#oc: echoes of chiming winds

[kapturkaptur]

slowly preparing for artfight

[dewdwrite]

Here's two stories of a gnoll (Hyena) OC named Taka. My girlfriend and I made a while back.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63915751/chapters/163932214

Art by @dragon-draws-art

Druids were rarely seen in civilized society. Reclusive and mysterious, the magic they practice is often only understood by them and whatever gods of nature they kindle favor with. These same gods tend to be vague with their missions and motivations. This leaves an interesting philosophical line to walk when it comes to serving them.

Gnolls were seen as gluttonous and untrustworthy. The first couldn't be helped–the second, however, could be disproven. She'd been entrusted with thousands of acres of woodlands after getting a blessing from a desperate dryad. She stayed true to her word, meticulously keeping the peace and helping the circle of life continue its neverending rotation.

Taka's large frame maneuvered through the woodlands with a grace uncharacteristic of her kind. Long, powerful legs helped her traverse quickly in precise strides. The sound of bead and bone jewelry echoed on the wind. Her various baubles and macabre fetishes clacked together and swayed with her movements. The skulls of various long-passed creatures adorned her. Turquoise stones and handcrafted jewelry hung around her neck, wrists, and ankles. She brushed her long black mane to one side, flicking out a layer of dirt that clung to it. Her nature was to scavenge and to repurpose; to not let anything go unused or unappreciated. This garnered her plenty of favor with all gods of the wild.

Tan fur speckled with dark spots covered every inch of Taka’s body. It nearly blended in with the hides she wrapped around her waist and torso. The modest fur clothing kept her decent without restricting her movement. Her gnarled staff was her most prized possession. Despite her affinity for collecting, this was truly the only worldly possession she coveted. A twisted thick branch of yew wood as tall as she was. It had a large chunk of amber with a butterfly inside that was as black as night. Any light that shone through it cast a grim shadow. It was the focus for her magic and as much a part of her as the earth was.

Taka continued her trek, only a mile from her home now. She knew this area well, its familiar sights and creatures. She readjusted her tattered leather pack and pressed onward. She'd walked nearly all day with the intention of spending the night in her bed, not to mention filling her stomach with a home cooked meal. Gnolls had a massive appetite–and hers hadn't been properly sated in days. The odd foraging and brief campfire meals didn't keep her stomach from growling, either.

The ragged strap from her pack dug into Taka’s sore shoulder, its contents nearly spilling out. She had just enough food for a day of rest: meat, vegetables, and a few assorted berries. Her mouth began to salivate at the idea of what she would make with it. It was taking everything she had not to reach in her pack and eat the ingredients one at a time. Taka’s stomach let out a long rumble, reminding her once again how completely empty she was. She gripped her upper abdomen with her free hand and squeezed the excess flesh in a vain attempt to subdue its cries. The extra layer of fat that accumulated throughout her body was a testament to just how otherworldly her appetite was, but it was her obnoxious stomach that divulged it most of all.

Nestled in the heart of the woodland beneath a canopied pasture hid a small hut. The rough wood and thatch construction served its purpose and gave Taka a proper place to recuperate. It was a construction culminating her odd impulses; the outside was adorned with intricate totems and wind chimes made of all sized bones. A welcome sight after days spent away performing rituals and rites. All through the trees and her roof sat a murder of crows. They hopped about excitedly and started cawing as she got closer. Anticipating the onslaught of other mouths to feed, Taka dug into her bag’s many pouches. Along the paths she’d worn into her home turf sat covered bowls on posts. She removed the tops and placed handfuls of seeds, nuts and berries. The birds quickly flocked to the offerings and began squabbling amongst themselves. Outside her door was another post; its bowl had a small pile of coins and assorted trinkets. A passing crow dropped a copper piece as she reached for the pile. It eyed her impatiently before flying over and snatching a red berry from her hand. Her relationship with the crows was mutually beneficial, and gave her modest funds to buy supplies with, as well as bits to add to her jewelry.

Her stomach panged with hunger as she gave away a meager amount of her rations. It seemed ridiculous to feel any jealousy towards such creatures, but her hollow stomach was incapable of reasoning. With a hand on her midriff she entered her hut, squinting in the darkness. A wave of her hand was all it took to light her fireplace and the wide array of candles throughout the room. She laid her pack down and overturned it, letting the plethora of ingredients spill onto her table. Her stomach howled impatiently as she set about preparing something.

As Taka chopped vegetables and sprinkled spices on large chunks of meat she could feel the gnawing hunger in her core becoming increasingly intense. The crackling of the fire and the persistent hissing of her meal cooking was being drowned out by rolling rumbles echoing from deep inside her. This amount of internal activity was normal for her, especially before a meal, but it wasn’t easy to ignore without a proper distraction. She soon found herself popping small handfuls of fresh berries in her mouth and taking large gulps from her water skin. This didn't satisfy her–she could feel her powerful stomach acids dissolving her snack mere moments after she swallowed it. This combined with the smells of a long awaited meal made her greedy gut howl in frustration. With no other option, she turned her meal over in the pan with one hand while the other rested on her midriff, feeling the convulsing organs rioting underneath her fur.

Despite her body being in a rush, Taka was meticulous in her preparation and plating of her food. It was a substantial amount, easily enough for three humans. Multiple slabs of meat and root vegetables piled on a plate that could serve as a dinner tray to most others. She could feel her stomach quivering as she finally began to eat. She did own cutlery, but it often went unused. The true nature of what she was came out when she ate in a completely undignified manner. Once she started eating– that's when her unholy appetite became apparent. She ate so rapidly she could feel her stomach filling with each swallow, taking another bite at a pace only someone truly famished could maintain. What took an hour to prepare was devoured within minutes. Taka’s stomach greedily churned away at her food and made a new array of satisfied noises as it finally began processing its first proper meal in days.

While it was quieter when she was full, her guts still made a cacophony of sounds. Gnoll stomach acid was among one of the most caustic substances in the material plane. The way it boiled and churned whatever was dropped into it was unlike the digestive tract of even the most legendary of creatures. This was the side of her there was no help changing and she was fine with that. Even if it meant waiting, sometimes for days filling herself to her true capacity was always a pleasure. The gentle ache she felt settling in her core after a large meal was leaps and bounds better than the incessant roaring of hunger that preceded it. Soon her meal would be gone and it would be time to do it all again. The circle of life.

A kinky take on the goodberry spell.

Nature had a way of speaking to druids, of telling them when and where they were needed. It took devotion to the lifestyle and understanding of the unseen forces of the world. Taka was needed for a ritual, that much she knew and that meant another hike. She enjoyed hiking, walking all through the territory she was responsible for. A more powerful Druid might open a portal to their destination or travel through the fey wild. Taka on the other hand was humble and content walking, even if it worked up an appetite.

She didn't carry much in the way of supplies at least as far as survival was concerned. After all, nature did provide, especially for a druid. She knew she needed to forage for ritual supplies rather than food. No matter, she'd have to fall back on her standby rations. Her hike wasn't as the crow flies but rather a series of detours to find various plants, fungi and stones that all served a specific purpose.

Along the way Taka had finally found the source of her personal search, a familiar bunch of dark green leaves with small nubs of berries waiting to grow. She plucked the sprig of mistletoe, and with a brief surge of magic a pile of plump red berries grew rapidly, filling her palm. She salivated and her stomach growled causing her to grimace. Druids called these goodberries, a magical food that could sustain a body for an entire day with just one berry. She used this spell as necessary but she didn’t care for them much herself. Right now however she was too hungry to find a proper meal and still had much to do. She could deal with her stomach making noise even if it was quaking with thunderous hunger, not her legs shaking or her head pounding. That made her feel like she was wasting away and in that case a goodberry would do.

With a sigh she popped the berry in her mouth and swallowed it whole. She was so hungry there was more saliva than berry traveling down her throat. Her stomach convulsed and quaked the moment the berry landed in her begging gut. The magical nature of the fruit took effect rapidly. She felt the strength returning to her limbs and the throbbing in her head subside. As her stomach started to churn, she could feel the berry sitting stubbornly inside her like a pebble. Due to the nature of her anatomy she was typically very aware of how things broke down inside her. Good berries however took all day and didn’t offer the satisfaction of a stretched out full stomach. Instead she had the rolling boil of digestion and this stubborn thing tumbling around in her stomach acids. She often found herself wondering if this is how it felt to the passing travelers or critters she offered these berries too, or if it was just another symptom of her kind’s gluttonous curse.

The sounds emitting from her core were much more tumultuous than usual. Long squealing gurgles that were punctuated with deep roars reverberated through her layers of fat and fur. Pressing a hand firmly into her gut she felt the tremors underneath her palm. Her hand sunk into her plush middle, further evidence that her cavernous stomach was nearly hollow. Despite the activity inside her she felt well enough to continue. One advantage to only having a good berry was how light on her feet she felt. She could leap and bound through the brush without being offset by the characteristic bloating that came with her indulgent meals.

Her goal was a long lived tree far in the distance. Tall and imposing, its hidden roots stretched far. This tree was well on its way to becoming awakened. In a few decades its roots would break through the earth and it would roam as a treant. Taka would need to help it along. A few prayers and a ritual to enhance the soil with nutrients would ensure its success. She could already feel a connection with this plant as she laid a hand on its thick bark. Dragging her nails down it lightly, very little chipped off, despite its size and age it was sturdy. Satisfied she cleared a spot of ground in front of it and began drawing symbols in the dirt with her staff. She'd have to commune with this tree and powerful spirits to ensure it would be guided along properly.

With one final turn she drew a circle around herself and sealed the runes. Satisfied with her work she stretched before squatting down and taking a seat. It was an instant relief finally getting to rest. One part of her body however was restless. In the stillness of the secluded wilderness the groans of her stomach broke the silence. The goodberry inside her sat defiantly in her guts, churning but not breaking down. Despite the rest of her body telling her it was nourished her stomach howled warning her of all the empty space. She ran a hand down her side letting it pass over her ribcage before resting it just below it. This was the most concave she’d seen her midriff in a while. The pudge that typically pooled in her lap when she sat just barely stuck out. A week of only good berries and perhaps she could show off just how much muscle she had hidden underneath. As if responding to her thoughts her stomach trembled making her body shutter.

As Taka focused on meditation her organs complained dramatically. Crossing her arms over her midsection she doubled down allowing herself to slip deeper into concentration. As the words of wisdom came to her she began chanting softly under her breath. A faint glow shined on the runes surrounding her and slowly spread to the tree. Ancient energy coursed through the land and focused on this one living being. She continued like this for hours communicating with unseen beings and allowing wild magic to flow through her to the earth. As the sun began to set, Taka's amber staff and ritual circle illuminated the forest. A swarm of lightning bugs descended into the clearing as she finished her final incantation and unsealed the circle. Her task was complete and if left undisturbed this tree would get to go on the next step of its long journey.

She was brought back to reality as she felt the gnawing of hunger deep inside her. The stubborn berry had finally broken down and now all that remained was a pool of unused stomach acid. That hollow spot she felt so many hours ago was now a bottomless pit. Deep anguished cries begin echoing from it reverberating in her core. Her mouth pooled with saliva as her body began its own pre meal ritual. With her duties taken care of she could now take the time to properly feed herself, and she intended too.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the sun

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. ✨

warning: blood, fighting, injuries, drinking.

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Nyx’s pov:

"Again", his voice sounded unfamiliar to him. He had flinched at it after the concept of time had started slipping. For a split moment, Nyx thought that it was his high lord who had spoken. That had caused him a solid punch to the jaw. The boy in front of him looked Nyx over worriedly, as his stance shifted. “You’re in or you're out? I won’t wait forever”, Nyx snarled, leaping forward. Once again, he didn’t remember when they had abandoned their swords. But he preferred it like that. Close and personal. Physical.

Another blow landed against his nose, and Nyx's head flew back. He was well aware that on his good days, the poor chap wouldn’t have landed any of the punches at all. He got close only because Nyx let him. "Enough," an annoyed voice sounded from behind him. A welcome destination for the boy in front of Nyx. It was good enough for princes’s cracked knuckles to meet the target. “Flying fuck," a rough palm gripped Nyx’s shoulder, “You are the most stupid...", a growl. Nyx tried to open his left eye, one that was now too puffed up and throbbed like a bitch. “I suggest you bugger off before I make sure that you’re eating dirt for the rest of the week," Axel’s deep growl echoed, making Nyx chuckle lightly. “Man, he asked for it", the guy lifted his palms in defiance. “And if he told you to jump from the cliff, would you do it?", the boy shrugged, only making Axel let out yet another frustrated sigh, and the other Illyrian took it as his chance to leave.

“You will make a wonderful advisor in the future," Nyx skittered. “I think I will have your ass six feet under before that could even happen," Axel grumbled, pulling at his friend’s arms and trying to help him up. “I left you for a fucking hour, Nyx," he huffed, draping Nyx’s arm over his shoulders. "Yeah, I missed you. I had to settle for a fight with an idiot”. Nyx huffed. “Do I need to remind you that you have an important high-lord party to attend soon?"—that was one of the reads Nyx had let his rails loose. He hoped that if he misbehaved badly enough and looked like a walking corpse when the day chimed, he could wiggle his ass out of it. The thought alone made him want to bend over and vomit. He wasn’t built to be a prince. He didn’t want it. It wasn’t him. Wasn’t the life he envisioned for himself.

“You’ve been acting like an absolute fool ever since we came back from Velaris; what has gotten into you?", Axel kicked the door to their cabin before guiding Nyx toward his bed. Your sister happened to me, he thought, but bit his tongue. “I just wanted to fight," Nyx growled instead. Only now did he feel how badly his body hurt. That fucker had landed more blows than Nyx had initially counted. “I know you, and this ain’t you. You can talk to me. We always talk about it”, Axel shoved Nyx’s hand away from his face before dragging a warm cloth over the swollen eye. And what would he tell him? I can't get your fucking sister out of my head. Do you know why we cannot see each other for a bit? Why is she even pulling away? Nyx grunted, pulling the cloth out of Axel’s hands.

“Why don’t you start by telling me who you’ve been running around with instead?”. It was low. Axel had a right to have a life outside of being Nyx’s right-hand man. And his love life didn’t need to be accounted for. But Nyx was so angry. Angry at everything and everyone. People constantly kept him in the dark. And then threw a bucket of news in his face while expecting him to receive it with open hands. “I ain’t running around with anybody," Axel shook his head, throwing a jar of salve Nyx’s way. But the scowl on the young prince’s face only deepened, “So, Piper doesn’t ring a bell?”. And bingo. Axel’s whole body got ridged. Did Nyx have no right to go and dig into the new arrival papers? Probably. But here they were. “Keep her name out of your fucking mouth," Axel pointed a warning finger at him, clearly not finding this one bit amusing. “And you stand here giving me lectures about sharing things," Nyx chuckled, “So why aren’t you talking, friend?" Axel shook his head, “Clean yourself up and sober up while you’re at it." He moved towards the door, and something in Nyx shifted. Axel never left. Not even when Nyx was in his shittest of moods. He had always been the only one to not leave him. Sit through his temper tantrums. "Axel," Nyx breathed, panic rising in his chest. He didn’t want to be alone right now. His head was too busy. He was too full of things he didn’t want to think of. “I’m only going to grab you some fresh water; lay down you twat," Axel grumbled back, easing the rising tide within Nyx. He nodded simply, slumping back on the mattress. His hand instantly moved beneath his pillow, where he always kept a stitched napkin that Zofie had given him. The crooked moon and stars greeted him like they always did. The stick figures holding hands. The flowers. Even the wonky sun on the far left side was perfect. Always perfect. “I’m thinking about you," Nyx muttered, brushing his fingers over the stick figure that was supposed to represent Zofie, “It’s one never-ending night over here without you, Sunny."

Zofie’s pov:

It’s only been a week, but it felt like forever. She never usually felt so desperate when they left. At least not after the first week. But she had grown restless. The cry that left Nyx’s lips as he shot up to the sky was still ringing loud and clear. Zofie heard it even through her hammering heartbeat. With her back pressed against the door, as she covered her mouth. And now it felt as if she hadn’t seen Nyx in a lifetime. It clawed at her. She knew that Axel would look after him, but... What if something happened, and that’s how they would have separated?

Zofie didn’t know what she was feeling. It all seemed too mushy and jumbled up. Now, instead of seeing a different aura around people, she simply saw black. It was impossible to distinguish between different feelings.

“Zo, do you want more pancakes?", her father’s voice made her almost drop her fork as she nodded. Azriel gave her a concerned look before plopping one of his signature breakfast goods onto her plate. “You excited to see the girls?", he asked, throwing a glance your way, only earning a slight shrug in return. “Yeah, am… It will be nice”, even if she didn’t want to see anyone. Well, maybe Piper. Axel had said that she was one of the nice girls. One Zofie could get to know if only she chose to.

“Ah, yes. You’ll be able to show them around; you can even go down to the market in the city," you chimed in, “and buy something nice or show them the good spots." But Zofie didn’t want to do that. Most spots had been hers and Nyx’s. They felt too personal to just be handed out. The same pinch in her chest made the hallow darkness spread even more. Her brows knitted as she pushed the plate further away from her. “You didn’t like it?", Azriel stopped mid-bite, almost making Zofie feel guilty. Almost. “Just not hungry," she shrugged, getting up from the table. She caught a glimpse of worry in her father’s eyes as she moved towards the stairs. The way you had reached out to squeeze his hand. And while Zofie didn’t want to keep you two in the dark, she didn’t know how to explain the emptiness inside her.

Just the fresh air and change of scenery didn’t help. It was nice to see her aunts and introduce herself to Piper, but socializing was never her thing. Nyx did most of the talking when they were out in public. He was born for that. It baffled her how quickly he managed to come up with a snarky remark as if he stored them all within his brain with special labels for just the right moment. Zofie tried to suffocate thoughts of him. Tried. But failed miserably. Everything she did or thought of was always in one way or another related to him. The thing was that she didn’t want to leave him like that. She didn't want to make him upset, but she also didn’t know how to make everyone happy. So, until she could come up with a solution, it would have to be like that.

“In my opinion, he is so much more attractive," one of the girls giggled into her palms. Attractive? How long has Zofie been out of this conversation? They were talking about the market day the last time she listened. “Well, Piper is the one who got to talk to him," the brow haired girl nudged the poor Piper, who had practically curled into herself by now, “Is he really hot up close?”.

Zofie shook her head. “Who’s hot?", she cut in, making all four sets of eyes dart up to her. And now she realized why she hated speaking in the first place. “Piper here had the prince’s second man carry her boxes”, Lina’s blond curls bobbed as she turned. But that was Axel? Why was Axel even here in the first place? He told her they could... Of course, he had met her. “Well, that’s my brother, so can we not talk weirdly about him?", Zofie scrunched up her nose, making the other two girls roll their eyes. But at least Piper’s shoulders sagged in relief. "Bore," the copycat next to Lina chirped. Zofie just couldn’t remember her name.

“We sure can talk about the prince himself," Lina smirked, and something snapped deep within Zofie, “There’s nothing to talk about." Suddenly, the prospect of having girls her age seemed like the worst idea ever. “As if... I’m determined to meet him," Lina said. The green mist rose in Zofie’s vision. “Gonna swoon him off his feet; heard he’s a proper flirt two," she elbowed her double ganger as they both chuckled.

“He will not fall for your shit," Zofie bit back, not even realizing that her hands were now firmly clenched by angry fists. “And how would you know that?", Lina fluffed her lashes. How did she know? She didn’t. Lina was pretty; you couldn’t take that from her. From the hair to her lean body. She was the embodiment of how any girl wanted to look. While Zofie… “He is my friend," she muttered, biting out the nagging thoughts. Lina chuckled, “Yeah, a friend. So, clearly, if you’re not girlfriend material, I will be."

It felt as if a bomb had exploded all around her. Vision glazing over. She saw nothing. Only Lina. She heard no one. Only Lina. And surprisingly, the girl wasn’t smiling. She looked petrified. Grasping at her throat. It felt static. As if the time had come to a halt. And then someone yanked her back. Pulling Zofie away from the neatly placed picnic blanket.

"Zofie", it sounded muffled, but her eyes did follow the sound. Only to be met with Feyre’s concerned ones. She blinked a couple of times. The fuzzy feeling cleared out. “She’s insane," a shriek sounded from behind her, making Zofie twist back. “You are dangerous, you stupid..." it was Lina, her cheeks still red, eyes wide. “Don’t finish that sentence," Cassian was gripping her shoulder, but he didn’t look too concerned with the girl. His eyes were on Zofie.

Zofie blinks a couple of times, black spots dancing in the corners of her vision. What had she done? Was it even her? Why did she... “Why don’t we go drink some tea, dear?", Feyre wrapped a hand around her shoulders. "I...", Zofie barely muttered before Feyre cut in, “Some tea with lots of honey, yes, yes." A part of Zofie wanted to run. Like she always did. Run away and hide. But Feyre pushed some of hair behind her ear, “We’ll have a nice conversation you and I”, she muttered almost ti herself, “Bake cookies even. Cookies always help”.

Nyx’s pov:

“Give me that," Axel said, snatching the glass out of Nyx’s hand, “You’ve been here for an hour." An hour too long. The hustle of the people was making Nyx sick. It was bad enough that he had to stand for the majority of that hour next to his parents, smiling as if he was thrilled to be there while he was slowly dying inside. Nyx kept dead-eye contact with Axel through it all, even if there was a sea of females who were trying to catch his eyes.

“I still think that you should cover for me so I can sneak out," Nyx grumbled. He had made at least five escape plans; he even planned to fake an allergic reaction, but Axel hadn’t been as thrilled about that. “Midnight. We had a deal”, Axel muttered, scanning the crowd. He was Nyx’s hawk, noting slipped past Axel. And as much as Nyx hated to admit it, Azriel was the one who had taught him all of it. “But you’ll dance with half of the girls in that line," Nyx nodded towards the girls who hadn’t stopped staring at him ever since the night began. “They ain’t her for me, kitten," Axel mused, making Nyx roll his eyes. “I’ll put a good word out for you," the prince said with a tap on his friend’s shoulder.

“Is your family coming?", Nyx scanned the crowd for familiar face. Well, correction. Is Zofie coming? He had tried to sneak back to Velaris before all this. He had to because his brain was going into overdrive. It had been eleven days, eighteen hours, forty-seven minutes, and 45... 46 seconds till he had laid eyes on her. And by now, he was more than okay with just catching a glimpse. He could do with that. He would settle for that. “Papa should," Axel said calmly, “Ma’ wasn’t feeling too well, so she’s back at the cottage." Translation: Zofie didn’t want to go, so Y/N stayed back with her. Nyx clenched his jaw. “Everyone’s healthy and well?", he was fishing for straws here, and he knew it. “Yeah, it’s all well; little one is growing too fast, though. Could have sworn she fit in my palm before we left," Axel muttered, and a part of Nyx was glad that he hadn’t caught onto his real intentions.

“Here you are”, a strong palm landed on Nyx’s shoulder, making the boy look to the side. His smug father stood there, way too happy with himself. “High Lord," Axel said, lowering his head in greeting, even though Nyx had specifically told him to not kiss his father with flatly. “You two are hiding in the back as if this is a funeral," Rhys shook his head with a smile, “Come up to the front tables; quite a couple of people are looking for you." Nyx’s eye twitched. If only he could scream now. He was convinced all the windows would shatter. He wanted out. Why was no one catching onto the fact that he was suffocating? He didn’t want to be a part of his father’s plans. He didn’t want to be a perfect son. A one-day-crowned prince.

Nyx was sure that Rhys could see the malice burning through his eyes, considering that his face went dead serious. Nyx knew that his father would stomp his foot, and he would have to do it. Or that pleading look on his mother’s face would claw at his heart till he gave in. He felt Axel’s hand on his shoulder blade. He was spiraling then. His magic was flaring up and Axel was warning him like he always did. Nyx was about to open his mouth when his eye caught movement behind his father. His eyes narrowed. Vision sharpening, and then it all died down.

The ringing in his ears faded. The choking feeling subsided. “Nyx, I am talking to you," Rhys said, gripping his upper hand, but Nyx shook it off as he stepped forward. Smile tugging at his lips. She was a vision. There might have been hundreds of females here tonight. Wrapped in the most expensive silks and velvet. But he hadn’t given them a second glance. And now she stood there at the top of the staircase. Looking over the hall. Nyx only hoped that she was looking for him.

And then her gaze found his. As if he had brought it right back to him. As if in a sea of bodies, she knew where he would be. And then she smiled. And Nyx was convinced that someone had spiked the wine because she shouldn’t be smiling. He moved faster, his hands gripping the railing as he jogged up the stairs. He missed every other step as he went. Was it appropriate? No. Was he making a spectacle considering that they were right above everyone and had nowhere to blend in? Yes. But did he care? No. Because even with twenty stairs separating them, she was too far away, and at the same time, she was in front of him way too quickly, leaving him no time to pick through his thoughts.

“You came?", Nyx breathed heavily. Zofie crossed her arms over her chest, looking him up and down. "I had a feeling you were struggling to get through this," she said casually, “Axel said that your sassiness has been off lately." Nyx wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at this point as he stepped closer to her, shielding her tiny frame from any curious glances. "Sunny," he muttered, ready to watch her fade away the same way she always did in his dreams.

“Your hands are trembling," she breathed, reaching out for his palms, “Why are your hands trembling?" Her worried eyes looked up at him, and he was ready to sink to his knees in front of her. “I… I am nervous”, he muttered like a teenager, looking at his first-ever crush. “You never get nervous around me," Zofie frowned, shaking her head. And then there was one heartbeat. One. Nyx’s left hand reached behind her as he pulled her into his chest, wrapping her up in his embrace.

He was shivering all over. But all the systems in his body that had been flashing red for days now were finally running smoothly. It felt as if he could finally breathe. That lavender sugar scent that she carried drowned him in her. “We need to get out of here," Nyx breathed again, her hair neatly braided with daisies. “I didn’t spend an hour lacing this for nothing," Zofie muttered, pulling back from his embrace. Both of their eyes fall onto the deep purple and black bodice. A vision. Nyx reached for her hand. “I’ll appreciate the hell out of it for you, Zof; I will," he muttered, dragging her towards the double-sided door. He heard gasps as he moved. Pretty sure he even heard his name being called. Pret sure he heard footsteps. But the moment he was out in the cold night air, he wrapped his arms around Zofie once more. Bringing her as close as he possibly could before shooting up at the sky and winnowing halfway through the plush clouds. Now that he had gotten his sun back, not even the devil himself was strong enough to take her away.

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Taglist: @sirenpearldust @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @naturakaashi i @stressed-reader @woodland-mist @goldenmagnolias @nocasdatsgay @lees-chaotic-brain

[wwestrang-fan]

Wanting something

Damian priest x Afro-Asian OC

warning : a bit of age gap, some harassment

Summary: Damian decided that a partner was not for but. After a long day, Roman is ready to call it a night, but his cousins and friends persuade him to join them for Korean BBQ. While there, something catches his attention.

The vibrations of the crowd echoed through the dimly lit corridors of the arena as Damian stepped out of his locker room.

As he made his way toward the exit, he spotted a familiar group gathering near the exit, laughter and chatter rising above the ambient noise. Sami, Rhea, Jey, Jimmy, and Naomi.

“Hey, man!” Sami called out. “We’re about to hit up this Korean BBQ place. You want to join us?”

Damian paused, his initial thought being to decline. “Nah, I’m calling it a night,” he replied, already feeling the allure of his quiet hotel room calling to him.

“Oh come on, man! It will be fun!” Jey chimed in, his enthusiastic grin infectious.

“You know it's not going to be the same without you,” Sami said.

Rhea, leaning casually against the wall, smirked. “Don’t be a party pooper, Damian. You can rest tomorrow.”

Jimmy shrugged playfully, “Besides, who doesn’t love Korean BBQ? It’s the best way to wind down after a match.”

Naomi gave Damian a reassuring nod. “We’ll have a good time. Just one night out won’t hurt.”

“Alright, fine,” he relented, a slight chuckle escaping him despite himself. “I’ll join you. But I’m only doing this for the food.”

Cheers erupted around him, the collective excitement instantly lifting his spirits. Damian found himself smiling genuinely for the first time that evening. As they turned to head out, the arena.

“Let’s go I'm hungry ” Rhea said, leading the charge as they all fell into step behind her, the roar of the crowd following them into the night beyond the arena.

The door to the Korean BBQ restaurant swung open, and the vibrant chatter of the group spilled in, mingling with the mouthwatering aromas wafting through the air. Jey, Jimmy, Naomi, Sami, Rhea, and Damian stepped inside, their playful banter rising with the steam from the grills.

As they walked further in, they approached the host stand, an Afro-Asian waitress.

“Welcome! My name is Suki, and I’ll be your server today. How many are in your party?” she asked, her voice cheerful and engaging.

Jey grinned, “Just us six.

“Great! Right this way,” Suki replied, leading them to the booth. She gestured for everyone to sit before handing out menus. “I’ll be back shortly to take your orders."

As the group settled in, Naomi commented, “This place smells amazing! I can’t wait to eat!”

Sami picked up his menu, scanning the options. “I’m definitely getting the bulgogi.

While the others chatted excitedly, Damian’s attention drifted to Suki as she moved gracefully between tables. He caught himself admiring the way she managed the bustling restaurant, her energy a perfect blend of warmth and professionalism.

Rhea, noticing Damian's gaze lingering longer than necessary, smirked playfully. “Hey, Damian, you okay? You seem a little distracted,” she teased lightly.

Damian blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I’m just... looking at the menu,” he stammered, a hint of color rising to his cheeks, quickly trying to mask his admiration.

“Uh-huh,” Rhea replied, a sly grin creeping across her face. The playful teasing from the group was evident in their glances and laughter.

Then, Jimmy leaned in closer, his voice teasing. “Okay, Damian, don’t catch a case now,” he said.

“No way! It's just—” Damian started, but the words caught in his throat as Suki returned, her notepad in hand.

“Are you ready to order your drinks?” she asked, her attention snapping back to the table.

The moment hung in the air, and Damian forced himself to focus, clearing his throat. “Uh, yeah, I’ll take a soda, please. Thanks.”

Rhea shot him a knowing look, trying to stifle her laughter as the others placed their drink orders and order sake, oblivious to the undercurrent of the moment. Suki jotted down each request and smiled brightly.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she said before heading off, leaving a noticeable shift at the table.

As the group teased Damian further, he couldn’t help but chuckle along, the warmth of the evening mixed with the undeniable charm of the bustling restaurant. Excitement filled the air, the anticipation of sizzling food and laughter blending seamlessly with their playful antics. The night was only just beginning.

A few moments later, Suki returned, balancing an array of drinks on a tray. She gracefully set down the beverages in front of each person, her energy infectious. “Here you go, everyone! Let me know if you need anything else.”

As she placed a steaming pot of sizzling marinated beef, vegetables, and an assortment of condiments on the table, her eyes lit up. “Now, let’s get this grill going!” She deftly turned on the grill embedded in the center of the table with a flick of her wrist, and the air filled with the enticing sound of sizzling.

Jey immediately dug in, flipping pieces of meat with enthusiasm. “This is gonna be good”

As the lively conversations continued, Rhea’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Hey, you guys want to try sake? It could be a fun addition to our dinner!” She leaned in, a playful grin spreading across her face.

As they continued to enjoy their drinks and the lively atmosphere, Damian couldn’t shake the feeling of warmth left in Suki’s wake, wondering if she felt any of the same energy between them.

The laughter and chatter filled the room as everyone sat around the table, eagerly serving themselves from the grill. The enticing aroma of grilled food wafted through the air, and people were happily sharing their favorite dishes.

Damian stood up, feeling the need to take a break from the lively banter. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he said, giving a casual wave before making his way toward the hotel’s restrooms.

After a few moments, he finished up and stepped out, feeling a sense of refreshment. Just then, he noticed Suki near a table, her back toward him, setting down a large platter of beautifully grilled food. She was busily turning on the grill, her focus evident as she adjusted the dials.

However, Damian’s gaze shifted to a figure at the bar nearby—an overly confident guy was leaning too close to Suki, his tone flirty yet intrusive. Damian's stomach sank as he watched the discomfort on Suki’s face, realizing she was trying to brush him off politely.

Without thinking, Damian strode over, determination in each step. “Hey, everything okay over here?” he asked, his voice steady but friendly, wanting to intercept the unwanted attention.

Suki turned, relief sweeping across her features as she recognized Damian. “Oh, hey! Yes, it’s all good,” she said, but her eyes spoke volumes about her unease.

The guy, visibly annoyed by the interruption, raised an eyebrow. “I was just having a friendly conversation man.”

“Yeah, well, it looks like she's not interested,” Damian replied firmly but calmly, standing protectively beside Suki.

The guy smirked, sizing Damian up, but after a moment of reluctance, he decided to back off. “Whatever,” he muttered, turning away and walking out the restaurant.

Damian turned to Suki who took a deep breath, her tension visibly easing. “Thank you so much,” she breathed, gratitude shining in her eyes.

“Anytime,” Damian said, his tone casual, but inside he felt a sense of accomplishment. “I couldn’t just stand by and watch.”

Suki smiled widely, playful appreciation lighting up her face. “You really saved me there. I wasn’t sure how to handle that.”

“Like I said anytime,” Damian replied, trying to keep it cool, but he felt a warmth spread on his face.

“Still, I owe you one. Let me know if you want any more food,” she offered, her tone lightening as she gestured toward the food.

“Okay um I see you around” Damian replied, before turning to walk back to his table.

As the meal came to a close, laughter and chatter reverberated around the table. Plates were mostly empty, remnants of delicious food lingering as everyone leaned back, satisfied. Damian glanced around, feeling content with the vibrant energy of the group.

“Alright, everyone,” he said, breaking the buzz, “I’ve got this one. You guys can head to the car.”

“Thanks, Damian!” Rhea chimed, gathering her things. Jey and Jimmy nodded in agreement, while Naomi stood up, brushing crumbs from her lap.

The group stood, stretching slightly from their meal, and began making their way towards the exit. Damian watched them go, a feeling of satisfaction washing over him for being able to treat his friends.

As the last of them stepped outside, Suki appeared from behind the bar area, catching Damian's eye. She approached the table with a warm smile. “I hope you enjoyed your time here,” she said, glancing at the bill in his hand.

“I had amazing time,” Damian replied, reaching for his wallet. He pulled out cash, placing it along with a generous tip onto the table. “Thanks for the great service tonight.”

After the bill was settled, he placed a generous tip on the table, wanting to show his appreciation for the service. Suki watched and smiled. “You’re too kind,” she said, her eyes gleaming with gratitude. “Really, thank you again for earlier. You helped me a lot.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he replied, his tone sincere as he returned her smile. The moment felt light and easy, as if their earlier interaction had forged a deeper understanding between them.

After a few more moments of small talk, Damian got up. “I should probably catch up with everyone,” he said, and Suki nodded, an understanding glint in her eyes.

As he stepped outside, the cool evening air welcomed him, refreshing after the warmth of the restaurant. He walked toward the parking lot, his mind drifting to Suki—the way she had smiled at him, her laughter lingering in his thoughts.

Damian smiled to himself, the thought of her igniting a spark of excitement as he headed toward the car where Rhea, Jey, Jimmy, and Naomi were chatting. He felt a thrill, knowing evenings like this could lead to something more, and he couldn’t help but look forward to what might come next.

[pxnsneverland]

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 6)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 3900

warnings/notes: blood, murder, pain

Chapter 6 :Transform

The deafening growl of a powerful motorcycle engine shattered the serene stillness of the forest as Austin deftly maneuvered through the winding dirt path. The bright beam of his bike's headlight cut through the thick darkness, illuminating the way to the clearing where his pack had gathered. As he approached, the warm, flickering glow of a roaring bonfire came into view, casting dancing shadows on the faces of his fellow werewolves. The rich scent of burning wood mixed with their excited chatter and laughter that echoed through the night. Despite their boisterous revelry, Austin couldn't shake off the turmoil brewing inside him as he prepared for the impending hunt with his pack.

With a graceful movement, he swung his jean-clad leg over the sleek black motorcycle. The leather of his jacket creaked with the motion, an audible announcement of his arrival. His boots, scuffed and worn from countless rides, crunched on the forest floor, adding to the natural symphony of rustling leaves and chirping birds. Austin's piercing blue eyes scanned the scene before him—the wolves of his pack were gathered around the crackling fire, their silhouettes flickering in the dancing flames. Some tossed back cold beers, while others engaged in playful tussles, honing their instincts for the impending hunt. The scent of pine and wood smoke hung heavy in the air, creating a primal atmosphere that heightened their senses.

"Big night, boss," one of them called out, slapping Austin on the shoulder with a grin that was all teeth and wild excitement.

"Let's make it a good one," another chimed in, raising a flask in salute.

"Every night's a good night when there's prey to be had," Austin replied, his voice steady but edged with something darker than the thrill of the hunt.

Amidst the deafening cheers of his pack, Austin's mind wandered to the lone figure he had left behind in the protective shelter. Bonnie, with her delicate features and inner strength, was about to undergo her first transformation, a bone-shattering experience that every werewolf must endure. His thoughts were consumed by the image of her expressive eyes, usually brimming with empathy, now widened in fearful anticipation. A pang of guilt struck his heart as he reveled in the primal joy of the full moon, knowing she was struggling alone with the beast within her.

The fire crackled, its flames twisting and dancing like a mesmerizing show. The sparks swirled up into the night sky, a mocking mimicry of the storm raging within him. He should be there, with her, guiding her through the painful transformation as her body contorted and reshaped itself. But his duty as leader demanded his presence here, among his brothers and sisters of the blood, enforcing unity and strength.

"Something on your mind, Austin?" a deep voice inquired, dragging him from his reverie.

"Nothing that won't wait until after the hunt," he lied smoothly, locking away his concern in a chamber of his heart that had long since learned to prioritize duty over desire.

The pack paid no heed to the brief flicker of conflict in their leader's gaze; they were too consumed by the frenzied anticipation of the upcoming feast. As the full moon ascended, its luminous glow casting a silver sheen over the revelers, Austin felt his skin begin to tingle with the familiar pull of transformation. It was almost time. Soon, he would join them, running through the dense forest, their howls echoing off the trees and filling the night air with an electric energy. The scent of prey lingered on their tongues, intensifying their hunger and driving their primal instincts forward. Austin felt a surge of excitement and adrenaline course through his body as he prepared to embrace his wolf form and partake in the savage hunt with his pack.

Yet even as he prepared to embrace the wolf within, to shed his human worries with his skin, Austin knew this night would be different. He would not lose himself completely to the wildness, not yet. Instead, he would watch and wait, biding his time until the perfect moment presented itself. And when it did, he would slip through the trees with all the grace and quietness of a ghost, eager to return to Bonnie's side once again.

"Stay sharp," he murmured under his breath, a silent promise to the woman who held the biggest piece of his fiercely guarded soul. "I'm coming."

A thin stream of smoke twisted into the air as Austin drew back on his cigarette, a small, burning ember in the darkness.

"Hey," Jerry rumbled, sidling up next to Victor with a nod toward Austin. "Keep your eyes on the boss tonight. He's off, more than usual."

Victor followed Jerry's gaze, studying the way Austin held himself – tall and unyielding, yet undeniably distracted. A knowing smirk crept across Victor's lips. "Sure thing, Jerry. I've got him covered."

With a swift stomp of his boot, Austin extinguished the last embers of his cigarette and strode forward, wielding an air of authority that came naturally after years of leading his brethren. His low, commanding voice cut through the crackling flames of the fire, carrying with it a smooth and unwavering tone that demanded attention.

"Brothers! Sisters!" He spread his arms wide, an orator ready to inspire his troops. "Tonight, we run beneath the full moon's grace. We revel in the freedom it grants us, the power it fuels within our veins!"

The wolves hollered their approval, some throwing their heads back in anticipation, others pounding their chests with clenched fists.

"Let's make this hunt one for the ages," he continued, a steely edge creeping into his words. "I want to see the forest shake with our might, to hear the earth groan under the weight of our conquest."

"YEAH!" they roared, the sound rolling through the trees like thunder.

"Unleash the beast," Austin declared, his voice rising to a crescendo. "And let there be carnage!"

The pack erupted into a wild frenzy of excitement, their howls and cheers piercing the night and echoing through the trees. Their eyes were ablaze with hunger, eager for the promise of bloodshed and triumphant victory. Austin watched them with an inscrutable expression, his gaze drawn to the primal energy radiating from his fellow hunters. The anticipation of the hunt filled the air like a tangible force, urging them all forward towards the inevitable clash of fang and claw.

Amidst the clamor and thrall of his pack, Austin stood stoic, a statue among the restless. The full moon loomed overhead, its silvery light casting an ethereal glow upon the gathering. As the lunar crescendo neared, he could feel the ancient magic coursing through his veins, a siren call to the beast within.

"Any second now," he murmured under his breath, eyes scanning the perimeter of their woodland cathedral. He knew the transformation would grip him as well, but it also offered a fleeting chance—a diversion that might allow him to escape unnoticed.

In the cacophony of growls and cheers, his mind spun a quiet web of strategy. "Bonnie," he whispered, her name an anchor in the tumultuous sea of his duties. "I have to get back to her before—"

"Before what, Austin?" Jerry's voice cut through his reverie, a blade poised with suspicion.

"Before we lose ourselves completely to the night." Austin's answer was smooth, practiced, yet a bead of sweat betrayed his cool facade. His intense gaze locked on Jerry for a moment, a silent duel that ended with a curt nod from his second-in-command.

"Good," Jerry grunted, turning his attention back to the pack as muscles began to tense, bones to creak and shift.

As the moon reached its zenith, an otherworldly force took hold of every werewolf present. Their bodies trembled and twisted as they gave in to the primal urges within them, their bones snapping and reforming, their muscles bulging with newfound strength. A cacophony of guttural roars echoed through the forest as wolves, their fur gleaming silver in the moonlight, burst forth from their human shells. The ground shook beneath their weight as they ran, a symphony of power and raw instinct propelling them forward. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare, but to these creatures it was their reality, a part of who they were.

"Go! The night is ours!" Austin shouted over the din, though his words were more for himself than anyone else. As the pack surged forward, a torrent of fur and fangs, he lingered just a heartbeat longer.

"Bonnie," he whispered again, the weight of his secret anchoring him to his true purpose. It was time to slip away, to return to her side, where his heart truly lay.

The symphony of the woods echoed with the primal howling of Austin's kin, a wild call that spoke of freedom and ferocity. But for Austin, it sang a different tune—one of love and protection—as he readied himself to abandon the hunt for a rescue far more critical to his soul. He could feel the raw power pulsing through his veins, urging him on towards his destined path.

The transformation seized Austin, contorting his body with inhuman grace—a metamorphosis both violent and beautiful. His muscles bulged and elongated, the sinews threading into new, powerful forms as his rugged human façade yielded to the wolf within. Fur sprouted in a silvery blonde cascade, matching the untamed mane he bore in his human form. With a jaw that now snapped with razor-sharp canines, and eyes that glinted like chips of ice under the moonlight, his wolf was a majestic beast, large and imposing. Each breath Austin's wolf form took fogged the air, a silent testament to the cold fire burning within his heart.

"Run," he commanded himself, voice lost amidst the symphony of howls that filled the night. The primal instincts surged through him, but his mind held on to the singular thought of Bonnie, her safety acting as an anchor against the tide of feral urges that threatened to overtake him.

He lunged forward, paws thudding against the earth with purpose. The forest became a blur of shadow and moonbeam as he weaved between trees, his ears tuned to the cacophony of the pack's hunt—a discordant lullaby that masked his departure. The scent of pine and damp soil mingled with the distant, coppery tang of blood, a stark reminder of the savagery he left behind.

"Keep focus," he growled internally, each bound carrying him closer to his hidden desire, away from the chaos. Somewhere, amidst the raucous cries of his brethren, he discerned the sharp crack of bone and the visceral tearing of flesh that accompanied their feast. It was the sound of the wild reclaiming its dominion, the sound of unbridled predation that served as the perfect distraction for his escape.

As Austin raced onwards, his keen senses missed not a single beat of the forest's rhythm. Yet, so intent was he on his silent vow to return to Bonnie, he failed to detect the stealthy pursuit of another—Victor, whose curiosity drove him to tail the leader through the shadowed woods, trailing the ghostly imprint of Austin's passage.

The forest air quivered with the echoes of terror—a symphony of chaos that Austin navigated with grim determination. He could hear the fabric of tents ripping, the crunch of cooler lids under heavy paws, and the shrill crescendo of screams that cut through the night. Campfires that had once been the heart of merry gatherings were now beacons for a massacre, casting long, dancing shadows as the unlucky campers found themselves in the midst of monstrous revelry.

"Please, no!" a voice pleaded somewhere to his left, muffled by the growls and snarls that responded with ruthless glee.

Austin's ears twitched, but he pressed on, muscles coiling and stretching beneath his thick, silver-grey fur streaked with darker shades that mirrored the moonlit sky. His eyes, glowing an intense blue, remained fixed ahead. Regret was a luxury he couldn't afford—not when Bonnie's safety hung in the balance. The taste of fear saturated the air, yet he refused to let it seep into his resolve.

"Run, just run!" another camper shouted, their footsteps pounding against the ground in futile escape.

"Should've stayed in the city," Austin thought, his heart hardening against the sorrow that threatened to claw its way up his throat. He was the leader; his pack needed this release, craved the hunt—it was their nature, their curse. But he would not partake tonight. Not while Bonnie faced her own darkness alone.

Skirting past a clearing, he glimpsed the flicker of a tail disappearing into the brush—a reminder that the pack was far from idle. But none spared him a glance. Their focus lay elsewhere, on the thrill of the chase, the promise of blood.

"Bonnie, wait for me," he thought, his breath forming misty clouds that dissipated swiftly into the cold air.

Meanwhile, unseen by Austin, Victor slinked behind, a shadow among shadows. His steps were careful, calculated to avoid detection. His eyes, narrow slits of cunning, peered through the foliage, tracing Austin's every move. Jerry's instructions echoed in his mind: "Find out what he's hiding."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Victor whispered to himself, a sly grin etched onto his face, hidden by the darkness. He watched as Austin's form grew smaller, more distant, his own curiosity burning like a fire within, fanned by the enigma that Austin had become.

The woods gave way to the familiar terrain leading to the bomb shelter, and Austin sensed the shift in his environment. Here, the scents were less wild, touched by human hands, and it spurred him onward. The entrance loomed ahead, salvation in concrete and steel.

Victor paused at the edge of the treeline, wary yet intrigued as he beheld the sight of the shelter's entrance. He knew he'd have to report back to Jerry soon—but not just yet. This mystery demanded further investigation, and Victor was all too eager to unravel it.

As Austin approached the shelter, his sharp senses picked up the faint scent of fear and desperation that seemed to emanate from the very concrete walls. His jaw tightened and his muscles coiled in preparation for what lay ahead. With a deep breath, he focused all of his energy on shifting into human form. In a swift, fluid motion, he transformed, his powerful frame now standing tall and imposing against the backdrop of the dark night. His blonde hair glinted like a halo in the dim light.

The tranquil silence of the evening was rudely interrupted by a sharp, piercing sound that sliced through the air like a knife — Bonnie's screams. They were unbridled, filled with such intense anguish that it felt like they were physically twisting Austin's insides. He didn't have a moment to stop and think about his next move; his feet were already carrying him towards the origin of those gut-wrenching cries, driven by an instinctual need to protect and comfort.

"Bonnie!" he bellowed, his voice ragged with the strain of his suppressed fury and concern as he stormed into the shelter. The thick steel door groaned under his force, yielding to the strength that belied his human form. His piercing eyes scanned the dimly lit interior, the sparse fluorescent lights flickering overhead casting ghostly shadows on the walls.

"Bonnie!" he called again, his tone laced with a command that he knew would have no effect on what awaited him inside. It was a call born not from expectation of obedience, but from the depths of desperation that gnawed at his insides.

He found her there, the chains that bound her rattling with the violence of her struggle, the metallic clinks rising above her continuous cries. Austin's fists clenched at the sight, the primal part of him roaring to life. But he stood his ground, a bulwark against the chaos, knowing all too well that the path before her was one she needed to traverse alone. It was a rite of passage, cruel and unyielding, yet necessary.

"Stay with me, Bonnie," he whispered fiercely, though his words were drowned out by her screams. He remembered his own trials, the bone-deep ache, the rage, and the thirst for dominance. Yet now, as leader, he could do nothing but watch and wait, his every instinct pulling him in opposing directions. Protect or dominate; the dilemma of a werewolf torn between man and beast.

The cold, unforgiving concrete walls seemed to amplify Bonnie's agonized screams, each one ringing through the air like a sharp blade slicing through flesh. Her body convulsed on the dirty floor, twisting and contorting in sync with the unseen forces that seemed to be conducting a symphony of torment upon her. The very air around them felt charged with an energy of pain and suffering, as if the room itself was alive and reveling in Bonnie's agony.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, carving rivers through the grime. Her wavy hair clung to her sweat-slicked skin as if trying to comfort her. But there was no solace to be found in the throes of the transformation, no gentle whisper that could soothe the wildfire raging through her veins.

"Please," she gasped between sobs, her voice ragged and strained, "make it stop."

He knelt beside her, the heat emanating from her trembling form enough to scorch. The air was thick with the scent of anguish—an odor that no amount of distance or time could ever erase from memory.

"Bonnie, look at me," Austin urged, reaching out but not daring to touch. "You’re strong. You can get through this."

Her eyes—once a soft haven of empathy now shimmered with an animalistic glint—met his. In that fleeting moment of clarity before another wave of pain crashed over her, he read the raw desperation etched within their depths.

"I can't...," she whimpered, her voice breaking as another guttural cry tore from her lips.

The chains rattled violently, a haunting melody to the gruesome transformation unfolding. Her bones seemed to cry out in protest, the sound piercing the veil of stoicism Austin wore like armor. Every scream, every plea was a testament to the mind-numbing pain that gripped her, contorting her small frame into an instrument of torture.

"Don’t fight it, Bonnie." His words were firm, though his heart quaked with the effort to remain composed. He knew the struggle all too well—the way the pain clawed its way through flesh and bone, relentless and unyielding.

"Ah—Austin!" she screeched, the name torn from her lips as another spasm wracked her body.

Her fingers clawed at the unforgiving ground, seeking purchase against the hellish tide. Austin felt something primal stir within him at the sound of his name distorted by her suffering, a feral urge to rip away the chains, to end her pain by any means necessary. But he couldn’t. He wouldn't.

"Stay with me," he said again, his voice a low growl of determination, "I'm right here. You're not alone."

Yet in that moment, surrounded by the cacophony of pain and the stark reality of her ordeal, they were both acutely aware of a chilling truth: in the face of such brutal transformation, Bonnie was utterly, devastatingly alone.

"God, Bonnie," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper yet laden with a palpable anguish that mirrored her own. The sight of her writhing on the cold concrete floor, the sound of her screams—it was like a knife twisting deep in his gut, the pain almost his own. Almost. His hands balled into fists at his sides, nails digging crescents into his palms as if the physical pain could somehow anchor him against the torrent of emotions threatening to consume him.

A sickening crunch resonated through the shelter, and he winced, each snap of bone an echo in his own flesh. He knew every break and mend, had endured them himself, but nothing had prepared him for the torment of witnessing his mate endure the same hellish ordeal.

She thrashed against her restraints, a low growl rumbling from the depths of her throat, her teeth bared in primal defiance. Her eyes, wild with pain, locked onto his for a fleeting moment before another convulsion seized her. The Bonnie he knew was slipping further away with each torturous moment, replaced by a creature of pure instinct and survival. And as she gnashed her teeth at him, a futile warning or perhaps a plea, Austin's heart fractured a little more, knowing this was a battle she had to face alone—no matter how much it tore him apart to watch.

The shelter quivered as Bonnie's convulsions escalated into violent tremors. Austin steadied himself against the cold wall, his muscles tensing with each of her shudders. Her skin stretched and rippled, contorting grotesquely as if a feral force fought to break free from within. The air grew thick as her body ballooned and contracted, fur sprouting in patches that rapidly spread until she was engulfed. And then, with a guttural snarl, the woman he cherished vanished before his eyes, leaving behind a beast with eyes like embers—glowing fiercely with a savage light that knew no reason, no restraint.

"Bonnie..." His voice trailed off, drowned by the roar of bloodlust that seemed to command every fiber of her being.

She lunged forward with an otherworldly might, chains straining and screeching against the force. The ferocity in her movements spoke of a desperation to rend, to tear apart the object of her fury—and that object was him. Austin's breath caught in his throat as he watched her struggle, the clank of metal on concrete reverberating through the space between them, a stark reminder of the perilous line they now tread. He could see it—the raw power, the unbridled aggression—as she snapped her jaws, aiming for flesh and bone. Her focus singular and deadly. She threw herself against her bindings, over and over, each attempt more desperate than the last, her growls a symphony of rage and pain that clawed at his heart.

There was no recognition, only the relentless pursuit of destruction—as if the very chains that bound her were the only things keeping him alive. Austin stood motionless, not daring to approach, painfully aware that any semblance of the woman he loved was buried beneath layers of primal instinct. Her snarls echoed.

Austin's muscles tensed, a low growl bubbling from his throat—an instinctual response to the threat before him. The wolf within urged him to claim dominance, to force submission, but he quelled the rising tide of authority, grounding himself in the knowledge that this was part of Bonnie's transformation—a rite of passage no chain could bind.

Her eyes, wild and luminous, flickered with an ancient ferocity, unseeing. The rippling fur along her back bristled as she lunged again, the chains holding fast. The standoff stretched, a taut line between man and beast, each second a testament to the tumultuous power of their kind. Then, without warning, the heavy door to the bomb shelter flew open, crashing against the wall with a resounding thud.

"What the hell is—?" Victor's voice cut through the tension.

His gaze landed on the wolf straining against the chains, recognition dawning in his eyes as the pieces fell into place. A smirk crossed his lips "Bonnie Barlow?"

Stay tuned for part 7!! Click HERE to view!

[ashes-2-ashes57cba]

The Clone Wars: A Distant Echo

Part 2 of the Clone Wars Bad Batch arc with my OC: Specter! this has been edited *adla'vod: roughly translates to "twin", directly translates to "same brother/sister"

Specter felt surprised and almost betrayed when Crosshair let General Anakin Skywalker inspect his beloved rifle. Usually, he would get fussy if even she touched it. He wouldn’t even let her put her stuff next to his. 

The Bad Batch, Captain Rex, and the Jedi were on board the Batch’s ship—the Marauder—on their way to Skako Minor, following the live signal “Echo” supposedly sent out. Rex watched as Wrecker lifted a gonk droid with one hand and ate with the other. Crosshair observed as the General looked at his gun, and Hunter monitored any planetside activity at the console while Tech flew them to their destination. The female clone sat back, resting and mentally preparing herself for their next mission.

“So, how many missions has your team been on, Sergeant?” Anakin asked Hunter.

“Honestly, sir, I’ve lost count. All the action sort of blurs together,” he admitted with a shrug.

“I know you work with Cody sometimes, but who exactly do you guys report to?” Rex asked. Hunter hummed in thought.

“Good question. Can’t say I’ve got an answer.”

“Yeah, I’d feel really bad for the one who would have to try and make sense of our reports,” Specter piped up. Wrecker laughed in agreement. “Oh, adla’vod?” The sniper turned to his twin as Anakin handed him his rifle back. “Your taste in music is weird and the songs you suggested are weird, and I love it. I’m adding them to the playlist.”

“I told you,” he said with a smirk. 

“So you’re the first female clone. How does that affect your… dynamic?” Skywalker asked, turning his attention to Specter. She raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re implying what I think you are, don’t worry about it. I’ve heard enough of the whispers. I’ve saved these boys more times than they’d like to admit, so I’m not just a pretty face.”

“What?” Anakin blushed, “N-no, like— gosh how do I say it without sounding crass?” Specter surprised him by laughing. 

“I’m teasing, General, I know what you mean. They’re my brothers and best friends. They respect me and know when to give me my space when I need it. In return, I don’t break their knees. Isn’t that right boys?” she asked aloud to her team.

“Yes, ma’am,” they replied; some enthusiastically, some with disdain. 

“However they don’t always pick up after themselves. Take Tech, for example,” she said loudly, hoping to get his attention.

“What now?” he sighed.

“Just because my bunk was empty and clean, does not mean you get to use it for storage for your projects.”

“You weren’t using it.”

“Because your stuff was on it!” Rex and Anakin snickered at their argument while Crosshair and Hunter rolled their eyes. A thud and the sound of alarms ended their argument.

“We are approaching Skako Minor,” Tech reported. “It looks to be a difficult landing.” The Marauder broke through the thunderous clouds, turbulence rocked the ship. Wrecker went to help Tech man the controls while the others strapped themselves in. 

Once they landed and everything settled, the rest of the team gathered in the cockpit.

“Rex, what do we know about this place?” Anakin asked his captain.

“On this part of Skako, there’s a race of locals, the Poletecs. All we know is that they’re very primitive.”

“‘Primitive’ is being kind. My intel says the Poletecs worship flying reptiles,” Tech chimed in. A thud and screech were heard outside the ship, almost in reply to the Batcher’s remark. A shadow of a creature scurried over the viewport.

“Oh! What the heck was that?” Wrecker exclaimed as the ship rocked and jolted.

“It’s one of those reptiles,” Tech simply answered.

“I want that thing off my ship,” Hunter growled, putting on his helmet. The Batchers followed his lead and prepared to go outside to investigate. 

“Hold on! Hold on! Don’t just run out there,” Rex warned. 

The Bad Batch ignored him, running out to the blowing winds. A creature was on top of the ship, its rider a mere silhouette against the dim golden light peeking through the dust and clouds.

“Hey! Get off of there!” Wrecker yelled, pointing his blaster at them. Anakin ignited his saber but held his arm out to the brute.

“Hey, calm down. We need to talk to them,” he said.

“Why?” Hunter gowled. The Bad Batch wasn’t used to handling confrontations with diplomacy.

“The General’s right,” Rex supported. Two more flying creatures screeched and approached fast, intently flying toward the group. 

“Heads up!” Specter yelled, crouching low. Anakin pushed Rex out of the way as one of them reached out with its claws to grab at the captain. The two flew by, but the one atop the ship jumped down and grabbed Anakin before flying away with the rest of its group. The Jedi’s lightsaber fell from his belt, Rex grabbed it before firing a few potshots at the reptile, hoping to have some sort of effect. Tech looked through his visor, tracking him.

“I have a thermal reading. Point-two-five east, elevation 175,” he reported. 

“Relax,” Crosshair said, readying his rifle and using Tech’s shoulder as a mount, “I’ll handle this.” He fired a grappling line, latching onto the leg of the reptile holding Anakin.

“What are you doing?” Rex asked as Crosshair handed Hunter the base of the line. 

“Going for a ride,” Hunter said, clipping the line to his belt before being yanked away. “Keep the boys out of trouble, Spec.” Specter crossed her arms, and yelled after him.

“Like they listen to me anyway, but sure thing.” 

The group watched as Hunter and the General disappeared into the thick clouds. Silence surrounded the group until Wrecker turned to Specter and asked-

“Should we follow them?”

“Not yet,” she replied. “We can’t be sure of any more of those reptiles hiding among the clouds. Best to trust Hunter to assess the situation before we rush in.” Her fist tightened with anxiety by her side; Hunter often trusted her judgment enough for her to lead the group when he couldn’t, but this time the life of a Jedi General was on the line.

“Tech, I’m with the General. Hone in on my signal,” Hunter’s voice eventually came through the comm. Specter relaxed her shoulders before turning to the others.

“Alright, now we can regroup. Everyone back to the Marauder,” she said, taking charge and gesturing back to the ship, following the others inside just as Tech launched the shuttle and flew to Hunter’s signal. 

They eventually touched down a ways back from the edge of a ridge leading down into the Poletec’s village. Hunter was kneeling down, out of sight, observing the scene. 

“That creature still has a hold of the General,” he reported to Rex, who went to take position beside him. Rex flipped down the antennae on his helmet, looking through the scope to assess Skywalker, Specter mirrored him, tracking each of the villagers.

“We’re going in,” he said, standing up, “but remember what the General said. ‘No casualties, disarm only’.” The reminder was emphasized towards the Batch with a few pointed glances. Wrecker shook his head and slumped in dejection. 

“We’re on it, Captain,” Hunter stood up before giving orders. “Wrecker, Crosshair, rockslide!” The two went to push the large boulder nearby down the ridge and into the village. As it rolled, Wrecker shadowed behind it, using it as cover, while Crosshair stayed behind to take a sniper position. The rest of the team followed suit, shooting to disarm the natives as they scrambled away. Crosshair shot an electric probe at the leg of the creature holding Anakin; it flew off from the shock, allowing the Jedi to roll out of the way of the boulder. Hunter pointed his pistol at the leader of the Poletecs; it spoke its language at him, waving his arms about. “Tech, translate what he said?” 

“He says he does not want our war on his planet. That is why he took our leader,” he relayed, reading the translation off his visor.

“We didn’t bring the war here,” Anakin said, “it was Wat Tambor and the Separatists.” Tech went to translate, doing his best to mimic the Poltec dialect. The chieftain looked between him and Skywalker.

“Tell him we apologize for what’s happened,” Rex stepped forward. “But tell him the enemy is holding one of our men prisoner in Purkoll. As soon as we rescue him, we’ll leave this planet, for good.” Tech nodded, turning to the chieftain and relaying the information. 

Specter couldn’t help but giggle; Rex noticed her shaking shoulders and nudged her side. 

“Hey, what’s so funny?”

“He just sounds so robotic. He’s not even attempting to follow through with the accent,” she explained. 

“Could you do any better?” Rex asked. She scoffed.

“Give me a day and I could even learn the local dialect, Captain. If it helps put things in perspective, I learned Galactic Sign Language in a week.” 

“Wow, Specter, is there anything you can’t do?” Rex wondered.

“Yeah. She can’t reach the high shelves,” Crosshair sneered. His twin stomped on his foot. 

The Poltec leader and Tech continued to speak back and forth in what looked like apologies and negotiations. 

“The chief says he’ll provide us with scouts and lead us to Tambor’s city. From there, we’re on our own,” he reported to Anakin. 

“Any help is better than no help.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two scouts led the team to a rocky outlook with a clear view of the city, or at least the spires hanging down from the clouds. One pointed towards the city and said something in his language; Tech thanked them before they went to return to their village. 

“Hope nobody’s scared of heights,” Anakin said with a smirk. Crosshair, Hunter, and Specter turned to look at Wrecker, who perked up at the attention.

“Well, I’m not scared of nothing!” he assured, unconvincingly. He glanced down the cliff rock, however, noting the height. “I just… when I’m up real high, I got a problem with gravity,” the brute admitted.

“Speaking of problems,” Tech spoke up, “I am no longer picking up Echo’s signal.”

“I don’t understand,” Rex said, surprised, “you said it was coming from this city.”

“I can only speculate, but it is possible there’s a latency issue with the frequency caused by all these atmospheric disturbances,” Tech said, holding up his datapad.

“Or… maybe they sent the signal to lure us into a trap,” Hunter speculated. “And maybe your friend’s actually dead. Well I can’t be the only one thinking of that.”

“But if a clone can come back from the dead, then nothing could stop me from being completely unhinged,” Specter fantasized.

“Look, every mission could be a trap. This one is no different,” Rex argued against Hunter. “I’m telling you that signal is being sent by Echo himself! He’s alive!”

“I think you’re letting your personal feelings get in the way because you left him for dead at the Citadel,” Crosshair sneered, turning his back on the captain. Specter tilted her head back in exasperation. 

“I had no choice. You hear me?” Rex said, his tone dark and on the verge of anger.

“Oh, I don’t blame you. I would’ve left him for dead too. Besides, he’s just another reg.” 

Specter didn’t blame Rex, nor did she try to stop him when he punched Crosshair to the ground. 

“Hey!” Wrecker grabbed the captain by the back of his armor. “Why don’t you pick on someone not your size?” The brute threw him off, but Rex turned right back around and marched up to him.

“You’ll be a whole lot smaller when I’m through with you,” he growled.

“That’s enough!” Anakin ordered, pushing the two men apart. “Sergeant, take your men and scout the area for a tower entrance. I want to talk to my Captain alone.” Hunter motioned for the Bad Batch to follow him, Specter helped Crosshair stand up before smacking the back of his helmet, scolding her twin for his insensitive comment.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The wind howled, blowing golden dust. Specter shifted her stance again, trying to ignore the itch of sand up in her armor. The Batch did their best to peer through the sand and guard the entrance of one of the towers leading up to the city while Tech worked on the door panel. Hunter sensed someone coming, holding up his gun in defense. But it was Skywalker and Rex running to meet them.

“We’re in business, General. Tech regained Echo’s signal,” Hunter reported, shouting over the wind and walking him towards the entrance. “It’s coming from this tower. How’s it going, Tech?” The clone had his datapad hooked up to a console, quietly working through algorithms and firewalls to get past the door. After pushing a few buttons, he was able to gain access.

“Sorry it took so long,” he replied with a shrug. 

“Hey, twins, check it out,” Hunter nodded inside. 

“Ah yes, the noble sacrifices,” Specter slumped before holding up her blaster and following Crosshair, sweeping the inner room for any traps or cameras. They found nothing and turned back to the door. 

“Yeah, it’s a lift,” Crosshair deadpanned.

“How magical,” Specter feigned wonder.

“Well, we already knew that,” Rex said, unamused, walking inside with the others. Wrecker nervously looked up at the tower, most of it disappeared behind heavy clouds. 

“Wait, wait, wait. A lift? How far up are we going?” he growled.

“Don’t worry, Wrecker. I’ll hold your hand,” Hunter teased. 

“Hey! Cut it out, Sarge,” Wrecker said, bumping past Hunter’s shoulder, “Just give me some droids to crush.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Remember, this is a stealth mission,” the General said as the lift neared the top, “no blasting, no blowing things up. Nobody knows we’re here.”

“Pff, don’t count on it,” Specter muttered, collapsing her blaster’s stalk and preparing her pistol. The door opened to a group of droids who abandoned their tasks, turned to the intruders, and readied their weapons. Wrecker dashed out, crashing into the ones closest, throwing one at another group near the back and swinging another at a few near the opening. They fell with robotic screams.

“I told you!” Specter said before running out to the fight with her squadmates. Anakin could only shake his head with a smirk. She fired alongside Tech, covering the corridor that led inside the facility. A pair of droids snuck up behind them, separating her and Tech. Specter let them corner her against some crates; once they were right where she wanted, she jumped up and pushed off against the crates—over the droids’ line of fire—knocking them down with a split kick. A shot flew past her shoulder, striking a lone droid attempting to charge at her; Specter looked up to find Crosshair fired the shot, she returned the favor by blasting a droid approaching behind him.

 Wrecker charged at the remaining droids, firing relentlessly and cheering from the adrenaline once they were victorious. Everyone simply looked at him.

“Uh… sorry. I just got excited.” Specter came around and patted his shoulder while Tech checked his scanner.

“I’ve still got a lock on Echo’s signal.” 

“All right, men.” Hunter readied his blaster and led the way to the corridor. “Let’s hunt some droids.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Droids on patrol marched through the hall, though they didn’t detect the door opening and Hunter peeking out. He motioned Specter forward and nodded; they stepped out, he shot the droids entering the area while she destroyed the ones that passed, clearing the way for Skywalker to step into the hallway. 

“Where exactly is Echo’s signal coming from?” he asked Tech. The clone adjusted his goggles as he looked at his datapad.

“Strange. I just lost the signal.”

“What? How can that be?” Rex asked, removing his helmet. “There’s no ‘atmospheric disturbances’ up here.”

“Well, I have a new theory. I’m surprised I did not consider it earlier,” Tech shook his head. “The signal is only traceable during data transmissions. So until Echo dispenses more intel, I cannot pick up the signal.”

“Okay, we’re splitting up. Search every door,” the General began to order, “If someone finds Echo, contact the others. We go in together, just in case there’s trouble.” Specter and Crosshair split with the General while the others went down the other way. She found nothing in the doors she checked, only storage containers and maintenance supplies. 

Specter had a very hard time believing a clone like Echo could have survived the attack on the citadel, but she knew if it was one of her squadmates, she would be just as adamant to rescue them as Rex was. But like Tech, she was logical enough to know that the chances of Echo actually being alive were low. But not zero. 

A commotion caught her attention: muffled blaster fire and a lightsaber. The clone ran towards Anakin, configuring her blaster into a sniper rifle; she got there just in time, shooting down the droids before they could attack again. The Jedi stood up, calmly walking towards her.

“Thanks for the backup.”

“No problem, General,” she said, giving a two-fingered salute.

“Hey, where did you get that weapon? I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it,” he asked as they walked down the hall.

“I doubt you would’ve. Tech and Crosshair designed and built it after I saved them on a mission from Corellia… and took care of them when they caught Corellian fever,” she snickered.

“You didn’t have to mention that,” Crosshair hissed, coming up beside them.

“Too late, Cross,” she teased, patting the side of his helmet. He swatted her hand away. “But I was the one who helped engineer the reconfiguring mechanism.”

“Clever,” the Jedi complimented. 

“Don’t let it get to her head,” Crosshair warned.

“Hey, how about when you— did you guys hear something?” Specter stopped herself, suddenly perking up. The others heard it too; sounds of droids and blasters being fired. 

“Sounds like trouble. Let’s move,” the General ordered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It seemed the three had arrived just in time to even the odds against the droids attacking the rest of the team. Anakin used the Force to push a group out of his way, swinging his lightsaber to cut them and deflect their shots. Hunter took the opportunity to go on the offensive, Wrecker, Tech, and Rex joined in. The Sergeant held up a droid by the neck, ready to punch its head off, but Crosshair came in and shot it off for him. A whistle sounded, Specter came running in, taking a position by Wrecker.

“Hey, swing me around,” she said.

“Like on Mon Cala?” he asked, shooting a few droids.

“What? No, like on Ryloth.” They hooked their arms around each other and he spun, swinging Specter around to shoot and kick at the rest of the droids near them. The Jedi stabbed the last one. “Mon Cala… you didn’t swing me, you threw me. Underwater,” Specter mumbled. More blaster fire filled the hallway, even more droids were coming. The team took defensive positions in the side of the room. 

“Tech, open that door for Rex!” Anakin ordered over the noise. 

“Yes, sir!” Tech nodded and ran to take care of the door.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Captain,” Hunter said, turning to acknowledge him. “Specter, you’re with them.” Rex and Specter ran to meet Tech who was able to get the door open and enter the room. It was filled with dimly lit panels and other controls. 

“I don’t like the look of this,” Specter heard Rex say— her back was turned, keeping an eye on the door and their other surroundings. 

“I’m definitely picking up a life-form in there,” Tech said, his scanner beeping in rapid succession. He investigated the controls, “It seems to be a stasis chamber. I think I can get it open.” Specter looked over her shoulder, Tech worked at the control panel and got the chamber open. 

The door hissed open and a form fell forward, only caught by the wires attached to—him. It was a body. Malnourished, disfigured, but a clone’s body nonetheless. Specter stifled a gasp at the sight. 

“Echo,” Rex breathed. “Tech, we’ve got to get him out of here. Figure out how to…  unplug him from… from this mess.” Rex frantically undid the line around his torso, laying the body down onto the floor, cables were still attached to Echo’s head. “What have they done to you?” Specter abandoned watching the door and turned to go help Rex, who had taken off his helmet.

“We… we have to get to the shuttle to escape the Citadel,” the soldier muttered. His eyes were open but unseeing, skin sickly and pale, body emaciated and drawn. Both his legs and his right arm were replaced by cybernetic parts.

“He’s stable, but blood sugar is low,” Specter reported, removing her helmet and taking out a small flashlight. She shined it in his eyes, they were dilated and unfocused. “He’s in there but barely. Hallucinating. Oxygen in his brain must be low too, his heartbeat is irregular.” She felt his pulse on his wrist and by his neck.

“No! I’ll go first,” Echo continued in his hallucination, reaching out. Rex gently shook him.

“Echo,” he pleaded. “Echo, it’s Rex. I’m here.” The pale clone calmed down, his eyes came into focus.

“Rex? You, you came back for me,” he breathed, reaching to touch Rex.

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Rex assured. 

“What? What happened? Where am I?” Echo looked around.

“Yeah, he’s coming around alright. It’s okay, soldier. You’re safe now,” she assured.

“Just sit tight, Echo,” Rex said, “You’re going home.”

[atinyjules]

Second Wind Ft. Track Runner!K

A/n: Kind of thought of it while staying up awake at night because I slept the whole day (I was sick)

Genre: Comfort, Romance, Fluff, Healing, Sports Romance

Pairings: Track Runner!K x Track Runner!Kaori (fem oc)

Warnings: mentions of a car accident

The door chimed as K stepped into the familiar lobby of the Onsa Sports Rehabilitation Center, the scent of eucalyptus and sweat lingering faintly in the air. His duffel bag thudded softly against his back with each step, sneakers quiet against the polished flooring.

Coach Takayama looked up from the front desk, a warm grin lighting his face. “You’re early.”

“I like being early,” K replied, returning the smile. “Beats running laps for being late.”

Takayama chuckled, standing to greet him with a firm clap on the shoulder. “Still disciplined. I like that.”

K had been spending most of his off-season hours shadowing Coach Takayama, one of the country’s top athletic rehab specialists—someone who had helped bring more than a few broken athletes back from the edge. Most of their sessions were quiet, routine: strained hamstrings, recovering ACLs, overworked sprinters who just needed rest. But today, something felt different.

“I’ve got a new case for you,” Takayama said, leading him down the hall. “Thought of you the moment she walked in.”

K raised an eyebrow. “You’re giving me my own case now?”

Takayama only smiled. “She’s not your usual case. Talented. Dedicated. Or she used to be. Sprinter—top of the university circuit. You probably heard of her.”

K’s curiosity sharpened. “What happened?”

“Car accident last year. Hit while out on a long run. Multiple leg fractures. She’s healed now—physically. Cleared by doctors. But she won’t step on the track. Won’t run. Won’t even jog.”

They stopped in front of a closed door. The frosted glass glowed softly with daylight behind it.

Takayama turned to him, voice low. “She doesn’t need a doctor right now. She needs someone who knows what it’s like to live and breathe the track. Someone who understands what it means to lose it.”

K’s brows furrowed, his voice gentle. “What’s her name?”

Coach Takayama looked him in the eye.

“Murata Kaori.”

The name hit him like a quiet echo. He remembered her—the girl with impossibly smooth form and fire in her stride. The one who dominated the university meets and was expected to go international within the year. The girl who vanished from the scene in an instant, leaving the track world holding its breath.

K’s jaw tensed, heart shifting in his chest.

“I remember her,” he said.

But first, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

He pushed open a side door to the consultation lounge. Inside, a woman stood near the window, arms crossed. She wore black leggings and a navy tracksuit jacket zipped halfway up. Her dark hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, and her stern face held a quiet authority—the kind that came from years of shaping champions and watching them fall.

When she turned, her gaze landed on K with the weight of someone who didn’t waste words or time.

“K, meet Coach Yamaguchi,” Takayama said. “She’s been coaching Murata Kaori since high school.”

K paused before stepping further into the room, turning back to the two coaches. He straightened, then gave a respectful bow toward the woman in the tracksuit.

“I know who you are,” he said sincerely. “Yamaguchi Kaoru—international track runner. Known for your smooth strides and incredible agility on curves. I used to watch your races on old replays. You were legendary.”

A flicker of surprise crossed her features before a rare, amused smile softened her stern face.

“Thank you,” she said simply. “That means something, coming from someone like you.”

Coach Takayama chuckled. “Told you he was a nerd for technique.”

Yamaguchi ignored that, crossing her arms again.

“But one thing,” she said, glancing at Takayama, “I didn’t just coach Kaori since high school.”

Takayama blinked. “Oh?”

“I’ve been coaching her since she learned how to walk,” Yamaguchi corrected dryly.

K turned his head in quiet surprise, glancing between the two. “Wait…?”

Takayama winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Kaoru-san. I completely forgot—”

She waved him off with a sharp motion, her expression calm but firm. “Next time, ask before assuming.”

Then she looked at K again, her tone gentler this time. “And for what it’s worth—between being her coach and being remembered for anything else—I’d rather be known as her mother.”

There was a beat of silence as that settled in.

K’s eyes lingered on the door to the recovery room, then drifted back toward Yamaguchi with a curious furrow in his brow.

“Forgive me for asking, but… her last name is Murata,” he said gently. “I thought—”

Yamaguchi chuckled, the sound brief but not unkind, and motioned for him to take a seat in the consultation room just beside them. She sat across from him, crossing one leg over the other and resting her arms loosely over her knee.

“We get that a lot,” she said, brushing a few stray hairs from her ponytail. “Kaori and her brother have their father’s surname, Murata. We divorced when they were seven.”

K nodded slowly, still listening.

She leaned back, exhaling lightly through her nose. “It wasn’t a pretty split. After that… I didn’t see the point in holding on to a name that no longer felt like mine. I went back to Yamaguchi—my family’s name. And Kaori… she decided to keep her father’s. Said it helped her remember why she wanted to run in the first place.”

Her tone was even, but something in her eyes flickered. A weight she carried silently.

K processed that for a moment before speaking again. “She sounds like someone with a strong heart.”

“She is,” Yamaguchi said. “Or at least… she was. Before the accident.” She paused. “That strength didn’t vanish, though. It’s still there. Just buried under fear, doubt, and a hell of a lot of pressure.”

Yamaguchi rested her hands in her lap, her expression unreadable now, eyes fixed on the closed door across the hall. K waited, sensing the heaviness in her silence.

“It’s already hard enough,” she began, voice steady but subdued, “that Kaori and I have two different relationships.”

K tilted his head slightly, listening.

“Mother and daughter,” she clarified. "Coach and athlete.”

She glanced at him then, as if weighing how much she should share. “She’s never said it to my face, but I know it wears on her. The dual expectations. The pressure to meet not just her coach’s standards—but her mother’s hopes too.”

K stayed silent, respectful.

“She loves me. And she respects me deeply as her coach. But that love… it turns into pressure. She’s afraid of letting me down. Of disappointing me if she can’t come back from this.”

She exhaled slowly, her jaw tightening before she continued.

“That’s why I’ve stepped back from her rehab. I haven’t pushed her, haven’t insisted she do more. Because I know, deep down, she’d only try for my sake, not for her own.”

She looked at K then, fully, her eyes clear but tired. “I’d rather keep our relationship simple now. Just mother and daughter. She needs someone else to walk her back to the track. Someone who understands her world… without being her world.”

K nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling over him.

“I understand,” he said, his voice quiet. “And I’ll do my best. Not to replace you—but to stand beside her as someone who gets it.”

That made the corner of her mouth lift, just a little.

“That’s all I can ask.”

They sat for a moment longer in comfortable silence, both glancing toward the hallway where Kaori waited behind a closed door.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The soft knock at the door was followed by the quiet creak of it opening. K straightened instinctively as a girl stepped inside, her movements careful, almost hesitant.

Murata Kaori.

She was dressed in a loose sweatshirt and warm-up pants, her long dark hair tied up in a simple bun. Despite the casual outfit, there was something unmistakably elegant about the way she carried herself—like a dancer who hadn’t danced in a while, but still remembered how.

She didn’t look at K.

Her gaze went straight to her mother, who gave a small nod and gestured to the empty seat beside her. Kaori walked over without a word and sat down stiffly, her posture distant, her fingers tugging at the sleeve hem of her sweatshirt.

“Good afternoon, Kaori,” Coach Takayama greeted warmly, offering a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Kaori gave a polite bow of her head, her voice low and quiet. “Hello.”

K, watching closely, noticed it immediately. The shift.

Coach Yamaguchi, once stern and composed, now looked visibly softer. Her shoulders had lowered, her expression gentler. The steel in her eyes melted into something maternal—tender, careful. She looked at her daughter with concern, but no pressure.

It was subtle, but impossible to miss.

Coach Takayama leaned forward slightly, placing Kaori’s file on the table in front of him.

“I have to say, I’m genuinely impressed with how quickly you’ve physically recovered,” he began, tone light but sincere. “Given your condition at the time of the accident, most would’ve expected you to need much longer.”

Kaori didn’t respond, but K saw the way her fingers stilled for a moment.

“It’d be a real shame,” Takayama continued, “for someone with your talent to step away before your prime. You were already on the university circuit radar since you were what—fifteen?”

Kaori finally lifted her eyes to meet his. There was no pride in them. Only quiet hesitation.

Takayama gave her a knowing smile. “I’ve watched some of your races. Clean starts, sharp finishes. You ran like your feet were meant for the wind.”

She shifted slightly in her seat, eyes darting away again.

K wondered if she’d always reacted this way to praise… or if this discomfort was new.

Coach Takayama gave Kaori a moment, his tone softening as he continued.

“I know it’s hard,” he said gently. “Coming back from something like that—it’s not just the body that needs healing.”

Kaori looked down at her lap, fingers curling slightly.

“But sometimes,” he added, “all it takes is a little leap of faith. Just one. And I’m really glad you decided to take that leap here. At Onsa.”

Kaori didn’t reply, but the smallest flicker of acknowledgment passed over her face.

“Which brings me to the reason we’re here,” Coach Takayama said, turning slightly toward K with a smile. “Kaori, I’m sure you already know him.”

Kaori glanced up.

K offered her a warm, respectful smile and a short bow. “Hi. I’m K.”

Her expression didn’t change much, but something in her eyes sparked—recognition, of course. He was the country’s top track runner, after all.

“I’ve been following your recovery,” he said sincerely. “It’s really admirable, Kaori.”

Coach Takayama smiled at their exchange before continuing, “I’ll be overseeing your rehab progress as usual, but from this point on, K will be the one working closely with you. He’ll be there every step of the way, getting you back on your feet—and hopefully, back on the track.”

Kaori blinked, clearly surprised. Her eyes shifted between the two men, her lips parting slightly, but no words came.

Coach Takayama leaned back, crossing his arms with a reassuring tone. “He’s not just a star runner. He’s trained in sports rehab, with a focus on track athletes like you. And more than that—he knows what it’s like to live on the track. The rhythm, the pressure. The spotlight.”

Kaori’s shoulders rose slightly as she inhaled, quiet and unsure.

K kept his expression gentle. “I’m not here to push you. Just to walk with you—however far you’re ready to go.”

The silence hung for a second longer, her mother watching quietly beside her.

Then Kaori gave the faintest nod.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

One Week Later – Onsa Sports Rehabilitation Center

Morning light filtered through the tall windows of the training hall, washing the floor in soft gold. The room carried the subtle scent of polished wood and clean sweat—familiar, comforting.

K stood in the hall, dressed in his dark tracksuit jacket, matching shorts, and clean sneakers. He was already moving through warm-up stretches, rotating his shoulders and legs with smooth, practiced motions.

He glanced at the clock.

Still a few minutes before Kaori’s session.

He dropped into some lunges, keeping his body loose. It wasn’t just about warming up physically—he wanted his energy to be open, welcoming. He knew she’d be nervous.

Footsteps approached from the hallway.

K looked up, expecting Kaori—but instead, a familiar figure with a bright grin appeared.

“Taki,” K said, a little surprised but smiling.

Taki jogged into the room, dressed in sweats and a fitted hoodie. He was Coach Takayama’s son, and a promising runner himself.

“Hey!” Taki beamed. “Dad said I could come keep you company.”

K gave a soft laugh, straightening up. “Great. We need the session to brim with positive energy for Kaori.”

Taki pumped a fist in the air. “I’m all about good energy. Figured she might need it, you know?”

K nodded. “Yeah. She’s got a lot on her shoulders.”

“I also brought a playlist,” Taki added, pulling out his phone. “Warm-up tracks. Thought it’d help set the vibe.”

K raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You came prepared.”

“Only the best for a comeback like this,” Taki said, a little more seriously.

Just then, the quiet tap of more footsteps reached them.

K turned toward the door—and there she was.

Kaori stepped inside the hall, her presence quiet but unmistakably composed. She was dressed head-to-toe in sleek, high-end activewear: a defined zip-up jacket in a deep slate tone, loose shorts layered over longer, fitted compression shorts that hugged her toned legs. Her trainers were the newest release from a popular performance brand—clean, stylish, expensive. Even her posture said she used to belong on the track.

Her eyes flicked across the space, scanning it quickly before settling on the two of them.

K straightened subtly, his smile still on his face—but softer now.

Taki gave a quiet nudge to K’s side. “That’s her?” he whispered.

K nodded. “Yeah. That’s her.”

Kaori took a few more steps into the room, her hand gripping the strap of her adidas duffel bag. She didn’t meet their eyes right away, her gaze trailing over the polished floor and the empty track lanes marked out at the far end of the hall.

“Morning…” she murmured, her voice soft and reserved.

K and Taki both turned toward her with twice the energy.

“Good morning!” K beamed, his tone warm and encouraging. “Ready for a day of progress?”

Taki chimed in immediately with a grin. “Progress!”

Kaori blinked, caught a little off guard by their enthusiasm. Her fingers shifted slightly on the strap of her bag, but a faint hint of amusement flickered in her eyes. If only just.

She gave a small nod. “I’ll try…”

K smiled, understanding in his expression. “Trying’s already a step forward. You made it here. That’s something.”

Taki gave her a thumbs-up. “We’ve got music, motivation, and me. You’re basically unstoppable.”

That earned the tiniest of smiles from Kaori—barely there, but enough to be noticed.

“Let’s get started?” K asked, gently, motioning toward the warm-up mats with an easy gesture.

Kaori inhaled slowly, then gave a firmer nod this time.

“Okay.”

As she moved to set her bag down by the wall, K exchanged a brief glance with Taki—encouragement flashing between them.

This was just the beginning, but she’d shown up. And that, in itself, was already progress.

It was not the progress he had hoped.

They were already on their tenth try and Kaori still hadn’t made it past the starting line. Every time she braced to move, something in her seized—her breath hitched, her knees locked, and her body resisted.

K watched her closely, arms crossed over his chest, a quiet tension settling in his expression. She was more scared than he initially thought. Not just hesitant—terrified.

Kaori now sat in an Asian squat on the polished track floor, her head buried into her knees. Her shoulders trembled slightly as she whispered to herself in fragments, hands gripping at her sleeves.

“I can’t do it… I just can’t. No… I don’t want to. No…”

Taki stood off to the side, biting his lip, unsure of whether to step in or stay put. He looked to K, who slowly walked over and crouched down beside her, careful to give her space but close enough for his voice to reach her clearly.

“Kaori,” K said gently, his voice low and patient. “You don’t have to run a lap today. You don’t even have to run five steps. But I need you to tell me what you’re feeling right now. Not as a coach. Just as someone who’s here for you.”

Kaori didn’t look up. Her voice came out muffled. “It’s like… I’m back there. Every time I try. I close my eyes and I see the headlights. I hear the screech. I feel it. My legs… they feel like they’re frozen. Like they’re still broken.”

K’s heart tugged at her words. It wasn’t just fear of failure—she was reliving the trauma each time she tried to move.

He sat down beside her properly now, elbows on his knees. “I get it,” he said softly. “You’re not just scared of running. You’re scared of what running represents now. Pain. Pressure. Expectations. Losing control.”

Kaori nodded slightly into her arms.

“But,” K added, “we’re going to redefine what running means for you. Not for the world. Not for anyone else. Just you.”

He paused before saying, with a small smile, “And if sitting like this today is all we do, that’s still okay. Because you showed up. That matters.”

There was a long silence. Then, a shaky breath from Kaori.

“…You really think I’ll ever run again?”

K looked at her—not with pity, but with unwavering belief.

“I don’t just think it. I believe it. And I’ll stay right here until you do too.”

Before Kaori could answer, another voice chimed in—cheerful and full of warmth.

“Yes! Turning up was progress!” Taki said, sliding down beside her with a grin. “Progress! Progress! Progress!” He leaned sideways to peek at her hidden face. “It’s not like you have a deadline to get back on the track anyway. So just take your time, sis.”

Kaori lifted her head slightly, glancing at him through strands of her hair. Her brows twitched, as if unsure whether to scowl at the nickname or smile at the encouragement. Taki just grinned wider, unbothered.

K chuckled lightly, nodding. “Yeah, Taki’s right. It’s not like you have to be ready in a month or anything. Even if it takes a year, or two, or more… that’s okay.” His voice softened as his gaze met hers. “There’s no deadline on healing. Only the pace that feels right for you.”

Kaori stared at the floor between them, blinking slowly. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her jacket.

“…It doesn’t feel like much,” she mumbled.

“But it is,” K said firmly. “Facing the track again after everything? That takes guts. Showing up here today? That’s more than enough for a first step.”

Taki nodded enthusiastically. “You’re like, ten steps ahead just by sitting here with us! And besides,” he added, leaning back on his palms, “you’ve got the best rehab coach-slash-track legend on your side. And me. I’m great at cheering.”

Kaori exhaled a soft, almost-laugh through her nose.

“...Thanks,” she said quietly.

She didn’t say much after that, but she didn’t go back to burying her head either. They sat there for a little longer—just the three of them, the sun spilling onto the track, and the silence between them slowly beginning to feel less heavy.

And though she hadn't run a single step that day, it felt like—for the first time in a long time—Kaori had moved forward.

The rest of the days passed in a rhythm that, to Kaori, felt frustratingly slow.

To her, there hadn’t been much progress. She wasn’t sprinting. She wasn’t flying down the track like she used to. She wasn’t her—the girl the world once called a rising star.

But to K and Taki, she was doing great.

Because by the end of the first week, she was jogging.

Not much—at least in her eyes. Half a kilometer, give or take, before the weight in her chest would creep back in and she’d need to stop. Her steps were cautious, her breathing uneven, and her eyes always fixed just a little too hard on the track ahead. But she tried. Even if only a little.

“Half a kilometer today,” K said one morning after she stopped, crouching beside her with a towel and water bottle. “That’s more than yesterday.”

Kaori took the bottle silently, cheeks flushed from effort and embarrassment. “It’s barely anything.”

“It’s something,” Taki said cheerfully from behind her, where he was scribbling her stats on the whiteboard they used for progress tracking. He underlined the number with a star. “In fact, it’s more than something. It’s awesome.”

K nodded. “You’re finding your rhythm. Slowly, yeah. But you’re doing it.”

Kaori looked at both of them—Taki with his easy grin and K with his steady, calm gaze—and then at the number on the board. 0.5km. It still looked small to her. Laughably small. But… it was there.

She set the bottle down and let herself breathe.

Maybe it was something.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

Since today wasn’t a scheduled training day with K and Taki, Kaori had decided she needed to at least put in some effort on her own. If she wanted progress, it couldn’t always come with cheering, guidance, or someone watching. It had to come from her, too. Just her. That’s why she found herself at the private track, alone.

The sun was soft overhead, the air crisp, and the track ahead of her looked the same as it always had—smooth, endless, inviting.

She stood at the starting line, hands clenched at her sides, trying to summon up the fire she used to carry without effort.

"Come on, Kaori…" she muttered, narrowing her eyes. “Why are you so scared? You've loved track your whole life. Are you really gonna let an accident—one accident—steal your life from you?”

Her voice cracked a little on the last words, but she squared her shoulders. She could do this. One lap. Just one. That wasn’t too much, right?

She inhaled deeply, adjusted her jacket, and—

Kaori, walked. Not jogging. Not running. Just walking.

Blank-faced, her hands were deep in the pockets of her high-end track jacket. Her legs moved at a casual pace, the kind you’d take when trying not to seem in a rush, but also not eager to get anywhere. Her wireless earbuds blasted an intense, motivational anthem—something with lyrics shouting “You’re unstoppable! Unbeatable! Invincible!”

She looked anything but.

Her expensive trainers tapped softly against the track with each step as she walked its curve like someone doing laps after too many chicken nuggets, not someone who used to break records.

A lone jogger passed her, their shoes thumping rhythmically against the ground. Kaori glanced at them and nodded politely, her face unreadable.

Her duffel bag sat abandoned at the bench, like it was sulking for not being opened.

She kept walking. Kept listening.

Unstoppable! Unbeatable!

She sighed and muttered under her breath, “I’m trying, okay? This counts. It has to count.”

Rain trickled down the windows in quiet streams, turning the world outside into a blur of grays and muted lights. Kaori sat alone in a corner booth of a cozy little restaurant, shoulders hunched, her chopsticks lazily stirring the steaming miso soup in front of her. Cubes of tofu bobbed quietly in the broth as she stared past them, eyes fixated on nothing.

Her thoughts were loud. Louder than the gentle chatter of other customers, louder than the rain pattering against the glass, louder than the soft instrumental music playing overhead.

She barely registered the bell chime of the restaurant’s door opening. Not until someone slid into the seat across from her, shaking off droplets of rain from their jacket.

“Hey,” a familiar voice chirped. “Didn’t expect to see you around here.”

Startled, she turned to find K sitting across from her, his grin wide and boyish, droplets of rain still clinging to his hair. For a second, she just blinked at him. Then she realized he was looking at her clothes—her damp activewear jacket, the sneakers she hadn’t bothered to change out of.

And then… she saw it. The sparkle in his eyes.

“Were you training?” he asked, leaning forward. “That’s great!”

She looked away, suddenly ashamed. “I… I ended up only walking around the track,” she murmured, barely audible.

But instead of disappointment, his face softened even more as he reached over and gently patted the top of her head, his hand ruffling her slightly damp hair.

“You still thought of training and walked around the track. I’m proud of you,” he said, voice calm and genuine.

Something about the words—so kind, so sure—made her chest ache in a strange way. A warmth bloomed in her despite the rain and her cold hands. She stared at him, but only for a moment before scoffing quietly and turning her eyes back to her soup.

“You’re supposed to be mad,” she muttered. “Mad that I didn’t run. Mad that I didn’t do anything good enough. It’s already been a month since we started.”

K leaned back slightly, eyes still on her, calm and unwavering.

“Why would I be mad?” he asked softly. “Progress doesn’t come in a straight line, Kaori. And I’m not here to time how fast you run back to your old self. I’m here to walk beside you—at whatever pace you choose.”

Kaori felt her throat tighten.

“…That’s annoying,” she mumbled.

K laughed, the sound easy and light, like he didn’t mind at all.

K smiled, his eyes warm and steady as he reached out again, this time more gently, and patted her head with the same ease as someone comforting an old friend—or someone they truly believed in.

“I’m proud of you,” he said again, softer this time, almost like a secret just for her. “Good job.”

Something about the way he said it—the way his hand lingered briefly before pulling away, the smile that didn’t ask anything of her, didn’t expect her to be stronger or faster or perfect—made her heart skip a beat.

She quickly looked down at her soup again, cheeks faintly pink, trying to push down the sudden flutter in her chest.

“…It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

K just chuckled, leaning back as if he knew exactly what effect his words had, but choosing not to say it out loud.

“You showed up for yourself today, Kaori. That’s always a big deal.”

And for the first time that day, Kaori smiled—just barely, but genuinely.

Training was… better.

Kaori still didn’t have the confidence to run—not yet—but she could jog now. It wasn’t much to the old her, but to this version of herself, the one trying to claw her way back from fear and self-doubt, it was everything.

And K jogged with her.

Every morning, rain or shine, she’d arrive to see him already warming up, that same bright smile on his face, as if he’d been waiting all night just to see her take another step. He matched her pace without question, never going faster, never pressuring. Just beside her. Present.

Sometimes they talked during their jogs, and sometimes they just breathed in rhythm—two former stars who knew what it felt like to fall, finding something steady in each other's silence.

She still didn’t think she was making much progress, but when K gave her a high-five after every lap, called her name with pride, and kept pace without judgment—Kaori thought maybe, just maybe, she was learning to believe again.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

One day, K wasn’t around. He was out running errands, nothing serious—just one of those rare mornings when he wasn’t nearby.

Taki had school.

So she was alone.

The indoor track field at the rehabilitation center felt colder, quieter. Her footsteps echoed faintly, the soft tap of her shoes the only rhythm in the space. Without Taki’s chatter or K’s encouraging words, it was just her and the track.

She started jogging. Slow, measured. Each lap felt longer than usual.

But then she thought—Maybe I should try more today.

Her feet picked up pace. Just a little.

Her heart pounded harder.

She kept going. A little faster. Her strides widened, her breathing deepened. It wasn’t a sprint, not even a run, but faster than her usual jog. A glimpse of the girl she used to be.

Until—

A tightness spread across her chest.

Her steps faltered.

She stopped suddenly and staggered to the side, clutching her chest, gasping.

The fear was still there. Raw and wild.

And so was the memory.

It was a cloudy day. She had been training for the upcoming women’s track nationals. She wasn’t listening to music. She had followed the lights. Waited. Ran only when the signal turned green.

Then it came.

A car.

Speeding.

Ramming straight into her. Violently.

Her body had lifted off the ground. Her ears rang with metal and bone. The air had been knocked from her lungs before she even hit the pavement.

A drunk driver.

The court ruled in her favor. Of course it did. But no ruling fixed her legs. No justice rekindled the fire that had once blazed in her chest.

And even now, in this quiet, sterile field, the memory clung to her like a phantom pain.

Kaori slid down against the wall and sat there, pulling her knees to her chest.

The silence rang louder than anything else.

She whispered to herself, barely audible—

“Why can’t I just forget…?”

K returned to the rehabilitation center, the faint drizzle from earlier now dried into damp patches on the sidewalk. He stepped inside the training hall, his sneakers scuffing against the polished floor as he called out,

“Kaori?”

There was no answer.

One of the staff nearby looked up from the desk and offered him a polite nod.

“She left early today.”

K’s brows furrowed immediately.

“Left early?”

The staff member nodded again.

“About an hour ago. Didn’t say much—just packed up and went.”

That wasn't like her. Even on hard days, she never left without at least cooling down or tossing a sarcastic comment. This silence—this retreat—was different. Concerning.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, already unlocking it as he walked back toward the entrance. Her name sat at the top of his recent messages:

Kaori

His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Then stopped.

He stared at the screen for a long moment. A text didn’t feel right. She could ignore it. Or worse, feel like she needed to put up a front with words.

No.

He pocketed his phone and picked up his pace, pushing open the doors of the building with purpose.

Some things shouldn’t be typed out. Some things need to be said face-to-face.

K jogged through the streets, eyes scanning every passing face, every figure beneath the cloudy afternoon sky. His heart thudded—not from exertion, but from worry. He hadn’t realized how quickly he’d gone from casually checking in to frantically hoping she was okay.

Then, just as he rounded a corner near the intersection, he froze.

There she was.

That familiar head of dark hair, slightly tousled by the breeze, sat still on a bench just across the street. Kaori. Her earbuds were in, and she was chewing on a granola bar, her gaze locked on the road ahead—on that spot.

The exact place the accident happened.

The crosswalk lines were faded now, a little cracked. But to him, they may as well have been glowing red with memory. His chest tightened as he watched her. Her shoulders were hunched—not in pain, but as if holding in something she didn’t want to let spill out. Her expression was blank, but her eyes told the truth. She wasn’t just sitting there. She was replaying it.

The screech of tires.

The flash of a car.

The violent slam that took everything from her.

K swallowed hard and took a step forward, careful not to startle her, calling her name softly—just loud enough to break the trance.

“Kaori.”

Kaori turned slightly, and K immediately noticed—her earbuds weren’t playing anything.

“Oh,” she said, swallowing the last of her granola bar. “You’re early. I thought you wouldn’t be back till evening.” Her voice was quiet, detached, like her mind hadn’t caught up with the present yet.

K let out a gentle sigh and sat down beside her on the bench, the same way he always did—with a quiet, calming presence that didn’t need words to say “I’m here.”

He reached for her hand, warm and trembling slightly, and held it in both of his. His eyes found hers, full of patience and care. “What’s going on?”

Her eyes flicked to their joined hands, and she scoffed, the sound shaky and light all at once. The way he looked at her—it made her stomach flutter, made her ears flush with heat. Why did he always care this much?

“Tried to speed up today,” she muttered. “But I got scared halfway…”

K smiled softly and rubbed her knuckle with his thumb. “If you’re scared,” he said, “just tell me… or call me.”

His eyes lingered on the crosswalk in front of them.

“We’ll face the fears together, yeah?” he said. “Until this road just becomes a normal road in your eyes again.”

Kaori sighed, the sound shaky as her shoulders dropped. Her eyes lingered on the road in front of them.

“I’m still scared though…” she murmured.

K’s response was a gentle smile as he reached up and patted her head. “That’s alright. It means you’re completely human.”

Then, without another word, he stood up and tugged her hand lightly.

“W-Where are we going?” she asked, already suspicious. That look in his eyes told her he was about to do something reckless. Again.

“Facing fears,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “Come on.”

Her stomach flipped as she realized where they were standing—right at the crosswalk. The same crosswalk. The one where her life had changed.

The traffic light turned red for the cars.

“N-No… K, no,” she said, trying to pull her hand free. Panic was already swelling in her chest like a rising tide.

But K didn’t let go. He looked at her, steady and calm. “Kaori, come on. It’s alright. I’m with you.”

She shook her head, breath hitching.

“And we don’t want to hold up traffic, right?” he added with a small smile.

The walk sign flashed green. K gently but firmly pulled her along, and her feet moved before her brain caught up. She felt her heart thumping so violently it hurt, her breath shallow, her vision narrowing slightly. But she felt his hand squeeze hers tighter.

Grounding.

Reassuring.

Alive.

And for the first time in over a year, she stepped foot across the road where her fire was nearly snuffed out.

One step. Then another.

She didn’t realize her grip on K’s hand had become a death grip until they reached the other side.

But they made it.

K beamed the moment they stepped onto the other side of the street, arms lifting slightly like he was about to cheer in victory.

“See! You did it!” he grinned, turning to her. “It’s not that bad, right?”

Kaori let out a breath, still catching up with her heartbeat. “I… I guess,” she muttered, eyes still wide but a little less haunted.

K chuckled and ruffled her hair affectionately. She barely had time to scowl before he turned around and stepped back toward the curb again.

She blinked. “What the—what are you doing?”

He looked back with a cheeky glint in his eyes. “We don’t have any business here. Let’s go back.”

She let out an exaggerated, frustrated sigh. “But we just crossed!” she groaned, glaring at him like he was absolutely insane.

K just wiggled his eyebrows. “And now we’re crossing again. That’s double the progress, Kaori.”

She groaned again, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as she stomped beside him toward the crosswalk once more.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

At home, Kaori sat on her bed, freshly showered, her damp hair wrapped up in a towel as she stared at the ceiling. The day’s events replayed in her head—the street, the nerves, the way K had squeezed her hand just right, grounding her like an anchor in the middle of a storm.

She smiled faintly.

She hadn’t crossed that road in over a year. Not once. And yet today, she had… twice.

And the way K had ruffled her hair and said, “I’m proud of you”—that warmth still lingered on her scalp like a phantom touch.

She turned on her side, hugging her pillow to her chest.

It was starting to hit her—she wanted to do better. Not just because of the promise of getting back on track, but because she loved how he looked at her when she made even the smallest progress. The gentle pride in his voice. The patience he carried in every word.

He wasn’t like the rehab specialists she’d had before, who barked orders and pushed her past her limits, mistaking force for motivation. K never raised his voice. Never demanded. When she cowered, he waited. When she cried, he listened. When she feared, he stood beside her.

And the more time she spent around him… the more she found herself looking forward to it.

She buried her face into the pillow, groaning softly.

“…I think I like him,” she mumbled, voice muffled and heart fluttering.

And just the thought of seeing him tomorrow made her want to lace up her shoes and try again.

Kaori had started trying harder—bit by bit, day by day. She still hated that her legs froze the moment she even thought about running, but she was no longer angry about it. Instead, she began finding joy in motion again. Movement wasn’t punishment anymore—it was hope.

She jogged more confidently during training with K and even started doing treadmill sessions at home when no one was around. Her playlist had become her personal hype squad, cheering her on through every session.

One afternoon, as the golden light spilled through the hallway windows, her mother walked past the open door of their home gym and paused. Something had caught her eye.

She took a step back—and there was Kaori.

Not walking. Not sluggish.

Jogging—fast, almost a run. Her ponytail bounced with every stride, a thin sheen of sweat coating her temples. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were curved into a real, wide smile as her favorite song blasted through her earbuds.

Her mother didn’t say a word. She leaned quietly on the doorway, eyes softening as she watched her daughter.

This was her Kaori.

The Kaori who used to dart around the school field like she was flying. The Kaori who used to time herself down to the second. The Kaori who once called the track her second home.

She was coming back.

Bit by bit.

Tears pricked the corners of her mother's eyes as she smiled quietly to herself, not wanting to disturb the moment.

She stayed there, watching.

Letting herself believe again.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The next morning, the clouds hung light and wispy in the sky as Kaori jogged beside K around the outdoor track area. The rhythm of their feet hitting the track was familiar now, comforting even. Kaori had grown used to the pace, to the quiet encouragements, to the warmth of having someone by her side.

But then—without warning—K suddenly grabbed her hand.

“Wha—?”

Before she could question him, he gently pulled her forward, picking up the pace. It wasn’t a sprint. Not even a proper run. But it was faster. Lighter. A hint of what she used to do.

“K—!” she started, panicked for a second, but then—

He looked back at her, his grip steady, his grin playful, eyes sparkling.

“Don’t worry, I won’t fly off,” he said with a light chuckle, “Just… a tiny bit faster. A baby step into running.”

And it was.

Kaori's breath caught in her throat, but not from fear. The fear was there, but smaller, quieter now. She looked at their joined hands, then at his smile, and slowly—slowly—let herself move forward with him.

They weren’t running.

But they were close.

And it felt… good. Like something was shifting. Healing.

Like maybe—just maybe—she could fall in love with running again.

“KAORI!!”

The sudden shout made her nearly trip, but K tightened his grip just a little, steadying her as they both turned to see a familiar figure bolting across the track.

Taki.

He was holding his backpack, clearly just out of school, but that didn’t stop him from breaking into a wide grin and waving both arms in the air like a maniac.

“You’re running!!” he shouted again, nearly out of breath from excitement alone. “You’re actually running!!”

Kaori’s cheeks flushed, but this time not from embarrassment. Her legs were still moving, her pace steady, her grip on K’s hand still firm.

Taki pumped his fist and yelled, “Progress! Progress! Progress!!”

Kaori let out a breathless laugh and shook her head. “D-Don’t jinx it…”

But deep down, she couldn’t help the warmth blooming in her chest. Taki’s cheers, K’s quiet support beside her—it made her feel stronger. A little more unafraid.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the track didn’t feel like a battlefield.

It felt like home.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

A week later. At night. She was alone, the quiet settling softly over the private track field near her house. The air was cool, the sky a deep navy, and the field lights glowed gently around her.

Kaori stood at the edge of the track, tying her shoelaces with steady fingers. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the night air, and pressed play on her playlist. Music flowed into her ears, familiar and comforting.

She began to jog, the pace she was used to now—comfortable, measured. Her limbs moved in rhythm with the beat in her ears, and her heart settled into the routine. But her mind? It wandered.

She thought about K.

His smile. The way his eyes crinkled when he looked at her with pride. The way his voice softened when she felt unsure. The way he always ruffled her hair like it was second nature. Like he couldn’t help it.

Her heart fluttered at the thought, cheeks flushing even though she was alone.

It was getting harder and harder to control these feelings when he was around.

Just then, a breeze swept across the field, catching her hair and making it float around her face.

She blinked.

Looked down.

Her feet were no longer jogging—they were running.

She was running.

Air whipped past her cheeks. Her ponytail bounced. Her heart thundered, but not in fear.

She gasped, startled, and came to a stop, her feet slowing to a halt as she clutched her chest.

“I ran…” she whispered, eyes wide.

She stood in the middle of the track, the music still playing in her ears, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“I actually ran.”

She covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide and shimmering. Her breath caught in her throat before she bounced lightly in place, overwhelmed. Her legs felt light, her heart full.

Then, in a stunned, almost comical burst, she gasped.

“O-Oh my… oh my… oh my, oh my! I ran… I ran!”

Without thinking, she took off again—her feet hitting the track with more purpose, more joy.

She laughed as she ran, her voice echoing softly into the night.

“I’m running!”

The wind rushed past her, her music pulsing in her ears, and for the first time in what felt like forever… she felt free.

Kaori gasped, her chest rising with exhilaration, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes.

“K… I need to tell K… K!!” she shouted into the night, voice bursting with joy.

Her legs didn’t stop—no, they carried her faster, her heart pounding with more than just adrenaline. Her hair whipped behind her, the cool night breeze dancing around her like a celebration, and her cheeks were wet now—not from sweat, but from happiness overflowing.

She had to tell him. Now. Right now.

She sprinted toward Onsa, the streetlights flickering past her, her body moving like it used to—no, better. Freer. She wanted to cry, scream, dance, everything all at once. She felt like Kaori again.

Meanwhile, in the quiet of the Onsa outdoor track field, K was lost in thought, a towel slung over one shoulder, water bottles in his hand as he paced slowly, brainstorming ways to help Kaori heal faster, feel better—feel herself again.

That’s when he heard it.

“K! K!!”

He froze, eyes snapping toward the entrance, and what he saw made everything in his hands clatter to the ground.

Kaori. She was running. Really running. Her stride was confident, her arms moving fluidly, her eyes bright and full of something he hadn’t seen in a long time—hope.

His own eyes widened in shock before the emotion surged through him, so pure and powerful it made him laugh and cry all at once.

He covered his mouth, gasping, then let out a happy, shaky wail before breaking into a sprint toward her, arms open wide.

“KAORI!” he called, his voice choked with pride and awe.

They met halfway, both breathless and laughing, and for a second the whole world felt like it was cheering with them.

K let out a joyous laugh as Kaori came barreling into him, and without a second thought, he scooped her up and spun her around in a full circle, both of them laughing as the world blurred for a second.

“You’re running!” he beamed, setting her down and immediately pulling her into a tight, warm hug before cupping her cheeks in his palms. “Oh my gosh, you’re running!”

His eyes were glassy, his smile wide and uncontainable as he leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers for just a second, heart pounding in awe. “Kaori, I’m so proud of you!”

She chuckled breathlessly, her cheeks glowing as tears sparkled in her eyes, her hands holding onto his wrists gently.

Then, with a spark of giddy energy, she stepped back and ran in a small loop around him, her hair dancing and her limbs moving with grace and lightness.

“Look!” she grinned. “I can run so much better now!”

K clapped, turning as she circled him, his heart bursting with joy. “That’s my girl!” he laughed. “You’re amazing, Kaori!”

Just then, a familiar voice called out from the gate.

“What’s the ruckus—”

“Taki!” Kaori cut him off mid-sentence, her voice bursting with joy as she sprinted toward him. “I can run again!”

Taki’s eyes widened just before she practically launched into his arms. He let out a dramatic shriek before breaking into laughter and hugging her tightly. They both started bouncing in unison, spinning slightly in excitement.

“Ajshshhshs you’re running!!” Taki yelled with tears welling in his eyes. “I’m so happy! Progress! Progress! Progress!”

Kaori chuckled and wiped at her eyes before grinning mischievously. “Race!”

Before he could react, she was off, already gaining distance.

“Not fair!” Taki gasped. “You had an early start!”

K laughed and took off after them. “Hey! That’s not fair play!”

The three of them ran around the track under the night sky, laughter echoing and hearts full, the kind of joy that only comes after a long, hard road back to yourself.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

Kaori got back up on her feet in no time. People around her started noticing, telling her to start participating again. The offers came in—small meets, friendly races, even a few bigger ones. But still, she hesitated. She could finally run again, but the fear was still there. The memory. The crash. The helplessness.

One day, after a photoshoot for a sports magazine, she and K were walking home together. The sky was mellow, dipped in soft golds and purples. They came across the street—the street. The one she always avoided. And K instinctively looked at her.

"You're still scared, aren't you?" he asked softly.

Kaori looked down and gave a small nod. "I wanna race," she admitted, "but I'm still hesitant."

K smiled and took her hand gently. "I'll be there for you. So don't stress."

They stopped in the middle of the road. She gripped his hand tighter.

He turned toward her, eyes steady. “Scared, not scared. I’ll love you either way.”

Her breath caught. Her feet froze.

“Wait… what?” she asked, blinking up at him.

K only smiled. “I said what I said.”

Kaori blinked, processing his words. Her heart thudded, her thoughts scattered, but there was a warmth growing in her chest, making her smile despite the confusion.

"Wait... what's that supposed to mean?" she asked, voice quiet but full of curiosity.

K chuckled softly, cupping her cheeks gently. His thumb brushed across her skin as he looked at her with such tenderness that her heart skipped a beat. His eyes were soft, like he was finally letting go of something he’d kept inside for a while.

"Exactly what it's supposed to mean," K said, his voice low and sincere. "I love you a lot, like... a lot. Taki teases me about how much of a hopeless romantic I am for you. I love you for you, and I hope... you'll take me for who I am. The childish, crazy, and sometimes, stupid man who loves you."

Kaori’s eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat. She was too stunned to respond at first. Her heart was racing, her cheeks flushing, and for the first time in a while, the fear she’d carried seemed to fade. What K was saying, how he was looking at her—it felt real. It felt like she had found something she had been searching for without even knowing.

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her smile grew as she looked up at him, her hands reaching up to gently hold his. Her voice was steady, but the warmth in it was undeniable.

"I love you too," she said, her words flowing out with certainty. "I love you, K. I’ve felt it for a while now."

K’s face lit up with a wide, joyful smile as he pulled her into a gentle embrace. The world around them seemed to disappear in that moment, and all Kaori could feel was the love and warmth between them, wrapping her up in a sense of peace she hadn’t known in a long time.

They stood there, holding each other, no words needed to fill the silence—just the shared understanding that they had found something real, something that was theirs.

K smiled, his eyes sparkling with joy, and slowly, as if savoring the moment, leaned down toward Kaori. Her breath hitched in her throat, and for a split second, everything felt like it was suspended in time. There was no fear, no hesitation, just the soft warmth of his presence and the love she had finally admitted to herself.

As their lips met in a gentle kiss, a wave of peace washed over her. The trauma of the street, the fear that had been such a constant weight in her heart, seemed to fade into the background, replaced by this simple, beautiful memory. It was like the world had finally made sense. The noise of her past, the doubts, the anxiety—everything disappeared. She was here, with K, and nothing else mattered.

The kiss deepened slightly, but it was tender, filled with all the care and affection they had shared through their time together. Kaori felt the tension in her shoulders melt away as her hands rested gently on his chest. It felt so natural, so right.

When they finally pulled apart, K kept her close, his forehead resting against hers. They stayed like that for a moment, basking in the quiet serenity of the night.

“Thank you for helping me find my way back,” Kaori whispered, her voice soft, yet full of emotion.

K smiled, his hand gently caressing her cheek. “You did all the hard work, Kaori. I just helped you remember how strong you are.”

For the first time in a long time, Kaori felt free, truly free, not from running or training, but from the fear that had weighed her down. With K by her side, she knew she could face whatever came next, with love and courage to guide her.

That's it for this one!

I don't know where I was going with it at one point, but I hope y'all enjoyed it 🥹

Likes and rebloggs are appreciated ♥️ ✨️

[mingiatz]

Hana never expected to see Jongho again. Not after he ghosted her years ago, leaving behind only memories of their childhood friendship and an ache she never quite moved past. Now a successful bookstore owner and author, she’s content with her quiet life—until fate (and her friend Emilia) brings Jongho and his group, Ateez, back into her world.

Pairing: Jongho × Hana (OC)

Tropes: Childhood Friends to Lovers /Second Chances

Genre: Romance, Slice of Life, Light Drama

Featuring: Ateez (as Jongho’s supportive but teasing groupmates), Emilia (from the Idol Series Part I), Atiny, OCs

This Series will have multiple Chapters with around 2500 words. I hope you like it. Please be kind this is my first Fanfiction Project and English is not my first language. (I am open for constructive criticism). I will try to upload 3-4 chapters everyday.

Masterlist

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Chapter Five

Hana’s POV

The soft chime of the bookstore’s bell echoed through the quiet shop, signaling another visitor. Hana didn’t need to look up to know who it was. She had come to expect him now—Jongho, lingering among the shelves, pretending to browse when they both knew he was here for something else.

For her.

She placed a book down on the counter, inhaling deeply before finally looking up. Sure enough, there he was, standing near the fiction section, tracing the spines of books with absent fingers. But today, there was something different in his posture, a slight hesitation in his stance that made Hana’s resolve solidify.

It was time.

She had spent long enough avoiding this conversation, long enough letting her anger and hurt dictate their interactions. If she truly wanted to move forward—whether that meant forgiving him or finally closing this chapter—she needed to hear him out.

Hana wiped her hands on her apron and stepped around the counter. “Jongho.”

He turned instantly, eyes widening slightly. “Yeah?”

She crossed her arms, studying him for a long moment. “Do you have plans after this?”

Jongho blinked. “No.”

Hana nodded. “Good. Meet me after I close up.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but he quickly masked it. “Alright.”

With that, she turned back to her work, feeling the weight of his gaze on her as he lingered a few moments longer before quietly leaving.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••

Later that evening, Hana locked up the bookstore, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn’t sure what she was more nervous about—finally confronting the past or hearing Jongho’s side of the story.

When she turned, he was waiting for her outside, hands in his pockets, his breath visible in the crisp evening air.

“You ready?” he asked.

She nodded, leading the way down the street. They walked in silence at first, the hum of the city around them slowly fading as they entered the quiet of the park. Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind filled the spaces between their unspoken words.

Finally, Hana stopped near a wooden bench, taking a deep breath before turning to face him. “Alright. Talk.”

Jongho exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair before looking at her, his expression unreadable. “I owe you an explanation. For everything.”

Hana remained silent, letting him gather his thoughts. She had waited years for this moment. She could wait a little longer.

Jongho swallowed hard. “I left without saying anything because I was scared. Not just of debuting, not just of failing, but of what I was feeling.” He hesitated, looking down. “I started questioning everything—our friendship, my feelings for you, whether I was capable of handling both my career and the people I cared about. And instead of facing it, I ran.”

Hana felt something in her chest tighten. She had assumed so many things over the years—that he had forgotten her, that she hadn’t been important enough to him, that she had been nothing but a childhood memory he had chosen to erase. But hearing him admit that he had been scared too—it wasn’t what she had expected.

Jongho took a slow breath, eyes dark with emotion. “And then there was… the company.”

Hana frowned. “The first one?”

He nodded, clenching his jaw. “It was… bad. Worse than I let anyone know. The pressure was suffocating. They didn’t care about me, only results. They pushed me beyond my limits, criticized everything I did. No matter how hard I worked, it was never enough. I trained for hours until my body hurt, and even then, I was told I wasn’t good enough. I was exhausted, physically and mentally.”

Hana inhaled sharply, the weight of his words settling over her. She had never known the full extent of what he had endured.

“I wanted to quit so many times,” Jongho admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But I couldn’t. I had already given up so much—including you—and I felt like if I let go of this dream too, then I would have nothing left.”

Hana’s chest ached. “Jongho…”

He shook his head. “When I finally left that company and joined KQ, things changed. They treated me like a person, not just a product. But by then… I had already lost you.”

Hana looked away, blinking rapidly. It was too much—hearing the pain in his voice, realizing how much he had suffered alone. She had been so consumed by her own hurt that she had never considered how much he had been struggling too.

They stood there in silence, the wind carrying the remnants of unspoken regrets between them.

Finally, Jongho exhaled, stepping closer. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I don’t even know if I deserve it. But I needed you to know the truth.”

Hana swallowed past the lump in her throat, meeting his gaze. “I was angry at you for a long time,” she admitted. “I thought you abandoned me. That I didn’t matter.”

Jongho’s face twisted with guilt. “You did matter. You still do.”

Hana’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to keep speaking. “Even when I was mad, I still watched over you. I saw every comeback, every achievement. I rooted for you, even when I told myself I wouldn’t.”

Jongho’s eyes softened. “You did?”

She nodded. “I never stopped.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The years of distance, of pain and misunderstandings, hung between them like a fragile thread. And then, ever so slowly, that thread began to mend.

Jongho took another step forward. “Hana… I want to fix this. I don’t know how, but if you’ll let me, I’ll try.”

Hana stared at him, her heart torn between the past and the possibility of something new. She had spent so long holding onto anger, but now, faced with the truth, she realized that maybe—just maybe—there was still something worth saving.

She took a deep breath and, for the first time in years, let herself hope.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s try.”

Jongho’s shoulders sagged in relief, and for the first time in a long while, Hana felt like they were finally walking toward something real.

Together.

Emilia’s POV

The soft glow of the dorm’s living room lights flickered against the walls as Emilia curled up on the couch, Mingi’s arm draped lazily around her shoulders. The rest of Ateez sat scattered across the room, half-watching a drama on the TV, half-engaged in their usual post-practice banter.

It was one of those rare nights where schedules weren’t too packed, where they could all just exist in the same space without the weight of the industry pressing down on them. But tonight, there was one topic of discussion that kept circling back.

Jongho.

“I still don’t get it,” San mused, sprawled across the floor. “Jongho never talks about his feelings. He barely reacts when Wooyoung pulls one of his ridiculous stunts, but now he’s suddenly dead set on fixing things with his childhood best friend?”

Wooyoung huffed, clearly offended. “First of all, my stunts are not ridiculous. They’re entertaining.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “Debatable.”

Yeosang, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, finally spoke up. “It’s because she’s different. Hana isn’t just someone from the past—she’s someone he lost.”

Mingi nodded in agreement, adjusting his position beside Emilia. “You should see the way he looks at her.”

Yunho raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Mingi smirked. “Like a puppy who lost his favorite toy.”

Wooyoung barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’s brutal.”

“But accurate,” Yeosang added. “He doesn’t even realize he does it, but every time she walks away, it’s like someone just kicked him.”

Emilia rested her head against Mingi’s shoulder, suppressing a smile. “It’s kind of sweet, though. He’s always been so focused on work that I don’t think he’s ever really fought for something personal before.”

Hongjoong, who had been listening quietly, finally chimed in. “Then maybe we should give him a little push.”

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up. “Oh, are we planning something?”

Yunho grinned. “I think we’re planning something.”

Mingi stretched. “I mean, we could just drop by Hana’s bookstore and introduce ourselves. Well, the rest of you could—Yeosang and I already met her.”

Seonghwa smirked. “You just want to see how Jongho reacts to us all barging in.”

“No shame in that,” Mingi replied.

Emilia sat up. “You guys do realize that if you all show up at once, it’s going to look like an ambush, right?”

Wooyoung grinned. “That’s the fun part.”

Yeosang shrugged. “She should meet everyone eventually. Might as well make it interesting.”

Emilia sighed, but she couldn’t deny that she was just as curious as the rest of them. Hana had been such a big part of Jongho’s life once, and if this was their chance to see if she still could be, then maybe a little group visit wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Jongho’s POV

The bell above the bookstore door chimed as Jongho stepped inside, a familiar sense of ease settling over him as the scent of books and freshly brewed tea wrapped around him. He had been coming here so often lately that it was starting to feel second nature, like slipping into a place that had once been home.

Hana stood behind the counter, skimming through a book with a look of quiet concentration. She glanced up when she heard him, her expression unreadable.

“You’re here again,” she said, more statement than question.

Jongho grinned, leaning against the counter. “And yet, you still seem surprised every time.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I am.”

Jongho hesitated for a moment before speaking. “How are you?”

Hana looked at him carefully, as if trying to gauge how much she wanted to share. “I’m… figuring things out.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. Progress.

He nodded. “Good.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, it felt almost normal again—just the two of them, existing in the same space without the weight of unresolved history pressing down.

Then, the doorbell chimed again.

Jongho turned, expecting another customer, only to find all of his members walking through the door.

Led by Mingi and Yeosang.

He groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Wooyoung clapped him on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear. “Surprise.”

Hana blinked, looking at the group of seven towering men now filling her bookstore. “Uh… what?”

Mingi stepped forward, offering a grin. “Hey, Hana. Thought we’d drop by and formally introduce the rest of the guys.”

She crossed her arms, looking amused. “Did Jongho know about this?”

Jongho sighed. “No. No, I did not.”

Yeosang chuckled. “We thought it was time.”

Seonghwa smiled warmly. “Nice to finally meet you properly. Jongho’s been keeping you a secret.”

Hana turned to Jongho with a raised eyebrow. “Has he?”

Jongho sighed, rubbing his temples. “This was not part of the plan.”

Hongjoong crossed his arms. “Maybe not your plan, but we figured it was time to meet the person who’s been making Jongho lose his mind lately."

Hana’s lips twitched, amused despite herself. “Has he now?”

“Like a puppy who lost his favorite toy,” Yeosang supplied helpfully.

Jongho groaned. “Can you not?”

Hana looked at Jongho, expression unreadable. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she laughed.

The tension in the air broke as the room filled with the sound of amused chuckles, and just like that, the walls that had been carefully built between them all seemed to loosen, if only just a little.

Jongho glanced at Hana, who shook her head, still smiling faintly.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.

Hana’s POV

Hana was still trying to process the fact that she was standing in the middle of Ateez’s dorm.

One moment, she had been in her bookstore, fending off teasing comments from Jongho’s bandmates. The next, she was being invited over, with Mingi and Wooyoung leading the charge while Yeosang played the role of the surprisingly persuasive voice of reason.

“It’s only fair,” Yeosang had said, leaning against the counter as if they weren’t all surrounding her like a group of overgrown children. “Jongho’s spent enough time in your bookstore. It’s time for you to see where we live.”

She had hesitated at first, but when she glanced at Jongho—who, for once, seemed unsure of himself—she found herself agreeing. And now, here she was, standing in the doorway while the guys cleared space for her on their massive couch.

“Make yourself at home,” San said, plopping onto the cushions. “Jongho’s already done it at your place.”

Hana smirked, settling in between Emilia and Yeosang. “That much is obvious.”

Jongho huffed, shooting San a half-hearted glare before sitting in the only available spot left—on the floor near her feet.

“Alright, Hana,” Wooyoung said, rubbing his hands together. “Since you’ve known Jongho the longest, we demand childhood stories. The more embarrassing, the better.”

Jongho groaned. “Oh, great.”

Hana grinned, leaning back against the couch. “You guys sure you’re ready for this?”

Mingi nodded eagerly. “Absolutely.”

Jongho sighed, already regretting this.

An Hour Later

Hana had plenty of stories, and she held nothing back.

“…And then, when we were ten, Jongho tried to impress the older kids in our neighborhood by lifting a crate of water bottles. He got halfway up before tipping over and crashing into a stack of fruit baskets.”

Seonghwa wheezed. “You mean to tell me our Jongho—our mighty maknae—was defeated by oranges?

“Oh, completely,” Hana confirmed, laughing. “They rolled everywhere. He was so mortified that he spent the next week avoiding the grocery store.”

The room erupted into laughter, and even Jongho, despite himself, chuckled while shaking his head.

“I forgot about that,” he admitted. “I think I blocked it out on purpose.”

Hana smirked. “Lucky for you, I have an excellent memory.”

She glanced at him, expecting to see mock annoyance on his face, but instead, she found something else entirely.

Jongho wasn’t just smiling—he was watching her. Not with frustration, not with exasperation, but with something warm and gentle, something that made her stomach flip.

She quickly looked away, clearing her throat. “Anyway, that’s just one of many.”

Wooyoung wiped away a fake tear. “This is the best decision we’ve ever made.”

Emilia nudged Hana. “You’ve got their full approval now.”

Hana chuckled. “Good to know.”

The conversation continued, filled with laughter and easy chatter, and for the first time in a long time, Hana felt like she belonged. These people, who had only known her for a short while, were treating her like she had always been part of their world. And, maybe, in some way, she had been—through Jongho.

But eventually, the night had to end.

Hana stretched, standing up. “I should probably head home.”

Jongho stood as well. “I’ll walk you out.”

Mingi smirked but said nothing as they made their way to the door.

“Thanks for tonight,” Hana said once they reached the entrance. “It was… nice.”

Jongho smiled softly. “It was.”

She hesitated, then added, “I’ll see you around?”

He nodded. “Yeah. See you.”

With that, she left, disappearing into the night.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••

Jongho shut the door, only to turn around and be met with eight pairs of knowing eyes.

He sighed. “Oh, here we go.”

San leaned against the counter, grinning. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

Wooyoung crossed his arms. “I have never seen you look at someone the way you were looking at her tonight.”

Mingi smirked. “Like a puppy who found his favorite toy again.”

Jongho groaned. “You really need a new analogy.”

Seonghwa, ever the calm one, tilted his head. “So? Are you going to admit it now?”

Jongho glanced at them, then exhaled heavily. “Admit what?”

Yeosang rolled his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. That you’re in love with her?”

Jongho’s jaw tightened. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” Yunho pressed. “You loved her when you were younger, didn’t you?”

Jongho hesitated, then finally, quietly, admitted, “Yeah.”

Silence fell over the room.

“I loved her when we were kids,” he continued. “And after all these years… that hasn’t changed.”

Mingi let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Hongjoong studied him. “Does she know?”

Jongho shook his head. “No. And I don’t know if she ever will.”

San frowned. “Why not?”

Jongho rubbed the back of his neck. “Because I don’t want to mess this up again. I just got her back in my life. What if I tell her, and it ruins everything?”

Wooyoung sighed. “Or what if you don’t tell her, and you regret it forever?”

Jongho didn’t have an answer for that.

Seonghwa placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have time. Just… don’t let fear stop you when the moment comes.”

Jongho nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

He did have time. But the question was, would he ever be brave enough to use it?

Masterlist

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Disclaimer:This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and scenarios in this story are entirely fictional and not intended to reflect the real lives of the members of Ateez or any other individuals. This fanfiction is purely for entertainment purposes.

[missreblog]

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**Title: "Sunflowers and Shadows"**

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**Setting: Konoha Village, a sunny afternoon**

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**Characters:**

1. **Shikaku Nara:** A seasoned shinobi with a penchant for shadows and strategy. He's known for his laid-back demeanor and love for cloud-watching.

2. **Black Wife OC (Name: Hikari Nara):** Shikaku's wife and Shikamaru's mother. She's a vibrant woman, always wearing colorful dresses and humming cheerful tunes. Her laughter is contagious, and she brightens up any room she enters.

---

**Scene: The Nara Residence**

---

Hikari Nara, with her wild curls and sunflower-yellow dress, flitted around the cozy living room. Sunlight streamed through the open windows, casting warm rectangles on the tatami mats. Shikaku sat on the low wooden table, engrossed in a jōnin report. His shadow stretched lazily across the floor, mirroring his calm expression.

"Shikaku," Hikari sang, twirling near the window. "Why don't we plant sunflowers in the garden? They're like little suns, you know? Always reaching for the sky."

Shikaku glanced up, amused. "Sunflowers, huh? They'll tower over everything else."

"That's the point!" Hikari plopped down next to him, her laughter tinkling like wind chimes. "Imagine our garden—a sea of golden faces following the sun. And at night, they'll bow their heads, whispering secrets to the moon."

Shikaku leaned back, studying her. "You're an odd one, Hikari."

She nudged him playfully. "And you're too serious, my shadow-loving husband. Let's balance each other out."

He sighed, pretending annoyance. "Fine. Sunflowers it is."

---

And so, in the Nara garden, sunflowers sprouted alongside the shadows. Shikaku watched them grow, their faces tracking the sun's journey. Hikari danced among them, her laughter echoing through the leaves. She'd sit cross-legged, sketching clouds in her notebook, while Shikaku practiced his jutsu nearby.

One day, as twilight painted the sky, Hikari leaned against him. "You know, Shikaku, shadows need light to exist. Just like us."

He raised an eyebrow. "Philosophical, aren't we?"

"But it's true!" She pointed at the sunflowers. "They thrive because of the sun. And you—you thrive because of me."

Shikaku chuckled. "I suppose I do."

Their son, Shikamaru, wandered over, yawning. "What's all this about?"

Hikari ruffled his hair. "Balance, my little genius. Sunflowers and shadows."

And so, in the Nara household, laughter bloomed alongside strategy. Shikaku learned to appreciate the sun's warmth, and Hikari discovered the beauty of shadows. Together, they painted their lives with vibrant hues, creating a masterpiece that even the Hokage admired.

---

*End of Scenario*

---

[celesteskiess]

whispers of enchantment and shadows

pairing: hongjoong x reader/oc

fandom: ateez

word count: 501

synopsis: when a pirate's arrival shatters trust, Lyra discovers a wounded boy on the forbidden shore, prompting a journey that challenges her kindness against past fears

prologue: echoes of magic and mystery

A long, long time ago, when the moonlight painted silvery pathways through the dense foliage of the Enchanted Woods, a forest fairy named Lyra sat upon a moss-covered rock, her voice as melodious as the tinkling of wind chimes. The fairies and creatures of the woods gathered around her, their eyes glittering with anticipation as she began her tale. 

“Once upon a time, in a realm beyond the reach of human eyes, there was an ancient place known as Neverland,” Lyra began. “This mystical island was a haven for creatures of magic, especially fairies like us. Here, the moon painted the skies with hues of lavender, and the stars whispered secrets to the trees.”

Lyra’s wings glowed softly as she recounted the tale. “One day, a lost boy named Peter Pan stumbled upon the shores of Neverland. With his mischievous grin and untamed spirit, he was like a breath of adventure to us all. Peter found himself embraced by the magical aura of the island, and with time, he became friends with a curious and spirited forest fairy like me.”

As the story unfolded, the enchanted audience gasped and chuckled at the adventures of Peter Pan and his fairy companion. They faced down the notorious Captain Hook and his crew of evil pirates, and they soared above the treetops on the backs of pixie-dust-laden winds. Together, they discovered secret coves, hidden waterfalls, and the joy of living in a world where time seemed to stand still. 

“But as time went on,” Lyra’s voice grew softer, “Peter Pan began to change. His visits to Neverland became fewer and farther between. His laughter, once echoing through the canopies, grew faint. He was growing older, and the magic that held him here was weakening.”

A sigh rippled through the forest as Lyra continued. “Though Peter never forgot Neverland, he couldn’t deny the pull of his own world, a place where time flowed relentlessly. And so, one day, with a heavy heart, Peter left Neverland behind, bidding farewell to his fairy friend and the adventures they shared.”

Lyra’s expression grew somber. “It was a lesson for all fairies, a reminder that the world of humans was not one to be embraced without caution. While some humans may be kind and gentle, others are driven by selfishness and greed, seeking to conquer and possess all they can. Fairies, with their delicate hearts and love for nature, were warned to stay away from the human world.”

The fairies and creatures of the Enchanted Woods listened with understanding, their eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and wisdom. Lyra concluded her tale with a sigh, her voice like a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. “And so, dear friends, let us remember the tale of Peter Pan as a cautionary one. A reminder that the beauty of our world lies in its enchantment, its tranquility, and its connection to nature. Let us cherish our peaceful haven and remain ever vigilant against the lure of the human world.”

[kapturkaptur]

assignment

uncropped version under the cut

[trippygalaxy]

⛩️))

Hello there hope your okay with me explaining my oc information here**

Name :chime

Race: hyrulian/ mythical werewolf symbol of moon and old magic *watch God of war stuff*

Age: 20

Height: her height is about hyrule

Weight: don't comment it or ya be confused on how ya six feet in the ground

Eyes: lavender color

Skin: dark but not close to gerudo type

Hair: white and long it reach to her knees have bangs too

Voice: soft with a faint echo since she's deaf so dislike talking and lives deep in the woods that no people are but spirits

Fact: she a child of the first guardian of old ways both in god and magic she the rut in the litter so she's not much strong or powerful in a way like her silbings or parent but dont be fooled too much. she's deaf and need to read anyone lips to understand what their saying and she have strange markings on her skin and face. She have a wolf tail and wolf ears than hyrulian ears so she getting random pets by the chain but she doesn't mind since she can tell their stress or they need it so she let them. She have small fangs so twilight see her as a another cub too the little sister side so he protective of her.

She can turn to a giant wolf like beast at will to defend or fight since its more safe for her than in her hyrulian body.beans, she on the ran for her life since dark link trying to kill her and she have the full Triforce

Love internet: *I'm leaning her more to wild since that boyo needs something good in his live*

Personality: kind,quiet, curious bean, clam,loyal *once she understand and is rest with the chain*

Likes: hang with each chain * keep wind from starting trouble but that's only half success rate and keep hyrule from draining himself or he'll faint hard*, explore with wild,twilight.

Dislikes: monsters,goofy hands since those things are trouble and hunters

Weapons?: beast claws or magic

Chime thoughts on chain

Time: father

Warrior : doggo or Shepherd *German shepherd dog*

Twilight : brother wolf

Sky: cloud or birdie

Wind: trickster

Wild: cub or wild child

Four: colors brother(s) *she knows she see the colors in his eyes and how he's trying to be secretive of that even shadow but she treats them with kindness *

Hyrule: fairy king or fairy boy *due to both being in almost same situation and he carry lots of magic and she a sponge of magic*

Legend: bunny *she only call him that to lightly tease and seen him turn into a rabbit *

**Enjoy this short reference of chime^^ now to look for someone who can help draw her out**

:DD

Thank you for this! very interesting stuff here (and i love a good werewolf oc, they just so RAHHH ya know?)

Love wild as a love interest, the silent convos are gonna be PEAK!!

cant wait to see what you do next :DD

[ivoryminitower]

Echoes of Home: 117 - Steve ("something stupid")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

CW: Violence

I want to write about the ultralight and the progress we've made on it.

I want to write about how my magnificent miqo'te worked through the template recipe thing with her component recipes and how she made wind chimes.

I want to write about fighting for Myra and how Tsu'na and I can maybe train for it.

I want to write about computer games and music and movies and TV shows and the stuff Tsu'na reads and the stuff I've been suggesting she read.

I really want to write about all that.

Frank has been hanging out at the diner more.  I guess since he can't officially pester us in the workshop he decided to unofficially pester us at the diner.  He'd nurse a cup of coffee while reading a newspaper.  He's never tried our pies.  He didn't seem to be paying us any attention.  He was just there.

It would have been a little easier to ignore him if he didn't sit way down at the end of the counter, where he was between us and a lot of our teenage customers, who we couldn't ignore.  Him and his newspaper and his coffee and his stetson. He'd stay there for a good chunk of the evening…I didn't know if he was doing it on his off-hours, or if it was his idea of a night shift.  If he was on his own time, he really should have tried a pie.

Maybe if he'd been sitting closer to the register, where he could be seen from the door and through the window, the stupid kid wouldn't have tried to rob us.  I didn't see where Frank had parked…a cop car is kind of hard to miss. But maybe the kid was that nervous, or that stupid, or that strung-out or something.  Whatever the reason, I suddenly found myself at the register looking at a ski mask and a gun.

"Open up the register!"

That was very, very bad.  At that point it would have been better if Frank hadn't been there at all, since he was down by the teens.  If Frank drew on the kid, he'd have one target, but the kid would be firing into a crowd.

I didn't know what Frank would do, so holding aggro wasn't an option.  I gently rested my hands on the counter, saying, "Easy…take it easy…" then vaulted over the counter so I was between the kid and everyone.  He stepped back, but he kept the gun on me, a nice, close target.

Then I switched to Paladin and raised my shield.  He froze, eyes wide.

I quietly said, "You really should leave now."

I didn't know where Tsu'na was.  I thought she was in the back refilling the mop bucket, but I wasn't sure.  She could have maybe gone Ninja and Stealthed around behind him.  But then I heard the creak of her bow from the kitchen.

The kid was fucked.  He should have run.  I would have let him, maybe let Frank pursue.  But instead he turned at the creak and fired a shot at what he saw.  He was rewarded for this with an arrow to his arm that spun him around and knocked him into a table.

The kid screamed.  He grabbed his arm, tried and failed to raise the gun, and flung himself off the table to start stumbling toward the door.  Tsu'na charged out from the kitchen, already drawing another arrow, and loosed into the kid's leg.  He went down on his face, still screaming.

I moved forward, shield still up.  From behind me I heard Frank yell, "Freeze!"  I wasn't sure who he meant, so I stopped to see what he would do.

He pushed around me with his gun out.  His eyes darted between us: me in armor holding the shield between the kid and the teens, Tsu'na standing with a third arrow drawn, and the kid on the floor with two arrows in him and the gun somehow still in his hand.  Frank settled on the kid and moved forward to grab the gun and wrest it from him.

I admit I don't know anything about Frank…how much of him is watching cop shows, and how much might be training he received somewhere, and how much actual copping he's done.  But I'm guessing this was his first time at securing a perp with two arrows sticking out of him.  It certainly would have been mine…we didn't exactly have perps in Eorzea.

I looked it up after we got home and found this on reddit: "No matter how incapacitated a suspect may appear to be, if they can move, then they have the potential for being dangerous. That is why they are handcuffed. In my training, we were taught to handcuff a suspect even if they were dead."

Frank hesitated, kind of fussed a bit, but did the job, pulling the kid's arms behind his back and cuffing him.  It made the kid scream more, but he was already screaming.  I don't know how all this affected the teenage customers -- the robbery, the gunfire, the violence, the screaming -- though they all seemed okay when they left.  I didn't have a lot of sympathy for Ski Mask's trauma.  I didn't have much for Frank.

He got on his radio, calling in the incident and requesting an ambulance and backup.  While he was paying attention to Ski Mask, I switched to Earth-normal and got out my gator-hunting shield.  Tsu'na followed my example, switched from her ranged gear and took out her gator-hunting bow.

I turned to the teens.  "Okay, guys, show's over.  Closing up now."

They didn't put up a fuss, but Frank did.  "No one's leaving until I get statements!"

"They're underage, Deputy.  You can't question them."

He peered at me.  "Where's that armor you were wearing?"

"What armor?"

"You were wearing armor!  Just a minute ago!"

I looked over my shoulder, betting on my esteem over Frank's.  "Hey guys, was I wearing armor a minute ago?"

A rousing chorus of "No!"

I shrugged at Frank.  "Dunno what to tell you.  Must've been my heroic aura.  Which probably doesn't show up on video."  I didn't look to see if the teens behind me were suddenly busy with their phones.

"Then where's that shield from?"

"Made it in the workshop.  You like it?  I can cut you a deal on one."

He turned to Tsu'na.  "You have a bow here?"

She tilted her head.  "It is my hunting bow.  I brought it here.  Should I not have?"

He grimaced at the two of us.  "You just happen to have weapons when an armed robbery occurs."

"Good thing too, huh?  I didn't think I'd need a shield tonight…I just brought it to show my wife."

"It is a very nice shield, Husband."

"Thank you, my love."

None of this was placating Frank, but he still had a perp to manage.  "You and your gear are coming to the station after I take care of this guy."

"Fine," I said.  "Gonna show the kids out."

"I want names!"

"Get a subpoena!"

Tsu'na closed up the register as I led the kids around behind the counter to not interfere with Frank's crime scene.  They acted like the incident was the coolest thing that had ever happened to them…which, in the Wyatt Metropolitan Vicinity, was probably true.

Backup arrived in the form of a member of the Oklahoma Highway Patrol, dressed in a brown version of Frank's attire.  There was a localish ambulance, but the nearest hospital that could handle those sorts of wounds on a detained perp was in the Tulsa area, which made it a cross-county prisoner transport.

While Frank and the patrolman worked out details I called Hartman to let him know what happened.  I assured him no one other than the robber had been hurt, and I gave Frank all the credit for the save.  Hartman sounded relieved and told us to call for a ride if we needed one.

The arrangement was that the patrolman would ride in the ambulance with the perp while Frank followed with us.  We locked up the diner, then Frank loaded the shield and bow into his car's trunk and us into the back seat.

That was the arrangement, anyway.  The ambulance started off, Frank pulled out behind it while he radioed in.  He didn't get far.

"Dispatch, en route with…"

"Frank!  Charlie's in trouble!"

"Di--uh, Betty?  What's going on?"

"Charlie's out by the old Lombard farm!  He says he's pinned down and getting shot at!"

"Okay…uh…Call State and…"

"I did that!  They say they're half an hour out!  Charlie says there's too many of them!  Sheriff and Mickey are on their way, but you're real close there!"

"Betty, I…I can't…I've got people in the car with me…"

"We consent," I said.

"...What?"

"We consent to being taken to a hazardous location.  Go take care of your people."

"But…"

"Go!"

"...Dispatch, en route.  Advise State and Patrolman Pickett of change of plans.  Out."

Frank flipped on the cop lights and siren and made a hard U-turn in the middle of the road.  He tore up the highway, made a right on a smaller road that petered out into gravel, then turned onto an even poorer dirt road.  That led to a fence with a broken-down gate, fields on either side, and what in the dark looked like a house and a barn.

A bunch of vehicles were already there: two cop cars, their sides facing a herd of motorcycles and a couple SUVs.  It looked like a broadside naval battle with all the muzzle flashes, though most of those were coming from the herd.  The flashes on the cop side were far more fitful.

Whoever the opposition was, there was just too many of them.  All they had to do was keep firing, keep the cops pinned down, and they could start coming around the sides.  Frank pulled up and made the cop front a little longer, but shots started diverting our way before he'd even stopped the car.

He threw open his door, yelled "Keep down!" at us, and made his way out to join the others.  Maybe he could have let us out, since the back doors are locked to the inside, but I suppose he thought we'd be safe in the car and not likely to do something stupid.

But we couldn't just sit there.  We had to do something, stupid or no.  There were too many gangbangers or whatever they were, they had too many guns, and they were too willing to use them.  Sure, we could have just teleported out of there, but that would have left the cops behind.  Even if the windows hadn't shattered, even if the car would have stopped all the bullets, we couldn't just sit there and be safe.  It wasn't something we could do.

We

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 4 - Meet the Crew

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) Koril is staring up a massive starship. The Purrgil is a BFF-1 bulk freighter - at 120 meters in length and 75 meters in width, it was an impressive sight, although it was several times smaller than the space-faring whales it was named after. Near the open cargo bay doors stands a lanky teenage Weequay girl barking orders at the loader droids. Five astromech droids are zooming across the ship's hull, conducting final pre-boarding scans. Hex, the Besalisk whom Koril recognizes from the cantina, is chatting with a serious Toydarian. Every few seconds he energetically waves one of his stocky arms and the Toydarian is forced to dodge it, his insect-like wings whirring frantically.

A distinctly human head pops through the doorway of the passengers' entrance, eyes darting around the hangar bay before settling on Koril.

“Hi!” Nita waves and motions her over. Koril strides towards her new acquaintance.

“Am I late?”

“Not at all. We still have a few things to wrap up before boarding, and the new people should be arriving soon.”

“I see. How can I help in the meantime?”

“You can keep a lookout. We are expecting a purple-skinned Trandoshan male and a blond, bearded human male”, Nita checks the holopad in her hand, “The names are Ki and Tanner, they're our new security.” She motions at the Toydarian, “And that's our Captain, Jhoram. You'll meet the others in a bit.”

Koril nods, and Nita disappears back into the ship.

Soon enough the two new crew members arrive. They exchange pleasant greetings with Koril and the three go to introduce themselves to Captain Jhoram. “Welcome, all,” he says throatily and shakes their hands. “I think we're all here now. Hestia, Ben-Dao, everythin' loaded?”

“Yes, sir!” the Weequay girl and a stocky Nikto chime in unison.

“Let's go,” Jhoram ushers the three onto the ship, through several winding hallways, and into a spacious room lined with tables and two entertainment modules. Several beings are already seated.

A Sullustan nods and booms “Head count! Rrik?” A miniscule Jawa in a faded black cloak chirps his confirmation.

“Hex?” “Here”, the Besalisk growls.

“Ben-Dao, Noum-Sing?” Two identical Nikto wave.

“Nita?” “Yes”, she responds in a clear voice.

“Hestia?” “Yes”, the teenager echoes.

“And these are our newcomers,” the Sullustan addresses the collective, “Koril, Ki, and Tanner.” The introduction is met with a general murmur of welcome. “My name is Garr, I'm the First Mate and Comms Officer on this ship. Come, I'll give you the tour. Nita, Hex, fire her up.”

“See you later,” Nita mouths to Koril, who smiles affirmatively.

Garr first shows them to the sleeping quarters, three tall rooms with bunk beds (“Chuck your bags in here for now”), then to the adjacent medbay, fully-stocked (“Just in case, just in case”, he reassures them), and to the comms room (“Nobody touches anything in here without my say-so. If you need to make a long-range transmission, you talk to me first.”)

“I didn't see any gun ports,” Ki hisses in clumsy Basic.

“That's because there are none”, Koril is suddenly alarmed, but Garr continues “The outer hull is strong enough to withstand a minor nuclear blast, and the shielding is 350 SBD.” Judging by Tanner's approving hum, this information should put her at ease. It doesn't.

“How many potential entry points?”, she asks.

“Three,” the First Mate responds, “But you should only be concerned with two. The one in the cargo bay is protected by an automated defense system, and anyone trying to go through there wouldn't dare to fire back or they'd risk damaging the cargo.”

He takes them to the middle of the ship and up a flight of stairs, into a long room with a low ceiling just beneath the thinner, inner hull. “They try to cut in from above...”

“And we pick them off one by one,” Koril finishes Tanner's thought.

“Just so,” Garr is clearly pleased.

The second point of entry is a cramped hallway towards the back of the ship, a mere 15 meters away from the engine room. She immediately determines this to be the priority. Take out the engines and we'll be dead in the water.

“That's pretty much it for now. You three have any questions, you come to me. Any problems, I'm your first stop – don't bother Captain Jhoram unless absolutely necessary. That understood?” An affirmative murmur. “Excellent. Let's get back to the others.”

As if on cue, the Captain's voice crackles from the intercom.

“Ladies and gentlebeings, please make your way to the common area and prepare for takeoff.”

End note: Which parts of the lore are you gonna use?

Me: Yes. NEXT CHAPTER

[sea-1antern]

Octonauts OC: Dusk Sonare, He/They

I have many OCs but so far Dusk is the only one with a clear theme/design/coherent direction that I want to go with their character. They are also the most recent addition to my OCs.

He plays an archeologist role in the Octonauts universe and specializes in exploring tombs and unexposed ruins. They are a blind bat-eared fox that uses echo-location to get by; I gave him a dangling wind chime earring that alerts him to any changes in the wind and thus gives them time to prepare if they sense any drastic changes in the weather. He's very reserved and takes his work very seriously. They are a very prideful person and is proud of his work and takes the time to learn about the history of the places he's protected.

In-universe he is considered a pirate like Calico Jack and he often explores ruins to protect them from people with ill-intent towards them like grave robbers, raiders and private artifact collectors. I made them play an archeologist role mostly because I want him to be the kind of character that embodies the kind of pirates that I want to be in the show.

I have this whole pirate lore that I kinda made and I've been working on fleshing out. I'm not so sure on what I will make of it but Dusk and a lot of my OCs are products of this lore.

Basically in my pirate lore, they are kinda foils to how the Octonauts work (to explore, rescue and protect) with the only differences between the two being that pirates are not marine biologist and that pirates are not a unified group but rather a bunch if communities that are spread out across the globe. There are some pirates that exist with ill-intentions and some who are noble like Kwazii.

I try to corporate educational aspects into pirate lore because Octonauts is an educational show and I want them to fit the brand of the show.

I'll probably talk a bit more about my ideas for pirate lore in another post, but for now please enjoy my OC.

[miyalove]

 ⋆｡˚⁀➷ MY QUARANTINE. 

⤷ pairing. bokuto koutoro x gn!reader

⤷ genre. tooth-aching fluffly fluff, best friends to lovers, college au

⤷ warnings. oc insert (jamine). mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, clichés upon clichés, bo just being the absolute CUTEST, *unedited

2.6k | with the virus on the rise again, you decide that a lonely valentines day seems like the safest option, but bokuto has other plans.

“can you believe we’re gonna have to spend this month in quarantine, again?” a high pitch whine echoes through your laptop speaker. when you look over, jasmine (a close friend of yours) is slumped over her desk chair glaring at her ceiling.

“shouldn’t be that hard, though.” you nod at what konoha says.

“that’s what i was thinking too,” you add in. on your laptop screen are flashes of familiar faces. each one of them smile back at you, doing their own thing as well as keeping up with the virtual conversation. akaashi scribbles into a notebook for one of his classes while he speaks, “we’ve been quarantine for a couple months already. what’s another going to add?” 

it seems that you, akaashi, and konoha are the only ones that see eye to eye. you mentally debate in your head, nodding to his words. in the middle of your thoughts, a sharp whine cuts you out of it. 

“yeah, but this is different!” 

the sudden sound makes you jump. when you look back at the screen, bokuto’s face covers his side of the monitor. he’s up close to the camera so the most you can make out his is nose and big, piecing eyes. the weird angle makes you laugh.

“how is this so different, bokuto?” someone muses. you can’t focus on who though too caught up in the way your best friend whines to get everyone’s attention. it’s a cute habit that he hasn’t been able to break since middle school. for what it’s worth though, you think it just makes him all the more adorable. 

“this is a month of going out and being in love, guys!” he moves frantically. big beefy arms flailing around to further prove his point. his his bottom lip guts out, mocking some sniffles. “quarantine’s just gonna make valentines die!” 

“exactly what i’m saying!” jasmine pipes in again. she takes a big bit of her food before continuing her rant. as she speaks, a piece lettuce falls out of her mouth. across the screen, akaashi blatantly glares at her gross habits. konoha stifles a giggle and you can’t help but to join in on the teasing. seeing konoha’s body shake with silent laugher really got you. 

your friend is unbothered by the giggles though. 

“this is the month of love!” jasmine punctuates her statement with a loud slam to her desk. “we should be g-getting out and doing lovely dovely valentines day shit, right bo?!”  

swiftly, bokuto springs back to life, shaking his head in agreeance. his eyes are wide and filled with stars. he moves way too fast for his camera to pick up so a good majority of the time he speaks, his figure is lagged with pixelated squares. 

“jay get’s it! yeah, yeah!” his glitched out figure suddenly appears further in the back of his room now. his fully body is on display and pixelated or not, you can still make out the way his defined thighs flex while he moves. “you’re supposed to be out and doing all the cute couple stuff!”

“but what if--”

“--and even if we’re not a couple, you can still do things like that! there’s stuff like... platonic love.” the last few words get cut off but you’re able to connect the dots. the way bokuto so proudly voices his thoughts without any doubt is a trait you admire. he means what he says and he says what he means. it’s really as simple as that. if only you could do the same. your shoulders fall at the thought.

you quickly snap out of your funk though. you’re in a call with all your closest friends, they’d notice a change in your demeanor in seconds. shaking your head to rid of any lingering thoughts, you stifle out a cackle. 

“well, platonic or not.” you perk up. “it still seems like a lonely valentines day is an order for everyone.” 

your friends nod despite jasmine’s grumbling. you don’t notice the way bokuto sighs. his brows are scrunched and lips are pressed into a thin line. determination glows within his hues. he’s a little irate how everyone was shoving the topic aside, but most importantly, he’s a little sad that you’re going to have to spend this valentines day all alone!

he’s known you for years and the fact that you’re alright with spending the day of love all to yourself? when you have him right there with you just waiting for your call? it’s personally heartbreaking. 

okay maybe he’s more than a little sad. 

besides the constant buzzing from all your friends spamming the group chat. you spent most of your valentines lounging around your home, just like you had promised. your hair is loose, messy and untamed. it matches the outfit your wearing that’s just perfect for simply relaxing. during the morning, you made yourself a quick breakfast. in the afternoon, lunch and a nice bath was the agenda. now in the evening, you’re settled in your living room while netflix’s latest rom-com plays in the background. 

you don’t really know what’s happening or who these characters are but today’s the day of love so why not celebrate it with a bottle of wine and imaging you and bokuto as the main leads of some stupid flick.

you’re in the middle of pouring another glass when your phone chimes with a special ringtone you set for someone special to you. it immediately catches your attention. you feel your heart shake and you know it’s not because of the alcohol.

the fluttering in your tummy seems to spread with the stupid nickname. you let the movie play in the background while you send him a quick response.

your phone chimes with another texts while barely had time to put it down.

before you can say anything back, a knock at the door interrupts your focus. mindlessly, you make your way to the door. when you open it, you expect to see someone (maybe even bokuto), but instead you’re meet with a big, bright red box sitting on your doormat. 

with the bright red wrapping and the comically large bow right on top, you simply can’t miss it. the box is big enough where you have to hold it with two hands in fear of dropping it. it’s heavy too and when you shift it slightly, whatever’s inside rattles. to top it all off, there’s no label or tag or anything that indicates this package is specifically for you. your brows crinkle. confusion pressed deep within your worried frown.

your hues trace the halls of your complex looking for someone, anyone to explain this random comeuppance. you weren’t expecting any packages. so what is this all about? something inside you tells you to leave it alone. your mail man doesn’t deliver packages at 6 o’clock at night so it can’t be that. is it possible that this was misplaced? you would feel horrible if this was some kind of surprise for a lover and their partner had gotten the buildings wrong. 

your phone vibrates in your pocket and for now, you decide to put the mystery package on hold. the special ringtone you set for a specific cutie makes your nerves jump in it’s confines. placing your glass down, the wine is long forgotten.

“hey, bo,” you great him with a smile once the call goes through.

“hey there, bun,” his grin falters a bit. it’s alarming how fast you can tell something is wrong. bokuto’s always been every expressive but still you’re able to read him like an open book in a matter of milliseconds. your connection goes as far as silent cues too. when he slumps his shoulders or pouts his lips during a test. he sighs differently when he’s shocked by wonder or sadness.

it’s the same with you to him. bokuto, despite popular belief, is so good at keeping up his friends cues. he’s able to read mood changes and tries his very best to cheer up the people he loves if he ever catches them slipping. he’ll even go as far as making a fool out of himself just to see that special person smile.

bokuto koutaro is a shining star and you’re beyond happy he’s in your reach.

“everything alright?” it’s a question that has him conflicted. you can tell from the whirl wind of emotions that were set off as you spoke. his brows are scrunched in concern, his bites at his bottom lip (which in any other case would be sexy), and most worrying, he’s not as cheery as usual. he seems tense and nervous. 

“bokuto?”

“ahh!” it comes out as an anxious sigh, “i was just thinking, is all!” his hands shoot up in a defensive position. it doesn’t take him long to start explaining.

“i was calling ‘cause you said you’d be lonely today and i didn’t want ya’ feeling like you weren’t loved, (y/n),” he’s looking away now. golden hues finding the floor or ceiling far more interesting. one of his hands comes to rub at the back of his neck, a nervous habit you picked up on.

the way he shyly smiles, so unlike himself, makes your chest heavy. the rapid beating of your heart shakes your ribcage. i didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t loved. he loves you. your conclusion feeds into he butterfly wings that tickle your stomach. he’s so adorable. the way he looks at you makes you want to kiss that conflicted little pout right off his stupidly gorgeous face.

“that’s real sweet of you, kou.” you smile up at him. grabbing at the box, you tuck it under your arm as you make your way to your living room. when you seat down on the sofa, the light conversation with bokuto takes a turn.

“so...”

“so?”

he can’t help the light chuckle that escapes him. “did you... find anything on your porch today?”

“yes... actually.” cautiously, you eye the box that’s been propped up as a temporary phone stand. “was it from-”

“did you- did you open it?” 

suddenly the last texts he sent makes sense now. the way he called you so shyly and played it off as best as possible. the nervous ticks that you don’t usually see when you talk. the glimpse of hope that maybe- just maybe, bokuto would come sweeping you off your feet this valentines day.

“not yet.” a bright teasing smile over takes your features as you say your next word, “why?” 

on the other side of the screen, bokuto’s cheeks flare up. the redness traveling past his neck and nips at the tip of his ears. you’re not an idiot. if he was the one that knew the box was there- then of course, it’s from him. without second guessing, you shift your phone propping it against a lone candle centered on your coffee table. 

you waste no time ripping into the wrapping paper and unboxing the goods inside. bokuto watches attentively. his eyes sparkle with excitement and a toothy grin takes over him as he leans towards the camera, trying his greatest to get the best angle possible. bokuto looks like a puppy excitedly waiting for their owner to come home. the anticipation is killing him.

shoving the tissues paper aside, you note the heart shaped confetti that the box is littered with. it’s a cute touch but the mess it’ll create as you take each item out has you holding back a laugh.

of course, bokuto notices. “what that all about?” you can see the upturn of his lips even without looking at him. it’s practically etched into your brain (and you wouldn’t have it any other way). 

“what’s what all about?” you dust off your hands, the glitter sticking to anything and everything. another giggle escapes you while you try to confide the mess as best as possible.

“all that laughing!” he sulks out. in your peripheral, you see him pull a face. bottom lip gutting out and big golden hues growing impossibly bigger. “i wanna know what’s so fuuuunny!” 

it’s too much. the way the box messes just like him. the way hearts are practically glowing within his iris. the way your heart trembles with each playful teasing, every kissable pout, and little shy glimmers. with every drawn out compliant and booming laughter that shakes your whole body. you just can’t keep a straight face with bokuto. no matter how hard you tried.

“i’m laughing at you, silly!” it’s a sudden response that has him bending over in a joyous fit of guffaw too. it’s the kind of laugh you hear from afar but know exactly who it is. each item you pull out, bokuto tells a small story about why he got it. despite knowing him for years, you hadn’t known how sentimental he was. the same memories you played on repeat so late at night where the same ones he dreamed about. the thought makes you beam impossibly brighter somehow feeling impossibly lighter.

you unwrap a bracelet with a paper plane charm on it. “for when you told me you wanted to travel the world!” he beams. “wherever you go, you can add a charm thingy to it!”

latching the jewelry, it’s a perfect fit. the metal tingles at your skin with how cold the metal is. it makes you thing of how warm bokuto’s hands are and how he’d gladly help warm you up. reaching in more, there’s a bag of all your favorite treats, gift cards to your favorite restaurants and boba shops. pairs upon pairs of fuzzy socks (”i know how cold you can get! so i wanted to do somethin about that!”) with cute little comics and characters on it. there’s candles with your favorite scents laced into the wax. 

“oh my god. this is--” you’re speechless. “you’re amazing, kou. really this is just... amazing.”

it is in this moment, when the sun has finally set and low quality of the call perfectly captures his ethereal presence and beaming smile. the way pure admiration and warmth radiate off of him even through your phone screen makes you realize one thing. sure you’ve liked bokuto koutaro but... oh boy are you in for it now.

“amazing valentines for an amazing person.” you curse at the heat that spreads up your neck. he’s too sweet. too considerate. too... perfect.

rummaging through the wrapping, your hand hits one last thing in the box. you feel the petals first. it’s smooth under your touch. velvety with each on you pick at. the steam is the opposite, rough at the touch. some thorns hadn’t been cut properly so if you grabbed it fast enough, you would have gotten pricked.

“a single rose?” you eye the flower. the petals colored a fiery red that matches the way bokuto blushes. 

“yeah! it’s nice, right? i figured putting a buncha flowers in the box would be a little hard to get around so i opted for the better option. then again, i could have just... put it on top of the box, huh.”

“kou?” you try to cut into his rambling. 

“but then someone could’ve taken it, i suppose. then this while thing would have been ruined! and now you’re probably asking ‘well what thing would have been ruined. kou?’ i’m glad you asked!”

you didn’t but maybe saying that’ll ruin the moment that he so obviously worked hard to get to. the rambling he’s been doing for the past minute is a big indicator that he’s coming to a conclusion. swallowing down your laughter, your expression crinkles in question.

“i guess what i’m trying to say, bun, is... will you be my quarantine?” 

you would be stupid to say no.