#i wanted to avoid being too broad but wound up missing some big things

[gaysheep]

oh yea i made this awhile ago lemme know if you have any fun overlaps

[universalistotalis]

The Fifth Date

Bokuto Koutarou (Timeskip!!!) x Female Reader

credits to the owner of the picture :)

3k words

kinda long but it's worth it i guess

Masterlist!!!

You can’t believe this. You just can’t!

-

“Hey, are you alright?” Bokuto Koutarou looked at you with utmost sincerity in his eyes. You looked up and wondered if he really was worried or just being polite but either way, you stared right at his pupils.

“I am.” You agreed, letting go of his gaze and wanting to end the conversation.

This was your fifth date with him but there were no sparks since the first. You just didn’t feel his vibes and he could be so noisy at times which you hated. There was selfishness underneath his skin and it reeked in your nostrils. You hated egotistic people and you weren’t going to tolerate this much longer.

What your friends saw in Bokuto, you had no idea! They were all swooning over him when they set you up on a date together. They kept saying that he was perfect so you, being the hopeless romantic that you are, expected a prince who would be a gentleman, who would listen to you talk for hours on end, who would be so loving and caring… But instead, you were presented with boastfulness and chaos all wrapped up into one big muscle of a man! He did look like a prince but that was it!

“You know you can tell me right? I’ll listen.” You didn’t mistake the softness in his voice as he continued to stare at you lovingly.

You didn’t know if it was the beautiful place that he brought you to or if it was his kindness that made your brain turn into mush. But for the first time in five dates, your heart was hammering, its beats already like drums in your ears.

“I-I’m fine.” You stuttered and kept your eyes on the horizon.

You heard him sigh beside you on the railing you were both leaning on. The place you both drove to was divine as it overlooked the city. The twinkling lights below were mimicking the stars above and there were lanterns that hung overhead as well, casting the whole place in a lazy glow. You took a deep breath of the fresh air as you calmed yourself from the most stressful day of your life and from your whirlwind of a date.

A little rustling was heard and before you knew it, you were enveloped in warmth and his scent. Bokuto wrapped his jacket around you, letting you face him, so that he could pull the zipper up to your chest.

“There, so you won’t have to worry.” He smiled sweetly.

So he did notice the large coffee stain on your shirt and not once did he show that he was irked by it. You tried your best to cover it but of course you can't. Everyone at work gave you the side glance or the 'what-the-fuck-happened-to-you' look but he didn’t!

-

This can’t be happening. Were you reminiscing all those moments with Koutarou? AND NOW YOU’RE CALLING HIM KOUTAROU?!

You rolled around on your bed, a pillow tucked underneath your arms. A muffled scream was released as you felt an intense tingling sensation all over your body. You were supposed to end that fifth date! You were supposed to tell him that you both should see other people!

But the way he acted that night… it was as if he’s… perfect.

-

“Don’t hide from me.” He whispered in your ear as you cried in his arms. As his scent and warmth put your senses to overdrive with the jacket, you couldn’t help but sob. It was like the world was against you today. Even the document from work that you were so ready to pass, crashed on you. Even the coffee that you made this morning with care, splashed your white collared shirt. Even your ID lace that seemed so insignificant, decided to get caught on the doorknob and almost snapped your neck in two! And to spice things up, your evil boss humiliated you in the inter-department presentation even when the CEO of the company congratulated you on a job well done!

It was the little depressing and annoying moments that accumulated in your chest.

“Today has been s-so hard.” You cried in his shirt. “I keep on trying my best but it’s like I’m not doing enough. I'm not enough.”

The gentle rocking of your body stopped as he heard the words fall out of your mouth.

“Hey, don’t say that.” He cooed and trying to hold you at arm’s length. “You’re more than enough.”

You shook your head and tried to avoid his eyes again as he searched for yours. Fingers gripped on your chin to steady you and you melt for the nth time tonight.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. Alright? This day may have been difficult for you and maybe there are more days that would be the same but you shouldn’t doubt your efforts. The fact that you made it through, that’s already something to be grateful about.” He said while wiping your tears away. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t cry about them once in a while. Let yourself feel but then get back up again, yeah?”

You nodded but you felt another round of sobs escape your mouth. He pouted as he saw your wounded state and again, you were held close to his broad chest, away from the hurt, the pain, the stress…

-

This was dangerous. Are you actually falling for him? You’re actually falling for the loud guy that you swore you hated?!

‘Hey, hey, hey!’

His voice reverberated inside your skull and with that sound came the print of his smile on your brain. He had the nicest set of teeth and the nicest golden eyes you’ve ever seen. His skin was flawless too and under any light, you swore he was shining.

You couldn’t help but grin at the—

Yes…

This is bad. Really bad.

-

“You wanna dance?” He offered his hand out to you, smiling shyly. You were surprised at his somehow timid expression as you were so used to him being his confident self.

“I don’t know how.” You said breathlessly as you stared at his gorgeous face.

He let out a chuckle and reached out for your hand under the table. “Let’s figure it out, c’mon.”

The platform was small and there were four couples slowly dancing to the romantic song that was being played by a live band.

He led your hands to encircle his neck while his rested on your waist. All the motions, even the slightest graze of his skin on yours, were making your mind hazy. Everything seemed to blur and the only thing that made sense were the two of you in each other’s embrace.

“You’re so tall.” You whispered mindlessly which made him chuckle. He noticed that you could barely wrap your arms around his neck and that your arms were getting floppy due to fatigue. He then guided you to hug him around his waist instead so he could pull you closer.

“I’ve never danced like this before.” He confessed, swaying stiffly at the music.

“I can tell.” You giggle and look up at him in time to see him pout.

He poked your side, deliberately tickling you for a while. “That’s mean.”

“But it’s my first time too. And I kinda like it.” You said shyly, feeling your cheeks warm even with the cold night air.

“You think you could get used to it?” He asked, hope laced in his question.

“Of course.” You smiled up at him.

He smiled back and his eyes twinkled as he stared. He scooped your right hand and brought it to his lips for a quiet kiss then slowly intertwined your fingers with his, all while maintaining eye contact.

-

“AHHHHHHHHH!” You screamed into your pillow again as your head played that scene.

Sleep was so far away now that your adrenaline was so high because of him! You swore you could still feel his lips on your skin. It was as if he imprinted it there and nothing on earth can take that away now.

“Bokuto, stop haunting me! Let me sleep!”

-

“Now, listen here, missy.” The owner of the restaurant pointed to you sternly as she stood behind the counter. “Tell this boyfriend of yours to stop going here and actually get some much deserved rest! Athletes shouldn’t be tiring themselves!”

You chuckled at her actions and stole a glance at Bokuto who’s pouting excessively at the older woman with his hair seemingly deflating at her ministrations.

“But I like your food!” He whined.

The woman clicked her tongue, as if annoyed. “You can have better food from where you live. Now, stop pestering me!”

“I will come back here more often if you say that!” He smirked and leaned on the counter.

“As if! I know you’ll come back no matter what happens.” She rolls her eyes then turned to you. “We can’t get rid of him even if we wanted to!”

They kept bickering back and forth as you waited for the fruit shakes and other snacks that Bokuto ordered for takeout. It was a long drive back home and he said didn’t want you to get thirsty or hungry. You just listened to their banters and even though they were dissing each other out, you can’t miss the loving and motherly look the owner had for Bokuto.

“You’re a regular here?” You asked him as you settled on the carseat.

“I’m a fan of the view. And as you saw, I’m quite close with the owners and the workers. This is my safe space.” He replied and started the engine.

“When was the last time you went here?” You inquired, suddenly curious of his whereabouts.

“Yesterday.” He shrugged. “And the day before that. And maybe the whole of last week.”

Your eyes widened at his answer. “This is like two or three hours away! How?!”

“I needed some place to relax. And think.” He smiled sadly as maneuvered the car to begin the journey back home.

“Are you alright?” You blinked at your question. His voice seemed low and so sad in contrast to his usual loud and noisy screeches that you were so damn used to. This Bokuto in front of you was so hard to read!

He turned to you for a split second before averting his eyes on the road. “I am. I guess.”

“Don’t hide from me.” You bit your lip hard as you repeated his words to you. You wanted to know him more, to understand his feelings, and to make him feel better.

“Hey, you can’t use my lines against me.” He laughed lightly as he looked at you. Your eyes were begging him to tell you how he is and who was he to resist? “I’m just nervous about the incoming games, that’s all.”

“You still get nervous?” You turned to him, a little surprised.

“Why are you so shocked? Of course, I do! Some less nerve- wrecking than the others but I do always get tension at every game.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair while thinking. “But the upcoming match is a qualifying game for the Olympics so everyone is anxious.”

“Who are you against with?” You asked.

“See, now that’s another one of my worries. The competitors have still not been announced so we have to wait for a month. A whole month! What am I supposed to do?!” He said exasperatedly. “And just last week, one of our teammates got injured so they gave us time off. You know, to rest and shit. But I am restless and—"

“So that’s why you come all the way here?” You concluded.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “The drive gets my mind off of the anxiety and their food just makes me feel like I’m home.”

‘So he is human after all.’ You said to yourself. It was the simplest realization but it did so many wonders for your feelings and understanding towards him.

The drive home was filled with stories of sadness and laughter. You both sipped at your drinks and munched at the chips he bought. And as you both neared your home, it dawned on you that this was the best date you’ve ever had in your life! Bokuto’s so laid back and chill, kind and generous. He listened so intently and patiently to all your life stories and he had a good memory too, remembering the things you’ve told him about yourself in the past dates.

-

You sighed while sitting up. There’s no question that you were falling in deep for this guy. During the drive, he became his noisy self, acting all the spikes he did at the games comically but instead of being annoyed, you had tears in your eyes because you had laughed so much at his acting. You loved listening to him talk and you realized he wasn’t selfish at all!

Go figure.

Maybe you just mistook his confidence for selfishness and egocentricity.

-

You can’t believe that you were itching to lengthen the time you had with him. The car was now parked in front of where you lived and it was time to say goodbye.

Your eyes met and there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes which surprised you.

“Look.” He turned to the passenger seat and leaned closer. “I know that I’m not the best date there is and you may have been agreeing to these just because of obligation from your friends but… I’d like you to know that I—“

Closing his eyes, he exhaled. “I really like you.”

As the words were uttered, your body visibly tenses under his gaze.

Panic rises in his gut as he realized what he did. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“N-no!” You tried to swallow. “You didn’t scare me.”

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen ghost?” He chuckled lightly not giving up his stares.

Your shoulders slumped as you sighed. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

He nodded, still looking. “I guess this will be our last, huh?”

“What?”

“I know you don’t like me and you hate my company. I just really like you so I tried to drag it out for so long.” He said sheepishly as he deflated back into his seat. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and I’m so sorry if I did.”

This was not how you imagined ending your date. You were supposed to be the one saying that this will be the last. You were supposed to be excited about not seeing him again. You were supposed to go now! But the universe really did pull a reverse card on you today.

“Bokuto…” You started, feeling the guilt consume you to the bones. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that I didn’t like you.”

He was fiddling with his fingers now.

“It's just that your first impressions lasted so bad that it blinded me to who you really were.” Be honest. Just be fuckin’ honest! “I did think I didn’t like you but after tonight, you proved me wrong.”

His face looked at you in a flash, eyes finding the meaning behind your words.

“I didn’t know you could be like this!” You gestured to him, a little frustrated because your heart was pounding so bad and it became so difficult to breathe.

“Like what?” A smirk was beginning to form at his lips.

“This!” You laughed. “You’re fun to be with. You’re calm and reliable when needed. And just… yeah.” You’re just perfect.

You stared at each other’s eyes for a while longer, trying to read and drown in each other.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to give it another try?” You asked, hoping to god he’ll say yes to your request.

His eyes widened for a moment and his gray hair perked up a little bit.

“I told you I like you.” He smiled. “Why would I say no to that?”

-

Your phone beeped beside you. And if you weren’t so red enough from the memory, you knew that you were flaming red now.

It was a text from Bokuto.

Can’t sleep :(

You sighed at what he said. His anxiety about the game catches onto him so much that he often gets insomnia. The poor baby. You were about to reply when another text popped out.

I may or may not be outside your home.

“What?!” You panicked while swiftly looking for a hoodie to put on. Why is he here and why were you feeling excited at the thought of seeing him?

You asleep, little owl?

You bolted towards the doors and true enough, he was there, leaning on his car and dazzling in all his six feet and three inches glory. He looked unreal in this light even in his simple hoodie and joggers.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” His husky voice greeted you as you walked closer.

“No. Can’t sleep too.” You smiled. “What brings you here?”

He shrugged. He didn’t know what came over him when he closed your distance and hugged you tight. To him, you looked like an angel sent to earth only for his eyes to see! You were in an oversized hoodie, hair a little tousled, and your face was so calm under the moonlight. Something inside him prickled at the thought of being domestic with you.

Slowly your arms wrapped around his waist and you surrendered your weight to him. In that moment, he felt like he would burst! Never did he expect for this to happen, for you to give him a chance, but here you were. He deeply breathed in your scent and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” Your voice was a mere whisper when you looked up at him.

“Like a date?” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“Yeah?” You nodded.

He wondered if you had any idea about how you're making him feel crazier by the minute. If you don’t, then that’s much worse. “What am I gonna do with you?” He chuckled, arranging stray locks of your hair.

“You can go on a date with me.” You laughed and he was sure, so sure, that you felt his heart do a cartwheel when you were resting your head on his chest.

“I’d like that.” He replied hugging you tighter.

It was funny to you that you planned that fifth date to be the last. It turned out to be the first. The first real date where you felt like a princess in a fairytale. It was the first out of a never- ending series of romantic dates because Bokuto Koutarou had no plans of letting you go. Ever.

--

Okay, wait, hear me out. Have you seen that scene where Bokuto and Akaashi were just outside the hotel and they were just talking all calm and casual? MA'AM THAT'S WHERE I DIED SEEING BOKUTO AHHHH HE'S JUST SO PRECIOUS AND I DO BELIEVE HE CAN BE SERIOUS AND MATURE IF GIVEN THE CHANCE. I AM SIMPING HARD HELP

Masterlist!!!

Reblogs, replies are appreciated! <3

[pkg4mumtown]

Signs of Attachment - Ch. 1

Summary: Having an auditory processing disorder never slowed you down, but it mean you were confined to the Temple when the Clone Wars started. Will the frustration of not understanding people at times make for a rather lonely existence?

Pairing: Obi-Wan/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G (for now)

Warnings: Hard of Hearing Reader, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first Star Wars fic, so have mercy on me. This request was for my friend, Jaime, who gave me all sorts of information and I’m forever indebted to them for it. The timeline is probably very off, but…oh well!

To clarify before we start:

“Text.” Means someone is speaking.

“Text.” Means someone is speaking and signing.

Text, Means someone is signing.

Chapter 1 - Effort

I slid the last tool into place and closed its drawer, the Halls of Healing finally back in order after the last rush of injured Jedi passed through. I thought bitterly about the war that I was barred from, except for the occasional medic deployment to forward operating bases. My saber hung uselessly at my side despite every test I passed to prove my worthiness to the Council.  It’s not that they didn’t have faith in me, they just saw me as a liability, which is probably just as bad. Despite how hard I tried to explain it, they were convinced that I could never be focused enough to be on the front lines. Yet, I passed every test while purposely being fully deafened and even being both deafened and blinded, which was somehow easier than the former.

Being assigned to the Halls of Healing seemed almost harder than combat, considering I had been far better at fighting than healing throughout my entire knighthood. Semi-dangerous solo missions before the wars? The Council saw no problems. A full scale war with plenty of droids as target practice? A big problem, apparently.

I was so consumed in my thoughts that I had barely registered someone, no two someones, or rather their force signatures, entering the Halls.

Swoosh

I didn’t even have a chance to decipher any of what they were saying as their words and voices started to blend together immediately due to their arguing.

“Sop.”

“Yaioyu satowep beeineg doifficultat.”

“Lletat muoe gaorn.”

“No."

“Atnakin, ei doon'tat noeead tolorn beoe heneroe.”

I glanced over at my Droid for help, but its signing was a mess as both voices talked over each other. I eventually stopped looking at it and took a deep, calming breath. I tried to pick apart the voices and focus on one but both faded in and out, making it nearly impossible.

Shove. Scuffle.

“You do…”

“Eeim f—ine”

Slap.

“Yu figelol otan muoe.”

“Ei tolrippead.”

“Muaster, poleasoe tolelol heniem.”

Silence.

“Muaster?”

More silence.

“Muaster…?”

Oh. The closeness of the strongest signature was behind me now, poised and ready to—

Tap.

I turned and faced the two, rather loud, intruders to this calming place. My Droid wasn’t yet in place behind them, so I couldn’t quite get everything but I got enough. I had never gotten quite good at lip reading with Master Plo as a teacher, so he had learned Basic Sign Language to help supplement what was missed in speaking. I relied on my droid to sign to me quite heavily when dealing with patients to understand what was wrong with them, but it was only helpful if one person was speaking at a time. Definitely not whatever this train wreck of a duo was.

“Master?” the spikey-haired Padawan asked, staring straight at me.

“Forgive my Padawan, he toakess atfteer muwy Muasteer,” the older Jedi rolled his eyes, noticeably leaning on his Padawan and clutching his side.

“I do not.”

Feeling another round of arguing bubbling up, I held my palm up, “Both of you stop, please, and start from the top.” My Droid finally stepped in place behind them so I could see the signs over their shoulders.

“We just landed back at the temple, everything was fine—"

“Things are fine,” the Master snapped.

“��and he just collapsed on me. He wouldn’t let me check over him—," the Padawan continued.

“There’s nothing to check, Anakin.”

Ah, yes, the infamous Master Kenobi and his Padawan, Anakin.

“Obviously theroe iss.”

“Eim fignoe.”

“Stop,” I sighed and closed my eyes and opened them after centering myself. “Padawan Skywalker, please leave us.”

“B—”

“Now, please,” I urged, not bothering to give him an explanation. Not that I needed to give him one.

The Padawan made a face of displeasure before bowing to both of us and leaving the room.

“—overreacting—,” Kenobi sighed.

I blinked at him, then glanced at my droid, who filled me in on the whole sentence.

Anakin is overreacting, really.

“Master Kenobi, please sit and take off your tunics and tabards,” I ask and look away, not that it was going to matter because I was going to see him shirtless regardless.

I tried to ignore the broad expanse of his chest, littered with scars and copper hair. My eyes lingered a little too long while raking over and looking for injuries. I was just being thorough.

When I saw the wound that caused this whole ordeal I sucked in a breath quickly. The skin on his side was badly burned and the wound was at least a few days old, so naturally it had infected because he neglected to take care of it.

“It’s infected,” I shook my head almost hurriedly grabbed the large tub of bacta we kept on hand.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” He brushed off my comment, obediently lifting his arm when I nudged it.

“Have you looked at it recently?” I scoffed as I further inspected the wound.

He was silent for a moment, making me look at my droid confused as if I had missed something but the Droid confirmed that I hadn’t.

“Master Kenobi?”

“The less I acknowledged it, the easier it was to manage the pain,” he grumbled back. “And surely, you can call me Obi-Wan, we were in the crèche together.”

“That hardly constitutes a first name basis,” I squinted at him. “I don’t even recall speaking to you. They were troubling times for me, it was easier to keep to myself. Less to…process.”

“Oh, believe me, that message was loud and clear,” Obi-Wan chuckled, making me roll my eyes in an attempt to not focus on the way it lit his face up or brightened his eyes. “I also seem to remember that you were one of the best saber wielders out of all us.”

“A lot of good that did me,” I gestured to the sterile room.

“You still have the honor of humiliating an advanced saber instructor in class while being completely shut off to auditory and optical input.”

A blush rose to my cheeks, “Ho—”

“Every Padawan in the temple knew about it…”

“Well, it couldn’t have been that impressive if it wasn’t enough for the frontlines,” I slipped bitterly.

“They’re not all fun, unfortunately,” he murmured.

“I’m a guardian trapped as a healer, Obi-Wan, anything is better than this.” I took a deep breath, “Anyway, you might feel some discomfort.”

I closed my eyes and hovered my hand over the wound and focused on purging the infection first, feeling it attacking the cells around it as I finally attuned with said infection. I pulled the infection away from his body, pleased when there was no resistance and it begun to trickle away. I tilted my head as I sensed another pain but in his leg, so I investigated without breaking the healing I was already doing. The pain visualized as five red dots, the cause hard to place while my mind was otherwise occupied.

Then, it dawned on me that he was gripping his own leg so tightly as a distraction to the pain in his side that even I could feel it. Blindly, I found his knee and then his hand clenching his thigh. His hand relaxed slightly as mine touched his, allowing my hand to worm under his for him to squeeze instead. With the infection released into the force, I focused on knitting the wound back together. In response, Obi-Wan’s hand squeezed mine even tighter. If I could have sent something calming to him, I would have, but didn’t want to break my concentration when I was almost done. Instead, I let my thumb brush back and forth over his knuckles.

Finally, the wound was completely covered with new skin so I let the force healing trickle away. I blinked my eyes open, a little woozy but nothing I wasn’t used to, especially after a long day of healing.

“—that—pleasant,” I vaguely heard through the humming in my ears. It always took a while for the force to stop thrumming in my head after force healing, only amplified by my condition.

I knitted my brows at him, knowing it was anything but pleasant and then looked over at my droid.

Stars, that was not very pleasant.

“Oh, well, yes I suspect the day it becomes pleasant will be the day that Jedi actually seek out treatment, rather than avoid it,” I stressed the end just for him.

“Sorry, I should have waited until you opened your eyes.”

“It’s fine,” and really it was, I was used to it by now.

“I’m sure it gets tiring having to have a conversation with someone over their shoulder,” I didn’t get to appreciate the sincerity in his eyes because I had to glance at my droid again, only proving his point.

“Well, it was a little hard to learn to lip read growing up with Master Plo…,” my mouth turned up into a smirk, clearly trying not to laugh.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, didn’t hold back and snorted; laughing immediately after, “Sorry, sorry…”

“But, he did learn and teach me BSL, so at least I have something. Even if no one else here knows it, the droid helps. Though, in the field I don’t bring it, so I just tell everyone to shut up at let me work.”

“That’s…unfortunate.”

“It gets taxing, if only because I don’t always catch everything so conversations are hard to carry without the droid. Especially if someone starts talking to me without getting my attention first.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head like he was deep in thought, “Maker knows we learn enough languages here, they should teach BSL, too,” Obi-Wan squeezed my hand, making me realize I’d never actually let go of his hand. Though, with his hand now squeezing mine, I’d have to rip my hand away and to be honest? I didn’t want to.

“I don’t think we have anyone fluent enough to teach besides myself and Master Plo…”

“Hmm, I’d still like to present it to the Council. Someone has to be able to teach it,” he smiled gently.

I had no words to express how grateful even the thought of presenting it to the Council meant to me. So I didn’t speak. Instead, I sent my feelings of gratitude through the force and our joined hands. I took the time to read the genuine twinkle in his eyes as I hadn’t been able to this whole time, and the subtle way his eyebrows relaxed as he realized what I was doing. My eyes drifted lower to the way the corners of his eyes and cheek wrinkled just slightly with the upturn of the corner of his mouth, a subtle smile for me. Lower still, to the coppery mustache and beard on his face, with flecks of gray from the war. Or his Padawan…probably his Padawan. I let my eyes drift over the endearing way his mullet curled just behind his ears and rested against his shoulders.

He was right about one thing; I had taken for granted just looking someone in the eyes as they spoke to me. It was something that was necessary for BSL, and while Master Plo didn’t have the most expressive face, it gave me back a semblance of normalcy to be able to carry on a conversation face to face. It helped bridge the gaps between any words I had missed and ensured I had the whole picture, even going so far as to express words or ideas I was having trouble expressing with speech.

I cleared my throat, realizing I was staring far longer than I should have been, “Sorry, um, here…”

I reluctantly untangled our hands and grabbed the container of bacta, scooping a generous amount on to my fingers. I applied the cool gel to the new, pink, raw skin, which looked far better than the angry, red and purple open wound he had come in with. He jumped at the first contact, whether it was because of the cold or not, I didn’t know, but his sigh of relief after was a good sign.

I wiped my hand of and grabbed a new travel bottle of bacta for him, before pausing and grabbing two more, “Here, try not to lose these…”

He took them gratefully, knowing we normally didn’t give that much to just one Jedi, “Thank you, I—I didn’t lose mine. I gave it to my men, they needed it more.”

His men, his clones, whose health he put above his own.

“I’m not surprised,” I shook my head, “but do try to take care of yourself. They need you to lead them as much as you need them to succeed.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

My brain halted for a moment, my eyes widening slightly. This was the first real conversation I’d had with him and yet he knew my first name without hesitation.

“You shouldn’t be all the surprised, our masters were good friends after all. Master Koon, talked about you a lot with Master Jinn. He just never brought you along, I suppose,” Obi-Wan shrugged.

I hummed, “He was quite protective of me and tried to overwhelm me as little as possible…”

“I wish he had brought you, though. You would have gotten along well with Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan had a far away look in his eyes that I almost missed.

“I’m sorry, about…”

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled. “Now, I should get out of your hair lest my Padawan get into trouble.”

I stepped back to allow him to stand and handed him his discarded clothes from earlier, before turning and giving him privacy.

“Thank you,” he murmured, casually watching the droid out of the corner of his eye as it automatically translated into sign language.

When I turned back around, he was fully dressed again and stowing away the bacta in his belt, “Have a good rest of your day, Obi-Wan.” I bowed my head slightly to him.

“And you, Y/N,” he smiled, waiting for me to meet his eyes.

Thank you, he signed with a small smile adorning his face.

He bowed his head and took a a couple steps backwards and exited the room, offering a wave just before the doors closed behind him. My stomach flipped as I replayed the scene over in my head, realizing he had mimicked the droid in order to sign.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Funny Girl (Pt. 2)

Summary: Being serious has never been your thing, but when you find yourself at the center of a conflict that tears Fred and George apart in the midst of the second wizarding war, it’s hard to find something to laugh about.

Warnings/Notes: Violence, hospital setting, blood, crying. This is a second part per the request of several of you and also my own brain goblin. There will be a part three!

tags: @weasley2x @weasleyfilms 

It’s been several months since your falling out with the Weasley twins. The tensions in the wizarding world are coming to a head; the dark lord grows stronger by the day. Purebloods are becoming bolder in their oppression of muggleborns and wizards of mixed heritage, not to mention no-majs. Potter and his little crew have disappeared. Dumbledore is dead. Things look rather bleak. 

You wish you could say that you worked things out with your friends, but they both felt betrayed, even though you tried to explain the misunderstanding. How could you have known that they’d both have feelings for you? How could you have predicted that they’d both make their move on the same day, within minutes of each other, nonetheless? You weren’t prepared to choose, then or now. And that’s what they demand- me or him, him or me. So you distance yourself. You’re still friends with Lee, but your friend group has really broken apart since you and the twins have begun avoiding one another. 

In confidence, Lee tells you that he’s never seen Fred so on edge, and George has become more withdrawn than ever. He reassures you that they’ve patched things up between the two of them, though. It was your biggest worry after the fight, that they’d let you drive a wedge between them. That was foolish to even consider, of course. You’ve always known that, although the three of you had been a trio ever since you met, their connection to one another was closer than their connection to you. It’s only natural. They were born together, and, apparently finding the provided companionship sufficient, have clung together ever since. Blood runs thicker than any matter of the heart. No falling out could change that for very long. 

You, on the other hand, are left alone, without your two closest friends since first year. You try to throw yourself into your final year of studies, but your heart isn’t in it, and you wind up working with some others outside of class to hone your defense against the dark arts skills; you sense something big is coming. When the battle of hogwarts arrives, you have your first conversation with fred and george since your falling out. Mrs. Weasley sees you and pulls you across the room, eagerly shoving you in between the twins. You groan and nod curtly at each of them as she bustles away. It’s a sweet gesture- Molly has always liked you, and clearly wants you and the boys to patch things up- but it feels much more grim given the circumstances. Some people will certainly lose their lives tonight. It may be your last chance. 

You sigh and look at Fred almost shyly. His eyes meet yours gingerly, and in that glance is all you need to know. He pulls you into a tight hug, and you match his embrace. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

“I’ve missed you too,” he says softly.

You turn to George, who pulls you into his arms without hesitation. His broad shoulders heave with a massive exhale. 

“It’s good to see you again,” he says.

“I bet it would be even better to hear me,” you say, grinning. He fingers the bandage over his mangled ear and smiles.

“We’ve been making some adjustments. Trying to see how smooth we can get his noggin, bit by bit. Soon he’ll look just like an egg,” Fred says, putting a hand on your shoulder. The way the three of you interact is like before, but more careful. The tension is still there. There’s a lot you need to talk about to really smooth things over, but the urgency of the situation forces you to bandage the wound as best you can. It’s comforting, at least, to know that they’re intentions are for the restoration of your friendship.

When the barrier is lifted and the hordes come rushing in, you fight right alongside the Weasleys. The three of you work in tandem perfectly, knocking out death eaters one after another as if this is your job. You wipe out a particularly nasty one and George whistles in admiration. 

“Done this before?” he asks. You spray covering blows as Fred and Percy run across an open stretch of courtyard into the castle’s corridors, into the fray. By the time you hear the corridor collapsing, taking Fred under its enormous weight, you’re too absorbed by the encroaching crowd to pay it any mind. It’s only later when you realize that you heard, even saw, the explosion, and did nothing. 

When the battle pauses, George is still right there beside you. The arm of his jacket is ripped, and you can see blood caked on his skin through the tear. The air is dusty and morale is low. You look around, watching as those who are able emerge with stretchers and collect the injured. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch a classmate, the girl who sat next to you in potions, lifted onto a stretcher, writhing in pain. Now that you can finally think, fear clouds your mind. George’s voice breaks your reverie. 

“Y/N,” he says. You turn to him. He puts his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes. “We made it.” You nod, blinking tearfully, and pull him to you. Your small frame shakes, adrenaline still coursing through you, your thoughts clear and urgent. George’s chest rises and falls as he tries to regain his breath. Over his shoulder, you see Percy jogging alongside a stretcher. He looks stricken. You freeze, your eyes widening. You shake George’s embrace off and nod towards the scene.

His face darkens and you both take off running to catch up with Percy and the students carrying the stretcher- on further inspection, it’s two boys from your year looking nearly unrecognizable, drenched in sweat and the grime of battle, their faces ashen. 

Percy looks at you but doesn’t speak. You brace yourself and look down at the stretcher. It’s as you feared. Fred. He’s pale, his breathing shallow, his body limp. 

“Freddie!” you scream, your heart in your throat. George nearly collapses at the sight but you pull him onward, knowing that above all, you must be together now, that in this dire moment Fred must be with George, and George with Fred, to the very last.

George, weak in the knees, casts an arm around your shoulders and you follow Fred into the great hall. Time seems to move slowly. You wave down the Weasleys, and they crowd in. Fred is set down on the stone floor, and you move to wave down a healer, but it’s impossible to find one who isn’t occupied with some other task. 

In this moment, nothing matters to you more than saving Fred. You yank on the shoulder of nearest healer, who’s working on a wounded leg.

“Get over here,” you say roughly. “He’s dying,” you add, waving toward the grim scene. She nods curtly at the owner of the bloodied leg and turns her attention to you.

“There’s nothing we can do. We’re waiting on transport to St. Mungo’s to arrive, but we can’t fix the unforgivables here. We just aren’t equipped.”

“Waiting? Waiting?!” you shout, grabbing her by the shoulders. “There’s no bloody time for waiting. Save him! Do something! Now!”

The healer, a sallow-cheeked woman in her forties, pries your hands off her shoulders and pats your arm sadly. She shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, knowingly, “but I have to focus on saving those who can be saved.” She turns back to her patient and continues mending the leg. You look around frantically, but George is there, pulling you to kneel around the stretcher with the others, before you can decide what to do.

“It’s no use,” he says, his mouth set deep in a frown. You finally take a good look at Fred, and it’s almost too much. You know that this may be the last time you see him alive, if this can be called living. You bury your face in his side, breathing in his scent. You feel yourself begin to cry. 

“Freddie, my Freddie. I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you,” you murmur into his bloodied jacket. You feel him shudder, and he moans what may be an attempt at speech. Soon, the healers from St. Mungo’s are there to take him. By that time, you’re sure he won’t live. George, of course, goes to St. Mungo’s to wait, and you follow. The rest of the family stays to fight, Molly and Ginny especially resolute in their quest for revenge. Later, you hear reports that the Weasleys all fought like animals, hardened by grief. The waiting rooms at the hospital are overflowing, and you and George are left to slump on the floor. You throw your overcoat across your laps for warmth and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, after many moments of silence. 

“I love you, George Weasley.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry about everything.”

“Me too,” he says. You feel him shake softly with tears, and you hold him as he cries. Eventually, his breathing becomes more even, and he slumps into your lap, asleep. You hold him protectively for hours, waiting for any news at all, but none comes. A few times you flag down St. Mungo’s staff and ask about Fred, but they have nothing. By morning, when rumors arrive that Voldemort has been defeated, cheers ring through the halls, but you and George remain in limbo. Others like you fill the waiting area, their faces timid and bleak. Nobody speaks very much. 

Finally, the nurses let you in to see him, and he’s a pitiful sight. But he’s alive. Watching the hospital sheets rise and fall with his breath is the greatest gift. The nurses tell you he should regain consciousness soon, and you sit alert beside the bed, hope flooding your body. You clasp George’s clammy hands in yours while you wait, stroking the back of his hands soothingly. 

Finally, Fred stirs. He blinks gingerly and looks around the room, unable even to raise his head from the pillow. Immediately, George is at the bedside, grinning.

“Fred!!” he cries, grasping his brother’s face in his hands excitedly. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, you handsome devil.”

“What happened?” Fred asks weakly, looking dazed. Your body goes electric with joy at the sound of his voice, and you run to find a nurse, as you were instructed to do. You grab the first person you see in scrubs and pull him back to Fred’s room. When you burst in the door, Fred inhales sharply. 

“Y/N?” he asks softly.

“Freddie!” you exclaim. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that dopey voice.” You rush to his bedside and hold his hand while the nurse checks his vitals. “There’s so much I have to tell you. If you had… well, you didn’t, I suppose is the point, and… Freddie, I love you. And I’m sorry about the past few months.”

“Y/N. I love you too. And I’m sorry, too. Even sorrier.”

“Good,” you say crossly. George looks at you questioningly. “What? He started it!” Fred laughs weakly and you kiss him gently on the forehead. You’re not sure what your relationship to the boys will be going forward, but for now, it’s clear: all is forgiven, and acknowledged, and accepted.

[notchesandbullets]

Ryokuryuu’s Lifeline

Part 9: The Part and Another Kiss

Warning: suggestive themes

You withered under Captain Gi-gan and Yoon's unwavering glare.

Rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly, you offered them a weak smile.

"YAH, Y/N!!!" Yoon thundered, jabbing an angry finger at you, "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?! YOU FIRST SNEAK ONTO AN ENEMY SHIP WITHOUT ANY WARNING, THEN YOU FOUGHT WITH YOUR HANDS TIED TOGETHER, AND THEN YOU DOVE IN AFTER JAE-HA WHEN HE WAS SHOT DOWN!!! DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?!"

You couldn't help the wild grin that spread your face as you put the boy in a headlock, rubbing his head roughly.

"LET ME GO YOU CRAZY WOMAN!!!"

He pushed you off of him with an irritated huff, and pointed furiously at the tall man behind you. "Jae-ha!! I still need to look at your shoulder!!"

The boy ignored Jae-ha's protests as he dragged him off the ship towards the medical tent set up in a nearby clearing, leaving you alone with Captain Gi-gan, who continued to glower at you.

You straightened your spine, looking her dead in the eye, turning serious. "Captain Gi-gan," She raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing you under her gaze. You bowed down at her feet, forehead pressed against the deck with your legs tucked under you. "I sincerely apologize for leaving without your permission. I was afraid of what you might say, but that does not excuse my actions. I pray that one day you can forgive me, but I understand if you will never be able to."

It was silent for several minutes.

Then, she whacked you in the back of the head.

"Ow! Captain-!" You clutched your head painfully.

"You think I wouldn't have let you, knowing how stubborn you are?" She interjected and you smiled, her response somehow reminding you of Jae-ha's. "You must tell me next time, so that I can ensure your safety and make sure you aren't doing this recklessly. This," She gestured to the air, hinting at the stunt you pulled. "Was being reckless and I won't tolerate it again."

"I understand." You replied solemnly.

Captain Gi-gan smirked, "Though, you won't be here to cause trouble anymore, if I'm right."

You looked up in surprise, gathering yourself to your feet. "I'll come back to visit." You promised after a pause.

"You better." She threw you a side glance. "Now, go celebrate with them. They're waiting for you."

You departed from her with a bounce in your step and she chuckled, watching your figure disappear over the hill.

It was sometime in the afternoon, having fought all night long, and you joined Yona and the others around the campsite. Yoon was checking Jae-ha's wound, Shin-ah was scarfing down his food, Kija was complaining about some kind of bug that fell in his soup again, and the pirates were scattered around the area, drinking and such.

Then, you noticed Yona and Hak were sitting suspiciously close to each other.

You eyed them closely. "Alright, what happened while I was out?"

Yoon opened his mouth to answer you, but Jae-ha cut in, counting on his fingers, "The girls were safely returned to their families, the captain ordered a party with enough alcohol to get everyone drunk, Yoon said something about getting everyone treated first even though that clearly didn't happen, I stripped, the White Snake and the Thunder Beast beat up the already captured mercenaries after they saw how injured the kid and Yona dear was, and I might have thrown in a few kicks myself."

He smirked slyly. "Oh, and Hak and Yona dear finally kissed."

It was silent for a beat, and then you exploded. "WHAT?!?!?!?!??!?!"

You shrieked, "I was literally out for only three hours!! HOW DID I MISS ALL OF THAT?!?!?!"

You sighed, slumping against the tree behind you, puffing out your cheeks. "If they want that scene written, I guess they'll have to ask for it." You muttered, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Yah, you crazy woman," Yoon snapped, "Don't break the fourth wall!!"

You merely winked.

You grinned, mischief gleaming in your eye as you leaned forward to peer closely at Yona, whose cheeks matched the color of her hair.

"Yona~" You sang.

She couldn't look at you, hiding her red face in Hak's chest. You laughed at the former general's shocked reaction, but as they gazed at each other softly, you couldn't help the fond smile that spread across your face. They looked so happy.

After Yoon finished rewrapping Jae-ha's bandages, the green dragon sauntered over to where you were at,  and you turned to Yoon, "Did it need stitches?"

The genius pretty boy shook his head, "No, it'll heal properly without them. It wasn't as deep as I thought it was."

"Thanks again, kid." Jae-ha tossed over his shoulder and Yoon just waved him off, "Yeah, yeah, just don't overdo it, you rare beast."

"Hey, where's my thank you?" You whined childishly.

"Actually," Hak interrupted, pointing at your neck. "I think he already thanked you."

You clapped a hand over your neck, eyes wide. "Jae-ha!!"

He smirked, eyes alight with laughter. You rolled your eyes, pulling your hand away, causing them to stare at the mark.

"There are children here, Y/N!" Hak shouted, covering Yona's eyes despite her protests and gestured wildly to Yoon, the innocent Shin-ah and the very confused Kija.

"Perhaps we should give them a show," Jae-ha purred in your ear, and you grinned.

"I don't want to corrupt the children, big guy. Let's take this somewhere else." You strolled away as Jae-ha tore after you, ignoring the whoops and hollers that the pirates and Hak shouted out. You made your way up to one of the cliffs overlooking the sea, veiled by the trees from prying eyes.

Your eyes sparkled with genuine happiness and Jae-ha smiled tenderly at you, eyes hardening when you suddenly clutched your stomach.

"Oh, ow..." You grimaced in pain.

His hands immediately flew to the hem of your shirt, asking for consent. You nodded. He slowly pulled the material up, revealing black and blue skin underneath. Jae-ha's jaw clenched, teeth nearly cracking under the pressure.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I honestly forgot about it." You said sheepishly and you did. The pain had faded into the background and only resurfaced when you finally got a moment to yourself. Jae-ha sighed heavily, conflicted. "I could ask Yoon, but I know there's nothing we could do for this. We could bandage it, but it won't make it feel any better or heal any faster."

"It's okay," You smiled brightly at him. "I'll heal."

"Not the point." He murmured, thumbing over the bruised skin. "I don't want to see you in pain."

You hugged him carefully, and he instinctively returned your embrace. "Number?"

You giggled softly, tapping two fingers to the inside of his wrist and the tension eased from his shoulders. "You worry too much about me."

He bumped his nose against yours fondly. "No I don't."

You gave him a disbelieving look and he insisted, "I don't!"

"Sure thing, big guy." You winked your eyes at him playfully, sticking out your tongue, causing him to chuckle.

Violet shone with joy. "I love you..."

"I love you too." Your reply rang clearly through the still air.

He sat comfortably against a tree, and you settled in between his legs, leaning your back until it was flush against his chest. He rested his arms around you, avoiding your stomach, choosing to settle them on your hips. You frowned at the loss of contact around your middle. You could tell he was being cautious with you, not wanting to hurt you, but you knew that he wouldn't. Taking his hands in yours, you slipped them underneath your shirt and his breath hitched as they made contact with your heated skin. You tilted your head back automatically and he leaned forward to rest his chin down on your shoulder.

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?" He asked worriedly. You nodded, closing your eyes. Clicking his tongue lightly, he smoothed the discolored skin gently and you sighed, a content smile on your face. His touch was so warm, you felt as though he was lighting you up from the inside.

You bit your lip and looked up at him with hooded eyes as he rubbed soft circles into your stomach. Jae-ha suppressed a groan, you looked so good looking up at him like that, but neither of you were in any position to go further with your injuries.

It was alright though, he was content to just have you in his arms again, and you couldn't agree more. You shifted in his lap, and he restrained from squeezing you.

"Y/N," Warning clear in his tone, and you smirked evilly. Pulling away from him, you stood up, stretching. Jae-ha gulped as your shirt rode up, revealing more of your skin. As you looked over your shoulder, you couldn't contain the laugh that bubbled up from your lips. He looked so betrayed.

As Jae-ha heard your laugh, he glared at you, but there was no malice behind it. You grinned wickedly.

Getting on your hands and knees, you crawled towards him slowly. His chest was heaving as you made your way in front of him, and you connected your lips with his. Jae-ha immediately melted in the kiss, hand coming up to cradle your face gently.

When you finally parted, the both of you were breathing heavily, and Jae-ha's pupils were blown wide. You giggled, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead.

"I'm still going to kill them." He stated murderously, your numerous injuries that he tended to while you were asleep flashed through his memory.

"Kum-ji's already dead." You shot back flatly.

Jae-ha clenched his hand into a fist. "There are plenty others that are still alive. No one would miss them if they suddenly disappeared."

You clicked your tongue, "Easy, big guy." You whispered. "No one else needs to die."

It took a couple minutes of your coaxing, but Jae-ha's mind eventually started to clear from the red haze. The sun had gone down, and it was starting to get dark again.

"Let's go join the others." You pulled him to his feet, heart skipping a beat as he towered over you, broad shoulders blocking you from view. You blushed, and Jae-ha smirked. Tilting your chin up, he dropped a soft kiss on your lips and you sighed, arms winding around his neck.

You squealed as you felt his hands skim over the back of your thighs, before hoisting you up.

"Jae-ha!" Your legs wrapped around his waist to keep from falling as he started walking back.

"Jae-ha, put me down!!" You were unable to stop laughing, tears budding at the corners of your eyes from the sheer absurdity of the situation.

He shook his head, "Nope."

You clung to him tightly as he entered the clearing, Hak immediately grinning at the sight of you. There was a fire blazing in the middle of it, and you guessed that it was probably Yoon's doing. None of the others had enough coordination to start a fire properly without lighting everything else in the forest ablaze.

Shin-ah and Kija were fast asleep on the ground, with the pretty boy not too far away from them. Only Yona and Hak were still awake.

"Well, well," Hak lifted up his cup, and upon closer inspection, you noticed it held alcohol. "What've you got there, Droopy-Eyes?"

Jae-ha sat down on the ground, plopping you in his lap. Your cheeks burned as he kissed your hair, and you looked up to notice Yona staring at you curiously.

"You told him?" She whispered to you as Jae-ha started a conversation animatedly with Hak about how he captured you with his charms while the Thunder Beast faked barfing in disgust.

Yona squealed excitedly as you nodded shyly, causing the men to look at the two of you curiously. The red-haired princess waved off their attention, "You have to tell me everything!!"

You tried to get up, only to be stopped by Jae-ha's arms snaking around you once more. "Where do you think you're going, missy?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Just with Yona, we'll be back soon." You promised, assuming he was going to let you go now. To your surprise, his grip didn't yield. "Jae-ha, I'll be alright."

"Sorry," But Jae-ha didn't sound apologetic at all. "If you think I'm going to let you out of my sight for one second, you're damn wrong."

You sent a pleading look at Hak for help, but the general raised his hands up, smirking at the display of possessiveness Jae-ha was showing towards you. You whined, wriggling in your dragon's grasp until a hand gripped your hips firmly.

"Behave, Y/N." Jae-ha murmured darkly in your ear. "Or I'll make you." You shivered at the implication, ceasing your movements.

For now.

'Later?' You mouthed to Yona and she nodded. You turned to face Jae-ha. "I'm going to go to bed."

He nodded, standing up, cutting off his conversation with Hak, but you pushed him back down. Of course, he didn't budge but he did look at you like you lost your mind when you tried to make him sit. Huffing, you pouted cutely with your nose scrunched up.

Adorable... Jae-ha thought to himself.

"Jae-ha, I'll be fine." You insisted, throwing your hands up in defeat after several moments. He wouldn't give up.

He took your hand, weaving your fingers together and started back down towards the docks. You waved goodbye to Yona and Hak for the night. The rest of the pirates had made their way down there hours ago, so you suspected most of them were already asleep, having partied for the entire day. So needless to say, you were surprised when you saw a handful of them still awake, noticeably drunk.

"Jae-ha!" One of them called, not taking notice of your intertwined hands. "Play us a song!"

A fond smile crossed his lips, but it disappeared when he glanced at you in concern. You did say you were tired. You squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I would like to hear it, too." You said softly, loving it when he played his erhu.

Jae-ha nudged his nose against your hair, closing his eyes. "For you, anything."

You nearly whimpered when he pulled away, missing his warmth automatically. He fetched his erhu from your room, and was back in a heartbeat. He started playing a beautiful lullaby, and you closed your eyes, relaxed.

It was so enchanting.

The corner of your mouth quirked up in a tiny smile as you heard drunken grumbling coming from your pirate brothers as they tried to stop him.

"That tune's putt'in me 't sleep." One of them slurred, "Play somethin' more upbeat."

Jae-ha smirked, knowing they didn't get any sleep the previous night, so they had been up for 24 hours straight. They immediately protested, "I haven't had 'nough to drink!"

"Lullaby~" Jae-ha hummed as he started up again, and you stifled your laugh with your hand as they all tipped backwards, snoring faintly.

Jae-ha was growing increasingly curious as they continued to stubbornly refuse to go to sleep.

"T'night, is our last night... as pirates..." The one wearing a bandanna explained sleepily.

"...That's silly. The pirates will be no more, but everyone will be fishermen in Awa. Nothing will change..." Jae-ha said, dumbfounded.

The bandanna pirate slammed his hand on the deck. "But you'll be leaving! With that girl and her group! You're leaving Awa... aren't you?!"

Jae-ha smiled sadly, glancing at you, but you were fast asleep, curled up under the railing.

"Lullaby~" Jae-ha began to play again, and this time, none of them could fight against the call to sleep.

"Jae-ha..." One of them weakly reached towards the green dragon. "I'll kill ya..."

Ryokuryuu set down his erhu, stepping towards you lightly to not wake the sleeping pirates.

"Everyone cried themselves to sleep. How depressing." He sighed, looking back at his comrades as he picked you up and headed to your room. "You know... I really love you guys." He smiled forlornly down at you. He still didn't know how to tell you, and they were going to be leaving tomorrow.

He wasn't going to worry about that for tonight though, and as he arranged you carefully on the bed. You stirred awake at his touch, rousing from your slumber.

"Jae-ha?" Your tired voice was laced with confusion.

"I have to speak with Captain Gi-gan for a moment, I'll be back soon." He promised you, kissing you on the forehead lightly.

You pouted, "If you think I'm going to let you out of my sight, you're wrong." Throwing his words back at him, Jae-ha chuckled.

"I think I said, 'you're damn wrong', Y/N." Smiling as your brow knitted and you frowned, thinking hard. "But, I guess it can wait until tomorrow." He hesitated by the bedside as you scooted over to make room for him. "Are you sure? You're still injured."

"Jae-ha, you have three seconds to get in bed before I try to do it myself."

He practically threw himself down next to you, and you bounced under the force. You extended your arms out to him, silently asking for cuddles. Jae-ha chuckled under his breath at your cute display of affection, situating you in his arms.

This reminded you of the night Captain Gi-gan first drew up the battle plans, it seemed like so long ago.

A lot has happened since then.

You frowned. "Jae-ha," You could feel his rapid heartbeat against your cheek where it was pressed against his chest. "Whatever you're worried about, don't be. It'll be okay."

You smiled reassuringly at him, and Jae-ha returned it as best as he could. Focusing on you in his arms, he pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind. He wrapped an arm around your waist, the other tucked under his head. He went to kiss your forehead, but you pushed yourself up at the last second, capturing his lips with yours.

Jae-ha let out a noise of surprise, but eased into it. You kissed him slowly, passionately. And when you finally pulled away with a gasp, Jae-ha had no intentions of stopping there. He traveled down your neck, placing kisses along your collarbone and you whined, a hand shooting over your mouth to muffle it.

Too late.

His eyes darkened considerably, until they were nearly obsidian. "Y/N..."

Jae-ha groaned, pulling himself away from your body with obvious reluctance. "We should wait."

"What, why?" You cried, reaching out to grasp his robes.

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Did you seriously forget that you're hurt?"

Oh, yeah.

The dull, throbbing pain came back full force as you focused on it, and you doubled over, whimpering. He immediately went to your side, stroking your hair and shushing you comfortingly. Once you finally quieted, he took his place next to you.

"Sleep," Came the gentle command as Jae-ha tenderly curled his arms around your exhausted frame. "I love you, Y/N."

[psychedelic-ink]

This is my commission for @smol-fatale ! Sorry for the delay, I had to work on this a bit longer then I anticipated since the ones I wrote before never felt right :’) Thank you so much for commissioning me and letting me post it! I hope you enjoy this!

Pairings: Chiara (OC) x Sanji , Zoro x Sanji (established relationship) , Sanji x Chiara x Zoro (implied) 

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: After Chiara sacrifices herself and gets injured, Sanji is angry that she would put herself in harms way without thinking about the consequences. 

Commissions | Ko-Fi

Chiara gritted her teeth as her eyes darted between the marines who surrounded both her and Usopp. Honestly, they were just supposed to get a couple of supplies and return to the ship, it wasn’t supposed to be a life or death situation. Sure, maybe she was over exaggerating, this wasn’t the first time they were surrounded by marines but the amount of the soldiers just seemed to be unend this time. How long were they supposed to fight these fools? 

Quickly her gaze went from the soldiers and to Usopp, she could tell that he was thinking the same thing as her. The sniper sighed and pulled down his goggles. He shot a quick glance at her. 

“Let’s try to make an opening,” he said as he pulled out his trusty slingshot. “And run for it when we do.” 

“Aye aye.” 

━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━

Chiara groaned as she felt herself being laid on a bed. By the smells alone she could tell that she was in the sick bay. Feeling two hooves holsting her shirt up, Chiara tried to remember what had happened. The last thing she remembered was fighting a shit ton of marines with Usopp, then...a bullet shot, but it wasn’t aimed at ther it was aimed at the sniper. 

“What happened, Usopp?” Chopper’s worried voice reached her ears. 

“W-We…” he stuttered, sounding equally distraught. “We were fighting marines, I don’t know how they found us but there were so many of them...one of them fired and she pushed me out of the way.” 

“Did she get cut anywhere, do you know?” 

“It should be just the bullet wound.” 

Oh, so that’s what happened. 

“Alright, you can leave Usopp, I’ll let you guys know when I’m done.” 

Chiara felt Chopper put something plastic over her nose and mouth, her eyes fluttered as she was lulled into a deep slumber. 

━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━

When Chiara came to her senses, her whole body ached. Tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth, her eyes darted to the bedside table in hopes to find a glass of water. But in addition to finding a pitcher full of crystal clear water, she also found Sanji sitting next to her. He hadn’t noticed that she was awake, his eyes were glued to the side and he was shaking his leg furiously. He bit his bottom lip and Chiata recognized the signs of withdrawal. Has he been here long enough to crave a smoke so bad? 

“Oh you’re awake.” 

Sanji noticed her gaze on the pitcher and quickly filled her a glass of water, he helped her straighten up and placed the glass on her chapped lips. Normally, she would’ve just snatched the glass away from him and done it herself, but her arms felt too weak to actually do such a thing. 

The water was soothing as it went down her throat, with big gulps Chiara finished the glass in seconds. Sanji placed the glass back on the table and held the pitcher. 

“Do you want another glass?” 

“No,thanks.” 

Sanji removed his hand from the pitcher and started to tweak at the ends of his shirt. Chiara could sense something was off, but to be honest something always was off when the two of them were alone. She could tell there was something bothering him, something that he itched to just say. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked instead. 

“Better.” she replied simply. 

“Good.” 

“Just spit it out Sanji.” 

This seemed to take him by surprise. His only visible brow was raised as his eyes widened. The cook sighed and leaned back into the chair, scratching the back of his head, he stared at the ceiling. 

“Why did you jump in front of a bullet?” 

Chiara, her eyebrow raised with visible confusion, shot him a puzzled look. Sanji was unaware of this as he continued to stare at the ceiling, his leg still bobbing up and down. 

“I didn’t jump in front of it just for the fun of it you know,” she replied, slightly agitated. “If I hadn’t done that Usopp would’ve gotten shot.” 

“How is it better if you get shot?” 

Sanji had lowered his gaze back to her. Her eyes were cold and pierced through her. She started to sweat and her pulse quickened. Chiara was surprised that her body reacted so strongly towards a look, especially a look that Sanji gave her. She swallowed. Her mind scanned along all the things she could reply with and none of them felt like something the cook would be happy to hear and none of them held any consolation. But lucky her, Sanji continued to talk. 

“You shouldn't just sacrifice yourself like that,” his voice now raised a bit. “Usopp’s body can handle it, you’re a wo—” 

“You gotta be kidding me,” Chiara cut him off before he could finish. “I am so sorry Sanji,” she snapped rolling her tongue. “I’m not going to let one of my crewmates get shot instead of me because I’m a “woman”.” 

“You could’ve died!” he snapped back, his brow visibly twitching with anger. 

“Usopp could’ve died too!”  

“He should’ve been protecting you, not the other way around!” 

“What do you care, just leave me alone.” 

Chiara’s voice had grown eerily low, almost like a whisper. She sounded cold and her words were like weapons. Sanji had visibly stepped back with that, his leg finally stilling as he got up. He didn’t look at her, turning around, his heart felt heavy in his chest. 

“Fine, get well soon.” 

Chiara let her head fall back against the wall, staring at the sealing, tears stung the corner of her eyes. Why did he have to make everything so complicated for her? She was confused, confused as to why she felt so hurt, so angry. Whenever they were alone she ended up feeling so undeniably naked and bare in front of him. She had no right to feel this way and she certainly had no right to make Sanji feel like that as well. 

The door closed and she let out a long sigh. 

When was everything going to stop being so complicated? 

━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━

After the incident everything was pretty much normal except for Chiara’s and Sanji’s relationship. Their friendship was already on thin ice but after their discourse it seemed like even that fell under water. They never talked, only if they had to, no one really seemed to notice but Chiara’s mental state was suffering. Despite being angry at the cook’s misogynistic words that she should be protected just because she was a “woman”, she did miss talking to him. 

Sanji had seemed to crawl into a shell as well, he seemed more dependent on Zoro. Sure, he would still flatter the females of the ship with countless desserts and sweet words but something was off in the way he did it. Chiara saw the two men fade into the back of the ship and converse for what seemed to take hours. Chiara was curious but then again she couldn’t really say anything. But the fact that she could so clearly feel Sanji’s distraught made her feel even worse. 

The days continued to go on like this, Sanji avoiding any kind of contact with her and her doing the same, only looking at him when his back was turned or during combat. He didn’t seem to notice any of it. It seemed like he was only focused on not bothering her in any way. 

And now Chiara sat among Nami’s tangerine trees, listening to the leaves rustled and taking in deep breaths of the citrus smell. She was trying to clear her mind, if such a thing was possible, and maybe try to figure out a way to fix everything. 

“Hey,” 

Chiara jolted and turned her head towards the voice. Zoro appeared between the leaves, he had a gentle smile on his face as he stared down at her. Chiara pulled her knees close to her chest and averted her eyes with a pout. She heard Zoro sigh and sit down next to her, cross legged. 

“You can avoid the cook forever you know?” he said and she could feel his gaze staring into her soul. 

“I know that,” Chiara mumbled. “I just don’t know how to talk to him, he makes me so angry.” 

“I get that, he pisses me off too.” 

Chiara shifted her gaze to Zoro, she was curious as to why Zoro was actually here, talking to her. To be honest Chiara always admired the swordsman and always felt some sort of closeness, she couldn’t quite name it and opted to call it an admiration of strength and level headedness. 

“He was really worried about you,” he continued, locking his dark eyes with hers. “I don’t agree with what he said, but believe me that he wasn’t trying to upset you.” 

“Well yeah I know that much,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But does his intentions really excuse his weird ass behaviors?” 

Zoro chuckled, “Well...no but you two could at least talk about it. You two might seem opposite from each other but you’re more similar to him than you think.” 

“Is that so?” 

Chiara’s mind faded into her own thoughts. It didn’t seem like Zoro was going to elaborate on what similarities they had. Maybe he wanted her to figure it out on her own? Or maybe he just wanted her to talk it out with Sanji. Chiara didn’t quite know how that conversation would go but then again she trusted Zoro and his views. If Sanji was bothered about the situation enough that Zoro felt like he had to intervene, the situation really must be dire. 

But then again she really wouldn’t know what to say so she decided to be straightforward. 

“What should I say to him?” 

Zoro thought for a bit as he looked off into the distance, then shrugged. 

“Just be honest.” 

━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━

A week had passed since her conversation with Zoro. Chiara really wanted to talk with him but her overthinking and the fact that Sanji was avoiding her, as kindly as he could, made it difficult for her to catch him alone. 

Finally as a last resort she decided to ambush him while it was his turn to be on the lookout. She climbed up the crows nest as silently as she could, and gently creaked the door open. Chiara couldn’t help but smile when she saw Sanji looking out with a soft blanket around his broad shoulders. 

He flinched at the sound and turned around, Chiara couldn’t tell if he was relaxed or nervous to see her. 

“Hey,” she began, closing the door after her. “Whatcha doing?” 

Sanji gifted his gaze back to the window and continued to watch the horizon. 

“Lookout.” he said nonchalantly. “You?” 

“I…” Chiara quickly made her way and sat down next to him. Sanji stiffened but didn’t oppose to the fact that their shoulders were touching. “I wanted to talk.” 

“About what?” 

“Us.” 

That seemed to snap Sanji out of his trance. He looked at her, wide eyed and his eyes quickly scanned her features as he tried to understand if she was serious or not. His over the top reaction made Chiara sight and contemplate whether Sanji was ready or not to have such a conversation. Her eyes fixated on the floor she attempted to get up. 

“You know what, never mi—!” 

Before she could fully stand up, however, a strong grip took a hold of her wrist and pulled her back down. Chiara let out a groan as she fell back to the ground right next to Sanji, he was looking at her with a piercing gaze, seeming much more calm than before. 

“What did you want to talk about?” 

Sanji let go of her wrist and Chiara took in a sharp breath, startled. She pulled her knees up to her chest and directed her gaze towards the sea. 

“I think we’ve been misunderstanding each other and... I want to stop.” Sanji stood in silence, prompting her to go on. “It’s just… I hate it when you act as if I can’t be strong because I’m a woman but in reality I am strong and it pisses me off that you can’t see that-” 

Sanji cut her off, “I know you’re strong, it’s just… I was worried and hate it when you do stuff without giving a second thought of what might happen to you.” 

Chiara wasn’t ready to hear how Sanji’s voice trembled. Her eyes wide, they shifted back to him. The cook was staring directly at her with a pained expression. A knot forming in her throat, she swallowed. She wasn’t the type to think about herself when someone she cared for was in danger and she never thought that self sacrifice could so easily hurt another. 

“I…” 

Chiara was lost of words, gazing into each other's eyes, they inched closer without even knowing. The blanket that Sanji had laid across his shoulders pooled to the floor, the ship gently swayed them, she felt as if she was put into a trance. 

Then Chiara felt Sanji’s lips. 

It was soft, tender and full of love. Then Zoro’s words echoed in her jumbled up thoughts “just be honest” , the swordsman wasn’t talking about being honest with Sanji but to herself. She felt so afraid to be vulnerable in front of people, in front of them for the longest time. But truth be told, maybe she had fallen for two men instead of one. 

Sanji’s the one to break the kiss, his gaze immediately shifting to the floor. Chiara could read the traces of regret all over his face. 

“I’m sorry.” he quickly muttered, his fingers ghosting over his lips. “I wasn’t supposed to do that.” 

“It’s...okay,” she took in a shaky breath. “It was nice.” 

“Do...do you have a crush on me?” 

The question caught her a bit by surprise but she couldn’t help but smile at his shy tone. A hint of pink decorated his cheeks. 

“I do but...I’m a bit confused since it seems I might like Zoro as well.” 

“We actually talked about that.” 

Chiara shot Sanji a confused look, the cook was quick to explain what they had been discussing with the swordsman and apparently they had been discussing it for a while. Zoro liked her too but wanted both Sanji and her to work it out before they proposed anything. Chiara was both happy and worried. She didn’t want to disturb their already established relationship and...to be frank she felt like she was a mess. Way too much to deal with. 

“I don’t want to come in between you two,” she voiced out her thoughts. “I don’t want to disturb anything.” 

“You won’t.” Sanji replied, quickly. “We both care for you Chiara. Both of us and you care about both me and Zoro right?” 

“Y-Yeah.” 

Sanji pulled her into an embrace, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek. 

“You don’t have to answer right now, we can talk to Zoro before you decide anything.” 

Chiara nodded, happy that she could talk to both of them. After weeks of silence from Sanji, they were finally talking again. Realized that there was something more to share then friendship. 

Chiara was excited of what the future held. 

[kookicat]

When You've Walked My Road

None of the others have been to this safe house, and if he has his way, it'll stay like that, because it's less safe house and more medic station, with cupboards packed with every supply that they might need. There's a sturdy wooden table that he keeps scrubbed, and five camp beds, because if they ever have to retreat to the place, he's making sure the whole team is there and locking the place down.

He pulls out the big medical bag and dumps it on the table, flipping it open to inspect what's left inside. It's still almost full, missing just a few bandages and dressing packs from their last job, but they're going up against Damien Moreau -Damien fucking Moreau- and while Nate seems blissfully unconcerned about the potential for danger, Eliot can't let himself fall under such illusions. He knows intimately just how dangerous the other man is, and if he can't stop Nate running them up against him, at least he can make sure they're as ready as they can be. Mitigate some of the damage when things go bad, because he honestly can't see how this ends without bloodshed. God, I hope I can keep them all safe, he thinks, and rubs the back of his neck, feeling the tension there. Let me be the one bloody, if it comes to that.

The thought brings him neatly back to the medical supplies and he grabs an empty tub, pulling everything out before he wipes the inside of the bag with sanitiser spray and spools up his mental checklist of what needs to be inside. Dressings, band aids and bandages are a simple staple, along with tape, and he adds in two more packs than he hopes they'll ever need, following them with wound cream and wipes, because it's an easy first step in avoiding an infection. He pauses, then tucks another tube in, because between him and the minor injuries Parker gets, they go through the stuff with frightening speed sometimes. He drops in a couple of slings and splints, rubbing his wrist in reflex, because he'd picked up a nasty sprain a few jobs ago and a splint would have made the drive home a lot more comfortable.

He knows it surprises people that he knows how to heal as well as how to bust heads, a dichotomy they can't quite reckon, but it makes perfect sense to him. His whole unit had learned basic medical skills, because if the guy next to you is shot in the gut, you don't have time to wait for help. And anyway, in his line of work, knowing how to patch yourself up can be the difference between life and death, because bullet holes and stab wounds tend to attract the wrong kind of attention at an ER.

He flips open the trauma shears, checking they still work and tucks them in, next to a smaller kit that includes single use scalpels and suture packs. On a whim, he adds a couple of disposable tweezers, because Parker had got a nasty metal splinter climbing through a duct on their last job and Sophie's still moaning about them using her expensive tweezers to get it out three months later. It makes him smile, just for a second, before the tension in his gut takes over again. Some jobs just feel wrong, and this is one of them, doubly so because of Moreau's involvement. Eliot's no coward, but you don't take down a guy like Moreau; you either put a bullet in his skull, preferably from a distance, or you keep the fuck out of his way.

He pokes his mental checklist and digs through the tub, pulling out a handful of hemostatic dressings and elastic bandages. The items are on the list of things he carries but hopes never to have to use, because uncontrollable bleeding isn't something he can fix in the field and anyway, the damn stuff burns like fuck. There's a neat round scar on his bicep to attest to the fact, and he can still remember the terror of watching his blood pour out of him like water from a tap. He tucks the items in the bag, because if his life had taught him anything, it's that it's better to be over prepared than under prepared.

Rain lashes against the windows, and the sky is filled with dark and looming clouds that match Eliot's mood perfectly. He adds a bag of IV supplies, the plastic catheters incongruously cheerful in the dim light. He's pretty sure his arms are still bruised from teaching Sophie and Parker how to place them, but it'll be worth it, if this goes down how he thinks it will. Three bags each of normal saline and Lactated Ringers solution go in next, along with a couple of banana bags. If they need more fluids, they're in hospital territory, and the thought sends a weird little shiver through him. It's not exactly a premonition, but it still reinforces just how bad an idea this job is.

Maybe I can get Nate to listen, he thinks as he packs the drug case back in the medical bag, adding Zofran as an afterthought, because he knows he'll puke his guts up with a bad enough concussion and going through that once was awful enough that he never wants to do it again. There's a couple of types of broad spectrum antibiotics in there, just in case, too. He knows Nate, knows that now he's got the scent, nothing will stop him, but Nate isn't the only stubborn one on the team and maybe, for once, they can get him to listen to reason. The rest of them have the choice of going along for the ride or getting out of the way, but the thought of leaving Nate to handle Moreau alone makes well hidden anxiety worm through his gut. He's committed and that means being prepared, so he heaves a sigh and tucks a couple of tourniquets under the webbing on the outside of the bag, where they're easy to get at quickly. If they have any luck left, they won't need them, but anything involving Moreau feels like a curse.

Just the sound of his name makes Eliot's hands feel sticky, coated in drying blood, because God knows he'd shed enough of the stuff in the man's employment. He flips the bag back open and adds in a box of gloves, then walks around the table to drop heavily on the seat there, exhaustion hitting him suddenly. It's well down in the AM and he's been awake this best part of twenty four hours. It's not the longest he's ever been awake, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel the drag of tired muscles, the dull throb of a headache that's been with him since Nate announced the plan. The safe house is chilly, because he hasn't bothered to kick the furnace one, and he shivers, forcing himself to his feet because the job's not done yet and he wants the bag finished before he sleeps.

Silver foil emergency blankets go in next, along with heat and cold packs. He runs warm, but Parker and Hardison both tend to get cold easily and that's bad if they're also nursing an injury. Shock is no joke and he's run that gauntlet enough times to respect it. He adds burn gel and dressings, just in case, because Parker has no fear of climbing through steam vents that any sane person would avoid. The bag is bulging and he runs through his checklist one more time, satisfied that he's got everything he might need.

A quick glance at his watch tells him that he has three hours to grab some sleep and he heads to the ratty but comfortable couch in the small living area, dropping down onto it with a sigh and bending to unfastened his boots before he swings his jean clad legs up and tugs the ugly knitted throw down over himself. He blinks, yawning, and knows if he wants to function properly in the morning, he needs to sleep, but his mind is buzzing with what if's that he just can't shake. He forces a breath out through his nose and shifts a little, getting more comfortable. Every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is his team, broken and battered and bloody on the floor. After what seems like an eternity, he gives in and reaches under the table next to the couch for the bottle there, lip curling in self disgust as he downs a good mouthful. It's a crutch, and a crude one at that but any port in a storm and he's facing a big one. The booze takes the sharpness off everything and he settles back down, eyes closing, and finally lets himself rest.

[ahgaseda]

enough | three

even if everyone else leaves me, you’re enough for me, you’re my only one, stand by me forever, only you, just you...

summary : to survive as a single woman in the big city, you resort to letting rich men pay for your company, but never anticipated that your first client would be the boy you once loved, Jinyoung.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, references to prostitution, mentions of gang activity, graphic sexual content, potentially triggering elements involving mental health, panic attacks, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

Frustration was the understatement of the year.

After Jinyoung kissed you, he avoided you for the remainder of the evening. You were left to wallow in hurt and self-pity. Being faced with how badly you had damaged him, frankly had wounded you as it rightly should have.

His driver, a chatty trouble maker named Yugyeom, who towered over you and flashed a hundred-watt smile, but you learned very quickly he would be a great source of comfort given his willingness to gossip endlessly about his boss.

As the car drove into the night, Yugyeom kindly asked how your evening had been.

“He wouldn’t have sex with me,” you lamented, hoping for a laugh and relieved when you earned one.

After an amused chuckle, Yugyeom told you, “He may be a ruthless asshole, but he’s still a gentleman.”

“Yeah, but… you know what he’s paying me for,” you trailed unsurely, wondering how much you could divulge with this new acquaintance.

Yugyeom shrugged, clearly unbothered by your current “profession,” and gabbed, “The boss isn’t a rabbit. In fact, he’s rarely horny.”

Skeptical, you frowned and sighed, “Good to know.” Turning back to the window, you watched the city around you blur into one cohesive whirlwind of color and activity.

“Well, that’s what happens to guys who are smitten with a girl they can’t have. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Biting your lip, you murmured, “No, I wouldn’t.”

Yugyeom chortled, “Yeah, if he finds that girl, then I retract my statement.”

Your brow furrowed and you abandoned the window in favor of his face. “Which statement?”

Yugyeom turned to you, taking his eyes off the road momentarily, and said, “About him not being a rabbit.”

You laughed aloud. If your memories of Jinyoung were any indication, his sex drive was through the roof. There were too many times you met up with him between classes to have a quickie and too many nights of parking in his rickety truck on some old back road with only the fireflies to see what sins you committed together.

A personal favorite you thought of often was the summer night he had filled the bed of the truck with blankets over a worn-out mattress. In the pitch black darkness of the moonless night, the two of you were a tangled mess of limbs as you fumbled around to get busy.

“Ouch,” he said, coming to a stop between your thighs.

On your back with your legs in the air alongside his hips, you held his face between your hands and asked frantically, “What? What happened? Did I hurt you?”

Jinyoung snorted and you wished you could see his face. You could barely make out his form above you in the darkness.

“How could you hurt me? You’re on the bottom,” he teased in his heavy dialect.

“I don’t know,” you exclaimed, embarrassed. “I’m new at this. You always say I’m tight. What if I break your dick?”

Jinyoung laughed hard and you grinned at the sound.

“Please, don’t ever break my dick. There wouldn’t be enough therapy in the world to help me recover from that,” Jinyoung retorted, stealing a kiss and accidentally bumping into your nose.

“Ow,” you squeaked, pinching your nose until the pain began to fade.

“I’m sorry!”

“Why did you say ‘ouch’ in the first place?” you asked with irritation.

Jinyoung winced and groaned, “I think a mosquito bit my ass.”

You giggled.

Snapping out of your memories as the car came to a rolling stop, you took in the sight of your new home. The vertical condominium was wedged between a row of identical copies, all neutrally shaded with stark black gates and railings.

Yugyeom pressed a button on a small hob before handing the device to you. The garage door began to open and he maneuvered the car slowly inside.

“Here are your keys,” said the chauffeur after he unlocked the door for you, handing the key ring to your outstretched fingers. “I bid you adieu.”

You bowed in gratitude and replied, “Thank you, sir.”

The house was too big for your liking; much too generous for a single person to live in. The main living space was almost larger than your entire apartment. As you meandered through the new residence, you smiled when you took note of your personal items stationed throughout.

While with Jinyoung at his penthouse, the movers had transported all of your belongings in a matter of hours. At first, you thought this would infuriate you - strangers putting their hands on all of your things. Then, you remembered you didn’t actually own much.

Stepping into a small room adjacent to the bedroom, you couldn’t fight a broad smile when you surveyed the office space. Your textbooks were stacked neatly and your school supplies were no exception. Sitting on the rolling chair, you did a few turns before releasing a deep sigh and closing your eyes.

Maybe this overgrown house wasn’t so bad after all.

For the next two days, you settled in, making the place feel more like a home and less of a work perk. You brightened the rooms with color and light, taking pride in the place that Jinyoung was essentially lending to you.

But you constantly checked your phone, wondering why he hadn’t called or even texted. You resorted to drowning yourself in homework and exam prep, hoping to distract yourself from the endless thoughts of Jinyoung and his dumb, handsome face.

Even as you sat in class, the monotony of your physics professor faded into static, pushed away by memories of Jinyoung and his adorable laugh. How many years had it been since you heard him laugh? You grimaced. Jinyoung at that conference table looked hard and severe, like he hadn’t laughed in years.

That saddened you; the idea Jinyoung had been living a life without love or laughter. To keep the tears from your eyes, you focused on thermodynamics and forbid Jinyoung from your mind.

On the third afternoon, you finally got the call you had been anticipating.

Briefly, you stared at the phone and counted the seconds in your head, knowing he would despise having to sit through a few rings. “Yes, my lord?” you finally answered.

Jinyoung droned while he chewed his lunch, “Yugyeom is gonna bring you here. Be ready in 15.”

Feeling he was already about to hang up, you yelled, “I’ll need more time.”

Indignant, Jinyoung grumbled, swallowing whatever was in his mouth and asking, “What the hell for?”

“To shave my legs,” you deadpanned.

There was a pause, followed by a stern, “Don’t bother.”

Then, he hung up.

Frowning at the phone, you proceeded to spend an hour preparing yourself for the visit to Jinyoung’s penthouse. Whether or not you were actually going to have sex with him, you adorned yourself as if it were an ever-present possibility.

This game of his had hopelessly reeled you in.

Yugyeom arrived to get you in a sleek black car and you found him a comfortable place to sit in the grandiose living area. When you told him the fifteen minutes allotted would not suffice, he whipped out his phone and offered to keep himself busy whilst you took your sweet time.

Yugyeom was easily becoming your favorite person, especially when he commented at what a good job you had done breathing life back into the abandoned condo. The two of you gabbed about abstract art and the mint colored record player on your nearby table. Yugyeom was passionate about music and recommended an entire list of vinyls for you to give your ear to. He seemed to jump on board your plan to keep Jinyoung and his almighty ass waiting even longer.

Over an hour later, you stood in the cold, glass box that took you to the heights of the residential tower. Your freshly-shaved legs did not tolerate the chill well and you suddenly wished you had opted for pants instead of the high-waisted shorts.

But hell, your outfit was on point. The v-neck shirt was tucked into your navy blue bottoms and your favorite push-up bra was here to work, leaving little to the imagination where your cleavage was concerned. You had gone up a cup size leaving home, and you damn sure wanted Jinyoung to notice. But to avoid looking too blatant with your bare legs and perky breasts on display, you wore a crisp blazer over the ensemble; vaguely casual.

“Alright, I’m here,” you announced as you walked into the penthouse apartment. “Let’s do this.”

Perched in the kitchen, Jinyoung continued to eat his apple leisurely, raking the knife over a chunk before taking another bite. He leaned back against the sink, ankles crossed in a pair of tight-fitting jeans.

For the brief seconds you passed in front of him, Jinyoung did a full head-to-toe scan of your presence, lingering over every curve of your form and resisting the urge to nod his approval. With the trail of delicate, fruity scents following you, Jinyoung surmised you must have just come from a long, hot shower.

Unbuttoning your blazer, you propped your forearms on the counter directly next to him, sticking your ass into the air and glancing over your shoulder. Drumming your nails on the surface, you whined, “I’ll have you know I’ve had a very stressful day.”

Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung sighed, “I never would have guessed.”

Though he stood at your side, he felt miles away. You sashayed your hips a little, inevitably drawing his attention once more, and murmured coyly, “I’ve heard rage sex can help with that.”

“So can a nap.”

You grumbled at another battle lost, standing up straight and stealing the apple from his hand. After taking a loud bite, you murmured, “The boy I knew couldn’t keep his hands off of me.”

Without missing a beat, Jinyoung snatched the fruit back from your grasp and chuffed, “The girl I knew would never have traded her body for money.”

You nearly choked.

Jinyoung cut another piece of the apple and forced it into your parted mouth, saying, “You shouldn’t bite into an apple. It’s bad for your teeth.”

You watched him saunter away, noting the broad expanse of his shoulders and the way his dress shirt hugged every line and angle. Once upon a time, you knew how it felt to sink your fingers into his back, to anchor yourself to him in every way possible as he took you to the heights of ecstasy.

You also knew how it felt to let him hold you, to comfort you when you needed his love most. Jinyoung was no stranger to you waking up in the middle of the night screaming, doused in sweat as your dreams turned dark and violent. There were too many things you had seen in your lifetime and your mind could never forget them no matter how hard you tried.

Jinyoung was just another frightened kid, no different from you, but he knew what to say and what to do. You would rest your head in the bend of his arm, your smaller frame tucked to his body as he rocked you back and forth. He would murmur the most delicate of words until you drifted back to sleep.

The memories of how passionate Jinyoung could be with you, how mindlessly in love you had once been with each other, brought a fresh surge of frustration into your chest and the sensation radiated through your body to the point you felt heat behind your cheeks.

Vexed by his dismissals, you trudged toward the door, drawing his confused attention momentarily as you shouted, “I’m going with Yugyeom to get food!”

The sound of the door slamming ricocheted through the apartment. Jinyoung stood rooted in place, watching where you had just stormed out, and nonchalantly took one last bite from his apple before tossing the core into the trash bin.

God, you drove him crazy. He loved you to the point of madness. Everything you did was both certifiably adorable and yet absolutely infuriating in his eyes. This little game he played with you was the highlight of his life at the moment. He was finally reunited with a sense of peace now that he could see you again, but he had no intention of giving you absolution any time soon.

You plopped into the passenger seat, greeting a surprised Yugyeom as he had been playing on his phone. You took the mobile from him and proceeded to finish his round of Candy Crush, asking him to take you to the nearest convenience store for snacks.

“You were barely in there for two seconds,” Yugyeom said, revving up the engine.

You groaned and explained, “We argued already. He annoys me.”

Yugyeom chortled.

“Your phone is ringing,” you told him a moment later, seeing Jinyoung’s photo on the screen. “It’s the asshat.”

“Answer it then,” Yugyeom smarted, focused on the busy street he turned onto.

You did as told and chirped, “Yugyeom’s phone.”

Surprised to hear your voice on his driver’s line, Jinyoung said, “You didn’t take a guard with you.”

You rolled your eyes and whined, “I’m just going to buy snacks. How much trouble could I possibly get into?”

“What’s he complaining about?” Yugyeom asked with a laugh.

Hoping Jinyoung would notice the difference, you drastically softened your tone when speaking to Yugyeom, “We didn’t bring a babysitter.”

“Mr. Muscles is in the back,” Yugyeom replied.

“What?” you exclaimed, turning around.

Sure enough, Jackson the burly security guard was resting atop the seat, an arm tucked behind his head with his eyes closed. Though after hearing Yugyeom, he lifted a hand and waved his fingers to let you know he was well aware of the situation.

You giggled and quipped, “Unbelievable.”

“Alright then,” Jinyoung sighed, satisfied you had enough escorts for a measly trip.

“Why are you even worried about me?” you asked spitefully, grateful for the distance between you and Jinyoung at the moment. “I’m sure I’m easily replaceable.”

“I’m not having an argument with you over the phone,” Jinyoung replied calmly. “Though you sure are a lot braver whenever you’re on one.”

You scoffed, but had no rebuttal. It was true. After a nervous pause, you stammered, “Want anything from the store?”

Jinyoung barked, “Yeah, three or four bottles of soju. I’ll need them if you’re planning on staying longer than five minutes this time.”

“You bastard,” you fired back. “I offered you my ass on a silver platter and you would rather talk about apples.”

Yugyeom and Jackson both made noises of amusement, though the latter still kept his eyes closed in an attempt to catch a nap.

There was absolutely no fluctuation in Jinyoung’s voice when he grumbled, “Yeah, because nothing turns a guy on like his girl flopping onto the kitchen counter.”

Bristling with fury, you snapped, “How would I know what turns a guy on? It’s been years since I slept with you.”

“Me?” Jinyoung questioned.

“Huh?”

Jinyoung shifted his weight, drifting into his bedroom, and asked, “I’m the last person you slept with?”

Immediately, you realized what you had said and fell rather spectacularly into a panic. “I’m gonna hang up now.”

Jinyoung countered in a low threat, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You pulled the phone from your ear and stared at the screen, biting your lip as adrenaline rose in your chest. After a few tense seconds, you pressed the phone back to your cheek and whispered, “Yes.”

Jinyoung was clearly off balance after your confession, because his tone was tender and soft when he spoke, “No one else has touched you?”

Pinching your lips together, you wrestled with what to say. Had he assumed you had moved on from him? That you had gotten into bed with other men in an attempt to forget about him?

Firmly, you replied, “No.”

It was true. You had found and lost love with Jinyoung. You knew you wouldn’t find it with anyone else - you would only find it where you had left it.

Now, it was Jinyoung’s turn to be silent. After a moment, he murmured, “I didn’t know that.”

Why did he sound skeptical? Did he think you were lying to please him?

Wrath reared its ugly head again and you snapped, “Oh, I’m sorry I’m not a massive slut. Does this lower my street value?”

Jinyoung snarled, “Careful...”

“Wait, it should raise my worth, right? I’m sorry…” you trailed with a hollow chuckle to hide your wounded pride. “I’m not up to speed on prostitution practices.”

Running out of patience, Jinyoung hissed your name.

Squeezing the phone, you shouted into the receiver with loathing, “The last girl you paid to fuck you, should I call her for some advice?”

“Oh, shit,” Yugyeom suddenly exclaimed, slamming the breaks as a car darted out in front of him.

You screamed when the vehicles collided and inadvertently dropped the phone onto the floor between your feet. While you lurched forward from the impact, your taut safety belt shoved you back into the seat. Fortunately, you and your companions were unscathed.

“Real nice, Yugyeom,” Jackson chastised, opening his door and stepping out to survey the damage.

“Don’t get out,” Yugyeom told you as you reached for your handle.

You nodded, watching the man in the opposing vehicle storm up to the car you were in and slam both of his hands on the hood. Jackson approached him, speaking diplomatically, but the other man was shouting, motioning between the two of them.

“I wanna go back now,” you spoke shakily, eyes on the drama unfolding.

When his polite manners didn’t do the trick, Jackson braced his hands on the man’s chest and shoved him away, warning him to settle down or there would be consequences. After handing the stranger a few bills from the wad of cash in his pocket, both parties returned to their vehicles amicably.

“What are you paying him for?” Yugyeom exclaimed with discontent as Jackson slid back into the car. “We had the right of way!”

“Just go before the police show up,” Jackson ordered, reaching into his back pocket with a groan when his phone began to ring. He patiently answered, “Yeah, boss? No, we’re fine. She’s fine. It was a tiny collision. She does? No, she seems alright to me.”

“I’m right here,” you grumbled, glancing over your shoulder. The concept of Jinyoung being worried about you warmed your icy heart for a moment, but you were still too annoyed to let the gesture soften you.

“I will keep an eye on it,” Jackson whispered, then hung up.

“He told you about my history with car accidents, did he?”

Jackson relaxed back into his seat, like nothing had happened, and said, “He just told me to watch out for the signs, that’s all.”

“I’m fine,” you asserted. “My reaction is totally normal.”

“Really?” Jackson persisted. “Because my hands stopped shaking already. How about yours?”

You glanced down at your lap and saw your quivering fingers, immediately folding your arms and gazing out the window.

Stepping into the penthouse after a short return drive, you came face-to-face with a livid Jinyoung. Before he could utter a word, you sassed, “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

He narrowed his eyes in reproach. “That’s not funny.”

Putting your hands on your hips, you dodged him and sang in a taunt, “It’s a shame you’ve lost your sense of humor, among other things.”

Jinyoung’s sharp tongue was not to be underestimated and he was quick to retort, “Yeah, it must be out there fucking what’s left of your dignity.”

You scowled, enraged.

Jinyoung planted his feet, crossed his arms over his chest, and asked sternly, “Why haven’t you been with anyone else?”

A ripple of nerves shot through you and you deflected, “Are we really gonna have this conversation now?”

Jinyoung would never admit it, but he was overcome with feelings toward you. You had stayed faithful to him. Even though you left him, you had made no attempts to replace him. Every fiber of his being was drawn to you, desperate to have you in his arms.

“Why not?” Jinyoung finally pressed, advancing toward you.

Folding your arms, you stuck out your hip and tapped your foot. “Have you been with anyone else?”

Jinyoung wagged his finger. “I asked you first.”

“No, Jinyoung,” you admitted with a heavy sigh, abandoning any ideas about lying to him. “I haven’t been with anyone since you. I’m not capable of trusting another person that much.”

Harshening his expression, Jinyoung sneered, “Trust is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

You bristled, reading his tone.

“I’m suddenly reminded of how much I trusted you until the day you jumped in that truck and ran away from me.”

You threw up your hands, assuming he was back to the game, back to his desire to punish you. Exhausted, you choked, “I wasn’t doing it to get away from you.”

Jinyoung scoffed, “Really?”

“Don’t talk to me like you fucking know me,” you yelled, drifting toward his room for much needed solitude.

Jinyoung’s gaze narrowed, fire coursing through his veins when he hissed, “I’m the only one that knows you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you stomped to his bedroom and slammed the door behind you. Plopping down on his bed, you fell to your back and focused on calming your racing heart. Because arguing with Jinyoung didn’t scare you - it excited you.

When you were with Jinyoung, the two of you got into fiery debates rather often. Both of you were reckless with your emotions, quick to indulge your tempers given the right situations pushed the right buttons. You and Jinyoung were adept at flinging sharp words and insults, but you never felt fear or emotional injury from your sparring with him. Jinyoung was the boy who held your heart. You knew he would never break it.

At least, not until you broke his.

Voices drew your attention a few minutes later. Jinyoung had made no attempts to engage further with you and you were slightly disappointed. Meanwhile, you had been grappling with the spikes of adrenaline still holding your attention.

It amazed you how little compassion your own brain had for your emotional well-being. Whether it be a small collision or even a fake car accident in a film, seeing either would bring back every visceral detail of the day you learned how dangerous your home had become.

The van had slammed into your truck, totalling it with ease. Your head hit the window and a concussion nearly faded your vision to black. Before you slipped into unconsciousness, your body alerted you to more impending danger - of men dragging you from the wreckage with no intention of rescuing you.

Jinyoung would never understand your hatred for the gangs. Not unless he had been through what you had endured that day.

Snapping from your dark thoughts, you opened the door and stepped toward the living area. You needed to see Jinyoung, needed him to anchor you back to reality. No matter the hurt and pain between you and him, he was the uncontested safest place in the world.

“Jinyoung,” you called unsurely, voice shaking as the conflict grew louder.

In your three days of being one of Jinyoung’s “employees,” you had only met Bambam once and all you knew about him was his handling of Jinyoung’s business relationships. He seemed to be the orchestrater, the man with his hands in every cookie jar.

At the moment, Bambam was shouting, visibly enraged. Even though his anger was not remotely directed at you, your instinct was to cower into the corner to make yourself a smaller target. As you paced backwards slightly, head down in submission, Jinyoung clocked a weathered glance at your movements.

While Bambam continued to rant, you thought of your mother - the way she screamed at you and her voice would carry through the house, ricocheting from every surface to the point you thought you were surrounded. At the memory, your breathing began to shallow and you stared at the floor.

“Stop raising your voice,” Jinyoung warned his friend, but his eyes were fixated on you.

Oblivious, Bambam persisted, “I’m sorry, but this is the biggest screw up since…”

Jinyoung cut him off to snarl in reproach, “Shut up.”

You remembered the way you had screamed when those men tore you from the car and the sound flooded all of your senses until you truly believed you were back in that same place all over again. The memories were snowballing, piling one after the other until you were buried under an avalanche of trauma.

“Jinyoung,” called Jackson worriedly, having finally noticed you.

“I know,” Jinyoung answered as he made his way over to you, grabbing your arms and guiding you to the floor. “Sit. Sit.”

To everyone in the room, you looked like a startled animal, eyes wide and chest heaving for breath. Following Jinyoung’s instructions, you wouldn’t call what you did sitting, per se. You more or less collapsed to the ground; your legs folding under you like a lawn chair.

Frantic, Yugyeom asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

Jinyoung pushed some of your hair out of your face and answered, “She’s having a panic attack.”

“Because of me?” Bambam blinked.

Yugyeom was quick to scold, “No, you idiot. You’re just the cherry on top of a milkshake from hell.”

Clenching his jaw, Jackson turned to Bambam and added, “There was a little incident earlier.”

At the phrase, your mind gave you rapid glimpses of the car accident and your chest tightened all the more. Many pairs of eyes were on you now and your brain warned they were systematically draining all of the oxygen out of the room, robbing you of much-needed air.

“No, no, don’t look at them. Look at me,” Jinyoung demanded, cupping your face. “I’m the only one that matters. I’m the only one here.”

You wanted desperately to wrangle your breathing back to normal. You screamed at yourself in your mind that you were overreacting, that you were spiraling out of control for no rational reason.

“Everybody, get out,” Jinyoung ordered under his breath, careful not to shout in your presence as he seethed before you.

Shuddering, you choked in an attempt to gulp in more air.

Jinyoung gripped you, gentle but secure, and ordered, “Hey, hold my arms and close your eyes. Focus on breathing.”

You winched your eyes shut and imagined waves lapping on some distant shore. Even in your mind, the place you tried to seek was dark with storm clouds, the ground quaking when thunder boomed overhead.

“That’s it. Just relax. I’m right here with you.”

His voice seemed muffled by the rushing of blood in your ears. Your skull pounded, oversaturated with survival responses.

Jinyoung watched your face, relieved to see you were settling down in response to his words. Once upon a time, he was adept at saving you from yourself. Shushing your whimpers softly, he sighed, “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe with me.”

The panic gave you one last spike of terror, a final attempt of claiming you. You hyperventilated in response, shaking at a fresh onslaught of adrenaline, but it was subdued and losing its power.

Jinyoung brushed his thumb through the tear rolling down your cheek and said, “Breathe.”

His voice echoed in your head, drowning out everything else.

“You’re doing great.”

You relaxed, breathing steadily.

Jinyoung angled his body, pressing two fingers to your wrist and seeking out your pulse. Satisfied at the speed, he ordered, “Open your eyes now.”

Your eyes cracked open slowly, tears escaping your lashes and streaming down your face. Meeting his penchant stare, you rasped, “Jinyoung?”

“Not now, sweetheart. Just focus on you,” he calmed. “We have plenty of time to talk.”

Composing yourself, you took a deep inhale and released the air. Feeling marginally better, you joked, “This day fucking blows.”

Jinyoung chortled briefly. “I know.”

Letting your hands slide from his arms, you began, “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I got carried away.”

Jinyoung fervently shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”

Both of you got to your feet, the room thick with tension of a different kind. A smile forced its way to your lips as you had caught a glimpse of the old Jinyoung - the boy who loved you more than himself and never failed to drive away your nightmares.

Calling his name, you reached out for him and stammered, “Can we… just stop being angry with each other?”

Jinyoung exhaled, morose. Giving your hand a squeeze before letting go, he explained, “You’re angry with me. I’m angry with you. Time will fix that.”

You watched him escape into his adjacent bedroom and you followed without any doubts.

For minutes that passed much too quickly, you had been safe and sound in Jinyoung’s arms. Even now, every aspect of his body language was open and inviting. If you wanted to rush back into his embrace, you had no doubt you would be welcome to do so.

Noticing you had shadowed him into the bedroom, Jinyoung studied you and asked, “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a nod. “I promise.”

“Alright, then,” he replied, turning to leave. Your presence was suffocating him. He had too many desires toward you at the moment and he didn’t want to act on them yet. This was a slow burn - a power play he had to win in the end.

You sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at your hands and relieved to see they were no longer shaking. Rubbing your fingers together, you watched Jinyoung pilfer his pocket for a cell phone, dialing a number.

“Stay here and take it easy. I’m going to send everyone home,” he told you passively, striding out of the room before you could answer.

You nodded your understanding and listened to his footsteps fade away. Resisting a smile, you glanced around the room and mulled over the silly boy you loved. He was already trying to repair his harsh exterior, forcing any buffer he could to keep you from seeing he was still the soft, kind Jinyoung you knew.

Your overwhelming desire at the moment was to kiss him - to press your lips to every inch of his face and neck until he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you with the fire and passion you knew he possessed.

A moment later, Jinyoung returned to the bedroom, relieved to see you hadn’t moved. Giving you a look over, the two of you merely studied each other, neither uttering a word. Where did you both stand in this relationship now?

Jinyoung could see the affection in your eyes. He had soothed your fear and rage in one moment of tenderness and vulnerability. He wanted nothing more than to hold you, to cradle you in his arms and let you fall asleep under his watchful gaze. For the past four years, he had been denied your warmth, parted from the feeling of your skin against his. Meanwhile, his heart - which he had started to believe was long gone - ached in his chest, twisting with need at the sight of you before him.

When Jinyoung shifted his weight, you knew he was a split-second away from finding a reason to crash on the couch; to put some distance between the two of you in order to hold on to his need to punish you. Longing to keep him close, you called, “Can I ask you for something?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, eyebrows raised with curiosity.

Your eyes were alight with hope as you posed the request, “Let me sleep in here tonight.”

And there it was. Mulling through indecision, Jinyoung decided he could lose a battle or two if it meant he would still win the war. After what happened over the course of the day, there was no way he could deny you any longer.

Ultimately, Jinyoung shrugged, feigning indifference, and he surrendered. “Fine.”

Blushing, you quipped to ease the tension, “I won’t make any moves on you, I swear.”

“Take off your jacket,” Jinyoung countered lowly, without missing a beat.

“Okay,” you replied, slipping out of the blazer as your brow stitched. “Why?”

Jinyoung salivated at the sight of your body in the tight outfit. He wanted to bury his face in your full breasts and grab handfuls of your plump ass, but managed to keep his composure for the time being.

Judging by the emotionless look on his face, you had absolutely no idea of the dirty thoughts racing through his mind. Jinyoung was momentarily daydreaming of all the many, many times he had taken pleasure from your body and given you back more in return.

Jinyoung began rolling up his sleeves, like he had a job to do that would undoubtedly require him getting his hands dirty, and replied, “I will give you a taste of what you want.”

Confused, you weren’t entirely up to speed yet with his shift in disposition and you searched his expression for an answer. “And what is that?” you questioned innocently.

“Put your hair up.”

You cocked your head, curious.

“Put your hair in a ponytail,” Jinyoung spoke slowly, almost patronizingly, when you failed to obey and pointed at the crown of your head.

With a roll of your eyes at what he could be playing at, you did as told and pulled a tie from your wrist to restrain your hair.

Jinyoung approached you, nose-to-nose, and surprised you when he reached around your head and grabbed the ponytail in his fist. You groaned at the sharp, forceful contact and braced your hands on his chest.

“Strip,” Jinyoung ordered, nipping at your lips.

Eyes widening, you could hardly believe your ears and you complied with his demand as if it were your body’s natural reflex. Jinyoung kept a solid hold on your hair and kissed you with abandon, smiling against your mouth when he felt you trying to shuffle out of your shorts.

Jinyoung cupped your jaw as he slipped his tongue along your bottom lip, teasing you for entrance. Rather than give in, you leaned into him and shoved your tongue into his mouth, stumbling as your shorts landed around your ankles. Jinyoung chuckled at your mindless urgency and the sound registered in your chest, causing you to smile while you played with his tongue.

His hand fell from your cheek, landing on your clothed breast and palming at the mound before grabbing the hem of your shirt and yanking it to the side to expose your bra. When you heard the material rip slightly, you broke from his mouth to gasp, but in the next instant, his palm was on your waist and stroking up your bare stomach.

The heat of his touch traveled up to your head and clouded your thoughts. You could hear and feel every harsh thump of your racing pulse in your ears. Your heart was clenching in your chest, celebrating at the taste of victory. Jinyoung was touching you. He was kissing you with the fervor of someone that had never stopped loving you.

Impatient, Jinyoung released you just long enough to spin you around, facing you away from him. You called his name, heat fogging your mind even more from the rush of arousal of his rough grip on you. Jinyoung guided you to his dresser, pushing you into it with the insistence of a man starved for the feel of your body beneath his.

Your hands collided and fumbled with his as both of you made it your mission to get you out of all your clothes. When you reached behind yourself to fiddle with his zipper, Jinyoung grasped your wrist and brought it to the dresser, pinning you there.

Jinyoung was completely clothed when he pressed to your back. It was symbolic - you were naked and wholly vulnerable, but he was guarded and concealed.

Bracing yourself on the dresser, you closed your eyes and hummed with pleasure, shivering at the feel of his warm, roaming hands on your body. His palms skimmed and traced every expanse of your bare skin, touching you with the seasoned experience of a boy who once knew every inch of you intimately.

Jinyoung groaned at how soft you felt against his fingertips. You hadn’t changed at all. He could see every shaky breath you took and thrived off of the effect he had on you. Sensing you were desperate for his touch, Jinyoung kissed beneath your ear and coiled his arms around your naked waist like a noose.

“I want you to know something,” Jinyoung murmured, tonguing a path up the side of your neck while he tangled a fist in your ponytail. “But first, don’t utter a word.”

You nodded your understanding and submitted to his dominance, purring when his hand lowered between your legs.

“I’ve fucked many women since you left me,” he sneered in a low whisper. “None of them could fill the emptiness you left behind.”

A rancid taste took root in your mouth as the revelation weighed heavily on your heart. Other women had slept with your man. There were whores out there that knew how it felt to have him inside them. You clenched your jaw and checked your anger, because unadulterated rage was beginning to boil in your chest.

Smirking at the way you stiffened against him, Jinyoung teased his fingers beneath your lower lips, chuckling devilishly when he felt the dampness and warmth of your flesh. He coated his digits in your arousal, playfully teasing your entrance until your hips jerked forward involuntarily toward his hand.

Feeling you getting riled up, Jinyoung chose to growl in your ear, “I closed my eyes every time, imagining you on top of me, but I knew better. They weren’t as warm as you. They weren’t as tight as you. They didn’t make those sounds I know you make.”

You wanted to be aroused by this. You would have preferred his words to fuel your ego, but you were too busy being absolutely infuriated. The territorial streak you possessed flared and you quickly pushed on the dresser in an attempt to loosen his hold on you.

Jinyoung chuckled, releasing his grip on your hair to reaffirm his arms around your waist. “Where are you going, baby?” he teased against your neck.

Irritable, you growled, “You fucked other women?”

Jinyoung was thrilled to hear your envy and he squeezed your bare breast to annoy you some more. “Of course, I did,” he replied with a spiteful edge to his voice as he pushed his way into your entrance. “You weren’t around.”

You were momentarily distracted from being angry when his thumb rolled your clit and a tiny whimper left your lips. Jinyoung pumped his digits into your wet pussy, stroking your sweet spot with the pads of his fingers.

After a gasp at the feel of your walls stretching around his penetration, you clenched your jaw and spat, “You are the only person I have ever been with. You’re the only person I’ve ever fucking kissed, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung snickered and sighed on your shoulder, “Are you jealous, sweetheart?”

“No,” you smarted bitterly. “How could I be jealous of what’s rightfully mine?”

Thrumming at your declaration, Jinyoung grinned with pride and whispered, “Would you feel better if I told you I just used them to get myself off? I never concerned myself with pleasuring them?”

That did little to mollify you and you told him as much. “You were still inside them.”

“I didn’t come in any of them. Couldn’t risk that.” His voice dropped to a whisper when he added, “I miss coming inside this gorgeous bitch though.”

You shivered at his words, biting your lip as you remembered the times Jinyoung would say the dirtiest, nastiest shit to turn you on. Meanwhile, your memories also reminded you how it felt to push Jinyoung over the edge, to feel him losing himself on top of you. With a wiggle of your ass against his crotch and the obvious erection trapped in his pants, you whined, “I’m still mad at you.”

Jinyoung crowded your back a little more aggressively, sinking his fingers into your warmth down to the base of his knuckles. Chuckling at the way your legs quivered and you struggled to keep balance, he teased, “Well, I suggest you get over that in the next two minutes.”

Squeezing the corners of the dresser, you cried, “What do you want from me?”

“Right now, I just want you to relax,” Jinyoung crooned, stroking his free hand across your breasts and toying with your hard nipples. “I really wanna watch you come.”

“Mm,” you moaned, bidding yourself to ignore how angry he made you and focus more on his fleeting desire to pleasure you.

Jinyoung sank his teeth into the base of your neck and tongued at the crimson mark forming. Inhaling the scent of your hair, he growled, “You always looked so beautiful when you came for me.”

Listening to your pussy squelching around his fingers, you panted, “Jinyoung, I’m wet enough. Take me.”

“Who are you telling?” he chided, his fingers moving at an even faster pace. “I’m the one with a hand between your legs.”

“Jinyoung,” you moaned, desperate.

Jinyoung rolled your clit with this thumb and groaned in the back of his throat at the feel of your arousal dripping down his hand. “Tell me what you want,” he sighed.

“I want...” you stammered, releasing little noises every time his digits plunged into your core, stroking your walls good and rough.

You knew what you were about to say. You had passed beyond want and settled into need. Winching your eyes closed and sinking your teeth into your lip, you imagined how it would feel to make love to him after all these years; to feel yourself one with him again.

You craved it on a primal level, mouth watering at the mere thought.

When you failed to answer, Jinyoung seemed to read your steamy thoughts and released a shaky, aroused breath on your neck, rumbling, “Tell me.”

“You inside me,” you confessed without hesitation.

God, he wanted that. Your pussy was warm and welcoming around his fingers. He knew your cunt would clamp down on his cock in a vice grip.

His hips stuttered, smacking into your bare ass from behind in a seeking thrust. His body wanted nothing more than to go on autopilot. Feeling your naked skin and your undeniable heat pushed him to the height of his tolerance.

But Jinyoung was well in control of his priorities and pitilessly reminded, “I am inside you.”

Rolling your eyes with annoyance, you whimpered, “That’s not what I...”

With a vengeance, Jinyoung shoved his fingers deep inside your walls to match his words, “You want my cock?”

“Yes,” you cried out, moving your hips to match the speed of his hand.

Hunger gripped his voice as he continued, “You want this thick cock to fill you up?”

“Yes,” you shouted, grasping the corners of the dresser until your knuckles began to ache.

“No.”

Blinking in surprise, you exclaimed, “What?”

“I said no.”

Frustrated, you bounced your hips, driving to meet his fingers and simultaneously ensuring your ass coaxed against the bulge in his jeans. Though you weren’t clueless as far as this power struggle between you and your ex-boyfriend was concerned, you asked, “Why?”

“You know why.”

The moment those words left his mouth, Jinyoung bore down on you, wedging you underneath him with no way of escape. You howled his name and pleaded for mercy when his hand picked up speed, drilling against your sweet spot while his thumb rubbed your clit borderline viciously.

The orgasm slammed into you, consuming you - mind and body. You moaned at the top of your lungs, the sound abruptly cutting off as you shook in his arms. Your back curved against his body and you pushed at his hand frantically when the stimulation became more than you could bear.

“Oh, god,” you sobbed, fluttering limply onto the dresser and burying your face between your arms. Jinyoung was still ever so slightly sinking his fingers in and out of your heat, coaxing the aftershocks out of you while he rutted his clothed cock along your ass.

“Good girl,” he snarled almost inaudibly, fighting a grin at how hard you had climaxed from his fingers alone. You were extremely sensitive, which led him to believe this was the first orgasm you had experienced in quite a while. And he wasn’t wrong.

Jinyoung kept his body draped over yours and grabbed you by the throat. His lips were wet with saliva as he blazed a trail up the side of your neck before whispering, “I would love nothing more than to fuck the shit out of you. To stretch you open with my cock and fill you with cum like you want, but I won’t. Not until you beg me and not a moment before you admit you were wrong for leaving me the way you did.”

Tears pricked your eyes from the ministrations of his thumb rolling your engorged bundle of nerves, but were spurned even further by his words. You merely lay there with his body overtop yours, feeling the cold of the dresser against your breasts, and wishing to all the heavens he would just take you.

But more than anything, you wanted him to forgive you.

Jinyoung withdrew his hand and wiped your juices off on his jeans carelessly before opening the drawer at your side and finding a roomy shirt for you to wear.

“I’m back to being mad at you,” you hissed after finally lifting yourself from the dresser.

Jinyoung said nothing, though he gave you a stern, unaffected look before pulling the sweater over your head. You lifted your arms into the air and allowed him to dress you. Then, you shuffled to his bed.

You were disappointed but obviously not surprised when he didn’t join you. Noting an outline of the hard dick in his jeans, you watched him step toward the bathroom and considered pressing your ear to the door to listen to him relieve himself.

“By the way, I lied,” Jinyoung said as he stood in the open doorway.

Shifting under the blankets, you asked with indifference, “About what?”

Jinyoung settled his gaze on you, licking his lips at the sight of you sated and comfortable in his bed, and confessed, “I haven’t touched any women since you. I don’t have anything to give to another person. You took it all.”

Then, he closed the bathroom door behind him and left you to your solitary thoughts, missing the sight of the victorious smile that claimed your swollen lips.

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a/n : this story was previously Lacuna on my old blog, minheoney. I’m really excited to finally finish it! This fic was my baby for so long and I’m ridiculously happy to give it a new home :)

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[badger-writes]

Star Wars OC Ship Week 2021 - for light and love

uhhhh Hello! 😄

This fic and all its chapters was written for Star Wars OC Ship Week's inaugural year 2021, an event spotlighting OCxEC romances & platonic friendships helmed by @findswoman! It's also the first time I've personally ever taken part in an event week so I hope I do a good job! 😅

Whether you're a High Republic fan or you just want to see the big lizard get smooches, hope you enjoy! Leave comments and kudos if you do! Looking forward to sharing all I've written over the course of the week w/ y'all!

1 - How They Met

It all started, as these things do, in a medical bay.

Kelto Lem, a Jedi healer, had been busying himself with organizing the implements and instruments of the first aid wing in the Halls of Healing. This was light work, and peaceful, which suited him fine. Rarely, if ever, were there emergencies in the Jedi Temple of such scope and scale as to totally overwhelm the medical ward, and to the best of his recollection they had never occurred in the early morning, when dew was still settled on the trees and grasses of Monument Park. This made it an optimal time for preparing the ward for most of the day’s eventualities well ahead of schedule; this making good sense to him, he settled into this habit as a padawan and had never quite given it up. In time, it became almost a meditative practice for him - refilling stores of fresh bandages, taking stock of available pharmaceuticals and herbal remedies, refilling the kolto canisters…

And so it was in the middle of this daily routine that he was interrupted by the door sliding open. He turned to look and nearly dropped the medical scanner he was holding - for two reasons.

 The first: his guest was built like a permacrete E-Web bunker. Broad and tall, with an implied physicality that not even Jedi robes concealed, the visitor - a Trandoshan - strode into the ward with an aura of stern command, stolid orange eyes locking upon Kelto almost immediately. His emerald scales shone with a slight luster as he walked, the claws of his toes clicking against the tile floor, until he came to the edge of the biobed in the center of the room less than a foot away from the resident healer. The sheer weight of his presence made Kelto feel small by comparison - he, a shorter pale-scaled Rodian with stripes of deep blue running along his jaw and neck, who wore a satchel of first aid essentials on his hip everywhere he went and tied back his spines in a long, narrow topknot ending in a spiky pom where they escaped the hold of the strip of linen which restrained them.

The second: he was covered in scorchmarks.

“Star’s End,” Kelto said, when he could finally get his (dry, dry) mouth to work correctly. “What in the world happened to you?”

The Trandoshan rumbled, mouth pulling to one side in chagrin. It was a deep, bassy sound, and it landed straight in the pit of Kelto’s stomach. 

“A… mishap with the duelling droid,” he grunted, in the sibilant speech of his species. “I was not focused. Lost sight of my present. It seized the opportunity, as you can see,” he added, gesturing to his scorched robes.

“You were training? This early? Chee,” Kelto said, shaking his head. “And I thought my morning habits were odd - jump up on the bench, here, I’ll patch you up.”

He turned away to fetch some burn relief supplies, piling them on a tray. When he turned back, the Trandoshan had sat upon the biobed - and his tunic was resting carefully folded on the bench beside him.

“Ahghg,” he said, and everything on his tray rattled as he short-circuited.

The Trandoshan gave him an odd look. “Yes?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing. I’m fine,” Kelto stammered. “Let me just, uhhh… set this down here.”

He let the tray’s repulsorlifts catch it in midair, so that it would hover at his side. Then he took a ball of fluff and daubed it in a squat open vial of kolto, letting the excess drip off and trying not to think too much about the barrel-chested masterpiece of physicality sitting just within arm’s reach to his right.

“So, how did this happen, Master …?”

“Knight, actually,” the patient replied. “Not master - not yet, anyway. And as I said, I was training.”

“Only a Knight? ...Well, I guess if you were a Master, you wouldn’t have ended up - err, you know what, forget I said that.”

With kolto-ball and medigauze dressings in hand, Kelto turned to his patient and gave him a quick once-over. There were injuries in areas roughly corresponding to the placement of scorch marks on the surface of his clothes, but fortunately, most of them didn’t seem too severe - the robes acting as a layer of insulation against the worst of it. Quite intentionally, he started on the outside limbs, an attempt to spare himself another hot flush provoked by looking straight on at his patient’s torso. Sskeer didn’t even flinch when he touched the wet medical fluff against an abrasion on the side of his arm.

“I train on one or two levels above the normal training setting,” the Trandoshan offered, by way of explanation. “Thus, my injuries.”

“Ah,” Kelto murmured, mostly to himself. “A masochist.”

Sskeer grunted reproachfully. “The training settings are designed to hold back. There will be no such reprieve in the field. Therefore, I train the body to anticipate the presence of harm - to become numb to its threat, and then, to surpass it.”

“So you’re fine with the pain?”

“Pain can be ignored. And my people have thick hides. I endure.” 

“Well, I’m no duelist, but in my estimation you could probably stand to bump back down a few levels,” Kelto observed, winding a bandage around his forearm. “At least until you can defeat one of those saber-happy droids.”

Sskeer hrrred. The sound landed in Kelto’s gut again. “Bold words from a nurse.”

“Bold enough to be a Knight, like you.” The Rodian retorted, flashing him a smirk - and turning away immediately when the sensation of being perceived became too much. (His cheeks were so warm - was it supposed to be so hot in here?) Falling silent, he took one of Sskeer’s wide, thick-fingered hands in his own, turning it to inspect the green welt on its back.

“I did not realize you had risen to Knighthood as well,” the Trandoshan offered as Kelto dressed his injury. “If I offended, it was not by intent.”

“It’s fine. I’d rather people forget, honestly. Most people, they see a Jedi and think, ‘wow! Laser swords! Magic powers!’ - but that’s… never really where I felt comfortable.”

“You feel your place is here.”

“It’s where my talents lie, I think. I’ve sort of been drawn to the healing halls ever since I left the creche. And… well, to be honest, I like being able to help people doing this. So… I guess it’s true what they say, about the Force having a path for us all, and all that.”

Sskeer hummed. “That is good.”

“Yeah, and I remember when I was little, Master Rancisis came by the ward and said a-- I’m sorry, am I rambling? I’m rambling, aren’t I? I’ll just shut up and tend you--”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I just dropped basically my whole backstory on you--”

“It’s fine,” Sskeer said - firmly, but patiently. “Really.”

And Kelto believed him.

It’s funny, he thought suddenly, how quickly you can get comfortable with someone else. A moment ago he could barely stand to meet Sskeer’s gaze - now, though, he could look him straight in the eye without feeling like wilting. Sskeer had surprisingly deep eyes, he noticed, for how small they were. Deep and dark. Like he could dip into his pupils and fall forever --

Oh gosh, there’s a huge green mark right on his temple. How did he miss that??

Kelto dunked a fresh puffball in the healing fluid and held it up to the Trandoshan’s brow, cradling it in his long, sucker-tipped fingers. This time, when it touched his skin, Sskeer flinched and barely suppressed a hiss. On instinct, Kelto shushed him - a habit picked up from soothing much younger patients, when he got his start tending the younglings’ skinned knees and broken bones.

“This one’s not so bad, I think,” he murmurs. “Just needs a little kolto to help keep it clean. Just put some ice on it every few hours for the swelling and it’ll go away soon.”

“And this?”

“Hm?”

Sskeer gestured again to a long line of angry green flesh across his trunk.

“OH Force,” the Rodian cried, slapping a hand against his forehead. “I completely missed that somehow, thank you so much, I’m so sorry. Gods, I’ll get right on that--”

The Trandoshan surprises him with a chuckle. “Rather absentminded for a healer, aren’t you?”

“D-don’t judge!” Kelto sputters. “I’ve been distracted.”

“By what, exactly?” Sskeer asked, with a smirk.

“... J-just lie all the way down, please?”

Sskeer leaned back onto the biobed, hands resting behind his back. Now the whole of his broad, stocky abdomen lies prone under the glowlights, throwing the long diagonal burn across his trunk into stark, unmistakable relief.

“Why is this one so much worse,” Kelto wonders aloud.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘worse’. As I said, I endure.”

“I’m sorry, this doesn’t look like a giant, stinging saber-welt to you?” Kelto peered closer at the mark, hesitantly plying the flesh of the Trandoshan’s belly under his fingers. “...Actually, wait. This is almost a first degree burn. What kind of training saber makes marks like these?”

Now it was Sskeer’s turn to fall quiet and avoid eye contact.

“...You… did something pretty dumb, didn’t you.”

“...When my performance against the droids began to suffer, I… disabled some of the limiters on the droids,” Sskeer growled, at length.

“Y-you did WHAT?”

“I thought it would motivate me to improve,” he shrugged.

“So when I called you a masochist earlier and you didn’t really deny it--”

This time, Sskeer almost snarled. “It’s no crime to seek out a proper challenge.”

“Oh, and if every adrenaline junkie Padawan jumped off the High Council Tower, you would too?”

“Will you just stop arguing and fix this?”

“I--” Kelto groaned. “Okay, whatever, big guy. Just - just hang on.”

He arranged his hands on either side of Sskeer’s wound - one above on his chest, one below on his stomach. Then he sucked in a deep breath through his snout and released it slowly, letting his eyes fall shut as he exhaled. 

He was panicking, he knew. Overcorrecting. There was no reason to take things this far when he was literally standing in a room filled with other, more practical solutions - and certainly not over something so silly as a shouting match with a Knight he barely knew. But by now, good sense and training had momentarily fled him. 

Here, in this moment, Kelto sank into the Force and let himself be guided by the simple instinct to help.

He took another slow breath in, and out, and began to concentrate.

And then…

Sskeer sensed it before he saw it. He craned his neck over his chest to see - and rose up on his elbows, watching intensely.

With preternatural speed, the hideous burn across his torso lightened, shrank - and then vanished. In its place only unblemished scales remained.

Like he’d never even been touched.

Kelto let out one final, explosive breath - and almost collapsed. Sskeer jolted to his feet and grabbed his arms, cradled his back in one arm, steadying him on his feet until he could recover.

“Nice catch,” Kelto panted, when he’d finally recovered.

Sskeer was looking at him differently, the Rodian noticed through the blur of lightheadedness. Looking with him with something like awe.

“That was… quite a feat,” the Trandoshan noted. “It seems you were correct to follow the path of the healers.” 

“Y-yes, well,” Kelto murmured sleepily, “we all have our own special talents.” 

His eyes trailed back to Sskeer’s chest, fingertips idly following their gaze down his trunk. They tickled, just slightly; Sskeer registered an unexpected, but not wholly unpleasant shiver down his spine.

“Think we’re all done now,” the Rodian mumbled. Then his big, sea-blue eyes blinked - slowly, then rapidly, like a Wookiee propeller-engine starting up - and he realized his hand was just shy of cupping one of Sskeer’s pecs.

“UM,” he said loudly, jumping away. “YEAH, so, all done. Clean bill of health. You should be completely fine within the next day or so, and then you can go get your butt handed to you by the training droids again, right? Yup, glad to help, have a nice day, May the Force Be With You and all that jizz, ahaha~”

The Rodian became a flurry of hyperactivity around the ward, re-stocking and re-checking shelves and cabinets for reasons Sskeer could not divine. To appear busy, he supposed - and discourage his continued presence.

It was, he decided, reather endearing. 

Sskeer let the flustered healer flail a moment more before saying, “I don’t think you ever shared your name.”

When he looked over his shoulder, Kelto’s face looked as bright as a Life Day orb - only much, much greener. “Huh?”

“Force healing is no small feat,” the Trandoshan observed, slipping his tunic and tabard back over his shoulders. “To have seen it performed is a privilege; for something as small as my own self-inflicted injury, and after my own stubbornness - an honor. 

“I’d prefer to thank you for it properly, and to apologize. But for that, I must ask your name.”

The Rodian stared. Then coughed, turning to lean back against the counter before him. “Uh, well… That’s … kind of you, but I - you know, we’re Jedi and all. W-we don’t really serve for gratitude’s sake.”

“For the sake of a fellow Jedi, then, and a friend?” 

“…Friend?”

A bemused head tilt. “Are we not?”

“W-well, that’s moving a bit quickly, isn’t it? I mean - we don’t even know each other’s names.”

Sskeer stared.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m not dumb, I swear, I’m just -- panicking.”

The Trandoshan gave him a funny look. (It was kinda cute, Kelto noticed, when his nose scrunched up like that.) 

Just spit it out. Spit it out. Spit it out. You’re blowing it. Just spit it out spititout spititout---

“My name’s Kolto,” he said -- and groaned.

“Your name,” Sskeer echoed, “is...‘Kolto’?”

“Noooo, no, not ‘Kolto’ - Kelto! Kelto! My name is Kelto. Kelto Lem. I just - I’m just called ‘Kolto’. By - certain people.”

“Because… you work with kolto?” he ventured. “Or because it happens to sound similar?”

Kelto sulked, crossing his arms. “Because Torban Buck thinks he’s funny.” 

Understanding dawned. “Ah. Yes, he certainly does.”

“Mmmmgh. Well, now that I’ve botched my own introduction, I guess you know me. So you can leave me to my shame, now, I guess.” Kelto returned to the business of managing the ward - opening and closing cabinet doors slightly harder, this time.

A wide, three-fingered hand landed on his narrow shoulder, making him jump.

“Thank you, Kelto Lem,” Sskeer said. “Truly, you’re a credit to the Order.”

His voice was deep and warm. Kelto swore he could feel his breath tickling his ear.

“A-anytime,” he replied, spine locking ramrod straight.

He senses Sskeer’s presence pass by behind him, and imagines it’s what little Rodian swamp-fish feel like when big surface trawlers pass by, and catch them in their wake. “And perhaps when I continue my training,” Sskeer added, “I will remember to return here, for my wounds to be dressed.”

“Orrr you could crush those droids and never need to come back here again!” Kelto shakily returned.

“I’m sure I could, at that,” Sskeer chuckled. And the door slides shut behind him.

The moment Kelto was certain he was alone, he took a little paper cup and pours himself a drink of cool sinkwater. It takes gulping down two full cupfuls before he cools down, sinking heavily on his elbows against the counter.

“‘Kolto’,” he muttered, scoffing. “God damn it.”

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter One - With Her Blessing

“Good morning, Mrs. Lee. Time to wake up.”

Gentle hands brushed the hair off my face. I turned towards the sound of that low, sleepy voice, the warmth of his body becoming even more present in my skin. I squinted, trying to filter his silhouette from the intense Parisian sun.

“Are you with me?” He chuckled. “Or still halfway in dreamland?”

We had left Loveland at midnight the previous day, right after the reception, arriving in Paris at five am. Neither of us liked to sleep in the plane, and we were way too excited to get some restful sleep, so we spent our time watching movies and taking a siesta or two, but did nothing that actually gave us the rest we needed after our wedding day. We crashed the moment we found ourselves comfortable in bed, but not before we agreed we wouldn’t sleep more than three or four hours, so we could adjust to the local time and avoid the inevitable jetlag as much as possible.

“I need more sleep.” I buried my face in his chest, taking a deep breath. Victor was just so soft and warm, and he smelled so good. I wanted to drown in him.

“I know you do.” He caressed my curls. “But if I let you sleep now, you won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

With the wisdom of a long-time partner, he gave me a few minutes to get acquainted with the idea of getting up. I knew he was watching me closely, amused at how sleepy I was. Even though I couldn’t see it, I could feel his smile.

“I think I need a kiss.” I looked up, grinning at him sleepily.

“To wake the Sleeping Beauty?” He smiled back. “Fear not, beautiful princess, a kiss is on the way.”

The kiss proved to be quite magical, as not much later I was walking the streets of Paris with him, hand in hand, with the sun as our guide and the Eiffel Tower as our backdrop. Victor had insisted that we spent the first two days of our honeymoon in Paris, since our first moments as a couple had been there. We had written our vows but saved them to read in our first night together as a married couple, and decided it was only fitting that we did so in the same spot we had first kissed.

We were crossing Ponts des Arts, chatting happily, enjoying the scenery, when he paused, lost in thought. He stared at the bridge’s rail, which was covered in painted steel sheets with pictures of cartoony locks with hearts.

“This bridge was filled with locks before, did you know that?” He commented, his grey eyes turning to the blue of the river. “Couples would leave the locks as proof of their love, and throw the key in the river. They took them out a few years ago because it compromised safety. I left one myself once. Right here, in this spot.”

I almost made a joke about Victor having a french girlfriend, but knowing my husband, there was more to the story. I stood silent by his side, listening closely, while he continued his monologue, eyes never leaving the water.

“When my mother died, I didn’t get to see her. My father had her cremated, so when I came from boarding school for the funeral, all I found was her ashes, which we scattered on the Seine. Not being able to say goodbye…” He paused, unable to continue, although he didn’t need to. I understood quickly what we were doing in Paris. I came behind him and held him, my face nestled against his back. He pulled me to his front, holding me gently between himself and the rail, both of us facing the water.

I remembered the fight he had with his father when we first visited his aunt, how he resented him for keeping him from seeing his mother one last time, even when dead. This unfinished business, along with her prolonged absence in her final years, were things that weighed heavily in Victor and wouldn’t let him move on. When a loved one dies, we tend to cling to the tiniest things: the last look, the last words, the last touch. Victor had none of that. He had absolutely no idea of how his mother was feeling in her last days, what were her thoughts, or if those thoughts included him. The pain of not knowing could be worse than the pain of losing, and I think part of him always wondered.

Right in that moment, with me, watching his mother’s watery grave, Victor was trying to emulate an introduction. I had no doubt in my mind he had missed her dearly on our wedding day, that his heart ached to have her there to give him away, to dote on him, like a good mother would. Not that he would voice those things to me; he was very introverted when it came to his feelings. But I knew my husband, and I loved him, so I would do everything to ease his burden. Perhaps living a fantasy could aid closure.

“I don’t think your mother would’ve liked me at first.” I turned to him with a confident look in my eyes.

“Nonsense.” He shook his head. “She would’ve loved you.”

“She wouldn’t. Not at first.” I insisted. “Mothers tend to think no woman is good enough for their boys. It took months for my mother to get used to Cristina. I bet your mother would have been no different.”

“What would you do, if that was the case?” Victor smiled, intrigued.

“I wouldn’t be able to do much, but your mother sounds like a smart woman. She would eventually see I do love you.” I lovingly rubbed massaged his bicep. “She would maybe observe a tender touch, or a kind gesture, or maybe the way we look at each other, and she would know we love each other. She would be happy for us.”

Victor smiled at me as he played with one of my curls. I was sure that, at that moment, he was picturing it in his mind.

“But most important of all, she would look at you, at the man you have become, and she would be incredibly proud.” I took his face in my hands, making his eyes focus on mine. “Not because you are a successful businessman, I don’t think a mother really cares about that. She would be happy to see she raised a good person, with honor and principles, and a kind, altruistic heart. I think she would like me the moment she knew I see all those things in you as well.”

Victor was speechless, but his misty eyes spoke volumes. They contained a shred of disbelief, because deep down he didn’t think of himself that way, along with sorrow, loss, but also gratitude and love.

“Why don’t we buy some roses from that lady?” I looked at the lady with the wooden cart at the corner of the street next to the bridge, selling bouquets of roses to the couples that passed by.

“I’ll be right back.” He squeezed my shoulder before he left.

I looked at those waters mirroring the city that lined them. I tried to imagine what kind of woman she had been. She was perfect in her son’s eyes, and despite the fact that I would never express this to Victor, I couldn’t help but see the part of her that was flawed. I couldn’t imagine what could lead a woman to go to a foreign country and leave her son behind. But then again, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be married to Gregory Lee. In my mind, it was a possibility that she had to flee the country to leave an overbearing husband.

“It’s not like I judge you, I don’t.” I whispered to the waters, wondering if they would listen. “But you caused him a great deal of pain with your absence. It hurts him till this very day.” I couldn’t help the tear that fell, his pain weighed on me too. “You must have done something right, though, because he is truly one of a kind. He’s honorable, loving, kind and so strong. I promise I will take care of him, doing my best to heal his wounds, like he healed mine. I will make him happy, love him the way he deserves, every single day of my life.”

I stood there, watching the waters, when a red rose came into my line of vision. Victor smiled as he gently stroked my cheeks with soft red petals. I took it from his hand.

“When we visit someone, we bring flowers.” I paused for a moment, then threw the rose into the river. Victor’s eyes widened with surprise, but soon he followed my lead, slowly throwing the rest of the bouquet he was holding, one rose at a time, until the waters were dotted with deep red blossoms.

He came behind me as we watched the roses float downstream, tenderly holding my shoulders and his lips rested on top of my head. I could only hear his breathing, but I knew what he was doing. He was asking for a blessing. After a moment, he turned me in his arms, a broad smile on his face.

“Come. Let’s enjoy the city.” He took my hand, leading me away from the bridge.

After a short walk around the city and a yummy lunch at a café, we decided to head back to the hotel and take a nap, the fatigue of the trip falling heavy on us. We emerged hours later from our sleepy cocoon, to have dinner at the restaurant Jules Verne, just like on our first date.

As soon as the car parked in the very same corner it had parked over a year ago, Victor quickly left and came to open the door for me, taking my hand to let me out. And just like then, he smiled and offered me his arm.

“Shall we?” He smiled, seeing the humor in replicating our first date.

Apparently, Victor could replay every detail of our date in his mind, because our table was the exact one as before. And despite knowing Victor couldn’t possibly affect that, it was uncanny how the moon was large in the sky, just like before, bathing our table with a beautiful silver light.

“I had completely forgotten how beautiful the view is here.” I said, looking at the Parisian skyline, blessed by that beautiful moonlight.

“Still breathtaking.” I heard him answer. Just like in our first date, he was staring at me, a knowing smile on his face. And it finally dawned on me that his compliment was directed at me, and not at the view. Only this time, I have to admit I was less elegant, giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Oh, stop it.” I blushed. “We’re already married, you don’t have to woo me.”

“Never.” He took my left hand, admiring my wedding ring, with that big blue stone fitted in. “I will always tell you how beautiful you are. Every single day, for the rest of our lives.”

I caressed his fingers, unsure of what to say. I let my mind wander as I gazed into his honest eyes, remembering the cold and aloof CEO I had faced one day, calling him a bully. The man I had loved secretly for months, constantly scolding myself for it because it felt impossible to be loved back, and here he was, smiling at me, holding my hand like I was a precious gift in his life.

Seemingly lost in thought, Victor chuckled.

“What? What’s so funny?” I pretended to be annoyed.

“Remember when I took you to Solace for dinner?” He smiled mischievously at me.

“I do…” He started to chuckle again, and I felt myself blush again. “What? What did I do that was so funny?”

“You asked me to introduce you to my one and only, the one that met my very high standards. So, how do you like her?” He sipped his wine, clearly amused.

“God, I was so jealous.” I admitted. “You kept talking about this other girl, and how you had to be super subtle with her, because she couldn’t take a hint, and… Oh.” I have to admit life moved too fast for me to ponder on previous events, and I never really stopped to realize that he was talking about me. Victor let out a hearty laugh.

“Finally! You know, I remember thinking back then that, incredibly smart as you can be, you were also very oblivious.”

“I just didn’t want to assume.” I defended myself. “You were my boss, I couldn’t just throw myself at your arms!”

“I just remembered another one.” Victor was excited, pointing out my silly moments was a hobby of his. “Remember when you gave me that speech about the coffee? That girls don’t need big gestures, sometimes coffee is all it takes?”

“I remember you were a jerk about it.” I teased back. “And I stand by my case.”

“I’m so glad you do.” Victor chuckled again, clearly with an ace up his sleeve. “I’ll remind you that when you declared that, I just had offered you coffee. And after that, every chance I could, I would offer you a cup. You never noticed.”

I took some time reviewing all the times he brought me coffee, and indeed they were a lot of them.

“Oh my. You are absolutely right.” I chuckled, a bit embarrassed. “But in my defense, I didn’t let myself believe there was something there.”

“There was a time I just assumed you were noticing all my advances and were refusing them politely. And then you had that neighbor of yours… Leonard.” Victor teased again.

“His name is Levi and you know it.” I pretended to be annoyed.

“No, I’m sure it was Lucas.” He played along. “Lucy?”

Our night continued with loving banter and laughter, as we enjoyed each other’s company. We were more than a couple in love. We were companions, best friends, confidants. Victor trusted me enough to let all his walls down and allow me to see the playful, loving side of him. And I trusted him enough to let myself love again and be vulnerable, despite my very painful previous experience.

Like our first time there, we just sat there, enjoying our wine, until the restaurant was almost empty. Just like before, we sent away the car and chose to walk to the hotel, only this time he had a steady hand on my back, as I leaned my head against his shoulder.

“This is it.” He stopped, turning to face me.

“Are you sure?” I frowned, looking around. “I mean, we are close, but I don’t remember a tree being here.”

“Well, that’s because you were all flustered, thinking I had rejected you.” Victor smiled at me, holding me by my elbows, his forehead leaning against mine. “You wouldn’t even look at me, remember?”

The sweetness in his voice as he remembered the details of our first kiss made me sigh in contentment.

“Ok.” I said, regaining some composure. “Who goes first?”

“Ladies first.” He offered. “Unless you don’t feel ready.”

“I’m more than ready.” I looked behind me, trying to see what Victor was seeing. The moon was high and large in the sky, and the Eiffel Tower was tall and bright behind me, illuminating everything around it. I couldn’t see myself, but I hoped he could see in my eyes what I was feeling, how much he meant to me. I took his left hand with mine, looking at both our wedding rings.

“The first time we stood here, I was a broken woman.” I could feel my throat start to tighten, just with these words. “Although I acted tough, I was scared; life scared me. I was afraid that I couldn’t get myself back up again, afraid of being a failure, of being not good enough. I was afraid that I was so insignificant that happiness wouldn’t look my way a second time.” My voice faltered for a moment, and Victor’s hand gently squeezed mine, giving me the strength I needed to continue. Like always. “Then we met, and I don’t know who I should thank for my luck, but you noticed me. You saw something in me that I had long forgotten about, you saw what I could be. And slowly and steadily, like finding a bird with a broken wing, you nursed me back to health. You made me believe in myself, you supported me every step of my way, even when we were apart. And unlike my previous experience, you showed me I didn’t belong in a cage. You threw me into the wind with a loving, guiding hand, and you cheered for me when I flew high, hoping I would return, but never asking me to. Everything you did for me was loving and selfless, because despite that cold exterior, underneath there is a huge heart capable of so much love. And capable of making me feel that much love in return.”

There was an overwhelming energy between us, invisible though very palpable, making us both let out ragged breaths. He watched me silently as I took another deep breath before I spoke again.

“I am so very grateful for you, Victor; words can’t possibly describe how much you mean to me. You made me a better woman, you gave me a taste for life again; you gave me the happiness I feared I would never feel again, tenfold. It is my solemn promise to give that same happiness to you, honor the remarkable man you are, be always by your side. No matter how high you send me to fly, I will always return to your arms, because they are my safe haven. And in mine, you’ll find your home too. I love you, Victor, and I always will.”

I looked him in the eyes, only to find them shiny with emotion. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“I should’ve gone first.” He croaked, clearing his throat after. We both laughed at his predicament, unable to say much. “Alright. My turn.”

He took a step forward, bringing our bodies together, our foreheads touching, a gesture of companionship.

“I could tell you about the night I took you to that ball in Creekwood, foolishly trying to dazzle you with opulence and luxury. I could tell you about how it took you less than ten seconds to admire it all, and then your eyes were on me, and only me. You were genuinely interested in getting to know me, and you answered every question I presented without limitations, truly available, trusting, confident. I could talk about how much it amazed me how someone with no apparent place of power in this world could be so powerful and still look at me in such an honest, interested way. All my life, people have looked at me and only seen the CEO, the cold and unapproachable man, as cutthroat as the industry he works in. But you were the first to look at me and see who I really was, without any judgment, only love and acceptance. For the first time, it felt safe to be who I truly am. I could tell you all of these things, and all of them would be true. But that’s not how I came to love you.”

Taking my left hand, he kissed my wedding ring. I watched him with wide eyes, bracing myself for what he had yet to reveal.

“The truth is that my heart skipped a beat the moment I saw your picture in your resume. I fooled myself into thinking that doing a background check was a way to protect my interests, but the truth is, I needed to know more about you. The reason for my tardiness at your interview was because I spent some time debating if I should go in or not. I was inexplicably nervous. And the reason why I knew where you lived that day I took you home is because I had been there before. I couldn’t help myself. I needed to make sure you were safe, living in a good neighborhood.”

My eyes filled with tears, as the emotion got the best of me. Since the very beginning, Victor had been my guardian angel, watching over me. I wondered what I had done in another lifetime to deserve such devotion.

“From the very first second, I had made my choice, even if I didn’t realize it or wouldn’t accept it at first: you were the one I would give myself entirely to. Even if my head was just getting to know you, it was like my heart already knew you well. It recognized you, and that was stronger than anything I had ever felt. You showed me I could love much more than I deemed possible, Andrea, and for that, I promise you: I will give my life to you, to your dreams, to your aspirations, and give it literally, if need be, to keep you safe. You are my whole life, and in my arms you’ll always find home. I love you, minha luz , and I always will.”

Just like our first day, he kissed me sweetly, allowing the passion to grow in both of us, until we were both lost in each other’s arms. This was the first day of the rest of our lives, sealed with a commitment that had started a long ago. We had helped each other to grow stronger, but from now on, we would grow together. That promise was made in our favorite place, sealed with a kiss, and with the moon as our witness.

[frozenprocedural]

TDOE... multi days?

So I’ve missed a few. But I wanted to get this up for @patricia-von-arundel‘s birthday at least (creator of Alarik, Jenny, Dag and Neta). Happy Birthday- I know it’s not Fire Emblem, but I hope it’ll work! This one’s pretty Jenny-centric. Set in my Beowulf!verse.

Rating: K

Celebration

Jenny woke early to the watery grey light of false dawn, blinking until she remembered why she was so excited to be awake. 

It was Jul.

Jul, which meant it was time for the Northuldra- those that were able- to make the short trip to the big lake to meet the Arendellians for a week- long celebration full of feasts, trading, games and more. 

She leapt up from her bed, grabbing the nearest set of clothes she could find and hurriedly pulling off her nightgown. Once dressed, she bolted down the loft ladder and to where her parents slept, leaping onto the big bed.

"Mama! Papa! It's Jul! It's Juuuul!"

"Your daughter is awake." She heard Papa murmur. 

"Hmmmmm. Before dawn, she's your daughter." Mama muttered back. 

Papa sighed and sat up, causing Jenny to cackle when she saw his hair sticking out all over in crazy directions. He smiled and reached out, pulling her into her arms.

"Good morning, Eldig, and happy Jul. Let's try to be a little quieter, and let your brother sleep." 

Jenny glanced at the bassinet where Dag was, at the moment, still sleeping, and made a face. "He's still asleep. He's always asleep. It's boring."

"Babies need a lot of sleep, little one. Even you did." Mama was sitting up now as well, her hair a cloudy tangle. She opened her arms for a hug, and Jenny crawled in. She wasn't sure she quite agreed with what Mama said about her sleeping, but she decided to let it go. 

She still remembered Mama being hidden behind the walls of the medical tent, Aunt Ráfi and Papa, heads bowed together, Papa’s face tight with worry. He’d always smile when he’d see Jenny, but she knew he was worried. And even with two months having passed since Mama’s return to their cabin, everyone’s attention seemed to always be on Dag- especially Mama’s. 

Jenny missed her.

“Mama?” Jenny looked up, noticing the dark marks under her mother’s eyes. She snuggled closer, hoping the answer would be good. “Are you coming?”

Mama sucked in a breath and looked away. From the corner of her eye, she saw Papa tense up. 

“I don’t thi… I don’t know yet, Jenny. We’ll have to see.”

Jenny sighed, biting her lip. She knew Mama, and Dag, hadn’t been feeling well for a while, but Jenny had so hoped she could join them for the Jul celebration. Still, she knew arguing would do nothing, so she settled for hugging Mama tight and whispering “I hope so, Mama. Even if you bring Dag.”

That got a chuckle from both Mama and Papa. Papa scooped her up.

“Let’s let Mama and Dag rest for a bit. You and I can make up breakfast. How do blackberries and cream sound? Uncle Ryder brought us some dried ones yesterday.”

Jenny perked up, leaping off the bed and bounding into the small kitchen. She didn’t notice the sad, soft look her father gave her mother before rising to follow her.

………..

After breakfast, Papa took Jenny out to the village where final preparations were being made for travel. Almost immediately she spotted Aunt Honeymaren and Aunt Ráfi directing the flurry of activity. But where was-

"Jenny!"

Jenny squealed with delight as their daughter- Margú- slammed into her, the two of them immediately rolling around on the ground. Papa chuckled and pulled them both to their feet, dusting them off.

"Alright you two. I have a few things left to do, but it looks like we will be heading out within the hour. Jenny, I'll call you when it's time to leave. Make sure you're watching where you go, alright? There's a lot happening today."

Jenny and Margú nodded before taking off to find the other children, all of whom shared their excitement for the big day. 

When Papa finally called her back, Jenny was hoping she might see Nøkk standing by their cabin, ready to carry Mama to the front of the line. To her disappointment, she only saw Papa hitching Beowulf and her daughter Margú to the sleigh. After saying goodbye to the human Margú, Jenny went up to the sleigh, unable to hide her sadness. 

Just as she approached, there was a movement inside the doorway, and Mama appeared, carrying a heavily-bundled Dag in the baby sling. When Papa saw the two of them, he grinned and walked over, taking Mama's hand.

Jenny was surprised to see that Mama looked almost… scared. 

But then her mother took a deep breath, straightened, and strode over to the stream running next to their cabin. The water’s surface rippled then churned, and Nøkk rose with a whinny, shaking their mane and nuzzling Mama as she chuckled and rubbed their muzzle, sending a wave of ice over their body.

“Well, little one, what do you think? Should we go see your Aunt and Uncle?"

Jenny rushed over, giggling when Nøkk lipped at her hair. She waited for them to kneel, as they usually would before she and Mama mounted. However, ropes of ice wound about the spirit's body to form a harness, and Jenny followed it to see a sledge forming behind them. She looked at Mama, who gave her an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry, little one, but I won't be able to ride Nøkk this year. Will you still sit with me?"

Jenny grinned. It didn't matter that they wouldn't be riding Nøkk. It didn't even matter that Dag would be with her. 

She would be with Mama. 

Papa laid down furs in the sledge, and Jenny snuggled up to Mama's side with a happy sigh. Mama kissed the top of her head before turning to address the group of Northuldra behind them.

"Let us go to the celebration!"

The Northuldra cheered, and Nøkk started off with a quick trot. 

………… 

Through the forest they travelled, the peaks of the high mountains peeking above the treetops. Jenny leaned against the edge of the sledge, taking in the scenery. Even though she lived in the forest, Jenny never grew tired of it. It was an ever-changing landscape, never dull. Even though Neta lived in a big castle, Jenny knew she lived in the most amazing place ever. 

Soon enough, a break in the trees appeared, bringing into sight the broad expanse of the big lake. 

The lake and surrounding shoreline were swathed in lanterns and dotted with bonfires. As soon as the Northuldra party came into view, a cheer rose from the Arendellians. Jenny saw several figures break away from the main group.

"There they are, Mama! There they are!"

Mama's face was lit up with joy, and Nøkk responded, moving from an easy trot to a rolling canter, snorting and shaking their head. Jenny leaned forward, whooping with joy.

Within a minute, the two parties came together. Aunt Anna leapt off her horse and ran to Mama, barely giving her time to stand before throwing her arms around her, careful to avoid Dag. 

Jenny found herself similarly embraced seconds later. She yelped, then grinned. 

"Neta!" Her cousin spun her around before setting her back down. 

"Good to see you again, Jenny."

“You too, Neta!”

“There’s the little firecracker!” Aunt Anna had her now, and Jenny eagerly returned the hug. Uncle Kristoff was right behind her, looking uncomfortable in his fancy clothes- Jenny knew he would change as soon as he could. He swept her up in the air and she shrieked with joy- even Papa wasn’t as tall as Uncle Kristoff.

By then, the Papa and the Northuldra had caught up to them, while the rest of the Arendellians gathered behind Aunt Anna’s guard. Papa greeted the rest of the family, then Aunt Anna took Mama’s hand and grinned.

“Should we start? Officially, I mean?”

Mama returned her smile and nodded. They turned to the assembled groups, their voices raised high.

“Let the celebration begin! God Jul!”

[sinner-as-saint]

Home With You

Mob! Seb AU

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7

 Part 8.

 Run-through: After having gone through hell, the mob boss finally finds his solace.

 Themes: angst, fluff, mentions of death, smut, mentions of violence, gore scenes and death

 ALL TAG LISTS ARE OPEN. 

A/N: Here we go, one last time…

  He was numb, and regretted with all his heart that he wasn’t here when you woke up. 

 Sebastian didn’t know how to react to the fact that you sat on the bed, surrounded by doctors, with a faint smile on your face as they filled you in with what happened to you and your recovery from here on.

 He felt every emotion at the same time, like a giant wave crashing down upon him. He was relieved, yet scared. He felt as though the entire world around him had come to a halt, and the only thing he could focus on was the little nod you gave the doctors as they congratulated you on waking up and fighting through it all.

They were saying something along the lines of it being a miracle and Sebastian could barely hear them.

Within a few seconds, you spotted him by the door, and your smile magnified. The doctors turned to him as well, and they had reassuring smiles on their faces.

There were three of them, two of who walked out as soon as he walked in. The one who stayed, along with the nurse, was checking the monitors and writing down stuff.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. One second he was by the door, and the next he was approaching you; cautiously.

He was afraid that this was another one of his torturous dreams, and that he would wake up and find that you were still lying on the bed – unmoving.

Only, it wasn’t.

 You extended your weak arm towards him and he reluctantly took it. Once he held your hand, he could no longer stop the tears.

They flowed uncontrollably and silently down his face.

 He tightened his grip around your knuckles, as if testing if you were real or just a fragment of his imagination.

And he soon found out that you were very real.

 He stared at your face, and your bright smile and he couldn’t believe his eyes. After so many days, you had finally woken up. You were here, with him. You didn’t leave him like everyone said you most likely would.

Without saying a word, he sat on the edge of the bed. Just like he normally would, the only difference was that now; you were awake.

 He watched how your other hand, which still had the IV attached to it, reached out and gently wiped away his tears.

Your hand wasn’t cold anymore. And he leaned into your touch and thanked God quietly as he felt the warmth of your hand against his face.

You gently cradled his face in your hand as you inched closer to him.

 “You badly need a trim,” you whispered, chuckling faintly as you ran your fingers through his now long hair. Despite your head still being a little foggy, you could tell that he hadn’t been taking care of himself.

 He closed his eyes and allowed his tears to fall. The mob boss didn’t care who saw him crying, you were back now, and that’s all he cared about.

 He sniffled and brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles and thanking God countless times.

 “You were gone for three weeks, and that’s the first thing you tell me when you wake up?” he asked, fresh tears forming along his water line.

His eyes were red, caused by the many sleepless nights he had spent alongside you – worrying about your well-being.

His ocean blue eyes looked into yours, and all your pain was forgotten.

 You leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, his beard tickled your skin as you did. He sighed and closed his eyes again.

“There’s so much I need to tell you. So much happened, while you weren’t here, and I-,”

You cut him off.

 “I was here, Seb. I heard you, every day. I heard everything you told me. About Chris, and Connor and… Liana. I know you got me flowers all the time, and told me that I was rude and that I should at least say ‘thank you’. I’m sorry, I couldn’t say it then, but I really liked it. I’m sure the flowers were pretty,”

He chuckled while you spoke, softly.

 “I heard you as you complained about your work, and I even heard you snoring at night. I heard everything, Seb. I- I just couldn’t find my way back to you. I wanna go home now, with you,” you placed your head on his broad shoulder and he inched closer to circle his arms around you carefully.

You spoke slower than usual.

His ran his hand up and down your back lazily.

 “Don’t ever leave me again, promise me,” he asked, kissing the top of your head.

 “I won’t. I promise,” you whispered in the crook of his neck. The warmth of your breath ignited a spark inside him, and he was happier than ever.

 When he felt you tightening your grip around his torso, his world suddenly seemed brighter. He felt as though he had been trapped in a dark room all this time, and now, out of nowhere someone flipped the switch and granted him the light he needed, and craved so much.

With you awake, responsive and so alive in his arms; the mob boss felt stronger. He felt complete. You were here now, everything made much more sense.

 ---

 The doctors suggested that you spend a couple more days, under observation, at the hospital. You were weak, and your body was stiff and you needed to get over the shock before they could allow you to go home.

For the following 3-4 days, Sebastian was the happiest he had ever been. His girl was back, and he gets to bring her home after so many days.

 He had people clean the house, made sure everything was in order. He indeed got the trim he so badly needed, then proceeded to come and show you his new hair. It was still longer than before, but it suited him. A lot actually.

You laughed and asked him to do a spin and show it off better. He, very grumpily, did. And made you swear not to ever mention it again, to anyone – not even Chris.

  ---

 By the third day, you were feeling much better. Sebastian helped you walk around; to get you used to moving your limbs which had been resting still for so many days.

And he was extremely not cooperative when the nurses told him that he wasn’t allowed to be in room while they gave you a sponge bath.

You had to suppress your laughter while you watched a grown man in a dark suit argue with two middle aged woman about how he should be allowed to make sure ‘everything was okay’ and how he should not have to leave the room because you were girlfriend.

 After he reluctantly left, the women told you that you were very lucky that he loved you that much. You smiled and told them you were very grateful for having him in your life.  

After all, he was all you had. He was your everything too.

 ---

Sebastian was ecstatic when the doctors finally told him that he could bring you home. You had never seen that big of a smile on his face before.

The doctors told him it would take some time for you to figure everything out, and get back to how things initially were.

He understood, and promised that he would take things slow.

  In the ride back home, he would stop asking if you were fine, comfortable or if you needed anything. It felt like he was dealing with a child.

 “I’m okay, babe, don’t worry,” you reassured him and watched how his ears got red, and so did the apples of his cheeks.

His entire face flushed.

 You chuckled, holding his hand firmly as it was lazily placed on your lap.

 “I just- I want to make sure everything’s alright. With you, with us,” he spoke and brought your intertwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of your hand.

There was a white patch on it, under which was the wound caused by the IV.

 “We’re alright, Seb. We’re fine, we’ll be okay. Don’t worry so much,”

 He smiled at your words and proceeded to tell you how happy he was that you were going back home with him.

He looked like a little kid; excited as if he was bringing home his best friend.

 Truth is, he was.

   ---

Days went on.

And you were happily back on track. You had adjusted pretty quickly to everything, and you used your social media to catch up on everything you missed.

 Sebastian was of great help, of course, the man barely left your side. He made sure you ate properly, and David came by often and helped with your physiotherapy, to help your stiff joints.

You were getting better and better, and Sebastian was happier than anyone to hear about your progress.

  As much as he could, Sebastian avoided talking about Connor and Liana, but somehow, you managed to bring it up once.

You asked about them, but he still refused to tell you about the horrifying details.

 “They’re gone, okay? You don’t have to worry about them, baby, just focus on getting better, I-,”

 You sighed.

 “I am better, Seb, it’s been two weeks. I’m fine. I just want to know what you did to them, it’s r-,”

 “Killed them, threw their bodies in lakes, no big deal,” he cut you off and answered nonchalantly.

 Surprisingly, you didn’t react.

It did hurt to hear that the man you once thought as being your father, was now at the bottom of some lake. Dead. Alone. Left there without a proper funeral.

And Liana, the one you once considered to be a close friend. She was also dead and lying at the bottom of a lake somewhere. Not cared for.

It hurt for a moment, you were human after all, and unlike Sebastian; you weren’t used to this. But once the recollection of what they did to you settled in, what they did to Sebastian and to your real parents – a little voice in your head whispered that they probably deserved what fate had in store for them.

 You just nodded. At Sebastian, and at your conscience.

 Well, at least they were gone for good.

  ---

 You noticed that Sebastian was still being very careful around you. He held you like you were the most brittle thing in the world, or that he was scared he would break you.

Right now, he assisted you as you got out of the shower, wrapped in your bathrobe. He stood outside as he waited for you to step out.

 “God Y/N, you took so long in there. I thought you fell or something,” his voice showed his worry.

You had barely stepped out of the shower completely that he began questioning you.

 You laughed and shook your head.

 “I’m not made of glass, Seb. I’m fine, you need to stop worrying so much, really,” you spoke as you got your hair out of the twisted towel.

 Your wet locks fell down your back and Sebastian walked up to you and wrapped his hands around you. He kissed the side of your face and looked at you through the mirror in front of which you were standing.

 “Don’t ever leave me,” he spoke, his voice small and gentle. You noticed that he said that quite a lot these days. He wrap his arms around you at different times during the day and would whisper the exact same words, all the time.

You turned around in his arms and faced him, cupping his face in your hands as you placed your lips on his.

He immediately responded by moving his mouth with yours. His hands gripped your waist and one of them easily slipped past the slit of the robe and traced imaginary shapes on your hip bone.

You missed this.

You missed him, and his touch.

And he knew.

But he believed he would hurt you.

  Your hands travelled to his hair and you ran your fingers through it, as you walked the two of you towards the bed.

You sensed that he was holding back. He was, again, being very gentle.

 When the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed, Sebastian broke the kiss abruptly and pulled away. His face showed that he was worried, for nothing, again.

 “Baby, are you hurt? I’m so s-,”

 “Will you just shut up and fuck me? Jesus fucking Christ, Seb! I’m fine! Just-,”

 He didn’t even let you complete your sentence. Having heard what you wanted, all he wanted to do was to please you, all while being gentle of course.

 Sebastian carefully pushed you down on the bed and climbed on top of you, untying your dark grey bathrobe in the process.

He immediately dipped his head down and gave you a deep kiss, tongue slipping past your lips while his hands lazily rubbed up and down your sides.

His hands were warm against your still, somewhat, damp body.

He pulled back and saw the hunger in your eyes. Truth be told, he was eager to have you as well. He had been for so many days, but he was scared.

 His hands ran along your legs and he settled in between them, arms wrapped around your thighs as his face got dangerously close to your damp core.

You whimpered as each puff of air he breathed out fanned against your wet folds and sent shivers down your spine.

 He watched how your back immediately arched off the bed as soon as his mouth made contact with your sensitive spot.

A quiet moan escaped your lips when his tongue circled your clit; eyes closing as each stroke of his tongue felt like ecstasy.

Your hands grabbed onto the blanket under you as Sebastian’s mouth worked wonder on you. His lips rubbed against your folds relentlessly as each sound you made fueled his passion.

You bucked your hips against his mouth gently, moaning as you coated the lower half of his face with your arousal.

 Your thighs tensed as the pleasure washed over you again and again with each stroke of his tongue. It didn’t take you long to reach your release.

Soon, you gushed out all over his lips. Cursing and whimpering under his touch as he kissed his way up your body.

He very briefly took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and soon shifted his attention to the other one.

His actions got hastier as he dipped his head back into the crook of your neck again, nibbling on the skin at your throat and collar bones.

 He was just as impatient as you were.

 “Baby, tell me if I hurt you, okay?” he panted at the shell of your ear and waited until you nodded. Once you did, he lowered his sweatpants just enough to free his excited member.

You moaned as soon as you felt it; hard and firm, against your inner thigh. Sebastian chuckled.

 “Needy for me, huh?” he teased, nibbling on the spot right beneath your ear; knowing very well that it was your weak spot.

 You whined in response and he chuckled again – staring into your eyes.

He stared for a bit too long so your hand reached out and touched his face, stroking his cheek affectionately.

“What?” you asked, the look he gave you was different.

It was comforting, loving. Providing you a sense of belonging – there in his arms.

 “Nothing, I love you. I’m so in love with you, and I’m scared that– please don’t leave me. You’re my everything, Y/N,” his words immediately brought tears in your eyes.

 You leaned in and placed our lips on his, sealing the promise that you wouldn’t leave him.

 “I love you, too Seb. A lot,” you whispered against his lips and he wasted no time in pushing his length inside of you.

You sensed a warmth engulfing both you and him, wrapping around you like an invisible shelter – promising a sanctuary. One you wouldn’t find anywhere else.

 He filled you up, and watched how your face frowned in pleasure. He searched for any signs of discomfort, but when he found none; he sped up into you.

 Your hands gripped his shoulder for support as your body moved against his perfectly. Your legs circled his waist and locked behind his lower back.

Each stroke of his member allowed you to feel all of him. His scent infiltrated your mind and soon, that was all you could focus on.

His cologne, mixed with the faint scent of his shower gel. He smelt divine.

 You panted and groaned along with him each time you matched his thrust; body moving against his like a rag doll.

 He pounded into while whispering how much he loved you in your ear, telling you how lonely he felt when you weren’t here, how much he missed you and how he will keep you safe for the rest of your life.

All the sparks, the warmth, the emotions and the pleasure – all at once became too much to handle and soon, you were riding the waves of euphoria.

Walls clenching around him as you let go; moaning his name out loud and whimpering in pleasure as he grunted at how good you felt and how much he had missed this; missed you.

  -

 After going at it for quite a while, the two of you just collapsed onto the bed and snuggled under the covers – panting and sweating, but worth it.

Sebastian’s hands circled around you and he pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head and sighing in satisfaction.

Out of nowhere, he chuckled.

 “What’s so funny?” you asked, voice still hoarse from your past actions. You tangled your bare legs with his quietly winced at the soreness between your hips.

“Just thinking about the time when I had to literally chase you around the country because you wouldn’t stop fucking running away from me,” he chuckled again.

You scoffed, and smiled at the memory.

 “Well, you did threaten me by placing a gun to my face. You poured hot wax on me, Seb, who wouldn’t run away?” you giggled at the memory.

He turned to look at you in fake disbelief.

 “Oh shut up, you liked it,” he argued and kissed your forehead. Hands lazily hovering over your skin, you sighed in the comfort of his touch.

 “You remember the note you left me? I was so scared of you then,” you laughed at the memory.

 He inched closer and gave you a quick peck on the cheek.

“And now?” he asked, his baby blue eyes looking in yours.

 “And now you’re my safe place. My sanctuary. You’re my home, Seb,”

  ---

  Weeks went on and your relationship with the mob boss kept flourishing. You did have certain situations where you had your differences. Sebastian had this habit of looking out for you and sometimes, it could get suffocating.

But, just like any other couple, you faced your highs and your lows together – promising each other that no matter what happens, you’ll figure out a way to handle it.

 Sebastian, along with Chris, soon got back to his work. All was going smoothly, until one day.

 You were playing around on your phone while Sebastian made dinner. By dinner he meant wine and grilled cheese. Your favorite as you had been loving cheese lately.

 As you scrolled through your calendar, you realized that you hadn’t marked the date you last had your period.

A wave of panic washed over you. And you sat there, frozen on the kitchen stool. Your thoughts were racing and it felt like you were going to pass out any time soon.

 You told Seb you were going to use the bathroom, and on your way there, you searched the bathroom drawers for the two pregnancy tests you had kept just in case.

Your heart pounded as you took both.

 You waited for a while, allowing it time to process the sample and then you finally checked both of them.

Two lines.

You were pregnant.

 Holy shit.

  You paced around in front of the bathroom mirror, making a mental plan of how you would break the news to Sebastian. Would he be happy?

Was the timing alright?

Is it too soon to have a b-

 “Babe? You in there? What’s taking so long?” your always too worried boyfriend yelled from outside, interrupting your overthinking session.

 Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Screw the plan.

 Your heart pounded even more as you twisted the handle and opened the door. Stepping out of the bathroom, you found Sebastian standing in the middle of the room.

You knew that both of you thought about that time when you threw up blood and lied to him. But there was no lying this time.

 “Did you throw up again? Y/N, are you okay? Should I call David a-,”

You cut him off

 “I’m pregnant,” was all you said and you watched how it took him some time to process the words you spoke.

He just stared at you, lips parted as he looked like he was in shock.

 “My period’s late, and I just took two tests in there. I’m so pregnant. Seb, baby, I know it’s too soon for us to even consider having a baby and I-,”

 He cut you off by walking over to where you were standing and placed his lips on yours. All your worries went away as fast as they came when he held your face gently in his hand.

When Sebastian pulled away, you noticed how glossy his eyes had become. His blue eyes sparkled as he spoke.

 “Shh, this is perfect. You’re perfect, baby, thank you so much. Jesus, I’m gonna be a dad. Babe, I don’t know how to do anything around babies. I should hide my guns, oh God, do we need a bigger house? Baby, I-,”

Your tears fell as he went on and on, and rambled until you cut him off.

 “Hey, calm down. And don’t worry, the baby won’t be here for a while now. We’re fine, Seb, we’re gonna be okay, we have plenty of time. You’re gonna be a great dad,” you reassured him while he wiped away your tears as they kept falling.

 “That’s my baby in there?” he asked, softly as he placed his hand on your tummy. You nodded with tears in your eyes.

 Sebastian let out a little laugh as he looked down. He was a dad now. He had a baby on the way. And he was more than happy that he’ll get to share this part of his life with you.

 “When will it show?” he asked, suddenly very interested in your belly as he caressed the skin with the palm of his hand and you chuckled as you ran your hand through his now slightly longer hair.

He had been growing it since you once told him that you liked it better that way.

 “It’ll take time for the bump to show, Seb,” you laughed at how clueless he was. Then you realized than due to the nature of his work, he must have been so disconnected from the more ‘normal’ side of life.

He never got to see how beautiful it was to start a family, and watch the life you helped create grow inside someone you love.

He never had this before. But he was going to now, and you were more than happy that you got to give him that.

 Sebastian kissed you again, after which he promised to keep you and his baby safe and sound.

 ---

  And so began the life you had always dreamt of, with the one you loved the most in the world. Life with Sebastian was blissful.

It was everything you had ever dreamt of, and more. Ups and downs, moments spent with him which you would cherish until your last breath. Vacations, and arguments over your baby’s name and your sudden cravings.

And more arguments over names after you found out that you were having twins. A boy and a girl. Sebastian became more protective than ever.

 On some days, he could be the biggest baby you had ever seen. And on other days, watching him run around trying to deal with your mood swings soon became the funniest thing you had ever witnessed.

 Every night, he would wake up even with the slightest movement you made. If you woke up to use the bathroom, he’d wake up and sit on the edge of the bed and waited until you were back in bed before sleeping again.

 While asleep, he soon developed this habit of caressing your baby bump whenever he pleased.

 Sometimes, you both would just look at each other and smile. Not a word was said – but so much was shared through that one smile.

All the hard times which went by, and the ones to come; you both knew that as long as the other one was there, you’d make it through hell and back.

You knew that no matter what, you’d always find a way back to each other. Back to the safety of one another’s arms.

Back home, with each other.

  -

 A/N: I’m crying.

Thank you to each and every one who made it till the end of this series. Thank you for each like. Each comment. Each re-blog and each ask you sent. Thank you for encouraging this.

This is it. This is the last part of the ‘Back For You’ series. Thank you for loving it as much as I did. This is the first series I have ever written, but definitely not the last.

The love you all showed to this series means a lot to me. I adore you. Each one of you. Thank you again!

Love,

Your friendly, neighborhood Sinner.

-

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[imaginesmai]

Bucky Barnes-Beautiful Ballerina

Requested by @peteyparkersbabyy, hope you like it! I know you said musical theatre, but I didn’t really know how to write about it; and I felt more comfortable with a dancer, so I hope you don’t mind.

Plot: Hiding your relationship with Bucky from the world was not easy. The worst part of it was hiding it from the mightiest heroes in the world; the Avengers.

For a assassin, he was being as loud as if he was carrying an herd of bells with him. He didn’t remember doing so much noise in his life. Leaving the compound had been the most difficult part; he had to avoid ten guards and Stark’s technology with a bleeding side, yet he managed to do it. In the streets, people had stopped to look at the big man with the metal arm and bruised face; that wasn’t what he liked to call discreet. The worst part was entering in your apartment.

The amount of times Bucky had to jostle the keys in the door alone should have woken you up, and he didn’t want you to worry. But he was lucky, as when he finally opened the front door all the lights were off. Though he knew he was walking on eggshells.

“Doll?” he whispered, waiting to see if you were awake. The last thing he wanted was to murder you of a fright.

Bucky carefully pushed the door closed and set his tactical jacket on the couch. He could almost hear you moaning about how it would get stained with blood. The cuts along his back screamed in pain, and he hissed. The only pain med he needed was your body close to him, not those pills Bruce wanted him to take.

That was why he was taking the risk, because he was desperate to feel you again. Despite the chance of the rest of the team finding about your relationship, he needed you. He had been on a mission with Steve and Natasha for two weeks, coming back bruised but alive. And, since he had rushed out of the helicopter, the only thing he thought about was his beautiful ballerina.

Careful of his ankle, Bucky pulled off the rest of his suit and tossed it aside, until he was only on his underwear. He checked quickly that none of his cuts were bleeding, the image of you painted with his blood unpleasant.

“James?” your groggy voice made him look to the bed, where you were laying on your side with your eyes half open.

“Yeah, it’s me” he sighed, stepping closer and placing his hand on your face.

“I didn’t expected you for another two days” you mumbled, not fully opening your eyes. You hummed when you felt his flesh hand on your cheek, and rubbed your face against it.

“Couldn’t let my best girl unattended” he chuckled softly and sat on the bed.

“Hm” you nodded. “I’ve missed you. Are you alright?”

“Just a little bruised” he shrugged it off, not wanting to worry you.

“What?” you opened your eyes and finally looked to the soldier in front of you.

Bucky had small cuts and bruises on his face, one of them making his left eyes close painfully. His torso was also full of small wounds, and on his elbow a big gash was gushing blood. A small frown appeared on your face, and Bucky cursed himself for waking you up.

“You’re bleeding” you stated, watching him with side eyes and full of the concern he didn’t want to bring on you.

“I know, but I’m okay doll. Really” he smiled at you reassuringly. “I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Let me just bandage you” you said. Bucky got stuck looking at your sleepy eyes and cute pout.

Then, he sighed and nodded. He raised his hands an got up from the bed, knowing not to argue that. All he wanted was to lay with his beautiful ballerina, the sooner the better. Besides, he didn’t want to argue with you the first time he had seen you in weeks. You followed him as he walked towards the bathroom, and managed to slip your hand in his. Even his fingers hurt, but he smiled and squeezed your hand.

Bucky’s lips curved in a tiny smile as he looked at your sleepy face. It always marvelled him how, in nine months of relationship, you had cared for him in the same way. You pushed him so he was sitting down on the closed toilet seat, and began looking through the drawers for the first kid aid. Before you met him, it was full of band aids and things you could use for your feet. Until that day, it was filled with needles and painkillers.

“Stay still” you muttered, sitting down in front of him.

He knew better than to talk as you patched him up, so he just smiled at you while you worked. Plasters here and there. Bigger ones for bigger cuts, smaller. The worst part, for you at least, were the stitches. You took care of the cut under his eyebrow, then the one of his elbow and finally the other on his side. Each time the needle pierced his skin, Bucky saw as your eyes squinted in pain and you bit your lip. For him it was normal pain, nothing important, but it pained him seeing you suffer.

As you were finishing up, Bucky finally broke the silence, unable to help himself from feeling your warmth once more. He reached out to rest his hands on your hips as you leaned over him, his thumbs touching your hips.

“I’m sorry I woke you, doll” his face was turned up towards yours as you worked.

“It’s fine” you paused, only to cut the excess suture thread. Your hands fell on his broad shoulders, and you finally enjoyed his blue beautiful eyes. “I was up until late, anyway. Training and that stuff.”

“My beautiful ballerina” he pushed your closer and you giggled when his warm breath made contact with your stomach. Bucky placed his hands on your pyjama’s top and pushed it upwards, leaving soft kisses there. “I’ve missed you so much”

“Me too, James” you ran your fingers through his long hair. “And I’m happy you’re back. Will you be there tomorrow?”

As if he could have forgotten about it, he smirked. It was your big audition, something you had been working for years. Bucky had been with you every step you had taken, had trapped you between his arms when you thought you couldn’t do it, and actually had brought the first ticket for the show. It was impossible for him to miss it, and he had made sure of it by writing it down on his notebook, the calendar, had told Friday to remind him and there was two alarms on his phone.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world” he chuckled. He felt a lot better, with everything patched, his face washed and you by his side. Enough to bring you to sit on his lap.

Your hands moved to his cheeks, smiling softly, and you hid your blushed face on the crook of his neck. Leaving a quick kiss there, you let out a yawn. Bucky muttered an ‘I love you’ before stealing a gentle, brief but loving kiss.

His eyes fluttered closed for the short moment, enjoying being with you again. He cheered those moments, and feared the one when the rest of the world, including the avengers, found out about you. He couldn’t lose his beautiful ballerina.

When he opened his eyes again, he gazed up at you adoringly.

“Can we go to be now?” he faked a pout. “I really want to cuddle you”

“Yeah” you laughed, running a hand through his messy auburn hair.

You let out a surprised yelp when he hoisted you up in his arms and walked towards the bedroom. Bucky managed to turn off the light with his good elbow, and put you back in bed within seconds. He wasted no time in curling into your side and dragging you closer to him. You gave him one last forehead kiss before muttering good night.

“Love you, doll”

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

Sweat dripped down your face and you panted for air. The world around you moved at a vertiginous speed, the movements you had practiced so many times in your house or in the gym flowing out of you naturally. You focused on the music, feeling it fly through you and letting you know what you had to do next.

“Getting tired?” your coach taunted, watching you from your side.

You swung your leg over your head, gripping your ankle and showing her a small smile, your attention still on the choreography. The song was going to stop soon and you would be another minute closer to the final performance.

“You wish” you managed to say. You could do that all day. In fact, you had probably been on it for more than two hours, repeating the motion until the final hour arrived.

Around you, everyone was getting ready. The instruments, the lights, the technicians and even the cleaners were rushing for everything to be perfect. For a second, you saw something out of the corner of your eye. You took a few steps to the side, not loosing the rhythm of the music; just changing your position. It was enough to look more clearly at what you had seen; who you had seen.

Bucky was standing behind the curtains, his hands on his pockets and his hair up in a messy bun. He was looking at you with bright eyes, pride filling them. Your heart leaped; it wasn’t the first time he had seen you training, yet it made you nervous. The music ended and you finished the choreography with some cheers, most of them from your loud boyfriend.

“Alright, everyone!” your coach clapped her hands a few times, grabbing everyone attention. “That’s enough for now, in two hours we meet here again!”

You and the other dancers made your way to the curtains. As the other took their time and chatted between them, you quickly took your bottle and towel and ran towards Bucky. Without caring about being in public, you pressed your lips together and wrapped your arms around his neck.

It started off as a regular kiss, but soon you were legally making out between the curtains just meters away from a lot of people. Bucky pulled away first, allowing you to regain your breath. Your chest heaved as you gulped down air, and you smiled at him.

“Hey” you gave you a quick hug before tearing apart. “I didn’t think you would come to the training.”

“Why not?” he raised a brow. “I love seeing you dance. Besides, I wanted to give you something before it started.”

Your eyes widened as Bucky looked through his pockets, a rather nervous look on his face. With an awkward cough, he presented to you a wrinkled paper with something inside. It was small and the paper ripped in one side, but it made a soft blush rush to your cheeks. His metal arm was presenting it to you, and you guessed his anxiety behind having it uncovered. So, instead of just taking it, you gripped his hand between one of your and took it to your lips.

“Thank you, James” you kissed the back of his hand, and he smiled lovingly at you.

“It’s-It’s nothing” he explained, as you opened the paper. “I know you talked about it a few months ago, and since I’m away a lot, I thought you would enjoy it. But if you don’t want it, that’s-“

“Oh god” you put one hand on your mouth, barely keeping yourself from jumping up and down in happiness. “James, you didn’t-you didn’t have to.”

In front of you, stood two beautiful army dog tags. One of them had Bucky’s name, old enough to let you know that it was the original one, that you had seen it hanging from his neck so many times. The other one had your name on it, shinier and with two perfect ballerina’s shoes printed. You closed your fist around it, waiting for it to disappear and for it all be a dream. Still, when you opened it, the tags were still there.

“This is a present for the victory” he whispered, walking closer and placing one hand on your cheek.

“I haven’t won yet” you chuckled, looking up.

“I don’t care, for me you’re already the champion” he lowered his head and caught his lips with yours. His warm and familiar hands snaked their way around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

You gripped the collar of his plaid shirt under the jacket and tugged him towards you, wanting to be as close as possible, wanting him to feel how grateful you were for having him in your life. When you both broke away, you were grinning like idiots. There a few seconds of silence before any of you spoke.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Bucky asked. “I’ve brought some lunch.”

That was one of the many reasons you loved Bucky. He was the type of boyfriend who wasn’t afraid of asking in the supermarket about pads, and listened to everything the kind old woman had to say while people looked at him with weird eyes. Bucky kept in his little notebook every important event, had a small calendar for your period and in the last pages he wrote down things you said you wanted or liked.

He might had been the more lethal assassin of the history, but he was also the sweetest boyfriend.

Time flew by with him. You had lunch and talked in your free time, joking around and laughing together. He told you about the mission, as much as he could tell, and you explained him what was the performance about. Five groups were going to perform before you, and some individuals shows too.

“You’re gonna do great” he said. He was sitting on a stool on the cafeteria, in front of you and with your hand between his.

“I really hope so” you smiled at him. “You’re staying until the end, right?”

“Of course” he reassured.

“Won’t they grow suspicious?”

The worst part of keeping your relationship as a secret was Bucky’s best friend, Steve. He worried about him a lot, and always was asking him where he had been. When he finally came back from ice, he liked that; liked having a friend who could help him with all those modern things. But it had become a little difficult to hide you from him.

“Probably” he sighed, looking down to your hands. “They have asked me this morning about where I was last night.”

“And? What did you told them?”

“That I needed to take a walk”

“They believed you?” you frowned. It was hard to trick the avengers, and you had found yourself running away from Bucky more than once. Steve had almost found about you two once, and Bucky had had to lie to him saying that he was with a prostitute. Since then, the captain hadn’t followed his friend.

“I think. I’ll be back when this ends” Bucky looked to you and gave you a sad smile. “I would have liked to treat you dinner.”

“It’s fine” you said. “Maybe on Saturday.”

“You’re too good, doll”

The mechanic voice interrupted your talk, as it called out for all the participants of the show to present themselves in the main hall. You breathed deeply and stood up, folding your hands on your back. Bucky picked up his backpack and nodded curtly at you.

“I’ll be in the first row”

“As long as you’re not gonna throw tomatoes at me” you teased. “That bag seems awfully suspicious.”

“Damn, you have caught me” he chuckled. Bucky stepped closer until your feet were touching and you looked up to him. “I love you. Take care”

“Love you too”

You kissed his lips and grinned as you waved him goodbye, running out of the cafeteria with another two girls.

Bucky stood on his place with an idiotic smile, watching you go. Shaking his head, he walked out of the room towards the main salon where he was going to watch you. He thought about the first time meeting you, how you had crashed into him in your morning run and he had throwed you a few steps back. Even though it had been his fault and Bucky was embarrassingly aware of that, you had apologised and accepted his metal arm to pull you up. When you didn’t say anything about it, he thought he could fall for you right there.

The performance, as everything you did in his eyes, was amazing. You moved right and left across the stage, your feet not touching the ground and your body talking for you. While you danced, he felt a strange pressure on the back of his neck. He thought nothing of it, too happy watching you do what you loved the most. Still, the third time he noticed it, he turned back ready to snap someone’s neck.

The song finished, the people clapped and cheered and some of them got up. You made a small bow and searched through the crowd you boyfriend’s blue eyes. Your breathing was laborated and you could hear your heart beating in your ears. The lights were blinding you and your coach was calling you from behind the stage. Still, all you could focus on was on Bucky’s back, that was turned to you. His tensed shoulder, his aggressive aura.

And the fact that he was facing Captain America, who was looking at you with steel blue eyes.

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

You had thought about that moment a lot of times. Bucky bringing you to the avengers compound, and Steve Rogers shaking your hand, saying that he was happy that his friend had found someone like you. Maybe having lunch with them, meeting them one by one. Natasha was one of your probably ‘superhero-crushes’, besides Bucky, of course. You had imagined a lot of possible situations, but neither of them were up to the real one.

While you walked to your dressing room, you didn’t pay attention of your surroundings. You just wanted to change so that you could go back to Bucky and be with him while he talked with his friend. Your coach had given you a few encouragement words and had left to do other things, leaving you an amount of thirty-forty minutes to change and meet your boyfriend..

The loud shouts and crashes should had been enough, but you thought they weren’t coming from your dressing room. Some girls got into fights, or were so excited that made a lot of noise. What you had never seen was all the avengers suited up in your dressing room.

As soon as you opened the door, the argument stopped, and everyone turned to look at you.

“W-Wh-what?”

That was all you got out before Iron Man’s fist were in front of you ready to blast you out. You didn’t register the scream that left your lips or Bucky’s body shielding you, not when Hawkeye was aiming at you and Captain America was looking at you with those threatening eyes.

“She’s not! I promise, she’s not HYDRA!” Bucky shouted in front of you. “She’s-She’s a ballerina, she was acting today!”

“Why the fuck have you been sneaking up to see her?” Tony asked, not lowering his hands.

“That’s none of your business, Stark”

“Bucky, we only want the best for you” Steve took a step forwards. You cowered behind him, gripping his leather jacket with your fists. “Give her to us, and I promise I will make sure she’s well taken care of.”

“Barnes, out of the way” Natasha said, trying to aim her gun towards you. You felt tears pooling in your eyes, not understanding what was happening.

“Steve, you’ve gotta believe me. She’s not from HYDRA, she has nothing to do with this” he tried to convince his friend.

“Then why is she involved with the Russians, hm?”

Bucky looked back at you for a second, but came back to argue with the avengers. It was true that he had problems with them calling you out of being related with the Russians, yet he knew you wouldn’t back cross him. Ever. He was willing to prove that to anybody.

Meanwhile, you wanted to laugh. It was all… ridiculous. For being the avengers, they weren’t that smarter. You let out a small chuckle that didn’t pass unnoticed by Tony, who threatened you once more to blast you against the wall. Steve and Clint tried to make him wait, to talk to Bucky, while this one shouted at him angrily. Natasha stood on her feet, watching you with a curious smirk. Finally, your timid and low voice was heard between all the riot.

“It’s… this is just a Russian ballet” you mumbled, and everyone fell quiet for the second time in that room. “I’m not related with the Russians, I just perform their… dance?”

The only thing that was heard was Natasha snoring loudly and Clint trying to keep down his laugh. Tony looked around the dressing room, as if he had suddenly realised where he was; certainly, it didn’t look like a secret base to sell weapons. Neither a place where Bucky and you were planning to ruin the world. Steve sighed and let his shield fall to the ground with a loud noise. He was getting tired of being carried away by Tony’s paranoid ideas. Once more, they turned out to be wrong.

“What the fuck did you think we were doing here?” Bucky frowned, not understanding the embarrassment in their faces.

“Well, that’s-that’s a good question. What exactly? We didn’t know, that was why-“

“Tony thought you were working with HYDRA again” Natasha interrupted Tony, who turned to look at her with annoyed eyes. “She was supposed to be your contact here.”

“No!” you shook your head, poking out of Bucky’s back. “I’m just his girlfriend!”

“I’m-what?” Tony blinked, surprised. “I’m sorry, I must have heard wrong, did-“

“Didn’t know you had a girlfriend, pal”

Steve was the first one to step forwards, ignoring Tony’s stuttering. He stepped in front of Bucky, who, with short nod, let him be in front of you. Steve Rogers was as tall as your boyfriend, as broad and similar to a giant in front of you. You expected his hand to be rough, and his handshake to be harsh, yet it was a feather touch.

“Steve Rogers, I’m Bucky’s pal” he grinned, shaking your hand. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m sorry for earlier.”

“Oh, don’t… it’s nothing” you chuckled, folding your hands together again. “I’m, uh, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Are you sure you’re Mr Metal Arm girlfriend?” Tony asked, pointing you with a finger. He moved it up and down, as if he couldn’t believe it. “I mean, you-this is a joke? A prank? If this is because Clint’s cereals, I swear-“

“What about my cereals?” Clint asked, as Natasha shook your hand too.

“Nothing” she rolled her eyes. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Yeah” you managed to say, your heard on your throat.

Clint approached you and greeted you too, while muttering about his ear aids and missing cereals. When everyone had greeted you, you went back to Bucky’s side, and gripped his hand. He send you a small reassuring smile and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, whispering how amazing you had been out there.

“Why is she your girlfriend?” Tony asked, once more. “I just-don’t get me wrong, it’s cool. But you don’t, that’s not your girl, Barnes!”

“And why not, Stark?” Bucky asked, rolling his eyes.

“Because-Because she’s pure! Come on, she a ballerina! Cute, innocent, small. The kind of girl who has stuffed animals!”

“I don’t have-”

“Sorry, darling, this is not against you” Tony interrupted you. “What I’m saying is that, why are you dating someone like her, while you are… you?”

“Tony, that’s enough” Steve gripped his arm and started walking out of the dressing room. “I’ll see you outside. Sorry again, Y/N. I hope we can meet again.”

“Sure” you laughed, rubbing you hand up and down Bucky’s arm.

“Wait, I was not- Y/N! Go the compound!” his voice disappeared as Steve dragged him away. “I have questions!”

“You will grow used to that” Clint assured you, before walking out with a quick goodbye.

“I’m leaving too. Bye Y/N, hope to see you soon” Natasha said, and you just nodded shortly. “Oh, by the way. You did great back there.”

The red head closed the door behind her, and you didn’t say anything for a while. Without the four avengers, the room seemed much smaller. It felt empty, and the silence in it felt welcoming. You turned your face to Bucky and hugged his torso, his arms instantly wrapping around you.

You were still wearing the black tutu you had for your performance, but it didn’t forbid you from pressing your body against him and enjoying the hug. Eventually, you looked up to him and saw his nervous eyes. On your tip toes, you reached your lips and kissed them.

“I’m sorry for them” he whispered, looking to the right. “It was probably the worst way of meeting them.”

“It’s okay” you said, and giggled shortly after. “She said I did great.”

“What?”

“The Black Widow” you muttered, your cheeks hurting from the big smile you had on your face. “She said-She liked my performance.”

“Of course she liked it, doll. It was amazing” he laughed, his heart filling with love at your nerdy attitude. “I’m sure you will win.”

“Probably” you shrugged, and kissed him again.

Bucky’s life was not easy. He suffered from constant memory loss because of HYDRA, had nightmares and couldn’t live without an eye on his back. The fear, the guilt, they ate him away. Yet he had you, by his side and, no matter what, loving him. Even when four avengers threaten to kill you in a dressing your.

“But” you giggled again, when you teared away. “She told me I was great.”

Bucky laughed, a full belly laugh. It was not easy, but he had his beautiful ballerina.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

[pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer]

Right of Law, Section XXIV

(Atero’s attack on Xia continues, with the rebel forces doing all they can to find a way to victory.)

Still hiding unnoticed behind the broken stone wall, Clera watched the battle unfold with a grim sense of responsibility.  Radiak continued to throw himself about wildly, driving Hewkii and Neton into the range of either Defilak or Garan, meanwhile their counterattacks were reduced to glancing blows at best.  The two warriors were holding their own, but she knew they couldn’t keep this up forever.  Clera gazed into the crystal head of her rod.  An empty dullness stared back.

“It’s really a shame you turned against us, Hewkii,” Garan said as he clashed with the Toa of Stone.  “I was looking forward to playing in the upcoming kolhii tournament with you.”

Hewkii perked up.  “A tournament?  This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

Garan drew his swords apart as he leapt back, firing a bolt that narrowly missed. “Well, it’s a moot point.”

Hewkii was about to pursue when he suddenly felt lighter.  Leaping high, he avoided a strike from Radiak, nodding his thanks to Neton before launching a Rhotuka at the Toa of Fire.  Radiak gnashed his teeth.

“Darn it!  Just hold still!”

Defilak teleported around Neton, swinging and missing.  “Take it easy, Radiak!  Since when do you give up so easily?”

“I’m not giving up!”

A fireball shot from Radiak’s mouth, sailing right past Hewkii as he landed. He took another Rhotuka but charged forward nonetheless, catching Hewkii by surprise and knocking his legs out from under him before slamming an arm down onto his chest, the increased weight now working to his advantage.  Garan ran right past them as Neton barely evaded a razor-sharp wave of air.  The Gravity Rahkshi saw him coming, but Defilak forced him to guard against another sword strike, leaving him vulnerable as Garan fractured the ground beneath him.

Clera’s heart leapt into her throat.  As she stared wide-eyed at the Toa advancing upon her brother, a small glimmer of green light finally tore her away--it was the head of her rod, lighting faintly for only a brief moment before fading out again.  Clera paused, and then, with a heavy sigh, tightened her grip on her weapon.  The faint light began to return.

Defilak kept his sword pressed against Neton’s neck, not looking up as he asked, “What should we do, Turaga?”

Garan ground his teeth.  “...It’s the enemy’s Rahkshi.  We need to dispatch it.”

The light intensified.  Looking back to the battle, Clera focused on Radiak--Hewkii was doing his best to throw the Toa off, but to no avail.  At Clera’s command, a gust of wind blindsided him, and then she crouched down as fatigue filled her.  Radiak held firm but instantly bristled at the strike, turning to look at Defilak with a rising growl.  With a ferocious roar, he leapt towards Defilak, knocking the Toa of Air off of Neton and pinning him to the ground.

“Woah, woah!  What’s wrong with you, Radiak?!”

Radiak only snarled wordlessly.  Not wasting a second, Neton reduced Garan’s gravity and struck him with his hammer, sending him flying off into the wall of a nearby building.  Hewkii reached up and willed the stone walls to grow out around Garan, trapping him there, and then rushed to Neton’s side as he flipped Radiak onto his back with another hammer swing.  Defilak teleported clear, keeping his eyes on the Rahkshi.  One of Hewkii’s Rhotuka caught him off-guard, striking his Kanohi--stumbling under the increased weight, Defilak was too unbalanced to defend himself as Neton reached out and ripped the mask from his face. Hewkii restrained the other Toa in the same way he had Garan, and then he let out a long breath.

“A bit close for comfort,” Hewkii said.  “I’ll wager that breeze was your doing, Clera?  Much appreciated.”

Stepping out onto the street, Clera nodded slightly.  Neton set a hand on her shoulder and hissed.

“Hewkii,” Garan said.  “Think about what you’re doing.  If you think you can get away with turning your back on Atero like this, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Hewkii delayed his reply as a curious sound reached his ears. Something between footsteps and falling raindrops, it echoed out from an alleyway, heralding the arrival of a strange being now making their entry into the square.  Standing before Hewkii was a constantly-churning mass of water in the shape of a broad-shouldered Glatorian, with golden branches of coral forming ridges along its limbs, reaching out in uneven spikes from its shoulders, and forming a crest atop its head that reached down over the front of its face to divide the icy blue eyes that shimmered in its depths.  Hewkii went totally stiff at the sight.

“General Tarix!” Garan said.  “Regrettably, we’ve hit a snag in our mission…”

“I see,” the newcomer said.  “Hewkii, isn’t it?  You’ve sided with the enemy?”

“...Not as such, General,” Hewkii said.  “I merely saw these forces targeting civilians, destroying their homes and whatnot, and thought I should protect them.”

“Hm...I suppose you didn’t exactly have a chance to be briefed on our current objectives.”

“Is that...really you, General?  You, ah, look a bit different from the last time I saw you.”

“Lord Velika has given us the power necessary to stop Zaekura.  Tell me, Hewkii: will you return with us?  This misunderstanding can be overlooked.”

Hewkii shook his head.  “I may not have the whole story, but I’m not liking what I’m seeing.  Think I’d rather continue to misunderstand.”

“I see,” Tarix said, voice dripping with disappointment.  “I’ve yet to master these new powers, and so I do not know if I can subdue you three without killing you.”  He took a very long pause.  “I will be honest with you: I take no joy in our current duty.  If you leave now, I will not pursue.”

Hewkii glanced at the two Rahkshi, who each nodded.  “Yeah...I think we’ll take that deal.  Thank you, General.”

“Make it count, Hewkii.  I will not offer again.”

The three of them left the square in a hurry as Tarix set about freeing Garan and the others.  Once they had put a few streets between them and their foes, Hewkii said, “Well, this is bad.  General Tarix was deadly enough without powers.  I wonder if General Vastus has done the same thing?”

They slipped into the square at the center of the city, next to Antroz’s tower. Neton hissed something.

“The Makuta’s armory might be our best bet.  Shy of that...hard to say how exactly we’re going to hold out.”

Clera looked up suddenly.  Turning to Neton, she hissed excitedly and ran for the tower’s door; Neton seemed to perk up as well, and beckoned Hewkii to come along.  Curious, the Toa followed.  The door was already open when Clera got to it, but she charged in without any worry, and Hewkii quickly saw why.

“Oh, Clera!” Charla said, jumping slightly as her sister threw her arms around her.  “Are you alright?  I’m sorry, we came back as soon as we heard what was going on!”

From the other side of the room, Zaekura looked up.  At her foot was a small box of equipment, but whatever was inside was forgotten for the moment.  “Glad to see you still in one piece.  I shouldn’t have been so lax--of course Atero was already working on a plan…”

“What’s done is done,” Hewkii said.  “The question is, what now?”

Zaekura nodded, crossing the room and counting something on her fingers. “So what’ve we got, Velika and these new drones?  Now that Krika and Fangs are here they can help clean up, though I’ll probably need to get some more details on what Velika’s doing…”

“There’s more: we just bumped into Tarix, one of Atero’s Four Generals, and it looks like he’s been turned into a new Water Lord.”

Zaekura’s eyes went wide.

“And, uh, there’s also a chance General Vastus could be here too...I haven’t seen him, but those two are pretty inseparable.”

After a few long moments of silence, Zaekura surprised everyone by smiling. “Huh.  Actually, I have something for that.  Charla, would you mind getting in touch with Krika?  I need him to stay close-ish and put this thing to use once I finish it.”

“Oh, um, yes!” Charla said, gently sitting Clera down.  “Right away, Lady Zaekura!”

Turning to Neton and Hewkii, Zaekura said, “If you’re up for it, I could use eyes and ears on Velika.  Don’t want to completely ignore him, as if he’d let us.”

Neton nodded.  Hewkii said, “You got it.  Just have Charla focus on us once she’s done with Krika.”

“Thank you!”  Zaekura took off up the stairs.

“Hold on: do you really have something that can beat an Element Lord just lying around?”

Pausing, Zaekura leaned out from the staircase with a big grin.  “Nah.  But give me ten minutes.”

***

Emsar stayed low as another explosion went off, trying to keep herself still so as not to agitate her broken leg.  Ehrye lay unconscious next to her, badly wounded but still alive, meaning it was entirely up to her to make sure the broken metal plate protecting them held.

“Such an assortment of Rahkshi, and this is what we’re stuck with,” she mused.

Out in the street, the combined drone faced off against a large, hunched-over Rahkshi Kaita with enormous purely mechanical arms--a Rau-wearing Toa who fled earlier had called them Haydroma, if Emsar recalled correctly. Their armor had all the colors of Cyclone, Regeneration, and Heat Resistance Rahkshi, but while Emsar was skeptical about each of these powers individually going against this machine, it was the Kaita’s unique ability that made them both a boon and a danger.

The drone fusion energized its claws as it charged once more.  Haydroma raised one arm as if to block, but the weapons shredded through it with little resistance.  Before the drone could retreat, however, Hayrdroma’s wounded arm exploded, hurling it down the street and burying a few bits of shrapnel inside its scorched shell.  Slowly advancing, Haydroma held what remained of their arm off to the side: a glow surrounded it, and in seconds a new arm identical to the last had grown.

There hasn’t been much collateral damage, all things considered, Emsar thought.  I suppose it should be fine if we simply keep our distance for now.

The drone stood up.  Making a quick scan of the area, it blasted a balcony hanging over the street--Haydroma raised an arm to shield themself from the rubble.  The drone rushed in, but at the last second, Haydroma threw a punch. With no space left to dodge the colossal fist, the drone was caught, pushed back, and blasted away by another explosion, only to be picked up by a cyclone and slammed into the wall over and over.  Haydroma leapt forward to slam both fists onto the drone as it landed, detonating them both and breaking their foe in half.

Oh...seems I worried for nothing.

Haydroma turned towards their allies’ hiding place.  They went stiff as they spotted Vastus appearing around a corner.

...Then again.

Vastus paused to take in the scene.  Then, as he held one hand out, branches grew from his palm and twisted into a thorned glaive.  “Stand down, creature.”

Narrowing their eyes, Haydroma summoned a cyclone around Vastus.  Roots extended from the Element Lord’s feet, digging into the pavement to anchor him; Haydroma advanced, thinking they had their foe pinned down, only for the ends of the roots to emerge right before them, wrapping around their torso and slamming them into the ground.  With the twister gone, Vastus pulled himself free and came closer.

“Very well.”

Haydroma blew up one of their arms to free themself from the vines.  They dashed to one side, raising their remaining arm to block as Vastus thrust his glaive at them, but a single vine pulled their limb back at the last second.  The weapon dug into Haydroma’s shoulder--instantly the wound burned, causing the Kaita to shriek in pain.  Vastus spun the weapon around, growing a massive Thornax on the opposite end, and bludgeoned Haydroma before encasing them in more vines.  He reared back to deliver a fatal blow when suddenly, he fell over backwards.  Seeing their chance, Haydroma detonated both arms, and then scrambled to a safer distance as they regrew.

Vastus slowly sat up.  “Show yourself.”

A long spike shot out from a nearby window.  Vastus threw himself just out of the way before returning fire with his Thornax. As the fruit blew apart the surrounding wall, Krika came charging out of the explosion, trying again to skewer Vastus only to barely miss once again.  Vastus thrust his glaive, but Krika held both hands out--the Element-Lord stopped short.

“Seems I’ll be delayed a bit, Charla,” Krika mumbled.

“We meet at last, Makuta Krika,” Vastus said.  “I will take great pleasure in being the one to finally end you.”

“Bold words, for a being made of plants facing someone with Plant Control.”

Vastus smirked.  “It will certainly be a challenge...but if you had the will to completely overpower me, you would have done so already.”

He pushed forward, his glaive slowly but steadily inching closer to Krika. Haydroma, meanwhile, clutched their wound as they waited for the world to stop spinning.  A jolt of pain brought things back into focus: a shining dagger had hit the same shoulder Vastus had attacked, and not far away, they could see Emsar edging back behind her cover.  Haydroma growled, but then realized the burning pain had subsided.

“It’s a Remove Poison Kanoka Blade,” Emsar told them.  “Try not to get stabbed again, if that’s not too much to ask?  I only have the one.”

Nodding their thanks, Haydroma then turned and ran at Vastus, punching him into the nearby pile of rubble his Thornax had created.  Krika said, “I suppose that makes us even.  Now, the good news is that Zaekura has prepared a countermeasure for this foe, but I don’t think either of us would do especially well in this fight alone if the other went to retrieve it.  I’m willing to hold out until it’s delivered if you are.”

Haydroma hissed in affirmation.  Vastus was back on his feet now: he threw his glaive at Haydroma, Krika able to use his power to shred it just before it made contact.  Having anticipated this, Vastus rushed Krika, his fists becoming the tough, spiky hide of Thornax as he punched the Makuta back.  Haydroma’s swipe missed, but they were able to pick Vastus up in a cyclone before he could find proper footing.  A half-dozen thorns were shot out at Haydroma, but Krika was able to halt those as well, and Haydroma directed their whirlwind to bash Vastus back into the ground.  Vastus lay prone as his foes watched carefully for any sign of movement.  A burning sensation in their feet informed them of their mistake, and they leaped clear of the newly-grown patch of acid grass fast as they could.  A cage of vines sprang up around Vastus, who now stood and returned his foes’ watchful gaze, the acid grass slowly spreading at his command.

“He knows that I can easily dismantle that defense,” Krika said. “Seems he’s trying to bait me...which means we need a way to outmaneuver him.”

Haydroma conjured another cyclone, ripping up a huge swath of acid grass as it bore down on Vastus.  The acidic whirlwind melted clean through the Element Lord’s barrier, forcing him to focus his power on transforming the deadly vegetation into harmless flower petals--seeing his chance, Krika threw all the focus he could muster upon Vastus, whose plant body quickly began to rot.  Vastus switched focus to restoring himself as Haydroma closed the gap to deliver an explosive punch.  When the smoke cleared, however, Vastus still stood, looking more angry than damaged.

“Meddlesome creature…”

Wooden spikes rose from the ground beneath Haydroma.  Krika was able to divert them enough to avoid the Kaita’s vital areas, but that was the best he could do.  Before the Makuta could offer any more assistance, an exploding Thornax was hurled directly at him, and the next thing he knew he was at the far end of the street.  As he picked himself up, however, he noticed a Lerahk running towards him.

“Ah, you must be Nora,” Krika said as he picked himself up.  “Charla said to expect you.  I take it you have the weapon?”

The Lerahk nodded--xe stopped next to Krika and offered a thin dagger, before turning and seeing the predicament Haydroma was in.  Xyr body froze.

“Hm, no time...I’ll draw his attention, you see if you can put that to use.”

Krika launched himself forward without waiting for a response.  Haydroma was doing their best, but Vastus was able to evade their every strike, countering each one with a punch of his own. As Krika drew near, Vastus finally knocked the Rahkshi Kaita flat, conjured a sickle, and hooked the blade around Haydroma’s neck.  Krika slowed to a halt.

“Do you really care so much about this Rahkshi?” Vastus asked.  “It isn’t even one of yours, according to what I’ve been told.”

“Bitil would be quite cross with me if I let anything happen to his children, and I have enough people cross with me already.”

Vastus shook his head.  Meanwhile, Nora carefully crept closer, sticking to the shadowy piles of rubble to avoid being seen.  This didn’t stop xem from catching Emsar’s eye, however--the Vortixx beckoned, and Nora ducked into her hiding place, holding up the blade with a long string of hisses.

“Dear, I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” Emsar said.  “If this lovely dagger is important somehow, you need to find another way to tell me.”

Nora huffed.  Xe pointed at Vastus, imitated a stabbing motion, and then gestured broadly at the plant life scattered about before making a final slash with her arm.

“...Alright, that gives me an inkling.  If sticking that irritating shrub with this blade is what we need to do, I might be able to help you with that.”

Nodding furiously, Nora pushed the dagger into Emsar’s hands.  Her leg protested as she repositioned herself, but Emsar ignored it, peeking out from her cover to get a better visual on her target.

“”Let’s not be rash here, General,” Krika said.  “Surely we can agree that avoiding unnecessary loss of life would be preferable, can we not?”

“Even if we could,” Vastus said, tightening his grip on his weapon, “I fail to see how a Rahkshi counts.”

Nora nudged Emsar, who replied, “Yes, I know!  But I only have one shot.”

Krika said, “Listen to me, Vastus.  If you let them go right now, I’ll return the favor.  Otherwise...I personally guarantee you won’t make it back to Atero.”

Vastus smiled.  “Hm.  I suppose we’ll just have to see.”

Suddenly, light engulfed Haydroma.  Vastus moved to finish them off, but his sickle passed through empty space as the Kaita separated back into three Rahkshi once more.  Krika seized hold of Vastus with his Plant Control powers, and that was when Emsar threw the dagger.  The blade buried itself in Vastus, who screamed as sparks of green burst all over his body; Krika glanced to Emsar and Nora, and once the sparks dispersed, he walked closer to Vastus.  He no longer felt any resistance to his hold.

Vastus groaned.  He tried to speak, but Krika kept his mouth shut.

“What a useful little device,” Krika said, extending his arm to retrieve the dagger. “I wonder: will your powers return in time, or have they been shut off permanently?  Curious as I am...I don’t think now’s the time to find out.”

“Not so fast, Makuta.”

Krika looked up.  Perched atop a nearby building was Tarix, sunlight glinting off his watery form. As he glided down the wall, Krika said, “I imagine this will work on you too.  Are you sure what you’re doing is wise?”

“You won’t be able to surprise me with it.  And, unlike with Vastus, you don’t have any powers able to puppeteer me, now do you?”

Krika said nothing.  Behind Tarix, Haydroma reformed, keeping their distance but not wandering too far.

“We could certainly fight each other and see who comes out on top.  But even if you were to defeat me, I think you know that not all of your allies would survive.”  Tarix stepped up beside Vastus.  “I will take Vastus and leave in peace.  Your forces have done well defending this city, and I feel it necessary to regroup with Lord Velika for new orders.”

“Interesting.  Then I shouldn’t let you go, either.”

“The decision is yours to make, Makuta.  Just know that my mercy does have a limit.”

Krika locked eyes with Tarix.  Eventually, with a sigh, he released his hold on Vastus.

“Thank you.  Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Taking Vastus by the shoulder, Tarix left in a hurry.  Krika made his way over to Emsar and Nora, saying, “My gratitude for the help...even if I wasn’t able to capitalize on it.”

“It sounded to me like you bought my survival, so I’ve no intent to complain,” Emsar said.  “However, there is something bothering me...the direction General Vastus came from seems to be the same direction Ackar went in earlier.  He’s not exactly an ally, but losing him would make things a bit more difficult for no good reason.”

Krika nodded.  Turning to Nora, he said, “If it’s not too much to ask, would you and Haydroma go search for our fiery companion?  I think I should get these two some medical attention, as well as inform Zaekura of how our predicament has developed.”

Nora hissed and went to join Haydroma. ��Emsar said, “Much obliged, Makuta.  I think I’ve done all that I can do at the moment.”

“With luck, it will be enough.  Can you stand?”

“Not a chance.”

“Hm, then this will take some doing…”

[dorkyungsoowrites]

Fatal Ties: The Ending

As promised, here's the plot bullet-points for the rest of this story so no one is left to wonder. When we left off, the Boss had just been shot at and was going to try figuring out who the mole was, who the perps were, and how to stop them while still going through with the wedding. I hadn't plotted out anything in detail, but here's the things I knew I wanted to put in. Oh, and a flashback that would reveal how the Boss became the Boss.

Message gets to the Boss to meet with mysterious people who shot at them. The fact there's no demands is fishy, but they go.

They have Kyungsoo hidden away ready to shoot if the meeting goes south. The person who shows up? The Boss' sister. *queue flashback*

(In the edits I was doing the pov changed and the bakery was instead a greenhouse cause I liked the idea that deep down this mafia boss just wanted a quiet life with their plants. So just to avoid confusion this is told from 3rd person pov, and it is indeed showing the day the Boss used a coup against their own father, but it was actually their sister who killed him, and they sent her away under the guise of protection. In truth the Boss pinned the murder on the sister and took over the business.)

They were standing in a vast, gleaming greenhouse awash with sunlight. Two rows of various plants and flowers grew on tables, leaves dancing in their warm glow. Two people stood in the center as they spoke alone. One of them carried an overwhelming sense of authority and sharpness. Wearing a pressed black suit and severe eyes. The other, with broad shoulders, looked right at home beside them.

There was something odd about the image, however. The emotions of the moment eclipsed details; softening and flooding out the edges with blotted blurs. The surroundings bent toward the two figures slightly, revolving around them, existing by extension.

A bright and fierce feeling consumed them. It beckoned they straighten their back. It filled them with elation and confidence.

The breeze sung, warmth and sweetness tickling their nose with a few wisps of hair. Distant concussions rang in their ears. That of hand-made rhythms and automatic syncopation like a crackling symphony. Fingers flinched by their hip, joints aching to grasp long awaited vindication.

A smile slid into place on the one with broad shoulders. Something older and deeper than amusement. It had the appearance of affection, but it was dangerous; too sunken and tight. "This is my kingdom," he said. "None of this would exist without me. Some delusional little girl won't change that."

"A kingdom is more than one person," they remarked, a sneer curling their upper lip. "You're not thinking."

"Am I now?" he marveled, teeth flashing. "You've spent your whole life trying to make me proud. Now you're going to give everything up for some petty cash?"

"Someone is."

"We could do that," he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Or you could stay here while I go clean up the mess inside, and every time you lay down in the bed I bought, under the roof I earned, you'll rest peacefully, remembering when you chose to walk away."

"Just like some mindless, obedient bitch, right? Why would I go back to that?"

"Some paths are less traveled for a reason."

The air stretched, a tethered tension consuming the room. It seeped into their chest. The words agonized and twisted their thoughts into turmoil, but more than that, it galvanized their wounds. Defenses dissolved into truth. Their face went eerily blank, poised for one direction or the other. Weighing the words against their knowledge. On the cusp of their vision, a shape came with the wind that made the leaves tremble.

Clasping metal, their hand raised, and a gunshot shattered the air. Three heartbeats, then a dull thud and a crack. The sound resonated throughout the new space created; striking the emptiness from their gaze. As they looked down at the man collapsed on the concrete their eyes blazed. Watching him attempt in vain to put pressure over the hole in his chest, mouth gaping open and shut with no utterance. The bullet had hit just under his clavicle.

The color was ripped from his face. As seconds passed his brows set into a hard line, glowering up at what must have been just shapes and bright lights. Slipping into shock and the blissful numbness.

And their veins were white hot. Seething scars lurked in the tremor of their hands. Their knees hit concrete, fingers twirling the barrel of the gun into their palm, and rammed the blunt end down onto his forehead.

A fissure opened in his flesh. Hazed hatred in hard eyes and harder hands, his bloodied fist cloyed upward. Treachery painted their neck, warm and slick, and their insides revolted.

They brought the corner of the grip down once more, grunting with the force of it. That time a wet crackle was heard, tissue and marrow and matter opening like a rift in the earth. His eyes dimmed and shut. Fingers fell limp. Then they brought the gun to his face again, and again, and again. Beating, breaking until all the scars were his and retribution stained their very self, pooling around their knees.

They were left with shivering leaves and limbs, metal clattering to concrete. For a few moments, they thought they could feel everything. Beneath, the ground itself breathed with them. The immeasurable magnitude of their actions soaked the air; acid in their lungs. Stinging, shallow flexes damming their thoughts. The image of his bloodied skull battered and branded into their memory; proof he would no longer torment.

"We have to go." A set of shoes stepped in to view. Welcomed into the washed-out greenhouse; making it sharper.

Their gun was picked up. Then a gentle hand rested on their arm. The light straightened and the emotions drained; a hollowness haunting their eyes.

"Come on," the voice urged softly. "I'll take you out of here for a bit. What's that place you always talk about going to? The one in the mountains. We'll lay low there for a bit, and when we come back everything will be like it should. They know what to do."

It was a trusted sound, the promise of better circumstances. It had to be, coming from the one who had been bound for so long; now unbound and free to bind. The vindication was theirs to share. So they swallowed the bile and butterflies, and took the hand on their arm. Bundled in familiar security, warm with such flattering certainty. There would be no leaving the stranger path.

This little exchange (starting with the sister speaking) during the reunion that would confirm what happened in the flashback:

"At least I killed him on purpose. You're a glorified accountant. Dad would've squashed your guts like an ant. If I'm appalled with what you've become, he's rolling over in his grave."

"As long as he stays there then I don't fucking care."

The meeting basically just confirms all the "who's" and "why's" but not the "how". Sister who wants the business for herself, therefore stopping the truce by getting revenge on the Boss is top on her list.

Some more reconnecting, tied together by a homophobic dad. Then this schpeel by the sister as well for more context.

"I was cursed from birth, just like you. The daughter of a mafioso. There's a mark on my head always. Police want to lock me up, criminals want to use me to prove themselves to their own shitbeat dads, regular people are scared shitless they'll be arrested just for talking to me. You weren't protecting me! You threw me to the wolves! My own sibling..."

"The world took everything from me! Don-"

"No! You did that! You took everything, killing anyone who didn't agree with your grand vision!"

Hadn't decided how the Boss would get out of the meeting, but basically the tension would build cause now you realize the Boss hasn't done much actual killing themselves. But the sister? She' killed her family before; what's stopping her from doing it again now?

More bonding with Baekhyun. Teaching him things. Maybe try and get him to kill someone to prove himself, but he can't go through with it.

Boss is in the greenhouse the morning of the wedding, but Baekhyun is also there, and with a gun to his head, kneeling. Boss of course then pulls their gun on the person threatening their fiancé which is the sister. Then maybe this interaction (starting with the sister speaking.)

"Look at you, so proud to kill me. About to be the big boss who saves the day. Protecting everyone with this fucking contract and this ridiculous fucking sham wedding. You think this'll make things right? Just like killing our fucking dad and throwing me out was right because you "saved" the business? Because you were "protecting" me? There's no redemption for someone like you. No happy, fairytale retirement ending. I'll just be another body you leave behind. Go on, finish me. Send my body to Junmyeon and scatter me to the wind, but it won't change what you are."

Lots of twisted emotions, Boss on the verge of tears.

"...I miss my old sister."

"Of course you do," the Boss replied. "They were much more trusting and naive. Easier to kill."

"What happened to your ruthless energy? You used to have real ambition for this company. Now you want to play cottage lesbian with this dipshit?" A pause. "I'm tired of this bluff. Kyungsoo?"

Kyungsoo appears and restrains the Boss, taking their gun away and maybe holding a knife to their throat, voice in their ear.

"Be a good kitten and shut your mouth, huh? You had your chance." He turns to the sister. "Trade you for the dipshit."

Sister laughs. "He's all yours, love."

Kyungsoo was the mole. Twisty, yes? The irony being the Boss was worried Baekhyun was the honeypot, when Kyungsoo had been all along. Well, from when he actually started sleeping with them. He tried to get the Boss to change their ways, and when they didn't, the sister gave up and and gave in to vengeance.

As Kyungsoo trades, Baekhyun steals a gun from Kyungsoo's holster, presses it to his chest, and pulls the trigger. His first kill.

The Boss uses the distraction to kill their sister. Their final violent act. Both of them standing amidst the blood.

The truce is made, the Boss gets married, and both their souls are now corrupted and damned.

Hadn't totally decided, but if I were to lean toward a happier ending then the Boss would've raised up one of the others (probably Jongdae) to be the new boss, and they'd prove their sister wrong by retiring with Baekhyun to a small house with a garden. Well, they weren't totally happy after everything they'd been through, but they were content.

[the-quiet-winds]

In the Cold Light

[A dip into the Sixcago verse. Inspired by Abby Mueller and Andrea Macasaet]

“Do you even still love me?”

“Wh- of course I do! Where did you get that idea from?”

Jane sucks in a harsh breath. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But-“ Anne grabs her hand to keep her from leaving. “Don’t leave!”

“I said,” Jane says sharply, pulling away from Anne, “I don’t want to talk about it.” She clenches her hands into fists and looks at the floor, shaking in anger and shame and desperately trying to avoid the tears blooming in Anne’s eyes.

“Please,” Anne whispers. “Talk to me.”

“Leave me alone, Bo,” Jane hisses.

“No, Jane,” Anne counters, but her usual fire is absent. “Just talk to me. What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, Jane simply storms out of the dressing room, leaving a very stressed and scared Anne behind.

Aragon and Parr chase after her, but she’s gone without a trace, somewhere along the streets of Cambridge…

And Anne is all alone.

She misses her immediately.

She watches with the slightest hint of disdain as Mallory quickly began to get ready for an unexpected performance – it wasn’t that she didn’t like Mallory, not at all. She loved her, she was practically her sister. But Anne wants Jane.

Anne knows she shouldn’t. Their past dictates that they should be mortal enemies, that she should hate Jane with every fiber of her being.

But she doesn’t.

She did, at the beginning. She hated the awkwardly-limbed, slightly-too-tall Jane who barely spoke and danced in weird ways and didn’t really know how to carry herself in this new life.

But then they started to talk. Every time Anne was nervous or unsure during their initial rehearsals in Chicago, Jane would give her a friendly smile and encouraging words.

Anne told herself not to get too attached. They were only doing a few weeks in Chicago, then it was all over. But they got extended. Then a move to Boston. Next Canada, then St. Paul, then, somehow, an opening on Broadway.

“Ten minutes! Ten minutes to curtain!”

The announcement over the loudspeaker jolts Anne out of her musings, and she finishes her makeup, sips some more water, then slowly drags herself up to the stage level.

Katherine gently bumps her with her elbow.

“It’ll be okay,” Katherine promises, smiling cheekily. She softens a moment later. “She’ll be alright. You know Jane can be a bit… emotional, sometimes.”

Anne nods glumly, allowing Katherine to take her hand and lead her on stage.

If she’s being honest, Anne doesn’t remember a lot of the show. Mostly, the only thing she recognizes is the pangs in her chest that she felt when it wasn’t Jane’s voice singing after her.

She can’t bring herself to stage door after the show. As quickly as she can, she’s changing out of her show costume and throwing her street clothes back on, barely realizing she’s got her shirt on the wrong way and racing out the back to get to Jane’s place.

Jane’s apartment is no where near her own, but Anne knows she won’t be sleeping tonight if she doesn’t go talk to her.

She goes up the elevator and shuffles nervously in front of the door to Jane’s apartment before working up the courage to knock.

There’s some sort of half-hearted hum from inside, which Anne nervously takes as an invitation.

“Jane?” She calls softly. “Where are you?”

She doesn’t have to look that far. A quick glance into the bedroom of the small apartment betrays Jane, half-curled under the heavy covers on her bed, make-up lines streaking down her cheeks.

When she sees Anne, it’s hard to tell if it’s relief, pain, or anger that crosses her face with the slightest motion of her eyebrow and twitch of her nose.

Without much hesitation, Anne rushes into the room. She barely kicks off her shoes before laying down next to Jane and trying to move as close to her as possible.

“Please,” she all but whimpers, “tell me what’s wrong.”

Jane doesn’t answer, her head falling to the side away from Anne.

The younger girl gives a tiny sort of whine. She presses herself closer to Jane.

“You’re scaring me I don’t know why you took off but I’m sorry for whatever I did just please tell me what’s wrong,” Anne rambles off one in one massive sentence, hoping to get through to Jane.

Finally, after an agonizingly long lull of silence, she hears it. “Do you even still love me?”

It’s the same question from in the dressing room, the one Anne hadn’t fully answered.

“Of course I do,” she says, her voice softer now. It trembles, despite this, weary and worried at giving the Jane the wrong impression. “Why would you think I don’t?”

Jane shudders, barely. “You’ve been spending so much time with Parr,” she mumbles out. “I thought you were replacing me.”

“Never,” Anne breathes out, astonished that Jane would even think she could be replaced. “You… Jane you’re…” she knows what she wants to say, but her mouth and larynx won’t cooperate to make the word.

“It’s okay,” Jane says softly, “I know-“

“You’re like my mom!” Anne finally bursts out. She takes the most steadying breath she can. “You’re like my mom in this life. Mum, mom, whatever.” Anne chokes out a sobbed breath. “I need you.”

“But-“

“No, mom,” she counters with slightly more confidence than before. “All those days in those early rehearsals, you were there for me when no one else was.” A moment’s peace. “Why don’t you believe me?”

That voice, so young and innocent and vulnerable, pulls at Jane’s heartstrings. She can’t help the turn that follows, bringing her to face Anne, tears in those big brown eyes and sloping down soft cheeks.

She swallows hard. “Because what’s so special about me? Look at me,” she chuckles hollowly. “I’m awkward and don’t ever know what to say and-“

Her next thought is cut off by arms tightly wound around her waist, a tiny frame shaking slightly against her. “Stop,” Anne whimpers out. “You’re the best mom I could ever ask for.”

“I’m not your mom, honey,” Jane reminds her softly.

Anne’s face lifts out of her shoulder, looking up to her with those pained eyes. “Don’t you want to be?”

At that, Jane is at a loss for words.

Maybe she does.

When she meets Anne’s pleading gaze again, she knows her answer deep down in her gut. She gently brushes a lock of hair out of Anne’s face with a long finger. “If you’d like that, I’d be more than happy to be your mom, Bo.”

The gentle, loving nickname, born from Anne’s own jokes about her height and habit of calling herself ‘Baby Bo’, brings a smile and a few more tears to Anne’s face.

She feels the softest kiss against her forehead. “I love you, Bo.”

Anne melts into the embrace, holding tightly to her mother figure as the covers are drawn more tightly around them. “I love you too, mom,” she mumbles.

Barely a few moments later, Anne is asleep in the warmth of Jane’s, her mother’s, embrace.

Jane smiles down at her, easily tucking the girl’s head under her chin and running deft fingers along the length of Anne’s hair.

With that same tiny grin still on her lips, Jane holds her daughter close, the promise of her devotion giving her the much needed peace of mind to finally sleep.

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