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glxssylaufey · 4 years ago

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Mischief Maker - Chapter 1

a/n: PLEASE READ THE FIX TEASER BEFORE READING THIS :) i hope you all enjoy!

summary: loki x reader ; The reader is already faced with problems regarding Loki. Meanwhile, Tony plans a party.

word count: 3,461

warnings: minor bad language, mentions of drinking

taglist: @alex-sulli @delightfulheartdream

“Have I overcooked the steak again, Y/N?”

You didn’t quite realize that you were spacing out until Wanda’s voice had snapped you back into reality. You lift your head to find a mix of confusion and concern in her eyes.

“Oh not at all, it’s perfect.” you reassure her, poking at the dinner she had prepared for you that night. Wanda was a kind soul. She knew that ever since this morning you were on edge, so she thought that a homemade meal would help remedy your uneasiness.

“It’s okay if you’re not hungry.” Wanda assured you after a bit of silence. “I know you probably have a lot on your mind.” she spoke softly, feeding herself more food from her plate.

“Do you think I made the right choice?” you questioned, pushing your plate aside because you indeed were not hungry. Wanda continued to chew, allowing herself time to really think of the circumstances. What you did not expect was for her to stay silent even after her mouthful of food was swallowed. Normally when Wanda remained silent after receiving a question, it was not good news.

“Well it is true, people can change.” she suggested with a shrug. “I think you’re going to be just fine.”

You don’t blame her for avoiding the question because after all, you didn’t even know if you made the right decision agreeing to watch over Loki.

You opened your mouth to say something but was cut off by loud pounding on the door to Wanda’s room. You hopped to your feet, a low groan escaping your lips. What could possibly be going wrong so early into the ten days? When you opened the door, you were faced with a distraught Sam Wilson, frantically tapping his foot. Once his eyes meet yours, he gives you an exasperated look.

“What are you doing?!” he queried loudly. His tone was as if he caught you doing something unspeakable.

“Having dinner?” it came out almost like a question. “Is there something you need, Sam?”

“Yeah, I need you to do your job and get Loki out of the movie room.” he demanded, taking a step back to allow you out of the doorframe. At first, you didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, yet you followed behind Sam regardless.

When you reached the movie room, you were faced with exactly what you had expected. Some juvenile situation that could easily be solved if you weren’t dealing with such hot headed men. When you walked into the room, you found Loki laying with his legs sprawled on the couch, his eyes glued onto a book he held in one hand. His body effortlessly took up the entire couch, considering his impressive height. You were relieved, at least he hadn't stabbed anybody. At least not yet. Next to the couch, Bucky stood with his arms crossed glaring down at the seemingly peaceful god.

“What’s the problem, James?” you asked.

“Well, Sam and I were going to watch a movie.” he explained as if it were obvious. “But your little friend here is taking up the whole space, even though we reserved this spot tonight.” Bucky’s words caught Loki’s attention and he slowly raised his head from his book to look up at you. When he saw that you were who Sam retrieved to save the day, he rolled his eyes. That seemed to be common for him.

“She is not my friend.” Loki spat coldly. “And I was already here first.”

“But we already reserved the spot, I’ve told you this about six damn times.” Sam whined with aggravation in his voice. You sighed, mentally face-palming yourself at how childish Sam and Bucky were being. Though you opted to take their side because you knew you would never hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“Loki, you can always move to a different room where it might be quieter anyways.” you gently propose. You made sure to choose your words carefully in order not to agitate him. When his head shot up to look directly at you, your heart dropped to your stomach. You swallowed a lump in your throat, hoping you didn’t upset him any further.

“This room has the best lighting for my reading. I do not want a separate room.” he claimed, seemingly speaking more to Sam and Bucky rather than you. You panicked for a moment, feeling like you’ve run out of ideas. Thankfully, you were a quick thinker.

“I think I might have a better spot for you.” you quickly remarked. You held your breath as you awaited his response, hoping you sounded enticing enough to get him to leave the room with you. Much to your relief, Loki stood with a huff after planting his bookmark in his book.

“Lead the way.” he challenged in a sarcastic mood. You give a simple nod before turning to walk out the door with the God of Mischief behind you. As you walked out, you heard Bucky yell an exhausted “thank you” to which you just waved your hand in the air to dismiss him.

While walking down the hallway, you mustered up enough courage to slow your steps in order to walk beside Loki rather than in front of him.

“I’m really sorry about those two, I know they can act like they own the place sometimes.” you apologized, hoping to lighten the mood. Loki merely just shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m given a good spot to continue reading as you promised.” he replied plainly. This of course only made you second guess your pick of a location. You continued to walk with Loki until you both crossed paths with Natasha, who immediately looked curious as to what you two were doing.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” she asked, turning to face you.

“Just peachy.” you replied, forcing the smile on your face. “I’m taking Loki outside. He needs a quiet place to read.” you explained. Natasha did no further questioning and thankfully neither did Loki. He didn’t seem to have a problem with being led outside.

“You two have fun.” she spoke with a chuckle. “By the way, don’t forget we have another one of Stark’s parties to attend tomorrow night.” her reminder caused you to stop in your tracks. Stark’s parties were always flashy and extravagant, the type of thing that you felt completely turned off of as of recently.

“Of course.” you scoffed. “Thanks for telling me.”

“But do you know if… you know.” Natasha gestured towards Loki. You quickly caught onto what she was hinting at. Would Tony even allow Loki to step foot into the party? You sigh and look up at Loki who seemed confused as to what you two were talking about.

“I don’t care what Tony says. Loki shouldn’t be locked away in his room.” you declare, setting your foot down. Your statement only seemed to intrigued Loki.

“Should I be concerned?” he asked, looking to the both of you.

“Not at all!” you exclaimed quickly. “Now let’s go before it gets dark out.” you began speed walking towards the door hoping Loki would follow behind you. Thankfully, he continued to walk without any more questions. Once you both finally got out of the doors to the compound, Loki took a deep breath and looked around. It wasn’t until now you realized he probably hasn’t gotten much fresh air since arriving here. Though much to your dismay, Loki didn’t let the events with Natasha go unanswered.

“Will you tell me what you and Agent Romanoff spoke of now?” he asked, genuine curiosity laced in his voice. You decided not to protest. He deserved to know, after all. You gave yourself a moment to compose your thoughts so your explanation came out efficiently. You both continued to walk.

“Tony likes to host these huge parties from time to time to let all the Avengers have a break from their work and just have some fun with one another.” you paused, not knowing how to word the next bit. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that Tony isn’t very fond of you.”

“Of course I have.” he stated, almost in offense. “And I suppose he wants me locked away in my room as you said?”

You just simply looked at him and nodded, relieved he caught on quick. As you both continued to walk toward the hill you always painted on, you decided not to speak and allow Loki time to dwell on the situation.

“Well thank you.” he finally said. “For not wanting me to be hidden away.” he added quickly. Due to reasons you can’t explain, you blushed at Loki’s gratitude. Hearing kind words from him was refreshing. It had actually caught you off guard with how quickly he could switch from overbearing to gentle so fast.

“You’re welcome.” you replied with a warm smile. Once you two finally reached the top of the hill, you let out a sigh as you looked around. It was perfect. The two of you had the perfect view of the sunset which was glowing a beautiful orange and pink ombré. A gust of warm wind gently rushed through the air, giving you a sense of comfort. When you turned to look at Loki, you found he was also admiring the scene displayed in front of him. As you studied his face, you noticed there was just something about the way the sun hit his face that made him seem so normal. Maybe even human. When he turned to look at you, you jumped a little after being caught blatantly staring at him.

“Do you come up here often?” he questioned, taking a step towards you. To avoid any sort of eye contact, you let your head hang low to watch your feet kick at the grass lightly.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite place to come when I want to be alone.” you explained to the ground. You hoped that he wouldn’t be able to tell how nervous you were to be alone with him. Of course, he did.

“Do I frighten you, girl?” he pondered, tilting his head to the side to make an attempt to look at your face. His question made your breath hitch, though you would never let him notice. You brought your head up to look at him once more, but was startled to find that Loki was standing just a mere foot away from you. You cleared your throat quickly to reply.

“No.” you lied. You knew good and well that he intimidated you possibly more than anything else in the Avengers tower.

“You know, I wouldn’t blame you if you were.” he assured you. “I’m sure your friends have fed you all the awful stories about me.”

“I was there when it happened, so I already knew about the incident.” you informed him, hoping you didn’t come off as rude. Loki hummed in response. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, making the air feel awkward.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person though.” you spoke truthfully. You hoped to give him any sort of comfort to counteract the heaviness of the moment. Loki continued to stare at you before nodding in appreciation.

“I’m grateful.” he answered with certainty. You smile and turn back to face the sunset that has now faded to a beautiful pastel pink. Feeling a sense of self-consciousness come down upon you, you suddenly decide that you have overstayed. Even if you were technically in a place that was very much yours.

“Well if all you were looking for was a place to read, I’ll leave you be now.” you said, turning back to face Loki. What you did not expect was Loki to give you a confused look as if you weren’t supposed to leave.

“Don’t you want to watch the rest of the sunset?” he asked, waving his hand towards the sky. His recommendation made your cheeks burn up. Gods, why was he making you so flustered? You took a step back towards where you were previously next to him.

“I’d love to.” you replied sweetly. That was the first time you saw Loki, the God of Mischief smile. It was quick and simple, nothing more than a smirk. It made your heart warm up nonetheless.

Loki continued to tell you of the sunsets on Asgard while the two of you sat on top of the grassy hill. It soothed your mind to hear how comfortable Loki was talking to you. You sat and was a good listener to Loki, enjoying all the descriptions he gave you of his home. In return, you told him of your artwork and how you were actually a painter when you weren’t being an Avenger.

“You’d find the art on Asgard to be quite astounding then.” he said at one point. “Thor has told me much about you. He never told me you were a painter.” you raised an eyebrow at Loki’s statement.

“Thor has talked about me?” you asked with a smile. Loki paused for a moment to think, lightly groaning in frustration.

“Of course. That’s all the oaf does is talk.” Loki swore. There was a small sigh that did not go unnoticed from Loki. It soon became apparent that Loki wasn’t very adoring of talking about his brother. You quickly decided to change the subject.

“Well I can always show you some of my art work if you’d like.” you suggested. Loki remained silent, making you worrisome. You wondered if you had overstepped with recommending him some of your paintings. After a couple of seconds, Loki finally turns to connect his eyes with yours.

“I’d like that.” he assured you softly.

The two of you talked until the sun had fully vanished into the night. The both of you walked back to the tower in silence, neither of you quite knowing what to say. The moment you had walked back into the tower, you were approached by Tony who had some sort of list in his hand.

“Y/N! Just the person I wanted to see.” he announced. “Listen, I have to discuss the party with you. Um, Reindeer Games, if you don’t mind?” Tony said, rudely waving Loki away in the other direction. Loki simply glared at Tony before stomping off to wherever he decided to go next.

“You know, there’s no need to be rude.” you said to Tony quietly.

“Oh what, you two are like best buds now?” he teased. You didn’t respond, letting Tony get his laughs in. “Anyways, I wanted to ask if you’re interested in making a little bit of cash.”

You quirk an eyebrow at Tony, already having a bad feeling about where this is going.

“What do you mean?” you ask, utterly confused. Tony just smiled and unraveled the list he held in his hand, revealing a whole index full of people’s names you had no clue existed.

“I have a whole bunch of rich assholes coming tomorrow that are completely loaded. So, being the nice person I am, I thought I’d ask if you had any pieces of art that you’re willing to put prices on for these people.” you groan, listening to the proposition that was very much a Tony Stark idea.

“You want people to bid on my art?” you plainly summed up everything Tony said.

“You’ll get every penny!” he threw his hands up in mock defense. “I just need some kind of big event to get people to show up.” You rolled your eyes.

“Tony, I can’t. I’ll be busy enough making sure Loki doesn’t get into any trouble at the party.” you explained. You were hoping your words would go right over Tony’s head, but of course it didn’t. Nothing ever gets past him.

“Oh, no. Oh hell no, he’s not coming near my party! I don’t need him scaring away my guests.” Tony exclaimed. There it was. The big demand from the man himself that will forbid Loki from acting as a normal person. Or god, per say.

“Why not? He really does seem like he's changed.” you tried to persuade him, but as you expected, your pleas fell upon deaf ears.

“Don’t care.” Tony said with a matter of fact tone. “Please just do me a favor and go through some old paintings. It doesn’t have to be huge, just something that’ll make rich people feel richer.” he ordered while walking back to his lab. With that said, it seemed like you really didn’t have much of a choice. You began to walk back to your room, already thinking of a plan to allow Loki out of his room during the party. After seeing the amount of people on the guest list, you deemed it easy enough to sneak him into the party.

Third Person POV:

Loki banged on the doors to his brother’s room desperately. As he knocked, he looked around to make sure nobody would catch him pounding on the door like a madman. Once the doors finally opened, Thor’s eyes lit up to find his brother had come to visit him.

“Oh, brother! What a surprise this is!” Thor practically shouted with a smile. Loki didn’t bother with returning the enthusiasm. “Please come in.” Thor requested, opening the door wider to allow his brother entry. When Loki walked in, his nose scrunched at the mess of Thor’s room. There were clothes everywhere with several empty beer bottles scattered about. Not to mention all the various candy wrappers that decorated the floor.

“By the norns, has our mother raised a pig?” Loki ridiculed his brother in disgust. This of course didn’t phase Thor due to the fact that he’s dealt with Loki’s judgement even as children. As a matter of fact, he expected it when Loki walked in.

“Last time I checked, no.” Thor replied with a smile. “Now, what is it you need, brother?” Thor asked. Loki looked his brother in the eyes for a good moment before speaking again. Loki often did this to be sure Thor was actually listening.

“It’s about Y/N.” Loki finally admitted. “She’s so different.” Loki said almost in puzzlement.

“Whatever do you mean?” Thor asked, tilting his head to the side.

“She was unceasingly friendly to me today, without even asking anything in return.” Loki explained, confusion written on his face. “I want to repay the kindness to her.” Loki stated confidently. Thor chuckled lightly, happy to see that someone was showing his brother kindness.

“Ah yes, Y/N is a very sweet girl.” Thor confirmed happily. “Have you taken an interest in her, brother?” Thor suggested with a wink. Loki’s eyes widened in anger at Thor’s teasing and he hit his brother firmly in his broad chest.

“Of course not! That is absurd!” Loki blurted out. “I simply just want to return the favor after she was kind to me, that is all.” Loki corrected Thor.

“It is not such a far fetched idea, brother! She is a very likable woman.” Thor shamelessly stated. This made Loki think back to earlier when he told Y/N of Thor speaking of her. He recalled the way her eyes sparkled when he mentioned Thor speaking of her. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that it was Thor that Y/N had affections towards. After all, what woman wasn’t completely head over heels for his brother? Loki rolled his eyes at the thought.

“Just tell me what I should do to repay her for being so pleasant to me.” Loki said with irritation deep in his tone.

“Stark is holding a party tomorrow night.” Thor said with a snap after a bit of contemplating. “You can ask to treat her to a drink.” Thor suggested. It seemed like the perfect idea. That was until Loki remembered your conversation with Natasha.

“I can’t.” he said simply. “Stark is prohibiting me from going to his little get together.” Loki snorted. Thor began to brainstorm ideas. He was happy that someone was finally showing warmth to his brother and he did not want anything to get in the way of it.

“Then I shall sneak you in!” Thor exclaimed with his typical mightiness. Loki rolled his eyes at his brother’s over-confidence.

“And how do you expect to do that?” Loki challenged, crossing his arms.

“I will find a way. Surely it can’t be that hard.” Thor affirmed with a beaming smile. “C’mon brother, you’re the God of Mischief! Surely something like this is right up your alley.” Thor made a good point. Loki knew it would be easy enough to fool the Midgardians. After some consideration, Loki smiled at his brother.

“What do you have in mind?”

#tom hiddleston #marvel #marvel mcu #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki #fanfic #marvel fanfic series #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#chapter one

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

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Ticking Photobomb, T, 1.6k

Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley & TK Strand

TK loves Carlos, and wants their relationship to work out. Before they can recapture even a semblance of the bliss they shared, Carlos needs to fix his mistake and properly introduce TK to his family. Until then... Carlos deserves at least some punishment. He only hopes Buck will forgive him, for involving him in his and Carlos's first big fight as a couple.

Only it's not Buck's forgiveness he'll need.

ao3 link

based off of this post

He’s wary. He and TK are supposed to be enjoying a delicious meal outside at a nearby park, sun high in the sky, bright but not too cruel, as they sit together on a thin, yellow blanket, and Carlos cannot enjoy any of this beautiful date because a tiny voice in the back of his mind warns him that TK’s silence is a cover for something more sinister. His boyfriend’s smile, aimed at his phone as it has been since they arrived, means trouble. The small, continuous giggles that eke free sound like alarms. Giggles offered with every bite, where he’d type a short message and then set his phone down; only to grab it halfway through its jingling ringtone – TK never usually keeps that on. Carlos remembered him complaining how he hates ringtones, prefers having his phone vibrate. Why is it on now? And why is he texting while they’re on a date? And why does his laughter make Carlos cringe?

“Who are you texting?” he asks, finally, Carlos pushing the plastic container with his half-finished sandwich to the side.

TK glances up from his phone. “No one.”

“No one?”

“Just a friend,” TK says, pinning Carlos with a strange expression that squeezes his heart. It makes the sweat pricking his temples relocate and journey down, rolling towards his chin. Carlos wipes at his face as TK adds, “seriously, you don’t have to worry.”

It’s the way he said ‘you’ that does Carlos in. That has him dredging up what he already considered resolved since before they sat down. Discussed, at length, over the phone, with Carlos apologizing repeatedly. TK assured him they were good. “I thought we were good?”

TK sighs, “We are good.” Then, he mumbles, “As good as any two friends can be.”

Carlos’s frown deepens, mouth resembling a severe gash carved into his face. “I knew it!” Carlos cries, pointing at him. “You’re still mad at me.”

“I never said I wasn’t!”

“You said it was settled –“

“Because it is,” TK insists, a heavy glare drawing all breath out of Carlos’s chest. The façade he wore for their date has been pulled away, and Carlos sees exactly how distressed TK remained after he introduced him to his parents as his ‘friend’. Even with Carlos promising that he would remedy the situation soon, gather his boyfriend and family together and explain the truth of his romantic life, TK clings tight to the pain Carlos caused by letting fear sway his choice, both at the farmer’s market and when he let TK walk out of his home, relationship dangling from a fraying cord. It frays ever closer to breaking. “It’s settled until you work up the nerve to have that dinner you were talking about.”

Carlos splutters, “That’s not – you know, with the pandemic how hard it’s…”

His excuses further irritate TK, who retreats into his phone. He texts someone else. Perhaps the same person he’s been texting this entire time. “Then it’s settled.”

“If it’s so settled,” Carlos asks, “why even bother agreeing to our date today?” He gestures at their unfinished meals, probably cold and stale. If they weren’t, it’s not like Carlos feels like eating anymore.

TK stops texting, smirking at Carlos. Usually, it riles Carlos up in that he wants to kiss it off of him. Right now, Carlos swallows the urge to shove his boyfriend onto his ass. “A date?” TK asks, words languid and breezy, spaced out by palpable sarcasm. “Why would you think this was a date,” he continues, phone tapping against his chin, “we are just friends after all…”

Anger and disappointment converge violently inside Carlos, fighting for release. Neither can, as his vibrating phone pulls his focus from TK. He opens the message on autopilot, confused since it’s from TK. Confusion then drops into the cesspool of his emotions, like Mentos in Coke, and Carlos explodes.

“Why did you send me this?” he demands, showing TK a picture he sent to Carlos of himself. A picture they took, together, when visiting a lake one weekend long ago during the summer. A picture taken after they spent the entire afternoon swimming, bathing suits forgotten on the pier. A picture where TK’s chiseled physique was on display, skin dazzling as fading sunlight turned water droplets into diamonds, and TK’s sunglasses rested low on his nose as he smiled to the side where Carlos was. Was. As in not anymore. Only his arm, slung around his boyfriend’s shoulder, remained. Saved by being impossible to crop out. “Well?” Carlos asks again.

TK sighs, “Oh, I must have sent that by mistake.”

“You wanted to send me something else?”

“No,” TK clarifies, “I sent that to you by mistake. It was supposed to go to Buck, see?” TK shows Carlos his message thread, with the picture he sent Carlos, timestamped, showing he forwarded it to Buck first, then Carlos.

“…Buck.”

“Yeah, Buck,” TK continues, leaving his texts and diving into his photo album. He selects a group shot of the 126, plus a few extra members. He zooms closer on one face, Buck’s, enough that Carlos can distinguish the two birthmark spots above his eyebrows. “I’m sure I told you about him.”

“You did,” Carlos nods. He tears his gaze from Buck’s smile, fuming. “The firefighter who flirted with you.”

“I mean, he also helped me save my dad,” TK says, “but, yeah… he also flirted with me.” TK lowers his phone, chuckling, “We’ve just been chatting back and forth – as friends do – when I realized… y’know, I told him I wasn’t interested, because I had this really awesome boyfriend who I love, but since that’s not the case anymore, we’re only friends apparetly, I figured I might as well shoot my shot. Find out if he’s still interested. Maybe once quarantine is done, I can take some time off and… see what Los Angeles has to offer.” The eyebrow wiggle was completely unnecessary. TK communicated exactly what of Los Angeles he intends to see, regardless of how his eyebrows moved.

He’s better than this. Carlos knows what TK is doing. What the picture, and its delivery, was supposed to accomplish. What it’s succeeding at. He can win this, simply by ignoring TK’s teasing.

Except.

“You are not going to Los Angeles.” Carlos scowls, “Not without me. And especially not if Buck is gonna be there.”

TK scoffs, “What are you, my boyfriend?”

“…Yes!”

“Says who?” he asks, “Your parents?”

They’re outside. In public, surrounded by people who keep their distance. Unfortunately, their voices carry wide enough they draw a sizeable crowd. Carlos doesn’t notice until TK storms off and leaves him with the blanket, the abandoned food, and their audience.

Carlos blushes, hiding behind his hands. He wishes he never fumbled back then, in the farmer’s market. He also, briefly, wishes he and Buck switched places. At least then TK would be treating him to risqué pictures. At least Carlos would be having a good time, if he were Buck. He’d be receiving sexy photos from a certified dreamboat instead of suffering because of his own mistakes.

---------------------------

Buck stumbles over his words, stuttering, rushing out his explanation to a stone-faced Eddie. “Seriously,” he says, “I don’t – I don’t know why TK sent me that picture of him! It’s not like I asked! One second we’re talking about movies and the next thing I know – shirtless TK!”

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie huffs, arms folded across his chest, “I saw.”

He shouldn’t have. If Buck hadn’t left his phone on the table to help Bobby in the kitchen. If he didn’t hear his phone beep with an arriving message, almost vibrating off the table from it. If Eddie, along with Hen and Chim, weren’t climbing the stairs at the moment, and if he ignored Buck’s plea to hand him his phone. To punch in the code – which he knew, of course Eddie knew – since Buck was wrist deep in a turkey’s hole.

Buck washed his hands immediately, drying them on his pants as he chased Eddie the few feet towards the couch.

“So,” Eddie continues, “you and TK…”

He and TK? “We’re friends,” he says, repeating himself after Eddie’s disbelieving stare. “Okay, I mean – he did turn me down once, when we were leaving Texas. But he said he had a boyfriend –“

“He turned you down?” Eddie asks, “You flirted with him?”

“No!” Buck shrugs, running his hand over his forehead, frowning at the sweat that pooled there. “Well, I didn’t think I was. But he did? And – and he left before I could say anything, but I didn’t think it mattered since he, y’know, had a boyfriend!” He stomps his foot, irritation bubbling from the pit of his stomach and out his mouth. “Besides! Why does it matter if he sends me pictures?” Nice pictures. Distracting pictures that made Buck question exactly why TK misunderstanding his friendliness was a problem. “Why are you so angry?”

“Because… because…” Eddie looks past Buck, at the peanut gallery assembled by the kitchen. Hen and Chimney watching with interest while Bobby pretends cooking a turkey involves his whole focus. None of the seem keen to jump in and help. “Because… you…” Suddenly, Eddie stands. Buck recoils, stepping backwards. “You know what,” Eddie says, digging into his pocket, “I’m telling Marjan to unfollow you on Instagram.”

“What?”

“And!” he yells, phone free and on, “I’m telling her to block you!”

“What? No – Eddie, no! Don’t!” Buck follows his friend, pleading, “C’mon, she hasn’t even liked any of my photos yet… Eddie… Eddie!”

Eddie ignores him, furiously typing the end of Buck’s most famous connection online. In his haste, Buck forgets his phone on the counter. Eddie takes precedence over his phone.

Later, Buck will return to it. He will respond to TK’s picture, sending a tidal wave of texts at the Texan firefighter ranging between the immense trouble that picture landed him in and how TK can repay him by convincing Marjan to follow him again.

But that’s later. Now Buck slams his fist against the firetruck, yelling for Eddie to unlock the door.

Eddie doesn’t.

#911 on fox #911 lone star #carlos reyes #tk strand #evan 'buck' buckley #eddie diaz #tarlos #buddie #tarlos fanfic #buddie fanfic

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harmony88 · 3 years ago

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Okay so I saw your post yesterday from journey's end where you said something about how the Doctor wants to snog Rose when she says she built the dimension cannon to come back to him and I just want to read your take on that PRETTY PLEASE!

Oh, anon! How lovely if this had been reality! Let's just say it is. Ask and you shall receive :) Also put this on Ao3 (I'm sure its been done before but this was too fun)

He knew hugging her was going to feel like coming up for air. The amount of times he’d imagined this moment was astronomical and overwhelming, and even so, he was entirely unprepared for what it would feel like to actually hold her again.

He’d come up with a million scenarios. Dreams about falling into the parallel world by accident and scooping her back up and then escaping with mad laughter, holding hands just as the walls were sealing off again; visions of somehow finding her on a beach in this reality with her hair smelling of sea salt and sand. In those, he would wrap her up in a hug that made them both dizzy, and of course, he'd spent an absurd about of time coming up with silly daydreams of just casually stumbling across her in a coffee shop, making some flirtatious comment that was much too simple for the heartache they had both been through.

Not entirely unlike what he'd said to her today, he supposed, as he had laid dying in her arms.

Long time no see.

It had been far too long. But, by some miracle or utter cleverness, here she was. Her chest was pressed against his, her lips were on his shoulder, kissing him and also breathing him in, and he just held her. The very thought of letting go was more than his hearts or soul could bear, so he didn’t, instead he opened his eyes and looked at Donna, who was giving him a coy smile full of relief and joy. So much swam between their eyes in that single look, and he knew without her having to say that she was thinking about that day so long ago, standing in a wedding dress, watching him try not to cry.

And he knew that right now, she was bloody happy for him.

Her name was Rose.

“I missed you,” he said without meaning to Rose's ear, and his eyes pulled away from Donna to look at her as she loosened her grip around his neck. He swallowed hard, because she was already too far away again and he was already falling, losing himself to her sweet honey scent and beautiful eyes, and the longer he looked at her the harder it was to imagine they’d been apart for as long as they had.

He didn’t know how he’d survived, and he refused to even think about having to go through it all again, not when she was finally here, and when her hands came to rest on his chest directly over his hearts, Jack averted his eyes, noticing the way the Doctor’s eyes seemingly widened.

"I'm starving," he said, looking at Donna. "And if we have to keep fighting today, we should -"

"Right, yeah, we should," Donna said, but neither Rose nor the Doctor noticed when they left and headed to the galley. They were just staring at each other, and when he exhaled her name, his breath brushed her cheek.

“Rose….”

“I missed you, too,” she whispered, and he nodded, smiling a little at her before he pulled her back into a hug, and this time he realized they weren’t being watched. So his hands, which he’d made sure to keep on her upper back before, fell to her waist, forcing her breathing to hitch a little, a sensation he could hear just as much as he could feel, and it was intoxicating. “I missed you so much.”

He stayed silent, but his lips pressed onto her hair, and his fingers debated about slipping under her shirt and her leather jacket, but the moment he realized that's what she was wearing a sense of dread filled his entire body, and he let out a shaky breath when he decided to keep them where they were. “Do me a favor?” he asked quietly, and she nodded. “When this is over, I want you to throw away every single leather jacket you own.”

“What?” she asked, pulling back a little and raising her eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“It reminds me of...saying goodbye,” he said softly, wearing his hearts on his sleeve for the first time in years and he found himself utterly terrified by it. But she just bit her lip and cupped his cheek, and she looked down at her jacket.

“Funny,” she began. “It reminded me of you.”

His face softened, and when her eyes looked up to his, there was a tenderness in them that was making his breathing feel sharp and painful. He just let his Adam’s apple bob as he tried to accept those words, and she stepped closer to him, her eyes never leaving his face as he brushed his hand across her arm, feeling the tangible evidence that she was here, in the flesh and in leather, and he fought the urge to kiss her forehead.

He lost, and before he knew it he was tasting her skin, savoring the sweet concoction that was Rose and sweat, and her hips buckled into his. She let out the smallest moan when she did and his hearts began to speed up, and suddenly she felt too far away again.

He touched the leather jacket, and they both remembered.

You were fantastic. And do you know what?

“Doctor…”

“Rose…”

So was I.

They were so close, so beautifully close, and he started to lean down, ready to kiss her, ready to just give in because he was simply tired of fighting this and he supposed there was some truth to that stupid saying about how distance makes the heart grow fonder, when the TARDIS sounded an alarm and everyone’s attention snapped to the console. He grabbed her hand, not about to not touch her, and they ran over to take a look at what was going on. Jack and Donna were there, too, and whether or not they actually ate their snacks or had been listening at the door like petty teenagers didn’t matter at all as they read the readings, and Jack stiffened.

“What the hell?” he asked.

“Something is looking for us," the Doctor said.

“There’s a massive Dalek ship at the center of the planet,” Jack said, looking at the screen. “They’re calling it the crucible. I guess that’s our destination.”

Rose and the Doctor shared a glance, but Donna was trying to play catch up, and she looked back down at the controls. “You said these planets were like an engine. But what for?”

“Rose,” the Doctor said, a thrill running through him completely at the fact that he was able to do that and look at her face while he did. She bit her lip, probably thinking the same thing. “You’ve been in a parallel world -”

He made sure to smile with his eyes at her at the word ‘been’, because it was the past, and it wasn’t true anymore, because here she was, perfect and pink and yellow and in the damn flesh, and she smirked a little, realizing that was a game he was going to continue to play and she was certain of it. He’d make it light hearted and fun, of course, but she knew and he knew that really, he would say it as a reminder that he wasn’t dreaming.

She squeezed his hand.

“That world is running ahead of this universe. You’ve seen the future. What was it?” he asked.

“The stars were going out,” Donna told him instead, remembering suddenly, and Rose glanced over at her. She nodded.

“One by one,” she added. “We looked up at the sky and they were just...dying.”

He stared at her, waiting for her to continue, and she began to look at her feet. She couldn’t wait to tell him this, she'd thought about it so much, but she wanted to do it alone, and right now they had...well….a few too many people. But he needed to know and time was running out, so sod it.

“Basically we’ve been building this, erm. This travel machine...This, dimension cannon, so...well - so that I could…” she tried to say, but she could feel Donna and Jack’s eyes on her and it made her hesitate. The Doctor’s eyes darted to her lips before they found her eyes, and his face was hard to read, though there was the ghost of a smile tugging on his lips.

“What?” he whispered.

He needed to hear her say it.

“So I could come back,” she mused, and he gave her a classic grin, full of teeth and his clicked jaw, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his hand found hers again. He hummed happily as she rolled her eyes, because they could both feel the flirty banter lingering in the air. She bit her lip as he continued to smile like an idiot at her. “Shut up.”

She was teasing, but her voice became a little breathier than it had been, the way he was looking at her was simply too much, and his smile fell, his tongue tapping the back of his teeth as he suddenly had this hungry look in his eyes that she’d never quite seen before, and she stopped breathing when he spoke next.

“Make me.”

His hearts were pounding, and her face, which was a little shocked at first, suddenly became determined, and neither cared nor remembered that Jack and Donna were there as she grabbed his lapels and pulled him to her. He wasted no time. She was lonliness' remedy, the thing he craved more than the air in his lungs, and his mouth was on hers before he could process it.

She cried out when he pushed her against the controls, tongues lapping and hands cradling her waist like they were before, only this time his fingers slipped beneath her shirt, dancing on her skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them, and Jack stared in shock. Donna blushed and then turned away, walking over to Jack and making him step aside as well, because they both heard the panting that was starting to stir from both of them, and they figured if the world was ending, they should at least get this.

So they slipped back into the other room for as long as they could.

“Up,” the Doctor groaned.

“What?” she gasped, shuddering when his lips found her neck.

“Your legs. Put them up. On the seat,” he ordered, nipping a little at her. She laughed and kissed him, but she did what he said and groaned when he suddenly rubbed her in just the right spot with his thigh, and that leather jacket they’d debated about was being unzipped. "Oh, I missed you."

“Doctor,” she whined, and he just nodded.

“I’m right here,” he whispered. “I'm not going anywhere.”

She nodded, letting herself be spellbound for another moment, but her eyes caught sight of the monitor and she tried to pull away.

“We have….the planets, we -” she tried to say, but his lips were on hers again, and he sucked on her bottom lip. She whimpered.

"So?" he whispered, and she sighed.

“We can’t...not right now, we -”

“Yes we can,” he growled. “We can. I don’t care. I want you. I don't want to have to wait, the universe always makes us wait and I'm tired of it.”

Her jacket was nearly pulled completely off as his kisses grew more frantic, hot and wet and needy and full of so much guilt, perhaps. Guilt for losing her, guilt for not finding her first, and she rocked into him, making him cry her name as he slammed his hands on the console.

But the TARDIS still had her wits about her, and just as they began to tear each other's clothes off, making it so his suit coat was completely unbuttoned, she shifted and threw them both to the ground.

Rose winced when her shoulder hit the grating and he looked at her worriedly. His pants had a bulge that hadn’t been there a moment ago, but before they could yell at the TARDIS or resume what they were doing, the Old Girl jolted again, and he pulled Rose to his chest.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, you?” she said, and he nodded, standing up and helping her to do the same. Donna and Jack were back in the room, looking a little nervous, and everyone knew the storm was getting closer.

“In that parallel world, you said something about me,” Donna whispered, looking at Rose. The Doctor looked at Jack, who was smirking and pointed down to his pants, and he just made a face.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, and Jack just beamed.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased, but Rose was looking at Donna carefully, and when she slipped her hand out of the Doctor’s to walk to her, he panicked.

“Rose, come here,” he said, unable to stop himself, and she stepped back so her side was touching his.

“The dimension cannon could measure timelines -” she began, and the Doctor gave her an adoring smile, wanting to ask her so many questions about it he could hardly stand it. She just nudged his side. “It’s weird, Donna, but they all seemed to converge on you.”

“But why me?” she gasped, “What have I ever done? I’m a temp from Chiswick!”

The TARDIS jolted again, knocking them all down, and the Doctor’s hands were securely on Rose’s waist as they stood back up. His hearts were pounding, and they all stared at the door. The scanner beeped.

“The Dalek Crucible,” he whispered, and for good measure, he kissed Rose’s hair. “All aboard.”

He looked at the hand in the box for a fraction of a second as they headed toward the door, because he’d seen a version of this timeline that he was just desperately hoping was not about to come true. But if it did, he'd try to be okay with that.

He'd try.

#fanfic #anon ask #doctor and rose #tenthdoctor #rosetyler #pining #my heart

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

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Exile: Breaking Branches

Pairing: Timothée Chalamet x Reader

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Timothée crosses the one line they've sworn they never would. Consequences, heartache, and despair enfold as Timothée tries to find his way back to her.

Exile Master List

She poured the last of the chardonnay into her glass, sipping slowly as she stirred the large pot of soup on the stove. The air had begun to bite, the leaves shedding their summers glow for autumnal comfort and eventual rest as winter hit. She was cozy in an old sweater she’d kept from an ex, his alma mater printed in large writing across the front. The years of wear and tear had become embedded in the print, cracking it to expose the maroon of the fabric it was pressed upon. She loved it, despite the gnarly way in which she’d come to collect it. It was her favorite garment for days like this. The cold air of fall, the emptiness of their home, and the long days where she needed complicated recipes to occupy her time… rather to bide her time until he called.

She glanced at the clock, he’d be calling soon, a call when he got up, before getting ready for set, or running his lines again, a call to start his day and wind down hers. She stared at the stove clock, permanently set either two minutes fast, or an hour and two minutes depending on Daylight Savings. She hated the thing; it was his purchase, a luxurious French stove with a manual written exclusively in French. Which was fine when Timothée was home, but alone she was at a loss of what buttons to push and how to fix it. Her remedial language skills were cute when they’d met, and she’d remembered a little more French from high school than she realized, but an entire manual with no pictures or diagrams? No, this was a Timothée chore that was waiting to be fixed. It had been waiting to be fixed since the first of the month, when they’d fallen forward.

She set her silicone spoon down and admired the space in front of her. She loved their kitchen. She had insisted on spending the most money on it and their master bath. They had found the home after a few months of looking. It needed a desperate remodel, a makeover to cleanse the house of years of neglect. It was in a secluded part of LA, with large trees and few neighbors. They’d bargained down the price and tossed it into their renovation budget. Which was why she stood on their herringbone reclaimed wooden floors, staring at their gorgeous French stove top, with the intricate black tiled backsplash that stretched the length of the wall. The gold hardware popped against the forest green cabinetry and accented the large marble island.

She sighed, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t calling today. She turned to set her wine down and glanced out the glass wall at their side garden. Tomorrow she would collect her harvest and add it to her soup, perhaps make a vegetable broth to be saved for another day in her empty home.

Across the world, Timothée was waking up, a hangover shredding through his body. He turned and looked at the person lying next to him, before getting up and searching for his boxers. She stood too and scrambled to find her own clothing before staring at him. Their eyes met, the haze of the alcohol and the realization of what had transpired crossed their faces at the same moment. She waved awkwardly, saying she’d see him on set, before darting out of his hotel room.

Timothée sat on the bed, head in hands. The grogginess of just waking up after a night of drinking was apparent as he tried to decide what to do. Would it be worse if he thought about it, or just called her?

She picked up on the first ring, excitement in her voice.

“Hi honey, I wondered if you were going to call,” She said, sighing.

She waited for him to say something, to greet her, call her a pet name, anything.

“I slept with her, I, I can’t believe, we slept together,” He exhaled it out through his lips, wishing desperately that the release of the statement would take the guilt and weight off of his body. He sat quietly, wondering what her response would be, hoping she could give him some sort of solace.

“Okay,” She said. She moved around the island to sit on their stools and took a gulp of wine. She began to bite her bottom lip as she set her phone on the counter, placing it on speaker.

“I’m so sorry,” Timothée said, his voice cracking.

“Tim, we have an open relationship,” She reminded him. He sensed the calm in her voice, the indifference to him relinquishing a regret she never wanted to hear in the first place.

“I know but, this, this is a line I didn’t want to cross,” He pleads. Why doesn’t she care more?

“It seems like you’re trying to make sense of this more than I am,” She said.

“I just, there was a line I didn’t want to cross and,” The tears are forming, the bile rising in his throat, he tries to inhale slowly, calm himself. If she’s okay with this, why isn’t he?

“And what? You did? Timothée, you have to live with yourself and the decision you made,” The words cut through him. They say the opposite of hate isn’t love, it’s indifference. He feels the air in their relationship starting to turn. She takes another sip of her wine and wipes the tears that have slid down her cheeks.

Their open relationship had been a mutual decision which they’d come to after his first film away. The desire for companionship, for intimacy on both their ends was palpable. Conversations became less about how they were doing and more about what they could do to get each other off. Their relationship became twisted, and once he’d come home, they’d forgotten how to be together. They had sat across from one another in her old one-bedroom apartment, sweltering in the summer heat. Did they break up, or did they find a way to work through it?

At first, they balked at the idea, an open relationship. Wasn’t that a phrase tossed about so people felt okay stepping out on their partners? Or was that the heteronormative notion they’d become invested in? What if, they supposed, when Timothée was gone for filming, they had an open relationship. They could sleep with or hook up with whomever they wanted? There would be no strings, no emotions. The utmost protection used, and most importantly to both of them, whomever she slept with while he was away was not to step foot in their home or her apartment. That bed was reserved for their love, and their love only.

Did they want details about who the other was fucking? What could be shared? They started by telling each other nothing. Which became complicated when they would come together in their bed with new tricks or skills. “Who taught you that?” was a question that became common in their first year as a selectively open relationship. So much so that they decided they would share who they were fucking, but no pictures, no googling, no details on what transpired. When they shared a new trick, it was “from a buddy”, and that was it.

They didn’t keep score, or a running tally to compare. They didn’t share details of how hard they came or what positions they used. They became so good at it that by year five, “I saw a buddy last night,” was all they ever needed to tell each other.

Which was why, in Timothée’s mind, this felt like a betrayal to both of them.

“I didn’t want this, I didn’t… Fuck, I’ve just been so lonely, and I’ve missed you so much,”

“Timothée this is what we agreed to,”

“I know I just, I can’t believe I slept with her,” He emphasized the pronoun, both in a show of his disgust with himself, and his deep guilt that it had been his costar. He knew how she felt about him sleeping with costars, how uncomfortable it made her when they’d walk red carpets or be at premiers. It became personal, intimate, addicting, when it was meant to just be a hit.

“How does she feel?” She asked.

“Well she left really awkwardly, and I don’t know if we’re ever going to talk about it,”

“Well it seems like maybe you need to do some soul searching,” The ice in her voice gave him goosebumps.

“Babe, I’m sorry,” He said, letting the crack in his voice radiate into the receiver.

“For what?”

“For talking about it with you, I know that our rule is that we don’t talk about who, but I just, I felt like I needed to tell you about it,”

“Tim, thank you for apologizing. Maybe you think it’s a big deal because you know how I feel about you sleeping with coworkers, or maybe it’s because you two are good friends and have been for years. You followed through on why we have an open relationship, but maybe you both took advantage of each other. She’s been broken up from Zach for what, a month? Maybe you feel guilty?”

“I feel so fucking guilty. So. Guilty.”

“Maybe you and Florence need to sit down and talk about it,”

“Ugh, yeah, you’re right,”

“Maybe that’ll make you feel better. Go get breakfast and lots of coffee.”

“We aren’t called until tonight,” He muttered.

“Maybe go back to sleep first,” She paused, the snap in voice striking her throat.

“I love you,” He said, his voice above a whisper, wanting to ensure her his heart belonged to her.

“I know you do,”

It wasn’t that in this moment, when he desperately needed it, that she didn’t return the sentiment. Was her love waning?

“When I come home, can we discuss this open relationship thing?” He asked, shoulders reaching his ears.

“Why?” She asked.

“I’m not happy with it,” He said.

“Because you slept with your friend and are trying to rectify it in your mind, or because you’re unhappy with it?”

In the best of times, he loved this about her. Her unflinching matter of fact statements, her ability to say what she thought, to ask the question that cut to the core of the other. But when he was hurting, all he wanted was for her to stop playing devils advocate, and just be there for him.

“I just want you,” He whispered.

“Okay, we can talk about it.” She said.

“I love you,” He said, punctuating the love.

“Love you,” She said swiftly before hanging up.

She sat back and tried to make sense of what had transpired. Because Timothée had fucked up, would she now have to rid herself of the occasional relief she sought from others? Because Timothée fucked up, would their relationship become toxic and unsustainable? Was she really worried that their relationship was doomed, or was she worried that she liked her rotation of strange men?

She didn’t know. And neither did Timothée.

Next: Five Whole Minutes

#timothee x reader #timothee x you #timothée chamalet #actor #male actor #writing #drabble #fanfic #actor rpf #rpf

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heoneyology · 4 years ago

Text

simply human | l.jy

A/N: this was supposed to be posted yesterday for halloween so uhh happy late halloween look at me I’m trying to write again! it’s not spooky so I guess posting it today isn’t a huge deal, still fits the season... based loosely on this story idea.

Word Count: 6866

Genre: catboy!juyeon, warlock!juyeon, fluff, lightly implied romance

Pairing: reader (gender neutral) x lee juyeon (the boyz)

Warnings: mentions of magic though nothing used... uhh... very slowly paced is a warning as well (like there’s barely any juyeon wtf was I doing???), also I have a habit of trailing things off at the end of my writings and leaving things to the reader’s imagination after sorry :’))

Summary: Lee Juyeon is possibly one of the most eligible bachelors in town—his looks being favored by everyone who lays their eyes on him—but he has one thing working against him: He’s a warlock. In the city, those who practice magic are just thought of as normal, everyday people. But in smaller towns, they’re thought of as bad luck and archaic. It’s a bias that you’ll never quite understand, and thus you watch the handsome boy who visits the coffee shop you work at daily, admiring him from afar. You’d never have guessed he was leading a quiet double life...

A deep sigh falls past your lips, one that seems to come straight from the depths of your chest—maybe even deeper. It holds something that words can’t quite express; stresses, longing, and a confusion you aren’t sure how to work past. Next to you, the black cat who is just an arm’s length away stirs. It peeps one eye open as your breath travels through the blades of grass, passing through before ghosting over the cat’s fur. It tickles, and felines don’t much like things that tickle.

You’d been watching the cat this entire time, so when it cracks a single amber eye open to fixate on you, you suck in the breath you’d just let out, freezing in place. Waiting, wondering. Had you somehow deterred away your latest friend and most recent confidant?

“Sorry,” you whisper to the cat, wondering if that will somehow remedy the situation.

The cat’s ears flicker in response, and that single amber eye closes.

You’d dealt with many cats before that. For many, as soon as you even so much as had your fingertips graze their fur the wrong way, they’d go scurrying off. Some even liked to lash out. This cat, however, was a curious little fellow—you were fairly certain it was a fellow—it liked to lay just out of your reach, near you, whenever you came to sit underneath the maple tree in the warm afternoons; on days when the sun was just peaking at its highest before dipping down below the horizon. Now that autumn was in full force, days were growing shorter and the warmth which you sought by the sun and the maple—a space to think freely and escape your worries—was also growing shorter as the chill of the oncoming winter began to set in earlier and earlier each day.

The cat seemed to have the same idea as you, seeking out the tree for afternoon naps and letting you rant your heart away. Somehow, it almost seemed as if the feline was listening to you—but not just listening, understanding, as well. The little black feline would fix you with a gaze that was so deep and knowing, you sometimes felt as if you were oversharing. Whenever the cat met your eyes, you could feel your heart seize up in your chest; the idea of the creature somehow understanding what you were saying causing you to panic and double back, wondering if your thoughts were safe with the little cat.

But the comfort the cat brought was something that couldn’t be matched by the company of your friends and family. It was nice to have someone to just talk to and listen, someone that didn’t reply all the time. Even if that someone wasn’t exactly a human. Even if that someone happened to have some human-like personality traits that left you wondering. Cats were intelligent, though, so you never found yourself questioning it too much.

After some time, you push yourself up into a sitting position from where you lay on your side in the grass, letting out another long sigh. This time, your breath doesn’t even so much as reach the cat. However, your presence shifting causes the small animal to stir, letting out a ‘mrrmph’ and stretching out of the ball it had been curled into, rolling over onto its side. The cat lazily blinks up at you, before licking a paw and swiping it over its face, repeating the action and grooming itself.

“This is why my mom told me not to move away to a small town like this. She called me a romantic for trying to follow my dreams—be a writer, live in a cozy space unknown to the world and basically off the grid.” Instead of sighing, you scoff this time. “Little did she know I’d actually become a romantic and fall in love with someone who doesn’t even know I exist… or maybe she did know. Moms seem to somehow know everything…”

You groan, letting your face fall into your hands. “I can’t believe I spilled that all over him this morning—I don’t even want to go to work tomorrow.”

Before one emotion can even settle, you’re letting out another groan and falling back into the grass again. You hit the ground with a slight thud. Next to you, the cat startles in surprise, but doesn’t move.

“I have to be up for seven… I have to open the shop… ugh I hate opening shifts, that’s too early. We saw what happened today! I didn’t even get enough sleep and then that disaster unfolded!”

From next to you, the cat watches as you work through your turmoil of thoughts and emotions for the third time since coming to the maple tree. Before one can settle, another begins, and so your distraught cycle repeats itself yet again. The cat had already heard the story, about how you’d gotten next to no sleep last night—finally finding a strike of muse and mistakenly staying up until almost four in the morning to write the wave out—and had to open the coffee shop at which you work at seven on the dot that same morning. Your crush, the one and only Lee Juyeon—a noteworthy bachelor in town whose presence wasn’t very welcomed, though his looks were practically revered—had entered the shop. Amidst your foggy, sleep-deprived state, you’d clumsily perfected his order, then proceeded to spill it down the front of his clothes.

It was a minor mishap. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it wasn’t something that one should trouble themselves over this much. Although, of course, one had to consider the fact that Juyeon being dashingly handsome, with strong features and a soft smile; as well as being your crush, were added factors that had to be considered in the equation.

The cat still found it ridiculous, as cats often do of human matters.

You push yourself into a sitting position again, with a bit more determination in your shoulders this time. The cat barely pauses its grooming session as you turn to address it, despite not needing to. “I need to go. I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow.”

Despite knowing that the outcome will be futile, you reach out slowly and attempt to stroke the cat with the back of your hand, as a final goodbye before the two of you meet again. But this time, the cat reacts to your proximity—instantaneously cutting its grooming session short by jumping to its feet and away from you. The feline cuts you a look, giving itself a shake, before it trots off.

It had been two weeks now, so you had been hopeful something had changed between you and the cat. But, cats were fickle creatures, and although your feline friend proved to be a good confidant and equally welcomed your silent company—that’s all it wanted at the moment, was some company. A part of you wondered if something kept the cat from being friendlier, even after you’d proven you weren’t going to push or rush any affection received, such as a trauma or unpleasant experience. You weren’t too certain that was the case, though, considering the cat wasn’t wary or scared—just indifferent.

“Get home safe,” is your last goodbye to the cat, spoken into the emptiness around you which is only broken up by the evening breeze whistling through the autumn leaves.

—

Thankfully, you get enough sleep that night. When you get home, the tiredness hits you like a giant wave, and there’s not even an ounce of temptation to continue your writing as there had been the night before. When the next day arrives, you’re much more bright-eyed and alert. Opening the coffee shop goes smooth, as does the passing of the first few customers you have.

After the first hour of being open, like clockwork, Juyeon walks through the door of the little cafe at eight. And, like clockwork, your coworker lets out a grunt under their breath and nudges you with their elbow.

“Can you take over the cash register?”

You frown, studying them, then glancing back at Juyeon as he slowly nears the counter. A few guests cut him unfriendly looks, others stare in awe. You should be used to this, by now, but you aren’t. Growing up in the city, you hadn’t realized what kind of bias there would be in smaller, more rural areas for Juyeon’s kind—as those around here called it. He practiced magic, which in the city was a common occurrence. Being so populated, it was easy to pass someone by and not really know whether they were a witch or a warlock. They were just simply human.

But here, it was like some sort of blight. Where witches and warlocks were far and few between, it was misunderstood, and thus not welcomed. People didn’t like change, or that which they didn’t understand.

If only people could be more like cats—indifferent to those things that surrounded them which caused no harm, despite how different it might be.

Your coworker hadn’t waited for your answer, disappearing, and you have no choice but to take over the cash register. Despite the repeated normalcy of this specific situation, it’s still something you really don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

Juyeon stops in front of the counter and studies the menu above, just as you step forward and wish him a good morning. He glances down at you, gives a small smile, and then glances back up at the menu. He’s been here enough times since you’d moved to town that you know he’ll order the same thing he gets every day. For some reason, though, he still likes to idle a bit and study the menu. Maybe because there’s seasonal flavors to consider trying, despite always defaulting to the comfort pick. Or maybe he’s buffering his mind for the day—a sentiment you felt you could relate to.

“Can I get my usual?” Juyeon asks, pulling his eyes away from the menu with another smile.

You return his smile, nodding. “Of course.”

Although you try to stay calm, you can hear your heart beating much too loudly in your chest, replaying the events from the day before in your head. You try not to outwardly cringe as the scene from yesterday replays itself in your mind; then try further to shut the memories out, though not visibly show your internal struggle—choosing to focus instead on the fact that despite not being weary-eyed that morning, your hand is shaking as you lift it to the register to punch in Juyeon’s order, and you need to make it stop.

It’s something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the regular customer, though you aren’t aware that he even does notice until you’re serving him his coffee. Your coworker has conveniently cooped themselves up in the back to clean and stock. That leaves you left alone to prepare Juyeon’s drink, and you’re grateful there isn’t a rush at that moment.

When you step up to the counter to call out his name and hand over the drink, you’re straining your arm to keep your hand from shaking too badly—paranoid over a repeat from yesterday. As he takes his drink with a smile and a thank you, his fingers brush over yours. You glance up in surprise at him, wondering if he even noticed the skin contact.

Meeting his gaze, you’re aware that he is, in fact, aware of what has happened. He softens his smile—if that’s even possible. His sharp features are always the softest when he comes in during the mornings and hands out smiles to the people around him. Despite the stark contrast of how the townsfolk treat Juyeon in comparison to how he treats them, you’ve never once seen the smile on his face falter.

“You don’t have to be nervous about yesterday,” he states kindly. “Accidents happen. Stop shaking so badly out of nerves, or you’ll really end up spilling my coffee again.”

A flush immediately over takes your face, and you pull your hand back like the snap of a rubber band—luckily Juyeon already has hold of his drink, or it would have come crashing down to the counter below.

“S-s-s-sorry— I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, I’m only joking. Like I said, accidents happen, and clothes can be washed,” Juyeon chuckles. You swear the sound makes your heart seize up in your chest—but it’s a different kind of seize than the feeling your secret cat makes you feel. This feeling is one that makes time seem to stop moving itself; his soft laugh something akin to a toll bell—not quite high pitched enough to be a bell, but not deep enough to be something else.

“Although if you spilled drink on me two days in a row, I’d probably need you to join me for coffee at some point in order to make up for all the dry cleaning,” the joke falls from Juyeon’s lips with ease—and you can only stare at him in surprise as he offers you one last smile and makes his way to a corner of the coffee shop near the window, as he does every day.

Did… he just flirt?

You shake your head at the absurdity of the thought, though the rest of your work day is spent in a trance. Even when there is a callout halfway through your shift, just a few hours away before your freedom from work—you barely react. It’s just a hiccup, even if it means you’ll be working five hours extra. Juyeon’s words idly trail through your mind, enough to keep you in a daze. Luckily, despite your mind being focused elsewhere, nothing is spilled or broken that day and you make it through the shift safely; save for a few moments of tripping over your own two feet.

When closing time rolls around, you finally start to feel all the work of the day and your clumsiness in those same two feet. You’re practically dragging yourself over the threshold when you close up the coffee shop, locking the door behind you. When you turn to begin down the street for home and the comfort of your warm bed—you almost trip over your own two feet yet again.

Except, this time, it’s not by your own fault that you almost trip. Underfoot, the darkness of the night moves just as you stumble to catch yourself, and you startle in surprise. But then, a familiar pair of amber eyes turn and meet yours—and as your eyes adjust to the blackness, you recognize the outline of a little black cat.

“Kitty?” You wonder, surprise lacing your voice. The cat, as if replying, lets out something akin to a meow and an indignant sigh, as if to ask, How dare you trip over me?

The indignant meow-sigh-huff combo makes you smile, letting out a small laugh under your breath. Yes, it’s definitely your cat friend. But why is the cat so far from the fields at the outskirts of town, away from the maple tree? How did it wander so far? You’d always assumed the cat to be a farm cat, since you’d never seen it among the streets like this—which had you worry the feline may have wandered too far from home to find its way back. At night, nonetheless.

Crouching down, you reach out a hand to the cat, back of your hand facing the feline. “What are you doing all the way in town like this, kitty?”

As per usual, the cat backs away from your hand with a little jump, before scurrying off into the night. You let out a sigh, watching it meld with the shadows, before pushing yourself back to your feet.

“Okay, fine. I thought we were friends, but whatever. Just try and assist me in breaking my neck and then leave the scene of the almost-crime.” You give your head a shake, before turning away from the coffee shop and making your way home.

The evening is colder than it has been in the past few nights. As you walk, you snuggle down a little deeper into your coat, surprised by the chill. It’s sharp enough to cut against more sensitive places of your body—like your nose, ears, and cheeks—but not quite deeply cutting in the way that the cold of winter is. This chill doesn’t seep into the depths of your bones and create an ache. It’s just cold enough to make you want to curl up on your couch with a cup of warm tea before bed, but still admire how there’s a warmth to the season overall despite the weather.

It doesn’t take long before a black flash cuts across in front of you. You slow your steps slightly, having set a brisk pace to simply get yourself home quicker, so you weren’t out at night for too long. Your shadowy friend darting back and forth is enough to keep you from walking too fast, though, worried you might trip and fall, and ultimately hurt yourself or the cat. But as you pick your pace up again, the black feline settles into a trot alongside you, weaving close to the walls of the buildings which you walk next to.

“Are you walking me home?” You muse to the cat. “Feel guilty for almost tripping me in the dark?”

You know the cat can’t understand your humor, and likely doesn’t have a conscience enough to feel guilty about such a thing, but it feels nice to talk to someone as you walk. Again—you seek comfort in the feline companion for the fact that you can voice your thoughts aloud, without expecting a reply. It’s also nice to have company on your walk home. Despite the small town being safe, and the streetlamps lighting the way, walking alone at night was an uncomfortable event. Having grown up in the city, you’d been taught to never wander the streets alone at night. It was strange to do so here.

“Lee Juyeon, the warlock that I’ve told you about, came in to work again today. I didn’t spill his order all over him today,” you smile, glancing at the little black shadow that meanders next to you. “You should be proud of me.”

Slowing your pace, you come to a halt. “Do you ever wonder why people treat him differently?” You ask the cat. For a moment, you think, before sighing, “Wait, you probably don’t even know. You’re a cat, after all. How would you realize that he’s being treated differently just because he can practice magic. Heck, you probably don’t even know who Juyeon is.”

Or, maybe the cat did, considering you’d seen Juyeon feed the neighborhood strays outside the coffee shop before.

The thought has you pulling your eyes back to your cat companion. Ahead of you, the animal pulls itself away from the wall and sidles its way into the center of the street. It keeps walking, which prompts you to resume your pace in order to catch up to the cat.

“Anyway, he does magic. A warlock. In the city, witches and warlocks are common. Magic is a lot more accepted where I come from, even though there are rules and restrictions to practicing in order to keep non-magic users safe. Maybe that’s why rural areas and small towns don’t like it, there’s no one to really keep watch and create rules,” you sigh, then wonder why the heck you’re explaining this to a cat. “But still, he’s just simply a human. My coworker doesn’t even want to breathe the same air as him. Isn’t that ridiculous…?”

Much like you do under the maple tree, you ramble to the cat as though it were any other day. It feels kind of nice to have the cat’s company and be able to walk home with someone, even if that someone weren’t quite human. Though you might appear strange to anyone else who might see you chatting into the darkness, you aren’t alone that night—a comfort which you appreciate not only because it’s dark, but also after such a long and grueling day. It allows you to keep your mind away from the dreadful thoughts you might have. Talking to the cat had also become a routine, and though you hadn’t been able to dwell much on the idea of missing out on the almost-daily routine thanks to how busy the coffee shop had gotten in the afternoon, you realize now what it means.

As you near the corner of your street, the cat slows down just ahead of you, sensing a change in your demeanor. Your stomach growls just as you’re about to round the corner the cat is stopped at, causing you to glance down in surprise. Then, you glance at the feline, before lifting your gaze up to glance over your shoulder. Just across the street, lighting up the entire corner—something you’d always been grateful for, living alone—sits a little 24-Hour corner shop. You have food at home that you can heat up quickly, but you remember that your cat friend has wandered into town from the farms, and possibly hasn’t eaten. There’s probably an abundance of mice to catch, if the cat were to look well enough, but you feel guilty after realizing how far the animal had followed you.

And, unfortunately, it wasn’t likely with your current track record that the cat would want to join you inside for the night.

“Wait here,” you instruct the cat, not even sure if it’ll listen. You dart across the street and push your way into the warmth of the little corner shop. The attendant startles in surprise at your entrance, having not expected a customer so late on a fairly chilly night, most likely.

“Do you have cat food?” You ask, and the bleary-eyed boy behind the counter points off in a corner of the shop. You follow his direction to the aisle he points out, wandering down and eyeing the shelves lined with canned and bagged food and treats for all different kinds of pets. You pick out a can of shrimp flavored canned food, remembering that the cat you’d grown up with at home had enjoyed shrimp-flavored things, before heading back to the front of the store to pay for it.

Surprisingly enough, the black cat is there waiting for you as you exit the store—still across the street. You smile, as you near, watching as the cat’s tail tip flicks where it's curled on the ground, rustling a leaf just within reach. Each time its tail does so, causing the leaf to move, the silly little cat swipes at the leaf—and its own tail. And each time, the cat looks offended as it pulls its paw back.

“I have food,” you announce your presence to the cat, so as not to startle it too much out of its little game. As you near, you pull open the can lid, bending down and setting the can on the ground. Knowing the cat will run if you extend your hand, you slowly inch the can forward with your finger tips, watching as the cat slowly inches itself back on its butt in surprise. When your hand returns to yourself, the cat stares at the opened can of food, before bending over just enough to strain its neck to reach out and sniff.

With a sharp flick of its tail, it huffs and turns, trotting off into the darkness.

Your jaw falls open in surprise. “Wow! Rude! That was two dollars!”

Frowning, you glance back at the can of food, then up again where the cat disappeared into the night. Either the cat was extremely spoiled and wasn’t actually a farm cat as you’d thought, feasting on mice—or the animal just wasn’t hungry. Somehow you doubted the latter, as it seemed like quite a journey from the edge of town to your place for a little four-legged creature. Surely any animal would be just a bit hungry after wandering around for hours, right?

Straightening yourself up, you call out into the darkness, “I’m leaving this here, then—in case you change your mind!” But your words are met with silence, and there isn’t even the breeze of the autumn wind whistling through the trees to fill the void of the night.

Parting ways with the darkness and its feline voidling, you finally round the corner and head the last few feet up the street to the warmth of your home.

—

When you wake the next morning, there’s not an immediate rush through your morning. You don’t work until a bit later in the afternoon. This means you’re able to sleep in, enjoy the warmth and comfort of your bed and burrow yourself further down under the duvet as the morning light streams through the curtains, casting even more warmth over you as it filters through the glass window. When it comes time to finally pull yourself out of bed, you shower and brush your teeth, brew a pot of coffee for yourself, and set to work at your laptop for a couple hours to get some writing out.

It’s at this time that a repeated rapping catches your attention, and when you glance up from your laptop—pulling your eyes away from the white light of the screen and squinting—you’re surprised to see a black shadow at your window, two amber eyes peering through a frame of the glass intently.

“What the—? Kitty?”

Hearing your voice, the cat stands up from crouching on the sill, butting its body against the window and letting out a loud meow. You’re fairly certain this is the first time the cat has answered you in such a blatantly obvious tone, which has you excitedly pushing yourself to your feet and rushing over to the window. In the entire time it takes you to cross your bedroom to the window, the cat continues to meow, pacing back and forth along the sill and butting itself against the glass. The cat’s tail curls, waving about languidly.

“Good morning,” you greet, pulling the window up and open for your friend. “What are you doing here? Did you sleep outside on the street last night?”

With more room on the window sill, the cat sits, pointedly fixating its gaze on you. Curiously, you present the back of your hand to the cat, holding it up between the two of you. This is the closest you’ve ever been to the creature, but that doesn’t mean you’re quite out of the woods just yet.

It takes everything within you, though, to hold back the gasp of surprise when the cat leans forward just a bit to sniff you, cold nose pressing against the back of your hand and whiskers grazing across your skin.

“Can I pet you?” You wonder, turning your hand over slowly and reaching behind the cat—but, as fickle as ever, the cat lets out another meow and turns before you can even so much as put your hand onto its fur, dropping down from the window sill. The most touch you get from the interaction is its tail swiping your arm as it turns and jumps down—which, honestly, still leaves you grinning after the cat.

“Wait there again,” you instruct the cat, closing the window. Not waiting for an answer from the feline, who seems a bit chatty that morning, you make your way out of your bedroom—pausing momentarily to grab your coffee mug—before heading to the kitchen. You wonder if the cat is hungry, mentally noting you don’t have cat food, which is why you had bought it last night, before reminding yourself that it didn’t seem to like the canned food anyway.

Fish? No, you’d have to go to the market for that. If you ate fish, you typically cooked it immediately rather than let it sit in your freezer. What else could cats eat? “Chicken…?” You wonder aloud, opening your fridge and eyeing the leftover container of some grilled chicken you’d had the night before.

“It’s a bird, cats like bird meat.” Giving yourself a small shrug, you pull the container from the fridge and open it. It takes a few moments to shred it down to something a bit more manageable to chew with your fingers, before you pop it in the microwave to nuke it a bit. You didn’t mind cold chicken, but assuming the cat had spent the night outside, you figure a little warmth in its belly would be nice.

As though sensing your intentions, when you open the front door, the black cat is sitting expectantly on the porch, staring up at the door. Its tail swipes across the wood deck lazily, seemingly unbothered by having had to wait.

“It’s not much, since I don’t really know what to feed a cat that’s okay and I don’t keep cat food… not that you appreciated it last night…” You scoff, before setting down the container on the porch in front of the cat. “But here’s some breakfast for you. Or brunch now, I suppose.”

This food smells much more interesting than the canned cat food, and the feline doesn’t hesitate to step forward and crouch down in front of the leftover container, immediately gobbling up the grilled chicken you’d shredded. You smile, watching with relief as the animal eats. You really weren’t sure at this point if the cat was a farmcat after all, a stray, or simply a spoiled wanderer—but not knowing where the animal had been overnight, and seeing it eat now after refusing food last night put your mind at ease.

You watch the cat eat in silence, making yourself comfortable and sitting back against the doorframe of your open front door. Every now and again, you sip your coffee, glance up at the street and off into the distance where you can see the rolling hills of the countryside, before looking back down at the cat. When your feline friend finishes its meal, it lays back on your porch, grooming itself in content—then moving off to a warm patch of sun and curling into a ball on your deck. Deciding you don’t want to waste this precious moment, you clean up the container before grabbing your laptop, and setting up shop on the deck for a few more hours before work, writing alongside the silent company of your tiny visitor.

“Okay, I have to go to work,” you announce after a few hours have passed, not entirely sure why you’re detailing this to the cat. If it really was a stray, it would probably remove itself from your company whenever. Or, you’d return home after work to it having disappeared again. The thought made you wistful—maybe even a bit sad. This had been the first you’d ever had the cat’s extended company and attention for, and you were growing quite used to it.

To your surprise, when it actually is time to leave for work, the cat begins to follow you after you’ve closed and locked up your little house. You let out an amused half smile, watching as the cat follows alongside you. “What, are you my chauffeur now?”

The walk to work that day is infinitely more amusing than all the other times you’d walked the same path. You don’t have much to ramble to your companion about that day, though you do mention that you wonder if Juyeon will pop in at the coffee shop in the afternoon. Typically, he was a morning coffee person, but you’d seen him stop by in the evenings once in a while. Instead of talking as you walk, though, you watch as the cat darts ahead of you every once in a while—chasing a stray leaf on the breeze and pouncing after it down the street until it lies motionless on the ground. Sometimes, the cat lags behind, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder to see what curiosities it's getting itself into—jumping on a fence to tease a dog, sniffing around at certain things on the path, or slinking down close to the ground and acting as if it’s hunting nothing in particular, before darting ten feet ahead of you at a run and waiting for you to catch up.

“Don’t stay out here for too long tonight,” you warn the cat, pausing outside the coffee shop. “This street gets busy on weekends, someone might not see you…” You didn’t want to imagine the poor cat getting lost in the crowd. The coffee shop was in the center of a small village shopping square, and on weekend evenings it filled up with families and others sharing date nights and evening events together. You frown, wondering if the cat will listen, before giving the animal a small little wave and heading inside.

When you set to work, you can’t help but find yourself glancing out the window periodically—taking mental stock of the cat through your shift. Each time you go to clean a table, you peer out the window and see the cat either peering right back in at your, or napping somewhere nearby. Every time you call out someone’s order, you push yourself onto your tiptoes to glance over the customer’s shoulder as they near, mentally noting every spot the little black shape outside moves to. If a new customer enters the shop, you greet them and take their order, and before the transaction finishes you ask in a quiet voice if there’s a cat outside still—relieved when a customer confirms they’d seen one lounging about.

Halfway through your shift, your cat friend disappears from the view of the window, and a small panic sets in. You notice as you’re taking an order for a couple of guests, two people who can’t seem to settle on their decision and keep talking over each other as they tell you what they want. They aren’t the type of people to inquire about the cat outside, especially since it seems as though they’ve popped into the coffee shop for an afternoon pick-me-up to help settle some of their irritation. Yet as you speak with them, and punch in their order, you can’t help your eyes darting off to the side now and again to try and peek around them and out the window.

“Can you take over the register for a bit?” You ask of your coworker almost as soon as the two chatty, indecisive guests walk away. You don’t wait for them to reply—considering they always drop the same on you without warning. It’s rare of you to return the “favor,” but you don’t feel guilty doing so.

As you move around the counter, you grab a tray and a cleaning rag in order to clean some tables, eyes never leaving the window as you do so.

“Was that your cat? The one outside?” Your coworker asks, scoffing. “Should take better care of it.”

You scowl, eyes snapping back to your coworker, who shrinks in surprise at the ferocity of your gaze. “No it’s not. It’s a stray that followed me, and I’m worried.” As you turn away from them, you grumble under your breath, “You have a nasty habit of assuming the worst of people.”

As you near the window, searching for the black furry shadow outside, your eyes are so fixated you barely register the door of the shop opening and the lackluster greeting being called out by your coworker. In fact, you’re so out of it that, as you move, you practically stumble straight into a wall of body that had just entered the shop. You stumble back in surprise, realizing that you’ve almost walked straight into a customer, glancing up to apologize—and blanching when you realize it’s Juyeon.

“S-sorry!”

Juyeon smiles in greeting. “It’s fine,” he answers, before glancing over his shoulder outside, then back down at you. “Are you okay?”

“I— yeah… I just—” You frown. “Nevermind, it’s nothing. What can I get for you today?” Sparing one last glance at the window, you move back toward the counter, eyeing your coworker as they move away and disappear, refusing as always to take the young warlock’s order.

“Can I sit at the bartop today?” Juyeon asks, trailing after you. You glance over your shoulder at him in surprise, before nodding.

“Let me take your order and then you can take a seat.”

“I’d like a mochachino today.”

You punch in the order, looking at him in surprise. “Chocolate?”

Juyeon smiles that soft smile that always seems to leave you winded and out of breath. “Craving something sweet, but I’ve got some work to do, so I need something that will keep me awake, too.”

You nod, letting out a hum of understanding from the back of your throat. When you read the total off to him, Juyeon pays the appropriate amount, and you wave him to the bartop just to the left of the cash register. His presence at the bartop is almost certain to keep your coworker from ever returning to the front of house, so you silently hope that no sudden rush comes through the cafe as you set to work making his drink.

“Why did you seem so distracted when I came in earlier?” Juyeon asks, tone of voice idle. You glance over your shoulder, away from the espresso machine, in surprise when he speaks. Had he always been this chatty? Although, to be fair, Juyeon always came in during the morning rushes and you never had a chance to actually talk to him.

You aren’t sure what really catches you by surprise—the fact that he’s making conversation with you, or the fact that his deep voice has caused your heart to begin a rapid and stuttering beat in your chest. Yet, somehow, despite your nervousness to be talking to a young man you’d always admired from your own little corner of the coffee shop, and how he gazed out the window and watched the world in silent content and admiration, and offered up sweet and soft smiles to everyone around him—his voice also fills you with a warmth that’s almost soothing. Like the familiar smell of the coffee grounds that waft through the shop daily, then later cling to the strands of your hair when you get home. It feels familiar.

“Are you really okay?” He asks, prompting again.

“I’m fine. I was just worried… there was a cat outside. It followed me to and from work yesterday and today, and now that it’s getting busy I’m wondering where it went off to and if it’s okay. I feel responsible even though it might be a stray that just followed me for its own amusement,” you explain as you work.

When you finish Juyeon’s order, you turn and set it on the counter in front of him. He smiles, as always, and takes it with a polite and soft thank you, before leveling you with his gaze.

When his eyes land on you, almost instantly you feel your heart seize up in your chest. You’ve never been this close to Juyeon before—never actually gotten a good look at him up close. His features from afar are stunning; he’s handsome in a very simple way that’s easy on the eyes. But up close, it’s almost as if he’s crafted from marble. You’ve never had a chance to admire his sharp features; study the lines of his jaw and his high-placed cheekbones, notice the square shape of his earlobes, or admire his long and straight nose or the way his lips curl upward slightly at the corners.

“Cats are street smart, you know. I’m sure your little stray friend is fine. They probably know these streets better than the both of us,” Juyeon replies, “And luckily for them, people in this town are a little kinder to stray cats than other types of strays.”

It’s then that you meet his gaze, catching on to a deeper implication of his words—studying his almond-shaped brown eyes and taking note of the curious amber flecks that hit the warm yellow light of the cafe just right.

“No way,” you breathe out.

Juyeon smiles—and this time, his smile isn’t the usual soft and kind one, but one that pushes his cheeks up in a way that causes his eyes to smile along with the rest of his face. He seems much too amused by the realization setting across your face, followed by a flush that follows soon after. You’d ranted and rambled about Lee Juyeon to Lee Juyeon—albeit not the human one.

You’d heard that some witches and warlocks could shapeshift, and that others had familiars. Never once in your life did you think you’d somehow be on the receiving end of that gift. Of course, it made sense, considering the treatment around town that Juyeon often received—that he’d either hide in another form or test the honesty of those he interacted with in a different form.

Juyeon lifts his coffee cup to his lips, smiling over the rim. “Can I walk you home tonight? Perhaps this time not as a cat? I’d love to hear you regale one of your lavish tales of me.”

#juyeon fic #juyeon fanfic #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #juyeon #the boyz #tbz fanfic #m.writes

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waiting4inspiration · 4 years ago

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Addicted XI: A Cure

Summary: Ivar’s self attempt at remedying his pain leads to him poisoning himself. You’re frantic trying to find a cure and too emotional to be of any help to him.

Warnings: angst, mentions of drug use, poisoning, mentions of abandonment, it’s really angsty, mentions of death, small fluff,

Word Count: 2,485

Addicted Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

It’s been days since you last spoke to your father all because you don’t really have anything to say to him. There’s nothing you wish to tell him, nothing that you want to share with him that has happened since he left. You told him all he wanted to know, what happened to your mother and brother, and that’s it. What else could you possibly say?

Ivar lets you speak freely every chance you two are alone, letting you ramble and rant on, comforting you when you need it. He’s just thankful that you’re holding up your promise. He’s just grateful that you trust him to heal you just as he trusts you.

But, he hasn’t been holding the end of his promise. He feels that bothering you with his pain will only burden you more, so he keeps it to himself. A part of him is determined to do this himself, sort out his pain on his own, like he has always done.

But he can’t stop wishing that you hadn’t thrown away those leaves. He can’t stop thinking about the relief they gave him.

Perhaps he can find them again in the market?

You’re grateful to have Ivar by your side no matter what, that he’s there to listen to you without asking for anything in return. That he’s holding his promise to heal you and protect you. It’s a relief to not keep everything to yourself as you did back in England. It’s a relief to just let it go.

Though, you can’t help but feel like you’re neglecting his pain.

In the middle of the night, you wake up to the sounds of Ivar groaning in pain. It makes you snap around to face him, and the sight you see him in makes your blood turn cold.

He’s drenched in sweat, but shivering as if he’s stuck in a blizzard. His chest moves rapidly up and down, as if he had run a mile. And his body jerks every now and then in fits as pained groans and screams leave his lips that have a blue tint to them.

“Oh Gods, Ivar.” The words leave your lips before you can even think about them and you quickly push yourself up to kneel beside him.

Grabbing his shoulders, you don’t care about his sweat because the fact that he is burning up makes tears brim your eyes. Letting him rest against the headboard, you take his face in your hands to try and get him to look at you. “Ivar? Ivar, look at me,” you beg, a thousand thoughts running through your mind as to what might be wrong.

Patting his cheeks to get him out of his unconscious state, a small bit of relief washes over you to see his eyes flutter open. But that relief fades at the sight of blood in his eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?” you frantically question, stroking his face cheeks as you shift closer. You ask him that because, honestly, you have no idea what’s happening.

He breathes out a weak sigh as his head falls against your hand. He’s very weak. “The leaf,” he mutters out, and you barely catch his words.

“The leaf? The leaf is gone, Ivar. I told you that,” you gently whisper, thinking that he’s wanting it for his pain.

But he shakes his head and turns his gaze down to his hand. You follow his gaze, watch as he slowly opens his hand to show you that he has been holding onto a herb. One that looks like that you used to give him for his pain. The leaf that caused only more problems.

Taking the leaf from his hand you carefully examine it. And one small difference, the darker color of the leaf, tell you exactly what you need to know. “Ivar, this is poisonous if you put it in your mouth and it will kill you if you swallow it,” you whisper, looking back up at his face.

And the realization hits you so hard, it makes your body numb.

His eyes close as his head falls back. Throwing the leaf away from you, you take his face in your hands and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs. “Ivar? Ivar!” He doesn’t respond. “Shit.”

Pushing yourself off the bed, you rush out the room, not caring if you bump into things and make them fall over with loud crashes that wake up the entire Hall. You have to find the cure.

The cure? What’s the cure?

Working with herbs, your mother made you learn all about them as if it was a religion, made you memorize their look, which ones look alike but are, in fact, so different, what the cure is if they somehow get mixed up. You could list them off in your sleep.

But now, the thought that if you don’t find the antidote, Ivar will die clouds your thoughts and makes it hard to think about what your mother taught you.

“Green leaves, grows on a post; darker leaves, sprouts from the ground,” you mutter to yourself, trying to recite the phrase your mother taught you about these two leaves because your brother used to be treated with one of them. The same one you treated Ivar with. “One heals, one kills. Both can be fixed with a meal.”

A meal. The kitchens.

Trying to recall the rest of the phrase as you run to the kitchens, you pass by a few people who take note of your emotional state and question what the matter is. But you don’t reply. You have to focus on finding the antidote.

Scrambling through the kitchen, trying to find what you’re looking for, you pick up herbs that you probably have in your pouch, but you can’t remember where you put that. “Mugwort, mayweed, nettle, thyme, fennel,” you mutter as you take them, something inside you telling you to do it, like it’s second nature. You feel that your combination is right, and you don’t see the thrall standing in the doorway staring at you like you’re a crazed woman.

As you turn to leave the kitchen, your eyes go to the firepit where the evening meals meat was roasted. It hasn’t been cleaned out yet, and a burnt piece of wood, charcoal, takes your interest. A voice in your mind tells you to take it. Your mother’s voice.

Grabbing a piece of cloth first to prevent you from burning yourself if the wood is still hot, you take the piece of wood in your free hand before storming out the kitchen.

Back in the room, you throw everything on the table as you move to grab a bowl. You have to put everything together. Ivar’s not looking good and seeing him even paler than before, his lips bluer now makes fresh tears spring from your eyes.

Looking at the herbs you have, you realize you need a knife. Ivar always has a knife beside the bed.

“Gods, what happened?” You don’t comprehend Ubbe’s words. All you can think about is the cure. Get it done. Get it done. You don’t even remember picking up the knife and walking back to the bowl to cut the herbs.

By now, tears are streaming down your cheeks at the thought that he’s doing to die if you don’t get this done. You need to be quick. You’re not being quick enough.

“(Y/n).” You don’t know if it’s your father’s voice that makes you lift your head or your name, but you look away from the bowl in front of you and see him pushing his way past Ubbe at the door and walking towards you.

Renier sees your distraught state and it makes him stop for a second before he picks up his pace towards you. But you look back at the bowl and grab the next herb to cut up. “(Y/n), let another healer take over,” your father whispers as he tries to reach out to place a hand on your shoulder.

“No!” you shout, throwing the cut up leaves in the bowl and grabbing the next one. “No, I can do this. I can help him. I can fix this. I don’t need help. I can - ow.” Not being able to see what you’re doing because of your clouded vision thanks to tears causes the knife to slip and cut your hand, making you drop it to the table and step back.

And then, your knees give in.

Falling to the ground, you break down in sobs and hold your hand to your chest. Lifting your head up when you hear Ivar’s strained breathing. “Ivar,” you whisper to yourself, glancing up at the table again and finding another healer picking up where you left off. “Leave it. I can do it,” you whisper, not sure if she heard you or not.

As you stand to your feet again, Renier stops you by placing his hands on your shoulders. “Let her do it.”

“No. I can do it. I can do it-”

“(Y/n).” Again, it’s either your father’s voice or your name that makes you look at him. And when you do, he cups your cheek in his hand and wipes away a tear. The comfort you’re receiving makes you weak and you fall forward into your father’s chest.

Renier looks over to Ubbe and Hvitserk who stand at the foot of their brother’s bed, give him a nod to say that it’s best to take you out of the room. You’re too emotional to help Ivar even if you really want to. You’ll just end up hurting yourself more.

You have to trust someone else to help him, take a step back.

Keeping your head in his chest, Renier walks you to the door, comforting you by stroking the back of your head as you sob. This reminds him of when you were a child and you had a nightmare. You would call out for him and would want only him.

Halfway to his room, you shake your head and try to pull away from him. “Ivar. I have to help him. I have to-”

“You have to take care of yourself, my darling,” he gently says, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders to stop you from pulling away. “Ivar will be fine. You have my word.” You look back at him and raise an eyebrow as if to ask if he is sure.

In his room, he sits you down in a chair before moving to look for something. You watch him move around the room, open chest after chest on his search as you bite your lip. Looking over at the door, contemplate getting up and returning to where you feel you need to be.

How could you have left Ivar like that? How could you leave him dying with a healer you don’t know? What if she doesn’t know what she’s doing? Did you even know what you were doing? What if she makes things worse? What if-

“Ow!” you hiss, your head snapping down to your hand when you feel a sting only to find your father dapping the cup on your hand with a wet cloth that smells of alcohol.

But he doesn’t apologize. The focus on his face intrigues you. And when he reaches for a cloth to begin wrapping your cut, you tilt your head to the side. “You’ve done this before,” you whisper, noticing skill in his way of bandaging a wound.

He chuckles as a smile grows on his face. “Your mother taught me a few things. And I helped some healers during wars when they were overrun with work,” he explains, glancing up at you when he ends off the bandaging and pushes himself off the ground, to his feet.

Standing in front of you, your head lifts more to look at him as he reaches out to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You love him,” he whispers, keeping his hand on your cheek, waiting for you to withdraw from his touch. But you don’t.

You nod without having to think about it. You do love him, and you haven’t told him. He could die tonight without you even telling him that you love him. “I can tell. Your mother acted the same way when I came back one night close to death,” he says, turning to grab a chair and pull it closer so he can sit in front of you.

You frown at him. “I don’t remember that,” you whisper, leaning back in your seat and finding comfort in his presence. It’s not tense like you remember your last interaction being.

“It was just before you were born. Your mother was pregnant with you at that time and we still lived in the village,” he states, leaning back too and smiling to see you relaxing around him. “People found out who I really was and didn’t like what my father was planning, so they decided to kill me. After your mother fixed me up, we moved into that out away from the village, knowing that you’d be safe away from those that wished harm on me and you; my heir,” he explains, and somehow, you find yourself smiling.

“Soini would have ruled before me,” you say, a small laugh on your voice as you look down at your hands, your eyes meeting the golden ring he gave to you on the docks.

Renier hums, shakes his head and shifts in his seat. “No. In Nanard, the firstborn is always the successor. No matter if their female or male,” he states, making your head lift back up to look at him.

You stare at him for a second before turning your eyes back down to your hands. “What’s Nanard like?” you question, changing the topic about ruling because you’re not sure how to feel about that just yet.

“It’s beautiful. Both in summer and winter,” he states, perking your interest and making you look up at him again. “We have direct access to the sea. Some say it is a weakness, but I see it as a strength. Because of that, trading can happen all year round. The kingdom is rich, but not in gold like some kings strive to be rich in. Nanard is rich in other ways,” he adds, a smile growing on his face as he speaks about his home.

You swallow, run your tongue over your lips and shift in your seat. “I might like to see it sometime,” you whisper, your sincerity surprising both you and him. But still, his smile grows bigger.

“I’d like to take you. One day,�� he says. You smile, happy that he’s not pushing you to make a decision to go back with him when he leaves like you thought he would. “When you are ready, my daughter.”

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seungminotes · 5 years ago

Text

Necessary | Kim Seungmin

Warnings: 1.7k highschool au

A/N: I consider this to be the best thing I have ever written. I love Kim Seungmin, thank you.

Kim Seungmin was the last person you expected to be taking a lower level math class. Him being one of, if not the smartest student in your year, the only word you could possibly use to describe him was big brain. Yet there he was being seated next to your mathematically-disabled self, bright and early on a Monday morning, in a remedial math class.

Somehow you felt out of place now, as if you’d taken the wrong class, maybe there was some sort of even lower remedial math class where you actually belonged.

Seungmin had that effect on people. Though he wasn’t one to properly notice it. He made others feel inferior, but wasn’t one to take notice. He didn’t care about those around him anyway. A true tsundere, you often hear others call him. But you couldn’t tell if he was cold or just plain arrogant.

The way he sat next to you, with his perfect posture and head held high, and the way he didn’t even bid you a morning greeting, left quite a bad taste in your mouth.

How does one sit so properly and mannerly, yet doesn’t have the manners to acknowledge another’s existence?

Whatever, you decided, this wasn’t going to bother you, or get in the way of you getting better at math. This class wasn’t exactly the place you were used to either, but last year for whatever reason the numbers in your head jumbled around and you couldn’t pass a test to save your life. Now you were here, and you were determined to ace every test this year.

As if he had read your mind, Seungmin turned to you.

“You’re bad with numbers,” he said, no emotions displayed in his voice.

“Why else would I be here?”

He didn’t answer you, he just turned back towards the board, opening his notes and laying his head down on them.

You scoffed, there was no way you were going to fail a test in this class, your pride was going to make sure of it.

As time went on, you noticed Seungmin was not exactly happy about being in a lower math class that was obviously much too easy for him. You really wondered why he was here in the first place.

He never took notes, paid any attention, or even turned in the homework. You’d assume these bad habits were what landed him in this class in the first place.

The workload wasn’t even that bad, would it kill him to spare thirty minutes of his day to solve a few problems?

Despite this lazy lifestyle, Seungmin never received anything below a 100 on any test. Now that you envied.

Because even though you had made a promise to yourself and so far had kept it very well, you struggled to keep it that way. Studying until the wee hours of the night to make sure you could understand the subject with no problems at all, you lost sleep and just a bit of your sanity every time an exam was coming up.

This time was no different, only the restlessness was quite unbearable as you tried to stay awake in class. Your teacher’s droning voice did nothing to help and eventually your head slumped a little heavier on your arm, you had fallen asleep.

Falling asleep in this class was always a nightmare for you. Missing the information you desperately needed to make by in the course, you couldn’t understand how some students didn’t take notes, how did all the information possibly stay in their head.

When you had woken up, your teacher was just wiping down the board full of equations from the period. You looked down at your blank page of notes, regret and anxiety soon sinking in.

You could easily ask a friend for notes, it wasn’t that of a big deal to be honest. But taking in your own made sure you had everything, you couldn’t think of anyone who made sure to do the same.

The bell rang and it was time to go to your next class and you hurried to get your stuff packed up in time. As the boy next to you got up, you noticed he wasn’t sitting in his usual lecture position, head down and eyes closed. Today he had sat straight for whatever reason, and as he stood he pushed a stack of papers onto your side of the desk.

You hadn’t noticed at first, still wondering about his sitting position, but once he walked out of class, you looked down onto your table and inspected the overturned pages.

Considering you were most likely to be late soon, you just shoved the papers into your notebook and ran out of class.

It wasn’t until when you got home that you remembered the odd papers Seungmin had slid you after class and got your notebook out to examine them.

Turning them over you realized the boy you had once considered lazy and arrogant, took such detailed notes on today’s lesson that you could consider it a textbook guide.

His neat handwriting sprawled the paper elegantly and the pink highlighted titles accentuated the already sophisticated aesthetics of his notes. This was the type of organization you’d see on a study blog you only wished to emulate. On the margins he’d put a star next to things considered more complicated, and a happy face at the end of a concept, there were even slightly adorable doodles of a puppy’s face at the corner of one of the pages.

Seungmin never took notes. It was common knowledge. You’d never even seen the boy’s handwriting. Were these even his?

Deciding not to question further, you silently thanked the lord for such a gift. You’d have to thank Seungmin too, you thought.

That night you placed Seungmin’s aesthetic notes in a protective plastic and placed them in your binder. You studied them extensively and even rewrote them. He worded things much better than your teacher ever could. Everything was so simple. That night you could sleep peacefully.

Unbeknownst to you, Seungmin had taken a liking to you and your rather determined nature, something he wished he had when it came to studies, yet didn’t exactly need. Seeing you work so hard for a measly math class seemed pointless to him at first, but when he realized it was quite important to you, enough for you to lose sleep over, he discovered how much of a strong trait it was in you. It low-key made his heart squirm when he walked in to you reviewing notes before a test, or when you had set up your colored pens and highlighters in front of you before a lecture, or when you raised your hand when you genuinely didn’t understand something. Seungmin was deeply infatuated with you, but simply chose to ignore that. Seungmin never wasted his time on things he thought unnecessary. Yet that night he laid in bed, wondering for hours if you were awake and if you were, if you may have been looking at his words.

The next morning you woke up refreshed from a good night’s sleep and ready for school.

In class you placed the extra hot bun and a pink carton of strawberry milk on your seatmate’s desk as a small thank you, you had to repay him somehow. No matter what you had previously thought of him, he had in a way saved you.

You don’t think you had ever seen Seungmin smile. It was a slight and shy smile, but a smile nonetheless when he saw the cute little snack awaiting him on his side of the table. He knew it must have been you and it tugged his heartstrings quite hard, no one had ever really done this for him.

Still he didn’t look at you as he sat down, and he most likely wasn’t going to. You had to make the first move.

“Thank you,” you turned to him, holding out your hand in hopes of a friendly handshake.

Seungmin didn’t respond, though he did turn to face you wide-eyed with a straw stick in his mouth. His hand gently held the carton of strawberry milk and he didn’t make a move to reciprocate your friendly greeting.

You slowly pull your hand away.

“You can have them back, I don’t need them anymore,” you reach towards your binder to pull out the protected notes, but Seungmin finally does move, stopping your hand.

You eye him blankly, confused at his actions. He looks at you nervously before looking down.

“You can keep them,” his voice is firm yet soft and gentle.

Kim Seungmin is not cold or arrogant, you decide, he’s adorable.

You simply nod, absolutely dumbstruck by his change in nature.

Class starts and ends and though you promptly take your notes, you are considerably distracted by the actions of the quiet boy beside you. Today he placed his head down as usual, but his eyes were not closed, instead they traveled around the room, ever so often landing on you and halting.

As you and your classmates begin to put away their materials before the bell, you notice Seungmin softly spring up.

He takes out a pad of unused sticky notes from his bag and quickly scribbles his phone number and a puppy doodle on the pastel pink paper, hurriedly handing it your way as the bell rings.

Once again you look at the boy, eyes blank of emotion, only now his shy smile returns for a second time and he confidently reaches for your hand to put the sticky note in it himself.

“I think you’ll like these numbers more,” he slyly flirts.

“That was horrible,” you laugh at his rather unexpected words, making him flush a pleasant shade of pink.

Seungmin had never been one to flirt, heck he never even really spoke to girls, but he was definitely willing to make an exception. Because Seungmin never wasted his time on things he deemed unnecessary, but now it seemed that you were necessary in his eyes.

“Call me sometime?” His voice was smaller, much more reserved than his confidence outburst from before.

“My pleasure.” You beamed up at him.

And with that smile Seungmin could now guarantee that you were absolutely necessary.

#stray kids #seungmin #skz #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #seungmin imagines #seungmin fluff #seungmin blurbs #stray kids fluff #stray kids blurbs #skz fluff #skz scenarios #skz seungmin #kim seungmin

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paintedwithapalette · 4 years ago

Text

SoKai Week Day 4 - Together

Words: 3,545

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Useless.

Insignificant.

Worthless.

These were just a small portion of the words that ran through his mind as he trudged down the empty road with nothing and no one to keep him company aside from a backpack with water and a few of his favorite snacks. Sora stopped walking, planting his feet firmly in the middle of the asphalt road and the weight of his own loneliness truly settled in.

This was it. He was going to go through with it. No backing out now.

He tried, he really did. No one could say he didn’t. No one could say he didn’t train for days on end. No one could say he didn’t travel in hopes of looking for a cure that would bring an end to this horrible disease that plagued countless worlds. No one could say that he didn’t give it his best every single day and that he didn’t pour his own sweat, tears, and yes, sometimes even blood, into doing his absolute best to uphold the honor of being the chosen one.

With his lifeless eyes, he summoned his Keyblade. Simple in its design but effective. A sentient Key that chose one person per generation to maintain order in the universe. To solve any problem that threatened the balance between light and darkness. Centuries of chosen wielders before him and only once had it chosen wrong.

But as far as Sora was concerned, it chose wrong again. How was he supposed to live up to the legacy Zack Fair left behind? Sora couldn’t do anything on his own. Without Zack holding his hand, he was worthless. Maybe if he had developed any sort of competence in his months of training, he might have found a cure to resolve the geostigma crisis by now. Maybe he would’ve found a way to save the lives of thousands, no... millions... if he were someone else. Maybe if he were just a fragment of the man Zack was, he could’ve done something.

And maybe, just maybe... he wouldn’t have let Eraqus die.

Eraqus was counting on him to do something - to find a cure and bring him back to health. Sure, Sora was only sixteen and it was a lot of pressure to handle, but he had the Kingdom Key, so naturally that meant he was supposed to put the pieces of the puzzle together, right?

Wrong. In the end, he was a failure who could only let down the people he cared about most.

The boy chosen by the mysterious Kingdom Key. What a joke.

As his eyes devoid of life wandered up and down the blade, he couldn’t help but wonder why. Why did the Keyblade choose him? It must have had its reason, it always did, but whatever reasons they were didn’t connect with him. All he wanted was a simple life where he could be a regular teenager, have fun with his friends, and just be normal. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask for this responsibility. This pressure. The weight of the world sitting on his shoulders when he wasn’t even old enough to drink. None of it made any sense.

It must’ve been a mistake. The fact that he let Eraqus die proved it was a mistake. Sora gripped the handle of his blade so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

“You were wrong!” Sora yelled as he tossed the Keyblade, sending it crashing into the pavement. Sora glared, as hard as he could before he settled into his prior look of indifference. He turned on his heel to leave the Kingdom Key in the middle of the road, hoping that it got run over by a car before he felt something pop back into his hand with an accompanied flash of light. Sure enough, when he looked down, it was the Kingdom Key refusing to leave his side.

Clenching his teeth, Sora hurled the Keyblade once again. And like a broken record, he heard that familiar flash and the Keyblade return to his possession. With an agonized cry, Sora threw the Keyblade a number of times, his uncharacteristic sense of anger and resentment fueling every futile attempt at discarding himself of the burden the universe set on him.

After a while, he hadn’t even noticed the fact that he threw his backpack aside and that dark sky was now dropping pellets of raint. His mind could only focus on trying his best to keep the Keyblade away and maybe eventually it would get the memo and just stop returning to him. But it never did. No matter how many times Sora pushed the Keyblade away, it kept stubbornly coming back.

After his final attempt and the Keyblade returned once again, Sora stopped, his breathing heavy and dense. The rain continued to drench his clothes and slide down his brown spikes. When the dust cleared and his anger subsided and all that was left was...

Sadness.

It was the utmost level of dejection he had felt all day. It was clear that there was no way that the Kingdom Key would be leaving his side. But why? He was obviously no good. He was positive there was someone out there better than him to save all of the lives that were being ruined by this geostigma ordeal.

That was why he had to kill himself.

The Kingdom Key typically didn’t switch users until the current one was deceased. Then, and only then, would the Kingdom Key move on to the next suitor. Maybe if he was erased from the equation, the Kingdom Key would find someone strong, confident, and sure of themselves enough they would be able to locate some sort of remedy to this ever-growing dilemma affecting the worlds. Someone like Riku. His best friend. He always wanted to be the chosen one. Compared to Sora, he actually deserved it.

Yes, it was the only way. He would go to the Play Island. Spend his final day appreciating all of the memories he and he friends had made during his sixteen years of existence, enjoy his final meal, write a letter to his friends saying how much he’ll miss them, how much he would miss her, and then… he’d plunge himself in the deepest, darkest depths of the sea and -

“Sora!”

He heard a voice. Her voice.

Sora turned around and there she was; she looked like a ray of hope as she stood underneath the light of a street lamp - wet wrinkles drooping from her clothes and her hair drenched. A shivering sheen of liquid covered her eyes as her worried and gloomy expression told Sora everything he needed to know.

Sora’s eyes still remained lifeless and that bothered Kairi even more. He couldn’t even look her in the face. Not if he wanted to suppress the tremendous guilt that came about over what he was about to do. They stood in silence, Kairi’s lips quivering. She’d never seen him like this - at his lowest. She barely recognized the person standing before her. This wasn’t the usual, upbeat, cheerful Sora she knew.

But she was going to bring him back.

“What are you doing here?” Sora asked.

Kairi shook her head. “That doesn’t matter,” she answered. “I think the better question is what are you doing out here?”

Sora opened his mouth but realized it wasn’t such a simple question with a simple answer. The layers to the situation were too vast for Kairi to understand. Even still, despite what he thought, Kairi had an inkling for why he was out there. His reaction back at the hospital gave her enough of a hint.

“It’s not your fault,” was the first thing Kairi said after a stint of silence.

“How can you say that?!” Sora asked, his frustration flaring. “How is it not my fault, Kairi?! I’m the one the Kingdom Key chose! I’m the one everyone expects to do something about this, and I just… I-I can’t, okay? I just can’t!”

“But no one is putting this on you,” Kairi reminded. “This was just... an unfortunate incident that no one could have predicted. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“And why can’t I? I was the one everyone expected to do something about it. But I couldn’t. I can’t. And he’s dead.”

Kairi didn’t say anything for a moment before she opened the gates of conversation once again. “Sora. Why are you out here?” she asked again. Like before, she received no answer. “Whatever is going on, we can figure it out. I’m here for you, Sora! I told you that I would be and I meant that.”

Sora shut his eyes, holding back the tears he didn’t want Kairi to see. He really didn’t deserve her. And she deserved better than him. “Kairi... I’m sorry... I just can’t do this anymore...”

She was almost afraid to ask. “What... what do you mean by that?”

Through the rain, he smiled. Though, clearly a sad one. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to deal with me anymore. Maybe... you’ll find someone better to worry over. You’re an amazing person, the way you look after your sister, Haru, me...” Sora’s eyes lowered. “I think I can truly say that I’ve never met someone like you before. I guess that’s why... I fell in love with you.”

Kairi gasped, her eyes wide as saucers. He said it. He really said it.

“I guess now at least... I won’t have any regrets,” Sora continued. “I wanted to at least tell you that, but I just couldn’t find the right time or place... but now, when you think of me, you’ll know. You’ll know how I feel. How I always felt.”

“What are you talking about, you dummy?” Kairi asked, her voice choking as she used both arms to wipe away her tears like a child scolded by their parents. To see him acting so uncharacteristic hurt more than she ever anticipated. “Why are you saying these things, Sora?”

“Please don’t cry,” Sora said gently. “I know it’s hard, but you’re strong Kairi. You’ll be okay. I know you will.”

“What are you talking about?! Answer me, Sora!”

“I know Riku has always liked you,” Sora continued, as if he weren’t even listening. “You know, he asked me once if I wanted to talk to you before he did. But I didn’t think I had a chance. Maybe I still don’t. So, I let him know that I wouldn’t take offense if he talked to you first. So, I guess I just thought it wouldn’t be right to tell you how I feel knowing how Riku felt. But it won’t matter now. Even still, I wanted to at least let you know...”

“Stop that!” Kairi cried out, clutching her chest as the pain in her heart swelled. She didn’t even bother trying to stop the stream of tears pouring from her eyes. “J-Just stop!”

Sora sighed. He supposed the least she deserved was an explanation. “Don’t feel bad... I think I just realized that the Kingdom Key made a mistake. All I’m going to do is fix that mistake. I’ll make things right.”

“You don’t really mean that...”

“If you, or Riku, Donald, Goofy, the King, Roxas, Naminé... you,” he almost stuttered. “If any of you got geostigma... what am I supposed to do then? I’m not going to sit here and watch as my friends die because I’m too weak to save any of you! I can’t do that, Kairi. That’s why...” he said, hesitating, “it’ll be best for everyone if I’m not here.”

“Do you hear yourself right now?!” Kairi yelled. “You’re not even thinking about how much it’ll hurt the rest of us if something happened to you! How it’ll hurt me... doesn’t... doesn’t that matter to you?”

Sora couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore. “You’ll be better off,” he stated bluntly. “Trust me.”

“Sora, you’re not in your right mind! None of the previous chosen ones have been perfect. You can’t expect that of yourself. We’ll get you some help. I’ll help you! Let’s just go back to the hospital and figure this out! We can do it together!”

When he found the willpower to look in her eyes, it was a face Kairi was certain she didn’t recognize. That droopy exterior of his only brought one word to mind for her.

Loneliness.

She could tell that her words weren’t getting through to him. No matter what kind of logic she mustered, it couldn’t connect. It looked like the Sora she knew was gone, but she refused to believe that. He must have been there... somewhere, deep inside. Kairi just had to pull that out.

“Kairi... I’m sorry,” Sora said, breaking the silence. “I don’t want you to follow me. I don’t want you to see what’s about to happen... but just... I know what I’m doing. And this is the right thing to do.”

“No, it isn’t!”

“The Kingdom Key will move on to someone better. They’ll find a cure and maybe they’ll find a way to save all of the lives ruined by geostigma. Maybe it’ll be someone who wasn’t chosen by accident.”

“Sora!”

“You won’t be alone. Roxas, Naminé, Lea, Xion... Riku... they’ll be here for you.”

“Sora, listen to me!”

“And just know that to me, you were someone very special.” He smiled sadly. “From the moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were someone special. I think... leaving you is what’s going to hurt the most.” Sora felt some tears sneak up on him and he quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of his jacket. “But... this is what’s going to be for the best. For everybody. I know it won’t be easy, but just know that when I’m gone, I always appreciated you for the way you made me feel better even on my worst days. You always supported me through and through. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend…and the time we spent together... will always be precious to me.”

At this point, Kairi was bawling. Each and every word stung harder than the last. How could he be saying these things while knowing what he was about to do? She couldn’t make sense of it but she knew she wasn’t supposed to. She just wanted him to snap out of it, but how?

Sora was such an amazing person. The way he lit up a room with just his presence. The way his smile made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. The way he brought people together. The way he cared for other people. That was why the Keyblade had chosen him. It wasn’t because he was the strongest, the fastest, the toughest... that wasn’t how the Keyblade went about its choosings. It was the kind of person he was. His compassion for others. His kindness. All of the good points. Why wasn’t he seeing that?

Then again, she had dealt with someone with depression before. Naminé had been struggling with it for years, so this was just another case of that. But even Naminé had never been this severe. And Kairi was left unsure what to do. All she could do was cry and hope that her tears were enough to convince him that everything his brain was telling him was wrong. But it wasn’t that easy.

The pain wouldn’t stop. It was welling up deep inside and was bursting at the seams. She clenched her fists and stopped listening to her head, but her heart. What was she supposed to do? She had to do whatever felt right in that moment.

She didn’t have long to ponder, however, as Sora turned around. “Kairi... goodbye.”

“I LOVE YOU, TOO!”

That’s when everything stopped. Sora whirled back around, his eyes wide and confused. He didn’t hear that, right? “What...?”

“I love you, too,” she said softly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Sora affirmed. “You can’t do that. That’s not true. You like Riku, and you’ve always -”

“Oh, so now you know how I feel?!” Kairi asked, her temper flaring up again. “It doesn’t work that way! Stop acting like you know everything and listen to me for once!” When he didn’t say anything, Kairi took that as her cue to continue. “I’m sorry, Sora, but you can’t speak on behalf of my feelings. And I’m not just saying this because I don’t want you to do anything stupid. I’m saying it because it’s true.” Her tears continued to flow freely. “I... I love you, too, Sora.”

Sora stopped, letting the revelation process. “W-Why are you telling me this now?”

“I’m a coward too, sometimes.” She chuckled humorlessly. “But you deserve to know. You’re special to me, too. You made me realize that I do have more to offer to the world. You always make my day better. You’re always there for me and... I love you. I love you so, so much, Sora.”

His mind was so foggy and cluttered that it didn’t even seem like a possibility. He thought he was nothing more than a friend she cared deeply for. Though, he supposed even if that were the case, she still wouldn’t be okay with his plans.

Still, what was he supposed to do? Wasn’t he supposed to end things here and now, allowing the Keyblade to move on to a more suitable wielder? Sure, he could still do that, but knowing that Kairi returned his feelings, all this time... it definitely made it a bit harder for him to do that.

“What am I supposed to do…?” Sora asked quietly to no one in particular. When Kairi didn’t have an answer, Sora’s conflicted emotions exploded in the form of a scream as he put his hands on his forehead. He fell to his knees, his hands still hovered over his ears. During his clouded thoughts convincing him that suicide was the only answer, he almost forgot about it.

Love.

Not just the love he had for others, but the fact that others loved him, too.

And Kairi loved him in that way? He could hardly process it.

Kairi raced towards him in a panic, her black and pink boots splashing in the murky puddles until she kneeled down to make sure he was okay. Sora found the strength to look up from his state of confusion. “You’re... not lying to me, are you? You’re not just saying that?” he asked. His voice almost sounded desperate. Kairi figured he was still dealing with the thoughts that convinced him he was being lied to. So, she figured the only way to prove it to him was to show him.

And show him she did, as she pressed her lips against his.

It caught him by surprise for a moment, but it didn’t take long for him to give in as he shut his eyes. The rain continued to pour during their moment that edged dangerously close to the margin of passion. It was a longing and need that hadn’t been quenched for either of them in what felt like so long. It took just about every fiber of strength in them both to break apart, as Kairi wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, pressing her forehead with his.

“Do you believe me now?” Kairi asked.

The question was enough to give Sora the ghost of a smile, but it didn’t take long before it returned to its prior frown. “I guess I just don’t know... if I’m someone worth loving.”

“Stop that,” Kairi demanded. “You don’t get to decide how I feel. And this is what I feel. So, you’re just going to have to deal with it. I don’t care what you say.”

Silent tears continued to fall from her eyes as she continued to hug him. Sora gradually went from standing on his knees to sitting cross-legged, but Kairi didn’t let go. She needed him to know that she wouldn’t let go. That he had someone there for him that would never let go. Their damp clothes and the fact that they were very likely to catch a serious cold didn’t matter... as long as they had each other.

“Don’t you ever go doing something like that again, okay?” Kairi asked. “That’s not the Sora I fell in love with.”

Sora felt his eyes beginning to well up. She was right. He couldn’t believe he was seriously considering that. So many people were counting on him. The Kingdom Key chose him for a reason, and while it may not have been a reason he understood, it knew what he was capable of inside.

And, if nothing else, he had this amazing girl there to support him. To save him from himself. He forgot that his bonds with the people closest to him was what gave him strength. He had to be thankful for that.

“I’m... so sorry, Kairi,” Sora said, choking up.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” Kairi repeated. “Promise me.”

She knew how seriously Sora took his promises. Once he made one, he would never, ever break it. “I promise.”

Kairi mustered up a smile through her tears as she nuzzled into Sora’s soft hair. “It’s going to be okay,” she comforted. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

_______

Shoutout to my amazingly talented friend @blissfulnightrain for drawing this this page! You’ll be able to check out the full piece on her page!

#sokaiweek2020 #sokai #sora #kairi #kingdom hearts

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barnesandco · 5 years ago

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Nikah: April

Story Masterlist

Nikah: noun, Arabic, meaning the contract of marriage.

Bucky marries Peter’s former tutor because her student visa’s about to expire and the government isn’t granting her a green card. Can she find a way to permanent residence by marriage, and if so, will it be at the cost of their hearts?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, sick Bucky.

A/N: Written under the Arranged/Accidental Marriage trope for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s writing challenge.

Torrential April showers hammer at the proverbial ceiling of their marriage, slip into the cracks between the walls of their home, begin to loosen the foundation they are standing on, one brick at a time.The gray sky is a gloomy canvas framed by their kitchen window, a painting appropriately matching their murky moods.

Bucky’s leaning against the counter, marble top digging into his steel-rod spine, arms crossed like a shield across his chest. Across his heart. She glances up at him through damp eyelashes before turning back to her laptop, pretending to focus on her presentation. The dinner table is a mess, a sea of papers and textbooks broken by a lighthouse of a tea cup.

“You have a cold,” She tells him as his iron stare is interrupted by a wheezing cough.

“This even is important,” He says, ignoring her apparent concern for his well-being.

“So is your health, Bucky.”

“My health or your work?” He retorts sharply, anger rebuilding after a lull in the storm. There’s a fundraiser for providing state-of-the-art prostheses and frames for disabled children, and he and Colonel Rhodes have been invited as special guests for the attention they’ll bring to the cause. This is his first public engagement after his marriage, and people will want to see his wife on his arm. Only, she’s refusing to go.

“Look, I don’t want to fight about this, especially with the condition you’re in, but-”

“Then don’t,” Bucky urges, the plea followed by another sneeze that rattles his lungs in his rib cage. Her eyes soften, letting the evident concern for her sick husband show. With a sigh, she pushes back from the table and puts the cup in the sink before turning to him.

“My PhD defense is two days after the gala,” She argues, and he scoffs, internally regretting the action as it aggravates the scratch in his throat.

“You can’t spare two hours?”

“Why does it matter if I’m not there? It’s your work event, not a personal thing.”

“You’re invited and expected to be there with me as my wife, my partner,” Bucky growls as well as he can, voice hoarse and straining.

“Bucky, this is my future, my life. The conclusion to ten years of studying. I want to go, trust me, I want to be there- but my work…” She tries to explain, tears forming in the corners of her sleep deprived eyes and Bucky wants to answer. Tell her he doesn’t believe her, that she doesn’t care, that he knows he’s just a tool to be used and put away when the job is done. But he still cares, dammit. These kids matter, and unfortunately for them, so does the press coverage. If she isn’t there, the media won’t approve, spinning lies like cotton candy and feeding it to everyone who enjoys that circus, and that could mean disaster for her chances at a green card, and his standing as a “reformed” traitor.

The past two hours of back and forth, the headache-inducing argument, it all swims in his vision and the nausea finally catches up to him and he runs into the bathroom and throws up. Hears running water and looks up to see her holding out a glass of water that he gulps down quickly. She kneels on the pristine tiles beside him and presses a hand to his flaming forehead. Her own wrinkles at the feel of his fever, but he relaxes, as if the tornado hellscape of illness is leaving his body through that point of contact.

“I told you take it easy,” She grumbles, helping him to his feet. Their quarrel is a tangible presence between them, but all fight seems to have left him along with the contents of his stomach. She helps him settle down in bed and is about to go to retrieve some medicine when Bucky’s hand shoots out to grab hers. Looking down, she squeezes it briefly before leaving.

Bucky counts the seconds to her return with bated breath, and she arrives - guardian angel with Advil and water - to sit next to him on the edge of her bed. Supports him with a hand on his back while he takes the medicine, and once he’s finished, looks at him nervously with hands clasped in her lap.

“Is there anything else I can do? Do you need-”

“You can go to the ball with me,” He answers through teeth grit against the fever that isn’t subsiding yet. She looks up.

“We’ll talk about that later,” She says, resolute.

“We will talk about it now, and we’ll keep talkin’ till-” He begins to get up, leaning on his elbows but she gently pushes him down onto the pillow with a soft hand on his chest. Leaning over him, so close he’s sure he can recreate the color of her irises from memory, she answers.

“Get some rest. Please,” She asks, pressing a kiss to his burning forehead. Her plans to let him recover on his own are postponed by the feel of his flaming skin and she pulls back to look at him, worried again. Her temper shifts like the tides, pushing and pulling, water slowly eroding his heart made of stone.

“You’re still burning hot.” Bucky bites back a flirtatious remark, which still pops up in his mind, despite the situation. “I should call a doctor,” She says, and Bucky shakes his head.

“ ‘S okay.”

“It’s not okay. You’re at 102 degrees, at least,” She argues, reaching for her phone and he covers her hand with his.

“It’s a cold, doll. I’ll be fine, trust me,” He reassures, in spite of the shivers racking his body.

“What should I do, then?” Instead of his response, she receives a coughing fit of alarming proportions, the sound grating and scraping at the walls of their room. “I’ll be right back,” She says, leaving before he can stop her, and he can only hope she won’t call anyone.

Five minutes later, she comes back holding a bowl of… honey?

“It’s a remedy my mom would make when I was a kid. Desi cough syrup. Ginger and honey with a bit of cinnamon.” She gauges his response, but Bucky only opens his mouth, allowing her to feed it to him. It doesn’t taste bad, warms and soothes his throat, and he lays back again.

“Better?” She wants to know as she puts the bowl on the bedside table.

“A little. Still cold.”

“Oh.” Her face falls, but she gets up to turn on the thermostat, and lays an extra blanket on him. Bucky doesn’t want her to leave, upset as he is, so he asks her:

“Does this mean you’ll come?” He gets a glare for his efforts from the doorway. She comes back and pulls the blanket tighter around him and sighs heavily, as if to expel the weight of the world from her lungs.

“Not now, Bucky. Rest-”

“Stay. Fine, we won’t talk now, but don’t go. You’re exhausted. You need sleep,” He insists, reaching for her hand as she’s about to leave again, and she mulls it over. Crumpling the neat arrangement of duvet-comforter-blanket, he makes room, and she gets in beside him.

The back of her hand, her knuckles, reach out to run a line across his forehead and then drag down his cheek. “You’re shaking,” She comments, and Bucky no longer knows if it’s due to the fever or the effect she has that makes his heart tremble like a leaf in a hurricane. “Come here,” She says, and to his astonishment, comes closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull him to her. Her chin rests on the crown of his head while his nose is pressed to her collarbone. Slowly, cautiously, his arms envelope her waist, belting around the base of her spine.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs against her soft skin, feeling her pulse thrum against his lips where they meet. Her barely-there yes is accompanied by her hand on the nape of his neck, running her fingers through the hair there.

Bucky falls asleep in the cloud of his wife’s jasmine perfume, her touch still distant and tense, but he only dreams of a better wedding. A second chance. The kind that she is deserving of, instead of the frail one she received, even if it was at her own insistence.

“You’re eloping?” Sam asks, voice rising to a comical pitch that Bucky didn’t know was possible. He shrugs at his teammate, who stands above him in front of the couch Bucky is lounging on, having burst into his room. Normally, he’d have chewed Sam out for not knocking, but he’s in Peter’s room, hiding from Sam, so he hardly has any right to. Looks like it isn’t much of a hiding place, but then - if Bucky had wanted to actually hide instead of procrastinate this conversation, Sam would have never found him.

Bucky nods, straightening up slightly, and Sam sits down beside him.

“Why, man?” He asks, the line between concerned captain and caring friend blurring.

“She didn’t want to make a big deal about it. Said there wasn’t much point in spendin’ all that money for somethin’ like this, especially because she knows I’d be spendin’ the money,” Bucky answers. It’s true. Peter had almost thrown a tantrum when she had announced that she wouldn’t wear a lehenga, or a wedding outfit of any other sort for that matter. Weddings are a huge deal anywhere, but especially in Pakistan, and she’s her parents’ eldest, the pride and joy of the family. Her marriage would have been celebrated with so much enthusiasm. It would have been an event to remember. But it won’t be.

He knows it’s reasonable, the proper thing to do, but part of him - the 20-year-old Brooklyn romantic - longs for a wedding. A party. A celebration. However, he has come to terms with the fact that there is nothing to celebrate here. Just a temporary arrangement. A favor. They had agreed on a courthouse marriage. Elopement. Simple as that.

Bucky’s eyes open with a great modicum of difficulty to find that he is burning. Everything is on fire, his bed a furnace baking him alive, so much so that it takes torturous moments before he realizes his wife is in his arms. The urge to throw off the blankets and dunk himself in an ice bath is suppressed just long enough for him to look over her head at the alarm clock on the bedside table that reads eleven. They appear to have slept through yesterday afternoon, the whole night, and late into the next morning, and the clouds have parted to reveal sunshine like gold.

The temperature becomes unbearable, and regrettably, he has to move out of her grasp around him, her hand tightening where it’s gripping his bicep.

“Sweetheart,” He says, not wanting to wake her, but having no choice. She shifts, burrows her face into his chest and Bucky’s heart cries. He sighs, running a thumb firmly over her shoulder, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“Sweetheart.” She hums, the vibrations reverberating through her lips and his sweat-drenched shirt. “Baby, wake up. I gotta go.” She frowns, whimpers, nuzzling into him, and Bucky hates himself for waking her, resting a hand on the side of her neck. “Darlin’ please. I have to go,” He says urgently, and it’s true. He needs the toilet. She jerks back with a gasp, and he smiles at her, trying not to race to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry- I-” “It’s okay, give me a sec,” He says, leaving. When he returns, she’s sitting back against the headboard, and she straightens up to talk to him, adjusting her shirt.

“I- uh, I thought about it, and... well. I’ve been studying for years and years. This is my work, my research, and if I’m not ready now, I don’t think I’ll ever be. What I’m trying to say is- I guess I’ll go to the gala.” She says, getting up and moving to peck his cheek on her way out, still demure and a little stiff, but Bucky thinks: he’s the luckiest damn fool on this side of the galaxy.

Taglist: @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @readerandcinephileingeneral @stevieboyharrington @notsomellowmushroom @veganfangirl5 @mood-pancakes @lbuck121 @starnight-charmer

#ayesha writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x desi!reader #desi!reader

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sympathyfortheblinderdevil · 4 years ago

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All Is Fair: Ch. 17 Buying Forgiveness

Tommy has been a shithead, so he tries to buy Lia's forgiveness. Little does he know, she would have totally forgiven him anyway. In the time leading up to Christmas, Lia forms a bond with Charlie and encourages Tommy to do the same.

Tommy was a half-drunk, half-delirious mess. His shambolic footsteps dragged on the stairway, pitching him forward as Lia struggled to keep him from falling. For the previous hour, he’d been whispering what she could only categorize as confession into her hair; at least, that’s what she thought it was, for she could understand very little of it. She had finally convinced him to go back to bed, which led to her current predicament. She wedged her shoulder underneath his arm and coaxed him, “I’ve got you, Tommy, but you have to help me,” and they haltingly made their way to her bedroom.

When they reached their destination, she paused at the door to switch on the light, and in a moment of lucidity, he suddenly rasped, “Don’t... No lights.” He was raw enough to feel shame and to want to hide his face from her.

Once he was on the bed, she helped him out of his jacket, her arm grazing the cold steel of his pistol as she did so. She flinched, then turned her back to drape the heavy garment over the chair. Did Tommy shoot back, or did he just run for cover? she wondered. She stood there trying to collect herself, breathing in and out, pushing those thoughts down. For a fleeting moment, she thought to walk away… just go out into the warm brightness of the hallway and down the stairs to her parlor... leave him to deal with undressing himself, and let him sleep it off. But, just behind her, she heard his shaky breaths and his fumbling hands struggling with leather straps. A rush of almost maternal warmth enveloped her, compelled her to stay, and reminded her that for all his faults she was hopelessly in love with him. When she turned to face him, his glassy eyes apologetically searched for hers as she undid his gun holster. Once freed, his arms went around her. He pressed his face into her belly and he mumbled, “Stay with me, Lia. Don’t leave me.”

Moonlight shone through the window in a muted sliver of luminescence and played off of the silver strands that hid in Tommy’s hair. She brushed it away from his forehead and promised, “I won’t leave you, baby. I won’t ever leave you.”

He was high. The vulnerability he showed her tonight would vanish in the morning, but Lia couldn’t help hoping that Tommy would reveal some small bit of his pain to her once in a while. She couldn’t pretend to understand the brutality and the coldness that overcame him, and the precision with which he could compartmentalize that part of his life. How could he put all of the horrors to one side and just get on with things? But if he could show her that on some level it bothered him, that he had still had a soul to save, she could try to be what he needed.

When she had him stripped down to his undershirt and drawers, she shrugged out of her dress, climbed in beside him, and sank into a deep dreamless sleep.

***

In the days that followed the shooting Tommy and Lia didn’t discuss what had happened. It had been kept out of the papers, so no one outside of Tommy’s immediate circle even knew about the killings or Tommy’s injury. For her part, she was apprehensive about reliving the shock of what had happened to Rodney and the realization that Tommy was much more flawed than she had previously let herself believe. Jenny had tried to tell her about the violence and criminality that were as much a part of him as his pale blue eyes, but until she was faced with the aftermath of the attack and the subsequent murder of the attackers, she hadn’t wanted to believe her.

The Tommy that she fell for was a devilishly charming, handsome man. He told her that he did bad things, but he had an art collection and country estate for God’s sake! She had naively believed him when he said that people didn’t come after him anymore even though it contradicted all evidence. She had never known anyone who needed to carry a gun everywhere, but she had never known a member of Parliament. Maybe all MPs carried guns, she had reasoned. Every warning and every red-flag sailed right past her because she was mesmerized by the warm smell of his skin, the velvet at the nape of his neck, the soft words he breathed into her ear when they were alone.

The little trip to Watery Lane with Polly reminded her that he came from hard beginnings, but it took watching Charlie Strong stitch up a gash from an enemy’s bullet to drive the point home: Once a gangster, always a gangster. Maybe that was what Polly was trying to make her see all along. When she thought back to the way he reacted when she confronted him about Rodney she felt dread. He changed into someone else before her eyes. Polly’s words echoed in her memory, He did have a big heart. Did. Past tense. But then, he was so tender with her afterward. She made herself believe that there was hope for him after all, that Tommy was the paradoxical hard man with a heart. He was ruthless on his climb to the top and would always have a target on his back, so yes, he had to be hard. It was so much an ingrained part of Tommy’s life that he simply accepted it and moved on. She wanted to be like Tommy, and accept it, too.

Consequently, they fell into a comfortable pattern of denial. Nearly every day after it happened, she received a delivery of one kind or another—Flowers one day, a basket of exotic fruits the next, a box of wine and cheese from Harrods, a box of chocolates imported from Switzerland, it went on and on. On the nights he came to stay with her he brought antique volumes of poetry (obviously Ada’s idea) and a diamond bracelet to match the necklace he had already given her. She wanted so much to tell him that he didn’t need to buy her forgiveness, but pointing that out would only draw attention to the subject they were trying to avoid. Instead, she shared her fruits and chocolates with the girls at the library and drew jealous gasps from them as she told about the first edition Shelley that Tommy had given her.

As the holiday season drew closer, Lia finished working out her notice at the Birmingham branch of the library in preparation for her transfer to London. Naturally, she began to spend more time at Arrow House. Charlie was finished with lessons, so he and Lia fell into a pattern of riding, playing games, and baking cookies. At first Tommy had reservations about the growing boy hanging around the kitchen, but then Arthur reminded him of all the winter afternoons that John spent at Polly’s elbow making the Christmas treats. Ultimately, Tommy felt that while he was at work it was nice that someone besides a maid was with Charlie.

He especially enjoyed the greeting he received at the end of a long day. It was often dark when he finally pulled around the fountain and came through the door. Charlie and Lia could hear his car’s approach down the long driveway and had displaced Frances as the ones to meet him at the door. Lia would kiss his cheek and take his coat and hat while Charlie plied him with samples of their latest confections. Dinner at Arrow House was different, as well. Except for the nights that Tommy would be egregiously late, Charlie joined the grownups for dinner. Etiquette and decorum in great houses dictated that children were fed separate from the adults, and Tommy had been too busy to even question it. Lia, however, thought it was strange. She had grown up with family around the dinner table together, and she reckoned that Tommy had as well. Tommy was distant from Charlie in many ways, and she sought to remedy that where she could; having nightly dinner together was a step in the right direction.

One night after dinner, the three of them went into the sitting room for Charlie to play a while before bed. He had spent half of the afternoon setting up a racetrack, complete with pebbles marking the outline of the oval, toy horses on their marks, and toy soldiers crowded around as spectators. Tommy had one arm draped loosely around Lia’s shoulder as he chuckled lowly at the voices Charlie did for the announcers and the people in the crowd. They sipped their whiskeys and whispered their bets to each other.

“I think the black one will win by at least a length,” said Lia.

Tommy leaned closer until his nose grazed her ear. “I think it’ll be the bay. What would you like to wager, Miss?”

She looked up at the ceiling and pretended to think before replying, “How about three kisses?”

Charlie stopped galloping his horses and crowed, “Yuck, I can hear you two, you know.”

“You won’t always think it’s yucky, my boy. Now, run the race so we can see if Lia or your old dad has won.”

When Charlie was once again engrossed in the intricacies of the Derby, Tommy crossed the room to refill his whiskey. He motioned to Lia with the decanter and she joined him for a refill. They were just out of Charlie’s immediate line of sight, so he slipped his arms around her. She relaxed into his embrace and sighed, “This is lovely, but we’ll miss the end of the race.”

“I know what you are doing,” he said. His voice had taken on a more serious tone.

She put her hands on his chest and looked up. “What do you mean?”

“The dinners, the cookies at the door every afternoon, all of it,” he took a final drag from his cigarette and held her gaze as he placed the end in a nearby ashtray. “You are trying to have me spend more time with Charlie.”

“Charlie is a precious boy, and he loves you more than anything, Tommy. No matter what you may think, you deserve his love.”

Tommy stared at her in silence, stunned that she had read him so easily. She was innocent, guileless, and had no ulterior motive for what she said. She only wanted him to have a relationship with his son. The revelation both warmed him and filled him with uneasiness. He had let his mask slip in front of her, and she had seen the guilt and self-loathing that he hid from the world.

He silently blinked at her. When at a loss for how to react, his default was always to stall with a blank expression, a cigarette, and a glass of whiskey. He had stepped back from her and begun rummaging through his pockets for another smoke when Charlie’s high pitched voice called, “They’re in the final stretch!”

She turned to face the boy and his track, and as she did she caught sight of Grace’s photograph. He was far too young to remember the loss of his mother, but he knew the sting of growing up with a father who was absent due to an overwhelming sense of guilt and fear. Lia often reflected that Charlie seemed remarkably well adjusted for a child who had been through so much. She put it down to Ada and the staff, who honestly spent much more time with him than Tommy did. Then and there, she resolved to convince Tommy to have the boy stay in London with them. She couldn’t imagine being separated from him if they could help it.

***

“One of my boys should take you to your parents. I don’t like you taking the train on your own,” Tommy grumbled as his eyes shifted around and noted every shadow of the train station.

Both statements alluded to the very topic they’d been avoiding for a month—one of Tommy’s drivers being shot, and his lingering nervousness about the possibility that danger was still lurking about. Tommy hadn’t minded the train journey before, because Jenny was taking the trip with Lia. At the last minute, though, Jenny decided to stay in town an extra day with her new boyfriend, a Birmingham police detective.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just a couple of hours. Besides, I need a chance to explain to my parents about us. I can’t just swan into the village in the backseat of a chauffeured Bugatti. It’ll give my poor dad a heart attack,” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

Tommy cut his eyes at her. “I thought you said you had told them about me already.”

“They know I’m seeing you, but they don’t know how serious we have become. They definitely don’t know about London. I need time to ease them into the idea of me moving to the city with you.” She didn’t say without a ring on my finger, but it hung in the air, nonetheless.

She didn’t want their last moments before the holiday to be anything less than perfect. She wanted the Hollywood movie sendoff, complete with passionate kisses on the train platform, but she would settle for a respectable kiss and less of his moodiness. She cocked an eyebrow and turned her face up to his. He licked his lips and leaned in to oblige her. She blushed up to the roots of her hair when she thought about everywhere his lips had been just a few hours before.

They had spent the night before “saying goodbye” until well after midnight. Tommy (or his secretary) had really outdone himself. They started with an extra-long supper with Charlie. He had become quite attached to Lia and wanted a chance to say goodbye before her trip home. After Charlie went up to bed, Tommy took Lia upstairs where all her things for her trip were packed into Louis Vuitton cases.

Lia gasped, “Oh, Tommy! It’s too much!” She ran her fingertips over the leather and along the brass closures and groaned with pleasure, “Its only a three-day trip.”

He approached her from behind and nuzzled her ear, “Consider it an early Christmas gift. The rest of it is at your house.”

“The rest of it!” She shouted through bubbly laughter, spinning around and grasping Tommy’s face. He was smiling broadly and loudly kissed her.

“You’ll need it when we go to London. So you see, my girl, it’s actually a very practical gift.”

“Wool stockings are a practical gift. This cost more than the house where I was raised.”

He caressed her shoulders and his face took on a more serious expression. “Get used to it, love.”

Lia leaned into him as his hands slid from her arms to her back. He traced down and back up her spine, stopping at the top button of her dress. With achingly slow hands he undid each button while Lia pressed herself closer to his body. Maybe it was the after-dinner whiskey that had made her so giddy before, but now her head was dizzy with want and she found it hard to catch her breath.

After he slid her dress off of her shoulders he grasped her chin between his index finger and thumb and pulled her face up to his. He took in her drowsy expression, and with his eyes wide he gruffly whispered, “Lia, eh? Look at me.”

She fluttered her lashes and complied.

Tommy ground into her until she could feel the blood pulsing through his veins. “I want you to get used to having the best of everything, Lia. You are with me now, and London is on a whole other level than Birmingham. You’re a smart girl, but in London, I’ll need you to be sharp. Can you do that?”

He still had her chin in his hand, but she nodded as best as she could. She had barely breathed out, “Yes, Tommy,” before he had taken her mouth with his own. He spent the rest of the night taking everything else she could give him.

He was thinking of the same thing when he reached into his pocket for his watch. It was time. “Call me when you arrive,” he insisted as he looked her up and down. Even though she would only be gone for a few days, he wanted to remember every detail: the soft waves of her hair, the freckles on her nose, the sad smile on her deep red lips. Standing on that platform watching her go, he began to realize that he wanted her to stay. In the sober light of day, he wanted her to stay, and that worried him.

Hell yeah, I have a Masterlist!

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #all is fair

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edwardslostalchemy · 5 years ago

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Explain the difference between endevour and Bakugou’s Behavior when it comes to treating others how they do. Thanks (:D)

This is tough because I’m so biased to believe they are both abusive. And I really just want to tell you with the Pam from the Office meme that they’re the same person. But I know that’s not entirely true. Both of these characters have inflicted damage to other characters.

However, I acknowledge that Katsuki is still a teenager and I am holding out for hope that Horikoshi gives him proper development, that he can regret his actions, have a good redemption arc, apologize to Izuku, and be a better character.

Endeavor is just. A monster. Because through more than 20 years, he never stopped to think that MAYBE just MAYBE he was hurting PEOPLE, and the people were his FAMILY, his WIFE, his CHILDREN. He hurt FIVE people. He didn’t even see them as people to begin with, just a means to an end. He didn’t even see Shouto as a child, he saw him as his ‘masterpiece’, an extension of himself, the perfect tool to use for his ambition. He saw his three older children as failures and neglected them, pushing them aside and separating Shouto from his siblings because he ‘lived in a different world from the one they lived in’. It is heavily implied and suggested that he has beat his wife and even on screen, the sounds that were made were obviously of him hitting her and she falls to the ground. And the way Shouto reacts, with a horrified expression while calling for his mother, is more than enough proof that that’s what happened in that one instant. He drove her to madness, so much so that she ended up maiming her youngest child, someone who had no fault in any of what was going on, but ended up on the receiving end of her meltdown, unfortunately. And what did Endeavor do? He put her in a mental hospital because she ‘hurt his masterpiece’. Not even ‘because she hurt my son/child’ or ‘because she needs help’. Because he hurt his masterpiece. His tool. We still don’t know what happened to Touya, but we do know that Endeavor had a hand in killing him, which is horrifying and so so terrible. How…how do you just. Move on from that? It’s no wonder Natsuo hates him so much. It’s no wonder Shouto has so many mixed feelings and doesn’t know what to feel. It’s no wonder Rei is so scared of him and doesn’t want to see him even if it’s been more than 10 years since she’s been there. Even Fuyumi has admitted that she feels the same way as Natsuo and Shouto.

This is different from Katsuki. He didn’t do any of this and I really hope he never does. It would be unfortunate and sad. He has been compared to Endeavor, though, in terms of behavior, by All Might. However, he still hurt Izuku. He’s called him useless, he’s called him scum and has said he is like a pebble and like an insect he can crush if I remember correctly; he’s used his quirk on him to hurt him, and just by what we saw from the first episode, it says a lot about what he did. As little kids, he and his friends beat up Izuku. And then fast forward to middle school, he’s still bothering and hurting him. It’s quite exaggerated if I’m being honest, but still, Izuku is pushed against the wall and Katsuki stands over him threateningly. Their teacher doesn’t even do anything to stop it. After classes end, he burns Izuku’s notebook and tosses it out of the window and then tells him to kill himself. After the entrance exam for UA and they both get accepted, he pushes Izuku against a secluded wall and threatens him to not go to UA. He used so much of his quirk during the battle trial that All Might warned him not to use it or else he’d kill Izuku. And his response was that he wouldn’t get killed as long as he dodged. He still threatened him during their first semester and hit him in the face during their final exam. We don’t get to see throughout the years the extend of the bullying, just glimpses of how Katsuki tells Izuku his quirk will never be as good as his, he would leave him behind, he’d push him down; but we get to see the aftermath and Izuku does not think of himself as worthy. He has self-esteem issues, he flinches whenever he is approached by Katsuki, although this is improving because he hasn’t been stepping back recently. Katsuki can’t attack Izuku anymore because Aizawa can stop him. It’s not because he felt bad. It’s because a teacher with the means to do it finally stepped in and went ‘nope’. Aizawa doesn’t reprimand him, but he stops him. Izuku is getting better at fighting back. Katsuki can’t push him around anymore. But it doesn’t mean he’s stopped yelling at him or has stopped hurting him. He still stabs him on the head to shut him up. He’s very disrespectful when it comes to OFA meetings (and really he’s disrespectful all the time). But the thing is that now, currently in the manga, he doesn’t have that chance to attack Izuku anymore. Which is GOOD. I still see his behavior as abusive because bullies are abusive. They still hurt people mentally, physically, and/or emotionally.

The difference is that nobody was there to stop Endeavor, but someone was there to stop Katsuki. Endeavor took a hell of a long time to realize that what he did was not right and evaluated that his reasons for doing what he did were not really….I guess enough. Or wrong. Perhaps I’m not interpreting that scene correctly, where he is fighting High End and he’s thinking “that’s the reason….the reason…” and it pans over Rei, Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Shouto. Endeavor is an ADULT who should have better judgement and better sense in treating people like people. He’s a certified Hero, but only acts heroically publicly. With his family? Not even close. He did it because he believed this was the best option for reaching his goal. But it was not an ethical option. Katsuki did what he did because his ego was inflated and people would tell him he was the best and his quirk was amazing, even by Izuku. Katsuki is a KID. And I really hope he gets better development. I really hope he stops hurting Izuku and starts treating him like a person and like a friend. (And I say this for Izuku’s sake, not his.)

Now as far as how these two characters treat other people.

They’re both arrogant and proud, but they’re executed differently. Endeavor is arrogant in that he doesn’t want to join other heroes because he ‘is a very busy man’, as we saw when detective Tsukauchi requested his help to rescue Katsuki from the League of Villains. He also complained that All Might was getting the spotlight and not him. Why did he have to stay where he was when All Might was rushing into action? I am trying to translate this word to English, but what comes up is despot. He abuses power and oppresses others, most notably his family. However, because of his status, he is still rude and selfish with other people. His interactions with All Might are so tense. All Might goes to say hi and he’s like “is that it?” and walks away. And then he tells him how Shouto will beat him. It’s disgusting how he talks about Shouto as if he were a tool and not his son, and also he says ‘that’s why I made him’ as if Shouto is only worth being something to use instead of someone to cherish, i.e. a child. He’s beginning to atone, which is good. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth because I cannot stand abusers and I myself have dealt with someone who is awful. Not on this level of asshole, but he’s still an asshole. Anyway, back to him. He allows Natsuo to tell him what he’s thinking, which is GOOD. This is something I like because he didn’t shut Natsuo down and Natsuo was able to speak what was on his mind. Fuyumi is probably the person he has….I don’t want to use the word fondness….that implies that he cares about her, and honestly, I still want to believe that despite his abusive nature, he can at least spare some care for his daughter. I don’t know what word to use, but he lets her have dinners and convinces him to bring his interns over. He’s also trying to show Shouto that he can be a better hero, one he can be proud of. And I understand that this is part of his atonement, but it does not arouse sympathy out of me. His interaction with Hawks is interesting. He’s rude and impatient and wants for him to get to the point. However, he did not blow up when Hawks gave him a major burn on live television. Although, in later chapters, he lets Hawks give him information and it’s good he allowed this because it was so crucial.

Katsuki is different from Endeavor in that he does blow up on people. His personality is, you guessed it, explosive. And I understand that goes with his character. Endeavor is fiery…he is fierce… Shouto is warm and cold. Izuku is full of energy he cannot contain, bouncing off walls verbally and physically. So it makes sense that Katsuki is explosive. However, he yells and threatens and tells people to die. I’ve read a post explaining that him telling people to die is a common thing to say in Japan amongst kids. Perhaps if handled differently for Katsuki, it would be funny when it’s meant to be funny. But anyway, let’s go with his explosive nature. He blows up. He loses his cool so easily and is provoked instantly. He treats people like dirt, not gonna lie. I want to believe he’s getting better. But I can’t see it. It’s so hard for me to see it. Blowing up on people that see him as a friend, blowing up on Izuku, blowing up on his classmates. Constantly telling Shouto they are NOT friends even though Shouto thinks they are. I see he has not yelled at Momo, which is good, because if he were to do it, I would be out for blood. He’s not horrible to Kirishima, and he’s getting better? Like that bit where Kirishima was insecure and he told him he was strong, that was nice. I wish he would be that way with other people, too. The way he wanted to fight all the kids during the provisional license remedial course was something. And that line he said to the leader of the kids felt hollow, but at least he stopped yelling at the kids. He’s also not 100% insensitive, because he at least listened to Shouto when he said there’s other ways of reaching out to children that DON’T involve violence, and he thought back to when Shouto told Izuku about how he was abused. He is learning to cooperate, which is something I appreciate, although he is not perfect, as we saw when he joined the 1A band (thanks Sero). I would like for him to realize, though, that his behavior needs improvement. Or at least he needs to stop yelling at everyone and should direct this anger towards villains.

So really Katsuki doesn’t give a damn about public image, but Endeavor does. Still, both are rude and brash and flaunt their power in front of other people. Endeavor literally does this simply by having his fire mask, mustache, and beard all the time when he is out.

I hope this is enough/satisfactory for you, anon. I tried to stay objective, but again that was difficult given how much I hate both characters. If anyone wants to add on, feel free because I’m sure I missed something, but this is what I was able to put together.

#uhhh idk how to even tag this but i will go with these #anti bakugou #anti endeavor #anonymous #asks #bc im not praising them im pointing out how they treat people #and it's not good treatment #cw abuse #cw domestic abuse #cw child abuse #cw bullying #Anonymous #bnha character analysis #i guess #bnha spoilers

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fandom-collective-writers · 5 years ago

Text

Reader x Jihyun Kim {MysMes} - Letters to Heal a Broken Heart

Title: Letters to Heal a Broken Heart Fandom: Mystic Messenger Character: Jihyun Kim Genre: bittersweet? romance Warnings: spoilers for his good ending! Intended Gender Audience: Neutral Audience Word Count: 2040 words POV: second person Other comments: no smut but im proud of this! please note that everything with the push back is a letter! i think its pretty clear, but i wanted to make sure it’s understood <3 Written by: @mythiica Req:

Dear –

I’ll admit, it feels a bit strange writing a letter for you, but my therapist recommended it. He told me to explain my emotions with words, saying it would help me become more confident.

See, the reasoning behind it, at least from what I remember, is that there is no pressure to think quickly. Writing allows a flow, a sense of movement between the words before you pick which one you wish to use. Talking is different because it follows a completely contrasting rhythm. To keep a conversation going, you have to speak rather quickly so the person stays engaged in the topic.

It’s all really interesting, and my therapist has given me a book over the fundamentals of other practices like this. I read half of it on the plane to Japan.

To clarify, I’m writing this from my hotel room in Tokyo. I landed a few hours ago and the jet lag has yet to hit me, so I decided to take advantage of this time to write.

I think you’d like it here – the sakura are in full bloom and I have three days dedicated to photographing the sea of pinks as they ripple in the wind. Until now, I’ve only seen pictures of the famous parks, and I never thought that I would be able to witness them in person.

I didn’t think I’d

I never conside

Ah, I should mention, I’m not allowed to erase or cross out sentences I start. Another confidence booster? It’s a bit sillier, but it’s meant to force me to say what is on my mind, rather than letting it fester. I’ll try again:

During my years under Mint Eye, my vision was narrowed, and I had only one duty. However, I am learning to broaden my horizons and expand my mind to encompass everything. The urge to explore bubbles in my chest, waiting for the moment to come out. There are so many chances to do anything, and I’ve got all the time to do all of it.

I’ve also realized that I went over my word limit. I have to stick to 300 words or under. Confidence booster #3! Express yourself with less words. Take a guess of how many times I’ve opened the thesaurus, looking for better synonyms for words? At least seven times in the past five minutes. It’s crazy!

For now, I’ll sign this off and try better next time.

よりご多幸を祈って

Jihyun Kim

PS, I’m practicing my Japanese! That says best wishes… I think.

नमस्कार

Hello and greetings from India! I took a long nap on the plane, and forgot to write. Although I’m only passing through, I ate some delicious food (that I should really try to replicate for you). India is absolutely beautiful – from the sunrises to the bustling markets to the colorful fabrics hung at every corner. I’ll inhale the air and smell six things at once, albeit, not all of them are the best, but I embrace it nonetheless.

More about what I’ve been doing: funnily enough, my phone died on the bus ride, but I made a new friend named Sunmi, and she was kind enough to lend me her charging cable. Instead of ending the interaction there, we spoke for a few hours at least. I learned she was traveling with her friends on a photography excursion. She gave me all the information, and I’d like to look into it when I have wifi again.

You wouldn’t believe what they’ve seen! Last year they went to Antarctica through South America. She got to pet a penguin! Apparently the company also takes people to Greenland and New Zealand – some places I’ve been dreaming of visiting since I was a young boy.

I’ll use my last 100 words to mention that… I’ve gotten a bit homesick. I miss the RFA – well, the people from the RFA minus…

Don’t tell Jumin about the company though, he’ll insist on flying me around with his private jet. I want to experience for myself. Saeyoung is somehow messaging me when I don’t have service? I don’t… understand. Anyways, I also saw Zen landed a huge international role (someone had a magazine on the plane). Otherwise, I hope Jaehee and Yoosung are well. And Elizabeth the 3rd of course. Send them my wishes.

I didn’t forget about you though! The keychain you gave me reminds me of home every day. It might have lost an eye, but I found a button and stitched it on. And I also wanted to ask you–

Ah, I’m over again.

Next time.

Jihyun Kim

Iyi günler! I am in Turkey now and actually writing this on a boat. The sun is setting over the horizon, making the sky change colors with every passing minute. It’s breathtaking, but I wish you were here with me. The other passengers and I take turns standing at the front of the boat, and I sometimes linger, trying to take pictures.

Good news! My vision is getting better. I’ve been taking some Greek herbal remedies, and the seem to be helping. Either that, or they have a wonderful placebo effect. Has that ever happened to you? To think something is working, but you’re just imagining things?

I apologize, maybe that stirred bad memories for you.

Back to Turkey: I stepped out of my comfort zone and spent a night camping. Honestly? I was terrified of doing so, but now I want to do it every night. It is the perfect temperature for hiking, even though I am a bit sunburned.

So many people have been commenting on my hair. Good things mostly, and I started styling it with a bit of gel to keep it out of my eyes. It feels good to look people directly rather than through a curtain.

What are you up to? Hosting anymore parties? I imagine that you are keeping busy, as always of course. My therapist said it would be best to wait messaging you until I return home. I nearly called you a week ago, but I didn’t want to break my vow. It’s like lying to myself, and I know better than that now.

Still, it doesn’t stop me from dreaming.

Sending love,

I’m genuinely angry, but writing to you always calms me. Someone stole my bag – I luckily didn’t have much in it, but your keychain… can you make me a new one please? Now that I don’t have it, it’s almost like I’ve lost a part of you. It hurts a lot, but then I wonder if I am being silly. It’s just a keychain.

Otherwise, France is nice. I didn’t want to go to Paris, so instead I traveled through the countryside to visit a few wineries.

Yes, I did… drink a bit, but I wasn’t impaired when my bag was stolen!

You would laugh at me if I told you what happened, so I will save the story for another time. Before coming to France, I went through Germany and visited some of the most beautiful castles I’ve ever seen. They all looked like they could be straight from a fantasy movie set, and I was convinced one – Neuschwanstein Castle – actually was.

I’ve barely written anything despite so much happening.

I got a haircut (finally), because it was becoming a hassle to tie it back at night.

One evening, I fed some stray cats and they followed me home.

And a drunk (?) tried to play cards with me. But he didn’t have cards. He was dealing an imaginary deck.

Other stories will have to wait until I see you again, and I feel better now. It’s okay to be upset, but it won’t hinder my trip any more.

Je t'aime,

Jihyun

Alaska doesn’t have a night.

That’s not exactly true, but it’s basically true. The hotel has special curtains that block the light, and it is only dark for a few hours.

It has been many miles since I last wrote, but I was caught up in visiting show after event after party after exhibit through America. Their art has given me a new perspective on point of view and emotions, so I hope that the ten camera chips I’ve filled with photographs will be able to convey the same sense of awe.

I’ve also been mistaken for an idol? Like – multiple times. Interesting to say the least, maybe I’ll say yes to the next person that asks. What should my stage name be? I’ll spare you the embarrassment and not share my ideas. They are all very silly and no one would believe me if I told them my name was Cam Ra. Do you get it? It’s bad, I know.

I’ll be returning home soon, unless I get distracted or impulsive and go down to California and Hawaii before coming back. I want to – it doesn’t feel right to return just yet. But that doesn’t mean anything about you!

Really, I think about you and everyone else each day.

Have you met new people? We’ll exchange so many stories…

See you soon,

J K

You pace around, waiting for the last guest on the list to appear. The party started an hour ago, but he still has not arrived. Then again, it has been three months since anyone heard a whisper from V, and you start to lose hope. Swallowing hard, you remind yourself that V is having a wonderful time exploring the world and finding himself.

Taking a handful of your dress, you turn and head through the doors to the main room. Jumin tries to pull Saeyoung away from Longcat, Yoosung explains his most recent surgeries to a group of nurses from his work place, and Jaehee receives many compliments for her majestic cake.

Everyone is happy and has moved on.

You hope V has too.

Maybe all the wishing and praying finally paid off, because you hear his familiar voice calling out behind you. It’s a long shot, but you turn around nonetheless, thinking it is a different guest.

Instead, you see Jihyun, wearing the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen, running towards you. He’s carrying a folder filled with papers, but that doesn’t stop him from embracing you. He smells rugged, like his voyage has transformed him, but you rather like it.

“Jihyun!” You melt against his hug. “You’re.. Here… you’re here!”

Your squealing draws everyone’s attention, but he focuses on you and only you. “Of course I’m here. I missed you more than I can verbalize.”

His stance is open, welcoming, and confident, much different from two years ago. He is a different person now, brave and proud. Jihyun offers you the folder. It is strange to gift something in the middle of a party, but you accept it anyways, happy he has returned.

Jihyun’s heart races as he explains. “I wrote you letters every time I went somewhere new. These are just a few of them, really I have so many. But each shows something I’ve learned.” He takes a breath and laces his fingers with yours. “This is sudden, and I’m sure you will need time to think about it, but I’m trying something new: asking without being afraid. Over the past two years, I’ve… longed for you. Art has shown me the power of friendship, joy, perseverance, and most importantly, dedication. I want to dedicate my art to you, if you’ll stand by my side.”

You can’t find the words to express yourself because you are so awestruck. He truly has changed, but he has embraced himself and his life. Tears start to roll down your cheeks from the overwhelming surge of emotions. Jihyun brushes them away and presses his forehead to yours.

“I still have much to learn, but I want to do it all with you.”

“I’d like that a lot, Jihyun,” you whisper, captivated by his intense gaze.

“And I can finally say this without fear–”

You tip your head up, and Jihyun kisses you the next moment. His lips are chapped and the warmth radiating from his skin envelops you. He doesn’t need words to communicate it, because you understand perfectly what he is trying to say.

#mysmes #mystic messenger #mysmes v #mysmes jihyun #jihyun kim

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andorwhore · 4 years ago

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Saudade - II of VII

Chapter II of VII: Agreement

summary: A year in the life of a rebel with a cause and a rebel in search of one… chapter two: How does a slicer gain the trust of a rebel? They don’t.

author’s note: Wow, long time no post. I’ve been trying to finish the last two chapters of this fic, which have been giving me a lot of trouble, so I haven’t wanted to post anything in the meantime. But I realized how damn long its been since I’ve updated, so time for another chapter!

pairing: Cassian Andor x OC word count: 10,434 (its another doozy lads) rating: T, eventual R warnings: none (yet)

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four

[ff.net] [ao3]

Jai Tillian maneuvered around pilots, spies, and fellow technicians as she made her way across the hangar at Yavin 4 headquarters. Over one shoulder was a purse of technical equipment, and in the opposite hand she cradled a datapad close to her chest. Her strides were long and quick as she aimed to get to the east end of the haggar, scheduled to run a diagnostics test on one of the gunships that had recently returned from a mission; apparently the computer wasn’t processing as it should, resulting in multiple issues during its last voyage.

Jai’s whole morning was booked with busy work, jumping from ship to ship, running tests or upgrading software on each one she entered. She fell a little behind schedule during her last test on a corvette, as the pilot was being far too distracting the entire time, and Jai hoped that this next one she had to deal with on the gunship wouldn’t interrupt her focus.

Jai had been with the Alliance for a little over a month, and yet it still seemed odd to say so. She had been accepted in by the council and the other technicians that she had met thus far, had spent nearly every meal sat with Miona, and had been between the control room and the hangar nearly every day learning. Yet it didn’t feel completely real, it felt as if any day now she’d be told play time was over and she’d be sent back to the Ring of Kafrene.

Jai didn’t know entirely what her thoughts were on the matter of the Rebellion versus the Empire, though she wouldn’t dare say so out loud to anyone here. Perhaps she should feel wrong for being with the rebels while trying to confront her own political doubts, should feel as if she were simply faking it to finally experience some new excitement in her life, but she didn’t feel wrong for it. Jai knew she agreed with what the Rebel Alliance was fighting for, she simply didn’t have the same passion and intensity that everyone else seemed to. And there was nothing wrong with lacking fervor in her personality, was there?

Jai had never been a particularly zealous or excitable person. Those that knew her often noted that she had an incredibly relaxed and flat way about her, verging on coming off indifferent and disinterested. It’s how she had always been, not by choice or by force, but simply by nature. She rarely became too passionate, too angry, or too sad. Her anger was perhaps the most easily triggered of the three, after all it was always the easiest emotion for anyone to fall into so long as their buttons were pushed just right, but even then her anger never seemed to come off as aggressive as others’ and it never lasted very long at all.

Maybe from a young age Jai had learned not to invest herself in emotions. Back on the Ring of Kafrene, her life was relatively uneventful, save for the occasions in her youth when she and her siblings got caught causing trouble. Despite the vast array of people that traveled to and lived in the colony, Kafrene was actually quite mundane, being particularly monotonous to a child who’s intellect led her to quickly becoming bored of the people and things around her.

As an adult, that quality in Jai hadn’t changed. It wasn’t that she thought herself too smart or too ambitious for Kafrene, in fact Jai often found herself to be of plain intelligence and of lackluster drive. Kafrene was simply too repetitive and predictable after seventeen years of growing up there. That’s why she could come off nearly cocky about her slicer skills -- codebreaking had become one of the only things that could hold Jai’s interest, and so she came as close as she could to perfecting those skills given her limited resources.

The one thing Jai could say genuinely excited her was building new equipment or upgrading her scramble key in some way. The stimulation and excitement of finally getting a successful result after trial and error of testing out a new piece of tech was virtually unrivaled by anything else. Sure, there was a distinct joy she use to feel with her family in her youth, there was a certain thrill whenever she was working on challenging slicing project, and an undeniable sensation when she, on rare occasions, engaging with someone else sexually, but for Jai nothing really compared to spending hours alone at her messy workbench, fussing with her scramble key until she perfected whatever she was trying to achieve.

Some of that excitement she still felt here on Yavin 4, but the work she was given had yet to be particularly stimulating. As a newbie, Jai was often shadowing other rebels to better understand what the technicians did at base in every relevant department. A number of the techs were trained for field work, but the majority that Jai had been working with so far stayed behind at headquarters, putting their skills towards encryption and decryption, repairs and upgrades. Jai had made it known that she’d be interested in training as a field tech, but it seemed that she may not get the opportunity yet, as no one she spoke to showed much enthusiasm for the idea. Jai hoped that she didn’t grow bored too quickly -- she was far too tired of constantly becoming bored by things, and she hoped being with the Rebellion would supply her with the stimulation she needed to stay invested.

Jai finished her job on the X4 gunship with relative ease, finding the glitch in the software and quickly remedying the problem. As she exited the ship, she looked down at the datapad to see if she’d gotten any messages about the next ship that needed her attention, but she didn’t receive any. So, she started back toward the main workstation, knowing that surely enough she would be called to something else soon.

As Jai rounded a large freighter a voice called to her to step out of the way, to which she did promptly while looking up. Two other technicians were passing by with a large equipment cart between them, and Jai did a double-take at the content inside.

Was that Cassian Andor’s droid?

As the technicians passed her, Jai asked them to stop, looking at the KX that was currently shut down.

“Shit, he’s seen better days.” She remarked while leaning over the equipment cart -- the droid’s right leg looked as if it were hanging onto his torso by a thread, it's usually pristine metal armor dented, scuffed, and stained, and there was definitely some kind of heavy damage to the back of it’s head, though Jai didn’t reach out to get a better look at it, “What happen here?”

One of the techs shrug, “Hell if we know, Gar’s over there right now trying to figure it out.”

He motioned behind himself with his head, Jai’s eyes following the indicated direction until she finally spotted Cassian and the head tech, Gar, standing just outside of the U-Wing. Jai stepped out of the way, and the two technicians continued to the workroom without saying another word.

Since their meeting and quarrel last month, Jai and Cassian had hardly seen one another, and neither had any intentions to approach first. The day he’d found her on his ship was still rather clear in Jai’s head; when she recalled the way he was very nearly kind to her, she was puzzled, especially given that after that he’d only been dismissive and even rude. Jai had heard a lot of good things about Cassian, heard other rebels sing his praise with admiration. Jai could tell he was a good man with good intentions; but, she pieced together quickly, he was incredibly passionate, and in that way, the two were a stark contrast. Perhaps even that first day they met Cassian could sense her general indifference towards everything, even as she sat on the floor of his ship with a gunshot wound in her stomach.

Maybe that was why he’d been so adamant that there was no place for her in the Rebellion. He was aggressively passionate, and she was aggressively impassive.

There was no reason for either to consider resolving their dispute from those first couple of days -- they worked different departments, Cassian was often away on jobs, and Jai was still too new to the Rebellion to be given any work of value. Their paths weren’t meant to cross again any time soon, and yet, something told Jai she was supposed to see K-2SO and, as a result, go looking for the droid’s partner.

Jai stayed planted where she stood, observant eyes watching the conversation going on between Cassian and Gar as a pair of agents stepped off of Cassian’s ship behind them. Jai could tell even from here that Cassian was exasperated, the look on his face and the upset way he moved his arms being a dead giveaway. Jai tilted her head slightly as she studied him -- did Cassian make a habit of going off on people like this?

No, Jai recognized quickly that he wasn’t yelling at Gar, nor did it seem that his anger was even directed to the other man. He was upset about whatever the hell happened to K-2SO.

For a couple of seconds, Jai didn’t even realize she was walking toward the pair, seemingly pulled by some curious invisible thread. And once she became aware of what she was doing she didn’t hesitate or pause to consider what exactly she intended to do once she got there. She was curious about what happened to the droid, and she was still holding onto some of that curiosity about the captain as well.

Jai was finally within earshot of the pair, though still far enough away that Cassian had yet to take notice of her.

“I’m supposed to be in Dennaskar by tomorrow, I need Kay with me.” Cassian insisted, and now that she was closer Jai could recognize that it wasn’t just upset in his expression, but also worry and concern for the droid, “Gar, is there any way you can speed up the repairs?”

Gar shook his head, “Cassian, this is at least a two day repair job, and that’s not even considering any work we may need to do if there’s been any serious damage to his software.”

Jai stole a glance back toward the techs’ workbench, spotting K-2SO being brought back into the workshop where more serious repairs were handled. She turned forward again and walked the short distance to the men, Gar spotting her first as she began to speak.

“So, what the hell happened to him?” She asked casually while jerking her thumb in the direction the droid disappeared in, looking between the men briefly before her eyes settled on Cassian. His expression seemed to harden just a little, which didn’t go unnoticed by Jai; so, he was still holding onto some kind of grudge against her.

“Ran into some hostiles on a job.” Cassian answered simply, knowing there wasn’t need to elaborate. Despite the fact that there were four other rebels with him and Kay on that mission, somehow they were still unprepared. At least no one was seriously injured aside from the droid. Cassian looked back to Gar, “You’re certain it’ll take two days?”

“Or more.”

“Could be three if that damage to his head is as bad as it looks.” Jai added, and, though it was subtle, both men looked at her as if her contribution was unwanted.

“Great…” Cassian muttered while crossing his arms. He looked away from the technicians, taking a deep breath as his eyes searched the hangar as if somewhere there was an answer to a question that he hadn’t even asked. Jai watched with a slight tilt to her head before turning her focus back over to Gar.

“I can help with K-2, if you need it.” She offered, interested to see what made the reprogrammed Imperial droid tick, “I haven’t done a lot of droid work, but if you need an extra hand I’d love to see what you’re doing.”

Gar was considered the resident droid expert, among other things, who trained all of the newbies that showed any interest in droid mechanics. He could handle both the external repairs as well as internal repairs in droids’ chips, dataframes, and keys, and he did so better than anyone else in the Alliance.

To Jai’s suggestion, he shook his head, answering dismissively, “My team’s good right now, Tillian.” She gave an accepting nod, though she was mildly disappointed by the answer. As Jai started to look down, she noticed that Cassian had returned his eyes to her watchfully, “I need to get started on Kay; I’ll ask around, see who can go with you to Dennaskar.”

“No one is as good as Kay.” Cassian replied matter-of-factly, and Gar’s expression suggested he thought the same, though he made no sound of agreement.

“You know you can’t do the job alone.”

Cassian knew that to be true, but there was no need to verbalize that. With one last look between the captain and Jai, Gar turned and began in the direction of his workshop.

Jai felt a sinking feeling in her stomach almost immediately, realizing she was standing here with Cassian on her own. Despite all the activity going on around them in the hangar, it felt as if there was some kind of bubble muting out all of the outside noise; Jai’s back became a little stiff as she immediately felt a tension grow between them.

“Where’s Dennaskar?” She asked simply as she looked past Cassian and toward his ship, assessing its appearance -- whatever troubles they had encountered on their last mission luckily hadn’t reached his ship, or the damage was so minor that Jai didn’t notice it.

“Mid Rim, Manda Sector.” Cassian answered, his tone flat and indifferent towards her, knowing there was no need for aggression; something about Jai may still have rubbed him the wrong way, but he’d gotten past any of the upset he had towards her, at least for the moment.

“And what’s there?” Jai’s tone, too, sounded somewhat detached; despite being able to get under her skin, Cassian also seemed to have this ability to make her nervous without doing a damned thing. For a few long, stiff moments he didn’t reply -- the tension was slowly growing thicker.

Cassian spun on his heel to face his ship, looking up at it with his arms crossed for a few seconds longer, “There’s a lab that supplies the Empire with vehicles and weapons. Kay was supposed to go in and steal data about their recent supply; now I have to figure out another way to get the information without him.”

Cassian started walking back toward his ship, and with a furrow of her brow, Jai followed just a couple steps behind.

Stealing data? Jai could do that in her sleep; she knew a number of other technicians here could do the exact same thing. She could see the advantage of sending K-2SO in to take care of it, given that he was a droid and could probably blend in with the rest of the Imperial security team at this laboratory, but Cassian could still get the job done if he brought in a well-rounded technician. Or…

“Sounds like you could use a slicer.” Jai’s tone finally sounded eager with suggestion, and Cassian faltered only a half-step before continuing, his head tilting slightly in her direction curiously. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was suggesting, and Cassian scoffed at the idea of it.

“If you’re suggesting I take you, the answer is no.” Cassian spoke firmly and nearly mocking while stepping into his U-Wing, looking at the supplies that were left behind by the rest of his team. Jai paused to lean in the doorframe, crossing her arms as her brow furrowed slightly. When Cassian looked back toward her, his eyes were authoritative and dismissive. Without saying a word, he made it quite clear he didn’t trust Jai.

She shrugged her shoulders while rolling her eyes, “And why not? You need a good tech person, and I need field training.”

“I’m not here to train some careless slicer.” Cassian’s condescending tone caused Jai’s eyes to harden as she sucked in her cheeks in annoyance. What was it about this captain that managed to upset her far too easily?

Cassian turned his back to her again, picking up the supply bag left on the floor before brushing past Jai and walking across the hangar. Once again, Jai was right on his heels.

Jai continued in an accusatory tone, “What’s your problem with me?” Cassian barely spared a glance back at her, “Is it the fact that I’m a slicer? Or because I talk back to you? Or are you just bitter that I’m here?”

Cassian’s eyes hardened as he scoffed at her again, “You tried to steal from me, you broke into private files about me, you joined this Rebellion because you were bored, and you continue to show very little interest in the cause you’re here for.”

Jai huffed as they reached a supply table, her lips pulling back in an unamused sneer. Cassian dropped his bag a little too roughly atop the table as he looked to see what he needed to stock up on, “I think you’re just intent on not liking me.”

“And if I am?” He questioned, looking at her briefly with judgmental eyes, “Why does it matter to you?”

The faintest of smirks seemed to ghost over Cassian’s lips, as if pleased that he turned this back around on Jai, who was currently staring at him with an expression that suggested she herself was mulling over that exact question. Cassian silently returned to filling the bag before slinging it over his shoulder and beginning to retreat back to his U-Wing, thinking he’d put a pause to Jai’s pursuit.

“Andor!” He heard from behind him less than a minute later. His steps nearly stuttered, sighing while his eyes rolled back into his head in annoyance -- it looked like Jai was a little more stubborn than he’d given her credit for. Cassian heard her footsteps jogging up behind him, and he refused to look down at her once she’d reached his side, “Look, just set aside whatever this issue is and take me to Dennaskar.”

Cassian was tempted to question her, but kept his mouth shut while continuing to his ship. He could feel Jai looking up at him expectantly, but he kept his eyes forward.

“How many other techs do you know that could do the job properly? You were gonna have K-2 hack into their computers and download information, right? I can do that, my tools work nearly as quick as a droid can, sometimes even quicker.”

Cassian continued to bite his tongue. But apparently Jai didn’t take well to that, because after a few moments she quickly stepped up in front of him, eyes hardening with resolve.

“Don’t ignore me.” Cassian’s brows rose in surprise at her tone, but the rest of his expression made no show of the reaction.

“Would you rather we go on arguing?” He countered.

“Please let me do the job -- no one here is willing to give me decent jobs because they still see me as a newbie.”

“Because you are.” Cassian replied firmly, “Being good with computers does not automatically mean they’ll throw you into complex jobs -- you have to work your way up. You’d know how that works if you’d ever had a real job.”

Jai was ready to argue back, but managed to stop herself and take a deep breath, trying to calm down the upset that had begun to rise in her. Her tone was calm again as she spoke, “I’ll have you know, I did have a real job.”

Cassian’s face unexpectedly pulled into a look of amusement, though there was mockery to it and doubt in his tone, “Really?”

“Yes.” Jai replied simply, putting no effort into trying to convince the captain, knowing it to be a pointless endeavor. Cassian gave a slight hum before stepping around her and continuing the short trek to his U-Wing. As he expected, he could hear Jai behind him, “You said you need to be in Dennaskar by tomorrow -- if you take me, you don’t have to worry about being behind schedule because you had to find someone. Just take me on this one job, and you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

Cassian replaced his supply bag to where it belonged, turning around to look at Jai as he crossed his arms. One of his brows was raised as he stared into her face -- this was fascinating. He didn’t expect Jai to show such an interest in anything given her track record. Despite the fact that Cassian had avoided interacting with Jai since her arrival here, he nonetheless had asked about her on occasion, curious to hear about this slicer that was so obviously misplaced in the Rebellion. He asked that tech friend of hers, Abe, about how she acted and he asked Gar how she performed -- Cassian interpreted from both responses that she was indifferent to this job. She never seemed to discuss the cause with anyone, even if someone asked her about it, and she seemed to approach her assignments with boredom. Maybe Abe and Gar misinterpreted her, or maybe it was Cassian that misinterpreted their descriptions. Either way, the insistence Jai showed to be a part of this mission opposed the profile Cassian had been building on her in his head.

Maybe she was more invested in the cause than she let on. Maybe she was just bored out of her mind here on base.

“Why do you want to go?” Cassian finally asked, though he no longer spoke with venom or mockery. His question came across curious and, dare Jai say, actually interested to hear what kind of answer she’d give him. Even his expression lost some of it’s harshness as he awaited her reply. And it was as if that change in his tone allowed some of Jai’s tension to dispel, because she was suddenly able to think a little more calmly and slowly, to actually consider for herself why she wanted to go on this mission.

She was quiet for a little while, arms hanging at her sides as she tried to find the right words, “I need to prove myself.” Cassian’s brows briefly rose as a silent instruction to continue, his interest still held, “The only way these people will take me seriously is if I do a field mission. No one wants to give me anything more than busy work because they doubt what I can do.”

“And do you?” Jai gave him a confused look at the question that sprung from his lips, “Doubt yourself?”

Jai laughed through her nose as she smirked, answering surely, “No.”

Cassian gave a single nod, uncrossing his arms as he turned toward the steps into the cockpit, though he didn’t make a move to ascend them just yet. He stood paused in consideration, looking down at the floor while mulling over Jai’s explanation. The young technician stared at him patiently, though she was certain he’d tell her any second now to go back up to the control room to fuss with her computers.

“Get whatever you need.” Cassian finally spoke, looking back to Jai, “Tell Gar where you’re going, and be back here in half an hour.”

Jai’s eyes grew large and alight with excitement, her mouth pulling into a small, surprised smile -- Cassian nearly made a face at the expression, not expecting such an obvious reaction from this woman who was either irritatingly neutral or simply angry. Jai gave a nod and spun on her heel quickly, barely refraining from running across the hangar toward the turbolift.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Jai sat in the U-Wing’s copilot seat, her legs pulled up for her heels to rest on the edge of the chair, using her knees as a place to hold her datapad. She was reading up on Dennaskar and the Santhe Corporations laboratory, digging through all the data the Alliance had collected on them. In the seat beside her, Cassian’s eyes seemed entirely focused on the vast space around them, his expression giving away nothing to his thoughts on their mission or on the woman that tagged along with him. The only tell that he was not entirely invested in his new mission partner was the way his lips looked to be tight with tension.

Not far from the Santhe lab was the city of Juspus, which housed the planet’s largest starport. Cassian informed Jai that he had a contact in Juspus that would meet him at the port to supply them with Santhe uniforms and a secure way to get into the lab; Jai, having grown up learning to be wary of others, found herself wondering if the contact was someone they could trust, but she refrained from vocalizing her doubts.

“What data am I looking for when we get there?” Jai asked as she continued to slide through the information on her screen.

“Santhe rolled out a new series of gunships for the Empire recently, but we think that may have been a cover for something.”

“And what makes us think that?” Jai rolled her head lazily on the head rest to glance at Cassian.

Upon feeling her eyes watching him, Cassian briefly looked back at Jai, “Santhe is the Empire’s largest supplier of ships and weapons. On a recent mission another captain got word that the Empire may be working on something new unlike any of their usual weapons -- if that’s the case, Santhe is almost surely involved.”

Jai pushed out her chin slightly as she mulled over his reply before looking back down to her datapad, “So, you want to get your hands on all the files relating to their newest series to see if there’s information hidden in them.” Her brows knit together as she considered that, “What if we just… took all of Santhe’s data?”

Confusion pulled at Cassian’s brow as he turned his eyes to the woman again, looking for clarification, “All of it?”

She gave a brief nod while meeting Cassian’s eyes again, “If they have something to do with a new secret weapon, what makes you think that information is solely disguised or hidden in their recent gunship files? It could be somewhere else in their database. And I doubt we’ll have the time to sift through all of the information while we’re there, it’s too risky to waste that kind of time, so what if we just download all of it to my drive?”

Cassian stared at her quietly for a few moments -- he was nearly begrudging to admit it was a good idea. If he had Kay with him, Cassian knew the droid would have been able to latch onto the appropriate information in Santhe’s system and get out of there quickly. Cassian hadn’t yet considered that even a talented slicer couldn’t perform that task the way a droid could.

“You think you can do that? And quickly?” He questioned, sounding hopeful, maybe even eager about her plan.

“I can do it, I just need you to make sure I have the time.” There was a seriousness in Jai’s eyes that Cassian hadn’t seen before, though really his two previous encounters with her weren’t much of a basis for comparison. He was sure Jai wanted to look knowing in her seriousness, but Cassian could tell it was worry that he saw hidden in her gaze, “They have to have an archive computer of some kind, and where there’s an archive there’s someone managing it. I need you to keep them occupied long enough for me to get into their system and copy everything out of the archive and to my drive.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.” Cassian’s eyes narrowed, wondering what kind of jobs Jai had done back on Kafrene to give her this kind of thoughtfulness.

Jai shook her head quickly, “Nothing even remotely close to this, I just know a guy who knows a guy.”

Cassian doubted it was worth asking her to elaborate, not that he cared much for the details to begin with. He turned his eyes forward again as Jai continued to plan out the specifics of the next few hours. Occasionally she chimed up to ask Cassian a question about the lab or this contact he had on Dennaskar, but otherwise the two remained in a tense silence.

As they were finally nearing Dennaskar’s starport, Cassian reached out to his contact so they could meet and collect the disguises and building access. He instructed Jai to stay back on the ship, not wanting his contact to be exposed to any more rebels than necessary just in case the man ever felt enticed to turn against them. Once Cassian had left, Jai continued to occupy herself with more planning and speculation for the mission.

She wouldn’t dare admit she was nervous -- the last thing she needed was for Cassian to know. There were a million ways this job could go south, and if she vocalized any of those doubts, Jai was sure she’d trip herself up somewhere along the way and their efforts would be wasted. She knew she could do what the job required of her -- she had the equipment and the confidence in her expertise as a slicer, and navigating foreign computers was certainly not any reason to doubt her skills. But going into a massive Empire affiliated lab where they were severely outnumbered was a terrifying thought, to put it mildly.

“Maybe we need a speeder… should we have put someone at base on standby…” Jai mumbled to herself to try to keep her anxiety at bay. She continued to mutter both useful and not-so-useful thoughts to keep herself distracted as she fiddled with her scramble key.

From her seat in the cockpit, Jai’s eyes slowly slid across the expanse of the port, studying the hundreds of ships and people thoughtfully, counting each time she spotted a stormtrooper. There weren’t many to be found, though that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking around somewhere; Jai wondered just how many there were at the Santhe lab, and if they were smart enough to sniff out rebels in disguise.

Behind her, the hatch door opened again, Jai turning to sit at an angle so she could lean forward and look at Cassian. The bag that he had thrown over his shoulder prior to leaving the ship was now fuller than it had been before, obviously stuffed with the uniforms he borrowed. As he closed the door behind him, Cassian looked up at Jai briefly while setting the bag down on one of the collapsable seats, beginning to pull out the articles of clothing with that same unreadable expression etched across his face that he’d had the entire flight.

“Come on, we have to be quick.” Cassian started as he held up one of the shirts to see if it was his size or Jai’s. The slicer hopped to her feet and joined him, taking the shirt that he absently held out to her with one hand as his other continued to sort out the clothes, “Most of the staff is only on base for another couple of hours -- it’s better to go in while the place is packed with employees than to wait till later when security is more alert.”

Jai nodded, though she knew Cassian didn’t see it as he shrugged out of his vest, dropping it onto one of the seats. She followed suit, pulling off her jacket and setting it aside, glancing back at Cassian as he started to undo his shirt as well. Jai’s eyes widened some with a tinge of interest -- sure, she had seen a few people strip in front of her in the past, but it was not something treated so casually nor was it something she was all that accustomed to. Cassian didn’t even seem to give it a second thought, and before he could show too much skin Jai turned so her shoulder was toward him, dropping her head down as she too tugged at her own shirt.

As she reached to scoop up the white Santhe shirt off the chair, Jai’s eyes pulled back to Cassian, looking him up and down with a look somewhere between curiosity and sheepishness, her stare lingering on his shoulders and then his lat muscles before they were covered by his new shirt. Feeling her cheeks redden, Jai turned away again before Cassian could notice her stare, picking up her pace.

Cassian, accustomed to being in close quarters with other soldiers, didn’t even consider whether or not Jai herself would be so comfortable with them changing in front of one another, and the thought continued to evade him when he turned back toward her as she was buckling her trousers. He paid almost no mind to the flash of her stomach that he got, only staring at her a moment before grabbing up his blaster and a couple of small tools from his discarded clothes.

Once she was situated in the uniform, Jai climbed back up into the cockpit to grab her tool bag, digging out her datapad and scramble key, knowing that she couldn’t bring the entire bag with her. As she tucked the datapad into the back of her pants, Jai considered what else she might need, stealing another look towards Cassian as if he could read her mind and tell her; the man simply stared back with slight impatience. She decided that she had all she needed, so she dropped her bag with the rest of their belongings and put the scramble key in one of her pockets.

Just before they stepped off of the ship, Cassian grabbed a second blaster and held it out to Jai, whose stare lingered on the weapon for a couple of moments before she slowly took it from his grasp.

“What, no weapons training yet?” He condescended, to which Jai shook her head with a glare, “Can’t shoot and can’t fly…”

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you on this mission, after all.’ Jai was sure Cassian wanted to say.

“And you can’t slice.” She bit back dismissively, breezing past Cassian and out of the ship. He scowled at the back of Jai’s head for a moment before following her out and leading the way through the port.

Cassian’s contact left an indiscript speeder for them to get up to the lab, but nothing else beyond that -- once they got to that front gate, the rest was up to them.

It was simple enough for Jai to bypass the security gate without an access card, and once through the gate they could walk into Santhe Labs without any trouble. Once inside, however, they had to figure out where they were going, seeing as there wasn’t exactly a map of the place just sitting around for them -- Cassian hadn’t prepared for someone to take K-2SO’s place, as the droid was supposed to lead the way through the lab.

“What, you didn’t think to try to get floor plans before coming here?” Jai reprimanded through her teeth, hoping to avoid drawing any attention as they passed Santhe employees; so far, no one seemed to bat an eye at them.

“You didn’t think to either.” Cassian retorted.

“You’d lead a woman to think this was your first mission…” The pair turned their dark eyes on one another at the exact same moment, glowering.

“Up until a few hours ago I thought I’d have Kay with me to navigate the building.”

Jai hummed in annoyance while looking away from him, quickly stepping into a hall just as they nearly passed it. Cassian had to turn on his heel to follow her, the two ducking into an empty part of the hallway so Jai could snatch her datapad from where it was tucked in her waistband. She started tapping on it a little too roughly, an obvious passive aggressive gesture as she glanced up at Cassian while she did so. He quirked a challenging brow at Jai before she turned back to her screen, Cassian looking up and down the hall to ensure they continued to remain inconspicuous.

Eventually, Jai began leading the way through the halls again, her expression resolute as she avoided sparing Cassian a glance. The two went and boarded a turbolift that they fortunately had all to themselves. Cassian had expected another long stretch of rigid silence, but as soon as the doors were closed Jai began speaking, continuing to avoid looking toward him.

“Once we’re in the archives, I need you to do exactly what I ask, or else this won’t work.” Her tone was hawkish, unexpectedly stern and authoritative, “I’ll make sure we get the data, you make sure we get out of here in one piece.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They weren’t going to get out of here in one piece.

Jai got all of the information they needed, and Cassian had been the perfect distraction just like she asked him to be. They strolled on out of the building without any issues and climbed back into their borrowed speeder, ready to head back to Yavin 4 with their new data and their confidence well intact.

But then they passed through the gates to exit Santhe Labs, and trouble was there waiting for them.

They found themselves confronted by a wall of stormtroopers, all ready to start shooting if the pair didn’t surrender whatever it was that they stole. One of the troopers in the center of the group began to lower his weapon while stepping forward, instructing the rebels to give up their stolen information and surrender. Jai’s eyes widened with worry as she looked back towards Cassian, but the captain looked calm and resolute as he took a few deep breaths through his nose, staring unblinkingly at the Empire troop as the leader began to repeat himself.

Jai wasn’t prepared for just how quickly Cassian sprung into action. He threw his hand on the back of her head and shoved it down to rest atop her knees, slouching down in his own seat as he suddenly sped through the blockade in front of them, roughly knocking down a number of stormtroopers as the rest jumped away from the speeding vehicle.

Almost instantly, blasters started shooting off from what sounded like every direction, ricocheting off of the metal and shattering the thin glass panel that lined the front of the speeder’s cockpit. Jai threw her hands out to either side of her in search of a secure grip, her right latching onto the inner wall of the speeder and the other clamping down on Cassian’s knee. If it weren’t for his state of complete focus, Cassian would have shouted at Jai for digging her nails so deep that she managed to break skin even through the layer of fabric.

After they were out of range of the shots, at least for the time being, Cassian pulled his hand out of Jai’s hair and retrieved his blaster from where it was tucked under his shirt, dropping it into his lap so he could use both hands to maneuver their speeder through the narrow streets of of Juspus. Jai’s head shot back up, eyes wide and jaw slightly agape as she whipped around to look back at the Empire forces they just evaded. She relinquished her grip on both the wall and on Cassian’s thigh as she propped herself on her knees and fumbled to grab her own blaster.

“Did you set off some kind of security in there!?” Cassian accused as he sped past buildings, knowing that any moment now stormtroopers, likely with their own varieties of speeders, would catch up to them.

Jai’s glare jumped toward him, “It was probably your fucking contact that sold us out!”

A barrage of shots sounded behind from down the street, but Cassian managed to whip around a corner and avoid most of them. He steadied out the speeder again as his eyes darted around, trying to spot everywhere the stormtroopers might be waiting for them.

He didn’t have the patience to argue, not right now -- he had to get them back to their ship and off of this planet before it was too late, “Here’s your crash course in using that damned thing!” He spared a glance at Jai so he could point toward her blaster with his chin, “Put that thing on kill setting and don’t hesitate!”

Jai looked warily at the gun in her hands, staring almost dumbly at it for a moment. Another laser flew between them, causing Jai to jump before securing her grip and lifting the blaster up to eye level. She turned in her seat to face behind them, eyes widening as she saw the squad of stormtroopers on their tail and closing in.

“Keep low so you’re a smaller target!” Cassian instructed, “And hold on!”

Jai barely had time to steady herself before Cassian sharply rounded another corner. She sank as low in the seat as she could, her arms resting along the back of the speeder and her eyes level with the weapon. As the stormtroopers rounded the corner behind them, Jai’s finger pressed down on the trigger and she let out a short string of blasts, only managing to land a couple with how unsteady and untrained her aim was. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cassian also take up his blaster, holding it ready to assist her. Every few seconds, Cassian would whip his head back long enough to vaguely line up his shot and pull the trigger a couple of times before returning his attention to the road ahead of them.

Eventually, they made another dramatic sharp turn, but before they could even make sense of the company of stormtroopers waiting there for them, the speeder was hit with a blast, perhaps from a grenade, and the vehicle went flying back as the engine exploded, dumping both passengers out onto the street. The speeder crashed roughly into a nearby wall as thick smoke, dust, and debris filled the air and blinded everyone.

Jai could hear a ringing in her ears as she immediately made to scramble out of the line of fire -- she may not have been a rebel for long, but back on the Ring of Kafrene, she’d been accidentally caught up in her fair share of street fights through the years. Growing up, one learned early on that you had to be quick to run whenever you started hearing shots and blasts echoing through the narrow Kafrene streets.

As Jai flung herself into an alleyway, fumbling with both her blaster and her datapad to ensure she didn’t drop either, the dust from their crash began to settle; she could see that Cassian had the same idea as her, as he had rushed to duck into the alley on the opposite side of the street from her.

For a long moment, none of the stormtroopers moved, and Cassian’s distressed eyes finally spotted Jai across the way from him. The relief that washed over him was immediately obvious -- for a minute there, he was almost sure that something terrible had happened to the rookie. The two stared wide eyed at one another, each breathing rapidly and listening carefully for when the stormtroopers would surely start moving and shooting again any moment now.

Cassian motioned up the street with his head, trying to keep their communication silent. ‘Go,’ he mouthed, Jai’s brows turning down slightly at it. A moment later, Cassian turned on his heels and began running through the alley; Jai immediately jumped to her feet and mirrored him, turning away from the Empire forces and pushing as hard as her legs would allow through the roads and pathways of Juspus.

She had to get back to Cassian. She had to get back to their ship.

Jai could hear the stormtroopers on the move not far behind her, and frantically Jai pumped her legs even harder. Jai dove through a number of short, twisting streets and alleys until she burst out onto a crowded road, whipping her head left and right in panic. She couldn’t spot Cassian or stormtroopers, nor could she hear those Empire soldiers that were pursuing her over the noise of the crowd. Jai realized that the building across from her was a large market, and without a second of hesitation, she darted towards it, hoping the cramped crowd would hide her. As she maneuvered through the Juspus locals and eyed the stalls filled with goods and food, Jai reminisced for a split second that the place reminded her of home.

Jai kept her head ducked down as she slowed her pace and mingled in with the crowd, her eyes searching the various shops for any that looked to have clothes as part of the merchandise -- she knew that she needed to get out of this Santhe uniform if she wanted to blend in and evade the stormtroopers hot on her trail.

‘Don’t fuck up now.’ Jai tried to pep herself up -- she needed to rely on her not-so-impressive thieving skills for this one. She finally spotted a tent stall with various fabrics and articles of clothing and began pushing through the crowd towards it, slinking up alongside the thin fabric wall to avoid the attention of the shopkeep.

Once the owner became distracted with a young couple at the entrance of the stall, Jai reached between the sheets that closed it off on the sides and grabbed at whatever fabric she could get her hands on, not paying much mind to what articles of clothing they even were. She grabbed far more than she needed and quickly dove back into the crowd, eyes searching up and down, left and right for any sign of stormtroopers. Despite the harsh noise of the crowd, Jai was almost sure that she could hear them somewhere around her, but she couldn’t see over the heads of everyone around her. She continued to shove her way forward, spotting another gap between two stalls and making her way towards it, ducking between them and beginning to sift through the variety of fabrics in her arms.

Luckily, there were a couple of shirts amidst the mass of clothing, both of which would surely look more like short kaftans on Jai based on their size. But that issue wasn’t even remotely on her mind as she dragged a dark colored one over her head. There were mostly scarves in the collection that she stole, and speedily she wrapped one around herself and tied it off to create a makeshift pouch for her gun and datapad, and then grabbed another scarf and started wrapping it’s layers around her head, making sure to tuck all of her ashy hair up inside it.

Jai began to relax, if only just a little. She took a few long moments to try to slow down her breathing and her heart rate, but she knew she had to get back out there quickly -- she was terrified to think of what trouble Cassian might be in right now, she had to get back to the ship and hope he managed to get back as well.

Slowly, but no less cautiously, Jai stepped back into the main stretch of the marketplace, looking around herself again for the stormtroopers. A large group of them was in the crowd behind her, and another few were up ahead near another exit, obviously scanning their eyes over the crowd carefully. Jai’s eyes widened slightly as she looked around herself, but couldn’t spot any other exit; had the stormtroopers gotten a good enough look at her face to recognize her if she walked past? She had to get out of this market, meaning she had to risk it and hope for the best.

Jai waited until a sizable mass of people were making for the exit, and she jumped into the middle of them, keeping her head turned down and praying she didn’t draw any kind of attention to herself.

Once she was outside, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief -- they hadn’t noticed her. Jai continued down the street as if she had somewhere important to be and knew exactly where she was going, her eyes remaining ever watchful as she went. Stormtroopers were still going up and down the roads in search of both she and Cassian, and Jai took every step she could to avoid getting too close to any of them.

Where the hell was she? Jai got turned around far too easily in the mass that was Juspus. She looked over the nearby faces on the street around her, carefully studying them to determine who might be safe to ask for directions, if anyone. She continued to hope that any moment now she’d see Cassian’s face appear amongst the crowds.

Eventually, an older gentleman had her turned in the right direction. Jai used as many alleys and side streets as she could so that she wouldn't draw attention to herself when she ran, and whenever she set foot onto a larger road, she abruptly slowed and walked at pace with the pedestrians around her.

Still no sign of Cassian. Despite feeling as if she had safely evaded the stormtroopers, anxiety still pounded in Jai’s chest, worry for her partner increasing with each passing minute.

‘He’s fine, he’s been doing this for two decades.’

‘But he’s all on his own and at an obvious disadvantage.’

‘But you’re alone and you managed just fine.’

‘What if there were more troops that went after him?’

‘He’s probably already back at the ship and waiting for you.’

‘Or he’s already off planet and left you for dead.’

The debate in Jai’s head seemed to grow louder and louder as she got closer to the starport, which she could now see in the distance out ahead of her. She paused and took another long, cautious look around, scanning the streets in every direction to collect a count on the stormtroopers. As she continued to approach the port, she realized a large blockage was waiting near the wide entryway -- had Cassian’s ship been identified? Were more stormtroopers up in the U-Wing and digging through all of their belongings?

Jai took a deep breath and ducked into another alleyway, pulling her datapad out of the makeshift purse and then her scramble key from her pocket, connecting the two so her datapad would work faster. She had to see if there was a second entrance or some other way of getting in.

She still had to find Cassian.

There was a north side entry into the starport. She just had to find her way to it. Did she retreat back into the hub of the city in search of her partner, or did she get herself to the U-Wing and wait for him if he wasn’t already there?

Jai peered back out into the street again as she tried to come to a decision, first looking toward the port, and then in the opposite direction. But she froze as her gaze fell on a familiar face, a sinking feeling dropping in her stomach as her eyes widened.

Cassian.

But he wasn’t alone. A stormtrooper walked on either side of him, escorting the frustrated looking captain in the direction of the starport. Were they going to search the ship? Maybe they were going to escort him off the planet and to somewhere else far worse?

It didn’t matter what they were going to do -- what mattered was that her partner was grabbed, and Jai had to do something about it.

She traded her datapad for her blaster -- there was still a significant distance between them and the port entrances. If Jai could shoot them both down, she and Cassian would have more than enough time to run and make their way to the north entrance while the stormtroopers far down the road chased after them again.

She paused, taking a few steady breaths. Now or never. If they got any closer, the two stormtroopers would spot Jai’s attack and she’d lose the element of surprise.

Jai moved to press her back against the opposite wall, just shy of peeking around the corner. She turned her head slowly and watched the trio for a long moment before raising her blaster, trying to line up her shot.

When she pulled the trigger, the laser missed its target, zooming between Cassian and one of the stormtroopers, barely missing her partner’s head by a few inches. As both troopers immediately looked in Jai’s direction and aimed their own blasters, Cassian took advantage of their distraction, immediately fighting one for his weapon. As the two struggled with the blaster, Cassian secured his hand on the trigger and shot at the second stormtroopers, who collapsed just as he had turned to help fight Cassian. As the first trooper fell, Jai darted out toward her partner, but she kept her weapon lowered, realizing it was far too risky to try to shoot the second stormtrooper with Cassian so close.

The rebel captain managed to finally steal away the blaster and jump back, and practically in sync he and Jai took aim and both shot the trooper. They stood frozen for a moment as they met each other’s gaze, each with a look of relief shining in their eyes as they caught their breath. But they knew they couldn’t linger, and Jai moved towards Cassian with an insistent look.

“Come on.” She latched onto Cassian’s sleeve and started tugging him away into a sidestreet, knowing that the stormtroopers down at the starport entrance had surely seen their fight and would have already begun pursuing them.

Cassian allowed himself to be dragged along for a few moments almost as if he were in a daze before he stole back his arm, both surprised and gratified at how well Jai had done. As Cassian followed behind her through the streets, he stared at the back of her head with pride.

“There’s a second entrance,” Jai began to explain as she paused in a narrow alleyway, Cassian nearly bumping into her with how close he was following. She spun around to meet his eyes, a surprising calm surrounding the two of them, “I think we’ll have a better chance slipping in that way.”

Cassian looked Jai up and down, tilting his head as he finally had the opportunity to take in her change of attire and recognize how smart it was. His eyes shined with a quiet acclaim at her efforts that Jai didn’t quite recognize -- her childhood on Kafrene had taught her something valuable, it would seem.

“Lead the way.” Cassian said with a nod as he, too, decided to shrug off what he could of the Santhe uniform, discarding the formal shirt and being left with just his dark tank top as coverage; for a moment, as Jai eyed his exposed collarbone, she wished she had saved that other tunic for him. But this was better than the obvious, stark white uniform, and after meeting his eyes one more time, Jai motioned with her head for Cassian to follow, and she started leading them through Juspus once more.

Maybe they would be getting out of here in one piece after all.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Captain Andor, Tillian was not cleared to go on this mission, nor has she been cleared access to leave base for field training yet.” General Draven chastised with severe crossness. Across from him, Cassian and Jai stood side by side, disheveled and covered in dirt, clothing worn and ripped. They’d been back to Yavin 4 for less than ten minutes when the General marched up to them as they were on their way to the turbolift; it appeared that Draven was waiting for them, well prepared to chew them out and make Jai wish she could just shrink away from him and completely disappear.

Despite the nervous drumming in her chest, Jai’s eyes were fixed into the slightest of glares as she watched the General unblinkingly, but the man refused to look at her, his own harsh eyes trained solely on Cassian. Jai kept her lips tightly shut, fearing to even try to speak up to the man; beside her, Cassian stood tall and sure. If he was upset, he kept it well in control, though the fire in his stare gave away the intensity that was just waiting to burst at the seams as he stared back at his commander.

“I asked her to go, and she agreed.” Cassian replied simply, his tone solid and without apology; he knew the fault for the decision fell on him, and he was ready to stand by it.

“You can’t bring a rookie out without consulting me first.” Draven argued just as firmly, taking a step closer to the pair.

Challenge seemed to cross Cassian’s eyes, but he continued to keep himself unapologetically composed, “But I brought a rookie, and she performed beyond my expectations.”

Jai turned her head to look up at her partner, curiosity daring to pull at her expression -- unless she didn’t know any better, that very nearly sounded like a compliment.

“Tillian is a talented slicer,” Cassian continued just as Draven looked like he was ready to argue again, “This job wouldn’t have happened without her… She’s a valuable asset in the field.”

Jai nearly couldn’t believe Cassian was defending her, especially to General Draven. After all, the mission almost ended terribly, and Jai would have expected Cassian to attribute that near failure to her inexperience. But no, instead he stood here unwavering in front of Draven who was less than happy about Cassian’s last minute and risky decision to bring her along. Despite all of the flukes they encountered, Cassian still recognized just how hard Jai had worked on the mission, how hard she pushed to get them off of Dennaskar safely.

General Draven stared harshly at Cassian a few moments longer before his eyes finally flicked down to Jai, who took a sharp breath through her nose as her eyes met his. He only looked at her for a brief yet jarring moment before returning his glare to Cassian one last time. The General stepped back from them, starting to turn away.

“We’ll finish this later; go get yourselves cleaned up.” Without another word, he retreated back toward the turbolifts. As Cassian and Jai stood for a few long moments, she finally noticed that a few other rebels nearby in the hangar had been watching the confrontation curiously, some of whom immediately went back to work as Draven left, others continuing to eye the duo.

At nearly the same moment, Jai and Cassian turned their heads to meet one another’s eyes, silently staring for a few drawn out beats. They could see how exhausted the other was, but they could also see each other’s relief and the pride they felt for getting out of Denneskar alive and with their job complete.

Jai pressed her lips together firmly for a moment before her shoulders relaxed, “… Thanks.”

Cassian’s brows moved up slightly in question, “For what, getting you on Draven’s bad side?”

Jai nearly smiled at that, “For bringing me along even if you didn’t want to.” She pointed to where Draven had stood in front of them just a minute prior, “And for that.”

Cassian shook his head, “Thank you for not making me regret the decision.”

He began toward the turbolift, the look on his face like a silent request for Jai to come with him. Cassian chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought.

“… You did a good job,” He said, though he still wanted to avoid sounding too complimentary, “You’re still a shit shot, but you showed real smarts dealing with those troopers.”

Jai rolled her eyes, but this time she did so with a slight smirk pulling at her lips, the gesture one of amusement rather than her usual annoyance at him. The pair stepped into the turbolift to begin the ascend to the barracks; as the doors closed, Jai allowed herself to slump tiredly against the wall, slowly starting to unravel the scarf that was still loosely hanging around her head and neck. Once it was removed, Jai stared down at the scarf in her hands thoughtfully for a few moments, and for the first time it seemed as if the silence between them was actually comfortable.

Jai sighed deeply, “I think they’re gonna stick me on desk duty again.”

“Probably.”

“Maybe I can convince Gar to let me work the repair shop until Draven let’s me go out into the field.” She looked back up at Cassian, who, too, was leaning against the wall, his eyes staring ahead of him thoughtfully, “I could keep an eye on Kay, make sure no one fucks up his programming.”

At that, Cassian smiled lazily, looking back up to meet Jai’s eyes with a nearly teasing look, “Who’s to say you won’t be the one to fuck it up?”

Jai’s jaw dropped in a look of mock offense, her eyes shiny with surprised amusement -- Cassian just cracked a joke with her. The man continued to smirk smally at her, waiting for the inevitable comeback.

“If you keep giving me attitude I will.” She countered, shaking her head with mirth as the doors opened again, and the two stepped out, walking to the barracks entrance in companionable silence.

It didn’t matter that they’d surely get their asses handed to them by their superiors once Draven called them back for a debriefing -- they’d collected the information, they got off of Dannaskar unharmed, and they seemed to have finally moved on from their petty disdain for one another. At least for a little while longer, they could feel calm and content.

Cassian wouldn’t admit it out loud, but in that moment, the two of them walking together, covered in the grime from a mission that nearly went to hell, he saw a future rebel beside him, someone that he could, perhaps one day, come to trust.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Agreement [uh-gree-muhnt]

noun

the act of agreeing or of coming to a mutual arrangement/understanding

the state of being in accord

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original character #cassian andor x oc #cassian andor x reader #diego luna #rogue one #star wars #star wars fic #rogue one fic #rogue one fanfiction #ca #fics #fics*#saudade #will the tags work??? if they dont we riot

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yadds · 5 years ago

Text

Tony Reappears - Pt 2

The follow-up to my previous post looking at what would happen if Tony appeared out of nowhere to be found by Peter, who’s still haunted by Beck’s reality bending.

In which Tony is in bad shape and Peter helps, Strange snarks, and Pepper gives him the kick in the pants he needs.

This is now Part 2 of what is looking to be turning into a slow-burn starker, y’all. Just a heads up, it’s still Pepperony for now since it’s pretty much canon compliant through Endgame.

__________________________________________

Peter was at his side before he could blink, hands hovering, unsure, before cradling Tony’s face briefly, eyes darting across his features as he catalogued every detail. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-is it really you?”

Tony just nodded wearily, letting out a soft huff as Peter’s hands slid back through Tony’s hair, touching the gray at his temples reverently. Seriously, if he wasn’t already about to pass out he’d probably be reeling from the emotional whiplash of seeing Peter transform back into the gentle, wholesome boy he remembered.

When Peter seemed to be content to simply stare, followed by flitting, fleeting touches, Tony cleared his throat before croaking, “Hands?”

Peter’s brow scrunched in confusion before realization dawned, cheeks flushing. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh my gosh. Of course. Um, here, one second,” he muttered, fumbling with something on his web shooters before producing a vial of clear liquid that he poured carefully over the webbing on Tony’s hands.

“This is normally something I use in aerosol form from my web shooters, but it can make a mess and it makes everything ironically sticky, so I figure you might not appreciate a potential full-body spray. I’m still working out the kinks - It’s surprisingly rare that I ever need to prematurely dissolve my webbing,” Peter explained, voice high and quick like he was nervous.

“I seem to remember designing a solution for that specific problem - in fact, I think it was the first thing I did when I got back to my lab with remnants of your spider juice still stuck to my hands after our first meeting,” Tony said. Or at least he tried to, but his mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. It came out more like; “I...solution already...lab...spider juice,” with incoherent mumbling in between.

But Peter, bright, wonderful Peter, got the gist and grinned, small and guarded but genuine. “Yeah, of course you did Mr. Stark,” he assured as he pulled Tony’s hands away from the wall and set them gently on the floor next to him. “You thought of everything for my suits! But I’m always tinkering with the web fluid design so I’m also having to change the dissolving solution.”

How long has it been? Tony finally thought to wonder.

Peter sat back on his haunches, still staring wonderingly at Tony. Tony couldn’t blame him - if he had the energy, he’d probably be doing the same thing. He had invented time travel, primarily to bring back one Peter Parker, to remedy his worst failure. Of course, saving the rest of the world was motivation as well, but that was mostly an afterthought. And other than a quick, heartfelt hug on a battlefield at the end of the world, he never got the chance to acknowledge that he had actually succeeded.

But now that his life wasn’t in immediate danger, his pounding headache and burning throat were clamoring for attention again. Right. A glass of damn water, that’s how this started.

Tony’s head listed to the side, staring forlornly at the fridge. It was only about two feet away, but it might as well have been two thousand miles.

Peter followed his gaze and, noticing the shattered glass on the floor, quickly realized what Tony was wanting. “You want some water, Mr. Stark?”

Tony nodded gratefully. When Peter returned a minute later, he tried to lift his hands to grab the cup, but couldn’t get them to do more than twitch. After hovering awkwardly for about thirty seconds, Peter hesitantly lifted the glass to Tony’s mouth, tilting it carefully so that the water trickled slowly past his lips.

When that first drop of cool, clean water touched his tongue, Tony’s breath hitched and his eyes stung, overwhelmed by the relief of it. But after only three swallows, he felt the liquid fall heavily into his completely empty stomach and he clamped his lips shut tight. Peter’s intent, watchful gaze and quick reflexes ensured that he noticed almost immediately and righted the glass, pulling it away. Now that Tony could feel the moisture on his face from the slight dribble that escaped his mouth, he realized how agonizingly dry his skin felt, stretched taut and paper thin. His heart was racing, chest heaving, the thirty seconds of interrupted breathing it took to have his precious drink apparently too much after everything else.

He glanced back up at Peter to see his face creased with concern, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He could definitely make out the ‘Are you okay?’ forming on Peter’s lips.

He tried to respond. To reassure him that he was fine, he just needed to rest, but spots were blooming behind his eyes, slowly taking up his field of vision as his heart rate continued to increase. Uh oh. He was pretty familiar with the way an overstressed heart felt and this was suspiciously similar. He felt Peter’s hands press firmly on his chest and saw his name frantically falling from his mouth before his eyes rolled back and everything faded away.

When he awoke, he blinked blearily, eyes sluggishly tracking around the room he was in. Off-puttingly white, machines beeping quietly in the background, and people in scrubs off to the side. A hospital. Which was probably apt, considering he felt like he’d been starved to death only to be thrown in front of a train and lit on fire. He also took note of the comfortable mattress and tastefully low lighting. So he was probably in one of his own facilities.

“Mr. Stark! You’re awake!” Tony startled at the exclamation to his right, not aware that anyone was there. He turned his head to see Peter, the wizard standing aloofly behind him.

“What happened?” Tony asked scratchily, hand coming up to rub absently at his throat. Peter leapt to his side to bring a cup of water with a straw to him, only letting him take a few sips this time before pulling it away. Tony gave him a quick smile in thanks.

“Well I was hoping you’d be able to tell us,” Strange said dryly.

“I meant my health at the moment, which I thought you might have a better idea of than I since you’re actually a doctor, as you’re so fond of reminding me,” Tony responded, finding the remote and levering his bed up to sit up slightly, feeling much more human than the last time he’d been awake.

Strange stared at him impassively for a long moment before replying. “Of course. Well your vitals are stable now. Your main ailments are malnutrition and dehydration extreme enough to bring you to the brink of organ failure, which has been aided by the IV fluids and nutrients you’ve been receiving for the three days you’ve been unconscious. You’ll be on a strict diet for a while before you’re ready to eat normally.”

“Spectacular,” Tony sniped. At least he’d regained enough energy to maintain his flippant attitude. Priorities. “Don’t worry Doc, I know the drill. Been there, done that. Would have gotten the t-shirt, but they were fresh out. You know the saying. Whatever. Point is, that’s a pretty standard medical issue. A little above your pay grade these days isn’t it?”

“I was simply answering your question, Stark. That’s not why I’m here.”

When silence followed that statement, Tony gestured in his direction. “Do you need an engraved invitation to finish that thought? A drumroll? Some dramatic mood lighting?”

The smothered laugh from Peter’s direction was a pleasant counterpoint to the irritated pursing of lips from Dr. Strange.

“I would have thought it would be pretty clear. You reappeared unexpectedly after being dead for 3 years. I’m here to figure out what’s going on and make sure you haven’t completely torn a hole in the fabric of the universe, as I’m sure you would at the first possible opportunity.”

“And to make sure you’re really okay, you know, mind, body, soul and all that,” Peter chimed in.

“Yes. You do appear to actually be alive, by the way, considering near organ failure affected you as it would anyone else. Further tests will need to be done to determine if everything else is ‘normal’,” Strange explained.

“Mmhmm,” Tony hummed with a dismissive nod. He was choosing to work very hard at not thinking about the fact that he’d pulled some kind of resurrection act. He didn’t know how he was back, if he was still himself, how long he would be here or anything. And he was choosing to live in blissful ignorance at this point. That was a problem for future Tony. If there would be one. Who knows? He could disappear tomorrow.

“So you really don’t remember anything?” Strange pushed.

Tony glared at him. “Whoops, you caught me, Merlin. I’m purposely keeping a whole host of information all to myself so that I can remain under constant surveillance and suspicion. Because that’s how I get my jollies. No. I remember dying - which, not super fun, let me tell you - then nothing, until I suddenly showed up here. Or there. Am I still at the Compound? Where am I?”

“Yeah, you’re at the Avengers medbay on the Compound campus,” Peter answered helpfully.

“Well there you go. Consider me interrogated,” Tony intoned.

Strange was opening his mouth, probably to continue his inane, insulting questioning, but Tony cut him off as he saw the door to his room open. “Pepper, Honey, light of my life!” he called, holding his arms out in her direction.

Pepper stopped right inside the doorway, hand falling heavily on the wall beside her as she stared at Tony with wide eyes that were quickly filling with tears, chin quivering. “Tony,” she whispered.

“The one and only. Come on Doll, don’t leave me hanging here,” he joked, hoping the desperation that was creeping into his chest wasn’t apparent in his voice.

Pepper finally moved, stumbling to a stop at Tony’s bedside and collapsing to the side of the bed to gather him in her arms. Tony let out a heavy, ragged sigh. Yes. This is what he’d needed, her warmth seeping into his skin like a toasty towel fresh out of the dryer.

After a moment, he looked around and frowned. “Where’s the munchkin?”

Pepper pulled back, looking uncomfortable but not averting her gaze. “Tony. We don’t know yet what’s going on - are you really back? For how long? Are you completely stable? It didn’t seem right to bring Morgan into this until we knew for sure.”

“Right, yes, of course,” he murmured, heart seizing in his chest again. It all made sense and objectively, he agreed. She was still so young - to involve her now when he could possibly be gone in another five minutes would just be devastating.

But subjectively, it was fucking ripping him to shreds. His daughter, his baby girl. Even if he was only here for five seconds, he’d want to spend them holding her tight. But that was selfish. She’d probably moved on by now, made some kind of peace with his death. He didn’t want to ruin her world all over again. And what if he wasn’t safe? What if he suddenly went berserk? What if he was some radioactive mutant or some crazy shit like that? No, this was the right decision. Didn’t mean it wasn’t low key killing him all over again though.

Suddenly he was a lot more motivated to face everything and get it all figured out. Guess he’d have to actually cooperate with fucking Dumbledore. Wonderful.

__________________________________________

Part 3 - Tony comes back with more than he bargained for

#starker #eventually #slow burn #tony comes back #endgame fix it #tony stark x peter parker #tonyxpeter #ironspider #fic #ficlet #yadds writes #tony stark #peter parker #pepper potts #peter takes care of tony #tony is a good dad #starker fic #my au: Tony Reappears

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