#ive slept to that many times his voice is so calming and nice

[suffering-asthmatic-tifosi]

idk who needs this but here's an Hour and a Half of Hozier reading Poetry:

X

(+ bonus Andy Pics)

[keilemlucent]

pretty eyes & starshine: i

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i   ||   part ii   ||   part iii

beta’ed: @shadowworks & @keiqos​ (thank you!! 💞)

word count: ~9.4k

Keigo surrenders to losing himself in the blank-walled, temporary home he inhabits. He finds familiarity in the routine of aches, pains and pills. 

You’re his only solace. 

warnings: bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, dissociation, suicidal ideation, alcohol as a coping mechanism and graphic description of sustained injury

a/n: oh wow so here it is, big sad fic :’^) part one!! it’s canon divergent from manga chapter 296 onwards.

this one has been a long time coming. please mind the warnings!! this fic deals a lot with trauma and mental illness in tandem. the warnings are going to change with the coming parts, so please be mindful. i don’t wanna get too sappy, but this piece has been my Baby for the past few months, and i’m excited to finally share. that being said, enjoy loves 💞

Everyone is fucked up after the War.

There is no kindness in an aftermath like this one, not so soon, and certainly not with dried blood of old comrades and mud still caking under its metaphorical fingernails. The world was in shambles, and every hero is along with it.

There is something horrifying about being at the center of it all, Hawks, no, Keigo thinks solemnly, all too often. 

He’s used to the attention he’s getting, touches and poking and prodding by near strangers. Except, he was used to exclamations of how great and powerful and remarkable he was. Now, all the attention he receives is followed by little sighs and sad, broken eyes.

He’s sure he looks equally as sad; Keigo had been nothing but an empty shell since the War had ended and he’d been carted off to his hospital room. Numb despite all of his burns. 

It’s the shock, he tells himself, he’ll snap out of it any day.

Any day.

...

And it is any day.

He wakes up to screaming from the next room over, agonized wails that pierce the air as his morning nurse enters. She’s over-worked and haggard while checking his vitals with a forced smile. They don’t make conversation with him much anymore, and Keigo doesn’t have the energy to try and force it. There isn’t enough in him to pretend that he’s okay enough to banter with folks. 

If he still had his wings, he would’ve wrapped himself up tight in the plumage and let himself rot away in some corner. He’d let the dissociated numbness fade, however long it took, and then succumb to whatever psychological wounds revealed themselves. 

Waste away, all alone.

But he doesn't have that luxury. He is in an overcrowded hospital with swarms of civilians and heroes, all stuffed in one place because the world doesn’t have the time to differentiate between the wounded, nor the space or resources to give different resources. Though, Keigo is a special case, hence why he’s had healers coming to him for the past three weeks since the War trying to coax his body into genesizing a new pair of wings. 

The Commission’s hospital has all the bells-and-whistles that a medical professional could need, but Keigo, and so many others, are facing problems that don’t have good and easy roads to healing. 

That’s assuming healing was even possible.

Keigo is convinced, has been convinced, that there is no way to come back from the War, nor the absence on his back, nor the shouts and cries of pain that echo around the hospital like a new genre of music that Keigo so desperately wants to scrub from his brain.

Things change, it’s inevitable. Everyone falls eventually, and he was just used to flying.

It’s a harder descent. 

...

Keigo doesn’t meet you on any day, he meets you on a lonely night.

The evenings and early mornings were the most peaceful at the hospital. Most folks, three weeks after the end of it all, had serious enough injuries that they had to be somewhat sedated to sleep, either for physical or mental pain keeping them from sleep.

It’s morose, Keigo thinks, quietly and privately, but he craves those hours. All he hears then is the hum of air vents and beeps of his own medical machinery. None of the audible agony of the folks he was sworn to protect.

He’s slept most of the day, not lucid enough to do much else, and the nurses haven’t been giving him sedatives unless he asked (though he always did.) Without forced quiet, he’s antsy, fingers twitching and flaring the new (and growing) pains rooted in his (empty, isn’t that horrifying—) back.

He rouses himself, adjusting his scratching hospital garb (thin sweats and a cheap crew neck with the back almost entirely cut away). With his IV pole at his side, he resolves to take a few laps and quiet himself, hopefully.

(Keigo would need sedatives, he always did, but it was nice to play pretend that he didn’t. It made things easier for a precious hour or two.)

His laps are usually quick, despite how much his body aches when he walks. So much new, burnt tissue that needed to learn how to move, how to live again, kept him throbbing and gritting his teeth.

Masochism be damned, he keeps at it during his sleepless nights. Physical therapy wasn’t an option when the world was caving in with him at the epicenter.

There’s a common room at the end of the foyer of identical (filled) hospital rooms, just a collection of stuffy, uncomfortable couches that face an aged TV and a wide bay of windows. It’s rarely used, just a formality for when the space of the hospital had regularly hurt victims and heroes. When it wasn’t bearing so much weight. 

Sometimes, he would stop to idly regard the mostly barren world around the hospital. Far from the cities, a little hideaway for heroes and their loved ones to heal in privacy. Other than sheer distance, there is a thick, organic shield around the complex.  It’s a towering forest, man-planted with identical types of trees in perfect rows. 

It’s grim in its predictability. 

(When did he get so fucking pensive?)

(Oh yeah, too much time locked in his goddamn skull.)

He hadn’t been planning to have any inner musings that night.

But, that night, he notes that he is not alone. 

On one of the hard couches, you sit, with your own IV-pole companion and injuries, an arm carried in a monochromatic sling and set in a hard cast.

You turn to him, blinking wide eyes at him.

There’s a single lamp on, and the light dances in your eyes with its own unexpected rhythm.

Something compels Keigo to smile, cocky, like he used to, and greet you with a little wave, and a finger to his lips.

Your expressions melts, a hand going over your mouth to stifle a giggle.

It’s like you’re pulling him after that, he finds himself resting across from you.

You must look like a pair, he realizes. You’re greasy, he’s greasy. He’s got a fine layer of built-up stubble that shouldn’t be called anything other than impressive peach fuzz (not that Keigo’s seen it, he’s felt it. The idea of looking in a mirror makes him sick to his stomach. Though you don’t have any pseudo-beard, you’ve got your own unkempt look and feel that makes you two kindred without sharing a word.

It feels comfortable, warm.

“Hi,” you speak first, voice soft and gentle. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah, who can?” Keigo replies, shaking his head. “But what about you? Midnight oil doesn’t burn without a cause, you know.” 

Your expression is also painful in the way it’s so open, yet worn (most everyone had locked up by now, the ones in the hospital and Keigo imagined the ones outside of it too.) 

“I like the sky— the stars are pretty.” You sigh, wistful. “I watch for shooting stars.”

The thought, the significance of that obvious wanting, makes something pang deep in his chest. Childlike hope in a place like this, foolish as well as frail.

“Trying to get a wish?” Keigo clicked his tongue. “Smart.”

“No, no— wishing doesn’t... suit me, right now.” You snorted, shaking your head, the light in your eyes dancing, “I just think they’re pretty.”

Keigo blinks, unable to stop the way his eyes widen.

Your posture reads nothing but earnestness and vulnerability, so freely given (so undeserved) without a hint of pullback.

“What do you want to be called?”

“... Excuse me?” Keigo is not used to his thoughts being interrupted in the blanket of dark that he feels most comfortable in. Your words shock him enough with their meaning, let alone the way you’re so brazen. 

“I, uh,” You stumble on your words. “I know who you are, but I also saw that whole broadcast, which I’m going to easily assume you don’t want to talk about. But, I don’t know how much you want to be called ‘Hawks’ at this point either.”

His mouth is dry.

“So, I ask instead,” You lean forward, your IV line pulling the slightest bit and you wince. His discomfort must be very fucking apparent, because you backtrack in moments. “... Or, neither. I can call you something else, too.”

“... A nickname, for someone you don’t even know?” Keigo, Hawks, whoever he is now struggles with words. There’s too many, and they’re all too fast, and he doesn’t have his wings to catch up to them or outrun them— 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrug with a lazy smile. “I’ll call you... pretty eyes. How about that?”

Keigo does have pretty eyes. They’re gold, light and glittering amber in the lowlight. Before he, ya’ know, lost them, and when things were good, but awful, but normal, he darkened the organic marks around his canthi with liquid eyeliner. He liked makeup, prettied himself up and accentuated all the good he had. Preening.

None of that is left, just what organically was on his skin, and he hasn’t seen it in its raw state in years, and like fuck if he was going to look in a mirror just to figure out if his natural eyeliner was half as good as that by his own hand. 

“Sure, that works,” He relaxes, mirroring your expression like the practiced... pro he is. “What do I call you, starshine?”

You roll your eyes, but nothing about you fades as you tell him your name, something that calms and fills him, “But, you can call me starshine if you want. Sounds nice.”

It’s sweet.

So, Keigo greets you.

“Nice to meet you, starshine.”

...

That’s the first time you kept each other’s company. Most of it is quiet, you truly do just want to watch the stars. Keigo did with you, tracing the shadows of clouds and moonlight with his eyes.

(Occasionally, his gaze shifts to you, regarding your figure with the same care for only a moment before returning to the sky you both miss.)

Eventually, the quiet heat of it puts him half to sleep, and he bids you goodnight.

You wave goodbye, rising as he away.

The light isn’t in your eyes anymore, and your warmth feels a little too far away.

...

The next days are long.

He slips into that shell-state again, where he’s a husk that stares emptily at the ceiling as the Commission tries to piece him together to a fraction of what he once was. 

They fail, each time, because no healer they’ve brought can regenerate quirk-formed appendages, but he commends their efforts all the same. It’s out of desperation, sure, but he’s heard whispers of the new generation. In recalling his own sidekicks, he isn’t as scared for the future. 

(Everyone else’s future. He’s so terrified of his own that he turns extra numb if he thinks about it.) 

Selfishly, he just wants his wings for himself. They’d keep him plenty company. If he ever did get them back, he’d fly somewhere, faraway and alone to live out his days under his feathers and feel as empty as he wanted. 

They fuss over him all day, not knowing those desires. They are private, and he only puts on his old, self-confident bravado so they don’t lock him up somewhere to have his brain picked and to fill the new holes with pill-shaped gauze. 

As established, Keigo was content to rot.

(He can’t fully parse all of his feelings and they consume him.)

The healers for the week all failed, doing nothing but making his back bow and burn. It’s painful. Obviously, trying to stitch a body back together, or rather making a body make when it was so tired of creating—

(Feather after feather after feather, for how long?)

He’s glad his sessions are in a different room, a spare, horrifyingly metallic exam room across the hospital. It reeks like iron and isopropyl alcohol, but Keigo doesn’t mind. The filmy paper that rolls from the exam table gets soaked with his sweat as opposed to his familiar bed dressings. 

Not to mention, it’s nice, not having to hear his neighbor’s screams and pleadings to God, any god, for reprieve. Calming. 

(He feels less guilty. Less like it was his own hand that scarred up their bodies. If he can’t hear them, he only thinks of his own agony under ‘helping’ hands.)

His body is exhausted at the end of each day, and even his restlessness fades with the necessities of his body.

He doesn’t see you, and practically forgets about you.

It’s a week or so later when he takes one of his strolls, and finds you tucked away into your nook, dimly lit and with a blanket over your lap.

Keigo feels it as he nears you, that comfort that your expression bleeds into his very soul. Even as he watches your healthy hand nervously toy with the thin knit in your lap, it doesn’t dim you.

The lamplight dances in your eyes as you nod to him, “Fancy seeing you here, pretty eyes.” 

“You’d never know it, but I live just down the hallway— me,” He touches his chest proudly, surprised by his own jest. 

You gave a fake gasp, mirroring him easily, “Never knew I had such a well-known soul in my neighborhood. Forgive my transgression.”

Bending at the waist, as much as you can with your right leg extended, straight, you choke on laughter.

Keigo follows you in it, giggling, genuinely giggling, high and light and girlish like he’d never heard from himself before.

He snapped his mouth shut, thickly swallowing and shaking his head.

“No need to be shy,” You assured him with an affectionate turn of the head. “You have a lovely laugh.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me, cute.”

Your head tilted farther, confused, “I’m simply being kind to you.”

Why didn’t he have the snark to reply to that? Probably because he was half-dead and on painkillers for nearly a month. He’d beat himself up about it later, maybe.

There wasn’t an ounce of malice in your tone, just earnestness that tugged at his own insecurities.

You backpedaled. “How was your day?”

Keigo takes a few moments to respond, shaking his head without mind to the way his too-long hair flops in his face. 

The banter isn’t forced, but it’s not welcomed yet.

As comfortable as you feel to him, Keigo isn’t comfortable.

“Same old, same old,” Living hell. “Boring, mostly. Painful, but dull. It’s crazy how much hell smells like cheap disinfectant, huh?” 

You agree, quietly, “I’m pretty sure there’s many hells in this place.”

Keigo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t. 

You both regard the stars again with growing reverence. Specks of light dance back in your eyes as you both settle into the hard cushions like they were made of goose down and Sherpa. 

...

Your conversations are... disjointed, to say the least. 

There’s an inability for words and phrases to flow between you. There’s starts and stops, stalls like an engine that putters on tarry oil without ever truly firing. There are good feelings, still, safety in silence before words as you stargaze together through the comfort of a window.

It should feel disarming, to be so far from the sky yet have no way to reach it. And it is, but Keigo can swallow the reality these days. It’s easier when there’s someone on the mend close by, sharing in the discomfort of a rawed mind and the comfort of a yellow-toned fluorescent bulb.

It’s unspoken kinship. Keigo never had time for it in the past, but now it was all he had. There had to be some cruel irony in it (as if there wasn’t enough in his life), but he couldn’t make himself mind. 

Everything he’d once excelled at, everything he had was gone. He was barren and stripped (don’t think about it—), exposed to the elements in all the worst ways. At least the hospital was clean and safe, relatively. 

It feels safest with you near.

Sure, your conversations were clearly that of two horribly broken people, but that wasn’t new or surprising. It simply was.

“Do you know constellations?” You ask one night, a colder one, where you’ve got two blankets over your lap. 

Keigo thought for a moment, “A handful, but I never took to stargazing, you know?”

You don’t relate, just chew your lip, the light of the dim lamp dancing across your irises.

“Can I show you some?” 

“...Constellations?”

“What else?” You crack a smile. “Come on, pretty eyes.”

Whatever you’d like, he’d do. 

He can’t refuse, he’s already getting weak for you. 

Shifting, Keigo joins you on your typical couch for the first time. Your IV poles, thrumming and humming their own rhymes harmonize, quietly and mostly imperceptible. 

You regard him even more warmly, so close, a little smile playing on your lips.

“What’s your sign?”

Keigo deadpans, “What?”

“Like... astrology. What’s your sign?”

You wiggle your eyebrows, knowing the double-meaning of your words. 

Flirting again.

Since when had he been so bad at it?

“Capricorn,” He huffs back. He keeps his back off the stone-like cushions of the couch— his scarring had been itchy the whole day prior— so itchy— 

You tap the plastic-y fabric gap between the two of you, grabbing his attention, “Hey, pretty eyes. Stick with me, let me show you where that one is.”

So, you do.

Your light-filled eyes trace the sky’s nighttime freckles, searching until you find what you’re looking for.

“There,” Your finger raises, tracing the patterns in the air. “That’s Capricorn, can you see?”

Not really, the stars are just a meaningless smatter. If there’s some sort of pattern he’s supposed to find, he comes up with none. 

“Not in the slightest,” Keigo rolls his eyes. “Show me again?”

You don’t reply, but rather scoot a bit closer, mirror his hunch and pose with precision and tiny adjustments. 

He doesn’t dare to breathe as you carefully grab his arm, extending it. You lay your cheek over his bicep, watching from the closest view to his own that you could. 

“Do you see now?” 

The only starlight he sees is right in front of him, soft cheek pressed against atrophying muscles. Sharing your heat so graciously as you would so easily come to, you chatter about the stories that are written in the stars, by all cultures, for so long.

Keigo hears, but he’s far more focused on how he wishes you were even closer.

...

After that night, you always share the same couch. 

You face forward, right leg always extended and stiff-looking. Keigo doesn’t mind, hardly notices. He faces you, fragile back bandaged and kept away from the unforgiving grit of the uncomfortable couch. It looks a bit uncomfortable, the posing of it all, but with the words flowing easier, neither of you mind.

You keep showing him stars, the constellations you can remember and see in the night sky. 

Keigo makes fun and crafts his own, connecting new dots and winding stories about them.

“See those three there?” He guides your hand, close enough to share your breath. “That’s the comb of the chicken. Star comb, if you will.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and pulling your hand from his grip, “There’s no cock in the stars, pretty eyes. Chickens can’t fly anyways.”

You both freeze.

Keigo’s mouth goes dry—

Chicken can’t fly.

As much as you’re both learning to be human again, there isn’t talk of your injuries. Maybe, there’s mutual curiosity (you’ve been here two months. just for a broken arm, why?), but like fuck Keigo wants to broach the subject.

“S-sorry,” you stumble over your words, physically retreating. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

It is a fact, chickens can’t fly, but Keigo isn’t a chicken. He’s a debauched, defamed hero whose home is the same set of a milky white, hospital ward walls. Once, a real hero, before the war, before selling his morals just for a chance at rest, before blue flame— burning— 

“Pretty eyes,” Your voice trembles, shaking and lonesome. “Come back here, now. Come on.”

You’re holding his cheeks, unkempt nails pressing (blessedly) a bit too hard into his cheeks. The heat of you is so close, almost scalding him, but he wants more of it, more of the heat that doesn’t burn—

“You’re okay, pretty eyes, s-see?” You hold yourself together, jerking your head to the wide window and glittering stars. “We’re just stargazing.” 

Keigo’s has tears leaking down his face, but neither of you acknowledge them. You release him, quietly spinning another tale about a hero hung in the cosmos. He thanks you for it silently by tugging you into his side. 

(It was the first night you really touched him.)

(The light in your eyes was so close, he wanted it all for himself.)

...

They’re running out of healers to try.

From the weakest to the strongest quirk, no one could revive his dead wings. There was no root to push from the scar tissue, nor resolve left in Keigo to try and make new pins and feathers sprout.

His back isn’t fertile. It’s just as poisoned as the rest of him.

...

He wonders where you disappear to during the day. He takes his strolls then, too. Waves to nurses these days, not charming, just friendly, trying to make a little brightness. 

There’s one day where he asks one of the nurses he knows best for a pair of scissors.

She looks at him, worried, “Don’t tell me we need to put you on psych watch.”

“What? No,” Keigo shakes his head, shaggy hair quivering around the frame of his face. “I just need a bit of a haircut.” 

“... We can ask the Commission to bring someone in—”

“I can do it myself.”

She doesn’t argue with the firmness of his voice, rather, she hands him a pair of safety scissors with bright purple handles. They’re for a child, but Keigo’s fine with that. They’d do. 

When he was younger, and in a pinch (and so poor he tried to eat grass and lick scraps from metallic packaging of discarded junk food wrappers) he’d cut his hair with his own feathers.

Safety scissors would be even easier.

It did mean that he had to confront his own visage, which he had gotten too good at avoiding.

The bathroom in his room is small, it would’ve been claustrophobic if he was still carrying a twenty-five-foot wingspan. 

But, he isn’t. It was just him and the scars on his back that he definitely wasn’t ready to see. 

He’s caught glimpses of himself over the past weeks, but nothing substantial. No view that would’ve given himself time to scrutinize over his imperfection. 

The dull hospital mirror reveals too much about him. It feels too vulnerable, makes his chest tighten, as he stares himself in his ‘pretty eyes’.

Purple stamps below his eyes, probably not from sleeplessness itself, just the sheer exhaustion of living. The one under his left is an odd maroon color, mixing with the scar that is burned into that half of his face.

The skin was once soft, plump cheeks always tended too and well taken care of by expensive skincare products. Now, it’s charred and gaunt. Healing, but still obviously scarred heavy and deep.  The weak beard he’s been growing (accidently) is patchy around the thickened tissue. 

It bothers him— 

It doesn’t look like him in the mirror. 

It helps to take care of himself for the first time in a long while. 

He shaves with the cheap foam and single blade razor they’d given him in the toiletries pack the first days he was there, while he was still numbed out and half-dead. The metal glides over his skin, stripping away the numbness just a little. The stubble and cream slide down the drain and away.

His hair is different. The waves had for so long been pushed back and held that way with the winds of his flights. The longer, feathery patches now hang around his face, dangling down and mingling with the too-long sections that curl over his ears and down his neck.

Wetting his hair, he cuts away what he can. 

It’s blunt, messy, and not elegant. 

All the same, the trim feels good. 

Though, his mood goes sour when the screaming starts for the day.

The far wall of the bathroom was shared by him and his shrieking neighbor, and he took great care to never shower when they were singing their awful chorus. It grates on his ears; he should’ve been a bit empathetic to their suffering, but he didn’t care that much. It was so regular, that the screaming that might’ve once sent each one of his feathers (don’t think about, don’t fucking think about it) sharp as the razor in his hand, didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Just a poke at his temple, a jab and a drop of water that irks him more than anything else.

It is a... somewhat pleasant distraction. He can focus more on his fellow patient than his own haggard appearance, the scar, the lack of red at his back— 

It’s all okay, ‘okay’, until the patient starts babbling.

“M-make it stop!” 

Keigo stills.

A scream tears through the drywall. Even without his wings, it makes him thrum, far-too sensitive.

“Help!” The voice yelps. “HELP!” 

There’s a thud and thump from the other room.

“Please, please!”

Keigo’s heart stutters in his chest, and the razor falls from his hand, clattering into the sink.

“MAKE IT STOP!”

It’s you.

It’s your screaming and shrieking that’s burrowed in his ears. It’s your voice that’s trembling in desperation that has him running out of his room, nearly pulling out his IVs as the pole teeters and follows behind him. 

Why are you screaming?

Why have you always been screaming?

A nurse is trying to stop him, urging him to settle but he can’t. There's an urgency in his chest he hasn’t felt since back before and he has to heed it. He needs to.

He pulls his forearm from the nurse’s grasp, hissing in his own pain, muscles pulling and aching with disuse but he doesn’t care.

The nurses drag him back from your door, and they almost have him, almost have him on the ground.

And then he smells burning—

Cloth.

Flesh.

And something in him snaps.

He clocks the nearest nurse with a tight fist, ignoring his atrophied muscles and kicking with everything he could muster.

They release him, probably out of shock. (He’d been such a model patient, so complacent and quiet until then.) 

Then, he stumbles into your room, and sees you, and wants to die.

...

There’s plenty of times in his life where Keigo felt like an animal. When the Commission first got their hands on him, they took to studying and picking his quirk about to figure out the most efficient way to rebuild it to their needs and uses. Now then, he felt very much like an experiment, only half-human. He was too young to really ‘get’ it, but the feeling persisted.

Sometimes, he felt similarly when he played celebrity. The talk shows, the modeling and media felt hoops he had to jump through just to get a decent night’s sleep. It was an additional job aside from heroics, one he excelled at and entertained him. But that didn’t mean each flash of a camera didn’t suck him dry of a bit of his dignity. 

He was sure you had to be feeling similarly.

You’re writhing and arching in your bed, curls of smoke rising from your papery hospital gown. Every machine in your room is screaming with you, bloody and loud and angry—

And scared. Keigo recognized well, and it drove pins into his heart to realize it was you.

It’s even worse when he realizes some part of you is burning. 

At your bedside, he freezes.

Nylon straps wrap around your wrist, around your cast, and keep you held tight to the bed. You’re tied down, held to the plastic bed frame as you wretch and scream.

You don’t even notice him.

The smoke rises from your burning hospital gown. He rips it away, tears the burning section away with his shaking hand. It’s crass, and Keigo sees a bit too much.  The gauze wrapping your leg below is burning as well, in little veins of char that burns black and smoldering. 

Keigo tears it all away, he tears and tears—

And then he sees the wound.

He was trained, once, to see this type of horror and not bat an eye. That training was gone, and all that remained was his starshine with a writhing, molten wound.

Keigo is numb as the nurses drag him back to his room, trying to decide if he prefers the apathy and numbness to injury that his old heroism gave him, or the blinding pain of empathy when someone you... care about is hurt.

He can’t decide which he’d rather suffer with. 

...

You appear in the common room a few nights later.

Keigo still takes his walks in the late evening, even if you aren’t there. If anything, he needs them more. He’s restless, always listening for the screams or howls from the next room over. His annoyance towards them was gone, and all that remained was a concern that knotted in the pit of his stomach. 

There’s a sigh of relief on his lips when he finds you, nestled into a pile of blankets with your IV pole, watching the stars with sad eyes.

He joins you on your couch, cracking a decent joke that you don’t respond to.

Then, there’s silence.

It’s as loud as the stars are bright. The expanse of sound is filled by the hum of the cold air and distant beeping.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice shakes. “You shouldn’t have seen me like that. It’s not... Easy to look at. Or, I imagine it’s not.”

Keigo wants to rip the apology from your tongue and burn it.

“No, please, it’s alright,” He’s begging too much. “I get it.”

As much as he can, anyways.

You’re quiet again, biting your lip so hard it must be close to breaking skin.

“Can we... talk about things?” You ask, softer. “I can’t keep pretending.”

“...’Pretending’?” Keigo knows, but he selfishly wants to hear you say it.

“Well, you didn’t think I’ve been here for two months for my bum arm, right?” You laugh weakly. “And I’m well-aware that you don’t have wings.”

We just don’t talk about it. 

“It’s nicer to look at the stars and pretend everything’s fine,” Keigo lays the statement down and regrets it.

Your fist tightens, jaw clenching.

And there’s more silence.

It’s deafening to Keigo, he wants to speak, scream, but you’re quiet next to him. He can fill voids with his voice so, so easily, yet he turns in on himself.

“I know, it’s all hard,” Tears drip down from your words, though your cheeks remain dry. “I know, but there was a War two months ago, and we’re still holed up in a place like this, and we never talk about why.”

You turn to him, light dancing slowly in your eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no sound comes out.

“... I didn’t want to ask.” Keigo speaks, gaze shifting down to your leg. He questioned why a broken arm would keep you here, but you can’t just ask that. “It’s bad form to ask a stranger about their injuries unnecessarily when they’re traumatized.”

“But we’re not strangers, not anymore.”

Keigo can’t disagree. 

...

You had been in a conbini when Gigantomakia tore through your little suburb. It was a few miles away, but the ground shook as if the goliath was just outside the automatic doors.

Your demon was near, though.

It was a man from the PLF who tore into you so badly. Just some random, emboldened civilian who ascribed to Destro’s ideology hard enough to think about taking out his frustrations on ‘weaker-quirked’ individuals.

That meant the young couple getting slushies in the corner, the old man behind the cash register, and you.

(You’d told your roommate you’d be home quick to help her study—)

(Your roommate is dead, under several tons of rubble.)

“The old man died before the heroes even started trying to rescue anyone. The couple was begging each other to hold on, but only one of them lasted. He died within a few weeks of being taken here.”

There was just you.

You’d hardly been touched by the man, the fucking villain, who’d set his mark on you. But it was more than enough to leave a writhing scar.

Keigo asks to see it, and quietly, you oblige him.

You’re in a gown, you always have been. The hem of it is pulled up by your visibility shaking fingers, and slowly reveals the scar in the lowlight of the ever-present lamp. He’d seen it once, but that didn’t change how startling it was. 

It’s molten.

The skin is gnarled, twisting and scarred worse than anything Keigo’s ever seen. It was like the gore of a torn flesh was frozen over your right side, from your calf, to your thighs to your pretty hips—

“It goes higher, but that’s not exactly couth to show you,” you joke, but neither of you laugh. 

“... It’s not moving anymore?”

“Oh, yeah. It calms down, when it’s dark. Nighttime and all. It stops being so ornery.” 

Keigo has a laundry list of questions, but with the expression on your face that just bleeds exhaustion into the air, and the fresh burns from the restraints on your wrists, he keeps quiet. 

Maybe, three months ago, he’d jabber on about the injury, try to gode some information out on the villain, profile him, track him and beat the tar out of him for touching you—

But this is the present, and Keigo is a wingless soul. All he has is a prescription for painkillers on a rigid schedule, and the awareness that you both appreciate each other.

Keigo scoots to your uninjured side, lifting his arm up and around your shoulder. It hurts, it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t mind.

You tense for a moment, turning to him with wide eyes, scared like he’s never seen.

Then, you melt into him.

...

Keigo’s busy with healers the week, though none speak his language, literally. They’re international, foreign aid that’s been flown in to try to pick up the disaster of a society that’s been left in the wake of the War and the dissolution of Tartarus.

None of them make progress. 

As much as it burns (haha) him to his core, he’s accepting the reality, slowly but surely. 

...

Endeavor visits him.

It’s the morning after a particularly sweet night with you. You still sit together in the starlight, though you’ve run out of constellations to show him. It’s less quiet than it used to be, just little banter that flows between the two of you. It feels more genuine than his old bluntness, welcome after so much odd tension when you first started enjoying the heat of each other’s presence and the far-off stars.

You’d taken to spending time together during the day as well... As much as you could. Strapping you to your bed was for your own safety. Your broken arm had snapped the first few days at the hospital because of the severity of your spasms and flares. The nurses keep you wrapped up, but Keigo drags a chair close to your bed and talks to you as much as he can.

It helps you relax.

Though the days fill with tension as you try to negate the inevitability of your molten scar coming to life, nights remain calm.

And so, so sweet.

You’ve taken to tucking into his side, telling him little treasured facts about the cosmos. It’s easier to guide his eyes like that, as your cheek rests over his collarbone. 

It lingers with him, the feeling of your casual touch, so tentatively offered and so graciously received.

He traces his own constellations over your gown, mindful of the flesh beneath that heats beneath his palm when he gets too close.

After one of those wonderful, early nights, Enji Todoroki enters his room with all of the gusto one would expect. Which is not very much, but the sheer presence of him is enough to make Keigo quake.

 Just like the little boy from Kyushu, Keigo regards him with stars in his eyes. 

The hero, not a speck of flame on him (thank god) pulls up a chair near his bed. Keigo sits cross-legged and cocks his head to the side.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, number one?” Keigo smiles.

“Number fifteen.”

“... What?”

“Since my injuries, I’m mostly on bedrest,” Enji replied, folding his hands on his chin. “I’m number fifteen now, and that number will more than likely just drop. I’m not much of a hero with only one lung. I’m planning to officially retire at the end of the month.”

Keigo’s chest goes tight and it feels like he’s joking. He tosses on a tight smile. 

“This is hardly time for a pillar—“

“I’m no pillar. I never was,” Enji sighs, running a hand over his scarred cheek. “The kids can handle this.”

Keigo breaks so easily these days.

“That’s not fair—” He had been tossed into this all too early and god it fucked him up— 

“Hawks,” Enji sighed. “There’s hardly anyone left to fight. They’re either dead, missing part of themselves, or gone.”

“So, you’re giving up?”

“If I didn’t, I’d die.”

Coward.

No, just honest and smart. 

“Since when are you this selfish?” Keigo’s own words surprise him, but he doesn’t back down. “And this wordy, number one? You’ve changed.”

He spits the last phrase like an insult. He hates himself for it and would hate himself even more for it later. 

Enji’s face remains solid and unwavering. The twitch in his brow is the only indication that Keigo’s words were even heard. 

“Since we lost, Keigo. Things have changed.”

Keigo knew, of course, but it didn’t stop the anger from rolling his belly.

“Oh, like I don’t fucking know,” If Keigo still had his wings, they would’ve been extended and fluffed, angry as the pinched skin of his forehead. 

This was his hero, he couldn’t be giving up too— 

“Rest, Hawks,” Enji stand up, “You deserve it.”

Seems Endeavor really died. Enji’s face is worn, his expression neutral and jaw slack. He looks hollowed out and empty, not an ounce or morsel of fight left in him, even for a flightless bird in need of some encouragement. 

There’s more to be said, but Keigo’s too angry to listen and Enji doesn’t have the energy to try. 

Whatever news the old hero had come to bring was left undelivered. 

...

You settle together the next few nights, both so damn tired, even though you’ve done nothing other than lay around a hospital for so-many weeks. 

The air always vibrates between the two of you, that comfortable warmth shared between mingling breath and senses. Light dances in your eyes, twisting and bouncing like something otherworldly.

(Maybe it is.)

Your fingers lace together, held in Keigo’s lap. You trace the others hand in relaxing little lines and shapes, trying to soothe each other’s wounds, always.

“One of the doctors said the scar might start shrinking,” You break the tender silence, nosing into his jaw in the same way an affectionate cat would. “They’re not entirely sure, but it’s been stable for a few days.”

Keigo’s feathery (don’t think about it) eyebrows shot up, “That’s amazing, and there’s only a few spasms this week, too.”

(He kept good tabs on you, he had to.)

You hummed in agreement, a sad smile playing on your lips as it so often did.

With a quick blink, the light bouncing in your eyes faded, and the world felt a bit colder.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get out of here,” You pressed closer to him. “There’s shelters, and some cities are taking refugees, but I don’t—”

Your jaw clicks shut, brow furrowed and mood soured.

(Keigo, mind you, is still focusing on the lack of light in your eyes and the chill of the air in the room.) 

Something stirs, deep in his gut, but he doesn’t say anything. How Keigo used to have such a mouth, he didn’t know. These days, all he can is act, like somehow the loss of his wings came with the loss of his tongue.

Tugging you by the waist, mindful of the tender scar, he pulls you close, internally resolving.

...

She, the main Suit, visits him.

(It’s his last visitor at the hospital.)

There are no trumpeters, guards, or the like. It’s just the haggard president, matching Keigo with his dark circles and creased with new wrinkles and far-more grey sections in her slicked back hair.

The air stands still as she pulls up a chair, burying her head in her hands.

She, the Main Suit, has never been one to inquire as to how he is. Many of the others at the Commission were sweet, kind to him in youth, but she was all business. 

Some things never change.

She breaks the silence of the room, “... do you want to be done, Hawks?”

The cords in his chest tighten, gaze going sharper.

He doesn’t answer.

They meet each other’s gazes; twenty years of fucked-up emotion being shared between the pair of them.

“We’ve done everything. Every healer, every quirk, every treatment, conventional or otherwise,” she’s too soft. “There’s nothing left to try.”

He knew that, he had to know that, right?

His throat feels sticky as he swallows down bile, the scars on his back burning anew. It’s somatic, it has to be, but his flesh crawls and writhes just like yours. His starshine. He hates the way his mind is racing, just as fast as it always has, but his body lacks the ability to keep up.

He grounds himself in the thought of you, his starshine. Your body. Your heat. 

His narrow pupils refocus on the light tremble in her shoulders. 

“I’m being honest, so I’ll ask again,” She meets his gaze, grey eyes as soulless and full as ever. “Do you want to be done?”

“Well, obviously I can't fight—” 

“I mean it. All of it, Hawks. Maybe a few media appearances, but all this... shit. You’ve done enough.”

You’ve done enough. 

The words bounce around in his skull.

“Do you want to be done?”

Done with being a hero.

That’s all he’d ever been, right? That is him, he is Hawks, for fuck’s sake, no one other than Dabi (may he rot and die and immolate in hell) even called him his actual name in years.

Keigo is Hawks.

His mouth is dry, and he tries to ignore the tears pricking his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s beginning to cry, and definitely not sure why tension is draining from his shoulders as he sighs out an answer.

“I’ll be done.”

You’ve done enough.

...

Hospital beds are a hot commodity, and now that Keigo had thrown in the towel (along with everyone else) to stop trying with his wings, he was to be discharged within a few days.

(“Just a few more days to adjust your body to your new medications—”)

He’d stopped listening after that.

...

Your last night together is so bittersweet, you taste it on each other’s tongues.

You have an episode early in the day. Your screaming wakes the floor, the burning smell of flesh cementing that it was you.

Keigo’s only half-lucid when he shoves into your room, holding your hands while nurses desperately try to administer pain medication.

It’s too much for you, the crawling edges of the scar once again consuming you in the molten, glowing amber veins of heat that tore through you so terribly.

You sleep the day away. Keigo stays with you for much of it, stroking the bones in the back of your hands. 

...

He fucks you for the first time, that night. 

His own IVs have been removed, he’s to be discharged first thing in the morning—

And he wants one more night of stargazing, please, please—

(Why’s he clutching at you so dearly?) 

But you’re not in the common room. 

Rather, you’re under a few thin blankets, eyes tired and lightless. Your arm is out of its cast, laying over the bed clothes. It scares him shitless at first as he tentatively enters. It’s you though, and the moment you see him, it’s like a flame, a good one, heats the room full and wide. A few specks of light dance in between your irises as your skin crinkles in a gentle smile.

You both know he’s leaving tomorrow.

The knowledge settles in the room like a weight that neither of you can move. So, Keigo takes to it and does what he can.

As opposed to his normal perch next to his bed, he sits beside you, removing the restraints on your wrists and helping you to sit up.

Keigo fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a folded square of paper and placing it at your bedside. It’s his phone number, an odd detail. Relationships usually shared far-earlier.

But there is nothing linear or normal about the two of you, or the situation you both sit and stewed in.

You both are making peace with it at your own pace.

The bed creaks as you move to sit beside him, legs dangling from the bed. There’s gooseflesh beneath your gown, the boring pattern obscured by the darkness of the room, but the molten lines of the scar ever-visible.

“I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”

But I wish that you weren’t leaving.

His hand finds your waist, careful like he always is, but so giving in the same breath. 

“I am too. It’ll be nice to be.”

But I’m going to miss you.

It’s inherent, and has been forever. Since the moment you both stargazed in the common room and watched the worlds high above twist and shine without regard to your own hells, you’ve been ensnared in the other and neither of you have a want or need to let go.

Even with the inevitably of progress.

Keigo drowns in these thoughts, and has been since Endeavor visited and he was reminded of the harsh reality just outside of their tree-ringed prison. The reality he has to return to—

He presses his lips to yours, more desperate and needy than he had before.

Keigo had taken his share of you before, little pecks and the rub of the bridge of his nose over your jaw and cheeks. He had been a bit greedier with his hands, uncaring of the eyes of the night nurses when he’d touched you in the common room.

But he’s insatiable that last night.

The sheets of the plastic bed are too scratchy, they’re too harsh for you, and it burns Keigo to his core as he lowers you down. He cradles what he can, as your fingers latch onto his clothes (real clothes) and tug him as close as you can get.

The machines in your room cry, but they’re forgotten. 

You nip at his bottom lip, dragging yours across his clean-shaven jaw before laying into his neck with kiss after kiss. His muscles shake, holding him over you, both of you atrophied but uncaring.

You suck a deep, throbbing bruise on the fragile skin of his neck. It’s something dark that won’t fade for a week. The thought stirs something in his chest, a white-hot feeling that wants to crack his ribs and consume him. He doesn’t give in, he can’t—

“Stay with me, pretty eyes,” you whisper, so sweet and gentle as you push floppy strands of hair from his face. “Stay here, just for a little while longer.”

The reminder jolts him back, back to you, and the way your body (so tired, but unwavering) jumps and rolls under his touch. He’s a glutton for attention, always has been, but your particular brand and sounds keep pulse hot and hard. 

Shaky fingers pull his shirt over his head, sweaty palms push the gown over your hips. By the starlight, you’re both seeing too much of each other, but this is a goodbye, there’s no time to dwell on the discomfort.

Keigo tries to be careful as he adjusts your legs, tries to be mindful of the raw skin and flesh that makes you whine and half-writhe. You clutch at him, still trying to pull him closer despite the proximity and heat, like you need him as opposed to just wanting him. 

There’s no fanfare in it, just more rushed kisses and the swirling of fingertips over covered clit. You catch each other’s gasps in the mingling of breaths you share. It’s choking, suffocating, yet entirely not enough. You beg, quietly, for more. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and urge him to help pull your panties off and away.

More, more, more. 

By the time he slides into you, you're still tense, but so is he, and in a pile of tension and fear and wishful-thinking, you both come undone, and undone, and undone— 

...

Keigo leaves the next morning. 

The press is there, flash bulbs blinding him after so long with just fluorescents and starlight. He manages an easy wave or two, no autographs or gleaming smiles, just business and numbness that he needed to hold onto, so he didn’t fucking break.

He slips into the Commission’s car and leaves behind the hospital, you, and its wall of man-laid greenery and prays to forget it all quickly. He has enough to mourn. 

...

Keigo wants to off himself when he arrives back at his penthouse. 

How can he not?

His ‘home’ (if he couldn’t even call it that) is a dusty, time capsule of everything before. Before he got fucked up with the League, before the PLF, before the war, before Jin—

Every untouched bit of his life from when it was a few, precious fractions better stands unturned. A discarded jacket, wing slits visible and frayed. Scattered dead feathers that make his skin crawl. Memorabilia too, old merchandise that he never cared much about, but he definitely didn’t need to be seeing it now that ‘Hawks’ had burned up and died. 

All disgusting reminders. 

Something burning fills the base of his skull when his gaze fixates on one of the old plumes. He reaches out to touch the spine of it, instinctually expecting a little jolt of feeling from it, like he always had. 

But there’s nothing. It’s dead, decaying, and so is he. 

The reality of it breaks him, quick, hard and hot. He burns alive a second time. 

He clears the liquor cabinet while blaring music from his over-priced stereo system loud enough to make his ears ache and throb. The music isn’t drowning anything out, but it’s better to pretend.

He finds a bottle of old pills and downs them with a few swigs of expensive whiskey and lets go.

...

When he comes to, he’s staring into a smashed mirror, with his own nails crusted in blood from thin welts in the skin of the scar on his face.

Much to his chagrin, he hasn’t forgotten anything. The memories of blue flames, red feathers, and the smell of your skin mixed with isopropyl alcohol feel brighter than ever. He grounds on them as he sobers up, latching onto the pain of his scar tissue and the solace you gave. 

And won’t ever give him again.

Something in him wilts as he defeatedly goes to his phone, arranging any number of things to get him the fuck out.

...

The penthouse is sold, his more important belongings gathered in bland boxes. 

And he leaves. There’s no sentiment holding him there, not anymore.  

Fukuoka is gone and some distant memory as he drives (yes, he forgot that he had that skill) him and his things to his new home.

His penthouse had been immaculate. Crisp interior design, new shapes and colors that were on trend. He was hardly home to appreciate the modern beauty of it, but he’d received enough compliments from random hookups to know that it landed aesthetically.

But honestly?

Who the fuck cared?

His penthouse had been sold to the highest bidder and far behind as he arrives at his new, high home in the sleekness of his far-too fancy, disused car.

...

...

He gets a call from an unknown number, another one, on some snowy day, deep in winter. 

Keigo debates answering it. He almost lets it slip to voicemail. The only calls worth answering are the handful from the Commission that he has to heed, or the odd one from Rumi, Fuyumi, and on occasion, Endeavor.

Not random numbers, he has no patience for it. 

Yet, he answers it lazily.

“Washed up hero, how can I help you?”

“P-Pretty eyes?”

His heart stutters in his chest, he swears— 

“Starshine?” He sounds breathless, the air leached from his chest as he white-knuckles his thighs.

He’d given up on you contacting him, yet there you were, or at least your voice, mechanical and high bouncing around preciously in the walls of the cabin

There’s a moment of silence, nearly, just your light breathing that receiver picks up.

Your voice trembles when you break it, “Y-yeah, it’s me, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call—”

You don’t need to be sorry; he would wait for you forever, and then some. 

“I d-don’t actually have a phone? Mine got trashed, uh, back then. I’m on the hospital’s line.”

Keigo hadn’t really considered that, he’s slipped the paper with his number on your bedside without a thought. 

How much had you lost?

“No worries, chickadee,” Keigo is sure his smile is audible. “Why call now? Miss me too much?”

He had no idea.

You laugh, though it soured as you spoke, “I get discharged tomorrow.”

Keigo’s heart seizes again and he’s sure he’s going to go into cardiac arrest.

“The guy who gave me the scar and all? He fucked up a few other people, word eventually got here. Once the scar stops... glowing, it rests. If you make it until then, you’re good.”

And alive.

“The whole injury is stable, has been for a week now,” Surprisingly, there’s no relief in your voice. “They need my bed, so they’re releasing me.”

No, no, no.

Where will you go?

Keigo doesn’t say it, but the question hangs in the air and is quickly answered.

“They got me a spot in one of the shelters close by... It’s only a couple hours by train!” You try to sound happy, but it’s so hollow and unnatural; it makes Keigo physically sit up.

No, no, no.

That won’t do.

“... What won’t do?” 

Keigo hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

Something is buried in his chest, something warm and molten, like the old veins of your scar, just kinder and better. It’s full of urges, so seldom used, selectively as needed throughout his career as a hero.

The need to keep something precious safe. 

The thing hasn’t thrashed in months.

Yet now? It’s practically screaming.

“Pretty eyes?” You sound scared through the phone. “A-Are you alright? I can call back—”

“No, don’t, do not.” Keigo lets the flame fill his chest, welcoming it. “You’re not going to that shelter.”

He has something to protect.

“I don’t have another choice—”

Someone.

“You do.” Keigo keeps his voice even, the muscles in his back writhing. If he still had his wings, they’d be puffed out and large. Impassioned with feeling he finally let breath between his ribs. “I’ll come get you, tomorrow.”

“... P-Pardon?”

He doesn’t hesitate, and for a moment, he starts to feel like his old self. 

“Come home with me, starshine.”

++++++

thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💗

look out for parts 2 and 3!!!💞

ko-fi

[clanoffetts]

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

Chapter III

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blossoms.

warnings/things to note: swearing; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); no use of ‘Y/N’; my fc for Paz is Winston Duke, I don’t describe Paz too much at the moment, but just know that’s who I picture!

word count: 6.4k

karyai - main living room of the covert - a big chamber for talking, resting, and even the last secure stronghold when under attack.

ba’vodu - uncle/aunt

-

The birds of Yavin IV’s song was calming as you came into full consciousness. The sleep from the night before was much needed, and very refreshing. You opened your eyes and looked to where Paz had been before you’d fallen asleep. He wasn’t there. Neither was your sleep mask. “Kriff!” You flung your body onto your right side, looking away from Paz’s side of the bed.  

Shit. Shit. Shit. You’d told him you wouldn't look. Hell, you told him it was impossible for you to look. And here you are, no mask over your eyes. What if he’d been there? After all the time you’d spent convincing him to share the bed with you, that it’d be safe. Sure, you hadn’t actually seen him, but the possibility frightened you. You couldn’t violate him like that, even if it was an accident. You couldn’t live with yourself. 

A few minutes of deep breathing later, you got out of bed, and headed into the ‘fresher. You wanted so badly to take another shower, to relax under the water, but you knew it was important to save water, not sure if the covert had water to spare for your journey. You’d have to be content with washing your face and pretending. 

You stared in the mirror, into your own eyes. You replayed the night before: the vibroblade that now sat with your stuff, the idea of Paz taking you to his home and meeting his family, learning his traditions. The pure bliss you were in as you fell asleep, and then the violent jerk of the morning’s close call. Your eyes were no longer as tired as they had been when you’d looked at yourself last night. 

You threw on jeans and a shirt, and finally left the safety of the ‘fresher. Would Paz be mad about the mask coming off? He was so hesitant as it was, you were terrified that this would push him away, make him realize that there’s too much risk in a relationship with a non-Mando. 

“Kebiin’ika?” Paz called as he heard the door to the bedroom open. 

“Yeah?”

He stood up and met you halfway between the room and the common area. “How’d you sleep?” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a half hug before leading you to the table you’d sat at the night before.

“Pretty good,” you said, taking a seat. “Paz?” He hummed and sat down a bowl of some type of porridge in front of you. “Are you mad at me?”

The helmet snapped up to look at you. “Why would I be mad? If you think you broke the towel rack in the ‘fresher, you haven’t. It’s always been like that.”

“No, Paz,” you said. “About the sleep mask. It came off last night. I’m so sorry, I thought it would stay on. I’m not really a wild sleeper so I don’t know how it happened, but I understand if you’re mad at me-”

“Kebiin’ika,” he says, cutting you off. You suck in a big breath, not realizing how long you’d been rambling. “It’s not that big of a deal to me, it was an accident. You didn’t see my face, right?” 

You nodded. “Right.”

“See? No creeds broken,” he says. He can tell you’re still a little shaken up, and moves to lay his large, gloved hand over your small one. “If I didn’t trust you, mesh’la, I would’ve slept on the cot. I knew the mask came off when I woke up this morning, but I trust you enough that I know you wouldn’t use the opportunity of me being asleep to look, even on accident.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you swear you could hear a smile on his face. “Are you sure? I know I didn’t see anything this time, but I would understand if you want me to take the cot from now on.” He ushered you closer to him, his arm around you. It was a bit awkward with all his armor and clothes, but the heart was there. “Kebiin’ika,” he said. “I’m comfortable with sleeping the way we did last night as long as you are. I’m not worried.”

You sighed, leaning into him. The beskar was cold and you just wanted to feel him, his warm skin. “Ok,” you say. “If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.”

“Good,” he replies. “Now, why don’t you finish eating while I call the covert. Tell them that I’ll be there shortly to pick up some of our supplies, ok?”

You nodded, and he let you out of his embrace. While spooning the food into your mouth, you watched him at the hull, punching some numbers into his gauntlet and then speaking in what you assumed was Mando’a. It was such a beautiful language, especially coming from Paz’s mouth. And he spoke it with a pride in his voice that he didn’t have when speaking Basic. 

“Alright, mesh’la,” he said as you got to the bottom of the bowl. “I’ll be back soon, no more than two hours.”

“Two hours?”

“Yes, two hours,” he laughed. “It may be sooner, but you never know. Mandalorians take a long time to say goodbye.”

You smiled at him. “Alright, have fun,” you say.

“Oh, I will,” he replies. You watched as the mountain of blue beskar exited the ship and mounted the speeder the two of you rode the day before. A lot has changed since then, you thought. Before you knew it, Paz Vizsla was gone and a dirt cloud took his place.

-

Paz’s ride back to his home didn’t take too long at all. And when he arrived, he spotted Din and Grogu on some rocks outside the entrance. 

“C’mon, Grogu,” Din is saying. “You can do it.” Grogu sat on a rock opposite Din, with his eyes closed. In Din’s hand was Grogu’s beskar ball. Grogu and his ball were inseparable. 

As Paz dismounted and began walking towards the hangar, Grogu’s eyes shot open and he let out an excited shriek. Paz didn’t speak fifty-year-old-toddler, but he figured it was something along the lines of “ba’vodu!”. 

Din turned around, too, and stood. He picked up his little foundling and greeted Paz half way. “How was your evening?”

“Nice,” Paz says. “Yours?”

Din nods. “Mine was ok, but I don’t have a pretty mechanic in my room like you do.”

Paz rolled his eyes. “Din, it’s not like that.” 

Grogu made a sound of protest. “Hm,” Din said. “My Jedi son seems to think differently. He’s never wrong about these things…” Din teases. 

Paz stops just as they’re about to open the blast doors. “Din, Grogu,” Paz says. “Just between us?”

“Just between us,” Din says, and Grogu babbles. 

Paz sighed, was he really doing this? He was. “We’re courting.”

“I knew it!” Din exclaims, and Grogu laughs. “I knew it, Paz. So what’d you give her?”

Paz patted the empty sheath. “Vibroblade.”

“Classic,” Din says. “What will you propose marriage with? Something of her homeworld’s tradition? Or wait and exchange blades that Armorer makes?”

Paz shakes his head, and he’s smiling beneath his bucket. “Maker, Din, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Though he figured it’d be blades. You didn’t seem too fond of being reminded of Alderaan. “But I’ll put your name in if we need a wedding planner.”

“You better,” Din replies. “Armorer will want to know, too.”

Paz nodded. “I know. I’m not sure I’ll tell her this time. I don’t want word getting out.”

“She won’t tell anyone, you know that.”

“I know, but still,” Paz said, finally punching in the code and opening the doors. “But we’ve got a covert of eavesdroppers.”

There was a child tending to one of his chores just inside, and as soon as he spotted Paz, he practically lunged at him. “Paz!”

“Hey, ad’ika,” Paz says, taking the young kid up onto one of his arms. “I didn’t get to see you yesterday!”

“I know,” he said. “My buir had me at home practicing math. Math! Can you believe it?”

Paz laughed. “Knowing your buir? Yes, yes I can.” 

The group walked further inside the winding the halls of the covert, adding new people to their crew as they saw them. Eventually they reached the karyai, and everyone got comfortable on the many cushions, chairs, and sofas littered about the room.

Paz stayed standing. “Sorry, everyone,” he said when he noticed their disappointment that he wasn’t going to be there long. “But I’ve got my end of a deal to hold up, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.” Paz noticed that at the mention of a her, helmets turned to the side, looking at each other, silently gossiping. 

“Then come in here, Paz,” Armorer says, at the doorway to her forge. “And we’ll discuss what you need.” 

Paz obeyed, making his way through all the Mandalorians relaxing in the karyai. He closed the door behind him, and sat at Armorer’s table. “We’ve compiled some things for your journey,” she says. “It’s not much, but it’s what we have. It’s in the hangar, I’m sure Clan Djarin would be happy to assist you in taking it back to your ship.”

“I’m sure it’s more than enough,” Paz replies. “Thank you, Armorer.”

She nodded. “Now, how happy was your mechanic at being left on the ship for so long yesterday?” 

Paz could hear her smirk. “She got bored. Wasn’t there when I got back,” he said. “I almost lost my mind, but she was just in the little town, shopping.”

Armorer let out a soft chuckle. “And you’re trying to tell everyone you aren’t smitten? Maker, Vizsla, I’d think you’d be better with convincing by now.”

Paz sighed. “You’d think.” 

Armorer’s stare bore into him. For Mandalorians, it usually wasn’t intimidating when another looked at you through their visor. It was normal. But Armorer’s presence was different, she was intimidating. “Where is your vibroblade?” 

Kriff. “It’s right here,” he said, patting the sheath on his left side, where his second vibroblade sat. 

“No, not that one,” she said. “The one I forged for you when you donned your helmet. I swear you had it yesterday.”

Well, he might as well tell her at this point. She wouldn’t believe that he’d lost it, this blade had Mandalorian and Vizsla carvings in it, he rarely used it in combat. “Don’t tell anyone this,” Paz said. “I want it to be a secret for now, ok?”

She nodded. 

“I gave it to her. The mechanic.”

Armorer sucked in a breath so sharp that her vocoder picked it up. “As a courtship proposal?” Paz nodded. “I wish you both many blessings, many warriors,” she said. Paz didn’t know if you wanted warriors, but Armorer’s blessings were traditional, and carried a lot of weight.

“Thank you, Armorer,” he replies. “I will pass along the message.”

“If you two are courting, then why didn’t you bring her here? Are you still going on your journey?”

Paz nodded. “She has unfinished business in the Hosnian system,” he didn’t tell her what business. It wasn’t his place, and Armorer understood. “We’ll be back, though I’m not sure when.”

“Long hyperspace travel will be good for your relationship.” Armorer entered counselor mode. “Building trust and love.”

Paz always felt a bit awkward when she became a psychologist. So he just nodded. “Anyways, you said the supplies were in the hangar?” 

She nodded. “Take care of her, Paz,” she said. They both stood. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Paz repeated. 

Paz exited the Armorer’s workshop. Back in the karyai, some people had gone back to their rooms or to tend to their duties, but many still sat around. “Din?” Paz said to his friend.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t happen to know where Bezza is, do you?”

Din nodded. “Last I saw she was in one of the sparring rooms.” Paz thanked him and headed off down one of the long corridors towards the training rooms. 

All the sparring room doors were open except one. Paz opened it gently, and looked inside. Bezza wielded the beskar staff Din had brought back with him. She was sparring with a reprogrammed droid, the only one in the covert. Paz watched with pride as she jabbed at the droid, careful not to hurt it too much. There were still children that would need to learn from sparring with the machine. 

As she landed a final blow, the droid declared her the winner, and she backed off. Paz clapped from his place at the door. “That was very impressive,” he said. “You’ve gotten used to the armor quite well.”

“Paz!” She dropped the staff and walked towards her friend. “No one told me you were here.” 

“That’s probably best,” Paz said. “I need to tell you something, and I need you to not repeat it, ok?”

Bezza nodded. “Ok. But if you tried to bring a Loth-cat in again, I’m not making any promises.”

Paz laughed. “It’s not a Loth-cat. It’s about my girl.”

“Your girl?”

Paz nodded. “We’re courting.” 

Bezza threw her arms around her ba’vodu. “Paz that’s wonderful!” Their beskar sang as he patted Bezza on the back. When she finally let go she said, “Are you guys staying here? When do you think you’ll marry? I know Mandalorian courtships tend to not last long, but she’s not a Mandalorian so-”

Paz cut off her rambling by saying, “I don’t know. Like I told Din, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Bezza laughed. “Of course you haven’t. How many people have you told, Paz? You know if you tell the wrong person, your courtship will be the topic at many dinner tables tonight.”

“I know,” Paz replied. “Only you, Din, and Armorer know.”

“Ok,” she said. “So I take it you’re not going to stay here?”

Paz shook his head. “We’re off to Hosnian Prime as soon as I get back with the supplies.” Somehow, Paz could sense Bezza’s disappointment. He wanted so badly to be there for her, help her through her losses, but he’d made a promise to you. A Mandalorian’s honor was their everything. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be there, but we’ll be coming back here. Maybe even to stay.”

“What’s even on Hosnian Prime?”

Paz sighed. He wanted to tell her, to give her a detailed reason so maybe she felt better. But, again, it wasn’t his place. “She has some business to take care of, Bez.”

She nodded, somewhat satisfied. “Can I walk with you to the hangar?” Paz nodded and they left the sparring room. All the way there, Bezza asked questions in typical teenage fashion. What’s her name? What’s she like? What color is her hair? And Paz answered them all. He figured you wouldn’t mind, and they weren’t too personal. All her questions reminded Paz of just how young she was. Other Mandalorians would understand not to ask those questions, just as Bezza would, in time. 

In the hangar were Din and Grogu and that kriffing ball. Din had already loaded the speeder bikes with the fuel and food, and was now just killing time with his son. “Din!” Paz called. “I’m just about ready.”

Paz turned to Bezza. “When I get back we’ll start a plan for your training. There’s still a lot to get used to in the armor, especially with the jetpack.”

“Ok,” she said. “Hurry back, alright? And be safe!” Paz and Bezza exchanged a few more goodbyes, and he promised to pass on her hello to you. 

Finally, Paz and Din had mounted the speeder bikes. Grogu sat in a carrier on Din’s chest, obviously excited to feel the wind whip around his long ears. The men had unspokenly made it a race, revving their engines and attempting to pass each other without knocking their cargo loose. 

-

You sat outside the ship, taking in the fresh air as the Mandalorians arrived in a cloud of dust, Mando’a, and a baby’s shriek. A baby? You thought. 

You got on your feet and approached the speeders. To your surprise, the Mandalorian in unpainted beskar greeted you by name. Quite a lot kinder than the stare he’d met you with when you’d first arrived. “Hello,” you said. “It’s nice to meet you.” Then your eyes finally dropped from the helmet to the carrier on his chest. “Who’s this?” 

“My son,” the Mando said. “His name is Grogu.”

You smiled at the baby. “Hello, Grogu,” you said, and introduced yourself to him. Grogu’s tiny little arms reached out for you, and with Mando's permission, you picked him up. “You’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you, Grogu?” He babbled excitedly. 

The two of you stood back as Din and Paz began loading the supplies onto the ship. “Your dad is very strong, Grogu,” you tell him as Din lifts a large crate off the bike and into the cargo hold. “Are you going to be strong like him?” Grogu gives you a strong response. This kid has to be a handful, you thought. Grogu stayed gripped onto you, his three little fingers wrapped around your one, gurgling and babbling like he made all the sense in the world. You, of course, humored him, and had a deep conversation about the inflation of credits as the shift from Imperial credits to New Republic credits took place. 

Eventually, the men were done, the ship was loaded and refueled. “Alright, Grogu,” you say. “I think your dad will be wanting you back.” You placed a kiss to the top of his odd green head, and attempted to hand him over to the Mando. Grogu had other ideas. His fingers stayed gripped on the back of your t-shirt. 

“Grogu,” Din said. “We have to go. Come on.”

You laughed at the little baby, amazed at how he’d become so attached to you in such little time. “Go on, hon,” you coax. “Your uncle and I will be back soon, I promise.” His big, dark eyes looked up at you, and then he allowed you to pass his little body to his father, who fastened him into the carrier. 

“Safe travels, you two,” Mando said, and attached the bike Paz rode to his own, and him and Grogu were off. 

Finally, you were able to give Paz a hug. “Ready, kebiin’ika?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Let me call Leia before we go,” you say. “I forgot to this morning.”

“Ok, I’ll be waiting in the cockpit whenever you’re ready.” He turned around and disappeared onto the ship. 

You held the holoprojector in front of you, anxious. Surely Leia would want to see you, right? After all your time together…

You sat the projector on a rock and sat down in front of it. You punched in the numbers Leia had sent you a while ago, and waited. Finally, a young girl answered. “May I ask who is calling?” You told her your name. “And who are you calling for?”

“Leia,” you said, and then cringed. “Uh, her royal highness.” You’d never really grasped the royal protocol. 

The girl looked closely. “Is the princess expecting you?”

“Uh, not really,” you said. “But we fought in the Rebellion together. She gave me this number, told me to call if I needed her.”

The girl nodded, and walked out of frame. Hopefully, she’d return with Leia. She did return, but no princess in sight. “Her royal highness will meet with you shortly.” And then she was gone again. 

You sat looking around at the trees, taking in your last minutes on a planet for some time. And even when you got to Hosnian Prime, it would be way different. Hosnian Prime was busy, unlike Dantooine and Yavin IV. 

“Finally!” said a voice. Leia’s. She stood in holo form on the rock, an elegant white dress covered her form and her hair was in two braids down her shoulders. “I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from you.”

“Leia!” you exclaimed. “I’ve wanted to call, but you know how I felt when the war was won…I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”

She frowned. “Oh, stop that,” she said. “I’ll always want to hear from you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get on the line, Korrie is quite protective of me.” 

“I understand,” you smiled. “You are a very important person, your royal highness.”

Leia laughed. “Now, what did I tell you back on Alderaan about formal titles?” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a normal person when you’re with me,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I take it you’re a bit exhausted with decorum at the moment?”

She nodded. “And it doesn’t help that Threepio is the decorum police, either.” The two of you shared a laugh at the droid’s expense. You didn’t know how Leia could stand C-3PO all the time. “Enough with my complaining, are you ok? Is there something you need?”

“Well, I was calling to see if you’d receive me on Hosnian?” you asked. “I want to catch up with you, maybe even a few friends from the old days?”

Leia smiled. “Of course I’ll receive you! When are you leaving? And where from?”

“Yavin IV,” you say. “And hopefully as soon as I hang up with you, if that’s ok?”

She nodded. “That’d be great. I’ll have Korrie send you the coordinates. I can’t wait to see you!” Leia had a way of making anyone feel comfortable, and you couldn’t wait to be in her full presence again. You exchanged goodbyes, and Leia disappeared from the rock. 

Back on the ship, you grabbed a fruit bar from the kitchen and sat in the cockpit. “How was your princess?” Paz asked as he copied the coordinates from your holopad. 

“Good,” you replied. “I had no reason to be anxious, really.”

Paz put a gloved hand over yours on the armrest. “I’m glad it’s working out, mesh’la.” 

“What’s that word mean? You’ve been calling me that all day.”

His thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand. “It means ‘beautiful’,” he says. 

“Mesh’la,” you repeat. “It’s a beautiful word, no wonder it means beautiful.” Paz chuckled a little at your awe. 

His hand left yours and landed on the controls. “Ready to head out?” You nodded, mouth too full to properly respond, and the take off sequence was activated. The ship rose out of the clearing, and you watched as Yavin IV grew smaller beneath you. You saw a building off in the distance, it looked half underground, with a large hangar at the front. 

“Is that your home?” you ask, pointing out at the structure. 

Paz nodded. “Indeed it is,” he says. 

“That was part of the Rebel base once,” you say, remembering your time here. “I didn’t spend too much time on that part, though. There was a main hangar a little farther down, but after the war Leia had a lot of it removed, so the wildlife could return to normal,” you say. “Guess not all of it was taken.”

The ship finally reached the atmosphere and Paz guided the ship through it with grace. The jump to hyperspace was made, and the ship was on autopilot for the next three days. 

Paz turned to you in his chair. “We live in a rebel base now?”

“Indeed you do,” you say. “I think a lot of that building was quarters for officers and stuff. I’ll bet Leia can tell you when we arrive.”

“You want me to come with you to meet her?”

You looked at him, a little confused. “Of course I do,” you tell him. “I don’t know how long I’ll be there and I’m sure that a princess has room to spare. Besides, it’ll do you some good to sleep on a proper bed for a few nights.”

“Are you sure, kebiin’ika? Mandalorians aren’t greeted too kindly.”

“Maybe not in the Outer Rim,” you say. “But that far into the Core? And a guest of Princess Leia’s? I’m sure it'll be ok.”

He nodded. “Ok, then. I’ll come with you.” You smiled at him, wishing so badly to smile at his face and not his helmet. You took his hand in yours, stood up, and led him to the little common area. There was a small sofa pushed against one of the walls, and you motioned for him to sit. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, and retreat back to the cockpit. When you return, Paz is sat on the sofa, still as can be. It was still a little creepy, how he could just sit there. You held up your holopad. “First thing to know about dating me is I need designated snuggle and holodrama time.”

He laughed. “Is this a common thing or just a kebiin’ika thing?” 

You sat down next to him, a little confused that he was wondering if cuddling and watching holos was common. “Am I your first girlfriend, Paz?”

“If I say yes will you think I’m weird?”

“No, I won’t think you’re weird.”

“Then yes,” he said. You looked at him, feeling a wave of sadness. Had this man been cuddled ever? Hugged? Loved? You cared for him so much already, and you wanted him to feel those things. 

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s a me thing, but it’s an important thing,” you laugh, setting the holopad up to project against the blank wall of the ship. A show about a Jedi and a Twi’lek healer’s unrequited love played on the wall, a slight silver hue brought by the metal of the ship. You moved to cuddle against him, but the armor was stubborn.

“Could you, like, take some of this off?” You say, gesturing at the metal.

He feigned surprise. “You haven’t even taken me out, mesh’la, and you expect me to strip?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just lose some of it so I can cuddle you.” He obeyed, the cuirass and pauldrons going first, and then the gauntlets and gloves. He was left in his fly suit, made of a coarse weave fabric. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it would do. You moved his arm around you as you settled into his chest. You could tell he wasn’t too sure what to do. “You’re warm,” you sigh.

“Sorry, mesh’la,” he says.

“Why are you sorry? It’s nice. Hyperspace gets cold,” you tell him. He was a little tense at first, he wasn’t used to this, he really hadn’t been properly cuddled since before he lost his buire so long ago. 

Paz looked down at you, your head resting against him as you took in the predictable plot of the show. You were relaxed, almost like earlier that morning when he’d woken up. The mask had been gone, and your eyes had gently fluttered in your sleep. Paz felt a tightness in his chest, a feeling he’d been having a lot since you’ve been around. It’s gotten more and more intense, especially as you curled yourself into him. Your touch was burning into his skin in an amazing way, and he knew he’d be able to feel it long after you’d get up. He repeated your it’s nice in his head. No one had ever told him that touching him was nice. In fact, most people hated the touch of a Mandalorian. If they even lived to hate it. 

As the drama went to an ad for some kind of Bantha milk, Paz felt you move to look up at him. “Paz?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you can’t tell me what your Mando friend looks like under his helmet,” you say. “But can you tell me how he fits his ears in the helmet?”

Paz laughed. “What?”

“Well, if his ears are anything like his son’s, I’d imagine it’s hard.”

He threw his head back in a bellow of laughter. “Mesh’la, my friend and his son aren’t the same species. Grogu is a foundling.”

“A foundling?”

He finally recovered from his laughter, and his breath steadied. “Yeah, Mandalorians take in children who’ve lost their parents. My friend was a foundling once, and his son is a foundling.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well that explains the ears, I guess. You weren’t a foundling were you?” You remembered him saying something about Vizslas being important on Mandalore. 

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “The Vizsla line goes as far back into Mandalorian history as I can trace. But most importantly, Tarre Vizsla, who was a Jedi, created the Darksaber. Whoever wields the dark saber is the Mand’alor, our ruler.”

“Who is the Mand’alor now?” you ask. 

He shakes his head. “There isn’t one. Mandalore isn’t the same as it was, it hasn’t been in a very long time. Before I was born, even.”

“Well, you’re a Vizsla aren’t you? Shouldn’t you wield it?”

He laughs a little. “That’s not exactly how it works, mesh’la. Well, it worked like that for a while, but now you must win the saber in combat. Except no one knows where the saber is.” His voice had gotten sad, and he was running his right hand over his left while they sat on your back, some kind of self-soothing. “Besides,” he says, “There’s a lot of Vizslas out there I’m sure, and I don’t want to be a king. That is not the path that I follow.”

“I understand. It all becomes...a bit much,” you agree. Leia had offered you multiple positions on multiple committees in the new Senate, all dealing with labor laws and droids with a bunch of political nonsense you didn’t care to wade through. Not to mention having to represent the voice of mechanics all over the galaxy. No. Too much stress. 

“Kebiin’ika,” Paz says. “As much as I like this old, lumpy sofa, don’t you think we’d be more comfy laying in bed?” 

“I’m starting to think you’re a mind reader, Vizsla,” you say. The two of you awkwardly untangle in a mess of limbs and beskar clangs as you accidentally collide with his cuirass that lay on the floor. “Sorry,” you say, moving his armor up onto the sofa and off of the floor. 

“Don’t be,” he reassured. “Beskar is practically invincible.”

The two of you made it into the bedroom, you set your holopad up properly to project onto the blank white wall ahead of the bed, there for this reason exactly. The show was brighter now, and clearer. It was technically late afternoon by Yavin IV time, but in hyperspace it was hard to tell. Paz got rid of the armor on his lower body, the codpiece, thighs and knees, and shins. He also kicked off his boots. 

He looked so beautifully mundane. Doing something that he’d done a million times at this point, probably, and he was an expert. Could do with his eyes closed. And you loved it, you wondered if his brow furrowed under the helmet when he had to prod a clasp a little harder, or if he let out a soft huff when a piece was finally removed. 

He climbed onto the bed and motioned for you to sit between his legs. Kriff, his legs were big. 

You settled between his legs, back against his chest. His hands sat awkwardly on his thighs. “You know you can touch me, right?” you say, moving his hands to lay around your middle. 

“I have to remind myself, mesh’la,” he says. “You’re not a quick fuck. You’re someone I want to be slow with, I’m just not sure how to go about it.” You were a bit surprised at how blunt he was, but honestly? You appreciated it. He wouldn’t be playing games with you. 

You squeezed his hand. “We will go however slow as you want, alright? And don’t be afraid of me, ok? You can ask me anything.” 

“I know, cyare, and I’m grateful for that,” he says softly. He wanted to kiss the top of your head so bad. He’d seen it in holos before, but never really understood the appeal until now. 

At some point, you’d fallen asleep in the Mandalorian’s arms. It wasn’t until an hour later that he woke you up. “Kebiin’ika?” He’s whispering as much as the vocoder will let him. His voice is deep in your ear, and briefly becomes a part of your dream until you finally wake up. 

“How long was I out?” You ask, sitting up and stretching your arms out in front of you. 

He stood up, stretching his arms, too. “About an hour, I think. I dozed a bit, too.” 

“I’m hungry,” you complain. He agrees, and you’re off to the kitchen. You start making sandwiches with a few of the vegetables you knew he’d bought back on Dantooine. You smiled at them, filled with a bit of nostalgia. That greenhouse of Aliria’s was always a peaceful place. 

Paz is doing the same, though he’s making two sandwiches. You presume it’s because he’s such a large man, and such a strong man too. When you had relaxed into his chest, he was comfortable, a layer of fat that told you he took care of himself, and underneath you knew were strong, hardened muscles. 

“Paz?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to sit with our backs to each other?” you ask. “So we can eat together instead of in shifts?” He nods, finishing up his sandwiches. You grab your plates and make your way to the sofa. He moves his armor back onto the floor a bit clumsily, and has to remind you that beskar is strong. He’s facing to the right, you to the left, backs together. 

“You can lean back on me, cyare,” he says, and you smile at the switch of the nickname. It was kind of nice, not knowing which endearment would envelop you when he opened his mouth. You hear a click and hiss, sounds you’d heard the night before, and then the clunk of his helmet on the ship’s floor. 

“I forgot to tell you earlier,” he says between bites. “Armorer and Bezza said to tell you hello.”

You remembered who Armorer was, but your brow furrowed, trying to recall where you’d heard the second name. “Bezza is the girl who you bought the journal for, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind my telling her about us. I’m the closest thing she has to family at the moment.”

You smile. “Of course it’s alright, Paz,” you say. “I’d love to meet her. She sounds very sweet.”

Paz felt a wave of joy rush over him. Bezza was very special to him, even more so now. And now you were special to him, too, and he wanted nothing more than for you two to get along. “If I would’ve known I would’ve brought her with me to the ship instead of my friend,” he said. He had to catch himself before saying Din’s name, knowing that Din was very particular about his name. Bezza, on the other hand, was a more modern Mando. “Maybe once I teach you to use that vibroblade, I can teach you how to wield a staff. Then you two could spar.”

“I don’t know, Paz,” you say. “I’m sure you’re a fantastic teacher, but I don’t see myself holding my own against a Mandalorian in combat.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll train you the Mandalorian way. One day, mesh’la, you will hold your own.”

A silence followed, you could hear the crunch of the chips he’d put in his sandwich as he bit. 

“Is Bezza your foundling now?”

Paz swallowed his bite. “Maybe if she was younger I’d take her in, but she’s practically an adult. I wouldn’t want to insult her by insinuating she still needs caring for.”

“Everyone needs caring for,” you say, leaning your head back against him. “I’m twenty-six and I need caring for, emotionally anyways. I’m not sure how old you are, but I’m sure you do, too.” 

He wasn’t at all shocked that you were twenty-six. He was, however, shocked that his age didn’t ever come up. “I’m forty-three,” he said, hoping that wouldn’t scare you. It didn’t seem to, so he continued. “And I guess you’re right, but still, I can care for her without taking her in.”

“I guess,” you said, and decided to let the topic of Bezza rest for a bit. “Do you think you’ll ever take in a foundling?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’d like to father some kids as well, but also take in foundlings. Not only is it important to the Tribe, but I love kids. That’s why I’m their teacher whenever I’m not out hunting.”

“That’s sweet, Paz,” you tell him. “I’d like a kid, too, I think. Though, it scares me. Making a person inside my body for almost a year.”

“Mandalorians say to train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger,” he says. “I’m sure you can see why. Having children is important, it’s even in the Mandalorian wedding vows: ‘we will raise warriors’.” 

You smile up at the ceiling, picturing you and Paz having a wedding. Some weird mix of Mandalorian and Alderaanian culture, exchanging Mandalorian vows. Maybe it was a bit early to be thinking about this, but you didn’t care. 

-

You watched as Paz cleaned the plates from lunch. He volunteered to take your plate, and now he stood at the sink, scrubbing away the residue of the condiments and components of your lunches. Again, he looked so beautifully mundane, gloves gone, revealing his dark skin to you. Through the bubbles of soap you saw small pink scars littering the top of his hands. He scrubbed away with the brush, working diligently. Again you wondered what kind of face he makes when he concentrates. Does he stick his tongue out a little? Bite on the inside of his lip? 

You thought back to the wedding you’d put together in your mind. You thought about how after those vows were exchanged you’d get to see the face he makes not only when he concentrates, but when he’s happy or frustrated, too. 

He was such a mystery, but also easy to read. It confused you in the best way possible, and all you wanted was to read chapter after chapter of Paz Vizsla until you got to the part where you’d get to see his face, kiss his face, talk to his eyes rather than a visor. Someday, you told yourself. Someday. 

tag list (send me an ask or reply and i’ll add you!!) - @remmysbounty

[shoutaaizawas]

↳  ❝burn❞ dabi x fem!reader → part IV

summary: touya todoroki, your childhood friend was dead or so you thought. you talk to hawks hoping to find out more information. word count: tags/warnings: hawks, mystery  a/n: 

masterlist

part III part IV part V 

Touya’s quirk was a blessing and a curse. His flame quirk was powerful, even from the start it was clear it would surpass his father’s quirk. The drawback was his body wasn’t built for that power. His constitution was built for an ice quirk which left him not only weak to his strong flames but at even more of a disadvantage.

You were very familiar with Touya’s quirk. You did everything that you could to help him. A small rain cloud over his head to help him cool down after using his quirk or even snowflakes. It wasn’t the best but it was the most you could offer him and he always appreciated it, even if he did take a handful of snow and shove it in your face playfully.

There were many times you found yourself cleaning his wounds, you had even made your own salve to help with his burns. You always kept it on you just in case to help him. The minty smell was comforting to both of you as you carefully rubbed it against his skin.

It wasn’t just the damage his quirk did to him, when he overused his quirk it could get out of his control burning dangerously for not only himself but everyone around him. Thankfully you could help him with this, putting out the flames with a rainstorm. It didn’t happen often but every time it did you were able to help him.

As you slept all you could dream of was that fateful night when you lost your best friend and your love. Fire lighting up the night and the smell of smoke unforgettable.

Waking up you were still confused about how you had gotten home. There was no way that villain had helped you home, even if he didn’t catch onto your hero status.

Your trip out left you with no answers and even more confusion. Finding Dabi had been easy the first time but you weren’t sure it would be the same the second time around. You decided to do some digging.

Once you got your bearings, lungs still sore from the night you set out in hopes to find more answers. You decided to do some research, you looked up any and all news you could find on Hawks first. It wasn’t easy work. Taking notes on different things that caught your eye, dates, details, anything that might be useful.

Why was Hawks always conveniently out of town during any events involving the League? How had the number two hero avoided any outright conflict with one of the biggest problems out there?

There was something off and you knew it. You had scraps of answers but you knew there was something bigger out there.

Your attempt with Dabi failed for the time being so perhaps you could find something more with Hawks.

As you made your way to his agency you knew that this was dangerous. If you got yourself tangled in a serious conspiracy it might not be just your hero career at risk but your life. Hawks was a nice guy but if he was hiding something dark things might go bad.

“I need to talk to Hawks about serious matters.” You told his secretary.

“He’s not here right now but he should be back soon, if it’s that important you can wait for him on the roof. That’s where he’ll be when he gets back.” She said.

It didn’t shock you that Hawks would be out, he didn’t seem like the type to hang around the office long. You found yourself on the roof, enjoying the view and the breeze. This gave you time to think about what angle you were going to use.

The flapping of wings announced Hawks arrival as he landed next to you. He stood there, one eyebrow quirked as his wings stretched out before folding in.

“Tempest?” He said your hero name. “I’m honored, what brings you to my agency?”

“I had some concerns and I thought who better to ask then the number two hero.” You said.

“Not Endeavor?” He questioned.

“Not exactly on the best terms with him.” You explained. He looked curious but he didn’t pry.

“Well then, what can I help you with.” He asked.

“I have some concerns about the League of Villains.” You started. “They’ve been quiet but I’ve seen some of their members in my territory. I’ve brought this up to the commission but they don’t seem concerned.”

“They tend to sound dismissive but they do look into things.” He replied.

“See the odd thing is I swear I saw a hero talking to one of them.” You said to gauge his reaction. You knew this was a dangerous move but you weren’t sure how to get a reaction any other way. To Hawk’s credit, he didn’t react guiltily, just general surprise. “I couldn’t see who it was but don’t you think that’s concerning, that a hero might be on there side. When I told the commission they didn’t even seem surprised.”

“Sounds like a dangerous thing to get yourself into. Most would just look the other way. The commission isn’t something to take lightly.” He said, his tone more serious than you had heard before. Hawks was a light-hearted person, usually teasing and joking. Right now you could feel something threatening exuding off of him, sending a shiver up your spine. “If I were you for your career’s sake and your own sake, I would drop it.”

“You’re probably right.” You said.

“Anything else I can help you with?” He asked, his tone returning to its usual manner.

“No. Thank you for your time, Hawks.” You said smiling at him. You gave him a nod before leaving.

This wasn’t good. Did the commission really have Hawks working for the League of Villains? If he was on there side they would have been concerned at your report of him but they were too calm. Why would they have him working for them? Why would they want to keep it a secret from other heroes? Of course, it was a liability but a hero knowing was better than a hero thinking Hawks was a villain.

Your mind returned to the scarred man at the bar. Dabi. You didn’t quite know why you kept thinking about him. It felt like he was a part of this puzzle. You wanted another chance to talk to him. What were the chances that he would be at that bar again?

Maybe you could get answers not only to the Hawks situation but to how you got home last night.

Putting on the same disguise you returned to the bar, taking your spot in the corner of the bar with another glass of whiskey.

Time passed and you feared you might not see him again. What would your next move be?

Before you could put too much thought into it a familiar face walked in. He took his place at the bar and you waited a moment before making your way over to his spot.

“Long time no see, doll.” He said turning his head to look at you as he took a sip of his drink. “What brings you back so soon?”

“Well, my night got interrupted last night thought I’d give it another try.” You said. “Any idea of how I got home last night?”

“Do you take me as a good Samaritan type?” He questioned in his rough voice.

“I don’t know, looks can be deceiving.” You teased.

“What’s it really that brought you back?” He questioned. “Most wouldn’t come back after what happened last time.”

“I’m not most people.” You said. “I’m looking for some information for a friend of mine. What do you know about the hero Hawks?”

“You tell me, hero?” He said. Your eyes widened for a moment before you composed yourself. Today wasn’t your day. “You really shouldn’t go looking for trouble. You might get burned.”

“Trouble tends to find me either way.” You said.

“I believe that.” He said with a sarcastic laugh. “But really you should run off and keep your nose out of things before you get hurt.”

“It almost sounds like you care, didn’t expect that from a villain.” You replied.

“I don’t care. Why do you care about this so much?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” You said honestly. “I guess I just can’t look the other way if I know there is something wrong happening. I lost someone and I wish I did more. I guess this is my way of atoning for what I didn’t do.”

“I didn’t ask for a life story.” He scoffed. “But I’m sure that person wouldn’t want to see you dead so maybe you should just look the other way.”

You rolled your eyes, even the villains were telling you to drop it. You were having no luck figuring anything out.

“I guess I’ll have to look elsewhere.” You said finishing your drink before standing to leave.

“You might regret that.” He said as you walked away.

“It wouldn’t be my first regret.” You said not looking back.

taglist: (message to be added)  @flowersgirl02 @wesparklebitch @moon-write @strangely-charmed @ibookishqueen @tomomoni @why-so-red @grungy-pansexual @sugarandsoft @pansexual-potterhead @ha-tep @milegonzalez96 @prettyinblack231

[seventeensarmy]

(3) Stuck With You (OT7!HybridAu)

Pairing: OT7xReader, Jungkook x Reader, soon Jimin x Reader x Jungkook; rest will come in the course of the story

Warnings: a tiny bit angst, fluff, toxic relationship to food, abuse (Like one slapp), flashbacks of JK´s past, tell me if I missed something

Words: 4.204

Summary: Jungkook´s shopping trip brought something home that wasn´t on the shopping list

A/N: I planned to upload this earlier, but TikTok came in the way, sorry

Previous / Next 

Chapter three

“ You're older than me? But you are soo small ”

Taglist: @imezz​ @anxietylovesme​ @holaaaf​ @ot7purple​ @calling-dips-on-j-hope​ @greezenini​ @givebuckysomelove​

(not my gif)

One year ago (Reader 20/ JK 20/ JM 22) "Kookie, can you buy me some of that matcha detox powder?", you asked your boyfriend who was about to leave to go groceries shopping. You sat on your knees on the couch, hopping to appear bigger so he would see you. Jungkook groaned and looked at you, "What do you need that for?" You looked passed him, thinking of your next words. It was powder to help you lose weight, with Jungkook forcing you to have at least to meals and one snack a day you felt like you gained weight. Weight that would have made your mum make you go on an ice cube diet for weeks. So you felt like your solution to lose weight should be taken better by the bunny than what you could have done instead. Jungkook wasn't stupid, he knew what you would use detox matcha powder for, but he wanted to see if you would lie to him. He started to inform himself about diets and work out methods as soon as he could, he wanted to better understand what you doing to yourself and he himself wanted to work on his body. He was trying really hard to get you to understand, that your way of viewing food, weight and your body was a toxic view that your parents taught you. And while you knew, that your parents weren't the best, you found it hard to let go of the way that things have been. "Baby, look at me. What do you want that for?" Jungkooks voice was gently, but firm enough for you to understand, that he wouldn't ask again. You looked at him and bit your lip, "Well first of all, it's really good for your body, it gets rid of all the bad stuff in your body.", you started and Jungkook scoffed, doubting that there would be too much 'bad stuff' in your body, seeing as you were living strictly plant based. Claiming you couldn't eat animals, when your boyfriend was last animal and you didn't want to hurt anyone. Jungkook had cooed when you told him that, thinking how cute his little dancer was, though that didn't stop him from sometimes enjoying a nice steak or fried chicken (not too often though, because he also had a strict diet, due to his rabbit parts). But not only did you live plant based, you also never ate any junk food and sweets. So what bad toxins were you keeping in your body that you needed to get rid of? "Is that all Baby girl? Just having a little detox?" You wanted to scream, you didn't want to lie to him, he would be able to tell right away, you knew that he knew, but you didn't want to see his disappointed face. You sighed defeated, "It also helps with weight loss" You didn’t know what to expect, would he yell? No, Jungkook never raised his voice at you, but he didn’t need to. He could voice his disappointment just fine with a calm voice. "y/n. We talked about this." Jungkook let out a tired sigh. You felt bad, biting your lip, you knew he worried about you, but you didn't really see any other solutions. Your mothers’ words burned too deep in your head. "I know Kookie, but, the competition is just a week away and Ive been eating a lot recently" you tried to tell him, stuttering. You hadn't noticed that he had moved from the door to the couch and was now kneeling in front of you. Jungkook furrowed his brows, what should he do. He saw your slouched position and how you were avoiding his gaze, he knew you were wary if his reaction, because now it was his move, you told him what he wanted to hear. "Okay" Jungkook breathed out, having decided on plan. "I'll buy it. But I'll keep it and you only get to take some after you ask me. Got it? And no other tricks." He was stern, but he figured, that this way he could help you easier. He just needed to slowly show you, that there was no need for such radical diets. He saw a documentary on eating disorders and while he was no expert, Jungkook realised that people suffering from it, often didn't even realise it or don't see it as abnormal behaviour. So he tried to reteach you, trying to destroy the ideas of beauty your mother gave you. Helping with and controlling your diet plan was a new strategy, but he was sure, it only could be better than the last. Over the years Jungkook had tried again and again to make you see your toxic behaviour towards food, sadly it often ended in arguments. Leaving you crying and Jungkook frustrated. You knew Jungkook didn't like how or what you ate and you saw the disappointment every time you turned down a new dish, because you didn't know how many calories it had. Your eyes met his and though you were happy, this win for you came with a lot of guilt and you almost told Jungkook he shouldn't buy the powder, then your mother’s voice reminded you, "It's important to look pretty, the judges will like that. So even if you can't dance, you can at least be pleasing to the eye" Jungkooks hand came to cup your face, "I love you, you know that right? And I only want you to be happy and healthy" you were looking into his eyes, nodding. Jungkook wanted to say more, telling you that he knew that being happy and healthy was lying in two different directions right now, but he knew that this would upset you, so he kept quiet. "I love you too Kookie, I know you want me to be happy and I'm happy whenever I'm with you" you smiled, turning your head to kiss the palm of the hand; that was cupping your face. Jungkook pulled you down for a real kiss before standing up and grabbing the shopping bag again. "I'll be back in like an hour or so okay? Be good, love you" Jungkook yelled and left the house. You knew what he meant when he asked you to be good, don't train. You already practiced for hours today, so he would expect you to rest for the remaining day. And you found yourself listening to him, being actually exhausted from dancing all morning. You grabbed a book from the study your dad used to work in; you changed it into a reading room purely. There were beanbags and a bunch of pillows and two large shelves full of books. Since the weather was nice you decided to read in the garden, sitting down on the Hollywood swing in the back of the garden. Jungkook was walking to the supermarket. It wasn't unusual that he was the one going out for groceries; you were often too tired after your training to do anything. The bunny was sure that part that was due to you not eating enough, he noticed how after a tough day you would shakily sit down and sip your water. He hated how he felt like he couldn't help you. He walked past your elementary school; he remembered how he would always wait for you in your garden. Sometimes you brought your homework with you and explained what you had to do to him. He couldn't always follow the explanation of an eleven year old, but he was thankful for trying. Nowadays he had also started to study with you. Jungkook couldn't do the maths that you could, but he wasn't too worried about that, he saw that school didn't always teach you what you needed to know for life. Best example was biology, why would you, a dancer, need to know about photosynthesis? He didn't understand why they would teach that, they should have teaches you that eating is fu*king important. He crossed the streets, Busan was pretty, he thought. You would be soon, after finishing school in six months, there was nothing keeping you here. Both of you had a lot of bad memories here. You, from your family. Jungkook from his days on the street, he can't really remember if there was a time before he was on the street. He never met his parents, or at least he can't remember them. He also can't remember ever having an owner before meeting you, he just knew the streets and it wasn't easy. The nights were often freezing, he remembers breaking into a shed one night, because rain was pouring down and the bridge he sometimes slept under was flooded. The next morning he was woken up by a screaming woman, who then quickly proceeded to kick him out, yelling something about calling the cops. After he met you, life became easier, but not completely. In the beginning he still didn't have a place to sleep, it had taken you some time till you realised, that he needed some place to sleep. Jungkook wasn't mad that you sometimes kept forgetting to unlock the shed in the back of your garden; you were young and had your own problems. But as soon as you had realised you came running to him, apologising and bringing a bunch of food for him. When it got colder you started to steal some of your dad´s overalls and took pillows and blankets from the guest rooms, your parents never bothered to enter. All so Jungkook wouldn't freeze. As soon as it got cold you also always started to bring him some traditional Christmassy snacks and tea. Jungkook couldn't believe it when you stood in front of him on December 25th, with a present in your hand. "It's not much, but I thought you'd like it. I got it myself”  you said proudly and when Jungkook opened it, he saw a pair of headphones. He was excited that he got a present for the first time, but he was confused what to do with it. He didn't own anything he could plug them into. You noticed this and handed him another box, in it was an ep3 player. Jungkooks eyes grew wide, "Why would you gift me something like that?"  You grinned, "Because I know you'd like it" Jungkook swore he could have started crying then and there, but he opted for pulling you into a bone crushing hug. That night he fell asleep, listening to the music you downloaded onto the player. Jungkook kept walking, thanking whoever was responsible for him ending up with you. While he was walking he realised, that there was your old dancing studio on the way. He remembered the time, where the teacher didn't come to your house and someone had to drive you here, your mother never wanted to do it, so she hired a private trainer for you, who came over. Sometimes he would even pick you up from school, so you could immediately start practicing; those were the days when you were too tired to even wave Jungkook who was living in the shed in your garden. You told him that having a private teacher had a lot of pros, seeing as the teacher had his whole attention on you, but that also meant that you couldn't dance with you friends anymore or have a group play, from that point on, you always danced alone. Jungkook stopped at the window of the studio, watching the children dance. As he continued to walk, he saw someone dance in the back. Jungkooks eyes grew big, that was a hybrid dancing. He tried to make out what kind of hybrid though, probably cat by the way he elegantly jumped, his bushy tail helping him keeping the balance, but a beanie covered his ears, so he wasn't 100% sure. Before he could continue to walk, Jungkook saw how an elderly man came up to the hybrid, starting to yell at him. Jungkook couldn't tell what they were talking about, but he guessed it was about the hybrids dance, because the man kept showing him with gestures what the hybrid should do. The hybrid said something; his tail was slowly swaying from side to side, meaning he was getting angry. Jungkook had his fair share of meet and greets with stray cats, so he knew when to back off. The man didn't apparently, because faster than Jungkook could track the movements of the man’s hand was the hybrids face slapped and turned to the side. The man had slapped him, the hybrid stood stiff. Jungkook didn't know what happened next, because something wet hit him, then again. He looked up to see dark clouds forming in the sky, he cursed and started to walk quickly to the store, knowing you didn't like him being out when it rains or starts to get dark. As he arrived at the shop he pulled out the shopping list you wrote him and he marvelled again how pretty your handwriting was. He grabbed the veggies that you needed for dinner tomorrow and decided he would try to prepare steak again. The last time he tried to make it, it ended up being really though and he couldn't even chew it properly. He grabbed to already cut steaks, in case he would ruin one again and headed to the next aisle. The shelf in front of him was full with protein and weight loss powders, how was he supposed to know what to buy. He sighed and texted you, if you had any specific wishes. While he waited for your reply he continued to stroll through the market, grabbing some snacks, dips and frozen berries that you could use to make smoothies with. When you didn't answer after ten minutes he decided to just grab something himself. He studied the content of the boxes and compered them, because he still didn't want to just grab anything, when it was you who would consume it. Jungkook was a bit worried and annoyed when you didn't even answer, after he was already on his way back home. It didn't help his mood that the rain was still pouring down. Jungkook pulled his hood deeper, regretting that he bought so much, that he was now carrying five shopping bags. It was starting to get dark and there was almost no one on the streets, that why Jungkook was surprised to see someone sitting on the ground. He scoffed at first, why would someone sit outside in the ground while it was raining. When he walked closer he recognised that the building the person was sitting in front of was your old dance studio. And then he realised who that person was, it was the hybrid who got slapped. Next to him a small bag and Jungkook put two and two together, not thinking much before coming to a halt in front of the hybrid. The hybrid immeasurable looked up, hissing at Jungkook and Jungkook quickly understood why. His hood covered his ears and the rain probably washed most of his scent away. He slowly pulled his hood down, revealing his bunny ears and the hybrids position changed. "What do you want?" asked the hybrid a bit annoyed, but Jungkook didn't let himself be irritated by that, he had seen that the hybrid had a bad day. "I- I was wondering if you are alright? I saw you dancing earlier. I also saw what that man did." Jungkook didn't sound as confident as he wanted to, but while he was speaking he realised that he had no idea what he was even doing. The hybrids eye grew wide, "You saw?" Jungkook felt guilty as he looked into the hybrids eyes. Should he have done something? He couldn't have just walked in there and told the man off, maybe if he was a human, but not as a hybrid, he would have been probably slapped too. "Yeah.. I was passing by when I saw. Did he kick you out?" Jungkooks eyes landed on the bag next to the hybrid, "Gee, what gave you that impression?" the hybrid scoffed sarcastic, but quickly caught himself, "He was unsatisfied with my dancing for a while now, I guess me talking back didn't really help my cause. Who knows, maybe he's right" the way the hybrid talked remembered him of you, before his mind told him otherwise his heart already spoke for him. "Do you want a place to stay? It's supposed to be raining all week. Trust me; it’s not fun looking for shelter in the rain." The hybrid narrowed his eyes, looking for a sign, that this could be a trap, but he only found Jungkooks sincere eyes. The hybrids gaze softened and he agreed, he too thought it would be hard to find a place to sleep, so when a nice bunny hybrid offered shelter he wouldn't say no. "Great!" Jungkook smiled his bunny smile, "I'm Jungkook, by the way. And since we have the same destination, how about you take one or two of the shopping bags?" The hybrid stood up and Jungkook smiled as he saw, that the man in front of him was smaller than him. The hybrid pulled off his hat, combed quickly through his blond hair and put the beanie back one. Jungkook saw that the hybrid in front of him a cat was, which should have made him feel unsafe, but right now Jungkook could only focus on his dripping wet clothes. It must have been an hour since he left you at home and you also still didn't text back. The cat took some bags, before looking at Jungkook, "I'm Jimin" The men walked in a quick pace back to your home, doing some light small talk. "You're older than me? But you are soo small" Jungkook exclaimed, earning an evil glance from the man next to him which made him shut up real quick. They didn't have long till they reached the house when Jimin spoke up again, "So your owner..." Jimin realised that Jungkooks owner probably didn’t sent him out to get groceries and a new hybrid, he didn’t want the younger one to get in trouble, but when he saw a loving smile growing on the bunny’s face he relaxed a bit. "Oh y/n! She's amazing, she'll be surprised when she sees us both, but I'll talk to her. She won't mind you staying with us, we have more than enough room at the house" Jimin wondered how the house would look like if Jungkook said, that the house was big. His last owner lived in the tiny flat above the dance studio, so Jimin couldn't imagine how a spacious house would look like. Now that he saw Jungkook up close he recognised that the clothes he wore were from pretty big and expensive fashion labels. Jimin couldn't deny it, Jungkook was pretty handsome, he could imagine how the bunny would look under him. "It's just around the corner", Jungkook said and Jimin looked at his surroundings, they were definitely in the more wealthy part of town and Jimin started to think about how you would be. Jungkook said you were amazing, maybe you were a lawyer or a business woman, and you were probably pretty busy if you sent Jungkook for groceries. He imagined a woman in her thirties maybe, you would have to be pretty rich to be here. Jungkook opened the gate to the house and Jimin looked amazed. It was a two story building, not necessarily a mansion, but big enough that Jimin understood why Jungkook said, that space isn't an issue. They walked through the front door to be met by silence. "She's probably sleeping" Jungkook said as he took off his shoes and Jacket, telling Jimin he would take his Jacket so they could dry it. Jungkook explained Jimin were the kitchen was and asked him to put the groceries there while he sorted out their drenched jackets. Jimin was amazed as he walked through the house, almost scared to get to close things in case he broke them. There was a sculpture in the entrance hall that he was sure cost more than his last owner would make in a year. He looked at the pictures in the hall, almost everyone had a small girl in it, he decided that this was probably the daughter of y/n. He smelled the place, but Jungkooks was the most prominent, though he could make out something sweet, which alone gave him a comfortable feeling already. "Yah, you're slow" came Jungkook from behind, carrying the rest of the bags. They quickly sorted the food in the kitchen, well more like Jungkook did that and Jimin was amazed by how many things they had in the kitchen. "Okay, you should meet y/n real quick then you can have a shower", Jungkook said looking at the older who nodded, a bit nervous. There was a chance that you would tell him to go, he looked out the window, it just stopped raining, but that would only be for today. "She should be in the living room, I looked in the bedroom already" Jungkook mumbled and walked with big steps to the next room, only to find it empty. Jungkook groaned and threw his head back, exposing his neck, hut Jimin shouldn't focus on that, y/n was missing apparently. Not for long though, because the second Jungkook saw the open garden door he huffed annoyed. "She better pray she only just went out now and did not fall asleep in the rain. I swear to god" there were a few more curse words and Jimin looked at Jungkook, why would he talk like that about his owner? It's not like the bunny could actually do something. But Jimin was even more confused when Jungkook came back with the girl from the pictures. That couldn't be y/n the owner, you were so young. Your sweet scent filled the room, but it didn't match your whiny tone or Jungkooks mad face. "Kookie", you whined, curling further into his arms, as he was carrying you, your clothes were wet. You had fallen asleep on the Hollywood swing and had luck, that it was partially covered, so you weren't completely exposed to the rain. "Don't 'Kookie' me, baby. I told you to be good didn't I? And where to I find you? Outside, completely soaked and asleep" Jimin turned his head to fast he swore he got whiplash. 'Baby'?! Jimin had the feeling this wasn't really an owner-pet situation, the way Jungkook spoke, even if it was low, because you were still sleepy, made Jimin want to drop to his knees. Which would never happen of course, seeing as A) Jungkook obviously already had someone and B) Park Jimin would never fall to his knees to submit to someone. You opened your eyes to look up to Jungkook and pouted, "I was good. I was reading, it's not my fault I fell asleep, I wasn't planning on it" Jungkook chuckled quietly at how whiny you sounded at the aspect of not being a good girl. He quickly kissed you, forgetting the cat that was looking with big eyes, only as he sat you down, he realised he should maybe make you aware of your new guest. "Baby, there is something I should tell you. On the way back, there was a small incident, that lead me to take a hybrid with me" he carefully watched your reaction, while Jungkook was pretty much in charge, this was still your house and in a way he only had power because you let him. He knew with other people it wouldn't be like that. You blinked slowly, "Wait a hybrid? Another bunny?" you asked him, before your eyes found Jimin and quickly realised, that he was not a bunny. "He has nowhere to go, baby. You know we have enough room", Jungkook continued and you nodded, "A serious incident?" You asked and both men nodded. "Okay, stay as long as you need. I'm y/n" A smile grew on both men’s faces and the cat quickly introduced himself as Jimin. After that you and Jungkook showed him his new room and the bathroom he could use, before leaving him on his own. In your shared bedroom you removed your clothes, shivering in the cold, quickly jumping into the shower with Jungkook, who started to massage shampoo in your hair. You lean back and enjoy the sensation, "Such a good girl" he praised, "Letting someone in need stay here. My little dancer has such a big heart. Love you" you didn't know, why he was thanking you for letting Jimin stay, as if you would let him back on the streets. You smiled up at him, "My big bunny saved him in the first place didn't he?" you asked, only to sneeze immediately after, Jungkook groaned. "Of course now you're getting sick. Because you just had to fall asleep in the rain", he complained, but you both knew that in the end he didn't mind taking care of you.

Next 

[chicago-reeed]

Detroit Evolution

So

These are some notes that I took while I watched DE for the first time. It’s a lot. Like, six pages, a lot. I decided I should probably spare everyone’s dashboards and put it under a cut.

Warning: overuse of the fuck word because I am a dramatic little shit who gets overwhelmed easily

- Alright here we go. I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared to go through this hhhhh

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY I NUT

- fuck he smellin the flowers good

- “hey tin can :P” “good morning gavin :P”

- I’m actually fucking crying IVE HAD TO PAUSE SO MANY TIMES JUST TO BREATHE AND IM ONLY AT 1:25

- FUCK ITS 1:27 AND HES FIXING HIS COLLAR HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WATCH THIS WHEN MY VISION IS BLURRY WITH TEARS

- “I don’t need to breathe” BAZINGA

- *slaps my face repeatedly* keep it together bitch

- “I like the way you look<3” aaaaaaaaannd here I go again

- HAHAHA HE WAS DAYDREAMING SAME NINES SAME

- oh god oh god witty banter WITTY BANTER I CANT FUNCTION

- C H R I S  IM SCREAMING

- detective motha fuckin chris I don’t need to see any more I got what I came for

- Honestly all they need to do to calm down the protestors is get nines out there so he can say “please stop you’re being very mean >:/“ and they would probably just go home ngl

- “I’ve never been intimidated by people who hate androids” OH MY GOD NINES WITH THE BAZINGA’S TODAY WHAT A LEGEND

- can I just say the white jacket is such a power move I can’t believe nines invented fashion

- Gavin bein soft and reaching back for Nines in the crowd🥺homygod

- Gavin “no one calls him plastic but ME” Reed

- The only time I will support police brutality™️

- Gavin is so OP we stan

- Nines “you raise a fist, then I get PISSED😡” RK900

- “y’all have a nice day” Protect Detective Chris Miller at all costs

- Nines sees Gavin’s scars as charming PUT ME TO DEATH

- ADA OH LORD SHES STUNNING IM SOBBING

- Okay I need to pause and breathe again the cinematography got me chokin

- Uh ooohhh someone is jeeaaalouus😛

- Nines really said “no worry fam I’ll airdrop the case files to u”

- Ada: *exists*

- me: I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me

- HA GAV DEFINITELY JEALOUS RIP

- And nines back at it again with the sass I AM LIVING

- Chris and Gavin’s reactions to Nines imitating Ada is the best thing I’ve seen all year

- “I can do your voice too” HIS FACE IMDBDHDJKDJD CRYIGGGSBSN

- oh ;-; shit Michael really finna make me cri

- God damn the intro credits are so beautiful

- TINAAAAAAA BABYYYYY

- Real coffee hours with the sharktreuse mug🦈

- “our boy” SHIT IM CRYING AGAIN

- Tina knows Gavin was absolutely feral before Nines appeared at the DPD

- Half An Asshole squad please stand up we ride at dawn

- Gavin with the knockoff timbs WE STAN😎

- maybe “thank god, I hate you, you love me, move your feet, oop” will be our always

- I’m living for the whole “criminal minds” vibe goin on here

- Bruh Gavin got the hook-ups fr fr

- ❤️WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER W❤️

- The level of reed900 is staggering

- I’ve had to pause and breathe so many times it’s pathetic I’m not even 15 mins in

- GAVIN SAID mwah<3🖕IM FUCKING DIED

- 850% godt damn Nines got that IOS 50 update

- NINES PUT CHRIS’ PROMOTION PARTY IN THE CALENDAR WHAT A GOOD DAD

- maybe “our calendar” will be our always

- Chris “wingman of the year” Miller

- Who’s that Pokémon??? It’s JEALOUS GAV

- The way Nines said “I don’t feel anything for her.” I see you bud

- insecure Gavin needing reassurance™️

- Im fucking dying I fucking died bro BRO WE ALL KNOW WHO YOURE TALKING ABOUT, NINES, WE ALL KNOW

- Asexual Nines FTW👊😤👏👏👏❤️He gives zero fucks of ANY kind

- AN ANGEL HAS APPEARED WITH A GLOWY BLUE SCARF

- BREAKING NEWS: affection-starved Gavin™️ is literally begging for love

- GAVIN REED STOP BEING MEAN TO GAVIN REED OR ELSE

- “But there’s much more to admire about you than to detest, I think.”<333

- JJ not being suspicious at all nope no way Jose

- Lazzo has said two words and I love him already

- I don’t think I’ve seen this episode of COPS before🤔🤔🤔

- We all know Nines secretly wants to wear those fun glasses

- “Officer I swear I’ve never seen that arm in my life, it’s my friend’s he just asked me to hold it for him, Android arm what android arm heh”

- “Like robot arms, not gun arms.” You’re doing great sweetie🥰

- HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH H

- Chris “the interrogator” Miller😎

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY

- soft n sleepy gav™️ is soft n sleepy

- FUCKING SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT IVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT GAV IN A SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT FOR SO LONG AND NOW IT’S REAL IM

- You can wear my😋😘sweeaatshiiiirt😝😁🤗 (I’m sorry I had to)

- inconspicuous loving glances™️

- #GiveAndroidsFuckinHealthcare2K20

- AAAHHHHHHHH I CANTT BREAF

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- INCONSPICUOUS LOVING GLANCES™️

- Gavin has not slept in 80 years

- He really said “I’m fine” BITCH

- Bed time for brats™️ no later than 8:30pm

- hell yeah sleepover time

- “stop lookin at my insides n shit” I want that on a t shirt

- ANDROID DREAMS

- Nines is so soft I might die

- But he’s somehow equally suave as fuck how is this fair

- Oh my god dream!gavin is like Nines’ conscious this is so presh

- “What do you think Gavin was gonna say?” nsndJSKDOFIWKDBDNDNSJDBBDJDJDJDNDJXJNDIFUIFIEKWN HES STILL THINKING ABOUT THEIR CONVO

- dream!gavin you sly dog

- “To have this. Out there.” DONT FUCK WITH MY HEART LIKE THAT THIS INNER-MONOLOGUE FLUFF IS SO SWEET

- Nines being insecure™️

- Listen to dream!gavin, Nines, he has big brain

- The fact that Nines subconsciously KNOWS that irl!Gav “just wants someone that doesn’t hate him” but he’s STILL like alas, I can never be what gavin needs :’(

- nu babie don’t be sad🥺

- oh my god they’re both train wrecks protect them at all cost

- c r i p e s❤️the reed900 hurt/comfort we all needed

- FUCK

- Concerned boyfriends™️

- Maybe “I’m fine” will be our always

- GAV🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💔💔💔💔💔💔

- Insecure boyfriends™️

- Nines “I’m not going to get any closer to Gavin because I can’t help him but also I want to cuddle with him because he had a nightmare” RK900

- did someone say  c a t

- dumb babie gav jus spoon the dumb android so you both feel better

- Me: *rubs evil hands together* aha here comes the angst

- cue tragic backstory

- oh

- tragic backstory indeed

- YES DAD!FOWLER WE LOVE

- Gavin is so desperate for anyone to care about him I’m crying tears

- SHIT IT’S CUDDLE TIME™️ NOW IM REALLY FUCKING CRYING

- Alexa this is so god damn sad play despacito

- YES

- HAND>HOLDING

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- NINES’ SKIN RETRACTING WHERE THEIR HANDS ARE TOUCHING THIS IS LIKE EVERY REED900 STAN’S DREAM COME TRUE

- Oh shit it’s about to get domestic I don’t think I’m mentally prepared

- YOU CAN WEAR MY😝💪SWEEAATSHIIIIIIRT🤪🔥🔥🔥 (I’m never letting the sleeveless sweatshirt thing go)

- Uh oh NO FUCK I’ve read enough fan fiction to know that this is where Gavin’s fucking trust issues kick in and he decides pushing nines away is safer than getting closer to him SHIT

- AND NINES GETS CONFUSED AND HURT

- AND THEN GAVIN GETS HURT

- I feel angst in this Chili’s tonight

- “I need you to leave” aaaaaaahhhhhhhh here come a whole different kind of tears

- frick dude that ouches

- Insert sad babie noises

- Oml the tension☠️poor Chris and Ada are like😑😑

- Chris could solve this case all by himself change my mind

- Gavin and Nines = (ò///-///ó)

- Chris = :D~oblivious~

- HELL YEAH PARTY TIME

- BEST WIVES TINA AND VALERIE AHHHH

- reed900 who??? I don’t know her. I only know ❤️valerina❤️

- I can’t believe Gavin and Nines invented angst

- I went and got blue gatorade just so I could pretend I was drinking thirium like Nines

- #DetectiveChen2K20

- real sad gavin hours

- Ruh roh Gavin bouta die from the ‘rona virus because rat man smokes hella

- CINEMATOGRAPHY CHEEEEECK HOLY SHIT

- my entire aesthetic in a single shot jfc

- Aaaaahhhh Nines trying to be a supportive bf just makes me ;-; [takes damage]

- HES ACCEPTED GAVIN AS MORE THAN A PARTNER🥺that, my friends, is what we call character development

- We stan the otp aggressively talking about their feelings

- “I’m not going anywhere.” FUCK™️

- SMOKE>FACE

- Aaaaand they’re back at square one. It’s cool it’s fine it’s all good we can work with this.

- Gavin: I don’t need you ò-ó

- Gavin: *immediately after Nines leaves* fuck ó-ò

- “It’s fine”™️

- I love Ada so much hhhhhh she said 🤨

- “Basic Instinct” TINA WITH THE HEAT OMG

- *nervous laugh* haha Ada sis maybe chill a little bit ha ha

- oh no I have a not good feeling

- ADA CHILL ADA CHILL

- WHY IS HE FOLLOWING HER INTO AN ALLEY AFTER THAT SKETCHY TALK

- AAA FUCK FUCK FUCJDJEMNSNDJDNXU FUCK I FUCKING KNEW IT FUCK SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK

- 😖x1000000

- Oh my god this is so fucking sad Alexa play The Sound of Silence

- Nines got fucked up and Gavin is CONCERNED

- aayyyyy bro Nines full on nakey

- Tina and Gavin sad bro huggin👊😔

- ADA HOW DARE YOU. HOW VERY DARE YOU.

- Uh oh Nines is fckn PISSED

- he MAD mad

- Tina speakin straight facts I love her

- WOOP GAVIN FINALLY ADMITTING HE NEEDS NINES

- f u c k  right in the heart

- I don’t want to attempt writing any notes at this moment because my thoughts are completely incoherent I am a MESS

- “I need you to come back, Nines.” DONT PLAY W ME LIKE THAT

- HAND HOLDING FTW

- Did Gavin really almost bring Nines back through the power of love I am SHAKING

- Dream!Gavin speaking truth as ALWAYS

- These damn flashbacks making me feel some type of way

- OH SHIT HE AWAKE

- that actually low key jump scared me

- God damn these sets are so fucking pro, I’m so happy

- REUNION

- Tina really say “Chris ;) ;) lets go get some ;) coffee ;) ;) ;) ;)”

- CHRIS’ REALIZATION FACE FUCKING LAID ME OUT I HAD TO PAUSE I WAS LAUGJINB SO HARD

- You Undead Asshole™️

- Gavin: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ ) fuck he actually heard me talk about my feelings n shit

- Nines: You literally told me you fucking needed me like five minutes ago

- Gavin: huh weird that doesn’t sound like me I actually hate you

- ooOOHHH  S H I T

- REALLY IS THIS REALLY HAPPENIGN

- woah shit sorry I blacked out for a second what happened

- MY POOR LITTLE FUCKING REED900 HEART IS EXPLODING AND IMPLODING AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME

- CAAAAAAAAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIIIGGHTT

- holy shit I actually gave myself a bloody fucking nose because I smacked my face too hard in excitement

- ❤️💘🧡💞💕💘💓💚💛💘💞💓💛💛💞💘❤️💚💘💜💕💖❤️❤️💕💓💗💘💖💚💝❤️

- FUCK

- “What dipshit programmed you to do that?” 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️FUCK

- My aunt came in and told me she heard me shouting then asked why I was crying

- HAHA FUCKING CHRIS IS MEEEE

- shit I need to like..,,,,physically recover from that

- whew okay break time is over let’s fucking go

- Nines in the cheeky turtleneck I SEE U

- #DETECTIVECHEN2K20

- Gavin: I’m ready to take this hoe DOWN

- Initiate protocol: SAVE ADA FROM HERSELF

- I could listen to Tina talk to dispatch for hours🥰❤️❤️❤️

- WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE T

- Gavin being hella concerned boyfriend™️

- FIGHT SCENE™️

- omfg that crowbar really went *CLANG* when it hit Ada’s steel fkn abs what a legend💪😎

- Hell yeah epic Nines gif moment

- no Ada don’t choke Gavin it only makes him stronger

- CHRIS THE MOTHER FUCKIN GOAT😎👏👏👏he really said “fuck ur monologue I’m here to get shit done”

- ADA QUEEN YOURE OKAY SWEETIE

- That character development godt damn

- I might be reaching but Gavin is now wearing a white/off-white shirt/gray that kINDA RESEMBLES DREAM!GAVIN’S SHIRT. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. THATS SYMBOLISM IF I EVER DID SEE IT.

- “buyer’s remorse, huh?”

- “I can’t be everything you need.”

- That awkward moment when you realize the person you were hiding your feelings from has also been hiding their feelings from you.

- “a year of that fuckin’...Ken Doll face smirkin’ at me every day” BE CUTER GAVIN, I DARE YOU.

- naked hand = love

- CHEEKY BASTARDS

- FUCK FUCK FUCK ME

- THAT WAS SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL

- So my review of this film could be summed up by saying that I basically cried for an hour and fifteen minutes.

- Holy damn

[readbeneaththelines]

His Possession Pt. 6

This is NSFW, PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION.

A/N: Debts are collected, one way or the other. Unfortunately, you were the collection for your father’s debt.

Yoongi is ruthless, cunning, and obsessive.

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings’ violence, language

this chapter has an extra warning: Rough handling of reader. please read with caution.

Word Count: 2130

This is NSFW, PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION.

cr. to gif owner

You awoke to the sensation of weight across your waist. With eyes still closed, your hand felt along the intruding object. You felt an arm, wrist, and fingers hold you from your right side. Opening one eye, you looked to your right, seeing a sleeping Yoongi next to you. You should have been startled, scared even, but you just watched him. He looked almost kind when he slept. No hard lines, no scowl on his face. You would even venture to say handsome, under any other circumstances. You tried to fidget your way from under him, but when you moved, so did he. His arm tugging you closer and you held your breath. Sleepy eyes opened and it took him a moment to realize the predicament. He shot upright, nearly falling off the bed as he tried to distance himself from you.

"I- I must have fallen asleep." He stammered out.

 "You did, but it's okay. You needed rest too. But I must say, I never pictured you as a cuddler."

"Shut up! You must be feeling better." You laughed at his flustered appearance, his hair tousled messily, and voice still groggy. 

"I am, thank you." You stretched your arms, a content sigh passing your lips. The sound stirred something low in Yoongi’s gut. Clearing his troat, he managed to squeak out an apology.

 “Sorry, I’m still trying to wake up.Why don’t I order you some food brought up. While you’re eating, and you will eat something, I’ll go shower.” You nodded in agreement, the audible growl of your stomach confirming you were, indeed, hungry. He called down to the kitchen, ordering you a light breakfast of toast and fruit, with juice. When it arrived he excused himself and hurried out of the room. 

The shower gave him time to calm down. But thinking about how you looked when you stretched, the way your back arched while you sighed in an innocent, yet completely seductive way, made him fight to keep his arousal in check. He couldn’t believe that, with you laid up in bed sick, he had a fleeting thought of you in any sexual manner. 

No way Yoongi! She’s your possession, not your lover.

The water ran cool as he began to fully awaken and think clearly. 

But damn, she felt good next to you.

He cursed himself under his breath at the lingering image of you lying net to him in his pyjamas. Which, in fact, did make you look even more inticing. Groaning loudly he quickly rinsed and got dressed. When he returned, he was pleased to see that you had cleared your plate. 

“Did I eat good enough, sir?” you asked coyly, a proud grin on your face. 

“Yes, it will help you get your energy back. You want anything else before I get going I have a lot to get done to make up for last night.” 

“I’m sorry about that. I hope you didn’t miss anything important because of me.” 

“Everything I have to do is important, but it can be made up if I get moving.” he stood in the doorway, watching you drink down the last of your juice.

 “The only thing I want is a bath. A nice long soaking bath. But I’ll manage until later.” A mental image of you naked, immersed in steaming hot water had Yoongi biting the inside of his cheek. How is it that he is having such images with you in your position. 

Because she is your possession, Yoongi. You own her, she is whatever you want her to be.

"I’ll call for one of the housemaids to help you draw a bath. But only after Dr. Choi or one of his assistants checks on you later.” He pulled out his phone, making a call. “They will be here within the hour, so you can get one after that.” 

“Yoongi?” you called his name softly. “Will you be gone all day? I mean, I was just wondering because I will be stuck up here all day by myself, and I have no one to talk to.” Yoongi rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I’ll send Kook up here, he’ll talk your ear off. You’ll beg for quiet after he’s done.” you both chuckle at the proclamation, You finding yourself admiring his gummy smile.

 “I think that’s the first time you have smiled since I’ve been here.” He dropped the grin and frowned suddenly. It was the first time in a long time that he had remembered genuinely smiling.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N. Try to get some more rest.” And with that he left, mentally smacking himself for his dirty thoughts.

“Bye.” you said to thin air, settling back under the covers. You were stirred awake by the voice of a woman beside you.

 “Good morning Miss. I’m Dr. Choi’s assistant, Marilu. I was just checking your vitals. You seem to be improving nicely. I’m sure you are ready to get this IV out. Let’s get this out and make you a bit more comfortable.”

 In mere minutes, you were free of the invading needle and tube. Afterwards, you were greeted by a smiling Jungkook at your door. His smile reminded you of a cute little bunny and your couldn’t help but smile back. He sat down beside you, and instantly you felt right at home in his presence. He ate lunch with you, all the while telling you his story. You learned how he became one of Yoongi's men. The close knit family that they all were. 

"So Yoongi is a good leader for you all?" You asked Jungkook.

 "Of course! After his parents died and he almost died, he changed. When he was younger, he was very much the hard headed rebel. It was his way or the highway. All the weight that is now on his shoulders, he carries himself. He had no one to help him, no one beside him. He allows us to have a family if we want, but only Joon and Jin have one. The rest of us remain loyal to him out of respect. He cares for us from a distance, making sure we are well taken care of. He is rough around the edges, but he is a good man." 

You listened carefully to what he told you. Everything Yoongi did, he did by himself. He carries the burden of a tight family on his own two shoulders, alone. Not only was he friend, but sometimes 'appa' to the younger men that grew up under his watchful eye.

“Why did he want to take me? I understand that it was to pay off an old debt, but he could have taken our money, taken over the family business as payment. So, why me?” Jungkook looked down, avoiding looking you in the eyes.

“Do you remember much of your childhood, Y/N? I mean before you really grew up? Your family and Yoongi’s family spent many summers together. Yoongi remembers when you were born. He remembers holding you as a baby when the families travelled together. He watched you grow up for the first few years. You were like family to him. And when he found out that your parents were involved with what happened, it broke his heart and angered him beyond measure. Taking you has more than one reason. He wants his revenge, yes, but it goes beyond that. I’m sorry, I’ve told you more than I should already.” 

“Yes, you have” Yoongi’s hushed voice came from behind Jungkook. Looking over Kook’s shoulder, you saw him standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Don’t be angry with him, I begged him to tell me. It’s my fault, not his. He only told me so I might understand things a bit better. He wasn’t trying to divulge anything secretive. Please, don’t be mad at him, if anything be mad at me.” you pleaded with Yoongi, who only stared at Jungkook. “Out, chatterbox. You better be thankful she is sacrificing herself in your place.” 

After Jungkook left, you were alone with Yoongi. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, facing the doorway. “Thank you for not yelling at him. It really wasn’t much he told me. Just that you and I grew up together, that you knew me before this. I want to say that I’m sorry for what my family did to yours. I’m sorry that there was nothing I could have done to stop it. It doesn't mean what you did was right, but I think if I was in your place, I could understand.” 

“You don’t understand anything, Y/N! I had no one growing up! You had both your parents, I had to do everything on my own. I had to run this family, I had to grow up overnight, unlike you. You got to enjoy your youth, have fun, be a kid. I had to become leader, confidant, and brother to all these men. You know nothing!” Yoongi slammed the door behind him, making you jump in your seat. He came within inches of you, his hot breath coming in waves over your face as he spoke, his tone calm and terrifying. “You know nothing, little girl, so don’t you dare patronize me with false sympathy.”

You leaned back onto the bed, cowering slightly from his angered tone. Your eyes searched his darkened orbs, reading the pain, anger, and frustration the displayed.

“It’s not false sympathy, Yoongi. I meant it. Every word. I’m sorry I was part of what happened to you. Even though I didn’t know anything, I’m part of my family so I am part of the problem. If me being your toy, your thing you own, if that will help make things right, then I will do whatever it takes to make up for what you went through.” you started to reach for his hand, but he jerked away from your touch. Your hand fell on your lap, your heart breaking for the broken man before you. 

“If we are done here, I’m going to take my hot bath now. If you would see yourself out, then I will get moving.” You rose to your feet, nearly falling because of your weak and unsteady legs. Yoongi was on his feet, grabbing your arms to hold you up. Once you were steady, you twisted from his grip and quietly walked to the bathroom. You closed the door behind you, then turned on the faucet and let the tub fill with steamy hot water as you stripped out of his clothes. After gathering towels and the necessities, you allowed your body to sink into the steaming water, the sting of hot water a welcomed intrusion. You lowered yourself until only the top of your shoulders and your head were above water. You stretch out achy legs, your head falling back onto the tub's rim. Vapor surrounded you as you added bath salts for aromatherapy. You sensed every fiber relaxing in the bath, your muscles easing and your tension melting away. 

Damn him, then. Such a stubborn ass.  He deserves to be all grumpy and miserable if he’s going to be like that anyway!

You complained and grumbled as you soothe your body. The cut on your cheek was healing nicely, and the bruises you got the day they held you tight to keep you from running were finally starting to fade. Before long there would be no visible sign of the hell you had gone through. Just the emotional scars would remain. Those thoughts brought you back to him. He surely had emotional and mental scars from what he had been through too. He had lived with his for the past twelve years. Your scars were just beginning to form. They were still fresh and ugly, his were hard and buried. Maybe one day your scars would match his. 

There was a knock at the door. “Go away Min Yoongi. I’m tired of trying to talk to your insolent stubborn ass.” You hollered back. When there was no answer you returned to closing your eyes. Wanting to wash your hair, you ducked under the water with a deep breath. Instantaneously you were jerked up by two strong hands. 

You screamed out, forgetting you were under water. Choking on water that you swallowed had you scared shitless. 

"Are you okay?" The tone one of fear.

"What the hell!" You spit out. Looking up you saw Yoongi, eyes wide and terror filled. " I heard you go under. I thought you passed out." 

"Get your hands off of me! I wasn't drowning, I was wetting my hair you idiot! You made me choke!" You were mad, and you couldn't contain your anger any more. "What do you care, you thoughtless uncaring monster!" He was taken aback by the name you called him, his hands letting go of you. 

So I am a monster.

@min-shookga-yoongi @beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi @holy-yoongi @trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570 @seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17 @kingsuckjin @kpoppingthempills

[hanniiesuckle17]

Little Touch of Heaven; 2

A/n: You guys wanted a part two so here you go!

Member: Lee Felix

THIS IMAGINE CONTAINS TRIGGER WARNING CONTENT

WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, talk of cutting, scars, mentions of violence, angst, sad baby felix

Summary: The longest night of Y/n’s life was the night she confessed to the boy who called her ‘angel’. She didn’t expect to see him almost killed right before her eyes. Things have been left unexplained and all she can do is wait to see Felix, hoping and praying he is okay.

Genre: angst, badboy!au, romance, strangers to lovers

PART 1

I was in a daze. My mind was foggy as I tried to remember what happened just a few hours ago. The skin under my eyes and cheeks felt tight from crying and the bruise that was probably forming. The room was a harsh light gray color. Much brighter than the sky outside. All I could do was stare at the other side of the wall while I waited for someone to come in and talk to me. Flashes of red and blue crossed my memory. Felix on the ground. Not moving. Two men in uniform pulling the man off of me and Felix. My body felt sore and sluggish. From the lack of sleep or the beating I didn’t know. And I didn’t mind.

The door opened, but I couldn’t find the will to look over. “Miss L/n?” I nodded still tired. A man in his mid thirties or forties sat in front of me. “You mind answering a few questions?” I shook my head as he gently passed me a cup of water that I very much needed. “Where is that man?” My jaw clenched as the words fell from my mouth. “Mr. Lee? He is in our custody right now.”

“Lee….Oh god….his father….” I don’t know why I didn’t realize. Everything made sense. The bruises. The cuts. Him not wanting to go home. Dinners at the store. The backpack. “What was your relationship to the boy?” What was I to Felix? I loved him I knew that. I was almost certain he loved me. “Ms. L/n?”

“Yes. Sorry. I was… I’m his…we’re…involved? Sorry I’m having trouble with my words right now.” “That’s to be expected.” I took another drink from the glass and tried to keep my composure. I was sure the man said his name earlier when I was brought in, but I couldn’t seem to remember it. “So, how long have you and Lee Felix been involved. I don’t know why these questions were so difficult for me to answer. “I’ve known him for about a month or two.” He nodded and I couldn’t help but look down at my hands.

“Was there any evidence of abuse.” Felix stood before me in the store. That tiny smile that didn’t reach his eyes highlighted the bruise under his eye and the cut on his lips. When he lay on my bed with black and blue marks painted across his ribs. The gash on his back. “Yes. There were-I knew in the back of my mind-but he didn’t want to talk about it.” 

“How many times did you see Felix with an injury of any kind?”

“Three times.”

“And you had never met his father or been to his house?”

“No.”

I felt useless. Like I knew everything and nothing about Felix. I knew the things that I thought mattered, but I didn’t know the things this man said would help him. When the glass was empty and his questions finished the man sat in silence before me. “How old are you?” He asked. There was pure curiosity in his voice. “Seventeen…” “You are very strong to be in this situation and be acting the way you are.”

“To tell you the truth, sir. I’m terrified. I just watched someone I care about more than myself get beaten by his parent. I’m terrified. I don’t know how long its been since I’ve seen him, where he is or if he’s okay.” He nodded listening to me talk and handed me a tissue. I didn’t even realize I was crying. “He is at St. Mercy’s Hospital. I’ll give you a ride there.”

He gave me a comforting smile and helped me up from the chair. I avoided the staring eyes of the people in the police department as the man led me out of the precinct. Glancing at his badge, I saw his name was Inspector Chwe Yuseok. It was almost twilight when we walked outside. He opened the passenger side door for me and we both headed off to the hospital.

We rode in silence. I watched the clock on his dashboard, maybe hoping it would speed up if I stared. But it stayed 3:54 for a minute, and then the red digital numbers changed to 3:55. I watched until he parked in front of the hospital. The two of us must have been a sight to see. A hardened detective and a beaten teenage girl walking side by side into the hospital.

Inspector Chwe showed his badge at the front desk and was told what floor to go to. He motioned for me to follow into the elevator. I didn’t understand why he was going to all this trouble. A nice person would have simply called me a cab. Maybe paid the fair. He watched the floors go up much like I did the clock. 

“Here we are.” The doors opened to the fifth floor. He led me to the desk and looked towards the nurse behind it. “Hello. We are looking for Lee Felix.” He showed her the badge and she typed in the computer. “He is in room E107. You can go in, but she can’t.” She sadly looked at me and then back to the detective.

“Why can’t I go in? I want to see him!” I didn’t mean to yell at her, but I was tired and wanted to see Felix. She stayed calm, most likely used to this response. “I’m sorry, Miss. Only family members can go in now. You’ll have to wait until regular visiting hours at nine o’clock. Besides the he just got out of surgery ten minutes ago.” I ran a hand through my hair. The irony was terrifying.

“Ma’am the boy’s father is in custody and he has no mother. As far as we know she is the closest thing to family he has.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t let her in. She is free to wait over there and we will do everything we can to make her comfortable.” She motioned to a waiting area filled with chairs and a tv mounted to the wall. Only one other man about twenty years old sat there. “Thank you for your help.” She nodded with a sympathetic smile. 

“I’ll let you know when you can go in and see him.” Dejectedly I shuffled over to the chairs and sat down pulling my knees into my chest. Surprisingly, the detective sat down next to me. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have a job to do?” He shrugged and crossed his legs. A silence passed for a moment while my thoughts festered and became clear. I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I thought about Felix alone in that room.

“You knew I wouldn’t be able to see him.” I looked to Inspector Chwe sadly. He nodded without looking at me.”I’ve been in your position before.” I waited for him to continue. “My best friend, when I was about your age, got into a car crash with a drunk driver. We were coming back from a party and I was following in the car behind him. Saw it all happen. The guy just drove off.” He messed with the watch on his wrist before looking at me. “At the hospital they wouldn’t let me see him. When visiting hours rolled around they let me speak to him. An hour later he died in surgery.” I hugged my knees tighter to my chest.

“Something about your friend reminds me of Yojoon. I don’t think it will end the same way though.” He gently placed a hand on my knee. He had a fatherly air about him. Something that made me comfortable around him. “Do my parents know what happened?” He nodded. “They were notified. I told them you were with me at the hospital.” I nodded and leaned my head against the wall. 

“When was the last time you slept?” I tried to back to when I woke up yesterday. It seemed like eons ago. “My shift ended at two yesterday and I woke up at six.” He nodded. “Get some rest. We’ve easily got five hours to wait before you can see him.” With that, I fell asleep in the uncomfortable jail, hoping to have a dreamless sleep.

A hand shook me awake. My eyes looked down to see Inspector Chwe’s jacket covering me as I slept at an awkward angle in the chair. “She said we can go in.” Quickly I handed him his jacket and brushed my messy hair our of my face. I was sure I looked terrible, but I didn’t care. Sprinting down the hall, my tired eyes searched the room plates, looking for E107. I slid open the door to reveal an almost dark room. All the lights were turned off, but the light from the window cast a gray light into the area.

Out of breath I walked to the bed. Felix lay there with his eyes closed in a hospital gown and blanket pulled halfway up his chest. An IV was in his arm and he had a slow steady heartbeat sounding on the monitor. His dusty blonde hair was a mess, and even sleeping he looked stressed. It made tears fall onto my cheeks. There was a chair by the bed and I sat down in it. I was afraid to touch him. He had been hiding so much pain from me. His slim fingers were cool to the touch. My hands enveloped his as I stared at him with tears falling onto the sheets.

I brought his hand to my lips and pressed a kiss to each one of his bruised knuckles and closed my eyes. “Did you miss me, angel?” My eyes opened to reveal Felix with a small smile on his face. “I’m to relieved to say no.” I couldn’t help but smile down at him, unconsciously running my thumb over his hand. “Come here,” He pulled me closer to him and tenderly kissed my lips. His cool hand cupped my cheek keeping me close to him. I pulled away from him to kiss his cheeks and every inch of skin I could, before returning to his lips.

“Y/n,” 

“What?”

Only a couple of inches separated us, but they felt like miles.

“How can I love you when I’ve only known you a couple of months.” 

His voice was raspy and low. He had a small smile that reached his eyes. “You love me?” Felix nodded and stroked a tear from my cheek. “Stop crying angel, I’m okay.”

“You most certainly are not okay.” I turned to see Inspector Chwe and a nurse. “Don’t let this boy lie to you. No matter how cute he is!” The nurse said with a smile. “Are you the girlfriend?” “I don-” “Yes, she is. This is Y/n.” I pulled away from Felix and sat back in the chair, his fingers intertwined with mine.  Hearing the words from his lips caused a heat to quickly creep up my cheeks.

“Well, Felix, you might not remember me, but I was the nurse who took care of you before surgery.“ He nodded and looked to Inspector Chwe not recognizing the man. “I’m Inspector Chwe assigned to the case. I brought Y/n here this morning.” With a nod the nurse continued and explained to me Felix’s condition. He had several broken ribs and the surgery earlier this morning had fixed some severe internal bleeding. Along with all of that she said that he also had a concussion.

Felix squeezed my hand as I listened intently. “So, how much is this going to cost?” There was a strain in his voice as he spoke to her. “Well we will definitely want to keep you here for about a week.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. We both knew that he couldn’t afford to stay here for even a single night. “Can you give us a moment?” The inspector asked politely. She bowed and closed the door as she left. “I’m screwed.” I held his hand even tighter as he rested his head against the pillow. “We’ll figure something out, okay?” I could pick up more shifts at the store! But that wouldn’t even cover half the cost of the hospital bill, let alone what the court fees would be. “I’ll ask my parents-” “Angel, they’ve never even met me. Why would they do that?” “I can cover your bill.” We both turned in surprise to the Inspector. “Sir-” “It’s no trouble. Really!”

 My mind slipped back to the conversation we had back in the waiting room. There was a softness in Mr. Chwe’s eyes as he looked at Felix. I started to wonder how much Felix and Yojoon actually looked alike. “I won’t take no for an answer.” A smile grew across Felix’s face, one that reached all the way to his eyes. “Thank you, sir! I have no idea how to repay you.”

 Before the Inspector left he pulled me to the side. “Here.” He handed me a clean white business card with his email and phone number on it. “You need anything at all, either of you, don’t hesistate to call.” I bowed and took the card thanking him profusely. Something about Mr. Chwe made him feel like a guardian watching over Felix and me. 

 The next week was a struggle. I had to go back to school three days later, but every free moment was spent by Felix’s side until the nurses forced me to go home. My parents stopped by a couple of times and were very kind to Felix. The day Felix was supposed to be released I arrived outside of the hospital to find him being carried out in a wheelchair. He smiled when he saw me. Carefully the nurses helped him up and carried his things to the cab I had waiting. After safely getting him in we both took off in the car down the street. “Where are we going, Felix?” Obviously we couldn’t go to his house. It was still under police jurisdiction and I imagined it was the last place he wanted to be. He thought for a second before telling the cabbie an address. His thin fingers held onto mine throughout the ride. His gaze was fixed out the window watching all the people walk down the streets of Seoul.

 It was early evening when we reached our destination. Getting out of the car, I looked up to see a two story building marked as a dance studio. Helping Felix out of the car, he slowly approached the door and unlocked it. “Come on, angel.” Shouldering his backpack I followed him inside the dark studio. He limped and shuffled to the backroom while I stayed and looked at the pictures on the wall. My eyes fell on a photo of two boys in mid choreo. On the right was a tall and slim boy with jet black hair and elf like features. Next to him was Felix with a bright smile on his face. He looked so happy. Calm. Like a normal boy. There were other pictures mostly containing the same bunch of boys with Felix scattered about.

 I jumped at the feeling of hands wrapping themselves around my waist. I relaxed into Felix’s touch as he rested his head in the crook of my neck. Instinctively my hand went to softly curl in his blonde hair. For a moment we just stood there, completely content with this little bit of normalcy. I started to understand why he appreciated the things I though plain and boring. Felix lived a painful life and normalcy was like a tiny piece hope for him. A glimpse of what he could only ever dream about. “I love you….” he whispered in his low voice.

 They always talk about the knot in your stomach and the feeling when someone says they love you. Like a good kind of tension. In reality, my whole body felt like liquid. Ready to shape itself to whatever he needed. Like a numbess throughout my entire body. Forty years later I wouldn’t remember the first time Felix told me he loved me, but I would remember this one. Every sound in the quiet studio. Each touch of his fingers on my stomach. Remembering that in all the pain he must have been feeling, his desire to keep me close overpowered all of it. Remembering how normal it felt to be in his arms and hearing those words, though unfamiliar.

In his arms, I could see the future. Images of him away from all of this with me by his side. The scars almost fully healed, and stood as a reminder of his tribulations. I could see what he wanted. That normal, simple life. It made me smile. My fingers rubbed his arms tightly wrapped around my stomach, feeling the marks and scars that still lay there. This wasn’t the end of his story. It wasn’t the end of mine either. 

The both of us still had miles and eons left to travel. Six years later, Felix again rushed to the hospital. He burst through the doors leaving two of his friends trailing behind after him. “Where is she?” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the nurses’ stationn. “I’m sorry, sir. Who?”

“Y/n. Where is she?”

“Last name?”

“She came in six hours ago! Where is she?”

A toned arm gently pulled on Felix’s shoulder. “Hey, calm down. It’s okay.” Changbin always knew how to calm him down even in the hardest times. The other boy with them, Chan, spoke calmly and politely to the nurse. “We are looking for Lee Y/n.” She nodded and pointed to a room down the hall. It took all in Felix’s body not to sprint down the passageway. Chan opened the door for him to enter and he stopped and stared at the sight before him.

Seeing him I smiled and motioned him closer. “Yuseok came before you. I’m not surprised, though.” I pointed to the man in his late forties now who sat in corner of the room. He still had the same kind smile as the first time the two of us were in this hospital. “Of course I came. A god father must be present at a joyous occasion like this!” Felix smiled brightly, his eyes twinkling as he looked at the baby laying in my arms. 

“How are you doing, angel?” His fingers stroked my hair but his eyes never left the child. “I’m fine. I was a little worried you wouldn’t be able to get away from the tour.” He chuckled and I could see tears at the edge of his eyes. Felix had cried many times in front of me. But, the tears of joy hat trickled down his cheeks were more beautiful than anything I had ever imagined. There was true love in his eyes as he looked down at the baby.

“Felix,” Softly I handed the new born to him. The look of shock on his face was evident as he cradled the child into his chest. “Meet our son, Yojoon.” In the corner a bitter sweet smile rested on the Inspector’s lips as he watched the two of us and our newborn son. Ever since that night Chwe Yuseok had stood by and aided us in every time of need. He grew to be like a father to Felix and me. Without him our son wouldn’t be here.

“It’s like....” 

Felix struggled with his words as he looked down at his son. My fingers trailed softly over his arms, a loving habit I had picked up over the years. The scars were mostly healed and now only represented a part of his past that he had left behind.

“It’s like I’m holding the tiniest piece of heaven. Don’t you think, angel?”

I nodded and placed a kiss on his forehead. 

“You couldn’t convince me otherwise.”

Thanks guys so much for reading! Don’t forget requests are open for mutliple groups! 

Masterlist

[foxyotomelady]

Another love, Chapter XI (JuminxReader)

Author’s notes:

Be aware of: strong language, angst, violence. Yes, this is another rather dark chapter.

Grab some handkerchiefs and be ready for:

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X | Chapter XI (You are here) | Chapter XII | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV | Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

Zen's POV 

Several days have passed since the Y/N's abduction. Everyone was losing their minds, her parents also knew what had happened, the police and security guards were looking for her days and nights. There was no trace of Yuwoon either.

It was early morning when Zen and Jumin were searching around the city. There were no bodyguards with them because Jumin insisted that they should separate in small groups to increase their effectiveness.

Zen was angry at himself that he didn't immediately recognize the woman in his dream - but when she appeared in it, he saw her for the first time. He found out who she is just after all that kidnapping. 

Zen didn't think it would ever happen - but he was worried about that jerk. The guy looked bad, he was pale, he had circles under his eyes, and well... he smelled like alcohol.

They were checking every suspicious alley, asking people... everything for nothing. Finally, as they walked through one of the narrow alleys, Jumin stumbled and would have fallen if Zen had not caught his arm in time, "Dude, be careful!"  Jumin jerked away from his hand and adjusted his shirt, which was still in disarray, "I'm fine." "You're not fine! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?" "Even in this situation, all you can think about is a good look." "Not what I meant!" Zen got mad. "When was the last time you slept?" "Sleep? How could I sleep in such a situation? You’re illogical as usual." "And you're a jerk as usual! Don't you understand that you don't help her that way? You have to get yourself together if you want to help find her!" Jumin leaned his back against the wall and slowly slid down to sit below it on the ground. He buried his face in his hands. Zen didn't know what to do. He saw this guy in such a state for the first time in his life. "Zen... What if we won't find her?" "Don't even think so! We'll find her! Safe and sound!" "I just can't... I keep thinking of what this bastard could have done to her so far. I'm losing my mind..." Zen felt his throat clench, "We're all worried about her-" "You won't understand this," Jumin interrupted. "I've already lost V, if I lose her now... I will be completely alone." "Dude! What is this absurdity? You must be forgetting something! You have us! The RFA!" Zen couldn't believe he really said those words. To this jerk! But he couldn't look at his depression anymore.

Jumin rubbed his eyelids and sighed, "God... That it came to that I must hear such words from you." "Believe me, I didn't feel like telling them at all," Zen explained angrily. "But you have to get a grip on yourself, dude!" "It's not like I don't appreciate your friendship," Jumin began, rising slowly, propping up from the wall. "But no one can replace her…"

"Of course-"  "I made so many mistakes with her... I won't forgive myself if I don't have the opportunity to fix them."  Did Jumin Han just admit his mistake? In front of him?! It was that moment when Zen understood: this jerk really loved Y/N. In a twisted way, but still...  "We will find her, man..." Suddenly Jumin's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket so hurriedly and in such panic that he almost dropped it to the ground, "Speak. What? Where?! Send me the exact location immediately. And send coordinates to Assistant Kang. She will know what to do with it next." Zen felt his heart beating hard, "What? Why? What did you find out?!"  "Saeran got the bastard's IP and discovered where he was constantly going."  "What?! Where?!"  "He'll send me- I have it! We'll go there! I'll call Driver Kim along the way."  "Wait! Shouldn't we notify the police?!"  "Jaehee will take care of it. There is no time!"

YOUR POV 

You didn't know how many days had passed. It was almost constantly dark in the building. You were thirsty and hungry. Yuwoon occasionally fed you and gave you something to drink, but it wasn't much. At first, he tended to untie your hands, and you tried to use these moments to somehow oppose him and run away - it always ended in him beating you brutally until you gave up. Then he even stopped untying your hands, you ate and drank from bowls like an animal. When you needed to take care of your physiological needs, he just sat you on a bucket and waited. You had to do it in his presence - which you failed at first - you couldn't force your body to do it. As a result of this, you got wet in your pants a few times when Yuwoon left and took the bucket with him. At first, you felt very humiliated. But after a few days, you didn't care. You were just terribly tired, your body was weak and in bruises.

It was morning when Yuwoon came to you again. He smiled at you in greeting, "How is my princess today? What is that indifferent expression on your face? You should be happy to see me! I brought you something to eat." 

He came to you. This time he reached his hand to you, he kept dry bread in it and put it under your mouth, "Come on, eat it obediently from my hand." 

You were too hungry to refuse. Yuwoon laughed as you chewed bite after bite.

While you were eating like that, you noticed a figure at the entrance. After a while, you realized that it was Yoon. He put a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. You didn't have the strength to react anyway.

Yoon approached Yuwoon silently and suddenly grabbed him by the neck from behind. Yuwoon groaned and cursed. The men wrestled with each other for a while but finally, Yoon hit your kidnapper in the back of the head and he fell to the ground. Unconscious? Dead? You didn't care.

Yoon came up to you quickly, you saw worry and fear on his face, "It's all right, Miss Y/N! It's all right..." The poor man almost cried over you as he untied the ropes from your arms and legs, "Miss Y/N, say something please! Where does it hurt? What did that bastard do to you?"

You didn't feel like answering. You just looked at him. Your wrists and ankles were bloody, blue and mercilessly burning you.

"The coordinates of this place have already been handed over to the police and everyone else, they should be here soon," He continued, looking at your wounds and bruises. "God, it's a miracle I was around!"

"Yoon..." You managed to make a weak voice. A thought suddenly crept into your numb mind. You didn't feel like it was absurd at the moment, "Jumin doesn't want to fire you, right? I'll convince him not to." 

Yoon stared at you completely lost and moved. He could barely hold back the urge to cry now, "I deserve to be fired... It's my fault that you were kidnapped, Miss..."

You shook your head and then two more figures appeared at the entrance. Your heart jumped at the sight of Jumin and Zen. They both looked at you in shock, pale. Then Jumin hurried over to you, pushed Yoon away and fell to his knees in front of you. 

"Y/N... Y/N..." His voice broke, his hands trembled and he was afraid to touch you. "God... You're all bruised... God, your hands..." He took your hand in fear and stared at your blood-ragged wrist.

All your indifference and emptiness began to disappear. Jumin's presence awakened such a wave of emotion that you shuddered all over your body. All the trauma you went through came back to you.

"Jumin..." You looked into his eyes - they were red and had dark circles around, you could see the beginning of insanity in them. That was the last straw for you. "Jumin!" You cried and, despite your aching body, hugged him. In return, he embraced you so hard that you thought he would crush you. But you didn't care, you just wanted to be close to him. You couldn't stop crying and after a while... you both were crying.

"I thought I lost you ..." Jumin stammered through his tears, pressing your head against his shoulder. You wanted to answer, a storm of thoughts reigned in your head, but you choked with tears to the point that you were hiccuping and unable to speak.

"Shhh..." He tried to calm you down, though he didn't stop shedding tears as well. "It's alright, I'm here."

You suddenly heard someone's groan. You looked out of the corner of your eye and saw Yuwoon regain consciousness. The memories of everything he did to you came back to your head. Panic and fear overwhelmed you, you screamed and backed away, pressing your back to the wall. Jumin looked at Yuwoon who was massaging his neck and jumped to his feet, "You...! I'll kill you!" 

You've never heard Jumin so incredibly angry. You didn't want to know what he would do if Zen didn't grab his shoulders and stop him when Jumin threw himself in the Yuwoon's direction.

"Calm down, dude!" Zen shouted. "The police will be here soon and will take care of him!"

Yoon didn't let Yuwoon escape, he stopped him until the police arrived. An ambulance also arrived and you went to the hospital with the company of Jumin, who was holding you by the hand all the way.

You spent two weeks in the hospital. It turned out that in addition to bruises and bloody abrasions, you also had a sprained ankle. Moreover, you were starved, dehydrated and your head was heavily battered, now bandaged.

Jumin almost sued the hospital for refusing to let him stay with you all this time. In the end, he simply bought the whole room, making sure that only you could stay in it, and he slept on the bed next to you - although he did not sleep peacefully and not once when you woke up at night you saw him napping in the chair next to your bed.

During the day he just sat next to you, read to you, gave you water and talked to you. The first dinner you got was so miserable that... Jumin almost sued the hospital again. Anything he considered insufficient had to be rectified immediately. You almost felt unfair toward other patients, because Jumin's influence led to that all the staff was running around you like you were a queen. 

Other RFA members often visited you. When Yoosung saw you in the hospital bed for the first time, he cried like a child and you had to comfort him, patting his head in embarrassment. Seven smuggled you unhealthy food, including his favorite Honey Buddha Chips, but Jumin didn't let you eat it anyway. Jaehee brought you tasty fruits and at each visit, she also complained about the enormity of work and asked Jumin to return to the company. You also tried to convince him - thanks to him you already had excellent care here - but he was too stubborn.

When Zen visited you for the first time, he brought you a bouquet of red flowers, which of course caused a small argument. Jumin was just reading, sitting on the chair next to your bed when Zen entered the room with a wide smile and shouting "Baby~!" in his sweet voice.

Jumin, with a stoic expression, only raised his eyebrows without taking his eyes off a book, "What are these flowers for?" 

"What? Are you serious?" Zen came up to you and gave you a bouquet, for which you thanked with a smile. 

"Flowers won't help her recover," Jumin said professionally.

"Dude, I just want her to feel better!" 

"She needs neither you nor your flowers to feel better." 

This quarrel would probably continue for several minutes if you didn't start laughing.

Even Saeran visited you. You thanked him for what he did because without his work, searching for you could take longer or... no, you didn't want to think about it. 

"Now I am worthy of becoming your dog?" Saeran asked sarcastically. 

"You are worthy of soooo much more," You answered honestly. 

"I will make sure you get a proper reward for your work," Jumin added. 

Saeran blushed! "Stop with this stupid kindness. You're making me cringe..."

Yoon also appeared. He apologized to you and Jumin, and although he was the one who freed you from Yuwoon, Jumin continued to look at him sharply. You stood up for him and only because of your request Jumin did not fire him. But without blinking an eye he fired all the bodyguards Sarah had bribed.

And the day came when your parents visited you. You were sorry when you saw their condition - your mom didn't have any makeup, her wrinkles seemed to got worse, your father also seemed to age a few years, when you last saw him, he wasn't so gray on his head... Your mother obviously started to cry - much worse than Yoosung. Your father was like an iceberg, and he didn't take his eyes off Jumin. "Why didn't you tell us what was going on?" Mother asked you. "Why didn't you say you had problems with Yuwoon? That you moved out of your apartment?" "I'm sorry, mom... I didn't want to worry you...I didn't want to involve you in my love problems. I'm not a child anymore." Jumin handed your mother a handkerchief, without a word, stoic as always. "Oh, thank you..." Your mother blinked, picked up a handkerchief, and began to wipe her face and eyes. "Well, we're involved now, you want it or not," Your father said, then turned directly to Jumin, in a tone that made you feel cold and uncomfortable, "Don't get me wrong, young man, but I don't like your relationship with my daughter. I think you are partly responsible for what happened to her. You are a known person, you have your enemies. Now, when there are so many rumors about you two, my daughter will be constantly threatened." "Dad..." You started, squinting and pouting. "I understand you, Mr. L/N," Jumin replied calmly. "I am aware of what I am responsible for and why I have been at fault. Still, I would like to continue this relationship with your daughter, with your consent. I promise her kidnapper will be punished with the greatest punishment. My lawyers will take care of it."

Your father didn't look convinced. Ultimately, however, he took a deep breath under the pressure of your irritated look, "Well... Y/N is an adult, I can't stop her from anything. But if she ever gets hurt because of you again..."

"I understand, Mr. L/N," Jumin still had a stony expression on his face.

Your four talked for some time - Or rather... it was mostly you and your mother who was talking. Your father and Jumin... not so much. The tension between them was huge.

When your parents were about to leave, your mother, much to your embarrassment, grabbed Jumin's hand with both of her hands and said, "Unlike my grumpy husband, I am grateful to you for looking after my daughter. You are a very nice man."

You had to bite your lower lip to avoid laughing. You have never seen Jumin so embarrassed before. You knew that the compliments from other women never impressed him, but apparently praise directly from your mother confused him completely.

"I... Uh... Thank you, Mrs. L/N," He answered. "I will try not to disappoint you."

When your parents left, Jumin cleared his throat and looked at you, "What? Why are you smiling like that?"

[pixzie-writes]

DMC: Anxiety/Insomniac Nights

A/N: I couldn’t sleep last night at all and thought I should write out a short fic for each of the DMC5 boys’ (Dante, Nero, V) reactions to their s/o having an anxiety attack and couldn’t sleep. x.x

Warning: Anxiety / depression themes in this work. It will be under the tags: trigger, anxiety trigger, and/or anxiety if you wish to blacklist it.

Dante

You thought you were just feeling under pressure from all the work you’ve been doing and yet still have some left to do. It almost feels like you have been taking one step forward and been pushed back four. It’s difficult trying not to let it bother you, but the voices in your head just keep coming, back to back. Breathing in and out, you shut your eyes tightly, Dante lying down next to you sleeping soundly. His snores, at first bothering you, are usually your comfort, lulling you to sleep, isn’t working this time. You wanted to wake him up and comfort you to sleep, but he has been so busy with demon hunting that you didn’t want to disturb his slumber, which has been days since he last slept.

Frustrated, you look at the time and saw it is 5:08 in the morning. There’s no way you’ll get any sleep anytime soon. Carefully slipping out of bed, you put on your robe that was hanging off the chair and wrap yourself in it. You eventually found your slippers in the dark and start to climb downstairs, deciding that perhaps some fresh air will help you meditate. You sit on the steps in front of the Devil May Cry headquarters, elbows on your legs and face buried in your hands, trying to take deep breaths. So many negative thoughts going through your head that you’re trying to counter it with positive thoughts. Eventually you look up at the moon, beautifully displayed up in the sky, and trying to focus on how the night seems to be quite peaceful besides knowing that demons lurk the most when darkness comes out to play.

“Mmm, can’t sleep?” a voice call out from behind you, doors quickly opening and closing. You hear footsteps shuffling lazily and, out of the corner of your eye, plopping down on the steps next to you. You shift your body so you can face him, smiling to try to reassure him only for your eyes to betray you. You sigh shakily, wrapping your arms around yourself to try to hold yourself together. Dante quickly wraps his arm around you, trying to help calm you down, knowing that you usually don’t like to talk about it. He’s a man that always joke around, but when he knows you’re not in your best, he gets into his serious stance until he knows you’re okay emotionally, mentally, and physically. You start blinking back tears to no avail and decide to fall apart with Dante trying to hold you together. He places his chin on top of your head, holding you tighter as he whispers, “Let it all out.”

Eventually, you calm down and you start to shiver. Dante takes off his red coat and hangs them on your shoulders, taking your hand to hold them. One free hand tilts your head upward from your chin until you make eye contact with him. His baby blue eyes staring right back at you and starts crinkling as he smiles. “Want to talk about it?” he wondered, his thumb caressing your cheek. You lean into his hand, shaking your head, and manage to croak out, “N-no... Just want you to hold me.” Dante nods in reply, one arm snaking under your legs and the other holding your upper body as he lifts you up. You lean your head into his chest, letting him carry you all the way back to the bedroom upstairs. He lays you back down on the bed, stripping down to his boxers again and cuddles with you, being the big spoon. He uses his fingers to softly caress your arms, occasionally stroking your hair until you’re sound asleep. Even then, he doesn’t stop, using one arm to prop himself up so he could watch you sleep. Whatever demons haunt you at night, he tries his hardest to keep them at bay.

Nero

You are out in the garage, lending a hand on repairing the mobile home. Nico is working the car from under while Nero is working from the hood. Not knowing much about cars or the mechanics of one, you were simply handing out tools, holding flashlight when needed, and learning a thing or two about the repair from Nero’s guidance. The mobile home often needs repairing and you need to at least know the basics. Kyrie is nice enough to lend her home as a “headquarter” of sorts for the mobile Devil May Cry while the real one is under the care of Dante. After the events at Fortuna, Nero decided to join in the franchise, taking care of missions on the road while Dante handles bigger jobs.

Eventually, you could smell the cooking coming from inside the house. Your stomach grumbles, your hands immediately flying to your tummy, embarrassed. Nero hears the grumbles, looks at you with a smirk, and chuckles. “Hey you three!” Kyrie calls out from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready!” You smile, clapping Nero on the back, and said, “Well, I’m going to go help set up the table!” You’re not much use out here anyways. Nero nods and motions for you to go ahead, “I’ll catch up to you.” You go inside, Nico eventually following suit after making a comment of not saving a plate for Nero. You chuckle at their banter, helping Kyrie set up the table and with the plating. “Tell Nero to come in, you know how he gets lost in the repairs,” Kyrie requested, still working on the plating. You nod, turning on your heels and call out once more, “Come on, the food is getting co-”

“[Y/N], get back inside! Don’t come ou-”

You heard a crash and then the next a scream, making you bolt for the garage door. Your heart is racing as you open the door, see your boyfriend laying in the pool of blood face down. You ran to him, turning him over to face you, clutching onto him. He’s unconscious and still bleeding out, Nico coming out a few seconds later, “I leave you alone for 10 minu-”

“Not now Nico! Help me stop the bleeding!” You demand, trying to stay calm. Breathing in and out, trying to steady your breaths, you put all your focus on trying to make sure he survives.

--

A few days later, Nero awakes to find himself in a hospital bed. He groans in pain, taking in the surrounding. Beeping can be heard from the heart monitor next to him and an IV drip attached to him. He sits himself up, wanting to get out of bed until his eyes eventually lands on you, sleeping soundly in the chair. His expression softens, now trying to quiet down to avoid waking you up. Footsteps can be heard coming into his room and he looks up at the door to see Kyrie coming in with some flowers and a “Get Well” balloon. She sees that he is awake and smiles, “Nero, you’re up,” she whispers. “Yeah... how long was I out?” he asks.

“A couple days... she never left your side...”

Several seconds passes by and you begin to stir, awakening to find Nero already up. You leap out of your chair, leaning over him and caress his face, “Nero!” Kyrie clears her throat, sets down the flowers, and informs, “I’ll give you two some privacy.” She walks out with you watching her then looks back at Nero, tears forming. “I was so scared Nero.... I thought I’d lose you,” you admit. You don’t like being vulnerable often, but with him, you’re comfortable enough to express exactly how you feel. Nero shushes you, using his hand to bring your face closer and presses his forehead against yours. “It takes more than that to take me,” he jokes, trying to enlighten the mood. You sob, pushing him away playfully to try to go along, but your sob is real.

“Don’t scare me like that... Gosh, I feel so selfish... I was so scared. I kept dreaming that I lose you for real an-”

You start to hyperventilate a little and Nero pushes in for a kiss, trying to calm  you down, shushing you. He may often seem cocky and a bad-boy, but he is very sweet with his words. “You are not selfish,” he reassures, “It’s okay.... I’m still here. You saved me, babe...” You smile, kissing him again and sighing, trying to calm yourself down. After recollecting yourself, he motions for you to get into the bed with him. You obliged, carefully getting in the bed and cuddling with your head on his chest while his good arm wraps around you. “You know,” he says, after giving a moment to settle in, “When we go home, we’re taking a shower.... because you stink.” You laugh, punching him playfully on the shoulder and then kissing his neck. Nero slips back into his deep sleep with a smile on his face.

 V

The tattooed man is on the couch of the mobile home, reading his book as you were asleep soundly on his lap. He dares not to move, Shadow sleeping at his feet and Griffon outside keeping watch of any demons that may lurk. You were exhausted from helping Nero and V clear some demons and some Qliproth roots. Nero went ahead to scout while Nico went to work on some new devil breakers, saying something about looking for some materials she could find around the destruction of Red Grave City. That meant leaving the mobile home to the two of you. V looks down at you, sleeping soundly on his lap with a pillow propping your head up with a blanket draped over your body from shoulders to your feet. He decides to caress your cheek softly, trying not to stir you up. It isn’t his touch that was stirring you up, though. No, it’s the recurring nightmares that you’ve been getting every time you try to rest up. “N-no.... please...” you start to whimper, causing V to become concern and place his hand on your shoulder. He is hesitant to try to wake you up, not sure if you’ll mistake him for a nightmare and hurt him.

“Please....” you say, almost pleading, burying your face in the pillow.

“Darling...” V gently tries to wake you up by rubbing your shoulders. Shadow sticks his head up from resting on his paws, emitting a gentle growl. You start sobbing and then few seconds later, shouted, “Leave him alone!” V shakes you awake, “[y/n], wake up!” You finally open your eyes, your breath unsteady, and slowly sitting yourself up with V helping you. You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, noticing that you were sweating a little and wiping the tears from your eyes. Lowering your head, you didn’t want to turn around and let him see you at your most vulnerable. “Love...” he calls out, not sure if he should hold you. He’s so respectful of your boundary and the relationship is new to the two of you.

Eventually, you turn around and bury your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around him. He is obviously not used to being shown affection as often growing up, slowly putting his arms around you as well. He waits patiently, letting you take your time to talk about your nightmare. A few minutes later, you pull away from the warmth of his body, his hands still on your shoulders as you pull yourself together. “I.... I had a nightmare...” you began. V doesn’t say anything, letting you explain what you’re comfortable with sharing.

“We were fighting Urizen... Everyone’s just on the ground and it was the two of us fighting him, trying to hold him off. You told me to grab everyone and get them to safety. I had to do it one by one and then some time later, your bird started helping. I-I turned around to help you and....”

You are trying so hard to hold back tears, V’s hands went to your face to wipe away any that falls. You take a deep breath, finishing the rest of the dream.

“He took you, V.... Urizen, he.... I felt so helpless, trying to stop him from hurting you. You were dying right before my eyes and....” You start sobbing, burying your face in your hands and V quickly pulls you in, holding you tightly. Shadow brushes his face against your leg and you can hear the Griffon flying around and shifting, coming inside the mobile home. “Shh, shh. It’s just fiction,” V comforted, stroking your hair, and you can feel his jaw lock. Tension. The nightmare bothered him too, hearing it from you, but your comfort comes first. He pulls away, trying to get a good look on your face and leans in, brushing your lips with his as if he’s asking for permission. You lean in, pressing your lips against his, his arms cradling your body. A few seconds later, the both of you pull away, your worries easing a bit. You smile at him, holding his hands and squeezing it, asking, “Can you read me a few poems from your book?” V nods, taking out his book, and replied, “As you wish, love.”

A/N: Whew, that was long. I hope you like it! Let me know if you want me to expand on some more characters or something. ^_^

[find-the-eyes]

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 34

Written by: Sol, Beth Edited by: Allegra

Nick woke up two hours later, his body no longer thrashing and his breathing tube thankfully readjusted.

“Oh, you’re awake!” The nurse smiled with a sigh of relief. Nick blinked a few times, willing himself to somehow react. But he couldn’t. He was stuck, frozen, unable to move. His body felt limp, like he was floating through space again. He thought about stretching his arms a bit, but they were heavy, like they were made of stone. Nick almost couldn’t even feel them. He looked down to see restraints on his forearms. The tears forming in the corners of his eyes welled up and threatened to roll down his face. Nick knew he was dependent, always dependent on someone else, whether it was Lukas, or Alex, or the medical staff, but… he didn’t want to be that way. Thinking about his condition embarrassed him. The void felt so comforting in that moment. A big, dark expanse where he couldn’t see anything, hear anything, feel anything… the sedatives would do their job and he would be asleep. Please. Please let me sleep. I’m tired.

Nick didn’t like that his mouth was stuck slightly open and his eyes were half closed. I bet I look dead. They keep checking on me because I’m so close to just being dead. Nick glanced around the room at the monitors, the warm yellow light from the hallway, and the frog plushie sitting at the foot of the bed. Comfort me. Please. I’m tired.

-

Alex was so distressed by Nick’s state the day before that he tossed and turned all night. He watched as Paul and Bob slept side by side in the bed across the room. Why did Nick have to be so stupid? Alex wondered what Nick was doing while he was laying awake, trying to fall asleep. Honestly, he’s probably doing the same thing, Alex laughed softly to himself. Steckrübe padded into the bedroom and jumped onto Alex’s bed. He curled up in a tight ball beside him.

“I’m going to visit Nick first thing tomorrow morning,” Alex said softly to the cat, patting his head. “I’m sorry you’re not allowed to come. I know you miss him.”

With Steckrübe next to him, Alex fell asleep quite quickly, determined to wake up the next morning and help Nick to feel better. At least, if Nick woke up the next morning.

Which he didn’t. They put him on extra sedatives due to an ‘incident’ the night before involving kicking and thrashing, according to the hospital staff. Alex discovered that information when he walked into Nick’s room. Despite what had apparently happened, he didn’t look as bad as he had the day before. His eyes were fully closed this time, and his hair looked soft and clean. Alex gasped when he noticed the restraints on Nick’s arms and legs, practically chaining him to his bed.

He walked to the side of the bed and grabbed Nick’s hand, which had an IV in it, delivering the extra sedatives. It twitched in Alex’s gentle grip. “Hey,” Alex said softly, biting his lip. “I’m here. It’s alright now.” Nick didn’t react.

He sat with Nick for a few minutes, rubbing small circles on Nick’s palm. After a while, he spotted Nick’s cell phone sitting on the side table and had an idea. “Can I call your brother? I’m sure he’s worried about you.” Nick’s right hand twitched. Alex picked up the phone and crept out of the room.

The phone rang six times before Lukas finally answered. “What’s up?”

“Hey...this is Alex, Nick’s flatmate…”

“He’s got a flatmate?”

“Yeah. I… have to tell you something.”

“Go on, then.”

“Nick’s in the hospital. He’s been going in and out of respiratory failure for about a week now,” Alex said without missing a beat. He’d said it so many times at that point.

“Oh…” Lukas said casually. “Well, I don’t think I can get over there. Tell him I said to feel better.”

“I will…” Alex found Lukas’s reaction a bit disheartening.

“Bye then.” Lukas hung up before Alex could say anything else. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, but wasn’t sure if they were tears of sadness or anger. He slunk back to Nick’s room and put the phone down. Nick’s legs had shifted under the blanket, indicating that he was slightly less under the influence of the sedatives.

“Lukas said he’s worried about you.” Alex gently squeezed Nick’s hand. “And he’ll try his best to get here to be with you. He said he misses you, and he loves you, and he wants you to feel better.” Alex couldn’t look at Nick, who had now opened his eyes the slightest bit, completely invested in what his brother had told Alex. Alex pulled a chair up next to Nick and sat with him, gently stroking his arm and telling him about Steckrübe and about how his classes were going. Eventually, he ran out of things to say, and just listened to the steady rhythm of Nick’s breathing. Please, don’t stop anytime soon.

After about an hour of silence, the door to the room opened. Alex turned around to see one of the nurses. “Hi,” he greeted her with a small, startled wave.

“No cat this time?”

“No cat,” Alex laughed, gently squeezing Nick's hand. He hoped Nick couldn’t hear anything going on in the room.

“It’s time for Nick’s bath.”

“I guess I’ll get going, then...” Alex let go of Nick’s hand and stood up from the chair that he had pulled aside. Nick’s heart monitor immediately began beeping rapidly, the wheezing sounds from his chest increasing in volume. His hands twitched as he fought to open his eyes.

The nurse looked at Nick, puzzled. “Oh?”

“I don’t think he wants me to leave,” Alex looked down at Nick as he tried to voice his opinion. “He’s always struggled with being alone.”

“That’s why we’ve upped the sedatives.”

Alex felt an immediate pang of unease at that statement. “Can I stay? Maybe he’ll feel more comfortable if I’m here and won’t do the whole kicking and thrashing thing again.”

The nurse took a moment to think. “I’ll ask him.” She went over to Nick and noticed his left hand twitching. “That’s a yes.”

Alex smiled and sat back down next to Nick. The nurse went to prep Nick for his bath. While she wasn’t looking, Alex kissed Nick’s hand gently. “You have to clean him up like this every day?”

“Well, wouldn’t you feel a bit icky after laying in bed 24 hours a day?”

“That’s fair,” Alex agreed.

The nurse lifted Nick’s arm and scrubbed at his shoulder.  “And I would feel bad if we didn’t clean him up after last night’s incident, anyway.”

“I heard he wasn’t doing well.”

“Yeah, he dislodged his ventilator and stopped breathing again. He’s a tough case, this one.”

Alex clenched his fist behind his back. How dare she talk about Nick like that. “I think it would help if he wasn’t left alone for so long. Upping the sedatives could help, but you could at least have someone here to talk to him… or just sit with him.”

“The thing is… we’re busy,” the nurse sighed as she slid Nick down to lie flat on the bed. “I’m not sure if we could get someone to stay with him all the time.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll get better if no one acknowledges his emotional needs.”

“There’s no way we can know how he’s feeling.”

“What was that last night, then?” Alex tried his best to stay calm.

“Probably just pain from the sedatives running out.”

“But how do you know? Don’t you care about him?”

“Listen, it’s nice that you’re looking out for your friend, but we know what we’re doing.”

Alex crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching as the nurse finished washing up Nick and rolled him gently onto his back. She fixed his shirt and then gently slid him into a more upright position, placing two pillows on either side of him and one behind his head for support. Alex cringed at the way Nick's limbs flopped around as he was moved. It was killing him to see Nick this way - so weak and helpless. If Nick were conscious, Alex knew he would be thrashing and fighting. He barely even let Alex cuddle him, and there was no way he would tolerate a complete stranger touching him like that. At least Nick’s eyes were closed now, and he looked a bit more like himself when he was clean. Alex did miss looking into Nick’s deep, blue eyes, though, and wondered when Nick would be able to look at him again. Alex grabbed Nick’s hand again as soon as he was in his proper position.

The nurse then checked Nick’s ventilator, making sure it was doing its job properly. Nick seemed a bit distressed by this, his eyes opening slightly and his hands twitching more. Alex squeezed Nick’s hand to support him. “Is there anything we can do to help him communicate a little better?” Alex asked the nurse upon seeing Nick’s reaction to the tube being touched.

“I suppose we could try a communication board, but we’d have to lower his sedatives for that.”

Alex had no idea what a communication board was, but anything would be better than silence.  “Try it. Let’s ask him.”

As the nurse walked back over to Nick, Alex wondered if he would even be able to respond. His eyes were nearly closed again and his entire body was still.

“Nick, do you want to try a communication board? It’ll help you talk to us,” Alex suggested softly, placing a hand on Nick’s arm. Nick’s eyes opened slowly and he lifted his left thumb weakly, struggling against the heavy haze of the sedatives. Alex and the nurse looked at each other and smiled.

Bob and Paul arrived shortly after. Bob stood at the foot of Nick’s bed, still nervous about getting too close. Paul stopped at Nick’s side and snuggled the frog plushie under Nick’s arm.

“It’s time for dinner now, Alex,” Paul suggested gently as Alex continued to stroke Nick’s arm. Alex nodded, patted Nick’s arm one last time, and left the room with them.

The three of them ended up at a shabby looking Italian restaurant near Bob and Paul’s place. Despite its appearance, they had heard that the food was actually really good and authentic Italian. Bob and Paul hoped that a satisfying meal would make Alex feel at least a little better, and the fact that it was near home was a bonus; he looked exhausted.

He was more tired than he had ever been in his life, but it wasn’t the kind of tired that sleep could fix. However, Bob and Paul were right about the restaurant. It reminded Alex of a place near his parents’ house in Greece that he used to frequent; while the decor wasn’t as fancy, the atmosphere and aromas wafting throughout the small building brought him back to his home country, where Italian food was all the rage. When their food arrived, Alex took a bite of his spaghetti bolognese and briefly forgot all of his worries. This was much better than the pasta he had eaten at the diner a while before.

Bob and Paul also relaxed a little when they saw that their friend suddenly looked less stressed than he had in days. Paul decided to let Alex enjoy his meal fully before bringing up his idea, since the foodie looked like he was in a world of his own. A few moments after he had put down his knife and fork, a concerned frown returned to his face. Paul took this opportunity to bring up his idea.

“So, Alex, I had an idea for a gift for Nick. Something he can look forward to when he’s better.”

Optimistic, I see, retorted Alex in his head. He refrained from saying anything out loud to avoid seeming ungrateful, and tilted his head slightly in curiosity.

“Y’know that building Nick used to stay in? Well I’ve been there a few times this week, cleaning it up and making it look a bit nicer. It still needs more work, but all it really needs is some things that would be in any cool hangout spot. I’ve been hunting around and found some old furniture going for free, and Bob has offered to paint the place.”

“Yeah, I can even rope in a few classmates,” the blond interjected. “We could paint a mural or something like that.”

“We could use it to hang out, and also for band practice, and maybe even concerts! I reckon you could fit 200 people in there, at least!” Paul became animated from the prospect of a space of their own, but quickly reeled in his excitement and looked at Alex to see what he thought.

Alex pondered for a moment; they didn’t even know if Nick would survive yet, let alone if he would ever be able to walk or play an instrument again. That said, he thought to himself, maybe this will give him something to be cheerful about, something to work towards. Plus, working on this will help to keep everyone’s mind off of things.

Alex smiled at his friends. “That’s a brilliant idea! He’ll be so happy when we tell him. Is there anything I can do to help while he’s in the hospital?” Please let there be something I can do to help.

“You could help me with the mural if you like?” Bob replied. Alex gave an enthusiastic yeah, and Bob was glad to see his friend excited about art again.

The three men, over numerous glasses of Italian wine, spent the rest of the night discussing ideas on how to turn the abandoned building into what they drunkenly dubbed The Chateau. When they finally went back to Bob and Paul’s flat, Alex didn’t feel so alone anymore.

[ghoulboyboos]

All the Ryan angst pls but happy ending no death

Oohoho nonny I worked a lot on this because I’m such a sappy little shit I’m bad with angst but then I had an idea that literally wrenched all my friends’ hearts out of their chests so I think this will do. I hope.

(Also I’m SURE that’s not how selective Amnesia or any type of memory loss works but allow me to write it like this just for the sake of the angst, plz)

Ryan wakes in a bed that isn’t his with a headache.Before he can think about parties, hangovers and bad decisionshowever, he takes in the sterile air, the humming machine to his leftand the IV in his arm. He can’t remember falling asleep in ahospital so waking up in one is kind of jarring. He wants to speak,but his mouth is so dry that all he can do is cough.

“Ryan! Oh thank goodness!”

He cranes his head and then his mother leans overhim, touching his forehead tenderly. She looks shaken up, eyesreddened and her lip is wobbling. Ryan gives her a grin as bright hecan muster, even though his head aches. Next to his mum, his fathermoves into view.

“What happened?” He manages, throat stillscratchy and dry.

His mom still pets his head and he reaches up,fingers brushing against thick bandages.

“You had a car accident, Ryan.” His father sayssoftly. Someone hit you at an intersection. You were unconscious formore than thirty hours.“

Holy shit. Ryan blinks.

“Shane’s waiting outside.” His mom adds. Shelooks across Ryan’s bed and he sees his brother sitting on hisother side, patting his knee.

“I’ll get him.” Jake says and gets up and outthe door.

Ryan frowns.

“Why is Shane here?” He asks. “Only family andnext of kin, right?”

“Right.” His father agrees, looking slightlyconfused. Ryan’s parents exchange a look and his mom continues:

“Shane called us right after he knew what hospitalthey were taking you. He was so worried.”

“Why did Shane know?” Ryan’s mind is trying tomake sense of it all. “Was he in the car with me?”

“No, sweetie. He was waiting for you at home.”His mother is smiling softly and Ryan is even more confused. At home?Whose home? His or Shane’s? Then again why would Shane wait for himat Ryan’s place? The big guy didn’t even have a key.

Before he can ask, however, the door opens and Jakereturns, followed by Shane.

Ryan knows it’s not nice thinking that, but hisfriend looks like shit. He’s disheveled and has deep, darkbags under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept in days. His eyes, nowthat he’s coming closer are red rimmed as well and Ryan feels asense of fear. How bad had he been for Shane to worry himself totears? Again, he can’t ask because Shane breathes out and walksover.

“Hey, baby. Glad to see you up and awake again.”

Ryan makes a face and grumbles “Don’t call mebaby, man, that’s weird.” right when Shane leans in and kisseshim on the forehead.

He flinches back becausewhat the fuck and sees the surprise and… hurt in Shane’sface. Ryan blinks at him in confusion.

“Ryan?”Shane’s voice is unsure, worried and then Ryan’s father takes himby the arm and turns him away and starts speaking very quietly tohim.

Ryandrifts in and out of unconsciousness. Once he finally can rest hishead on the pillow without pain and without being pumped full of painmedication, a doctor speaks to him. She says a lot of words that Ryandoesn’t have the description to, but the basic meaning becomesclear:

SelectiveAmnesia.

Ryanwas missing a whole year. He lies down and stares at theceiling, trying to understand. An entire year of friends and familyand doing Unsolved, gone. On top of that, according to his parents –because Shane was too shocked to do it – a year in which he foundnew love in old friends.

Shaneand I got together? He thinks, completely confused. He doesn’tunderstand. As far as he remembers, he has only ever dated women.Sure, there were men he knew were attractive but he never really feltattracted himself. He wantsto ask Shane. About everything: How did they get together? Was it adesperate confession? Did they go on many dates? How long until theymoved in together?

But Ryan is scared because he is someone who gets scared. He sawShane’s face after brushing off the forehead kiss and his heartsinks.

Shane has been dating me for almost a year. Our anniversary must becoming up, soon and instead of a loving boyfriend, he has a guy whojerks back when you want to kiss him.

Ryan swallows. He’s still uncomfortable with the idea, but thethought of Shane being rejected and left alone and pushed away by theperson he loves… hurts. Ryan is pretty sure it’s not anafter-effect of dating Shane before he lost his memories. Shane ishis friend, he cares about him, so of course, he wants Shane to behappy.

It’s not easy.

Ryancatches the doctor telling Shane to try and keep things slow. Shesuggested that Shane would introduce Ryan into new things wheneverRyan hit a wall or found something new. She also tells him not torush it and Ryan’s heart hurts strangely when Shane swearshe will never push Ryan.

He stares at the ceiling again.

Could he love Shane? If he’s honest, he doesn’t know. He verymuch would like it for all his memories to come back and fill him in,but he just lies there, having to remind himself that both True Crimeand Supernatural seasons 4 are over and that a new season is comingup soon – except they postponed it because of Ryan being ill. Sosomewhere over the course of the last year, he and Shane gottogether. He wants to ask, but the pained look in Shane’s eyeskeeps him from it.

At first.

-

Ryan is released and Shane takes him home. Home, meaning their sharedspace and Ryan looks around a home that feels vaguely familiar and isfilled about half with his stuff and half with Shane’s. Shane hasbeen so careful, he has picked up Ryan from the hospital andchit-chatted about everything and nothing. Ryan thinks about what itmust feel like if your partner doesn’t recognize you as such.

Shane leaves him the bed. They only have one, of course.

“I can take the couch, it’s no big deal. We made sure I canstretch out on it when we bought it and you said-” He blinks andbreaks off. “Nevermind.”

“What did I say?”

Shane swallows and looks away.

“You said you’d only ever ban me to it if I mocked your ghosttheories in bed.”

Ryan’s stomach drops. It sounds like something he would say, if heand Shane really slept in the same bed on the regular. He startstwisting the corner of his shirt in his fists.

“You can sleep here, I don’t mind. I’m not weirded out by it oranything.”

Shane still doesn’t look at him when he sighs and shakes his head.

“It’s better if I don’t. We usually… we used to cuddlea lot and I don’t want to latch onto you while asleep and freak youout. To be honest, it would feel pretty bad in general, you know.”

He makes a vague gesture towards Ryan as if he wants to initiatecasual touch but can’t. Ryan nods. Maybe he should go to a hotelroom for a while. Or visit his parents. But that feels even worsethan hanging with Shane so he doesn’t.

Ryan takes the bed, Shane takes the couch. Ryan stares at the ceilingand despite the sleep enhancing medication the hospital gave him,he’s up for a long time, wondering how and why he would forgetanything this huge in his life.

-

He can’t keep quiet forever.

“Shane.” He says one night when Shane makes sure Ryan took hismeds before lying down. “I’m… I know I can’t control it. ButI’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’m causing you pain.”

He means it, every word. Shane is still so important to him and theidea of hurting him like that is so incredibly painful, especiallywhen Shane smiles at him. Soft and kind and understanding.

“Iknow, babe.” Shane swallows and looks away when he catches himselfusing the pet name. “Sorry. I know, Ryan.I really know. It’s not your fault, okay? Just focus on recovering.If you don’t remember the year I’ll fill you in on Unsolved andeverything around us- I mean, around you… And then I’ll leave youto it, okay? I promise.”

Ryan bites his bottom lip but doesn’t answer.

-

“Whatwas our first kiss like?” Ryan asks while they are watching theepisodes of Unsolved he doesn’t remember planning, writing,shooting or editing. Shane flinches next to him and Ryan feelsterrible.

“You don’t have to-” He starts, but Shane shakes his head.

“It’sfine.” He huffs a sigh and stares ahead ashe pauses the video. Finallyhe shifts to look at Ryan and it’s strange and exposing to belooked at like that by Shane, to be looked at like he is the mostamazing person Shane has ever met and Ryan’s head hurts. This isdumb. He’s not in love with Shane but he should be. He fell in lovewith this man some time around the year and he can’t rememberit or feel it. It hurts him because it feels like Ryan has lostsomething that was very precious and dear, but he can’t rememberfor the love of God whereand how and what.

Shane finally starts to speak.

“Ihad feelings for you for a while. You could get a bit… “no-homo”sometimes so I didn’t tell you, I thought you would freak out. Ilike being around you in anyway you prefer… and preferred.” Ryan sees Shane’s throat bob ashe swallows and he wants to hug the other man to calm him down, buthe knows it would make everything even worse.

“SoI didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell you for months.” Shane staresahead, eyes empty and it breaks Ryan’s heart. He doesn’tunderstand his feelings. Part of him – he’s pretty sure aboutthat one – sees a friend in terrible agony and experiencingheartbreak and he wants to help. But he knows he can’t because heis the cause of that heartbreakand the situation feels so unfair he could scream. He never wanted tocause his friends pain, especially not Shane who is always funny,always kind, always chill, always positive…

Ryan wants to cry. For him, for Shane, for what they had and what helost. Instead he reaches out and hovers with his hand over Shane’sfor a moment or two. Shane looks over at him and Ryan can see thetwinge of hope under the pain before it gets swallowed up bydesperation and drowned in sadness. He finally touches Shane’s handand it feels familiar but not, new but like he did it a hundred timesbefore.

Finally, Shane continues.

“We came back from location… I think we were both really tired,didn’t get much sleep, you know.” He shoots Ryan a smile and Ryancan’t help it, he laughs a little. Ryan rarely sleeps on locationand he often keeps Shane awake as well. “I suggested we meet up fora movie and have some popcorn to wind down so you could get your muchneeded sleep.” Shane suddenly looks guilty and Ryan thinks abouthow weird this must be, telling your partner that you worried abouttheir health and feeling bad about it. Again, Ryan feels like heshould touch Shane, maybe hug him, but at the same time it would feellike torture to Shane, he’s sure, so he doesn’t.

“Andthen…” Shane’s voice drops in volume and he looks like he’sfar, far away, swallowing and closing his eyes. “While we werewatching the movie, there waskind of a lull. I don’t remember what we were watching but itwasn’t very interesting. I made some joke about the main characterand we laughed and I looked over at you and you were suddenly reallyclose, leaned all the way in so we were pressed together and thenyou kissed me.” Shane openshis eyes again, still with the faraway look in his eyes as if he isstaring right in the eyes of past-Ryan who didn’t have a fucked uphead and knew that he loved Shane. He starts to smile softly andRyan’s stomach twists. “Youtold me you liked me and that you couldn’t take it anymore… So,of course, instead of just kissing you I made you tell me three timesthat youwere absolutely sure and that you meant it and knew what you weredoing.”

Shane looks up, guiltily and Ryan wishes, prays that he could feelthe urge to kiss this man and soothe the pain on his face. It doesn’tcome.

Howmuch time did I really lose? Hewonders. If he had been in love with Shane for a while beforeconfessing, he must have carried it as a secret for a while. How comehis current brain doesn’t hold that secret?

Maybeit’s because I spilled it already.Ryan muses with a sigh. They both stare at the frozen image ofthemselves on the Unsolved set. Shane has made a joke and Ryan islaughing and grinning widely, eyes bright and trained on the otherman and he looks like he is absolutely elated to be around him.

Ryanburies his head in his hands and digs his fingertips in his skull asif he could somehow reach in there and pull out all that he needed tounderstand.

-

“Did we tell other’s? HR? Friends? Family? The fans?”

Shane smiles his sad little smile at him and Ryan wants to rip hisown tongue out.

“Yeah. All of them. One after the other. Everyone was so happy forus, people sometimes said they had waited for us to get there. Yourmom cried, my dad cried… they were so happy for us.” He blinks ashe realizes he’s repeating himself.

Shanereaches out for Ryan’s hand before he stops himself. Ryan slowlybrings up his hand until their fingers brush. There is no lightningspark as he hoped, but Shane takes his hand nonetheless and it feels…alright. Not as weird as Ryan expected. It’scomfortable and he can live with that.

-

Sometimes, Ryan dreams of things that might have happened. Shane andhim in a movie theater, holding hands and laughing at whateverhappened on screen. Coming home to a new flat that is already warmedand prepared and lived in. Shane cooking for him. Their familiesinviting them for Christmas.

Ryanknows that their anniversary must come up soon but Shane keeps takingcare of him, giving him space, leaving theirbedroom to sleep on the couchbecause he doesn’t want to make Ryan uncomfortable. Ryan,meanwhile, just wants to understand. Hewants to love this man, but he can’t force himself to do it,because whenever he looks attheir pictures together he thinks “wrong wrong wrong wrong”, overand over until Shane catches him spacing out and distractshim.

Onenight, he thinks about the story of their first kiss andlooks at the instagram they made to let their followers know thatthey were together. Helaughs as on-screen Shane and Ryan talk about how neitherof them are ready or knowwhat they are doing andRyan finds it somewhathelpful. Past-Ryan didn’t know what to do either and he figured itout. Ryan can figure it out again, right?

Right?

-

Hisown instagram has a bunch of sports events on it and Ryan watchesreruns of the games. Sometimes he has a sense of déjà-vu, knows ifthe player will score or not right before they do; once he has aspectacular moment of flinching right before the batter loses grip ofthe bat and flings it across the field. He hears the crowd react andhas a vague memory of his brother bringing his hands to his mouth inshock while the people around him gasp.

Nobodygot hurt, but it was still a powerful swing and the bat had nearlylanded in the lower ranks.

Ryanblinks at the screen, the incident already forgotten and the playersback in game. Something tingles in the back of his head.

-

Hevisits his family for a couple of days. Shane sees him off and makessure he has packed everything, including his new medication. Ryanlooks up at the face that’s so fucking familiar but also notbecause he’s not used standing so close or seeing Shane lean downas if he wants to kiss Ryan’s forehead and Shane’s expression isstill pained. It’s part of his face by now, smoothed out and barelycovered by forced neutrality or slight smiles.

Ryanmoves without thinking and brings his arms up to wrap them aroundShane’s shoulders, pullingthe other man into a hug. Shane only stiffens for a second before hehugs Ryan around the waist. It’s not especially tight or desperatebut Shane tucks his face against Ryan’s shoulder as if hiding. Ryanis surprised how comfortable he feels.

-

Hisparents fill him in on everything else that happened over the lastyear. Little differences in their relatives’ lives, what littlenonsense the dogs did (and what their Halloween costumes had been).Ryan’s dad plays beer pong with him like he sometimes did when Ryanwas still in college. His mum makes his favorite for dinner and hesits out on the porch with Jake and drinks a beer, asking about whenhe told him about Shane.

“Youtexted me a couple days after you got together. You had a minor freakout because you were going out on your first date and didn’t knowwhat you wear on a date with a dude.”

Ryansnorts into his beer even though his cheeks heat up. It sounds likehim.

“Whythe fuck would I text youof all people? You don’t know that shit either.”

Jakegives a wide shrug that conveys the phrase Fuck if I knowbut he’s laughing.

“Ifigured you wear something nice on a date, no matter what gender andI told you to chill out and ask your queer friends and you textedback and told me you don’t trust them with your wardrobe and thenyou were quiet for like ten minutes before just sending me a thumbsup emoji and that was that.”

Ryanhums and goes through his phone. He finds a picture of him and Shane,seated at a booth in a restaurant. They both look very nice. Ryan iswearing a black shirt that shows off his bicep and he knows he pickedthat on purpose to look good for Shane. A little tingle coils in hisstomach and he feels his cheeks warm.

“Ihope the date went well.”

Jakelooks at him, a little pitying.

“WellI sure hope so because four months later you lived together.”

“Wow,we sure moved fast…” Ryan mutters, still looking at the picture.

Jakereaches out and puts a hand on his back.

“Yousaid something about making up for lost time.”

Ryanholds his head and tries to take deep breaths.

Makingup for lost time. That’s a fucking laugh, huh.

-

Threedays into the week of hanging with his parents, Ryanhas a dream. Heknows it’s a dream because it’s so non-linear it makes his urgeto organize everythingflare up. It’s not even a lucid dream, because he can’t changeanything.

It’slike he’s watching a movie on a jumping, cut and re-cut and tapedtogether film roll that keeps skipping over some moments and lingerson others.

Ryanin a winter coat freezing his ass off and Shane reaching out andwrapping him in a warm hug, laughing at Ryan’s muffled protestswhen he calls him a sun-starved lily of the valley.

Shaneacross from him at a candlelit dinner table, looking so smitten andhappy that Ryan could throw himself over the table and kiss theliving daylightsout of him.

Bothon the set of Unsolved giggling about something with the firmreminder in the back of Ryan’s head that it’s almost three monthsand that Shane is taking him to the movies later.

Afuzzy memory of Shane’s mouth on his shoulder and a lot of warmthand a lot of naked skin and Ryan isn’t freaking out in the least,he actually finds himself craving more.

Curledup on the couch with his laptop, working on a project from home andordering food online since Shane will be home soon, jumping off thecouch as soon as he hears the keys jangle because, fuck, he missedthe big guy.

Ryantaking a specific date off a month in advance because he has plans,he only needs to pick up the gift first-

-

Heshoots up in bed, head pounding but the shock in his system doesn’tcome from that.

Shit.He remembers what he forgot. Not everythingbut the basics and one spectacularly important detail that gets himto jump out of bed at six in the morning and scramble to get hisclothes.

Whenhe runs downstairs his parents are already up, looking at himstartled because Ryan hasn’t been up this early under this roof forabout ten years.

“Iremember now. Fuck!” He rarely cusses in front of his parents butthey don’t seem to care right now. “I need to go back. I need tosee Shane-”

Hescrambles for his keys while also trying to put on his jacket and hisshoes, all at the same time and he immediately drops the keys whilefumbling and curses again.

Jakepops into his periphery and picks up the keys.

“Youdon’t look fit to drive, man. I’ll take you. We can pick yourstuff up later, come on.”

Ryanis so relieved he could cry but there is no time for that. He rushesto give his parents each a tight hug before he runs after Jake who’salready in the car.

Thewhole ride home Ryan is fretting but Jake won’t go any fasterbecause: “The last time you rushed to get to the guy, you ended upin this mess so sit still and fucking wait.”

Hedoes. He tries at least.

-

Theytake one detour at Ryan’s request before they reach the apartment.Ryan is about to list all the things he is grateful for when it comesto Jake but his brother just kicks him out of the car and says theycan talk later and Ryan runs up all four floors to their space, noteven bothering with the lift. He digs out his keys and, yeah he doesremember which one it is because he never fucking grabs iton the first go goddamn it andthen he throws open the door so hard that it slams against the wallnext to it and he stands in the hall, huffing for breath.

Hecan see Shane sit in their small kitchen, laptop open and probablyworking on something but his head flies up when he hearsthe noise.

“Ryan.”He seems surprised, eyescomically wide but then the old familiar worry settles on hisfeatures. “Are you alright? Did something happen?” He gets up. “Ithought you wouldn’t be home before-”

Thatis all he gets to say because Ryan has finally made his way over tohim and grabbed him by the lapels to pull him into a kiss.

Oh.He thinks. That’s what I forgot about. How the fuck did Iforget about this.

Shanetries to pull back for a moment but Ryan’s hands settle in thetaller man’s hair and he remembers doing that, remembers how muchhe loves running his fingers through Shane’s hair while they kissbecause it’s soft and because Shane makes that little noise he doesright now and because Shane grabs his hips just a little tighter whenhe does it – which is what Shane does this time, too.

“Ryan.”It’s barely a whisper against his mouth and Ryan could cry. The bagwith the gift is still dangling from his arm and he backs off just alittle to look at Shane. His boyfriend (right, that’s what theyare) looks surprised and hopeful but also still so crushed and Ryancould kiss him till that last part is gone but first-

“Iremember. Fuck, I remember where I was going before coming home.”He digs in the bag and pulls out the box. It’s comically big and hewould have wrapped it in something nice but there wasn’t any time.

“HappyAnniversary, babe.” Ryan says and feels his voice crack because heshouldn’t get emotional over getting his boyfriend of oneyear a fucking Poe Dameronfigurine, even though it’s big and limited edition but he reallyfeels like he could cry for a week now and Shane takes it from him,looking absolutely stunned before glancing up at Ryan.

“Iwanted to pick it up that night. But then I got totaled and forgotabout it and so much more and- Fuck, Shane I caused you so much painI can’t even imagine do you think you can ever-”

Shaneis on him again and the gift digs into his back as Shane pulls himjust a little too tightly into his arms and kisses him and Ryan holdsonto him and kisses back and his head is still pounding but it’sokay because there are still moments coming back and he enjoysreliving every single one of them.

-

Thereare still a few gaps in his memory but Shane is more than happy tohelp him fill them in. And should Ryan for some reason not be able toget back some of the memories, they can always make new ones.

Also,he’s never lettingShane sleep on the couch ever again. No matter what the big oaf says.

[r6shippingdelivery]

Hey, hey @ruaniamh HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! 😘🎂🎉 shh, here in my timezone it’s technically the day already

I bring you a little present!  I’m a bit nervous about it but, I hope I did your OC and Blitz justice 💜 

Waiting was the worst part of any siege. Once they first set foot on the scene of the attack, Spectre’s team had quickly located the hostages. Usually they would proceed to the extraction without delay, but there were too many terrorists still on the loose. Proceeding to the extraction would be too risky, even with a full team of five escorting.

The orders were to wait until the first strike team gave the all clear, and in the meantime her team would wait. After reinforcing and fortifying the area, there wasn’t much else to do but sit and wait, but twiddling her thumbs while the enemy approached was not Spectre’s style. She’d rather take a quick walk around the premises and make sure no White Masks had gone past their defenses.

“Goin’ on recon,” she informed to the rest of her team.

Doc was still fussing over the hostage, and Spectre wasn’t sure he heard her. Mira and Mute were nodded distractedly, but Bandit’s attention snapped from his batteries to her at an almost frightening speed.

“No way, Elias will murder me if you get yourself killed! We’ll send a drone.” Despite knowing he probably meant well, although who knew when it came to Bandit, the way he expressed it irritated Spectre. She was a professional like everyone else, she knew how to do her job and she did it damn well.

“We have no drones. And nobody will be able to detect me,” she finished by dramatically pointing at her acoustic cloaking device.

Bandit frowned, but he had to admit she was right. Spectre was gone before he could protest again, activating her Taibhse as she stalked down the hall with determination. The inner perimetre was clear, as expected. She ventured further away, roaming around the interconnected rooms of the shopping centre, peeking behind corners to make sure there was no nasty surprise waiting for her. Jumping out of an unbarricaded window, Spectre arrived to the outer area they controlled, close to the second floor balcony. Perhaps she’d be able to see from where the White Masks were coming if she looked out of the balcony.

The ground floor looked deserted, nothing to be spotted from this angle. She could hear distant gunshots down below, the strike team must have ran into some company. Since there wasn’t anything she could see or do here, she turned around and retraced her steps. She hopped through the same unbarricaded window as before and stopped. From where were those footsteps coming from? They sounded close, too close for her liking. Almost upon her.

A hatch above her exploded in a cloud of wood splinters. Spectre took a step back, startled, and a White Mask jumped down from the hatch. The terrorist seemed surprised to see her, clearly expecting nobody to be right in front of him. Those seconds of hesitation on his part were enough for Spectre to shoot him down. She hadn’t even been aiming properly and just fired at him at point blank range, killing him before he fell to the ground. Supposing this one wouldn’t be alone, she vaulted over the shop’s counter and hid behind. Her quick reflexes probably saved her life, since two more White Masks jumped down the hatch, alert and aware they weren’t alone in there. She peeked over the counter and aimed. A perfect headshot. Unfortunately, that also tipped off the other terrorist about her position.  Mindful that wood wouldn’t protect her from bullets, she crawled around the counter, trying to surprise her attacker from behind. Throwing a nitro cell and hoping it landed close to him, she made it detonate.

Between the adrenaline rush and the deafening explosion of the nitro cell, she didn’t realise someone was coming up behind her until they were close enough to hear their breathing. That horrible, heavy-filtered breathing, always accompanied by thundering steps and a blue light. It never failed to give her goosebumps. Panic gripped her like a cold fist over her throat. She was too close to the bomber. Spectre dived out of the way, jumping as far as she could manage. The explosion blast still hit her heavily, knocking the air out of her lungs.

She gasped in pain, blinking and trying to see anything through the cloud of smoke. A sharp pain on her right side made her scream but she heard nothing, her ears still ringing from the explosion. Carefully touching her side, she bumped into a hard piece of plastic sinking into her side. Oh great, she was impaled by a piece of who knew what. No matter how much it hurt, Spectre knew she had to move out of the way. She dragged herself across the floor, hiding in a corner and hidden behind a shelf. Her hearing was slowly coming back, the noise of her comms going from an indistinguishable rumble to sentences she could comprehend.

“... explosion, Spectre was roaming and hasn’t…”

That was Doc! Spectre was really glad Doc was close by, she could use one of his stim shots now. However, there was another explosion, and Doc muttered ‘merde’ before he cut off the line.

She was about to pitch in when she heard footsteps near her. Quiet and alert, she grabbed her other pistol, since the one she had used before she lost it at some point after the explosion. A group of White Masks passed close to her, going in the direction of where her team was holed up. She hated having to stay out of it, but she wasn’t in the best state for another fight.

“Operator down,” she hissed through the comms once the terrorist were sufficiently far away. “I’m on the upper storage; out of combat but still in one piece.”

“Spectre!” It was Blitz, sounding way too worried. She didn’t like it when he was so worried, he always took it like a personal failing when something went wrong on a mission. “Do not move, we’re coming to your position.”

She laughed, which turned into a cough and a pained moan. Don’t move he said… she couldn’t even laugh without being speared by pain radiating from her side. “Ah, so no leisure stroll around the mall for me, eh?”

Whatever his answer, Spectre didn’t pay attention to it. She was keenly aware of her surroundings, and this time she noticed the sound of heavy breathing slowly coming closer. It was like Darth Vader’s even more evil brother was coming for her. Swallowing a grunt of pain, she shifted her position to look through the two shelves hiding her. The bomber was unaware of her presence, slowly making his way away from her position, thank goodness. She had a clear view of them from her current angle, and in a fit of impulsive rage, she shot at the explosives he carried on his vest.

After two of her bullets hit their intended mark, the resulting explosion was gruesome. For the first time, Spectre wondered if she had bits of terrorist on her, from before. Perhaps that was a question she didn’t want answered. After forcing herself to stay in that uncomfortable position for so long, she flopped down on the floor, gasping in pain as black dots swam on her vision. She wished Doc was at her side, all she knew about first aid was that taking out the piece of plastic embedded in her would be a Bad Idea. Bleeding out didn’t sound very appealing, thank you very much.

More footsteps, this time hurried ones, and Spectre couldn’t summon the will to get up and make sure she remained unseen. She felt dizzy and the room spun wildly every time she tried to even sit up. She closed her eyes one second and opened them up again to the feeling of someone touching her. Glaz was looking at her wound, his eyes betraying no emotion but filling Spectre with relief.

“Remain awake, you’re not out yet.”

His calm voice contrasted with his urgent request over the comms for Doc to come over, but Spectre was too tired to be worried. Keeping her eyes open was a constant fight. Despite her best efforts, she kept closing them, slowly succumbing to the lull of the dark. It wasn’t so bad, she barely felt the pain now.

*

Spectre opened her eyes to a completely opposed view from what she last remembered. Instead of a dark corner and metal shelves towering over her, she was surrounded by white, laying not on the floor but on a bed. As if all that wasn’t enough to tip her off about where she was, the IV drip connected to her arm was the final clue.

The room was empty: no visitors on sight, Doc was absent too, nobody there at all. However, the bedside table was packed with get well cards and various pieces of candy she liked, plus a huge bouquet of lavender and white wildflowers. Spectre reached out to touch it. The flowers were both real and fresh, not plastic. The door opened and she snatched her hand back like the flowers had burnt her fingers, which was ridiculous, but she felt like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Blitz entered the room carrying a plastic cup of coffee, and he nearly dropped it in surprise when he saw her awake. With a dazzling smile that warmed the room and her soul, he left the coffee on the first flat surface he found and went to her side. Her heart fluttered when Blitz gently cupped her face and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Am I still dreamin’?” Her question made Blitz chuckle, releasing his hold on her. Spectre pouted, that had felt so nice.

“You’ve slept long enough, gave us all a good fright.” Blitz sat on the bed, precariously perched on the edge and playing with the white sheet. He was close enough she could feel the heat radiating from him, his hand so close to hers and yet so far. Spectre could read the expression on his face, that half-frown she learnt to identify as Blitz misguidedly blaming himself for something.  He looked up at her with the tiniest hint of a smirk dawning behind his frown. “You put up an impressive fight, I’ve been told you blew the White Masks away.”

She laughed and part of the tension left his body, his posture relaxing and his hand closing over hers. When she tried to sit up and lean closer to him, pain flared up in her side, a reminder she was in the medical wing for a reason. Blitz bolted up at her hiss of discomfort, helping her lie down and plumping her pillow.

“I’m sorry you got hurt like this,” his hand hovered over hers, the ghost of a caress sending her heartbeat into overdrive.

“Eh, not your fault. Shit happens in this line of work.”

Perhaps it was a lingering effect of the anaesthesia that emboldened her, or that she saw the regret over his face like it was his fault she had been injured, but whatever the reason Spectre felt compelled to tug at his shirt, nearly making him fall on top of her.  She kissed Blitz, a soft and lingering peck that left her light-headed and giddy like she was high.

“Oh… maybe I’m the one who is dreaming,” Blitz didn’t seem displeased by her kiss, so Spectre decided to push her luck just a little bit more.

“We should do it again. To make sure we’re not both dreamin’.”

“Mhmm, that’s a sound idea. We should…” They were millimeters apart, their breath colliding on each other’s lips, Blitz’s hand grasping hers.

“What part of do not agitate my patient didn’t you understand, Elias?” Doc crossed his arms over his chest, delivering one of his patented disapproving glares at them.

Blitz backed away from her, quietly mouthing at her “later”, accompanied by a wink. “I was checking on her, making sure she didn’t have a fever. You know, like a nurse would do if we had one.”

Spectre tuned out Doc’s sarcastic answer, smiling to herself. Her recovery promised to be very interesting if Blitz volunteered to be her nurse. Even if he just came to visit her, there was no doubt he would make good on his word and continue with their little test. She had the feeling they would need many, many kisses to make sure it wasn’t a dream, and Spectre was perfectly happy with the idea.

[kooksnoodle]

1-800-SLEEP

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: At night, you’d usually had a hard time getting some sleep. Sleeping pills caused you to oversleep and now at this point you didn’t want to be bored while being awake.

Genre: Fluff, college au, slight swearing lmao

It was midnight, and you were just staring at the ceiling. God. Make time faster. You didn’t even want to sleep at this point, you wanted the day to start. Up and ready was what you were.

[jimin baby]: CAN YOU MEET THE BOY IVE BEEN TRYING TO HOOK YOU UP WITH SINCE FRESHMEN YEAR

[you]: Jimin I don’t want to meet him

But everyone was sleeping, well at least, everyone you talk to that wasn’t Jimin. You sat up and searched up ‘stuff to do when you can’t sleep’ only to see an advertisement pop up.

Can’t sleep? Need something to keep your mind running even though you have that really important interview the next morning? Talk to us! Call 1-800-SLEEP for company. Any venting you need to do, or inner feelings can be said with US!!

Wow. Who would need that? Why vent to a stranger when you can talk to someone you know? You called anyway. For the adventure of the night.

“Hello.” A voice made you jump. You haven’t heard noise since 8. “Is anyone there?” The voice asked.

“Y-Yeah.” You said, your voice coming off a bit raspy. Clearing your throat before speaking again, “I’m (Y/n).” You said.

The voice let out a relief sigh. “Hello (Y/n). My name is Jungkook, and tonight I’ll be assisting you in whatever you need. I’m able to assist you until morning, or the time you desire to end this call. I must let you know that this call may be recorded for business purposes.” The boy on the other line said. “So what’s on your mind?”

“You.” You said hearing the boy choke.

The boy was coughing while managing words through the phone. “What?”

You blush in embarrassment. “I mean, is what you said written down? Or is it known by heart?” You asked getting a relief sigh from Jungkook.

“Actually. I have it written down. Everyone has to have it memorized, and I can’t do that.” He said awkwardly laughing.

“So Jungkook. How old are you?” You asked. “Oh. Sorry. Am I allowed to ask that?”

Jungkook hummed, and you could heard him flipping through a bunch of papers. “I think so. I’m 21.” He said making you surprised. “Me too.” You making him gasp.

“We have a connection.” You said earning a laugh from Jungkook. “I have college tomorrow.” You said sighing. “I go to Seoul University, and I swear. Mr. Choi’s classes are so boring and I hate them so much.” You said sighing.

“I agree.” Jungkook said. “Everyday he says...”

“You’re the one in school, not me.” The two of you said at the same time. Surprised, you asked. “What time do you have his class?”

“I think... two in the afternoon?” Jungkook said. “Oh shit. Am I allowed to say that?” He said. You heard the flipping of papers again.

You let out a light laugh. “I have him one in the afternoon.” You said. “Wait. How are you a collage student working in a random sleep hotline?”

Jungkook awkwardly laughed. “Well you see, I work from home. They gave me a work computer, and all I do is wait for a call.”

“Why do you need a computer?”

“That’s what I said. So, when I have no customers, I just play Cool Math.” He said sounding like a complete child.

You smiled. Cute. “How are you calm? I could be a complete stranger, well I am, but I could be some creep.” You asked.

“Says the one. This hotline could be stealing your money, and you’re still on the phone with me.” Jungkook said. “Well, I’m not really a people-person. I feel comfortable talking to you knowing that you’re my age, and you go to the same university? That makes me calm. What about you?”

“Your voice sounds nice.” You said hearing Jungkook choke again. “It’s really nice and soothing. Like, it’s not too loud, and not too quiet to the point I’ll sleep.” Jungkook didn’t reply. “Jungkook?”

“D-Don’t say things like that.” He said shyly.

You grinned. “Are you cute? Your voice is fit for a cute guy.”

“S-Stop.”

“You’re so cute Jungkook.”

The two of you talked all night until the morning came. Jungkook let out a sigh in the middle of your sentence as the alarm went off. “It is now seven in the morning, your time with this hotline is now over-“

“Wait!” You said stopping him. “Let me tell you my number so I can call you again when I can’t sleep.”

Jungkook let out a relief sigh. “Thank god. I really liked talking to you (Y/n).” Jungkook and you told each other your numbers.

“Thank you for calling. My name is Jeon Jungkook and I’m glad to be the employee to serve you.” He said sounding professional again.

You laughed. “Thank you Mr. Jeon. I enjoyed your call and I’d like to call again soon.”

Jungkook hung up the phone, and you got ready for school.

-

“When’s the last time you’ve slept?” Jimin asked you walking out of Mr. Choi’s class. “It’s two in the afternoon, and you look like you just woke up.”

“The only time I can actually sleep is in class.” You said sighing.

“Jeon. For once you’re early?” Jimin said hitting a boy sitting outside of Mr. Choi’s class. The boy yawned before looking up at Jimin. “You’re like (Y/n). She doesn’t sleep either.”

Jimin pulled you close to him and the boy. “This is (Y/n).” Jimin said winking. “The girl I want you to talk to. Her name is (Y/n).” He repeated.

“Jimin. I don’t have to talk to her because you want me to.” The boy said calmly. He got up from the floor and smiled at you. Cute. “Hello (Y/n). My name is Jungkook, and tonight I’ll be assisting you in whatever you need. I’m able to assist you until morning, or the time you desire to end this call. I must let you know that this call may be recorded for business purposes.”

You rose an eyebrow and heard Jimin go ‘dude, what are you doing?’ You let out a laugh. “So you did memorize it.” You said.

Jungkook blushed. “Oh god. I was scared that t wasn’t you. You know how many (Y/n)s I went up to?” He said laughing. “I went up to three and one of them started screaming. It wasn’t a good time.”

“I was right. The boy on the phone, who has a cute voice, also has a cute face.” You said making Jungkook blush.

Jimin was confused. “...Am I a matchmaker-“

“No.” Jungkook and you said. “Uh. My class starts soon, but since I already have your number, I’ll call you.” He said pointing finger guns at you.

“During the day, I’ll be in service to you.” You said before Jungkook walked into his class. Jungkook grinned. “I’ll be good night service.”

“Not yet. We just met.” You said making Jungkook blush. “Soon.”

“C’mon. I’m a total matchmaker.” Jimin said to you as you walked away.

“Shut up Jimin.”

[makrokosmuss-blog]

Poe having a crush on you would include...(II)

Since so many of you left so many lovely comments: here you go. Part II. Seriously. Thank you so much for those! They mean the universe. Every single one. Part II turned more into a a proper fanfic than more of a preference thing that i originally had in mind. Well. Shit happens. But since so many of your great human beings liked the first one i hope this’ll make you happy as well. The next one will be more ‘normal’ again. I still divided it into 5 minor ‘points’ tho.  Have fun! Love you.  I. Escalating when you confront him... A knock startled him. Not that it was unusual. Some unplanned, rapid mission that he would need to attend to. Not that he’d been asleep. Still he didn’t feel like going out. He just wanted to lay in his bed and suffer thinking about a special someone. Still Poe grabbed his Jacket, throwing it over his shoulders as he opened the door. The first thing he did when he saw you was blink. Once. Twice. Maybe four times (not that he’d counted). He took a deep breath in as you forced a smile and looked down, away from his gaze. Then you heard the door being shot closed.  Oh Shit, he thought. You gasped, furiously staring at the door he’d just slammed in your face. “Commander!?!”, you called after a second, shock written on your face as you knocked again, harder this time. Poe leaned with his back against the door, his heart skipping beats while violently hammering. “One second!”, he answered loudly, happy his voice only cracked a tiny bit. Fuck fuck fuck fuck As the door was opened again, he smugly leaned against the door frame, his hair a bit more tamed. Stay calm Poe, stay fucking calm. be smooth. Smooth. “What was that?”, you asked, your voice low and dangerous. I had a heart attack. THAT happened. “Hmm?”, he answered, smiling strangely. “What did...”, you gave up, taking a deep breath in and looking back over your shoulder before starting to speak up again, “You are my pilot. For the next mission. In two days.” Poe gulped. “Oh.” YES....No....shit...what? You stared at him. Blanky. Okay. He really didn’t like you. This was a bad idea. You sighted, your hand running through your hair. “Okay Listen. Poe. That’s just what it’s like now and we have to deal with it. So...”, you shook your head, frowning as you kept staring straight into his eyes, “How about we meet tomorrow evening for a quick briefing? Just. You know. Quick. Nothing serious.” Poe stared at you as if you’d just sold his droid to the next junkyard. Meet. With you. And like...talk to you. All by ourselfs. I’m going to die. I will, literary, die in front of you. Wait. That’s good. You’d had to save me then. CPR.  “S...uh...su...yeah.” he gulped again nodding. GOOD GOD “Tomorrow. 8pm. Briefing room. Great.”, you said, turned around, leaving him on his own. “Sorry to...have bothered you”, you called, sighting softly. What where you thinking? He didn’t sleep that night. Or just barely. This was a disaster.  II. Trying to ask his friends for help... “Rey!”, Poe called this as he jogged up to her. “Oh...Hi Poe?”, Ray frowned, a bit confused. She knew very well that the Pilot usually spent his free days locked up in his room, probably sleeping through it. Not being up that early, running around base. He ruffled through his hair, grinning and looking around. “I...can we talk?”, he whispered, his grin suddenly fading and being replaced by a frown. Rey frowned too now. “Sure. Yeah of course. Where? Here or-” “I know a place” Rey took a deep breath in, trying to process everything he’d just told her. They sat on top of his X-Wing, the morning sun heating the metal to a lovely degree. “Sooo...what you’re telling me is...you are head over heals for Y/N?”, she asks carefully. He laughs, wildly shaking his head. “NO. Nooee. I Mean. Not at all I....Uh...I....Totally yeah. I love her. I mean...I LOVE her. Completely. Fuck...i love her...oh my god i actually said it” Ray frowned:“You spoke to her like....twice...and the only words you said where...’yeah’ and ‘One second’, Poe.”  “Okay. OKAY. But Listen, yeah?”, he hissed softly, leaning closer to her, “I...wow this sounds scary, i watched her. Like all the time. I like ...how she talks to people and how she...how she fights for our course, how she treats BB8 and how fascinated she gets about the smallest things, how she values everyone and... and I ...may or may not have stolen some mission files to get to know more about her...”, he coughs. “POE!” “Sorry!” “But just...that’s...great okay? You’re a great guy. Just talk to her! Tonight will be great?”, Rey smiles, squeezing his hand. He sighted and looked deep into her eyes. “I...don’t know Ray. I don’t think  can.”  “If she get’s to know you she’ll love you! You’re a great guy Poe!” “But...I mean look at me. I’m...what? Yeah I’m good looking and maybe i’m the best Pilot in the whole Resistance and yeah, I DO have a nice singing voice-” “Okay Poe. Enough.”, Rey stopped him, laughing.  “I know it’s her though. I KNOW. We get to do missions and then we will...we will...fall for each other and one day when we both come home i’ll hold her hand and pull her back and we will kiss underneath the thousand stars above and then she will know too and we...we will marry and the General will be there and the whole RESISTANCE will be there and god, i want at least three kids and-” “You know...maybe....get to know her first?”, Ray stopped him, “You know it’s...easier when you are at least a bit..like..friends first?” Poe frowned. “Yeah...actually...that makes sense. Cause...Friends are like...pretty much like a couple right? I mean. Kinda. Cause...when she’s my friend she already knows that im a great guy...and all that’s missing then is the sex. But then she might be like ‘ah..no man, let’s not ruin our friendship!’ And that would be terrible. Cause....you know...as if sex would ruin a fucking friendship! Sex is like...Sex is a damn upgrade like...like extra cheese on a burger. Sex is good you know?” Rey stared at him, her cheeks gleaming red as Poe sat so close to her, talking away like it was nothing. “Uh....Maybe...i know how to help you tonight.” III. Having stupid ideas... “This is NOT a good idea Ray!”, Poe hissed as she handed him the bottle of alcohol. “Yes it is! You are a fucking idiot when it comes to her so down that damn bottle!” “No!”, he hisses again, trying to stay quiet since they where right in front of the briefing room.  “Down it or you’ll start talking about how many kids you want and how sex is like extra cheese!”, Ray hissed back and Poe stared at her with puppy eyes. “I am that bad am i not?” “You are! So down it!” You stared at the room in front of you. It was 10 to 8 and you leaned against a counter, fetching some coffee for you and Poe. You felt sorry for what you’ve done. The poor guy just didn’t like you and you forced yourself on him like that. That wasn’t a very nice thing of you to do. You sighted, looking at the black liquid. Nevermind. You just had to go through with it now. It bothered you though. A shame he didn’t like you. He seemed like a nice guy, rather funny too, handsome even. It wouldn’t be the first time you caught yourself thinking of his dark eyes. You turned to your right  as you heard that the door had opened. “Evening Comman...Are you drunk?” Poe violently shook his head. “No. Not at all. Just...”, he stumbled to his chair, rather ungracefully sitting down. “No.”, he finished.  You put down the coffee, walking over to him to put the cup in front of him. You squatted down, on hand on his thigh and one of his forehead. “Are you sick then? You don’t look very good...” “You look...abso...absolutely gorgeous tho.”, he muttered, staring into your eyes. You leaned even closer. “You ARE drunk. Sorry but i know rum when i smell it.”  Poe glanced at you. “Sorry. It was only a sip. It uh...was my free day. Uhm...A friend came over.” You stared right back into his lovely dark eyes and nodded slowly. “No problem...”, you stood up again, “I like a drink myself from time to time so...whatever you like.” You walked over to the counter, fetching a glass of water for him. “Here. Drink that. It will help. A bit.”, you smiled softly and your hands touched as he reached for the glass. His eyes locking with yours again. “You are so nice you know that?”, he frowned as he said that. “Uh...thank..you? So...about the mission...” “Mission?”, Poe asked. You sighted. “Tomorrow. But...no worries it isn’t much. You pretty much just have to...get me there and then bring us back home. I just have a few people to take out... I made out...”, you got out a map and started showing different spots, talking about what you would do and why and all he could think about how beautiful your lips where and how exceptionally good your hair looked that evening.  “You got all that?”, you asked after a while. Poe blinked and stared back at your eyes. “Yeah.”, he nodded slowly. “Good.”, you sighted, exhausted, “Great. So i’ll see you tomorrow.”, you smiled.  “No!”, Poe interrupted and you stood still, “Uh I...”, he started and you frowned, searching for a reason to keep you in the room for a tiny bit longer. . “Yes Commander?” “Nothing...I was just...it’s nothing.”, he muttered. He sounded quite sad. He slept good that night. Most likely because he fell into bed as he finally reached it, the Alcohol really kicking in now. Remembering your soft hand on his cheek. IV. Having troubles on missions... He woke up sober and to the beeping of BB8. “Woar buddy...”, he groaned, holding his head, suffering from a pretty bad hangover. That was one bottle in like 10 minutes. What the fuck was he thinking? BB8 beeped again, more aggressively now.  “What Missio...THE MISSION. FUCK.” Poe stumbled out of the hanger, zipping up his boot and dropping his jacket about 5 times along the way as he ran up to you. He still couldn’t quite believe it. There you stood. He took a while to take that in.  You where in complete uniform, all black with a rather big rifle on your back, a knife on your belt and a blaster in your hand as you nervously walked back and forth, smoking, mumbling to yourself, checking your blaster over and over again.  “You Nervous?”, he finally asked with a small smile as he approached you. You looked up at him and he swore he saw a bit of fear in your eyes. “Morning Commander. No I’m good. Everything will be good.”, you nodded. “Ahh...”, he looked down, “Sorry for yesterday. I..a friend came over and i couldn’t...i shouldn’t have been drinkin-” “It’s fine!”, you interrupted him. “It’s all good., no worries. Let’s just get this over with, yeah? I am actually nervous -  i was lying. Let’s go.” BB8 beeped softly and you looked at the droid. The rifle was placed between your thighs now and Poe couldn’t help to notice your fingers softly gliding over the metal as he flew. While he looked at you you gazed at the weapon. “So...uh...is...are you always nervous or is this mission special?”, he tried to break the silence.  “I’m always like this. I’ll just mentally run through my plan again. I’m...a woman of focus Commander. The second we’ll land i’ll be good. But yes. This mission is a bit harder than usual. Although i do have the best Pilot of the Resistance at hand.”, you spoke, smiling softly. He smiled back and soon looked away before he could start blushing. “So I...I just put us down, wait for you and...fly us back home when you’re done?” “Yes.” “Is there nothing i can help with?” “No.” “isn’t that dangerous? You going all by yourself?”

 He looked at you and you just chuckled.  “Do you...ever want to stop?”, he asks, frowning. “Not as long as i’m still needed.”, you answer. “But like...i just mean...people with your profession usually don’t get to live very long.” You look at him. “What do you want Dameron?” “I Just mean”, he sights, “Maybe your loved ones rather have you at home than you know...going out killing people who are three times your size. Always returning with a few broken bones and a concussion...”, he hisses, his hands nervously stroking the control panel. You blink. “Did you read my medica-” “NO. I just Mean it. I just...guessed you come home rather bruised. I mean...i see you around the base you know. It’s not a pleasant sight..” You stare him down. “Well sorry i’m not a pleasant sight for you...” Poe groans. “That’s not what i meant. You are a very pleasa....uh...i mean it’s just not nice seeing one of us walking around so bloodied and beaten all the time. I’d rather see you save.” “And i’d rather see you save. So what. You wonna stop flying now just because I want you to?”, you ask, staring straight at him. He stares back, biting his lip. “Okay you win. Just take care, yes?” You smile softly, shaking your head. “I will.” The landing is extremely soft. You barely feel it. He really is good.  Poe notices that you are more relaxed now. You look around, squatting down, touching the ground, looking up, noticing in wich direction the wind blows. Poe watches you, quite fascinated.  “I will be back in 2 hours.”, you start, walking up to him. He leans against his X-Wing, hands in his pockets. “If i won’t be back in 6, don’t come looking for me, go home. You hear me?” He frowns. “What? No!”. “Yes.”, you simply answer. You walk even closer to him, your hand touching his shoulder. Before turning and walking off.  V. Waiting for  you... Poe sat down, talking to BB8. It’s been three hours and he got more nervous by the minute. This job sucked. No way he would leave after 6 hours. He would rather run in there unarmed than leaving. He leaned back, laying down, staring at the sky. If only he could remember what this mission was even about. If only he had listened to you. If only... He heard footsteps and immediately shot up, looking ahead.  “You’re hurt.” It was the first thing on his mind and tongue as you stumbled up to him, throwing your rifle aside and collapsing next to him. You just fell to your knees and he had his hands on your shoulders, steadying you.  “What happened? Are you...shit you’re blee-” before he could finish his sentence your hand was on his mouth. “Shhhh.”, you whispered. “Listen. We can’t leave now. They know i’m still around and as soon they see us lifting off they will shoot us down, we will- “, he interrupted you this time as he pulled your hand away. “LISTEN, i’m the best pilot out there. You need medical attention, we need to bring you-” “I’LL be fine.”, your hands are on his chest now. “Really i’ll be fine. Yes we could go rush home but why not stay here for a while and let them give up their search. It’s safer.”  Poe frowned. “You are bleeding. You need-” “I’m FINE.”, you hissed again and only now did he notice how close you where. “Let’s...please let’s stay here for the night. They won’t find us...help me out of my jacket please...” He automatically reached around you to pull the leather off you. You hissed softly and rested your head on his shoulder. Poe took a deep breath. “Shit Y/N...”  “I’m good Poe.”, you whispered and he could feel your breath on his neck.  “Wait...i got a first aid kid somewhere in that X-Wing...”, he muttered, before softly pushing you back and jumping up.  “Thanks...”, you sighted softly and lay back on the ground. BB8 beeping nervously around you. You chuckled softly and shook your head. “I had worse Baby.” Noticing how bad his hands where shaking you took them in yours and Poe looked up at you. He nodded softly and gave the tape to you, as you continued to wrap it around your middle. It was getting dark, and you lay back after you where done, moaning softly as your body relaxed.  “Shit...what a day, right?”, you chuckled softly. Poe stared at you. He was sitting next to you. “Are you shivering?”, he asks. “It’s alr-”, before you could finish he already undressed and softy lay his jacket over you. You laughed and grinned at him.  “What?”, he asked, smiling himself now. “Nothing. Nothing Commander.”, you closed your eyes again. “Just...just call me Poe...”  You opened them again, looking into his dark eyes, a small smile on your lips. “Okay.” Poe leaned back, glancing at the setting sun in the distance. At least there was something he could stare at except for you.  VI Confessing... “So...you are a nice guy after all. Everyone was right.”, you start after a while of silence. Poe looks back at you. “What?” “I felt a bit bad that you didn’t really like me.”, you mumble, your arm lazily spread over your eyes, “so I asked a few people if that was just...you know...you. But no. Apparently you where nice to everyone else.” “Was I...was i mean to you?”, he asked, blushing softly. You take your hand back and your eyes meet. “I mean...not directly. You just...you know.” He groans softly, laying down now. “I know. I was a bit of an idiot. Sorry for that.”  “I forgive you. Poe Dameron. No matter what it was.”, you whisper. Him laying right next to you.  “Although....”, you start again, turning to look at him. He turns his head to and you stare at each other for a moment.  “Although i’d like to know the reason.”, you finish.  He frowns and sights softly. Then he looks away and sits up. “I can’t.”, he mumbles. You sit up too and he quickly glances at you as you hiss softly, holding your abdomen. “Lay back down!”, he commands, worried about you.  You smirk and shake your head. “All good. I just...”, you smile at him, studying his face for a while, “I just don’t get you, Poe. I read people for a living. But I can’t see through you.” He stares at you before looking down at his lap. “Maybe it’s better that way”, he jokes.  “You are afraid.”, you say...frowning, your eyes tracing his face, your hand reaching out to him.  He doesn’t answer. Just looks at you. His eyes half closed. Leaning into the touch as your fingertips reach his cheek , moving forward till your hand cups the side of his face, then running down through his hair to the back of his head. “What are you-”, he smiles but you interrupt him. “You are afraid of...something big. Are you afraid to die Poe? Afraid of...of that truth that...death is unpreventable and that one day...we will most likely lose to the First order. That we can’t fight forever and if we do we end up captured tortured or dead...because i am sometimes and i have that same expression then.”, you whisper and as you speak, he gets paler. Not just because you were partly right, but because you sound weaker and weaker by the minute.  And you can feel it too. You can feel your vision blur and your head spinning.

 “And...”, you chuckle a bit, looking down, your hand tracing back to his cheek, “You know that’s okay. Because...because it’s like this for everyone. Oblivion is certain and....and we’re all doomed and it’s...it’s just making me very happy to be doomed together with you, Poe Dameron.” Your voice cracks and he sees that your eyes glisten and that you still smile softly and he feels your fingers tracing his jaw. “Y/N?”, he asks carefully. And in that moment you cough slightly and he holds you because if he wouldn’t you would’ve collapsed and tumbled to the floor.  “Shhhh...it’s all good. I’m here...you need a doctor Y/N, Now!”, he hissed softly, running his hand through your hair to keep it out of your face.  “Stay awake will you? You hear me? HEY.” You can feel him softly slapping your cheek but you can also feel you loosing consciousness. “I’m getting us out of here. NOW” You hear him say and you feel him picking you up and carrying you up into the ship. “Stay with me, yes? You hear me? Uh...speak to me. Tell me anything. Stay awake!”, he demands and you hear buttons being pressed and BB8 anxiously beeping.  “Like what, Commander?”, you joke, your vision blurry, voice weak. You can feel his hand on your thigh squeezing you. “I don’t know. Anything. Tell me about yourself.” “There’s not much to tell.”, you whisper, about to slip away. He squeezes you tighter. “HEY. Stay with me, yes?” “Sure...”, you mutter. You can barely hear him by now. But you can feel your warm blood running down your body. “There is LOADS to tell. Like...Like...when you ....fuck...uhm...” He concentrates on flying for a second, looks away, types in some things and reaches over to do some more and when he looks back he sees you slipping away, your head falling back and he panics.  “Y/N! Hey!”, his hand reaches out to your neck and holds you up and your eyes flutter open.  “You with me?”, he asks anxiously. “Yeah...here Commander...”, you joke, closing your eyes again. “We’ll be there in a minute, okay? Just..come on talk to me...” You stay silent and it makes him more nervous as he softly shakes you. “Hey hey, don’t you fucking dare to die, i’m getting nervous here!”, he hisses and actually makes you smile. “I’m good Poe really...”, you whisper, trying to concentrate on your breathing, eyes closed, “You’re doing a good job, Poe.” “Uhu..”, he mutters, “Sorry i never had to help anyone not dying. I know..uh I know i should’ve gotten us out earlier. Damn. Sorry for that. I...Hey are you with me?” You hum in approve, leaned back in your seat next to him.  “Good cause...cause if anything happens to you I wouldn’t forgive myself for that stupid mistake and..over all i wanted to...”, he gulps, “Tell you that i really like you. That you’re pretty great actually.” You chuckle softly, eyes still closed. You’re bleeding all over the floor and you can feel his hand pressed against your wound, trying to make it stop.  “Nice that you noticed. Finally.”, you joke softly, coughing.  “No. I noticed a while ago. Really. I’ve been in love for you for quite som....oh shit.” Your eyes open and you snap your head at his direction. He stares at you. “Did I just...fucking say that?”, he whispers in shock, staring back at you.  “Was that why you...Oh my god...”, you close your eyes again, “This is NOT the right moment Dameron.”, you hiss, at least staying awake now. “Damn I know. I’m so sorry I know i just...i didn’t want to...”  “I like you too.”, you mutter and he falls silent.  “Really?”  “Really. You’re great.” You look at each other for a moment. “Don’t die. Please.”, he pleads and you start to laugh. “I won’t.”, “No?”. “No.”, you chuckle. “Good. Cause...you know...”  “I know yeah.”, you smile.  “Can I still kiss you though? Just to be sure i did it?” “Are you Serious Dameron?” Before you can say anything he turns to you, pressing his palm against your cheek. You stare at him in shock but he just takes a breath, leans in and you can feel his soft lips against yours.  You gasp softly before closing your eyes and moaning silently against him. He pulls back so slightly that you can still feel him against you.  “Don’t die, yeah?”, he whispers, his eyes half closed, staring into yours. “No...”, you whisper back, his thump running over your bottom lip, before pecking your lips again. “Good.”, you exhales shakily, your foreheads touching before he properly sits back into the pilot seat. “Good.”

@galactic-organa @ darknessbetweenthestarss   @bluegreyme @jessicaguerreiro07 @ heartache97 @ chupacabrachel

[patrick-hockstutter]

Wasn’t the Right Time

Henry Bowers x Reader

“H-Henry…” Your voice was wearing thin as you clasped a hand to your mouth, trying to keep the remaining contents of your stomach inside. You knew he probably couldn’t hear you; the kitchen was on the complete opposite side of the house from where you were, draped over the toilet. “HENRY-,” you managed to shout out, desperate for his company as you were cut off by another dry heave. You clenched your eyes shut, but tears still triumphed in spilling down your cheeks, the pain almost unbearable as you vomited for what seemed like the hundredth time. To be honest, you were surprised there was anything left to choke up.

Your tear stained face struggled to look up as you heard Henry crash through the door, his worried expression morphing into a countenance of true horror as he saw your body, pale and shaking, sprawled out on the floor, exhausted from being sick so many times without mercy. He rushed over to you, falling to the floor before scooping you into his arms, placing you gently in his lap.

“(y/n), what’s going on?” He hurriedly asked, his voice wavering as your tears pooled in the cloth of his shirt, “What’s happening?” He brushed the stray hairs out of your face, gently placing the back of his hand to your forehead to check your temperature. You were burning up, which terrified him all the more.

“Henry, it hurts,” you whimpered, your breath hitching as you sobbed into his chest, “It hurts so much, Henry, make it stop,” your sobs were nearly uncontrollable at this point and seeing you like this made him start to tear up as well.

“Baby, what hurts?” He was trying his best to remain calm, but his tone was frantic. He watched you intently as you tried to speak, but you had grown weaker and weaker as time went on, leaving you unable to answer him. “(y/n), show me what hurts,” he offered weakly, holding out a hand for you to place, “Please, baby, show me what hurts…” He bit his lip as he felt your clammy hands meet his, shaking as you brought his hand down to your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed out upon impulse, now starting to panic, “Fuck, I don’t-“ You squeezed his hand, wincing from another wave of pain. “I don’t have time to freak out,” he took an unsteady breath, picking you up before making his way into the living room, walking slowly to ensure your comfort. “I’m gonna go call Belch, okay, he’s gonna take us to the hospital,” Henry lay you down on the couch, giving you a soft kiss to the forehead, “I’ll be right back, okay, I’m not goin’ anywhere without you.” You managed a small nod before he shot up, darting to the kitchen where the landline resided.

You strained yourself trying to listen in on the conversation, but you had lost so much energy and strength that it was nearly impossible just to keep yourself awake. You drifted in and out of sleep for what seemed like an eternity. You felt awful. Like you were suspended in time with eternal pains in your lower abdomen. The only thing keeping you hopeful were the snippets of Henry’s voice and the blurry glimpses of his face throughout the car ride to the hospital.

The next time you woke up, you could see and hear clearly, but you didn’t recognize your surroundings at all. You were in a hospital room, obviously, but you hadn’t been to the doctor’s in such a long time that you had almost forgotten what the rooms looked like. You looked around, seeing loads of equipment and machinery, hearing a cacophony of beeps and clicks. You knew it was all there to help you, but you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. The thing that did make you nervous, though, was the IV in your arm. The nagging at the back of your head told you it was to replenish all that you had vomited out earlier, but you weren’t in a state to listen. More tears threatened to spill as you worried about it, looking around frantically to see you were alone in the room.

“H-Henry?” Your voice was hoarse from not speaking, but you were too scared to care, “Henry, where-“ You cut yourself off as you heard the door open, whipping your head around to see a doctor entering, Henry following close behind. You immediately flinched, regretting the decision to turn around so quickly, making Henry rush over to you, still worried sick from earlier.

“Hey, hey,” Henry said softly, putting his hand to your forehead again, “You should be resting, don’t move so fast,” he cooed as your body relaxed back into the hospital bed.

“Henry, what’s wrong with me,” you asked, voice trembling. He looked down at you, eyes filled with sorrow as he attempted the most unconvincing half smile you’d ever seen. He looked over to the doctor, who exchanged a nod with him before leaving, closing the door behind himself. “Henry,” you pleaded, your lip quivering as you tried not to overflow your mind with worry. He slid his hand down to your cheek, rubbing circles with his thumb as he looked into your eyes, treasuring the moment before he had to break some inevitably terrible news.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he spoke so softly you could barely hear the lack of steadiness in his voice, “You were pregnant, (y/n).”

You blinked a few times, opening your mouth to speak despite the lack of words that came to mind. You looked at him attentively, watching the way his eyes glossed over, the way his lips moved into a pout against his will, and the way he seemed to be crumbling before you.

“I- I’m…” You felt your heart break as you watched him crack, “I’m pregnant?” You asked reluctantly, hoping he was upset about how much pain you were in rather than the thought of having a baby with you. “Henry, we can do this,” you encouraged, praying to whatever was listening for him to stay with you, “It doesn’t have to be a bad thing-“

“(y/n)… You were pregnant,” he stumbled on his own words, maintaining his eye contact with you, as you were the only thing still keeping him together, “We lost the baby-“ Henry found himself unable to finish with a sharp crack in his voice, hanging his head to hide the tears now gliding down his cheeks from your view.

You looked at him, feeling your heart break all over again as you heard him muffle his own sobs. Although this time, it felt worse.

You watched your vision grow blurry again, silent tears falling from your vacant eyes as you took the time to process what was going on. For a few weeks, there had been a baby growing inside of you. Henry’s baby had been growing inside of you. A baby he had actually wanted to keep. But just like that, it was gone. Your body, whatever it had done, had robbed you of a child with someone you loved so deeply and unconditionally. It had robbed Henry. You had robbed Henry. You knew it wasn’t your fault, but you couldn’t help blaming yourself. It was easier for you to understand that way.

What went on those next few days, you couldn’t quite remember. You had taken a break from school to recover and Henry had been skipping, wanting to be there for you and take care of you in any way you needed. You remembered him talking to you, holding you, comforting you, but you couldn’t remember anything he said. You couldn’t remember speaking a word to him either, but that’s because you didn’t.

You hadn’t spoken in days. You barely ate anything Henry cooked for you. You almost never slept anymore either. You had completely shut down and Henry was trying his best not to. He had to be there for you. He needed to take care of you like you always did for him. So, damn it, that’s what he was going to do.

No matter how much it hurt when he would speak without getting a response, or look at you only to see someone half conscious. He felt a piece of him get ripped out when the doctor told him what they’d lost, so he’d be damned if he was going to lose you too.

“It would have been nice, you know,” he said, hoping that, even if you didn’t respond, you could at least hear him. He sat on the couch with you leaning against his chest, an arm draped around you protectively. “Sitting here with you, and… well,” he stopped himself, not sure if he really wanted to say it out loud again. If he really wanted to acknowledge the fact that this was your shared reality. “Getting to see you be a mom…” He smiled to himself momentarily, giving your temple a tender kiss, “Getting to know what being a dad feels like…” His smile faltered as he realized what he had just said. He’d hated his father his whole life, just as his father hated him. And now he wanted to be one to someone else?

“Maybe this was a good thing, after all,” he thought aloud, wallowing in a new pit of self-doubt he had just created for himself, “Maybe it was a streak of luck that baby didn’t have to have me as a dad,” he looked down at his hands, making a distraction for himself by entangling his fingers in your hair.

“Henry, don’t say that,” you spoke calmly, despite the shock the sound of your voice had caused the both of you to feel.

Relieved to hear your voice again, Henry slid off the couch, leaving you to sit forward on your own. He sunk down to his knees, kneeling between your legs as his hands found their way to your waist, and his gaze, to yours.

“(y/n), are you okay?” His grip on your waist tightened as he waited for your response, a smile creeping onto his lips as he saw the corners of your mouth rise ever so slightly.

“I’m okay,” you told a half truth. You weren’t okay, but as long as he was with you, that was all you needed. “We’re okay.”

He exhaled, his breath shaking from the slight laughter that escaped his lips. He was just so happy to hear you speak again. To see you smile again.

“It would have been nice,” you agreed, scooching yourself forward to place your hands on his neck, “And that baby would have been lucky to have you as a dad, Henry,” you smiled lovingly at the boy who was now trying not to crumble before you in a completely different way than before. 

“It would have been nice,” he repeated, pulling you into his chest, his arms holding you against him tightly, “It just wasn’t the right time, is all,” he tried to convince himself, although the wound was still very much fresh and bleeding.

“It just wasn’t the right time,” you confirmed, new tears falling from your eyes this time. Blissful tears. Thankful tears. “But someday it will be,” you hoped with every fiber in your being that you were right. And so did he.

“The rate Hockstetter’s going, he’s bound to knock up some bitch or another,” Henry offered, your only response being a cocked eyebrow, “Maybe we can have that one.”

It took you a minute, but you couldn’t help laughing at the stupid expression he was giving you. You never quite got used to his sense of humor, but damn, did you love him.