y-you had other things to do so I…it wasn't a-a big deal. It was simply an um - an old man's hobby."

"It's just….it sounded like fun. I know it might not mean much saying this, but I would've enjoyed spending that time with you. Working side by side and discussing little details about it. I would…. You see, I love spending time with you."

It was only after you had said all that, in which you realized how easy it would've been to misconstrued. Sitting there, you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands; wondering what was with you these days. Since when was it okay to get bold and be frank like that? Every so often, when you did say such things, you saw, for fractions of moments, confusion and more….as though he ought to say something; there were no tears and there never was, but you thought he seemed hurt; glassy-eyed and lost. Studying you, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it again; preferring to examine his napkin and tableware then to continue that thought.

He did this often, especially when you surprised him; for better or worse. Perhaps he didn't want to appear foolish, but whatever he could've said was interrupted by your sudden movement. You reached over for his empty dish and went over to the sink to begin on the dishes. However, he jumped up and insisted that you needn't help to clean, snapping out of whatever mood which might've overcome him a moment ago. You thought it was the least you could do; if you had been a decent cook you would've offered a meal in return, but it wasn't likely that it was going to happen. "Rick, you cooked so I might as well help you clean."

"Gosh, y-you don't have to do that. I was the one that invited you over. As th-the host, it's my responsibility."

"That may be true," you reasoned, feeling responsible for him in some way. "but you're always doing stuff for me, so I thought I'd stay and help for a bit."

"Huh? Wh-what?"

"Yeah. I mean what good are friends if you can't put them to work every so often? Besides," you quieted a bit as you scrubbed away at the baking pan. "I want to help you."

It's not like you were using this as an excuse to stay a little longer now. Right? Well, just a little. It was still early and you didn't want to go home yet. Grabbing a kitchen towel, he chuckled lightly. "Well, I-I guess I'll help y-you dry."

Standing beside you, his warmth radiated off him, and from this close, you could smell spices, a hint of vanilla, and motor oil? Perhaps it was the scent of his house, but it was comforting. Good thing you had the excuse of concentrating on scrubbing because otherwise, it would've been obvious on how affected you were by him.

_______

After you finished wiping down the counters, you checked the time and thought you'd be better off heading on home. Grabbing your keys you were ready to say goodbye, but he followed you to the door. "Are y-y-you going?"

Without facing him, you nodded. "I am."

"Then I'll walk y-you home."

"Okay."

In the past, you had told him that it wasn't necessary since you lived so close, but you came to enjoy those small moments of kindness; of his sincere care for your well-being that made the world a slightly easier place to live. The walk didn't take long since you only lived a few doors down, but it was lovely nonetheless. "Thank you for the food. It was really good."

Scratching the back of his neck, he answered. "I-I hoped you would. I um - I enjoyed y-your company."

"Me too."

You played with your keys a little, wondering why you should be so nervous. It's not like you two were dating; it's not like he'd even consider the possibility, but it was moments like this that made you hope and contemplate if you should just tell him. It was always on tip of your tongue; the words which begged to be said, but you weren't feeling brave yet. You needed more time; just enough to be ready for a change. There was no rush, but logic and feelings didn't coincide. "Rick," you started, unsure of what you were doing. "can I um….can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes! Of c-course. What's on y-your mind?"

Think of something you thought. "You'd tell me if you needed help, wouldn't you? I'm not talking about what we did this evening, but stuff that….like if you need help with your chores or something. I know you get busy sometimes and I'd hate it if you weren't all caught up on the latest news about your pigeons or if there were dishes that needed washing."

"Gosh, I-I thought I was doing f-fine with all that," he confessed. "but it - I'll be sure t-to let you know."

"Good, that's...that's good because I'm always happy to help you."

Gathering whatever foolishness which laid at the pit of your stomach and daydreams, you rested a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. "Rick, I'd do almost about anything for you….that is…if that's….. that is what friends are for, right? At least that's what I think."

Though, was that what you thought? Wasn't this just a roundabout way of saying you wanted to be around him more? Oh, if only he could understand. You knew it wasn't right to mislead him, but he never reacted the way you thought he should.

Glancing down at where your hand still laid, a wistful, almost sad quality passed across his stormy eyes before continuing. "Boy, th-that's thoughtful," he began, though as easily as a summer sky could change so did his words. "but I-I wouldn't want t-to bother you or take up your time with anything like that."

"That's the thing, it wouldn't be a bother at all."

This is where you thought you'd messed up, but you couldn't seem to keep quiet when he was involved. It felt as though you were trying to monopolize your way into spending more time with him; as though you were desperate to get him to be around you. "I mean, as a writer, I can just do my job whenever. So, you don't have to hesitate."

That familiar flit of sadness passed over his eyes again and you thought that maybe he pitied you because all you had in the world was yourself and a house you simply inherited. You didn't want to tell him you were lonely, because if you did, you didn't want him to think that it was the only reason you spent time with him; it'd break your heart if you hurt this sensitive creature, but you couldn't help yourself; it was your selfishness talking. True, you were making this more complicated than it had to be, but you didn't know how to fix that yet. "I just…I don't mind being around you more and hanging out. That's all."

Although, it might've not been as complicated after all for it didn't take much for him to lift up your moods. All he had to do was smile, and to pull you into his arms for a big hug. Did he know?

"Rick?"

Squeezing you a fraction tighter, he confessed. "Gee, it's - I-I appreciate your worrying a-about me," he started, his soft, warm voice brushing past your ear and giving you goosebumps. "but I can't - can't help but wonder why y-you look as though you could use a friend right now. Are you al-alright? Did y-you want t-t-to talk about it?"

Your fingers dug into the worn fabric of his sweater and you wanted to cry because he was so devastatingly kind, and you knew in that one moment it didn't matter how long you held on to him; he'd let you hold him for as long as you needed because he was great at empathizing. Little did he know it unraveled your heart every time. "You're right Rick, I do need a friend. I…I need...."

You; the word which refused to leave your mouth. His assumption filled in the blank. "You probably miss your dad on nights like this huh? It's hard t-to go home to an empty house."

That was partly true. "Mhm."

Rubbing your back, he sighed. "Th-there there. Everything is going t-t-to be alright."

Is it? Would it be alright? No, he didn't know or if he did, he ignored it. Though, like this, you could almost believe there was more to this relationship than… then being good friends.

With your face hidden in the softness of his sweater, held so sure and firm, with such strength that seemed unnatural for one his age, he was as you thought of him; as a man you held in the highest regard, beyond reason or doubt that you could love if…if it was appropriate. Why couldn't he stay that friend that you needed and why did you wish for more than this? Was this to be your punishment? To adore someone who made you happy but couldn't be more than society should allow?

"Will I be alright?" you confessed more to yourself than to him.

Squeezing you a fraction tighter, you felt him nod. "Y-you're young, so y-you will be."

That's right, you were young; too young for him. While you had been ready to beat yourself up for it, he continued in a voice that was above a whisper. "I'd like t-t-to help you if I can but only if y-you want me to. Is that o-okay? Do you want me t-to?"

You wanted so much, but more than anything you wanted what he was willing to give. Rubbing his back in a similar, soothing motion, you softened. "Please do."

Another sigh escaped him, but he continued to rub your back; the warmth of his hands and sounds of his breathing making you a little sleepy. You hadn't been checking the time, but you were sure that it had been a while. What you hadn't been sure of was what the neighbors were going to think if they saw you two in such a warm embrace at this time of the evening or anytime for that matter; you didn't care because this felt right. It was as though you could melt into him with how comforting it was. Who knows how long you must've held onto him, but eventually you heard him say softly, albeit oddly disappointed. "It's getting late and I-I should let you go. It's…and you…but y-you can always call me if you - if you can't sleep."

Glancing up at him, you wondered why it ever had to end. However, with reluctance, you pulled away, but only enough so that you could hold him a little longer. "You're right. I…I should go to bed. Thank you for the lovely evening, my wonderful… my friend."

And with that, you released your hold on him. However, if you hadn't known any better, the look he gave you was softer than his usual ones. Was…no…it must've been nothing. A trick of the dim porch light. Half hidden by the dark, he confessed. "Thank you f-for being my - for being my friend. It makes me happy t-to have you around. I'll um - I'll be sure t-to make myself more available to you if you need me."

Your heart ached with half affection, half guilt. You really were asking for so much you didn't deserve. "Oh Rick, I'd appreciate that."

For a quick second, you saw him stretch out his hand but just as quickly let it fall back to his side. Then, he stepped back and reminded you. "Don't forget t-to lock the door."

"I won't."

You opened your front door, and smiled up at him from your doorway, trying to channel all that you felt in a single word; knowing that was all you could do for now. "Goodnight."

Softening, he turned away quickly, mostly hidden in the darkness, and waved. "D-don't let th-the bed bugs bite."

Closing the door behind you, you barely made it to the couch before you began to cry. What were you thinking? Playing around with a lonely man's feelings and possibly confusing him. Could you ever get over him? Would your heart let you?

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you thought back to only minutes ago when you were secure in his arms, and you felt as though you belonged to him. And how your blouse smelled like him now or that his care for you was almost enough. Though, were his actions like that of a parent? You could only wonder. Though, if you couldn't get over him, couldn't you help change his mind?

When you had calmed a little and had time to change and get a drink of water, you found that you still weren't sleepy. It was late but before you could give it much forethought, you dialed his number and he picked up right away. "C-can't sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Me either. I um - I was thinking a-about what you said about th-the birdhouse. While it is built, and I'd painted it, I would be happy t-t-to have you over when you're available and help me make it pretty. Gosh, it's - it's only if you want to."

"That would be lovely. Too bad it's late because I would've come over now if you'd asked."

"Y-you see, that wouldn't um - tomorrow would be better."

"What's the matter? A little sleepover never hurt anybody." You teased.

Right away you heard a clatter and then a crack. Did he drop his phone?

"Rick? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I-I-I-I just - my phone had fallen."

"I see. Sorry for the bad joke."

“It's o-okay. Just surprised me is -is all.”

A chair scraped the floor, and you heard the click of either a pen or a small appliance. "I-I don't think I'll be able to sleep t-tonight but I won't keep you up with m-my thoughts. It'd get kind of boring for you."

"I mean, I am tired, but I don't mind listening to you for a while. Could you just talk? It can be about anything."

He sighed into the phone, and you heard paper. Perhaps he was flipping through a book. “I-I was thinking of reading, but my eyes are a-a bit tired.”

“When you do read, do you only read nonfiction?”

“I-I like to read a little bit of everything.”

“You do? Well, how convenient. I happen to have a bunch of books and if you'd ever like to borrow any of them, you're free to do so.”

“Boy, I'll have to take a-a look the next time I’m over. Hey, um - I do have a-a story you might enjoy. It has t-t-to do with how I came to have jasmine in my backyard. Would you like t-to hear it?”

Grabbing a pillow, you nodded. “Yes, I really would. Though, tell it slowly so that I don't miss a thing.”

With a chuckle, he began to explain, and you placed the phone beside you; careful as to not drop it as his sing-song voice twisted and curled about you in your lonely room.

Fin

[bongugourokishima33]

Look So Good | Bakugou Katsuki

A/N: I hope you liked my first post! I promise I’ll be more descriptive and tag better, new format so I’m still trying to figure out how to properly use Tumblr :p  

Warning: Sensual dancing, bakugou’s a dancer?! 

Summary: You were always someone Bakuogu wanted but could never get, after messing around a few times, he finally understood how to speak your language, and soon you will be his~

Word Count: 1,917

“Ooh, you be lookin' so good, I've been keepin' my cool, I be actin' brand new wit' ya-” 

Your hands slid up your legs sensually as you were bent over, slowly lifting up to the beat. Rolling your upper part matching the rhythm, watching yourself in the mirror of the dance studio. 

“Ooh, you be lookin' so good, I be actin' brand new, I've been keepin' my cool wit' ya, hey.”

Pausing the music for better concentration, you thought of your next move that would flow perfectly with this chorus. considering you had a competition coming up next month you wanted to win, so this dance had to be perfect 

“Why don’t we take a break.” Kirishima said sitting on the floor covered in sweat as he held the water bottle in his right, and a hand towel in his left. 

“Shima this is important to me, it needs to be perfect.” You groaned trying to catch your breath as you placed your hands on your hips. Kirishima wasn’t just your voluntary dance partner but also one of your best friends. He knows how important this is to you, but considering how you guys have been at this since 8 o’clock this morning, he’s pooped. 

“Y/N, It’s already noon, I’m starving.” He whined chugging the water until the bottle was half empty. 

“Just help me fix this and then we can go eat, I don’t like these moves but I don’t know what to do.” You huffed thoroughly frustrated at how you didn’t like this one part of the dance. 

“I’m not good at dance stuff, I’m only this good because you taught me.” He laughed getting up after placing the stuff on the ground beside him and walked up to your side taking in a deep breath. 

“Okay, well it’s a duet... it’s supposed to be powerful and sexual right?” You nodded staring at him through the mirror as you watched him stand behind you. 

“Well I saw this in a video on youtube, but we can slow it down and make it more sensual.” He placed his hand on your back. 

“When you bend down, and move your hand up your leg-.” You did what he said, as his hand stayed on your back. 

“Come up slowly, I’ll move m hand here- and then you move this way-.” After another painful hour of trying out a different move for this chorus you both agreed that you liked the new idea better and called it a day and grabbed your stuff leaving the studio. 

Dancing was a passion of yours that was something you wanted to be more than a hero, even though your quirk was something to be classified hero material. To obey your parents wishes you went to UA for them, but still try your best to continue your passionate love for dance. 

“Don’t worry Y/N, were gonna win!” Kirishima cheered as we walked into the dorms, seeing some of your classmates hanging out in the lounge are. Your eyes landed on crimson eyes that stared daggers back at yours. 

“You’re late, damn it I’m starving!” Bakugou roared walking up to him with his hands in his pockets. 

“Sorry man, Y/N made me stay longer.” He laughed scratching the back of his head. 

“I should have just ate with out you.” He grumbled glancing at you one more time, scanning you from head to toe. He made your skin tingle and your heart skip a beat. Besides his nasty attitude Bakugou was someone you considered your type, he’s sexy, incredibly strong and smart. 

“Don’t tell me you were struggling with dancing?!” He scoffed, his tone seeping into a condescending one. You glared at him, walking away before he opened up his mouth to say stuff that could piss you off about dancing. He always teased you, acting like he could do anything close to the stuff you do. 

“Ha, did I piss the little princess off?” A smirk formed against Bakugou’s lips making you stop dead in your tracks, turning on your heels to meet the ash blondes grin. 

“You think dancing is easy?” You rose a brow trying to hold back your scoff. 

“I don’t think it’s easy, I know it is.” Nibbling on your bottom lip to hold back the words you wanna say to him you glanced at Kirishima who sighed shaking his head, staying out of it. 

“Alright if you think it’s so easy then why don’t you try dancing Kirishima’s part in my dance routine.” The boost of confidence you got from within spilled out as you got closer but the closer you got the more you realized how much taller he was from you as he glared at your bravery. 

“Bring it you damn extra.” His malicious expression. 

You weren’t an amateur you were considered a performer, a top dancer form the studio you go to. Trying not to let his snarky remarks reheat the fire in your belly you headed to your room to clean up and change. 

~ 

“Wow that was amazing guy! Kirishima I didn’t know you could dance!” Mina cheered, along with Ochaco and Toru. 

“Ah. thanks guys haha.” Smiling bashfully at their comment, Kirishima looked at you with a smirk of confidence, knowing that they were going to wow the judges at the competition. 

“Why did you guys come!” Annoyed Bakugou glared at the group as they shrugged. 

“I wanted to see Y/N’s dance, they have been working for weeks on it I mean that was just incredible.” Toru said gushing over how hot it was resting on Jiro who was controlling the music. 

“Awh, are you scared of a little crowd? Or scared that there will be an audience watching to see that what I just did wasn’t luck but skill.” You used the back of your hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead. Knowing that you should be careful how far you push his buttons, you ignored your subconscious and continued to pick and poke at him. 

Bakugou was too prideful to back down from a challenge regardless of the situation, and considering he started it he definitely wasn’t backing down, he was going to make you eat those words, and then some. 

The way you moved your body made it impossible to peel his eyes away, how toned and smooth your legs looked as you touched them, and lifted them showing off your flexibility. The way he saw your chest heaving up and down when you were catching your breath, a thin layer of sweat coating your chest as your tank top hugged your body tightly.

How your can pop your back out and make your ass, your voluptuous back side poke out and jiggle. It drove him crazy, but it wasn’t the first time he’s seen you move like that, remembering back to days the two of you slipped away somewhere quiet and had a little fun. You were fucking beautiful, a goddess with moves so tranquil and alluring he could watch you on repeat all day. 

Getting up without any hesitation he walked up to you shoving Kirishima over, everyone shocked that he accepted the challenge. Walking over to everyone he took the phone from Jiro smiling letting her know she got it.  

Pulling you closer to himself, Bakugou placed his hands on your side, your back facing everyone. ‘Zshhoom’ the sound of your heart racing never being this close to him but a few times in your dreams when you stayed up all night thinking about him. 

“Alright Bakugou let’s see if you were watching carefully.” Yelled Kirishima as he got the music ready. 

“There’s no way you memorized all of that.” You said baffled at how confident he was. 

“Wanna bet.” He mumbled in your ear pulling you closer initiating for you to wrap your arms around his neck, getting into the starting pose you had earlier. You stared up at him, feeling nervous that there was an slight chance he would win, but there was no way, it was impossible, I mean you knew he was incredible, he had talent for cooking, he could fight, and he knew how to play the drums but dancing wasn’t like any of those. 

“You’re on.” Licking your lips in regret as the words slipped out your mouth like the wind does through trees. He smirked scanning your body one last time, before licking his lips. He didn’t have to say what the conditions were, you already knew them, it was the same like long before, part of you out of excitement hoped he would win, but your competitive side pushed those lewd thoughts away once the music started played. 

“Ooh, you be lookin' so good, I've been keepin' my cool, I be actin' brand new wit' ya”

Slowly moving your hips to the beat, you felt his hands quide you as you went down slightly then came back up, hr spun you around placing his hand on your back. 

“Ooh, you be lookin' so good, I be actin' brand new, I've been keepin' my cool wit' ya, hey”

Bending forward, as you stuck your leg out to the side, you ran your hand up your leg slowly coming back up, swaying your back side gently against him. After bringing you back up he ran his hands up your side, raising your arms in the process. 

“Top down, let me look in your eyes, (Get you somebody to roll the dice with), I know every second of yours is all mine, Get you somebody you don't think twice with)”

Dropping down into the slips once Bakugou held your hands in his, he helped lowered you with ease. Before everyone was watching excited, but now everyone’s eyes were watching your every movement with Bakugou. The tension and passion that came from you both like you two were the only ones in the room made everyone’s jaw drop to the performance. 

Pulling you back up, he move in sync with you as you both were in rhythm hitting each move perfectly in time with the beat. The song was coming to the last chorus, only being almost two minutes long. 

“I know what to do with my love if it's right, (Get you somebody to roll the dice with)”

Gripping your perfectly sculpted body into his hands, he lifted you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist, his palms laying flat against your back lowering you as you bent backwards, both of you dipping low to the beat. slipping off him to finish with one leg in the air as he held it up the song cut. 

“Omg that was even better than the first time!” Mina gasped. 

“Yeah talk about passion!” Toru giggled looking at Kirishima. 

“You need to be more passionate like that, and you will totally win for sure!” Kirishima sighed but listened to the feedback anyways. 

“Hold on are we just going to ignore the fact that Bakugou can dance!?” Jiro exclaimed taken back by what she just saw. 

Letting your leg down slowly he whispered into your ear swiftly before moving away from you, and even though he spoke quietly you heard him loud and clear. 

“Looks like I won kitten, you better be in my fucking room before I do.” Melting away at his tone you nodded smiling softly to yourself as he headed over to Kirishima, he was giving you a few minutes to get a head starts. 

[geraskier-hell]

Hi, new follower here. Your writing is amazing! For the smut prompt if you're still doing it: "Could he make you feel as good as I do?" Or "We're... just friends" OR BOTH ily thanks 💜

Thank you for the prompt! Sorry it took me a while to write it, I was focusing on a fic for my other fandom, but here’s a sweet and slightly angsty post ep 6 one shot (am I too late for this??)

Read here or on AO3

“Thank you, thank you very much,” Jaskier says, bowing to the people clapping at him. “It’s been a pleasure singing for you tonight, it truly has, but it’s time for me to rest my voice. One has to take great care of it if he doesn’t want to sound like a frog.” 

Some people laugh, other whine in protest, someone even dares to sound relieved, but Jaskier tilts his head once more and stuffs in his pockets what the audience has thrown at him, be it coin or food. He has sung one of his most popular ballads tonight, but he feels his repertoire is lacking something more adventurous, a song that would make everyone sit on the edge of their seats, enthralling them with incredible perils and great loves. He doesn’t have anything new to sing about, however. The last time he tried to get some new material, it just ended up in a heartbreak. 

He walks to the counter of the tavern where he sits to drink a mug of ale. The bitter taste spreads in his mouth and fills his chest, reinvigorating him after his show. There is nothing better than a good cup of ale after a successful performance. Well, there actually is, or was, but not right now, not anymore. For this evening he has to settle for yet another night spent with a fellow bard, one that is bad both as a singer and in bed. 

As he drinks his beer, he assists at the performance of the man that has taken his place on the stage. No butterflies, no sparkles of excitement light in his chest as he watches the guy he’s been sleeping with for the past couple of nights. He is plain, nothing about him really stands out, no scars or brooding frown, but ever since the dragon accident, Jaskier hasn’t been able to sleep by himself. He needs the company, needs someone to distract him from the hole in his chest and to stop his mind from thinking about the bitter words that broke his heart. 

When the performance thankfully ends - the audience isn’t as enthusiastic about it as when Jaskier was singing - the bard joins the brunet at the counter, ordering something to drink too. 

“Tonight has been a success, hasn't it?” he asks. “People in this village have a fantastic taste.” 

“Do they now?” Jaskier retorts, very much doubting his partner’s judgement. 

“Yes, we’ve been coming here for a few days now, and everyone is still enjoying our songs.” 

“True.” 

Jaskier doesn’t feel like talking right now, doesn't really feel like doing anything but think about the past. The idea of needing new songs has re-opened an old wound not completely healed yet. It has been only a few months since all his hopes and dreams have been crushed, and it’s too soon to move on even for him. 

“I’m heading back,” he says, pushing the stool back and standing up.

“Wait, I’m coming too. I’m done here.” 

Jaskier shrugs and pays for his ale, taking his lute before heading outside. It’s a beautiful night, the full moon is out, and there’s no need for other sources of light to see the street ahead. Maybe he could sing yet another ballad about it, the great moon in love with the sun, melting under its fiery touch. Jaskier shakes his head; he really has hit the bottom of the barrel if he’s thinking about writing something like that. 

He is walking down the streets to get to his room, his fellow bard chatting away about their show, when a shadow moves in an alley near them. The narrow path is too dark for him to be certain of it, the moonlight struggles to reach it, but Jaskier is almost sure he has seen something move there. A drunkard looking for a place to throw up in, maybe, or a thief ready to steal their hard-earned money. It could be anything really, so Jaskier picks up the pace, not wanting to find out what it actually is. This is not the adventure he needs for his ballad. 

Even his partner is quiet now, and they hurry to the inn, walking down the street illuminated by the moonlight. It is because of that light that Jaskier sees him. He’s leaning against a wall, arms crossed and sword peeking out from behind his shoulder. He knows who he is even before the golden eyes shine in the dark and his figure stands tall in front of him. 

“What’s wrong?” his fellow bard asks when Jaskier stops in the middle of the road. 

“I… I think I forgot something at the tavern,” the brunet mutters, struggling to find enough control to give him a coherent reply. 

The figure moves away from the wall and walks towards him before Jaskier has made a step forward. He is paralysed on the spot, torn between staying and running away. He wants to yell, cry, pretend to be fine, but he can’t do anything, he can just stare as the hooded man now comes into full view. 

“Who are you and what do you want?” Jaskier’s friend asks in an accusing tone. 

The newcomer only spares him a glance, but his eyes are soon on Jaskier again. “Who is this?” 

“We’re… just friends.” 

Why is he so reluctant to tell him the truth? 

The man hums, or better, scoffs and the disgusted look on his face is what finally breaks the spell that has turned Jaskier mute. 

“What do you want, Geralt?” he spits out. “I thought you didn’t want me around, and I certainly don’t want to see you right now, so just move along. What I do with my life now is none of your concern.” 

“I want to talk,” Geralt replies, unfazed by Jaskier’s words. 

“You want to talk,” Jaskier snorts. “Well, I don’t want to. Goodbye.”

Jaskier makes a move to walk past him, but Geralt holds his arm. “Please.” 

A hint of remorse finally shines in his eyes under the moonlight, and Jaskier doesn’t find it in himself to push him away anymore. 

“Just five minutes.” 

“Alone,” Geralt says, glancing at the man with them. 

“Go on ahead, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done with him,” Jaskier tells his friend. 

“Are you sure? He looks suspicious.” 

“It’s all good, we used to be good friends,” Jaskier says in a bitter tone. 

The bard still examines Geralt, but he then does as Jaskier has told him. 

“This way,” Geralt says once they’re alone. 

Jaskier is still hesitant and hurt, still mad at the witcher for the way he treated him, but he can’t help but give in. Part of him wants to know what he has to say, even hopes for an apology and that’s the only thing that makes his feet move when Geralt walks back into the centre of the village. 

They end up at a different tavern than before, one less crowded and cheerful, and they sit in a corner at the back, away from the rest of the patrons. Geralt doesn't speak for a while, and Jaskier certainly doesn't want to break the silence, so they both drink their beers without uttering a word. 

Geralt hasn’t changed at all, he never really did, so it’s easy for Jaskier’s mind to get lost down memory lane. All those years spent together thrown away like that, all the unspoken feelings between them, the ushered nights, and endless longing. Jaskier hasn’t forgotten any of it, and maybe Geralt hasn’t either, at least that’s what the most hopeful part of Jaskier tells himself. 

“Why are you here, Geralt?” Jaskier finally asks. 

Geralt doesn’t look up from the beer for a few seconds, but when he eventually does, his expression is unreadable. 

“I wanted to know how you were doing.” 

“I’m doing fantastic,” Jaskier scoffs. “Just peachy, I couldn't dream of anything better.” 

“Jaskier.” 

“You yell at me like that and then have the courage to come here to ask how I’m doing? I should have known better than to speak with you again.” 

Jaskier is about to stand up, tired and feeling like an idiot, but Geralt stops him, looking at him with more honest eyes. 

“Stay.” 

“Why are you here?” Jaskier repeats, hurt. 

“I came to see how you were doing.” Jaskier scoffs again, but Geralt is still holding his arm, so he can’t move. “I came to see if your life was better without me, or if it wasn’t.” 

Jaskier frowns in confusion, but when Geralt mimics for him to sit down again, he does it. 

“I think I owe you an apology for what I said,” the witcher surprises him. “I didn’t really mean it, I was mad at the whole ordeal that happened that day.” 

“You still chose to be a dick.” 

“I know, and… I’m sorry, for pushing you away and leaving you behind.” Geralt grips the handle of the mug tighter before adding, “Travelling doesn’t feel the same without you.” 

Jaskier sighs, taking a big gulp from his cup. “So you’re telling me I’ve spent all those nights writing tear-jerking ballads for nothing?” 

“You had the material you needed for your songs.” 

“I want adventures, great loves, and other people’s heartbreak, not my own, it really sucked.” 

Geralt snorts, hiding his smile behind his cup. It’s familiar and comfortable, and Jaskier can’t help the way his heart finally starts beating again. 

“You really broke my heart back there, you know?” he says. 

Geralt stops drinking, looking more sombre. “Not just yours.” 

Jaskier stares at him, doubting his own hearing, but he has seen Geralt’s lips move and the tavern isn’t loud enough for him to have misheard anything. The witcher has really said what he has been dying to hear for so long, and now that he’s sure of it, all his anger is slowly subduing, replaced by a sweet, familiar feeling. 

“Where are you sleeping?” he asks. “Do you have a room?” 

Geralt shakes his head. “I’ve just arrived.” 

“Shit. We can’t use mine either.” 

Geralt’s face darkens at the comment, and he suddenly stands up. “Wait here.” 

“What are you doing?” Jaskier asks, but the witcher is already gone. He sees him speak with the owner of the tavern, sliding a few coins in his hand, and then he’s back. 

“We have a room here.” 

“That eager, huh?” Jaskier says, standing up. “Lead the way then.” 

Behind his confidence, there is nervousness and hesitation. It isn’t the first time they end up in bed together, it happened almost regularly when they used to travel together, but Geralt was never this open, never this impatient, and once again Jaskier finds himself wishing for an end to his tormenting yearning. 

They get undressed as soon as the door closes behind them, and then Geralt is pushing Jaskier on the bed, covering him in kisses and bite marks that have the bard moan in less than a minute. He has been without Geralt’s touch for so long that now he just wants to comply and satisfy that hunger that no one has been able to subdue. Only Geralt could fill his heart like that, could put back in its place the missing piece he lost that day on the mountain, and only he has the power to unravel him like this. 

Urgency and care exude from Geralt’s movements, his fingers work fast on Jaskier’s hole and his tongue hungrily laps at his cock, wrapping Jaskier in a wet tightness that has him already beg for more. He whines while pushing down on Geralt’s hand and easily slides on his tongue, feeling so good the rest of the world doesn’t exist anymore. He runs his hands in Geralt's white hair, he has missed its rough texture, has missed tugging at it while Geralt blows him. 

“Geralt,” he moans, biting his lip. 

The witcher hums and doubles his efforts, taking Jaskier dangerously close to the edge, but just as he feels himself lose control, Geralt moves away and gives him the time to breathe. He doesn’t need time, however, just needs Geralt inside as soon as possible, so he ushers him between his legs and kisses him while Geralt starts to move his hips. 

He feels so good and familiar he almost sobs on his lips. He has undeniably missed all of this, but Geralt has too. He tries to be caring and careful, cold even, but the way he’s holding him is too desperate, too needy, as if trying to make sure he’s actually there. Jaskier reassures him with his kiss and touch, roaming his back and gliding his tongue on his, mapping what he once knew so well and relishing in the intoxicating feeling that is Geralt. 

They don’t waste time before moving in unison, Geralt fucking Jaskier hard and the bard meeting his every thrust. Their mouths still search for each other, but now their kisses are sloppy and messy, saliva dripping down Jaskier’s chin while they both pant in their need. Geralt isn’t gentle nor slow, his fingers are digging in Jaskier’s hips and his teeth often sink into his skin, but that’s how Jaskier likes it; he likes Geralt leaving his mark on him for everyone to see. 

"Could he make you feel as good as I do?" the witcher groans, catching Jaskier off guard. He rarely showed his possessive side in the past, especially since they weren’t a thing, but the rare times he did, it always made Jaskier’s heart race as it’s doing right now. 

“Why? You jealous?” 

Geralt grunts and picks up the pace, hitting Jaskier’s sweet spot with all his force. The movement takes Jaskier's breath away and he loudly moans, throwing his head on the pillow and pulling hard at Geralt’s hair. The witcher presses a kiss on his neck and then sinks his teeth into it. The gesture only makes Jaskier smirk, and confesses what Geralt hasn’t admitted yet. 

It’s only a matter of minutes before Jaskier feels himself close to his orgasm. His hard cock is leaking precum on his stomach and his hole clamps down around Geralt, shivers running up his spine every time he does so. He wraps a hand around his length, thumbing its head and spreading the pearlescent fluid down it before stroking himself. 

Geralt groans, his brows furrow and his hips get faster. He never misses his aim, abusing Jaskier’s prostate to the point it’s uncomfortable, but it’s also so good the bard has a few tears in his eyes. He jerks himself off faster and faster, taking Geralt down for a final kiss as he comes all over himself. Geralt fucks him through it, but as Jaskier twitches around him, his hips stutter and with one last deep thrust, he comes too. 

Afterwards, Jaskier is too tired and sore to move. He hasn’t had such a good fuck in months, and he bathes in the sweet afterglow that settles on him. Geralt isn’t moving either, he’s resting with one arm behind his head, his chest hair sweaty and as soft to the touch as Jaskier remembers. He caress it, twisting it between his fingers before resting his head on top of it. 

Geralt is almost hesitant when he wraps his free arm around the bard’s middle, but Jaskier solves the doubt for him, forcing him to hug him.  

“When are you leaving?” he asks, drawing circles on Geralt’s chest. 

“I don’t know.” 

“I’m coming too?” It comes out more as a question than a statement; Jaskier still hasn’t forgotten the witcher’s words on the mountain. 

“You are. I’m not leaving you behind anymore,” Geralt replies, and this time there is no hesitation, only a promise that he seals with a kiss.

[silver-wield]

On Edge

As the city of Edge expanded out and around them, Cloud and Tifa spend their days building up both Seventh Heaven and Strife Delivery Service. It was hard work and an occasional thankless task, but they persisted because it was also a labour of love.

After Barret left on his quest to find purpose in his life, leaving Marlene in their care, things quietened down for the longest time, until Cloud brought home a young boy called Denzel he'd found wandering around the ruins of Aerith's church. He'd contracted Geostigma, a fatal and highly contagious disease, but that didn't stop Tifa from welcoming him into their home.

A few nights after Denzel's arrival during a slow point in service, Tifa overheard a few locals talking about a shady network, a black market, that seemed to appear from nowhere. The person pulling the strings had everyone at their beck and call and no one could explain how. Standing at the far end of the bar, pretending to rinse a glass out, Tifa's eyes widened as she heard a name she thought she'd never hear again. Don Corneo? She glanced at the two barflies from the corner of her eye. Labourers, the pair, they came in at the end of every week to celebrate a job well done. Reliable sorts, so she knew she could trust what they said. Wonder if Cloud knows? She looked at the clock. He'll be back soon. With a nod to herself that it could wait until she saw him in person, Tifa turned back to serve her customers with a warm smile and cold drinks.

~*~*~

“Hey, Cloud! You're back!” Denzel beamed up at him, as Cloud came through the doors.

Tifa came out from behind the bar carrying four plates. “Just in time for dinner,” she said to him. “Everybody wash up first.” She looked from Cloud to Denzel and then Marlene, who nodded. As Cloud passed her, she added, “There's something we need to talk about, but not with the kids around.”

Cloud paused and frowned. “Okay...”

Head tilting as she watched him go, Tifa also frowned. He sounded worried. Does he know about Corneo already? Maybe I shouldn't bring it up. I'm sure Cloud can handle it. Deciding not to poke a hornet's nest when she didn't need to, Tifa put the dinner down and went to grab cutlery.

Dinner passed in a haze of pleasant chatter about everyone's day. Denzel asked Cloud as many questions about work as he could think of, but often his one word answers weren't enough so Tifa filled in the blanks. Marlene showed Cloud her arithmetic book and bragged about becoming an accounts clerk for the bar.

“You've got a patient teacher,” he said to her, looking at Tifa.

“Only sometimes,” she replied in a teasing tone.

Cloud ducked his head a little and said, “Hoo boy.”

After dinner, Denzel felt well enough to play outside for a while, so he and Marlene went out with strict instructions to return before the street lights came on.

Cloud gathered up the empty plates and took them over to the sink where Tifa already had the water running. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Lost in thought, it took a moment for Tifa to hear his question. Then, she glanced up at him. “Hmm? Oh, it's nothing now.”

Cloud's brow creased as he began to pout. “Right...” He put the plates in the sink and turned away. “Guess I'll be in the office.”

Is he upset? “Cloud?” Tifa put her hand on his upper arm, stopping him from leaving. “Is something wrong?”

Cloud shook his head. “No. It's just I thought you wanted to talk and now you don't. It's fine.”

It doesn't sound fine. Sighing, Tifa took a step closer to him and laid her forehead against his back. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

Cloud placed his hand over Tifa's. “It's fine. I'm not upset.” He fell silent for a long moment, then drew in a deeper breath before saying, “If something's wrong you can rely on me. You're not in this alone.”

Tifa smiled and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I know.”

“Then, tell me what's the matter?”

Chuckling, she realised some wires crossed in their conversation. We can work on that. Moving around to face him, Tifa said, “It wasn't anything the matter with me. I heard Don Corneo's still alive and I was going to ask you about it, but then I thought what if you were already handling it?” She bowed her head, adding, “I didn't want to assume you hadn't heard. You're out in the world more than I am.” Waiting in silence to see what Cloud would say, Tifa was surprised when he put both hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him. “Huh? You're smiling?”

“Doesn't matter,” he replied, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. “I hadn't heard about Corneo,” he continued, speaking in a low voice, “but I can deal him if you want.”

Would he eventually bother them? Tifa wasn't sure. He only came after Avalanche because Shinra posted a reward. If the rumours were true, only the Turks and a few loyal administrative staff remained. Reeve reappropriated much of the company and turned it into the WRO: the World Regenesis Organisation, dedicated to protecting and preserving the planet and its people. But what about the regular people down on the ground? The WRO's focus is rebuilding. Should we really leave a threat like Corneo running around without check? “I don't know,” she murmured. “What do you think?”

“You're always saying we should get to know the neighbours.”

Tifa giggled. “That's not exactly what I had in mind when I said that, but it works.” She looked at him and smiled. “Want some help?”

Cloud nodded. “Sure, why not?”

~*~*~

It wasn't hard to run Corneo to ground in a newer part of Edge than where Cloud and Tifa lived. His tastes were just as overblown and ridiculous as Tifa remembered. “How did he even find all these materials?” she wondered, as Cloud rang a doorbell.

“I can guess, but you won't like it,” he replied, scowling.

Tifa shuddered. “Reeve would be impressed with his procurement skills, but not his methods.”

“Hmm.”

The door opened and a man with a scar running down his face poked his head out. “What?”

“Here to see Corneo,” Cloud said, placing one hand on the hilt of his sword. “We don't have an appointment.”

“Get lost.” As the door began to close, Cloud drew his sword and jammed it into the gap.

“Ah! Get lost!”

“Tifa.”

“On it.” Tifa grabbed the door with both hands and pulled. The man lost his grip and it swung fully open.

“Like I said,” Cloud repeated, taking a step forward, “we're here to see Corneo.” He continued to advance, forcing the bigger man to back up until both he and Tifa made it inside.

“We're old acquaintances,” Tifa said from behind Cloud.

“Yeah, do whatever,” the man replied, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Thank you very much!” Tifa passed Cloud, then beckoned him after checking the coast was clear. “Corneo spent all his money on trappings, huh? No lackeys anywhere.”

“Hmm...” Cloud's eyes darted around, keeping a look out for sudden attacks.

They made it all the way to Corneo's inner sanctum without seeing another person.

“Guess you were right,” Cloud said to Tifa, as he pushed open the double doors and walked into Corneo's office.

“Then, how is controlling everyone?” Tifa shook her head. “It doesn't make sense.”

“Maybe—watch out!” Cloud grabbed Tifa's wrist and tugged her to safety as a hidden goon leapt from the shadows brandishing a knife.

“Surprise!” Several more appeared.

Pulling her behind him, Cloud drew his sword. “Good to go?”

“Always!”

After making short work of Corneo's thugs, Cloud and Tifa moved past the office and into the back room.

Tifa sighed and shook her head. “I must be seeing things. This looks just like his room at Wall Market.”

“With a couple new additions,” Cloud replied, crossing to the far wall and examining a collection of photos lining it. “Asshole.” He ripped one down and shoved it in his pocket.

“Cloud?” Who's the photo of?

“No biggie.” He looked around. “Where's Corneo?”

“That scumbag. Did he escape like last time?” Tifa balled her fists.

The sound of a toilet flushing came from behind another door.

Cloud glanced at Tifa, seeming to deliberate something, then shook his head. “We'll wait 'till he comes out.”

Tifa's eyes crinkled at the corners as she ducked her head and smothered a laugh. “Thanks.”

By the time Corneo emerged from the bathroom, Tifa had taken a seat at Corneo's desk with Cloud leaning against it beside her. Both smothered their surprise as a thin, pasty man wearing a faded red velvet dressing gown appeared. Most shocking about the change in his appearance was the wheelchair.

“Guess he didn't weasel out it totally after all,” Cloud commented. “You look like shit.”

Corneo stopped and looked up. “Oho, my little Avalanche kittens. Come for a visit, have you? Well, I expected you sooner, but I heard you'd gotten caught up in your little business venture.” Corneo continued wheeling himself around the room until he reached his bed. “Little help? I take it you've incapacitated my men?” When Cloud took a step in his direction, Corneo sneered. “Not you, her.” He pointed at Tifa.

Cloud blocked the way with his sword as Tifa got up from the chair. “Forget it.”

“Oh, I wasn't going to help,” she said, as she placed a hand on his arm and gently urged him to lower his sword. “I was going to kick him and see if he's faking.” She gave Corneo a bright and very false smile.

“Be still my beating heart!” Corneo put both hands to his chest. “How could you think I'd lie about something this serious?”

“Because you're a snake,” Cloud replied. “What are you up to in Edge?” he added, coming straight to the point.

“Up to? Me? Why nothing.” Corneo smiled. “I'm just a businessman seeking new opportunities in the new metropolis.”

Tifa could feel the lies permeating the room. “And what kind of opportunities would those be?”

“What's it to you? I'm not hurting anyone. I'm just going about my day. You're the ones who ruined me so I have to start over, remember?” A vicious look crossed his face as he fidgeted in the wheelchair.

Crossing her arms, Tifa said, “You brought that on yourself, and you'll bring worse if you don't behave.”

Corneo got a saucy look in his eye. “Oh, will you punish me?” he asked, voice dropping an octave.

Tifa repressed a shudder. “Sure,” she said in a bland voice. “Cloud, you still have that bat with all the nails in it, right? That'd make a perfect paddle.”

Corneo's shudder was clearly one of pleasure. “Promises, promises.”

Cloud bared his teeth at Corneo and took a step forward. “Now look—”

“All right, all right.” Corneo put his hands up in surrender. “I'll behave. Wouldn't want your boyfriend getting jealous, am I right?”

Tifa nodded, as Cloud said, “Right.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He'd never admitted he was her boyfriend before. It made her feel strangely shy. She noticed his cheeks turning red as he glared at Corneo, so she ducked her head and tried to focus on the task at hand.

“Oh, you two are cute. Once I build a new coliseum you'll compete, huh? Really bring in the crowds, especially when they hear former champion Cloud has a new lady on his arm.”

“Not new,” Cloud snapped.

What's this? Tifa looked at Cloud again and this time he seemed embarrassed. Who is Corneo talking about?

“We don't have time for your bullshit. Stay out of trouble or I'll finish the job the Turks started.” Cloud was already sheathing his sword and turning to go.

Tifa took one last look at Corneo and followed.

~*~*~

Back at Seventh Heaven, Tifa trailed Cloud into his office and noted his desk needed tidying again. She frowned at the medical text book littered with notes. Is he looking for a cure for Denzel? Her gaze softened as it tracked to him. “Cloud?”

“I wasn't with anyone else in Wall Market,” he said, keeping his back to her. “They misunderstood. They thought that Aerith and I...”

So, it was Aerith with him. “Aerith fought in the coliseum?”

Cloud nodded as he turned around. “We needed money for that dress she wore to the audition.”

She'd never asked about the series of events that led to Cloud appearing in Corneo's dungeon in a gothic style dress. She hadn't ever pictured him like that, so it was a huge surprise when she realised it was him under all the makeup and trappings. Why did he come, anyway? “I know we said we'd drop it,” she began in a hesitant voice, taking a step towards him, “but, you never told me why you went through all that.”

Cloud glanced at her, then ducked his head and smiled. “How else was I supposed to rescue you?”

“Rescue me?” Maybe she suspected that was the reason. She hadn't really thought it through at the time. She'd been so focused on getting info out of Corneo that Cloud's purpose sneaking in eluded her. “Is that why you came?”

“Of course it was.” He chuckled and shook his head. “You think I'd go through that much for anyone else?” He dug his hand in his pocket and withdrew the picture he'd swiped from Corneo's earlier. “Souvenir.”

Tifa stepped closer and looked at the picture. “He took photos?” She looked into Cloud's face with dismay. “Then, that wall...”

“Is how he controls people,” Cloud finished with a nod. “Monsters like that always have an angle.”

“Shouldn't we do something?” She took the photo from him and replaced it with her hand.

“Corneo's the type to step in his own shit. He'll slip up sooner or later.” He squeezed Tifa's hand and  shrugged.

“I guess so. It just feels wrong to let him run around all over town when things are just starting to settle down.” She sighed, posture sinking.

“Hey,” Cloud wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “if you let it get to you, then he's already won. You think I'll let that happen?”

That's right. Cloud will take care of things. Corneo won't ruin what we're working so hard to rebuild. “Mm, thanks.” She leaned her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I always know I can rely on you.” She peered at the photo in her hand. “So, how did you end up in a dress?”

Cloud chuckled shortly. “Aerith and Andrea Rhodea's doing.”

That was enough information for her to make a guess at how things went. She'd gone through similar at the Gold Saucer. “Thought you didn't dance?”

“I only dance with you,” he replied, kissing the top of her head.

She giggled, feeling her cheeks heating at the memory. He'd come so close to kissing her during their performance, it still sent tingles through her whenever she thought of it. “Shame we can't get Andrea to come take over from Corneo; he'd be the better choice,” she said, trying to deflect from how flustered she'd become. Her eyes drifted towards the cot Cloud set up in the office for those late hours when he returned and didn't want to risk waking her. It's the middle of the day. The kids could come home at any time. We really shouldn't. She snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Tifa?” Cloud tucked her hair behind her ear as he whispered her name. “Wanna dance?”

Tifa giggled again and answered with a shy nod.

[svnthxsense]

Genre/Rating: Fluff/smut ; M

Warnings: Fem reader, cursing, light choking, slight corruption (?), slight praise, oral, tiny bit of slow burn

Word Count: 9.8k i’m sorry

Author’s Note: I got very carried away... Anyways, Happy Mark Day! This oneshot is a standalone in my Neo Tech High School series and is loosely based off of the first verse & chorus of Shot Clock by Ella Mai. Please send in any feedback! Also, my apologies if the Keep Reading function doesn’t work on mobile but I can’t do much about it T-T

It was mid-March when news broke in your school that a tier-1 athlete had transferred in. Everyone was swarming with curiosity all for a certain Mark Lee. Most of the gossip came from the guys, who bantered about his stats as a starting point-guard and argued about whether or not he’d make a good addition to the school’s beloved team. The girls, of course, were looking forward to a fresh face on campus. You couldn’t help but be curious, too.

After a week of anticipation, people were stunned to see the actual image of the mysterious basketball player. He was attractive at the absolute least. Then there was something that neither you nor your peers expected: he was the shyest, most awkward boy you had met in a while. How was it that the star basketball player who was always in the spotlight happened to be socially awkward?

You were surprised to discover that you two had a lot of classes together, and you’d be lying if you said you never stared. It didn’t help that he always came into math class with basketball shorts and a tank top on, his skin lightly glistening with sweat even after his brief post-gym shower. His hair was tousled, yet he managed to make it work like no other. It was a sight that made your mouth water and your mind fill with less-than decent thoughts.

It was only halfway through his first week of school when Mark had gotten called into the principal's office in the middle of third period. And then you were called in- not even five minutes after.

“Good morning, Principal Yoon,” You greeted her politely, taking the only other seat left in the room right next to Mark. You felt his eyes on you but decided against looking back at the nerve-wracked boy. Every time you saw him, you seemed to have a new fantasy about things you’d love to do to him. Was it wrong to fantasize about what his hands could do other than dribble a basketball?

“Good morning, Y/N.” She sat down in her leather office chair, scooting along until she found a comfortable position. Her tone was firm yet extremely polite. Most principals were intimidating and loathed by students, while Principal Yoon was approachable and kind. The students of Neo Tech adored her and her methods of running the school.

“Good morning, Mark. I’m sure you’re both wondering why I called you in, and I can assure you that it’s nothing of concern.” She held a manila colored folder in one hand before opening it and examining the paper in front of her. The both of you sat a bit uneasily, wondering what could’ve possibly landed you in this predicament. 

“Mr. Lee, your basketball skills are outstanding.” Immediately, Mark began rambling about his appreciation for her comment until her voice interrupted him. “Yes, well, the reason I called you both in has to do with that actually… You see, Mark, your last school was a bit behind in comparison to our curriculum here, and without the proper grades you won’t be able to be an active team member.”

Mark could’ve sworn he heard his heart drop. The whole reason he transferred to your school was that his tier-1 team was becoming mediocre at best. In order to stay on track with his plan of obtaining an athletic scholarship, he needed to choose the best of the best. And that’s what led him to your school, which currently holds the number one spot in the nation amongst all the tier-1 teams.

“That’s why I’ve brought Y/N in as well. It was brought to my attention that you two share more than half your classes together, and I’m well aware of how advanced she is in all subjects. So, to put it frankly, I’m going to suggest that you two become acquaintances. Of course, the final decision would be up to Y/N, but I’m hoping that both of you might benefit from this opportunity.”

Mark couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about how Principal Yoon pressed the issue. It was bad enough that his old school had a less advanced curriculum; and to make matters worse, his tutor just had to be the prettiest girl he’s seen. The way you dressed, especially, drove him crazy. Your sheer black tights underneath your plaid skirt, with your skin-tight, off-the-shoulder top that exposed your collarbones. He gulped at the very thought of what was underneath those clothes. How was he supposed to focus when he wanted to study his tutor more than the material?

“I would be happy to help,” You answered, mindlessly sneaking a glance at the boy next to you. His gaze seemed to be set on the ground, looking at anything but you. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to add ‘tutor’ to my resume.”

Principal Yoon smiled in response, setting the folder down on her desk before gently lifting her glasses off her face. She was pretty young to be a principal, couldn’t be a day over thirty. It was one of the things that made her so approachable, she seemed to sympathize with the lives of students because she was in their place not too long ago.

“Well, then it’s settled.”

You strained yourself trying to hide the smirk forming on your face, finally allowing yourself to steal a look at the golden boy once again. He seemed flustered, as per usual, and still didn’t dare to look you in the eye. He seemed so innocent, yet so ready to be corrupted. The excitement bubbled deep within your stomach at the thought of how much time you’d really need to spend with him in order to get him caught up. And boy did you hope you had extra time for other activities.

Without a word, you rose from your seat to offer a ‘goodbye’ to your principal and sauntered out of her office. Mark fumbled to get up, hurriedly saying goodbye to Principal Yoon before he rushed after you. At the sound of his footsteps, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. This will be fun.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You hummed in response, then turned on your heel to face him. He was breathing a little raggedly, but you knew it was from nerves because there was no way someone as athletic as him would be out-of-breath from a short jog. 

“I- I was wondering when you’d be available…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, trying his hardest to sound anything but stupid. You waited for him to go on as he stared back at you but quickly caught himself. “Y’know, for the tutoring.”

Your smile almost made his breath hitch but he ignored the pounding on his chest and found the courage to keep eye contact with you. He regretted it as soon as it happened because he damn-near whimpered at the beauty in front of him. Your lips, a faint rose color, were glossy and plump. He imagined how they’d feel pressed against his, and against other body parts alike.

“How about we do an evaluation of sorts at the library this afternoon? This way I can see how behind you are and how much time I’d need to get you in shape. I wouldn’t want you missing the opening game.” You winked, and Mark found himself gulping down nothing in another attempt to calm himself.

“Y-Yeah, that sounds good,” He replied and waited for you two walk away first because he couldn’t quite will his feet to move.

The end of the day seemed to have come much too quickly for Mark’s liking. Of course, he was itching at the chance to get to know you, but even he knew his nervous habits. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in the midst of his first impression.

Mark made his way to the library like you had told him to, and he easily found you at one of the tables towards the back of the room. You had books laid out in front of you, with worksheets accompanying them.

“Hey, so I was thinking we could start by evaluating your trig skills and then get into some science. Does that sound good?” It felt like an eternity before you finally looked up to find him sitting directly across from you at the table. He nodded softly as you pushed over the first worksheet. While he diligently started scribbling across the paper, you had nothing to do other than watch him. You picked up on a few things in a short amount of time: math seemed to frustrate him. When faced with a particularly difficult problem, he would huff in annoyance. Nonetheless, he would complete it before moving onto the next one with a scrunched-up nose. It was incredibly cute and you couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your lips.

“Okay, I think I’m done.” He pushed the paper back to you before bringing his hands down into his lap, nervously toying with his fingers. He then brought his bottom lip in between his teeth, chewing delicately. You tried not to react, instead turning your attention to analyze his answers. Did he know what he was doing to you? After looking through all the questions, you tsked.

“Your trig teacher must’ve sucked.” You adjusted your sitting position so that the paper would be visible to the both of you. “For number four, you need to use the quadratic formula- which is X equals negative B plus or minus the square root of B squared minus 4 times A times C. Then you divide the whole thing by 2 times A.”

Mark tried to keep up with you as you explained, but his mind was way too focused on how good you looked while concentrating. On top of that, math was never his strong suit. He had always struggled since the moment variables were introduced into his lessons. Memorizing the quadratic formula was all too difficult when the explanation was coming from that pretty mouth of yours, he thought.

“B…? Wait where is the X comin-”

“Mark.” You interrupted, trying to the best of your ability to keep the smile creeping up on you at bay. The way his name rolled off your tongue so naturally enticed him. “I can already tell that you’re about two months behind with the trig curriculum. That alone will take me at least two weeks to catch you up on, and that’s if we meet practically every day.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Mark answers weakly, his eyes retreating down to the desk below him. Immediately, your demeanor softens at his vulnerability. “I know this probably isn’t how you’d like to spend your free time. I’ll find another way to catch up, I’m sure-”

“Hey. I said it would be a lot of work, I didn’t say I don’t want to tutor you. Luckily for you, I’m pretty much free this semester anyway. Now, the issue is if you are willing to put in the work.”

Oh, was he willing.

[two days later]

“So, after school at the cafe?” You ask, grabbing your books from your locker and securing them in one arm. The tutoring sessions would have to be extremely consistent to make any noticeable progress before the school’s opening games. They were a big deal within Neo Tech’s school community, and the pressure was on to see how the new point guard would compare to all the hype.

“Yeah, if that’s fine with you,” He murmurs before eyeing the small stack of books and papers cradled in your arm. Naturally, he feels the need to take that burden off your hands. After all, you would be the reason he even gets to play this season. Without you, it’s unlikely he would’ve caught up in time to make a good impression on Neo Tech and other schools alike. “Let me carry your books for you.”

“You don’t have to,” You insist, moving slightly so the books are a bit more out of reach. Mark pouts in response, leaning forward again in another attempt to grab the materials. He succeeds this time, his hand slipping around the stack and drawing them away from you. “Persistent, huh?”

“Guess you could say that.” He chuckles, wrapping the books in his arm just as you had done. This is the only plan he thought of to spend time with you outside of a studying environment, but he hopes you don’t notice these intentions. “We have class together anyway.”

“And where are your books?” You raise on eyebrow questioningly, beginning to walk with him beside you. History was never your favorite class, but you stayed on top of the work anyway. It was easier, you realized very early on, to get the work out of the way so you’d have more time for studying and other extracurricular activities.

“I leave them in my desk.” He shrugs, looking over to see you smiling widely. The baby pink color that takes over the apples of his cheeks is extremely obvious, but you don’t comment on it. Seeing Mark flustered is cute, you determined as soon as you had met him.

As the two of you walk through the large doorway of your history classroom, bubbly conversation fills the air. Your teacher, Miss Han, sits perched on her desk patiently. She was a nice lady, but it didn’t change the universal distaste for history among your class.

“Well, uh- I guess I’ll see you at the cafe.” Mark sets your books down on your usual desk quickly, scurrying to find his seat among some of the other basketball players that had this period with him. You recognize one of them as Hendery, a friendly acquaintance due to all the classes you two shared last year.

“I see you, Mark.” Hendery’s eyebrows raise in a teasing matter, shoulder bumping the boy next to him. Mark stares back at him, confused as to what he meant. “You carrying Y/N’s books.”

The explanation causes Mark’s blush to reappear, the heat becoming warmer and warmer upon his flesh. Hendery is one of the only guys on the team that he’s fairly close with, yet he still didn’t feel ready to tell him about his little crush.

“It was nothing, really. She’s tutoring me and I thought- why not?” He tries desperately to make his response seem nonchalant, but the act he puts on is no match for his flushed cheeks. Hendery, with one brow raised, eyes Mark’s cheeks. “Okay, maybe I think she’s kinda cute.”

“Bullshit! You like her!” He accuses in a whisper-shout type of voice. Mark groans in response, softly hitting his shoulder with a closed fist. A cackle leaves Hendery’s lips, his hand coming up to muffle the sound. “Dude, just ask her out! You’d be a very lucky guy.”

“I can’t just ask her out!” It comes out as a high-pitched shriek. “It’s not that simple. I mean, it is that simple. But what if she says no? Then I’ll have to deal with rejection and seeing her every day for our study sessions and-”

“Mark, you’re way too worried. Do you want me to talk to her? Find out some dirt? We had a few classes together last year-”

“N-No! That���s too obvious!” His voice sounds so exasperated by now, Hendery is afraid he’ll pass out. Talking with his hands is a nervous habit that happens when he’s rambling, and right now is no exception. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, dude.”

“Better hurry before someone else beats you to it.” At this, Mark’s head snaps in Hendery’s direction. Before he can even formulate a proper response, Miss Han clears her throat and silence falls upon the whole classroom. Throughout the lesson, though, Hendery’s words echo in Mark’s head. What did he mean by that?

“One iced americano and one green tea please.” Mark pulls out his wallet before you have time to protest, and by the time your mouth opens to say something, his receipt is already printed. You didn’t expect him to order for you when he asked what you liked from this shop. Oblivious, he turns to you and stops in his tracks when he sees your surprised expression. “Huh?”

“You didn’t have to pay for me.” Your voice is firm but you’re grinning over at him, ignoring the way your whole body feels warm because of his display of generosity. Buying drinks shouldn’t be such a big deal, you remind yourself. “I owe you a lot now- carrying my books and now coffee.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs, before examining the shop to find the best seats. He decides on the small table in the corner, shuffling towards the spot silently. Your brows furrow at his response, hoping for something a bit more engaging in terms of conversation but realizing that Mark wasn’t quite good at conversing in general. At least, around you, he didn’t seem to be.

The cafe became a regular stop before your tutoring sessions, the two of you eventually decide that the library was a better spot for studying. So, almost every day after school, you two would rush over there to pick up your usual orders before racing back to the library. Most of the private rooms filled up after dismissal, so you two always made it a point to manage your time efficiently. Coffee runs and then studying- that was your routine.

You had hoped to test the waters with some flirting, but your efforts seemed to go unnoticed. And when they didn’t, Mark would be a nervous wreck in response. You wondered if you should try your luck outside of your study sessions, but you didn’t have many opportunities since he sat nowhere near you during your shared classes. Study sessions and coffee runs seemed to be your only options.

On numerous occasion, Mark would slip his wallet out and pay for your coffee without a second thought. These events would result in a whole lot of whining on your part, always arguing that you should treat him once in a while too. He liked the idea of spoiling you, he wanted to say, though the invisible filter that was stuck in his throat never allowed him such a luxury.

Plus, the look on your face was equally as cute as your whines. Although you tried to be angry, the lopsided grin that always appeared made Mark’s stomach do flips. How was it possible to be that effortlessly pretty? It would take the nation’s top philosopher, Mark thought, to figure that one out.

“Mark!” You call, jogging over to his locker where he stands, putting his books away. He focuses on not being a clumsy mess then looks over at you, spending extra time admiring your all-black outfit: leggings and a v-neck. He forces his eyes not to travel south of your face, instead putting on a small smile. “I was wondering where you think we should study? The library is gonna be closed for a staff meeting today.”

Without thinking anything through, Mark immediately answers with, “Actually, my parents are out of town this week. We can study at mine if you want.”

Fuck. His eyes widen at his own words as soon as they come out. You can’t help but be surprised too, but your shock quickly turns into something much less decent. At this point, you’re dying to get your hands on him. You know that if you two have your study-session today, you’ll jump his bones the minute his hand so much as grazes yours.

“Oh, okay. Cool. So I’ll meet you after 8th,” You conclude with your voice sounding like pure honey to Mark. As you turn and walk away, Mark is unsurprisingly staring at your figure in those damn leggings. He wonders how much thought you put into your outfit, if you’re wearing it on purpose to torture him. He shakes the thoughts out of his head when he feels excitement course through his veins and towards the southern region of his body. No way is he going to get a boner now. Demanding his attention elsewhere, he rips his eyes away from you and tries to think of anything but how good your ass looks.

P.E. was always Mark’s favorite class. For most of his life, his Phys. Ed teachers had consistently been carefree and maybe a bit lazy. Their go-to lesson plan comprised of a few laps around the gym and then free-choice sports. Most of the girls opted for volleyball and badminton while almost every single boy could be found on the basketball court in the midst of a friendly scrimmage. Today is no different from the rest of those times.

Mark enjoys the friendly competition but easily leads his team to a win. He has gym with some of the other guys on Neo Tech’s basketball team, and it was easy to see how well he’d fit in with the pace of the other guys. At his old school, it always felt like he was being held back. He had to slow down his plays and examine the court thoroughly before he was able to make a proper judgment of his next move. With the Neo boys, everything seemed to come naturally.

He was able to gauge each player’s strengths and weaknesses fairly quickly too. For example, Hendery was a great shooter under pressure. When he gets boxed in by other defenders, that’s when his shooting is the most precise. So with that in mind, Mark always looks for Hendery when he notices that the opposing team’s defense is particularly aggressive that day. His judgments haven’t failed him thus far, with today’s scrimmage resulting in another win that should go down in the books.

Basketball was something that came easily to Mark his whole life. Talking to girls though? Not as much. He excelled on the court, took the lead and kept a risky attitude with unexpected plays and passes. He fits in well with Neo Tech’s strategy and game style. Plus, the guys on the Neo Tech basketball team were quick to befriend him and make him feel right at home. That is, of course, until he overhears one of his teammates, Lucas, talking to another teammate in the locker room as he begins to pack up his stuff after their particularly long scrimmage.

“Bro, are you really gonna shoot your shot with Y/N?” The other one- Xiaojun, he thinks- asks the taller boy. Lucas shrugs a little, folding his gym clothes neatly before placing the pile back in his locker. He’s not wearing a shirt, and Mark can’t hide the feeling of insecurity that seeps into his veins. Mark’s never been as built as that, but he never thought much of it until now.

“I mean, probably. She usually comes to our games, right?” He looks back at Xiaojun, eyebrows raised. The boy nods back slowly, a look of uncertainty on his face. “She’s so hot, especially in that one skirt she always wears.”

Mark’s jaw tenses and his whole body becomes rigid before he can calm himself down. He knows, in his mind, that he doesn’t technically have a right to feel possessive. He hasn’t made a move, so who was he to stop Lucas’s plans? This thought doesn’t stop him, however, from feeling the sudden urge to punch Lucas in his pretty face. It annoys him that all Lucas has to say about you is ‘She’s hot.’ To Mark, you were so much more. 

He loves the way you insist on helping him and accept nothing less than 100% effort on work. He loves how you smile proudly at him when he finishes his worksheets with no errors, how you blush every time he pays for your coffee before a study session, how you always find a way to get something done if you commit to it, how you genuinely care about how his day went when no one else seems to ask. You’re more to him than a nice body in a short skirt. Much, much more.

Hendery notices his tense shoulders and pensive facial expression, quickly grabbing the shirt that was draped over his shoulder and sending a soft wack to Mark’s back. This seems to do the trick, his face softening when he realizes it was Hendery who hit him.

“Ignore them,” Hendery orders, folding the shirt in his hands and placing it back in his locker. He’s friends with both Lucas and Mark, but he can tell how much Mark likes you. Lucas’s crush would pass with time, it was a never-ending cycle with that one. “Lucas isn’t her type, trust me. And if you’re so worried, make your move.”

This time, Mark realizes that Hendery is all too right. He needs to do something-anything, before it’s too late.

Yet again, the end of the day comes too quickly for Mark to process. He blankly shuffles out of the lab room and is taken by surprise when he sees you leaning against the wall opposite the doorway. You push yourself off the wall when you spot him, and take into account how good he looks when he’s out of it. It makes you wonder how he’ll look when he’s all fucked out and-

“Ready?” Mark interrupts your thoughts. Instead of saying anything, because you don’t trust your voice at this point, you simply nod and begin pacing your walk so you’ll be shoulder-to-shoulder. Your shoulder brushes against his occasionally, but neither of you shows any sign of being bothered by it.

The car ride is full of thick tension and utter silence aside from the soft hum of the radio. Mark’s grip on the wheel is tighter than he’s used to but he can’t help it. He can feel your eyes on him, his skin beginning to warm underneath his usual basketball shorts and a loose tee. You study him shamelessly: the veins of his arms that bulge occasionally when he shifts the wheel one way and the other, his habit of biting his lower lip when the car in front of him drives too slow, and the simple things like the contour of his jawline.

He pulls into a driveway and you aren’t surprised by how lavish his house is. His mother and father are both high-ups in some big company, as Mark had put it. They take business trips often but still find time for their beloved son, while his older brother is away at the number one university in the country. One might ask why Mark needs an athletic scholarship if his parents have so much money. He thinks of it more as a pride thing. His father, before becoming a businessman, was also on an athletic scholarship for soccer. His older brother has one for baseball while he studies Marketing and International Finance. Sports scholarships were almost like a family heirloom for the Lee’s, along with a business degree.

He jumps out of his seat, closing the door behind him before rushing to the passenger side to open the door for you. Under normal circumstances, you might’ve blushed. But with Mark, you know you have to be the confident one between the both of you. No matter how flustered his smiles make you and how weak in the knees his deep voice makes you, you force yourself to put on a bold front.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Mark snorts as he leads you through the foyer to the carpet-clad staircase. Humble was one way to put it. The whole interior has a simple, all-white color scheme. Upholstered leather loveseats were positioned neatly down the halls, with minimalistic tables to match. You let yourself take in your surroundings as both of you walk through the maze of his house towards what you presume will be his bedroom. Your guess is right; he stops in front of a white-painted wooden door and opens it just a bit to peek inside and make sure nothing was out of place. He breathes a sigh of relief that he decided to move anything remotely embarrassing to his walk-in closet as soon as he started his new school. Opening the door wider so that you could enter, you step in hesitantly and watch a little too intently at Mark closing the door firmly behind him.

His room is somehow exactly how you pictured it; a light blue color paints the walls. His full-sized bed leans against one wall, with posters of his favorite movies hovering above the headboard.

“Shit, I just realized that my desk-” You glance behind you, seeing his computer which took up most of the space that the desk had to offer and the somewhat large gaming chair that was tucked comfortably underneath said desk. Almost thanking fate for throwing this curveball in your favor, you just smile reassuringly at him.

“It’s fine, Mark. We can study on your bed.” Mark’s eyes widen suddenly and you realize that you probably gave him too much to process at once. “Or the floor, that’s fine too.”

“N-No! I mean- whatever’s more comfortable,” He manages to stutter out. Mentally, Mark would have said something spicy just to see you blush. However, in reality, Mark just couldn’t muster up the courage to openly flirt like that. His lack of confidence had posed many obstacles for him over the years. It seemed the one place he was truly confident was on the court.

“Well, it’s your room so I’ll sit wherever you sit.”

He nods once before setting his backpack at the foot of the bed and jumping back onto the soft mattress. Scooting up towards the headboard, he waits for you to do the same. You ignore the excitement that bubbles knowing his eyes are on you, and take a seat next to him with your bag still in hand.

“So uh- what are we gonna start with today?” Mark tries so hard not to seem phased by having a girl like you in his bed, but his patience is wearing thin and he can only blame himself. Maybe if he just made a move…

“We always start with trig.” You furrow your brows in confusion because it’s become a set routine already. Trig was always first because that was the subject he was most behind in. English was obviously not a problem for him and in terms of science, he was just behind with lab work that he could complete in school. “Then, we brush up on some science. I don’t really think you need it, though. You’re almost caught up with your lab work.”

“Oh, yeah. Right, of course.” He has to physically focus on not rambling or he’d be a mess all over. Of course, you know this by now. And while his shy and awkward demeanor is definitely adorable, it also makes you hesitate to try anything with him. After all, what are the chances of the shy boy in front of you gripping you up only to have his way with you?

Mark begins working on the sheets you give him almost as soon as you hand them over, eager to complete the work and somehow finesse his way into spending more time with you. He was being dumb, Hendery would continuously tell him. He should just go for it, because with a tutor ‘as hot as Y/N,’ why wouldn’t he? His lack of confidence makes him want to pull his hair from the roots, but he resists the urge and silently completes the worksheets. He double-checks all of his work carefully so that no time will be wasted in going over stupid mistakes. With a sigh of relief, Mark hands the papers over to you and looks up at you nervously. You always look so stoic when analyzing his answers, it intimidates him yet also lights a spark of excitement at the same time.

“Well done. There were no errors, just make sure you remember to show your work because the question requires-”

“Y/N?” Your name slips out of his mouth before he realizes it. You fall silent, eyes lifting to meet his dark brown ones. “Um… Can we maybe t-take the day off? I think I’d rather be doing almost anything other than trig right now.”

You don’t expect this question, because he’s never asked for a break. It was always about him being up to date with the curriculum so he’d be able to be part of the starting five. What you also don’t expect is for his eyes to flicker, very briefly, to the exposed skin of your upper body. There’s only a bit of cleavage showing, and a peek of your collarbones visible from certain angles. Suddenly, you realize that the time for making a move is now. And you can’t pass up the opportunity.

“What did you have in mind?” Your voice dripping like honey in the air. Slowly, you push the papers and books away from you and they hit the carpeted floor with a light thud. Mark gulps, finding his mouth dry when his mind goes blank with what to say next. Come on, Mark. Keep it together.

Instead of saying anything that might ruin the moment, he simply mimics you and pushes the books off his lap and onto the floor. When he turns back to face you, he’s met with your challenging gaze and he can’t help himself as he leans towards you without any doubt in his mind.

Your noses brush against each other, his face so close that you could feel every minty breath he lets out. You know what’s about to happen, and you no longer have the patience to delay it any further. Mark’s hesitant ways, while sweet and gentlemanly, drive you to the brink of insanity. And so, with a deep breath, your hand lifts to pull his face to yours. Your lips softly press to his, letting him process the fact that you’re actually kissing him before you grow impatient. Feverishly, you move your mouth against his. Mark swears he’s in heaven when he slowly opens his mouth a bit wider and your tongue automatically swipes against his. He’s been waiting for this moment- to feel your lips against his, to taste you in more ways than one. He needs it all, right now.

“Y/N,” He separates from you to breathe out your name. You practically bite back a moan, humming in response while his hands grab your waist. You expect him to say something, but he just kisses you again with more confidence than before. As he slowly leans back against the headboard, you follow him absentmindedly, simply chasing the heat of his lips against yours. You’re straddling him now, his hands moving to grip your ass cheeks with greed. The force makes you roll your hips in response, grinding down onto him unintentionally which makes Mark’s breath hitch.

You experiment, repeating the movement and pulling away from him only to see his reaction. His eyes are focused on the movements of your hips above his, concentration straining his face. After flipping your hair to one side, you continue your slow torture and lean down to kiss the spot below his ear. With his hands firmly clasping around your hips, you suck at his supple skin and lick over the spot when you’re done. By now, his breathing is a little heavy and uneven as his erection pressed against your clothed core. You feel him against you, his basketball shorts doing little to conceal his excitement.

“You’re driving me crazy,” He whispers as he drops his head to the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you slightly. You relish in knowing that the feeling is mutual. With every huffed-out breath, every soft kiss on your skin, you only become more reassured that you want this- and it makes it all the more worth it knowing that he wants this too.

You break the kiss to rid yourself of your t-shirt, the material on your warm body frustrating you a bit more than you’d like to admit. As you meet his eyes again- they’re filled with a hunger that causes your stomach to clench and arousal to pool within the confines of your panties- you can’t help the absolute urgency you feel to make him putty in your hands. So instead of kissing him again, you play with the hem of his loose tee, letting your hands graze over the skin of his abdomen. He hesitates, remembering the locker room fiasco with Lucas and suddenly he feels that insecurity itching at his skin again. He isn’t extremely built, his athletic body on the more slender side, but you don’t mind at all. 

From his demeanor, you can already deduce what’s bothering him. You press a sweet kiss to his lips, almost silently telling him that you liked him just as he is. A kilowatt smile lights up his face, and your cool hands against his heated skin make him grab at the material to discard it himself. He stares up at you, waiting for your next move because quite frankly, he likes you in control.

“These too,” You order, pointing at his basketball shorts. Mark is quick to shimmy them off of his body, leaving only his boxers to conceal the length of his cock from your eyesight, though the bulge is very much prominent. You debate whether or not to fuck him then and there, but decide that having him writhing from your mouth alone would satisfy you more.

With a quick motion, you bring your lips down to the skin above the waistband of his boxers. He twitches slightly at the contact, and then feels your nails gently rake against his sides. He’s much too sensitive to your touch, and it almost scares him. How could you have so much power over him? Maybe it’s the way your plump lips push against his skin so confidently, how your eyes find his without a second thought. He envies your confidence, but he also finds it unbelievably addicting to have such control taken away from him.

Mark isn’t a virgin. But he also isn’t very experienced. His past sexual encounters were vanilla, with him hesitantly taking control because his girlfriends always expected such. His first time was awkward at best, his hips didn’t quite know how to fluidly move nor did his tongue know how to expertly flick against hers. He did get a bit better as time went on, or so he likes to think. But he feels so foreign to sex with you.

It might be because you seem so opposite of him- in terms of how easily everything comes to you. However, he doesn’t find it in him to assume anything about your sex life, because he doesn’t particularly care. He ignores any thoughts of how many guys you’ve been with or if they’d be better than him, because as your hands slowly pull his boxers down, he’s content with knowing all you’re thinking about is him, at this moment.

You hum pleasantly at the sight of his length free from its confines, a small bead of precum ready to drip from the head. Much to your surprise, your mouth salivates on its own at the sight. You stroke him twice in your small hand, before your spit comes down on the side of his dick. He watches you in awe as you slide him into your mouth without hesitation, your tongue running along the underside of his length. A guttural groan emits from the awestruck boy before he can stop himself, much to his dismay. It would make you grin if your mouth wasn’t preoccupied.

You begin to slowly, tentatively bob your head up and down on him as your hand twists up to meet your mouth. You look at him expectantly for his response, and it doesn’t disappoint. His hands fly to your head, fingertips smoothing over your scalp while he sucks in a harsh breath. His mouth drops open soon after, the warm and slick tunnel of your mouth proving to be quite the pleaser. 

He feels nervous under your stare once again, but he certainly can’t look away from the sight before him. With your plump, infamously glossy lips wrapped around the tip of his dick and your tongue sliding obscenely over the slit. He wants to memorize every detail of the picture painted for him, so he stares at you and forces himself not to look away. He sees everything: the way you blink slowly as you take him further into your mouth, the way you search his face for reassurance that you’re making him feel good, the way you twist your wrist in an almost tortuous way that feels so, so good.

“Fuck, I need to feel you.” He gently, regretfully pulls your head away from his crotch. Your mouth detaches from his cock with a quiet popping sound, a string of spit connecting his dick to your bottom lip. Your mouth is tinted red and a little swollen, a bit of spit still left on the side of your mouth. Even so, Mark still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. 

He decides that, eventually, he’ll ask you out. The turn of events today is unexpected and definitely not what he had in mind, but he’s in too deep to put a stop to it now. He wonders if he fucked up his chances by going along with this, if you’d reject him because of the irony of him asking you out after he’s had his way with you. He swallows the nervous feeling that is rooted deep in his chest and stems out to the entirety of his body, pushes it aside to deal with later.

You undress quicker than Mark can process his thoughts, and for the first time since you’ve met him, your confidence wavers. Confidence was always something that came and went for you- the brave front you had put on didn’t quite prepare you for feeling Mark’s hungry eyes all over every inch of your body.

“Y/N- you’re so beautiful.” He motions you to get on top of him again, and you comply shyly. He kisses your lips once, then your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder. All until you’re smiling so wide that you feel a pinch of pain in your cheeks. Mark Lee definitely owns your heart, no point in denial any more.

“W-Would you want to uh- ride me?” He stutters out clumsily, his hands finding purchase at his sides. This is why he likes that you take control. For one, it’s sexy as hell. For another, it gives him less room to be the nervous mess that he usually is. 

At his question, your demeanor changes from a slightly nervous girl feeling so bare underneath his gaze to something even you didn’t know you had in you. You can feel your arousal as you slowly move closer to him, your thighs on either side of his. His boxers are still hanging just below his knees and he hurriedly kicks them off all the way.

“Condom?” You ask, eyes searching around his bedside but to no avail. Mark fumbles a bit, keeping one hand around your waist securely while the other rummages through the bottom drawer of his nightstand. After finally locating the box of condoms his mom insisted on giving him during freshman year, he pulls the foil packaging into sight. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly his hands make work to slide it securely over his length, but his desire is clouding his judgment more than he expected.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” His voice is a bit breathless as he carefully tucks some of your hair behind your ear. The action makes your face warm and quite possibly your heart. But you don’t admit that. Instead, you nod curtly before pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. Without skipping a beat, you take hold of his cock and align it at your entrance. You run the head back and forth between your folds, but realize you’re only putting yourself through further cruelty with every second that passes with no relief to the throbbing of your core.

So without warning, you sink down on him at a painfully slow pace. Your slick folds welcome the stretch of his girth, the very feeling of him making you shiver with sensitivity. Mark looks down to where his dick is being swallowed by your core, finding it harder and harder to hold on to his sanity as you sink further down on him. You let out a soft, delicate moan when you feel him fill you up completely, and Mark swears he could cum just from hearing those angelic sounds. He then decides, if you two do this again, he’ll fuck you into his mattress until you’re crumbling at the seams because of him.

“Shit,” He mutters under his breath when you start bouncing on top of him. The sound of skin slapping against skin proves to be quite the soundtrack as you desperately grip his shoulders. You bite your lip in an attempt to muffle the screams of pleasure just aching to come out. Your moans come out in whimpers when Mark uses his thumb to draw figure 8’s on your clit. He’s biting his bottom lip, his facial muscles strained between a fucked-out state and a concentrated one.

“Such a good boy,” You muse lightly without even thinking. Your voice mumbling such praise causes Mark to gulp, and he’s strangely even more turned on. Then again, you’d been awakening emotions and sensations that Mark hasn’t quite felt before, didn’t even know were possible. On your side, you’ve never tried much dirty talk during sex, but for Mark, you were willing to try. You can tell he likes it by the way his grip on your hips tightens and his breathing becomes heavier. And so, as he pants and groans softly next to your ear, your pace turns merciless. You bounce on him with an unrelenting pace and he knows you won’t stop until he cums, hard.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit.” Profanities spill from his mouth, his eyes screwing shut intently at how good the friction between your folds was. He forces himself to continue rubbing circles into your clit, albeit a bit sloppy, but circles nonetheless. You’re only more motivated by his lewd sounds, feeling your walls clench even tighter around his throbbing cock. The sensation causes an idea to form in your head, and you decide that his reaction will be the most satisfying part.

“Feels so good. Are you close?” Innocence laces your voice as you grab his hand and guide it to one of your breasts. Watching as he instinctively grabs it greedily in his palm, you notice how hot his fingers look wrapped around your flesh which only fuels your idea. Mark nods eagerly at your question, his breathy pants coming out shorter, more frequent, and sinful enough to make your head spin.

Abruptly, you begin rolling your hips against him rather than bouncing, causing him to look up at you. Then, you grab his hand again and bring it to your throat, making him wrap his fingers around the width of your neck slowly. Mark’s mouth drops open a second time this afternoon, feeling his hand tenderly squeeze around your neck. Your breathing becomes a bit restricted, but not enough to cause any discomfort. The force only makes your eyes roll back, while Mark turns to putty underneath you. After a few seconds, he releases his hold and brings his hand down to knead your ass, whispering something about how good you feel. Despite his seeming increase of confidence, all that Mark is thinking about is the power trip he got from choking you. Holy fuck, did that really happen?

“Gonna cum now, baby?” You force the question out when you feel him begin to pulse inside of you, leaning down to suck on the skin where his shoulder and neck meet and then licking your way up to just below his ear. Gently and carefully, you take his earlobe between your teeth and pull away slowly. Mark, by now, is a writhing mess underneath you. He can no longer contain his sounds nor his desperation to climax, bucking his hips up to meet yours. The combination of his thumb running over your clit repeatedly and his dick hitting just the right spot has a white-hot pleasure burning through your entire body. “Mmph- Mark!”

“Fuck! I’m g- gonna cum,” He yelps when he hears you moan his name, his thumb’s movement over your clit becoming rougher, sloppier by the second. He gives up on trying to thrust up into you, instead letting you ride him with an almost animalistic nature. His face scrunches up, a choked groan falling from his open mouth as he feels his climax course through his entire body. His seed fills up the condom, the sensation of release so utterly euphoric that Mark isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this good. Your pace on his dick slows before coming to a complete stop, breathing heavily and feeling so out of it even without an orgasm.

“Lay down, beautiful,” He rasps out, moving from his position and running his hand along your thigh delicately. His half-lidded eyes meet yours before you obey his command, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed with your head resting comfortably on one of the pillows. Mark hovers over you, pressing affectionate kisses all over your upper body before traveling lower. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Mark admits shyly, sucking on the skin of your inner thigh before repeating the action to the other one. As he licks a stripe up from your dripping core to your clit, you feel a shiver run all the way up your body. Noticing your reaction, he sucks your clit into his mouth and rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud. Your drawn out moan tells him he’s doing something right, so he continues to flick his tongue over the bundle of nerves while he looks up to see your face.

“Shit! More, p- please.” Your pleads leave his ears red and his mouth watering, his tongue moving to slide between your folds with a soft moan. The vibration combined with his tongue darting in and out of you languidly makes you see stars at this point. “Oh my god- are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

He chuckles lightly, seeing your brows furrow in concentration as he forces his tongue to fuck your core faster and faster. One of his hands comes down to rub over your clit, your juices creating a squelching noise every time his tongue moved inside of you. Mark swears he’s never felt more proud when your hand comes down to grip at his hair, pushing his face further into you just as your thighs clench around his head.

“You’re so wet,” Mark praises before going back to thrusting his tongue between your folds. The taste makes him hum, vibration spreading through your lower region and making you whimper in satisfaction. Mark’s a quick learner, you see, when he continues to hum and groan into your pussy as his finger circles your clit consistently. “Cum, baby.”

You give in to his command, letting yourself fall apart at the seams underneath his mouth. Your pussy throbs around his tongue as you ride out your orgasm, a moan caught in your throat as your mouth hangs open in an ‘O.’ Mark happily laps up your juices, diligently downing every last drop before collapsing on the mattress next to you.

“Wow,” He remarks in awe, peering at you through the corner of his eyes. You’re still trying to catch your breath, but you laugh lightheartedly anyway as you turn your body to face him. A few pieces of hair cling to your forehead, and he delicately pushes them away from your face before caressing the curve of your jaw.

“The game’s coming up,” You comment, your hand toying with the one that wasn’t touching your face. The game was so important to him, you couldn’t think of anything else you’d rather talk about in this moment. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Well, yeah of course. A little anxious, but I think that’s normal before a big game.” Basketball might be the one thing he could talk about without a nervous bone in his body. No stuttering, no confusion, just speaking his mind. “Do you like basketball?”

You nod in response, giggling at the face he makes that’s somewhere between surprised and overjoyed. Basketball was something you enjoyed watching and analyzing, especially since it was such a big thing for the students of Neo Tech. Most schools prided themselves on their football team, but not Neo. Basketball had always been like gold.

“What do you think of our starting five? Maybe you can tell me something I haven’t picked up on.”

“Hmm,” You start, fully prepared for the rant that’s about to happen. “Xiaojun is a pretty amazing shooting guard, he almost always knocks down shots whether he’s open or not. Ten can’t be matched when it comes to being a small forward. He’s quick as hell, and I see him use that to his advantage a lot when he’s trying to get open. Hendery- where do I even start? He’s so versatile when it comes to shooting, perimeter shots and jump shots- it doesn’t matter, he can make them all. And his defense skills are crazy, he’s fearless even up against bigger guys. I mean, I guess that’s normal among power forwards but-”

Mark zones out a bit as he prepares for you to talk about Lucas. What were you going to say? Would your eyes light up when talking about him? Would you gush about how good he was? He hopes not, especially not after what just happened.

“Lucas is a good choice for center. He’s tall, so it makes sense that he’s the best at rebounds. His shooting ability is fairly decent, but he needs work on his passing in my opinion.” He’s surprised to see that you keep your comments completely analytical, not even blinking an eye as you continue your commentary. If Mark liked you a lot before, hearing you talk about basketball has him on the verge of calling out for cupid.

“And you-” Mark’s ears twitch, his attention completely and utterly focused on you. Had you seen videos of him playing at his old school? He dreads the thought, knowing that he wasn’t playing to his full potential back then. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see this Friday.”

“Is it too early to say ‘marry me?’“ He jokes, and both of you laugh. Secretly, though, you wish he had been more direct from the beginning. Seeing him with his newfound confidence is even more attractive than seeing him flustered. You wonder what today will bring of your relationship, but decide to wait and bring it up after his big game. He needs a clear head, and so do you if you want to see him perform to the best of his abilities on game night.

[game night]

You aren’t disappointed in the least bit, savoring every minute of the game and concentrating on how good Mark is. His position was always point guard, and now you understand why. He has a certain talent, it’s not technical. Sure, he’s a great shooter and he’s ruthless with defense. But more importantly, he facilitates the team in a way that makes all of the players better. He plays using their strengths, knowing exactly who to look for in any given situation rather than making himself the star.

He leads the team flawlessly, and you’re sure everyone feels it too. The momentum the five boys build up in the first half is too strong for the other team to compete with. By the time half-time is up, it’s clear that Neo Tech will come out on top. There’s a certain feeling lingering in the air as the coach switches out Ten and Hendery for Yangyang and Jungwoo. No matter what the coach does, who switches out, the outcome is secured.

Despite how certain victory is, it doesn’t stop everyone holding their breath as the shot clock winds down to its final seconds and Mark steps back to launch the ball into the air. Everyone is still as the ball seems to move in slow motion, a loud swoosh sound echoing throughout the gym seconds before the final buzzer blares, indicating the end of the game. The crowd is immediately on their feet and cheering, high-fiving and fist-bumping all around.

You’re sitting in the first few rows, so it’s easy to run out onto the court. The school’s sports reporters, Chenle and Jisung, are already holding the microphone towards Mark to record a post-game interview for tomorrow’s newsreel. They only get to ask a few questions, though, before Mark’s eyes are on you.

A bright, proud smile graces your face and Mark is sure he wants to see that same smile every day of his life. You’re standing a few feet away, facing him and the rest of the boys on the team. This reminds him of Lucas’s conversation in the locker room, and he knows that now is no time to be shy.

So, he answers one final question before brushing off the two boys and turning towards you. His walk is confident now, as if he’s done this millions of times before. Now, he stands with you toe-to-toe and he lets his arms wrap around your waist slowly.

If it’s even humanly possible, you push your body closer to his and drape your forearm over his shoulder. His eyes stare directly into yours, the shy boy long gone and replaced with the same courageous Mark that was on the court tonight.

“How’d I do?” He whispers as he leans his forehead against yours, his breath tickling your nose. Everyone on the team is watching, but it doesn’t bother either of you. Instead of answering, you grasp his jaw and press your lips against his. It doesn’t take long for him to respond, his mouth moving against yours slowly and affectionately. You pull away after a few moments, still beaming up at him.

“I guess you finally got together, huh?” Hendery smirks from his spot on the bench beside the two of you, and Mark laughs quietly. Though, Hendery’s statement reminds him that he never did ask you out. His brow quirks upwards when he meets your eyes, the silent question spelled out right in front of you.

“Yeah, we did.” Your answer is what he’s been dying to hear since the moment you walked into Principal Yoon’s office, and it feels even better knowing that he isn’t daydreaming this time. This is real, you returning his feelings- it’s all real. And Mark couldn’t be happier.

“I told you she liked Mark!” Xiaojun throws a victorious, high pitched scream at Lucas as they walk towards the locker room.