#just yelling into my corner of the void here

[platoniclace]

You Ever Have Those Realizations?

You're just sitting, doing your thing, maybe reading, and suddenly, you are hit in the face with the steel baseball bat of epiphany. You have now realized why you love that one character *so much.*

Yeah, so anyways, I was reading Uncanny Spider-Man last night, as you do, because I was curious about this little mini-series. Overall, not a bad series. A little rushed, but ah well. A little odd, too, but this is X-Men; what isn't a little odd? Not the point, though. Here I was reading when I got to this panel:

And, okay, ow. Were the writers of this comic present in my therapy session yesterday?

Needless to say, alongside this panel appeared the aforementioned steel baseball bat.

To the face.

(but not the groin, that's a different metaphor of mine that doesn't quite fit here)

But it just hit me all at once. Kurt is a character that's been beaten down by life in more ways than one. He's tried, he's tried *a lot,* and he has great reason to be angry or bitter or resentful. It would make complete sense for a character like him to hit a point and give up entirely, and his rant here about deserving to stop really hits home.

And yet he's none of those things. He absolutely has his moments (like above), but who doesn't? Overall, Kurt's character is consistently depicted as someone full of hope, someone who tries to see the best, who clings to his faith and keeps pushing forward because he believes it's all ultimately worth it. And good Lord if I don't feel that. I just got done telling my therapist how I'm just so tired, how I want it all to stop, how I want to stop putting on that brave face and pushing on like a good little soldier. And yet here I am praying to God Almighty for strength to keep going because He definitely knows I have none left.

Anyways, all this to say, I love Nightcrawler a lot for quite a few different reasons, and I'm quietly talking myself off the cliff of immediately tattooing this furry elf onto my body with money I don't have.

Have a lovely day, friend :)

P.S. Extra Kurt panel that I also vibe with 1000% as a reward for reading my little ramble

[epsilontauri]

.

[127rkives]

</3 hotline bling || j. jaehyun </3

about? jaehyun misses her, but she’s on to bigger better things. (world’s worst synopsis but it’s the best i got bro) warnings? angst!!! fwb? non idol au. fem reader. mentions of sex, alcohol use, drug use (weed). i think that's all. wc? 1.7k notes? another old repost👹

you used to call me on my cellphone late-night when you need my love

************************************************ 3 months, 1 week, and 4 days. that’s how long it had been since jaehyun last saw you. but, hey, who's counting? if he had been, he would have succumbed to that void feeling in his chest by now. the one created by you but ultimately worsened by his own actions. his own actions ruined the best thing he ever had. but it was your fault too, right? 

if you didn't have such an illuminating smile, such a feather-light yet addicting touch, such an effervescent personality, such a radiant aura, then he the both of you wouldn't be in this situation. no. if you hadn't wanted something more and jaehyun hadn't been too scared of ruining a good thing even though he knew you deserved more—deserved better. he knew you deserved the world and the stars along with it, but he was so afraid he couldn't give it to you. so he cowered behind his thoughts; he dismissed the relationship you had, shutting you out in the process. 

thankfully, you had a mind of your own. you knew better than to remain where you weren't wanted. you knew your worth. that's probably why jaehyun had that constant ache in his chest, that pang in his heart. the void. 

he was expecting you to dismiss the fact that he couldn't come to terms with himself you and continue with the late-night phone calls. sneaking out of the apartment at 1 and 2 in the morning—when he thought everyone was asleep—to spend hours at your place. half naked smoke sessions with deeply thought out conversations lingering in the air with every puff. or hot nights in your room that always seemed to end with clothes scattered here and there, fluffy comforter somehow still clinging to a corner of the bed, and the sheets tangled around only you because he was never there when you woke up. ’he had better, more important things to do.’ you would convince yourself. but when you finally stopped gaslighting yourself with that excuse, you realized he couldn't face his own music.

************************************************ ever since i left the city, yougot a reputation for yourself noweverybody knows and i feel left outgirl, you got me down, you got me stressed out'cause ever since i left the city, youstarted wearing less and goin' out moreglasses of champagne out on the dance floorhangin' with some girls i've never seen before

************************************************ guilt. jealousy. anger. sadness. utter outrage. one of these emotions—possibly even a mixture—was grasping at jaehyun's heart and yanking at the strings right now. even so, he couldn’t stop rewatching the clip on his phone in front of him. it wasn’t like he meant to find you. he just happened to be scrolling through the explore page on instagram and much to his sudden disbelief you were the thumbnail on some video. against his better judgment (of course) he clicks the video, watching you hold a cup of God-knows-what in the air as your body hazily sways in a sea of people inside of what looks to be a club. jaehyun’s face is still one of shock as the girl recording yells something cringey about all of her friends being ‘badies’ and ‘hot girls’ and continues to survey each of her friends, including you, while everyone gets more excited with the new song’s change of pace.

it could’ve been all in his head but that video seemed way longer than the allotted one minute. jaehyun doesn’t know how many times he watches the video before he decides to click on the girl’s profile (a bad decision on behalf of his 2 functioning brain cells). his thumbs seemed to move on their own as he scrolled down her page and searched through countless posts of herself, her with her family, and her with her friends. jaehyun couldn’t pry his eyes from the screen as he clicked on a picture with you in it, hoping you would be tagged. you were, of course, so he clicked. another mistake on his part.

your username and bio were both different. even though jaehyun hadn’t visited your profile in a while, he did remember the main details of it. jaehyun repeated his earlier actions and examined your page this time. there were posts of yourself. you and your dog. you and your family. you and this new group of friends he had never seen until now. you and some man? you and this man hugging, holding hands, kissing, traveling, eating out together? you and jaehyun used to tell each other about everything, and you had certainly never mentioned him before. you people aren’t supposed to move on this fast. hell, jaehyun hadn’t even moved on. he still listened to the playlist you two had created together. he still dreamed about you. he still woke up with the lingering touches of you on his body as if you had been beside him moments before. he still had late-night venting sessions with taeyong as he sniffled and wiped his teary face after genuinely expressing what he was never able to tell you face-to-face.

but, here you were. you had completely evolved from the person jaehyun knew almost 6 months ago. you weren’t the same girl who posted simple photos of herself in cute, comfortable outfits captioned with inspirational quotes, or wholesome reviews of the new greek mythology book you had bought at your favorite, cozy bookstore. this was some girl who had grown to almost a 80,000 followers in just 6 months. this was some girl who posted pointless photos of her newest hermes purse; some girl whose wardrobe would alternate between burberry pantsuits and louboutin heels, to nike tracksuits and air force ones, to what could very well be some bundle of strings fashion nova tries to pass off as a dress. this new girl—this new you—was copacetic, thriving, and glowing. you were happy with this seemingly very outgoing group of people who the old you would’ve never thought about fraternizing with. worst of all, the new you appeared to be enjoying life with some guy that wasn’t jaehyun. jaehyun’s a complete mess without you laying next to him at 2 in the morning and you were supposed to be the same. he was supposed to have the same crippling effect on you as you did on him. 

apparently, jaehyun had been sitting in his whirlwind of thoughts long enough for his phone to lock. he pulled himself out of his trance and made his only decent decision of the day. he went to find taeyong, knowing he would still be awake and available to examine whatever emotional baggage jaehyun had this time. he told taeyong about his earlier revelations (leaving out the part about your apparent love interest). “why don’t you just talk to her? tell her how you actually feel.” weren't the words he expected to hear. he didn't know what to expect, honestly. 

as jaehyun laid in his bed he picked up his phone with shaky hands. when he unlocked it, he felt another tug at his heartstrings, forgetting that his phone had locked on a gorgeous post of your beaming smile while he was in a daze earlier. the time on his phone read 1:46 A.M. he didn't want to call you. you might not pick up. but he wanted an immediate response. jaehyun needed validation right now. he silently prayed that your number hadn't changed along with everything else during your productive time away from him. he opened his messages and clicked on your name; ’y/n💛’. jaehyun smiled to himself as he looked at the last messages sent between the two of you. you had been sending memes back and forth, with the last message before the hiatus being three emojis expressing your laughter. 

jaehyun pondered for a few moments on what to type. ’yo y/n it's me.’ ’hey it's me, jaehyun.’ ’hey y/n we haven't talked in a while.’ he wasted a good twenty minutes overthinking, typing, and erasing potential conversation starters. then he just decided to pour out what was left of his heart. fuck it.

he didn't expect you to reply quickly, but he wanted you to, so jaehyun kept his phone unlocked and open to your messages as he waited. he had peeked two minutes after hitting send, but he didn't notice it then. jaehyun let five more anxious minutes pass before checking again. he almost didn't notice it that time, but somehow he managed to spot it.

the small subscript under his message. ’read’

jaehyun didn't know if it was him being delirious with fatigue or the actual fact of you acknowledging but ignoring him, but his breathing got short and shaky and his tears started to roll. it was finally happening. that void feeling in his chest—in his heart—that place where special memories of you were kept, had finally drawn him in and suffocated him with the realization that you didn't want him anymore, didn’t need him anymore. you no longer needed jaehyun to bring you the pleasures of life. for all he knows now, you never really did.

likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

this work is property of me, 127rkives! no copying, reposting, translating, etc.!

[unspeakable-imagination]

Second Chances do Happen|| Worst Logan

This was a request!!

My asks are open and my masterlist is here

Cw: Fluff, eventual smut, Void! Mutant! Reader, Worst! Logan, canon-typical violence, Wilson’s cannon stupidity, Soulmate! Au/Destiney reader is based off of Yennefer from The Witcher P in V, Oral, F receiving, unprotected sex, 5.3k words

“It’s unbelievable,” You said, leaning against the wall for support as she spoke to Laura.  “He looks different.  Where did you find him, again?”

“In a stupid car in the woods,  it was totaled, and I think they caused it.” Your purple eyes scanned over the sleeping men and then she turned back to her adopted daughter. 

“Mi querida,” she cooed to the teen before flicking her on the head.  “Are you stupid? they could be violent.  Or worse, they could be stupid.” 

“But he looks just like dad, well, he is dad.” Laura rubbed her temples with her thumb and first finger.  “I couldn't help it, It felt wrong to leave them there.”  Your eyes fell, and you stared at the booths on your feet.

“I know,  I wouldn't have left them either. That doesn't mean I'm happy with you, Hija.”  

“I know, mama.” Laura turned on her heel and went to another room, leaving you behind. You stepped down from the raised floor and looked at Logan and the man in the red suit. 

“What would cause a Wolverine to show up in the void?” you looked them over once again, waving your hand and using your magic to ensure they stay asleep just a bit longer. 

You and Laura were eating when you noticed Elektra and Blade begin to make a ruckus in the other room.  You and her looked at eachother and muttered a small “Fuck,” before scooting out your chairs and look around the corner of the doorway.  Red was standing, actually talking to Gambit, and logan was guzzling a bottle of whiskey.  Remy said something to logan about his liquor and Logan barked back, saying he didn't ‘give a fuck,’ before Remy threw a card.  It flew into the bottle and it shattered, the drink falling to the floor.  He threw the shattered bottle to the side and grabbed another, cracking it open as Red mumbled about he was embarrassing him.

“Alright now that thats settled, we came a long way to find you three,” he said.

“There is five of us,” Elektra said. 

“There’s five? Wait wai- uh, Magneto and Mystique? Dear sweet lords above, let it be Magneto and Mystique, because with them-”

“Theyre dead,” blade cut off Red.

“Fuck,” Red yelled, bending down, holding his head. “Now Disney gets cheap? It’s like pinocchio jammed his face in my ass and started lying like crazy.”

“Oh you nasty, Mon petit rouge, laissez le bon temps rouler, Huh?”  (oh you're nasty, my little red.  Let the good times roll.) Gambit’s accent had always been challenging for you to understand, but whatever just rolled from his mouth was impossible for you to decipher.

“Not a single word, what do you do exactly,” Red asked, eyeing Remy.

“Just the playing cards, i make them go boom!” You put your hand to your head and leaned into Laura.  

“Does he not know the word for explosion?” you were missing what other parts of the conversation was going on while talking to her. 

“I don't think so.  I don't even know how he got that accent if he's been in the void since he was born?”

“Now who- who brought us here?” Red asked. You bristled and looked and kept your eyes on laura.  SHe shook her head and sighed, stepping out,

“That would be me,” She said, turning out the doorway. You tried to grab at her wrist but she was too fast, already walking down the stairs and platform. “Don't make me regret it.”  Red lifted his hand and stared at her for a moment of pause.

“Holey shit,” he looked to Logan.  “Logan, that's her, that's X-23.  She's the one I told you about.” Laura stared at Logan looking him up and down and you stepped out, following her to stand behind her. Logan stilled and his eyes met yours.  You're purple eyes that he couldn't forget.  They were duly glowing, and he swore it was like a red string connected him to you.  “How, how did you all get stuck in the void,”Red twisted, looking at everyone and absorbing the fact that you were here too.  “Logan’s wife too? Everybody thought you were dead.”

“There was a knock at the door,” Blade said.  “Next thing I know, the TVA sent me here.”

“Me too,” Elektra seconded Blade's comment.

“Maybe I was born here.  It's- it's  hard to know for sho’,” Remy piped in, fiddling with his cards.

“The TVA decided our universe was dying.” Blade smacked his lips.  “I never got the chance to fight for it.” laura walked around following the walls to inspect Logan and Red,  

“People like us don't go quietly, The TVA knows that, so they took us out.” Elektra looked solem when she said that, and Logan looked away from you, absorbing Elektra's words for a moment.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Laura’s head snapped to Red’s direction and her eyes nearly bulged, as if she knew what was coming.

“In what,” Blade had sat down, tilting his head.  He sounded apprehensive.

“A team, me you,” red started motioning to everybody,” You, me, all of us together. Lets get the fuck out of this place.”

“Dont listen to him, hes a fucking liar,” Logan sloshed the bottle towards him as wade turned his head around  Logan bristled.

“It was an educated wish,” Red shouted. Logan lifted his hand to take another swig of the already half gone bottle.  He leaned back and released a fake laugh, mocking Red.

“Hold on,” you finally said.  “It just clicked, you’re a fucking deadpool.” you raised your hand and Wade’s body went still. He was frozen in place, his muscles tensing from your power.  Your eyes began to glow a vibrant violet, and again, Logan’s eyes were on you.  “How do we know you're not from the corps? You could be one of thoes rotten- headed, homicidal, bullet spewing, fucking freaks.” you stepped forward as Wade tried to squeeze out words and his limbs began to crumple inwards as you turned your open palm into a fist.

“He’s not,” Logan said. Your hands went slack and Wade fell to the ground, catching his breath,  “Don't pop him like a balloon, as much as I'd like to see it.”  

“Look,” wade panted from the floor.  “Despite whatever suit-squeezing tension you two have im talking.”  she shook his head, shaking off his sudden shock and stood up.  “We’ve Been inside Cassandra’s lair.”  everybody’s head snapped to him.  Laura’s, Remy’s, Blade stood up, and Elektra tilted her head, looking at him with uneasiness, “The only way out of the void is through her.  She can get us home.  She told us.”

“Wait, what do you mean you've been inside? You made it out alive?”

“Bullshit,” Elektra cut them off. “Nobody’s ever done that.”

“We did,” Wade's statement was hard, truthful.

“Every time one of us has gone against her, they die,” You said. 

“The Punisher, Quicksilver, Daredevil,” Gambit said.  He was going to say more but Wade interrupted him.

“Daredevil? I am so sorry,” Elektra shrugged, muttering that it was fine.  “Okay,” he said quietly.  There was a beat of silence. 

“Even our sweet baby angel, Johnny Stone,” Wade lifted his head, looking at Remy.  “He up n’ go missin’ like two days ago.” Elektra took a deep breath, shaking her head and looked down.  You chewed on your lip and looked at Laura.  You never really liked Johnny.  He was too vulgar for your taste.

“That is so sad,” Wade responded.  “Whoever that Johnny fella is, I'm sure he’s thriving.” Logan chuckled in the background and you thought about Johnny. He couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his life. “Look, there’s strength in numbers, alright? Us, plus you guys, we can put Cassandra over our knee and force her to let us out of the void.” Blade scoffed but your heartbeat picked up a little.  The chance to go home, you and Laura? It was like a dream.  “I know what it means to feel self- doubt,” Wade started, but Elektra interrupted him. 

“I don't feel that at all,” she said, leaning towards Blade.

“I'm good,” Blade said back to her, putting his hand on his hip.

“Not gnawing at your gut like a coked up tapeworm?” Wade motioned around his stomach, questioning them.

“It's like you're holdin’ up a mirror to m’ soul,” Remy responded to him, staring at him like he finally felt understood.  Wade shifted and began marching forward to the main of the group.

“You guys may not have been able to save your universes, but you can avenge them. Its what Johnny would have wanted.” 

“Wait,” Elektra said, her face morphing to one of thought.  “You knew johnny?” You and Laura looked at eachother, trying to guess what would happen next.

“O-ho, yeah,” Logan began.  A gross smirk formed on his face. “Dickhead here, he talked him into a team-up and Johnny came down with a little case of the deads.” You snorted.

“No, no, no we don't know that,” Wade tried to fight against Logan's words. “It was just a flesh wound.” 

“I wouldn't be surprised if he's dead with that filthy mouth,” you said.

“He may have survived,” Wade tried to reason but Logan was having none of it.

“If he survived that, he's trying for death,” Logan egged him on.

“Thank you, DOCTOR WOLVERINE,” Wade exacerbated.

“Spill it,” Blade said.

“What did you do to Johnny, huh? Talk or I'm gonna stop here,” Remy lifted a card between his fingers.  His cards and his eyes began to glow and he almost snarled.

“Okay, hey, okay. He ran his fat ass mouth about Cassandra.” he did a mocking hand motion. “Then she zip-zapped his skin. She left his organs to splash crudely onto the ground while the soil greedily drank his blood. It was Horrible! He was like a brother to me.  Look, he died before he could make a difference,” he rocked back and forth on his heels.  “But maybe you couldn't save your worlds,” Logan was laughing in disbelief. “But Jesus Christ,” Wade continued, “You can save mine.”

“We dont give a shit about your world,”Elektra started. She looked at Blade while pointing at Wade. “But if these two made it out of there alive, maybe together we can get back in and take her down.”

“Where i come from, we call that suicide, Shia.” Remy looked to Elektra.

“If we can block her psychic powers, we can get a leg up on her.  I know it.  Now I know Magneto’s dead, but I venture to guess that his helmet is lying around here somewhere,” Wade began to motion to the floor areas behind him.

“Cassandra melted the helmet,” Blade said unenthused.

“Fuck!”

“After she killed him.”

“Fuck,” wade yelled again, throwing his head back and leaning.

“She dont play,” Blade explained.

“She knows that helmet was the only way to protect anyone from her powers,” Elektra put a hand on her hip while she explained. “The only helmet that's that strong is Juggernauts and he works for Cassandra.” And so They began to make a plan. Trying to hype eachother up.  Logan gargled the whiskey in the back of his throat, but they ignored him. Wade pointed his hand towards Laura. 

“X-23, what's it gonna be?”

“My names Laura, Lets fucking go,” she said, looking to you. 

“Language,” you said,  you crinkled your nose and thought for a second.  “If we can get back home, I'm In.”

“Let’s fucking go,” wade pumped his arms. 

“Sold like chicken n’ coke,” Blade said.

“We’re doing this?” Elektra said, mildly shocked.

“Youre all fucking dead,” Logan said.

“My GOD, read the ROOM?”

Night had fallen and most of the team had settled down in their respective bunks.  Logan sat outside, nursing a bottle around a fire. You gazed at him through one of the broken windows.  You saw how he was different from your late husband, but you noticed the similarities in their personalities and gruff exteriors.  Then, you noticed Laura marching towards him. You bristled and moved away from the window sill to run through the base and towards the door.  You were going to grab her, pull her back inside, even if she was 19, she was still the child you’d cared for over eight years.  But you paused.  You paused when you heard her speak to him.

“You remind me of him,” She started. “Angry, drunk, mean.”

“Sounds like a great guy-” she stopped him from speaking.

“I wasn't Finished,” she snapped. “Showed up when it mattered the most. Couldn't help it,” there was a beat of silence as he straightened his back and sighed.  SHe stared into the fire.  “You may not know it, but you're a good man, Logan.” He chuckled and raised his brows, but avoided eye contact.

“You might not know it, but apparently, im the worst Logan.” You nearly teared up, listening to them

“I got to have a life because of you,” she looked up to him, a look of sadness crossing her face.  “I got to grow up because of you.” she sucked on her lip and looked back to the fire. “Alot of kids did.”

“Alot of kids didnt grow up because of me.  Trust me kid, i'm no hero.” She looked to him again and eyed the yellow suit he wore.

“Your suit says otherwise.”

“Yeah? I really like it.  Scott used to beg me to wear it…” he trailed off.  “So did Jean, Storm, even Hank.  All of them.  They wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn't.  I kept telling them they looked fucking ridiculous. “ He mumbled and nodded his head to one side.  “I just couldn't have them thinking I wanted to be there.  Laura watched him and you slowly stepped out the door, standing behind them, Listening.  “And then one day, while i was off on my own, the humans came.”  he swallowed thickly, staring into the darkness of the night while he spoke.  “They went mutant hunting.” You covered your mouth as you watched the back of his head.  

“I can guess the rest,” Laura tried to stop him.

“No, no, let me- let me say it.” he nodded, trying to hold back the choke in his voice.  You noticed that the bottle of liquor was long abandoned at his feet and his hands were folded in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees. “I need to say it.” Laura pursed her lips.  “By the time I stumbled home, shitfaced from the bar, it was too late.”  She looked away from him and you chewed on your lip.  “They were dead, every-” his lip trembled and he tried to blink away tears.  

“This suits all I got to remind me of who they were. Remind me of what I did.”  He sniffed and grabbed the bottle from his feet, taking a swig.  You stepped forward and put your hands on Laura’s shoulders.  

“It's time to go inside, Laura.” she looked over her shoulder, and sucked on the inside of her cheek, nodding at you.

“Yes, Madre,” she said, scooting off the log.  You watched her circle around and  go inside and you sat on the log next to him.  You looked at the fire and gently took the bottle from him.  He gave you a look while you took a drink and handed it back.

“Whoever you think I am, [Name], Youve got the wrong guy.” he took a drink from his bottle and you looked at him.

“You were always the wrong guy.” You looked down at your hands, looking at the scars between your knuckles.  “When I first told my Logan we were soulmates, he said the same thing.” your gaze moved to the sky and looked at the dim stars.  “He didn't believe me, not until I showed him the same scars he had.  The only scars he could keep at the time.” Logan looked at you, knowing what you were saying.  “But, the older he got, the more the adamantium- the food, the more he poisoned himself,” You took a second.  “His healing couldnt keep up.  He left us all behind.  He didn't even bother to stop and think about what he was doing when he ate that shit for another twelve years.” you brought a hand up to rub your face.  “The scars just kept coming, and coming.”  you hadn't noticed the way he was looking at you.  “And god, the pain you feel when you get impaled? Dying on a fucking stump,” you scoffed. “No wonder it fucking killed him. I waited for years, watching the scars disappear.  I hoped I'd join him.  And then Laura and I got sent here.  God knows why.”

“You seem like the only person that isn't happy with your Logan.”

“I'm the only one that truly knew my Logan.” he went silent and you looked at him.  “Imagine my surprise, though, when yesterday afternoon, suddenly the scars between my knuckles came back?” he tilted his head and you moved your hands into the light of the fire.  Right were his claws would have come out, sat shiny, fresh pink scars.  “I mean fuck, i know that Logan told me in every lifetime, but I Didnt imagine he’d truly meant it.” 

“My woman didn't make it past the engagement before she died.”  he looked up from your hands to your eyes.  “She told me she’d find me in another life, that I was worth it.”  You snorted. 

“Damn right.  Logan’s, no matter how bad, are always good on the inside.  You don't have me fooled.” you smiled at him.  “You must have been through a hell of two fights yesterday.  I've got the pain of about a dozen bullets and an unbelievable amount of stab wounds.”

“You could feel that?” his brows shot up.  “Even if we arn’t?”

“We are, must be if i could.” you scratched your collarbone.  “I guess we kept our promises?” He wiped his lips with the back of his hand.  

“I guess so.”  you licked your lips and scooted closer to him.  “You can't be all that bad if you're here with an annoying ass deadpool of all things.”

“He grew on me,” he laced a hand around your back and pulled you onto his knee.  “And the idea of having my little violet back is growing on me too,” he said.  Your heartbeat paced faster at the sound of the nickname, on that you'd been called for years. You turned yourself around and looked at him, bringing a hand up to trace the lines on his face.

“I know you're not him, but you're like a second chance-soulmate.” you glazed at where his eyes were looking and noticed how he stared at your shoulder.  “What is it?”

“Every detail is the same, down to the freckles on your arms,”  He put his forehead against your shoulder and took a deep breath.  “You smell the same.  You even talk the same,” he groaned into your skin.  

“Hold on,” you murmured. You waved your hand in a circle behind him, opening a white-boardered portal into a distant treehouse.  It's where you'd go when you needed private time.  You slipped off of his thigh and over the log, turning around and walking backwards, motioning at him with a finger.  “You comin’, bub?”

He spun around and nearly tripped as he tried getting off, falling to his hands and jumping through the portal, onto you like an animal.  He pushed you back onto the floor of the treehouse, and the portal closed.  He looked around and noticed the cotton covered straw bed, then hoisted you up and threw you towards it, listening to your squeals.  When your hand touched the bed, you used your magic to turn it into a more desirable bed, and around you, candles began to light from the window sills.  

“God, look at you.” he grumbled, stalking closer to you. You looked at him and sucked your bottom lip between your teeth.  “Just as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he said.

“Logan,” you said,  “I want to show you something.  He tilted his head and got down on his knees in front of you.  “Logan, Close your eyes.”  When he did, you gently placed your hand on his cheek, cradling it as if he were a glass cup and began feeding all of the good and intimate memories you had to him.  HIs lips parted, almost gaping as he absorbed the happy memories you fed him, even recognizing a few that mirrored his own memories in his old world.

“I love you. Logan” you said, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.  “Every version of you, every part of you, every flaw and strength.  I am consumed by you, I adore you, and I am yours.”  He groaned and opened his eyes, his arms snaking around your waist as he crawled up the edge of the mattress, climbing on top of you.  He laid you down the further up he got and you watched him in awe.  He leaned down and trailed his hands up, under your shirt. When his fingers made it to your ribs, he gently pressed the pads of his fingers over the divots in your skin.  He hummed and leaned down, dipping his face into the crook of you neck.

“I love you too, [Name],” she hummed into your neck and then gently bit your collarbone.  You whimpered and he sat up, pulling at your pants waistline,  he wanked them down with your panties and you hummed, lifting your hips to help.  Once they got around the curve of your hips and ass, you readjusted so you could sit up and start unlatching parts of his suit.  YOu managed to remove all the buttons, clasps, and belts that held it secure and pulled it over her head.  He took a moment of pause while you did, and once his shirt was off, he slipped your pants off of your ankles and threw them to a similar area in which you'd thrown his shirt.  

“Logan,” you mewled.  He rubbed his cheek against your raised knees and hummed,

“Yes, my violet?” you huffed and  wrapped your calf around him, pulling him closer.

“Don't tell me youre getting a whiskey dick?  Or worse, shy?” he chuckled.

“Absa-fucking-lutley not, baby.  Are you running out of patience?” he pushed your knees apart and slotted himself between them.  Leaning down, he placed his lips on yours.  He was trying to be gentle, but your hands flew up and threaded into his hair.  You used it as an anchor to pull him down further onto you.  He groaned and deepened the kiss, becoming sloppy as he pulled up, pushing his nose across your cheek and down, then shoving his face into your breastbone. He kissed your chest, then moved down further, kissing the area where the curve of your ribs met, below your sternum. You whimpered and it only fuelled him more.

“Lo,” You muttered, hands still threaded in his hair.  You gave it a gentle tug and he hummed against your skin before he moved further down, placing a kiss over your stomach, then just above and below your belly button, then he kissed your waistline before lifting you by your thighs.  He pushed you further up the mattress and kissed the inside of your thigh, just below your warmth. You trilled as your thigh twitched away, just opening them further.

“So fucking eager,” he pushed it down till it laid on the bed and kissed the other thigh before his tongue shot out and licked a stripe up your cunt. Your back arched and you moaned.  He grumbled, the vibrations doing another thing to you.  “You even taste the same,” he mumbled, pulling away just for a moment.  He was almost immediately back nose, nose deep, lapping at your heat.  Your hips jerked, and his face only got buried deeper between your thighs. You nearly choked when you felt his lips wrap around your clit and you stilled.  He growled at your hands tugging his hair, trying to pull him impossibly deeper.

“Lo,” you chanted, “Lo, please i want more.” he dropped his jaw and only consumed you more, devouring you like a starved man.  “Log- ah!” his teeth had grazed you and it caused your back to arch again, then he pulled away. 

“I need to get you ready, Vie, you're not ready,” He gently placed mouth kisses in the crevice where you hip meat your abdomen.  He waited for your response.  

“Lo, I trust you,” you sighed.  “I thought I'd die waiting for you,” you brought your free hand up, draping the back of it over your mouth as you caught your breath.

“You mean?” he was questioning you quietly, but you heard him.  

“I haven't been with anyone else, only you, only my soulmate,” you whispered.  Something possessive in him pushed to the surface and he snarled, biting your thigh before he quickly ducked his head back into you, snaking his hand down your leg and sticking a finger in your hole. You cried out, and it only fuelled him to suck harder, using his tongue like a magic wand.  You began to chant again, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.  You desperately tried to grind your hips on him, feeling a warm pool in your belly.  

“Please, please Logan, I need it, I feel so good,” you threw your head back and took a deep breath, trying to breathe through the pressure in your abdomen.

“What, are you trying to come already? Can my little wildflower take it?” he added another finger and latched around your vulva again.  You were sure you’d explode, becoming far too overstimulated after so long.

“No, Lo, I can't take it, please please?” you pushed your hips into him again and then distantly, you heard him mumble about letting go.  You hardly heard him over your own bliss as you fell undone.  You felt the warmth in your belly flow down and processed the sounds of Logan's frantic groans as he greedily swallowed whatever you had to give him, his fingers having gone still. He worked you through your orgasam and smacked his lips poking his head out, crawling up between your thighs.

“Tastes like wildflower honey,” he said before he pressed his lips against yours.  You whimpered into the kiss, tasting yourself and doing everything you could, practically trying to swallow him.  He broke away to breathe and you only had just taken the time to look at his slick-covered face.  It shined in the candlelight and you used your elbows to push yourself up.  He was working to remove his pants, cursing under his breath at how tedious it was to take off.  You took the time to raise your shirt over your head and threw it into the pile with the other discarded clothes.  He lost his train of action and stared up at you, his eyes zeroing on your tits.  

God have mercy on my soul,” he mumbled, completely forgetting his pants. He lunged his way into your chest and sucked one nipple into his mouth while the other was consumed by his palm, kneading your breast like it was bread dough.  You trailed your fingers down his back and swiped your fingers, undoing the remaining buckles and buttons with your magic. He leaned away from your chest, only losing contact at the last moment to slip his pants down his thighs and off his legs completely.  You swallowed thickly at the sight and raked your gaze over him before focusing in on his face.  He rotated so he was sitting on the bed, and Leaned back, balancing on his palms.  “Get on, Vie,” he said and you crawled forwards, twisting so you were straddling him.  

“You sure, Lo?” he let out a warning growl and you submitted, raising yourself and reaching down to line him up.  Tentatively you sank down, slowly and gently.  You and he both hissed and he sat up straight, grabbing your hips like handles to help you down.  You let go and brought your own arms up, draping them over his shoulders.  You heard him curse, but hardly paid attention.  You were too focused on the way it felt as his cock sheathed itself, splitting you open.

“I'm sorry for what i'm about to do,” he said it in your ear and you shivered, nodding. He gripped your hips, his knuckles turning white and he shoved you down, pushing himself into the hilt.  Your head tossed back, and you cried, a call to the gods to hear your pleasure.  Logan let out a shaky breath and pushed his pelvis upwards, and let a throaty groan fall past his lips.

He let you set your own pace, one of his arms strung under your thigh to help lift and drop you in the pattern you set.  His other hand ran across your hip, over your stomach, and his thumb rubbed down, drawing patterns against the sensitive bud.  Your hips stuttered and you keeled forwards, curling into his hold.  You buried your face into his neck and he listened to you heave.  

“Lo,” you whined “‘s too much,” he stilled his hand under you trying to give you a break, but you didn't stop, still lifting yourself, up and down, on him.  He grinned, watching you, his eyes casting down.  

“Yeah? You're not gonna give yourself a break?” you shook your head, humming a ‘ nuh uh,” and he scoffed, him arm finding its place against your ass again to help you.  

“Need t’ come, need you t’ come- come in me,” you begged.  He briefly took a double take before he felt a fire ignite, in his soul.  He licked his lips and then used his leverage to raise you quicker and drop you harder, effectively making him pound into you.  He grunted, relishing your heedy breaths and whiny moans.  He felt your walls constrict, as if you were trying to suck him dry and empty his balls in the lewdest way possible.  His thumb didn't stop its pace and instead picked up.  He heard you babble, saying unintelligible words. You placed sloppy, breathy, open-mouthed kisses over his shoulder, drooling all over his back.  He grunted and you hiccuped as you felt his cock twitch in you and he pumped his hips to try and meet your drops.  The slapping of wet skin almost echoed in the tree house, and you began to emit crude, heavy breaths that were hard to describe, as if they were a mixture of growling and panting. 

He felt your insides strangle him and you stilled, hilting him as your second release racked over your body.  You shook, almost convulsing. He groaned and his own motion stopped, the tension in his own abdomen snapping.  You felt his cum squirt, thickly covering your insides and you whimpered at the warmth.  

Both of you sat there, mostly still.  He combed his fingers through your knotty hair and whispered into your ear about how well you did, and you leaned into him, gradually relaxing.  You don't know how long you sat there.  Long enough for him to have gone soft.  He gently lifted you off, laying you on your side on the bed and hovering over you. 

“‘M sorry I don't have anything to clean you up with.” you shook your head, growing tired

“I dont need it, just need your cuddles.” he smiled and tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. “Oh god,” you groaned.  "I just remembered, we are going to Cassandra’s lair at dawn.”

“I guess we need to get our beauty sleep,” he said, climbing over you to be your big spoon.  He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, listening to your breathing and rubbing circled into your back, helping you fall asleep.

Taglist: @callsign-ember @catwomankyleslina

[7waystreet]

toxic | min yoongi

synopsis — it's the night before your wedding but your ex bf yoongi reels you in for a taste of what you've been missing

genre — fluff; smut

warnings — 18+, TW! cheating, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex

word count — 2.3k+

It's the evening before what any other person in the world would most probably feel beyond excited for, not even being able to properly voice the happiness which consumes their breath. Having found that one special person completing the unsaid void in their hearts, almost everyone goes into it with the mindset of only wanting it to happen once in this lifetime. Your wedding.

But you find yourself slipping out of the family festivities early under the pretense of wanting to get a good night's rest being the bride, silently hiding back in the heavy shadows before the much anticipated ceremony tomorrow. Looking for an escape from the overwhelming burden weighing all the way down to your gut, you secretly change into a baggy set of sweats and pull your hood up, eventually cowering in the corner of the sports bar at your hotel lobby, all alone. You feel pathetic sipping on your drink late into the night hours, the urge to yell at yourself for being ungrateful for the wonderful things you've been blessed to have in your life only getting stronger as the alcohol begins spiking your bloodstream, your thoughts concluding on the fact that you're just utterly insane for somehow still not being content with your fiancé's love.

But you now find yourself wondering... is love just about being content? Or is love about experiencing every single one of those all consuming and wild emotions that drive you to the depths of craziness, but also give you that exhilarating rollercoaster ride of pleasure and thrill, than otherwise?

Your head sways sideways in painful defeat, a drunken chuckle escaping your lips as your mind drifts off to your past. Of course you'd tried the latter with nearly no success, the memories of that long term toxic relationship soon flashing before your eyes like a movie, an aching numbness sucking the life out of your body.

Despite everything that's happened, you still can't stop thinking about Yoongi.

How could you possibly forget him when he was your first? Your first kiss, which he'd ever so gently pressed into your trembling lips after he'd walked you home late at night from that house party. Your first boyfriend, the way his cheeks had turned cherry red when he'd mustered up the courage to ask you out still fresh in your mind despite it being years and years ago. He was even the person you'd lost your virginity to, the night he'd snuck in through your window to sneak into your sheets sorely rippling through your brain like a wave threatening to drown you. He was your first love, and your first heartbreak too.

"Would you like another drink, miss?" the bartender's voice drifting from somewhere up ahead rips you out of your drowse, your head nodding in acknowledgment, still hanging low under your hood, to further your wishes to deprive yourself from any sensations.

"You know, you really shouldn't be drinking so much at this hour."

Like a snake lying patiently in wait until he chooses to slither back in, Yoongi smoothly takes the seat right next to you on the high top chairs at the bar, the comment he's just made in his deep voice jolting your body into a wake state as if you'd been shocked to life with a defibrillator. You obviously don't have the courage to turn and look at his face, purely out of the fear that you'll get lost into those cunning eyes again, but you can still tell it's him from the attractive scent of his pinewood musk cologne mercilessly seeping into your senses, dangerously sucking you back into the reminiscence of falling asleep to that same smell while being snug in his arms.

"How did you even find me here?"

"I can spot my own sweatshirt easily, even from a mile away."

Your face streaks hotter as your eyes quietly drift down to really observe the black FG hoodie you'd inattentively thrown on earlier, not even thinking twice about how it'd actually belonged to Yoongi when you'd stolen it from him back in the day when you two were still dating, a right of passage for any girlfriend in the case, of course.

"Still mad I never gave it back to you?"

"Nah, it looks way better on you than it ever did on me" you can hear a slight sigh in his upbeat voice, his tone of speech quite easy to decipher, and you'd understood perfectly well Yoongi had indeed grinned to himself while speaking those words.

A smile curls up on the already loosening muscles of your face, your swerving mind fully malfunctioning and finally ordering your head to turn in his direction, just in time to catch Yoongi flash his endearing gummy smile, a heart warming sight you hadn't been graced with for ages. A heart wrenching sight you've no doubt missed.

"What do you want Yoongi?"

"Nothing. I'm just here to check up on you and make sure you're ok before, you know, the big day."

A hint of spitefulness no doubt lingers in his fake act of sounding perfectly unaffected by it all, even the true master of disguise failing miserably to hide his strained feelings about the reality you're both trapped in at that given moment.

"Hah. How sincere of you... Where the hell were you when I really needed you?"

His entire demeanor tenses up to a rock when your unexpected words pierce him like shards of glass, his thinned lips pressing on each other while his saddened eyes peer into your glistening ones, his mind clearly thinking his thoughts through in a flash for a few brief moments before saying something he'd later end up regretting.

"We've talked about this. You really wanna go there again?"

With a whip of frustration, you veer your gaze away from him in a swipe, your elbows digging into the bar top at once, your bare face now buried rigidly in your palms. Your eyes remain tightly shut, stars beginning to sparkle in your dusky vision from your eyeballs being intensely pressured into your hands, your breathing certainly shaky as you try hard not to blow your head off in the anger that's surging through your chest.

"Hey look at me" Yoongi's hand softly twists up around your wrist and tugs at you, the feeling of his palm touching your skin like a sharp burn.

"And do what?! Stop trying to be nice now... it's too late! You fucked everything up!"

It's true. Yoongi's scorching love always came at a conditional price, not any of that unconditional shit you see everywhere in the movies and dramas. You'd done everything you could to support him in his difficult venture of establishing himself as a music producer in this tough industry, selflessly spending countless hours with him in the studio for moral support, sacrificing your own health and pushing your own dreams aside to fully be there for him.

But what did he even do for you? Slap a bandaid over your hurt by buying you the most expensive and exquisite gifts with the flowing cash in his bank account, without ever prioritizing you when you really needed him to be there. All you had asked was for him to really invest some time to strengthen your relationship, but the constant neglect because of his rising career became the last nail in the coffin, finally breaking off your trust in him for never being a dependable partner.

"You know I was trying to make money. For our future together. To make sure we were financially stable and secure."

"How happy is that money making you now with having to see me get married to him?"

"And how much happier are you with him than you were with me?"

The icy cold silence that follows forces you both to freeze up, exasperated eyes locked into one another as you silently sit there with a breathless shake, shocked by the sudden direct questions you'd thrown onto each other. But you both seemingly know the answers to those no matter how wretchedly wrong they seem, perfectly understanding each other without even a need for words.

Yoongi's hand gradually moves up from your wrist, quietly loosening up your clenched fist and sliding his palm along yours, his pretty fingers intertwining with yours before he lightly squeezes your hand.

"Come with me."

It's like a fatal poison, his raspy voice, the sweetness of it brutally addicting, and you're sure it's only going to consume you in the end. Your brain keeps saying no but you're still unable to escape him, your feet now following along his as if they have a mind of their own.

You're not quite sure if you're using your hood to hide your shame or just your face as you enter the elevator with Yoongi, hand in hand, not daring to look up or making eye contact with anyone in case someone from your family spots you, Yoongi's feet eventually guiding you over to his hotel room. Your heart feels like it's going to give out when he closes the door after you've both entered the four walls of security, guaranteeing your privacy, your stomach setting on fire, when he gently pushes your back against the door.

Yoongi's hands skim over your curves, his grip finally firming around your waist right as your mind goes blank, his face slowly pushing in closer until you can feel his breath on your nose, your quivering lips instantly pressing back into his when he impatiently kisses you. Even after all of these years of not being intimate with him, you both seem to find your rhythm as if your bodies were hardwired into it, his chest rubbing into yours as the kissing heats up in no time. Yoongi gently sucks on your tongue, still remembering just how much of a turn on it is for you, unexpectedly taking a pause and moving back from your lips with a big smooching sound.

"Are you still on birth control?"

Your nod of reassurance calms down the visible anxiousness stirring on his face, one of his arms dipping straight underneath your thighs while the other supports your back, being held up in his arms making your heart skip a beat, all while he walks you over to the white linen sheets on the fluffy hotel bed. Yoongi ceremoniously throws you on top of the mattress, a gasp leaving your mouth as your body bounces from the motion, your tense gaze taking in the sight of him standing there untying your shoes for you, his eyes firmly fixed on your face as he does it, not wanting to miss capturing even a second of emotion he's making you feel. He swiftly throws your shoes away behind him, the pair loudly smacking the wall in the hotel room before he slowly leans forward and begins undressing you from your sweats, tossing everything away messily onto the floor, eventually leaving you naked and shivering in bed right in front of him.

And just like that, he's already on his knees for you, his head tucked in between your legs despite his eyes rooted on you, his mouth swishing in a quick motion to drip out his spit onto your folds right before his tongue slowly glides it around to get to wet. He way he flicks on your clit with the tip makes your toes curl up in excitement, the familiar sound of him moaning at the sight of your pleasure prickling up your back in painful goosebumps. He doesn't hesitate to jam his tongue in your hole and place open mouthed kisses on your clit, the motion upping your heart palpitations at once, forcing you to run out of breath and tense up in your place.

"Fuck. I missed the taste of your pussy."

There's absolutely no thoughts running in your mind now except for what your eyes are visually processing, Yoongi edging you on to only pull his mouth away to make you wait just a little bit longer, his legs rising back up to his feet before he starts taking his clothes off one by one, giving you enough time to ogle at every inch of his naked figure in front of you, the vision of his slim stunning body forming a deep knot in your chest.

He's already spun you around and made you get on all fours, now cutting you off from observing the way he looks, only allowing your senses to experience how his body makes you feel being pressed up against your back. His thick cock angles towards your heat, and the way he teases you by rubbing it along your folds for him to meet with your dripping wetness drives you fucking insane. Without any warning, he tightly enters your heat with a slam while you both close your eyes in unison, diving deep into the nostalgic comfort which had imprinted straight onto your souls.

You knew Yoongi loved hitting it from the back because he always liked seeing your ass jiggle from the action, and he gets to live his dream one last time before you become someone else's, the palm of his hand spanking your buttcheeks for the full effect, leaving a red hand print as if to mark you as his in wild desire. Your face scrunches up and teeth bite into the pillow as he spanks hard another time, his cock ramming in and out of you with full speed, just how you like it though. Rough sex with him got you off like no other, the way he mastered the understanding of the fine line between real pain and pleasure a turn on in itself, and he knows just how much you admire that, his nails now digging into your ass and pulling you even closer to thrust even further in to hit your g-spot.

You can't help but clench around his length in no time, a growl escaping his mouth when he feels your walls tightening up around him, the moans that follow furthering both of your pleasure as the friction finally pushes the two of you over the edge. His cum mixed with yours slips out of your heat as he pulls his cock out, flopping down on the bed next to you in a breathless state, your own body still experiencing the waves of your orgasm as if it didn't want to ever stop feeling it.

"Don't marry him, (y/n). Let's try to make this work. I'll do better."

[forever--darling]

young padawan

summary: in the midst of chaos, you have only two to hold onto, obi-wan & his young padawan. as bakura continues to burn, you can't deny the comfort & safety that is brought by the two jedis, all while you recount your life on the fallen planet

pairings: anakin skywalker x princess!reader

word count: 6.5k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, swearing, mention of blood, the long escape that is from bakura, as well protector!anakin

series masterlist | 01

“Your highness, we must go.” 

The alarm was like something you had never heard before, almost like a high-pitched scream. It was blaring, outweighing the sounds of gunfire and screams from across the floor. Eyes piercing the back of the Jedi before you, leading you through the capital, his light saber clutched tightly in his opposing arm, the other held tightly onto your hand. 

“No, no, we can’t leave him. We have to go back, we have to try—try to convince him—or something.” 

The pale robes were rustled along his frame, held together by the single brass armor wrapped around his abdomen. His long hair brushing along his neck, head on a swivel as he quickly lead you throughout the abandoned halls of the building. 

“Princess…” 

“We must—” 

“Your—” 

“Obi-Wan, please.” 

Screams and yells echoed across the corridors, corridors that were no longer untouched, you noticed. Rather just as red, just as bright as the alarm, bathed in the blood of the staff of the capital of fellow Bakurans. A void had seemed to fall upon you, numbness that led to silence and disengagement, as you walked quickly but carefully, almost glued to the older Jedi's back. Eyes sweeping along the nightmare that had become of your city. 

“Y/N!” he yelled, both of his hands taking a firm hold upon your shoulders, “We cannot go back. There is not enough time. Not if we want to succeed in your survival. We must go now.”

This is the end. 

Of not you then your sanity, no doubt. The hood felt heavy along your head, concealing the peripheral of your vision, of the horrors that were sure to surround you. As Obi-Wan halted at the edge of the hall, his arm barred out blocking you from advancing. With his saber raised, he peeked around the corner, the hidden corridor that not many people realized was even useable within the capital.

You merely held your breath, waiting, worrying how this would all end. 

His eyes flickered around the room though you were hidden from it. Voices echoed, paired with footsteps in the opposite direction. As they faded, he peered back as if to check on you. Your face was expressionless, a fine line into nothing. 

The static appeared again, quiter than it had earlier, from Obi-Wan’s belt. The voice was the same as it had been before. “Master! Master, come in!” 

Obi-Wan pulled the com near his face and held the button near the side of it, “I’m here, my Padawan.” 

“What’s your status, Master?” 

“You shouldn’t worry, young apprentice we are near. Shouldn’t be more than another minute or so.” 

“The gates are overcome with rebels, sir. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up.” 

A worry line etched across the Jedis face at the sound of his young Padawan’s voice. You watched it carefully, almost quizzically. The only thing you could swear to remember from that day other than the red lights and the red walls. 

“Should I head for the ship? Get it as close as I can?” 

“No. I may need you nearby to help with the safe extraction of the princess.” 

He protested, “But Master—” 

“I believe in you, Anakin. Forge for the east side of the capital. You will find a row of doors there. That is where we will meet you.” 

Placing the com back onto his belt, he turned down the static enough that it were mumble. He peeked once again arond the corner and as he did he spoke back at me, “The room is clear but we have to move quick, another raid could be advancing soon. Just another hallway and then we’ll be near the east entrance.” 

His words felt as if they had gone in one ear and out the other. You could only stare forward, eye vacant of reality other than the last remaining gaze upon your father’s broken frame. He could have been dead at that very moment. Slain, sure to go down with the rest of the capital if the clones were to set fire to it as they had with most of the city. 

Obi-Wan had sensed your hesitation as well as yoru voidness. “Your highness?” 

“Yes?” your voice was meek, a whisper, startled as if he had pulled you from the depths of your mind. 

“I need to ensure that you’re listening to everything I am saying.” 

You nodded, it was all you could get out then as you could hear the echo of footsteps following down the same hallway you two were standing at the end of. Glancing over your shoulder, you waned against Obi-Wan’s back. 

“Okay, now follow close.” 

He extended his saber out from behind the wall, the blue hue emitting along the broken and slicked walls. Ensuring the hood was far across your head, you stepped out just behind Obi-Wan, head moving from side to side following any noises or unsteady silence that poked and prodded at your ears. The woosh of the saber was a mere mumble along the empty corridor of the capital. You were near the front of the building, that you could notice from the once marble pillars that now lay strewn, pulled down. Any and all artifacts and paintings were in ruins, and blood from innocent Bakurans smeared along the front steps.

 The footsteps seemed to get louder, louder as you advanced across the corridor. You felt as if all the hairs on the back of your neck were wire, sticking up, while the energy seemed to shift around the room, it was almost as if you could feel it. “Obi—” 

“Shh.” 

It was then the trot had advanced rather quickly just as you were entering the last hallway. You were so close, so close to being rid of that place. So close and yet—

“We got eyes!” a voice yelled out from the other end of the room, “It’s the princess.” 

As the voice yelled across the room, you felt Obi-Wan grab your arm and swing you around so you were now in front of him near the hallway. As the footsteps sounded like a sudden stampede behind you, gunshots followed, only to be deflected by the blue saber in Obi-Wan’s hands. 

You looked back at him expectnantly not sure what to do as you peered past him to see the rebels followed closely by clones. 

“Run!” Obi-Wan yelled, then, “Run, god damn it. I’ll be right behind you.” 

You did as he asked. You did as your father had planned for you. You turned, and you took off down the hallway, the long pale hallway void of anything and everything. Just a few more turns, and you would be at the east side entrance. The sounds followed of the saber, of Obi-Wan’s struggling breaths, of the com, his voice yelling into it. You didn’t stop, though, not even as the cloak threatened to trip you or the hood had fallen off your head onto your back. 

Not even as the voices followed.

“Not if we want to succeed in your survival. We must go now.”

His words echoed, staining your innocence as you both had left the king to die. 

“You, my dearest daughter, are more like your mother than you ever believe. One day you will make a magnificent queen.” 

“Anakin, be ready at the door,” Obi-Wan’s voice could be heard just down the hallway. 

It was the last thing you heard as you sprinted, through the hallway and out of the large metal door, the red lights still shielding your eyes from the white overheads they once were. Pushing the door open with all of your might, you stepped out, immediately being met with clouds of dark smoke. 

Your feet came to a stop on the outside of steps of the east entrance, the smoke billowing in your face enough to make you cough. Waving away the small gust in front of your face, you glared through the haze immediately feeling the horror amplify before your eyes. Red and orange flames accentuated the once blue and green planet. The city was doused, blinded by so much smoke you could only see the heat through it all. Piles of rubble doused the land as screams of men, women, and children were louder than they had been inside. The color drained from your face then as the only thing you could see through the haze was flashes of light from the guns, the blasters, and collapsed forms. 

A kick of a rock nearby startled you and suddenly you realized just how exposed and vulnerable you were outside — no longer behind a Jedis back. The figure who supposedly kicked the rock from a few feet away, froze in the street, frame turning slightly at the sight of your form through the smoke. He wore a mask concealing his face. 

The anger was gone, the frustration. Suddenly, all that remained was fear. As the stranger tilted his head curiously and took a step closer, you took one further down the steps. You took another, watching carefully how he advanced. As he took another, you broke out in a run down the remainder of the steps. 

You didn’t get very far as at the base of the entrance, a figure popped out from the side wall, their arms wrapping around your torso quickly. Pulling you into them, you felt yourself squirm, panic suddenly washing across your frame as the hold tightened. Just as you felt like yelling out for Obi-Wan, a hand clasped over your mouth as the tall figure pulled you flush against their chest. 

As they did, there seemed to be a sort of hesitation behind their touch. A lack of anger or immorality that you would have expected if it were a rebel. Instead, a certain feeling washed over you, one of unfamiliarity, almost as if the force itself was asking you to relax back into it. Like the energy around you was more than it had been moments ago upon that front step. Fear diminished then.

They leaned closer, their lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as you fought against the iron-like grip. They wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t wane in the slightest. Their palm was warm across your lips and smelled like sweat. Your breathing was short, uneven, moving far too quickly in fear. He could feel it radiating off of you. His grip loosened slightly but didn’t fall from your frame. Carefully, you glanced back, and relief somehow flooded your system at the sight of a Padawan braid in your peripheral vision. 

The Padawan. 

Obi-Wan’s Padawan. 

Sighing against his frame, his nose tickled your temple as he peeked from around the large wall that was hiding the two of you. As he did this, it allowed you to take him in much more closely. He was young, no younger than you but young. You couldn’t help but trace him with your eyes, there was no other comfort you had at that moment. You followed the slope of his nose, of the defining line of his jaw, and the curve to his lips. His eyes were blue. The rare kind of blue that wasn’t too light but almost reflected oceans. A deep blue, that you somehow could see even through the billowing air. His hair was cut short, a dirty blonde along the top with a small ponytail in the back and, sure enough, behind his right ear, a Padawan braid. 

His eyes flickered down to you, having caught you in your act of staring. A small quirk to his lips, you noted as those blue eyes of his flickered across your features quickly, taking in you as well. Or at least that’s what you had thought, not willing to think it into existence. You didn’t have much time to question the validity as the door burst open again, echoing with a slam. 

Heavy breathing could be heard, but nothing else as the figure stood still upon the entrance. The Padawan lifted his finger to his lips, advising you to remain quiet, as his hand remained clasped across your mouth. You inhaled, closing your eyes tightly, hoping it all would be over soon, one way or another. 

There was another huff, a second passed, and then, “Padawan!” 

It was a hushed yell, and yet it was enough to douse your whole body in mere relief. Relief that Obi-Wan was alive. The young Jedi’s hand dropped from around your mouth, but his arm remained around your waist as he stepped out from your hiding spot, dragging you along with him once he had, in fact, confirmed in Master’s presence. 

Obi-Wan hurried over, “Good, you have her.” 

“Are you alright, Master?” 

It was the first you had heard him speak other than through the intercom laced to his Master’s belt and you felt taken aback by both the tone of it as well as the composure he displayed. 

The older Jedi exhaled a small smile appearing and then disappearing as another raid echoed a street or two over, “Yes, just trying to catch my breath.” 

His eyes fell to you then, still wrapped up in his young apprentice’s hold, and he couldn’t help but examine you quickly, “You okay?” 

Once again the only answer came out as a mere nod. 

“Alright, we have to keep moving. How much further is the ship?” 

The Padawan motioned over his shoulder, “Should be just on the northside of the city, near the ports.” 

“Which is about two blocks alright,” Obi-Wan noted out loud, observing the area around him, noting what movements he could see past the flames. “I’ll watch from the back, alright, while you lead my young apprentice. We want her in between us at all times. Got it?” 

“Yes Master.”

With that, the young Jedi released you, his hand reaching for his own saber that sat along his belt. He held it tightly within his grasp but didn’t dare ignite it. Not yet, not unless needed. There was no need to draw extra attention through the smog. Obi-Wan gripped his as well, glancing behind the three of you cautiously as his padawan began to advance from behind the wall. Just as he was about to enter out from the east entrance and into the open city, he stopped for a mere second. A moment of hesitation. 

He looked back over at you, surveying the tired expression that now bathed your skin in fear. Reaching forward, he took a hold of the hood of your cloak and pulled it up and over your head. Then without a single word spoken, he took your cold hand in his and placed it along the back of his armor, where you could onto it. Your fingers curled around it loosely. He nodded at you in confirmation before turning back to the street. He edged out slowly and then began to pick up his pace, keeping the three of you close to buildings, able to watch behind you in case someone appeared out from the clouds of smoke. 

You tried to block it all out, the way the horrendous smell of burning flesh lingered in your nose or how hot the ground at begun. You tried not to peer into the bushes of flowers that now lay abandoned in fits of ash. You tried to conceal it all away from you, once again peering at the back of the young Jedi’s back, hoping it would be enough to save what was left of your humanity. 

To save you from the dead faces of those you once ruled over willingly. 

To save you from the guilt of fleeing. 

“Anakin, to your left!” Obi-Wan suddenly yelled out, gaining the attention of his young Padawan. 

Out from the shadows came two clones paired with a rebel. A beacon blue appeared as you blinked and suddenly he was deflecting the string of beams that had appeared in your direction. Grunting with each collision, he slid forward swinging his saber around his back and within his palm against the lines of defense. You watched as with two quick strikes, the clones were left a few mere pieces short circuiting on the ground. 

The rebel stepped out from the shadows, a scary smile lifting across his face doused in war paint as he noticed your shaking frame back behind the young padawan, glued to Obi-Wan’s side. 

“Found you,” he laughed, his yellow-colored eyes peering past the haze at you. 

“Don’t look at her,” the Padawan hissed, drawing the rebel’s evil gaze again. “Look at me.” 

“Ah a young Jedi, protecting the queen-to-be, how sweet,” he laughed again and the shivers emitted across your back as you felt Obi-Wan take a hold of your arm, “Well your highness, I must say this will be an honor taking down your only means of escape. You’ll be at my disposable soon enough.”

Grabbing at his belt, a beam of red appeared, the saber emitting the evil-like color that became the new paint along the capital’s walls. The Padawan’s cold, hard stare refused to leave the rebel’s face. As the rebel tried to peer at you again, Obi-Wan’s Padawan lunged forward, his saber outstretched. The rebel met his reign of anger in a swift defense with his own saber. The sound of the two colliding echoed across the empty street. 

Once and then again and again. 

You watched as long as you could until Obi-Wan was advancing past the two, dragging you in tow across the block and near the ship. You kept trying to glance behind you to ensure the blue light still emitted, and sure enough, it was colliding with the red still, swinging back and forth. 

Obi-Wan kept pulling you along with him, that is, until another group of rebels stopped his trail, fewer clones accompanied at their sides. They saw his deflated form followed by your pretty eyes and smirked at one another. The one in the front let out a loud whistle, and before you realized Obi-Wan’s saber was outstretched, appearing just as blue as his young Padawan’s.

Nerves pricking away at your insides, you turned back to peer through the smoke to find the blue light from the saber no longer there, the red too now gone from your line of sight. You felt your throat tighten up. Almost painful enough to throw up at the thought of someone else dying just for your survival. The sounds of Obi-Wan’s saber moving through the air were all you could focus on as you squinted into the line of sight of where his Padawan once was. 

Your hands tightened as a figure began to appear. Moving, running through the smoke, far too quickly for you to identify the person. Your chest tightened, fear coating your trembling figure as it dashed through the smog, almost leaping. Landing a few feet away onto the middle of the road, a small relief appeared at the sight of the padawan. A smirk appeared across his lips, a furrowed look evident in his brow as he watched his Master take on the group of rebels. His saber ignited again, the hue of blue reflecting in his eyes as he moved to advance forward. 

As he made the first swing, sending a rebel to the ground, Obi-Wan felt his presence. Though it was needed, weeding out much of the enemy, he could also sense your vulnerability behind them. 

“You must get to the ship!” Obi-Wan yelled towards the Padawan. 

“I can’t just leave you here to fight them all by yourself, Master.” 

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be right behind you, but we can’t fight our way throught this. We have to get to the ship.” 

“And we will, together.” 

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan scolded, his back pressed against his young apprentice, as he surged his saber forward into a rebel’s abdomen. “Take the princess. Go, now.” 

The young Jedi groaned in dismay but obeyed as he turned and looked back at you expectantly, “Come on!” 

He took a harsh hold of your hand and yanked, breaking out into a sprint. Your feet began to pick up, now willing to lose him in the fire. His grip was tight, almost achingly tight, as he used his saber as a guide through the darkness, using it once in a while for any clones or rebels that passed in front of the two of you. Coughing loudly, the smoke was invading your lungs and your body as your feet slapped against the host concrete of the capital of Bakura. Your breathing was heavy, matching the young padawans as he weaved you through the city, the woosh of his saber the only thing you could focus on. 

The screams of pain of those that ran into the path of the chosen one’s weapon weekend with each slice, and you hated how it all made you feel. So weak. So unlucky. 

As you felt your hand becoming numb from his harsh grip, the sounds of the city eased, almost into a faded silence, and in its place, the gentle lap of water. The smoke seemed to clear every so slightly, and you found the docks, almost walking straight off of them with how fast the Padawan was leading the two of you. Breathing heavily, he looked around, remembering where exactly he had placed the ship. His hand dropped yours then. 

“This way,” he said, darting to the right behind a long string of tall rocks that lined the body of water. 

You went to follow, but before you knew it, there was a flash of light, and your feet were taken out from beneath you. You didn’t even have time to scream, not as your body fell back into the lagoon. Sinking in within the confines of your cloak, a tall figure pushes you down. The man’s hard grip was locked around your waist, holding so tightly that you withered in pain. The dark water seemed to be encapsulating pulling you further and further down into its depths. 

You withered, trying to loosen the grip the rebel had around you, even more so as his hands moved up to take hold of your neck. Kicking, you felt the tightness around your throat come quickly. It was almost comforting because it meant it was almost over. All of it. 

The man’s face was shielded in melting paint, the night sky aiding in his identity. Trying to hold your breath so carefully, you tried to escape as you could, but it appeared unsuccessful as the man only squeezed tighter. You felt as if there was no point then. No hope.

“Father, what was it like being a Jedi?” the soft, child-like voice appeared like a lost memory. 

Your father’s followed closely, younger too, “It was like an adventure all the time, my sweet daughter. But it’s more than that, but an honor. There is much respect and to uphold as a Jedi.” 

“Like the force?” 

“Yes, the force,” he confirmed, chuckling, “Something I feel you will grow more closely to the older you get. You are my daughter after all.” 

The edges of your vision began to blur, the last bubbles of air seemed to escape from your nose, the lingering voice of the king of Bakura following you. At the sound of another splash just a few feet away within the lagoon, your eyes peeled back open, struggling even further. Your head ached, feeling as if it were going to explode as your hand raised near the rebel. With it outstretched, you thought of your father, of Bakura, your mother, all of those lost and abandoned by its army, by you. The energies seemed to align, something falling into place, as you internally screamed. The man’s hands released your throat, and he was thrown away from you further into the lagoon. 

Unable to look further, you swam to the surface, bursting out of the water with a final needful breath. Gasping, you peered up into the sky through the smoke to the stars. You could barely keep yourself up, body weakening. Breathing waning, you just continued to look up, feet kicking softly, aware you could get pulled back under. 

There was a burst through the surface, and you flinched only to find the Padawan. Clothes wet along his frame, he swam closer, a quirk of worry across his face, “I got him. I got him.” 

The closer he got, the more the water lapped into your face, and you struggled to stay afloat with the large cloak weighing you down. You groaned out as your legs felt heavy within the clothes. Reaching you, his arms scooped around your frame, either one where the rebels used to be. 

“Keep your head back,” he instructed, as his arms began to pull at the cloak around your frame. “I have you.”

It loosened after two tugs slipped from your body with ease. His hands found your waist again as he began to swim you guys back towards the edge of the lagoon. Your breath had shallowed out, the edges of your eyes still blurry, a certain feeling of darkness creeping within your chest. 

It was as his hand tightened along your side that you let out a groan of pain. Hot and stabbing sensations shot towards your abdomen. Surprised by the sound, the padawan looked down at you, a worried look appearing for a mere moment as he stepped up onto the shore and pulled you up behind him. 

The pain worsened then, the oxygen hitting your body harshly. Your breathing quickened again, this time horrendously, as you peered up to the sky. Glancing down, your hand reached for where his once was. It stung at the contact of your palm, and as you pulled it back, you found it stained with red. 

“Shit. Shit,” he swore, his own hands replacing yours over the wound, “Fuck."

Your eyes fluttered, the tiredness of it all too much, the ache of the pain, the loss consuming you. Obi-Wan’s Padawan leaned over you, his wet frame leaving droplets across your face as he tried to keep your eyes open. “Hey, look at me. Just look at me. Gotta keep those pretty little eyes open for me, your highness.” 

You couldn’t even react to his words, couldn’t even react at him calling your eyes pretty. Nothing but the way the pain began to swallow you. His blue eyes. His sweet blue gaze locked with yours, his pursed lips moving but no sound reaching you. The only thing you could hear at all was the waning of your breath and the shallow beating of your heart. 

The edges were becoming dark, the stars blurring into streaks of the sweetest colors, almost colliding with the sweet pigments of the Padawan’s skin and eyes.

The young Jedi stared down at the pale form of the Bakura’s princess, the curse words of an endless spiel falling from his parted lips. His hands were stained, stained with the darkest red, as your chest began to slow in the way it rose and fell. Eyes fluttered shut, a peace seemed to overtake your form, and he felt the way his chest tightened unwillingly. 

After everything, you couldn’t die. You couldn’t. Not when him and Obi-Wan had gotten this far to save you, to make sure you lived. He wouldn’t allow it. 

“Anakin!” 

The yelling voice of his Master drew his unsteady gaze away from your still frame. An emergence of blue light appeared through the cloud of smoke. Other footsteps followed close behind. As Obi-Wan’s eyes found the frame of the young princess, he stopped momentarily, just for a mere second, to think about the possibilities of what could have happened. 

Anakin stared up at him in disbelief, lost of what to do next. 

“Pick her up!” his Master suddenly yelled. “Grab her now!” 

With his own saber snapped back along his waist, Anakin quickly fell to his knees, his hands dropping from where they held the wound. Instead, they wrapped around your frame, one underneath your knees. He lifted with ease until you were settled closely into his frame. Obi-Wan continued to run, leading the young padawan through the remaining trail to the ship as the rebels wanted close behind. 

“Master, I don’t know how this happened.” 

“Now’s not the time for that, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied back coldly just as they stumbled along the large grey-wielding spaceship. One the Republic had loaned for this mission alone. As he reached the front panel window, he input the code, and the door of the ship began to fall slowly. 

The two Jedis peered over their shoulders with each passing second, losing their patience. As it finally opened enough to enter, the older Jedi pushed the younger one onboard with the princess weighing down in his arms. Following close behind, the doors shut behind them, wielding them to rush towards the front pit. 

Anakin paused, waiting for further instruction as the princess’s blood began to pool along his armor and robes. Obi-Wan motioned towards the medical bay just down the hall, full of medical assisted robots. “Take her to the med-bay. The 2-1B droids will know what’s best for her.” 

Nodding, the young padawan moved quickly down the corridors of the ship, the sounds of his boots echoing off the metal floor. His blue hues glanced down every once in a while at the face of the woman in his arms. Just as he passed you off onto the medical table and the droids swarmed your still-full frame, he felt the ship rise, jutting upward enough to almost push him to the ground. A sigh of relief fell past the young Jedi’s lips, the contentment to know they would be out of Bakura, finally able to breathe.

He sunk back near the wall of the med bay, unable to look away as the droids pulled at your tunic, trying desperately to get access to the wound. Knowing this was more than what he should see, he stepped out of the med-bay instead finding comfort on the floor of the hall outside of the room. He didn’t dare move, not even as the ship steadied out within the confines of space or when the movements from within the room slowed considerably, some of the robots even leaving the room. He couldn’t and wouldn’t, unable to stall the sudden worry that had befallen him. 

Had he failed the mission? 

Had he failed you, the princess? 

Or rather Obi-Wan? 

He couldn’t stand any of it — not when he had worked so hard, trained his life away, not as he held your frame in his arms, a woman far too beautiful for that kind of ending where a man like him could only hold you in your last moments. 

Why hadn’t the force helped him? Saved you from this. 

It was hours when Obi-Wan had emerged from the pilot pit of the ship. His footsteps were heavy along the long corridors, his robes draping near his ankles. A curious brow was lifted as he found his young padawan sitting outside of the medical bay, his head between his knees, palms digging into his legs. Anakin didn’t even look up as the steps stopped in front of him. He was trying to mediate, trying to will away the fear, the anger, everything forbidden for a Jedi. He was trying to do everything his dear mentor had taught him. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan called out, pulling the young Jedi from his trance. Slowly the blue gaze of the Skywalker peered up to find his master looking down at him expectantly. 

Nodding for him to stand, his young apprentice followed and pulled himself to his feet. Entering the med-bay, Anakin felt to advert his eyes as Obi-Wan led him inside. He was afraid of what he would see, possibly your pale frame void of any pulse. He could sense his Master’s eyes on him, the expectations upon his shoulders at that moment, and though he didn’t wish, he lifted his head slowly. 

There upon the table, you still laid, eyes sealed away behind the confines of your eyelids. White blankets pulled up near your chin over your tunic and torso. Hair strewn behind your head, there was a steady rise of your chest, a rhythmic approach to it that had the young Jedi relieved. 

“She will be fine, my young Padawan. She is alive.” 

Anakin nodded, needing to hear those words more than anything, as he refused to look away then. Refused to peer anywhere than you as he felt like he hadn’t had much time to truly take you in until then. Until the chaos and the horror had passed into nothing but this momentarily passing of peace. 

He had forgotten what it was like to stare so shamelessly at a woman. Attachments were forbidden among Jedis, and thus, he had never taken much consideration of those within the Jedi temple or that he passed upon when he was in contact with the senate. It seemed even as he grew into a young man, he had pushed it all down, avoided it all, amongst the title that he was given of the chosen one. There was no room for weaknesses, for the possibility of failure. Not when this war relied on him. 

He felt his Master’s intense eyes following his, but even then, Anakin couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help as his eyes traced along the delicacies of your face, the way your jaw curved, and the gentle slope of your nose. Nor the concise shape of your brows quirked almost in discomfort or the long lashes that brushed your cheeks with such ease. Your lips were pink, and holding his attention the most.

He spoke then, still not looking away, “I had forgotten. Forgotten what it was like to be around a woman. To be able to look at one.” 

Obi-Wan hummed in interest as Anakin chuckled then, almost painfully. 

“Not since my mother and then Padme. I had forgotten, forgotten just how beautiful they can be.” 

Coruscant. It stared back at you through the window. The mere window of chambers that now were sanctioned to be yours. It was different. The city. The planet. From Bakura, you meant. More metal, more dull, yet more full of life. It was political, far more political than you ever realized, in the form of the Jedi Council, the Republic, the Senate. They all held control at the center of the galaxy, and you could merely stand at that window, fingers tracing the bandage along your abdomen uncertain of everything that lay before you. What to do now in the city of the Jedis?

You had woken up upon that medical bed in a frenzy, gasping for answers, afraid of where exactly you had ended up. Obi-Wan had appeared, and you had felt the tears appear, fall freely at the mere relief, and relinquish the control you could have. Lying there exhausted, you grieved, for your father, for your planet. For it all as it lay abandoned and burned down to nothing but dust. 

As your eyes traced the edges of the Senate building in the form of glass of bendable metal, sitting within the windowsill, you sighed at the sound of a soft knock upon the door. You hadn’t left the room since you had gotten there. After a few seconds without your answer, the door opened, and from outside Obi-Wans’s Padawan poked his head in. You felt his presence before he had opened the door or even knocked. It was almost as if you knew whenever he was hovering, waiting for what to do, waiting to see if you would talk. 

You weren’t sure how but you just did. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you sent a blank expression to him, and knowing it was all he would get, he stepped in without even so much of your permission. Closing the door to a mere crack behind him, you noted the stack of robes within his arms, folded nicely. They were bleak, looked long and comfortable at least, but completely unfamiliar. 

His blue hues matched yours, a comforting quirk within his lips forming, “I—uh brought these for you.”

You matched his stare but without your lips so much as saying anything, you merely quirked a brow up in response. His stature deflated slightly, that quirk disappearign into nothing but a fine line as he bowed his head and placed the robes upon the bed. “Obi-Wan has gone to speak to the council. He will be back very soon with good news I’m sure.”

Not able to bear the look on his face, how sweet he appeared, you turned back to the window, to the city, to the only future you had. Even though you weren't looking at him, it was like you could feel the disappoint flooding his system. So much so, that he turned on his heels, his boots echoing along the floor as he reached for the door. 

You felt your heart ache, your barrier fold in on itself just at the thought of him leaving with that look on his face and the dejection upon his frame. As he reached for the door-knob, you found yourself speaking far before you had even realized you had opened your mouth, “Wait.” 

He paused then, hand dropping from where he had reached for the door. Instead, as he hesitantly turned back to face you, he found you already looking at him, a certain softness now where that coldness once was. There was a gentleness then he hadn’t seen before, even after everything you had been through. 

With your hands laced upon your lap, you fiddled with the skin around your nails, uncertainty still plaguing your mind. Finding his intense gaze, you inhaled, “I wanted to— to thank you…” 

Your voice trailed off and as it did he quickly realized why it had. 

“Anakin,” he answered. 

That softness deepened even further, he noted. 

“Thank you, Anakin, for saving me.” 

He nodded, that dejection resolving back into his chest, instead enjoying how skillfully his name fell from your lips. “The pleasure was all mine. I am glad you are recovered and doing well your highness.” 

You bowed your head then, the title sounding so wrong, so devastating to you then. Enough so that you picked at your nails until one was bleeding. Anakin watched carefully, confused by the action alone as you sat there, lost in the depths of your thoughts. 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” you finally expressed. 

He rose a brow curiously, stepping closer into the room, silently begging you would look up at him again, “What?”

You smiled sadly, “Call me ‘your highness’ or ‘princess’. I’m far from that now.” 

There was a pause on his end, a moment to take in how sad the princess of Bakura truly was. He knew he shouldn’t question it. Where anyone else would her words, he didn’t, as if understanding you completely then, having been someone himself who had left everything he knew behind. His mother still lay slaved in the very place he had despised completely. 

So instead, he asked innocently, “What shall you have me call you then?”

Surprised by his ask, your eyes flickered up to meet his. There was a certain glint that filled his eyes, that smile of his there, peeking out. His expression had you completely transfixed, content in a way. 

Smiling softly, your hands relaxed along your lap, “Y/N.”

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Seven

Summary: Taehyung catches you coming home late and makes you regret it Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 5.3K~ (kinda got carried away with this one lmao) Warnings: Smuuuuutttt, Domestic abuse (physical and mental), explicit language and yändere behaviors a/n: Sorry it's taken me a while to come back around to this story but I hope you guys like it 🥰 Start from the beginning

After watching as Jungkook rounds the corner and out of sight I turn around and unlock the door, noticing that only the bottom lock is locked. 'That's strange, I could've sworn I locked both of them' I think to myself but don't let my thoughts wander farther than that before walking in. 

Taking off my boots and starting to strip out of my clothes just as quickly as I did the last time I went out I'm met with one of our table lamps turning on in the living room making me freeze in place. 

"Have a nice night?" I hear Taehyung say, totally void of emotion, knowing full well there's anger hidden just behind it. "Tae I can explain" I start off, walking towards where he's sitting on the armchair that faces the door but I stop in my tracks when he stands up and slowly walk towards me. 

"You can explain? What is there to explain y/n? Did you do something that needs explaining?" he continues to ask, deepening his voice as I slowly retreat, trying to maintain some distance between us. "No, I didn't do anything wrong" I say, standing my ground and knowing that it's the truth. 

"Is that so? Then why was it that I heard not only your voice but a man's voice as well right outside our door y/n? Care to explain that?" he asks, continuing to stalk towards me and in my need to escape I stupidly bump into a wall behind me leaving him a chance to lunge at me and trap me against it. 

"He's a friend" I breath out, my voice getting smaller and smaller, dissociating and pulling my consciousness out of the situation, only being able to watch from above. "A friend? Huh, didn't remember you having any friends. Where, pray tell, did you meet this friend? Or better yet, where were you tonight?" he ask, getting up in my face and taking a deep breath. 

"You smell sweet, seems like you might've been drinking tonight huh? Is that what you did? Met a man at a bar behind my back? Then you have the audacity to tell me you did nothing wrong!" he says, raising his voice as he continues to stare me down. 

"We didn't do anything. We just had a few drinks and he walked me home, that's it" I explain, giving him the facts and the facts alone because that's exactly what happened. He pushes off the wall and walks away from me, letting out a sigh with curses attached to it, trying but failing to calm his temper. 

“Are you cheating on me?" he asks and my jaw drops. "No! You do not get to play the victim card with me like I'm the one that did something wrong! This has nothing to do with you" which in reality it doesn't. My intention was to talk about what happened this morning but I decided to focus on Jungkook instead. 

I'm not lying and I'm not the one who's in the wrong here. I have to keep reminding myself of these things because otherwise if I start blaming myself again then he wins. 

"This has everything to do with me! I am your husband and last time I checked my wife isn't supposed to be going out for drinks by herself and picking up men to bring them home!" he yells, his anger building by the second but I'm not backing down this time. 

"I did not pick him up or bring him home. He was a friend that was walking me home so I wouldn't have to pay for a cab or walk in the dark on my own. I didn't cheat on you and you know that" I say, continuing to defend myself and Jungkook. 

"Well you might as well have" he mumbles while running his fingers through his hair. 

"I can't say the same for you" I say without a second thought but throw my hand over my mouth, knowing that I've made a terrible mistake. "Excuse me?" he growls out, rearing his head toward me, his eyes narrowed and waiting for my response, seconds away from losing control... 

But I press on anyway.

"You heard me! You had the audacity to not bother coming home last night and then when you show up bright and early this morning you didn't even give me any sort of pitiful excuse as to why. Then when you get a call from your mistress, the one you probably just left, you let her not only interrupt what we were doing but you also left and ran back to her right away" I say, raising my voice and holding my chin high, summoning all the confidence and strength I'll need to deal with this conversation. 

"My mistress huh?" he chuckles dryly, shaking his head and stalking towards me before grabbing me by the throat and pulling me towards him before slamming me up against the wall, squeezing so hard that he cuts off my cries of pain.

"What makes you think you can talk to me like that huh? What makes you think that you can disrespect me in my own house? You dare accusing me of stepping out on you when you were just with a man tonight. From the looks of your hair and makeup alone I know you're lying" he says squeezing harder for a second before letting loose just enough for me to choke out a response. "I'm not lyin-" 

"Don't you fucking dare! I know he fucked you! Your messy sweaty hair and you smeared makeup is proof enough. Although looks like he didn't do a very good job of it since you still have some lipstick left huh?" he says through gritted teeth. 

I start to see black dots in my vision and just as I'm about to lose consciousness he lets go, letting me fall to my knees. 

I cough and wheeze, trying to flood some oxygen to my lungs while he cracks his neck, getting rid of some tension before saying another word. He glares down at me before crouching down and lifting my chin up, making eye contact while he smiles at me with a look that says he's gonna make sure I regret what I said to him. 

"You're gonna tell me exactly what he did to you" he starts and I shake my head but he cuts me off "No see, you will. You'll show me exactly what he did to you and I'm going to show you that I'll do it better. Remind you who you belong to" he says, taking off his belt and I continue to shake my head, letting my tears start to fall, silently begging for him to stop. 

"You think tears are gonna work on me? Don't you realize that that's exactly why I stay with you? Seeing you cry and beg for mercy even though you body is screaming for more. Watching the tears stream down your face while your makeup is fucked up beyond belief from it all. Fuck baby you're the reason I'm like this. You go around, purposefully getting in trouble and giving me a  reason to treat you like this" he says, caressing my face and giving me a disgusting grin while he watches my face as I fall apart. 

"I don't want this" I sob, begging for all of this to stop. "No see that's where you're wrong. You were so upset that we got interrupted that you went out and did something that you knew would make me want to hurt you because that's exactly what you wanted. You're a slut for pain and you love it when I do this to you" he says while grabbing onto my bicep and dragging me up by it, making me wince in pain. 

"Taehyung stop, please" I sob, "Taehyung stop" he mimics me in a high pitched voice, making fun of my cries for help. "All I hear when you say that is you begging me to go harder, you're begging me to use you like the worthless whore you are" he says while dragging me into our bedroom all while I'm pulling and pushing and fighting my way out of his hold.

Right before he throws me on the bed I'm able to break free and run into the bathroom, him chasing after me but right at the last second I'm able to close and lock it behind me. 

I take shallow breaths in and out, hyperventilating as he bangs on the door and screams for me to open in. I scream back and tell him to leave me alone but it only makes him furious. 

"I'll break this fucking door down you whiny bitch! Open up!" he yells as he throws his body up against the door, the wood slamming into the door frame and I pray to whatever higher power there is out there to send someone here to save me. 

As soon as I finish my prayer I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. Reaching for it I let out a sob when I realize it's Jungkook's email that he said he would send me and I click on the number right away, not bothering to read the message and hold my breath as I listen to it ring and ring and ring until I hear him pick up.

"Noo-" "Jungkook please, please come back please Taehyung's here and he-" I cut him off but before I'm able to get much more out Taehyung cuts me off as well with another one of his yells. "Who the fuck are you talking to in there? You better not be calling your little boyfriend you whor-" "Jungkook please" I whimper. 

"I'm already on my way I'll be there in 5 minutes, I just pulled out of The Blue Pearl and I'm at the light about to turn onto your street. Just stay on the phone with me okay? Do you have a spare key anywhere?" he asks, talking me through it all and assures me he'll be here soon. 

"It's under the mat" I let out, trying to keep my voice as low as I can so Taehyung doesn't know what's happening. "Okay where are you in the house?" he continues and I tell him exactly where I am and what's going on and he keeps me talking, making sure that Taehyung hasn't gotten a hold of me and that I'll be safe until he gets here. 

"Okay Noona I just pulled up, I'm parking my car, I'm running upstairs" he lists off  and while I hear the sounds that match his claims my breathing gets a little deeper with each word, calming me down and knowing that no matter what Jungkook will protect me with everything he's got. 

"I'm at the door and I'm grabbing the key, I'm turning the lock okay I'm inside" he says and hangs up the phone as soon as he starts walking down the hallway. 

"Who the fuck are you?" Taehyung yells out as soon as he notices Jungkook's form stalking towards him but the next thing I hear is the sound of Taehyung grunting in pain and feeling the thud of him hitting the floor. 

"What the fuck?" he yells out and at that sound I open the bathroom door. "Noona go back inside and lock the door" Jungkook says sternly, barely glancing at me as to keep his eyes on Taehyung to block any movement he might make to harm me.  "You know this guy?" Taehyung says, wiping the corner of his mouth and looking at the blood caused from his busted lip.

"I was the guy she went out with tonight" Jungkook say, throwing my friends argument right out the window. "Jungkook please" I say, my voice strained from the pressure Tae had put on my throat. "Noona go back inside and lock the door" he growls out again, balling up his fists and ready to throw another punch. 

"Maybe you should listen baby. Don't wanna watch while I beat up your little boyfriend here" Tae grits out and while Jungkook is still turned to face me he punches him straight in the jaw, leaving him stumbling back a few step but stays standing. "Jungkook!" I scream, rushing towards him to check on him but he ignores my efforts to do so and puts me behind his back to keep me out of reach.

"That's a bit cruel now isn't it? Worrying about him over your own husband? I guess you really are a slut" "You shut your mouth" Jungkook growls, squaring his shoulder and I can tell just from his back how he'd be willing to kill Taehyung if I asked him to. 

"Taehyung get out!" I say as loud as I can, the pain on my larynx worse than it's ever been before. If Jungkook hadn't gotten here I really think Taehyung would've gone too far this time.

"You heard her! Get the fuck out" Jungkook says getting ready to grab him but after Tae takes in Jungkook's figure he steps back and starts to leave on his own. "Fine, you can have her. She's worthless to me anyways" he says over his shoulder and I have to grab Jungkook by the arm to keep him from lunging at him again. 

"Jungkook please stop, just let him go" I say, holding on with all my might and at my voice he relaxes a bit but still keeps his guard up. "Keep your bitch on a leash y/n. We wouldn't want anyone to get hurt" is Tae's last sentiment and at that I let go of Jungkook, letting him do as he sees fit.

"What'd you fucking call me?" Jungkook asks, holding onto Taehyung's neck just like he had done to me and all Tae can do is claw at his hand and gasp for breath, letting out choked curses as he does. 

"Huh? Sorry? Didn't catch that" he says, squeezing even harder but I place my hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality again and at that he stares Taehyung down before letting go of his neck and shoving him out of the apartment. 

Before Tae is able to say another word Jungkook slams the door in his face locking it and putting on the chain lock in an effort to make sure he won't be able to get in too easily.

Jungkook leans his forehead against the door, hand rested against it in the form of a fist before he turns around and as soon as I try to say something he wraps his arms around my torso and holds me tight, wordlessly showing me that he's here and he will protect me from anything and everything if I let him. 

After a few minutes of standing like that I lean back and look at him, tracing my hand gently along the swollen area on his jaw. "I'm sorry" I choke back, letting the emotions of the moment hit me again. He brings his hand up just like I had, tracing it along my neck where the skin is red and showing signs of bruising that I'm sure will be there tomorrow. 

"Don't" is all he says as he runs his thumb along my lips, the bottom one spilt in the corner from where I had bitten it nervously at some point. 

"But I-" "No, don't. I knew what I was signing up for when I came here" he says, tucking my hair behind my ear and wiping away the tears that have started to fall. "I would've done a lot more if you hadn't stopped me" he says, studying my features before he pull back and assesses my body 

"Did he touch you anywhere else? Are you in any pain?" he starts, pestering me with more and more questions before I can even answer one and all I can do in response is smile, watching as his eyes dart all over me. "Jungkook I'm fine" I say but he scrunches his brows and tongues his cheek. "You're obviously not fine now tell me what he did to you" he says sternly, not backing down from this. 

I take in a shaky breath before relaying everything that happened and he pulls me in for a hug once I've finished, making sure to be a lot more gentle this time but still, no less full of comfort and promises of protection. 

Now sitting on the couch together he keep a hold of one of my hands, playing with my fingers as we sit there, neither of us knowing what to say. I look up at him and notice that he's been staring at me, waiting for me to say or not say anything, just wanting to show me that he's here and is focused solely on me. 

"Thank you for coming" I mumble and he smiles, nodding his head while he rubs circles into my palm. "I wish I could've been here under different circumstances but thank you for calling me and letting me be there for you" he says and I nod my head as well, both of us going back to sitting in a comfortable silence for a while.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up" I say, taking note of his busted lip and the blood that had started to drip down his chin. "What? This? This is nothing" he smile, making light of the subject but I nevertheless lead him into the bathroom. 

I close the lid of the toilet before having him sit down, him obeying and letting me take care of him with little to no protest.

"This might sting a little" I say before using some rubbing alcohol to clean up the surrounding area. He flinches and grabs my wrist in response, his eyes narrowed in pain from the sting. "I'm sorry" I apologize but he doesn't bother saying anything, his eyes now focused on my lips.

My eyes flitter down to his as well, feeling as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room and before I can stop myself I'm already leaning down and kissing him. 

The kiss is soft, chased and so full of longing from the both of us but I pull away, scared that I might've crossed a line that he might want to keep drawn until we figure things out.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that" I say but before I have the chance to open my eyes he's pulling me in by my hips and guiding me down to kiss him again, a hand on my jaw trying to keep me close. 

We kiss for what feels like only moments but when we pull away all we can manage to do is try to stop our racing hearts as we slow our panting breaths. 

"Are you going to leave him" he lets out before taking in another breath, the patterns slowly going back to normal.

"I- What?" I ask, caught off guard from the straightforward question and it takes my brain a second to catch up. "Are you going to leave him? Because if we do this I don't think I'll be able to go back to what we were before" he says, his thumb rubbing circles against my hip as he still has me pulled in close. 

I look down at him for a moment, studying his features and notice his parted lips, now swollen from my doing. His brows pinched in concentration and just bellow are his eyes, pleading for me to say something, full of those same galaxies that continue to pull me in. 

"I'll leave him" I let out in a hushed tone, words that I had only hoped I would say one day. His eyes trace all of my features making sure that I truly mean what I say and as soon as he's satisfied with my answer he stands up, picks me up by my hips and places me on the bathroom counter, our roles reversed with him now towering above me. 

"If you want me to stop then tell me to stop" he says and I blink up at him for a second before nodding my head in response. "Use your words Noona" he says, caressing my cheek and my jaw drops before regaining composure seconds later. 

"I'll tell you" I respond and at that he leans in and kisses me, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter and wedging his knee between my parted legs, letting me use him if I want to. I place my arm around his neck and place my other hand on his jaw, keeping him close and wordlessly asking him for more. 

When he pulls away a bit I chase his lips, scooting closer to the edge and let out a breathy moan, getting friction when I wasn't expecting it yet. "Use me to get yourself off Noona" Jungkook says against my lips, pleading for me to keep going but letting me take control. 

I do as he say and chase after his lips while I throw both arms around his neck to anchor myself as I rock my hips back and forth, moaning at the feeling of my clit rubbing up against his thigh, my thin leggings and his jeans the only barriers between us. 

I pull away to catch a breath but my hips never stop as he's now holding onto them and guiding me, keeping the pace just right. I let out breathy moans, not being able to hold back enough to hide what this is doing to me.

"You make such pretty noises for me. So responsive" he says, pulling me further up his thigh and making me gasp at the feeling before letting out an unrestrained moan. 

"There we go, let me hear you. Let me know how good I'm making you feel" he rasps out in a deep voice before pressing his lips against mine, swallowing those noises he just asked for. 

I swear I could cum from just listening to him. 

"Shit Jungkook" I curse, pulling back and gasping for breath, so close to release already. "Tell me what you need" he says, hands still dragging my hips at a steady pace. "Fuck touch me please" I whine out, the sensations on a whole other level when he's the one doing this to me. 

"I am touching you" he taunts, forcing me to tell him exactly what I want. "I need your fingers. Please fuck" I groan out, feeling as he drags me harder along his thigh. 

"Noona wants my fingers yeah? You want them down here?" he pauses his motions, tracing the wet stain on my legging and I moan out a 'yes' before he slips his hand under my waistband and gently draws a stripe up between my folds with his middle finger before just barely ghosting it against my clit. 

"Jungkook please" I beg, my hips chasing after his hand. "Patience Noona. I promise I'll make you feel good" he whispers in my ear before pulling his hand out of my pants, wrapping my legs around his waist and carrying me to my bed. 

"Wanna eat you out" he says after making both of us fall on the bed. "Is that okay?" he questions and I nod my head before saying 'yes'. He kisses me for a little bit again, making my brain get even foggier than before, giving me that same fluttering feeling he always does but this time lower and accompanied by a pulsing need for his touch. 

He notices how I start to squirm and takes mercy on me, chuckling dryly as he pulls away and sits back, looking at my leggings and then up at me and when I try to take them off on my own he pulls my hands away and kisses my palms instead. 

"No this is about you. Let me take care of you yeah?" he asks and I nod my head, trying to keep myself from moaning at his words, his fiery gaze locked on me before placing my hands on either side of me and getting up off the bed while slowly sliding down my pants. 

"No panties huh? No wonder I could feel how wet you were" he teases and I cover my face in embarrassment when I look down and see the wet stain I caused on his jeans. "Don't hide from me" he says while he comes down to hover over me, making me want to do it even more. 

"Come on pretty, let me see you" he rasps out and at that I take my hands off my face, him not having used any pet names with me before leaving me caught off guard.

"There she is" he says with a crooked smile letting my jaw drop. He laughs and kisses my open mouth before trailing his lips down my neck, paying close attention to it, wanting to kiss away the pain. 

I hiss at the feeling of his middle finger drawing lazy patterns along my clit, caught off guard by the sudden touch. "You gonna let me take care of you?" he asks, his words dripping with promises of ecstasy and I only whimper in response, his finger now drawing circles around my entrance.

He watches my reactions as he dips it inside of me, feeling all my senses heightened from the sensation of being with someone other than my husband. Someone who truly wants to take his time with me. 

"You're already acting like this and I've only put in one finger. Let's see what kind of pretty noises you make when I add another huh?" he taunts, slowly dragging his finger out of me before adding another one. 

My hips buck up at the feeling, chasing his touch and he chuckles, enjoying the fact that my body is not ashamed in show my desire for him even if my mouth can't say it.

"Just like that, ride my fingers Noona, use me" he says and I moan at his word, something primal stirring up in me at the sound of them. My hips buck up into his hand without remorse and I gasp when he adds another one. 

He takes his hand away when he feels me tightening around his fingers and I groan at the loss of touch. "It's okay, I'm right here. Just want the first time you cum to be on my tongue" he says, leaning down to whisper it in my ear making me melt into the mattress, completely at his mercy. 

"Can you take this off for me?" he asks, playing with the hem of my shirt and I nod my head, sitting up and taking it off and as I go to take off my bra his eyes widen at the thin black lace wrapped perfectly around my breasts. "Keep it on" he husk out and I close my legs at the sound, needing some sort of friction but he pulls my legs apart thinking that I was trying to close myself off from him. 

"None of that" he says and takes time to really look at me, making eye contact before studying my features and taking in how fucked out I already look. "Lay down for me" he says, leaning in to kiss me and guiding me down on my back again. 

He takes his time kissing me, trailing his hands up and down my torso before replacing them with his lip, tongue and teeth, leaving no inch of skin untouched. "God you're so beautiful" he groans, taking time to worship my body, reminding me of how I'm meant to be loved. 

He pulls down on the lace covering my breast and latches his lips around my sensitive bud, hardening from the arousal coursing through my veins. He switches to the other one and gives it the same time and attention, his brows furrowed together in concentration, finding pleasure in this act as well.

"I can't get enough of you" he growls out, trailing his lips down my torso and kissing my waist, sucking marks into it as a reminder of what I let him do to me.

He looks up at me before focusing his gaze on my glistening folds and how I'm clenching around nothing, begging to be full. 

He leans in and licks a hard stripe from my entrance to my clit, sucking it in gently and moaning into me, making my hips buck into his face, chasing more of that sensation. 

"Fuck you taste like candy" he moans, making out with my cunt, leaving me grasping onto his locks with one hand to keep him close and placing the other over my mouth to hold back the moans I'm bound to let out. 

"Take your hand off your mouth or I'll stop" he commands, looking up at me with a fiery gaze that tells me he'll make good on his word. 

I lower my hand slowly and keep my eyes on him and watch as he become hungrier at the sight of my flushed cheeks and rising and falling of my chest. "You're such a good listener" he grins and before I'm able to say something in response I'm cut off by the moan I let out when he dips his tongue inside me. Now alternating between kissing, sucking and fucking me with his tongue, moaning into me all along. 

I can tell I'll never be able to find anyone as skilled as he is with his fucking mouth. 

I'm seeing stars already from the build up alone and I buck my hips up into him, begging for more. He pulls back and looks up at me, his chin glistening with my arousal and his eyes full of hunger, begging me to give him everything I have to offer. 

"You gonna cum Pretty?" and at that I arch my back, moaning and feeling so close to cumming like I knew I would. His fucking mouth making me weak for him in more ways than one. He grabs my hips and presses them down into the mattress to keep me in place for him. "Stay nice and still for me yeah?" he says, coaching me through it and making me hang onto every word. 

"Good girl" he says, kissing the inside of my thigh before going back to eating me out, going even harder and faster than before if even possible, never letting up on giving me anything and everything I need and all I can do is let out a slur of unintelligible moan and whimpers, motivation for him to keep going. 

Before I'm able to get anything out he takes his mouth off of me only for a second, looking up and savoring my reactions before growling out "Cum" leaving me cumming on his tongue, just like he said he wanted me to.

He continues his ministrations, licking and kissing and sucking up everything I've given him, slowing his pace but keeping his mouth on me still, obsessed with the way I taste. 

I try to pull back and wiggle my way away from him but he pulls me back in by my hips keeping me in place. "Stop running" he growls out and when I whine in overstimulation he looks up at me with a devilish glint in his eyes, telling me he's no where near done with me.

"I know you can give me another one" he taunts, kissing and sucking marks on the inside of my thigh and my vision goes blurry with lust, desire flooding my senses all over again and I nod my head before laying it back down on the pillow, him pulling away only to grab another one. 

"Lift your hips for me love" he says while caressing the outside of my thigh and I do as he says and he places a pillow under them, angling me just how he wants me and giving him a better angle this time. 

Fuck I'm in trouble...     

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debt: r. suna

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chapter one

now playing: her and cigarettes by cheap girls

Okay.

There’s about ¥100,000 in her bank account, give or take a couple of hundred. Rent is ¥83,000 and due in three days, which knocks out a pretty big chunk. Electric, gas, and water she paid for earlier this month, so that’s good. The fridge is running pretty bare, almost nothing but impulse orders of takeout leftovers that’ll go bad in just a couple of days, if they’re lucky. Groceries run at about ¥20,000 per trip, but she can pinch there, and it can just be another month where everyone’s dissatisfied with their meals. But then there are those fucking phone bills.

She sits at the kitchen table, a cigarette in one hand and her face in the other. No phones this month, she figures. What the fuck else is she supposed to do.

The paper bills and ripped up envelopes stare back at her, mocking her. Her younger siblings are rushing around her, scrambling to get ready for school and making as much noise as they fucking can while they do it. It’s always fucking something.

“I have another couple of tutoring sessions,” Haru (younger brother #2, age 17, student, smug little shit) says, standing at the open fridge, and then closing it again when he realizes that there’s nothing of substance in there. “That should help.”

“Yeah, what would fucking help is if Ryu paid me that money he owes me,” she says, putting out her cigarette on the jar lid she uses as an ashtray. “The fucker’s been camped out at his girlfriend’s house so he thinks he can just-oh fuck!”

Aya (younger sister #2, age 7, student, brat) runs into the corner of the kitchen, table, shaking the enter thing, and knocking a cup of black coffee into the pile of unpaid bills.  She stands, scrambling to grab at some thin paper towels to clean it up with. “What the fuck Aya?”

The girl’s teary-eyed, like she normally is, but it’s too early in the morning to deal with it. “I can’t find my backpack!” she cries out, as if this is some sort of explanation.

She sighs, too tired for it all and scheduled to be at work in just an hour and twenty minutes. “Fucking. Eri!” she calls out into the void of their three-bedroom apartment.

From the depths, Eri (younger sister #1, age 13, student, literal nightmare), calls back out. “Fucking what?”

“Help your sister find her backpack for school!” she yells, hands still occupied with the mess of bills and hot coffee. She thinks that someone should be helping her, but is not surprised that no one is. That’s usually how it goes.

“I’m busy!” Eri screams back, already annoyed.

She’s wasted half a roll of paper towels by now, she balls it up, and moves to toss it in the trash, half of her hoping she didn’t bundle up any of the bills along with it, the other half of her hoping she did. She passes Haru on her way to the trash. “Haru, help your sister.”

“I can’t,” he says. “I gotta go. I wrote an essay for this rich kid. He’s paying me ¥7,000 for it. I’m meeting him now.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Since when are people paying you to write their essays?”

Haru smirks. “Since you stopped being able to pay the bills.”

Her eyes roll, and she raises a hand to gently knock the back of his head. “Alright, fuck off, go get paid,” she says, and with her permission, he’s ducking out the back door before she can blink.

Aya cries out here name, and she turns to face her again. Her face is red, and tear stained. “I don’t wanna get in trouble!”

If she’s really, really honest with herself, and maybe this makes her a bit of a shit sister, she really doesn’t give a fuck if Aya gets in trouble with her teacher or not. Everyone in this house is constantly in trouble, for something, and she just doesn’t have it in her to give a shit if one sibling is getting a scolding.

But it’s sort of her job to take care of it.

She sighs. “Alright, c’mon, let’s find your backpack.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

She stands in the damp air, hair tied up loosely on the top of her head, and phone pressed to her ear. The fry oil from the restaurant she’s serving at combined with the wet stench of the dumpster is nauseating. The phone rings.

“It’s Ryuji. I don’t wanna fucking talk to you. Leave a message.”

Her foot taps against the pavement. The phone beeps. “Hey, you stupid fuck. If you’re gonna up and leave and screw over the rest of us, make sure you pay me back the money you owe me before. Call me back, or I’m sending Suna over there to break your jaw.”

She hangs up and tightens her ponytail before she goes back inside. Her fifteen minutes are up

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Suna reaches over and takes the cigarette from between her lips. She turns her head and glares at him. “You’re such a fucking dick.”

They’re on the rooftop of this abandoned soba restaurant. When they were kids, it was the best place in a four-town radius to get soba, but then the owner went and died from a heart attack about eight years back, and it’s been sitting abandoned ever since.

They used to come here when they were younger, too. Thirteen and discovering cigarettes and how fucking amazing it was to get away from your parents for the first time. They would smoke and eat shrimp chips and run from the cops whenever the owner got fed up with the smell of nicotine wafting down into his restaurant and called them.

It’s gotten a little more peaceful up there for them, since he died.

Suna leans against the edge of the roof, looking down at the ground beneath them, and he grins. “You love me.”

She reaches into the pocket of her sweatshirt for a second one, slightly cursing him under her breath. “Whatever,” she grumbles, flicking the end of her lighter. Smoke enters her lungs again, and she exhales. “By the way, don’t freak out if you can’t reach me this month, like you did last time.”

Suna raises an eyebrow at her. “What, can’t pay your phone bill again?”

She leans her back against the edge of the roof and sinks into it. “Yep.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “gotta get groceries again. More important than answering your texts at three in the goddamn morning, unfortunately.”

Suna shakes his head. “Nah, fuck that. I’m paying your phone bill.”

She shoots him a glare. “Would you piss off? You’re not paying for shit.”

Suna always does this. Slips her money when he thinks she’s not looking. Swiping bills off her counter and calling to pay them once he’s in the safety of his own apartment. She hates it, and she hates that it helps. It wounds her pride, and it makes Suna indispensable to her. It sucks.

And he knows she hates it, too. Which makes it all the more insufferable when he grins, and says, “Yeah, I am.”

“No, Rin, you’re not,” she insists, even though she knows he’s going to do it.

He blows smoke in her face. “What, are you gonna stop me? I’ll kick your ass.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. You’ve gotta stop letting me scam you out of money.”

The night’s cool and fresh. The sky is this dark shade of blue that reminds her of the bruises that seem to be a permanent feature of Suna’s skin. “You’re not scamming me out of anything. I’m providing for you,” he tells her. “Just another reason we should get married.”

She’s gonna throttle him. “Oh, fuck off.”

“I’m serious,” Suna persists. She knows he’s serious. He always serious, every single fucking time he brings it up. “You know I’ll take care of you.”

“What about the kids?”

The kids. She says it like they’re hers. Like she had any choice in them ending up on her lap.

Suna shrugs. “I’ll take care of them too.”

“And what happens when someone breaks your face in and kills you in one of your little street fights?”

“Life insurance,” is Suna’s simple answer.

She stares at him, incredulous for a second. “I’m not marrying you,” she says again, because she knows he’s not going to listen to it.

Maybe she would, if things were different. But things are exactly as they are, and all she can do is live with it.

Suna looks back out over the roof. “You will, one day.”

She punches him in the arm, and he yelps. “Would you shut up with this? You’re too broke for me, anyways.”

“Is that all it is?” Suna asks, and his tone is suddenly different. He doesn’t look back at her. “Is that the only reason you’re saying no?”

She thinks about it, for a second. “I dunno,” she replies. “Maybe I’d find other reasons to say no if I had enough money to think about anything else.”

When Suna looks back at her, he’s grinning. “Well, fine. Let’s get you some cash then.”

thank you shameless season one for the inspiration

taglist: @wyrcan @causenessus @mfcherry @soobin1437 @19calicos @snail-squasher @jadeoru @piapiaweee3 @cannibalsrider @just-coreee @honeekyuu @seroh @syverse @t8tiana @sonicsoloss @cupidsblonde @savemebrazilhinata @linhhs @toges-cough-syrup @s777athv @an-na-bella-blog @moucheslove @droppingthegloves @w4nyoung @theblueslytherin @soulfullystarry @Queer-Flower @starkyu @renkitsune @sunakeiji @renardiererin @honeycrispappletree @asthmaticcchoeee @aquariarose @s1ncerelyy0urs @holaseniorahoe @softpia @akaashislovee @iiwaijime @Whatisnerotypical @megmercury @myeomiz @strxwberri-s @thecoolestlia @kr1nqu @whorefornoodles @iluv-ace

[crazylittlejester]

Fireworks

Summary: Wars doesn’t like fireworks very much at all

(A little writing exercise I wrote as I try to slowly come back from my break from writing. My apologies for spelling mistakes or oddly autocorrected works, I’m dyslexic 💔)

lmao *yeets this into the void*

Warriors’s hands were clamped tightly over his ears and he struggled to keep his breathing steady as he sat tucked away in some tight alley corner, eyes squeezed shut and knees brought up close to his chest. He shouldn’t have run away from the others, he’d left them in the busy streets of HIS own Castle Town with no idea where they were going, but the moment the first explosion of colors lit up the night sky his heart had frozen in his chest and he’d bolted.

He wasn’t going to cry, he was NOT. It was just fireworks. It was just fireworks because of course they’d managed to land in his fucking era the night of the anniversary of the end of the fucking war. It had officially been a full eight years, he shouldn’t be reacting this… this STUPIDLY to the loud explosions all around him. It had been eight years since the worst time of his life, he’d gotten better, he HAD. He just needed a minute to pull himself together before he’d head back to the others and beg for their forgiveness for having abandoned them.

Another round of fireworks shot into the sky and Warriors had to bite his lip to keep from crying out, but nothing could stop the frustrated tears from rolling down his cheeks. He couldn’t seem to stop shaking and he could feel his heart beating so fast in his chest he swore he could feel it against his ribs. Thinking was becoming harder by the second, he was so scared out of his mind that his thoughts stopped being rational and were just yelling at him to take cover and to hide, and to get somewhere safe.

Mask… Mask had to get somewhere safe too. Where was he?

Warriors’s head shot up and his eyes opened wide in panic as he frantically searched around him in the alley for his little brother.

No. He forced himself to take in a deep breath to clear his thoughts, ignoring the way he could smell the thick smoke in the air. Mask wasn’t here. Mask was fine because he wasn’t here. The kid had gone home after the end of the war.

Except, no, he WAS there. Older, sure, but Mask WAS with him again. And he wasn’t taking cover and Warriors couldn’t see him. He wasn’t safe.

Warriors tried to push himself up off the ground but the alley spun around him and his legs gave out from underneath him, sending the captain crashing back down to the stone ground with a small whine.

More explosions rang above him and he pressed his hands into his ears again as he curled up as much as he could on the ground. Some war hero he was, cowering in an alley and crying because he didn’t know where his brother was, when HE was the one who’d bolted. HE was the one who left Time and all the others behind. And there was nothing he could do but wait it out because he couldn’t even pick himself up off the jagged stones pressing into his body.

Some evil little voice in his head told him he was incredibly vulnerable here like this without his armor, that anyone could come up behind him and hurt him, and all he could do was curl up tighter and bang his head into the ground a couple times.

A hand slipping itself between his head and the stone street scared him half to death and Warriors let out a strangled scream. He twisted himself around and did his best to scramble away, but the explosions kept firing off and it was so loud and it was so overwhelming and he couldn’t breathe.

He fell flat on his back. And he stayed there, staring up at the sky, ignoring the ash that rained down around him because surely he was about to die.

The person said something he couldn’t understand, they repeated it a few times, but the captain couldn’t hear a thing other than the blood rushing in his ears and the explosions all around. He couldn’t breathe and his limbs felt like lead.

Warriors’s vision was swimming in front of him and he felt too exhausted and worn out to fight the gentle hands that carefully scooped him off the ground, pulling him close to a warm person. He was still shaking in fear and fighting for every gasp of air, but he felt something in him relax when his head was pressed right against a steady heart beat and the person’s other hand covered his other ear, cautious of putting too much pressure over where his earrings hung. There was only one person alive who’d dare to hold him so gently.

He wasn’t alone anymore. He’d been alone for so many long years, but he wasn’t alone anymore.

Warriors reached out and tightly gripped Time’s tunic with a trembling hand, and his little brother pulled him impossibly closer.

“I got you, Captain.” Time must’ve been shouting for Warriors to have been able to hear his voice through Time’s own hands and the fireworks going off above them. “You’re safe.”

[penvisions]

y'all, i am so beyond grateful and appreciative. i'm for real tearing up, i never expected to even get five chapters into my self-indulgent foray into this fandom let along to where i am now

i want to thank every single one of you, even if you just lurk, even if you go on anon to ask questions and interact, my lovely mutuals who i hold so dear, to each person who spams me with likes and reblogs when they come across my page, to each and every one. thank you so fucking much for making the world a little better by being here in this corner of the internet with me

i want to express how amazing it has been (despite some considerable drama and nonsense) to be here, to have this space to escape to, to be able to yell into the void with likeminded people. i don't have a big social circle, nor a lot of things that keep me busy aside from work and family obligations and it's so exciting to have this community in my phone i can reach out to, post to, cry with, shout with, and enjoy in that old man and his fantastic acting career

a lot of my fics are pulled from personal experiences, reader inserts showcase the qualities in myself i am self-conscious of, the qualities i feel are what makes it a little harder for me to connect with more people in the real world. the love and appreciation y'all show for them means the world to me. it makes me feel so seen and heard and the fact that fanfiction has been able to do that and bring us all together is...incredible. so thank you, thank you, thank you

to celebrate, i would love to do a little something. so please feel free to send something in:

🖤 for a moodboard of your favorite p boy + a simple theme (for example: joel miller + ranch life)

🩶 for a snippet or sneakie peak from any of my ongoing fics found here

💛 for me to check out a self rec of something you're super proud of! always looking for more to read, so send 'em in, babes

💜 for my favorite pedro pic of the hour / day

🩷 for a favorite of mine in exchange for one of your own! (for example: favorite color of yours and i'll give you mine in return)

x.o dev

[gofishygo]

[PRIDE MONTH- WEEK FOUR] : through green hydrangeas (my heart lies) price x ftm reader (part 2/2) - UNFINISHED

(i will complete this once i am unsuicidal and motivated)

[PART ONE] | notes: medical settings, description of injury, should have a good ending but like rn its not necessarily very bonita for either of them

The next time you and Johnathan price meet each other is indeed, in Burningham.

The doctors treating you had come with a prognosis- a puncture to the intestine. Through the whole eight hours of the surgery, the whole two weeks of an induced coma, he’d shadowed it behind a glass window. His now practically immune to the scent of disinfectants, the lemon-stained chemicals burning at his nose until the chemoreceptors in them saw nothing, felt nothing. He compares it to a black hole, how his sensory limbs have dulled since his career; his ears are now half drowned, all noose shallow and diasporic, left behind at a botched mission in 2002 Moscow. The keenness of his nose now snuffed by a recent disaster with chemicals. His body is trying and failing, pulling the weight of the world on its shoulders and inside the gaping voids of his chest, always consuming, killing, but never truly settled. Never truly sated.

And now his eyes have resulted in you being eaten, now his ears have resulted in you being ripped at your core. His body has chewed you and, and was left to spit out your body, just like Johnny-

He is scared of looking into closed eyes-they remind price too much about him. So, he leaves the living pearls alone, refuses to peel the skin back to see your colours. He never wants to chew again, not after this.

In every other world be should have stayed attentive, should have yelled at you to not mount the doorframe. But now you are here, bandage wrapped vice-tight below your own scars under your chest and blanketing part of your tattoo, and guilt and pity and some dark festering emotion he couldn’t pinpoint layer and boil like bile in his kidneys. Threatens to spill over into his throat and all over the bed when he is finally allowed to take the compression off. It reveals the shooting star of a wound, crusted tail stretching and expanding into arms that seem to try reach across your skin, to take more of the body it had infested. And he fears you will meet the fate of Johnny- that the wound had claimed your soul instead of your life. And it was an early death too, for the man he had met, for the private who’d body he thought he’d fully memorised a decade ago. The short-lived life of the man who smiled with his whole face for the woman who couldn’t. He knows you have changed, have grown up and out of your past life.

But he can only hope that now; you are strong enough to live through it.

On the nineteenth day of your bedrest, John seems to notice that the slow trickle of bouquets and cards of condolence had been wrung dry, petals brown and crusting on the small bundle of roses that Gaz had left on the bedside since the beginning of your stay in the hospital. The colour of the wilt now matched his increasingly darkening eyebags, crow’s feet near buried, shallow dents in the corner of his peripherals. Pads of his fingers rest atop your forehead- and he knows no matter how dysregulated your internal temperature was since the mission, the number of degrees in your body would always be more than the amount of “get well soon’s” you were given. Some stone of pity seems to snowball at the tip of his tongue and lodge in his throat at the lack of a similar last name on any of the unopened cards left to collect dust on the table. Perhaps, since you’d dropped your original name, the people who’d carried your last refused to see you. And maybe, the idea that the number of degrees your body temperature was also outmatched the number of times you’d seen your relatives since your transition. And maybe, you had been alone for that stretch of years, without familiar flesh to grip onto or a face to share your ashtray and lighter with.

(When long-abandoned lawns are left unattended, they seem to flourish. Rainwater fills the cracks of pavement, toadstool and wildflowers sprouting between the roots of household weeds. In miracle, you had thrived in your isolation.) With one of your eyes slightly peeled open and fixed towards him, and voice barely gathering into the creak of a tree deforested, you ask what is wrong. Price swallows: and he replies with silence.

But even in your quarter-dead state, the captain can’t seem to stomp out the embers of your stubbornness. You’d always cared for him, affection growing teeth and latching onto him with a grip near impossible to pry. In warmth, it held him, in cold, it smothered him. “Put a lid on it, private,” its some form of rumbled warning, a predecessor to earthquakes that would split continents open. “Laswell called. All six targets got taken down, thanks to the work of you and the ULF. Another mission cleared, another day of living.” The dynamics of your exhale sound oddly like a rendition of price’s puff of a cigar. He can faintly recognise the lethargy, energy seeped out of your injuries, clearly exasperated by the way he slams shut at your prying. “You don’t need to worry about me,” But you’re attentive, even in your indigence, and notice how his eyes are not focused on the explosion of scab across your torso, but on the scars that adorned the underside of your chest. “Or is there something else on your mind?”

Price- he truly does hope that you register his stifled grunt and the widening of his eyes as shock instead of horror. Your words catch him off guard, a bear trap that ensnares his tongue instead of his legs, and he is left thrashing in desperation for new words. “no, it’s not- its not that you’re transgender. I don’t care for that. Why didn’t you contact me? What made you think that I would despise you, just because you changed? Just because you were happier?” did you think I could ever hate you for that? “no, its not your fault kid. m’ mistake.”

Silence from the only person who’d dared to raise their words to match all his own, isolation from the man whose touch anchored you down to the ground of the earth and the heat of his skin- it’s smothering him still, a phantom weight that chained the both of you to the bones in your knees and the cuffs of your necks. (If love Is liberation, maybe you two could have been set free-)

[klwrites]

Young Love part 1/3 (Damian Wayne)

Requests!!

This can be the the first day of what ever grade you’d like!

Damian marched into his honors chemistry class expecting to get into the biggest waste of his time. Immediately when the teacher started to speak he started fidgeting with the items prepared at each lab table. One careless bored move after the next, flames emerge. The sprinklers went off and students yelled as the flames spread.

Fuck fuck fuck

The fire was spreading fast, but Damian made it out the classroom, making sure everyone else left first. He frantically looked around for anyone in distress, and noticed the school was filled with smoke and there were more flames across the school.

There must be two fires then.

Regardless of not having his suit, Damian went into the flames to investigate. After going in and out to bring hurt students to safety, he searched the firey hallways. Nearly out of breath, he finally found a clue.

“What are you doing?” He shouted, expecting someone more criminal.

“Get away! Save yourself!” You sternly yelled, desperate to not hurt anyone in this incomprehensible accident.

Damian paused, slowly letting his arms down to see better. There you were, a teenage girl, flames coming cracks out of your face, tears streaming. Why did Damian’s heart hurt?

“Are you going to be okay if I did that?” He questioned.

“I.. I don’t know.”

“I’m staying,” He coughed. “I can help you, trust me.”

What the fuck is wrong with her?

“Everyone is out of the building but me. Trust me.” Damian reassured.

He looked down at his phone, Bruce sent him multiple worried messages, the last one being “on my way”. Damian sighed and put his phone away.

“We need to leave now, otherwise The Batman will think you did this on purpose or something.”

Your horrified eyes got wider. “Oh my god I’m a criminal.”

“No. Not if you get us out of here.” He coughed.

All the exits were blocked by fire, where could they escape? He stood behind you, impatiently waiting to get out of the building. You were unsure what to do, you had no control over the firey blasts coming from you. But for the first time, metaphorically and physically, someone was standing with you. You closed your eyes and focused on the blank void in your eyelids. Taking a deep breath and opening your eyes you shot your hand forward, letting a path through the fire slowly open.

“Just like that! Just a little more!” Damian shouted,

You yelled in pain, breaking more of the fire apart.

Damian gasped, looking over to you right as you fell unconscious. Without skipping a beat, he caught you and ran. He ran deep into the woods, trying to be sure no one could catch them. He looked behind him, the schools fire was spreading through Gotham. Setting you down, he moved the hair out of your face and stared with a judgmental look on his face. Then he put forward his hand to check your pulse. Still here. She’s the reason the city is on the verge of complete flames, yet he feels at complete peace sitting there in the woods with her.

You opened your eyes, finding yourself in a large dark room. In the corner was a figure sitting with his back turned at a desk. You stretched before setting your feet on the ground. You noticed the burn holes in your shoes, then pants, then sweatshirt. Then you remembered everything. You quickly looked up as there was a knock on the door.

“Damian! What’s going on?!” A deep voice yelled.

“Shit shit shit shit shit” whispered Damian. “We have to get out of here.”

“What?”

He put his hand over your mouth and used his hand to move your towards the window.

“Do what I do.” Damian instructed.

You jumped towards the ground and followed him through a long forest followed by a tall stone wall surrounding the place. After we made it through he turned to you and placed a finger over his mouth then you followed him to a dark secluded alley. Damian looked around making sure it was safe, then placed the hood over his head.

“What’s going on? Where am I? Who are-“

“Look, the city is on fire, and it won’t stop burning. No amounts of water will stop it and everyone on the streets of Gotham is looking for you. Stop the fire now.”

You what?

“What do you mean the fire won’t go out?” You asked in disbelief.

“Nothing is stopping it. I know it has to be you.”

A part of you wanted to coward away into the fire and die with it, but something the feeling of looking around this man makes you feel okay.

“Not to mention they have footage of you… everyone knows it’s you.”

You stare blankly at the streets on fire,

“I…” you pause.

“I’m not leaving you until this is over.” Damian sternly stated. He placed a hand on your shoulder.

You turned to him, your eyes softened, you felt a warm sensation in your chest- a good one.

“Do you meditate?” Damian asked,

For some reason he feels the need to help you. He relates to you almost. Maybe he sees what you could become, or maybe he could you had no sense of home like he did. Whatever it was it made him feel like risking everything for you.

“No?”

“Before I came here, I stayed somewhere far away from everyone and everything so I could live with myself and control myself. All through meditation. Sit with me please, do what I do again.”

You sat in-front of him mirroring his pose and shutting your eyes.

“Starting at your feet, take a minute to think about how every part of your body feels. Slowly work your way up.”

After a long period of silence, Damian continued the instructions.

“Slowly open your eyes now. I want you to identify the things you see to yourself right now. Just list everything you see, don’t think much.”

The trash. The rocks. The fire. God the fire. There’s a spider web, or maybe a Cobb web? And fire. So much fire.

You started to breath fast and heavy, waves of panic took over your body. You had to stop all of this fire? You didn’t even know how to start it.

“Hey, look at me. Not the fire. I’m right here, what do you see on me?”

Black hair. Spiky black hair. Tan skin. Dark eyes. Stern sharp eyes. He was like a black cat.

“Close your eyes again.”

You almost didn’t want to.

“Feel inside of you again. Think of what you feel. What did you see? How does it connect to the noise you hear right now?”

You could feel it. The fire. It was there in your core, burning. The burning got hotter and hotter until you opened your eyes, nearly in pain. The fire had gone out more, and weakens around you.

“That’s it. You’re in tune.” Damian smiled.

But it hurts.

You took a deep breath, and kept going.

Damian could tell it hurt, he understood the burning that gets worse when things get better.

“It’s all going to be okay.”

The fire eventually went out on one street, but there’s a lot more to Gotham then that. You and Damian decided to lay low overnight so you could get energy back before taking down more. You were still an enemy of the city, and who could blame them? It was night three of being on the run that you thought to ask his name.

Damian’s admiration for you grew, he spent all day trying to find more ways to help you control this curse. His phone was going off nearly every five minutes, you would just watch as he’d pause what he was saying, grumbled, looked at his phone, sighed, and type.

“Bruce, have you seen the news that just came out?” Alfred asked.

“No, is is about Damian?”

The poor man had been searching day and night for his son.

“Yes sir. I was watching the news and a video recording of last night came up, she was in an alley way and master Damian was clearly behind her…”

That confirmed Bruce’s instincts. His son was kidnapped, and he would do everything in his way to get him back. Without any words he stood from his desk, walked over to his weapons, and started packing his most obscure ones.

“Sir?”

“I will tear Gotham apart to find my son.”

[underdark-dreams]

Thank you everyone who has read this fic along its life! I finally got up the courage to tie it up with a bow. Here's the final chapter of my Rolan x Tav series Sage and Soldier, with links to the other pieces:

Blades and Spells [Fluff - First Meeting]

Good Night for Company - [Pining - Feelings Realization | NSFW] [ch1] [ch2]

[ch1] - [ch2] - [ch3] - [ch4] - [ch5]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.6

After the end of the world, there's a wizard's tower in the Upper City.

Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, NSFW | Word Count: 4.8k [Read on AO3]

There was no time to celebrate the death of the Absolute—not when Tav and her companions stood trapped on its back like one of the doomed cities of Netheril. Not when her ears had already begun swimming and popping from the breakneck speed of their fall.

Tav yelled something back to the rest, some stupid bit of encouragement meant to keep them all on their feet. What else could they do but hold on, after all? They were all helpless, exhausted from battle, keeping their footing however they could as the brain’s pulsating flesh descended from the sky.

When they punched through the misty cloud layer below, Tav’s stomach leapt straight up into her throat. They were sailing across the Upper City, and the high spire of Ramazith’s Tower was rushing forward to meet them.

Too soon, her ears rang with the sickening, rib-shaking crash as the dying Netherbrain collided with the column of the Tower. Her shout of horror was lost to the explosive crumble of masonry and the whip of wind. She had only a second to fear the worst. 

The impact spun the creature on its descent; Tav was knocked hard to her side, forced to scrabble for purchase on the monster’s slimy flesh as it careened sideways. Her limbs skated ineffectually over the brain’s folds—she was sliding toward the edge—

Not like this, her mind screamed in protest.

Tav yanked the sheathed dagger at her thigh and plunged it into the dying Absolute. Two hands gripped the hilt with all her might, even as her legs swung over the side of the Netherbrain like those of a limp ragdoll.

“Hells, we’re headed for harbor—!”

Behind her, Wyll’s yell of warning cut through. Tav understood at once—if they hit the Chionthar still standing on the back of the Netherbrain, its mass would pull them deep underwater with the strength of a vortex. She craned her neck blindly.

“Gale!” Tav shrieked for him, mad with panic. What if he’d fallen in the Upper City? What if he was gone, and she was beseeching a void?

Then she heard Gale’s voice call out for the Weave, and his spell hit hard along her spine. Her boots lifted unnaturally, the feet within them tingling with the power of flight—

The Netherbrain banked hard over the central City Wall. They were low enough now that Tav could make out figures with upturned faces—people watching the monster’s fall from the sky and fleeing away on foot, as if all pushed back by the same bank of wind. With one more lilt, the fleshy ground under her veered straight for the ancient wooden river docks.

A sharp glint of hope. If they timed their jump just right—if Gale’s spell lasted—

“Fuck this—” Beside her, Karlach was of the same mind. She was crouched low for balance, inching forward to the edge of the Crown for a better position. 

Tav used her dagger for leverage to push herself crouched. “Aim for the roof of the Counting House!”

She heard the others fighting to their feet behind her. Gravity was accelerating their fall; sharp rain and river mist buffeted against her face as they swung rapidly for the water. But first, they passed beside a wide expanse of flat stone ramparts.

And then—they jumped.

—

Tav’s limbs cried out in exhaustion; her rain-soaked leg plates jangled heavily with each boot tread. She dragged herself through the streets of the Gate on adrenaline alone. 

Those streets were in chaos. Though the battle was newly won, each corner she rounded brought a fresh skirmish. 

Newborn mind flayers stumbled about in swarms, hungry and rudderless without direction from their Elder Brain. Many still dripped with blood from the death of their human forms. Those Baldurians who weren't running from them with crying children in their arms had snatched up tools and blades alike to run the creatures through with the ruthlessness of survival. 

The chaos helped. Grit and blood and thudding bodies distracted Tav from the one sight she wanted to turn her head to, yet couldn't bear to see. 

As her boots climbed the cobbles north toward the Upper City gate, Rolan’s tower crumbled over and over in her mind’s eye. She felt like retching. Her lungs were on fire.

Please let him be alive, please let him be alive, please let him be alive—she prayed to any god who might still be listening.

A child’s scream brought her up short on reflex.

Silfy—the timid one from the Grove, the little girl who cried when Tav caught her stealing a worthless trinket. A young mind flayer was reaching for her, one long-fingered hand directing its neural heat where she stood frozen in terror.

Tav’s teeth ground in her skull. She was so thoroughly fucking done—her longsword scraped out of its scabbard and arced straight toward the creature’s throat. 

Just as the blow connected, an arrow shaft pushed out between the mind flayer’s dark eyes. It crumpled lifeless to the pavement in a heavy heap. Silfy turned tail without a backward glance; Tav squinted through mist and smoke, trying to identify the Flaming Fist who still held her shortbow poised.

“Lia!” Tav could have sobbed in relief. “Thank gods—is Rolan—?”

“I don’t know—” Lia’s voice was desperate as she ran closer. “Cal and I took the Sundries portal to fight with Cerys. Last we heard, Rolan was up manning the turrets.”

Tav could have swayed and collapsed where she stood. Only adrenaline kept her upright.

“I’ll find him,” she shouted above the surrounding chaos, half to herself, half to wipe that terrible fear from Lia’s face. She pushed away into a sprint without another word to her. 

He’s not dead—he wouldn’t die like that—

Would she even be able to find Rolan’s body in the wreckage if he was? Tav’s knees wanted to give way at the thought. She gasped air into her lungs, wresting that image of him out of her mind with everything she had.

When she rounded the road from Flymm’s Cargo, a powerful wall of heat nearly knocked her back on her rump.

The ancient prow of the Blushing Mermaid was ablaze. Flames the height of ten men towered into the gray skies above, unaffected by the steady drizzle of rain. Her steel chestplate grew painfully hot as she forced herself up the crest of the hill.

Shouts and acrid air clouded her senses as she dashed beside the scene. Tav caught sight of Zorru and Danis, leading a bucket line all the way from Gray Harbor; their voices cracked from heat and smoke as they yelled directions.

All at once, like the emptying of a giant basin over their heads, a crash of water fell over the blaze and its surroundings. The cobbles under her feet were abruptly drenched; Tav slipped and careened forward, catching herself hard on both hands in a clang of plate armor.

There was a deep, ominous creak from somewhere above her. Knocked breathless, Tav nevertheless craned her head back. 

The heavy wooden spindle on the ship’s prow that jutted over the street was already weakened from fire; now it was soaked through from the magical downpour. As she watched dumbstruck, it splintered with a slow twang. Then the wood snapped clean down the middle, and the length of it swung downward, straight for her legs.

Tav scrambled forward on hands and knees. Her boots and gauntlets scraped over the wet stones toward safety—

Footsteps were sprinting closer. There was a shouted incantation and a flash; Tav smelled roses as the Weave enveloped her completely for the space of a blink. Then she landed flat on her stomach in the middle of the street.

Thoroughly winded now, she coughed and wheezed for breath. The blaze and heat of the fire was strangely distant from where she lay. 

As her lungs finally filled again, Tav realized she wasn’t just lying on pavement—something soft under her torso had cushioned the fall. She lifted up with a groan to look down at what she’d fallen on top of.

Rolan was entirely covered in soot and masonry dust from horn to foot. The effect was that he blended almost completely into the gray cobbles at first glance. Only when he opened his eyes did she recognize the two golden flames staring back at her.

“Tav!” 

Rolan sat up so suddenly his horns nearly collided with her forehead. His hands gripped around her forearms with bruising force. “The Brain—I thought you’d—”

Her body had begun to violently shake as she took him in, each inch of his face strained with anxiety and streaked with dust and thoroughly alive—

Unable to go another second without him, Tav threw both arms around his neck. Rolan gripped her ribcage in turn, so tight and so long that her vision went spotty from lack of air. She couldn’t care less; in this moment, she would have dissolved right into him if she could have.  

“I thought you were dead, Rolan,” she gasped into his shoulder. “Your Tower—the Netherbrain crashed right into it.”

“Only the observatory.” Rolan’s voice was muffled against her hair. “Never planned to use it anyway—not much of an astronomer—”

Tav could have laughed hysterically if she wasn’t so out of breath. Rolan continued against her neck. 

“I was following it to the harbor, Tav, I had no idea what became of you—but then the fire, there were people inside—”

“You had to help,” she finished. She felt tears streaming fast and hot down her cheeks. The strength of her relief could’ve bowled her right over again. “I know, I know, just—”

They released each other at the same time. The kiss was stained with sweat and grime, yet it was the most satisfying one Tav had ever felt. She gripped Rolan’s face between two gauntleted hands, crushing his mouth against her.

“Lia’s okay,” she gasped out when Rolan’s lips finally left hers. “I met her south of here. She and Cal went with Cerys. Cal must be fine too, she would’ve said,” Tav added in a rush.

Rolan jerked his head in acknowledgement, his expression punch-drunk as he took her in. He was smoothing her hair back with both hands as if the motion was the only thing keeping him grounded at the moment.

“Are you all right?” Her voice was very small.

Rolan nodded at her again. Clearly spell-spent and dusted in plaster, he looked like his own ghost. “Are you?” Despite all that, his baritone reverberated warm and familiar in her chest.

“It’s so quiet,” she whispered hoarsely. Her words fell in almost comical contrast to the distant sounds of shouting, fire, and steel meeting illithid flesh. 

But she could tell from the way Rolan’s eyes moved over her expression that he understood. The tadpole was finally gone—her mind was entirely her own again.

Rolan’s spark was beginning to return. “Can you stand?”

As he rose, Tav wobbled experimentally to her feet along with him. Her knees were bruised from the tumble, and her calves threatened to cramp from exertion—but she put on a brave face. 

Unconvinced, Rolan kept an arm looped behind her back just in case; one hand fastened along her waist. Walking with him close at her side, the adrenaline began to ebb in her veins. Bone-weariness was instead closing in like a shroud. 

“We should find Cal and Lia,” she said, trying to sound purposeful. Her boots dragged with each step.

“Yes,” Rolan agreed. He was holding her very firmly—practically supporting half her weight. “And we should be sure your friends made it safely from the docks.”

Tav gave a mumbled assent. It was difficult to care about any of that now, though she knew she should. She found herself staring up at his profile beside her. 

“Rolan?”

He looked down in concern. “What is it?”

“After that…will you take me home?”

“My darling—” His lips pressed firmly to her brow. “Yes.”

—

Tav shifted on top of him with a mumble.

Rolan froze with arms still looped around her; perhaps the crinkle of scroll parchment had awakened her. 

But then her face snuffled back into the bare crook of his shoulder. The dead weight of her across his chest assured Rolan that she was still fast asleep.

It was a lucky thing that he’d settled with reading material at arm’s length—the small pack of rare scrolls Tav herself had gifted him. She’d been out cold since dawn, when they all made it back to the Tower. It was nearly twilight now, and the sun’s last orange rays were fading fast through the high windows of Rolan’s bedroom. The distant streets had grown quiet as the city retired to nurse its wounds for the night.

Rolan hadn't seen much of her battle with the Netherbrain. Tav hadn't been in a state to tell many details once it was finally over, either. She could barely keep her eyelids open. The only thing clear was that she was completely exhausted from it.

Before anything else, Rolan coaxed several very potent healing elixirs down her throat. Then he drew them a bath and helped her out of her bloodied armor. She leaned heavily against him under the water. By the time he wrapped her in a towel to dry, he practically had to carry her back to his room.

The only hint of her fire came out when he’d tried to guide her toward the bed for sleep. Tav refused to go anywhere near the large four-poster frame that had belonged to the Tower’s previous archwizard. In fact, she declared that the whole thing was to be burned, mattress and all. 

Rolan couldn’t decide whether he was more amused or touched by her vehemence.

Instead, she’d grabbed a fistful of the blankets and dragged them away in order to fall against the massive direwolf pelt rug in front of the fireplace. It was no feather bed, but still leagues more comfortable than how either of them had slept on the road to Baldur’s Gate.

Especially so with Tav draped over him, Rolan had since decided. She’d promptly held him to her and drifted off. Her bare torso was a comforting weight on his chest. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she slept, little steady breaths tickling against his neck.

Home. That’s what Tav had called this, hadn’t she? Silently, Rolan leaned his cheek against her hair as he read.

Lia and Cal had moved all their things into the Tower the same day its ownership changed hands. The few of Rolan’s possessions remaining in their Heapside flat had been left in a little pile just inside his bedroom door. Among them was the small leather scroll pouch Tav had gifted him on her arrival to Baldur’s Gate. 

By this point, Rolan was certain he could find a much larger wealth of arcane knowledge in his new library. Still…it felt important to study from these first. 

For one, they were certainly beyond anything he’d managed to teach himself from hand-me-down textbooks back in Elturel. Whoever she’d stolen them from must have been an advanced practitioner of the Weave. Or perhaps just a man with the wealth and fancy to build a collection, much like Lorroakan had been.

They were also a gift from Tav. That simple fact made them more valuable to Rolan than most of the wealth he’d inherited along with Ramazith’s Tower. 

Had she collected them one by one in her travels here, thinking of him while she did? A warm affection bloomed in his chest at the thought. He’d have to ask her when she finally woke.

It was as if she sensed the thought. 

With a deep inhale, Tav arched and stretched full-body against the length of him under the covers. Her hands both landed to tangle in his hair against their makeshift fur bed.

“Morning,” she purred sleepily against his neck.

Rolan decided then and there—he could very much get used to waking up like this. However, it seemed the right thing to correct her. 

He kissed her brow. “Evening, actually.”

Tav raised her groggy face from his chest then, wiping one corner of her mouth. His eyes left the page to watch her blink around his bedroom in a daze. The blood-orange light of sunset was stretching long and dim across the floorboards now.

“Oh,” she said softly, a single word holding great recognition. Her wide eyes flicked to his face. 

“Have—have I been laid on top of you like a dead fish this whole time?”

“I’d never call you that,” Rolan assured her calmly. “But yes.”

Tav looked at him in appraisal for a long moment. 

“I think you like it,” she decided, and laid her head back down over his heart. He chuckled to himself and raised his free hand to smooth the hair back from her face.

Tav sighed happily at the gesture. “What are you reading, Rolan?”

“One of the scrolls you gave me.”

“Oh? Tell me about it, then. I’m curious.” One hand had gravitated suspiciously close to his ear. Sure enough, her thumb and forefinger began tracing along its edges to the pointed tip.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Rolan sighed. He’d always been unable to ignore the shivers that flowed down his spine when she touched him there. “I’d tell you regardless.”

“I'm sorry—” Her touch fell from him immediately. “I don’t do it on purpose, really. They’re just so pretty.”

Rolan cleared his throat. “It’s fine. You can—go on. If you like. Just know it’s a bit distracting.”

After a moment, her fingers cautiously returned. She was careful to keep the motion smooth and predictable this time. Rolan focused back on the page he’d pressed to fall flat before she woke.

“This one teaches a technique for arcane portal conjurement. The linking of two locations with a path carved through the Weave.”

Tav swiveled on her chin to look up at him. “Like the one from the Sundries to your library here?”

Rolan hummed in assent. “I've read about wizards who linked much more distant places together. The distance from here to Waterdeep, for instance. It requires a tremendous bit of spellwork.”

“How on earth?” She frowned at him in curiosity. “Where do you put a portal if you can't see where it's going?”

“Not sure yet,” Rolan mused, already being drawn back in by his reading despite her affectionate intrusions. “Most likely it requires two casters to sculpt the spell properly. I’ll need to understand the basic mechanics first.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Tav replied. She snuggled back into to the warmth at his neck.

“Of course I will.” Rolan shook the parchment out with his hand to punctuate the statement. 

Tav let out a quiet exhale of laughter—but she said nothing to question him. It made Rolan swell with pride a bit.

He held her for another quiet moment as the fire snapped and danced in the hearth beside them. Its light seemed to burn brighter and even warmer now, with the sun finally gone behind the horizon.  

When Tav shifted further over his lap, he didn’t think anything at first. Perhaps she was still trying to get comfortable on their makeshift sleeping arrangements.

Then she ground the heat between her legs over his half-hard cock, and a reflexive sound was pushed from Rolan’s throat.

“Tav,” he groaned.

“I’ve always loved that confidence of yours.” She had propped herself up with hands on his chest to gaze down at him. The covers fell back to bathe her lovely bare shoulders and breasts and stomach with firelight. “You don’t understand, it’s like catnip to me.”

“Where's this coming from?”

“What? Is it not enough that I just woke up naked with the most handsome, brilliant young archwizard on the whole Sword Coast—”

As she showered him with teasing flattery, Tav canted her hips harder against his own. Rolan leaned back against the tips of his horns with another involuntary groan; the scroll fell away dangerously close to the fire, forgotten.

“Tav,” he repeated more forcefully, pushing himself up on one elbow. Her face above him was full of mischief. “You’ve just been through hells—are you sure you’re well enough to—?”

“Yes.” She threw her head back in a moan with the word. Rolan’s hands flew instinctively to her hips. She was already rocking and grinding in rhythm against him, leaving a wet patch of heat where their hips slotted together.

“You’re unbelievable—” Rolan held her arms back insistently, forcing her to look at him. 

Tav panted and bit her lip as they watched each other. He was of half a mind to return the favor. Look at the pretty hero of Baldur’s Gate, fresh from battle and already writhing on my cock—but the clear desire between her legs had rather scrambled his own thoughts. 

Instead, Rolan did what he could manage to tease her. “Tell me how you feel right now.”

“Hot.” Her voice was low and tempting; her eyes were dark with desire. “Wanting you. Needing you inside me—”

Even without leverage from her palms, Tav managed to shift over his ridges in a way that made Rolan twitch and shudder under her.

“Good gods—I want you too,” he heard himself gasp out. 

It was all the encouragement she needed. His grip had gone slack in distraction; with one hand guiding him, Tav angled herself up and sank down over the hard ridges of his length.

Her tight, wet heat all around him nearly knocked him breathless. Rolan lay back and ran his hands up her thighs. The firm muscle there led him straight to the lovely swell of her hips, and he gripped each hand with nails dimpling into her flesh.

Strong and soft—Tav was somehow both of those things at once. As she sat adjusting to him, her eyes certainly had never been softer than they were now, moving over his face.

“I missed this,” she breathed. 

Rolan nodded in silent agreement. From tonight on, he swore to himself, neither of them would ever have a chance to miss this.

When she began moving, it was slow and deliberate. Her hips glided up and down to take him—so warm, so perfect. Rolan glanced where their bodies met, watching his length disappearing into her again and again. The sight was almost too much; he felt compelled to close his eyes.

Instead, Rolan pushed himself seated. He couldn't be close enough to her. 

Tav folded her arms around his shoulders at once, adjusting to the new angle without breaking rhythm. Her face was bathed in firelight.

As he took in every inch of her, Rolan caught sight of an old blade scar under her jaw. He’d never noticed it before now. He leaned to press his lips against it.

She tilted her head with a soft sound, opening up the rest of her throat to his mouth should he want it. And he did—Rolan kissed and nipped at the flesh there while Tav rode him, her voice softly gasping and whispering his name over and over like a prayer. 

The rhythm of their hips together increased to something desperate. Rolan felt heat licking under his skin, burning like flame everywhere their bodies touched. She clutched desperate fingers over the deep ridges along his shoulder blades.

“Come in me,” she gasped. “Please.”

That one little word was his undoing. Who was he to deny the woman who had just saved everything he loved in the whole Realms, herself included? 

Rolan forced his mouth away from Tav’s throat to watch her come apart. She was already close—he could tell from the way her mouth fell open, the way her walls twitched and gripped him tighter each time she bounced down onto his lap. 

“I love you—” 

He wasn’t sure she heard with the way she arched and tensed into him—but then she already knew, didn’t she? Tav’s arms were trembling around his shoulders when she came, as if he was the only thing keeping her anchored down to earth. 

When he felt the coil inside him unraveling, Rolan buried his face into her shoulder again. She was whispering praises against the tapered shell of his ear—things too sweet to even commit to his own memory. Rolan clutched at her back with both hands as he finally shuddered and spilled inside her.

He kept his arms locked tight around her middle as the twitching waves at his core echoed and subsided. Then they tipped backward together, their bodies still connected, to land in a soft pile of fur.

For a long moment, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the way they both panted against each other. Lying on top of him again, Tav’s lips brushed against the trail of ridges below his collar bone.

Soon enough, one of his long fingers began tracing over her back. He practiced the shapes of his somatic spell components along the empty expanse of her skin. She was so soft and smooth there—so unlike the way Tieflings were formed.

He felt goosebumps raise where his fingers touched. Tav shivered against him. 

“That tickles,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Apologies, darling,” Rolan told her. Some other time it would be very interesting to investigate how ticklish she was. For now, he stilled to press his palm against her lower back instead.

Tav heaved a deep sigh against his chest. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Rolan crooked his head down at her. “What do you mean?”

“Now that it’s over.” Tav propped her chin on both hands to meet his eye. “I can barely remember what it feels like to just…live my own life. You know?” 

Rolan carded one hand back through her hair. He understood the feeling well. 

“There’s still plenty to occupy both of us,” he assured her. “I need to complete the Tower repairs before the next storm, which could be any day knowing Sword Coast weather. And the Lower City is in a state of absolute ruin. I’m sure you’ll have a hundred people knocking on my door come morning, asking for their hero’s help with a hundred different things—”

To his surprise, Tav sat up on his lap in a huff. The motion reminded him he was still softening inside of her. 

“There you go spoiling my fun,” she complained good-naturedly. “Here I expected you to be thrilled at the prospect of finally having me in your bed day and night, with no mortal peril hanging over either of our heads, no less. And you only want to discuss Baldurian civics—”

Rolan felt himself beginning to laugh at her, a relaxed and throaty sound. “Is that what’s troubling you? Tav, I thoroughly intend to fuck you often and well.”

“You’d better,” she warned, but the corners of her mouth had begun to twitch. He wanted to devour her.

“And since you’ve declared my own bed permanently off-limits—” 

In one motion he rolled their bodies to pin Tav under him. It earned him a little ‘oh’ of surprise; he was conveniently still buried between her legs. “You’ve put me in the position of having to be resourceful.”

“Big change for you, that?” Tav teased. But her legs crossed behind his flanks to keep him close. As they did, one of her heels inadvertently rubbed against the sensitive base of his tail. 

Rolan hissed in air between his teeth. He saw her eyes spark with recognition, and leaned down to kiss her senseless before she could do anything wicked with this new information.

By the time they surfaced from lips and tongues and teeth, he was already achingly stiff inside her again. Her hands ran down his front, flowing over each concentric pattern on his chest with open want. It sent a shiver all the way down his spine, from neck to tail.

The way Tav looked at him—the way she touched him as if he was perhaps the loveliest thing she’d ever seen. He decided it would take him years to get used to. Maybe he never would.

Rolan kept still regardless, waiting for her to finish her explorations. All traces of teasing were long gone from her now. 

Tav’s eyes reflected the warmth of the dying fire as reached up for him. She passed one more deliberate hand over the planes of his face, as if she’d like to memorize the feel of them. Her fingers landed to gently clutch around his jaw.

“My wizard,” she said softly. 

Rolan had never been one for pet names; even from the people he cared about most. Those words should have sounded diminutive and sentimental to him, even spoken by Tav. 

Instead…

They fell sweetly against his ear, flowed like honeyed wine down his throat, and nestled into a space that glowed with warmth somewhere behind his ribs.

And why shouldn’t they? He was her wizard, after all.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hi again! I'd like to request my weekly dose of arsonist Neil/firefighter Andrew, if you feel up to it of course. I'm really curious to see what happens next.

I hope you have a nice week, sending good thoughts your way <3

WIP Wednesday (9/4) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 222)

"As someone who's watched millions of hours of Food Network, I would have to say the obvious choices are salt and pepper. And garlic. Things always need more garlic, I think," Neil answers, picturing Andrew looking through his kitchen to find those ingredients. Of course, he has no idea what Andrew's kitchen looks like so he's sort of just picturing him in a void with cupboards. But still, it's nice to imagine Andrew doing something as simple as making himself dinner.

How much?" Andrew asks a few seconds later.

"Dunno. Until it tastes less like nothing, I guess."

Andrew scoffs. "You're a big help."

"So I've been told." Neil smiles. It falls a second later, when he hears a clattering sound and a curse on Andrew's end of the line. He winces and waits a second for Andrew to say anything else. "Tell me you didn't just cut your finger off."

"It was on purpose actually." Andrew deadpans. Neil knows it’s a joke but he doesn’t laugh.

“What happened?”

“Hm? Oh. The spoon dove off the counter, that's all."

"If it was that desperate to get away, your sauce must be worse than we thought.” Neil tells him, earning a grunt in response.

"Mm, no worries. I have another spoon," Andrew says. Then he mutters something that sounds like, 'Fuck you, suicidal bastard', under his breath as he tosses it into the sink. Neil snickers and takes a sip of his drink.

"Is it any better now?"

Silence. "What?"

"The sauce we're trying to revive. Is it better?"

"Oh," Andrew's quiet for another moment. Then he hums thoughtfully. "Yes. Much better. Thanks."

"Glad to be of service." Neil says as he picks at his stupid McDonald's combo meal— cheeseburger and fries this time. Big surprise. He sort of wishes he could toss this in the trash and invite himself to Andrew's place for garlicky noodles and good company. It's a deranged thought, Neil's fully aware of that. But he likes Italian food. And Andrew.

He'd really like for them to hang out in person. He was surprised the other day when he suggested it to Andrew and wasn't immediately told to fuck off. Andrew had been so angry the last time they tried to meet up and Neil couldn't handle it. Neil was worried he wouldn't be willing to try it again.

As pathetic as it may sound, he's been practicing here and there. It's amazing how much better food tastes when you eat it fresh instead of taking it back to your hotel room. Right now, Neil's sitting in McDonald's. He claimed a booth in the corner so he could watch both EXIT doors and also have eyes on his car, which is parked right outside. Andrew called with the news of his brother's visit just after Neil sat down with his food. His phone startled him so badly he nearly spilled his tray.

And it's sort of hard to eat with one hand holding his phone to his ear, but he's glad he answered. And he's glad he stayed. Even though there's a dozen people in the restaurant, he doesn't feel trapped. Doesn't feel like he's being watched. It helps, having someone to talk to like this. Makes him a bit less nervous knowing Andrew's there even if he isn't here. It also helps that this time, he's not at a fucking cafe where they just yell out the names of horrible, murderous fathers.

Speaking of terrible fathers... Neil takes his phone away from his ear to check the clock and it's later than he realized. He's going to miss TV time if he doesn't hurry up. Their show comes on in twelve fucking minutes. Neil finishes inhaling his food in record time and runs for the car, with Andrew's voice spilling out of his fist.

[bo0neey]

Smile! You're on TV

°●.°•*.•.○*•°

Pairing: Katniss x Reader, slight Effie x Reader

Fandom: The Hunger Games.

Synopsis: Congratulations! Your survived the Hunger games. As a Victor it's your job to secure the lives of your Tributes. But don't be disheartened by reputation, statistically district 12 has the same odds as every other district. Better yet, your Tribute this year actually looks promising. !Warning. Growing attached is for audiences only!

Type: Multi-Chapter

°●.°•*.•.○*•°

Chapter 1

°●.°•*.•.○*•°

"So. Y/n."

My sight is blinded. Bright lights strike me down, but it's not unusual, not unexpected by any means. Rather, I'd grown used to the spotlight. It gave me a strange sense of comfort because while I was under the scrutiny of many, I was also safe from the hands of others. Despite the brightness, I can still make out the blue haired man infront of me.

"Last years tributes barely lasted the blood bath."

Of course I'd have to be reminded of those lifeless faces; innocent eyes I'd never meet again with small voices only present in memories. They were so young. Always so young and will forever be young. 13 and 14 last year. 12 and 17 the year before. I remember all of them. Every single child I meet every single year. Even when the cameras stop rolling and the public forget, those stolen lives will weigh on my heart every day.

"With this years reaping just arround the corner, how are you feeling about your odds?"

I mentally curse Haymitch for not being here with me. He always got to miss public pleasing. I sat alone on the large velvet seating. I was the only Victor from 12 that they wanted on the show. I hated it. All of it. They call me a Victor but I've never felt like one.

"Well Caesar, twelves certainly not known for their performance but I'm feeling confident this year. I really think this seventy-fourth year might be ours." With years of practice, I site some generic response and put on my famous smile. Like every time before I twke the cheers as my que to turn and wave to the void of cameras and silhouettes.

"I hear this year marks your tenth anniversary! Let's take a trip down memory lane."

They begin rolling clips from my time in the arena. They span right from the first night up until I was shipped back to the capitol. While I couldn't bare to watch those faces again, every voice took me back to that dreaded fortnight. I only won because the Capitol showered me in donations. It should've been the boy from 4. Or even 6. While in the begining I was glad. I've grown to resent them. I've begun to envy them even. I wouldnt wish this life on anyone.

'Play the game and you'll be rewarded.' Thats what haymitch slurred the first night on the train. He was right, as usual. He's a smart man when he's not drowning in his own vomit although i do sometimes worry he's rotting that brain away.

"Amazing isn't she!" Caesar yells into the crowd. A mix of cheers and sobs come from the faceless mass.

"And while were all feeling nostalgic, let's rewatch the reaping shall we?"

It was sick. Hearing the response from the crowd and the glee in Caesars voice. I turn my attention to the screen and feel my eyes prick. I see a young girl gleefully skip onto the stage. Shes utterly clueless of the horrors waiting for her. Shes helpless to stop the world waiting for her. I want to scream, I want to scoop her up and protect her. I want to rip that stupid dress off her and wipe the makeup off.

But I also know how much she wanted it. I know how long she spent applying old colours to her face and how excited she was when her mother gifted her the dress for her first reaping. I know how much she wqnted to be a pretty girl on the screen. It would be cruel to take that away from her. She stands on the stage with such pride and cheerfulness, its no wonder the Capitol fell for her.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

I quickly blink my eyes. Ah, yes. This years reaping.

I scan my heavy eyes over the quiet crowd to see this Primrose only noone moves. Its deathly silent. Slowly a young girl begins to step forwards. I feel my heart drop. She's so small. So young. So scared. I want nothing more then to hug the poor girl. Her death has just been called and the only comfort she'll receive is a large camera pointed at her face.

Another young girl on my conscience, ten years running. I want nothing more to forget. To live in ignorance. But the only way to fight against this sick game is to remember. Keep these children perfectly preserved and alive somewhere. Even if I'll never get to see such lively souls grow into the adults they should.

[lixiesfreckless]

Deeper | l. m.

part one: Deep

➸ synopsis: you can't tell what's worse; the fact that you want him while you can't, or the fact that he obliges you even when he knows you don't deserve it.

➸ starring: lee minho x female reader

➸ word count: 1.7k

➸ general content: ex bf!minho, it gets worse!!!, nuclear waste would pull up to the toxic competition only to start crying when the reader arrives, angst angst angst hahahahaha literaly click off if you want a happy ending, morals are lost on these two, dirty talking, the only good thing here is that the sex was protected

➸ warnings: swearing, cheating, sexual content, degradation

➸ rating: 18+ MA

➸ author’s note: again, cheating is never okay. in no way am I trying to glamourize it, I just like writing stories about messed up characters sometimes. that being said...was I okay two years ago I feel like I need to interview my old self cause WHAT

♫ all mine- plaza

“We can’t keep doing this to him, you know.”

His fingers don’t relent their pace into you but the pleasurable feeling vanishes all the same, the release you so desperately need coming out in unsatisfying waves of heat between your legs. It’s almost as if he waited for that second to remind you of the horrible truth of this stolen moment on purpose.

In all honesty, you deserved it.

“I know.”

You sit ashamed on the counter as you watch him wash you off his hands, ridding his fingers of any trace of the love crimes he’s helped you commit.

Commit.

Another thing you can’t seem to do.

“I mean it should be simple at this point,” Minho laments, drying his hands on a dish towel, “break up with him.”

“It’s not that easy-”

“And playing with my feelings is easier?”

You stare at him in disbelief, unsure of how one should react to this inconveniently timed confession.

“What?” He scoffs, tossing the towel back onto the counter. “Did you really think that I could be intimate with you again and not fall in love?”

Short answer? No.

Long answer? You two had both fallen back in love with each other despite you being in a semi-serious relationship with Jeongin, and to make up for Jeongin’s lack of a presence in bed, you naturally(and wrongfully) went looking for something to fill it. But in doing so, your old ex seemed to fill that void —and many other things— quite perfectly.

Most people however, call that cheating.

“I mean come on, every time I see you I get my hopes up and think that maybe, just maybe, this will be the time that you want more than something physical from me,” he rants, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. The guilt settles on your chest with the gentleness of an elephant as you watch him lock eyes with you.

“Minho…it’s not like that-”

“Then what’s it like?” He almost yells, fighting to keep his voice down. He didn’t want to fight you; you two had fought enough as lovers in the past and he didn’t want to bring that back. “Why do you continue to break my heart then?”

You're scared of confrontation, Jeongin’s a really nice guy and doesn’t deserve this, you know Minho will come back to you courtesy of his masochistic heart…

Yeah. None of those were good excuses.

He steps closer to you.

“Don’t tell me it’s because you love him too…”

“I don’t,” you respond quickly, looking up at him, “Jeongin is great but…I don’t love him.”

“What do you need me for then?” He whispers, a bitter edge to his voice as he traps you between his arms against the counter. “If he’s so great then why do you need me?”

There is an obvious answer, but you know it’s not the full truth. 

Need is such a funny word; most people use it in terms of things necessary for survival. Food. Clothing. Water. But in your case, you really think you might die if he stands this close to you for this long and it doesn’t end in you bent over this counter.

You’re absolutely horrible in the way that the need to have him inside you is jading your thoughts during a conversation like this.

Something darkens behind his irises as you stay quiet; perhaps it’s him acknowledging his insignificance in your life, or rather, the presence he has that is nowhere near where he wants it to be. 

Both his assumptions are wrong of course, but you’re too caught up in your own head to hear the tch coming from his mouth.

“I should have known.”

Everything about that phrase is slightly off. Equal parts because he’s wrong and he doesn’t know it, and because it just doesn’t sound right. His voice was laced with heartbreak— you could tell that much —but it sounded mainly arrogant, almost egotistical. Almost as if he was proud as to how much his cock had literally and morally fucked you up.

But you don’t have time to ponder the implications of his voice tones; not once he spins you around and presses a hand flat against your back, effectively bending you over the counter, pulling a surprised gasp out of you.

Well, surprised in the sense that you didn’t expect it, not during this conversation. 

And it truly is shameful how badly your body wants it, drowning out the screaming of your heart that’s telling you to stop, talk things out with him, you two do not need to get any deeper into this mess, but it’s no use, he’s already finding the drawstrings of your shorts and undoing them so he can undo you.

“This is all I am to you, right?” He practically spits as he yanks your shorts down, revealing the already soaked panties that he ruined just minutes before. You can tell that he’s angry, and it’s absolutely disgusting how your first thought is that he’s probably going to fuck you harder because of it.

Mad. He’s mad at you for cheating on someone so undeserving. For giving him so much false hope. For being so damn enticing that while he knows you don’t deserve it, he’s still going to give you what you want, because he wants it too. He’s a slave to desire all the same.

He’s mad at himself for not thinking he deserves better than this.

“Nothing more than someone to fill up your needy hole, is that it?” 

You know you should say something, something to ease his pain and remedy this situation, but you subconsciously add selfish to your list of faults as you admit that deep down, you want to see where this goes.

His belt is already undone and your panties are halfway down your thighs, which are practically trembling with anticipation as you hear the metal of the zipper pull clink against the belt buckle. Minho is panting, but you know enough about him to decipher that the labored breathing isn’t from the red haze of anger.

“You want it this bad?” He grits out, and you assume from the latex sounds that you are just seconds away from having him inside you, and you are this close to begging him to go faster. But you won’t. You still have your dignity.

Or…whatever’s left of it.

He prods at your entrance with his gloved tip and if you were a little less sane, you’d be practically crying at the mere thought of being full again.

“Then you’re gonna take it all like the needy slut you are.”

To hell with dignity.

You’re blabbering random words and phrases, all related to wanting him to just fuck you already, and despite his miffed state he grants you your wish, steadying his hands on both of your hips to prepare himself for the plunge.

The mewl that comes out of your mouth is film-worthy, the stretch of his cock against your walls proving too much to keep your mouth shut as he pulls your hips closer together, bending over you slightly as he weakens as well. A few labored pants ensue, yours coming from adjusting and his, well— coming from your adjusting.

He regains his composure and straightens, holding one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, and then he suddenly pulls you flush against his pelvis sharply, pulling a pitched yelp from your lips. And this is where he loses it, because you’re too wet and warm and tight and infuriating and it takes him all of five seconds to draw back and push in again, this time with more force.

You cry out, wishing there was something on the counter you can hold on to, but another push and pull has you resorting to spreading your palms on the granite surface. 

“Poor Jeongin,” he says, each word punctuated with a thrust, “he has no idea that his girl is bent over the counter like this.”

The pure sin of that thought has you reeling, choked moans falling out of your lips as he slams into you harder, probably because of your reaction. 

“Practically begging for me to fill her, fuck,” he adds, with almost a sinister ring to it as the skin slapping noises fill the kitchen.

Nothing about this is ideal, but your walls beg to differ, clenching embarrassingly hard around him and giving away your physical state of arousal to your dismay. He clicks his tongue. 

“Close already?” It’s an insult, you’re aware. And it feeds his ego, knowing that no one can make a mess of you this fast.

You don’t have to answer, because that would be stating the obvious, but you still sputter out “yes, p-please” as if it’s some sort of insurance for your impending release.

And when it crashes over you with the force of a tidal wave, he doesn’t stop, no; he keeps going, and your eyes sting with tears of overstimulation. He doesn’t even acknowledge your orgasm, which only makes a second one feel not so far away.

Suppose this is what he feels like when you chase your highs through means of his ministrations. 

Used.

You feel the familiar twitching of his cock inside you, but before you can think to rub your clit to get you there faster, he’s already filling the latex up with warmth, hips slowing their movements as he tries to catch his breath.

The post-orgasmic haze feels more like a heavy fog as it settles on the both of you, Minho pulling out before he softens too much and you whimper; whether it was at the loss of him or because of the cold air, you don’t know.

The silence that follows is deafening.

There’s so much to say and at the same time, you both have nothing to say to each other. You’re torn between explaining your actions and just leaving it for another time, and he can’t decide if he’ll ever be back if he walks out your door.

A mess doesn’t even begin to describe what you two are.

“I’m sorry,” you finally decide on saying as you watch him put on his jacket. He stills, almost shaking with the restraint of not pettily saying for what? at the first real words you’ve spoken what seems to be all night. Because truthfully, there were about a million different things that you could apologize for.

But it takes two to tango. Specifically in your case, the devil’s tango.

So he settles on something much less damaging, and also equally necessary, and leaves it at that.

“Yeah. I’m sorry too.”