#i got bit by a stray and it actually hurts i got like 9 shots and the shots hurt more

[shirojikimattari]

vampire shadowheart or werewolf shadowheart????

I don’t see why I have to choose because respectfully, I am indecisive 🤷🏻 anyway vampire werewolf, sure, why not.

Proof of concept sketch:

[deadendsave]

Mitchell Nguyen’s Journal (1)

1: Mom and I went our usual route to hunt rabbits. It got dark a lot faster than we anticipated. We had cleared the area just a few days ago, so we decided we’d just hunt quickly. How stupid of us. The gunshots alerted the sick, it was like they came out of nowhere. I shot as many as I could, mom blasted through them too. We thought we had gotten rid of them all, so we started to head back home. That’s when a stray come up behind her. I took it out, but I wasn’t quick enough.

2: It bit her on the neck. Not enough for her to bleed out, but it didn’t matter. We both knew that was her death sentence. The look on her face, man. Fuck. All those years of us surviving together, being so cautious, just for one wrong decision to end it all. I told her we needed to go home. She tried to stay in the woods but I wouldn’t let her. More of them would just smell her blood and kill her before she could even turn.

3: We got back to the cabin and sat down on the couch. Neither one of us knew what to say. We didn’t know how long we had left together. It could be an hour, it could be a day. The sounds of her hysterically crying broke the n silence. All I could do was hold and try to comfort her. “Shhh, Mom. I love you. It’s okay. I love you.”

4: Eventually, I managed to get her to calm down by handing her a photo album she had somehow kept all those years. She wiped her tears and smiled as she looked through it. “So many good memories. This was me when I was your age, I was in Vietnam. Your grandfather always taught me how important it was to learn about our culture and keep our traditions. I wanted to go, so he took me to visit family. It was beautiful. You would have loved it.”

5: “Look Mitch! That’s us the day I brought you home from the hospital. I was so young. I worried so much about if I’d be a good enough mother. I didn’t sleep that entire night, I stayed up to make sure you were breathing. You were such a beautiful baby.”

6: I reassured her that she was the best mom in the world. She reminisced about life before the outbreak and told me about how difficult it was to raise me as a single mother while running a bakery with my grandfather full-time. She said all the customers loved me. She also spoke about how hard it had been for her when LHV was first announced, being alone with 4-year-old me. She always kept me safe and fought so hard to protect me.

7: As much as I tried to appreciate the final moments I had with my mom, the feeling of dread still lingered. She could turn at any moment. Her symptoms would show up soon, i tried to prepare myself. We were both exhausted; it had to have been at least midnight by now.

8: She hummed a song she used to sing to me as a kid and brushed my hair with her fingers. “Son, you can’t let me turn into one of them. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you have to do it. You have to shoot me before I turn. I don’t want to become one of them, and I don’t want to end up hurting you.” She got up and walked into her bedroom.

9: I sat in shock for a minute, how was I supposed to kill my own mom? I understood why she asked me to, but I didn’t know if I could actually do it. I had only killed one other person before, a man who snuck into our cabin and tried to attack her. He was a fucking pervert and he deserved it. My mom was a good person, and I didn’t know if I could take her life. I just sat there, contemplating what I would do when she turned. None of my options felt right.

10: She came back into the living room and I could tell she felt like shit. She tried to act like she was fine, but I could tell she was in pain. She looked pale, the arm where she was bitten was twitching. When I felt her forehead she was burning up. I told her to lay down on the couch. I got a rag, dipped it in some of the river water we had collected that morning, and laid it on her forehead. She thanked me in the most gentle, broken voice.

11: She started twitching more and sweating so bad her clothes were drenched. The virus was taking over. She coughed up a lot of blood, I got her a bucket and placed it beside her. She started groaning in pain. I just had to sit there, watching her suffer. I was still weighing my options. It was hard to see her like that. I didn’t want her to be in pain. But I also didn’t want her to die. “It’s time, son.” She could barely get the words out.

12: “Please Mitch. Please.” / “Mom I can’t do it. I can-, I can’t do-.” / “You have to. I can’t control it any longer.” / I picked up the pistol off the side table. My hands were shaking so bad I dropped it. I knew I had to do it, her pleas were so desperate. I kissed her on the forehead and thanked her for everything she had done for us. She tried to say something, but all her throat could let out was a quiet rattle. I picked the pistol back up, told her I loved her, and ended her pain.

13: After that, I went numb. I couldn’t cry, no matter how hard I tried. Numbness was how I handled things now. I walked into her bedroom and took the sheets off her bed. She had left me a note, but I wasn’t ready to read it yet, so I put it in my pocket. I walked back to the living room and covered her body with the sheets before heading to my own bedroom so I could try to sleep, even though I didn’t really want to. I knew I had to rest though, because I was alone now. Surviving would be a lot harder.

14: The next morning I woke up and paced around the cabin. I knew I couldn’t stay there anymore, not with everything that had just happened. I gathered all the supplies we had. Before leaving, I placed my mom’s photo album on top of her and said my final goodbye. After one last look around the place, I headed out, not knowing where to go from there.

15: Week 2: I’ve been keeping track of the days by counting the sunrise each morning. The first week was tough; I ran into a lot of the sick. The anger and adrenaline helped me survive the encounters. I figured out that if I set up camp near the river, the sick will be less likely to attack me in my sleep because they don’t like water. I still have the note from my mom; I’m not ready to read it yet.

16: Week 5: I’m losing my grip. The isolation is making me crazy. I’m surrounded by nothingness, just trees and the constant threat of the sick or looters sneaking up on me. I’m starting to wonder if any of this is worth living for. Mom’s gone, I’m completely alone. I might never find anyone, anyone that’s still a decent person at least. It would be so easy for me to let go. There’s nobody left to miss me.

17: Even if somehow, somewhere, there’s a person capable of creating a cure, it’s a hopeless cause. There are more sick than survivors. A vaccine wouldn’t work on the sick; they’re too far gone. If the vaccine prevented us humans from getting infected, there’s still the fact that we could get mauled by them at any moment. It all seems so pointless now.

18: This wasteland of an earth is just a playground for the sick to feed and for the evil people that have no ounce of humanity left in them to do whatever they want to the innocent people that are just trying to survive. Kidnapping, torturing, murdering, just because those sick fucks enjoy it. They know they don’t have to face any consequences. The government and military are nearly gone; they were just as bad. This isn’t a world where good people get to win.

note from mom: Mitchell, being your mother has been my greatest achievement. I’m proud of the man you’re becoming. You’re strong, but you’ve got a gentle heart. Don’t let what happened to me change that. It was not your fault. Keep fighting, do it for me. Find other survivors, find happiness, find love. That’s what I want for you. A good life. I wish we had more time together, but we were lucky for the moments we got. I cherished them all. I love you son. Remember you are not alone, because I am with you always. - Ma

19: I finally read my mom’s note. She wants me to not blame myself for what happened, but I could’ve saved her if I had just shot one second quicker. She wants me to be happy, find other survivors. I don’t even know if that’s possible now. I’m gonna keep going, for her. But I don’t think I’ll get to be happy again. I’m gonna keep following the river until I find other survivors; that might get me killed though. I don’t care; it’s not like I have anything to lose.

20: Week 8: I found a town. All I’ve seen so far are a bunch of empty, rundown homes. I kept following the river like I had planned. I’m gonna stay in one of these houses for a few days, then I’ll keep going.

21: Week 9: I found other survivors. Well, they found me, and they tried to kill me. Two looters, both looked about 30. One had a rifle. He shot me by the eye. I managed to take both of them out. I don’t know how I survived that or how I’m not blind in my left eye. I guess I’m just lucky. I ran off in case they had friends nearby. I ended up in the middle of town and noticed some buildings that still had power.

22: I decided to test my luck even more by approaching the building. That’s when I was greeted by a shotgun pointed towards me. I thought that was it for me, but the man asked me who I was and why I was there. I told him I was alone and that I needed help. He didn’t trust me, I don’t blame him because I didn’t trust him either. But my face was pouring blood, and I was desperate.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 22 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Things are changing for the better. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Difference, Sub Drop, vague mentions of trauma/dissociation, PTSD (mostly comfort) Word Count: 7.25k

MASTERLIST

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The dulcet, bustling sounds of the Dulles International Airport were more soothing than I expected. Normally, the massive crowds and constant barrage of information would make my brain go into overdrive, but there was something about Spencer being there that made it all turn to white noise. If I had to guess, I would say it was the feeling of trusting someone to take care of you.

I still hadn’t gotten used to it.

“Hey, I got you something.”

Even then, when he’d approached me from behind and gingerly placed the bag on my lap, I barely even flinched. I smelled the contents of the bag before I noticed the logo or managed to open it, but once I confirmed it was what I thought it was, my eyes immediately teared up.

“Oh my god,” I keened, pulling out the familiar blue cup holding a much too sweet, much too large cinnamon bun. Although my mind was running with a million things to say to express just how appreciative I was, I took a bite out of it before I said anything else.

“I love you so much,” I mumbled around a mouth full of pastry.

Spencer tried to respond, but after one glance at me, fingers and face already covered in frosting after only a few seconds, he burst out laughing. 

“You’re a complete mess,” he chastised, trying to cluck his tongue but failing in his laughter.

I just smiled back, not even bothering with the plastic utensils and enjoying the indulgence with absolutely childlike joy. It wasn’t even just the sugar or my fingers pressing into the warm, sticky dough that made the morning seem so much better; it was the way Spencer watched me.

With one arm leaned against the chair, his whole body was turned towards me. It was clear from the slightly glassy look in his exhausted eyes that he was also stuck trying to find the right words to say to express just how grateful he was that we could still have moments like that.

Those same eyes roamed over my figure with such an overtly intimate gleam that it almost made me blush. If he’d touched me, I definitely would have. But he kept his hands to himself, and eventually, buried them into his carry-on bag. I didn’t even look at what he was doing, too lost in the sweetness of being cared for.

That foolhardy trust was a mistake. Because, it turned out, Spencer Reid was a monster.

Without any warning at all, a cold wet wipe was dragged over my cheeks. I flinched back, only to find Spencer’s hand holding onto my head and stopping me from turning away. The madman even had the audacity to smile as he gingerly wiped the frosting from my cheeks and chin. Of course, considering the fact I was thrashing wildly away from him, it ended up mostly on my lips.

“Pfftbtb! Spencer!” I spit and whined, earning confused looks from basically everyone in the vicinity. What they would find when they looked over was him in a fit of laughter, continuing to try and clean my face, which was still covered in sugary frosting despite his best efforts to remove it.

“I thought you enjoyed the taste of alcohol,” he teased.

“First of all, no one does, and second—” I started, only to be cut off with a kiss over my much too clean mouth. I smiled, but only because it used to be my move. I wondered when exactly the tables had turned, and it became his job to shut me up with a kiss.

“I know,” he whispered, licking his lips just to cringe at the taste he’d forced on me, “I’m just joking.”

I decided then that the sight and shared disgust for ethyl alcohol were enough for me to forgive him for the time being. I let him clean the rest of the evidence of my greed from my face but decided to clean my fingers myself. I popped each one into my mouth in what I’d imagined was a very non-sexual manner, but Spencer still seemed to enjoy watching me as each digit was cleaned. Granted, he handed me another wipe seconds later. Damn germaphobe. Like he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth on a daily basis.

The rest of the treat was shared between us, with utensils this time, in a relative quiet. Brief giggles or sighs were all there was to be said. Once there was nothing left to fixate on, I was left only with my thoughts and Spencer’s eyes that still watched me like a horribly affectionate hawk.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumbled without realizing. I’d almost hoped he wouldn’t even hear it, or let it go without a conversation, but of course, he couldn’t do that.

“For what?”

“For making you do all of this,” I explained with a heavy sigh, “I feel like a big baby.”

Spencer’s hands came to brush away the stray strands of hairs from my face. They weren’t actually in the way of anything; I think he just wanted to make a better view. That alone was enough to make me smile, but that only seemed to make him feel guilty.

“Don’t apologize for this. This is my fault,” he said just as quietly. I mirrored his motion, running my fingers through his hair and watching as his mouth dropped open in a pleased smile.

“No, it’s not. You’re wonderful,” I said through my own. It was only a little bit sadder than his, but wasn’t that usually the case? I could only imagine what would happen the day we were both overflowing with nothing but joy. Before, that thought might lead me back to the bank, the place that ended our last purely happy encounter, but…

I looked at Spencer, with his mouth still slightly open and his head lolling back and forth with the little weight of my hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of anything bad. So I just thought of the picnic, instead. I thought of him licking my hand as we rolled in grass, and of his own hands working through my hair to make it into something besides a mess on my head.

I looked at Spencer, and I saw beautiful things. And the longer I played with his hair, the more relaxed and content he became. Of course, I would never be satisfied. His smile was the most beautiful thing to see, and I needed it to deal with the guilt still sitting like rocks in my stomach.

“Besides, it’ll be so much easier putting down my work and actually getting sleep when you’re waiting for me,” Spencer slurred, his neck relaxing to drop the weight of his head against my palm.

“I hope not too easy. The world needs you, Dr. Reid,” I kindly reminded.

His eyes fluttered open, trapping me in dark honey irises filled with pure adoration. “You need me, too,” he whispered.

“Arrogant bastard.”

Naturally, he took it as a compliment, his smile growing into a smirk as he answered, “A little bit.”

He should have known better than to give me that look, though, because within seconds my hands fell from his hair. A small whimper came from the pitiful man at the loss. It was quickly followed by a sharp inhale when my hand grabbed his thigh.

“You think I’ll actually let you sleep?” I whispered.

Aside from the obviously tense quadriceps beneath my palms, Spencer showed very little response to my suggestion. Well, rather, he showed little arousal to it. There was a reaction— just not the one I expected.

He looked... nervous.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that...”

“What?” I shot back immediately, my hands withdrawing and tugging on my shirt while I instinctively tried to hide from him. I was trying to look less guilty, but I was acutely aware that my actions screamed the opposite. So, I tried to combat my obvious anxiety with a voice that was far louder than it needed to be. “I swear I’m on all my medications. I haven’t missed a single therapy appointment, either!”

Spencer’s hands were gentle and cautious when they came to my wrists, gently pulling them away from my chest. “I know. I trust you,” he said with a sad but still genuine smile, “I just wanted to ask you how you wanted to handle this.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” The words tumbled out of me in the least convincing manner. Spencer was too smart to fall for them, although I could see a playfulness bloom through his features.

“No offense, but you just cried over a cinnamon bun,” he said, unable to stop a few chuckles from mixing with the words.

“It was just really good, okay?” I scoffed, tearing my hands away from him and feigning offense despite his little disclaimer. From there, I sank down in the shitty airport chair and refused to look up at him. I could still feel his cheeky, arrogant little grin watching me.

Eventually, after I thought we’d suffered enough and I could already feel my legs going numb, I weakly conceded, “Fine. What are my options?”

“Well, basically anything. But the main thing to consider is...”

He paused. It was one of the sure signs that he was taking the situation very seriously. Usually, he would just spout out whatever came to mind and sort out the details later. But this time, he spoke slowly and purposefully. “Majority of our relationship has been based on physicality. Whether it was sex or healing or hurting and I... I want to give you the option to not do that. At least, not for a little while.”

A feeling of dread filled my blood that I could suddenly hear rushing through my ears. I didn’t tell my heart to beat faster, but it did. My hands that had once again crossed over my chest suddenly itched to hold him.

“Why would I not want to?” I asked, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt and occasionally glancing up at him only to realize that he wasn’t looking at me, either. I tried not to read into it. After all, he was the profiler— not me.

“It’s not a matter of avoiding it. I just need you to know it’s not expected of you.”

Without shifting my body at all, my eyes were glued to him. The strain of the angle and the sound of those words caused them to burn, but I refused to let tears fall again. He wasn’t rejecting me, right? He was telling me that he loved me. There was no reason to be scared.

I wasn’t used to that yet, either. But I wanted to be. And judging by the way his hand cupped my face and guided it back to his, I think Spencer felt those anxieties. He tried to will them away by pressing his forehead against mine and letting his thumb ghost over flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be scared. I just need you to know that we don’t have to have sex for you to be worth my time and attention.”

The tears grew bigger under his scrutiny, but they didn’t fall until he closed his eyes. I think that was why he did.

“I love you,” he assured me with a whisper, “I’m not going to deny you affection or intimacy if that’s what you want. I just need you to know that it is always an option.”

Normally when Spencer pulled away, the air felt cold in his absence. For so long, my body had felt lonelier and less than without him. But in that busy, bustling airport, I felt just as loved even when his hands fell away and he sat back up in his chair.

For those who might’ve been watching, they would just see two lovesick idiots whispering sweet nothings in a flagrantly public display of affection. They wouldn’t have heard the weight of the words or felt the way my perception of the whole world shifted from them.

Spencer smiled again, still nervous, but also clear and authentic.

“I’m sorry,” he told me with his eyes fixated on my hands in my lap. He made no move to hold it, although I could tell he wanted to. I suspect he wanted me to focus on the words, so I tried my hardest. I almost asked him what he was sorry for, but he answered first, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

A lump quickly formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. When that failed, and I felt the telltale signs of tears filling the sides of my eyes, I did the only thing I could think of to hide. I threw my arms around the only thing that never failed to make them better. I buried my face in Spencer’s neck and laughed along with him as my eyelashes and breath tickled the soft skin.

After a brief second of listening to our hearts settle into a matching rhythm and letting our body heat sink into the clothes between us, Spencer groaned, “How are you still sticky?”

—————————————————

A couple weeks prior, the thought of being alone in a hotel room waiting on Spencer to finish work for the day would have instilled the fear of God in me. I would have done just about anything to avoid the exact situation I found myself in now.

But honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. It was the perfect opportunity for me to force myself to slow down. Granted, that mostly just meant that I would watch bad TV in a bathrobe with overpriced food, but... like they say, change is as good as a rest.

The hardest part about it was actually just convincing myself that I deserved the rest. While I was taking naps and trying to do anything to unwind, I knew what Spencer was doing.

Well, I had some idea of what he was doing. Reality was probably worse than my imagination— it usually was with his job. At first, I had let that guilt get in the way, but at some point over the nine hours, I realized that I would have to find a way to cheer myself up. Because as soon as I heard that small beep of the keycard, I would have to find a way to remind him of all the beautiful things in the world.

No pressure, right?

The sun had already started to set, and I hadn’t heard from him in hours. We’d started the day out with a constant line of contact, but over time he became too busy. Which, again, just meant that I would have to work even harder when he finally arrived.

Luckily for me, by the time Spencer had arrived, there was no need for a pep talk or acting of any kind. My heart immediately started to race the second I heard his voice down the hall. I had already bolted from the bed and positioned myself just far enough from the door that I could jump forward the second it opened far enough to fit me.

And when it did, I pounced.  

“Spencer!” I cheered, throwing myself into his arms that had fully been expecting me. Still, the two of us crashed back against the frame and I heard the breath be knocked out of him from the impact.

“Hey, little girl,” he managed to laugh with empty lungs that made it impossible to forget how tired he was. His arm eventually settled at my lower back, lifting me slightly so he could move us from the door’s path. But when we were out of harm’s way and the latch clicked softly in place, Spencer didn’t let me go. In fact, he tossed his bag into the chair at the desk and wrapped his other arm around me, too.

“How was work?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“You know...” he muttered with a crackling voice, “awful.”

If that hadn’t given it away, the way he buried his face in my neck certainly did. His hands were even more insistent, pressing into my back as he led us both to the bed.

I had to laugh, though, as the realization dawned on him that he’d have to let go of me if he didn’t want to track filthy shoes in our bed. A heavy sigh fell from his lips when he finally released me, practically throwing me onto the terrible mattress before taking his seat next to me.

“I missed you,” I announced in the ambient noise of the cheapest hotel that the government could justify using.  

Spencer looked up at me, but the words took a little longer to register. I could only imagine how busy his mind must’ve been, and the guilt quickly came creeping back.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, albeit with a tint of sadness in his tone. But the longer we stayed there, the calmer he seemed. It was such a powerful effect of our proximity that by the time he did lay down next to me, he seemed like the man that had wiped frosting from my face in the middle of a busy airport.

Spencer must have noticed the shift, too, because no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he had flipped over, throwing his leg over me to pin me down against the bed.

My initial reaction was to keep laughing, but the noises were muffled by the persistent kisses he gave. They started at my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose but landed on my lips. I felt the tension leave his shoulders as he lowered more of his body weight against me, and I reveled in the feeling of his presence.

“God, I needed this,” he growled just before his tongue slipped into my mouth.

Everything we’d talked about at the airport felt a lifetime away, and as soon as I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh, I only had one goal in mind. I forced my hands between us, trying to remove his tie with the hope that it would shed some of the thoughts he’d brought back from work.

But then it all stopped. Spencer had pulled away, grabbing onto my wrist and pinning it to the bed beside me once more.

“No, we don’t need to do that. I just wanted to kiss you,” he panted through heavy breath and swollen lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them long enough to answer, but it was clear from the look on his face that any plea I gave would be for naught, anyway. “I’m honestly way too exhausted to give you the attention you deserve.”

I believed him. Even when he hadn’t slept for nearly two days, he still looked livelier then. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with sleep and more to do with emotions. I wanted to help him with that, too, like he did for me, but I didn’t know how. So, I did the only thing I did know how to do well, which was to place a soft peck against his lips until they turned up into another smile.

“Get some rest, old man,” I murmured, “I’ll be here to kiss again when you wake up.”

“Let me hold you,” he answered immediately, nuzzling his face against my neck like a puppy seeking any shred of attention. I couldn’t tell if I was laughing because of the way his hair tickled or because it was so strange to see him so vulnerable while still in dominant, albeit disheveled, work clothes.

“Fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

Continuing the trend of being remarkably adorable, Spencer giggled as he rolled onto his side. I was almost tempted to turn towards him, but he had already wrapped his arms around me before I could decide. He pulled me as close as he could before his lips once again settled against the column of my throat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he stated absently. It was so quiet that I’m not sure he’d actually planned on me hearing it. But when I reached a hand up to run through his hair, he spoke with a shaky, relieved whine, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

A gentle, warm exhale breezed over my skin as he continued, “I love you so much.”

From that point, any words he might’ve whispered were muffled through sloppy, sleepy kisses over my neck and shoulder. His hands, though slow, were still rough and purposeful as they pawed at me in a way that was only vaguely sexual. It was more like he was trying to prove to himself that he was actually here with me, and my breasts just happened to be the first thing he could grab.

That still didn’t stop my mind from running wild. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I focused on the way his breath felt against areas still wet from his kisses. And when I arched my back, I felt his hips press harder.

Eventually, when I could trust myself to speak without whimpering, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to...”

I peeked back at him before continuing, having noticed a lull in his kisses. Sure enough, Spencer was fast asleep, his lips still attached to my shoulder. I had to chuckle at the sight, but my heart did hurt for him. I couldn’t imagine how tired he must have been to fall asleep then, and still in his clothes, much less.

The guilt over being the main cause of his tiredness was enough to keep me still for at least two hours. I spent that time slowly inching to a more comfortable position, only to be squished seconds later by Spencer. Even in his sleep, it seemed he was terrified of the prospect of me slipping from his arms. He was just being dramatic, though. It’s not like I had anywhere to go.

Wait, that sounded wrong. Truthfully, there were many places I could go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with Spencer, tangled in his long limbs and tickled by his hair that had grown long enough to gracelessly flop onto my face regardless of position.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to leave at all.

But I did. Inch by inch, I carefully slipped from Spencer’s arms. Against all odds, I managed to maneuver through the death grip he had on me and plop down on the ground beside the bed. My mind found that to be the perfect time to recall the lecture he’d given me about how suitcases, and more specifically, their wheels, were the most dangerous bacteria-laden aspects of traveling, but I dismissed the thought shortly after I stood again.

I didn’t want to leave Spencer’s embrace. I’m not really sure why I did. There wasn’t even really a particularly angsty reasoning for it. I just had this feeling, this tingling on my skin and a weight in my stomach that told me I was meant to be doing something different.

The only problem was that I had literally no idea what the fuck that something different was.

So, naturally, I did what every young child does when their parents had grown tired of their restless children jumping on the hotel bed. I grabbed the keycard and the ice bucket and set out on a very thrilling journey to find the vending room. The first part was the hardest. It was shutting the door to return the room to darkness, knowing that Spencer was alone in bed.

It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. I slipped from the room into the horrible yellow lighting of the halls with the dizzying wallpaper and patterned carpet without another thought. I’d hoped that the walk might bring me answers to the mood I was currently wrestling with, but I was wrong. Because it basically only took me three doors to find the room that I was looking for.

Great.

I threw the door open haphazardly, actually contemplating grabbing the ice and returning to bed no wiser than I had left it. But when the door swung shut behind me, the humming from the machines bled into my brain and started to cover all the other thoughts. It was warmer than my room, as well as smaller and quieter. Of course, it was also remarkably less private, but it was also like 2am. If someone came in to find a strange girl sitting on the floor next to the ice machine, that was their own fault.

In a strange way, it was the most peaceful I’d been in a long time. As much as I loved being with Spencer, these circumstances made it hard for me to not feel like I didn’t belong. Probably because I didn’t. He was here on work, a life that he’d tried very hard to keep away from me. I didn’t blame him for that, either. I was sure he’d gotten a number of questions from Morgan and Garcia about my presence, but he hadn’t shared them with me. I’d even asked him, just so I could concoct my own retaliatory questions for the nosiest of them, but he just laughed the question away.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just the realization that Spencer had a life of his own and I was just starting to see it for the first time. I was learning so much about him and honestly… None of it was bad. Most of it was just downright silly. Things like prank wars and physics magic and careful, chemistry-based improvements to shitty coffee. I was just too busy realizing that I was falling even more in love with Spencer to notice anything else.

Including, apparently, the sound of the door to the room opening. Trust me when I say that was saying a lot; the presence of Aaron Hotchner was not easy to miss.

“Can I join you?” His voice filled the room despite its low volume, and I followed the sound with a small smile that grew at the sight of him in casual clothing. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it sure did make him less intimidating than our previous encounters.

“Sure,” I said as I pulled the still-empty ice bucket into my lap. Once he took his seat beside me, I rolled my head toward him to try and figure out what exactly he had planned. But after another few seconds of silence, I realized that he was doing the same thing I was.

Improvising.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked, insistent that it wasn’t my job in this scenario to come up with the advice.

Hotch seemed equally lost, and with a slight shake of his head, he explained, “I only heard the door open once. Figured it was worth a trip to get some ice to check.”

He held up his matching ice bucket, to which I lifted mine to knock together like the worst kind of toast. It at least succeeded in making him laugh, although the sound was short-lived. We both recognized the shoddy attempt at humor was just masking the things I didn’t want to talk about.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

He had never really been a beat-around-the-bush sort of guy.

“Freakin’ profilers,” I affectionately muttered back, which only earned me a playful warning glance that I, for once, didn’t choose to ignore. “I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s probably the 3-hour nap I took when we got here.”

Then, deciding that still didn’t describe the situation well enough, I tagged on, “You know, while you all were working and saving the world and what not.”

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of the BAU: Do not ever speak poorly about yourself. Not even an implication.

“Rest is important. No reason for you to suffer for us,” he returned without pause.

“You sound like Spencer,” I said through a half-hearted laugh.  

Hotch shared my laughter, causing them both to grow in volume as he snarkily replied, “And who do you think taught him?”

“Right. Sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender, but we both knew it would be harder than that.

But that was okay. He came prepared.

“So, what else is wrong?”

“So persistent, you lot,” I chuckled. I half expected him to let it go, but he just turned to stare at me with that usually stoic face contorted with an obvious reprimand. I swear, I didn’t even realize his eyebrows could move that far. But there were, raised up his forehead as his cheeks dimpled from his little, knowing smirk.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “Just thinking about things and I was scared I would wake up Spencer. Like he would feel my anxiety in his sleep.”

“What’s making you anxious?”

I paused. For a moment, I thought about lying. Not the kind of transparent lie that you do when you say that everything is fine. The kind of lie that also contained the truth. There were many things that had happened lately that would explain my anxiety, and they would be believable enough because I did still feel them.

“Everything. You know. The usual,” I said softly, attempting to stall.

Because that wasn’t what the problem was that day. The problems that day were… complicated in a different way than the usual angst. So, I let the thoughts marinate for a moment, considering the different outcomes and deciding which I really wanted.

I hadn’t let myself want things in a while. Maybe that realization was why I decided to just tell him the truth, despite how embarrassing it felt.

“It’s not bad anxiety, necessarily. It’s just this realization that… I don’t know.”

“Take a guess,” he pressed, feeling the hesitance as I stood at the brink of what I really wanted to say. The real answer to why I was sitting on the floor of an ice machine vending room with my boyfriend’s boss, who also happened to be our shared adoptive father figure.

I took a deep breath, clutching onto the ice bucket so tightly that my knuckles blanched and the edges imprinted on my hand until I blurted out, “That I think I’m ready for something else. Something more.”

We both stopped then, enjoying the noises of machinery and the barely-there echo of my words.

“Something more, huh?” he repeated more clearly.

I didn’t appreciate the way the words were practically sung through a clever grin, and before he could take that train of thought any further, I stopped him with an answer too loud to not be deemed defensive.

“Not like that! Not like, let’s run off and elope and have lots of babies tomorrow!“ He didn’t look convinced, so I continued with a much more believable promise. “Don’t worry, I’m not sniping your genius.”

“Thank goodness,” he replied sarcastically. I appreciated his ability to keep things lighthearted, and for a second I did have to laugh at the fact he was such a different person when he wasn’t at work. He must’ve taught Spencer more than I realized. And, in turn, Spencer was teaching me. I just wasn’t sure when the lesson would be over, or if it had already ended.

“I’ve just held onto my independence and this… heavy bullshit for so long, and I’m a little worried about what that means,” I thought aloud.

Again, Hotch had read my mind, or at least, my body language, and demanded the answer he saw written across my features. “What do you think it means?”

“Do you always give fatherly advice like this to whiny girls in ice machine rooms?” I shot back with my first attempt at a glare. It only lasted until he flashed me a toothy smile and his own clever retort.

“No. Now answer the question.”

“I had to try,” I grumbled, only to be shut down again in an instant.

“I’ll forgive you when you answer.”

With a begrudging sigh, I tried to do what he asked. But I only barely got through one word before they turned to a lump in my throat. I choked on the words strongly enough that tears I hadn’t anticipated began pooling on my eyelashes. The power of a profiler, I guess, to know I was on the verge of an emotional catharsis before I did.

“I know we all change. I know that no one stays the same. We all go through things and they change who we are. And that can be good, right? But…”

Once the words started, they wouldn’t stop, turning and tumbling from clumsy lips still chapped from incessant biting. But teeth and willpower couldn’t stop the feelings that caused them, and if Spencer had taught me anything, he’d taught me that speaking a feeling into existence was half of the battle to let it go.

“But sometimes it’s gotta just be bad, right? Like, we’ve got to acknowledge that sometimes we change in an irreparable way that’s just bad for no reason.”

“Right,” he very eloquently returned. Normally, I would have bullied him for giving such a simple response to such a complex question, but at that moment I was just grateful that I could continue. Heaven knows Spencer wouldn’t have let me.

“So, what if that happened to me? What if one day I wake up and finally find out the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself?”

When I turned to the man then, I saw a genuine confusion for the first time that night. I couldn’t tell you where I’d lost him, but it was clear that he heard something in me that alerted him that some deeper rooted issues were just now finding the light of day.

Of course, in this situation, it was really just a flickering fluorescent bulb.

“What question is that?” he whispered, like his voice would intrude in the thoughts.

But the truth was they didn’t feel like they belonged to me, either. That was the problem. I’d spent so long with memories that felt like a dream. I saw them playback when I closed my eyes, just to open them and find the same images reflecting in Spencer’s. I knew they were real because they were written into my skin, yet my mind rioted against them so hard that instead, I just started to think that this body wasn’t mine, either.

“How much of me died that day?”

The question sat with us, taking form in the reflection on the metallic surface that hummed a somehow somber tune. And even though I knew I was looking at myself, it didn’t feel that way. When I saw Hotch move in the background, I turned to him just in time to feel his hand resting over mine on the metal pail in my hands.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

I felt the warmth flow through him, bringing life back into a hand that suddenly started to feel like me again. His voice shared the same rejuvenating quality as he quietly but confidently answered, “I think… it’s much less than you think.”

As tears slid down my face, they felt less like the beginning of a downpour and more like the drizzle that follows the storm. I let them fall without wiping them away, hoping that as they fell away, they would take the fear with them.

After they did drip from my jaw, I laughed. I couldn’t hold it in because it seemed so silly how much lighter I felt after losing just a few droplets of saline. But, realistically, I knew it had more to do with his hand still holding mine.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, selfishly stealing his body warmth as I croaked, “Thanks for talking to me. I know I must sound like a stupid kid to you sometimes.”

“Not at all,” he said with that tone that was difficult to discount, “You sound just like you should.”

“Can I tell you something now?” I asked between sniffles.

“I’d like that,” he mirrored.

“You’re like… a really good dad.”

It was his turn to shed tears, then, which he did. They were much manlier and less silly than mine, but they were there. I almost accused him of creating them just to make me feel less embarrassed, but before I could, he’d enveloped me in a hug that was way too genuine to question it.

As I hugged him back, I realized just how badly I’d missed moments like this. I’d fooled myself into really believing that loneliness and independence were the same things for so long that when I was granted the support all human beings need, I didn’t know how to respond.

But that was the beauty of family, right? You don’t have to try to earn their love. They already thought you were worthy.

So I hugged him harder, ignoring the clanking of the machines and the sounds of crowds of people stumbling back from bars in the hall that could walk in any moment. I wasn’t embarrassed to be sad anymore. I was just a person. It happens sometimes.

“Speaking of, it’s well past your bedtime,” Hotch said finally, gracelessly shattering the moment in a very dad-like fashion.

“I walked into that one.”

Following that trend, he continued with a gentle bump of his shoulder against me, “If you don’t want to go yet, you can talk to me about that something more.”

I practically shoved him off me, huffing between chuckles and shaking my head in the hope that he wouldn’t notice how it flushed.

“Please. Spencer talks about that stuff, but he’s all talk.”

At first, Hotch just nodded. But after a few wayward glances, he confessed, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

That time the warmth I felt came from within, carried by butterflies that had burst in my stomach at the thought. I almost asked him what he meant, but then felt the familiar, creeping embarrassment that came along with loving someone a little too much.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.

I knew he was reading my expressions, but I couldn’t hide the smile, no matter how hard I tried. He still had the decency to ignore my blatant displays of excitement, instead asking the question we both knew the answer to already.

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I…” Such a simple syllable still seemed like too much, and I stuttered it a few more times before I landed on an answer that wasn’t too humiliating. “I guess he’ll have to ask and find out.”

“I hope it turns out well when he does,” he said, pausing to correct with a sarcastic, “Sorry. If he does.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sighed heavily. It was a last ditch effort to hide the way my cheeks were still stuck in a full-faced smile. I turned to see him with a very similar expression.

I knew just how to change that. When he stood up and offered me a hand, I took it and let him do half the work for me. But once we were on equal footing, I placed my hand on his shoulder with a complacent pat.

“You know, if it doesn’t turn out well, you’ll have to figure out how to comfort the both of us.”

“The horror,” he jokingly cringed with a shake of his head.

I almost left then, but thankfully he’d remembered the actual purpose for the room we’d had our impromptu surrogate-father-daughter moment in. He grabbed my ice pail from my hand and dropped it under the dispenser without saying anything else, letting the chaotic crunching signal the real end of the moment.

Once it was over, I looked down at the now freezing bucket in my hands that suddenly felt warm. Then I looked back up at him and saw a pride that I wasn’t expecting.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” I said as the last remaining bit of tension fell from my shoulders.

“Goodnight,” he answered, opening the door and watching as I padded down the hall. He waited until I slipped back into my room before his door clicked shut, and mine quickly followed.

That tiny sound was just enough to wake the man in the bed, and when I turned to him, the sight took my breath away. Because there was Spencer, the man I loved, reaching his arms out into the darkness and grabbing the empty air as he whined, begging me to come to him faster.

And I did. Tossing the bucket onto the table, I rushed over to him and threw myself into the bed beside him without any grace. With a similar restlessness, Spencer wound his arms around me as soon as I was within his reach, pulling me as close as he could without sacrificing all the air in my lungs.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against my hair.

“Don’t worry. I’m back,” I whispered back. The words were lost in his shirt, but he somehow heard them well enough to ask, “Where did you go?”

I didn’t know how exactly to describe what had happened, so I told one of those lies I’d contemplated earlier. “To get ice,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was just a very inefficient summary.

Spencer didn’t care, either. In fact, he giggled at the thought, nuzzling his face down into my neck and tickling me with his lips as he mumbled, “Let me warm you up.”

It did succeed in warming me up, but only because it turned into a fit of giggles and more intense tickling. His fingers danced along my sides and his whispers turned back to the same kisses that we’d started the night with.

But it couldn’t last forever. The poor guy still had only had a couple hours of sleep, and I felt the excitement wear off all at once, leaving him only half-awake on the pillow beside me. He still found the energy to look at me like there were stars in my eyes.

“Where did you really go?” he asked again, dragging his hand over my cheek like he could see the tears I’d shed just a few moments before.

“Just ice. I promise,” I answered, ending the thought with a quick kiss on his palm. When I could tell that he didn’t believe that, I brought my hands up to his face as I snickered, “See? Cold hands.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he just leaned forward, letting our noses touch and pulling me in to him again. His eyes fluttered shut, and I could almost see the way his body started to return to sleep as he barely muttered, “No cold feet, though?”

It took me a moment to register the words, and once I did, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Cold feet for what?” I whispered back.

Spencer’s answer only came in the form of a dreamy laugh. He didn’t open his eyes again, instead choosing to drop his face back into my shoulder just like he had before. This time there were even fewer kisses against my neck before he went still again.

Once again, I was left with my thoughts. Only this time they weren’t scary. Because marrying Spencer Reid was not the worst thing to imagine by far. In fact, there were very few things I’d ever wanted more.

—————————————————

| Part 23 |

[maybebanks]

Square Groupers

JJ Maybank x reader

in an effort to prove yourself against overprotective JJ, you stand against the square groupers. When it nearly fails JJ and y/n get into a heated argument.

“JJ are you kidding me? How could you not notice anything?” You asked, JJ was flustered after what him and John B had just witnessed, on their visit to Lana Grubbs.

“I wasn’t taking mental Polaroids the entire time, man! I was under duress!”

“What’s with the attitude, Y/n?” John B asked. You frowned, just that day, you and JJ had gotten into a fight, about him not thinking you can protect yourself.

JJ looked at you, you were tense, angry that JJ and possibly John B, doubted your capability.

“Whatever,” you muttered.

JJ sat down next to you on the couch, plopping down.

“We can’t mess around with these guys, man. They’ll fuck you up,” John B said.

“What do you mean? Kill us?” You asked, swallowing your fear for the group.

“From the way Ms.Lana was screaming, those square groupers waste no time,” JJ said.

He threw his arm behind you near your shoulders, you tensed and almost flinched, but bit your lip to stay frozen.

You were shaking slightly, the fear of it all was getting to you. Your mind wandering at the thought of any one of the people you love getting hurt.

“Y/n..are you ok-“ JJ began but Kie cut him off.

“Guys..who just pulled in?” Kie asked, interrupting JJ.

JJ jumped up, along with John B and Pope.

“Y/n get to the back, okay?” JJ said to you in a hushed tone.

“Yeah everyone inside,” Pope agreed.

JJ’s hand met the small of your back and nudged you forward.

You stumbled over a light brown satchal, JJ grabbed your waist and scolded you for being so clumsy. Quickly shoving you inside.

John B offered everyone to head inside his Dads office to hide.

Everyone rushed in and John B locked the door.

“JJ, where’s the gun?” Kie asked.

JJ tapped a pocket of his cargo pants, but then realized the gun wasn’t there.

“I must have left it on the porch,” JJ answered disappointed.

“The one time we actually need it...” Kie scolds.

“I’ll get it,” you offered.

Standing up and nodding to John B to open the door.

He opened it and you stepped out.

“No way! Y/n get back here,” JJ tried but you were already out the door.

You ran through his house and soon arrived at the porch. You eyed the satchal you recently tripped over, the gun was inside.

You bent over to pick it up, but when you did, you felt a rather aggressive tug on the neck of your shirt. You hadn’t realized the two burly men had entered.

And they were right infront of you.

“Hello,” he smirked, eyeing you up and down, his grip now holding the front of your tank top.

“Isn’t she a pretty sight,” he smirked, his friend agreeing.

“Let go of me, you bastard,” you spit, pushing against his unruly grip.

He chuckled, “give me what I want first, princess,” the man seethes.

“Hey! Let her go!” JJ’s voice suddenly shouted from inside.

Your eyes widened. Causing both men to chuckle manically.

The man holding you let go and you stumbled to the ground. When you were on all fours he brought his knee up and slammed it against your ribs.

You cried out in pain and fell to the ground again.

“Y/n!” JJ shouted.

“Give is what we want, boy! Where is the compass?!” They shouted.

You coughed a few times and gasped for air, caressing the new pain erupting at your side.

You reached for the back, and scrambled for the gun.

Once you reached it, you grabbed it with your shaking hands. You stood up as quickly as possible. And you held it in both hands, pointing out infront of you, towards the men.

“If you both don’t leave right now, I swear to god I’ll shoot!” You shout finding courage and being assertive.

“Looks like this ones got a little fight in her after all,” one of the men grins.

“Why don’t you put that thing down before you hurt yourself,” the other man says, turning his attention to you.

“No!” You shouted. Then you fired a shot. Careful that it wouldn’t hit anyone. But not too careful that they knew you aimed for the ceiling.

The bullet went through the wall around 9 feet away from them.

Hitting no one.

“Get out! Or next time I won’t fucking miss,” you threatened.

The two men look at eachother, sharing a look.

“If we leave, you have to do something for us in return,” he lead, stepping closer. You thought the gun was enough of a threat.

“Get. Out. Or I blow your brains out,” you threatened again, stepping closer and adjusting the gun.

“Y/n...” you heard JJ’s voice from behind you.

“We’ll leave. If you get on your knees...” he started the proposition, but soon trailed off when you both heard police sirens.

A new car pulled up. Pope must have called the cops in the midst of all this.

“Mother fuckers,” one of the man muttered, then they gestured towards the back and escaped out of the back door to John B’s no doubt to run from the cops.

Around 20 minutes later, you still haven’t spoken a word to JJ. You knew he’d be mad that you put yourself in danger.

After being questioned by Peterkin and Shoupe, you and the rest of the pogues retired to the porch once again.

You spoke up, “That was intense,”

“You were intense. I hate to admit it but you were a badass,”

“A total badass,” John B agreed.

JJ scoffs, “shut up,” he wasn’t mad that you were brave, he was mad that it didn’t work. If the cops hadn’t come...

“What’s up your ass?” John B asked JJ. Pope chuckled but you only felt your stomach drop.

“She doesn’t even know how to shoot a gun. But she still put herself and danger and it didn’t even pay off,” JJ grumbled.

“What are you talking about?! She stalled them long enough and they didn’t get the compass. I’d say that’s a win,” Kie argues.

“They kicked her in the ribs! I don’t even know what would’ve happened if the cops didn’t show up,” JJ retaliated.

“Yeah how is that? Are you okay?” Pope asks you, gesturing towards your torso.

You gripped the edge of your shirt tight, pushing it down so no one would be able to lift it up and see the bruise, “yeah. I’m fine,”

“Let me see,” JJ suggests, coking his head up for you to lift up your shirt.

“Uh..no thanks,” you answer.

“Come on. I’m serious,” JJ persists.

“JJ why are you being so controlling lately!” You defend, calling him out on him being so overprotective.

“I just want to see if you’re okay!” JJ retaliates.

“I’m. Fine.”

“You could have gotten killed!”

“Well I didn’t!” “Plus it’s not exactly my fault. That’s on those guys!”

JJ scoffs again.

“You are so delusional. It’s not your job to protect me!” You yelled.

“If you do stuff like this it clearly should be,”

Emotions were high. Anger was high. You were angry at JJ, “I’m leaving,”

“Oh no you’re not,” JJ countered.

“Yes I am. I can’t deal with you right now,” you said, getting up to leave.

“Guys?” Kie tried to interfere but it was no use.

“Y/n just stay here, okay? Show me what he did-“

“Who are you to tell me. I just need my-“ you glanced to the table, looking for your item, when you realized it wasn’t there.

“No, no,no,no! Where..where is it! JJ where is it!” You shouted, shuffling around with the items on the table, rushing.

“You’re not having it,”

“You hid it? Stop telling me what to do! You’re not my dad,”

He held two hands out infront of you, “do you even know how to shoot a gun?!”

“I hate you!” you expressed. JJ was getting closer to you, almost backing you in a corner.

“No you don’t,”

Annoyed by his arrogance, you quickly slapped him. Your small hand colliding with his cheek.

His head turned, but he wasn’t as fazed as you thought.

Shit! Why did you do that!

You gulped down. Now afraid he might return the blow, by hitting you back.

Your eyes widened as you tried to keep your cool, “I’m...I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Sorry? Oh come on Y/n!” JJ responds, raising his voice still.

“JJ...”

“What? Where’s that tough girl that was just here, huh?” JJ questioned, gesturing to you.

You realized it was best to try and leave the situation, but when you stepped to get around him, JJ quickly blocked you with his body.

You gulped down, “please don’t hurt me. Just let me go,” you pleaded, finally allowing some stray tears to fall down your cheeks.

JJ stepped back, shock written all over his face. His eyes were narrowed slightly. And JJ sighed when he noticed how frightened he was making you, “oh Y/n. I’m not gonna hurt you,” JJ assures.

“But..” you tried to explain with your eyes, you slapped him, so you just assumed he would hit you. All it would take....

“Lets just...uh go sit back down, yeah?” He asked, raising his arm up to brush some hair out of his forehead.

“Don’t,” you muttered, as you flinched back, your whole body tensing. You squeezed your eyes shut and blocked your face.

The world was still for a moment.

“You flinched? You thought I was going to hit you? Y/n...I’m mad but not that mad,” JJ tried to explain.

“No...I mean, I know. It was just-“

“Instinct?”

“Well..you..you raised your arm. I thought... maybe...”

JJ grabbed your shoulders gently, “y/n, I would never hurt you like that, okay? No matter what you do you’re never gonna deserve to get hit. I’m not my dad, alright?”

“I don’t think you are. You’re nothing like him,” you told him.

JJ studied you again, “I’m sorry. I can get overprotective. You’re just..I don’t know, special to me. I can’t let you get hurt if there was something I could have done to stop it.”

“I know. I’m sorry too. For being stubborn and stupid...” you locked eyes with him again, and then you pulled him in for a hug. You felt comforted when his hands met your waist, hugging you back.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 9

Thomas X Reader

Word Count: 1644

Summary: Grace is forced to endure Reader’s company as Reader heals.

by @adventuresintooblivion

On Saturday morning, it was Thomas that welcomed Y/N instead of Ada. He sat across from her taking a long drag from his cigarette. His eyes were cast out the window a thousand miles away as Y/N sat up. He didn’t acknowledge her at first. 

“Thomas?”

He stirred only slightly. “I’ve got something waiting for you downstairs. Do you think you’re up for a small trip?”

Y/N dressed slowly, using the nearby table as support and taking time to make sure everything was in place. She put on women’s clothes for once; the stays prevented her from making any sudden movements that would jostle her ribs. When she was done, she turned to face Thomas. 

His eyes had gone wide as he watched her. The cigarette was held loosely in his hands, the end burning dangerously low. Ashes fell onto his fingertips, jolting him into the present. He yanked back his hand from the burning sensation. 

Thomas cleared his throat, “I...I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.”

She shrugged. “I don’t hate them, but the structure is usually too much for running across rooftops and such.”

“What’re you doing on a rooftop?”

Y/N flashed him a wicked smile, “Illegal things.”

He stood and offered his arm. “Someday you’re gonna tell me what you did before the war.”

She didn’t answer as they made their way down the stairs. It was slow going and she didn’t exactly enjoy any of the movement, but she’d be damned if she was cooped up in her rooms for the next two months. Thomas was patient with her, letting her pick the pace, but she was still relieved when they made it to level ground.

The Garrison was already somewhat busy, people grabbing a drink before heading out. Y/N vaguely remembered talk of a football game, so it would only get busier. However, more people were standing than normal; a table by the stairs seemed to be missing. Something was still taking up quite a bit of room.

There against the dingy wood of the pub, stood a black gleaming Baby Grand Piano. It was massive in the crowded space and seemed to glow despite the dim lighting due to it’s highly polished surface. Ivory keys were stark white and begging to be played.

  Y/N froze, “Thomas, what the hell is that?”

“Well, I’d expect you of all people to know what that is. But I’ll humor you nonetheless, it’s a piano. A Steinway to be exact.”

“Tommy! Those cost a bloody fortune.”

“To get them shipped here, even more so. But I hear they’re extremely popular in New York City. If we’re going to fancy this place up a bit, might as well have one, right?”

She couldn’t stop her head from shaking, but no words left her lips. Thomas gently guided her towards the seat.

Y/N glanced around wildly. “What’re you doing?”

He leaned forward and she could hear the grin in his voice, “You’re so worried about earning your keep. Go on, play it.”

The room parted for them until finally she sat. Leather creaked beneath her weight as she settled into place. Her fingers brushed over the keys reverently, it was the barest touch and yet it took everything she had not to just play. A thousand notes flooded her mind. Long lost memories ingrained in the notes of a song.

“Tommy, this is too much.” She didn’t feel the tears until she tasted the salt on her lips.

His hand lifted ever so slightly, but he stopped. His eyes casting out among the crowd. 

Thomas whispered, “You’ve shown me genuine kindness time and again. And I’ll not have you up in that room feeling useless. Now please, play for me.”

“Any requests?” Y/N bit her lip. She refused to let the sob escape her throat. 

He grinned, “The one you made for me?”

She slapped his arm half-heartedly, “You bastard. Trying to make me a blubbering mess in front of everyone.”

“Well if you’re not up for it . . .”

“Shut your heathen mouth.” 

Her fingers returned to the keys as Thomas stood. He left to go to his office. Despite the distance between them--and the wood--he could hear each note as she began to play. The idle chatter died. Men turned from their conversations to listen to a song only a handful on earth had heard before. 

One song led to another. The day passed by in a blur as Y/N’s hands soured across the piano. All the frustration of the past few days coming out in a prolonged concert. Patrons became used to the background music, their chatter filling what would have been silence.

Eventually, Grace came to stand beside her. A small tray with a bottle and two glasses was grasped tightly between her hands.

Grace cleared her throat. “You’ve been playing for hours. Think you could use a drink?”

Y/N glanced up. “Actually that’d be fantastic.”

It was the first time Grace had seen Y/N since before her abduction. Every time her eyes strayed towards her busted lip or bruised skin a cold chill ran through her. Campbell had really done that? She nodded and poured the drinks quickly. She was about to step away when Y/N stopped her.

“Are you ok? You’re looking kind of pale.”

“It’s been a rough few days.” Grace answered as she ducked her head. “I worked a job for Thomas, and it wasn’t what I expected to say the least.”

Y/N took a drink. “He took you to the races.”

Grace started, “He told you about that?”

“He told me what he had planned for you.” She glanced up at Grace. “So, is he as much of a bastard as he thinks he is?”

“No.”

Y/N caught herself smiling, “That’s good to hear. Come, join me.” 

Grace paused a moment before joining Y/N on the bench. It was a tight fit but it worked well enough. 

“Do you play?”

Grace shook her head. “No, singing is where my musical talent stays.”

She nodded, sipping her drink as she glanced around. Eventually Grace caught herself staring at Y/N. Her voice was almost too soft for Y/N to hear, “Thomas trusts you.”

“I might’ve saved him once or twice during the war.” She shrugged.

Grace blinked, “You were a nurse?”

Y/N snorted, “I don’t know anything more than what they teach you in basic.” 

“You fought?!” 

Y/N flinched. "Tell the whole world why don't you?"

Matthew's death finally made more sense to Grace. This woman beside her was trained to kill in the bloodiest war the world had seen. She couldn't have been running on much more than base animal instinct, just like the other men in this bar. She reluctantly admitted to herself that she'd like to see another woman lose her senses in battle. However, she squashed down that natural curiosity, appalled with herself.

Grace's words were barely a whisper, "You killed people, how many?"

Y/N blinked. "It's a bit morbid to count. But it was a side effect of what I actually did. I was the distraction and the insurance to get our boys out if something went wrong in the tunnels. The only person out there who is a better shot than me is Jeremiah."

"Why're you telling me all this?" Grace bit back a snarl.

Y/N cast her a sidelong glance, an eyebrow slowly raising, "Do you not want to be friends?"

Why the hell would I want to be friends with a monster like you? Grace flashed her a perfectly cheery smile, "I apologize. I guess I'm just tired. If you'll excuse me?" She stood without waiting for an answer. There was so much she wanted to say. All of them clashing together fighting for their chance to be said, but every single one of them would've revealed her.

But she couldn't stop one last quip from slipping past her lips, "Brass knuckles, are they a good weapon for self defense?" 

Silence hung in the air so heavy the idle chatter of the bar couldn't seem to penetrate it. 

"Only if you know how to throw a good punch. Why do you ask?"

Grace stammered, "I wanted something just in case. This isn't exactly the best area in town."

Y/N gave her a tired look. "You work at the Garrison. No one will hurt you."

Grace didn't know what to say, so she simply nodded her head and left. She gripped the tray to stop her hands from shaking. It wasn't until Harry tapped her shoulder that she realized she'd frozen behind the counter.

"Come on, Girl; we've got work to do."

The rest of the night kept Grace too busy to breathe easily let alone think about Matthew. It wasn't until Thomas came in a few hours later that she realized that it was almost closing time.

"Hello, Grace." He leaned against the bar, his eyes roaming over her figure. 

She wasn't going to pretend she hadn't noticed it happening more and more often. "Hello, Mr. Shelby."

He shook his head. "I thought we were past that by now."

Grace glanced away. "Your friend by the piano seems to have a high regard for you; I wouldn't want to offend her."

He raised his eyebrow. "What did she say?"

"She said that since I work at the Garrison, I'm free from any harassment on the streets."

"You are."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, holding his gaze for a long moment. "And why is that Mr. Shelby?"

He shook his head, "Don't worry about it. Just call me Thomas, alright?"

Grace nodded before returning to her spigots. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as Thomas headed directly for the piano.

[themadauthorshatter]

Alright, everyone, LET'S GET CHARLES HOME! I've been looking forward to this part, not even joking 😁😃

LIGHTNING FAST CATCH UP: Galeforce has acquired the means to get Charles home(thank goodness), while Henry tells Charles something that he didn't need to know in his current circumstances. Rather than make him come running toward Henry, it made Charles's resolve that much stronger.

For all the juicy details, catch up with the links provided:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 and revision

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Now then, LET'S GO!!!

We start off with Charles again, but in a TV perspective, POV shot where he repeatedly blinks blinks on a dark room, each time resulting in Henry seemingly teleporting closer like a vampire or like Five, minus the blink sound he makes.

At some point, Charles blinks and Henry disappears. Charles looks around and finds Henry sitting next to him and tucking some hair out of his face and then reaches forward to civer his eyes.

What's out of this perspective? Well, I'll tell you. It's a close up of Henry holding Charles, who's got his hands tied above him(wink, wink for astute viewers).

Henry leans close to Charles go whisper something in gis ear, but we don't head it because a slap in the face wakes up Charles.

It's the next day, Charles is still gagged and restrained, and that slap did nothing but send him into a small panic.

Who slapped him? Right, who's been watching him for a while.

"Morning," Right says. "Sleep well?"

Charles glares at him instead.

Right counters with a bored look. "Cute. Think you're doing yourself any favors?"

Charles only continues to glare, because it's all he can do.

Right mimes punching him and Charles gives possibly the worst flinch anyone can see- well, anyone except Right, who chuckles at his reaction.

"Not so tough now, are you?"

Charles kicks at Right, but Right grabs his foot in his cybernetic hand.

Right narrows his eyes(eye, I guess), and tightens his grip on Charles's foot, even to hurt, even through the dress shoes on.

Charles yelps behind the tape and tries pulling his foot free, but only results in Right further tightening his grip.

"Better stop that now, kid. It's not gonna help you."

That's when the door opens and Henry walks in, gesturing for Right to politely leave him alone with Charles.

Right drops Charles's foot and nods, obliging to leave the two alone.

Once the door closes and Right's gone, Henry turns to Charles and holds up a bandaged hand, sciwling at him.

"I guess your bite's worse than your bark."

Charles glares at Henry and nods at the duct tape still in his mouth before raising both eyebrows; 'I'd do it again, if I could. Try me.'

Henry holds a hand against his forehead and sighs, shaking his head.

"When will you ever learn, Charles? Really, when?"

Charles turns his head slightly and gives a, "Hm?"

Henry strides toward the wall next to Charles, and Charles, knowing there's nothing cybernetic about Henry, kicks at him.

He gets electrocuted for it, Henry watching in what seems to be disappointment and that 'you're making me do this' narcissism.

Charles screams behind the tape and convulses for a while before Henry stops.

Charles groans as it stops, his head hanging even as Henry approaches, lifts his chin, and snaps his fingers to get his attention.

"Charles? Hey, stay with me. We need to talk."

Charles only gives him a weary look before weakly glaring.

Henry fights the urge to roll his eyes and moves both his hands to either side of Charles's face.

"Think this is going to do anything? How long have you been here? And when will you learn that you're not leaving?"

Charles shakes his head to get Henry off him, but Henry holds on and only leans closer.

"I told you before, Charles. You're not leaving, so drop the idea that you will."

Charles headbutts him, which makes Henry stumble back and holds his now bleeding nose.

Henry glares and raises his fist.

Charles inhales sharply and flinches, his entire body tensing as he waits for a punch or to be electrocuted again.

Neither happen and Henry walks around Charles and holds him from behind, arms around his chest and waist.

"You need to stop," Henry says. "All your doing is hurting yourself for nothing."

Charles wriggles to get Henry off him, but it doesn't work, evidenced by Henry wrapping his arms tighter and holding Charles close enough that Henry is physically against Charles, like his chest is touching Charles's back.

Regardless, it makes Henry snicker. "Guess you're not listening." He's silent for a second before an idea comes to him.

Henry lets Charles go and walks back to the wall, where he pushes a button that releases Charles fully.

Charles falls and fumbles around for a little bit before Henry speaks up.

"Before you decide to attack me, I want you to know that this is your only chance to get out." Henry nods to the panel used to get in and out of the cell. "I won't stop you from trying. If you get out, I'll take you back to Earth and surrender myself and the clan to the government."

Charles's eyes widen and Henry leans against the wall, nodding again at the panel before watching Charles shakily approach it and bring his hand to it.

He's seen people open the door using the panel. Hell, Henry SHOWS him the pattern used to open the door. He's seen it, he was paying attention, but he doesn't fully remember it.

Charles uses the pattern he's seen everyone else use, but the door stays shut. His eyes widen as his chest hollows, shaking his head and fighting a sob as he tries again. Nothing.

Henry smirks as Charles tries again and again to open the door, using both hands, using more than one finger, even using his knuckle, all the while Charles is becoming so upset and frustrated that he actually bursts into tears and just starts trying random patterns.

Henry gives a sympathetic hum. "That's unfortunate. Guess you don't have the right fingerprints."

Charles charges at Henry, but Henry quickly pushes himself off the wall, grabs and spins Charles around, throwing him to the ground, putting his shoe on his neck to keep him down; Henry doesn't stomp on Charles's neck or grind his shoe in, it's just more of a threat than anything.

Charles still tries to get up, though, shouting at Henry behind the tape. Henry quickly kneels down, remives his shoe, and holds Charles down by his wrists from on top of him.

Charles continues to try to break free, until Henry pushes his wrists down and leans closer to Charles.

"I gave you your chance, didn't I? You. Are not. Leaving. I'll make sure you don't."

Charles, even though his eyes are puffy and red, glares at Henry, non-verbally telling him to go to Hell.

Henry simply brushes some hair out of his face before restraining him once more.

"Make sure you don't bark or bite for a while. Don't want the General brining the army with him."

With that Henry leaves.

Charles sighs and rests his head against his arm, staring at the panel as he lets tears fall from his eyes.

TIME JUMPCUT TO EARTH!!!! Approximately a month has past, maybe less. The prototype has been completed, tested, and approved, with a team of Galeforce, Canterbury, and maybe three others joining, maybe less. Meanwhile, Henry has continued to mindfuck Charles, who hopes Henry gets fucked over by the clan.

On Earth, it is decided Rupert, Victoria, and Amelia Esteban. The twins have volunteered to go, but were immediately dismissed; Galeforce orders Victoria to keep an eye on them, so they don't leave or try sneaking with them.

With the sapphire and guns and ammo loaded, they head off to a take-off point and set off to get Charles back; you'll see what the guns are for in a minute😉.

With Charles, he's getting showered and cleaned up again, but this time is given his old clothes back, which have been washed. He also gets a hair trim, because Henry, who's cutting his hair, likes him better with the short. He's a little more bruised from getting aggressive and trying to be defiant, and his lips are chapped raw by the tape, wrists raw as well from being restrained.

Speaking of, he gets put in a simple pair of hand cuffs this time, his hands in front of him.

Once it's all said and done, Henry holds Charles's face and caresses his cheeks, noting the very upset and hollow look he has.

"Leave everything to me. It'll be over before you know it, and then it'll be me and you here. No more cells, after today."

Charles lowers Henry's hands, closes his eyes, and takes a breath as he leans up to kiss Henry, which shocks him beyond all reason before returning it, holding the back of Charles's head. TV perspective, we don't see how passionate it is, we just see Charles's hands on Henry's chest, which stray to his coat(HMMMMMM!?)

After a little while, there's a knock on the door and they pull away.

"Henry?" Ellie calls from the other side of the door. "They're here."

Henry sighs and turns to a still slightly panting Charles, smirking at him.

"Show time."

CUT TO A LOUNGE AREA NEAR THE 'EXIT,' THE ONE FOR THE GOVERNMENT, WHERE THE DESTROYER IS WAITING!!!!

Everyone is tense. They're all armed, all ready to rittle the other side with holes, if need be.

Beside Galeforce, Canterbury, Rupert, and Amelia is the crate, where the replica sits inside, still in one piece(thank goodness).

Before anyone can make any introductions, Ellie and Henry strut their way in with Charles in toe, eyes on the floor.

When I said Charles is bruised, I mean there's a bruise under his eye, on the bridge on his nose, the side of his jaw, cheek, some on his throat(because he got mouthy), and his lip is split.

At the sight of him, Galeforce and Rupert almost race toward him.

Big mistake because Charles flinches back while Toppats aim at them with semi-automatics.

Henry also pulls Charles closer to him, smug-ass smirk growing.

Rupert goes for his gun, but Galeforce stops him.

"Don't," he says under his breath.

Rupert backs down and both rejoining Canterbury and Victoria.

Satisfied with the cooperation, Henry takes his place with the Toppats, his hand on Charles's shoulder.

"General."

It surprises the group that Henry doesn't sign to them, but Galeforce keeps his eyes locked on him.

"Henry."

Henry nods. "Been a while. You look good."

Rupert, fed up with Henry for getting his friend killed, other friend kidnapped by the Toppat Clan(Dave's free, btw, he's just at the home he and Rupert share because he's scared to go out), getting screwed over countless times, and seeing his best friend injured, hunted, kidnapped, and tortured, snaps at him.

"Shut it! Give Charles back or we'll blow this station to kingdom come with you, this clan, and this stupid gem inside it!"

"Price, stand down," Amelia barks.

Rupert whips his head to her, Henry, and back again, biting his tongue as he, indeed, backs off.

Galeforce nods at them both and taps the crate with the replica sapphire inside. "Before we waste any more of your time, here's the sapphire, like you asked."

Henry's smirk drops slightly at the fun being over, but he nods again.

"Right." He sighs and turns to Charles, who's staring at the floor with his fists clenched. "A deal's a deal."

As Toppats take the crate, Henry removes the handcuffs and stands back, letting Charles rub his wrists, once the metal's gone.

"It was fun, having Charles here."

That's when Henry draws a gun and aims at Galeforce.

The group jump right into action, drawing their guns as well.

Before any shots are fired, Charles shouts as he takes Chekov's knife out of his sleeve and slams it into Henry's side, making Henry scream as he fires the gun at the ceiling and falls.

HELL. BREAKS. LOOSE.

Ellie, Reginald, and numerous other Toppats race to Henry's side, Right and the other Toppats draw their guns and start shooting, and the group makes a run for it, Charles following.

No time to take cover and continue because Canterbury takes a bullet to the calf, Amelia gets into a tussle, and Rupert and Galeforce concert them both and Charles, who had to get the bullet out of Canterbury's calf with the knife(don't worry, he wiped it off as much as he could, before doing so.).

Yeah. There's a little bit of a firefight, which even includes a Toppat aiming at Galeforce before Charles races in front of him.

The Toppat decides, 'Fuck all,' and aims at Charles, but Henry shouts at him to hold his fire.

The team quickly make a run for it, the Toppat shooting Charles anyway, and barely missing him.

Keyword: BARELY, evidenced by Charles holding a bleeding ear.

They get to the Destroyer right as they're being shot at, loading up and leaving, but not without a paying gift, courtesy of Charles:

A shot to one of their satellites, which breaks it.

Kind of a rushed escape, I apologize, I'm not good at impromptu escapes.😅

Regardless, while the team finally takes a breather on the ride back to Earth, and Amelia wraps Canterbury's wound, Charles looks out one of the windows and watches as the station shrinks further into the distance.

Rupert sees him staring and gives a small, nervous laugh. "You good back there, Charles? You've been quiet."

Charles rigidly turns and stares at all of them, though Canterbury's kind enough to give a wave.

"Is... is this... real?"

They all turn to him, even Galeforce, who gestures Rupert to take control of flying for a little while.

Galeforce leaves his seat and throws his arms around Charles, who tenses, and both find out that the other is violently trembling.

"It's real. You're going home, son."

The pure, unbridled reflief Charles feels is immeasurable as he lets out a shuddering breath, which turns into laughter before he passes out.

Back at the orbital station, Henry's done getting patched up and his resting in his room, with an arm over his eyes as he lies on his bed.

Ellie's leaning against the wall next to him, uneasy, but still there to make sure he's alright.

"At least we got the sapphire."

Henry moves his hand until it's over one eye and, after a moment, gives her a small smile and nods.

"Sorry about Charles, by the way."

Henry sighs and sits up, grunting. "He'll be back. The General's going to see that his most experienced pilot has all the best qualities of a thief or a criminal and will leave Charles alone, with no one to run back to, but the clan."

Ellie huffs/snorts at that. "You really want the guy who stabbed you to be a member of the clan?"

"What else is he going to do?"

They exchange smirks and get calls from Sven via ear pieces in their top hats, though Henry's is on his desk.

"Chief? Right Hand Lady? You might want to come to the treasurie."

Ellie and Henry's smirks drop and we cut to the two arriving and weaving through a crowd of pale faced Toppats.

Once they reach the front, Ellie gasps and Henry's eyes widen.

The replica is broken, shattered.

TV perspective, we see the Toppat that grazed Charles shot twice, the second shot being the graze. The FIRST shot, however, made the bullet break though the crate and get lodged it the replica, which was then dropped by accident as it was being put away; they were putting it in a high container.

Everyone turns to Henry, who's wide eyed and clenching a shaking fist.

He slowly looks up and at the Emerald he'd stolen with the Clan, and asks them all a question.

"Where is he?"

He doesn't have the sapphire, and probably won't be having it, but he'll have something else instead to make up for it:

Charles.

[danganronpa-21]

Naegiri Week Day 6 - Date

I did it!! I know I’m pretty late, but hey, Eon said submissions still count so I’m still going lol (thank you for the patience). This one’s a bit on the longer side and contains switching POVs, but it’s pretty easy to follow as each first line introduces either Makoto or Kyoko by name. I’ve been agonizing over it for awhile now, so hopefully you get some enjoyment out of it. If not, at least take some pleasure in the fact that I had to edit out some of my use of the word “smile” from the original draft, for I used the word 13 separate times. This is why we draft, kids. Anyway, no warnings to issue this time around.

I’ll be back to bring you Festival sometime soon. Thanks so much for your support and attention!

______________

“I’m excited for our big night tonight, Kyoko!”

Her partner’s words echoed like a horrid earworm in her mind as she jotted down her most recent case notes. They’d been vibrating around in her head since the moment he uttered them; they plagued her all throughout the car ride to the Hope’s Peak building. Even now, while he was off dealing with a misbehaving teacher case, she could not get his statement to stop pestering her. She had to be the worst girlfriend in the world to have forgotten something so important as to be classified as “big night”. Simply imagining the disappointment on Makoto’s face if she confessed to not knowing the significance of the date made her heart drop. She was never the best at remembering anniversaries and birthdays without much of a reminder; her schedule was far too busy to help her recall every significant thing. What was peculiar about this situation was that Kyoko didn’t even have the benefit of being able to check her schedule. Normally, she marked off all of their important relationship milestones on their calendar so she wouldn’t forget… but for whatever reason, today’s date wasn’t in there. No red ink scribbling circles around sloppily scrawled words, no little star stickers that her boyfriend got her into the habit of using. Just a dotting of blue ink to tell her that she had a dentist appointment the following day. Her past self refused to even give an inkling of a hint.

 Still, if there was one thing that Kyoko knew best about herself, it was that she was stubborn. A stubborn detective, at that! There was no way that she would allow herself to be bested by a simple mystery such as this. If she didn’t have any clues of her own to work with, she’d just have to start off somewhere else. Of course, what else was better to start off with than witnesses? That was how Aoi came into the picture.

Well, it would be, if she weren’t several minutes late. The tardiness was admittedly a bit strange given that she had a free period, but it wasn’t super out of character for Aoi. She tended to get so excited and ahead of herself that sometimes she would almost miss work meetings entirely. Kyoko couldn’t count the number of times on both hands that she’d come rushing in to a staff meeting over twenty minutes late. All she hoped was that she would get there sooner than Makoto would get back. To have him catch them in the middle of this discussion could be mortifying. She feared she might break his heart if she let him know that she forgot. A quick and easy bit of advice or clues from Aoi would really be ideal.

 She massaged her temples with one hand and leaned over to poke her phone awake with the other. 9:03 A.M. Aoi was officially thirteen minutes late, and in all honesty, Kyoko wondered if she should start to worry. What if Makoto had intercepted her or something? Or was she perhaps the troublesome teacher he intended to deal with? The latter seemed unlikely, but she didn’t want to rule out any possibilities. Ugh, all of this would be so much easier if she knew what Makoto had been alluding to in the first place! If it hadn’t been for Aoi arriving almost as if she were on cue, Kyoko might have given into her desire to bash her head into the desk.

 “Sorry I’m late, Kyoko!” The swimmer’s voice was just as chipper as ever, and her forehead just as sweaty. Did her morning jog run long or something? “I got a little caught up. You know how it is.”

 Kyoko sighed, doing her best to pretend to be less disgruntled than she actually was. “Indeed, I do. Still, I should thank you for coming on such short notice.”

 Aoi’s ponytail swung back and forth as she strutted to the seat across from Kyoko and plopped herself down; the manner of it all reminded her of being told to sit more lady-like by her grandfather. She tried not to scowl at the thought of him. They had been through a bit of a rough patch lately. “Of course! Anything to help one of my favourite girls.”

 The taller woman laughed softly, reaching up to brush some stray hands of hair away from her face. “I am quite glad to hear you say that, Asahina-san. You see, I have something to ask you.”

 Almost instantly, Aoi folded her arms across her chest. She turned her nose up at the detective jokingly. “You may not ask me anything unless you call me by first name. You know that’s okay!”

 She let out a half-amused sigh and did her best not to show her pleasure on her face. “Aoi, if I ask you something, do you promise not to tell Makoto that I asked?”

 Aoi’s eyes widened; her body suddenly shot forward with interest. Normally, one might have reacted with a bit of apprehension over being asked to keep a secret from their friend’s paramour, but Aoi seemed to relish it. The smile that spread across her face all but proved it. Figures. Aoi probably expected to be asked about what he was thinking of doing for their next date night or something cute like that. “Ooh! What’s going on? What do you wanna know?”

 In any other situation, there would be lots Kyoko could ask. After all, Aoi was their one friend who was not only mutual, but a confidant. She wouldn’t be able to get the same information out of Yasuhiro and Toko that she could out of Aoi, and it was vice versa for Makoto. This wasn’t to say that she begged Aoi to regularly break Makoto’s trust, or that he did anything of that sort to her – it was just that the swimmer could tend to point either of them in the right direction. When Makoto struggled to ask Kyoko for a birthday present, he would tell Aoi and eventually she would tell Kyoko what he wanted. When Kyoko was too embarrassed to confess to her feelings to Makoto’s face, she would tell Aoi and she would encourage Makoto to move in the right direction to get her to open up. It definitely wasn’t a system of broken trust, but a little one that worked for them and kept things moving to their advantage. They could function without Aoi if they wanted to, but she enjoyed helping them along. She was perhaps the person most invested in their relationship apart from themselves… and maybe Komaru.

 Kyoko drummed her fingers on the desk absent-mindedly; somehow she found she would rather watch herself move than make eye contact with her friend. It must have something to do with her embarrassment over the whole not knowing the day thing, she assumed. “Aoi… do you know why today is significant in mine and Makoto’s relationship?”

 Aoi blinked, pressing a finger to her lower lip. “Ummm… no. Why is it significant? Did I miss something?”

 “It is not a rhetorical question. I am genuinely asking. Makoto asked me if I was excited for our special night this morning, and I haven’t the faintest idea what he meant.”

 “Oh! Uhhh…” the cogs in her mind seemed to turn slowly; her gaze darting around the room as if she would somehow find the answer there. It was such an artificial-looking thinking process, yet Kyoko found herself holding her breath as she awaited a response. “I… I dunno. He didn’t mention anything to me about tonight being special.”

 Kyoko let out a groan, throwing her head into her hands. “What am I going to do?! He’s expecting a perfect night, and I don’t have anything planned.”

 “Maybe… um…” she paused for but a second, “Throw on some lingerie and hope for the best?”

 The detective scowled at her. “Very funny. You know he and I aren’t… physically intimate.”

 “Aww, c’mon Kyoko-chan, don’t feel bad,” Aoi said, her arm darting across the desk to pry at Kyoko’s wrist, “I’m sure there’s gotta be someone who knows what Makoto’s all excited about.”

 “What if there isn’t? The last thing I want to do is hurt Makoto’s feelings. I cannot afford to make such a careless mistake.”

 “Well how do you know that it was you who made the mistake? Maybe he forgot what day it is, not you!”

 Somehow, that didn’t lift Kyoko’s spirits. Mostly because of how improbable it sounded. While Makoto tended to forget more trivial matters like whose turn it was to do the dishes, he never forgot important dates. Especially not when it came to their relationship. Based on what Aoi told her, he bought most of his anniversary and birthday gifts for her over three weeks in advance. Preparedness when it came to their relationship seemed to be his strong suit, quite unlike her. Without anything to show for the upcoming night, she would look like a selfish girlfriend.

 “While I respect that you are trying to cheer me up, Asahina-san, I seriously doubt that that’s the case. You know just as well as I do how diligent he is when it comes to our relationship,” her fingers somehow worked their way back to her temples, massaging them almost aggressively, “If anyone has forgotten anything, it is most certainly me.”

 Aoi’s eyes glittered with sympathy as she watched her friend, still trying to hold her arm. Kyoko imagined that she was mostly trying to pat her forearm, but had somehow settled for gripping her awkwardly. It was less comforting and more like she’d been caught in a trap; nevertheless, she decided to appreciate the sentiment behind it. “Please don’t be too hard on yourself, Kyoko-chan. Naegi-kun wouldn’t want you to do that, even if you forgot. I’m sure he’ll understand. He’s super sweet like that!”

 That is true, Kyoko thought to herself. If anything, Makoto would find it within himself to understand her perspective. Work had been incredibly busy for both of them lately, and they did have a lot of other friendship and familial obligations to attend to… Would it truly be so awful for her to have forgotten one measly little date? She couldn’t have the answer to that question. Nobody could. There were only so many circumstances in which that things could work out for her, and it all depended on how much value the date held. If it was something huge, like an anniversary, she would never forgive herself – even if Makoto did. However, should it have been something small, she figured that they would be able to brush it off and at least try to have a good time. Value determined everything, and of course it was on the list of things she didn’t know. All she had as a clue was that the date was special somehow.

 “I appreciate the optimism, but I just don’t think I can go through the rest of today without knowing what’s going on.” She sighed, doing her best to avoid pouting like a spoiled child. While there were several things that she would confess to hating, not knowing important things hung at the top. Probably somewhere around number two on her list of hated things, coming just below coriander. Blegh. “Is there anything else I can do to figure this out?”

 Aoi shrugged, still wearing that same signature smile of hers. “Why not try asking some of the others? Komaru-chan should be in helping Fukawa-san, maybe you could ask her for help. She’s his little sister, after all!” The swimmer tapped her chin. “I guess you could try Togami-kun, too, but I don’t know how nice he would be about it. I know you guys kind of like to rib each other.”

 ‘Like to rib each other’ was a sugar coating of the truth, but Kyoko supposed it encapsulated their relationship nonetheless. Byakuya was admittedly the last person she wanted to go to for help with this Makoto situation, yet the difficulty of it all gave her little choice in the matter. In fact, she considered it to be completely unavoidable.

 “I suppose you’re right there. I’ll see about talking to Komaru-chan about it first. If that fails,” one of her hands curled into a fist, “I will bite the bullet and confront Byakuya.”

 Aoi giggled softly, finally releasing Kyoko’s arm and hopping to her feet. “That’s the spirit! Now, was that all you needed, Boss?”

 For her friend’s sake, Kyoko did her best to grin a little. Though she herself hadn’t been able to help, Aoi provided her own information that would make this anxiety-inducing task much easier. Kyoko surely owed her for that. “Yes. Sorry to call you into my office for so little, but I was getting restless. Is there any way I can compensate you for your troubles?”

 Aoi waved it off. “Don’t be silly, Kyoko-chan! We’re friends, I’m here to help you any time you need it,” amusement tugged at her lips, “That being said, though… if you have to compensate me… mind buying me a donut on your next coffee run?”

 Kyoko shook her head, trying not to show how much Aoi’s request made her laugh. Of course she’d ask for a donut. “That is… doable, yes. I presume you want the Boston Kreme again?”

 The swimmer’s face lit up with glee, her hands clapping together excitedly. “Oh god, please. I haven’t had one in soooo long. They’re so yummy.”

 Kyoko could agree with that statement. It hadn’t been until her time in Hope’s Peak that she first tried a Boston Kreme donut, but she found it to be quite a hit on her tastebuds. Definitely on her list of favourites, and Aoi’s too. The girl once joked that that was how she knew that they would be good friends. “Sounds good to me. You are dismissed, Aoi-chan. Have a good day.”

 “Thanks, Kyoko-chan! You too!”

 With that, the swimmer spun on her heel and wandered towards the door, sending herself off with a wave to her friend before closing the door behind her. God, what relief Aoi’s presence had been. Of course, Kyoko could only notice it now that she had left. Stress settled back into her the moment she departed, bearing down on her like a blue whale. Though she knew she still had the hope of Komaru and Byakuya’s assistance, doubt sprouted in her heart. What if they couldn’t help her? Oh, what would she do?

 She squeezed her eyes shut. The absolute last thing she wanted to think about the way Makoto would look when she eventually confessed to being clueless. His normally chipper expression would still remain on his face, but she would see it falter. The corners of his mouth would twitch down for a split second, the joy weakening without actually ever having to disappear. His shoulders would slump, and he would move to push a hand through his hair to make things seem more casual. He would want to show her that he was more relaxed about it than he actually was. She would be able to see the hurt cloud his eyes.

 Ugh. She didn’t want to think about that. Stealing one last long look at her paperwork, she sighed and pushed herself to her feet. If she was going to avoid the terrible, horrible fate of disappointing her boyfriend, she had better get a move on in talking to Komaru and Byakuya. The guidance committee’s not-as-problematic-as-stated student situation would have to wait.

 __________

 Makoto would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about his fiancée.

 He hadn’t been, when he’d woken up this morning. In fact, he’d been pretty excited to spend the day with her. The two of them planned this day for ages. From the blankets they would snuggle up with to the snacks they would eat, the couple made sure everything had its place. Makoto even promised her he’d make his famous popcorn-chocolate-marshmallow bars. It was tradition for their Dead Trial marathons, after all. Kyoko tended to say that it wouldn’t have felt like a proper marathon without them. Good snacks and cozy blankets were the best thing for a day inside watching their favourite show. All they had to do was get through their long day of work. That was how it seemed at the time, anyway. Now, Makoto didn’t feel so sure.

  Kyoko’s morning demeanour changed within an instant; the moment he made mention of the day caught her in a loop of seeming unease. Her expression crumpled, falling back into its neutrality. How funny, so many years ago he would never have seen her iron mask as a sign of worry. Just a sign of Kyoko being Kyoko. These days, though, he knew better than to think that. Any emotion she gave him would be better than the cold, hard stare. The mask hid fear, the face showed affection.

  His fingers tapped on the surface of the window ledge; eyes fixed intently on the world outside. He could see two students, both girls, hanging out around the fountain on what he presumed to be a date. One with black hair and the other with brown, grinning and giggling together. The dark-haired girl was trying to feed the other a spicy tuna roll, but it dropped from her chopsticks and bounced into the fountain. Her date threw her head back laughing at how clumsy the dark-haired girl was, forcing her face to turn rose-red. At any other time, he was sure he would have felt happy for them. Even if they were skipping class to have quality time, sometimes good romance was worth that kind of thing.

 He couldn’t deny that the sight of the girls made him think of Kyoko. At the end of everything, he hoped that the two of them would have a night like those two students were having. His heart ached at the image of the two of them sitting there, a foot apart and not touching at all. No blankets draped over them, no snacks placed in their laps, no emotion as they tried to enjoy their show. He would reach for his partner’s hand but she would scarcely respond, just staring almost blankly at the screen in front of her. Her leg would be bouncing up and down like a basketball, but when he asked, she would deny being nervous. It would be a torturous, awful night; neither of them would enjoy it the way they thought they would. Then, the two of them would creep off to bed, and she would sleep with her back turned to him. She wouldn’t even try to cuddle up in his arms like she usually did.

 His gaze flicked down to his watch. 11:49, it read. His little sister was running late. She had sent him a text asking to meet him outside of classroom 8-B, and somehow had not made a point of being there on time herself. He didn’t think it was too much to expect, given that she had been the one to ask that they meet in the first place. In some sense, he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was quite like Komaru to be flaky. Makoto loved his younger sister, he really did, but sometimes the girl was just trouble. 

 He let out a sigh as he watched the girls pluck the roll out of the fountain’s water, the sunlight beaming brightly on their smiling faces. He leaned on his hand, silently wishing he could be as carefree as they were. The headmaster was leagues away from being a high schooler, but when relationship communication issues like this happened, he felt like he was right back in it again. At the end of the day, he just hoped nothing was seriously wrong with Kyoko. He hated to think that something might be wrong, and she just hadn’t had the courage to tell him.

 “Hey! Makoto!”

 Finally. Komaru’s voice snapped him out of his worries as he turned his head to look at her coming down the hall. She held a stack of paper in her arms, and her hands were brutally smudged with ink. A pair of glasses rested on her nose. Figures. She asked him to meet her, and then got caught up in drawing her manga. That was so like her. Still, he pushed down his annoyance, cracking a small smile as he made eye contact with his baby sister.

 “Hey, Komaru,” he greeted, his hands resting on his hips, “I see you’re running late, as always.”

 Komaru’s tongue found its way out of her mouth before her words did. “I see you’re still a jerk, as always,” she huffed, quickly putting her flustered run into a full stop, “Thank you for coming, though.”

 “You’re more than welcome. You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?” 

 Komaru’s fingers reached up to scratch at her cheek, the smile playing at her lips turning sheepish. Whatever she would say next, he knew he probably would not like it. It was all a sign that Komaru had either already made or intended to make trouble. Trouble that he would likely have to clean up, he might add. 

 “Okay, so like… I know you’ve told me before that you really don’t want me to meddle in your relationship with Kyoko-” 

 Makoto closed his eyes, the tips of his fingers digging in to his hips in an attempt to quell his frustration. “I don’t, and I really hope you’re about to tell me that you haven’t.”

The smile grew even more sheepish, prompting Makoto to groan. His palm hit his forehead before he even thought to make the motion himself. Why did she have to do this to him? Why couldn’t she just pretend to vomit every time they kissed, like a normal younger sister? 

 “Okay so like… I didn’t totally ruin anything or tell her anything bad, but she did come to me asking for advice on something,” Komaru confessed, shrugging her shoulders, “And I thought you should know that she’s worried about something.”

 “Do you know what it is?” He asked immediately, his eyes widening a bit. God, he hoped she came to tell him what Kyoko was worried about. It would make things so much easier for them. After all, if Kyoko wouldn’t tell him why she was acting weird, and he didn’t know, then Komaru would be the only bridge between the two of them. It wasn’t like Aoi had had anything to say when he’d initially asked her. He was running out of options.

 Komaru tittered awkwardly, clutching her inked papers a little more tightly. One could only hope that the ink was not fresh, lest it stain her suit jacket. It was pressed far too close to her body. “You see, about that, I do, but-”

 He blinked quickly, taking a few steps forward. Whatever it was, he needed to know, and he needed to know it well. “What is it?”

 She actually cringed as she spoke, wincing like she thought that her brother was going to smack her. “She told me I wasn’t allowed to tell you.”

 He hit the window ledge with his hand, wincing as pain shot through it. Maybe not the best idea, but dammit, he was pissed off. How could she give him a flicker of hope, only to take it away a minute later? That was just too cruel. “Ugh! Why would you say anything if you knew I wasn’t supposed to know?”

 “I came to give you a hint to point you in the right direction,” she whined, stomping her foot like it was their mother scolding her rather than him, “She said I can’t tell you, but I figured you had a right to know.” 

 He swallowed thickly, the crease between his brows suddenly feeling as deep as a chasm. His body fell strangely still as he waited for Komaru’s eventual reveal. Though she couldn’t tell him much, there had to be something more to this. Surely, he could ask just a few more questions. “Is it something bad?”

 “Well, uh… hard to say. It’s nothing really bad, but it might hurt your feelings a bit.”

  To no one’s surprise, that comment did little to soothe his persisting anxieties. If anything, it planted a seed of dread in his stomach. Not only was his partner clearly hiding something from him, she was now confirmed to be hiding something that would hurt his feelings if he knew. He bit his lip. 

 “How badly, do you think?” His voice left so much weaker than usual; the ache of what Kyoko hid from him this morning digging into his soul. If he thought his palms were sweaty before, they had gained some wetness now. “Like, do you think she’s gonna dump me?”

 Komaru shook her head frantically. “Definitely not. In fact, part of the reason why she’s upset is because she likes you so much. That’s the way it seemed, anyway.”

 Makoto sighed, his hand reaching to fidget with his watch. “Are you sure you can’t just tell me what it is and I’ll pretend to be surprised if she brings it up?” 

 “Sorry, big bro. No can do. We both know you’re an awful actor.” A twinge of a smirk pricked her face. “Still, try not to worry too much. I think you’ll be able to get it out of her eventually, she’s just… worried about it, that’s all. I didn’t want you to get too in over your head if you could avoid it.”

 “I appreciate that, Komaru. Thank you.” He paused. “Is there anything else you needed to tell me?”

 “Just that you’re a nerd.”

 “Oh, come on! What are you, eleven?”

 “Yeah, an eleven out of ten!” She exclaimed with a snort, incredibly pleased with what was at best a mediocre joke.

 Makoto rolled his eyes at his little sister. “It’s like you never left middle school.”

 __________

 Kyoko wanted nothing more than to repeatedly slam her head into a wall. Step one of her plan, gathering witnesses, had proven itself to be a total bust. Not only had she completely missed with Komaru, who had no idea what she was talking about — but she’d been screwed over with Byakuya, too. He had given her no clear answers about the date, and the jerk actually laughed at her when she confessed to not knowing the significance. Clearly, he wanted to take it as some victory to hold over her head. Proof of his superiority to her or something like that. She honestly didn’t know, and could not bring herself to care. She’d left his office in more than a bit of a huff, plunking herself down in her own chair much too harshly when she finally got back to her own space. It left her with a deep hole of disappointment in her stomach; one that she suppressed all afternoon as she plunged back into her paperwork. She stayed that way until lunchtime, the pit only serving to worsen when her boyfriend wandered in.

 “Come on, honey, you really should break for lunch,” Makoto said, shooting her that same smile that won the heart of anyone who saw it, “You’ve been at that work all day.”

 Her head flicked up from the boring scribblings of ink, eyes wide with surprise. Sure, she’d half-noticed that he entered the room, but hearing him was a completely different thing. Normally his voice and presence comforted her; it took weight off her shoulders on hard days. Today, on the other hand, made hearing it seem like she was getting smacked in the face with a tennis racket — vaguely painful and incredibly startling.

 “Oh,” she paused, blinking at him as if she didn’t quite believe he was real, “That time already, huh?”

 The luckster nodded cheerfully, glancing down at the two sleek black boxes he held in his arms. They were stacked one on top of the other, one marked with her initials and the other with his. Same as always, made as sweetly as always. She swallowed hard. Why did he have to be the perfect partner? It would certainly make her mess-ups a little easier to deal with if he would just screw up every once in a while. If he could just screw up majorly on something for once, it would be helpful.

 “Yup! Can’t say I blame you for forgetting, though. You almost forgot your lunch at home. Pretty hard to remember to eat without your food, y’know?” 

 Yes, her forgetting made sense. After Makoto brought up the big night, she lost all focus. From then on, all energy went into agonizing over what she’d been unable to recall. She must have left her bento sitting right on the counter, where he always put it after finishing the preparations. 

  Kyoko smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I guess it must have slipped my mind, with our big night and all,” it was a ploy for hints, and she wondered if it would work, “I was reviewing our plans so much that I didn’t even think about grabbing it.”

 To this, Makoto laughed. “Ever diligent, as always. I hadn’t realized that you had so many plans for it! Actually, that reminds me of something.”

 “Oh?” Kyoko feigned innocence, batting her eyelashes at him. “What is it?”

 “I was thinking that it might be a good idea to head to the store after work to pick up some stuff for tonight.” 

 “What kind of stuff?” She asked, knowing that the question would give her a little more without entirely selling her out to him. Minute by minute, she inched closer to figuring this out, and she couldn’t be more thrilled. Relief would wash over her in no time, if he would just be a good witness and comply.

 “You know, the usual for the night.” He answered with a shrug, pulling his phone out of his pocket. She could only presume that he was verifying his list. Oh, how she longed to snatch the phone out of his hands and read it all for herself. It was almost as if he was deliberately being cryptic. Her boyfriend was a wiggly salamander trying to slip out of her grasp. “I was thinking about picking up some ice cream for dessert, but I don’t know what flavour I should get.”

 Aha! A clue! A cryptic one, but still, it was a clue nevertheless. She fought off the urge to scribble it down on the precious paperwork she’d been buried in only a moment prior. A good detective should be able to commit such a fact to memory with ease, her grandfather told her once. Though she hated thinking about him, she supposed that he was right, especially considering the person she was interrogating was standing right in front of her.  

 “I’m sure that I could help you with that,” she giggled, giddy from having found a small clue, “I promise not to get stuck between black cherry and pralines and cream like I did last time.” 

 Makoto shook his head, grinning over the memory. The two of them must have spent an half an hour in that grocery store, bouncing between the pros and cons of each flavour. They had only been intending to pick it up for a simple treat night, yet Kyoko found herself paralyzed by indecision. The two of them had had such a horribly long day at that point, and she’d just wanted to settle down with the perfect ice cream. God, she would kill to have a night like that again. If she ever figured out what their plans were for their special night, she didn’t know if she could enjoy them. After all, she’d expended so much energy on figuring out what the plans would be that she might run out of energy before they even got there. 

 “I think you probably could, yeah. I’ll meet you here after school; is three-thirtyish okay?” 

 She nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

 “Great! Now that that’s settled, though… wanna go have a picnic in the Garden of Statues?”

 That had been where they left it in the office that day, a spark of hope bursting in Kyoko’s chest. Though she hadn’t been able to solve her boyfriend’s surprisingly difficult riddle right then, she was confident that she would be hot on its trail soon. She spent most of the rest of the day scribbling away at her paperwork until he came to meet her at three thirty-two. The couple were a pair of beaming faces, the two of them wandering into the nearest pharmacy/retail store in search of whatever goodies Makoto had on his list. Not that Kyoko knew what they were. In all honesty, she was a little surprised that that was even the place he wanted to go. Still, she appreciated the tip-off that it was not the most formal evening the two of them had ever had. Every hint was one she grabbed at with fervour. At this point, she needed every one she could get. The sand in the hourglass was running low.

 Even with the confirmation of the lack of formality, everything he had put in their box didn’t make sense. Salted caramel popcorn, shampoo, sponges, marshmallows, hand soap, tortilla chips, razor blades, hiyoko cakes, headache pills, chocolate, medicinal tea blends, calbee shrimp snacks, pretzels, wasabi peas, tissues… None of these things made any sense together. Separate the snacks from the household items and then maybe one could get something, but Makoto stated specifically that he was buying for their evening. Kyoko pressed her lips together, wondering whether he was just feeling snackish or if he genuinely needed these things. Part of her itched to ask him, but she worried that even that might blow her cover. Instead, she chose to quietly follow behind him, watching him continue to pluck things off the shelves. 

 “Is there anything you want apart from the ice cream, Kiri?” Makoto questioned, not meeting her gaze as his hands found a bag of pizza potato chips. Her tongue stuck out at the thought of them. They were his favourite flavour of chips, but she couldn’t stand them. Of course, it didn’t bother him any. He didn’t have to share. “You can have whatever you want. Sky’s the limit tonight!” 

 She forced herself to grin half-heartedly; the muscles in her face protested from the extra effort it took. She hoped he didn’t notice her picking at the studs of her gloves like they were a scab she could remove. “I don’t think there’s anything else I want. You go ahead and pick out whatever you would like.”

 It was only then that he twisted his head to look back at her, one eyebrow raised. Uh-oh, she thought. Must have awoken suspicion in him. “Are you sure?” 

 She nodded. “Positive. Go right on ahead.” 

 A frown carved its way into his expression. For a moment he opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, and then closed it just as promptly. He turned back towards their box and rearranged a few things as if nothing was wrong. That alone was enough to make her heart beat faster, and her breathing grow heavy. With how things were progressing, she risked actually managing to tear the silver studs from her gloves. 

 The silence persisted between the two of them for about a minute or so after Makoto rearranged their items; they wandered down a few more aisles before finally stopping in front of the frozen foods. Shivers shot through Kyoko as they walked. Unfortunately, her pencil skirt left her legs susceptible to the frigid air exuding off the freezers. She pushed herself up against him without thinking, hoping the proximity would allow her to thieve some of his warmth. 

 “Feeling a little chilly, Kyoko?” He snickered. 

 She nuzzled his shoulder. “It’s cold here.”

 He smirked slightly, pressing an awkward kiss to the side of her head. “I know, it is pretty cold. We should be out of here soon enough, though. Just as soon as you decide what ice cream you want…!”

 She groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead.

 “You promised you’d help me pick.”

 The detective only grumbled in response, stopping to turn to look at her options through the glass door. Her eyes scanned the shelves for anything that grabbed her, not taking notice of the way her partner was watching her as she worked. Her lips pursed as she searched, wondering if any of them were going to jump out at her. Bubblegum, vanilla, strawberry, coconut almond, triple chocolate, green tea, lemon custard…

 “Kyoko, are you okay?”

 ____________________________

 Okay, Makoto gulped to himself. The million-dollar question is out. 

 She turned to look at him, her brows knitted in confusion at the question. Her eyes seemed to be scrutinizing his face, drinking in every last detail. How funny it was that the two of them were spending so much time observing each other to excessive degrees. “What do you mean?” 

 “You’ve been acting weird since this morning,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “It’s like you’ve been on and off perfectly normal, and then really frustrated. Some of the others noticed it at work today, too. Komaru was pretty worried about you. She said you asked to talk to her about something and seemed flustered. Said she couldn’t tell me exactly what happened, but that you were worried about hurting my feelings. Is something going on?”

 His partner cursed under her breath, and for a second he thought he’d heard his little sister’s name thrown somewhere in there. She began to nibble on her lip anxiously, her gaze darting away from him. He probably shouldn’t have brought up that he spoke to Komaru at all.

 “Did I do something, Kyoko?” 

 A balloon of pressure built inside of him as he stood there waiting for her response. His heartbeat danced in his throat. Whatever was wrong with his girlfriend, he was sure that they could manage to get through it, but only if they communicated. Otherwise, they risked never being able to find the right pieces to reach their happiness. Then where would they be?

 “It’s…” 

 “It’s…?” He parroted, reaching out to grab her hand. She moved it away from him almost like she was flinching, sending a pang of sadness through his heart. He really hoped this wasn’t going where Komaru said it wouldn’t.

 “It’s not something you did, Makoto, I just…”

 His hand moved to rest on her arm, at the very least. Though he didn’t feel he had the energy within him to do so, he cracked a small grin. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’re a team. We’ve got to work through this stuff together, you know?” 

 Kyoko’s cheeks burned like brand-new Christmas lights, her gaze still fixated anywhere else but his face. Her words seemed to catch in her throat as she uttered them, somehow too embarrassed to speak her mind. “Do you promise me that you won’t be upset if I tell you the truth?” 

 Oh no. Fear settled into him faster than he thought possible. She wasn’t going to confess to having done something totally wild, was she? She hadn’t grown bored of him, or decided she’d be happier with a smarter, better-looking man? He didn’t think crushing his heart in public was anywhere within her character, but she’d surprised him before. Sweat dewed on his palms; he wiped it off on his work pants as best he could. “Uh… I’d like to think I could do that for you, yeah,” he replied, cringing at his anxiety showing in his voice, “So long as you didn’t like… I don’t know, plan to murder me and then decide last minute you didn’t want to go through with it.”

 It was a bit of a joke, but neither of them laughed. Not that it mattered. He got the feeling that the two of them just wanted her to spit out her confession already. 

 “It’s nothing like that, I just…” Kyoko’s hands curled into her fists, her eyes squeezing themselves shut. “Makoto, you were saying this morning that today is such a special day, and that you were really excited about what was going to happen… but I don’t remember why today is important.”

 The murmuring of “oh” came out of his mouth before he could process it, blinking slowly as the cogs turned in his mind. So his girlfriend wasn’t mad at him, nor was she leaving him for a superior specimen? She was just… feeling ashamed because of a mistake? Because she hadn’t remembered why the day was important? She crossed her arms over herself for protection, not realizing that a relieved laugh brewed in his chest. Oh, how he’d worried over nothing! He found himself grinning within seconds. Without thinking, he leaned over and pressed another kiss against her forehead.

 “Oh, Kyoko. Have you been beating yourself up about this all day?”

 “I’m sorry. I’m a horrible girlfriend.”

 He laughed and shook his head, giving her arm a supportive squeeze. “No, you’re not!”

 “Yes, I am. I completely forgot everything that’s supposed to be important about today, and I tried to ask Aoi, Komaru, and Togami-kun to get them to tell me, but they didn’t know either. I thought maybe by coming here with you and seeing what you were buying would give me some clues as to what our plans are, but I’m just more confused. Half of these are snacks, and the other half are just random items,” she reached into the box and pulled out a container of shampoo, “Seriously. What does this have to do with tonight?” 

 He chuckled awkwardly. “It doesn’t have anything to do with tonight. We just needed more shampoo. Same thing with the hand soap and sponges and all that. Picking up the snacks was the main goal. I’m going to make those caramel popcorn bars for us to eat, and it’s been awhile since we had hiyoko cakes, and you asked me for nachos when we first planned tonight…” 

 “But you only ever make the popcorn bars when we have Dead Trial marathons...” She muttered, her eyes suddenly lighting up like she’d struck a match. To his surprise, she actually gasped, taking hold of his arm. They must have looked so silly, grasping onto each other like that. “The new season gets uploaded to Flickies tonight, doesn’t it?! Is that why today is special?”

 Finally, he let himself have a full, hearty laugh. “Yeah! Since you’ve been so busy lately, I figured you must have been holding out for it and doing all that work to make sure you could enjoy yourself once it got uploaded. I didn’t realize you’d forgotten about it entirely.”

 “So I’m not a terrible girlfriend?”

 “Far from it! Just a girlfriend who worked so hard that she forgot about a special TV bingeing night.” 

 She exhaled with relief, her hand hitting her chest. “I’m so glad.” 

 “You must have been really worried, huh?”

 “Of course I was,” she murmured, rubbing his arm in what he assumed was supposed to be some form of affection, “I was certain that I would be hurting your feelings by forgetting, and I’m sure you know that that is the last thing I would ever want to do.”

 “Yeah, I know. Still, Kyoko, I promise I wouldn’t be mad at you if you really had forgotten something important. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind most of the time, and you’re only human. Anybody’s bound to forget stuff. It’s just how people work.”

 She blinked softly at him, staring up at him with the most loving gaze that he’d ever received from him. It was as if he could see the stars in her eyes. “Really?”

 “Of course,” he assured her, “I don’t need you to remember every little thing to know you love me.”

 She sighed, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Makoto’s heart began to beat faster as she pressed her face into his shoulder, snuggling in close. He couldn’t stop himself from breathing in her sweet smell, enjoying the cherry blossom-scent. “You’re too nice to me, Makoto, you know that?”

 “Well, you deserve it.” He murmured, holding her as tightly as he could manage. It felt so good to be in her arms.

 Kyoko snickered. “You’re such a flatterer.”

[detroitbydark]

Title: Play With Fire- Part 2

Characters: Migs Mayfeld/”Pockets” (OC)

Rating: T

Summary: First Impressions

Warning: Blood? but not gore

A/N: So apparently Pockets is now and OC and I have more ideas then I care to admit for this pairing. Thank you to @crimson-dxwn​ for being my beta extraordinaire and listening to my rants and raves. Anything ya'll wanna know about these two crazy kids? let me know and I might explore it. Also, 3 ABY is approximately one year before the battle of Endor and the second Death Star and their reunion ( the first part in this) takes place about 9 ABY sometime after the second season of The Mandalorian.

 3 ABY

Sometimes you made the shot of a lifetime. Sometimes you didn’t.

Sometimes you made that once in millennia shot as Rebel artillery was destroying your nest and you went tumbling ass over blaster down a ravine with half a ton of loose debris and rocks.

You couldn’t win them all.

Migs got this. He understood it like he understood his unfortunate short stature or the hairline that had receded for too early in life. Those were the breaks.

You either lived with it or died with it and he was fully set on living until he was old and shriveled.

Some days it just sucked.

Today was one of those days.

“We got a live one coming through. Clear a table, will ya?”

The voice of his squad mate, Crikes, was too loud on his right as his weight pressed heavily into Smitty on his left. The rough outer rim accent bounced around in his bucket like a stray blaster bolt.

Kriff his head hurt.

Everything hurt actually, from his head to the tips of his toes. The slide hadn’t been that bad. Seven meters? Maybe ten? It was the sharp obsidian stone that had come down with him that had done him in. The razor sharp black stone had bludgeoned and gouged his armor, weaseling its way into the cracks and under the plastoid plating. It cut at his skin with each move he made. If the stims hadn’t helped numb him up he’d probably have passed out when the assault droid had helped yank him from the rubble.  His gauntlets were both cracked and he could feel a cool breeze coming through the cracks in his back plate. He’d liked his armor. Command wasn’t gonna take to kindly with having to replace it.

It was nice to pretend his biggest concern was getting a new set of plastoid requisitioned. 

“Hey medic!” Crikes’ voice cuts through his thoughts, “I said we need a hand over here!”

“Maker… do you have to yell so fragging loud? I mean-“

“What are you going on about?” Looking back he’s never sure what it was that he noticed first, but he likes to think it was her voice. Like an holomodel fantasy out of a good spice trip, she shuts that Hutt humping Crikes up, marching over with her hands on her hips and scowl on her face.

“We got an Imperial war hero here.” Crikes sounds chastened, but Migs doesn’t bother to look over to see if his face matches what he’s hearing because he’s in the presence of a fragging angel.

“Yeah? Look around. Got a lot of heroes here.” Sarcasm flows from her pretty pouty lips like water from a fountain. She sweeps her arm toward the other beds and the piles of bloodied plastoid littering the small field hospital. “This one ain’t any better or worse.”

Migs frowns under cover of his helmet. For a while he’s been wondering if he might have some bleeding going on somewhere. He feels a bit woozy when he turns his head too quickly to follow the angel as she grabs a datapad off a nearby cart. He was better then a majority of the scum around him. He was a sharpshooter, best of the best, and the bastard who single-handedly brought down the pair of x-Wings decimating their ground troops.

He tries to tell her as such but the words don’t come out of his mouth in any coherent thought. Angel freezes, looking up from the datapad she barks to his squad mate and Migs suddenly feels his bucket being pulled from his head.

“Designation number trooper.”

It’s an order not a question. He didn’t like orders, even from his own superiors but she’s damn pretty and his head hurts…

“Trooper? A number?” Angel looks up from the datapad. There’s concern on her face. She’s scanning his injuries. The ones she can see. Were they that bad? Migs reaches up and feels something warm and sticky against his temple.

“FO-593” Smitty offers for him.

“593… got it…” she takes a step closer, setting the datapad down and pulling gloves from her pocket. She’s got the prettiest hazel eyes, long lashes. Migs wonders if she’s seeing anyone. It’s probably one of those civvie doctors that signed on…

“593-“

“Mayfeld. It’s Migs Mayfeld.” He clarifies, ‘cause a pretty girl like her should be saying his name.

“Alright, Mayfeld, what happened?”

“He saved our asses is what he did!”

Crikes again. Maker, if the bastard kept stealing his glory he was going to deck him. Once the room stopped spinning.

“You know what?” The Angel looks about as amused with Crikes as

Migs felt. “I think it’s high time you two go get some rations in you and leave Mayfeld and I to our own devices.”

Smitty elbows Crikes, the plastoid of armor clattering as he tips his head toward the entrance.

“I’m good boys,” Migs offers the other two field operatives, “Let me get some alone time with the pretty girl.”

He ignores the raised brow directed his way and the crossed arms that follow. Nausea rolls through him as his buddies wander back the way they came.

“Frag… I think I’m gonna be sick.”

She does well. Manages to miss the first splash of vomit. The second retch hits her shoe.

“Son of a bitch… Maker fragging-“ 

The angel has a mouth on her. He could get used to that. Migs uses the sleeve of his under armor, exposed by the shattered plastoid to wipe his mouth.

“Sorry about that, Sweetness.” 

Her eyes narrow as she reaches behind him. “My name is not Sweetness. I am FM-111 to you trooper. Specialist Coronette if you're lucky.”

The words slip out, some verbal diarrhea to go along with what he was starting to think was a concussion. “I am lucky and you’re beautiful.”

“That’s it-“

“Pockets? Have we got an issue?”

Wait- was that a-

“No Coric, I’m good.”

The older man looks at Migs and Migs looks right back. No shit. A clone. You didn’t see that everyday. Guy’s got a head of close cropped salt and pepper hair, looks real dignified. He’s also… glaring? Ok yeah, that wasn’t good.

“If he’s giving you trouble I can-“

Angel’s…. Specialist Coronette’s face softens as she looks at the clone. Migs feels a little jealousy percolate deep down - accompanied by the occasional flip of his stomach. She pats the other man’s cheek fondly and he gives her a soft look.

Some guys had all the luck.

Migs closes his eyes as the world takes a big spin. He doesn’t mean to groan but the axis has tilted and the poles have just flipped and… Fek… he really is starting to not feel good.

“Hey… Mayfeld?” The voice is soft and Migs focuses on the sweet, silvery words. Slowly he opens his eyes and notes that Coronette, is at his side looking more concerned then she has the entire time he’s been in the damn med bay. Over her shoulder the clone medic gives his own appraising look.

“You got this Pockets?”

Migs sees irritation flash in sharp green eyes, not just green but, like, Endor. So bright and alive there wasn’t any way he could think to describe them other than the greenest Kriffing place he’d ever seen in his life.

“I’ve got it, Sir.” Her tone is sharp but the clone, her superior, doesn’t seem to take offense to it. She must not just be blowing smoke. At this point he doesn’t give a wamp rat’s ass. He really just wants to call it a day, catch a cycle worth of sleep and lay in bed til the gut-rending nausea goes the fek away.

“Uh-uh,” she tuts, irritation melted away, “can’t fall asleep on me just yet. You haven’t even shown me a good time yet.” She teases and Migs wills his eyes wide open.

“You’re flirting.”

“Maybe… or maybe I’m trying to keep you awake because you’ve got a concussion. You’ll never know.”

Specialist Coronette pokes and prods, shuffling him toward the edge of the gurney. “Wanna go somewhere more private?”

“Trying to get me all alone, beautiful?”

She huffs. It sounds half amused. He can work with that.

“I’m trying,” she grunts, looping his arm around her shoulder and manhandling him into standing, “to get you in a private room so I can assess your wounds without the whole battalion seeing you stripped down.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His head spins at the sudden change in momentum. “I’m not that kind of man. You gotta wine me and dine me before-“

She twists under his arm and sharp pain shoots through his side cutting off his words more effectively then any shushing ever could. 

“Easy Mayfeld.” He hears a familiar voice but can’t place which slimy barve he knew it came from. “You can’t handle that one.”

A pair of voices, masculine and feminine, grunt in agreement as he and his medic slowly hobble past and to a clean, empty ‘room’.

It’s a room about as much as a room as a troop transport is a luxury yacht. Four ceiling to floor curtained walls block it off from the other rooms and the larger, open floor of the hospital. He manages to collapse onto the exam table as the world takes another vicious whip around. This time he manages to spew in the bucket shoved under his nose.

He apologizes after he finishes. “Thanks. You know, you keep showing me basic human decency like this and you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Coronette is pulling clean gloves on and hunting in a shallow drawer. She arches a pretty brow in his direction as she finds a pair of shears. “I have to clean up whatever mess you make. Don’t confuse decency with laziness on my part.”

“Whatever you say, Pockets.”

Her shoulders tense for a moment and then she takes a deep breath and lets the bait he’s laying out go to waste.

“I’m getting this armor off you. ‘Fraid it ain’t doing you any good anymore.”

Migs glances down at the cracked plastoid. His pauldron is long gone and both pairs of vambrace and gauntlets are thrashed. There’s so much under armor and skin showing, Migs isn’t really sure how they're still even on him. Pockets manages to get them off without much to it and little input from the guy wearing them. She begins on his cuirass and Migs thinks of half a dozen smart ass remarks about getting his clothes off, but there’s something going on under the armor and each time she begins working at the cracked and twisted chest piece it steals the air from his lungs.

“Karking hells,” he curses lowly. 

“I’ve almost got it…” 

Migs takes a deep breath and holds as still as he can. It kriffing hurts, burns hotter than two suns over Tatooine. Just when he’s sure he can’t handle a second more of it, the plastoid falls away in two pieces. It’s like a pressure he hadn’t realized was on his chest has finally been removed and he can breathe-

“Son of a mudscuffer-“

Migs doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong. He can feel it. Warmth spreading and staining the under armor across the left side of his chest. 

“Karking thing was putting pressure on-“ she trails off again as she retrieves the shears from her pocket. She’s efficient and wastes no time slicing up the front of his under armor. The black fabric falls away from one side and clings to blood staining his other. Coronette doesn’t stop moving, flowing from one spot to the next. She doesn’t stop talking either.

“Fek. Fek. That’s not gonna fekking come out in the wash-“ 

He could laugh but she’s pulling the clinging fabric away from his chest and pressing bacta soaked gauze into the laceration. If that didn’t burn like the wrong end of a burner’s incinerator he didn’t know what did. 

“Damn it! Is your kriffing processor pickled?! Warn a guy!” He's all bark and no bite at the mercy of the medic who continues to press hard on the wound.

“Shut it 593.” It’s grunted out as she continues to press with one hand and reach across him with the other for Palps only knew what. Sharp words fizzle on his tongue as he catches a glimpse of pale flesh down the top of her scrubs. Fek. He really loved a pretty pair of tits and judging by the rounded tops he can see and the slight jiggle as they move, Coronette’s were perfect. It’s better then any painkiller he could imagine… until she’s leaning back and catches the cast of his eyes.

“So are so kriffing lucky. You slimy little nerfherder- if I had two free hands.”

He should feel bad about being caught but Migs has had a day and he really can’t find it in him.

“Not my fault, maker gave you a gorgeous rack and Imperial uniforms don’t hide it.”

He winces as she yanks the bacta soaked gauze away, blood beginning to well up again immediately. She doesn’t warn him before pressing the gun into the open wound and squeezing the trigger. Bacta foam fills in the area as he hisses, sealing the laceration. She doesn’t stop to make sure he’s ok before she’s spinning and grabbing more supplies. A bacta patch gets slapped over the quick dry foam.

“Weasly stormtrooper scum…” she continues under her breath.

“Aww come on now, I’m sorry.” He tries to offer a weak smile but her back is turned as she furiously enters data onto a pad. “I really am. When’s the end of your shift. I’ll buy you a drink?”

The anger that flashes in those forest eyes when she whips back is the sexiest thing he’s seen in a standard cycle. If the stims weren’t beginning to wear off and his body beginning to hurt to Malachor and back, he’d be getting stiff in what was left of his armor.

“You think I’d have a drink with you?”

“Come on sweets, what really matters is if you think you’d have a drink with me.”

Her eyebrows skim her hairline. “Are you kidding me? Give up already. Karking little-”

“Not the size of the aak in the fight but the fight in the aak, Sweetheart.”

“Not in your life, Buckethead.”

Her ass looks almost as good in her scrubs as her tits but she doesn’t give him a chance to say so before she storms out.

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 9

[A very self-indulgent, not sfw chapter this time! Forgive me if it’s cheesy; I’m super rusty with actually writing smut. :’3

You’ve been warned.

Bonus song for basically Nabs before she gets some ;3]

Nabooru

Gloved fingers dragged through rain-deprived dirt, hands and feet kicking up a cloud of dust as Nabooru skidded along the ground and twisted her body back around to face her Saiyan assailant. They had been at it for hours, deciding their time off was better spent training than goofing off. Thus, as her muscles and depleting energy reserves begged for rest, a change in tactics to either secure a win or put her in the least embarrassing position possible to request a reprieve didn't sound like the worst idea in the world. Scouter or no, the switch up should catch him off guard enough to at least get a few, solid final attacks in.

She dug her heels in to slow herself and regain control of her momentum after his last blow. Once she found a solid enough footing, she propelled herself forward again, charging like an enraged bull. She closed the gap between them in a flash. As she hoped, Vegeta expected her to throw a punch or a kick, a series of blasts or a wave of energy, and left his midsection open. Head lowered, she drove her shoulder hard into his abdomen and wrapped her arms around him. She felt the air whisk from his lungs and his body double over as she drove him backward and through a plateau. They slammed to the ground and Nabooru pinned him, knees straddling either side of his waist. 

She drew her arm back and aimed a punishing strike for Vegeta's jaw, only for it to crash through solid earth next to his head as he tilted his head to dodge it. Her left fist followed up, only to be caught. Energy crackled around their joined hands in the stalemate, jaws clenched with the effort to gain an upper hand.

Nabooru noted his smirk a second too late. She just caught the glimpse of his free arm lifting toward her before his forearm collided with her stomach, forcing her off of him and onto her back. He was on her in an instant, arms pinned and crushed at her sides by his powerful thighs and a ball of red ki aimed for her face. She wriggled to try and free herself, only for Vegeta to shove the sphere of energy threateningly closer, the heat of it grazing the tip of her nose.

"Give up."

Nabooru considered attempting to kick him in the head or back, freeing her hand enough to blast or grab some part of him--his inner thigh, groin, ass if she could manage to reach--in a strategy to surprise him enough to regain some control. But the second her fingers twitched, his knees tightened on her hips, and she bit back a pained yelp from the pressure it placed on her hands and pelvis.

"Fine. You win. Would you kindly get that out of my face now?"

Vegeta's frame shook with his taunting chuckle and the light evaporated from his palm. "You almost had me with that stupid tactic," he drawled, his tail whipping the air behind him in slow arcs. His grip on her hips loosened and he wiped blood from the side of his mouth with the back of his glove. "Too bad you couldn't follow through."

She pulled her hands and arms free, taking the moment to admire the musculature of his thighs plainly visible in his battle suit. She tried to make the upward roving of her eyes seem as organic as possible, hoping the way her gaze lingered on the exposed skin where chunks of his armor and suit were missing in his side and shoulder look like she was admiring her own handiwork before settling on his smug face. Blood from where she headbutt him earlier in the spar had trickled down from his forehead and down the bridge of his nose and was now half-dried there. At least he wouldn't leave their bout unscathed.

"I caught you off guard enough, so I'm counting it as a victory."

The prince scoffed, and she followed the shot of his gaze to find Nappa and Raditz landing beside them. "Did we interrupt something?" Nappa jeered, glancing between the pair of them. Nabooru caught the hint of pink dusting Vegeta's cheeks as he growled and sprang to his feet. She sat up herself, ignoring the fleeting thought of missing his weight on top of her. Forcing herself to look anywhere other than his backside. "If you need a little more time, we can come back later."

"Shut up. I hope you two were paying attention to what real sparring looks like."

Raditz snorted. Neither seemed particularly perturbed by Vegeta's growing temper. "Oh, sparring is what you call it? That's not what it looked like from where I'm standing."

Vegeta ignored him. "How much were you two slacking instead of training?" He raised a hand to his scouter. "Do I need to personally test you to see your progress?"

Nabooru rose to her feet and dusted off her backside before joining the trio. "You really think I'd pass up an opportunity to beat up on Raditz?" Nappa asked, causing the other to roll his eyes. "Even our runt is still getting stronger."

"Hmpt. We'll see." He paused to scrub the half dried blood from his face and, upon noting the questioning stares the other two pinned him with, clicked his tongue. "Whatever. You're dismissed. I want you both back here in twelve hours, got it? Your combat has looked sloppy lately, and I won't stand for you messing something up because you refuse to keep up with your training."

Instead of Nappa and Raditz leaving, Vegeta’s blue-white aura surrounded him and he took off, forcing all three left behind to shield their faces from the swirl of dust. “Are you joining us, Nabs?” Raditz asked, sweeping a hand in front of his face to ward off the dirt.

“Not this time.” Nabooru brushed stray strands of hair away from her face. “I might join you later. I need a bath before I do anything else.”

Nappa snorted. “Like I believe that after that performance you two put on. There was plenty more grappling than usual and I refuse to believe it wasn’t on purpose.” He slapped a hand on her back, causing her to hiss in pain. “If you go for it, just think of it as doing us all a favor.”

With a roll of her eyes, she turned her back on the smirking pair. “You two are the worst.” Feet hovered over the ground and she lifted her hand in salute. “I’ll see you later. Either for a drink or to kick your asses.”

She took the flight back to the resort district at a leisurely pace to reserve what little remained of her energy. Drowning in the bathtub wasn’t exactly her ideal death, and she wanted to enjoy the luxury of one when she only had the option to shower on the bases. She never realized how she had taken advantage of them back home when baths were the only option. Stripping out of her torn, sweat and blood soaked armor and soaking in the scalding hot water to soothe her muscles for hours sounded far better than cavorting around the entertainment district and dealing with crowds full of mostly drunk soldiers. Not to mention catching a wink of sleep before they resumed their grueling training.

Vegeta's decision to spend their off time training neither surprised her nor did it particularly bother her. Considering their conversation a few weeks prior and his suspicions and goals concerning Frieza, she expected and welcomed the workouts over doing nothing or continually searching for ways to spend the next three days, harsh as they already proved to be. Normally, the prince hadn't been particular about how the other two spent their time, however. Did they know his plans? She assumed they did or at least suspected. They knew him better, and his ambitious and entitled nature appended to his royal status was difficult to miss. How soon did Vegeta plan to move forward with his plans? If they kept getting stronger, would Frieza suspect something? Would he care? They couldn't exactly keep their training or any progress made a secret. Was there more to this than just killing Frieza?

Nabooru landed at the entrance to the resort they had chosen to stay in, reaching into her armor and pulling out the key to her room as she stepped onto the elevator. She selected her floor and leaned against the wall. She felt queasy considering what they were doing in full. She despised Frieza and the entire operation, but she risked far more than her own life with this. She didn't know how much she could trust Vegeta, but he offered her an out and that was better than she could get otherwise, it seemed. A way back to her home and her old life. Or whatever her life would be on the new Hyrule. It had to be better than conquering planets for Frieza and his family. Than constantly compromising her morality to keep her people safe and herself alive.

And Vegeta could be worse. For all his threats and insults, he had yet to really harm her. He had shown time and again that if he wanted her dead, he could have done it, both because he was more powerful and he had little qualms with killing. If he wanted to sabotage her, he could have outed her for blowing up the palace on Trimbon or anything else she had stepped out of line with. Perhaps to keep her as loyal as possible, especially now that he decided she was meant to help him in his endeavors, but she would be hard pressed to find anyone on the force without an angle that served their purposes. After all, she had agreed to help Vegeta mostly for her own benefit, to free herself from Frieza and the force and return home. Though his own plight and history, the parallels to her own, didn't hurt his chances of convincing her to risk everything. They could both get what they needed. What they deserved.

The elevator binged and she stepped onto the carpeted floor, heading to the end of the hall where her room was. She unlocked the door and slipped inside, yanking her armor over her head the second the doors slid closed. For all his flaws, she couldn't deny that he, like the other two Saiyans, had grown on her, too. The extra time spent together sparring and the brief conversations following helped, she supposed, as she could see him as more than a dethroned prince with a chip on his shoulder and a thrill for violence. More than anything, he saw her as a warrior first, had since the day they met, as she preferred to be seen. With everyone else underestimating her for her sex or viewing her as a potential bed mate, it went a long way with her. While she doubted he would ever treat her as an equal in any regard, she would survive so long as he continued to respect her as a warrior.

Nabooru struggled out of her torn battle suit and ripped leggings, boots kicked off and gloves dropped haphazardly. She yanked the tie from her hair as she pushed the button to the bathroom door open, the lights motion activated. Clean and simple if not a little small, the bathroom still had what she wanted: a bathtub with complimentary soaps and bubbles. She used her scouter to double check the contents of them as well as the quality of the water, and, finding that none would harm her skin or poison her if accidentally ingested, she filled the tub and dumped a generous portion of the bubbles in the water. 

She leaned against the sink counter as she waited for it to fill, tapping through her messages. Only one remained unread, and the origin dropped her heart to the pit of her stomach, worsening her discomfort. It was rare Frieza contacted her, anything he needed to say to her relayed through Vegeta or some other commander. She could only imagine what he wanted to say to her and her alone.

When the foam rose over the lip of the tub, she stepped in and lowered her body into the steaming water. She bent her legs and rested her spine against the back of the basin, letting her head fall back. Hand rose from the water to open the message, her pulse too quick for the relaxing atmosphere she created for herself.

As she feared, it referred to the job on Trimbon. She skimmed through it, chewing her bottom lip to the point of nearly splitting it open. The emperor informed her that she had performed better than expected with her conversations with the rebel leader but lamented her failure to convince him of a peaceful solution,  that she could have tried harder in his opinion, resulting in the loss of the greater portion of the planet's army and the palace. Her pay would be garnished for an amount agreed upon between the Empire and Trimbon's royal family once the damages were fully assessed. But the part that sent her mind awhirl with fresh paranoia was the end. A warning, vague but haunting. A reminder that her success and usefulness determined whether the deal between the Empire and her home planet and people stood, and that, should she be tasked with similar in the future, she should be better prepared to push the envelope to obtain the desired result.

Nabooru swallowed hard and pulled her scouter from her ear, sliding it across the tiled floor and away from the tub. She sucked in a breath and submerged herself, the rush of the running water like muffled hoofbeats in her ears. Her chest ached as her mind raced, unearthing the worst case scenarios. He had already destroyed her planet. He would find out why she had blown up the palace and would kill her people for it. He knew what she and Vegeta planned and would punish her by taking the only hope she still had from her. She failed them. All of them. All for a selfish act of consolation. She had no home, no race, she was alone, and--

She broke the surface again and gasped for air. The water threatened to spill over the side, and she leaned forward to turn the faucet off. No, she couldn't think like that. It was just a warning. Paranoia without real evidence to back the thoughts would only drive her closer to madness. The whispered rumor of Frieza's atrocities and Vegeta's suspicions about the fate of his home world were only speculation. Convincing speculation, but without witnessing it for herself...she couldn't afford to let it rule her. The distraction would make her sloppy and ultimately make her fears a reality.

She would stay the course. Continue to train with Vegeta so he or both of them could become powerful enough to kill Frieza. Impossible as it still seemed, it was without a doubt the only true way to ensure her people's safety. With the tyrant in power, their livelihood would always remain tenuous and out of her control.

Dragging her fingers through her wet hair, she closed her eyes in another attempt to relax. She steered her thoughts away from a fate that likely hadn't befallen her home toward the next few days of training and strategizing. Considering ways they could all get strong enough to take on Frieza as soon as they possibly could. Vegeta had mentioned a legend of his people, of a transformation known simply as a Super Saiyan. He said if he could figure out how to unlock it, Frieza would be no match for him. Unfortunately, her pressing on how one achieved the form revealed that the legend didn't elaborate on that with even Nappa and his knowledge of Saiyan lore drawing a blank. They had a goal, at least, but little direction for achieving it. But if anyone could accomplish it, it was Vegeta. The man was impressive in battle, strategic and naturally inclined to combat to a rare degree, and if nothing else, he would make it through sheer force of will.

A few years ago, she never would have imagined she would fight on the same level as someone like him, ki or no ki. The only one back home that gave her a run for her rupees was Ganondorf and Avira if she found her on an off day. Thus, she never imagined this sort of growth or power for herself and a new element to add to her fighting style to boot. She was glad to have someone to help her grow stronger. Test her and push her beyond her limits, even if he did so for purely selfish reasons. No reason he shouldn't benefit from it, too.

Half dozing, her train of thought shifted to their most recent spar, focusing on what she did well and where she could improve. New tactics to try. How to increase every attribute from speed and strength to endurance and stamina. The advantage of switching to less traditional styles as she had toward the end of their bout, and where those succeeded and failed. She went from the pinner to the pinned due to a loss of focus and a split second of carelessness. She could feel his weight on top of her again, his powerful thighs squeezing her hips in punishment for trying to wriggle free. That devilish smirk curling his lips as he slipped his hands beneath her armor and battle suit, gloved fingers gliding up her abs maddeningly slow and his hips pressing downward into hers and…

Her eyes snapped open and she squeezed her legs together, swiping a hand over her face in frustration. For her fantasies to take such a course wasn't particularly rare. When thinking about Ganondorf or Aveil saddened rather than aroused her when she needed to quell her lust, her imagination resorted to her new cohorts instead. For a while, Nappa or Raditz sufficed, but more often than not, they morphed to the prince on top of her or beneath her. Pressing her against a wall or into the mattress. Nipping and sucking along her neck while he pounded into her. 

The problem was that, since they started training together more often, the fantasies became more frequent and inopportune. She felt herself drifting from fantasizing to considering making it a reality. If Nappa and Raditz hadn’t shown up earlier, she might have tried her hand at shifting their spar to the sexual sor of physical. He was likely more pent up than she was, after all, and she didn’t miss the occasional glances or what she could only define as his brand of flirting while they sparred or conversed. It wasn’t the potential of being turned down that kept her from going for it. Besides caving to her lust for a quick fling conflicting with her attempts to only bed those she felt worthy of her time, it felt sleazy; he was her commander and she didn’t want some petty rift to form between the four of them over her libido deciding to ramp up to higher levels than she had experienced since joining the force. Even more unsettling, she refused to let meaningless sex get misconstrued and used against her for malicious purposes.

Still...if they were careful, no one had to know, and the forbidden lust concept and high stakes did shamefully boost the attractiveness of fooling around with Vegeta. And for all the potential bedmates to choose from, he was the easy choice. Strong, attractive, a sexy growl she wouldn’t mind hearing in her ear, high stamina, a penchant for roughness she guessed…

Nabooru huffed and did a quick scrub of her body, patience with cleaning up properly and relaxing thinned to nothing. She lifted herself out of the tub and flared her ki to dry herself off in a moment. She dug through her supplies and tended to her scrapes and bruises. More than anything she wanted a distraction from her worries about her homeworld. Something more palpable and effective than her thoughts wandering to a railing from the Saiyan prince. She imagined drowning herself in liquor would exacerbate the problem which left sparring, indulging in her fantasies, or sinking to the level of a one night stand with a stranger lurking around. If she played her cards right, perhaps she could get both of the first two options.

She grabbed her spare battle suit and tugged it on, followed by her stockings, boots and gloves. Tying her hair back up and picking up her chest armor, she left her room and trekked down the hall a few doors down. She knocked on the door and, no sooner had her arm returned to her side did the door open, Vegeta standing on the other side. He halted mid-pull on his glove over his fingers and stared, eyebrows knitting together and frown deepening.

“What?” he demanded, tugging the leather over the rest of his palm and down his wrist. 

Just that small, innocuous action had her staring for a half second longer at his hand than was socially acceptable. She cleared her throat and rested her hands on her hips, hoping her expression and stance displayed annoyance or impatience with his terse greeting and gruff tone. “Spar with me. I’m bored and need to blow off steam.”

“And what makes you think I want to?” Vegeta’s lips twitched upward and his tail unfurled from his waist. “You’ve hardly rested. How much steam could you really blow off if I put you down in a matter of minutes? It’s not as fun for me when you can’t put up a fight, either.”

Her grip on the strap of her armor tightened, an already fiery temper further exacerbated by Frieza’s message and the plague of her body’s betrayal and clouding her mind with lewd imagery. “What else do you have to do? Surely you didn’t plan to go find the other two.” Her nostrils flared with an agitated huff and she ignored the flicker of rage that flashed through obsidian. “You were probably going to hole up in your room for the next several hours and fiddle with your scouter or take a nap or brood over the next mission.”

Vegeta’s increasingly vexed demeanor, the vicious lashing of his tail behind him, did little to deter her rant. “Or maybe you’re going to sit in here and jerk off because you’re too good for anyone that could possibly take interest in a short, egotistical prince long enough for even a quick fuck is your damn hand or absolutely in--!”

The last syllable of her nonsense passed her lips as a pained hiss as, in that split second, Vegeta gripped her by the arm, yanked her into his room, and slammed her into the wall. She felt plaster crack from the force. “Hilarious coming from you when you’ve admitted to being just as pretentious about who you fuck,” he growled, hands on her shoulders to keep her pinned. He remained at arm’s length, his fingers digging into her shoulder blades with bruising force. His smirk returned. Slow. Predatory. The tip of his tail brushed along the swell of her hip. “Even more hilarious that you were about to call yourself insane. Tch, don’t act so surprised; you’re not very subtle and I’ve smelled arousal on you more than once during our spars.”

She closed her gaping mouth and heat surged into her cheeks. She wanted to challenge the claim, but she learned early on how powerful a Saiyan’s sense of smell was. “That’s hardly fair. How do you know it’s not just our fights themselves that get me excited and not necessarily who I’m fighting?”

One hand released her shoulder in favor of gripping her chin and forcing her gaze down to his. He forced his knee between her thighs, and she bit her bottom lip, proving him right in her lack of subtlety. It took everything in her to keep her composure and not grind her hips on his muscled thigh for even the barest amounts of stimulation. Though she may have kept her body still, she knew her hooded gaze, flushed cheeks, and worried lip betrayed the surge of desirous urgings her mind flooded her with. The stubborn air she attempted to maintain fell flat in light of it.

“We’re not fighting now.” His growl had deepened, and his gaze remained locked with hers. Sharp canines peeked from beneath his lips as his smirk widened. “You’re not fighting against this predicament you’re in, either. Your claims are a little contradictory, wouldn’t you say?”

She exhaled, lips remaining parted a touch. Her thoughts of regaining a semblance of ground in this exchange clashed with her desire to simply give in to whatever he planned to do with her, if anything outside of teasing her to near death was on his agenda. She could only come up with a compromise for both. She lifted the outside leg, sure to graze along his as much as possible and in slow motion, and wrapped it around his waist to pull him closer. A slight arch of her spine, and his gaze flicked straight to her chest and back again. She swallowed a pitiful whimper as the move shifted her hips against his thigh, too.

“Aren’t you just clever?” Nabooru pushed her hips forward to meet his (she silently cursed the cut of his armor and the guard that hung from the front and sides), her own lips curling upward. “But I’d say we’re both on the same page here. Thankfully. I love a good spar, but all in all, I wasn’t exactly in the mood for it, let alone using it to get you to shove me up against the wall like this.”

He snorted, and his hand dropped from her chin. It trailed down her throat, and she instinctively tilted her head back. It lingered there for a moment longer, a hint of pressure applied from his palm forcing her breath to hitch, before it slid down the center of her body. Between her breasts. Along her abdomen. He shifted his knee down just enough to allow room for his hand to slide between her legs. “Would have never guessed through that temper tantrum you threw.”

She tossed her previous reservations out the window and pressed down into his touch, a shaky breath easing past her lips. “So, I’m a little pent up,” she breathed. Her fingers dug into the wall behind her; just to have someone else’s fingers between her thighs, caressing her even through her battle suit, might have satisfied her for another few days. “I’m sure you understand. You obviously have something of a sex drive…”

Another growl rumbled in his chest and he eased the fabric to the side. The leather of his gloves offered a far more pleasing sensation than she expected, grazing along sensitive skin before parting the lips and delving between them. He pressed two fingers briefly against her entrance before sliding them back up, settling against her clitoris. He teased the bundle with slow circles and an intermittent jolt of measured ki that weakened her knees and jerked her hips forward. All the while, his gaze remained on her face, watching her every minute reaction.

One thought plunged through the clouded haze of pleasure dulling her reason: more. By the look on his face, the pleasure he took in torturing her, he would keep this up for hours. While better than spending that time on her own, lying in the unfamiliar hotel bed and searching for any creative way of fantasy she could to get herself with, she had to take advantage of what she had access to now before he could rescind the offer and send her on her way, dripping wet, desperate, and unsatisfied. That meant convincing him he needed her, too. For the moment.

With her unencumbered arm, she reached between their bodies. She shoved the front bit of his armor up and slid her hand beneath it, hand resting against his bulge. The motion of his fingers stuttered to a halt and she saw his jaw tighten. She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked him through his battle suit. For added effect, she released a soft sight and rocked her hips against his hand. In his moment of surprise, she freed herself enough to lean down and flick her tongue over the shell of his ear.

“Do you really want to use your hand for this when you have me right here, Vegeta?”

As she hoped, it was like she flipped a switch. Vegeta released another growl and swatted her hand away, only to grab her waist, pull her from the wall, and shove her forward. Nabooru stumbled a step and fell face first onto the bed. She shifted back and planted her boots on the floor, hinged at the waist over the mattress and backside pushed enticingly outward. He was on her in a second, one hand squeezing her hip while the other likely released his cock from his suit.

A glint of red caught her eye in the moment's reprieve. His scouter. She reached for it, switched it off, and tossed it into a chair in the corner of the room. She had no intention of being particularly noisy in case Nappa or Raditz returned early,  but she didn't care to take chances with the scouter next to her head while he plowed her. This endeavor was risky enough for a multitude of reasons. No need to add on to it.

She cast a glance over her shoulder and bit her lip when he slipped his hand from her hip to slide the fabric aside once more.  The extra enticement of arching her spine further and pushing her hips out wasn’t needed as the Saiyan had no intention of dragging their meeting out any further. She stifled her gasp by burying her face in her forearm, and her fingers tangled into the too-crisp sheets beneath her. The brief pain when he plunged his full length inside of her subsided quickly, his teasing from before offering more than enough lubrication and her need being more prominent than a concern for being torn asunder. He remained still for the moment, likely to allow them both to adjust to the sudden change in stimulation, and she idly thought that he could probably stay still and she would probably still climax with how desperate she actually was. A shameful revelation when she touted herself as independent and above needing sex regularly. While still mostly true, her delight, her relief with finally having someone to pleasure her besides herself called it into question.

Toes curled in her boots as his hips shifted back from their flush positioning against hers, her worried bottom lip raw and a shudder raced down her spine at the sensation of feeling each inch slide through her until only his tip remained inside. The coarse fur on his tail tickled the bare portion of her thigh as it wound around it, squeezing and slipping into her stocking to caress her inner thigh. 

Just when she thought he had snapped out of the trance her taunt placed on him, that he would return to torturing her for his own amusement, Vegeta’s bruising grip returned to her hips and he thrust back into her with a stifled growl, the force shoving her forward and nearly off her feet. For added stability, she planted her free knee on the edge of the mattress, offering a slight shift in the angle of his penetration. She sank her teeth into the leather of her glove at her wrist and moaned, the pace he set brutal and swift, unforgiving and rough. Gold eyes glazed over as the lines between pain and pleasure blurred, a pleasant heat coiling low in her abdomen.

The trail of his touch as it glided from her hip and down the front of her suit bottoms felt like fire, and she pushed her hips up so the tips of his fingers would reach their target quicker. The simplest graze of her clitoris sent a shockwave of pleasure through her, and, as he rubbed the sensitive nub, he once more employed pulses of ki to heighten the sensation. 

Between gloved fingertips and the relentless thrust of his cock, Nabooru’s focus wavered from playing it safe to wanting to moan and scream his name at the top of her lungs. She wanted nothing more than to orgasm and feel him topple over the edge after her, and, to her mild surprise, he seemed keen on achieving both. The force of her bite left deep indentations in the sturdy leather, alabaster wet with drool upon release. She tucked her chin and squeezed her eyes shut, murmured, desperate praises of the Saiyan prince dripping from her lips as the heat in her belly coiled tighter and threatened to break. 

She chanced a glance over her shoulder, lips pressed tightly together and trapping her mewls in her throat. His hooded gaze lifted from the point of contact, over the swell of her backside and up her spine to meet her lusty stare. A chuckle rumbled in his chest and his smirk returned just as he sent a more potent, constant shock through his fingers. Her eyes grew wide and she just managed to slap her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream. Her legs wobbled beneath her and her whole body arched sharply downward with the force of her climax, each wave stronger than the last. 

Vegeta jammed himself fully inside her again amidst her walls tightly clamping around him. A growl ripped from his throat and Nabooru felt him bend over her back, his own body quaking with his climax and his fluids filling her. She moved her hips with his to ride her orgasm out with him, indulging in the slower pace. The sensation of him inside her and the heat that flooded her body. The dull, pleasant ache that already bloomed between her legs. The slight twinge of pain where he held her that preceded bruises in the shape of his fingertips.

Finally, she felt his tail unwind from her thigh and he pulled out of her. As if it was all that kept her upright, she let her body sag to the mattress, her legs squeezing together as another spasm wracked her body. Though quicker and less involved than she preferred, their quick romp accomplished what she needed. Bliss blanked her mind of little more than the prospect of asking for another round and rest. She knew the former would be pushing her luck, however. She could only guess why he had only just now caved along with her, but she imagined this would not be a regular occurrence no matter how much her addled mind wished it could be.

With a soft sigh, she reached back and trailed her fingers along the leg seams of her bottoms, pulling the pliant fabric back up and over her ass. She twisted around onto her back and sat up just as Vegeta tucked himself back into his pants and righted his armor. Another con of their coupling: she hadn't gotten to his toned body bare. They touched each only where necessary. The curse of trying to be quick. As efficient to release as possible.

Nabooru rose to her feet and busied herself with fixing her ponytail, loosened by the rough sex. Arms raised, she paused and her lips twitched in a smile when she caught him watching her, his tail swaying in contentment behind him. When he realized she noticed, he growled and looked away, heading to the corner of the room to retrieve his scouter. 

"What are you standing around for?" he snarled, putting his scouter back on. "Get going."

She finished tying her hair up and chuckled. "You sure you don't want a little show or something?" She picked up her abandoned armor and let it hang from her crooked index finger. "I'm rusty, but I bet I can still manage a pretty tantalizing strip tease."

"Go before that tiny brain of yours comes up with any more ridiculous suggestions." He wrapped his tail around his waist again and lowered himself into a nearby chair. He rested his ankle on his knee. "This won't happen again."

Nabooru ignored the twinge of longing that came with his statement; she knew that from the start, didn't she? She went this long without indulging in her desires so she should be set for another three or four years.

She reached out and pressed the button to open the doors. "I'll see you later, then." She fought the urge to glance back at him, cast him a teasing wink, a brush of her hand along her hip, some enticing image for him to stew on, and strode out into the hall and back to her own room.

[frozenprocedural]

TDOE... something. I’m way off

It’s “Scales” today, but I’m so far behind, I’m just posting even if it’s not related to the prompt. I actually was going to use this for Elsarik week 2020, but that clearly NEVER happened. So I get to post it now.

I mean, Alarik under anesthesia. What’s not to love? As always, he, and Neta belong to @patricia-von-arundel. I just air him out now and again.

@bepoets, can you find TWW reference? ;)

Rating: G

Flirt

Anna found Elsa, still wearing a paint-splattered shirt- it must have been craft day in the classroom- sitting in a folding chair, staring at the empty space where the room's hospital bed should have been. Anna pulled up another chair and sat down next to her.

"I'm going to kill him." Elsa gritted out.

"Please don't. It took long enough for the two of you to get together. Plus, I refuse to explain to Neta why her uncle isn't visiting her anymore."

That was enough to pull Elsa's gaze away from the wall. She gave Anna a weak smile, and accepted the embrace her sister offered. 

"You okay?" Anna asked when they pulled apart.

"That really depends on your definition of 'okay'."

"Elsa." 

"What do you want me to say, Anna? My idiot husband decides he's going to climb up a rock wall to collect a specimen without the proper climbing equipment, falls, and breaks his leg. But does he call 9-1-1? No! He gets one of his assistants to drive him an hour to the hospital. An hour. And do you know how I find out? He calls me, while in the car, and tells me he 'hurt himself' and is going to get his leg 'checked out'. Nevermind that it's swollen to twice it's normal size or that there's a bulge in the middle of his leg. But, it's fine, he doesn't need immediate medical attention for that!"

She slumped forward with a groan. "And this happens in the middle of the day, with my students elbow-deep in paint, and I have to leave them to come here. It's just…" 

Elsa made a frustrated noise, and Anna placed an arm around her shoulder. Before anything could be said, they were interrupted by the sound of a bed being wheeled in.

"Mrs. Geatland?" 

Elsa stood up so quickly the chair she'd been in nearly toppled over. On the bed, Alarik was almost lost in a cocoon of blankets, with only his head sticking out. His skin was extremely pale- even for him, and his face tense with pain. Nevertheless, he managed a weak smile and a soft "Hello, Darling". 

Elsa shot him a glare before turning to the nurse and doctor flanking his bed. "What did he manage to do to himself?"

The doctor, a sturdy-looking woman with dark, curly hair, smiled sympathetically. "I'm Doctor Barlett," she extended her hand and Elsa took it briefly, "and unfortunately, based on the x-rays, Alarik has sustained fractures on his tibia and fibula- the long bones of the lower leg- that are going to require surgery to repair." 

Dr. Barlett went over to the lightbox and flipped it on, placing an x-ray image on its surface. The X-ray showed a clear break in both bones, with part of the tibia pressing against the outside of the skin. "We are going to drill into the tibia to insert a rod for stabilization, and place a plate on the fibula. With that and physical therapy, Alarik's outlook for recovery is very good. I do need you to go over some forms with Leisel, Mrs. Geatland," she indicated to the nurse at her side, "and then we'll prep him for surgery. You can walk with him to the theater and we'll set you up in the waiting area." 

Elsa looked almost as pale as Alarik did, but she nodded, leaned down to press her forehead against his before following Leseil to the computer. As soon as she was out of sight, Alarik motioned frantically towards Anna. She raised an eyebrow and came over to his side, leaning in close. 

“Anna, I’m scared.”

She took his hand. "Hey, that's normal. Surgery is-"

"No, not the surgery. Okay, maybe a little bit, but I'm really scared of what happens afterwards."

"Do you mean not waking up? Alarik, you're perfectly healthy, and-"

"No, what if I wake up and the anesthesia messes with my brain? And I start…" he looked around fearfully before lowering his voice "flirting with a nurse or doctor?"

Anna squinted. "Wait, what? You're going into surgery after a major break, and you're worried about flirting with the hospital staff?"

"Not so loud! Yes! Elsa doesn't deserve that! I've already put her through so much- I can't have my mind thinking it's okay to sweet-talk with someone else! She's my wife! The woman I love!" Alarik threw his head back into the pillow.

"Right now, I'm going to guess whatever pain meds they have you on are already messing with you. But look, if that actually becomes a problem, I'll take care of it then. Not sure how, but I'll figure it out."

Alarik lifted his hand, extending his pinkie. "Promise?"

Anna gripped it with her own, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "I promise, you dork."

………….

Several long hours later, Elsa and Anna were ushered back to a recovery room after being told Alarik's surgery was successful. 

"He's still coming off of the anesthesia, so he may not make the most sense at the moment." Leisel explained as she led them back. "Here we go." 

She pushed open the room door, revealing Alarik, sporting a bulky new cast, resting on the bed, his eyes closed. "I'll be back in a bit to check up on him." Leisel closed the door behind her, and they went over to the bed. Elsa picked up Alarik's hand.

"Hello, Alarik."

His face scrunched up, relaxed, and he slowly opened his eyes. He blinked, his gaze bleary, before looking over at Elsa and grinning widely.

"Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

"Gooooood." Alarik’s gaze flitted around the room, before landing back on Elsa. He squinted. "Hey, are you here to take care of me?" 

She chuckled, brushing a stray curl away from his forehead. "Yes, of course."

She wasn't sure how he could grin any more, but he did. "Niiiiice. I like that. I like that a lot. You're really beautiful. I mean, I bet you already know that, but you're gorgeous. If you were my wife, I'd be telling you that every day. Why are you laughing? I like that laugh."

Elsa put her hand to her mouth, struggling to contain her growing mirth. "You goose, I am your wife." She brought their hands together so that he could see the rings. "See?"

His eyes went wide and he shot upright with his mouth hanging open. "Wait, we're married!? How!?"

Now there was no chance of holding back her laughter. "The usual way, of course. You proposed, I said yes, and we had a wedding." Behind her, Anna cackled.

"You forgot the part where he broke his wrist trying to propose to you." Anna added. 

"I did?" Alarik lifted his hands, turning them over before dropping them and blinking at Anna. "Are you here to take care of me too?"

Anna grinned, making no attempt to hide the phone she was holding up to record him. "Sort of. I'm Anna. Elsa's sister. Your sister-in-law."

Alarik grinned. "You seem fun."

Anna bent double, her sides heaving as she howled with laughter. Alarik giggled along- a surprisingly high-pitched giggle, which only made Anna laugh all the harder. 

"You two." Elsa sighed, but she couldn't suppress her own smile. Eventually Anna calmed down, and Alarik snapped his head back to Elsa, as if remembering something.

“Wait, do we have kids?”

Elsa's gaze took on a faraway look, and her hands twined together. Eventually, she answered him in a voice so soft it was barely audible.

"Not… not yet. But… soon."

"Soon?"

Elsa stood, turning sideways, and pulled her blouse tight, displaying the small swell in her middle. "About four months from now."

Alarik's face was euphoric. “We’re… we’re going to have a baby!? Oh, that’s… that’s just… Oh my God…” His eyes were wet. “Did you hear that, Anna? I get to have a baby with this incredible, amazing, darling woman, and…” He broke down, tears streaming down his face.

“Yup.” Anna responded over his growing sobs. “You did pretty much the same exact thing the first time Elsa told you.”

“Alright,” Elsa said, pressing Alarik back into the bed. Her own eyes were suspiciously wet as well. “I think this is your way of telling me you need some rest now. We can talk when you’re more lucid. Get some rest.”

Alarik’s eyes were already at half-mast, and he was clearly drained from crying. “Okay. Will you stay with me?”

She smiled, pushing away the curls from his forehead. “Of course. Now, get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

Alarik grinned, his eyelids slipping shut. “‘Niiiight.” 

“Goodnight” Elsa and Anna chorused. Within moments, he was fast asleep, snoring gently. 

Elsa looked over at her sister. “Please, for the love of all things good and holy, tell me you got that all on video.”

Anna grinned and flashed her a thumbs-up. 

[third-rail-vip]

20 OTP Questions

Tagged by @tarberrymentats​ thank you so much for the tag! <3

I’m going to tag @minuteminx​ @asaara-writes​  @pchberrytea​ @mayihavethisdanse​ @potatocrab​ @laurelsofhighever​ and anyone else who wants to, tag me because I’d love to see your OTPs!!

I might have gone a bit overboard, so I’ll put most of this under the cut…

Mac x Ivy

1. Who can outdrink the other?

Oh, definitely Mac.  They learnt that the first night they met, not that she was trying to keep up it’s just Ivy is a thorough lightweight.  He didn’t like questions, she can’t help but ask them, so the deal was one shot per question.  She is smol and cannot hold her booze.  Two centuries on ice and she seems to have lost some of the tolerance she built up in college.  Magnolia had to tell Mac to make sure she got to the Rexford ok.  Of course, en route she picked up multiple jobs and talked Fred into giving them 500 caps for going to Hallucigen.  Mac was gobsmacked, it was the beginning of a beautiful if unexpected friendship.  

These days if you give her too much, you’ll find her sat on the floor in the corner of Railroad parties with Tinker Tom talking conspiracy theories.  

2. Who says “i love you” more?

Probably Mac, but not because he loves more, but because he’s definitely the more vocal of the two of them.  Words are one of his main love languages.  Plus, he’s lost a partner before (which Ivy hasn’t) and there were things unsaid in that relationship that he’ll always regret, so he knows the importance of telling the people you love how you feel, and telling them often.  Ivy is more of a show than tell, even though she’s the type to fall first, she’s been hurt before by exactly that so she’s slower to use the words and breaks them out less often.  She shows she loves him through her actions.

3. Who has trouble sleeping alone?

Very much Ivy, not that Mac doesn’t to some degree, but this is a scary new world for Ivy and she feels very much safer having someone there.  She was a wreck when he was away in the Capital Wasteland and really struggled to sleep at all.  She is more likely to not be able to get to sleep if she’s alone.  Mac is more likely to have a disturbed night, waking up feeling an absence.  

4. Who swears more?

Ivy.  She may look sweet but she really can have a foul mouth.  She will basically swear for Mac as well.  He’ll cut himself off and she’ll fill in the blank.  She resists the urge, or at least desperately tries to pick other words at the last second when the kids are about.  It doesn’t always work well.

5. Who does more of the housework?

It’s shared.  Ivy makes more mess though, she’s clean but untidy.  She seems accumulate way more stuff than Mac does, and boy does she spread it around the house.  She’s also very distractible, so he can get back and find a half-risen loaf in the kitchen, which she’ll have left, having had a thought about something she wanted to draw while it was still in her mind.  So, the sketchbooks are out in the living room, but then she’ll see a sketch of Mac and remember she was going to fix the arm on his duster again.  And so on and so forth.  Mac isn’t without guilt, there are always comics on various surfaces, left open (taking up maximum room) to show Ivy or the boys the best bits.  If Codsworth had lungs, he’d hyperventilate.  She will tidy up after herself though, when she realises she’s left everything all over.  I mean, nobody wants to hear a Mr Handy cry pre-recorded tears.

6. Who forgets their anniversary?

They don’t technically have an anniversary, actually getting together was a bit of a messy and protracted process.  The easiest date to remember is Halloween when they first met in Goodneighbour.  Maybe one day they’ll have an official anniversary for something else, but for now.

7. Who steals the duvet in their sleep?

Sometimes they can have a bit of blanket tug of war going on depending on who got into bed first.  Ivy was nesh even before the war, but two hundred years on ice has done her no favours.  She gets criminally cold hands and feet.  If they were just sharing a bed before they got together, Ivy would 100% steal that duvet, but these days she just wraps around her mercenary and they sleep like a little two person blanket burrito.  

8. Who keeps the other awake at night with their snoring?

Neither keeps the other awake.  Mac is the one who snores, but they are little damn kitten snores, like his sneezes.  If anything is going to keep Ivy awake, it’s him falling asleep first and her just silently going “awwwwww” at her adorable boyfriend.  

9. Who finds stray animals and begs the other to let them keep them?

This is totally Ivy and cats.  They have dogmeat of course, but he’s his own man and he’s always welcome with them, but he’s not really theirs.  Ivy love cats, she will sneak off to play with settlement cats when she should be doing far more minutemen type activities.  They are definitely slowly accumulating cats at their most regularly visited settlements.

10. Who usually makes dinner?

Ivy enjoys cooking most out of the two of them, and she’s rather good at it.  Getting better all the time as well since her and Codsworth are doing their best to remember and collect pre-war recipes, or at least work out how to make equivalents.  Mac is a reasonable cook, but over the years he’s generally been happy to exist on pre-war ‘just add water��� kind of food, rather than cooking from scratch, which is definitely Ivy’s jurisdiction.  But if she’s cooking, and if he can persuade Codsworth to leave them to it, he loves to cook with Ivy.  Even more so when the kids want to get involves too.  

11. Who plays their music out loud?

Oh god, they both do.  The pipboy radio is always going.  Turning it right up and singing along is almost mandatory. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you might catch Ivy playing the guitar or the piano and singing.  She’s usually shy about it, but she’s good.  She’s performed once at The Third Rail as a birthday present.

12. Who hogs the bathroom?

Given the opportunity of a hot shower in Vault 81, you will lose Ivy for so long you’d think she’d drowned.  Drenching herself in enough scolding hot water to supply a minor settlement, truly is the most self-indulgent of self-care.  Mac isn’t the biggest fan but he can be persuaded.  The only time he’ll hog the bathroom is when it’s time to keep that goatee in tiptop condition.  He’s very particular about it.  

13. Who gives the most compliments?

Like with saying ‘I love you’ most, Mac is definitely the one who lays on the compliments.  He learned early on that Ivy isn’t used to being complimented like that, or at least, it’s been a very long time since she was treated that way.  He’s almost made it a personal mission to set that right.  How easily she blushes at them is just an added bonus.  

14. Who usually starts/causes arguments between them?

They aren’t an argumentative couple, from past experience, Ivy does not cope well with that kind of confrontation within a relationship.  They are more likely to snark if something has annoyed them, but are actually really good at reading each other’s body language for when something they’ve done has upset the other.  But if it comes down to it, Mac is more likely to be the one to get into a more heated discussion about something that’s upset him.  Ivy is the one to calm a situation.  The only time they’ve had an actual stand up row was during Blind Betrayal.

15. Who isn’t afraid to embarrass the other in public?

They aren’t afraid of a bit of public bantering, and will definitely play up for an audience if they’re in the right mood.  Ivy is a little more inclined to publicly tease Mac in one way or another, but that might be more because Mac suspects she can deal it out better than she can take it, rather than her being the more equipped to do it.  Although when it comes to quietly flustering her in public, that is very much Mac’s jurisdiction.  

16. Who gives the other cringeworthy pet names?

There’s a definite teasing edge to most of the nicknames they call each other, they’re both more comfortable with being called them when there isn’t too big of an audience around.  But I guess Mac would be more embarrassed by Ivy’s habit of calling him anything beginning with ‘sweet’ – it’s not good for his tough mercenary image, you know.  Mac doesn’t care who hears him call Ivy ‘angel’, he’s being calling her it for so long (way longer than they’ve been together) but he might draw the line at shouting ‘kitten’ across Diamond City marketplace.  Most other names they call each other are more along the lines of compliments or abbreviations of their names.  

17. Who fusses over the other when they get sick?

Ivy is definitely the more diligent medic, and a very well qualified worrier.  So when Mac is hurt, she’s all over that, and he regularly jokes that she carries enough gear to set up a small field hospital with her at all times.  Not that that habit hasn’t saved their asses on multiple occasions.  Mac is more likely to get genuinely scared if Ivy is badly hurt or sick because of past experience.  When it comes to just being a little bit poorly, Mac will milk it like an absolute drama queen.  Ivy is a soft touch and will let him.  But she’s also very good at telling when he’s better and is just looking for extra attention.  She’ll make up ‘treatments’ to see if he’ll keep up the charade and how committed he is to being waited on hand and foot.

18. Who finds it impossible to stay angry at the other for long?

For a guy who can mature a grudge like a fine wine, Mac has never ever been able to stay mad at Ivy.  Not even in those early days when she was ‘useless’ and they barely knew each other.  Mac melts at those big brown eyes, even if he tries to keep the frowns on the surface, all the anger goes in an instant.  It’s rare for her to get angry at him, but if the hurt is real then she can hang onto it until he’s shown that he’s earned back her trust.  It took him a while to win her back after coming back from the Capital Wasteland having not sent word at all since he left.

19. Who clings to the other for comfort when they’re sad or scared?

Ivy would be the first to cling to Mac when she’s scared, in fact she was, after very early close call.  That experience rather reinforced Mac as a safe place for her, bearing in mind she’s known him from just a week after escaping the vault, he’s definitely been a grounding presence for her.  When something is wrong, the first place she will seek comfort is in his arms, even from long before they were together.  Mac doesn’t break down until they’ve known each other for a lot longer, but he feels safe enough by then being that vulnerable with Ivy – it’s difficult because he has always had a habit of putting himself in a protector role in so many of his relationship with people that allowing himself to be seen as scared or even sad is difficult for him.  But once those floodgates are open, nothing would stop him from seeking comfort from her, even when things are awkward between them.

20. Who is more ‘physically passionate’? (hugs, kisses, or maybe more…)

When it comes to big public displays, it would probably be Mac (not in the early days though, he was definitely more private then) but he likes it known that they’re together – especially to that one dude from diamond city security who keeps hitting on her.  Ivy is more for subtle displays in public; holding hands, cheek kisses etc.  Although there was one incident…anyway.  Privately they are equally likely to be all over each other.  

[geethedentist]

The Sassenach Warrior

Catch up with Chapter 9 here and read this chapter on Ao3!

Chapter 10: Honorary Scot, Official Jacobite

“Claire?” 

My first instinct was to blurt, “Shit!” and jolt three feet into the air. So concerned with poking all my bumps and trying to stop the blood from leaking down my face, I had allowed someone to sneak up on me. I still hadn’t turned around. Maybe I had finally gone insane and imagined the voice, God I hoped so. 

“Claire it’s almost dawn, what the hell are ye doin’?” 

“I … How long have you been standing there?” I had finally turned to face him.

Angus crossed his arms. His boot began tapping on the ground. “Long enough to ken you’ve just done something incredibly sneaky … and I’d wager this isna the first time.” He would have taken on the air of a disappointed parent, had it not been for the confusion and blatant curiosity also present in his expression. 

And just like any manipulative schemer would do, I turned it around on him. “What were you doing out before dawn? You all love to accuse me of being shifty, so let’s hear it!” 

“Claire, ye ARE being shifty!” He almost shouted at me. “And for yer information I was visiting with Margaret, since we’re leavin’ soon.” His cheeks turned light pink. 

Oh yes, his big breasted friend. How horribly anticlimactic and boring. I supposed telling him I went for a walk was not even worth the breath.

“And Christ, what happened to yer face?” Now he mentions my face.  

“I um … fell?” 

He gave a short laugh and shook his head. “I ken I’m not terribly bright Claire, but ye insult me so. If I ken but one thing about ye, it’s that ye did not maul up yer face because ye fell.” 

His eyes fell to the skin just below my elbow and they popped wide open as he quickly grabbed it and shoved my own hand into my face.

“Is that a bite mark?!” 

Oh dear. Any chance of lying my way out of this was quickly dissipating, not that I had had a good shot in the first place. They were in fact, teeth marks. Small indentations lined the top and the underside of my arm; they were an angry red color, and quickly becoming tinged with purple. I inspected them more closely. It seemed that my opponent had extremely crooked teeth. 

“Um yes, but …” 

“Are ye drunk?” He cut me off. 

I crossed my arms in defiance. “Well not to brag but I don’t need alcohol to do things that I’ll regret.”

He looked at me long and hard, his hand scratching at something underneath his beard. I had been edging my way towards the door, although I knew I would have to demand his silence somehow. 

“Oh no Claire, if ye dinna tell me what ye’ve been doing, I’m going to make sure everyone in this whole tavern knows ye’ve been running late night errands.” 

“All right all right!” I said quickly to shut him up. “But nobody knows and it better stay that way.” 

“Can I be there when ye tell Dougal and Jamie that ye fell?” He smirked. 

A dog barked somewhere in the distance and I jerked him into the stables. Brushing stray hairs out my face, I winced as some of them caught in the mass of curdled blood on my head. 

“I’m going to tell them I fell, and you are going to back me up. Got it?” I hissed in his ear. “Now if you insist on knowing where I went, I had been fighting in the ring for the past week or so. Gavin has been paying me.” 

Angus’s eyes popped open again. “That’s why ye’ve been keeping us away from there!” It was then he heard the jingling in my pocket. “Jesus how much has he been payin’ ye?”

“Enough.” 

“Ye’re going to run. Aren’t ye?” An unnecessary question really. They’ve all known this from the second they met me. 

“That’s … I … Dougal has all of it. For the Jacobites.” 

He softened a bit. “But why?” 

And the words came gushing out of me. “Because I want my damn ring back and I want to get as far away from Dougal as I can. All of the mistrust and all the shite I get for being English is quite honestly draining me. I want to go home.” 

Home. 

I shouldn’t have used that word. 

You are an outlander no matter where on this earth you think you can run to.

I sat down heavily. “But that’s the thing. I’ve spent years as a ghost and I don’t even know where home is anymore, I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to be doing. I thought I did. But the fighting, it was like medicine to me, it makes me feel passionate, it makes me forget. After we leave this town, nothing is going to change. I feel trapped. Directionless.” 

  It was true. It was as if somebody plucked me from Uncle Lamb’s side and plopped me into the middle of a vast ocean. I could stay afloat but for what? Everywhere I turned there was a huge expanse of nothing. 

Angus sat down next to me. “Can I tell ye something? For what it’s worth, I trust ye, and ye look right at home, covered in blood and stinking like a man.” 

I gave him an honest smile, “Thank you.”

“But what about …” Angus closed his mouth and scooted away. Clearly what he about to say might result in my elbow colliding with his ribs. 

“What about what? Jamie?” I answered harshly. “What about him?” 

I don’t know why his question made me bristle as much as it did, and what I said next did not improve matters in the slightest.

“Please don’t tell him about this.” 

He caught the note of extreme seriousness in my voice. “Aye.” Was all he whispered in return. I traced the path his eyes took, out the wide stable door and up to the candle in Jamie’s window. 

Inside, he helped me clean the wound as quietly as possible, and we trudged up to bed. Stripping off my sweaty garments, I groaned as I tugged loose the strip of fabric I used to bind my breasts. I had tried a corset once, but declined to ever do so again in favor of proper breathing and being able to bend at the waist. 

Knowing that I wouldn’t sleep, I still tried in vain. I supposed I felt better, but only in the sense what I was able to get everything off my chest and hear my feelings out loud. Angus was a good listener, but the conversation should have been had with Jamie, and there was no telling how that would have gone and who would have walked away hurt. Although it probably would have been both of us.  

My body so desperately wanted to be unconscious but my mind wouldn’t let it. About two hours had passed and the first light of day gently lit the room. There was a soft knock on the door, and I heard Dougal’s voice from the other side. 

“Get up, lass.” 

Of course he’d be wanting the money. I hurriedly tugged on some pants and a shirt and grimaced at the blood stains on the pillow. Evidently I had been oozing. Opening the door halfway in an attempt to cover my face, I thrust the pouch into his hand. “I know it’s not as much as last time, I’m sorry.” 

“Never mind that lass. Get yerself together. Yer comin’ on a little trip wi’ me today.” Then he briskly walked away toward the stairs. Clearly the matter was not up for discussion. 

This is it. I thought as I retied the knot on top of my head. He’s gotten all the money he can out of me and now he’s going to take me somewhere and kill me. I quietly slid the small knife Jamie had left in my room the other day into my boot. 

Not if I kill you first.

Up close and personal, no arrows. He’d never see it coming. I imagined how it would go down. He’d lunge at me, I’d grab his throat and press the knife into the very spot I knew would bring death. A slow death, but death nonetheless. I wanted him to watch me reclaim my ring and finally be free of him. 

“So kind of ye to finally make it.” Dougal said when I reached the stables. He’d already saddled a horse for me. “Daydreamin’ up there?” 

“Actually yes.” 

He didn’t question me further as we set out. After riding in silence for about an hour I had worked myself up to the point where my hands were quite clammy and I was overly aware of the sgian dhu waiting in my boot. The tiny knife couldn’t have been more than one pound but it felt like ten. 

The hilly moor began to give way to forest. My horse followed Dougal’s of its own accord, allowing me to slouch back in the saddle and stare off into space. The trees that blurred by were becoming denser, and something caught my eye. Someone had set up camp on a distant hill. Strange, the hill seemed to rise up relative to everything around it, why expose yourself like that? 

Squinting and craning my neck back to the mysterious hilltop, it was enough for me to break the silence that had stretched for the entire ride. “What on earth is that?” I said it more to myself, but Dougal answered anyway. 

“Ancient faerie stones called Craigh na Dun.” He sounded almost wary. “Used by our ancestors for rituals, and said to be a gateway between worlds.” 

My mouth twisted. That concealed more than it illuminated. These Scots and their superstitions. I thought back to those wretched tea leaves and supposed anything was worth believing. 

The gentle thump of hooves striking grass gave way to the sound of crunching leaves. Dougal’s head was turning this way and that. We were close to our destination. My muscles tensed further in anticipation. The small spring looked peaceful enough, but Dougal had succeeded in choosing a secluded place. Then the smell hit me, and my face involuntarily contracted. Rotten eggs. 

Dougal caught it and laughed; I was not about to turn my back to him. “I ken it doesn’t smell like roses, but there’s a reason I took ye here.” 

There must have been a reason. Why ride over an hour for a drink from a spring that smelled like hell?  I stiffened. To conceal the smell of a corpse? 

He stared at me for a long moment, eyebrows raised. “There seems to be a bit of blood comin’ out of that head wound ye still haven’t told me about.” 

I started and then gently touched my fingertips to the wound in question. They came away bloody. “So there is.” I smiled sweetly. “Please excuse me a moment.” 

Kneeling by the edge of the spring, I made sure to keep him in my peripheral vision. The water was cool and it had an odd slippery quality. Throat parched with nerves, I took a big swallow before proceeding to wash the cut. Bracing myself for a taste to match the smell, it never came. The water was crisp and pure. Face dripping, I turned to find Dougal staring at me with an odd expression.

I shortly exhaled through pursed lips, causing the water to spray outward. “What?” 

“I’m going to ask ye once more.” He said, tone turned quite serious. “Are ye a spy for the English?”

I stood up and crossed my arms impatiently. “For the final time,” I seethed, “I am not a fucking spy! Are you going to tell me why you’ve taken me here?” 

His eyes narrowed as he sneered back at me. “Are ye going to tell me what’s happened to yer face? Or do I have to attend one o’ yer fights to get a better idea?” 

I would have liked to maintain a cool, collected expression at this remark. I also should not have been surprised at Dougal’s knowledge of my clandestine activities in the slightest. My eyes had widened nonetheless and he laughed humorlessly. 

“Angus …?” I said weakly, although I already knew it wasn’t him. 

“Angus didna tell me ye wee dolt. Gavin did when I collected the rent from his family’s farm.” 

“Ah.” I breathed, weaker still. It seemed I had failed to discuss the secrecy of my appearances with my sponsor. So Dougal knew my plan. He’d taken me here in order to kill or threaten me, thus preventing my escape and subsequent report back to my imaginary English superiors. 

He had turned his back to me before he resumed speaking. “Ye’re verra messy, Claire.” 

His back thus turned, I saw my chance. Of course the leaves underfoot would make sneaking up close difficult. A charge then, and a quick jab in the kidney. My heart instantly began pounding. 

He was shaking his head and laughing, genuinely this time. “Verra messy, not to mention clumsy. Ye’d make a terrible spy, and I’m sorry its taken me till now to believe ye.” 

My hand froze on its way toward the knife. “Wait what?”

He tilted his head and regarded me with considerably less menace than he had in all the time I’d known him. “Well ye drank from the Liar’s Spring aye? And yer still standin’ here.” 

I gawked at him. If it had been this easy I would have dragged him here a long time ago. Evidently this place was called St. Ninian’s Spring. Anyone who drank from it and then told a lie would meet a fiery end quite swiftly, what with the reek of hell so close by. 

“Dinna look so relieved yet, I’ve a few more questions.” 

I sat down heavily and looked at him with raised eyebrows and expectant annoyance. As long as I didn’t burst into flames, he’d be satisfied. And if I did? Well, he would probably still be satisfied.

“So ye really are a fugitive of the Crown?” 

“Yes. It wasn’t just some cover up. Neither was the money I gave you.” 

He nodded solemnly. “I must admit ye had me a bit confused when ye began yer … donations. Give me money and with it, a false sense of security and trust? Yer right clumsy Claire, but I wouldna put that past ye.” 

Indeed. For that had been my plan the entire time. Or had it?

“So now you see why I kept the fights from you. To be caught sneaking off in the middle of the night?” I laughed ruefully. “You’d never believe me.” 

He nodded again but there was a long pause before he spoke, very softly. 

“Can I ask why?” 

My teeth momentarily clenched together. Hard. 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” The words sounded strained and dry, barely above a whisper.

The air shifted; a chilling breeze blew tiny ripples across the stinking pool. Dougal had turned, and was staring at the wall of boulders on the side of the clearing. But he was seeing something else. 

“You’ve seen his back.” 

I inhaled sharply, and that was all the encouragement he needed to continue. 

“I was there, ken.”  

Whether I offered a response or not didn’t matter, for he meant to tell the tale either way. I found that my hands had clenched themselves tightly together. I did not want to hear this. I couldn’t. It felt like a betrayal of Jamie’s trust from when he first showed me the scars. But I had to. 

So I listened to how Jamie and his still raw wounds were paraded out of his cell at Fort William. I imagined Jack Randall’s eyes lighting up upon seeing him. I imagined the cords of Jamie’s neck taut with pain as he attempted to remove his shirt, which Dougal had described as barely more than a rag and almost completely crusted with the red-brown of dried blood. Jamie had carefully folded it as if it were made of silk, his last shred of dignity. And he meant to keep it. Hearing this part of the story almost wasn’t as bad as the flogging itself. He had hung unconscious by the wrists for the latter half or so, unaware of Randall’s deranged face behind him, splattered with Jamie’s blood. 

When his account had ended, my shoulders slumped and a shaky breath rattled out of my mouth. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I ken ye care about Jamie and I ken ye care about Scotland.” 

Perhaps I needed Dougal to say it before I truly realized it. Murtagh had tried to tell me as well. The truth was that I felt more Scottish than English, and I really didn’t want to leave my Highlanders. They looked out for me. I could be whoever I wanted around them, and it didn’t matter if who I wanted to be was a hunter and fighter . . . a protector. I wanted to be myself. 

“Well ye’re already a fugitive aye? Might as well be full blown traitor while you’re at it.” 

An unexpected laugh rose to the surface. “Do you know what? That doesn’t sound so bad.” 

It was strange how nonchalantly I had made the decision to change my life. The first time had been an accident, but now I was the one drawing my own map. Scotland was flailing under England, and it had gotten worse during my short time here. I saw it everyday. Whether it was in the form of hunger, poverty, families being torn apart, or religious persecution, England was not just using Scotland for revenue. It was threatening their way of life, a rich and ancient culture that I respected and cared for very much . . . as much as I had resisted it. Then there was everything that had been done to Jamie, including double flogging and exile to France. 

I supposed my deal with Colum was broken, as I had now effectively joined his brother in the exact kind of reckless acts he was looking to prevent to protect the Mackenzie clan. 

“Why did ye no tell anyone the Crown was after ye?” His last loose end. 

That was an easy one. “The fewer people that knew, the safer I felt. I’m sure you knew I had planned to leave your company as soon as possible, and I wasn’t looking to leave a trail leading right to me.” 

He made a Scottish noise in his throat which I took to indicate understanding. The breeze had returned as we sat in silence for a while. Dougal purposefully rose to his feet, smoothed his kilt, and extended a hand to me. 

“Welcome to the fight then, Claire.”

[ilcaeryx]

Tenacity: Chapter 9 - Cannibalism [Takami Keigo | Hawks/Reader]

SUMMARY: Your nightly Twitter sleuthing brings up an inappropriate question about Keigo and he spends the evening denying you any straight answers. 

TAGS: One-shot, Hawks/Reader, Takami Keigo/Reader, comedy, cute, fluff, pillow talk

NOTES: This is a part of the Tenacity one-shot compilation!!! Celebrating that it’s Friday with a one-shot featuring Hawks! I had tons of fun writing this. I can’t wait until he properly shows up in the anime.

Your boyfriend Keigo patrolled the roads and rooftops of your city during the day, a professional ensuring the citizens’ safety from villains. When he returned back home for the night, you devoted a good 15 minutes before bedtime to scroll endlessly on your phone, an amateur guardian of his Twitter tag. If you were honest, you were more like a trigger-happy vigilante than a righteous guardian. The perfect duo, to be honest.

Was he aware of your nightly sleuthing?

No. Not the fact that you were basically the head of his protection squad, at least.

Because your spare time always went by fast, your bed time approached and you got comfortable under the sheets. You checked for new Tweets under the ‘wingherohawks’ tag… thirst tweets, hate tweets or whatever the world tossed at you. This had been a routine since months back, when Keigo had whined about being unable to DM you during the day. Mind you, it hadn’t even been during the honeymoon period of your relationship; you two had been together for a solid two years now and this hadn’t been a thing prior, keeping things to the usual phone messages. However, as he had risen in hero rank he saw a need to use his social media platform often, so the two of you became much more familiar with Twitter as a result. 

There was a contrasting duality to reading what anonymous people wrote about him. While you loved the thirst tags because of their relatability, though they did make you cringe at times, you silently raged whenever you came across something that could be constructed as hate or pointless negativity. Thus, you had unofficially taken on the Hawks’ Protection Squad leader position – a one person crew reporting whatever nastiness you came across. You thought it made a difference, as he had been visibly more relaxed while browsing during the evening.

This night, your feed was pretty innocent for once. You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting a smile at a recent picture snapped of Keigo patrolling the streets, taken from his profile. It must have been after confronting a villain, as he was pushing back his hair with a dreamy expression on his face. He was intensely photogenic.

Humming, you liked the picture and continued scrolling downwards. 

“Chicken, when are you coming to bed?” you asked loudly, peering over your duvet towards the hallway. A second later, the shuffling of feathers against each other and feet slapping against the floor rang out. Your chicken did not enter the bedroom, standing by the entrance like a vampire awaiting an invitation. Holding a bowl beneath his face with one hand, he fished up some noodles.

“Angel,” he greeted you in a creamy tone and guided his chopsticks his mouth. The dark outlines around his eyes made his eyes seem like those of a cheetah, perceptive and predatory. It was an interesting diversion compared to his general relaxed body language. After slurping the last of the noodles, he wiped his hand over his lips and pointed at you with his chopsticks. “I’ll join you after I’m done eating, I promise.”

There was nothing to read online… so you were bored. This one day, you would let him break the rules of the house. “I allow you to eat in our bed now, so you can sit here.”

Keigo did a double-take and pursed his lips. “That’s not suspicious at all. What are you up to?”

“Nothing, I just want your company,” you said and padded the empty, cold space by your side next to the bed’s edge. “Your fat ass can fit here, don’t worry.”

You let out an entertained howl as he feigned a hurt expression, concealing his cheeks and eyes. “I was just about to say that you were going to kill me with cuteness someday.”

“I am cute the majority of the time and I’m pretty certain I’ll be the death of you. Be nice to me, Takami Keigo, or you’ll regret it.”

He whined and stumbled inside, shooing you tenderly to the side. Sitting down, he continued to eat. 

“What are you eating?” You rotated until you were on your side, your stomach pressed against his back.

“Leftovers from yesterday, since you didn’t devour everything. Do you want some?”

“Eh, I already brushed my teeth. Thank you for the offer.” You would 100% regret saying that later. That would be a problem for future Y/N, though.

You could hear his lips curve upwards  while answering. “Suit yourself.”

For a good twenty minutes, because Keigo never ate like a starving man, you caressed his back while he made his way through the bowl. Occasionally you exchanged quips but you didn’t demand anything other than his presence next to you.

You were content.

When Keigo had completed his night routine he crawled up in bed next to you, encroaching into your space.

“Come here,” he whispered, his voice fuzzy in the darkness. Rolling over, you nestled your head on his arm, his biceps warm against your cheek. When he drew his wing above your body and upwards, it was kind of like resting inside a tent. Feeling his silky feathers against your arm was very pleasant. With great care, he adjusted himself into comfort.

Suddenly recalling that you had to turn on your alarms, you quickly brought up your phone and did so.

“I’ve never been this turned off in my life. Bringing out your phone when you’re talking to another human being.”He stroked stray hair-strands out of your face with his free hand, twining them behind your ear, speaking to you with affection despite the harsh words.

“Unless you want to wake up at 10AM, I have to turn on the alarm.”

“To be honest, I’d love that.”

“Same.” A notification popped up and out of curiosity you tapped it. Then you read it. The Tweet that made you peace out and put your phone away. However, you refused to live with that question blistering inside you without affecting Keigo. “Chicken. I have a weird question for you.”

He hummed in a positive manner, so you proceeded.

“You’re human, right?”

Keigo ceased brushing your hair, his fingers remaining at the tip of your ear. “Well, you’ve seen me naked. You can be the judge of that.”

“I would personally say yes to that question. You’ve got hawk wings, though.”

“I wonder where this is going to end…”

“Just trust me. Look, if you’re mostly human and your wings are hawk wings, do your wings taste like human or fowl?” You didn’t want him to roll over because of your borderline creepy question, so you grasped his shoulder and pulled yourself to his naked chest.

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard this question. Damn, I wouldn’t complain if it was the last time.”

Without thinking, you burst out, “So you don’t know the answer to the question?”

“My future bride,” he said and kissed the top of your head, “consider what you just implied.”

“C’mon, self-cannibalism isn’t that bad. Hold on, what do you mean with future bride?” Whatever tiredness had settled into your limbs dispersed. You weren’t sure if he was kidding or not because his tone had been neutral, as if he were stating a fact.

“Please, stop struggling and go to sleep.”

“Keigo, what did you mean with future bride? Did you say that just to throw me off?” You brought yourself up on an elbow and showed your canines before digging your teeth into his shoulder. It was a timid bite, not worthy of the orchestrated ouch he exclaimed.

“You’re actually a cannibal in disguise!”

“That’s hardly kinkier than what we usually do. Elaborate on the bride thing.”

 “Heh, you’ll find out someday. If you’re nice to me, of course.” Keigo’s chest vibrated against your forehead as he laughed lowly.

None of you had brought up marriage before. It made you ponder whether he was pulling your leg or if he had been thinking about it. Would he be that cruel? Perhaps you would deserve it after the coming question.

“Chicken,” you said, your voice unsteady with laughter. “You have an unlimited amount of feathers, right? Have you ever thought of making dakimakuras containing your feathers? I think they would sell well. Hell, I would probably even get one myself.”

You must have broken him because he didn’t move nor speak for a good 30 seconds.

“I’ll make you one for your birthday,” he eventually said, sounding somewhat thoughtful.

“Seriously?!”

“No. You’ve got the real thing here,” he slid his free hand down your arm and brought your hand to his chest, “and you’re asking for a dakimakura? You’re breaking my heart, Y/N.”

Low-key disappointed, you drew your nails against his skin. You enjoyed how his breath quickened as you drew them between his chest muscles to the top of his stomach, yet not further. “You’re a tease. You’re absolutely horrible to me, Keigo.”

Your chicken didn’t seem interested in trading retorts anymore, so you shut up and awaited what would happen next.

Enjoyed this? Give it a like or reblog. You can also follow me for more or check out my other one-shots and drabbles.

Inspired by EXO-CBX's Blooming Day.

[obsessedbutonline]

obsessedbutonline Masterlist

Started: 24/12/2020

Last updated: 24/12/2020

Total works: 9

Teen Wolf

Title: Amateurs

Rating: General Audiences

Chapters: 1/?

Word count: 4369

Tags: Spark Stiles Stilinski, Magic, Stiles Stilinski Returns, Emissary Stiles Stilinski,Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Bromance, Alpha Derek Hale, Good Derek Hale, Good Peter Hale,Good Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Teacher Stiles Stilinski, Roadtrip, Training

Summary:  When Stiles is offered a position at a far-away pack to train a young spark, he didn't expect to bring along a certain Peter Hale. Becoming a powerful, nation-wide known emissary comes with certain perks, and also responsibilities- how does Stiles cope?- Written for the Steter Secret Santa

Other comments: This one is a favourite of mine and one I’m super inspired for! It was for the steter secret santa 2020, and I was late for that sadly, but my giftee, archercrow, was AMAZING about it and I got it to them on the 29th (: 

~

Title: Temporary Love

Rating: General Audiences

Chapters: 3/?

Word count: 3087

Tags: College Student Stiles Stilinski, College, Human, Alternate Universe - Human, Family, Family Fluff, Derek Hale is a Softie, Deputy Derek Hale, Misunderstandings, Stiles Stilinski's Jeep's Name is Roscoe, Stiles Stilinski Returns

Summary:  From the prompt: Stiles’ Babcia (grandmother) is fiercely independent and lives in an apartment in Beacon Hills and Stiles used to go over on the weekends and run errands for her. But then Stiles goes to college and can’t make it home as much as he likes, and when he does go home he goes straight to Babcia’s apartment ready to do her bidding and she’s like, “Oh, no, Słoneczko, that nice boy Derek down the hall already got my groceries and fixed my sink…” And Stiles gets really jealous of this Derek guy, but Derek works weekends (Deputy!Derek FTW) so they never actually meet. Stiles nurses this simmering rage that some interloper is bogarting his grandmother. In the meantime Derek is just soaking up the family feels and becoming more and more enamoured of the elusive Mieczysław that babcia keeps showing him pictures of and telling him stories about, “the most handsome, brilliant, caring young boy you could ever meet…” -dr.girlfriend on tumblr

Other comments: Named after the amazing song of the same name by Ben Platt, this fic is inspired by a prompt! It has yet to be finished, but I’m working on it, promise! It’s just slow going.

~

Title: A Change Of Pace

Rating: General Audiences

Chapters: 1/1

Word count: 1070

Tags: Empath Stiles Stilinski, stetersecretsanta2019, Fluff

Summary: Stiles has always struggled to contain the effects of being an empath- Peter, like he always seems to do, worms his way through the cracks. My entry for the Steter Secret Santa 2k19, enjoy!

Other comments: Once again, another secret santa entry! For this one, I dabbled into making Stiles an empath, I’m pretty sure that was one of the requests of my secret santa-ee, so that’s what I did! If inspiration strikes, I feel like I could definitely expand on this story, but it works as a short story just as well.

~

Title: On Christmas Eve

Rating: General Audiences

Chapters: 1/1

Word count: 5285

Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Pain, Dreams and Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Depression, Isolation, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles, Stilinski Christmas, Christmas Eve, Illnesses, Mental Health Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, Possession, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Bromance, Emotionally Constipated Derek Hale, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Pack Feels

Summary:  Looking up at the ceiling in exasperation, Stiles shook his head in disbelief. "Great, so now we're taking in strays. Awesome, just how I wanted to spend my Christmas Eve." ... "Yeah," Stiles agreed, breathlessly, "-friends." ... How Stiles' copes with the possession of the Nogitsune over the next five Christmas Eve's. This is my entry for the 2019 Sterek Secret Santa (:

Other comments: This is one of my absolute FAVOURITE fics I’ve written, and it kind of follows the 5+1 trope, but I don’t think there are six different parts. Anyway, this was obviously written for the 2k19 Sterek Secret Santa, and I just want to once again mention how worth it is to join a writing secret santa!! The Sterek one in particular is VERY well set up, so it’s an amazing one to start with!

~

Title: Missing Parts (In My Brain)

Rating: General Audiences

Chapters: 1/1

Word count: 1410

Tags: Fluff, Pining, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, 12 Days of Sterek, Christmas, Christmas Party, Christmas Fluff

Summary:  Pining has always been something Stiles has been spectacularly good at. But really? This is going too far. Christmas parties aren't Christmas parties unless at least one couple lays the PDA on heavy, and it all gets Stiles thinking. Written for 12 Days Of Sterek 2019 (:

Other comments: As I wrote in the summary, this was written for the 12 days of Sterek! I don’t think there was a prompt or anything, but this fic has a heavy theme of asexuality, which I wrote for the purpose of putting more diversity into my fics.

~

Title: The Peculiarities of Demetrius Blotting and Papers

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Chapters: 1/1

Word count: 1414

Tags: Magical Stiles Stilinski, Magic, Faery Court, Fae & Fairies, Nymphs & Dryads, Mythology - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Library, Library, Witches, Nature, Magic, Bookshop

Summary: Working in the most magically profound bookshop is a walk in the park. Until it isn't. When a stranger comes looking for a registry of one of the most well-known wolf packs in America, Stiles finds himself intrigued. And unfairly invested in making the guy smile. And if it takes a bit of sneaking to do that, then that's nobodies business but his own, right?

Other comments: I actually do not remember where this fic was going! But it never got further than the first chapter unfortunately (I hope I can update this, someday). It’s about the fae!

~

Title: Visiting the Hales

Rating: General audiences

Chapters: 1/1

Word count: 1513

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Death, Grief/Mourning, Stiles Stilinski Helps Derek Hale, Love, Birthday, The Hale Family, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, One Shot

Summary: It's taken years for them to reach this stage.Stiles hurts when Derek hurts, but he will gladly shoulder the pain if it lessens Derek's even in the slightest.It's time to visit the Hales.

Other comments: This is literally just a super short angst-fest, I think I was listening to a sad song when I got struck with inspiration, and this is the result! Enjoy if you want some sad! Sterek.

~

Title: Us Struggling Youth

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Chapters: 23/?

Word count: 27555

Tags: Mental Health Issues, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, sterek, Self-Harm, Depression, OCD, Anxiety, Therapy, Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Human, Slow Burn, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Build, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Sad, Light Angst, Triggers, Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Emotional, teenwolf, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Hurt Stiles, Bromance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, Kissing, LGBTQ Themes, Mental Breakdown, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Teen Derek Hale, Teen Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Teenage Rebellion, Camping, Nostalgia, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Bipolar Disorder, Worry, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings

Summary: Stiles never wanted to go to a school for crazy people, but with his history with self-harm and worsening anxiety, his dad thought it was the place he needed to be. But when the management is at threat, the pupils decide that they deserve some time away, and the camp of the ages was born. What happens when a group of not so well teens decide they want to rebel for one final hurrah?Because when sparks fly in a pit of flames, it can be hard to see past the manic of The Rosedale Academy For Struggling Youth.

Other comments: This is my second longest fic after Only He Saw, and is currently unfinished. Will I finish it? Unknown, but likely not. I got really into the AU Boarding School trope, and this was the result, but then I ran out of inspiration, which is sad because I had a whole storyline planned out. If it ever comes back, I’ll be sure to continue writing it!

~

Title: The Cookie Incident

Rating: General Audiences

Chapters: 1/1

Word count: 2225

Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Children, Alternate Universe, Steter Secret Santa

Summary:  Stiles goes on a baking spree, with the help of a certain six-year-old, much to the dismay of Peter.

Other comments: This was written for the 2018 Steter Secret Santa, and was written based on the likes of my secret santa-ee. I’d 10000% recommend doing a writing Secret Santa if you want to get into writing fics! You’re surrounded by other people doing the same thing as you, you have a deadline, and you get a present in return! I love doing them, and I’ve been doing both the Sterek and Steter secret santas for three years now. It’s a fluff-fest, that’s all!

~

Title: Only He Saw

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Chapters: 31/31

Word count: 45,781

Tags: Angst, Eventual fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Heartbreak, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self Harm, Razor - Freeform, Razors, Anxiety, Darkness, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Panic Attacks, Erica, Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Has Scars, Scars, Sad, Crying, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Hurt Stiles, Cars, Rich Peter, Caring Peter, Peter hale - Freeform, Feels, mansion, Rebuilt Hale House, mean derek hale, steter feels, elastic band technique, self harm alternatives, Self Confidence Issues, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Peter, Blood, trigger warning, Heavy Angst, Neglected Stiles Stilinski, Busy Sherriff, Nurturing Peter Hale, Good Peter Hale, Sheriff Stilinski is a Bad Parent, Torture, Tortured Stiles Stilinski, Peter forgives Stiles, Depressed Stiles, Angst with a Happy Ending, Small pack, Car rides, Revenge, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Non-Evil Peter Hale, halepackareevil, evilhalepack, badderek, goodpeter, Emotions, POV Stiles, Asexual Character, Asexual Stiles Stilinski, Werau.

Summary:  When the pack stopped telling him about meetings, Stiles laughed. It wasn't surprising that they forgot to update his number when their phones kept getting destroyed by the monster of the week...right? They just forgot. That happened. All the time! Too often. When the pack stopped giving excuses for forgetting, a deserving prickle of fear and trepidation etched its way into his heart, making his usually cocky and brave smile falter and leave. Only when they weren't watching. When they went out of their way to stop him going to meetings, he stopped smiling altogether. Only where they couldn't see. But it's fine, right? He was part of a family that loved him and just wanted to keep him safe...right? But when Derek used the door instead of the window to get into Stile's house, as small and insignificant a fact that may be, he accepted that something was wrong.

Other comments: This was the first fic I ever wrote, and you can tell! I wrote this story over a long time, but for the majority of it, I’d upload 1000 word chapters every day, which really helped my writing develop. I was in a super dark place when I wrote this, and I think you can tell, but I keep it up because it shows how far my writing’s come. I’m proud of how far I’ve come since OHS!

~

Title: ____

Rating: ___

Chapters: ___

Word count: ____

Tags: ____

Summary:  ____

Other comments: ___

~

[dreamofkpop]

twisted

Stray Kids 10th member AU

Charlie x Stray Kids 

warnings: probably quite inaccurate in terms of healing and stuff, i’m just going off of what I've seen online. feel free to correct me

Requested by @xubaobi // requests are open!! 

(gif not mine! credit to owner!) 

~

December 5th 

“D’you think the show will still go on?” Charlie walked up beside Chan and looked up at him. 

The leader hesitated for a moment, eventually nodding. “I think so. I mean all the fans are already here and besides it’s just a little rain.” 

She sighed at his words, watching as the crew members attempted to dry the stage although it was still raining. 

True to Chan’s words the show still went on, the rain slowed down a bit as it went on but not enough leaving the idols slightly drenched as they left they left the stage. 

Charlie stood off to the side, watching the performances and growing concerned each time an idol slipped or fell which in turn made her more nervous. 

The group’s time to perform was drawing nearer so they made their way towards the side of the stage, Charlie trailed at the back of the group with her head down as she went over the choreography in her head. 

“Okay, you guys are up next” A crew member informed them before rushing off to deal with another task they had. 

After lightly stretching some more and doing the regular chant they did the 9 of them walked onto the stage and got ready to perform. Luckily for most of the boys their shoes had good grip so they weren’t as likely to slip. 

The song quickly started and they began performing, giving their best despite the weather. 

As the performance went on it was getting gradually harder to keep two feet on the ground, at one point Jeongin had to grab Charlie’s arm as they crossed over each other to stop her from falling. 

Unfortunately when Charlie went to do one of the moves she found particularly difficult her foot slipped on one of the small puddles on the stage and landed in the wrong position, waves of pain shooting up her leg. She fell and her knees hit the stage with a hard bang.

‘Keep going, keep going...performances almost over..’ She thought to herself, blinking back the tears that pricked in the corners of her eyes and pushed herself back onto her feet. 

She was focused on keeping her voice strong and not show she was in pain as she sung that she the concerned looks she was getting from the boys, who were also sharing looks of equal concern. 

Despite the burning pain in her ankle Charlie kept performing, her left hand balled into a fist that made her nails dig into the skin of her palm. 

Luckily the performance ended not soon after and as the lights went down and the crown began to cheer Charlie’s legs gave out underneath her and she crumpled to the floor, not caring how here clothes became damp as she finally let the tears flow. 

The boys crowded around her while Chan and Changbin crouched to her level, the older gently placing his hand on her back. The two looked up at each other, agreeing what to do without even talking. 

“Charlie, hey, listen to me babe. I know whatever you just did was bad and it must really hurt but you have to try and get up okay?” Chan spoke as softly as he could over the loud audience.

Weakly nodding at his words, Charlie pushed herself up onto her knees then placed her uninjured foot flat on her floor. As she placed her bad foot down, the tiny bit of pressure sent another wave of pain and caused her to buckle.

Before she could fall Changbin reached out and grabbed hold of her, one of his arms slid around her back and the other hooked under her legs so he was carrying her bridal style. 

“Jeez have you gotten lighter?” He mumbled as they group finally got off the stage, rushing backstage. Changbin hurried over to the couch and set her down, unwinding Charlie’s arms from her neck. 

A crew member quickly walked towards the boys and turned to Chan who was talking to their manager. “The medic is on their way” 

Charlie slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position before unlacing her shoe and carefully pulled her shoe off along with her sock, hissing as her ankle bent.

She rolled up her trouser leg and her eyes widened, from behind her a couple of the boys gasped. There was a lump on her ankle, the skin purple and bruised and every time her ankle moved the slightest it caused pain. 

“Your ankle looks broken..” Felix said as he sat on the arm of the couch, raising his hands in defense as Changbin whacked his leg and shot him a glare. “Hey i’m only guessing!” He defended himself. 

“Yeah well right now your guesses aren’t needed” Charlie huffed, her eyes still locked onto her ankle. “And if it’s actually broken, i’m blaming you for jinxing it” She turned her head and glared at the boy. 

The medic arrived quicker then expected and the boys all backed up to give her some room as she crouched next to Charlie and gave her a seemingly comforting smile. 

Chan, who was originally stood beside their manager, had moved and taken Felix’s spot on the armrest and placed his hand on her shoulder. 

The woman gently took Charlie’s ankle into her hand, sending the girl a sympathetic look when she winced. “Okay, tell me if this hurts” She gently pressed on different spots of Charlie’s ankle, a harsh wince coming from her as the woman pressed on the bruise. 

After a few more tests and questions the medic took an elastic bandage from her medical bag and unraveled it along with an ice pack. “I’m going to wrap this around your ankle and you should take it off once the swelling has gone down..” She spoke as she started gently wrapped the material around Charlie’s ankle. “Keep the ice pack on your injury for 15 to 20 minutes and repeat that every three hours while you’re awake” 

Once the medic was done, she packed up her stuff and stood up then turned to their manager. “She needs to rest her ankle and keep it elevated and avoid any activities that’ll potentially damage it further so no performances or dancing until she is able to put pressure on it again. The sprain isn’t too major so it’ll take two or three weeks to heal.” 

As the medic continued to speak Charlie zoned out and leaned back on the couch, blankly staring at the wall. 

“Hey...”

Snapping back to reality she watched as Chan sat down on the edge of the couch and placed his hand on her knee, a small smile on his lips. “Why did you keep dancing?” 

Charlie shrugged. “I didn’t want to disrupt the performance and make a scene..” 

“But you continued dancing and look where it’s left you, your ankle wouldn't be as bad if you stopped...” He sighed and lifted his hand, ruffling her hair. “Oh Charlie what am i gonna do with you?” 

When the medic left their manager walked over and crouched by the couch. “One of the boys may have to carry you back to the car and into your dorm, do you still have the crutches the hospital gave you before?” He asked. 

She nodded and pouted. “I don’t wanna use them..” Charlie whined. “They’re annoying and tedious” 

The man shrugged and at her. “Sorry Charlie but it’s what you’ll have to do unless you want to hurt yourself even more” 

Jeongin had collected Charlie’s stuff for her and kept it with him, her bag hanging off one of his shoulders and her coat bundled in his hands.

Once they were able to leave the boys left first, Charlie swung her legs off of the couch and huffed as Changbin walked over. “Are you seriously going to carry me?” 

“Is there a problem with that?” He asked. 

“I’m heavy, carrying me will hurt your back!” 

Changbin raised his eyebrow at her. “You think you’re heavy? Charlie, love, you are the exact opposite of that.” His lips then curled up into a smirk and he flexed his arms. “Plus i’m incredibly strong” 

She rolled her eyes at him and scoffed. “Now that’s self confidence right there. Fine, let’s go, i’m really tired” 

He crouched in front of Charlie and she climbed onto his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. As he stood back up his hands held onto her legs tightly. 

“See? Strong!” He beamed as they walked out of the door and through the building towards the exits. The wind hit them first as they stepped out of the building, the cold made Charlie shiver and hide her face in the crook of Changbin’s neck. 

The boys were already in the cars, two available seats left for Changbin and Charlie. 

“You need to get down you can get into the car” Changbin giggled and tapped Charlie’s leg. She huffed and hopped off of his back, landing on one foot, she hopped into the car and clambered onto the middle seat. 

The car began moving and Charlie felt a tap to her arm, she turned to face Changbin with a questioning look on her face. “Hm?”

He reached over and gently grabbed her legs, pulling them into his lap. “Doctor said to keep your leg elevated” He finally said, flashing her a smile. 

// Once back at the dorms the boys hurriedly shuffled into the building to escape the cold. Charlie was back on Changbin’s back, half asleep with her head tucked into the crook of his neck

The 9 of them piled into the dorm and went off to do their own things, Changbin making a b-line towards Charlie’s room an carefully laid her own onto her bed, unwinding the tired girl’s arms from around his neck. 

“Get some sleep, i’ll get you some painkillers for when you wake up. sound good?” He hummed, gently running his fingers through her hair. 

Charlie mumbled a ‘yeah’ and leaned into his touch making the older boy laugh. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, wishing her a good sleep before standing and walking out of the door. 

~

December 9th

A couple days later and the bruising around her ankle had become more prominent, the area still swollen. Charlie had practically been on bed rest with the boys offering to do things for her, the crutches she already had propped up by her bed so she could still move about. 

“Why can’t i come to practice? I’ll just site there and watch. Please, it’s so boring being stuck here all day everyday” She complained, hobbling along on said crutches behind Chan as he made his way to the kitchen. 

The leader groaned and turned to face her. “The doctor said you needed rest, so you’re staying here until your ankle is better, okay?” 

She scowled at him, her lips pushing out into a pout. Chan looked down at her and laughed, raising his hand to ruffle her hair and pinch her cheek. “Aww~ Look at you! Cutiee” 

“Shut up” Charlie grumbled, shaking her head to sort out her hair. 

“Go on, go and rest” Chan smiled and pointed in the direction of her bedroom. 

Rolling her eyes, Charlie turned on her heels and headed towards her room, muttering under her breath as she did so. 

“I’ll bring you back some food!” Was the last thing she heard Chan call out before she harshly pushed her door closed with one of the crutches. //

Once the boys had all gone to practice after individually saying bye to Charlie before they left she gathered all the blankets she could haul over her shoulders and hopped into the living room. 

With all the blanket on the couch and a few pillows, one keeping her foot propped up Charlie switched on the TV and put on Netflix, deciding to binge a new series for the rest of the day. The curtains were all closed and the lights were switched off, she had a bag of popcorn in her lap and the hoodie that covered her frame was at least two sizes too big. 

And that was how she stayed until the boys came trudging through the door at 10:30 PM, most off them disappearing off to their respective rooms while Hyunjin crashed on the floor in front of Charlie and Chan sat on the spare seat beside her on the couch. 

“How’s your ankle feeling?” He asked, leaning back on the seat. 

Charlie shrugged. “Getting better, not as swollen or bruised and i can put a little bit of weight on it.” 

A tap to her hand made her look down at Hyunjin who picked up her hand and placed it on the top of his head. Charlie giggled at him and began gently carding her fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. 

Later in the evening it was nearing three in the morning and too Charlie’s knowledge she was the only one left awake in the dorm. She had her legs swung over her bed, staring down at her bandage clad ankle. 

Her eyes drifted to the crutches propped up against her desk on the opposite side of the room and with a short breath she slowly pushed herself to her feet, her hand gripping the edge of her bedside table.

Slowly she limped over to the desk, her ankle burning slightly as she tried to put the smallest amount of pressure on it. 

“That didn’t hurt too bad...maybe it’s getting better quickly..” She spoke out loud, carefully placing her foot flat on the floor. Her hands hesitated to grab the crutches, hovering in thin air. “Forget it, i can walk without them...”

On her way through the house heading towards the kitchen Charlie had her hands pressed into the wall for support, her eyes trained on the floor in front of her. 

Surprisingly, her ankle only hurt if she leaned on it, so the trip wasn’t as painful as she thought it would be although there was still a dull ache. 

Eventually getting to the kitchen, Charlie’s eyes were still trained to the floor so she didn’t notice the dim light coming from the corner of the room and the person sat there. They were slowly pulled away from their work, watching Charlie with a concerned face. 

“What are you doing?” 

The voice made Charlie jump, the glass in her hand hitting the counter with a clink as she spun around. A light suddenly turned on and Changbin’s face came into full view. 

“Couldn’t sleep, i was getting a drink. Why are you still awake?” She spun back around and grabbed the fallen glass, avoiding his eyes as she limped over to the sink. 

Upon noticing the lack of crutches near her, Changbin pushed himself off of the chair and walked over. “You shouldn’t be walking, you’re gonna hurt yourself even more” his voice was laced with concern.

Gulping down the water, Charlie rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, don’t overreact” She placed the glass in the sink and turned around to face him. “It’s not like i’m gonna put full weight on it, i’m not stupid” 

“I know just- Charlie you putting any weight on your ankle is going to make it worse, you need to start looking after yourself and being more careful, seriously” He huffed, running a hand over his face. 

“Yeah yeah i know and i will! I was too lazy to get the crutches and they get on my nerves” 

“Well you have to start using them unless you want to end up with a broken ankle and be stuck here for even longer” Changbin reasoned, making Charlie sigh. 

Tapping her hands on the counter, She cleared her throat and looked back up. “Might as well head back to bed, gotta get some sleep in, you should probably do that too” 

Before she could even think of moving Changbin held his hand out, making Charlie look up at him weirdly. 

“What? You really think i’m gonna let you walk back to bed?” 

Charlie huffed. “Kinda, i don’t see how you’re get-” 

She was cut off, a yelp involuntarily falling from her lips when Changbin stepped over and picked her up bridal style then began to walk out, her arms immediately winding around his neck. 

“I hate you” She whined, turning her head to bury it into the fabric of his shirt. 

Changbin laughed, his grip tightening slightly. “Ha, sure you do princess, if you hated me you wouldn’t be wearing my hoodie” His lips curled up into a smirk as he knocked the door to her room open with his hip.  

He carefully set her down on her bed, the smirk still painting his lips when noticed the pink tinting her cheeks. 

“It was the only hoodie i could find plus it’s big and comfy.” 

“I’m never getting it back am i?” Changbin questioned, sitting down in the edge of her bed, leaning back on his hands. 

Charlie shrugged as she climbed under the covers and propped her foot up on the pillow underneath the cover. “We’ll see”

~

December 12th 

Charlie sat in the uncomfortable chair as the doctor looked over her ankle and talked on and on. 

“The swelling seems to have gone down completely and there is only a little bit of bruising left, does it still hurt to put any kind of pressure on it or walk normally?” The woman looked up and tilted her head. 

“No not really” Charlie shook her head. “I can walk on it but there a little bit of a like...ache? When i walk but it’s nothing i can’t bare” 

She watched as the doctor and discarded the bandage that had been wrapped around her ankle. “So d’you think i’m okay to go back to practice again? And performing?” 

The doctor chuckled as she sat back down in her chair. “You seem quite eager to get back on stage. Stay off for a few more days and continue to use your crutches when you need them, other then that you can slowly begin to walk again and come off of the crutches once you’re comfortable again. Sound good?”

Charlie nodded as she pulled her sock on and her shoe, shuffling to her feet and taking hold of the crutches. “Yes, thank you ma’am” 

Once she was out of the room and the building the first thing Charlie saw was Chan leaned against the car they’d arrived in, tapping away at his phone. She walked over and lifted the right crutch to tap on his leg. 

“hey, what’s they say?” Chan slipped his phone into his pocket and pulled the door open. 

“I can come off the crutches in a few days and slowly go back into walking, A few more days off from dancing so i’m still stuck in the house” She clambered into the car and slumped into the car.

“At least it’s only a few days and not weeks...you’ll be back at practice in no time” 

The drive back to the dorm was filled with random conversation, Charlie rambling about how happy she was to finally be able to get back on her skakteboard and Chan explaining the new songs he and the rest of 3RACHA had been working on. 

“If i find out any of you have been overworking yourselves again then i will personally march down to the studio and fight you” She commented at some point, making the boy beside her laugh. 

They eventually got back to the dorm building and entered the lift, the silence being broken by Charlie leaning over to Chan and whispering to him.

“So does this mean i can come and watch practice now?”

~

Over the next two days Charlie slowly got used to walking normally again, walking carefully around the dorm, practice room and studio with the boys keep an eye out for her. Every time she winced or stumble whichever of the member’s were with her at that time would immediately focus on her.

One of the days, she was was walking up and down the practice room out of boredom. What she hadn’t notice was one of the boys’ duffel bags had been moved, her foot caught the handle and tripped her. Luckily enough Jeongin was about 2 steps away and managed to catch the girl before she hit the floor.

“Noona, are you okay?” He’d asked immediately with wide eyes, concern written all over his face.

Charlie nodded. “yeah i’m good! Thanks Innie, i think you just saved me from a whole load of embarrassment” She leaned forward and hugged his waist, Jeongin’s arms circling over her shoulders.

“Anytime”

when the others returned with the food they’d gone to get and asked what had happened, Jeongin explained and Hyunjin immediately leaped in and continuously apologised to Charlie for leaving his bag out.

By the beginning of the next morning Charlie was confidently walking without her crutches.

“How ya feeling?” Felix asked as she walked into the living room, a cup of tea clasped between her hands.

Charlie shrugged. “Better now that i don’t have two metal support stuck to me, i can ride my skateboard again!” She sat on the couch beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“So you’re practicing and performing again?”

“I think the doctor told me to be careful, but when do i ever listen?”

Felix smacked his hand onto his forehead with a sigh. “You said that last time with your shoulder, you’re gonna end up permanently breaking something”

“I’ll try to avoid that, i do listen to somethings i get told” 

“Just be careful” Felix said firmly, gently patting her knee with his hand

“I will...i will”

[writinginstardust]

Accidentally In Love

Pairing: Mako x reader

Request: anonymous asked “ Do you write for Lok/Atla?Maybe can you write an imagine where the reader is the daughter of Iroh (Izumi's son) and she meets Mako and they fall in love? ”

Warnings: nothing really

A/N: It’s two for one on Mako fic today 😂 I rewatched LOK much sooner than I’d originally thought, like I honestly thought I wouldn’t get to this for another couple of months but for once I suprised myself in a good way. hope you like it, it got a little longer than i’d expected it to.

Word Count: 3002

*

My life could be summed up pretty well as a long series of accidents. Some good, some bad, some neither one nor the other, all changing my life in inexplicable ways with consequences I'd never intended. I was born an accident for starters, the product of two 18-year-olds scared they might never see each other again when one left with the United Forces on a particularly dangerous assignment. 9 months later, there I was. 

I discovered I was a waterbender when I was five and accidentally knocked a candle over, managing to set the kitchen on fire. The water came to me in my moment of panic and I doused it without a second thought. Then I accidentally flooded the kitchen when I couldn't stop it and got myself sent to the southern water tribe to be trained.

It was there I met Korra although I was never supposed to. She'd slipped away and gone exploring and so had I. We bumped into each other and quickly became friends in the way kids do which somehow led to us being trained together. It also led to the rather unfortunate almost-drowning as we both pushed ourselves further than we were able to when we were 8. 

Republic City became my home again not long after that. 

There was no more life-changing accidents for a few years until I got my first boyfriend when I was 12. That didn't end well. Turns out I accidentally dated the son of one of the most elusive crime lords in the city and found out enough to help Chief Beifong take them down. 

And the accidents didn't stop coming. 

I got knocked over by Asami and her father chasing a dog across the road. That got me a new best friend. I almost got myself expelled from school by turning the gym into an ice rink and getting half the student body to cut class. That got me a ton of new friends, many of whom turned out to be bad influences. Thanks to them I got caught fighting in the street and only avoided punishment by Beifong at my dad's intervention. That's what landed me under constant supervision training in the United Forces and what finally let me redeem myself by saving everyone on my warship during an attack. 

At 16 I became an officer, serving under my own father - the great General Iroh - and it's as odd as you'd imagine. I might have asked for a different assignment were it not considered such a great honour, especially for someone as young as I was at the time. It meant I got to spend more time with my dad at least, even if he was shouting orders much of the time. That wasn't something I'd had the luxury of growing up.

A few months ago I'd helped Korra and her friends defeat Amon and the equalists and met Mako. That changed everything for me yet again. I'd gone with him and Korra when the team split up and accidentally developed a bit of a crush as we worked together. So obviously I had to stay in Republic City after all that.

Beifong hired me without question when I asked and I ended up working alongside Mako. A lot. It should be no surprise that my next accident was a big one. I fell in love.

Who knows if he felt the same though.

We were grabbing dinner after a long day at work, both of us too tired to actually talk as we ate. I was watching him intently though. I did that a lot. 

It was one of those rare occasions when he wasn't frowning even a little. He was like that when he was tired enough. The harsh angles of his face softened and the seemingly constant worry in his eyes eased. It was my favourite time to be with him. 

He was more honest in those moments, more willing to open up about himself and his feelings. He was more willing to do that generally as of late actually. I wondered what new information I'd glean tonight.

"Hellooo," he dragged the word out, "You listening, (Y/N)?" Crap. I wasn't. I didn't even realise he'd started talking.

"Hmm?" I made sure to pay attention to what he was saying this time.

"I said, Beifong is letting me have the evening off for the Future Industries relaunch party in a few days-"

"Wait, there's a party ?"

"More like a gala but yeah, I thought you knew. Asami sent an invite." He frowned. I wish he wouldn't.

"I forgot to send her my new address."

He shook his head fondly and a small smile slipped onto his face. "Of course you did."

"Hey! I'm not normally that forgetful." He levelled me with a disbelieving look. "Okay fine, maybe I am. So what about the party?"

"Are you working Friday night?" I shook my head. "Good. Because I was going to ask…" He looked nervous and, dare I say it, a bit flustered. "Would you like to go...to the party...with me?"

It took a minute to compute that, it was the last thing I'd expected to hear. I watched as the hopeful smile that he'd been wearing slowly slid from his face as he mistook my silence.

"I'd love to," I finally blurted out.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It'll be fun." Our waiter came over and we quickly paid the bill and stood to leave.

"So, I'll come pick you up at 7?" 

"Sounds great." 

"I'll see you Friday then."

"See you Friday." I couldn't wait. He hugged me goodbye quickly and we went our separate ways home. It wasn't until I was getting changed for bed that I realised I hadn't asked one incredibly vital question. I hadn't asked if it was a date.

*

I radioed Asami in a panic the next morning and she dropped everything to come over and see me.

"So what did he say exactly?" She asked as I set a tray of tea down on the coffee table.

"He just asked if I wanted to go with him."

"Did he seem nervous?"

"A little I guess."

"Well then my guess is date."

"But he didn't do anything else to suggest it was. And maybe he was just worried I'd think he was asking me on a date and not as a friend."

"This is Mako so you might have a point there." She stirred her tea thoughtfully for a minute before looking up at me suddenly. I could practically see the lightbulb above her head.

"Okay so we don't know if it's a date but you want it to be, right?" I nodded and took a sip of my drink. "Well, in that case we need to go shopping." 

I looked at her quizzically. "Shopping? I have clothes from the last party."

"Yes shopping. If we get you the right outfit we could easily turn 'friends hanging out' into an actual date. And if it's already a date, a great outfit can't hurt."

"You really think a good outfit can do that?"

"I know a good outfit can do that."

"Okay. Let's go shopping then."

*

"Bolin, I need your help." I didn't bother knocking and walked straight into my brother's apartment. 

"Mako! It's great to see you bro! You gotta learn to knock first though."

"You should stop leaving your door unlocked and then maybe I would."

"Solid point. What can I do for you?"

"I have a date with (Y/N)."

"Well finally! You've been going on about her for months."

"I haven't- you're right, I have a bit." I flopped onto his couch and he took a seat beside me.

"Nice to see you admit it. So you've got a date, what's the problem?"

"I'm not sure she knows it's a date." He frowned.

"What do you mean? How could she not know it's a date?" I explained quickly and Bolin had his head in his hands by the time I was finished. "And you say you're the ladies man of this family."

"This is different. (Y/N) is different."

"Not a good enough excuse but we can salvage this."

"Okay, how?"

"First I'll say, from what you've told me she may well think it's a date." I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't completely messed up. "But we don't know that for sure so you've got to be observant. Look for signs of attraction, flirt a little, see how she reacts, you know the drill."

"That wasn't as helpful as i'm sure you thought it was."

"Wasn't meant to be."

"What?" I sat up and glared at him.

"You're an idiot. (Y/N) likes you, has for ages."

"How do you know?" He rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

"Aside from it being obvious every time she looks at you? I'm her friend, I know things."

"She's better friends with me than you."

"That hurts bro."

"Bo-"

"Fine! Asami told me. But I knew anyway!"

"I've got to go." I stood abruptly and Bolin shot me a confused look as he got up too.

"What? Why?"

"Need to go shopping." I glanced at my watch quickly and cursed. "Actually I need to go to work. I'll see you later Bo."

"Bye!" He called out but I was already out the door. I'd be late if I didn't hurry and Beifong would probably make me work on Friday if I was. At least the conversation was worth it. At least now I knew she liked me.

*

Friday. 6:50. I was trying not to be sick. Nerves were getting the better of me. Honestly I'd feel so much better if I just knew what this was. Although, if it was a date for sure, I'd probably be hunched over the toilet by now so maybe this was just a little bit better.

I finished applying my makeup the way Asami had taught me and fixed my hair a little before sliding on my new dress. A dress I never could have afforded myself. Asami insisted though.

There was a knock at my door and I startled as I looked at the time. It was seven and the last 10 minutes had somehow gone in a snap. I rushed to find my shoes, yelling to Mako to come in as I did. The door clicked shut and he yelled out a greeting as I finally located the shoes under my bed.

"Sorry, I'll be out in just a minute," I called back and hastened to finish getting ready. I checked how I looked once more, tucking back a stray hair, and took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room. I could do this. It might not even be a date, I reminded myself again.

"Hey, (Y/-" he cut himself off and I was instantly worried. Well as worried as I could feel past the block in my brain that was screaming over how good he looked.

"Hey Mako," I smiled self-consciously and fiddled with my dress. He recovered himself at the sound of my voice and stood from my couch.

"Hey, (Y/N)." I bit back a grin.

"You already said that."

"Oh, right...uh, you ready to go?" I nodded and we left my apartment, walking down the stairs in an only slightly awkward silence.

"Woah! Nice wheels. Where'd you get that?" I was shocked when I saw the car he led me to. It was way too fancy to afford on our salary.

"Asami let me borrow it. Insisted I did actually. She said we should show up in style."

"She's not wrong. Let's go then." The drive was short and thankfully less awkward than the walk down. Whatever weird tension had been in my apartment - probably my fault - had dissipated and we chatted like we usually did.

We arrived at the party slightly late and the venue was already packed. A valet took the car keys from Mako and he offered me his hand as we walked up the steps together. A few photographers took pictures and the nerves from earlier started coming back. People knew who we were. People were going to talk, the papers speculate. What were they going to assume about us? And more importantly, would they be right?

I tripped on the last step, falling into Mako's arms as he moved to catch me automatically. His face was too close to mine and I struggled to breathe. Heat flared in my cheeks as I scrambled to get my footing back and pull out of his embrace. He shot me a concerned look but I just shrugged it off with a small smile and continued inside, tugging him along with me. I almost wished I hadn't when we entered and people turned to look.

The first hour was a bit off a mess. I mixed up people's names, spilled a few drinks, almost knocked over a table full of cakes, and tripped over just about everything. Eventually we ended up talking to Bolin and Asami. I excused myself to the bathroom with a pointed look to Asami. She got the hint and came with me.

"Are you okay?" She asked as the door shut behind us.

"Not even a little bit. I'm freaking out and I keep messing things up and I'm so nervous I think I might be sick and I still don't know if this is a date and if it is I'm on my way to making it the worst date ever and I know this is ridiculous because it's just Mako and he's one of my best friends so this shouldn't be awkward but I love him and he looks so good tonight and it's making me want to kiss him but I can't because I still don't know if he likes me too but I really want him to and I just think I'm going to ruin everything somehow-" the words kept tumbling out in a jumbled mess as I slowly got more hysterical and Asami finally had to cut me off.

"Breathe. Just breathe." She held my shoulders and took deep breaths herself for me to follow. I felt myself beginning to calm down. "Just keep breathing. You're fine, okay? You're not messing anything up. I've been watching you two since you got here and Mako definitely likes you too."

"How do you know?" I asked in a small voice

"It's obvious to everyone here. Honestly, if you could see the way he looks at you, you'd understand."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Now go out there and get him."

"Okay."

*

"Am I messing this up?" I asked Bolin when the girls disappeared off to the bathroom. "(Y/N) seems so uncomfortable. Are you sure she actually likes me."

"I'm sure bro. If anything this proves it."

"How?"

"She's nervous, Mako. She likes you and you know that but I don't think she knows that you like her."

"Oh. Oh."

"Now you get it. She's hoping it's a date but she's not sure and she obviously doesn't want to mess anything up which is making her nervous and awkward."

"How in the world could you know that?"

"I'm very smart and observant." I gave him a pointed look. "Fine! Asami told me again. You know it hurts you don't think I could figure it out myself." 

"You'll live." I patted him on the shoulder and he rolled his eyes before glancing behind me.

"Watch out, they're coming back."

*

"Well, it was good to catch up with you guys. I'll see you a bit later but I've got more guests to talk to now. Bolin?" He looked over at Asami. "You mind coming with me?"

"Of course."

"Enjoy the party you two." Asami hugged me then. "Good luck," she whispered in my ear before letting go and heading off with Bolin. I watched them leave, still slightly nervous to face Mako again. He cleared his throat and I turned my head.

"Would you like to dance?" Breathe, I told myself, you can do this.

"Sure." I took his hand and he led me to the middle of the room. The song playing was slow, thankfully since I wasn't a great dancer. I knew the steps and where to put my hands at least. His hand settled on my waist and electricity raced through me. I swallowed hard to control my nerves, trying not to get distracted by the warmth that spread from every point of contact as we started to dance. I was lost in him for a while and the silence went on. Finally it was broken.

"(Y/N)-"

"Mako-" we both spoke at the same time and I grinned at how ridiculous this all was.

"You go first," he said.

"Okay. I need to ask, I can't stand not knowing anymore, is this a date?" 

"Yes."

"Okay." Okay? Why was that all I said?

"Are you alright with it being a date?" He looked a little worried. Unsurprising since all I said was okay. I wanted to smack myself for being such an idiot.

"Yes."

"Okay." A few seconds passed in silence again.

"So...does that mean you like me the way I like you?" I asked finally.

"That depends. Can I kiss you?"

"Please." And he did. 

His lips were soft against mine, softer than I'd imagined actually, and the kiss was unhurried. He pulled me closer and I leaned into his body, letting his familiar warmth and comfort permeate my skin. It didn't last long but we stayed close when our lips parted.

"So is that a yes?" I whispered.

"I think it's a yes." He smiled and pulled me into another kiss. It occurred to me that people were watching and we'd probably have to suffer through the ordeal of it being in the papers but I found I didn't care all that much. Getting to finally kiss the guy I'd fallen in love with was more than worth it.

*

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