#i ended up not drawing anything on the flight there because i slept the whole time and then caved and bought wifi at the 3 hour mark

[whenthelightisrunninglow]

i don't think emmet would be easily able to fall asleep on airplanes so here is ingo leaving him to rot in the isle seat

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 5: 3-day free trial Day 1

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Day 1

A very rare day off. Usually, Sakusa would spend it cleaning his whole house, but this time Kia is around. Does he ask her to help? What does a 30-month old know about cleaning?

The night before, it was chill. Kia slept immediately after eating dinner and bathing, probably because she was tired from the flight. Plus, his parents were there to help him. He starts to think not to let the toddler nap so she’ll sleep immediately.

You are still in Tokyo, processing some papers for work and will arrive 3 days after. Which means, Sakusa has to take care of Kia alone for 3 days. He really has no idea on what to do. You gave him a schedule of Kia’s routines, but he thinks it’s systematically ridiculous. He has no free time at all.

6:30 AM: wake up (don’t let her stay in bed for a long time or you’ll suffer tonight)

7:30 AM: breakfast (she eats solid food and isn’t allergic to anything. she also isn’t picky. just make sure you cut her food into small pieces)

8:00 AM: bath (she loves playing with water. watch her carefully. she might slip and hit her head.)

8:30 AM: household chores (she likes helping with the chores, especially folding clothes and hanging the laundry)

11:30 AM: lunch

1:00 PM: nap time (give her milk. make sure you let her help you with the chores or she’ll not sleep. she has a lot of energy. also, this is your alone time. spend it wisely.)

3:00 PM: wake up. (give her snacks)

7:00 PM: wash.

8:00 PM: dinner.

10:00 PM: sleep.

She’s not as messy as other kids, but she’s still a child, she can’t help it but make mess. Go easy on her.

“Is this how she spends her time?” Sakusa stares at the piece of paper disappointedly. He checks the clock on the wall it’s almost time for Kia to wake up. “Right. Her mom said she’ll call any minute now.”

Sakusa goes to the room and opens the blinds, waking Kia up. She sits up, looking around the unfamiliar room. She sees Sakusa and raises her hands, a sign to lift her up, but he doesn’t understand. “What?”

Kia starts crying, confusing the hell out of Sakusa. He gives her a bottle of milk but she rejects it. She continues to raise her arms, her cries getting louder. Sakusa wants to throw her out of the window, but that would be murder and you will definitely kill him for it.

Kia stops crying then stares at him with teary eyes. They look at each other as if they are competing on a staring contest. And he wins, Kia says what she wants. “Carry.”

“We have to change your diaper first. Then, I’ll carry you.”

“Okay.”

Kia jumps out of bed and runs to the bathroom, Sakusa following behind her in a safe distance. He puts her on the changing station, lying her on her back. He changes the diaper in horror, but Kia is just enjoying the lights in the bathroom.

Not long after having changed her diapers, you call Sakusa. He puts Kia on the high chair, then answers your call. He takes a phone stand and leans his phone on it, so you can talk to your daughter properly. “Mama!” Kia cheers upon seeing your face.

“Baby!” You coo on the other line. “How are you? I miss you!”

‘Already? Pfft. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since you last saw her.’

Sakusa continues to make rice balls. First he makes his, since he is unsure of how much Kia can eat. He puts his finished onigiris aside, then stands behind Kia’s chair to see ask you.

The moment you see him on screen, a blush creeps on your cheeks. He is wearing a loose maroon shirt that shaped his shoulder way too good for your liking. You stare at him without realizing. ‘Has his shoulders always been that broad?’

“Hey, I’m asking you something.” He calls and you snap out of your thoughts. You clear your throat and answer with a hum. He rolls his eyes and repeats his question. “Is this enough rice for Kia?” He tilts the plate of rice, showing it to you.

You act as if you are examining the plate but you are actually too busy staring at his toned and veiny forearms. You nod at him and he leaves the screen again. You pout and forget about Kia who is staring at you. After a while of assessing your face, Kia finally concludes on why you look upset.

“Kyo, go back here. Mama’s sad. She wants to see you, too.”

The room falls silent, and your apartment that is hundreds of kilometers away from them does too. Sakusa, to save you from embarrassment, pretends not to hear Kia’s statement. Then, he hears you speak, “Kia, baby. I have to go to work now. Bye!”

You end the call immediately. Sakusa on the other hand still looks unbothered, but deep down he is smiling like an idiot. But Kia saddens upon seeing the black screen on the device.

“What’s that?” Kia asks out of curiosity and boredom, pointing at Sakusa’s hands that are molding the rice into tiny balls she won’t choke on.

“Your food.”

“What food?”

“Onigiri.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why Onigiri?”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Then, shut up. You won’t get to eat if you don’t keep quiet.”

“Why should I?”

Sakusa groans, then puts the plate of rice balls down on the counter rather agreesively. Kia’s lower lip quivers, staring at him in guilt. He takes a deep breath in before continuing to shape the ham and cheese as he prays for more patience.

Sakusa places the finished food on her tray, then lifts Kia up of her chair to bring her to the sink. He helps her wash and dry her hands before returning her back to the table. She bows her head, mumbling a soft ‘itadakimasu’ before holding onto her spoon. She attempts to put a piece of carrot on her spoon, but fails miserably.

“Feed me!” Kia announces in which Sakusa responds with a sigh. He leaves his food to feed her. He takes the spoon from her hand and attempts to feed her. He honestly wants to shove it in her mouth, but he doesn’t want a child to die in his house because of choking.

“Don’t make a mess,” Sakusa warns, and she nods. He continues to feed her and she is calm to his surprise. On her last rice ball, Kia looks at Sakusa in anticipation but only to be rewarded by a stare.

Sakusa puts Kia down before he cleans her seat and wash her plate. He continues to eat his and tells her to go to her room. She runs to her room and start playing with whatever toy there is in there. She spots a marker and takes the lid off. She runs to the wall and starts scribbling on it in delight. Sakusa finishes eating and washing with the dishes so he checks up on Kia.

“What are you doing?!” He shouts, seeing the markings on the wall. Kia looks at him in shock, dropping the pen to the ground. She starts crying as Sakusa marches towards her. “Why did you draw on the wall?!”

“I’m sorry!” Kia cries, feeling guilty of what she has done.

“You better be because you just made a mess on my wall!” Sakusa scolds, picking up the pen she just used. He takes the other pens on the table and throws them forcefully in the trashcan. Kia cries even harder which irritates Sakusa. “Shut up!”

Kia stops crying because of his words. “Do you not like Kia?” She asks innocently.

“I don’t like messy children like you,” he answers in a stern manner before he aggressively wipes the ink off the wall with wipes. He looks at Kia, expecting her to cry but she is only staring at the wall.

“I thought papa loves me...” Kia mumbles before sitting down on the floor. Sakusa didn’t hear her words due to the stress that is filling him in. Preoccupied with cleaning, he doesn’t realize Kia staring at the wall unhealthily.

Sakusa finishes and grabs clothes from her drawer and the baby bag you prepared in case they go out. He changes Kia then leaves the room. He places Kia in the highchair again so he can change into his practice clothes.

“I won’t be able to survive being alone with you for anymore time.”

-------

The two enter the gym, Kia garnering everyone’s attention. He instructs her to sit at the bench and not to move unless it’s necessary. Everyone is quiet, confused as hell, and cannot believe what they are seeing. Sakusa Kiyoomi with a child, a child that resembles him way too much.

“Is that your daughter?” Bokuto excitedly asks, the other members are so thankful and ashamed of him for asking the question they all want to ask. “She’s taller than I thought!”

“Did you think she was 1 foot tall or something?” Atsumu remarks, walking closer to the child with Hinata. Kia’s eyes glimmers as she sees them.

She stands on the bench, looking up to them. The volleyball players put their hands on their knees, crouching, to level with Kia’s height. “You’re very tall!” Kia exclaims excitedly.

Hinata blushes at her statement, “I am?” He giggles, lifting Kia up. “You’re so cute!”

Atsumu examines her features silently, glancing at Sakusa to do some comparisons. She smiles at the faux blonde and captures his heart immediately. He clutches on his chest exaggeratedly, making Kia giggle.

“You look like your papa but cuter!” Atsumu coos at her, pinching her cheek.

Kia’s eyes widen in excitement upon hearing the word ‘papa.’ She jumps to Atsumu’s arms, which he luckily catches her. “You know my papa?”

Everyone in the room becomes silent with Kia’s question. Atsumu tilts her head to the side, then looks at Sakusa. He is looking at the court, obviously not paying attention to Kia or what she is saying. “Isn’t he your papa?” Atsumu asks, pointing a finger at Sakusa.

“My mama said papa is tall and handsome with curly hair. He also has black hair and black eyes and fair skin! He is also very tall!” Kia rambles.

Isn’t she describing Sakusa? Everyone in the room thinks.

“But Kyo!” She points at Sakusa who is now staring at her. “He’s a monster!”

Sakusa grabs a volleyball and the team members stop him from hitting Kia with it. He shouts in frustration, leaving the gym. Kia starts crying in fear again and the boys help her quiet down. Atsumu hands her to Hinata before chasing after Sakusa.

Atsumu spots Sakusa at the lockers, sitting quietly on his spot. The blonde sits a bench away from him, giving him enough space. Sakusa looks at him and sighs. “I can’t believe you’re the one I’m talking to.”

“If you prefer to talk with Hinata or Bokuto, I’ll go call them.”

“Please, no. You’re the most sane out of the three.”

“Thanks?” Atsumu chuckles, then waits for Sakusa to say something again. He’s aware of how blunt Sakusa is with his words, but Kia just seem to shut him up. He can’t say anything to her.

“What seems to be the problem?” Atsumu starts, knowing Sakusa won’t say anything if he doesn’t.

Atsumu is seen as asshole by everybody, but he is definitely not a bad friend. Sakusa may not consider him as one, but he does. And he’s more than willing to listen and talk to him.

“Kia. I just don’t really like children.”

Atsumu takes a deep breath in before asking Sakusa a question that can get him killed by the ace. “So why are you trying?”

Sakusa processes his question then laughs. Atsumu is getting scared. He has always seen Sakusa as a psychopath and he is showing signs right now. He is about to flee the room but Sakusa answers him.

“Because I want her mom back.”

But he doesn’t want Kia.

--

After their practice, Sakusa, Bokuto, Atsumu and Hinata decide to eat dinner together. Atsumu lowkey scared for Kia. What if he doesn’t feed her dinner? He’s even thinking of bringing her home until you arrive.

They arrive in Miya Onigiri, the only place Sakusa trusts to dine in. They get seated in the private room, Osamu well-aware of Sakusa’s hate towards crowds. He got surprised about seeing Kia, too, but he didn’t say anything. He gives her a highchair and she thanks him gleefully. He ruffles her hair before helping her up in the chair. After taking their orders, he goes to the kitchen to make it.

Kia sits between Sakusa and Atsumu, while Bokuto and Hinata sit across them. Kia is busy chatting with the boys when Sakusa’s phone starts to ring so he checks it and see that you’re calling. He answers it and hands the phone to Kia.

“Mama!” Kia cheers. “Look! I’ve got new friends!” She shows Hinata and Bokuto on the screen, and your eyes widen. Bokuto quiets down and stares at you in shock as well.

“Akaashi’s cousin!” Bokuto says. “Kia is your daughter too? She’s Omi-kun’s daughter as well!” You chuckle awkwardly until they grey hair boy hits realization. “You said Kia’s father is dead!”

“I never said that!” You reply in defense. Upon hearing your exchange with Bokuto, Sakusa gets bothered. Did you really say he was dead to other people?

“Bokuto don’t shout at my mama like that!” Kia pouts. You call her and tells her to use polite terms with the three since they’re her uncles.

Atsumu laughs at your statement and his deep laugh catches you off guard. Kia shows herself in the camera again and Atsumu is seen too. “We’re at the age that we’re considered as uncles already, huh?”

“Yes, you are.” You clarify and Atsumu scoffs.

“I’m Miya Atsumu by the way,” he introduces and you introduce yourself back. The three of you, with Kia, continue to call as they wait for their food. Atsumu asks questions about you which is annoying Sakusa every time you answer it with ethusiasm. The food arrives so they say their goodbyes, then you end the call as soon as Atsumu says bye, not giving Sakusa the chance to talk to you.

“You can’t use spoon well yet?” Atsumu coos, taking Kia’s spoon. He feeds her as he eats as well, the irritation in Sakusa’s body growing even more.

After eating, it is time to say good bye. And Kia isn’t letting go of Atsumu.

“I wanna stay with you!” Kia cries, clinging onto Atsumu’s neck. Having enough of Kia being way too attached to Atsumu, Sakusa grabs Kia out of the blonde’s grasps, leaving her to cry. She throws punches on his chest which obviously has no effect, but she’s trying okay?

“He’s my papa! Not you!”

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Random Facts:

Before Kia left for Osaka, Akaashi told her that Kiyoomi is her dad. She didn’t believe him.

Meian now has the baby fever.

Taglist:  @elianetsantana aoi-turtle ptv-hades  aquzairus a-applepi  justoneofthefangirls arianna-r13 morenabambinii

[barnes-dameron]

Destruction of Government Property

*not my gif

Francisco “Catfish” Morales x reader

Summary: After Frankie leaves for his tour, you get an interesting call from the government about something you and Frankie did before he left...

Word count: 2k

Warnings: one steamy scene, but no smut. 

A/N: I don’t usually write for characters outside of the MCU or SW, but here we go. Saw this screenshot from a tumblr post, and had to write it with Frankie. 

***

You dreaded the ride to the airport, especially since the person you were riding with won’t be with you on the drive back. At least the heavy gray clouds outside seemed to match your mood. It felt like yesterday that Frankie came back. Of course you both knew it wouldn’t be for long, but now that the day has come, you felt a crack form in your heart. 

You glanced over at your husband at the wheel, a solemn look gracing his handsome face. Even when he’s pouting, he still manages to be cute. You knew that he hated leaving you, but he did promise that this one will be the last one. Apparently, him and the team decided on it since Tom wanted to be with his family more, as did Frankie, and the others agreed that they rather retire than have other soldiers be assigned to their team. 

You reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it in order to soothe him just a bit. 

“Ten months,” Frankie said, breaking the silence and briefly looking at you before returning his gaze to the road.

“Ten months,” you repeated. “Ten months, and then I’ll have you all to myself.” 

“You already do,” Frankie laughed, fingering the wedding ring that you were wearing. 

“You know what I mean,” you retorted. “Just... no more long trips, no more cold beds, no more worrying if you’ll make it back-” 

“Hey,” Frankie interjected. “You know I will always come back to you.” 

You nodded, knowing that Frankie was right. He was a resilient man despite his seemingly quiet demeanor, something that you were attracted to when you met him years ago. He was determined, but he was also smart. He never knowingly did anything stupid, and thought things out before carrying out the action. He came back from tours before, and you were sure that he would return from this one too. 

Air was struggling to come to your lungs as Frankie parked the car at the airport parking lot. You’ve done this before, but it didn’t make things easier. You looked over and see that Frankie was having trouble to comprehend the entire situation as well. You wouldn’t see each other for ten whole months. He would be in entire different continent, an ocean away from you, risking his life. And you would be here, continuing your civilian life, not knowing what is happening to your husband. 

“One more time,” you pleaded. “One more time before you go.” 

Frankie looked at you, a smirking stretching across his face before reaching his hand down, and pushing the driver’s seat all the way back. You laughed at his enthusiasm before unbuckling your seat belt and climbing over the console to straddle his lap. 

“Okay, we’re going to have to do this quick,” Frankie said, settling his hands on your hips. “I can’t miss my flight otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Do you think we can break our record?” you asked, arching your eyebrow and flashing him a smile while biting your lip. 

Frankie reached down, beginning to undo his belt and zipper of his uniform. 

“Hermosa, no me dudes,” he growled before bringing a hand to the back of your neck and dragging your lips to meet his. 

You didn’t wait for him to ask for permission, but instead opening your mouth to tangle your tongue with his. No matter how many times you two kiss or make love, you tried to memorize every aspect of it for the lonely nights when he’s away. You gripped his collar as Frankie ground his cock against your core, working you up. 

You broke away from his mouth, placing kisses on his newly shaved cheeks and jaw, missing the scruff that used to be there. Frankie’s hands drifted to your ass, squeezing the flesh as you continued to make your journey down to his neck. You kissed and sucked the spot on his neck that you knew drove him crazy. His low groan rumbling in his chest and his tightened grip on your ass only encouraged you. You bit and sucked on his skin, tasting the tingle of salt and inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne. 

“Quit teasing,” Frankie panted, smacking your ass playfully. “Tick tock, remember.” 

You broke away, ignoring the red spot that bloomed on his neck. You smiled to yourself before pulling up the dress that you wore specifically for this purpose, and pulling aside your panties. 

“Okay, let’s do this.”

***

The plane ride was unbearable to Frankie. Well, everything about this trip was unbearable to him, except your little escapade in the car at the airport parking lot. It was beginning to be a little tradition for you both, but that time would be the last one under those circumstances. Francisco hated to say goodbye to you, even if he was going to see you again. He hated to see the tears in your eyes, and hated even more that he wouldn’t get to be with you for close to a year. 

The ride was long, the seat were uncomfortable, and the food sucked. It didn’t help that Benny snored when he slept, Pope would listen to his music so loud that Frankie could hear it, even if Santiago was wearing headphones, and Frankie had the middle seat. He couldn’t even get a lot of sleep because someone behind him was shaking their leg causing his seat to jostle around. For the first time in his military career, Frankie was excited to be at the base. At least here he could catch some sleep. He just needed to get through this debrief meeting. 

“Alright men,” the General said, drawing Frankie out of his thoughts to pay attention. “You have now what you need to carry out the mission tomorrow. Dismissed.” 

Frankie was the first to stand up and begin to make his way out. 

“Morales,” the General’s voice stopping him in his track as Frankie let out a sigh. 

So close. Frankie turned around, straightening his spine and folding his arms behind him. 

“Yes, sir,” Frankie responded, trying to remain cordial while his blood boiled when sleep was calling his name. 

“What’s that on your neck, soldier?” the General asked. 

Heat bloomed in Frankie’s chest, reaching up his neck, and spreading to his cheeks. He reached his hand to his neck, his fingers settling on the mark that you left. It was tender under his touch, and even if he himself didn’t see it, he knew that it was purple. He thought back to the car, your mouth on his flesh. He thought for sure that the mark would be concealed under his collar, but he was wrong. Frankie licked his lips as he struggled to meet his General’s gaze. Catfish could see Pope and Benny behind the General, giving him a devious smile as they tried to conceal their laughter. Frankie cursed underneath his breath. 

“It’s nothing, sir,” Frankie replied.

“Don’t lie to me, son,” the General demanded, his voice gruffer than what it was before. “What is that on your neck?” 

Frankie took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the embarrassment. Nobody else left the meeting, instead standing around to watch this interaction. 

“A hickey, sir,” Frankie responded, much to the delight of his friends. 

Benny failed, and let out a huff of laughter, causing Will to elbow him in the ribs. The General’s attitude, however, was unwavering. 

“And who gave it to you?” the General asked. 

Frankie bit his lip, looking down at the ground before looking back at the General. 

“My wife,” Frankie said. 

The General eyed him and then the hickey on his neck. The room was so quiet that a fallen pin could be heard. Everyone waited to see what the General will do, but were all surprised that he left without saying a word. Once out, Santiago and Benny let out their laughter, bending forward with their hands on their knees as their raucous laughs filled the air. Frankie was still in the same position, stuck in bewilderment from the oddity of what just happened. Pope clapped a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, before pulling Frankie’s collar down to further display the bruise on his neck. 

“Wow,” Pope exclaimed, examining your handiwork. “Your wife did a bang up job, Fish.” 

Benny laughed even louder as Redfly scolded him. 

“I’m never gonna live this down, aren’t I?” Frankie asked, biting his lip while casting his gaze downwards, not wanting to look at his friends. 

“Never,” Benny confirmed. 

***

The house was dark when you got home from work, much to your disappointment. You longed for the times when Frankie was home before you; the lights on, music playing, and his relaxed figure moving about in domesticity. But instead it was dark, quiet, and empty. 

You turned on the hallway light of your little house, illuminating the picture that hung near the front door. It was photo of you and Frankie from your honeymoon, his smiling face still greeting you despite the distance. You smiled to yourself, reaching up to drift your fingers over the image. It’s been nearly a day, and you already miss him. 

You were drawn away from your thoughts when a buzzing sound in your purse broke the silence. You reached in, fingering around to find your phone and fish it out. You arched an eyebrow as the words “NO CALLER ID” displayed on the screen. But nonetheless, you picked up. 

“Hello?” you asked, your brows creasing towards the center. 

“Is this Y/N Morales?” the man asked, his voice sounding deep through the spotty reception. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, uncertainty evident in your voice. 

“Mrs. Morales, are you aware that you have committed a misdemeanor?” the man implored. 

Your stomach sank to the floor when it reached your ears. Your heartbeat began to quicken, as panic arose. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, gripping your phone tighter. “I’ve never committed any kind of crime in my life. What misdemeanor?”

“Destruction of government property,” the man answered. 

“Destruction of government property?” you repeated. “I’ve never destroyed, or even defaced any government property. Well, one time I wrote on a dollar bill but that’s only because I didn’t have any paper and it was an emergency. Is that what this is about?”

“No ma’am,” the man replied. “I’m talking about the mark you left on Lieutenant Colonel Francisco Morales.”

“Mark?” you asked. “What mark?”

The man was silent for a moment, and you could barely hear the gulp he made over the phone. 

“The hickey, ma’am,” the man said, his voice a bit shaky. “The hickey on Lieutenant Colonel Morales’s neck.”

You instantly remembered the day he left. You did bite his neck, but you didn’t intend to give him a hickey. You forgot about how easily he bruises there. You let out a breath, rubbing your forehead with your other hand. 

“Are you serious?” you asked, annoyance creeping in. “I’m facing a misdemeanor charge for giving my husband a hickey? It’s not like I did graffiti on a government building or defaced a statue. And since when is a person considered government property?”

You could tell that the man was flustered due to your line of questioning, and you were annoyed that you could potentially get fined because of something stupid like this.   

“Ma’am,” the man sputtered out, his voice trying to come off calm but still was shaky. “We’ll let you off with a warning, as long as it doesn’t happen again.” 

“You know what,” you said, done with the military and government at this point. “Fine. Fine, whatever.” 

You didn’t bother to say goodbye, just hanging up the phone. It was the military who was putting your husband’s life at risk, and it was the military who threatened you with misdemeanor charges. Yeah, as long as Frankie was in the military, you won’t give him any more hickeys. But this was his last tour. 

You threw your phone on the couch as you made your way to the living room to unwind. You couldn’t wait until Frankie got home. He will be out of the military, and you plan to keep him in your shared bedroom. Yep, when your husband gets back, you’re going to mark him up so good that it’ll be weeks before they disappear completely. 

Taglist: @absurdthirst​ @tangledlove27​

[aweecrush]

Prologue

Tuesday, October 16th 2007

“Jesus, I can’t believe you’re actually in the fucking plane - took you long enough! If I had known it took a wedding to get your arse back home, I would have had a couple by now, for God’s sake .”

“Michelle, you promised you wouldn’t start! ” Clare’s reproachful voice rose.

“Aye, first, I didn’t promise shit, and second, I told you, she’s not chickening out so chill out - right Erin?”

Despite the culpability and shame pricking at her skin, her heart warmed at their traditional bickering she wished she’d hear more often. At their voices. And, most of all, at knowing that in a few hours, she’d get to hear them for real.

Feck, she’d missed these eejits.

“Well, I’m not actually in the plane yet, we’re waiting to board. And then I still have that stupid long flight, and then the stupid long wait at stupid London, so don’t wait up - but yes, I’m definitely on my way,” she promised, earning herself an earful of high pitched cackles and happy swears.

Her heart welled up.

“So, how is the bride doing? She wasn’t home when I called earlier, and all Mammy could talk about was how the caterer was driving her crazy and how aunt Sarah almost set her own hair on fire trying a new hairdo she’d like to nail for the ceremony.”

Michelle snorted. “ Yeah, hilarious so it was. You should have seen your dad’s face, mental. ”

“It was terrifying,” Clare corrected, apparently still shaken.

Then, perked up. “Orla’s going to look so cute though - I can’t wait for you to see the dress!” Erin tried to ignore the sting of not having been there for such an important moment.

“We’re still trying to convince her out of drawing anything on it, but I’m not sure we’ll win this one, to be honest. Also, we’ve got everything almost ready to go for the bachelorette party, although I do need you to help me stop Michelle from bringing the tons of drugs she wants to, because - ”

“For feck’s sake Clare, Orla would love it! The girl is tying the knot, she deserves to get properly shit faced.”

“She said she wanted something small!”

“She said she would have liked to have a little something with just the five of us the night before. She never said anything about the actual bachelorette party being small - or fucking boring for that matter!”

“Just the five of us?”

The words spilled out before she could stop them, stupid that she was. At the other end of the line, the girls went uncharastically silent, and Erin cursed herself.

Feck.

“I mean, that’s grand. It’s cool, I thought it was just going to be one big night for the bachelorette party before the big day, but - I mean, that’s even better! Grand - cool.”

Christ on a bike, that was pathetic. She was.

“Yeah...The thing is, Orla wanted a wee night with just us Derry girls the night before the bachelorette party, hanging at the bar and stuff you know, because - Well, just because.” Poor Clare was rambling now, in a typical panicked Clare kind of way. “And we thought - Well, then we thought about it, and it turns out it’s not going to work, just timing-wise and stuff, so - “

“So the point is we dropped it.”

“Right. Yep.”

Again, silence, only betrayed by the hammering in her chest that she hoped her friends wouldn’t hear over her cellphone.

“Oh okay, well - that’s a shame.” Her casual slash over the top fake disappointment tone did nothing to help convince anyone, of course, herself included. She winced.

She promised herself it wasn’t going to be like this, though. She wasn’t going to ruin this for anyone - not a chance.

For God’s sake, catch yourself on Erin.

Pushing all dangerous thoughts aside, Erin took a deep breath. “In any case, I’m sure it’ll all be fine - really fine.”

There were another few seconds of silence, and she could just picture the worried look they were sharing - probably very similar to the one they had that particular, fateful day. To the one they had again when she told them she was moving away. Then -

“You bet it’ll be fine - feck, it will be absolutely brilliant is what it is! Wait til you see my dress, Erin - my tits look amazing in it.”

*

As it turned out, running all over the city for work for the past ten days and dangerously flirting with the limits of sleep deprivation did have a perk: her whole, eight hours flight, Erin slept like a log.

(Truth was, she could have done without the look of contempt and the ‘Miss? You have drool on your face’ from that stupid flight attendant who woke her up when they landed, but still - all in all, it went well.)

The wait at Stansted airport, however, was pure hell.

Because of the jitters, mostly.

Growing up, despite how much she loved to complain about them, Erin had never actually considered living away from her family. Well, not that far, at least - she’d always known she would leave Derry after high school, which they did, and it was glorious. War or not, she had a pretty nice life as a child and then a teenager, but those college years and the first ones that had followed - they were the best of her life.

Still, it was only Belfast at the time, and Belfast was a two hours drive from home. Erin knew that at some point, she wanted to go out in the world, maybe live abroad for a while, but this - New-York, all on her own, away for so long? She hadn’t planned that. Didn’t, really - it all went so fast, in the end.

It was a good thing too, because if she had stopped and thought about it for too long, she wasn’t sure she would have gone through with it.

(Then again, what else could she have done?)

Despite her dreams, and her need for independence, and her eagerness to see the world, Erin had never thought that she’d leave her family for that far, for that long. Orla had come to see her once, thank goodness, but Jesus -

On the last picture her Ma had sent her, Anna had grown so much, she almost looked like a wee woman. She’d forgotten the exact colour of that lipstick aunt Sarah wore all the time, she couldn’t remember each wrinkle on Granda’s beautiful face like she used to, and sometimes, she was afraid she was forgetting her Da’s smell and what her Ma’s voice sounded like in real life. She’d missed them so much, it hurt (a lot, often).

She just couldn’t wait any longer to get back to that crazy bunch, and those last, endless few hours? Torture so it was.

She was half considering starting to work on her next article to pass the time when across from her, Erin spotted a young couple bickering, their luggages next to their seats. She was a beautiful thing, red hair tied in a messy bun, and his brown curls fell above his forehead, all messed up.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could make out their accents. He looked like he was trying to make her smile, leaning over so he could kiss her, and she was doing everything she could not to laugh, weakly trying to escape his arms around hers, her pretense wavering with every second.

They were probably in their early twenties, just out of uni or something. They looked happy.

Her chest tightened, and suddenly, Erin felt the urge to cry.

Well, that was quick.

Shite. Shite shite shite.

It was okay, though - it was all fine. She knew herself by now - she was emotional as heck most days of the year (crazy, her Ma would say), but the day of her returning back home, with accumulated fatigue and an Atlantic crossing flight in her feet? Of course she'd get misty eyed at the first occasion. At anything, this just happened to be what, because they were very cute and - it was a coincidence, nothing more.

It was nothing.

The girl laughed, though, giving him a small slap over the head before she let him nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck. She brushed his forehead with her lips, a soft smile on them, and kept talking.

It was difficult, then, not to think about another time, another long wait, at the Bali airport this time. It was difficult, not to think about another English fella with wild, brown curls.

It was impossible, really, not to think about him.

Memories of a perfect trip came flooding back, of burnt skin and drunken smiles, of blue waters and green eyes. The tickles of the sun, the softness of his fingers over her exposed neck, her naked arms. Sweaty bodies pressed together during hot nights, slow breathes, so many new sights discovered, fingers intertwined.

Sometimes, the memory of his face hidden against her neck was so vivid, she could almost feel it. Just like she did now.

Her breath caught.

Sweet suffering Jesus.

Experience had taught her that she had to stop now - needed to, really, before her mind wandered to anything more. To everything else, every little thing that could, and would, make her heart ache even more than it already did.

(That’s another thing she’d found out: as it happened, the expression “heartbreak” wasn’t, in fact, an overly dramatic turn of words. Quite accurately descriptive it was, actually.

She often wondered when hers would stop feeling like it had been ripped into a million little pieces, but she was starting to lose faith that it ever would.)

Of course, she should have seen it coming, she knew that. She had, in fact. True to herself, she’d tried to ignore it, but she knew full well that with her coming back home, it would come back.

This painful, sneaky way every little thing seemed to remind her of before - of a life that felt so far away now.

Over the months, the many months since she’d been gone, she’d gotten it almost under control. Everyday life brought its distractions, particularly in a city like New-York: running between brunches and dinners, partying with her cool American friends, writing for a newspaper in the Big Apple, it was easy, forgetting what you wanted to, if only for so long. She was becoming a real life city girl, a full time one, and that was exactly what her busy brain - her treacherous heart - needed.

With time, every sight, every sound, every smell no longer reminded her of home - the place, the person. With time, she’d moved on.

Yes, sometimes - often - she’d wavered, but that was normal: having been close to someone meant that they lived with you forever, she couldn’t help that. At some point, it would just die down enough that she’d just be able to call it the past without her insides hurting.

(She thought it would, with Matt. Maybe not with the others before him, they were just passing through - but with him, she thought it would. She couldn’t really explain how it all made the permanent weight on her chest even heavier instead, somehow.)

But it hadn’t died down yet, and even though it was normal and okay and to be expected, six weeks ago, Erin had booked her tickets, and six weeks ago, she had lost the grip over the carefully built barriers she’d made sure to rise in the meantime for - well, self-preservation, really.

It started small. The song that had played this one special night, resonating through Starbucks as she waited for her drink. That sweatshirt her colleague bought one day that reminded her of another one. That scarf in the store that looked so much like Doctor Who’s.

But then...Then, it was every day, every damn day, just like the beginning - even worse, if she was being honest. Up until yesterday, when she boarded that damn plane.

Up until now, in this stupid airport where she didn’t want to cry.

Arms tightened around her own chest, Erin willed herself not to, even though it was becoming evident that there was no ignoring the memories and the aching now. Even though, just like she feared, it was becoming perfectly clear that there was no escaping anymore, no pretending that she wasn’t the worst person in this Goddamn country, that the worst hadn’t happened.

Even though she could feel the fear mixed with longing and excitement and dread and a million other emotions that had painfully, permanently taken residence in her stomach now that she was home.

(That had taken roots there ever since the day she left, so it did.)

Shite.

Sitting back up, Erin shook herself. No, no, no, no - she could do this.

She’d grown, she’d prepared herself. She’d even planned what to say if...She was ready. Responsable, mature, and ready. And she won’t have to face this alone.

In a few hours, she was going to see the people who raised her. In a couple of days, wee Orla was getting married. She’d come up with excuses after excuses not to come home, even for Christmas - babbling something about being overloaded with work even though it made her heart ache to know she’ll be alone for the holidays for the first time in her life. Even though she knew full well her Ma didn’t buy a single word, very aware of the real reason she was staying away. She didn’t say a single word, though, and Erin was grateful.

No more, though.

For months and months, Erin had found reasons to stay away for the exact reasons that were chipping away at her heart more and more by the second, but now her baby cousin was getting married, and she’d see her family, and they’ll hold her close, and she’ll find a way to bury all the stuff that was so, so much more difficult to ignore now that she was coming home.

Maybe - maybe it will be difficult, but they’ll be here to help her through it. She’ll be there for her family, and they’ll be here for her.

Fighting the urge to reach out for the folded photograph in her wallet (the one that brought so much comfort and so much else she’d rather avoid at the same time, the one she clinged to but pretended she didn’t), Erin just breathed, and moved to change seats.

Everything would be fine, in the end. It will be grand.

*

Except her family didn’t come.

No one did.

It was eight thirty in the morning, and, her cellphone penibly stuck between her ear and shoulder as she struggled to zip her jacket to protect herself from the freezing cold, Erin tried to swallow her disappointment.

“Aye I’m sorry love, it looks like you’re going to have to get a cab,” her Ma announced before yelling something at her Granda in the distance.

Erin couldn’t help but notice the fact that she didn’t seem that sorry, not at all in fact. “Your Da was going to come get you, but there’s a problem of some kind where the reception is, and he had to take Orla.”

Erin nodded, even though her Ma couldn’t see her. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just - ”

“We’ll give you the money back for the cab when you arrive. Alright, I gotta go love, we’re checking the hair accessories for the big day - see you in a bit.” And with that, she hung up.

Well.

Here went her big welcome home, eh.

Again, it was nothing, though, she reasoned. She was a grown up now, of course she understood that something had come up, and that this all delayed their big reunion from only an hour, tops. So really, there was no reason to get upset.

None.

She wished she wasn’t getting upset.

From what she told her, Clare would be putting together gift bags now, and there was absolutely no doubt that Michelle was still snoring. Pocketing her cell as best as she could, Erin bit the inside of her cheek and started looking for the only plan B she had left, ignoring the burning in her eyes. It really was nothing - she’ll be fine.

It didn’t matter that she took forever to get a cab, for some reason, or that her luggage fell over her foot when they tried to put it in the truck, or that her handbag crashed on the floor and spilled everywhere.

Erin did know she tended to be over dramatic - and yes, maybe borderline crazy, Ma wasn't completely wrong - but she was more mature now, so instead of getting riled up, instead of being crushed by the fact that her family didn’t seem to have missed her as much as she did them, and that the land she grew up on was sending her sign after sign that she wasn’t welcomed back, Erin breathed.

Instead of being violently overwhelmed by memories at every corner of the place she’d grown up in, the place where they met and it all began, she did - she tried to breathe, slowly, carefully, squeezing her scarf in her hand a little too tight.

(That was another thing about your close ones not coming to get you at the airport after you left your country to run away: there wasn’t much to distract you from the memories you were running away from.)

She wouldn’t cry. She was just tired, and being stupid, and she wasn’t coming home with puffy red eyes - no way.

They passed the mall they all used to hang out at, and her throat tightened so much, it felt like the air had left the inside of the car. She saw the movie theater he was always so eager to bring her to in the distance, and a familiar pang of missing shot through her chest. Her heart twisted that particular way when they drove by the hiding spot of their early days, but even though she wondered how she was still holding her tears, she did.

After what felt like an eternity, the car finally pulled up her street, and Erin hadn’t shed one silly tear. She’d done it. She could do it.

By the time she pushed their small barrier and started for the couple of stairs, all Erin wanted was to collapse into bed and black out. Orla and Da wouldn’t be home, Ana would probably still be asleep, and given the day and time, Grandda would have gone for his walk. She’d give a big hug to Ma and Aunt Sarah, pretext a headache, and go lie down.

As she struggled to get her bags through the door while keeping the damn thing open, Erin shouted, cursing herself at how strangled her voice sounded. “I’m home!”

Finally managing to get everything and herself inside, she collapsed on the wall behind her, only now taking in the wallpaper, the coat hangers, the shoes by the entry.

Damn - she was home.

The emotion was so striking, she didn’t quite have the time to stop the tears from welling up in her yes, taken by surprise.

She moved before it all became too much and shrugged off her coat, feeling her insides warm at the familiar surroundings, and yet her heart ache at not having the usual voices that went with it, the faces that she wanted so much to see. She shouted again, but there was still no response.

Ma and aunt Sarah must have had something to do, then. It was fine, she thought as she pushed the living door open. It was, she’d just grab a glass of water and -

“SURPRISE!”

And just like that, Saturday Night started playing from somewhere, overcoming the shouting and the party whistles that had broken the silence so suddenly, Erin had jumped out, her back hitting doorframe behind her. There was colours and and noise and arms waving in every direction, and Erin vaguely realized that she was covered in confetti that matched the balloons and the hats.

Somehow, she noticed that they all had one: Michelle, up on the sofa, Clare, jumping in place at the other side of the room, Orla and the giant teddy bear she was holding. Anna, her pink one stuck on top of her mass of blond hair. Aunt Sarah and Grandda, both holding hands and arboring the same green one. Her Ma, her Da, tears in their eyes, huge grins on their faces, red and yellow ones falling over.

Her brain had stopped functionning, so she couldn't be sure, but Erin thought that her legs were giving out.

Before they did, though, both her parents closed the distance and hugged her close, whispering things she couldn't quite make sense of just yet. Their voices in her ear, their smell surrounding her, Erin broke her promise to herself, and finally let the tears come flooding as she held them back as close as she could.

She was home.

[tessiete]

For the Spotify fanfic ficlet: 12 for the Kenobi-Kryze fam? 🥺

@lightasthesun so here’s the deal. I STRUGGLED with this. Because I wanted to give you happy, fun, fluffy times, and there are some real bangers on my Wrapped. I mean, relative bangers.

But you picked probably the most Obitine-angst appropriate song ever, and I was like......oh, no. I can’t - I can��t do that to them.

So, after several days of thinking about it, we came up with this. It’s...I refuse to call it angst, bc everyone is alive, and well. It’s just like, some family fun times. Thanks, especially to the Obitine discord, and @duchess-of-mandalore @mg024 and Finn!

And anyway, I hope you love it! Thank you so much for the challenge! <3

Prompt: The Chain (Ingrid Michaelson)

THE CHAIN

The sky over Capital City is grey, and tremulous when they arrive on Coruscant. A natural storm had surged over the breakers of the planet’s ancient atmo regulators to sound its rage and fury out above the city. It’s rare, but not unheard of, and though some might take it as an ill omen, Satine thinks it a fair reflection of the twisting winds within her breast. Rain falls in great, heavy drops, lashing its grief across the transparisteel viewports as they break through the clouds. Thunder cracks, righteous and defiant. Lightning fractures the plate of the sky, reaching out with jealous fingers to touch the earth. Korkie has slept through it all, but Satine doesn’t want to miss any moment more than she must.

They hit the pad with the sudden jolt of gravity reasserting itself, the locking clamps securing them in place. She feels each shudder of the ship echoing in her bones, the soft satyn of her simple travelling gown like water over her skin. Every contrast feels sharp, and malicious. She takes Korkie’s small hand in her larger one, and together they wait for the ramp to lower, releasing them into the wilds outside.

And they are met.

Across the platform, standing silent in the downpour, is Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Though her vision blurs, and renders his face unreadable, she can see the straight line of his shoulders, the proud tilt of his chin, and the defiant stance of his feet spread wide. His hands are hidden in the fold of his cloak, and at his back are Masters Windu and Jinn.

At Satine’s back is the black maw of the ship, and the wind whistling through it. Korkie laughs, and she looks away from the Jedi to see her son, hands out, catching rain. 

“It’s wet! Belli, look!” he says, showing her his hand, shining in the grey light. “The sky is crying!”

Satine feels the rain coursing over her own face, and smiles in recognition of his delight.

“It is,” she says. “Happy tears, of course. Coruscant is glad to meet you, kih'kairkiyc.”

He grins at her, and she squeezes his hand, and together they cross the narrow bridge from the ship’s dock to the reception platform where they are met by Obi-Wan. He steps forward, and bows, deep, and formal.

“Duchess,” he says. His voice does not waver, but lies flat, and orderly in the space between them. 

He is much the same as she remembers, though his hair is longer, and his braid is cut. A beard has grown in, at long last, though she does not like how it covers his mouth, and hides half his face, and she longs to reach out and wipe it away so she might be able to read him again, like she used to. But there is more than an arm’s length between them, so instead, she nods her head in acknowledgement.

“Knight Kenobi,” she says, like glass, clean and showing nothing of itself.

Korkie tugs at her hand, and she pulls him forward to introduce him next. His fingers linger at the tips of hers as she lets him go. He takes a step. He takes a breath, and just as they’d practiced, he bows with his hands clasped before him, until his back is level with the floor.

“How do you do, Knight Kenobi?” Then, in succession, “Master Windu. Master Jinn.”

The three Jedi return the gesture. Master Windu is tense, and wary of her, she can tell, still unconvinced of the wisdom in this. Obi-Wan’s eyes are fixed on her, but Qui-Gon Jinn smiles at the boy, and Korkie stumbles back until he falls against his mother’s stomach, his hand reaching out to fist in the fabric of her gown to steady himself.

“Hello Korkie,” the old Jedi greets. His voice is soft, like birdwatchers in Keldabe before. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Obi-Wan is pulled from his study of the past by this reminder of their present company. His hands drop, and he shifts, leaning towards her, his head ducked and uncertain.

“I apologise for the weather,” he says. “I would have - if there had been any indication of inclemence such as this, I would have suggested somewhere with a roof.”

“Of course,” Satine says, too quickly. Then, bridling herself, she continues. “Coruscant is usually such a civilised, and well-behaved planet, it could not have been foreseen.”

There is the promise of forgiveness at the end of her declaration, which Obi-Wan accepts with relief, and they smile at each other. It is brief, and carried more in their eyes, than in their mouths or hands, but it is there nonetheless.

“And you, Master Korkie,” says Qui-Gon, with a smirk of his own. “Are you more civilised, and well-behaved than you appear at first glance?”

He gestures to Korkies rumpled tunic, and mussed hair which sticks up in wild tussocks like knots of grass.

“Someone was rather exhausted by our journey,” says Satine, fondly. “He fell asleep just past Corsin.”

“It was rather a long flight,” says Korkie, in his own defence. “And I don’t much like flying. Lightspeed always feels funny.”

At this, Qui-Gon kneels to meet Korkie on his level, and speaks as if he is confessing some great secret.

“Do you know,” he says, “That Knight Kenobi also dislikes flying.”

Korkie throws a wondering glance at Obi-Wan, who shifts beneath the scrutiny.

“Truly?” he asks Qui-Gon.

The Jedi nods. “Yes, truly. Only he stays awake the whole time.”

“Why?”

“I think in order to complain,” says Qui-Gon. “He needs to be sure that I am equally as miserable as he is, otherwise he feels lonely for company. But it does make for a very long trip, from my point of view.”

“That’s silly, Knight Kenobi,” declares Korkie. He turns to address Obi-Wan directly, and though he speaks critically, his brow is lifted, and his eyes wide in an earnest desire to ease the knight’s discomfort. “It’s much better if you sleep,” he says, with all the wisdom of a moment. “The time goes by much faster.”

Obi-Wan is forced to accept his master’s censure with grace as to spare the gentle feelings of an innocent child, so he smiles, and bows to acknowledge the boy.

“As you say, Master Kryze. You are probably right.”

“I know I am,” Korkie says. “Even though I do look a little wild in the end. But I feel tidy. So I suppose it’s just a matter of which part of me you look at.”

With a rumble that starts deep in his belly, then tumbles out like thunder, Qui-Gon Jinn laughs.

“A man after my own heart,” he says, giving Korkie a little clap on the shoulder. “I foresee you will become a great Jedi, Kiorkicek Kryze.”

“Sorry to interrupt, Duchess, Obi-Wan,” says Master Windu, stepping between the parties, “But as this rain doesn’t look to be letting up any time soon, may I suggest we complete the investiture ceremony somewhere a little drier?”

He levels Obi-Wan with a challenging glance, but its severity is diminished somewhat by his own bedraggled state. Despite their equal exposure, the rain has somehow managed to do more damage to Mace Windu’s composure than any of the others. Perhaps because he is more conscious of his position, and his dignity than the other two, Qui-Gon being rather untroubled by such pretensions, and Obi-Wan still humbled and distracted by the circumstances in which he’s come face to face with the unquiet ghosts of his past. Both of them wear the rain with ease, but Mace has struggled, unable to convince himself of the need to shield himself, but conscious of the desire. His cloak is patchy with damp, and the top of his head reflects the sky, the water washing his face, and dripping from his lips and chin. It is clear that Obi-Wan feels this indignity on his superior’s behalf, but Satine fights laughter at the spectacle.

“I think that would be wise, Master Windu,” she says, her voice tripping and sparking with barely repressed delight.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, with a shallow bow. And then he says, “There is an air car waiting.”

And Satine feels her stomach drop.

She meets Obi-Wan’s eye over Mace’s shoulder. His gaze is steady, and somber and as he makes his answer to the master’s request, and she can hear farewell in the heaviness of his voice.

“Yes, Master Windu,” he says. “Satine, I’m sorry we must be so brief, but I -” and he stands gaping, and voiceless for a moment.

The tight knuckle of sickness twists in her gut, scraping across the raw nerves of the underside of her skin, buckling muscles, and shifting against her bones, but she swallows the nausea back, and saves Obi-Wan from the inexorable void of silence.

“Do not apologise, Obi-Wan,” she says. “These things cannot be helped. Perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps the sting will be less.”

“Like a plaster,” he says, numbly.

And she agrees. “Just like.”

Master Jinn’s rises from his crouch, leaving his hands to ghost over Korkie’s shoulders, his hand still wrapped in her own, and Obi-Wan still staring at her, still drowning in the rain. Master Windu is merciful then, and bows out his leave taking.

“I’ll prepare the car,” he says.

“Thank you, Mace,” says Qui-Gon, when no one says anything else, and Master Windu leaves them to say goodbye. 

But still, no one moves. Silence falls, a fragile, lacework thing, too delicate to touch with the clumsy fingers of speech. They remain suspended in its web for an age, until Qui-Gon braves what the others cannot fathom, and speaks again.

“Obi-Wan,” he says, stepping away from Korkie to reach for his own grown padawan. “A word.”

He draws him aside, turning away, turning their backs to Satine and Korkie, and speaking quietly in Obi-Wan’s ear, an arm about his shoulders, and drawing him close in private assignation. At another time, she might feel ostracised and othered by this, but now, she is grateful. It is she who is with Korkie, and the Jedi who must stand apart.

She kneels to face her son, heedless of her skirt, of the thin satyn and how it catches at the rough duracrete, pulling taut, maybe tearing beneath the pressure of her knees. She doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. What matters is this: herself, and her son, and the rain washing away the things between them.

“I don’t want to go,” says Korkie, and she grips his hands tighter than before.

“You must,” she says. “You must. You are going to be a wonderful Jedi Knight. Just think of that.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I know I said before, but I changed my mind. I want to go home.”

“You can’t go home, kih'kairkiyc,” she replies, her tongue growing thick with a truth she hates to speak. “Remember? We talked about this. It’s dangerous. But you will be safe here. Knight Kenobi will protect you.”

“But who will protect you if I’m not there?”

“Oh, many people, Kiorkicek,” she says. “A whole court of people. All the people. The people of Mandalore will be my strength, and they will take very good care of me while you’re away, and one day, when you come home, they will be glad to meet you again, and so will I.”

“Do you promise?” he asks. “You won’t forget me? Even if I’m gone for a very long time?”

“Even if you were gone for almost as long as forever, I would never forget you, Kiorkicek Kryze. Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad. Ratiin.”

“Ratiin,” he repeats. “Always, and always.”

“Yes,” she avows. “Now, do you remember what I told you?”

“To wash my face, and brush my teeth every day, even if I’m very sleepy.”

And she laughs, pulling him close to her breast, and tucking his head beneath her chin.

“Yes,” she says. “That is very important, but what else?”

“To listen to the masters, and study hard, and show respect, and try my best, and to always, always be very kind to Knight Kenobi, because he isn’t always very kind to himself.”

“Yes,” she whispers. She presses a kiss to his hair, and combs it as flat as she can. “That last part, most especially, kih'kairkiyc. Look after each other. For me.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Belli.”

“Bal Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, balyc.”

“Satine?” The call is Obi-Wan’s and she looks up from the cradle of her embrace, and her son within it to see him standing cautious, and concerned a few paces away. “It’s time to go.” 

“Of course,” she says. She stands. She takes Korkie’s hand, nestled in her own, and places it in Obi-Wan’s. For a moment, the three of them are one, together, and then…

She lets go.

“Goodbye, my Kiorkicek,” she says. “Remember what I told you. Kote, ijaa, aliit. Ratiin.”

He nods, and she can see his grip tighten on Obi-Wan’s hand, fierce determination rising in the face of her expectations. It is Obi-Wan who falters.

“Satine, I -” he shakes his head. His eyes match the storm. “I will do my best by him, I swear. I will not fail you. I will not.”

“I know,” she says, steady where he is not. “I would not give him up to another. None but you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Gar ratiin ru’kar'taylir. Be gentle with it.”

He nods. There is nothing else to say, and they’ve always been terrible at goodbye. She smiles at Korkie one last time, and he points at the sky.

“Happy tears,” he says, and grins, wiping the salty streaks from his own face.

And with that, he tugs on Obi-Wan’s hand, and leads him off towards the distant figure of Mace Windu, and the air car waiting patiently to take them home.

But Satine is not alone.

Qui-Gon Jinn steps close, until she can feel his shoulder jut up against her own, the warmth of his body breaching the barricade of wet clothes, to soothe her own chapped skin, and she shivers against him.

For a moment, they say nothing, just watching as Obi-Wan turns to Korkie, and Korkie to Obi-Wan, chatting animatedly, his free hand swooping through the air. She imagines he must be telling him of their departure from Mandalore, and the world he left behind, and she hopes that selfishly, she might be included in as many of these stories as he thinks to tell, because he is in all of hers. Qui-Gon chuckles beside her.

“Fast friends, already,” he says.

“Forgotten just as fast,” she whispers, nearly losing the words to the storm. But Qui-Gon is listening closely.

“Never that,” he says. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she yields like water, dropping her head to his shoulder, and weeping into the crook of his neck.

“I thought I was ready,” she says, hitching breaths to match the shifting winds. “But it has come too soon.”

She feels his chin press against her skull, and though it isn’t exactly comfortable, there is comfort in the angles of his affection, and she leans closer to him, until her arms sneak beneath the wet folds of his outer robe, and wrap around his waist. She clings there, as though she might blow away. This is familiar, though it is an old, old memory, now. She was once a girl, before she was a Duchess, and Qui-Gon Jinn was once to her the very thing her father could not be. She was bereaved, but never lost, and there were many nights that Qui-Gon held her while she wept just like this. It is easy to reach for him, now. It is easy to look back.

“You are never ready,” he says, his voice vibrating so near to her ear it is as though he speaks to her from within her own mind. “But he is not going very far. He is with his family. He is with his father. You are not losing him to the wilderness.”

“No,” she says. “Only to the Force.”

He does not chide her for the bitterness upon her tongue.

His own words remain gentle, and soothing, and he rocks her in his arms, as they watch the matched set of their hearts walk away.

“Then I have lost my own heart twice,” he says. “First to the Force, and then to you. But people always come back, in one way or another. No one is gone forever.”

And as they reach the car, as though he hears their call from across a vast, unending night, and over the wind and roar of the storm, Obi-Wan looks back, and Qui-Gon smiles.

“Oh, look,” he says, as the knight turns once more to his son. “There he goes again.”

Satine buries her face in Qui-Gon’s arms, and though she doesn’t feel at peace, for a moment, she feels like she has come home.

[boxofbadaddiction]

Not According to Plan

George Weasley x Reader

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List.

Prompts: 4 & 11

"Hi I'm [Y/N or Character] I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable."

"Ah, Humour based on my pain. Aha-ha-ha."

Warnings: Swearing

If you thought about it, had the teachers really cared about students roaming the castle at night, they'd certainly have worked harder to ensure breaking curfew wasn't so easy.

Night was when the castle was most fun, after all.

Running from Filch. Stealing food from the kitchens. Star gazing from the balcony of the North Tower. All far too tantalising to resist.

For [Y/N] in particular.

Exploring the ancient building in the late hours of the night had become somewhat of a habit for her. Sneaking out of her dormitory while her room-mates slept peacefully in their beds she relished in the feeling of freedom which enveloped her every sense in the cool night air.

Her favourite activity by far had to be antagonising Peeves in the Dungeons before stargazing with a hot chocolate held firm between her freezing palms.

Tonight however didn't quite go to plan.

Screwing with the prankster Poltergeist took an unforeseen turn resulting in her currently hauling ass from the doom and gloom of the Dungeons.

Apparently her weekly routine had become far too predictable as Peeves had been waiting for her tonight. Hell bent on revenge he was accompanied by none other than one Severus Snape. Not what she was expecting as she casually rounded the corner, safe to say her feet had never changed direction so fast. Nearly falling over herself as she ran.

"THERE!" Peeves bellowed seeing her sprinting form disappear from the corridor.

The sound of Snape shouting, hot on her heels willed her legs to carry her faster. To pump her arms harder as she bounded up a flight of stairs in a hidden passage which led directly to the third floor.

She fell against a large stone pillar, hand on her side trying to dull the aching cramp that'd formed in her ribs and swallowing thickly to ease the burning of her now dry throat.

Content that she had put enough distance between herself and the fuming Head of Slytherin House, [Y/N] composed herself. Strolling leisurely down the hall with a relieved chuckle coming from her throbbing throat, heading toward the kitchens, she could really use that drink now.

But tonights surprises didn't end there.

Mind too fixed on her narrow escape [Y/N] failed to register the rapidly approaching sound of footsteps barrelling down the adjoining hallway. Next thing she knew she had collided with someone and fell hard to the floor.

"Ah, fuck" a pained voice groaned near her.

[Y/N]s body had never felt as heavy as it did in that moment. Laying face down on the ground her arms moved to lift herself. Shaking her head to clear her blurred vision and dull the ringing in her ears that echoed in her mind from the sudden collision.

[Y/N] squinted toward the source of her injury but could only just make out a figure.

A boy laid sprawled on his back, one knee in the air with an arm slung across his abdomen. Given the difficulty in which he tried to pull himself upright and the way his other hand massaged the back of his head [Y/N] gathered he was in an equal amount of pain.

The flaming red hair was a dead give away, although she already had her suspicions in who the likely culprit was. Only two other people in this school seemed to share her affinity for breaking curfew. The Weasley Twins. Until now however she never had the pleasure of making either pranksters acquaintance. She was, after all, a year below the pair and from another House.

"Are you alright?" The boy asked. He had managed to roll himself onto his side propped up by his elbow he eyed the girl concernedly. She was now resting on her knees, hands supporting her while her body hung heavy like dead weight making her arms quake under the pressure.

"Peachy" her voice sounded as if she'd been winded during the fall, "I've always wondered what the Castle floors taste like. Now I know...they taste like shit."

The redhead laughed at her sarcasm, "Glad I could help clear that up for you then." With a groan he rose to his feet, quickly peering back around the corner from which he came before holding his hand out for the stranger to take. Accepting gladly she used his strength to pull herself from the cold ground.

"Talk about ways to take a girls breath away." She muttered to herself but given the cocked expression on his face the boy had heard. She wasn't sure if he were amused or not.

Taking her hand from his [Y/N] placed both of hers on her lower back and stretched her aching muscles while the joints in her spine cracked in several places. Moaning lightly at the tension it relieved.

"If I were to hazzard a guess, I'd say you were running from Filch."

"That'd be a pretty good guess" he smiled shyly as if unsure how she were about to react.

Lifting her gaze to meet his she found the expression to be one of unease and awkwardness. It looked out of place on the face of one half of the notorious Weasley Twins.

"The rumours are true, Weasley's really do know how to knock a girl off their feet."

His face contorted into a mixture of confusion and amusement. Given the circumstances he'd been awaiting a lecture or to be scolded for his recklessness which ended up rather painful for the both of them. Humour was not something he expected to come from her. An impressed grin snuck it's way onto his lips, the Twins always admired a person who could make light of a tense situation.

The silence and look on his face spoke differently to [Y/N], she felt she must have said the wrong thing. The whole encounter was far too awkward for her liking. Bouncing on the balls of her feet she let out a long breath through mostly closed lips as she gently punched her palm contemplating her next words. She had to think of something...anything to say that could recover.

"Hi, I'm [Y/N] I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable." She reached her hand out to shake his. To her great relief he laughed while taking it. "George" he answered simply.

"What's a girl like you doing out at a time like this?" Raising his brow with a cheeky grin he placed his hands in his pockets.

"Same as you it'd appear."

"Running from Filch?"

"Snape actually." George's eyes went wide at the words.

"You dare tempt to best the Devil?" Silent laughter radiated through his body as he smiled in shock.

"Well to be totally honest, he wasn't in my plans. But Peeves got the better of me."

"Peeves?"

"Annoying him has become somewhat of a hobby of mine", [Y/N] shrugged, "guess he finally had enough. He had Snape waiting for me."

"The little snitch." The two laughed.

For two people who had just met, in a rather abrupt and unpleasant manner, they were surprised at how easily conversation flowed between them.

Leaning casually against the corridor wall they spoke a little back and forth while George relayed his evenings events and how he suddenly found himself unaccompanied by his brother. It wouldn't have stopped there, had it not been for the arrival of Mrs Norris and the sound of Filchs voice carrying down the hall putting a stopper in their laughter.

Staring wide eyes from the cat back to one another they took off in a sprint. George made to turn down the passage [Y/N] ascended previously before she grabbed his hand "Not there. That's where I ditched Snape he'll be down there for sure!"

Thinking quickly George took the lead, hand still clasped firmly in hers. Dragging [Y/N] close behind him they ran through the courtyard to the Trophy room.

Hiding beside an old cabinet [Y/N] and George fought hard to recapture their breaths dropping each others hand, [Y/N]s clutched her chest as George steadied himself against the wall.

"That's...the second time" [Y/N] strained to speak through burning breaths, "second time you've left me breathless tonight." She chuckled swallowing hard afterwards. "That's so corny" George coughed feeling like his lungs were full of sand.

When their ability to speak without pain finally returned the two soon found they had a lot in common. George was in awe of how [Y/N] could make light of any situation. She seemed to ooze positively and, much like he and his brother, always tried to make people laugh because, in her words, "What's life without laughter? Fucking boring." He could feel himself falling as he hung from her every word. Every giggle. Every smile. He couldn't take his eyes off her, till a blinding light from over her shoulder appeared pulling his attention. A teacher. He couldn't stand to see her end up in detention so, panicking, he did the only thing he could think of. Cutting [Y/N] off mid sentence he shoved her into the hidden compartment he knew lay behind the cabinet. He and Fred had used it many times before, though it wasn't exactly spacious it served it's purpose as a temporary refuge from angry teachers or prefects.

Eliciting a sudden squeal from [Y/N] as she had remained blissfully unaware of the approaching punishment he closed the cabinet behind her, leaning against it in a casual way just as the teacher turned into the hall.

"WEASLEY!" They yelled. Snape. Of course it'd be Snape he thought.

"PROFESSOR!" he mockingly yelled back with an innocent smile he straightened himself off the cabinet.

"Mind explaining as to why you are roaming the castle well past curfew?"

"Just fancied paying the trophies a visit sir." The familiar creak of wood sounded through the space as [Y/N] had obviously pressed against the other size of the cupboard, turning both men's attention. Georges eyes were wide as Snapes brows furrowed in confusion.

"Haven't seen them in so long you see. Thought they must have been missing me." He shouted slightly leaning all his weight back against the wood to stop it moving and to draw Snapes attention back to him.

"Mhmm. Where's your brother?" The Slytherin asked with a stern expression.

"Bed I imagine." a light tapping noise began to sound coming from the direction of the cabinet once again. George shifted his position so as to strum his fingertips against the old wood to compensate.

"A likely story."

"Sir, it is quite late you realise?"

"I'm aware." Snape was growing tired of the redheads cheek "50 points will be taken from Gryffindor and, seeing as you're so taken by them, detention this weekend shall be served polishing every last trophy in this room. Should give you plenty of time to be...reacquainted." the greasy haired man smirked triumphantly.

"You're too kind, sir" George forced a smile.

"Return to your house immediately and, should you run into him, before I do, drag your dimwitted other half with you." With a nod and two finger saltue George glared at his potions teacher, watching him stride away dramatically.

He was still glaring when he heard a loud knock come from the hiding place.

"Oh right" he fumbled upright opening the way slowly. He peered in to see [Y/N] leant back against the wall with arms folded and a much more playful glare than the one George was sporting moments ago. "Ah, come to let me out have you?" She jested.

"I'm sorry, Severus came waltzing by and-"

"Oh, I know."

"You know?"

"He always patrols the trophy room at 12pm Thursday nights."

"Well why the bloody hell didn't you tell me!?"

"Same reason I kept tapping on the back of the cabinet...I wanted to make things difficult for you." The girl grinned wickedly.

Georges mouth fell open. "To think, I was trying to save you from detention." He laughed.

"Yes I did hear that part actually. Be sure to put your elbows into it, some of these old cups are quite tarnished." She ran her finger over the glass of the neighbour display as she walked out past him.

"Ah, humour based on my pain. Aha-ha-ha."

[Y/N]s head dropped as she laughed at his sarcasm before turning to him while he leant back against the cabinet to close it's hiding place. Looking down at her [Y/N] blushed under the weight of his stare, biting her lip to restrain the giddy smile trying to break through.

"Want to go to Hogsmead with me this weekend?"

The question took her by surprise. The butterflies in her stomach making her uncomfortable.

"Ah, You have detention." She reminded him.

"So?"

"How do you plan on getting out of the Castle?"

"I have my ways." He shrugged with a smug look on his face.

[Y/N]s tongues traced her lips before pulling her bottom one through her teeth, the experience was calling to her like breaking curfew. She did love to break the rules.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He seemed astonished by her answer, and brought himself off the cabinet.

"Yeah, okay. I'd love too." [Y/N] was smiling brightly now at the prospect of spending more time with George.

"Great! Meet me here at 10 on Saturday?"

She nodded the only reply she seemed capable of giving as the butterflies in her stomach took over her whole body.

"Great. Well I better go find my 'dimwitted other half' let him know that Snapes after us." He joked "I'll see you then." He placed a quick kiss to her cheek.

Her hand came to the place where his lips had met her skin as the familiar warmth of a blush spread over her face. She turned to watch him leave, he must have expected her to as he looked over his shoulder shooting her a wink before leaving around the corner.

Tonight was surprising to say the least. And not a thing had gone to plan. But [Y/N] wouldn't have changed a second of it for the world.

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [52]

vii. gimme shelter

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 6.0k

Warnings: a few mentions of blood, fighting, violence, reference to past assualt/Shumway, angst, mentions of death. 

Summary: you arrive on Becca’s Island, and reunions are had, exploring is done. as you and Clarke wind down from your long journey, a break in occurs, creating chaos within the mansion.

a/n: the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 20th, 2150; Becca’s Island

As soon as the boat reaches the shoreline, Roan volunteers to stay behind with Miller and unload the fuel, so that Jackson can lead you to your mother. You and Clarke agree with the plan, looking forward to seeing her for the first time in a few days. Though, with the events of the last few days, it has felt more like lifetimes. Jackson leads you from the shoreline through a densely wooded path, keeping up light conversation the entire time, before ushering the two of you into a lab unlike anything you could ever have imagined. “This is Becca's main research lab, but there are 5 other levels.”

You look around in awe, at the dozens of screens and computers, all types of equipment, chemicals, tubes, and beakers, all brightly lit and situated at the bottom of a flight of stairs. As Jackson leads you to the railing alongside the stairs, giving you a view of everything, your mouth drops open in shock, and Clarke whispers, “Incredible.”

The word carries through the room, reaching a figure who is standing at one of the computer screens, staring at whatever is displayed there. They turn around at the sound of Clarke’s voice, your mother, grinning up at both of you. You and Clarke smile back, and Clarke leads the way down the stairs. Your mom pulls both of you into a hug as soon as you’re close enough. Up above, Jackson makes an excuse about checking on Luna, giving the three of you the privacy to catch up. 

When she pulls away from you, her eyes fall to your shirt first, still covered in Seiku’s blood. You got most of his blood off you with the water from the ocean, but it has stained your shirt, ruining it beyond repair. Her eyes widen in alarm, and you can see her already searching for wounds, but you shake your head. “It’s not mine. It was Seiku’s, one of Roan’s guards who saved both of our lives.”

She sags in relief, before looking between the two of you, a small smile on her face. “Then I’m grateful to him.”

She looks around, realizing that no one else has followed, before asking, “Speaking of, where is Roan?”

“Unloading the fuel with the others.” Clarke looks at your mom, her expression dropping as the weight of the day’s events start to weigh on her. “We just needed to see our mom.”

Your mom pulls you both in for another hug, offering you the kind of comfort that could only ever come from someone who raised you. You smile, drawing in the comfort, until your eyes fall on the screen behind her, the one she was staring at when you came in. It’s a scan of a brain, and you pull away, booking at it in confusion. “What is that?”

Your mom glances back at it, her face falling. “A scan of Raven’s brain. She’s been having seizures, and she just had another one right after she heard the news about the fuel.”

The news tugs at something in your brain, taking you back to Niylah's trading post in the middle of a war with an AI. Sinclair stop, the EMP will give me brain damage! You feel a wave of nausea knowing that you contributed to this. In a misguided attempt to save her, you ruined your friend’s brain, the thing she values the most. Clarke pulls you out of your head when she points at a gray spot on the brain scan, “Is that-”

Your mom cuts her off, “An ischemic stroke.”

Clarke looks slightly hopeful, “Well, that means it can heal, right?”

“Yes, as long as she takes it easy, she'll recover.”

A realization hits you like a freight train. You used the EMP on your mom too. You look at her, eyeing her closely, “How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine.”

She smiles and then walks away, but you and Clarke aren't so easily convinced. “When was the last time you slept?”

She doesn't look at Clarke when she answers her question, just peers into a microscope at a sample pressed between the plates. “Oh, I'll sleep soon enough, one way or another.”

“What is that?”

“It's bone marrow. Luna's. A theory that Jackson and I agreed should remain untested.”

You shake your head, not understanding. “What theory?”

“We can't create Nightblood unless we go to space, but Luna can. Theoretically, we can inject ourselves with her bone marrow.”

Just like Mount Weather. You shudder, thinking of the mountain from hell, but no one seems to notice, too wrapped up in the theory. “Then we become Nightbloods. Will it work?”

“I think so.”

Your confusion persists, “Then why'd you take it off the table?”

“Because the only way to know if it works is to test it, and that would mean…”

Clarke answers her first, understanding instantly. “Exposing someone to radiation.”

You think that’s the end of the conversation, but then Clarke adds, “Can we do that here?”

“Yes. Becca was trying to find a cure for cancer using this radiation chamber.” Your mom nods her head at the well lit chamber behind her. “But, we would have to expose a human being to enough radiation that would implode every single cell in their body. That's what's coming for us.”

Clarke nods her head, understanding, but you shake yours, not liking this discussion. Your twin argues, “I know that, but we have no choice.”

Your mom shakes her head, “No, we have to make a choice.”

You nod your head, this time understanding the choice before Clarke does. “Which is: Who do we test?”

The conversation is cut short by Jackson calling out, “Emori, hey.”

You all turn as if you've been caught doing something bad, looking up to the landing of the stairs to see Emori, Murphy's girlfriend, looking down at you. “I'm heading up to the house. Does anyone want anything while I'm up there?”

“No, we're fine, thanks.” But then your mom glances at you and Clarke and calls out, “Emori, hold on.”

She looks at both of you with a smile. “You should both go with her.”

You’re in no position to argue, exhausted from the day, and eager to get out of your bloody shirt. Clarke however, disagrees. “No, we just got here. I want to be here with you and help.”

“There is nothing for you to help me with right now. It'll be 5 hours before the samples are even ready to be tested.” Clarke sighs, knowing she can't argue with that news. “Go, take a shower, and we'll figure this out when you get back.”

She nods and you take her hand, practically dragging her up the stairs, eager to get inside and take a shower. Emori stands at the top, waiting for you, and as she leads you towards the door, Jackson calls out, “I'll lower the drones.”

Emori guides you through the dark woods easily, the path familiar to her, making casual conversation as she goes. “Raven says the black rain will be here soon.”

Clarke swings her flashlight off the path, towards your guide. “Raven's right. I used to love the rain, now it terrifies me.”

“I would have thought nothing terrified you.”

You and Clarke exchange a look, and Clarke asks, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I just...hate this island, that's all.”

You nod your head, understanding instantly what that’s like, considering your hatred for Mount Weather. Clarke, who has maintained more radio calls with your mother, continues the conversation. “Murphy said you used to work here. Is that right?”

“Something like that.”

“Scavenging tech for Alie?” Emori turns and gives Clarke a look, who instantly apologizes. “I'm sorry, too many questions.”

“Ignore me.” Emori’s gaze softens as she looks back at the two of you. “I'm just upset that our mission here has failed. Hopefully your mother will come up with another way, always so willing to do anything to save her people. Skaikru's lucky to have her.”

Clarke shakes her head. “We're not just doing this for Skaikru.”

Emori holds out an arm, stopping you from walking any further as you reach the edge of the treeline. She lifts her radio, “We're at the treeline, coming in.”

“Copy that, drones down. You're good to go.”

She leads you through the trees and into a large lawn that stretches out in front of the largest house that you've ever seen in your entire life. Not that you've seen many houses, but it seems larger than any picture of houses that you've looked at before. The lawn eventually reaches a patio, with a large pool, connected to a hot tub. You look at it in awe, marveling at the stone detailing around the edge. The patio is well let, surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges and marble stairs that lead up towards the back door. The back door itself is glass, along with the whole back window, allowing you a peek into the house. Emori slides the door open, letting the sound of loud music out of the house and to you. You step into a living room, surrounded by white furniture, which opens up right into the large kitchen. Inside the kitchen itself, Murphy dances from one counter to the next, cooking up something to eat. 

You and Clarke exchange amused expressions, and you smile a little, not used to this side of everyone's favorite cockroach. As you get closer, you joke, “You can cook?”

He hums in acknowledgment of your joke, nodding his head as he peers down at a cookbook laid out in front of him. Clarke adopts the same amused tone when she quips, “You can read?”

He looks up from the book, turning to smile at both of you. “Yeah, I know what you're thinking, Disaster Twins. Why are all the good ones taken, right?”

You snort and Clarke scoffs, both of you rolling your eyes at him, and Emori looks at her boyfriend in adoration. “A good randzi is rare. John would be celebrated by any clan.”

It takes you a second to remember that randzi means cook, but when you do, you roll your eyes all over again. “Yeah, he's a real catch.”

Murphy pulls a spoon out and dips it into the dish, holding it out towards you, hand cupped underneath, looking expectant. You eye it warily, a little distrustful, but the smell wafting towards you is good enough to make you want to take a bite. You lean down and take a tentative bite, chewing slowly, waiting for the taste of poison, only to be pleasantly surprised by the explosion of flavors on your tongue. You look at him in awe, “Oh, my God.”

Murphy smiles in an “aha” sort of way, pleased to have gotten that reaction out of you. He turns and tosses the spoon into the sink, and sweeps Emori into his arms, leaning down slightly so she can whisper in his ear. You and Clarke exchange an awkward look, feeling like you're intruding, before she mutters, “We’re gonna go get cleaned up.”

“Yeah, let me show you where to go.” Murphy starts to step away from Emori to lead you there, but she cuts him off, pointing you in the right direction. “Upstairs. Down the hall.”

“Thanks.”

Clarke leads the way around the corner, down the hall to the massive staircase. You and Clarke move through the house with your mouths slightly dropped in awe, and you wish with your entire being that Bellamy was here to experience this with you. When you reach the top of the stairs, Clarke picks two rooms side by side, and you both look at each other for a minute before stepping into your respective rooms. When you flip on the light switch, it automatically activates the stone fireplace lined along the wall, making the room warmer in seconds. You welcome it, allowing it to chase away the chill that always seems to be settled within you. 

In the middle of the room are two armchairs, a table between them, and you drop your pack onto the nearest chair before proceeding deeper into the room. Along the wall on your left are mirrors, and upon closer inspection you realize they have handles, indicating that they're hiding something. You tug on the handles and reveal a huge closet, clothes stretching from either end, stuffed full. When you close the door, smiling in awe, you come face to face with your reflection, and you’re shocked by what you see. 

You didn’t clean Seiku’s blood off you nearly as well as you think you did, and mud and blood are streaked from your forehead down onto the skin that eventually disappears beneath your clothes. You're sure that if you were standing here naked, the grime would cover you from head to foot. There’s a variety of things caked into your hair, making you look wild and untamed. Blood covers almost every inch of your shirt that isn't hidden beneath your jacket, and you can now see why everyone was looking at you in alarm. There’s a small nick on your neck, situated just above the chain of your necklace, from Echo threatening you, along with a bruise on your cheek from the man that helped her take you captive. 

You turn away from the mirror, no longer wanting to see yourself, ignoring the rest of the room as you make a beeline for the bathroom connected to the bedroom. As soon as you're inside, you stand and stare at the shower in shock, the shower itself nearly as big as the entire room you share with Bellamy, and you get another wave of regret that he's not here to see this. You dig around in the cabinets, looking for a towel, and as you do, you discover something rare and precious: bath products. Soap in the Ark is made from mostly recycled materials, and doesn't have a particularly nice smell. It doesn’t stink by any means, but it also doesn't smell like...you hold up the bottle in your hand, peering at the label on the body wash, before reading out loud, “Tropical sunset delight.”

The shampoo and conditioner you find are both labeled coconut hazelnut dream, and the lotion is called creamy vanilla surprise. You smile as you hoard all the products, bringing them into the shower with you, along with a brush. It takes a second for you to figure out the controls of the shower, as it's entirely technology based, but as soon as you do, hot water shoots out from at least four different locations. You turn the water as hot as it can go, the water at Arkadia never anything better than lukewarm. You take your time, using several handfuls of the body wash and several techniques to scrub your skin until it is practically raw. Once you're sure all the mud and blood is gone, you get started on your hair. It takes a while for you to work out the knots and debris tangled within your strands, but you finally do, marveling at the soft feel of it as you wash the conditioner out. 

After your shower, you dry off and moisturize, before pulling on your pants and grabbing the rest of your clothes and boots. You fold your shirt and socks and stuff them into your pack, before grabbing a couple of shirts you can layer and wear as your new shirt. You also find a sock drawer, overflowing with options, and you pick one pair to wear daily, along with a thick pair you can wear on cold nights. Then you turn, surveying the room again, eyes landing on the bed in the middle of the room. You walk over to it and press a tentative hand into the mattress, marveling at the plush softness that envelops you. 

You smile and climb into the bed, fully intending to sleep for at least a few hours. But as soon as you’re in bed and comfortable, you are annoyed to find that you just can't sleep. You toss and turn for a few minutes, trying to figure out why sleep evades you, when you suddenly make the connection. You’re alone. You've shared a bed with Bellamy the last few months, and sleeping alone is now so foreign to you that you’re struggling to do it without him by your side. With a sigh you pull yourself out of the bed and into the hall, heading straight for Clarke's room. She looks up at you right as you lift your hand to knock, already motioning you inside before you can even ask to come in. 

She's already in the bed, also freshly showered, but appearing to struggle with sleep, the same as you. You both sense the restlessness in each other, and she pats the bed, motioning for you to crawl in beside her. You do, turning to face her as soon as you’re comfortable, smiling at the pretty face of your twin. She smiles back at you, and you both lay in silence for a minute or two, until Clarke whispers, “Do you think I’m a good leader?”

You think of the memory you dreamed about last night, and you ask, “Do you remember when you convinced me to take your place so that I could see the Ark?”

“Yeah, and you only lasted three minutes before mom caught on?”

You mock glare at her, but confirm, “Yes.”

You pause for a minute, letting her relive the memory, before you add, “I’ve been following you my entire life. You’re a natural born leader, inherited from both of our parents, making you a hybrid, amplified leader. You’re strong, and you care about others, which I’ve known since you were willing to give up a field trip just so I could see the Ark.”

“But you’re my twin.”

“Pulling a lever to save our people. Three times. Continuously sacrificing yourself to save others, making the hard decisions when others don't want to, but also continuing to stay in touch with your empathetic side. You're a great leader, Clarke.”

She sighs and nods, accepting the compliments with thanks, and you start to read the undertone in her statement. As you watch your twin, her mind running though a million things at once, you realize that the real question is: when can someone else lead in my place? Clarke has led all of you from the moment she landed on the ground, but realistically, she was leading even before that, back when the two of you were kids. She led groups in school, tried to lead with your dad when he wanted to go public with the news of the dying Ark, led the delinquents the second you landed on the ground. She led Camp Jaha as the adults fought over who was in charge, and led an army of Grounders with Lexa. She led behind the scenes while Pike thought he was in charge, led the mission to find Luna, and the mission to kill Alie and the City of Light. She led Arkadia while your mom and Kane stayed behind, and the more you think of it, the more you think that her only break may have been the three months she spent on her own. But even then, she was burdened by the consequences of leadership. 

Clarke Griffin, Wanheda, your starry twin, is tired. Exhausted. It’s written in the lines of her face, the sag of her shoulders, the bags under her eyes. And though you know you’ll never be able to stop her from being a leader, you vow to take more of the burden off her shoulders from here on out. 

Clarke yawns, confirming your suspicions, and you smile at her. “Get some sleep.”

She nods, and closes her eyes, and you watch her for a second as the stress starts to melt off of her, second by second. Satisfied that she's actually going to sleep, you close your eyes and follow suit, only for your eyes to fly open at the sound of clattering down the hall. The sound wakes Clarke too, both of you exchanging an annoyed look before getting out of bed. On the way to the door, your twin grabs her pistol from her pack, and you glare at her. “Where was that when Roan's guards tried to kill us?”

She shrugs, looking a little apologetic. “In my pack. In the rover.”

You give her an annoyed look, before following her down the hall as she creeps towards the sound. As it grows louder, she calls out, “Murphy? Murphy, is that you?”

The sound grows louder as you approach a door at the end of the hall, and you put your hand on Clarke's shoulder, letting her know you're still with her, as you follow her into the room. She flips on the light, revealing blinds on the other end of the room, that seem to move everytime the wind blows. You and Clarke move closer, and when you lift the blinds up, you see a hole in the window, red blood smeared around the edges, indicating someone smashed their way through and let themselves in. You hear a small sound behind you, and you and Clarke spin quickly, her gun lifted and ready to shoot.

Murphy stands in the doorway, and at the sight of the weapon, he lifts his hands in surrender, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, take it easy! Look, we need to talk.”

Clarke shushes him, “Quiet. There's someone here.”

He looks at both of you in alarm, and Clarke opens her mouth to relay a plan, but she is cut off by the sound of Emori yelling from downstairs, “John! John! John!”

Murphy rushes out of the room first, and you and Clarke scramble behind him, following him closely as he practically flies down the stairs and around the corner into the kitchen. There a man stands, trying to plunge a kitchen knife into Emori's neck, who is using every bit of strength she has to keep him from killing her. Murphy grabs the nearest weapon he can find, a cutting board, and whacks the man across the face, knocking him away from his girlfriend. Emori scrambles backwards on the floor towards you, and Clarke reaches out for her, “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

But Emori ignores the question, her eyes focused only on Murphy as he goes to deliver a killing blow, “Wait! He's mine.”

Emori tries to run at the man and attack him, but Murphy holds her back, despite her struggles. “Get off of me! If we don't kill him now, he will kill us.”

You give her a confused look. “You know him?”

Emori practically spits out the name, “Baylis.”

The name must mean something to Murphy, or he must know Emori’s story, because he stills, no longer holding her back as much as he was before. The man on the ground, Baylis, looks at Emori with a sneer. “She's lying, you don't know me.”

Emori tries to leap at the man again, and Murphy does his best to hold her back as she yells, “You said you'd kill me! Well, guess what, planhaka, I'm gonna kill you.”

Baylis tries to stand, but Clarke lifts her gun towards him. “Hey, hey, hey, don't move.”

“Just let me go. I'll leave the food, and you never have to see me again.”

You turn to Emori, “Is he alone?”

“Not usually. Where are the others?” 

Murphy releases her, allowing her to walk closer to the man, glaring down at him as he replies, “I don't know who the hell you think-”

She cuts him off with a swift kick to the head, knocking him out, and as his body hits the ground, she continues to kick him. Clarke, growing anxious, yells out, “Emori!”

She spins around, blood dripping from a cut on her head, running into her mouth and covering her teeth. She gives your twin a bloody sneer. “You don't know what he did to me.”

“No, and you can tell me about it, but please, Emori, if he's not alone, we need to know now.” Clarke turns to Murphy, passing him her gun, “Here, Murphy, take my gun. Now tie him up.”

She looks at you, silently asking if you’ll stay with Murphy and the prisoner, and you nod in agreement. Her eyes move back to the injured woman, “There's a medicine cabinet upstairs, can I fix this?”

Emori hesitates, looking back at the knocked out man on the floor, but Clarke reassures her, “They won't let him go anywhere. Will you?”

Murphy shakes his head as he walks by them, moving to the appliances to yank out their cords for binds. “Not a chance, we're gonna have some fun.”

“Fine, tie him up. But when he's done talking, the kill is mine.”

Murphy tosses you one of the cords, and you help him tie the man's hands and feet together, restraining him. And then Murphy drags over a chair, and the two of you lift the man's unconscious body into it before using more cords to secure him to the chair. Once you're done, you move away from the man, hopping up onto the counter to watch from there. Murphy circles him like a hawk, waiting for him to wake up, and finally Baylis groans, indicating that he’s coming to. It takes him a few seconds to gather his bearings and remember where he is, but as soon as he does, he starts to wiggle in the chair, trying to loosen his restraints. He does that for a few minutes, unsuccessfully, and when he realizes your bonds are too strong, he resorts to begging. “I only came here for the food, things I can trade. I scavenge so my family can eat. Please.”

Murphy laughs, not buying it. “That's it, find the right angle. I'll help you out. I love someone who was beaten and tortured by a man who thought he could control her.” 

Your eyes widen, understanding that he means Emori. You feel a rush of hatred for the man and what he did to her, reminding you of what Shumway did to you.

“I'm not that man. You can torture me all you want, and that won't change the fact-”

He is once again cut off by a blow from Emori, who has appeared seemingly out of nowhere, now cleaned and stitched up. “For my brother.”

She hits him again, “For me!”

She lifts her hand again ready for another blow, but Clarke yells out, “Wait.”

Emori spins towards her, looking absolutely livid. “What?”

“You'll kill him.”

“That's the idea.”

Murphy steps up in defense of his girlfriend. “Why don't you stay out of it and let her have this, Clarke?”

Clarke turns to look at you, her expression serious, before she turns back to Emori. “What if his death could save us all?”

Emori freezes, immediately looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“Without a way to go to space to make Nightblood, there's a chance we could make it out of Luna’s bone marrow. But the only way we’d know if it worked, is if we exposed him to the same amount of radiation that the death wave will bring. If he lives, and we know it worked, you can still have the final kill.”

“And if it fails?”

“He’ll die from radiation.”

Emori seems to consider this, looking to Murphy for guidance, who gives her a slight nod. Emori turns back to Clarke, giving her stamp of approval. “Looks like you got yourself a test subject.”

-

With Emori’s agreement to Clarke’s suggestion, she radioes over to the lab and shares the message. A few minutes later, Miller and Roan come to the house for Baylis, knocking him out to make the transport easier. You all follow them back to the lab, watching on as your mother starts to prepare him for experimentation. When she sees Baylis brought in, you see a flash of opposition cross her face, before she seems to quickly tuck it away in favor of a more neutral expression. When she sees you walk in, she nods towards the glass office on the second floor. “Kane is on the radio and he’s asking for you.”

Your brows pull together, wondering why, but you don't ask, just head up the stairs and into the office, plopping down at the desk and reaching for the radio. “Kane, do you read me?”

Kane’s voice comes through a second later, sounding tired. “I read you.”

“My mom said you asked for me?”

“The black rain's here, and it's worse than we thought. It burns on contact...it kills.” You hear him sigh, before continuing, “We were outside when it started, had teams outside the wall scavenging for supplies. Some got stuck, straight out in the open, no cover, no help. Two of them, Mark and his son Peter, asked to be rescued. Bellamy went after them in a broken suit, tried to get to them, but failed. The rover got stuck, and with the bad suit, he has no way to get the rover free again. He’s taking it pretty hard, and I tried to help, but I think I just made things worse. I was hoping you’d talk to him, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Of course. What channel?”

“Four.”

“Copy that. Switching over.”

You fiddle with the radio, switching it to channel four, before asking, “Bellamy? Are you there, can you hear me?”

His voice comes through a second later, whispering your name, his tone a cross between relief and sadness. “Did Kane call you? Because I’m fine.”

But you can hear the emotion in his voice as he tries to convince you, unsuccessfully, that he’s fine. You push past his insistence and ask, “What happened, Bellamy?”

The radio clicks on, and you hear the sound of the rain hitting the roof of the rover, followed by the rumble of thunder. And underneath all that, you hear a quiet sob, choked and broken. “Do you remember Peter? He was part of the 100.”

“I think you were closer to him than I was, but yes I remember him.”

“Him and his dad got caught in the black rain. It’s coming down pretty hard, and it burns the second it touches your skin. They went for shelter the best they could, but it wasn't much. I grabbed a suit and tried to get to them, but the suit was damaged in the fire, cracked in a million different places. It was useless. Then the rover got stuck along the way, and without the suit, I won't survive the trip outside to get it unstuck.”

He takes in a shaky breath, and you know the next part is going to be hard to hear. “When I radioed Mark to tell him I couldn't make it, he lost it. Reminding me that I promised I’d come save them, and now I’m going back on that and killing them both. He stayed on the radio for a long time, and I could…”

Another sob breaks free from his chest, and tears spring to your eyes, hating how broken he sounds. You wish you were there with him, wrapping your arms around him, comforting him the way he comforted you. “I could hear them dying. The radio must have cut out after that, or he was too weak to press the button, because it’s been silent ever since.”

“Bellamy, I know you’re hurting, but this isn't your fault.”

“Mark’s right. I made them a promise and I went back on that. It’s my fault they're dead, because I failed to save them.”

“You didn't know the black rain was coming. You can't control the suit being broken or the rover getting stuck. This is not your fault.”

“Octavia left, did Kane tell you that?”

“No, he didn’t.”

He sighs, and you can hear another rumble of thunder in the background. “She was gone before I even made it back. My sister, my responsibility, and I failed to protect her too. I always fail. I’ve failed you, my sister, our people. I can't save anyone.”

“Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? And what about all of the delinquents you saved before the Ark came down? What about our friends in Mount Weather? Clarke in Polis? You protected her so she could shut down the City of Light, which saved all of us from Alie. She couldn't have done that without your protection.”

He’s quiet, considering your words, and you add, “I know that every life we fail to save hurts us more than some of the lives we’ve taken. You’ve made mistakes, Bellamy, but this isn't one of them. You did everything you could to save Mark and Peter, and sometimes that’s all we can do, because these things lie in the lap of the gods. We can be prepared for every outcome, every scenario, and still fail. Learn from this, save who you can save today, but don't let this tear you apart. I still need you, and so does Octavia, Kane, our people. This fight isn't over yet.”

You can tell he takes your words to heart, as his sobs finally start to quiet. He’s silent for a few moments before he whispers, “I wish you were here with me.”

“I wish I was too.”

“Tell me about the stars, please.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and you think of which constellation to share with him today. “There’s a constellation in the sky called Lyra, the lyre. The lyre belonged to Orpheus, who played music so beautiful that the animals would listen, and people would stop whatever they were doing just to hear him play. He played most of these songs for his wife, Eurydice, whom he loved very much. One day, Eurydice died suddenly, and it broke Orpheus’ heart. He was determined to win her back from Hades, unable to live life without his love, and he set out on a journey to the Underworld. On his way down, he played his harp, and when he reached Hades he found that the god greatly enjoyed his music. Orpheus stopped playing, and Hades asked him to continue. Orpheus agreed on the condition that when he stopped playing for good, his wife would be returned to him. Hades accepted this condition, and Orpheus began to play again. When he was done, Hades informed Orpheus that he too had a condition, which is that Orpheus must leave the Underworld playing his harp, and he must trust that Hades has honored their agreement. Orpheus is not to turn around or look back to see if Eurydice is following. If he doubted and looked back, Eurydice would be taken back to the Underworld. Orpheus agreed to the conditions and played his music as he left, pleased that he could hear Eurydice’s footsteps behind him the entire time. Until Hades tried to test the young lover. He guided their return to the surface through a pine grove, which silenced Eurydice's footsteps. Orpheus endured the quiet as long as he could, until he no longer believed his wife was with him, and turned to look back, just in time to see her fade away. Orpheus returned to the surface alone and brokenhearted, and when he eventually died, Zeus put his lyre in the sky to commemorate their love.”

“I would go to the underworld to save you.”

You smile, knowing that he means it. Bellamy has already proven to you time and time again that he’s willing to go through hell just to save you. Your answer to him serves as a double meaning, one you hope he’ll take to heart. “Just as long as you don't look back.”

-

next chapter

[zacc-attacc]

Nature: A Javid Oneshot

A/N: My first ever oneshot on this website! I hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count- 1.2k

Jack loved the open sky. He loved the stars, the sounds of nature, and everything in between. But, more than anything, it calmed him, something that not many things were able to do. As a kid, he had always dreamed of falling asleep under the stars every single night. And when he was bounced around in foster care, the night sky had been the one common variable. Always there, like a blanket. Luckily for Jack, Some of the Newsies had put together a camping trip in the woods near campus. They had tents (from the Dollar Tree, probably), a bunch of marshmallows, some hotdogs, and a whole lot of energy. And Jack? Jack an invite and a limited will to live. At least Davey would be there, which, to be honest, had its ups and downs.

Ups, because Davey was single-handedly the sweetest human alive and a fun dude to hang out with. And downs, because Davey was Mom Friend Supreme™ and also had an annoying tendency to make Jack’s normally stoic heart do a tap dance in his chest. Which really was inconvenient because Jack’s last relationship had ended only four weeks ago. It wasn’t a nasty breakup, he and Katherine were actually still friends, but the boys still expected him to be depressed about it. But Jack didn’t like to linger. He was upset for a few days, but now he was over it. Katherine obviously was as well, since she was seen going on a few coffee dates with some girl. 

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, he could be whoever he wanted to be because that’s just how it was with the Newsies.

Tonight, he could eat bargain hot dogs and s’ mores, and avoid the fact that he was hopelessly in love with the only man he couldn’t have; because god forbid David Jacobs dated a mess like him. 

Jack knew exactly where he lay in David’s mind. He was a close friend, maybe a sort of Uncle to his future children with his perfect little life with his husband in the suburbs. David liked him well enough, but he would likely never love him. And Jack had tried to accept that, even though, thus far, it had only made it much worse.

“Ay! Jack! You packed?” Crutchie yelled from his lower bunk. Jack was stretched out on the top bunk, staring at a half-finished political cartoon for his class. 

“Yeah… What time’d the guys say to be there?” Jack sat up, hitting his head on the low ceiling. He wasn’t even that tall and it managed to injure him on a daily basis. 

“...In five minutes.”

“Shit-” Jack muttered, scrambling to jump down the bunk, only succeeding in hitting his head yet again on the ceiling. After hitting the floor in the heap, all Jack could hear was Crutchie’s cackles. 

“Just kidding, It’s actually in 20- I just wanted to see your reaction,” Crutchie wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“Yeah, real funny, Crutch,” Jack mumbled, rolling his eyes and smiling. As much as he loved his little brother, he, unfortunately, knew exactly how to get Jack riled up quite easily, which normally ended in Jack running into a wall or stabbing himself in the arm with a pen in a panic.

“S’funny to me,” Crutchie choked out, still laughing. Jack pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the assorted chip crumbs that had migrated from the shitty shag carpeting of his dorm onto his shirt.

“I know, I know,” Jack muttered, grabbing Crutchie’s crutch from the wall and handing them to him. Looking at his laughing face, Jack couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“Alright, let’s get a move on… You ready?” Jack shook his head while still grinning, snatching his duffle bag and Crutchie’s backpack from beside the door. 

“Ay! I can carry that!" Crutchie protested, making a grab at the bag. 

“Wow, brother dearest, won’t even let me carry a bag,” Jack joked, sticking out his tongue and popping into a dead sprint down the hallway. 

“NOW THAT’S JUST UNCALLED FOR!” Crutchie yelled from the hallway. 

“LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU, STUPID HEAD!” Jack shouted back, slamming open the door for the stairs and sliding onto the railings down the flights. Once he reached the bottom, he pulled out his phone.

“Text RaceyBoi.” 

“What would you like to say?” that stupid automated voice asked back, not fully human or robotic. 

“‘Can you go walk Crutchie to the campsite? Left him for CPS reasons.’” CPS was not, in fact, Child Protective Services, but instead Crutchie Protection Squad.

Smiling to himself, Jack started walking towards the woods on the outskirts of campus. He thought he saw Kid Blink and Spot at one point, Heely-ing towards the woods. He couldn’t help but wonder how the wheels would hold up amongst all the vegetation, and quietly hoped he wouldn’t have to call an ambulance tonight. 

“Hey, Jack!” came a familiar voice from behind him. His heart automatically deciding to kick into overdrive, Jack turned around to see none other than David Jacobs, grinning and clutching a duffle bag. 

“Whaddup, Dave,” Jack grinned back, clapping the taller boy on the shoulder. Seriously, who gave him the right to be this tall? He was like a noodle with a head and arms. 

“You heading down to the campsite?” Davey asked, falling into step with Jack. 

“That’s the plan. Race is taking Crutchie so that idiot won’t try to carry his backpack again.” 

“...You realize he can carry it perfectly fine, right?” Davey said, looking slightly confused.

“Yeah, but I just feel like doin’ something nice for him, y’ know?” 

“You may be stupid at times, but you are a good brother, Jack Kelly,” Davey chuckled, taking off his hat and flipping it backward. 

“Ey, now don’t get to tellin’ the boys that, I have a reputation as a jerk to keep,” Jack couldn’t stop smiling. Why couldn’t he stop smiling? He felt like someone had turned him into the fucking sun from the Teletubbies. 

“I don’t think you could pass as a jerk if you tried,” Davey shrugged, looking into Jack’s eyes so he could get the point across. God, his eyes were brown. Beautiful, chocolatey, perfect brown. 

“You would be surprised,” Jack said, tearing his eyes away. 

Don’t let yourself get attached, dammit. 

“Hey,” Davey stopped. Jack stopped too, staring at him. He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

“Don’t… Don’t talk like that. I know you, Jackie. Okay? And you aren’t an asshole.” 

“Jeez, David, only a few minutes into the trip and you’re already on the late-night talks-” Jack turned away, hoping Davey couldn’t see that he was blushing. 

“I need to hear you say it, okay?” He turned Jack around, forcing him yet again to look into his eyes. 

“Fine. I… I ain’t an asshole. Ya happy?” Jack bit his tongue forcefully. That almost physically pained him to say. 

“Yeah. I… I’m sorry Jack,” Davey said. Jack still wasn’t looking at him. 

“Don’t apologize for caring, Davey.” 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was late. The shitty fire that had taken them almost a full hour to make was burning low, and Jack had to keep prodding it with a random stick to keep it lit. Most of the boys had already retired to their tents and sleeping bags, and Davey was fast asleep on his chair. Race was the only one still out. 

“Do you think we should wake him up?” Race said, tossing the remains of his s’more into the fire. 

“What? Oh, nah, I’ll wake him up when I head in. Poor kid, being a pre-med student probably never sleeps,” Jack pointed out. 

“How long do you think you’ll be staying out?” Race asked, standing up and stretching. 

“‘Till I get tired,” Jack prodded the fire again, before throwing in another stick. 

“Then he’ll be out here all night,” Race joked, cracking a smile.

“I’ll wake him up before then. Wouldn’t want him to get hypothermia or some shit.” 

“It’s the middle of April, I highly doubt he’ll get hypothermia, Jack.” 

“...Did Racetrack Higgins seriously just say an educated statement?”

“Goodnight-” Race turned away suddenly, seeming intent on changing the subject. 

“YOU CAN’T CHANGE IT NOW, WE KNOW YOU’RE SMART,” Jack whisper-shouted, not wanting to wake any of the boys up (especially not Davey). 

Race replied with his silence. 

Sighing, Jack sat back in his chair. Not having any will to sleep, and nothing more to do, he grabbed out his sketchbook. Nature was always good for inspiration. 

Well, it could’ve been nature, or it could’ve been Davey. Because, without even realizing it, Jack had started to sketch the sleeping boy’s figure. His right fist was supporting his cheek, his hat was half-tipped onto his face, shading it slightly. His legs were crossed, and his left arm was set on top of them. 

Behind him was a backdrop of pine trees, and, even though that wasn’t the actual view, a full moon, and stars. So many stars. All spelling out little words of love in Spanish, Jack’s first language. 

Precioso. Bonita. Perfecto. 

His hair was mostly tucked under his cap. His eyes were softer when he slept. A ghost of a smile played at his lips. 

Increíble. 

Perfect. 

Just as Jack was signing his name and dating the piece, Davey began to stir. 

Quickly shutting the book, Jack simply stared up at the stars he could see despite the light pollution and thick trees. 

“Hey, Jack, saw you drawing there,” Davey said, quietly. 

“Oh- uh- yeah, just… lookin’ through some old pieces,” Jack stammered. 

“Can I see?” 

“Uh- no, this isn’t my graded stuff, it’s all just sketches-“

“Y’know, for an art student, you really don’t like showing your art.” 

“Uh- Fine.” Jack gave up and strode across the fire to hand him the book. It was mostly drawings of the boys, maybe he wouldn’t look that far. 

...Spoiler alert, he looked that far. 

“...Is this me? Right back then, when I was sleeping?” 

“Uh-“

“You really made me look better than I’ve ever seen myself.” 

“Well, that’s how I see you,” Jack said before he could think about his words. Y’know, like a normal person who is trying to hide a massive crush that could end one of his best friendships. 

“Th-that’s… how you see me?” Davey was blushing now. Blushing. Not disgusted. 

“Uh… yeah. Y’see here, th-the moon behind ya, the way it… it focuses on you.” Jack said, kneeling by his chair and pointing to it. 

You are digging your own grave, Jack Kelly. 

“Jack, I… that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Davey was still blushing. He turned his face to Jack’s. He was so close… 

“Well… I draw what I think, Dave, ‘cause words… they ain’t my strong suit,” Jack chuckled, pulling back. But Davey leaned forward. 

“Your drawings don’t need words, Jack. But the artist of them… That is a man that deserves millions of words said about him.” 

“D-Davey… Don’t. Please, don’t do this,” Jack shook his head, standing back up. 

“Did I make you uncomfortable? I- I’m sorry, I thought that we-“ 

“No, David. You didn’t. That’s the exact issue! D-d’ya really think I want to end up breaking your heart? We… We can’t do this, ‘cause it’ll end with me hurting you just like I have a million people! And you don’t deserve that fate! You’re too good for me, David,” Jack might’ve been crying. He wasn’t sure. But he sure as hell was ranting. 

“Jack-“ 

“Don’t Jack me, don’t try to act like it could be any different. We know exactly how this is going to end, and I- I can’t stand losing you, Dave.” 

There was a moment of silence. It was obvious Davey was picking his next words carefully. 

“You won’t.” 

“How could you possibly know that?” 

“You won’t because I won’t let it, Jack Kelly. I won’t let you lose me as a friend, ever. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.” 

“Da-“ 

In two strides, Davey crossed the circle of chairs and shut Jack up with a kiss, half-crushing him with how tightly he was holding him. 

He did this… this thing that made it obvious this wasn’t his first kiss. The way he moved his head up and down just a little bit. The way he seemed all in but ready to pull away if they needed to at any second. 

But more than anything, there was a definitive Davey-ness to him that made it all perfect. 

So Jack had found one more reason to like nature. It was where he shared his first-ever kiss with his boyfriend, David Jacobs.

[dearest-bucky]

Put a little love on me (1/2)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has come a long way in life, but when it comes to sleep, there will always be struggle.

Words: 3.4K

Warnings: None really?

A/n: The second and final part of this will be posted tonight, so stay tuned!

Originally posted: January 26, 2020

Bucky Barnes is a strong man. Perhaps one of the strongest men who ever walked the Earth. I mean, he fought a war, then lived almost a century tortured by Hydra, only to be free from them but live another torturing version of his life, having to fight all kinds of monsters and aliens on daily basis. But if anyone told Bucky he was a strong person, he would just laugh in their faces, disbelief written on his own.

Sure, he is proud of how far he’s come. Being thrown into a whole new era and relearning how to do everything, is not something everyone does. And for the most part he succeeds in it. He has learned almost all about the life in this new century, from the new food, technology, new behaviors, new customs, new ways of dating, all of it.

All of it, except sleeping. While he has picked up on some kind of normalcy in all those things, sleep is the one thing he can’t learn how to do anymore. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he spent a whole lot of time in the cryo machine, and that is sleeping too, maybe it has to do with the fact that whenever he closes his eyes and tries to sleep, all the terrors come back to him in full force, refusing to leave him alone. So even after years of living his new life, he still couldn’t find a solution for his sleeping problem.

And he had tried anything, therapy, medications, chamomile tea, yoga, even those podcasts Sam suggested would help; you name it. But nothing had worked so far. He could only get 2 or 3 hours of sleep per week, and that was only when he passed out from exhaustion.

He thought he was losing his mind. He was desperate for a couple hours of peaceful sleep, but he was so out of options he didn’t know what else to do.

It was one afternoon in the lab with Tony, where he was working in his arm, updating it after some little malfunctions, where the Iron Man gave him the idea that would literally save his life.

“You look like shit, Tin man.” Tony commented nonchalantly noticing the dark circles under Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky scoffed in surprise, but he knew that there was no malice  in Tony’s words, so he took no offense.

“Have you slept at all?”

“Yeah, I think I had a solid 4 hours of sleep.” Bucky’s reply was short, tired.

“For the night?”

“For the week.”

Tony’s eyes widened, he felt sorry for the Soldier, his exhaustion was apparent in his face, eyes lifeless, with dark circles, displaying  all of his sorrows for everyone who would just spare him a look.

“You know what helps me when I have problems sleeping?” Tony continued working on his arm while talking, and Bucky met his eyes for a second, silently urging him to go on.

“Holding Pep.” He said dreamily. “Just being in her arms, or having her in my arms, holding each other close for the rest of the night, that helps me every time. I sleep like a baby whenever she’s with me.”

He was wearing a smile on his face and Bucky couldn’t help but let a small smile slip from his lips. He always loved how Tony and Pepper were with each other, Pepper always grounding him, keeping him with his feet on the ground, taking care of him, and Tony doing the same for her. But when he thought of himself, his smile dropped instantly.

He wished he could have someone love him like Tony had Pepper, but that was just something not bound to happen for him anymore. Maybe before the war,  that would be possible, but now… Now he couldn’t think of anyone who would want to be with him. A monster like him, he thought.

He was lost in his head when Tony patted his shoulder gently to let him know his work was done. “Thanks Tony.” He said in a small voice and got up from the chair he was sitting to leave the lab.

“Anytime.” Tony called after him. “Think of what I said though.”

Bucky just shook his head and left the room.

If only it was that easy….

***

He hates soft beds, but ever since that conversation with Tony in his lab, he has been thinking maybe the idea wasn’t so crazy. So what he didn’t have someone to hold close? So what no one could ever love him or want to sleep in the same bed with him and help him with his nightmares?

He would simply have to improvise. And improvise he did.

That night he placed two pillows with him in his bed, one to put his head on, and another fluffy one to hug close to his chest, imagining it was another person’s comforting presence. He sighed in the pillow and closed his eyes, waiting for the terrors to come, but only when he woke up in the morning rested, he was so surprised to see that it had worked. If only it was a real person there with him, but either way, it had still worked.

When he joined the others in the kitchen for breakfast, everyone could see his relaxed expression, something no one was used to see in him. He even joked with Sam at one point and it left everyone on the team shocked to see this new side of Bucky.

This thing went on for three weeks and with his improved sleeping habits, everything was improving too. He was very efficient in training, Steve even gave him the job to train some new Sh.I.E.L.D agents in hand to hand combat.

It was another rather quiet day in the compound and most of the team were just hanging out in the common room, chatting with each other about anything and everything, when Tony and Steve entered the room, quite serious, standing out from the other people there almost immediately with their stiff postures.

“What’s going on?” Natasha was the first to notice them.

Everyone else’s attention turned to the two men and waited for them to speak.

“We just got some intel, Hydra base needs infiltration. There is this base in Kiev where they seem to be producing some kind of dangerous weapons. We need to stop them as soon as possible.” Steve was the one to explain everything to the team.

“Okay, so when do we leave?” This time was Sam who chimed in with the question.

“We don’t.” Tony interjected. “Due to its dangerous nature of this mission, it should be very secret. So we’re going to send only a duo there to do the work. Of course the rest of the team will be ready to come to help at any time, but it is very important to not draw attention on us by everyone going.”

“Okay, so who will go?”

Steve shifted on his feet, seemingly a little uncomfortable, before he spoke again.

“Y/n is a spy, she is fast and they won’t see her coming. Her abilities are essential to the mission and its success.”

Only when she heard her name, y/n actually picked up her head to finally look at the rest of the team.

“Okay, I can do that.” She said simply, a peace in her voice, almost unfit for the situation. “Who’s going with me?”

“Yeah, I’m glad you asked that.” Steve spoke again. “We gave this a good thought and we decided that Bucky is the best option to go with you. I mean, you compliment each other’s abilities and every time you’ve been paired together it’s been a success, so yeah..”

Y/n shifted her eyes from Steve to Bucky, and then to Steve again. “Okay.” She said softly with a nod of her head. “Yeah, that will do.”

Bucky hadn’t said a word yet, he was just looking each and every member of the team one after one. No emotion in his eyes, just observing them.

“I’m glad you’ve been resting a lot more lately Manchurian Candidate.” Tony’s voice was heard. “You won’t be getting any for the next two days.”

“When do we leave?” It was Bucky’s only question.

“Tomorrow at dawn. The mission is supposed to be a simple in and out. Get everything you can on those weapons and burn the shithole to the ground. Tony booked a hotel for you in Kiev where you can spend the night and rest before you head back home.”

After all the other details were discussed and everything was set out, y/n decided she was going to head to bed soon that night, considering she had to wake up early for the mission. Not long after that, Bucky did the same, bidding their good night’s to the rest of the team.

***

5 am and they were both in the jet, flying to Kiev. The flight would be at least a few hours, so they had time to kill in the meanwhile. Bucky was silently cleaning some of his knifes and y/n was watching him discreetly from the other side of the jet, while pretending to play away in her phone.

Bucky and y/n’s relationship was a simple one. They were teammates, and on Bucky’s good days they could even be considered friends, they would talk and watch movies and hang out, but it was always with other people around. Their chemistry was only fully displayed on the field, where they’d both fight side by side the bad guys and become the most efficient pair of the team. But that was the end of it.

Bucky was a closed of person, he saw himself as a total mess, unworthy to be with anyone because of his past and that didn’t help with socialization that much.

Y/n on the other hand wasn’t any better. She was a delight to be with, but after having her heart broken by her first and only love, it was like she had swore off men, so she never gave anyone a chance to get to know her, to spend time with her as more than just friends. With the other men of the team she had set a solid relationship, Tony and Bruce were her father figures, Steve and Clint were her brothers, and Sam was “the gay best friend” and he wasn’t even gay. With Bucky it was different. The fact that he didn’t hang out with the others that much helped in her situation. She didn’t want to complicate things with anyone, but most importantly didn’t want to get close to any man again. One heart break was enough in a life time.

It was hours later when they arrived in their destination and prepared themselves for what was about to come. They knew it was dangerous, but it was their job. It should be done.

After killing their way through the entire base of enemies, taking what they needed and blowing the place to hell they could finally go to the hotel Steve told them about and get a good rest for the night.

Y/n opened the door and entered their room and Bucky followed behind, head hanging low. Only when he collided with her smaller figure, he finally picked his head up.

She had stopped walking and was staring at the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Um..” she cleared her throat. “There’s only one bed in here. I.. um, I think there’s been a mistake.”

He finally looked up to see what she meant and he saw in front on him only a king sized bed in the center of the room, two little nightstands in the sides, and a small table at the end of the room, no chairs or anything else. He opened another door that was inside the room, only to be met with the small toilet.

“It has a bath tub.” He commented dryly.

Y/n just sighed in frustration and shook her head. “I’m going back to the reception to ask if there’s a mistake, or see if they have another empty room.” With that she was out of there.

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. She was clearly repulsed by the idea of having to share a bed with him and the worst part is he couldn’t even blame her for that. Who would want to be close to a disgusting person like him anyway?

If only he knew…

After talking to the guy at the reception desk again and asking if they had another room, she came out empty handed. She made her way back to the room she had to share with Bucky. How could she even survive a night sleeping in the same bed with him? She was sure he didn’t even want her there? Who would want her anyway? Not even the guy who promised to marry her did. He left her at the altar for another woman. She simply wasn’t a lovable person. So how could she expect Bucky to be okay with sharing a bed with her? If only she didn’t have a tinyyyyy little crush on the man, maybe it would hurt less.

When she entered the room again she didn’t find Bucky there, but her mind got the answer as soon as she heard the water running in the bathroom.

She waited patiently for him to finish so she could have a shower too. When he came out of the bath, the breath was almost knocked out of her lungs. He was almost naked, except for a white towel hanging dangerously low from his hips, his hair was still wet, droplets of water falling on the floor, and his broad shoulders and large chest…

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Bucky was the first one to apologize as soon as he saw her standing there. “I thought you found another room and wasn’t coming back, otherwise I’d let you use the shower first.”

“They, um…”  It was getting hard for y/n to form any coherent sentences while Bucky was right there in front of her, in his half naked post shower glistening glory. “There were no other rooms available.” She finished quickly. “Can I…?” She trailed and motioned to the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Bucky was quick to get out of her way and she made it to the bathroom in three short steps, not before grabbing her duffle bag from the floor and closing the door behind her. She took a quick shower and got dressed in a hurry, only toweling her hair from the excess water and leaving it to dry naturally.

When she went back to the room, to her surprise she found Bucky laying on the floor on the side of the bed, a pillow under his head and a small blanket covering him.

“What are you doing there?” She asked him narrowing her eyes.

“Sleeping.” His answer was barely a whisper, she could have almost missed it if she wasn’t so focused on him. Her heart broke at the sight. Of course he would be sleeping on the floor. Any place was better than sleeping next to her. It shouldn’t have hurt that much, but it did.  She blinked away the tears that were starting to form on her eyes, and steadied her voice to speak again.

“You cannot sleep on the floor Bucky. I can’t let you do that. Your shoulder will hurt and you’ll be in pain in the morning and I..”  she was beginning to ramble at this point, but she couldn’t control her words anymore.

Bucky lifted his head from the pillow and looked back at her with soft eyes.

“It’s okay, I am used to sleeping on hard surfaces. Besides, I couldn’t take the bed for myself and let you sleep on the floor.”

There he goes. Of course one of them has to sleep on the floor. There is no other option.

“I mean..” she averted her eyes for a second from him to the bed and then to him again. “It’s a very large bed, we could both sleep there.” She could feel her face flushing with embarrassment. The words had left her mouth without really thinking and she regretted them already.

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second and then he smiled at her sweetly. “You don’t want to sleep in the same bed with me doll.” He said almost whispering and her head snapped to face him when she heard the pet name roll of his lips.

If she was blushing before, she was certain to be crimson red after hearing him call her ‘doll’. But his words also gave her a boost of confidence she so needed at the moment.

She walked in the direction of the bed and when he thought she was hopping on it, she knelt on the floor before Bucky.

“Get up from the floor and let’s go to sleep on the bed. It’s big enough for the both of us.” She said in a low voice, but left no room for arguing. As if she just cast a spell on him to follow her every order. At that moment he would have done anything she’d ask him to. Without questions. Without any second thoughts.

They got in the bed and laid  down on their respective sides. The bed was large enough to allow a respectable space between them, but despite it, they could both feel the warmth coming from the other’s body. Bucky turned off the light and they laid on their sides, facing each other, only the moonlight allowing them to make out each other’s features on the otherwise dark room.

“You did great out there today.” Bucky was the first to break the silence and he could have sworn he heard her smile.

“Thanks. You too.” She replied and he chuckled deeply.

He wanted to say more to her, but couldn’t. He was scared he would ruin the peaceful moment they were having and he definitely didn’t want to make the situation weird.

“Good night.” he spoke a moment later and turned on his back, facing the ceiling this time.

“Good night Bucky.” She whispered back and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.

Bucky could hear her even breathing and he thought it was insane how fast a person could fall asleep. Maybe she wasn’t plagued by the horrifying nightmares like he was. Maybe her conscience was clear and she was at peace with herself so that’s why it was so easy for sleep to come that quickly to her.

Bucky was almost envious of how peaceful she looked while she slept. Her lips partly open, he could listen to her breathing coming easy and calm out of her lungs. But it did nothing to soothe his mind.

He didn’t have his pillows. He took the one from his under head to hug it but now his neck was uncomfortable in that position. He let out a small breath and put the pillow under his head again. It must have passed at least a good hour of him tossing and turning around in the bed, when he felt y/n stirring in her sleep and moving closer to him.

He was laying on his back, with his hands behind his head and that just created the perfect opportunity for y/n to reach out her hand and place it on his stomach and inch her head closer to finally rest it on his shoulder. When she finally found herself a comfortable position, totally curled up to his side, she let out an actual sigh, but she never woke up.

Bucky had frozen in the spot, not daring to move even an inch for fear of waking her up. Only when he was sure she was soundly asleep again, he willed his flesh hand to move to her face and place a strand of hair behind her ear. His action only made her inch closer to him, if that was even possible anymore and he let his hand rest on her neck.

He was almost sure this had to be a dream. She couldn’t be sleeping so peacefully while being so close to him, but she was and now he was scared to death to fall asleep because he could have a nightmare and hurt her. He’d never forgive himself if her hurt her.

Despite being tired he willed himself to stay awake, but that didn’t last for too long, because sleep finally got to him and his eyes didn’t obey him anymore, they just closed in their own accord.

[weclassygirl]

𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐚, 𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚

Word count: +4.7k

Pairing: santino d’antonio x f!reader

Summary: “They’re already waiting.”

Warnings: none i guess, fighting 

Author’s note: hi! i’m back with another part. the next part may take a bit longer for me to write, cause i’m dealing with something at my uni rn. as always give me your most brutal honest opinion so i can improve. english is not my first language so beware. take care everyone <3

dulce periculum series: 01 / 02 / 03 / ... / 05

Gif credits (x) 

After the plane lands in Rome, both of you waste no time driving to Naples. It's already night time in Italy, almost midnight actually. You drive through the heart of Rome, the car passes by the Colosseum and your eyes linger on it as you drive past it. The whole monument is even bigger and more magnificent than you could ever imagine.

Santino's eyes linger too but not on the ancient structure but on you. Once again he's studying your face, your reaction to the place you're in. Your face is still covered in bruises but they are nearly gone, right now the orange street lights dance on your face as well as the cover of night. 

You sigh softly, not being able to stop a gentle expression taking over your features. For a while you feel at ease, taking in the scenery around you. None of you utter a word throughout the almost 3 hour drive. You believe that it may be due to the long flight, everyone would be tired after sitting in one place for 8 hours. You have slept for almost the whole flight, somehow you still felt exhausted after the event at the Lounge… or maybe it has to do with the bruises still placed on your body.

The car stops before a gate that is followed by a brick driveway. You cannot see the mansion from your seat, the only thing visible is the well tamed grass and some other trees with bushes growing on it. 

You see a few guards placed in various spots, all of them wear elegant suits. The car nears the mansion and your eyes go slightly wide. You expected the mansion to be luxurious and grand, but somehow it feels like that richness collides with simplicity. 

Both of you step out of the car and walk towards the mansion. The two guards placed at the entrance nod their heads at Santino. You follow him as he steps into the building, nerves start to creep up your body as you move further into the mansion. 

"You will have a bedroom here too." he says as you pass the big mirror on the wall. You see your reflection in it for a moment before you move along. "Someone will show it to you later." 

As you keep walking further into the grand mansion you see a man coming up to Santino and whispering to him in Italian. 

"They're already waiting." both men glance at you and Santino nods his head to the guard. You draw your eyebrows together, wondering what they could be talking about. Who's waiting? 

The two of you move upstairs, walking along the wide hallway. There are paintings on the wall and some flowers placed on the tables. Both of you come to a stop and stand in front of rich dark door. You can hear a faint chatter behind the doors and look at Santino. He stares at the door as if he could see who's waiting behind them. Both of you enter the room.

There's ten people sitting at the table. Their discussion dies down as soon as they see you enter. A woman with gray hair sits at the head of it and by her sides sit two man, one dressed in a brown suit, the other in a black dress shirt. All of them look dangerous, the tension is filling up the air and you wonder if walking away now would be a wise idea.

You weren't expecting Camorra to have its own Council, but it does make sense in your mind. Someone has to be there if the head is dead or on the other side of the world.

"It's not proper to keep us waiting, boy." says a man with a nicely trimmed beard.  His eyes sharp and dark. 

Santino changes his whole attitude in a matter of seconds. "Well, seeing as I am the current head of this family I would have thought that it didn't matter if I arrived on time or not." he says with that arrogant grin growing on his face. It reminds you of the same arrogance he showed in front of Winston when he asked for John's membership to be revoked.

The gray haired woman doesn't respond to his statement. She gestures to the seats in front of you with her elegant hand. 

"Sit down, both of you." 

"We'll stand, let's get this over with quickly." Santino says in a hurried tone.

The woman is not pleased with that answer but decides to let it go, getting right into the reason you're all here. 

"What's your name girl?" she addresses you. 

Once again you think if it would be wise to give your real name, but still stick with the one you've been using since you got here. 

"Umm… Jade." you answer hesitantly. 

She can see through your lie as well as the others gathered around the long table.

"Jade." she tastes your name on her tongue, it makes your skin crawl. "Ms. Jade, we’re hearing that you have come from a world where all of this is a movie, correct?" she leans in her seat, her elbows rest on the dark table. 

"Yes." 

"And you stopped Mr. John Wick from killing Santino?" she questions further and you notice a hint of an Italian accent in her statement. 

"That's right." you answer her slowly. Your whole body is tense, all eyes are turned in your direction, the Council and the few of the guards placed in every corner. 

"Tell us then… what is it that you want?" she asks with an accusatory tone. "Money? Power? What would make you save him from the Baba Yaga?" 

You can't believe what you're hearing. Saving Santino could be seen as some kind of deal in the eyes of others, that you've done that only to gain some money for yourself but that's not the case.

You lived in one of the worst conditions possible over the years, your rent was cheap and so was the apartment. It wasn't much but it was home… even if you could call it that. You learned how to live off of scraps, you don't need luxury to feel like someone worthy, respectable even. 

"You're seriously think that I saved him because I want money?" you scoff in her direction, your eyes slightly widened and eyebrows raised. 

"Who wouldn't? Money is the language of the modern world, people with money are the ones that rule it, any world at that." you stare at her, disbelief taking over your features. You look towards Santino and immediately switch your attention to the woman at the table. 

"I don't need to tell you the reason. He lives, that's what matters, doesn't it?" you question, your voice is getting colder and colder with every passing minute. At this point you don't care that you're surrounded by one of the most powerful organization in all of Italy, maybe even the world. "Without him this whole organization would have been gone."

"You think that his death would have changed anything here? Listen to yourself, girl. Even if he were killed, we would have continued as before, stronger even." the woman argues, thinking she has the high ground. You look around, the others at the table watch your interaction like a tennis match. You begin to smile.

"No you wouldn't." you scoff.

"Excuse me?" the woman blinks.

"Jade…" Santino addresses you in a warning tone, but you just shake your head slightly and put your hand up as if to stop him from coming nearer. 

"No." you step closer to the table "If he wasn't alive, then all of this that has been build by his father would have been for nothing. The Camorra line needs to continue and you cannot do it without the heir. His father and Gianna are dead, he is the only person now that deserves that power here. Without a leader… you would all fall." you say, the accusations rise with every breath you take. "And I am pretty sure that any of you here wanted to see him dead,  just so you could have a chance at taking up that seat.” you finish your statement and see the woman put her hand up. 

You hear a soft click before you feel a cold barrel of a gun pressed on the back of your head. You freeze and raise your hands up slightly. You hang your hand down briefly and scoff. The grey haired woman has a look in her eyes that many surely would fear.

“One more word that would come out of that insolent mouth of yours and you will end up  with a bullet in your pretty little head.” she warns you through gritted teeth. Your shoulder tense up, you look towards Santino and his eyes filled with unexplained worry. You turn your gaze to the woman when you hear the Italian speak up next to you. 

“Maybe we could talk about the real reason why I called you all here,” he says with a serious expression forming on his face “rather than pointing a gun at her head.”

The woman at the table narrows her eyes at him, visibly agitated with the situation. 

“So what would be so important that you would call us here, at night with a stranger by your side?” she questions, her voice becoming more and more frustrated. 

Santino just smirks and briefly looks your way. The smirk faintly reaches his eyes that gleam in the low light of the room. 

“I’m sure that you would have her killed the moment she steps outside of this room, that’s why I want to make a proposition.” There’s a pregnant silence hanging in the room, but is soon dropped as the Italian man continues with his offer. “Let her work in the name of Camorra.”

You widen your eyes and look towards Santino who's already looking at you, his expression blank when you mouth to him what?. Your face shows confusion but is quickly replaced by the same calm that he now wears. 

Joining Camorra could help you in getting familiar with this world. If they trained you, you would have some kind of advantage, but also Santino could use it in his favor. The movie never showed how they truly work but from what you've seen you would believe that they do train the best of the best.

You hear a quiet chuckle from one of the other members sitting at the table.

“You think that a scrawny girl like her is capable of joining Camorra?” he questions with an anger and amusement building up in his voice.

“Yes I do, in fact at the Continental Hotel she told us that she has knowledge of multiple languages and of fighting, we could tests it here if you’re all doubtful.” the new Camorra leader responds, his eyes are solely focused on the people gathered in the room.

Before Santino can continue you hear a man speak up in Italian. "That stupid girl wouldn’t even survive the first night here.” he comments with a smirk directed to the man next to him. 

You feel anger and frustration build up inside you. 

"That stupid girl can hear you old man.” you respond in perfect Italian. The man's face quickly turns sour and shocked. You feel like you've made a terrible mistake, answering in that tone to one of the Camorra's Council. You feel the barrel of the gun being pressed into the back of your head with more force. Your eyesight travels to the edge of the table and stays there for a moment before it moves to the old woman. She raises her hand and you fear the worst. 

The guard behind you takes the gun away from your head but still remains in a close distance. Your shoulders seems to release some tension yet it doesn't make you even remotely relaxed.

Another member decides to take up on a voice but this time you hear him speaking in Chinese. “She is not of this world, she has no knowledge of it, it would be better to just get rid of her.” you decide to respond in the same language. “If you’re so worried about my knowledge than I can always learn everything there is to it here, it wouldn’t be a problem.” you look to Santino, he's watching the conversation like a game. 

There's a faint scraping of a chair on the marble floors and the old woman comes up closer to you and Santino. 

“You’ve got some fire in you girl, I’ll give you that.” she says. You don't know if you see amusement or even some sense of pride on her face. She looks towards the table and the rest of the Council gathered around it. “Very well, let’s see if you are capable of surviving here.”

The guard behind you hides his gun and all of you quickly leave for the shooting range placed beneath the mansion. You lock your eyes with Santino before departing to it.

You stand in front of the table, guns splayed across it as well as a set of bullets. You pick the gun up and weight it in your hand. Too heavy. You place it down and grab another one that is not too heavy but also not too light. The Council notices your choice of weapon. 

You look towards the target in front of you, at least 15 meters far. “Any specific point you want me to shoot?” you ask no one in particular but the woman standing behind you responds "Head, heart, mouth and a lower region.” you nod.

The gun in your hands suddenly feels heavy. You look towards the target and aim your gun. A faint breath is released from your lungs as if to calm yourself down and focus. 

You are surrounded by the most dangerous organization in all of Italy but now they don't matter. You imagine that they're not here with you, that even Santino is not here. You shoot. 

BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG.

The sound echoes in the open space. You still hold the gun up as the sheet of paper comes closer for all of you to see. The headshot is there but missed by a few centimeters. Mouth shot hit the jaw, heart was a bit off but very close. As for the lower region, you could hear some of the men gathered in the room wince softly as you shot the target. You put the gun down on the table with a soft thud.

You back up and the Council members come closer to inspect the target. They don't say anything but you see them nodding their heads as if they are impressed with your skill. You turn to Santino and he's wearing a surprised and proud expression on his face.

The thing is, you know how to shoot… vaguely. Your dad thought you how to shoot when you were in your early teens. It was a family trip to a fair, there was a shooting range and your parents saw that you have a good aim and you yourself liked it. They went with you to the shooting range whenever they could. 

The Council turns to you, all eyes burning into yours. They don't say a word just look you up and down. Everyone quickly moves to the gym. It's a simple place, handles placed in their designated area, a ring in the middle and punching bags along with some other equipment scattered around. One of the members, a man with a scar going up the side of his face throws you some gym clothes. Santino follows you as you go to change but lingers behind the slightly ajar door. 

"You don't have to do this." he says, concern lacing his voice.

"You were the one to offer this in the first place." you respond as you strip yourself off the clothing you previously wore. 

You're turned away from him but he still catches a faint scars adoring your arms, legs and back. The ones on the back seem more visible then the others, still red in some places along with some nearly invisible bruises. Santino quickly turns away and speaks up.

"I know that, what I meant was that you're about to face one of the best, here at Camorra." his voice is calm with a hint of that Italian accent. "Are you sure you want to do this?" 

There's a short pause hanging in the air. You want to do this, you do. This is your chance at belonging somewhere and if it's one of the most dangerous mobs in the world then… well, what do you have to lose. 

You step out of the room and face Santino. "I'm sure. If I back down now they'll know that I'm not up for this job. I have to try at least." Santino regards you but nods. He knows that you’re stubborn and won’t go down that easily. It’s one of the few things that made him so intrigued in you. 

Both of you walk towards the ring in the middle of the gym. Members of the Council have already gathered around it. A well build man is standing on the ring, ready for a fight. You look up at him and recognize the man as the same one that held a gun to your head. Your attention goes to the grey haired woman, her expression hard. You step under the lines of the ring and stand in the middle. 

No one utters a word, the only sign of the beginning of a match is a raised hand of the woman. The guard heads towards you. 

You advance at him, trying to kick him in the chest but he slaps your leg away. He swings at you with force that could easily knock you out. You move under his arm and elbow him in the ribs. He buckles down slightly, but quickly recovers and tries to punch you to the side of your head, you block him, but don’t hold for too long, given his strength. Instead you move under his arm again and twist it behind him. He stops for a moment and looks at you with unexplainable expression on his face. 

He uses your lack of attention and kicks his leg under yours, you lose your balance and fall onto the floor. He backs away and smirks at you, challenging look in his eyes. You quickly get up and glance at the Council. They don’t show any sign of approval or even a sign of being impressed. Santino locks his eyes with you before you hear the guard heading straight at you. He lands a punch to your face and ribs. You stumble backwards and hit the rope lines of the ring. 

You hear a clinking sound and see two daggers on the edge of the ring. Both of you quickly reach for them and the guard attacks. He cuts your arms and manages to get a cut in your thigh. You don't yell in pain, instead just run at the guard. He might be strong and much more build than you, but you're much faster. You go for his shoulder but he catches your arm and twists it in front of him so that you fly over his shoulder. Your back hits the floor with a thud, the knife flying out of your hand to the side. You grunt in pain and look towards the Council, still a blank expressions on their faces. 

You slowly get up and hear the guard chuckle. “Don’t you have enough, girl?” he asks. The dagger still in his hand, ready to be used. 

You take the dagger laying on the floor and run at him, he doesn't expect you to get down on your knees to cut his calves. He grunts in pain and turns around with anger behind his eyes. You manage to cut him in the arm and even stab his shoulder. You back away as he pulls the dagger out of his body and throws it to the ground. The man kicks you with a force that sends you to the edge of the ring. You feel the ropes press into your back again but this time the guard holds you by shoulders and punches your face until your lips bleed.

You don't give up, the man earns a nasty kick to his balls. He grunts in pain and you manage to punch him in the neck, cutting off his airflow and then go straight for the jaw. He's disoriented for a moment which gives you a perfect opportunity to wrap your legs around his head and hold him in a choke hold. He tries to throw you off of him but your grip only gets tighter, the man starts to become red. The Council and Santino watch the fight intently before the older woman's voice carries through the gym.

"Enough." Both of you stop your movement, though you feel that the man wouldn't hesitate attacking you if the woman didn't give the order. You pant and raise your hand up to your lips and feel the sting and a pulsing sensation going through your lips. You already feel another set of bruises blossoming all over your body. The woman steps in closer to the ring. "Get down." 

You duck under the rope lines and face the older woman.  She studies your face and dismisses the guard with a wave of his hand. He looks at you briefly with a warning hidden behind his eyes and leaves the training room. 

"Surprisingly you have proven yourself, saviour." She moves her hand up and takes your jaw with a tight grip, tilting your head from side to side. You want to wince in pain but won't show her any weakness coming from you. 

You clench your fists as she leans in closer, still holding your jaw and your freeze momentarily. Santino notices your discomfort at the woman's touch but doesn't move. He knows that if he does so, than he may be facing some kind of consequences. 

The Head of Camorra is the most important organ in this whole family, but some of his decisions depend on the Council's vote. 

The gray haired woman backs away but still holds a strong grip on your jaw. She looks down on you. "You'll spend a year here before we decide if you're worthy." she says in a menacing voice. "If you fail your first task in the name of Camorra, then know that you will never be going back to your world." she releases your jaw with a jerk. Both of you stare at each other. Not going back to your world surely means death in this one. You know that she would have been glad to see you die, preferably at her hands. 

The Council departs from the training room, giving you last looks. Some of it of warning, amusement and even concern. You turn back and sit on the edge of the ring releasing a shallow breath. You hear shuffling of feet and feel Santino sitting next to you. 

You look down at your hands, knuckles bruised and bloody. You feel the pain in your ribs as you take a breath and see a drop of blood fall onto your arm. You raise your hand to your busted lip and hiss. You see a blue handkerchief being offered to you and look at Santino, his expression not showing any emotions. 

You take the soft material and dab it carefully on your cut lip. "See?" you hear the Italian speak up next to you. "I knew you would fit in." 

You look to him with raised eyebrow and start to laugh. The sound echoes throughout the gym and Santino joins you, hanging his head down. You haven't laughed in what feels like years and maybe it's true. It's nice to feel that kind of emotion spreading through your body. Your moment of joy is cut as soon as you feel the pain in your ribs and face. Your hand raises up to your ribs and traces it gently. 

Santino offers you to see a doctor but you refuse, already feeling tired and exhausted after the fight. The only thing you want now is to lie down and sleep. Both of you leave the gym in search for your designated bedroom. 

Santino leads you through the white hallway with rich dark flooring. As you walk he tells you briefly where each rooms are placed, his office is on the same floor as hers at the end of it. When you arrive at your bedroom you stop in your tracks behind Santino. He notices your absence by his side and turns to you. 

You look tired and feel like it. The last 24 hours were the most intense in your whole life… well, at least one of the most. 

The Italian looks at you, his green eyes darker in the low light. There's a reassuring look in his eyes. You stare at him and feel the leftover tension from your shoulders disappear completely. He seems to notice that action cause he smirks lightly your way. 

Both of you turn to the door and open them to reveal a big room. The flooring is just as dark as in the hallway, the pearly white interior adds elegance to the place. There's a queen bed settled beneath the wall and in front of it a small fireplace. You notice a door that surely lead to the bathroom. 

You step into the room and look around. Santino watches you from the door with his hands in his pockets. This isn't the place you would have imagined to be, yet here you are.

"The training starts at 7am, you already know where the gym is." Santino's voice comes from the side. His suit has creased during the day but he still holds that attitude that screams power. You look towards him and a question burns at the tip of your tongue. Santino already knows what it is. 

"If you need anything just tell me. It would be a shame to waste someone like you with this much potential." he says with a smirk. 

"That woman would disagree, like many of them in fact." you say back. You're sure that that woman is already having you in her mind as some sort of threat. 

You don't know if Santino will use you to his needs or not, right now it doesn't seem like it. He's been nothing but respectful towards you, but maybe he's just hiding his true colors. You need to become wary of this world, trust only few and always observe. Adapting to it will take time but you're ready to at least try and not waste your time here. Even if it kills you. 

Santino looks at you one last time before closing the door, wishing you goodnight and good luck. You momentarily keep your eyes on the closed door before moving to the bathroom. You look for the first aid kit in the cabinets and luckily find one. You open it, take out some bandages and put them on the counter. The cut on your arm and thigh are not big, but it’s better to take care of them in case there’s some infection. You pour the hydrogen peroxide onto the cuts and hiss in pain. You put on a fresh bandage on it and repeat the process on the arm. You look at your reflection in the mirror and examine the busted lip. It has gone numb but even the slightest touch hurts. 

You exit the bathroom and go over to the bed. You basically sink into it as the soft material embraces you. You lay in it for a few moment, thinking about what the next day may bring. You’re Camorra now… sort of, you still need to prove yourself here. You know the basics of fighting and surviving, you know how to get by. Right now you can just hope for the best. 

You don't remember when you fall asleep, but you dream about the water and a faint deafening sound that carries through the wind. The sound of the bullets from the gun range still ring in your ears. 

You spend a over two years there before everything changes. 

[cosmicclownboy]

Me finishing something I struggled to write....wow it was actually likely :)

When his father is alive the idea of going to therapy is suffocating. It continues to be throughout his years in the air force until the day it's mandated because by that point everything was suffocating. Waking up. Doing his physio. Simple tasks.Hard tasks. He had survived against all the odds but a part of him felt dead. So a part of him was in this limbo where he always felt like he was dying. The first session he stares at the clock inching the minutes until the clock hand rests on the hour change. The second he stares at the glass of water. By the third session he's exhausted he hasn't slept he still hears the screams and the blast in his mind so he slowly lets the man in not to everything. Not to his dad but to the blast. He was diagnosed with Complex PTSD and he was offered many ways to help with it. He goes to his sessions. He does his physio. Alex slowly builds himself up then he goes back to work.

It goes well for the most part until someone slams a door shut and he has to spend an hour in the bathroom trying to eradicate the weight on his chest and how to stop feeling cold. His therapist offers anti-anxiety medication and whilst he nods his head eyes cloudy he hears his father's words.

"Manes men don't cry it's a sign of weakness. We are soldiers, not Sally's"

He tries different antidepressants settling on one that helps his thoughts slower and that helps him sleep. None of his friends knows it when he heads back to Roswell except Kyle after he's let in on the alien secret and he makes him his doctor in case of shenanigans.

His father dies and he thinks maybe things can be different better in a way he never thought possible. The statue gets put up and he has a panic attack so bad he spends the next two days in bed. It takes him two weeks to think about it really think about it. To face the battle he has to jump right in and the idea of therapy doesn't seem so suffocating any more he's no longer afraid just determined to make strides. With Kyle's help, he finds one that specialises in childhood domestic abuse as well as having experience with veterans. She helps him in ways he didn't think was possible and maybe a year ago the idea of the traffic light method would have had him rolling his eyes or silently repressing whatever emotions he had. But maybe this could be a good thing.

Michael is the first to notice they are on a recon mission together and he's passing across the really good coffee from Bean me up he raises his eyebrows at the sight of an orange bracelet.

"Didn't think you liked orange? expanding the airforce's colour scheme?"

He huffs at that. Who said he didn't like orange?

"My therapist said because of my upbringing and complex PTSD I have a hard time vocalising or communicating my feelings so she suggested a traffic light method. Green is a good day when my emotions are in check. Orange is okay I can manage the day. Red is when-

"everything too much"

"Yeah. On red days I write down everything as to why it's red including my triggers and talk them over with her. It also helps people around me recognise when I'm in that headspace"

Michael shuts his door purses his lips and blows into his own coffee cup.

"I'm glad you're talking to someone"

"Me too. Now, are we gonna recreate a buddy cop movie extraterrestrial style or what? Come on, Guerin don't tell me you don't want to unleash your nerd. This is a safe place"

Michael takes a swig of his own coffee shaking his head before chuckling and taking the wheel. Maybe they share a lot more longing looks then friends would normally. They've just always had a connection under the surface beating and bubbling all on its own.Unspoken and beautiful.

More often then not he wears the orange one. The first time the green bracelet graces his wrist is the day the homeless dog he found slowly offers her belly to be rubbed. Yeah, that day was worthy of a green one. The day Nova finds him and the days that follow which end in his house having a dog bed in pretty much every corner. He might end up replacing his leather couch but who cares it's just a couch. It has nothing on her.

It's only when the days veer closer to the fourth anniversary of that day he truly struggles. Phantom pain comes in waves and he grips every surface he comes in contact with. The days slowly blur together it's a cocktail of depression, sleep deprivation and nightmares that has him on the Tuesday reach for the red bracelet. He finds the Crashdown is a minute from where he is and he's in desperate need for coffee.

Communicating hasn't always been easy for him and Michael especially their fight and flight being fight or fuck over the past decade but they've been trying their hardest to strive to be better to build a foundation. The bracelets were always something Michael immediately sought out every time they were in each other's vicinity. He saunters into the Crashdown buckle first and smooshes himself into the booth without a second thought grabbing one of the menus and seeing what new alien pun food Isobel helped conjure. It isn't until he finishes his order smiling at Liz that he finally looks up to Alex who's completely dissociated. His eyes are dark and sunken his milkshake untouched and he just looks lost. Michael's eyes drift to Alex's fingers noting the tremors before his eyes peer up further and he sees the red bracelet. Michael has a choice at this moment he could leave Alex to it but something in his heart tells him that the days of leaving are behind them. So he slowly reaches for the right hand that tremors and lightly laces the fingers between them. By the time he's halfway through his fries, Alex is more self-aware. He looks to their joined fingers and Michael's mouth completely stuffed with fries and looks softly at him. He doesn't unlace them.

"Want to get out of here?"

They end up in their spot the desert vast and unnerving.

"Did I do the right thing driving us here does it bring up anything we can go back if you want? You never really told any of us what to do on a code red day".

He's right he didn't say to any of them what to do. Truth is anytime Alex usually has one of these days he locks himself in a room and allows every ugly emotion to override him until his body tells him otherwise. Today was a new one in that he wanted connection. He wanted to be with Michael and despite the fear of the unknown he confesses this to Michael.

"It'll be four years Sunday"

"Since your leg?"

Alex nods he doesn't really know how to delve into it the only people who know what happened are the people at the airforce. People don't ask they don't want to know and the people who do aren't worthy of the conversation. Not to mention a lot of his job is classified he can only offer what he can.

"It was meant to be a simple job. Twenty of us in and out.Forty minutes on the dot. I was meant to hack a server. We got to the room we swept the entire place we didn't realise there was a pressure-sensitive bomb until Avril took his foot off. He was the youngest".

Recalling it makes his body shiver his hands shake but he needs to do this.

"Only eight of us made it out. Everyone else had spouses and kids. I had a dad who when I woke up from a two-week coma said I couldn't get blown up right. I didn't understand it. I'm good at compartmentalising stuff it's what he taught me to do my whole life but that day...I felt everything then nothing."

They lay there for a while staring at the stars tracing them with their fingers with one hand lacing the other. There's a light breeze softly swaying in the air Alex softly turns his body to Michael's until they are laying on the side facing one another. 

"I get that feeling"

The confession Michael makes his heart ache and tighten he ushers the cowboy closer his fingers searching for his curls to slowly run his fingers through. Michael ends up the little spoon and judging by the little hum he makes he thinks he doesn't mind a little bit. Michael had the essence of a cat it's one of the many reasons he loves him.

"I know you do"

He pulls Michael tighter resting his head on his curls lightly pecking the crevice of his head.

"I think it's probably why we push each other away so much. I don't want the painful stuff I've been through to trigger or touch your stuff and neither do you so we pick a reason to walk away thinking the other one will be better off. I haven't been better off have you?"

Michael removes himself from his hold much to his disappointment and sitting up because he needs this conversation to be that of what it is a conversation.

"There hasn't been a day you've been gone where I thought that Alex. I'm just sorry for so many things"

"me too"

By the time he makes it to his house Alex is wiped he needs to feed Nova before she barks the house down. He also should really clean his prosthetic liner doesn't want to wind up getting sick. Not to mention taking his pain meds. Trust Michael to recognise all of this and tells him he'll feed her. He wants to argue but his eyes are drifting.

When he wakes up there's a glass of water his pain and anxiety meds on the bedside table and he's trying to remember how the hell he made it to his bed. Last time he checked he KO'd on the sofa as Nova was yipping at Michael's feet.

Michael.

Alex fumbles for his crutch and heads for the living room maybe he shouldn't make a presumption but he's pretty sure he knows his alien from the back of his hand and sure enough, he comes across to Michael and his Nova sharing the couch or Nova dominating both these things as if they are her own. It's the first time in a long time he's slept and he's hoping it's the first of many times he wakes up to Michael in his house. By the time he makes it back to the bedroom, he's staring at the red bracelet on his wrist and the notebook Michael also placed by the pill bottles sticky note on the top with a drawing of a lopsided penny. He spends twenty minutes writing it all down his triggers that day the way he felt all to make sure for his next session he can talk about it continue to make progress. By the time he's put the pen down and taken his anti-anxiety pill, he's greeted by his girl in the zoomies frame of mind.

"Hey, girl. Do you want to play? Give me a minute to put the leg on sweetie and I'll take you to the garden"

He stares at the three bracelets all meaning different things. Today isn't a red bracelet day so he turns to the orange one. It makes the most sense, doesn't it? Today he can manage yet there's something calling him to the green one. Can he go from red to green from a couple of hours? He'll make sure to ask in his next sessions but Nova excitedly barking wanting to play is reason enough for him to tie the green braids to his wrist.

"Do you always feel the need to dramatically lean against doorways".

His Michael senses are tingling he can't decide if it's a loving Michael thing or maybe the whole cosmic alien soulmate thing.

"You're wearing green today".

"Observant too"

He takes the coffee on offer delighting in the way the black bitterness soothes his soul.

"I think today could be a good day. Nova's happy. Plus you and I had an actual conversation which didn't end in tears, fucking or brokeback mountain angst"

Michael's not wearing his hat or his belt he's just leaning against the door frame with bedhead of the ages curls veering in every destination. He wants to run his hands through them and hold him. Fuck it who says he can't. He curls his head into his shoulder much to his surprise and tucks his arm to hold his waist. He feels the chuckle rumble against his ears

"We've had what ten years of it angst is overrated. You know what's underrated?"

"What?"

"Having breakfast. Holding hands. Watching a movie. Being boyfriends"

Alex feels a kiss against his head and peaks up to Michael softly cupping his cheeks he makes sure Alex's eyes are on his not looking away.

"I love you. If you aren't there yet that's okay. I don't want to mess with your recovery. If you don't want to be with me after everything that's okay too. I just want you to know I'm here and I'm not going anywhere"

Alex puts the cup of coffee down and brings his head up so their foreheads touch.

"I love you too".

Alex knows love won't cure everything and being with Michael doesn't mean it's automatically going to be green bracelets all the time. The red bracelet won't cease to exist. He still gets red days. But he does know this. Whatever the day and whatever colour he wears Michael will rub circles into his hand and hold it just the same. Some days he has a depressive episode or an anxiety attack and between his therapist and the people he loves they help him recognise it's okay. It's okay to be loved. It's okay to need and want people. His father's words can stay in the ground with him. Alex is finally content.

[viviswtings]

Two Years. (Pt. 1)

This is a continuation of the blurb I wrote a couple of days ago. This time from the reader’s perspective. It got longer than expected, so I’ll post the second part later. 

Hyunjin x f!reader.

Warnings: Great amount of teeth rotting fluff, slow burn and poorly written clichés. 

Words: 2209.

The first time they met, she didn’t pay him any mind. It was the other guys, louder and bolder, spitting English like they knew what they were saying, who caught her attention. And the two guys, the only ones she could actually have a conversation with, were the only people she managed to befriend. They were sweet, outgoing, it was easy with them.

She had been looking for opportunities everywhere, trying to get off her city any way she possibly could. When she found a university course that would send her far off, she found herself sending a portfolio without hesitation. The chances of getting chosen were slim to none, but she would try nevertheless.

Time passed as always, until one morning she received an e-mail, in which she was told she had been chosen for an intern program for one of the most important entertainment industries in East Asia. It was like she couldn’t function for what felt like an hour, looking at her phone and re-reading the e-mail over and over. Her brain had to restart itself by the time she jumped off her bed and went right straight to call her dad.

She was sitting in the bathroom, moving her feet and playing with the trim of her pants, when he picked up. The conversation was rather long, by the time it was over she was all ready to go to her university and talk with the University’s Secretary to get everything ready for her to leave as soon as humanly possible.

Granted, it had taken them far longer than she had anticipated, and with each week that passed, she grew more and more anxious. She had reached the conclusion that she no longer wanted to leave. She didn’t know the language, didn’t know anyone there and she had to begin all over in a new university, with a job, and afternoon classes to learn Korean. She wasn’t ready to face all of that alone.

But what she did have were good friends, and a father who would not take a no for an answer at this point. He and her grandparents were willing to risk a good amount of money- money they barely had- for her to leave and make a life for herself, something she never knew he would be so up to. And, to make the matter even more bizarre, her friends helped him talk her out of it. She had to do it. She would probably never have an opportunity that would even get close to matching the one she had at that very moment. She had been dreaming about something of the sort ever since she was a kid. And now she wanted to back out? After all she’d been crying and complaining? Not a chance. They would not let her, never.

So, a couple of months later, she had left alone, for the very first time, to a country she did not now. She wasn’t excited, she wanted to vomit, she hadn’t slept for the past week. She was afraid, the knot in her stomach made everything hurt. She even started sobbing in the middle of the flight, wanting nothing more than to go back home.

Since then it had been so long. She remembered getting to her apartment, it was small and empty, but it gave her some sort of relief to know she could spend a couple of days on it, to help her get used to everything. And, while moving the sofa all by herself for the third time that day, something kind of clicked. She realised how lucky she was, even though nothing seemed to go her way in her mind, she was in fact very lucky. She sat on the floor, though the sofa was literally behind her, and cried once more. Maybe from the realisation, maybe to cry one last time before she had to face what now was her new reality, maybe because she was afraid, or maybe because she missed home. To be honest? It was probably all of it at once.

So, she had gotten the job, she was going to class and she was attending Korean lessons as well. She tried very hard to see the bright side, for there was a very bright side to the whole thing. In the short time she had been there, she had even made friends. Which, for her, was a great improvement from how she was before. 

She also had gotten somehow used to her job, even though she barely did anything she had signed up for. She was more like an assistant to the creative team, along with other interns. She even started helping the stylist team of the band she apparently worked specially for.

That’s when they actually met. She had seen them from afar, laughing and dancing, being a bunch of very young and hyperactive dorks. But now that she could see them up close, they seemed even younger than she was. She didn’t have to interact much with them, which was a plus, as she had zero social abilities. She only had to help with whatever the stylists needed, and that she could do.

Soon enough she was helping do the makeup for the boys, and started talking to whom she considered  the human reincarnation of sunshine. He had the softest voice, and his accent just added to his whole absolutely adorable aura. They could spend hours on end talking about the most trivial stuff. He was hyper, never stopped moving, and laughed so much his makeup creased absolutely everywhere, to the point of driving her insane.

He was the one that started asking for her to do his makeup, because he grew fond of the way she liked to play with his look and not cover his freckles. The ridiculous number of selfies they took ended up drawing the attention of the leader of The Dorks, who started joining them in their impromptu photoshoots. Soon he sat next to them, adding a new approach to the conversations.

It was a matter of time before he started talking about their projects, their concepts, what he agreed with, what he was completely against off, what he wanted to do and where he wished to take them. It was her kind of conversations, the ones she could actually add something to. And so, they talked about their ideas until the wee hours of the morning, looking at their phones with a smile.

He was, in fact, older than her, caring and protective. A really fun person to be around, and he had a creative ability like no one she had ever met before. He came up with ideas at the weirdest times, spent hours on end working on them without reaching anyone to even let them know he was alive. Then, after disappearing for days, he just came back with a smile and a bunch of new ideas.

He helped her with her apartment, and she had to admit it was easier building IKEA furniture with help. They spent hours buying stuff for her apartment, he helped her finally find out how she wanted to decorate the whole thing. And, after a while, Felix started popping up at her door too. With drinks and snacks and his big, bright smile that made his eyes tiny.

They talked about how they always spent time together because they were so far away from family, and how sticking together had been the only way to not lose themselves in the midst of it all. She found them incredibly cute, seeing how they truly behave like siblings and thinking that, maybe, they were including her in their tiny family. It made her warm and fuzzy inside when the world around her was getting colder and the sun was setting earlier, making everything darker.

Even then, when she got called to an actual meeting in which her opinion was asked for, she couldn’t wrap her head around it. Chris talked for her, he showed the team the ideas the both of them had developed, the designs she had made, the concepts they had created for months. They had everything planned out to the smallest detail. Chris even had some of the songs already written out with the other two guys he used to hang around with. They got a break and went out for coffee, while she was still in shock.

“I can’t believe that just happened” She looked at him when she heard his laugh, his hands going to the pockets of his denim jacket. “What did you tell them?” She pushed him with the side of her body, making him trip a little on his own foot, but he just laughed again. Seriously, he had the ability to make her blood boil.

“Nothing much” He finally answered. “I just showed them some designs, told them a couple of ideas. They asked me a bunch of stuff and I just said I had to go get my associate so we could talk it out”. He had a smug smirk plastered on his face.

“That’s not a good look on you”. Her finger was pointed at his face and he softly slapped it away. “You didn’t do that. Don’t play me”. He faked being hurt by her words, taking his rather small hand to his chest. But it was true she didn’t believe him. It was too good to be true. The fact that someone would talk about her in a way that would make the creative team actually want to hear what she had to say.

“Why would I be lying?” He shrugged it off and pointed at her cup with his chin. “Let’s just enjoy the moment, alright. No need to think about the petty details”. She was still looking at him like she wanted to crack his head like an egg so she could read all his thoughts. But she did that sometimes so he simply let it slide.

 In the end they accepted their concepts, with the condition that it should all be ready to be formally presented the next month. And that’s how she found herself working more than she ever even thought possible. With her days full from the rising of the sun until the day was officially over. She spent hours in the studio with Chris. While he played stuff on his computer, his headphones so loud she could hear the music he was making even from the other side of the room, she was coming up with the designs she had been asked for.

On the weekends she worked on her university work, meeting with her classmates to get the group stuff done as quickly and as efficiently as possible. It was all taking a toll on her and she was very well aware. She was always tired and running on caffeine, she barely had time to breathe. She had even started skipping Korean classes because she just couldn’t make it anywhere in time. But she also refused the help that Felix was offering her, even though he was also studying and the study sessions would benefit them both.

When the day came for them to do their presentation, she found herself gripping Chris’ arm for dear life. While the creative team presented the work, they had also been doing alongside them to make sure it was all perfectly thought out, they just waited in the studio. Sprawled on the sofa and looking at the ceiling, she didn’t know how Chris could look so unbothered by the situation. She was crawling out of her skin, losing her mind every second that passed by.

“We’ve done our best”. He looked at her, his cheek squished against the sofa. “There’s nothing else we could do, so let it go. You’ll see how it’ll pay off”. She payed him close attention as he looked at the ceiling again. Chris really didn’t know what sleep actually was, huh. He looked exhausted, paler, the skin a dark purple hue all around his eyes. She couldn’t be mad at him, how she would usually be as someone reacting so poorly to a stressful situation. Her answer was a curt nod instead, leaning her head on his shoulder.

When they got a call from the team telling them it had all been approved, they went out for food with everyone and had the best night she had had in a very long time. It was, also, the best sleep she had had in months, to top it all.

Everything seemed to have fallen into place. She had made friends at work as well as in class and she was learning the language faster than she ever expected. Her apartment finally looked like a home. She was even planning on adopting a kitty to keep her company when she was doing work at home. The place she was so scared off months ago now seemed a little more like somewhere she would love staying in the long run. Somewhere she belonged.

What she did not expect was, after all the work she had put on that project, to embark another one that would require her all her might so as to not lose her mind.

Because when the cute boy in the Gucci hoodie-the one she had never paid attention to- asked her if she could help teach him English, in that soft voice with his hands in his pockets and his eyes glued to his feet, she knew she was ultimately fucked.

[livtries]

love at first...flight? c.h pt 1

love at first... flight? part one pairing: calum hood and female reader summary: you were on a plane, on your way to a friend's wedding. you were sat next to a very attractive boy. little did you know, that wouldn’t be the last that you saw of him... word count: warnings/tw: swearing throughout. a/n: i’m going to try to make this into the first person! it’ll be the first story ive done that with, so please bare with me. also, im sorry for being gone for so long! but i’ll try my best to stick around for a while, i have nothing but time now!! hope everyone is staying safe & healthy. love you all! <3 -- “shit! i’m gonna miss my flight...” i spoke to myself, as i tried my hardest to zip my luggage. i always pack way too much stuff whenever i go anywhere. i go to my parents to visit for the weekend, and i bring half of my wardrobe along with me, so as you can imagine, i’m gone for a week, and i bring nearly all of my clothes with me. i succeeded in zipping my suitcase after a few tries, and some sweating. i made sure i didn’t forget anything and was out the door. i walked out my front door, locking it, and struggling to put my luggage into the trunk of my car. 

i managed to get it in and was off to the airport. i got there with about 20 minutes to check-in, and get onto the plane. one of my childhood friends has invited me to her wedding, and i, of course, couldn’t turn that down! she’d been a good friend of mine for so long, and i couldn’t wait to see her again! i got through security just fine, and i wanted to go get coffee before i got onto the plane. i had to pass by the starbucks to get to the terminal anyway, so it wouldn’t have been out of the way anyways. i saw the line and decided i better not. there were nearly 50 people in line waiting for coffee, and such. and i wasn’t about to be late and miss my flight.

i got to my flight in time, and meandered to my seat, behind some older women, probably going on vacation, and some men in suits, probably on their way to an important business meeting, or something along that line. i checked my ticket one more time, trying to find my seat, and keep moving, careful to not walk too slow, and hold up the people behind me.

i saw my seat, there was no one there as of then. i made my way over there. i managed to get my luggage into the overhead bin and took out a notebook, and pens from my carry-on. i made myself comfortable by the window, wiping down the tray, because... you never know. and i put on a movie to watch. as i was just getting comfortable, a guy, who looked very flustered and rushed looked at his ticket, and then looked at me.

“33K?” he looked at me, noticeably out of breath, probably from running to get onto the plane. i nodded my head and absentmindedly smiled.

“looks like i’m sitting next to you.” he smiles. “33J.” he showed me his ticket. i finally got a good chance to look at him. as soon as i looked up at him, he caught my eye, and then it was just weird... he sat down after 10 minutes of trying to put his luggage in the overhead compartment.

“do you need help?” i asked him. he kept swearing and shaking his head. “no, thanks. i’ve got it.” he tried to laugh it off, but he was clearly frustrated. he finally was able to get his back into the overhead bin, and he sat down in his seat. he had the same idea i did. he brought out his blanket and some writing material.

“what’re you reading?” he pointed at the book that was turned over in my lap.

“john green.” i turned the book over so that he could read the title.

“i’ve never read anything of his, but i hear that he’s a really good writer.” he smiles and looks down at the notebook in his lap.

“what’re you writing?” i asked, catching a glimpse of all of the notes he had written down.

“just some songs and stuff. and some doodles.” he handed the notebook to me, “flip through if you want.”

i flipped through a few pages and admired the incredibly messy writing and cute little drawings that were on nearly every corner of every page. i gently closed the book and handed it back to him. 

“so, what brings you on this plane ride, today?” he asked me, as one of the flight attendants came to ask us if we wanted anything to eat or drink.

“i’m actually on my way to a friend's wedding!” i put my book down and asked him the same question.

“i’m on the way to a friend's wedding too! my friend matt is getting married,” he spoke. i know i should’ve probably asked my friend what her fiance’s name was but i didn’t...

“one of my friends is getting married too! her name’s emily!” i spoke. “what a coincidence would it be if we were going to the same wedding??” he chuckled a little and smiled at me.

“that’d be weird.” i laughed and he reached out to turn on a movie.

“any recommendations?” he asked me.

i clicked on ratatouille. “i know it’s sort of a kids movie, but it’s good, ok!” i laughed and he laughed too.

we sat next to each other in silence for a bit, until it started to get late. it was gonna be a pretty long plane ride, since we were going from california to hawaii. it was about a six and a half hour plane ride from here to there. there was about an hour layover too, so it was about an eight-hour adventure from beginning to end. 

“i just realized that you have no idea who i am...” he looked over at me, through his unruly hair that was peeking through the hood he had on.

“names calum.” he smiled cheesily and held out his hand.

“im y/n.” i smiled back to him and shook his hand.

“so, where are you from?” he asked me.

“i’m from [state/town name].” i responded.

“where are you from?” i asked him.

“australia! sydney actually.” - once i finished my first movie, i looked over to see how calum was doing. he was drifting in and out of sleep. before i could say anything to him, he looked over to me.

“can i use you as a pillow?” he quietly asked me.

i blushed and smiled a bit. “of course. make yourself comfy.” he rested his head on my shoulder for the majority of the plane ride, until one of the flight attendants announced that there was a one hour layover in florida, because of a rainstorm.

“what’d she say?” calum looked at me and asked.

“there’s at least an hour layover in florida because of rain...” i repeated, and opened my book once again. before i continued reading, i glanced over to calum, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“you still tired?” i asked him.

he nodded his head and yawned again.

“lay back down, you have plenty of time to sleep.” i joked, and he laid his head back on my houlder. - once we finally landed, i had to wake calum up.

“calum, you gotta wake up. we landed.” i nudged my shoulder a little. he lifted his head up, slowly, taking in his surroundings

“we landed already?” he asked me. i nodded.

“you slept nearly the whole time.” i smile

he got up to get his stuff out of the overhead and got my stuff down for me. everyone slowly filtered out of the plane, and went to get their luggage, and greet their families.

i had left calum to go get my luggage, and he walked up beside me.

“hey, i know that he kind of just met... but i wanna see you again. maybe take you out for coffee, or dinner?” he asked, as i turned towards him.

“yeah... i’d love to.” i blushed. “what’s your number? just so we can keep in touch.” i asked, pulling out my phone.

we exchanged numbers, and we were both on our way. i got my luggage and was off to my hotel for the next week.

a/n: part two will be up some time later today!! i really hope you all liked this, and thanks to whoever read this far. you’re awesome!

[lunarimagines]

OASIS [1]

Summary: When the world’s oceans start disappearing, everything is sent into chaos. You’re forced to either start moving towards the city center or perish. It almost feels hopeless... until you meet Kim Taehyung.

Warnings: language, future smut

A/N: I hope you enjoy the new series! Send me a message if you would like to be added to the taglist for this series :)

It was fucking hot.

Sweat dripped down your forehead and into your eyes and, god forbid, dripped off your nose in salty splashes against your lips and shirt. Kim Seokjin, your traveling partner, was faring no better. His white shirt was plastered to his broad back with sweat and the ends of hair dripping with sweat below his scarf covering. Both of you had wicked sunburns and tans, the effects of the extreme heat.

Four months ago the oceans had suddenly begun to dry up. The waves had disappeared, then the shoreline retreated the next day, and suddenly the ocean was collapsing in on itself. At first there had been fears of a tsunami but as the event appeared to happen to coasts worldwide, something else was very, very much wrong. Scientists had been stumped. How could such a massive body suddenly start to disappear? But there appeared to be no answer. The effects were devastating. The temperatures around the world began to rise, the rain and snow came less, humidity was practically unheard of. The forests were slowly receding. Concrete and asphalt were unbearably hot to stand on. Dehydration was common. The whole world was crumbling.

When scientists began to understand the phenomenon was not going to reverse itself, sand and dirt were poured over the concrete and asphalt in cities, cars were banned, and water was immediately rationed. The fear was lakes and rivers eventually drying up once the ocean water was gone. Terror was widespread.

When the whole world had seemed to collapse you had been an average university student studying abroad and living in an off-campus apartment with two other exchange students. When the news broke the apartment had cleared out as people rushed home - including your roommates - leading to higher airline prices and backed up flights for days, then months. You had stayed, rationing water from the grocery stores and packing instant food. Your next door neighbor (now travel buddy) Kim Seokjin had decided to stay in the apartment where he was safe from the overwhelmingly poor elements. The two of you had bonded through sharing resources and, as apartments began to be cut off to preserve energy and water, the two of you moved in together. By the time the whole apartment complex had run out of energy and the power and water shut off, the two of you had devised a plan to head inward toward the heart of the city rather than stay on the outskirts. Surely, surely, there was someone in the major city who could save you, offer an oasis.

But, God, it was hot as shit out here. Your throat was aching and scratchy from the dust. You didn’t dare to take another sip of your water.

“Let’s stop here for an hour,” Seokjin finally suggested as he rounded the corner on a concrete building. Though slightly dilapidated, the building didn’t look like it would fall down on your heads like some of the other structures in the city.

You agreed, following him through the hole in the wall where the door had once been. Inside it was stifling, the airflow nonexistent. You dropped your bag on the far wall away from direct sunlight and pulled your scarf off of your head, wringing the sweat out of it. Seokjin followed your lead, offering you half of his granola bar when he finally collapsed onto the floor next to you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled hoarsely. Then, after a bite, “How long do you think it will be until we reach the city center?”

Jin shrugged and sunk lower into the floor, closing his eyes and fanning himself softly. “I would guess about another day. I don’t think we’re that far, but this heat feels like it’s getting worse and we’re definitely going slower because of it. We have enough food and water left for two more days so let’s pray they have water in the city center.”

Your stomach flipped at his mention of resources. In reality, the two of you had enough water to last you another week, max. But in order to have water left in the event that the city held nothing, you had enough water rationed out for one more day. The thought of running out of water completely scared you. Your headache was already fierce from the slight dehydration you were facing. You didn’t even want to imagine what severe dehydration would feel like.

“I’ll set a timer for thirty minutes,” Seokjin said as he pulled out his battery-operated timer. It was the only electronic thing you had left besides your watch currently strapped to your wrist. Cell phones were long gone. “You can sleep first, then I will.”

It wasn’t necessarily that you feared an attack, but with water and food scarce and plenty of wild animals moving into the city because of the deforestation, it wasn’t impossible.

Settling in, you rested your head on your pack, adjusting the lumps in it to surround your head in a nice cradle. It didn’t take much before you were out cold, your body going limp as exhaustion pulled you into a deep sleep.

You knew you were tired when you had no dreams. By the time Seokjin was gently shaking you awake so you could take the watch as he slept it had felt like no time at all had passed. Standing up to shake the sleep off, you set the timer for thirty minutes. Wandering toward a window, you looked out the cracked, dusty glass at the surrounding buildings. Heat was shimmering off the bone-dry dirt and stone buildings. You rubbed dirt out of your eyes as you stared around, eyes watching for movement. You weren’t expecting any movement. At most, people had moved either to the countryside or, as you and Seokjin were trying to do, to the city.

You lost track of time by drawing designs into the dust on the glass lightly. Some of them were simple and some were more elaborate as you tried to recreate the landscape around you. The good thing was you needed no color; everything was in varying shades of beige and white. The sun and heat had all but bleached the buildings.

The ringing of the timer woke Seokjin with a start. He stretched lightly, his shirt lifting slightly to expose his hips. He had lost some of the muscle he’d had when you first met him simply from a lack of nutritious food and plenty of water, but he was still quite toned. You couldn’t help but notice that… While you couldn’t imagine anything romantic in this climate you were allowed to still look, right?

“I wish we still had cameras so I could tell you to take a picture,” Seokjin joked as he stood up.

“Please,” you answered with an eye roll, “I’m sure you’d love to take a picture of my ass to look at in times of struggle. That’s all you stare at when I lead.”

“Sue me.”

You smirked at the banter, slinging your pack over your shoulders and situating your scarf over your head again, knotting it under your chin firmly. Sliding your sunglasses on, you turned to Seokjin.

“Ready?”

“God, you look like such an old lady. Yes, babushka, I’m ready.”

“Enjoy your eyeballs burning, pretty boy,” you said, turning to lead the way out of the building and East toward the city.

“HEY! HEY!”

You and Seokjin whipped around to see two figures running toward the two of you. They were a good football field away from you, but closing in fast. Your heartrate sped up as you quickly glanced at Jin.

“Y/N, run,” Seokjin commanded sternly, gripping your elbow and taking off. You stumbled behind him, your mind malfunctioning at the sight of other people.

“In this weather? Are you fucking crazy!?” you huffed behind him, the dust from your steps going straight into your throat and lungs.

“You want to get mugged and lose all of our water and food or suffer a little bit of dehydration and heat exhaustion?”

“Shit,” you exclaimed, picking up your pace to overtake Seokjin and pull him behind you instead.

“Wait! WAIT!” the voices behind you called.

You focused on your feet hitting the ground, the gravel under your shoes feeling hot and rough. Seokjin’s presence beside you was calming. He seemed secure as his eyes were trained forward, trusting yours which were trained on the ground to help him avoid tripping. It wasn’t difficult. The ground was fairly undisturbed, not travelled on.

“Fuck, this heat,” Seokjin panted, his hand gripping your arm more tightly as the effects of fatigue began to take over. The two of you were not as strong as used to be. The extreme heat during the day, the odd coldness during the night, the lack of water and essential vitamins and nutrients were all taking a toll on you.

The lactic acid in your legs was making them heavy and feel as if they were on fire. Your lungs were filling up with less and less air with each breath. The only thing keeping the two of you going was adrenaline and the half hour of sleep you’d just gotten.

“They’re getting closer,” Seokjin huffed after a quick look over his shoulder. “How are they getting closer?”

“If you stopped talking you’d be able to save more air and run faster,” you puffed out, half-joking half-deadly serious.

“I’m gonna sacrifice you if you keep being petty,” he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh, a quick outburst, at his witty remark. It was times like these, potentially life-threatening, that you were glad Seokjin was the one you were stuck with. It made the days a lot less terrifying even though you could hear the footfalls of the two figures chasing you clearly now.

“Everything hurts-”

“Look… who’s talking… now,” Seokjin joked.

“-and they’re going to catch us anyways. I’ll spray them with my pepper spray if they try to attack us but I cannot run anymore, Jin, I’m sorry.”

“Oh thank GOD,” he stopped running suddenly and turned, his chest heaving and his cheeks pink. Sweat dripped down his nose and off of his hair as he stared at the two figures now only ten feet behind you. “I thought I was going to DIE.”

You laughed as you unhooked your pepper spray from your belt and flipped the tab to get ready to spray in case things turned sour. “If we do die, though, I need to be sappy first.”

Seokjin fake gagged but you could see the wry smile on his face as he stared down the figures. They were only five feet away now, their faces becoming increasingly clear as they came to a stop in front of you, panting. One placed his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, the other raising his hands above his head and groaning loudly.

“We called out to you… in the hopes… that… oh my, God I think I’m going to… to pass out… we called because we hoped we could work together to survive but I think… the two of you… are actually trying to kill ALL of us,” the shorter of the two spoke between breaths. The taller one laughed happily. It would almost sound crazed if you didn’t understand exactly how exhausted he was feeling.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you two are the stupidest people I’ve ever seen,” Seokjin replied dryly.

The short boy stood up straight and you finally got to see his face. His jaw was set in defiance and his dark eyes stared underneath his hat at Seokjin with a certain intensity you hadn’t seen in a long time. They sparkled with a challenge and annoyance. His hands came up to rest on his hips and he chewed on his cheek as he continued to stare Seokjin down. “Oh?”

“What kind of dumbass yells at people during an apocalypse and then chases after them? Sure, we’re stupid for running, but at least we can say we did it to try and save our resources. You could have mugged us for all we knew!” Seokjin threw his hands up, his voice raising slightly. You shook your head and wiped sweat off of your forehead.

The boy’s friend laughed again, but it sounded sweeter this time. It was bright and felt comforting because there was no mirth behind it. Only pure happiness and amusement radiated from it. His eyes were bright and, although nearly the same colors as his friends, they seemed lighter with the amusement dancing in them. His cheeks were beautifully rounded when he smiled. You could feel yourself smiling just looking at him.

“He makes a good point, Yoongs,” the boy replied, smiling at his friend who, in return, seemed to relax. At the very least the tension was released from his shoulders. He cracked a smile at the taller one as he turned back toward you and Seokjin.

“We’ve been following you for about a day now, I think,” the taller one explained. “We aren’t asking that you share any of your resources, but we are asking if you would be willing to let us join you as we go toward the city center. I don’t know how much safer it will be, but it feels like it should be safer in a group of four rather than a group of two. I heard there’s a lot of people going to the city center anyway, so more people in the group really does seem safer.”

Seokjin glanced at you and you shrugged your shoulders. He made sense, and if there really were more people going to the city center than you anticipated the extra numbers would be much safer. The thing about large groups of people in hysteria was that violence and deceit always seemed to follow. Plus, the boys had made it clear they didn’t intend to take resources… although the jury was still out on that one. You would be sure to keep all of your belongings close to you when you slept and kept watch tonight.

Stealing a peek at Seokjin you could tell he was still ruminating. The two of you didn’t have much time if you wanted to reach the city center by tomorrow during the daylight hours. It wasn’t an option to reach the center at nightfall when the city was cloaked with a deep blackness that made it nearly impossible to see.

“Fine, but you either have to lead or walk beside us,” Seokjin finally decided for the both of you. You nodded at his decree. The boys also nodded and the four of you turned in a large circle so the boys were in front of you. The taller of the two nodded at you before turning on his heel and starting forward, sticking close the shade of the buildings as he went. His friend followed somewhat reluctantly, but fell in line quickly. You and Seokjin opted to walk side-by-side, your arms brushing lightly as you bent your heads together to talk.

“We don’t even know their names… are we stupid for doing this?” you mumbled. Your voice could barely be heard above the crunch of the gravel underneath your feet.

“Is it too late to ask their names? I feel like it’s weird. They’re just nice one and slightly less nice one to me…” he joked back

“No, it absolutely feels too late to ask. I think we just don’t refer to them by anything other than ‘hey’.”

Seokjin snorted at your comment before straightening up again. His eyes were trained slightly ahead of the two boys on the increasingly tall buildings coming into sight. It felt like an oasis in the desert, which truly wasn’t far off. You sent a prayer to the universe that the solution to your problems would be found in the city because you didn’t want to think about dying yet. You were simply too young and beautiful to die.

Honestly, you weren’t sure what kind of oasis you were hoping to find. Sure, you were hoping to find water and food, but beyond that you weren’t quite certain. Maybe you were looking for a group you and Seokjin could dissolve into so that you wouldn’t have to fend for yourselves anymore. You were so, so tired of having to fight your way through every single day in order to survive and make yourself continue to move, your feet continue to pound against the hot soil and sand, make your lungs continue to fill with air and then expel it. A moment of rest with people who understood your struggle and wouldn’t try to hurt you. Plus, you knew Jin was exhausted. He had dark circles under his eyes and his usually soft and highly groomed hair was crusted with dirt and despair. He took smaller strides each hour it seemed.

But he had never given up. He’d kept cracking jokes with you and making sure you had a shoulder to lean on, sometimes physically rather than metaphorically. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder every single night since you’d left the apartment. It wasn’t just fatigue. It was wanting to make sure he was real, he was really there. There had been moments you weren’t even sure you existed. You faced an unbelievable heartache cut off from your previous life.

A few hours later, the sun was beginning to set. The boys in front of you slowed their pace as they began searching for a good building to spend the night in. They settled on a small brick house that had been abandoned based on the fact that the shorter boy had called out “HELLO” and nobody had answered. You liked that the door locked, but you were skeptical of why the house seemed to be in such good condition.

“I think here’s good.” The taller boy dropped his pack on the dusty couch, a plume of sand and dust coming off of it from the weight. He wiped a spot haphazardly before plopping down, spreading his legs and draping his arms across the back of the couch. “Take first watch?”

The other boy nodded as he dropped his pack beside his friend’s on the couch. He took a small sip from his water bottle before tightening the lid and slipping it back in his pack securely.

“You want to sleep first?” Seokjin leaned down to whisper, his lips brushing your ear slightly. He blew into your ear lightly just to piss you off before straightening up.

“You can sleep first. I slept first this afternoon.”

Seokjin nodded and went into the second room to find another couch in pristine condition. You followed behind him, suddenly uncomfortable to be alone with the two boys. You still didn’t know their names.

You sat down with your back against the couch as Seokjin spread across it. His hand came down almost automatically to run over your hair lightly. He traced shapes on the back of your neck as you stared down at your watch. You could barely see the time in the dim dusk lighting, but you read the time: 6:45.

“Do you want to eat now?” you asked quietly as you rummaged in your backpack for a protein bar. You would make breakfast with some of your instant noodles in the morning.

“Hmmm… can I have a bite of yours?” Seokjin asked, opening his mouth.

You rolled your eyes but allowed him to take a bite.

“Tastes like shit.”

You snorted. The protein was truly the star of the granola bar. It was bitter and made your mouth feel grainy, but it offered enough energy to keep you going. But yeah, it tasted like shit.

Leaning your head back, you peered up at Seokjin as he shifted onto his side to look at you. “Do you think we’re safe?”

Seokjin let out a deep sigh. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were drooping as he tried to focus on you.

“I really hope we are. If you don’t feel safe tonight wake me up. I’ll wake you up if I don’t feel safe, too. Keep your pepper spray open.”

You nodded as you settled back to stare at the wall. Soon, the soft sounds of Seokjin snoring filled your ears. His slightly parted lips led out a puff of air onto your head each time he exhaled, providing the only breeze you had felt in ages. The air was still hot around you, the sand still warm. You knew it would cool down soon, though. The land always lost the heat sooner than water had, letting a slight reprieve seep in.

After a while, you stood up to stretch your aching legs. Your knees popped. Glancing at Seokjin, you wandered to the doorway where the smaller boy was leaning, staring out the window toward the city.

“How long have the two of you been together?” he whispered once you’d settled against the doorframe.

You let out a splutter, not expecting him to be so blunt. “Well, I mean… we’ve been living together for about three months and traveling together. But we certainly aren’t dating.”

“I get that,” the boy replied, “because it’s nice to have companionship, even if it’s not romantic. I feel pretty alone out here. I never realized how dark the world was without light pollution. Even camping you know there’s still light in the cities. Now? Not so much.”

The way he spoke had you nodding slowly as you took in his words. He was extremely well spoken. It almost surprised you but not quite. The way he carried himself had clued you in earlier that he was an astute person.

“How long have the two of you been together?”

He seemed to have to think for a minute before answering.

“We’ve been friends for about ten years, I think, and it just seemed natural that we go together…”

You nodded as he trailed off, staring back into the pure darkness. You could barely make out his frame in the gloom.

“What do you think we’ll find in the city?” you finally asked after the silence seemed to encompass the both of you, suffocating in the darkness.

You could hear him sigh and shuffle so he was leaning on the doorframe opposite you. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I think it’s ridiculous to think we’ll find anything functioning but I think I’m still kind of holding out hope that we find a functioning community. Like in a dome, you know? Which feels stupid now that I’m saying that out loud.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” you interjected quickly, “or if it is we must both be idiots because I think that’s kind of what I’m hoping for. I haven’t heard anything about how much longer we’ll have the oceans, but I hope somebody can figure out something quick.”

“One and a half months.”

“What?” you questioned, your eyebrows knitting.

“One and a half months until the oceans are completely gone. Then I think we only have a few weeks left to survive. The heat will wipe us out first, I think. If not that then lack of water. If not that, then lack of food. Not to be morbid.”

Ending a sentence with “not to be morbid” never makes it less morbid, especially when the future appeared especially bleak now. You let out a harsh breath and rubbed your eyes roughly.

“Can’t believe there might actually be a day I miss eating these protein bars,” you joked lightly and you heard the boy snort before he began laughing quietly. You could tell he was stifling the sound behind his hand.

“No, last week I had one that was lemon. I was like damn, can’t go wrong with lemon. It felt like I was eating lemon-infused dirt. Literally could have scooped up the dirt from the ground and eaten it.”

You let out a light cackle at that, immediately slapping your hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. The boy was snickering.

“It might have expired. I have no idea what today is, to be fair.”

“Amen.”

The two of you spent the rest of your time in comfortable silence. You could only hear the soft snoring of the two sleeping boys and the light breathing of the other across the door frame. The temperature was finally bearable and you could feel yourself relaxing and cooling down as the sweat drenching your shirt cooled. You knew you would be chilly for the same reason soon. But for now you simply basked in the slightly cooler temperature.

The soft rustling behind you a few hours later let you know Seokjin was up. He gently grazed your arm as you turned to look at him. His hair was pushed up to one side with, a sight you could barely make out in the complete darkness. The only reason you could see anything was from the full moon and the stars outside the window. You reached up to smooth his hair down lightly, the coarse strands caked with dirt and sweat. You didn’t mind. He’d done the same for you before.

“You still have another hour if you want to sleep,” you mumbled quietly as you smoothed his hair. He’d bent down slightly to give you a better angle.

“It’s okay. I woke up naturally so I think that’s my body’s way of saying it’s time for me to get up.”

You smoothed the last strand and patted his head affectionately before he straightened up.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. Go sleep,” he said with a gentle push toward the couch.

You couldn’t really complain anymore. Your body went to the couch on autopilot, spreading across it with your head on your backpack before immediately passing out. Your body relaxed finally for the first time in hours, and not only did you sleep well, but you even had it in you to dream.

They weren’t serious dreams. Most of them had to do with your life before the apocalypse. Spending time with the people you loved in your hometown. It felt like a fever dream. You felt like you were looking at yourself from the outside rather than living it. You weren’t that Y/N anymore in some ways. You held the same name but you weren’t sure you spoke the same, looked the same, or thought the same. However, the dreams were happy ones and by the time Seokjin was shaking you gently awake you found yourself feeling content and refreshed, though perhaps also slightly nostalgic.

“Let’s have breakfast before we start again. I think we should get there by late afternoon,” Seokjin said as he rummaged through his backpack for food and water.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes. Cheers to another day, you supposed.

“Ahh, I love the taste of incredibly chewy, salty noodles in the morning,” the taller of the two new boys said as he sat down across from you, his friend following behind.

“Be grateful you have food at all, Hobi,” the shorter one grumbled, tearing open his own packet of noodles.

Yoongs and Hobi. You were guessing those were nicknames. Cute.

Your group of four ate silently. You couldn’t really talk much as you tried to chew through the undercooked ramen noodles and forget how salty they were. They certainly wouldn’t help with your dehydration but when they were the only things left to eat that offered more than 190 calories you couldn’t truly complain. Besides, the more you ate them the more you forgot how they should actually taste. At this point these noodles were becoming a delicacy, albeit a chewy one.

“I think we’ll make it to the city by mid-afternoon maybe,” Yoongs said, as he finished his breakfast and placed his wrapper in the dusty trashcan standing in the corner of a room that looked like the kitchen. His actions amused you, but you found yourself following suit out of habit. Refraining from littering a wasteland… ironic.

“Let’s get going then,” Hobi said, slinging his pack over his shoulder and securing his hat on his head.

You decided to pour a dash of water over your scarf before you tied it to your head as you felt the heat permeating every inch of the air. It would be a small sacrifice to help ward off the heat fatigue.

The blisters on your feet were raging today as you began walking beside Jin, following the two boys from shadow to shadow. The buildings seemed to grow taller with each step. Their windowpanes were increasingly busted which worried you. The climate was not different enough on the outskirts of the city from the city center to cause such breakage. The only explanations were riots or violence. You weren’t sure how effective your pepper spray would be against a large group of people.

Your eyes scanned the building windows and, beside you, Jin kept glancing over his shoulder. It hadn’t been more than a few hours before Hobi was abruptly stopping.

“Wait,” Hobi said quietly, holding up his hand to signal to you and Jin to stop. “I don’t know if I’m just being paranoid… but I feel like we’re being watched.”

Goosebumps broke out on your arms and head as you understood what he was saying. You felt like you were being scrutinized. Yet, you hadn’t been able to see anything or anyone in buildings or out in the open. Still, the fact that you were so close to the center of a major city and there had been no people other than the two boys in front of you was suspicious.

You unclipped your pepper spray and twisted the tab open. Beside you, Seokjin unsheathed the small knife he kept strapped to his muscular thigh. His eyes were scanning in front of you as he backed you and himself against the wall of the nearest building. Your pack dug into your back and hips as you got as close to the wall as possible to protect it. Yoongs jammed in beside you and Hobi jammed in on his other side. You waited with bated breath. The air seemed even more stifling.

“Oh my, God! Can you just come out so we can get this over with!” Yoongs suddenly called out, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Despite his confident call you could feel how tense he was.

Figures cloaked in various shade of brown appeared from the buildings surrounding you. Your breath caught as you watched person after person step out. There were at least twenty of them surrounding you before one stepped forward. You couldn’t see their face beneath the hood, but anyone who was so rude had to be absolutely fucking ugly, you thought.

“Holy shit,” Jin whispered, his hand clenching around his knife. His knife began to look comically small amongst the crowd. “How much pepper spray do you have in that thing?”

“Never had to use it before. If I’m careful I can probably get half of them.”

Nobody else spoke. The heat shimmered off the ground and the buildings swam. You wished someone, anyone, in that group would talk. Finally, the one who had stepped forward did.

“How much water do you have?”

It was a woman’s voice. Her voice was gruff, the sound of gravel rolling around a metal tube almost. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“None,” Yoongs bluffed. “Why else would we be heading toward the city center.”

You could feel Jin holding his breath beside you, waiting to see if the group bought the lie. They seemed to grumbled slightly, shifting from one foot to another as they waited for their leader’s decision. She seemed to contemplate it.

“See, why don’t I believe you?”

“You have trust issues?” Seokjin asked, and Hobi snorted from the other side of Yoongs. You sucked in your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling. Even if you were going to die you’d all go out acting petty.

“You think you’re funny-”

“I know I’m funny.”

“-but I still think you all have water. Since you were so rude to us I think we’ll have to take all of it. We were thinking of saving you some-”

“Bullshit,” Yoongs mumbled.

“-but I’m not feeling very kind now. You can either give us your water or we can take it by force. If we have to take it by force I’m not sure we’ll leave your food with you either.”

You couldn’t even be mad about Jin possibly ruining your chances of escaping with your food. His humor and wit were needed against their rudeness. Seriously, who did these people think they were?

Your hand holding the pepper spray twitched as the group moved closer to box you in. You couldn’t see their eyes well enough to aim and you didn’t want to waste your pepper spray, the only thing you had to defend yourself besides the boys on either side of you.

“Water. Now.”

The four of you stayed still, jaws clenched in defiance. Your hands were clammy as you waited. What you were waiting for you weren’t sure. Maybe someone to save you. Maybe heat exhaustion to strike you down. Maybe someone else in your small group to step forward first.

Thankfully a fourth option was presented to you in the form of a man’s voice coming from a window above you in the building you were currently pressed flush against.

“This is so boring will someone please just do something.”

His voice was so deep that it caused shiver to run through you. You took a chance to crane your neck up to see the arms of a man draped over the window as he leaned out casually to watch the scene unfold. He tapped his fingers against the brick impatiently.

“Stay out of this, Namjoon,” the girl called back, flipping him off.

Yoongs snorted beside you at the childish gesture and for just a second the situation seemed less terrifying. You felt a surge of relief course through you because at least there were other people here who maybe weren’t friendly but were also not foes.

The sound of a body dropping out of the window closest to Hobi startled you as the light thump and resulting rise of dust seemed to cut through the tension. Another body dropped down in front of you, landing gracefully on his feet, his hand touching the ground to stabilize himself. He stood, dusting off his hands. The flash of tattoos on his hand caught your attention as you found yourself almost entirely mesmerized by his hands as he reached to unsheathe a knife strapped to his hip.

“You must be scared if you’re sending your guard dogs down,” the girl called up, but she and her group had retreated back a few steps.

“If I was doing that Taehyung would also be down there. As it stands now, I’m not too concerned. This group seems like they could give you a run for your money. I’m sure pepper spray to the eyes in this dry heat would hurt like a bitch,” the man, Namjoon, called back. Your hand gripped the pepper spray tighter as you noticed the boy in front of you turning back to take a glance at the pink container clasped in your hand. His hair flopped roughly into his eyes as he looked up at you and grinned, his cheeks growing round and his shoulders relaxing.

“We just need water, Namjoon. Are you going to give that to us or do we have to take it?”

Namjoon seemed to think that over for a second. He hummed.

“What can we get in return if we give you water?” The girl seemed taken aback at his question.

“What do you want?” she questioned slowly.

“Jimin! What do we want?” Namjoon called.

The boy beside Hobi straightened up and put his forefinger to his lips, pretending to think. He tapped his plump lips lightly before smiling.

“I happened to hear you have painkillers you’re hoarding. Those are quite the delicacy… I think those would be a sufficient trade for some life saving water. What do you think, Jungkook?” The boy in front of you cocked his head to one side as he also pretended to think. “Seems like a pretty fair trade to me.”

“You heard my boys! Bring back the painkillers and we’ll give you even more water than you could possibly get from this group. I would suggest you hurry. I think my deal will expire by midnight.”

The girl turned to look at her comrades who nodded under their beige garments. She turned to flip Namjoon off once more before turning back to her group and dissolving back into the buildings around you, the plumes of dust from their feet the only indication they were moving from shadow to shadow. Your group stood there watching them, almost in a sense of awe and wonder, as Jungkook and Jimin walked back toward the door leading into the building.

“You all going to stand there until the oceans come back or are you going to come in?” Namjoon asked from above, his voice tinged with amusement.

The question stirred you from your daze and you turned in a uniform line to follow Yoongs and Hobi toward the door, slipping your pepper spray closed and clipping it back onto your belt as your feet shuffled forward. Jin grabbed your elbow lightly and leaned down to whisper, “Stay close.. I’m not sure I trust them yet.”

You could only nod as you were met by Yoongs and Hobi halting. Jimin was leaning against the doorframe, his leg sprawled out to block the entrance.

“What’s the password?”

Yoongs huffed in annoyance. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I am, in fact, not shitting you. What’s. The. Password?”

“I’m gonna knock your pretty little teeth out?” Yoongs grumbled and Hobi snorted.

“Thank you,” you sighed to Jimin, craning your neck around to look him in the eye. His eyes shone with amusement and even glee at your answer.

He grinned as he stepped aside. “Bingo.”

“My next guess,” Yoongs shrugged. You shook your head at him. Even though you’d only met the boy about a day ago you had to admit you kinda liked him. He sometimes had a blunt way of speaking but he was also funny and charming and intelligent.

You followed the boys in to find the building had been almost completely gutted. The upper floors wrapped around the edges to leave an open center that looked up to a chandelier filled with candles. Their lights flickered dimly against the square brick ceiling. Faces peered over the edges of the railings and out of rooms. It reminded you of a fancy hotel. You had grabbed Jin’s wrist, earning a look from Jungkook that he shared with Jimin from behind you, as you took in the building. This was your oasis. This.

“Welcome to your new home,” Namjoon said as he stepped off of the last step on a staircase tucked behind a wall. “You’ll always be welcome here as long as you pull your weight.”

“What the hell is this place?” Hobi asked, his eyes wide and his mouth parted slightly as he watched people move.

“Um. I mean. We don’t really have a name,” Namjoon replied awkwardly, his eyebrows crinkling. “We’re not that lame I don’t think.”

Yoongs let out a laugh at that and truly smiled for the first time since you’d met him. It was a cute, gummy smile that had you smiling, too.

“Taehyung!” Namjoon called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Sorry. Taehyung’s like our unofficial tour guide and, apparently, one of our guard dogs.”

Jungkook snickered behind you and Jimin stifled a laugh.

Jin nudged your thigh with his hand and gave you a pointed look that said, “Do we stay?”

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head to say, “I have no fucking clue.”

His question was answered when you saw Taehyung, however. His shaggy hair brushed the top of his eyelashes, his dark eyes filled with a warmth and kindness that made your chest feel light. His tanned arms were crossed over his chest as he regarded your small group, his eyes landing on you. He smiled softly and you nearly choked at how gorgeous it was. His deep chuckle had butterflies in your stomach. This boy was affecting your whole body already. You were drawn to him. You wanted him.

“Hi,” he greeted. “I’m Taehyung.”

[kiatheinsomniac]

Huntress VI

Huntress Masterlist: [CLICK HERE]

The light slanted down onto the market from between the rooves and alleys of the Venetian houses, light reflecting off the surfaces of the canals and casting shadows everywhere else simultaneously. She observed from the corner of her hood, shifting from foot to foot on the cobbled path as she idly turned an orange over in her hand, feeling all the pores of its skin as she counted down slowly in her head.

'Five. . . Four. . . Three. . . Two. . . One. . .'

There he was, the guard, right on the dot - the same one who had doubted her vampire-hunting abilities solely for the fact that she was a woman. She looked back down at the stall, not wishing to be recognised. Having grown much too humiliated in her borrowed courtesan attire, (Y/n) had borrowed a spare set of Ezio's clothes while he was in the basement of their new hideout: a villa belonging to a trader and his family who were currently away for a wedding in Rome. (Y/n) and Ezio would be able to camp out there for a week until they were back.

The Assassin's robes were much too big on her: the shirt still too large despite being tucked into the trousers which were held up by the borrowed belt and had to be rolled up at the ankles. The brown cloak was stolen from a washing line and the shoes were taken from the family home they were resting in - and she was careful to not be spotted because these certainly weren't running shoes.

The huntress had one current objective: plot her route into the Duca's villa to retrieve her things. Apparently, the guards were on high alert and Ezio's contact was unable to acquire (Y/n)'s belongings. Part of her wanted to kill the Duca while she was there too: throw a knife from the door while he slept, guarded by two men but she knew that this plan would only result in failure: she didn't have that set of skills.

She placed the orange down on the market stall and eyed up the guards stationed around the villa again. If the night routine was the same, she should have a window of time to make her way into the ground floor through a window.

"Three oranges, please." She requested of the vendor as she pulled a coin purse from her pocket. The money was Ezio's and she was calling it 'borrowed' to make herself feel better about it. Given the nature of their relationship, he wasn't in much of a position to reprimand her anyway.

She pressed the coins into the man's hands as she continued to observe the patrols from her peripheral, turning her head down when a group of guards passed her, heading straight to the villa to take over the shift. She watched as they replaced the ones who had previously been on duty, a smug grin pulling at the corners of her lips as the three oranges were handed to her, wrapped in a creme fabric.

♰♰♰

When (Y/n) returned it was with a head full of new ideas, a heart full of determination and a hand full of oranges. She quietly closed the backdoor of the house (they were using that route to avoid being seen by the neighbours) and made her way to the bedroom they were camped out in when she walked in on a most surprising sight. Her eyes widened and she quickly turned around, hands clutching the fruits within them.

"So is this whole seeing each other almost naked something you vampires do? Because I'm not so sure that I'm fond of it." She spoke and heard a sigh behind her.

"Well, if someone hadn't taken my clothes, I wouldn't be like this and if someone hadn't taken my money, I would have been able to buy new ones." She heard the flat tone from behind her, making her laugh awkwardly. It wasn't a nervous laugh or a dry one: it was the sort that was created to fill space, to try and call attention to itself to try and clear away another subject. Her eyes skimmed down to the terracotta-coloured tiles and the off-white walls with their large extravagant portraits that stretched down the main hall, statues dotted between them. A dark red carpet ran along the middle of the floor as well.

"Well, if your contact had been able to retrieve my stuff, I wouldn't have had the need to borrow these things. I need a- are you decent yet?" She cut herself off, finding it too uncomfortable to talk to him with her back turned.

"I don't have anything to wear."

"The sheets!" She snapped in response. She waited to hear the rise and fall of fabric shuffling before turning around, seeing that he had only covered his legs. It wasn't like he was entirely naked - he had underwear on - but it was far too little for (Y/n)'s liking. She glanced over to the curtains which fluttered lightly in the breeze, the window must have been open.

He was seated on the grand four-poster bed and it's dull white silken sheets. The room was rather bare other than a vanity, a desk and a wardrobe - all of which were mostly empty seeing as this was a guest room.

"What happened to your clothes anyway?" She mused as she set the oranges down on the bedside and tossed his coin purse back to him, noting the look of disdain on his face at noticing she had spent his money. "Look, it may not be important to you but eating is very important to me." She added.

"There's a passage under the villa that leads to a canal, it's dark but it's a good way to travel in the daytime for someone like me. What I hadn't anticipated was the guard at the end of the tunnel who managed to push me into the water during our fight." (Y/n) thought over his words before a bigger picture became apparent in her mind.

"When was the last time you. . ." She trailed off, not quite knowing how to put it in a non-alarmed way. She shot him an almost warning glance from the corner of her (e/c) eyes. He shot her a questioning look and she made her way over to the window, peeking out from the edge of the curtains and spotting his clothes laid on the sill. She held onto the velvet fabric, caressing its softness with her fingertips. An unspoken threat.

"Fed?" He questioned, seeing the witch nod her head in response, he sighed and held his hands in his lap, leaning forwards. "Too long ago." She knew that it had been almost three weeks now. He must be starving.

"Do you plan on. . . I mean, I'd rather it be someone else than me." She debated over making a joke of this, showing her trust by following this up with a laugh and walking over to the screen to change out of his clothes. But she didn't trust him yet so she followed it up with a serious gaze, fingers wrapping around the edge of the dark and heavy curtain.

"I was planning on going out tonight." He replied.

"What time will you be back?" She quizzed, perhaps trying to make such a dark subject seem more casual, to seem more about concern for him than for whoever he would kill later that day. She didn't ask it the way someone would interview a murderer, how would one even go about that? No.

"Don't wait, I won't be back until just before the sunrise." (Y/n) scoffed, knowing what it meant if he would be back so late.

"We have work to do and you're going to play games?" She raised a brow and watched his face contort into offence.

"Look, it may not be important to you but eating is very important to me." He quoted her own words from earlier.

"Yes but I don't sleep with my food before I eat it." She threw back, "I know how Elizabetta was found. Most of your kind like to play some sort of sick game before you go for the kill, something to get the blood pumping." She sneered, realising that that disdain no longer sounded natural in her voice, it was becoming more forced now - a part of her that she thought was so important to her life that she almost didn’t want to let go of it, even if she knew she had to.

She knew she was now swinging, like a pendulum, between trying to earn his trust and reverting to what had almost become an instinctual prejudice. In the past, she always spoke so lowly of vampires, always slandered them at every given chance, so hellbent on revenge. Now that she owed her life to one, it didn't feel right.

"At least I'm more civil about it - I could make them fear for their lives with a chase in the woods." He replied as he stood up, tucking the sheet around his waist and walking towards her, delicately taking her wrist and drawing her hand away from the looming threat of the curtain.    

"Yes, because-" She began sarcastically before cutting herself off. Even if she disagreed, it wouldn't help anything to voice that aloud. What they needed right now was to be able to trust one another. He had drawn her hand closer to him, thumb caressing her wrist and she curled her fingers inwards, hesitantly tugging her own hand back to her side, feeling him press down on her pulse before his eyes met hers and he realised that he may be putting her in a fight or flight position.

And he had learned already that she was the fighting type.

"I need to ask a favour of you. . ." She began, making her way back across the room and tossing her stolen cloak onto the foot of the bed.

"What is it?"

"I need you to steal something for me: the uniform of one of the Duca's guards." Her (e/c) eyes flitted to their corners where she caught how his brows shot up.

"Why? May I ask?" He spoke as he checked the dampness of his clothes, being mindful to keep his skin away from the sunlight.

"I want to break in, that's why." She replied in a cold tone, the stinging of her feet and the bite of rope against her wrists reforming in her memory, "I want my belongings back and I'll set the bastard's chambers alight if I'm able." She paused as the picture of it formed in her mind: the smoke pluming from the window she would leave open, allowing it to rise up like a beacon; a sign to the man who had used her then tried to kill her once she became an inconvenience - him and everyone else in this group she still felt that she knew too little about. "I want him to be afraid." A silence hung over the room, a pensive one.

"Do you know how to pickpocket?" Ezio spoke up and she could hear him retreat to the far side of the room, securely tucked away from any possible venturing sunlight.

"Why would I need to?" She returned with a small glance over her shoulder in his direction.

"So you can stop stealing my money and start stealing someone else's." He replied with a laddish smile, watching in delight as she rolled her eyes but returned his comment with a hesitant smile of her own. "If you truly want to make use of yourself, I'll leave you in the hands of a friend of mine. She'll teach you some skills that will come in handy if you wish to stay with me until we can finish off the Duca."

"And this friend? Is he a vampire too?" (Y/n) knew that she could handle Ezio and that he could tolerate her but she knew that her sharp tongue and developed vampiric disdain could get her into trouble with anyone else of his kind kind.

"She is very much human. More of a political ally than one of kin." He responded as he sat back down at the foot of the bed.

"What will she teach me? Other than pickpocketing?" The witch spoke as she seated herself down on a stool by the unlit fireplace, glancing at the ashen pit and somewhat wanting to light it, with the autumn chill snaking in through the open window.

"How to climb, keep your balance over rooftops-"

"What need do I have for-"

"Even how to climb right into the Duca's window." He continued, playing to her wish to set fire to the man's room as he had ordered for her to be burned. He could see the intrigue in her eyes now, the way she looked up from beneath her lashes.

"It's probably best that you start making contacts in Venice seeing as you've lost all of them now."

"The word 'lost' doesn't quite seem to portray that they tried to execute me. . . with fire." She replied with a sigh and an undertone of bitterness at the memory.

"How have your legs been feeling?" He asked out of concern. It often slipped his mind just how fragile she was compared to him. He watched as part of her dropped a little and she brought her legs up on the stool with her, crossing them.

"I don't think that the scars that will go away. The worst of it is at my ankles but some of them stretch up my calves a bit." She bit down on her lip and one of her hands went to rub at the puckered flesh there under her socks, having already toed off her stolen shoes. "My legs feel better though, stronger than they were at the start of this anyway. I hope your friend will go easy on me." She added a laugh at the end of the phrase but it came out drily - Ezio could tell that she was still thinking about her injuries. Perhaps, he thought, she didn't even care that she would have to live with a memento of it for the rest of her life; perhaps it was because she could live with them while all those in her coven died with them.

They passed the next hour in conversation before (Y/n) made her way to the drawing-room where a shelf of books had caught her interest the previous day. She nestled herself in the window seat (with the curtains drawn, of course) and began reading a copy of Illiad.

A good amount of pages in, the shimmer of a blade caught her attention from her peripheral. There stood Ezio, in his clothes once more, with one sword at his hip and the other being held out to her in offering.

"What? Want to lose?" (Y/n) mused with a teasing grin on her lips as she set the book down.

"You haven't practised in weeks. I've been keeping up." He reminded her as she took the blade and rolled her shoulders, getting into a fighting stance as he drew his own blade from his hip.

"You don't forget how to wield a sword." She began before darting towards him, using the element of surprise by attacking halfway through the phrase.

The clash of steel rang through the room until it grew dark and (Y/n) grew tired. She fell down into the bed of the guest room they had selected for their stay (they tried to keep to as few rooms as possible in order to avoid leaving any trace of their presence in the house). The witch had grown exhausted from so many hours of sparring.

She looked to the end of the bed where Ezio was now fastening his belt and armour of his robes. But her body was now both weakened and tired and she rolled over, bringing the blankets around her figure as she did so.

Ezio made his way to where she lay and reached for the thicker comforter at the end of the bed, throwing it over her body to keep her warm, knowing that her body was much more prone to the cold than his. Her eyes remained closed and her breathing had now slowed as her head sank into the softness of the pillow which lulled her to sleep. The man reached his hand out to brush the hair back from her (s/t) complexion before cupping her jaw, leaning down to press his cold lips to her warm cheek which only grew warmer as her nose scrunched up a little and she turned her head into the pillow more.

"Go and get something to eat." She murmured and he hummed, almost not wanting to leave her. It was rare for him to see her so peaceful, he had stood in the doorway for a few minutes just to admire her reading before offering to spar earlier for this very same reason.

With reluctance, his hand fell from her warm skin and he vanished into the Venetian night.

[moth-and-raven]

CHAPTER FOUR

The rest of the day passes in a haze. Loud cheers met Nadia’s announcement and Portia slipped into the rush just in time to board the carriage, tear-stained but determined to fight through it.

I must have been imagining things. I don’t want to think poorly of Julian, but I have to face facts: people will do and say anything to keep themselves off the gallows. He’s smart. He’s charismatic. He knows I’m working with the Palace. I can’t help but think he was just trying to endear himself to me, taking advantage of how obviously attracted to him I am. I can’t blame him for that. It’s my own fault for chasing what was a pathetic pipe dream from the start.

I retreat to my room after we return to the palace. It’s not unreasonable, considering I haven’t slept much in the past few days. From my bed, I watch spots of sunlight creep across the ceiling until I fall asleep. At least it’s dreamless this time.

Portia comes to get me for dinner in the late evening, when the sky’s turned purple. She’s itching with curiosity, peeking at me from the corner of her eye the whole way to the dining hall. Before we enter, she clears her throat.

“So, um.”

“It was nothing.” If I keep telling myself that, maybe it’ll hurt less. “Did you—?”

“Safe and sound. At least as much as he can be.”

“How long had it been since—?”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth just like he does. “Ten years, give or take. The last time I saw him was right after his apprenticeship. He came back to Nevivon for a few months while he was figuring out what else to do. I was only sixteen, so he must’ve been… twenty-five?”

The same age I am now. I didn’t realize he was that much older than me, though I suppose it makes sense. He’s lived quite a life. Yet more reason for him to see nothing of interest in me.

Portia pushes on: “What will you say to—?”

“I’m not telling her anything.” I shake my head and look away. “I don’t have anything to tell her anyway.”

That’s not a lie. I may know more about him now, but nothing pertinent.

“She’ll ask.”

“I know.”

I must not be doing as good of a job hiding my sadness as I thought I was, because Portia rests her hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. I don’t have it in me to say that whatever she’s imagining isn’t true.

I can’t do this.

“Could you tell Nadia that I—” Humiliated, I choke on my tears. “I'm— I’ll be in the library.”

I’m already around the corner by the time she agrees. I don't know what I’m going to do there, but at least I’ll be alone. Again.

I may not remember beyond the last three years, but I know in my heart that I’ve never been loved like I am in my dreams. I probably never will be. With all the beautiful people out there, who would choose me, the fat twenty-five-year-old virgin so gullible she falls for every man who looks at her twice? What could I possibly offer someone like him?

Nothing.

Painful, empty nothing.

I end up at the library eventually. At least I can navigate the palace better than I could the South End. My tears have almost stopped before I feel the metal arc of the crescent moon still hanging around my neck and break apart again. I manage to reach an armchair, nestled in an alcove near a half-flight of stairs, and curl up in it as best I can to weather the storm.

I’m so ugly when I cry. Thank god no one can see it. No one ever should.

When the waves settle and my breath doesn’t feel so foreign in my lungs, I press my palms to my eyes and sigh heavily. I have a headache now, as I always do after I cry like that. I know I should be hungry, but I’m not. I don’t know what I am.

But I made a promise. To Nadia and to Julian. Even if I never see him again, I’ll help him as much as I can. And with all of his research, all the palace staff who knew both him and Lucio, all the magic echoes swirling around waiting for someone to hear them, I think I can help him a lot.

------

I was always more comfortable at night. I sleep a little bit, curled up in the armchair, but it’s not very comfortable and I wake up sore. I’m glad I came to the library, though: Julian’s desk is a mess of torn papers and marked-up books, underlines and strikethroughs and question marks in the margins, and I have so little time to piece it all together. If I hadn’t slept yesterday away… yesterday. I shouldn’t be thinking about yesterday. It was nothing. It is nothing.

He’ll be nothing if I can’t figure this out.

Portia brings me something to eat in the very early hours, right before dawn. Without saying a word, she draws up another chair and starts sorting through things too. She can read his handwriting much more easily than I can.

And Count Lucio’s name shows up. And again, and again. Lucio’s temperature rising. Lucio says wine tastes metallic. Alchemical fluid in Lucio’s prosthetic turned red, wouldn’t survive replacement. Observations in clipped clinical speech, but scrawled with ever-increasing desperation. Lucio spitting up blood. Lucio not sleeping, complaining of bad dreams. Lucio too weak to eat, still alive.

Notes on the dissection of a beetle, a cross-section of a human brain, a map of the palace with large red Xs over half the rooms in the east wing. Peeking over my shoulder, Portia points at them.

“That’s the Count’s Suite. He had the whole wing, actually. No one goes up there anymore.”

I straighten up, my joints crackling from the hours I've spent hunched over. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Nadia had the whole thing blocked off. It’s really dirty, from the— all the ash and stuff. And people say it’s haunted.”

“By Lucio?”

“I guess. One of the other housekeepers swears they saw the ghost of a weird guy at the top of the stairs once. That it looked right at them with spooky red eyes. I think they’re full of shit, but maybe it’s worth a look?”

There could be a thousand things worth a look. If I had more time… “I don’t know. I have a couple spells that might be able to pin down a ghost, but I’ve never actually tried them.”

“If it is Lucio, though, wouldn’t he be able to say who killed him?”

“Hm. That’s true. Is the wing locked?”

Portia grins and fishes in her pocket. “Not if you have keys.”

The main staircase is close to the library. I feel the air get colder as we approach, and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck start to stand up even before Portia unlocks the corridor that leads to Lucio’s bedroom. It’s eerily quiet, all gray and black, luxury gone to ruin in the wake of a disaster. I’ve seen reproductions of burned-out buildings that look like this, after heavy battles. It crosses my mind that destruction of that caliber had taken extremely powerful magic to accomplish, not the actions of a single man weakened by pressure and long hours in the midst of a plague. Julian can’t even do magic. He said as much during our long conversation at the Raven. I can’t imagine anything else that would do this much damage without bringing the entire palace down.

Interesting.

Cinders crunch underfoot. Charred paintings watch us pass. A primal fear creeps along just behind us, whispering then asking then screaming at us to flee. I can feel my heart in my throat and adrenaline in my blood, every sense heightened. Tattered curtains move at the corner of my eye: I’m terrified to look and even more terrified not to.

But I can tell without bringing magic to my hand that there’s nothing here. At least nothing that wants to make itself known. There’s just a spark of pure rage somewhere deep inside the wing, but it doesn’t want to be seen. No ghosts, no goats, no ghost goats. No spooky red eyes. Just soot and smoke stains and three years of neglect. The fear lurking in the back of my mind isn’t supernatural, just the normal human mistrust of the dark and abandoned.

We go all the way to the end of the suite to no avail. Part of me thinks I should stay, but I’m getting tired now and the idea of sleeping in these rooms isn’t appealing. Portia takes my sigh as an admission of defeat and pats my arm. It was a distant hope anyway.

Near the end of the corridor as we leave, a small glimmer catches my attention. If I hadn’t been looking that way to start with, I never would’ve noticed it.

“Hey Portia, what’s in there?”

She lifts up the lantern and peers into the room. “Bath chamber, I think.”

We see it at the same time, as the light catches the red gleam again: falling from the sink are drops of blood. More of it trickles across the floor. The walls are stained from it, up to the window.

“What the fuck?”

My sentiments exactly. What is this? It can’t be actual blood, can it? This is the top floor of the palace. Is it bubbling up through the plumbing?

“Nadia’s gonna want to know about this,” Portia says in a small voice.

“Wait. Let me check it out first.”

She turns to look at me, pale in the lantern’s glow. “This is way beyond whatever my brother might have done. It could infect the whole palace!”

“Do you think it’s infectious?”

Portia frowns. “Did you… Were you in Vesuvia back then? During the Plague?”

There’s no point in lying. “No.”

“Neither was I, but I heard about it. Before I left Nevivon, some sailors docked and told everyone what they’d seen. People died so quickly, there wasn’t space to keep their bodies. And they were all red, their eyes and their fingertips, everywhere you could see veins.” She shudders. “I can’t believe Ilya worked with it and… and…”

She must’ve been so scared, knowing that he could die any day.

“You know that big ugly crematorium out in the bay?” she asks.

“The Lazaret.” Everyone knows about that. You can see it from shore, a jagged silhouette reminding everyone of the toll the Plague took on the city. I don’t like looking at it: it makes my heart ache.

“Yeah. Even with that, there were too many bodies. So many people… There was a rumor that the Palace stored the extra ones, until they could be burned.”

“Where would they have been able to keep them?”

“Dunno. But there’s a huge tunnel system under here, all the way down into the cliffs. And the dungeon’s really big.”

I’d wondered how Julian could escape the prison cells, when the only way out was through the palace itself. Tunnels would explain that, I suppose. “So do you think there’s still something tainting the water?”

Her eyes are wide in the dark. “There might be. Kinda like here, no one’s been in the dungeons for ages. Probably since then.”

I frown. It’s unlikely, but I can’t deny the evidence right in front of me. I take another step into the washroom and trace the flow towards the wall. Some of the stones are loose now, after years of water damage. There’s more than enough room for it all to drain away between them.

Weak dawn sunlight floods the horizon as I stand up and glance out the window. I can see most of the city from here, out across the harbor to the Lazaret and down through the South End and directly into the lush gardens below.

And beyond the gardens, flowing from the palace along the channel of an aqueduct, is a stream of blood red.

------

Nadia scowls at the dripping red water, then summons her bodyguard to her side and dispatches them with a whispered order. Both Portia and I follow her out of the wing, but Portia splits off at the base of the stairs to see to her duties while Nadia invites me into the dining hall for breakfast.

A massive, gaudy painting hangs over the table, eyeing us as we pick over the array of egg dishes and sliced fruit. It depicts a celebration scene, I think, presided over by a muscular blond man with his arms spread wide over a crowd of adoring citizens. Nadia notices me looking at it and chuckles.

“Admiring my late husband’s art sense, are you, Reyja?”

I don’t want to offend her, but I think Count Lucio should’ve stuck to partying. “It’s, um, very vibrant.”

“That was typical of him,” she laughs. “Ostentatious to a fault.”

People don’t talk about Lucio much, unless they’re cursing his name for all the damage he did to the city with his warmongering and overspending. I’m trying to solve his murder, but now that I think of it, I don’t know much about the man himself. “What was he like?”

Nadia grimaces. “Much as you’ve heard, I expect. Loud, brash, insolent. Committed to his life of luxury. I would not have married him, had I been sober when he proposed.”

She must catch my surprise, because she fixes me in her dark eyes and raises a brow as if daring me to judge her.

Of course I won’t. “How did you two meet?”

“He was visiting Prakra,” she says. “To present himself to Empress Nasrin, my mother, as the Count of Vesuvia. He had been in power for some time by then, as I recall. I believe he told me that he’d first come to this city nearly twenty years before, on a mercenary contract.”

“He wasn’t from here?”

“No. He was of the Southern tribes.”

That’s confusing. “How did he get to be Count?”

“The former Count grew quite fond of him. Lucio was named his heir shortly after he arrived, and took the throne shortly after that. He spoke often of the battle in which he lost his arm—” She points at the painting. Lucio’s left arm shines, gilded in gold leaf. “—the same in which Spada was killed.”

Lucio may have been bloodthirsty, especially fond of the fights to the death at the coliseum Vesuvia used to be famous for, but everyone knew his roots as a successful mercenary. Even in his forties, when he died, he was strong and virile.

Which was why his death came as such a shock. Who would’ve thought such a man would die in his bed, ravished by sickness and weak enough to fall to an unskilled assassin?

“What about the Plague?” I ask quietly. People talk about Lucio a little bit, but no one discusses the Plague at all, as if the mere mention of it will cause its return.

Nadia nods. “It appeared nearly overnight, five years ago. No one had seen its like before. To my knowledge, nothing like it has been seen since, either.”

“Do we know where it came from?”

“I’m afraid not. Little is known of it, save that it killed thirty thousand of my people in two years.”

Her people. Nadia may have been Prakran by birth, but this was her city now.

“I had been visiting my sisters when it struck,” Nadia continues, gaze unfocused as she looks back through her memories. “As such, I was forbidden from returning until we were certain it had passed.”

I remember the parade that welcomed her back, but I didn’t realize she’d been gone that long. It’s been less than a year: she must be so busy, trying to pull Vesuvia together again. No wonder the search for her husband’s murderer hadn’t been her top priority until now. “I’m sorry.”

She tilts her head, looking at me. “Understand this, Reyja: if the Plague has not truly left the city, and what you and dear Portia discovered today is proof of that, then the search for Doctor Devorak must be set aside. I am eager to see justice done, but one man’s life, when weighed against the lives of thousands, will not tip the scales. I hope I may rely upon your services regardless of that outcome.”

Her visit to the shop feels very far away. I’m attached to this now, however big it gets. “I’ll be here.”

“Thank you. I have sent Yazakh to fetch an expert on the Plague from their estate. I hope they will return soon, but in the meantime, I urge you to rest. We may have much to consider in the coming days.”

I take a small pastry with me when I leave the table and make my way back to my room. I don’t doubt that she’s right, but even with this additional set of problems, I can’t keep my mind away from Julian. Thoughts of him cloud my head as I lay down for a nap and they’re still there when I wake up. My stomach isn’t happy with me, swirling with guilt and humiliation and anxiety, but I don’t know what to do about it.

The expert still hasn’t arrived when I go up to Lucio’s suite to check. I pass the library on the way back and my fingers fly to the silver moon pendant still around my neck, following the divot Julian’s own nerves wore in the metal. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look through his notes while I wait, if I can concentrate enough to get anything useful out of them.

I can’t.

When the sun sets again, I give up. Another day gone, and I’ve only discovered more things to do. I need something to focus on, something with a solution, something… something that might distract me from the fact that I’m no closer to clearing Julian’s name.

I can follow that water, if nothing else. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but maybe I can learn where it’s going. And I can get out of the palace, maybe work off some of this nervous energy. And I won’t be surrounded by pieces of him, distracting me from my mission. It’ll be perfect.

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