#since it’s basically mouth debris that gets turned into rocks

[lovingempress]

Midnight Musings

Tonsil stones are like really ugly pearls, just from humans instead of clams

[blxetsi]

I was curious if you’d be up for headcanon of adopting Gabi Braun, or what it’s like being her older sibling?

If not maybe just Pieck relationship headcanons

Please and thank you

im so sorry im getting to this so late 😭🤚 ty for requesting ‼️

‼️CONTENT WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 AND CHAPTER 139‼️

adopting gabi braun headcanons (canonverse)

characters: gf!sasha braus x gn!reader, platonic!gabi braun x gn!reader, fatherly!levi ackerman x gn!reader, platonic!falco grice x gn!reader

warnings: death, angst, hatred for kids (fuck them kids‼️), peepaw levi 😁👍

- uhhhhhh,, your relationship w gabi had a very rocky start. Lol !

- it all started when your friend eren jaeger decided to run away to infiltrate marley causing the survey corps to go get him just as a war was declared between your countries, and then two kids snuck onto the airship you were using to escape and shot your girlfriend. and she died. Lol !

- you had a lot of hatred for gabi in the beginning, and it was understandable

- you blamed her for shooting sasha, but you also blamed yourself for not being able to save her.

- you were a trained medic, you were supposed to save people, and yet you couldnt even save the woman you loved. it was like a slap in the face, like god was playing some cruel joke on you

- you remember sitting against the wall with sasha's blood staining your hands. you could barely process what happened at the time, and then levi came

- he sat next to you, taking a handkerchief out of nowhere seemingly, and just wordlessly wiped your hands down.

- your relationship with the older man was never defined, even today, but you both cared for each other

- the next time you saw gabi, was in that restaurant, niccolo had attacked gabi and falco, injuring them both, and said she killed sasha

- your blood went cold, you felt so many things, the grief you had pushed down in favour of your job, anger, fear, among other things

- niccolo had said there needed to be justice, he said that gabi should die for what she did, he tried to get sasha's father to kill her, and all you did was stand there.

- your body went on autopilot, barely listening to mr. braus' speech, you watched as kaya pointed a knife at gabi, and you listened to her wails of agony as you blindly led mikasa, armin, and gabi to a different room

- you were scared of yourself, for what you were thinking. did you really want a kid to die ? she did kill your girlfriend, the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, the woman that shared her food with you, the woman that held you when you got scared at night, the woman that promised you that after the war you two would live on a farm together, and have a family of your own.

- but she was still a child. she didnt know any better. you were conflicted in your feelings, especially after hearing what niccolo had said, but it all just emphasized what was already known to you. she was a child

- your blood was pounding in your ears, and you could faintly hear gabi asking your comrades if they wanted to kill her. when armin reassured her they didnt, she looked to you and asked "what about them ?"

- you didnt answer her, and continued to lead them down where eren would be meeting you all. you were supposed to drop them off, but eren made you stay, and then a fight broke out

- you dont remember when you did it, but you held gabi in your arms, shielding her from the fight. you think you needed to be held more than she did

- things got more complicated after that, and slowly the hatred you had for sasha's killer went away, until all you had left was a hole in your chest from guilt and sadness.

- at fort salta, you thought you were going to die there, next to your friends. you thought you'd become a mindless titan, like connie's family

- but you didnt, well you did, but only for a short time, and when you turned back, you reunited with your friends

- looking around for gabi, you saw her tackle falco into a hug, which made you smile

- "y/n !" jean called, you remember looking behind you in confusion, he sounded distressed, but you understood why when you saw sasha saluting the three of you

- you felt your legs move on your own, and you ran closer to her, before stopping about a meter away. she was dead, you knew she was dead, but she was there, wearing that goofy smile on her face and looking at you as if you'd hung the stars in the sky

- she looked at you. "you did good." hearing her voice felt like a dream. your mouth felt dry, and your jaw opened and closed like a fish before you felt tears sting your eyes. "i love you."

- she nodded, before looking at the sky. "i know." she replied. sasha looked back at you before giving you a soft smile. "you know what to do now." before she disappeared in the debris

- you knew what to do, so you did it

- you found levi sitting against a rock, and when you leaned down next to him he muttered something. "i saw erwin again. and hange. all of them." you nodded. "i saw sasha." he looked at you, and gave you the closest thing to a smile. "i guess we're both at peace now."

*****

- three years later, you've become a school teacher in paradis, teaching young children how to read, to write, and basic math. you teach them about art and music, and nature. its nice being surrounded by children all day, kids are lovely.

- you live with gabi, falco and levi, in a small house inside wall sina. levi's legs have gotten weaker with time, causing him to use a wheelchair and crutches. he's given up on his dream of a tea shop, but is content with the life he has now.

- gabi and falco have gotten more rowdy with age, but they've both matured quite a bit. they make you proud

- you send letters to sasha's family. kaya is growing up, and has taken over archery just like her sister. niccolo is living with them now.

- you'll never be able to let go of sasha, or what happened to her, but the pain in your chest has dulled immensely. you think about her sometimes, when youre in bed alone, wanting to feel the warmth of her body in your arms, you know you should move on, you get teased about not having a new girlfriend, even levi has made comments about there being "plenty of fish in the sea"

it was a late night, on a friday. you were grading spelling tests at the dining room table, one lone candle being your source of light. your pen moves swiftly across the different pieces of paper, adding check marks or x marks when needed, adding a note at the bottom of each test, before adding a smiley face on all of your students' hard work. it was tedious, but it needed to be done, and you had to remember to bring them in on monday, you couldn't forget like last time.

you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. they were soft, and slow, and at first you thought it was levi but realized it couldn't be since you couldn't hear the soft tapping of his crutches on the stairs. they came down to the bottom and stood there, it was gabi, dressed in a light pink nightgown that came down to her knees, and her disheveled hair in the braid you did for her before bed.

you pushed your reading glasses to the top of your head. "what are you doing up ? it's late."

she shrugged, and walked over to sit across from you at the table. gabi grabbed the stack of papers that you already graded and shuffled through them, giggling when she found a misspelling.

you rolled her eyes. "don't laugh, they're six."

she shook her head. "i was spelling ten times better than this when i was their age."

"uh huh."

"are you calling my bluff ?"

you chuckled. "maybe. you should be in bed though."

"why ? it's not like we have school tomorrow."

you shrugged. "i was thinking we could go on a picnic outside the walls. it gets stuffy in here."

she nodded. "that would be fun."

the silence came back for a while, until you finished grading and set your papers aside.

"you know, i hear you sometimes." she whispered.

you looked at the brunette in confusion. "how do you mean ?"

"when your in bed, sometimes you cry."

you scoffed, and leaned back in your chair. "yeah well, i try to muffle it."

"i don't think ive ever apologized to you," she started. her eyes welled up with tears and her hands shook on the table. her cheeks and nose became pink as she held herself back from crying. "i know i feel bad, and i regret killing her but, i've never actually apologized to you for-"

"don't." you said. you kept your eyes on your lap, you felt your throat growing tight. "please gabi, don't say anything."

"i need to apologize-"

"you don't. you killed her. she's dead, the war is over. it's done. just let it go." you said, your voice wavering.

"have you let it go ?"

your head shot up to her. "i lost the woman i was going to spend the rest of my life with. she promised me a safe home, a farm, and a family. and she promised we'd grow old together. and that didn't happen. i grew up with her, i've known her since i was twelve, we started dating when i was sixteen. of course i haven't let it go, gabi."

gabi looked shocked by your outburst, but nodded. she understood how you felt, and she felt so guilty. "you don't forgive me do you ? i get it, i really do. i'm sorry."

you shook your head. "gabi no, i do. i do forgive you. i just, i can't forget it." you whimpered, tears started streaming down your face and you choked back a sob. "i loved her with all of my heart, i still do, but i don't hate you-"

gabi rolled her eyes, tears coming out uncontrollably now. "you should. i killed her, i ruined your chance of a happy life ! she was your family and i-"

"gabi no !" you exclaimed, cutting her off. at this point you both looked like a mess, and you were worried you woke up the boys. you grabbed her shaking hands in your own and held them to you. "you are my family. you are. so is falco, and so is levi. i forgive you, and i love you with all of my heart." you said, a sad smile on your face. her eyes widened at your words, before she started sobbing.

you got up from the table to come to her side, and held her in your arms as she cried. her arms wrapped around your shoulders while she dug her head into your neck, tickling you with her hair.

you rubbed her back and cradled her head while shushing her. she sobbed out a muffled "i love you so much y/n." that you chuckled at.

"i love you too so much." you whispered back.

it took a long time for gabi to calm down, but when she did you still held her, rocking her and yourself back and forth slightly. you two moved from the chairs down to the floor, funny enough.

you kissed the top of her head before talking, the only noise in the room being your whispers, her sniffles and the living room clock. "you know reiner's coming home soon. are you excited ?" she nodded against your skin and sniffled again, clearing her throat too.

"i hope he brings me a gift or something." she whispered back, her voice hoarse. it made you laugh, and you had to cover your mouth to keep quiet.

"they're going to shiganshina district for a couple of days, to visit mikasa and eren, and then mikasa will come with them to the capital."

"do you miss her ?" she asked.

"so much. i miss all of them, but mikasa is a close friend of mine, she holds a special place in my heart."

"do you think you and levi will go to the meetings between the marley ambassadors and the jaegerists ?" she asked.

"maybe, if they feel as though they really need us."

you sighed through your nose, which was a bit stuffy from crying. "after we turned back into humans, i saw sasha again."

gabi lifted her head up from where it was resting on your shoulder. "what ?"

"yeah, i saw her ghost i think." you looked down on her with a smile on your face. "she told me i knew what i needed to do, and then i went and got levi and you and falco." you paused for a moment, thinking about how you would word what you were thinking. "i did what i needed to do, i got my family together." gabi's eyes widened. "sasha promised me a family, and although this wasn't the family i had envisioned, it's still a family nonetheless. i believe her last gift to me was you, falco, and levi. and i am so grateful to have you all in my life."

gabi smiled before hugging you. she opened her mouth to say something-

"oi !" a deep voice came from the top of the stairs. "you two woke me up with all of your crying. go to bed." before your heard the creaking of the floorboards and the closing of a door.

you chuckled before standing up, pulling gabi with you. you walked her to her room, and even tucked her in, you both exchanged 'i love yous' and 'goodnights' before you retreated from her bedroom, closing the door behind you.

across the hall, levi stood leaned on his doorway with his arms crossed together. "that family speech, that was cute." he commented. you rolled your eyes at the older man. "were you listening in on a private conversation ?" you teased.

the ex-captain scoffed and looked away. "go to bed y/n. we have a picnic to go on tomorrow." before closing his door.

you chuckled to yourself, remembering how you brought up the idea to him that morning, and he only replied with a curt "we'll see" before sipping on his morning tea.

you went back to your own room, and got into your bed. you turned on your side, and looked at the space you always left open for sasha, and brushed your hand against the pillow.

"goodnight love."

uhhhhh doesnt feel like my best work but whatevs 😁👍 enjoy my comeback to tumblr 🤩🙏

requests open mfs ‼️

[hunflowers]

Cecilia

Word Count: 8k

Requested? Nope, but you always can here :)

Mood Board

A/N: Yay, 70s! Harry is here :D I love it and I hope you do too my loves. And quick note, the song Cecilia by Simon & Garfunkel is basically the anthem of this piece, (*ahem* note the title) so maybe give it a listen while reading or before or after, whatever works! *nose boops*

Murder is the biggest extreme anyone could ever commit. It’s crazy to ever want to kill someone, to wrap your hands around someone’s throat, to stab them in the heart or the back, or maybe put a bullet between their eyes.

It’s extreme.

Yet, Y/N had every urge to murder Harry.

Her night was going just fine. It was going exactly how she wanted, and it was going to end exactly how she wanted. Danny was a super nice guy, a super handsome guy, and was exactly who she wanted between her legs in just a few hours time.

Fleetwood Mac was blaring over the speakers of the crowded club and Y/N was enjoying her third beer of the night as Danny held himself against her, placing sloppy kisses up the side of her neck while she circled her bottom against his groin. 

It was going extremely well until Danny said he was going to get himself another drink. Then the moment one body left her, another soon joined. One, that wouldn’t leave her alone.

“Harry! Back off!” Y/N groaned, pushing his hands off her hips. She noticed him earlier in the night when she and Danny walked in but she quickly avoided any contact with him the moment her eyes laid on him, praying to herself that he never spots her.

Clearly, luck wasn’t on her side when the curly-haired, green-eyed nuisance looked down at her with that infamous smirk. “You should be happy to see me. I’m here to save y’life.”

“Save my life? By cock blocking me?” She huffed, trying to step around him but was stopped when he grabbed her by the waist and turned her back to his front. The button-front of his white shirt was held together by two buttons near the bottom, his revealed chest pressed to the skin of her back as his jeans rubbed friction against the soft material of her skirt.

“He could be a serial killer for all you know. Plus, I’m practically begging you to have my cock, so what do you need his for?” He murmured into her ear, slowly starting to sway themselves to the rhythm of the song playing. Y/N could feel the growing tent in his jeans as they rocked, her breath slightly hitching in her throat when she thought about all of their past… adventures with one another. But that’s all it was; their past.

Y/N saw Harry more often than not, but the last time they had sex was well over a month ago, and she figured he’d get the hint by this point that she wasn’t interested anymore. He’s made it obvious that he wasn’t done with her, but she doesn’t settle for too long and she needs a new taste every so often. And she’s young, she doesn’t have this desire to situate herself with one man no matter how desperate he acts. 

Licking her lips and turning her head to her right to meet his eyes, their noses slightly sweep together as their breaths mingle over one another. “You’re old news, H, get real,” she hissed, her eyes raking over his features as he looks past her and into the deep crowd of the dance floor ahead of them. When she moved to remove herself from his grip, he held her back, one of his hands coming up to the back of her head and pressing his mouth down onto hers in a heated kiss.

She almost got lost in it, and almost let him have his way as she could feel her panties dampen the moment his tongue slipped past her lips. But then she heard, “Y/N?” and her mind reeled her back into reality and she pushed away from Harry in a second, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she looked to Danny who held a confused look in his eyes before he scoffed and turned back around.

“Wait!” She called, quickly turning around to Harry and sneering at him, “You saw him there didn’t you? Leave me the fuck alone.” And without even thinking about it she poured the remainder of her beer over his pants, dropping the bottle at his feet before running off to try and amend what she could with Danny.

When she finally pushed past the final group of bodies and made it outside into the warm Spring night air, she spotted Danny storming over to his car at the end of the parking lot, ignoring her pleas to stop walking. He looked over his shoulder one final time and shook his head before getting into his burnt orange Cadillac Eldorado and speeding off and away from her. Y/N let out a whine, stomping her platform heel into the ground.

Ever since she saw him stroll into her sociology class at the beginning of the semester she knew she wanted him. Not for long, but at least for one memorable night. Every class she noticed the way his eyes raked up the length of her legs and landed on her chest beneath the fabric of her shirts, so it was obvious he wanted her just as bad. But she had a serious roach problem, and she was moments away from snapping completely and snapping his neck.

Marching over to the nearest payphone, she called her roommate to come pick her up with a series of pleas and bargains since it was nearly one in the morning, and unfortunately for her roommate, she has an early morning Friday class. She didn’t expect to be stranded at this hour and she didn’t bring enough cash for a cab ride home. It’s not like Sarah would say no to her, but she sure as hell wasn’t happy about it either.

Sitting herself down on the curb below her, Y/N stretched out her legs in front of her, pulling a cigarette from her purse and her yellow lighter, putting the stick between her lips and inhaling the nicotine as she drew the flame against the tip. She was getting real sick of Harry thinking he could swoop in whenever he deemed necessary. Where was all this affection when they first started seeing each other? He was the one who pushed her away and turned her into who she is. He was the one that told her college and her early adulthood was about indulging in as many people as she can before she had to settle her life away. And now he changed his mind? 

Well, tough shit.

She was tempted to storm back in there and curse him out and knee him where the sun doesn’t shine, but truth be told, she wouldn’t even handle seeing his face again without seeing red or breaking down. This wasn’t the first time he crashed a date of hers, and she just couldn’t understand why he was so insistent on chasing her down. She doesn’t even understand how he always knows where she is, and if he shows up again she’s filing for a restraining order.

They met last year, right around this time when Sarah’s boyfriend, Mitch brought him over to their apartment for a little party. And before he came crashing into her life, she had herself somewhat together, in a happy relationship with her boyfriend of a few months. People like Harry that sleep around with anyone they can were never anyone she interested herself in hanging around. Then he swooped her off her feet, coaxing her to break up with her uptight boyfriend to live her free life, and eventually into his bed. 

Y/N told herself that was going to be the only time, because Harry was bad news, and everyone knew that, and she knew better than to get caught up in his messy life. But, he’s one hell of a sweet talker and whenever he was near she just knew she’d end up right back in his bed after getting out of it that same morning. Then she wanted more and he didn’t. And for some odd reason, the roles have reversed and she couldn’t be bothered to be in a relationship anymore. Especially with him.

Sucking the last bit of her remaining cigarette into her mouth, she dropped it to the street, stomping on it with her heel, picturing it to be Harry’s face instead. She’d already been out here for about fifteen minutes, and she’s surprised he hasn’t come running after her with his drenched pants. She saw his familiar light pink Plymouth sitting across the street, images of them together in the backseat flashing across her eyes before she closes her eyes and shakes her head as if rattling her brain will cause the memories to fly from her skull.

Noticing Sarah at the red light down the road, Y/N stood up, brushing the debris off her skirt and legs, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout as she sulked in tonight’s failure. When Sarah pulled up to the curb, Y/N opened the door, and as if she wasn’t being punished already, she heard Sarah say, “Hi, Harry.”

Snapping her head over her shoulder to the entrance of the bar behind her, Harry was walking out, car keys in his hand as his other ruffled his short curls. Then a petite blonde trailed after him, tripping over her own feet as a giggle left her thin lips, her nails digging into the skin of his arm as she steadied herself. Y/N’s jaw snapped shut after she realized it had dropped open at the sight, her eyebrows furrowing as she imagined stomping on Harry’s foot just like she did with the cigarette butt.

“Oh, so you get to fuck someone, but I can’t?”

“Y/N-”

“Hey, I wouldn’t waste your time on him! It’s really small, and he lasts maybe two minutes tops before he passes out,” she called to the blonde who’s smile wiped from her face in an instant. She scoffed, pushing Harry away from her before leaving his side and heading back in the busy bar. Y/N’s sure she’ll find someone else better and more suiting.

Harry looked to Y/N in disbelief and then to the spot next to him that’s now vacant, and then to Sarah who was rapidly beeping her horn to get her roommate into the car. “What the fuck was that?”

“Karma’s a bitch, asshole,” Y/N sneers, hopping into the car and telling Sarah to step on it.

What goes around, simply comes around.

❊ ❊

A week had gone by and, this time Y/N, Sarah, Mitch, and a few more friends were out. It was a celebratory night that finals week had finally been completed, and a few of them were due for graduation. 

Unfortunately for Y/N, Harry had been strung along for the night as well, but this time around, they were both ignoring each other for the sake of not being thrown out of the bar. When she saw his face pull up outside in his oh so precious car, it took everything in her to not fake an illness and go home. 

There was something about his smug face greeting her friends that had her knocking back shots of tequila quicker than she could blink. They also have some unspoken challenge going on as they continuously flirted their way around the copious amounts of young men and women, eyeing the other to see if they were watching. 

Y/N had actually noticed Danny in the crowd on the dance floor, worming her way over to him to say hello and to see if he still hated her. When she saw him in sociology the last few classes he avoided her when she sat down a few seats from him, and she couldn’t help but feel a little hurt at his now evident rejection. But, with alcohol running in both of their systems she hoped he had changed his mind even just for the one night.

Danny looked to her with a bored expression, hardly listening to a thing she had to say before interrupting her little spiel with a scoff, “Y/N, he told me everything and I don’t want to hear it.”

She froze up at that, pulling her head back in confusion as her brows scrunched together. “What do you mean, told you everything?”

“Look, I’m not a rebound okay? If you wanted to have sex because you like me, cool, I’m down; but I’m not having sex with you just to make him jealous or some shit. I got better things to do, sorry,” and then he patted her on the shoulder before walking away and out of her sight. 

Completely dumbfounded and embarrassed to have been rejected so publicly, Y/N turned on her heel and walked back to the table that her friends were sat at, a puzzled looking face nestled on her features. But, when she made eye contact with Harry who had his eyes dead set on her over the brim of his beer bottle, a little smirk peaking out and taunting her, she stomped over and slammed her hands down on the table in front of him, jolting the whole table to look at her. Harry was hardly fazed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“What the fuck did you tell him?” She gritted out, leaning her face close to his. 

Again, he hardly had a reaction, jutting his tongue out to lick his lips. “Tell who, what?”

Huffing at his nonchalant attitude, she pulled on the collar of his printed shirt, their noses grazing. If she weren’t so angry, she’d say this was a pretty intimate moment as they kept their eyes locked on one another, their breaths mingling together as their mouths were only centimetres apart. In all honesty, they forgot they had friends just seats apart from them ogling the situation with worry.

To them, it looked like Y/N was about to twist his head in a full one-eighty. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Styles! You’re not my father, stop trying to act like it,” she spat, pushing him back aggressively against his chair and storming away, again. If anything, she was more mad at the fact that she let him get under her skin again. She should just go up to any guy she chooses and kiss him hard on the lips to prove a point - but instead she’s biting her lip to refrain from screaming into the night and letting the pesky tears welling up in her eyes fall onto her skin. 

The bar wasn’t too far from her apartment this time, and she’d rather walk than ruin Sarah’s night anymore than she already did because of her dramatic ways. Not that she could really drive anyway since she was just knocking back tequila not even ten minutes ago. Maybe when she’s sober she’ll grow a tougher exterior and not let Harry get to her, but as she regains her balance after stumbling in her heels, she’ll sulk and cry the whole way home, and probably as she tucks herself into her sheets.

“Y/N!” Harry called after her, but she flipped him off over her shoulder as she continued her journey down the sidewalk.

Hearing the quickening pace of footsteps behind her, Y/N wiped at her eyes quickly to remove any traces of a broken heart. Feeling a tug on her bicep, she was whipped around to face his sorrowful face, his free hand immediately coming up to wipe the tears away from her eyes that seemed to betray her. “I... I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t help but let out a small pitiful laugh at that, looking away from him and watching the cars pass them by. “Just leave me alone, Harry.”

“Y/N, hey,” he paused, cupping his face in his large palms, trying to get her to look at him. “Baby, please look at me.”

“I’m not your baby,” she hissed, turning to look at him with a scowl.

“Got ya to look at me though, didn’t it?”

It was safe to say Y/N wasn’t amused, biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. Harry nodded, realizing now wasn’t the time for joking, looking to his feet for a split second before bringing his eyes up to look at the crescent moon above them, letting out a puff of air before speaking up again. “Let’s split. Just you and me, let me make it up to you for being an ass.”

Y/N’s eyes widen in a fit of fury, her mouth dropping open in a gasp, “I’m not having sex with you! Are you ins-”

“No! M’fucking hungry and want a real meal, not the shit this joint serves. And we need to talk, so join me?” He clarifies, dropping his hands back down to his sides and propping them on his hips as he awaits her answer.

She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she contemplates her choices. She really doesn’t want to be alone with him, but she’s also starving and if he’s paying then there’s no use in turning down free food. Mulling it over for a few moments, she eventually nods her head in a soft agreeance, causing a bright smile to flash across his face.

“Alright, let’s go to Debby’s, her burgers always taste better late at night.” And with that, he was tossing his arm over her shoulders and tugging her to his side as they walked in sync to Debby’s Diner a few blocks over. They both had been drinking and figured it probably wasn’t safe to drive just yet, plus it was a really nice night, and the moon looked extra bright surrounded by its little star friends.

❊ ❊

It was insanely awkward. 

Probably more awkward then when they first had sex, and even that wasn’t this bad. Maybe it’s because they’ve never really had any heart-to-heart chats and this was new territory they weren’t exactly used to. 

“Cecilia” by Simon & Garfunkel flowed through the empty diner, filling the tense air that could be cut with a knife. Y/N mindlessly hummed along, sipping on her strawberry milkshake, looking anywhere but at the man in front of her. 

“You like this song?” Harry questioned, balling the paper straw wrapper before stretching it back out and then just squishing it again. 

Licking the whip cream from the tip of her nose, Y/N nodded her head, “It’s nice.”

“It describes us.”

She looked at him confused, “Excuse me?”

“I don’t like seeing you with anyone else,” he shrugged, leaning his elbows on the metal table, tossing his straw wrapper to the side. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone, ever, and I just get so tee’d off every time I see you out with someone that isn’t me.”

“That isn’t fair, Harry, and you know it,” she scoffs, leaning back into the booth, and crossing her arms over her chest. “Where was this months ago? When I wanted to be with you?

Poking his tongue at the inside of his cheek and swiping it across his bottom lip to reach the other side, Harry let out a sigh, running his hands over his face and through his hair. He can’t exactly pinpoint when he had a change of heart, or why for that matter, but he did and that’s all that’s important. He remembers her lying beside him, fingers dancing over the skin of his chest while her one leg was hitched over his waist as her exposed breasts were pressed flush against his side. She had asked him if they could be more than just fuck buddies and he easily turned her down in a way that wasn’t too aggressive but made it known he wasn’t one for girlfriends. 

At first Y/N was okay with that, not wanting to hop into a relationship so suddenly after just leaving one, but then she wanted more. There’s something about Harry, the way he presents himself to the world, not giving a shit about anything yet at the same time being so caring towards everyone. Whenever she saw him her heart would flutter, and heat would flood her body at the thought of getting to kiss him and hold him and have sex with him whenever she wants. But, he didn’t see it that way, at least not at first, and Y/N couldn’t put herself through the heartache anymore. So, she broadened her horizons, and put Harry in her past, making him just a friend.

Then his mysterious change of heart became evident, and he’s been hellbent on getting back into her good graces. It’s clear it was sparked by jealousy, but Harry wasn’t so sure that was the only reason anymore. Desire to have her as his, to make her smile all the time, to see her pretty face everyday of his life fueled his need for her. He loathed the idea of any other guy touching her, but he reveled in the idea of her touching him, whether it be sexually or just by holding hands. 

Harry didn’t realize it at first, but when she started pushing him away and going out with different guys from her classes, he knew he was starting to fall in love with her. He grew so used to the idea of Y/N being around and not hating him that without even noticing, he was falling in love with her.

So, if he needs to actually get on his knees to beg for her, then he will.

“I’m just asking for one more chance. Let me prove to ya I’m not so bad, pet,” he spoke softly reaching out to grab ahold of her hand but she pulled her hand away from his reach, biting down on her lower lip and thinking over his words.

“You made it near impossible for me to know anyone else for your own selfish purposes, and now, what, you want to go on a date with me? Why should I?” Y/N stressed, combing her fingers through the roots of her hair, tangling the makeshift curls she spent all day perfecting.

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. It started off as jealousy, I hated knowing other guys were putting their hands on you like I did, it just didn’t sit right with me-”

“But you were allowed to go out with Cindy? And Jenny? And Katherine? You have sex with me a few times and all of a sudden I’m only allowed to be with you even after you tell me you don’t want a relationship?” She spits, tilting her head slightly and glaring daggers into the side of his face as he looked off to the side to gather his thoughts.

Y/N wanted a better answer than jealousy. She wanted a better excuse than some pitiful jealousy that made her look like a pure whore in front of every date she had been on. Harry always swooped in when her date scurried off for a bathroom break or to get drinks or a refill on popcorn, holding her close and kissing her swiftly on the lips when he knew the date would catch them. It was his go-to plan every time, and each time before they left her ass, they would spit slander at her that had her stomach sinking and her eyes brimming with pesky tears. She wanted a better excuse than stupid jealousy that had her feeling like complete and utter shit whenever she ducked under her covers and cried away her pain.

She really liked Harry. She still does, even though he doesn’t deserve that. Whenever he did crash her outings, even though it pissed her off beyond belief, she knew he was jealous and jealousy stems from him caring about her and wanting her, and that excited her, as messed up as it seems. It’s not exactly the most stable mentality, but Y/N doesn’t care about stability, she just cares for honesty. “Be straightforward for once, please. You can’t say you don’t see yourself in a relationship with anyone, then hate seeing me with other people.”

He nodded his head and took a breath before beginning, “I don’t know how to properly express my feelings. I’ve had girlfriends but I always wind up breaking their hearts and they all end up hating me, so I think I’m better off without one. You don’t deserve for me to break your heart, baby, but I’m too selfish to let y’go. So, whaddya say, just one more chance, please?”

“Newsflash, I already do hate you, you prick,” Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning forward to take another sip of her half drunken milkshake. She was even bold enough to steal one of his fries and dip it into the sugar trap, happily munching on it as she processes what he just told her. 

Harry watched her as she looked deep in thought, biting on the tip of her straw as she sucked up the remains of her pink drink. He was nervous to what she was gonna say, because he knows he’s been an asshole and most definitely doesn’t deserve her kindness and rather deserves a slap to the face. When she poured her drink over his jeans, he was surprised she didn’t kick him in the nuts too. But, deep down he was praying that she would at least give him a try, and if she still wants to kick him in the nuts, he’ll let her.

Eating one more fry, Y/N refocuses her attention back on Harry, clearing her throat to say, “So you were jealous. What exactly was it that made you jealous? Was it the idea of them touching me? Kissing me? Or, how about them fuc-”

“Okay! That’s enough!” he scowled, taking the cherry from her shake and biting down on it, removing it from the stem. Y/N laughed, brushing the crumbs from the fries off of her fingers.

Then a brief moment of silence enveloped them, before she spoke up again, “Don’t make me regret this, okay?”

“So, that’s a yes?” He smiles, relief running through his veins as his body relaxes from all of the unknown tension he put on himself.

“It’s a yes.”

❊ ❊ 

Ever since Y/N agreed to giving Harry his chance at proving he’s not a total asshole, he hasn’t left her side. He’s been showing up to her apartment, serenading her to take a drive with him every morning to go to this park just outside of the city, showering her in flowers and breakfast foods to win her over.

And when she had to go to work, he offered to drop her off and pick her up, not wanting her to take the bus like she used to. “Too many looneys out in the world, pet.”

It was just past two weeks from their night at Debby’s Diner, and with time, Y/N was starting to warm back up to him. It was a process considering how they treated each other for months on end, but everyday without fail, Y/N was glad to see him. He wasn’t trying to make passes at her, no sexual innuendos or insinuations that they should sleep together, just two people building up a friendship that had been worn down.

It was a warm Friday night, and Harry insisted they go see a movie at the newly opened drive in a few towns over. They were showcasing The Godfather, a movie on both of their lists to watch, so he figured what better time and place to go see it. For the first half of the movie they sat in a comfortable silence, eating their snacks and popcorn and sipping on their sodas, but then Y/N grew restless with this whole no talking situation, shifting her body to look at Harry rather than Marlon Brando.

Harry paused in his chewing, turning his head to look at her confusedly as she just stared at him. He felt like he had done something wrong as he slowly swallowed his candy, muttering a “What?”

“Why haven’t you tried to kiss me?”

Harry’s eyes widen at the question, his lips rolling into his mouth as his eyes blink rapidly, wondering if he heard that correctly. “Sorry?”

“It’s been over two weeks and you’ve made no moves to kiss me or to have sex, and I’m just confused,” she states, her fingers twiddling in her lap as nerves struck her.

Y/N was just simply confused. Because she’s known Harry for a while, and she knows how he works either with her or with other women. His never ending libido and flirtatious attitude was one of the strongest assets of his personality, not that it was a bad thing, but when he wasn’t acting the way he normally does, Y/N grew more and more confused. Every time he came in on one of her dates, he would kiss her and hold her, and try to get her come home with him, but now as she sits on a date with him, he’s acting like the fucking virgin Mary.

This doesn’t mean she wants him to pounce on her and rip her clothes off every moment they’re together, but there’s this recurring anxious thought flashing through her mind that maybe he doesn’t see her like that anymore. It doesn’t make sense since he won’t leave her side, but she’s wondering if there’s something wrong with her for him to not act like he usually does.

“Is it me? Be straightforward, did I do something?” She murmured, tugging on the hem of her dress that had ridden up from her moving around on the leather seat. “Because, normally by this point you’d be trying to get your hand up my skirt.”

Harry sat and looked at her for a moment, bringing his hand up to pull at his bottom lip as he thought of something to say. Then he let out a giggle that had Y/N spiraling into more confusion as he shook his head mockingly.

“Do you want me to put my hand up your skirt?” He questioned, smacking his hand down on her thigh, giving the flesh of her skin a firm squeeze that had her yelp in response. On instinct, she pushed his prying fingers away, but immediately regretted it since his touch lit a fire stirring in her belly.

“Look, bunny, the thought of fucking you has been at the front of mind ever since you showed up in that tiny little number, but I’m trying to do this right. Need to prove that I don’t want you just for y’body,” he explained, this time resting his hand gently on her exposed thigh, to which she didn’t shove away.

Y/N nodded her head slowly in understanding, pursing her lips as her eyes glanced back at the movie being showcased ahead of them. “What’s going through that head of yours?” He asked, tucking back a piece of hair that had fallen from her ponytail.

Turning her head back to face him, their faces suddenly were only inches part, their noses barely brushing together. Y/N gulped at the proximity, her eyes going back forth between his sparkling green ones, before glancing down to his pink lips that she bets taste like the buttery popcorn he was just devouring.

Without so much of a second thought, she leaned forward pressing their mouths together in a soft kiss, sparks tingling her skin as he didn’t move to break them apart. Instead, he locked one of his hands to the side of her face, pulling her in closer, moving their lips in a slow manner, taking his time to appreciate the true softness of her skin that he had taken for granted whenever they shared heated kisses.

Y/N scooted herself on her knees across the bench, landing on his lap in a straddle, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders, deepening the intimacy of the moment. Nothing about this moment seemed rushed, and it was probably the most tame they had ever been with one another even if their hips began rocking together to gain friction in their cores.

They could’ve stayed like that for hours, completely engulfed in the other, tongues dancing together, trails of spit keeping them connected as they would part to catch their breaths before indulging in another round of making out. Harry’s hands kept themselves nestled nicely on the curves of her ass, his fingers digging into the flesh and most likely leaving bruises in his wake. Y/N lightly tugged at the roots of his hair, pulling his head back from her to trail sloppy kisses down the length of his neck. She even was bold enough to mark his skin with a decently sized hickey; It was only payback for the countless he’s left on her multiple times before and the few he sucked this night.

Departing from his mouth, she rested her forehead on his and took in a couple deep breaths, biting on her bottom lip as she let out a breathy laugh. “That was what was going through my head.”

“Fuck, you’re out of sight, Y/N.”

❊ ❊ 

They still haven’t had sex.

Y/N was overjoyed at first that he wanted to treat her like a proper gentleman, waiting until she was comfortable around him again to make any advances. But, after they shared that kiss from a month beforehand, she was definitely worried something was wrong with him. 

They had done other things, but every time they were just moments away from actual sex, he would pull away and say it wasn’t the right time or place. It was the most extreme case of blue balls, and she doesn’t even have balls. The weird part was that she could feel how hard he would get every time, but he always kept himself at bay.

It was nice at first, but now it’s just plain cruel.

Y/N didn’t want to act desperate, but he was being the ultimate tease and she didn’t know how much longer she could take this. She almost tempted him when they went to a festival and they were both high off their minds. Yet, even under the influence he had a stronghold and resisted the flirty bat of her eyelashes and the stellar handjob he got behind someone’s Volkswagen van.

Now as she sat in his lap, surrounded by friends in her apartment since Sarah and Mitch were having another one of their little parties, she was determined to have sex. Y/N finished off the remainder of her drink, purposefully rubbing her ass against Harry’s groin as she leaned forward to place her cup on the table in front of them. A little hiss could be heard leaving his lips as his fingers dug into her waist, giving her a silent warning to not do anything she’s gonna regret.

Little did he know, that was exactly what she wanted. At this point, she didn’t even care if they fucked in front of everyone, she just really wanted him. Looking over her shoulder, she sent him an innocent look before engaging in conversation with the boy almost completely passed out beside them. And again on purpose, she shifted her body against his thigh, which then in turn pressed her butt on his growing bulge.

While she was talking to Ben - she found out his name - Harry pulled her back against his chest, his mouth pressing against the shell of her ear, warm air fanning over her skin, chills shooting down her spine. “What’re y’trying to do, bunny?”

When she ignored his question, she felt him nip at her ear with his teeth, murmuring, “Act like a tease, gonna get fucked like one,” into her hair, groping at her exposed thigh.

Cursing to herself as Ben gets up to get another drink, she turns her face to look at Harry, bringing a hand up to push a few fallen curls off his forehead. Leaning close to him, she placed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips replying back with, “Doubt it,” in a feisty tone, bringing her head back to smile at him before getting up from his lap and sauntering off to make conversation with anyone else.

Looking over her shoulder, she watched him spread his legs, elbows leaning on them as he lit a cigarette now between his lips. He cocked his head with a raise of his eyebrow, challenging her to try anything else. He couldn’t exactly blame her for acting the way she is, because like usual, he knows he’s been an asshole and not giving her what she wants. But, in his eyes, all of this built up frustration will only enhance the experience for both of them after not fucking for months.

“What the hell is going on between you two?” Sarah whispered in Y/N’s ear, casually following her eyes to see Harry looking at the little group on the opposite side of the room.

Y/N took the cigarette from her friend’s hands, inhaling deeply and giving it back, blowing the stream of smoke from her nose as she shrugged. “Nothing. Just putting him in his place.”

“I don’t think he got the memo,” she teased back, raising her eyebrows as a gesture that he was walking over. Then without fail, Y/N felt a tug on her upper arm and her back collided with a chest. 

“Mind if I steal my girl for a second?” He asked the group to which he got shrugs in return and one person to say Think it’ll be more than a second.

Sarah waved goodbye to Y/N as she was being pulled away, doing a sign of the cross and praying hands to say she was in her prayers. Y/N rolled her eyes but mouthed a thank you anyway. Before she could comprehend, she was tugged into the bathroom, the door slamming behind her as her back was shoved against it, Harry’s hands landing on either side of her head, his face mere centimetres from hers.

Y/N smirked up at him, gently brushing her nose against his, a sinister look dancing across her eyes. “Y’know, you could’ve just taken us to my bedroom,” she hummed, dragging her finger nail down the length of his exposed chest, stopping where the first button was closed just under his butterfly tattoo on his abdomen.

“What d’ya think is gonna happen, pet?” He murmured into the skin of her neck, peppering soft kisses up until he met her jawline then worked his way back down.

“You’re gonna stop being a tease and fuck me already,” she retorted in a gasp as his one hand came up to grope at her tit in her halter top. His head came back up to level with hers, green eyes boring into hers as he tilts his head in the same challenging manner from before.

“Is that so?”

“Well, if you’re not gonna do it then I’ll get someone who will.”

Then it was like a switch was flipped in his brain, and his eyes darkened, and a devilish smile painted his face before he took her face and smashed his mouth onto hers. His hands grabbed under her thighs and hoisted her up so her legs wrapped around his waist, his front grinding on her center feverishly, both of them letting out light moans at the contact.

“We both know you’re not gonna do that,” Harry muttered between kisses, his left hand leaving her thigh and cupping her throbbing heat over her panties, his palm pressing against her clit and his fingers tapping at the pool of wetness forming on the white fabric. Y/N’s jaw slacked open, her eyes fluttering shut at the slight relief he was giving her. “No one can give it to you like I can, baby.”

Before she could utter out a response, he pushed her underwear to the side before thrusting his middle finger into her fully lubricated hole. He pumped it in slowly, teasing her walls and ignoring her pleas for more, “Admit it, no one can treat you like I can.”

Then he added his ring finger, fastening his movements against her fluttering pussy. “None of those candyasses gave it to you like I did.”

“Every time you were with them you wished it was me. C’mon, Y/N, be straightforward,” he whispered in her ear, thrusting his fingers in at a brutal force, the heel of his palm rubbing harsh circles against her bundle of nerves that had her crying out in pure ecstasy.

“Fuck... O-only you can - shit, Harry please,” she cried out, her ankles locking behind his back and pulling him impossibly closer to her body, her head knocking against the wooden door behind her.

Harry slowed his movements for a moment, bringing his other hand up to her mouth and trying to block the sounds she was emitting at an extremely high pitch. She whined into his hand, bucking her hips to build the friction back up, the familiar feeling of her high dissipating as he stilled himself. “Y/N, you’re gonna ‘ave to be quiet. Don’t want anyone hearing you. Those pretty moans are reserved for my ears only.”

Just to be sure she stayed quiet, instead of muffling her with his palm, he stuck his thumb between her lips, pressing down on her tongue and ordering her to suck. It took a lot of control to not push his jeans and briefs down his body and fuck into her the moment she started swirling her tongue around the tip of his thumb, gently sucking on it and looking at him with her innocent doe eyes. He was determined to get her to come undone now, desperate to see her face morph into one filled with pleasure as he curled his fingers against her sweet spot, thrusting against it continuously. He whispered dirty things into her ear, urging her to cum for him, saying everything she likes to hear that helps her reach her peak quicker.

Y/N’s mouth dropped open again, but this time her moans came out all gurgled and muffled as he kept his thumb right where it was. Her thighs clenched around him as she wanted to close them instinctively, her orgasm building up inside of her until he hit her g-spot one more time and then her body was shaking uncontrollably. Harry helped her to calm down, placing a kiss to her temple and slowly settling her back down on the floor, her legs wobbling a little bit before she regained her balance.

“Need to take you somewhere more private, need to hear you for what else I’m gonna do to you,” he stated before taking her hand and leading her out of the bathroom.

And that’s how they ended up in his car in a deserted parking lot, in his back seat, Y/N on all fours while he thrust into her from behind. The backseat was a bit of a tight fit for the position they were in, but neither of them really seemed to care as they were into a euphoric state of mind.

Harry’s sweaty chest was leaned over and pressing into her back, his face nestled into the crook of her neck as he tugged lightly on her hair in a makeshift ponytail wrapped around his fist. Neither of them were shy about their moans and groans, practically screaming them to the world and putting all pornstars to shame.

Aside from their sounds of pleasure, the steamy car was filled with the sound of his hips slapping against her ass and the squelch of their centers coming together. Harry also left the car radio on to ‘give a nice ambiance while I wreck your pretty little cunt.’

“What -shit, what was that you said about my dick being really small? Or me only lasting two minutes? Could you refresh my memory, bunny?” He snickered into her cheek, delivering a particularly hard thrust into her that had her knees shifting up the leather seat. 

“You’re s-so tight, squeezing down on my big cock just nice. Fit like a glove,” he egged on. He placed his left hand on the wall of his car, stabilizing his balance a little more as he wrapped his other hand around her throat and brought her to a kneel. Y/N’s own hands reached out to balance herself anywhere she could put them,

“D’ya wanna say it again?” he continued to tease, halting his movements, waiting for her to say something back.

Y/N shook her head feverishly, bringing her bottom down against his cock to continue what he paused. “N-no, m’sorry.”

Harry tsked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he released his grip on her throat and flipped them around so she was straddling him now. “Why don’t you put some work in if you want it so bad. Use me, pet, know you can,” he stated with a smack to her bottom that echoed throughout the car.

Y/N never dropped herself down on someone quicker. In one go she sank down on him to the hilt, the tip of his bright red head hitting a spot so deep inside of her. She swiveled her hips in circles, before kneeling up again and then dropping down fully again feeling him at the very pit of her tummy. Her clit brushed against his pubic mound, the tuft of hair rubbing against her swell, urging her orgasm to arrive quicker.

And if that wasn’t enough, Harry leaned forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth, kitten licking it and gently nipping at it before sucking on it. He paid close attention to her pert tits, covering her once bare chest in various bites, all while kneading the flesh of her ass, assisting her in her movements and bringing her down on him harder and faster.

“I’m… oh, I’m so cl-close,” Y/N moaned, her head falling to the crevice of his shoulder as he pounded up into her to meet her thrusts.

“Me too, pet. Hold on a little longer f’me,” he spoke, now brutally fucking up into her to get himself to match where she is. Y/N tugged on his hair like he liked, scratching her nails into his skin and muttering words of encouragement like, “Prove to me how wrong I was… Only you can do this to me, baby.”

Then with a few more sloppy thrusts, they were both hitting their highs, cumming so hard that Harry fell limp against the seat and Y/N against him. The long wait for this was definitely worth it as both of them took in gulps of air, meeting their mouths in a lazy kiss in triumph. Despite the ache of her body, Y/N lifted herself off of Harry and landed next to him instead, her head falling against his shoulder again as her eyes fluttered close.

Now, only the hum of the radio could be heard around them, that same Simon & Garfunkel song on like it was at Debby’s all that time ago. Y/N can remember Harry saying it described them, and as she sits here, completely enamored from the man beside her, she could attest to that.

Without knowing it, Harry was looking down at Y/N, humming the tune of the song as he sat in awe of her figure completely worn out next to him.

Jubilation, she loves me again.

[datninjalyfe]

Chapter 285: Katsuki Bakugou Rising Reimagined

“Your arms—,” Izuku remembered the doctor telling him months earlier.  “—if you keep getting injured like this—,”

No, please, don’t say it. Izuku had thought.  I have to be a hero.

“—you may permanently lose the use of your arms.”

That didn’t matter now. Not anymore.  I will be a hero.

Shigaraki was unable to defend against the power of One-for-All. Shigarki felt his body starting to crumble.  Black whip held onto him tightly as the hero continued to almost animalistically attack his body.  He could barely make out the bellowing attacks of, “Detroit smash!” and “Wyoming smash!” and after being hit with “St. Louis!”, he was unsure if he was even able to get back on the offensive.  This fucking kid!  There was no way he could use All-For-One to regenerate, especially since he wasn’t at his full power.  

With Shigaraki unable to go on the offensive, Deku continued to use the quirk at one hundred percent. Anger boiled inside him as he continued to blow attack after attack at Shigaraki.  He pushed aside the memory of what the doctor had told him and used One-for-All at insurmountable speed and strength, each one destroying his body further.  One punch for all the citizens that hadn’t been able to evacuate in time.  One for each of the heroes that had sacrificed themselves for this cause. One punch for each of his classmates, his fellow heroes in training that had been impacted the same way he had been by the League of Villains.  “Detroit SMASH!” he yelled, holding Shigaraki in place with black whip as his fist slammed hard against Shigaraki’s jaw.  That one’s for Gran Torino!  “Wyoming SMASH!” another blow to his ribs.  That one’s for Aizawa!  “St. Louis SMASH!” again, a hard hit to Shigaraki’s ribs, feeling them once again crunch against Izuku’s knuckles.  Shigaraki howled at the amount of excruciating pain inflicted on him, but Izuku continued to push against him at full force.  

“That’s what this power is made for!” he roared.  His arms were torn apart, his body begging for him to stop, but he didn’t care about the pain.  He couldn’t stop.  

Not now. “This is why I have this power.”  To stop VILLAINS LIKE YOU!  “TEXAS SMASH!” marked with apoplectic rage, Izuku, hurled his body at Shigaraki, slamming against him.  

Shagaraki, still bound to Deku by black whip, couldn’t dodge the attack nor could he fight back He understood he wasn’t at the full power of All-for-One.  Don’t stop. Shigaraki told himself. If I don’t focus on defenses, I’ll probably be blown away.  He braced for the impact, but it was too much to handle.  Shigaraki held on for dear life as the punch caused a large blast in the air.  

Back on the ground, all the pros could do was watch in complete shock.  “That’s incredible!” Manual exclaimed loudly, watching the explosion in the air from Deku’s last smash.  Despite the explosion being so loud, Manual’s words rang through Katsuki’s ears.  Katsuki looked upwards, turning his gaze towards the ricochet of debris from the colossal strike of the body slam Izuku had just used.

“No!” Katsuki said.  The word was uttered under his breath, but still directed at Manual.  Dammit, Deku!  It’s too much, even for you. “He’s gonna get destroyed at this rate.” he said a little louder to ensure they could hear him.  “He’s using his legs and ‘air force’ to avoid the recoil while already controlling several quirks.”  He cursed himself slightly when Endeavor’s head turned in his direction with a look of angry confusion.  “Deku’s pulling every move he’s learned until now just to keep Shigaraki in the air.”  With another massive attack, they covered their faces as another gust of wind threw fragments of rubble in their direction.  “Since he couldn’t completely take him out with the first attacks, it’s turned into a war of attrition, just wearing each other down—” He’s going to tear his body completely apart.  “—in that kind of situation, there’s no way he can hold out against ‘regeneration.’” Katsuki turned his attention between the two Todorokis standing by—Endeavor and Shoto respectively—both watching the fight in disbelief.  Come on, what would Deku do?

Katsuki paused, answering his own internal question: Whatever it takes.

Between Aizawa, Rock Lock, Manual, and Shoto, they just looked totally defeated by the attacks from Shigaraki. They looked as though the fight was finished.  He turned to look directly at Endeavor.  You’re the No. 1 fucking hero.  DO SOMETHING! But no instruction came.  The fight would be over soon, with Shigaraki walking away and Izuku would be—

SHIT!  “Within minutes he’ll get his ass kicked and his power stolen.  Todoroki, you finished yet?”

Shoto looked just as confused as Endeavor.  “Yes, but wh—?”

But Katsuki didn’t give him the chance to finish.  “Shut and grab on!”  He grabbed Todoroki’s belt and pulled him in close.  Without hesitation, Shoto wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s waist.  “Endeavor!  Hold off on the fire, I’ll make sure you get up there!  Todoroki, keep Endeavor cooled off as long as possible!”  

Katsuki looked to sky, feeling the heat of his quirk run from his chest down his arms and felt a few droplets of sweat ignite in small pops.  

“I’ll use my greatest firepower to bring him down.” Endeavor told them, finally speaking.  “Leave it to me.”

“That’s…” he heard Rock Lock say.  “But you’re kids.”

That’s not stopping Deku.

“Take care of our teacher!” Shoto shouted and Katsuki lifted them into the air, barely hearing the small, shaky word from Rock Lock.

“Okay.”

As they propelled themselves through the air, Endeavor yells, “Aim for when black whip is completely extended.  When I head up there, you two return to the ground!  Or you’ll get caught up in it.”

“Midoriya, hold on!” he heard Shoto shout.  

Hold on, Deku.

An image of All Might flashed before his eyes.  It wasn’t too long ago that Katsuki learned of One-For-All and that Izuku had been the one to inherit the power.  

“I don’t want to speculate and talk about things I’m not sure of.” All Might had told him.  They were sitting in his office, looking through the notebook of the research All Might had done of all the previous users.  Katsuki had asked a question about the original user, but All Might seemed hesitant to answer.

Is there a darker side to this quirk?  “Because he’s the only who basically created One-for-All right?  He’s also got multiple quirks.”  It became clear to Katsuki at the point the similarities between One-for-All and All-for-One—does it matter?  “That makes you the same as him.”

Even still, Katsuki said, another hit caused a gust of wind that jolted Katsuki back to the present.   Even if One-for-All is some sort of ‘cursed power…’

He is the one who has made it his own.

He thought back to when they were kids.  Their childhood was so complicated and countless times, Izuku had become victim to his bullying. He constantly tormented the quirkless kid in class, but Izuku still stood by his side.  “Defenseless Izuku.” Katsuki had spat at him, towering over him.  Izuku could barely lift his head, but he managed to look at Katsuki directly, as if he were peering into him somehow.  Those eyes…Katsuki had never seen anything like them.  They were piercingly green, a beautiful bright earthy tone that caused Katsuki’s heart to beat faster.  Stop looking at me, Deku!  Unable to control his emotions, Katsuki threw another blast in Izuku’s direction and Izuku didn’t move. He just took it.  

Do something, you stupid—blast—little—blast—“QUIRKLESS LOSER!”  Katsuki hailed multiple explosions on the boy until he claimed himself the victor. Still, Izuku had followed him.  He always had.  Even called himself Katsuki’s friend.  

He thought about the day that Katsuki had opened the book and notes on himself.  It was a drawing of Katsuki, his quirk written out long to top of the page: EXPLOSIONS.  All aspects of his quirk were scribbled underneath: emitter-type; using his sweat to ignite from palms; advantages at both ranges close and far; disadvantages may include—

Disadvantages?! Katsuki felt his quirk rage through his body and he threw the notebook out the window.  It had landed in the small pond outside the school and he laughed at Izuku when he went into it to fish for his notebook.  

He thought about when he and Izuku had seen All Might use his power, a captivating smile that inspired both of them to one day be heroes.  He watched Izuku grow from a little quirkless boy who had been Katsuki’s greatest victim strive the be the world’s greatest hero.  

“I’m not gonna be your worthless punching bag Deku forever!” Izuku had yelled at him during their first training mission in class.  “Kacchan, I’m—,”

You’re the most worthless piece of shit I’ve ever seen. Katsuki had forced those thoughts out of his mouth, but now, looking up at this fight, Deku vs. the No. 1 Villain Shigaraki, it was more than clear:

“I’m the Deku who always does his best!”

You’re mine, Deku! Those words still rang true, but they carried something different, intending it, back then, that Izuku was his to torture forever.  Now, they were different.  They meant something different.  Then, he wanted the nerd to leave, he wanted the nerd gone, out of his for good.  Then, it was warfare, an unhealthy competition that Katsuki had built up in his mind. He thought that he hated Izuku and took out all his pent-up rage and anger out on him.

But he looked up at him a now.  A full-on hero, displaying his amazing power.  Izuku continued to sacrifice his body.  Relentlessly, he pushed his quirk farther, reaching 100% of the power of One-for-All, punch after punch, attack after attack against Shigaraki.  

One-for-All is incredible.

Deku’s incredible.

“NOW!”

Endeavor launches himself forward, catching Shigaraki from behind.

“En—?” Izuku started, but Endeavor yelled for him to get down.

And unleashed his greatest attack: “PROMINENCE—,”

“Deku, get down!” Katsuki tried to yell, but it was drowned by the sound of Endeavor’s screams.

“BURN!!”

An arsenal of fire released from Endeavor.  An oven of a heat so intense, wave-like fumes rippled through the air.  It was all Endeavor had left, every ounce of flames and heat cooking through Shigaraki, who screamed in agony as he ignited in the flames that consumed every ounce of his body.

I’m done, Master. Shigaraki thought.  This is how it ends.

Come, said a voice from deep within reached in Shigaraki’s mind.  The previous user of All-for-One extended a hand asking him: Why don’t you hand your body over to me, Tomura?  

Before Shigaraki had a chance to answer, he was pushed aside, his body taken by the original user of this power.  Vines wisped out of Shigaraki’s body, thought not only his back but the body of the Number One hero.  Endeavor falls to the ground only the hard bed of broken pavement to soften the impact.

“ENDEAVOR!” Shoto and Katsuki screamed at once, suddenly turning their attention to the body, scorched now a dark, deep charcoal black.  The body no longer resembled that of Shigaraki.  It no longer resembled that of a person.  It was a monster.

All-for-One turned his attention to Deku, one of the few heroes left still standing.  “Little brother,” growled All-for-One, extending tentacle-like vines towards Izuku.

“No…” Katsuki whispered to himself.  He felt his body thrust forward like an unseeable puppeteer had strings attached to Katsuki’s limbs. Deku… He knew what those tendrils could do.  He’s seen them in action before.  

And he couldn’t let that happen again.  In his last flashback, he sees Izuku rushing to save him as the sludge villain ate away at Katsuki’s mind.  His scrawny little quirkless Deku.  There was an innocence in his eyes, looking up at Katsuki, pleading to save him, tears streaming down his face at the thought of losing Katsuki—his Kacchan.  Despite all Katsuki had done to him—his Deku—was something Izuku couldn’t live without.  

I’ll—I’ll never get the chance, Deku. Katsuki thought, his body still moving forward.  I’ll never get the chance to apologize, to ask forgiveness, to confess—

Katsuki just wanted to be strong.  He relived every moment he and Izuku had shared: the good, the bad and the ugly.  They shared so much: secrets, love, memories. He just wanted to show that he was the best.  And in doing so, he had showed everyone the best in someone else.  

And like a true hero, Katsuki’s body simply moved on its own.  He thought of nothing else. There was no fear of the consequences, no fear of death.  He pushed Izuku out of harm’s way and allowing the quirk of All-for-One to slice through him.

He hoped Izuku knew. He hoped Izuku understood.  He hoped Izuku realized.

—I never hated you, Deku. I’ve always loved you.    

[batarella]

I Don’t Hate You - Part 15 (Jason Todd x Reader)

This is really heavy, folks. Please take note of the warnings. If you recently went through a horrible break-up and/or are sensitive to these kinds of topics, please be warned.

WORDS: 6661 WARNINGS: Heartbreak, Depression, Starvation, Smoking Relapse, Violence, Death

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

April 23

This was exactly what he thought death would be. Someone like him, who fears it so much, who often goes out of his way to put his life in the kind of danger that renders his still ongoing life a sort of miracle, he always tried to envision what it would be like to cross the other side. Would it be just like being alive? Would you get to meet your loved ones and pass on to some heavenly afterlife? Would he be forgotten? Be nothing but plant compost and worm food for all eternity, yet still be aware of everything going around his rotting corpse?

Or, as he feared the most, would it just be a blank, empty state? A big black blob of nothingness? Is the end really the end? And does it mean he’ll be so consumed in an infinite black hole that eats up everything he’s ever stood to live for?

Because if it were that last one, he definitely was dead. Right now, lying soullessly against the headboard of his bed, legs on his torn-up mattress, eyes still locked onto the same, holed out wall across from him, this was death. This is an entirely new kind of emptiness.

It had been hours since he moved. It was already a good amount into the morning, and his room, or what was left of it, had been lifelessly staring back at him for all the hours he kept himself awake, staring, unmoving. There was practically no sign of a clear surface on the floor. Everything was either covered in broken glass, feathers from his pillows, books, debris, clothes. And the dust particles that had been floating around his room have been in plain sight since the sun started peeking through his broken window. He wasn���t bothered by the light spring cold, and the morning disgusted him.

But he didn’t even give it too much a thought. Emptiness was all there is. Nothing. Not a move. Not a word. He decided this, this darkness so blank that it consumes him, it was better than feeling any other shred of emotion there was. If he were to feel regret, or rage, or disgust, or plunge into that bottomless hole of self-hate and depression, he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He knew, just as he knew himself, that all those emotions would come crashing down on him once again just like it did last night, and he didn’t have anything much left in his room to destroy to at least have an outlet for it. But he wanted it all to ball up, never mind what happens after. He just wanted to stop feeling entirely.

“Master Jason, you’re late for school-“

Alfred stopped his tracks the moment he peered into his room. He looked at Jason first, looking like an exhausted, miserable mess, then everything else around the room. Alfred might have that idea that whatever his room looked like, it was exactly the same going on in his head. Beyond any sort of repair. Silent. The awkward kind of peace that came out as the aftermath of an extremely destructive quake of the earth no one anticipated.

He heard the butler close the door. Minutes later, he came back and placed a tray of food on a part of his desk that wasn’t so destroyed. Jason didn’t give him a single glance. He let the hours pass. He let himself starve and reach the point of sleepless exhaustion that his eyes were too painful to even move. Every part of his body stung.

With the avoidance of feelings, it came with blocking out all his thoughts as well. He knew damn well that if any image of you resurfaced into his head, that any syllable out of your voice he’d hear, he’ll tear his own scalp out. So no, he didn’t think of you. He didn’t think of anything at all. He didn’t think about how hungry he was, or how cold he was, or how much he needed to sleep. He let it all happen. He made everything stop around him.

This, he was making time stop.

It was him refusing to let the days go on, to let the hours pass, to let life continue as if nothing happened at all. He wanted everything to just stop, give him the time to cope, if he ever does learn to cope, and make everything around him just as empty and silent as he was. And there was no way he’ll go to the window, stare out at the sun and let it mock him with its reluctance to what he wanted.

He let his food go stale, his body ache at the lack of movement, at the pain in his stomach lurching and twisting. He let everything go on just as he wanted it. And the dust particles, the only thing moving around in his room, he wanted them to stop. If it were raining, he’d want that to stop as well. He just wanted everything to be just as unmoving as he was.

The world was never going to do that. It’ll keep moving on. No one is going to care. Nothing in the earth’s forces will care about how he didn’t want his life to go on just yet. It will always move forward. Time will always move forward. And all this will end up being a memory someday.

You will just be a memory. When at one point, he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with you.

He closed his eyes, stopped another thought of you from surging in his head. No. Not yet.

When the sun fell, and his room plunged into darkness yet again, he heard three knocks outside his door.

Bruce. He could tell from how firm his knuckles were.

The lack of reaction must have sent Bruce away. He of all people would know how to leave someone alone when they needed it. At least he had that going.

Another hour later, Alfred came in to replace his food for the third time that day. He hadn’t touched even one of his meals.

Everyone went on with their lives. Bruce. Alfred. The sun. The earth. And when he took in the darkness once again, he knew life was still going on, days continued to pass. There was nothing he could do to make it all halt. It was just him, refusing to let things go.

The more his hunger worsened, his eyes hurting, his body in immense pain, not even his body was willing to pause for him. It was him against everything else. And what was he to do? Fight it?

He couldn’t fight this.

With the heaviest heart, Jason closed his eyes, and he fell asleep.

-----

April 24

He woke up after sleeping practically half the day.

And the emptiness had left. Despite his futile efforts. It had left sometime he was asleep. He couldn’t remember the nightmares he had, but his mattress was soaked with his tears and his chest was in immense pain, and it was shooting out to his limbs. His head was basically a rock he had to lunge around. Another meal was waiting for him at the table. And he still hadn’t eaten in two days. Everything around him hurt. His head, his chest, his stomach.

You, your face, everything about you, more than a year’s worth of memories, it all came to him. He no longer had the strength to enjoy the emptiness, to pretend any thoughts of you weren’t there at all. And now, he’d come to the point of exhaustion where he couldn’t hold back even just the thought of how you once snorted out a piece of your food one time when you had lunch together. He couldn’t stop the images of you laughing uncontrollably in bed when he wouldn’t stop tickling your stomach. Fuck, even just the way you scrunched up your nose, he couldn’t hold it back. they were far too strong, far stronger than he was now. Nothing stopped them.

And his sobs were inevitable. By then, the hours passed when he barely had any type of strength to stop the tears. A lifetime’s worth, most probably, because he couldn’t stop feeling you, seeing you. His mind wanted desperately to punish him for thinking he could possibly stop all this. He could still ignore the hunger, the dehydration, all the pain around his body. Because you, you, this was you trying to punish him for desperately trying to push you into the deepest black holes in his mind where you’d never be able to resurface.

You, placing your arms from behind him that time he thought he wanted to be alone, when in fact just the feel of you, your nose against the nape of his neck, it made everything so infinitely better.

“Your neck smells nice,” you said to him. His once tense muscles softened when he felt you breathe against his skin.

“Stop sniffing me.”

“No.”

You, rubbing your noses together in bed when you did nothing all night but hide under your blankets, turn on the flashlight on your phone and tell the most ridiculous stories until the sun came up.

“You remember those lights that make your room look like space?”

“Yeah?” you thumbed his chin. It was stuffy under the blankets but you hadn’t stopped laughing.

“Imagine that, but under a blanket fort bigger than this.”

“Make that blanket fort for me, Todd. I swear to God, I’ll marry you.”

Jason’s heart jumped, then he grinned so widely at that thought, turning off the flashlight and pulling you to his lips.

You, when you’d playfully wrestle him on the floor and he always ended up winning, pinning you against the ground, tasting the smile on your lips and letting your laughs vibrate through his mouth.

“Jay, will you let me win, for once?”

“No,” he kissed you again, still holding your hands at the sides of your head. Your lips were so soft, and his hand let go of yours and started wandering down to your bra.

You, with your voice. Your beautiful voice, just one of the reasons he fell in love with you so deeply, when he’d ask that you sing to him in your spontaneous car rides and he’d open up the window so everyone could see how unbelievably beautiful you were.

“If we never learn, we been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets?

The bullets”

Jason had to keep his eyes on the road. He was staring at you way too much. He lowered the car window and you sang even louder. People gave you weird looks, but as long as they saw how beautiful his girlfriend was, nothing mattered.

You, when you got so angry at someone that he’d pull you to the side, hold your shoulders, rub them down with his palms and try to talk you out of it.

“Okay. That’s a time out,” he pulled you aside and let you sit on the stairs. You clenched your jaw, glaring at that person too stupid to cross your way, but you looked up at him and your face softened.

“Fine.”

You sat down, and he sat down with you. He placed his head on your shoulder and held your hand.

You, lying with him naked in bed and letting every inch of your flushed skin stick right up against his. His hands all over you, him moving inside you. Hearing your wonderful cries and moans.

You shivered, holding onto his hair, and he watched your face as you came apart. He could feel your high against him, and fuck, was it the most beautiful thing.

You fell asleep almost instantaneously, and he had you wrapped around his arms.

This. This was him torturing every part of himself for everything that went on. He let everything go through his mind like a fast-moving series of pictures. Every moment. Every single one that was in the back of his mind, some he didn’t even know he remembered, it all came to him so suddenly, like everything with you even before you were his, it was all there. In his head. He underestimated how much he cherished even the littlest things. He never thought he remembered this much about you.

But it was all here, coming to him at the worst time possible. And his cries, audibly sobbing into the mattress, everything hurt so much, nothing could possibly make this stop.

You. You. You. You will always be the best thing that ever happened to him, and the worst mistake of his life.

Because his mind was forcing down into his throat the fact that he was never going to relive all those memories ever again. None of them. Not with you. Not with anyone else.

A part of him he wanted to beat down to the ground looked up at his phone at the side table. The old one. Even with his strongest efforts, he ended up picking up the phone, turning it on.

Your name stared back at him, mocking him that he was always going to be this mindless pit of nothing too weak to do anything about it.

No. It was far too late.

The tears burst out of his eyes when he threw the phone to the other side of the room, shattering it into pieces. The tears never stopped, and once again, it was dark.

Another day passed. Everything was moving on. Except him.

-----

April 25

There were tears again. This time from the pain in his stomach.

It was twisting, pulling so much of his flesh that any move he made physically hurt. He clenched himself in the bed, doing everything he could to suppress the pain. But nothing worked. He buried his face into the sheets and cried. He never once cried from physical pain. And now, without an ounce of strength left in his body, almost everything around him made him bawl his eyes out.

It was probably noon now, because Alfred walked in, holding a new tray of food.

He took one look at Jason and sighed.

“Master Jason, you have to eat.”

He grunted, his hands clutching his stomach. His lips were severely dried out and his skin was extremely pale. Slowly, he craned his head up at Alfred.

“Soup, toast, and eggs. Easy for digestion.”

He turned to the tray. He was so hungry he swore he’ll pass out if he refuses to eat again. His body needed twice the nutrition than the normal person.

“Also, Master Jason. Your school called this morning. You’ll have to come back to class eventually.

“No.”

First thing he’s said in three days.

Alfred bowed slightly at him, then left the room.

He kept staring at the food, calling out to him like it was gripping his chin and luring him in despite the otherwise bland aroma.

Fuck this.

Jason finally stood up from his bed, moved his legs as slightly as he can to hold back the pain, and walked over to where the food was. He smelled like shit, too. But he’ll have to be hauled up by the strongest man alive if they expected him to take a shower right now.

He didn’t take a seat. He didn’t lie on the floor. He stood on his feet, took the bread, took as little bites as he could, drank half the soup, and finished most of the eggs.

His stomach was clenching even more than before, and he leaned against the table, barely holding himself up at all. He was done. He wasn’t eating anymore. All this was hurting far too much.

Jason fell to the floor and he inched himself to lean against the wall.

You’d be disgusted at the sight of him, or laugh at just how much he’d destroyed himself after just three days. You and your endless supply of mean comments and catty remarks would beat up just about everything he still had going on inside him. Fuck, he hated you. He never hated someone so much in his life. He hated what you did to him, as if his life wasn’t already shitty enough. You and your fucking irritating shrieks just had to come in and ruin everything he actually had going on. He never should’ve met you, stayed away from you instead of taking your spice as something to be intrigued about. He should’ve continued to hate you as he initially did when you first met.

He shouldn’t have let it evolve into anything. He only should’ve hated you the past year.

Another knock on the door.

“Master Jason, I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of fixing your phone. All your data is in there. You’ll need it.”

Jason was right by the door, and the old man placed his phone on the table, nodded at him, then left.

It was the newer model, looking unscathed without a single crack on the screen.

He knew he shouldn’t.

Fuck, everything the past two days will be for nothing.

As if he made any kind of progress. He only ate so he wouldn’t die.

He shouldn’t.

But he really wanted to.

He took the phone, unlocked it, and his wallpaper already made him choke.

You and him on the bed, with you biting his cheek and him laughing, smiling at the camera. You wore his hoodie, one of the many hoodies you stole from him, and he had that little crinkle in his eyes that only ever showed up at times when he was truly happy.

He let the hate pull through. He let himself remember all the pain, the unnecessary fighting, all the things he’s always grown to get annoyed at-

Oh, who the fuck was he kidding. He couldn’t hate you even if he tried.

Your flaws were a part of you and it only made him love you more. Nothing irritated him. He could fight with you all day and he’ll do it again the next day. You never once made him wish he wasn’t at your side, never once did you push him to the point where he’d rather do anything else other than laugh and talk endlessly with you, didn’t matter what it was about. He can listen to your angry screams all day and still kiss you like nothing happened.

He scoffed at himself. Like he could succumb to all that in an attempt to forget about you.

He knew he shouldn’t do it. But the part that missed you terribly, the part that always admitted to still being hopelessly in love with you, pushed him to do it. He opened his photo albums.

The first photo was the most recent. When you went to explore an abandoned mansion about fifteen minutes away from Wayne Manor. An old neighbor of the Waynes that had to leave the house from bankruptcy.  It was just as large and grandeur, and you both ended up dancing around the old ballroom like goofs. The photo was of you when you were twirling around in a dark grey dress.

The next was of him when you took his phone and started spamming his albums of him asleep. His mouth was open wide, and he was drooling on the pillow. He remembered waking up and wrestling you down on the bed when you got caught.

He swiped more.

You eating across from him on a dinner date. From your birthday. He took you everywhere you wanted. And it lasted all throughout the night, taking you home when it was already morning. Your hair was beautiful, covering half your face when you bashfully looked down. Your lips were a deep red, and you looked gorgeous.

Another of you and him, when you went to the Christmas Market like you did on your first date. You wore a beanie, and he was completely covered up with his scarf. You took that selfie even with your shaking fingers and he remembered laughing when you dropped your own phone, taking a whole minute trying to pick it up from the ground from all the snow around.

Tears had long fell on the side of his face. His heart. Warming up the way it was supposed to be when he was happy. And he was smiling, staring at your face like you were the single more perfect thing in the world.

And you were.

Then he kept swiping, his finger stopping at a picture of you barely having anything on.

He choked on his breath. He knew what else he had saved. He saved copies into a specific album with a passcode locked specifically for nights when he wasn’t with you and was feeling particularly lonely and excited.

Gulping down, he swiped.

Fuck.

Your lips between your teeth.

Swipe.

Your tongue peeking out.

Swipe.

Your naked body on the bed.

Swipe.

Your ass bent over.

Swipe.

Your bare chest.

Swipe.

Your wet, needy p-

He had to fucking stop.

He turned his phone off, then stuffed his face into his hands.

All that. It was only ever going to exist in photos. It was all he’s ever going to have with you now. But your looks, it was just one thing about you he wanted to hold onto. The pictures can't give him the feel of your skin, your lips, your hair. It couldn’t give him your addicting scent when he inhaled into your head. It couldn’t speak out, tell him that you loved him.

And none of that was ever going to come back.

You weren’t coming back.

But, somehow, if the you he had in his arms just months ago were to tell him anything now, you’d tell him to get up, fix his bed. And tomorrow, he’ll get out of his room and go to school.

Jason, focusing on that voice of yours, stood up from the floor, then started to pick his sheets from the ground.

-----

April 26

Never in his three years at the manor did Bruce Wayne, his supposed father, drive him to school all the way down to the gates.

But Bruce must have either felt guilty for only sending Alfred into his room for three days instead of checking on him himself, or just wanted to make sure Jason actually went to class. Probably the latter.

“Call me if you need anything, Jason.”

He got out the car, sighed, and before he closed the door, he managed to nod at Bruce. “Thanks.”

He shut the door, then turned around.

The campus. The sun. The people.

Everything went on as it should. No one gave him a second glance. No one looked just as miserable as he was. This was the world’s way of telling him he really was alone in this, that nothing was ever going to stop for him even if he tried his hardest at stopping the hours from ticking by.

And it was all too bright. Too fast. People were walking at a noticeably faster pace expecting him to move along with them. People were smiling, laughing so hard it echoed throughout the driveway. Some were running, some reading while running. He saw couples hand in hand. He saw teachers walking by. Everything was just the way it was the last time he was here.

His chest started heaving. Everything was too much. And the thought of going into that school and possibly seeing you-

No. He wasn’t doing this. This was bullshit. All of it.

Jason turned the other way from the school, all the way down to a nearby alley at the back of the building. There was a dumpster there, and before he met you, he often went here on days when he wasn’t really feeling it.

He realized it had been almost two years since he last smoked.

Well, that streak ends now.

The darkness in the alleyway somehow gave him a strange, welcoming comfort. This was something he was more used to. And if it meant staying here for the rest of the day, go back to his sulking and sitting and staring into nothing at all the whole day, then so be it.

From a pocket in his bag, he pulled out his box of cigarettes and lighter. He placed one in his mouth, lit it up, then inhaled the deepest breath he could.

Jason leaned against the wall, looking straight up at the sky. Then he breathed out the smoke and watched it disperse into the clearer air. He closed his eyes. He let his lingering thoughts of you subside for just a moment. He let the smoke calm his nerves, calm his head. He let the light spring cold nip at his cheeks.

He finished a single stick in a few minutes, then he started pulling out another.

He still had the whole day here before he could go home. He could walk out of here, go into the city and hang out somewhere else where being caught didn’t mean immediate expulsion. But he knew firsthand that absolutely no one came into this part of the alley. No one who’d reprimand him, to be exact. A janitor caught him once or twice, and all he did was nod at him and be on his way.

This was all the way back when he didn’t have you to console him at his worst. When he didn’t have you. The him before you. And here he was, back to where he started.

Another stick down. He needed another one.

He breathed the smoke out his nostrils. And when he watched the smoke in the air, he could have sworn he saw your face somewhere like corrupted static. But days of endless tears had him run out, most probably for the next few hours. He expected to go back home and cry the whole night away. Fucking hell, this must have been years-worth of tears held back.

Just as he closed his eyes to let the smoke consume him, he heard a voice come in to the alleyway.

“Jason?”

“Shit.” He flinched, fumbling to throw his cigarette on the ground and cover it with his foot.

But it was just Penny.

He rolled his eyes. “What?”

“You're back in school.”

“Sure.”

“Won't you go to class?”

“No.”

He pulled out the last stick he had in his box and lit it up.

“Gonna rat me out now?”

“No. And don’t worry. I know how to keep secrets from faculty.”

Of course, she does. Penny was your friend. Half the shit she’s seen you do would’ve sent you to prison by now.

“The Vice Principal called all your friends to look for you. Even me.”

“Well, you found me. And there’s no way I’m letting you take me to Watson.”

“Actually.” Penny walked over to stand in front of him. “Vice Principal Watson quit her job. She had this whole speech about how much she wanted to help troubled people. The new Vice Principal wants you in his office.”

“I’m not going.”

She turned to the ground.

He wished Penny didn’t grow so silent. He knew there was so much pity behind it, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to look down on him with pity. She rocked back and forth in her shoes, and with her sweet voice, she spoke.

“I heard what happened.”

Jason turned away from her and breathed out another cloud of smoke. He made sure she didn’t see the look in his eyes. Before he’d fall too weak to stop himself from crying again.

“You okay?”

He took the cigarette off his mouth, holding it between his fingers. “What does it look like?”

Penny sighed. “I’m really sorry-“

“Don’t. Just leave me alone.”

She looked down at her hands.

“You’re exactly like Y/N… You’re both so mean and bossy...”

He rolled his eyes again, shaking his head. He knew she was just trying to help. But the last thing he wanted was to talk to anyone. He might, someday. But right now, he really just wanted to be alone.

And at the mention of your name, he really, really needed to be alone.

“If it means anything, I lied about the Vice Principal asking me to look for you…”

He quirked up a brow. “The fuck you talking about?”

“Y/N asked me…”

He dropped the cigarette in his hand.

Knowing you, you definitely asked Penny to report if he was around. Knowing you, you’d rather sulk up in bed than to be in the same building as him right now.

“Don’t tell her. Please. She told me she’ll kill me if she knew I told you. But you just looked so sad and I-“

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

He cleared his throat, watching the clouds above just to keep himself from sinking in too much to his overtaking thoughts.

“I’ll go now. Take care, Jason.”

“Wait.”

He knew he shouldn’t. But he wanted to. He cared too much. Still, despite everything.

“How is she?”

Penny looked at the ground.

“Penny…”

“She told me not to talk to you.”

“Just tell me-“

“She’ll kill me.”

“Just don’t tell her. You’re worried about her, too.”

“I am…”

Penny looked around. No one was around them. She bit her lips and started fiddling with her yellow sundress.

“She hasn’t come to class. She barely eats. She won't talk to anyone, not even her mom. She locks herself in her room and she still hasn’t come out. It’s really bad, Jason. Just this morning, she texted how you were.”

He bit his lips.

Maybe you asked because you wanted to know if he was okay, not just so you could stay away.

He didn’t know what to think. You were unpredictable that way.

And of course, you dealt with this exactly the same way he did. And it worried him. A lot.

“You can tell her I’m not around.”

She shrieked, her feet trembling on the ground. “I can't lie to her again.”

“Fine. Tell her whatever you want.”

Penny nodded. “I will!”

Jason sighed and looked out into the wide open plane next to the school. The grass was green now, unlike that beautiful autumn brown when you and him were standing nearby, hugging after he gave you that Edgar Allan Poe book.

“I hope you’ll do okay, Jason.”

Penny, little happy Penny, then gave him a hug, to which he didn’t return, then started to walk out the alley.

“Penny…”

He was glad they got to be friends overtime, otherwise this would have been too much to ask. Hell, anything would be too much to ask.

But he needed the assurance.

“Take care of her for me, will you?”

She smiled at him, nodded, then walked away.

----- April 27

He knew, deep in the last sane parts of his mind, that this was the worst idea.

For one, it was downright wrong and creepy. You’d murder him if you found out. Not that you probably would find out, but he still hadn’t figured out how you knew about him being Robin. He should be giving you more credit than he actually does. So yeah, this was a bad idea. You’ll never forgive him. Bruce and Alfred will look down on him. The whole world will hate him.

But he’s been meaning to check on you, not just from someone else’s words, but with his own eyes. He really needed to make sure you were okay. That you weren’t hurting yourself too much. And he knew you were hurting yourself. Just like he was. He couldn’t bare the thought of you suffering. Despite it all, despite everything, he loved you all the way to the ends of the farthest stars. The last thing he wanted was for you to never get back on your feet.

And from what he was about to do, what he planned on doing right after this, he was sure seeing your face just one last time would give him some kind of closure.

So he had to do this. For himself. Just once.

Hoodie over his head, hands stuck to his pockets, Jason climbed up the fire escape on the building across your apartment and crouched over the rooftop ledge.

He peered over and found your room, the window wide open, and he could see inside. He could see you.

You…

Jason bit back his tears.

He was basically doing this to hurt himself. And seeing you like this, it was the kind of hurt he wouldn’t wish onto this worst enemies.

Your room looked just about as wrecked as his. Clothes, books, and other things all over the floor as well. Only your bed wasn’t completely destroyed. He could only see so much, but he could see enough.

You were asleep, lying on the bed without a blanket. You were crouched over, hugging yourself. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you were stuffing your face into a pillow. Your body looked limp and lifeless, but he could see your back slowly rising to your breaths. You looked cold.

And broken…

Even from standing so far, he could tell you were crying even in your sleep. He knew the details on your face enough, memorized them to the point where he could tell what you were thinking just from looking at you. And you looked hurt, so hurt to the point where it was hurting him back.

He felt tears incoming, and he closed his eyes, letting them seep through.

So desperately he wanted to climb to your room, pull your blanket over you and make sure you weren’t cold.

And, if the stars aligned, you’ll wake up, see him, hold him, kiss him, and this whole nightmare would be over.

But he hurt you too much…

He was going to hurt you again if he did that.

Eyes watching you so longingly for hours on end, Jason felt every bit of his heart break, even more than he thought it already had. His lips were trembling, eyes shaking, his hands were sweating off his palms. Every beat in his chest hurt. This was finishing up what was already so broken.

He wanted you to be okay, to live the life you deserved.

He wanted you to go to College of the Arts, be the most talented singer there was, the singer he knew you were, and blow everyone away with your incredible talent. He wanted you to be so successful that you’ll never once look back to how it was to be if he and you lasted. He wanted you to have that family you always wanted, grow to be so old you wouldn’t be able to walk, but still have enough sass in you to have the mind you had right now. He wanted you to be so happy that you’ll never have to remember him, wishing things were different.

He wanted everything for you…

Even if it meant it wouldn’t be with him…

So now, this is how he’s going to be. He’ll watch you from afar, take care of you in all the ways you didn’t know. You’ll hate him for that. And you’ll drive him away for sure. But this is the only way he’ll be able to cope. He’ll always be there. Watch you. Be far enough away to stay out of your life, but close enough to make sure that life was what you deserved.

It’ll hurt more than anything in the whole world, but eventually, you’re going to find someone else, someone to repair what he left so broken, and make you so happy that you’ll wish you never met him. He’ll have to watch you hold someone else’s hand, kiss their lips, hold them in your arms just as you did with him.

He’ll have to watch you marry someone else. Spend the rest of your life with them the way he always wanted with you.

And… as much as it stung, he wished that for you. He wanted that for you.

But he’ll be there for you. No matter what. He always will.

“I love you…”

He knew you’d never hear him, but he still wanted to say it while he was looking at you. And he pretended to hear it back from your sweet, perfect lips.

Jason looked away, wiped the last of his tears with his sleeves and focused on the ground before his heart would continue to break even more.

Now, he had something else to do.

Now, there was nothing holding him back.

Not Bruce. Not you.

Nothing was going to stop him now.

Jason pulled out a black domino mask from his pocket. He stared back into the white eyes, feeling it mold into his hand. It slowly started to rain, and the droplets started seeping through his clothes.

It wasn’t much about you as it was about him. And now, he might as well take advantage of this deep, angry hurt and bring something good out of it.

He’ll have to run away from home after this. He was sure of it. Bruce would never take him back in.

Not after he kills. Intentionally this time.

So, with all the strength he’d mustered up,

Jason put on the mask, took his hoodie and jeans off and let his cape flow from his shoulders to the ground.

Robin saw the light of the moon just one last time.

----

“Thirty-six…”

“Thirty-seven…”

“Thirty-eight…”

“Thirty-nine….”

“FORTY!!!”

His eyes were too swollen for him to see anything in front of him at this point.

“Sixty-two…”

A tooth fell out. That was the third one that night.

“Ninety-seven…”

Killing the clown. By himself. Who was he kidding?

“One hundred twenty-five…”

His laughter. His horrible, horrible voice.

The crowbar hit the side of his head and everything went black for the shortest moment.

“Don’t die on me just yet, boy wonder…”

His demonic, pale face, blood red mouth and dark eyes. The monster took him by the face, and Robin spat at him.

Another hit to the ribs. All of them would have been broken by now.

He coughed out blood and stayed as still as he could, drowning everything around him. But each time the crowbar snapped at his bones, he ended up tasting more of his blood.

Why can't he just die? Why isn’t his body giving out yet?

Almost two hundred hits, then Joker stopped.

“Well, I’m bored…” He threw the crowbar to the floor. “I have to give it to you, Robin, you pack quite the fight- HAHAHAHAHAHA!“

He no longer heard what he said. He just felt every bone in his body break and his breath being stopped by his own blood clogging his throat and nose.

He heard the door of the warehouse close shut.

Robin, shaking on the floor, looked up and around him.

His communicator. It was thrown just a few yards away.

He inched on the floor, so slowly that each movement he made broke yet another bone in his leg and arms. But he kept going. He kept his eyes on the tiny earpiece, his hands still tied together.

And when he got to it, he placed it on his head, flinching at the broken bones in his ear being pressed on.

“S-send coordinates to B-Batman…”

He laid on the floor, his ribs tearing at his flesh every time he breathed.

He was going to die.

A beeping sound.

He looked to his left.

A bomb.

His worst fears. Worse than he could ever have imagined.

He was going to die.

He was going to die.

He was going to die.

He swallowed, eyes on the painful white light in the ceiling.

“Record v-voice message to Y/N…”

He heard his communicator click.

The beeping, it was getting faster.

“Y/N…” he whispered.

“I-“

-----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

------

everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf @ loxbbg  reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherries shadowsndaisiesriver9noble zphilophobiazannoylinglyaries @knightfall05x @l-horizon11

[alj4890]

I have an ask? What if Liam and Riley went skiing and there was avalanche.

Oof. This couple can't catch a break with the requests lately, LOL. I have to be honest, Nonny, snow is rare where I am and I sadly do not live near any mountain ranges. Avalanches are something I had to research since the only knowledge I have is basically what I have seen in movies. I'll give this a shot though and hopefully not mess it up too much with my ignorance. On a side note, I still really want to try snow skiing, LOL

Masterlist

Minutes

Lythikos, Cordonia...

"Why didn't we think to do this sooner?" Riley removed her glasses and took a deep breath of the crisp, chilled air. "I needed this after all the council meetings we have had this week."

"So have I." Liam replied. His gaze took in unparalleled view of this part of his kingdom as snow began to fall. A smile graced his lips. "I wonder what it says about our council that we are willing to escape to the top of a mountain for a moment of peace?"

Riley chuckled and motioned toward the downhill path before them. "I think we both know what that says." She turned toward her husband of a few months with a bright smile. "Now, are we going to waste this precious time talking about people who annoy us or are we going to see who wins the bet?"

Liam handed her one of the stop watches he had brought along. "You're right, as usual my love."

His blue eyes glowed as they slowly traveled his wife's figure. " Just for the record, I intend to win this. The prize is most desirable."

Riley lowered her eyes while her smile grew. "We'll see who wins." She cut her gaze toward him. "Though I suspect neither of us will lose out this evening."

Liam winked at her as he readied to push off.

"On your mark. Get set." Riley started the timer. "Go!"

Liam took off, causing a cheer to escape her lips.

Amazed at his ability to be perfect even in something like this, she felt a slight shift under her feet. She glanced down and noticed a crack along the snow forming a fault line of sorts.

Realizing what it was, panic caused her to leap back.

The snow slid out from under her as she wrapped her arms around the pine tree a few feet behind her.

She turned her head and watched as the snow picked up speed.

Directly heading toward Liam.

"NO!" She screamed in vain. "LIAM! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

Tears of frustration streamed down her face as she kept her eyes on him. Knowing he couldn't hear her with the wind picking up around them, she prayed he somehow veered off course.

Liam reached the spot they had agreed to be the end of their competition and turned to look back up the slope at his wife.

His eyes widened at the amount of snow and debris careening toward him.

Years of disaster sceranio training caused him to try and move parallel to the onslaught as quickly as he could.

Within seconds, he was caught up in the avalanche, ripped off his skis, and sent tumbling under. His survival instincts kicked in and he began to swim through the snow, reaching the surface every so often for that needed gulp of air.

Riley covered her mouth as a scream ripped through her, seeing his struggles and unable to do anything about it.

When his body trembled with exhaustion and the weight of his winter clothing, he kept his left arm raised in the hopes that once it stopped he could be discovered quickly.

With his right hand, he continued to push the snow away from smothering him, doing his best to keep a pocket of air always in front of him. Tree limbs and rocks scraped against him as he struggled to remain upright.

Riley sank to her knees, crying his name while praying that she wouldn't lose him.

Why did I suggest we get away alone to do this?

Though it felt like hours had gone past, it had barely been a handful of minutes by the time the world around her seemed to still. She reached in her pocket for the now remembered radio and quickly called for Bastien. Her words were interrupted by breathless sobs as she told him what had happened.

Unable to obey Bastien's commands to remain where she was , she took off skiing as fast as she could toward the last spot she had seen Liam's arm.

"Please." She repeated over and over. "Please stay alive."

She skid to a stop at the spot and panic once more set in.

There was no sign of Liam.

Quickly removing her skis, she dropped to her knees and began to use one to dig through the snow.

"Liam!" She shouted every few seconds followed by a prayer. "Please! Help me!" Tear froze along her cheeks as she moved round digging in a frantic nature. "Show me where you are!"

"Don't leave me." She pleaded. "Please, come back to me."

As she dug her fifth hole, her ski was jerked to a stop.

Her heart stopped along with it as she used her hands to brush the snow away, revealing Liam's gloved hand grasping her ski.

A hysterical laugh burst out as her tears came faster. Her frenzied movements tossed snow in every direction as she dug to save him.

"Liam!" She exclaimed when she saw his face looking up at her.

An exhausted smile flickered across his lips as he breathed easier.

"Riley!"

She spun around and saw Bastien along with a team of guards and emergency personnel rushing toward her.

"He's here!" She yelled out. "He's alive!"

She got out of the way so that they could lift Liam from the snow.

Cuts and bruises marked his handsome face as he tried to reassure everyone he was not seriously injured.

Burying her face in her snow covered gloves, she broke down crying again, thinking of how close she came to losing him

She felt his arms go around her, trying to comfort her.

"You saved me, my love." He said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Just like you always do."

[jancmalandra]

The Shipwreck

On the temptation to return to old ambitions

By mid-May Snufkin and Moomintroll had started mounting occasional expeditions into the wildernesses of Moominvalley for themselves and the children of the village again, as they had done every Spring and Summer since Moomintroll and Snork Maiden's children turned six. They would spread the word of their latest hike a few days before they set out, inviting any child who wished to join them. They would always find a fair number of children waiting for them in front of Moominhouse on the morning that they planned to leave. The children would have their backpacks packed in case the hike lasted more than a day.

Little My never missed these expeditions as they provided excellent opportunities for mischief and excitement. On the twenty-sixth of May Moominvalley was struck by a very powerful storm. The next day Little My immediately suggested to Moomintroll and Snufkin that they mount an expedition to the beach to search for treasures that might have washed up on the shore as soon as possible. The two of them readily agreed and sent Little My to spread the word that they would leave in three days, and then they began to pack for the trip.

The morning of the twenty-ninth came and Moomintroll, Snufkin, Tayberry, Moomin and Little My said goodbye to Snork Maiden, Moominpapa, and Moominmama and stepped out of the front door to see who had joined them. Boyle, Bristol, and Auguste were at the forefront of the small crowd of children as usual. Gerard, Peter, and Martin were right behind them in their finest hunting gear. Hiding behind Gerard was a welcome new addition, Snork and Sniff's adopted son, Snerf. He was clearly doing his best to be brave and ready for adventure and had a determined look on his face. Gerard had clearly made fast friends with the little monster and was acting as his strongest supporter.

Moomintroll and Snufkin looked at each other and silently decided together not to take undue note of Snerf joining them so that he wouldn't feel singled out and uncomfortable.

"Alright everyone!", said Snufkin, "Let's head out for the beach!"

The children and Little My lined up behind him and Moomintroll and they all began marching down the path to the beach, talking cheerily amongst themselves and occasionally striking up a song. When they reached the beach, they saw a very promising sight: there was driftwood and other assorted flotsam everywhere.

Little My was the first to begin inspecting and sorting through the debris and all the children quickly joined her. Gerard and Snerf made their way up the boardwalk to the bathhouse to get a better look at the full expanse of the beach. Snerf climbed to the top of the bathhouse in an instant and looked carefully in all directions. His large, green eyes suddenly widened in surprise and then delight. He forgot to be afraid in his excitement and rushed over to Moomintroll and Snufkin who were observing all the children with contented nostalgia from the top of the beach.

"Mr. Moomintroll, sir!", he said, jumping up and down, "There's been huge rock slide on the cliff just a few miles down the beach! It looks like a really big cave has been opened up! Can we check it out?!"

"Most definitely!", said Moomintroll. Then he called out to Little My and the other children, "Everyone! A new cave has opened up further down the beach! Everyone get into The Adventure and we'll sail there!"

Everyone quickly obeyed Moomintroll's instructions and piled into the boat. Moomintroll untied the mooring rope and he and Snufkin rowed The Adventure away from the bathouse. They raised the sail and the wind, which was a little strong, immediately filled it and they headed towards the cave. As they drew closer, the cave became more and more enticing. The large boulders that once sealed off the cave were strewn here and there in the bay, peaking out just above the level of the surf. Snufkin lowered the sail, and he and Moomintroll took up the oars and rowed around the boulders carefully and into the huge mouth of the cave.

The morning sunlight poured into the cave, making it very easy to see everything in it. The first sight that greeted the crew of The Adventure was a very old pirate ship which had been left at anchor in the middle of the large pool of water that took up most of the cave. Moomintroll and Snufkin rowed around the ship, confirming that the hull was still completely intact and to look for a way to board the ship. They saw a boarding ladder hanging from the deck rail, the bottom of which was hanging just out of their reach. Gerard and Snerf whispered back and forth urgently between themselves for maybe thirty seconds and then Gerard climbed onto Snerf's back and Snerf climbed the mast of The Adventure and leapt onto the boarding ladder. They reached the deck of the pirate ship and let the boarding ladder the rest of the way down. Everyone quickly joined them on the deck and gaped in wonder at the wreck for several minutes.

The ship was a three-masted schooner and it was in amazingly good condition for its age. The masts were broken and the sails were long gone, but that seemed to be the worst of the damage. The paint had almost entirely chipped away from every surface, but all the wood seemed intact and strong. The door to the quarterdeck in the ship's stern swung back and forth with the tide, almost like an invitation to come in. The door to the lower decks was in the middle of the deck and was wide open.

"Well, it would be rude to refuse such a polite invitation!", declared Snufkin as he detached his small camping lantern from his backpack and lit it, "Boyle, Bristol, Auguste, Peter and Martin, let's explore the lower decks! Moomintroll, you take everyone else and explore the quarterdeck!", and with that Snufkin led his group down the steps to the gun deck.

Moomin and Tayberry immediately ran through the door to the captain's quarters in the quarterdeck, and Moomintroll, Little My, Gerard, and Snerf stayed together on the main deck near the helm. Moomintroll fiddled distractedly with the wheel, which was clearly no longer connected to the rudder, staring dreamily at the whole ship. Little My pulled forcefully at his elbow, bringing him back to his senses.

"Oh! Little My!" exclaimed Moomintroll, "I thought that you were with Snufkin! Surely you want to explore the hold and see whether there's still any treasure to be found?"

"There's plenty of time for that later! Besides, the pirates almost certainly made off with their treasure after hiding their ship here. I want to have a word with you before Snufkin comes back and tries to stop me. You know very well that you've been dreaming of something like this falling into your lap since you were little! Everyone here is thinking the same thing as you; 'Let's fix up this ship and go on a really big adventure around the world!' If you fail to seize control of this project right now, I'm going to lose any slight respect for you that I might have ever had! Your whole life, you've always given in to what other people wanted from you! If Snufkin hadn't fallen in love with you, you'd never have gone after him, Snork Maiden would have eventually forced you to marry her and forced Snufkin out of your lives and you'd have willingly spent the rest of your life being miserable just to please her! You need to finally stand up for yourself and take this ship for yourself! You know that you've more than earned it!", said Little My angrily, forcing Moomintroll back one step with every sentence.

"First of all, Little My, I know that you know Snork Maiden better than that, and that you don't have such a low opinion of her! Secondly, I thought that you had been plotting for ages before the three of us came together to force us to realize how we really felt about our relationship! Thirdly, all of us here found this ship, not just me, and we all get a say in what we're going to do with it! Lastly, I ended up getting everything I ever dreamed of by NOT forcing my wishes upon those I love!", said Moomintroll just as forcefully as Little My, which took her very much by surprise.

Snufkin and the other children reemerged from below and Moomin and Tayberry exited the captain's quarters at that very moment, breaking up their argument.

"Snufkin!", said Moomintroll eagerly, "How are things down there?"

"It all looks very promising. We should only need to do some basic repairs and repaint the whole ship to get her seaworthy again. Of course, we'll need to find a way to pitch the canons overboard. They're beyond repair to begin with and we're not going to be needing them. Also, the hold is totally empty. Not so much as a doubloon to seen, thank The Booble!", said Snufkin.

"Gather 'round everyone!", said Moomintroll loudly, "I know that you're all thinking what Snufkin and I are: 'Can we repair this ship and take it out on adventures?' It's entirely up to all you children. You found this ship, so what it becomes is your choice. I'll help you only as much as you want me to and we'll only go as fast you like."

The children all cheered joyously and immediately climbed back into The Adventure and began excitedly discussing their plans. Little My was the last to board The Adventure and she sat fuming silently in the stern the entire trip back to the boardwalk leading to the bathhouse. Snufkin and Moomintroll brought up the rear of the group as they all headed back to Moominhouse.

Snufkin put his paw lovingly in Moomintroll's and said, "I'm very proud of how well you handled that. I can guess how hard it was for you to hand over that ship to the children. I can also guess why you and Little My aren't on speaking terms right now. If you want to talk about it, Snork Maiden and I will always be there for you anytime you need us. You know that very well, don't you?"

"Thank you, Snufkin!", said Moomintroll a little tearfully, and he kissed him tenderly, "I really do need to talk about it once we get back to Moominhouse and we have some time to ourselves!"

To Be Continued

[elaraves]

A Humble Gift

Elara Ves walked alone with her Ghost through the decaying European Dead Zone. The sun shined brightly down upon her back, providing warmth in the current chilly climate. She continued over an overgrown cement roadway, past abandoned cars from a long forgotten era lying along it. Elara kicked a few stray pebbles below her feet, enjoying the small joys of being outside the Tower. She looked up to the tunnel she was approaching to see a familiar figure covered in darkened armor, sitting leisurely in wait on the rubble stacked on one side of the opening.

“So he made it,” Question muttered to her, “It’s kind of weird seeing him not at… well you know..”

“Why wouldn’t he come, we’re acquaintances now after all. We shared drinks to toast our victory last week,” Elara quietly responded from behind her equipped helmet.

“That was nice… It felt good finally having something to celebrate, even for just a moment. I don’t think I’ve seen you two at such ease.”

Elara smiled faintly, before returning to her neutral expression.

“I just wish he could have shared it with others too.”

They continued walking in silence, but Elara knew he agreed with her. The figure noticed their arrival and stood from his temporary post. Elara waved gently to him, faintly noticing his Ghost happily twirling into view beside him. They both turned to each other, most likely to converse as they patiently waited for her. When the two finally converged, they shared a firm mutual handshake.

“Glad you could make it,” Elara said.

“Well.. I have a lot of free time now,” the figure joked, his normal voice slightly distorted by the voice modulator in his helmet, “Now, what’s this “surprise” you have for me?”

“Follow me.”

Elara held a hand out below her Ghost and gave a soft nod. A beautifully crafted sparrow flashed into existence at her side. She threw a leg over the seat and turned to face her ally.

“Guess we’ll catch up with you,” his Ghost commented.

“What do you mean?” Elara teased.

She extended her palm to the space between them, a simple undecorated sparrow appearing beside her. She wished she could see his face past his helmet, but the giddy movement of his Ghost worked for now.

“She’s an older model. I used her briefly before upgrading, so I figured you’d have more use of her,” Elara said, “Feel free to decorate her how you like, she’s your’s.”

“Thank you,” her ally’s humbled voice said.

Elara waited a moment for him to get on and look over the control panel.

“I lied though, you’ll need to catch up,” she said, immediately pulling back on the throttle of her ride.

Her sparrow roared to life flying forward under her calculated guidance, leaving only a trail of light and dust behind. She weaved effortlessly down the darkened tunnel, bobbing back and forth around more destroyed cars and caved in architecture. Up ahead the light from the end grew larger before her, until she skidded to a halt outside the archway in the open air. She quickly looked behind to make sure her ally was following, to see them in steady pursuit behind. He was just being a bit more cautious, trying to get a feel for his new ride.

Elara turned back and continued forward over the grass, rock, and past the long abandoned encampment. Up ahead she found a familiar, partially destroyed attempt at a bridge over the gaps in the cliffs surrounding her. When she got closer, she lined up her sparrow and pushed it into the highest possible speed. There was a moment of weightlessness and adrenaline, as her sparrow flew up and over the collapsed section, before touching down upon the soil of the other side. She skidded to the side as she turned the nose to the left, and came to a soft halt just up ahead before a naturally-occurring rock formation. She turned to watch for her companion as she dismounted, letting the engine come to rest below her. Following her example, they flew less gracefully over the gap, coming to a more bumpy landing.

“Now there’s something you never thought you’d see,” she chuckled softly to her Ghost.

Her ally came to a hard stop beside her and let their arms fall off the handles.

“It’s just a short walk up ahead,” Elara’s voice broke the silence between them.

Elara allowed Question to transmat her sparrow as she climbed over the rock to continue down the path before them. He vanished from sight after finishing, and Elara’s ally and his Ghost followed suit.

It had been a while since Elara was last in this area, having been busy for months on her own in the field. She allowed herself to fondly take in her surroundings, now that it was quiet. Normally she’d be too busy to appreciate the trees and the accompanying hardy flora growing around them and at her feet. A few birds flew off the branches from overheard, chirping as they moved in unison. Elara stopped when she reached the end, a rocky ascent standing before her and a forced opening to a man-made structure inside to her right.

“What’s that?” her ally questioned, looking over the mangled debris that was scattered about.

“Oh, that’s one of the Black Armory Forges. I can explain a bit about it later, but it’s not what we’re here for,” she answered, before beginning to climb the rocky cliff face before her, “This way.”

With the combined use of her climbing and Warlock jumps, Elara had no trouble scaling above to the top plateau. Her ally had no trouble either, but relied on some of their calculated leaps inside of floating. Elara extended her arms forward to what she had waiting for them, once they both safely reached the top.

“And here we are,” she said.

Before them sat a neglected structure. Areas that had collapsed in or been destroyed were boarded up like rough patchwork, along with all of the windows on the first level. Vines clung around the outside walls and choked at least one side entirely. Nothing special stood out about the building, but it was at least standing with a roof intact.

“That’s an.. abandoned building?” her ally said confused.

She moved towards it and gestured with a wave for him to follow. “Not just any, come on.”

She leisurely walked up to the door standing in front of her and turned the knob on it. The two stepped inside, darkness encompassing them. Both of their Ghosts appeared at their sides to provide a light source, and Elara moved further in towards a piece of heavy equipment at the back wall. She flipped a few switches and the warm lights around them came to life. She hit another button and messed with a knob to turn on the makeshift heating elements. Elara removed her helmet and sighed softly in relief, before moving past her ally to set it on a countertop in a tossed kitchen area. She reached up to one of the many cabinets missing a door and pulled a pair of granola bars from the small stash of rations in it. She jumped up and sat atop a series of crates stacked along the wall beside her.

“Here, catch!” she said, holding one of the packaged bars up before tossing it over to her ally. He caught it mid air without issue, and sat at a tall chair on the other side of the counter facing towards Elara. Elara opened the packaging of her’s, and watched him as he set it down in front of him and moved his hands to remove his helmet.

The familiar glow of his golden eyes fell upon his gear. He brushed his raven-colored hair back into a comfortable place, the stray white streak following his fingers. The newly appointed Guardian, who still went by the name Crow, looked up at Elara.

“What’s all this?” Crow asked, the dull white tattoo across his face crinkling in confusion as he gestured at his surroundings.

“You like it? Figured you needed a new place as an option, since you’re not working for Spider anymore. I wanted it to be an upgrade, one that doesn’t stink and that you don’t have to fight Taken to get to,” Elara answered, before taking a bite from the bar in her hand.

Crow took a moment to look around. It was pretty dusty and barren. An old couch was pushed against the wall to his right with mismatched bedding dumped over it. A large wooden table with a few accompanying chairs sat in the middle of the space. The only carpet was a small rug to wipe your feet at the door and an average squared mirror with a crack in the bottom corner was nailed off-center on the wall behind him.

“I- I don’t know what to say.. Thank you,” Crow said, turning back to face her again.

“No problem, it’s the least I could do as thanks for your help with the Wrathborn,” Elara responded, “You’ve got all your basic amenities along with rations, tools, and supplies in these crates.”

Elara patted the crates she was sitting on to show what she was talking about.

“Oh and there’s more here,” she continued, shoving the last of her food in her mouth before jumping up to her feet.

Crow watched as she walked past him again, and stood before following her down a set of wooden stairs to a lower level of the building. Elara flipped a switch to turn on the light and continued to the bottom. There were mainly more scattered tools and books on a few tables, but there were also the two things Elara was most excited for Crow to finally have. Before them sat a clean bed, with various colorful pillows and warm bedding. A large white banner with beautiful golden and blue designs used for the Dawning event was hung on the wall it was pressed against.

“Thank you Elara, you are far too generous,” Crow softly remarked, his eyes still admiring the banner.

“Yeah well there’s also space upstairs, so if I need some place to “hide out” once and awhile, don’t be surprised if I crash here unexpectedly. That’s what this place was beforehand, a quiet place to come and think. Oh, and also to watch over the Forge occasionally,” Elara commented, “There’s not much traffic anymore though, and I haven’t seen many Eliksni this way in some time, not that that’d be a problem.”

“You care to explain this “Forge” now?”

“Right!” Elara almost shouted, remembering she never told him about it, “Come on, let’s talk as we unload the crates. I’ll take you in after for a little tour.”

Crow nodded in agreement, and followed Elara, as she walked back up the steps to the main living area.

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 5

[I finally got a chance to finish this next chapter. Enjoy Nabooru having a moral crisis. :D]

Nabooru

Nabooru had never been more glad to exit a space than when they finally landed on the planet assigned to them and she climbed out of her pod.

"How have you guys flown in those all these years? And for days at a time?" She stretched her arms to the sky and bent backward, her spine popping luxuriously. Straightening once more, she pulled one knee to her chest, stretched it out long, and then repeated it with the other. "Especially you two. You're bigger than me and I felt cramped."

"Sometimes it's months, rookie," Nappa pointed out with a snort. His lips twisted into a smirk. "Depends on how much trouble we've caused lately."

Nabooru grimaced. The few day trip to Frieza Planet 6892--formerly known as Socandoria before the Empire took over, according to the reports she spent much of the trip memorizing thrice over--wore on her enough, the ache of sitting still for so long apparent in her tight muscles. She supposed that was why the pods were equipped with sleep-inducing technology. Forcing their pilots to sleep was probably the only way to keep them from going absolutely mad with boredom on longer flights. She considered using it herself when she only managed to doze, the weight of anxiety over not screwing up her first mission keeping her hyper aware and paranoid about forgetting some minute but somehow pertinent detail on the briefing that had been sent to their scouters. 

"Perhaps we should have caused more because this job is a joke," Raditz grumbled, his expression a near mirror of her own displeasure. He tapped the side of his scouter, the device beeping rhythmically as it performed a scan of the planet's power levels. "The reports all say this planet has been sucked dry and so far, I'm not seeing much to refute that."

Nabooru reached up to perform her own scan. Clusters of weak power levels cropped up here and there over the planet, likely congregated in the three larger cities and five work camps that still functioned and hadn't been abandoned. The higher ones belonged to the few remaining soldiers stationed there, either as peacekeepers of sorts or foremen. From where they landed, she could see next to nothing as far as the eye could see, save for a few lone what she could only call trees from their height. Their strange, dull pink to brown gradient from top to bottom and lack of leaves or fruit made it difficult to classify them confidently as such.  She heard no wildlife in the vicinity, either, and the ground beneath their feet lacked vegetation.

"Enough chatter. The quicker we deal with this mission, the faster we can leave and move onto something potentially more exciting." Vegeta perched himself on a rock, one leg bent at the knee and his forearm perched lazily over it. His brows and eyelids dipped with the corners of his mouth in evident boredom. "Raditz, get going on the recon. We don't have all day. Since there's nothing here, I expect you back here in a few hours."

Nabooru raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be quicker if we all did it, though?"

His dark eyes narrowed and snapped to her, and his loosed tail stiffened at his side. Nappa, who had taken up a spot standing next to his perch cleared his throat and discretely shook his head. Raditz wore the hint of a smirk. Her first misstep already, it seemed. She could see Bruvi's disappointed but unsurprised expression in her mind's eye. They rarely went a day of her training all those years ago without Nabooru's stubbornness or quick tongue earning her some form of punishment. Apparently not much had changed.

"Is that what you think?"

A challenge, a threat. But Nabooru stood her ground, straightening her spine and resting her hands on her hips. "I do. It's only logical. You said you wanted out of here quickly, and recon is basically the only thing we have to do for now, isn't it? More people cover more ground. It's not difficult."

The prince's expression darkened. His tail lashed the rock behind him, sending debris and dust skyward. "Already questioning my authority, then? Perhaps I should have simply killed you after all." 

Reason reminded her of her people, of how their fate was tied to her performance and behavior. It chided her for her pride and willed her to bow her head and admit defeat. Instead, she lifted her chin in defiance. If she survived, she could learn her lesson another day. She refused to let one more person bully her. She had to compromise enough of herself in this position, and it would only get worse as time wore on.

"Maybe you should have. But you didn't. And you won't now."

Vegeta stared at her, unblinking and observing. Nabooru remained rigid, hoping she maintained a stalwart resolution and hid the wave of discomfort she felt beneath his burning gaze. The display would either impress him to what little degree he could be impressed or he would make good on the challenge she proposed. A gutsy maneuver that she had only successfully utilized a few times with her betters out of likely sheer dumb luck.

Finally, a growl rumbled from Vegeta, and his expression reverted back to boredom from venturing toward irate. "Whatever. If you're so concerned, you can accompany Raditz," he said, waving her off. "Question me like that again, and your punishment will be far more grueling than a horrifically boring tour of a dead planet."

"Can't be any more boring than sitting around here doing nothing with you two," Nabooru countered, the hint of a smile on her full lips when he cast her a withering glance. "Or at the very least a better learning opportunity. I need to learn everything I can to be a functional member of this team, right? I want to carry my weight and not be a burden."

She ignored Vegeta’s snort and turned to Raditz instead. "Guess you're my new trainer." Her feet left the ground and she hovered by his side. "Lead the way."

"Right." Amusement danced in his dark eyes as he nodded to the other two Saiyans and he took off, Nabooru matching his speed and remaining at his side.

"You've got a lot of nerve," he said once they were out of earshot. It didn't sound like he fully meant it as a negative. "You've realized that can get you killed around here, right?"

Nabooru shrugged. "Of course I have. But I'm not about to let Vegeta believe I'm a doormat if I’m to work with you three." She watched the numbers tick down on her scouter as they neared the first city. "It was stupid, I know. Nappa told me enough about him, so I knew the gamble it was. Don't tell me I had you worried about me already."

"Worry is a strong word if you're going to be a moron. No matter how funny that was." Dilapidated buildings rose over the horizon, and near unusable roads cropped up beneath them leading into the city. "I'm just hoping having a newbie on board will get me out of some of the grunt work like this eventually, so I can't have you dying on your first outing."

"And here I thought you might kind of like me."

They flew over the city and selected a point near the center to land, the few denizens milling about casting them little more than passing glances. Used to soldiers doing the same, Nabooru guessed. Close up, the buildings were in worse shape than she thought, many of them either in a state of full disrepair and boarded up, collapsing in on themselves, or the businesses near empty. Most of the stalls lining the street stood empty, shells of speedy and cheap commerce that livened up the streets once upon a time. Now those that manned the stalls offered their wares but with a wary or unenthusiastic air about them.

"What is it we're looking for?" Nabooru asked at last, watching as a mother with near translucent pink skin ushered a smaller carbon copy of herself past the pair of them as quickly as she could. Their clothes were in rags. "The state of things? Population?"

“If it’s a new planet, then that would be a few things we would look into, along with resources and the caliber of fighters if there are any.” Radtiz strode up the street and Nabooru fell into step next to him, observing their surroundings, the people they passed. None seemed all too thrilled to see them and if her lessons taught her anything, they had good reason to treat them with disdain and fear. Nabooru severed the line of thought before it could venture into the next phase, the reminder of what orders they would likely receive concerning this planet’s fate.

“For this one, it’s more confirming what has already been reported over the years. Finding out if there is anything worth salvaging after all,” he continued, slowing at a storefront that reminded her of the inns back in Hyrule. She heard glass breaking, laughter, and shouting from inside in a language she shouldn’t understand. “Looks like the only places that do remotely well here are bars and brothels after all.”

Nabooru peered into the window, wiping a layer of dust from the glass with her sleeve. Sure enough, the place was packed with all manner of patrons crammed along the bar, packed around tables, or fighting for a better view of the group dancing on stage. She stepped back and dusted her forearm off. “I guess when there’s nothing else to live for, it’s easier to drown yourself in...do they call it liquor here?” Raditz nodded confirmation and moved on, muttering notes of the city’s state into his scouter. She followed and waited for him to finish before continuing. “The briefing suggested most have just resorted to stealing and other ‘crime,’ too, if they’re not working the mines or at other camps. Guess they feel they have no choice if they want to survive here.”

A sentiment she was all too familiar with. When faced with starvation and death, her own people had to shift their skills as warriors to include thievery. They raided caravans that crossed into their lands from further west. They stole from the other races of Hyrule when they got desperate enough. When pointed out in talks with the monarchy, when the fingers were pointed at them for being no more than killers and thieves, she and other leaders of her race tried to show that their pleas for fertile land for farming and the like as well as less restrictive trade would make the need to steal unneeded for their survival. They either didn’t hear or didn’t care. 

And for that she had no doubt they paid the price. She only wished she could have been there. To be a part of that revolution. Part of her still hated that her people had been backed so far into a corner so as to rely on an outside source for aid as well as violence but...it was kill or be killed. What choice had they left them after years of failed negotiations?

Had these people tried to rebel like the Gerudo did?

Nabooru swallowed the lump in her throat, the all too familiar homesickness settling in her chest as it did when she dwelled too long on her home and people. She focused instead on the task at hand, on learning the ropes for this particular part of her job.

Without much to look at, they scoured a few more streets and discussed points of interests. They caught a Frieza Force soldier stumbling out of a bar and questioned him before deciding to move on to the next location, another city in much the same state as the first. Raditz “let” her take over with recording the notes they would send back to Vegeta and the commanders back at base for review in determining the next steps they would take with the planet. Their conversation revolved around the task at hand, with Raditz offering pointers or corrections for ensuring a full report. 

For this particular excursion, each one felt repetitive. Even the work camps offered little more information. Locals worked under the supervision of Frieza Force soldiers. She didn’t need the foremen to tell her that the resources at each one were all but tapped. One said they hadn’t actually mined anything for months but they kept the workers busy to give them purpose.

With their logs sent to the appropriate personnel, Nabooru returned to the other two Saiyans with Raditz. Nappa leaned against his pod, eyelids heavy and looking half asleep. Vegeta remained on the same boulder, head tilted to the side and a hand on his scouter, likely listening to their report. He spared them both a glance, but his gaze remained fixed on her for a few moments longer, scrutinizing as he listened to her voice in his ear. Her eye caught his tail swaying behind him in idle arcs, but it told her as little as his blank expression. She inwardly snorted at the passing thought that he must be great at cards.

Nappa yawned and stretched, calling her attention instead over to him. "How boring was it? The place as desolate as it looks?"

Raditz nodded. "A waste of time. They had all the information they needed already to make a decision." He shrugged. "Hopefully that means we get to the fun part sooner rather than later."

"Yeah. It's too bad their military was already absorbed into the force, and all the rebellions were taken care of years ago. I don't suppose you heard any word of one faction ready to change things, did you?"

"No. After the last one, sounds like they learned their lesson."

Nabooru rested her back against a nearby tree, crossing her legs at the ankle and folding her arms over her chest. She noted the disappointment in both males, the sag of their shoulders, Nappa's dejected grumbling under his breath. At first, their disappointment confused her when both seemed to like when their job was easy, clean, and quick. However, further consideration convinced her otherwise. They had pointed out the pointlessness of the recon on this planet, Raditz was more than ready to pawn the boring duties off on her, and now they would prefer someone to challenge them on whatever order they were given concerning the planet's fate. They wanted a quick response to quickly stave off boredom, not for ease. They preferred a fight over the simple monotony when presented little to no challenge on jobs. A sentiment she could understand, even though, with action looming, her nerves over the likely course had her nerves wound in tight knots. She instead tried to focus on the Saiyans, how she would compromise with her moral compass to do what she had to.

"Can't be helped, I guess," Nappa continued,  turning his attention on Nabooru. "Gotta break in the rookies somehow, huh? Though I'm sure you're gunning for some real action yourself, right?"

She nodded. "Of course." Not a complete lie; idleness didn't suit her. "It was interesting to see the planet. Being desolate aside, it's far different than what I was used to back home. Though I'm sure most sights I see from here on out will be."

Nappa grinned, apparently perked up from his near slumber not moments ago. "That's the spirit." He turned to Raditz. "We should celebrate while we wait for orders. You see any good spots for a drink or two?"

"That's about all that's left on this rock. Can't speak for the quality of them, though. Might be able to get into a brawl or two."

"Eh, good enough," said Nappa. "What do ya think, Vegeta? We got time for a drink?"

"Is that all you idiots think about? Booze and sex?" the prince growled. He hopped down from his perch, arms folded over his chest. "What is there to celebrate, anyway? She gathered intel, nothing impressive. Raditz can do that, after all."

She kept her comments to herself, the insult obvious but the truth in his words irrefutable. Outside of the month of lessons to teach her the ins and outs of the trade, training to control her ki better, and the spar with Vegeta, she hadn't really accomplished much to prove herself. The recon, while tedious, wasn't exactly all that difficult here. She could see how it would be more time consuming and complicated on other planets that had yet to feel the sting of the PTO or some other foul entity, and therefore found the snub to Raditz more unfair than the one directed at her.

"Fine. Is giving us something better than standing around like idiots a better excuse?"

"Barely." Vegeta waved a gloved hand, dismissing them. "Do what you want. But I expect the three of you back here as soon as I call. And you had best not be wasted. We still have work to do."

"You're not coming?" The question passed her lips before she could stop it, and the derisive snort he responded with before turning his back and heading to his abandoned pod only reinforced how idiotic the question was. Her cheeks burned, but she covered her embarrassment with her usual aloof confidence. "Mm, nevermind. Your loss, though."

If his response was nonverbal, Nappa's large hand slamming down on her shoulder made her miss it. Her knees buckled slightly under the force. "A hell of a fighter and fun. We really did luck out." 

Raditz's boots had already left the vegetation-bare ground beneath them. The smirk he wore revealed he was either unbothered by Vegeta's previous insult or used to them. "I'll judge that when we find out if she can hold her liquor." Energy surrounded him and he took off, Nappa following his lead. Nabooru lingered a moment longer, sparing a glance to their leader, before tailing after her new cohorts.

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

Raditz had chosen the least rundown of the bars they saw within the cities they scouted and somehow the quietest despite that. A few patrons lined the bar at the back, and a couple of tables were full of a rainbow of locals sharing drinks and conversing in low tones. She recalled a passersby earlier that day telling their buddy they should skip this one due to the price of drinks, so she supposed that's what kept the ailing citizens of the planet from packing the place. 

The three of them marched up to the bar, anyone within their path ducking out of it quickly. Raditz waved down the bartender who rushed over to them, leaving his current patron mid sentence and perturbed. "Ah, more soldiers and my favorite customers. You three must be new. What can I get you?"

"Whatever your strongest stuff is. One for each of us." Raditz nodded to a booth in the corner just off the bar. "Bring them over there when they're ready."

"Right away, sir."

The bartender hurried back the way he came and Nabooru followed the pair of Saiyans to the booth. She grabbed a chair from a table on the way, placing it at the end and seating herself in it. For comfort. Both men were quite large, and she wanted to ensure they would have room to stretch out as they pleased while also saving her the inconvenience of being crushed by pure muscle. 

"So, you two do this sort of thing often, huh?"

"When we can," Raditz answered. "We don't usually get downtime like this."

"Yeah, Vegeta is just being dramatic," continued Nappa, plucking a menu of the drink options from a stanchion at the table's center. Nabooru noted several red SOLD OUT stickers next to many. "Most of the time, we don't do recon like this. We're usually sent straight to planets for purging or putting down this rebellion or that. If we need to scout, it's more to understand the situation for battle than to help the big wigs tell us what to do with a planet like this job."

"Then it's back to base or off to the next planet, depending on orders. They tend to keep us busy."

Nabooru couldn't decide if she was happy about that or not. "That sounds a whole lot better than doing this every time. I'm not exactly the patient type. I like to keep busy." She folded her arms on the tabletop. "Are rebellions common on planets the Empire has conquered?"

"They're probably more common than we know, but most are settled by the soldiers stationed on the planet already," Raditz explained. "We get called in when they get too out of hand."

As much faith as she had in her people, she hoped Ganondorf's ambitious nature didn't convince him to seek out trying to take on Frieza and his armies. He had Hyrule like he wanted, conquered and taught a lesson for their mistreatment of their people. She hoped that was plenty for him until they could for certain break from the Empire. In truth, she would prefer to get away sooner rather than later. But Frieza's power was astronomical, and who knew how many of his lackeys could wipe the floor with even their entire army, ki training or no. Zarbon and Dodoria alone nearly doubled her power level, after all.

A nod. "That sounds more fun than this," she admitted. "Closer to what I spent my life training for."

The bartender arrived with three glasses of clear, carbonated liquid and set each glass in front of them. "I apologize up front for not having the usual fare we offer force soldiers. Shipments of imports have been scarce of late. But I assure you this is the finest beverage we offer at the moment."

He bowed his head for returning to his post, Nabooru lifted her glass and observed the contents. The Saiyans lifted their glasses and nodded for her to do the same. "To your first likely successful mission," Nappa announced with a grin, "and to many more that are hopefully more fun than this mudball."

Nabooru snorted and tapped her glass with theirs, the harsh volume of the clink leaving her surprised that each vessel remained intact. She watched both men take a large gulp of the liquid and their expressions slip from joyous to befuddled. They lowered their drinks and stared into the cups. Raditz even gave his a sniff.

"This is water." Raditz took another swig. "Are you telling me these people get wasted off water?"

"Seriously?" Nabooru tipped the glass and took a sip. Sure enough, she tasted normal water, the fizz the only thing setting it apart. She glanced from one bewildered Saiyan to the other, and her frame shook with her laughter. She rested a hand over her mouth. "I guess Vegeta doesn't have to worry about us coming back drunk after all, huh?"

Nappa and Raditz stared at her for several seconds before finally finding the humor in the situation themselves, both managing to chuckle. Nappa gulped down the rest of his water and wiped his mouth with his forearm. "Shoulda known when he said he couldn't get us the shit the other soldiers prefer. Guess it could have been worse…"

 "Like bad tasting."

"Or poisonous."

Nabooru opened her mouth to supply her own horrific possibility when each of their scouters sounded a series of beeps before Vegeta spoke in their ears: "To no one's surprise, we're purging the planet so it can be sold. Nappa and Raditz, take care of the area you're in and finish off the rest of the southern hemisphere. Nabooru, meet me back at the pods immediately. Don't make me wait." 

The connection dropped as suddenly as it opened, allowing none of them to respond even if they wanted to. Dread sank to the pit of her stomach, and she tried to pretend the rest of the patrons of the bar didn't exist. That the mother and daughter that scurried by them had been her imagination. That the workers and vendors and rough housing drunkards were no more than her mind making up a story for the desolate planet. For now, it was the only way she would complete the task at hand without a physical or moral interjection. 

Standing, Nabooru drained her glass of water, wishing it had the same effect as it did on the locals. "Guess I should get going. I'm already on his bad side." She tried to flash the pair a cheeky grin but the muscles of her mouth fought against it. She just hoped they read it as dread over dealing with Vegeta once more. "I'll see you guys soon."

Nappa and Raditz wished her luck, and part of her envied the excitement that radiated between the two of them. It beat the nausea and guilt that frothed in her stomach and weighed heavy on her heart, respectively. But she had a job to do. Purging planets, subjugating their peoples, expanding an empire, and filling its coffers was expected of her. Duty had a new meaning for her. To protect her people, she would have to destroy others. Nothing new in the grand scheme of things when war with the rest of Hyrule knocked on their door before Frieza discovered them; much of her life had been kill or be killed in some regards. Only now she had less wiggle room to avoid it.

She slipped out the door and onto the city's streets, taking a moment to marvel at the architecture. The tall buildings unlike she had ever seen before, plainer than Hyrule Castle but taller and still majestic somehow. Someone's hard work to be destroyed in moments by powerful ki blasts large enough to level the cities. She shoved the thoughts away and took to the sky, jetting back toward where they had left their pods and Vegeta behind.

Nabooru landed near the Saiyan prince just as the ground beneath her quaked and an explosion sounded from the way she had come. She glanced over her shoulder to see a surge of light encompass a large swath of land and debris shooting skyward in catastrophic destruction. The city she had just left wiped off the face of the planet, likely. She swallowed and returned her attention to Vegeta. The task at hand. Reminding herself that her people's lives depended on her compliance. She worked for an emperor that killed for less than failure she had come to understand.

Vegeta faced her, his feet leaving the surface. "Let's go."

She was grateful he didn't leave her any room to protest before taking off, and she followed behind him, silently working to clear her head. The next city rose on the horizon too quickly, a blessing and a curse. She wanted to get this over with, but she truly did not want to do it at all.

Nabooru halted beside Vegeta when he stopped, several meters above and outside the crumbling city. The planet was falling apart. She witnessed that. The people here had been suffering for years due to her employer's greed and negligence. A small comfort, but she supposed death meant an end to it. A conclusion she didn't care for, but a call she had no say in making.

"Well?" Her eyes shot to the Saiyan. His arms were folded over his chest, and he observed her with obvious impatience. "What are you waiting for? Or do you need a demonstration?"

"Surely you're itching for a little action by now," she responded, a touch too quickly that earned her a snort. She mentally cursed herself. "You can take the first one."

"Hmpt. You're stalling." He let one arm fall back to his side and raised the other, open palm aimed toward the city below. A smirk flickered over his lips, devilish and taunting. "I wonder...is it because of some silly morals or you simply don't wish to embarrass yourself so soon?"

Both, she wanted to respond, but red ki building in his palm stopped her. He fired the blast straight for the heart of the city. It exploded like a bomb on contact, the force of it spreading outward and engulfing the area in blinding light. Nabooru shielded her face from both the flare and flying debris with her arm and chewed her lower lip. When she lowered it again, a crater had replaced the city. 

"Check for survivors."

She balled her hand into a fist to steady it before raising it to her scouter. She pressed the button. Not a single reading for several miles. She felt his gaze on her once more, gauging her reaction. Searching for weakness like a predator waiting to strike. Another reason to see a failure rather than an asset to his team. 

"No survivors," she said, the words heavy on her tongue. "Guess you've had plenty of practice, hm?"

Dark eyes narrowed briefly, and the end of his tail tucked itself more securely at his waist. "A little," he replied without humor. "You'll take care of the rest now that you've had your demonstration."

She nodded and followed the scouter's reading to the next city, halting outside of it just as they had done before. Her palms were sweaty inside her gloves and her heart thrummed at a too quick pace. Despite it all, she forced her face into a mask of neutrality, her mind to a blank slate of nothing more than determining how much energy he would need to complete the task in one blow to avoid extra strain on her already fraying psyche. She sucked in a breath and raised both hands. The glow of orange-yellow ki surged around her palms. She fired. It swallowed the edifices in seconds as she expanded it outward to cover a wider area. When she cut the blast off and lowered her hands, nothing remained but desolation. She swallowed the hot bile that rose to her throat.

"Not bad," Vegeta rumbled beside her, hand raised to the side of his scouter. "You wasted energy, though, a testament to Nappa's careless training. He's too flashy for his own good."

Her mouth was too dry to respond, so she merely nodded. Her fingers itched to wind themselves in her ponytail and she wanted to scream or vomit or both but she quelled the urge; the less discomfort she showed outwardly, the better. 

"He said you learn quickly, though, so I'll show you once more and you can do as I do." He tilted his head toward the next destination, one of the work camps if she remembered right. "Go."

Nabooru didn't hesitate, the need to leave the destruction behind nearing overwhelming. She blinked rapidly to stave off tears and was glad Vegeta remained behind her. How she would spend likely the rest of her life perpetrating these atrocities without losing herself was beyond her in that moment. She would lose her mind if she didn't figure something out and soon. In a moment, her kill count had risen from a select handful that had forced her hand to hundreds of innocents. Thousands more would follow so long as she remained in Frieza's service. Her people's livelihood was at stake. Her every decision as a member of the force would secure their safety or destroy it entirely. Which brought to question the moral dilemma at hand: did others deserve to perish so her people could live? She could only weakly defend herself with the notion that, if not by her hand, some other would be doing so in her place. Another with a similar background to hers, forced to serve to protect loved ones. Someone who joined Frieza willingly and reveled in the bloodshed. Another who had lost their home and had no other choice. The cycle would continue as long as the Cold Empire and PTO remained intact.

And what hope did she have to dismantle that on her own? Hyrule had been one society on a single planet and she couldn't handle that with the Gerudo army and without outside help in the end. She had no prayer in releasing herself from the clutches of this deal by force. Not alone. Not without allies. 

But….somehow, she knew all the allies in the universe might not be enough to face Frieza. She would fail just like all the rest before her. Thus, for now, she would throw her morality out the window. She would pretend that those she destroyed were guilty of something heinous and horrible. Cling to a sense of duty to the empire that freed her people. Anything at all to keep herself from crumbling from the inside out.

[jaeminlore]

A Flame That Still Burns | Jaemin

series timeline | playlist

summary: here i am, right next to you, and suddenly the world is all brand new

words: 8.3k+

category: pirate!jaemin, carpenter!reader, reader is gender neutral unless i slipped up in which case pls let me know so i can fix it, long-haired jaemin, angst, LOTS of grieving, not a conventional love story, PLEASE read hyucks “I Will Be There” before you read this, also jaemin is sad for basically the entire thing i’m so sorry but it’s important for his character development

Jaemin is seventeen years old when Prince Donghyuck is abducted.

"You have to get me to the sea," Jaemin pleads with the King's Advisor. "I can help!"

The man turns around, bristling at the closeness of the tall boy. "Lord Na, your father has given us explicit instruction to keep you here, safe on land."

"Hyuck wasn't safe on land, was he?" Jaemin retorts. He knows it's a low blow, but he needs to be out there. He's the only one who can find him.

"Jaemin, I am going to have to ask you to keep your mouth shut. We're going to find His Highness, but we need to do it without the entire Eastern Kingdom knowing that he's gone. It will only send them into an unnecessary panic."

"What if he's already dead? What if one of the villagers know something? Have you tried the merchants, because they trade with pirates all the time. Surely they would know secret routes, motives, ways of contact-"

"Enough." The man looks exasperated. He holds the front of his coat tightly in his fist and manages a forced smile Jaemin's way. "Our knights are on it. Mortem will be found and executed before you know it, so don't worry."

Jaemin mocks the man's words from behind his back. As if anyone would know how to find his best friend better than him.

When the man walks out of view, Jaemin is quick to head down to the boathouse, alerting one of the many seafaring servants. They bow out of politeness, and continue their work of preparing the ship to sail.

It's a massive rig. Looking like a pirate ship itself, though discernible by the royal coat of arms that adorns the pearl-toned flag. The wood is smooth, free of any splinters that might plague Jaemin as he runs his hand across the side. He can practically smell the gunpowder from the canons inside, just waiting to attack Mortem and bring back the prince.

Jaemin spots a rope ladder, dropped from the top deck. More than likely, it's for the servant to finish their final safety check. Jaemin sees it as a sign.

Before anyone can see him, he climbs aboard the ship, and becomes a stowaway.

-

Jaemin finds that despite being a natural chatterbox, he can get around as silently as he needs. He finds the ballast tank and hides himself behind the basalt rocks. The only time someone would find him here is if the ship becomes off-balanced. If he hides well enough, no amount of rocks extracted will reveal him. Besides, Jaemin is pretty small. He's technically not a man yet, just an adolescent.

So he tucks himself in and waits, patient and silent. To be honest, Jaemin was bred for this. He knows how to sit still thanks to all of the boring lessons his father insisted he attend. Years of sitting quietly and daydreaming have birthed some of Jaemin's fondest memory. Heck, Jaemin is pretty sure he could sleep with his eyes open at this point.

He imagines finding Donghyuck. He imagines finding his best friend and bringing him home.

The waves bob beneath the ship, and Jaemin finds the steady rocking to be a pleasant lullaby. He curls into himself and falls asleep while struggling to ignore the pain of many small rocks jabbing into his shoulder.

-

Jaemin is found five days later. To be completely honest, he's thankful someone finally noticed him, because he was beginning to go crazy in that little compartment. And he could only sneak so much food and water before the cook begins to notice that his rations are disappearing.

"Do you think this is a joke, Lord Na?" It's the same advisor from the castle. Jaemin really wishes the cynical man would've stayed home and saved him some of the embarrassment. There's an awkward blanket of silence after his question, for Jaemin simply does not want to answer it.

"I'm alerting the king and your father," the man continues. "I expect you won't be allowed back into the kingdom."

Jaemin's head pops up. "That's not fair! I just wanted to help find my friend!"

"You directly disobeyed orders given to you by your father, and more importantly, me; the king's chief advisor. Therefore, I have the right to banish you from the Eastern Kingdom if I see it fit. And I do."

Jaemin is left on the port of a rugged little town that seems to purely be a dock for merchants and traders. He enters the tavern closest to the docks and approaches the counter. "One night, please."

The man behind the counter accepts the shillings. "You look like hell." He has an accent.

"This tavern looks like hell," Jaemin retorts, lifting his elbow out of a sticky patch of spilled mead. "Do you even try to take care of it?"

"I have other things to do," says the innkeeper matter-of-factly. "'S not my fault my grandparents left it to me when I told them not to."

"You don't like it?" Jaemin accepts the mug of mead slipped across the counter for him. He pretends not to notice the weird grease stain sticking to the handle.

"What's to like? It's by the merchant's dock. Pirates and unlawful traders come in all the time. If they don't kill you or take you prisoner, they take all of your resources. I'm better off far away."

"How much?" Jaemin wipes his mouth. Once you get past the weird taste of pork grease, the mead is actually pretty good.

"Oh the mead? That's free. Who knows what's in those old jars."

Jaemin frowns. "I meant the tavern." If pirates come in and out, then it's possible the famed Mortem will show up sooner or later. Even if he isn't, Jaemin imagines the different pirates crews must gossip about each other in taverns, right?

He imagines managing a tavern where pirates feel comfortable enough to clue him in on the gossip. He imagines someone telling him where the prince is being kept. He imagines finding the prince in less than a month, and bringing him back unscathed.

"Oh, name your price."

-

Jaemin is eighteen years old when he meets a rouge pirate, desperate to save up for a ship.

Jaemin seems to be in a similar predicament, as he wasn't prepared for the amount of money it took to run a tavern. What money he brought with him went directly into the tavern. What money he could afford to save back was never enough, and Jaemin feels like screaming at the misfortune of it all.

Then this random pirate appears, asking for solace, and Jaemin figures it might be nice to have a friend. He puts them behind the counter with him, asking them question after question about what pirates they know and trust.

"I only know two crews," they say. "Mine and Jeno's."

"Jeno?" Jaemin wipes the counter, thankful he can at least keep the tavern tidy despite the traffic that runs through daily. "Is he another captain?"

"Yeah," they say. "But I don't think he's going to be out at sea anymore. Last I, uh, heard, he was going to stay on land."

"Friends?" Jaemin asks. To be honest, it's been awhile since he's been able to have a proper chat with anyone.

"Not quite."

"More?" Jaemin teases them with a soft jab to the side.

"Not anymore," they say with a sigh, and Jaemin wonders how much love is truly worth.

He changes the subject. "So, what's your plan?"

"I want to save up for a ship and a crew," they say, and it falls so perfectly with Jaemin's plan that he jumps on the opportunity.

"Can I come? I want to be a pirate."

"Absolutely not," they say.

Jaemin knows he'll have to convince them, but he's sure they'll come around.

-

Jaemin is nineteen years old when he and his business partner are captured by Mortem himself.

Jaemin counts it lucky, until the ship is blown to pieces, and he's left on the ship of his partner's former lover.

Was Donghyuck on the ship? He would've been with them in the cell, right? Jaemin would've seen him on his way up. He had tried to check as many doors as he could before he was shoved towards the second ship.

And what is he to do, standing on the dock, a bundle of clothes in his arms? His eyes reflect the flames of the shipwreck. He sees debris and oil and fire that seems to float across the water and yet... he sees no bodies. 

None living, anyway. 

None that look like his prince, anyway.

Jaemin thinks about diving in. He thinks about digging through the lost remains to find his precious friend; the one he's spent years planning to look for. He can't believe he's only a day late.

He missed it by a day.

Jaemin is in a daze when puts on the clothes. He doesn't even realize someone is leading him to the kitchen before he's there, standing in front of a potbellied man. The man has dreadlocks, held back by an orange bandana, and he has a deep voice despite the gentle smile on his dark face. "You look like hell." He has an accent.

Jaemin can't be bothered to form a reply. He slumps down onto the bench and watches the man use a giant ladle to stir whatever stew he's cooking. It smells like fish, and it reminds Jaemin of the Eastern Kingdom. He wonders when they will figure it out — that Donghyuck isn't coming back. He wonders if they figured it out a long time ago. Maybe he's the delusional one here.

"Name's Silver." The man says. He has two golden teeth and one missing from the front.

"Jaemin," he mutters, accepting the bowl of soup he's offered. Though reluctantly, his body feels better at the first bite, after barely any food for three days. He wonders how long Donghyuck went without food. Maybe he died within the first month. The only one who knows is now sleeping with the fishes, and Jaemin finds a bitter sorrow creep up into his throat. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"'S' not that bad, is it?" Silver lets out a hardy laugh, like he could care less about what the food tastes like.

"My friend died." Jaemin shoves a spoonful of soup into his mouth and swallows it without chewing. It scratches his throat on the way down, but Jaemin hopes that might make up for how he's let Donghyuck down. He's let the entire kingdom down. He chokes up — from either the situation or the potato chunk stuck in his throat, he does not know. "I was too late."

"Oh, my boy." Silver sits down. The entire bench creaks under his weight. He smells like sweat and broth, but there's something comforting about he way he quits what he's doing just to be near Jaemin. "Losing a friend is never easy. I know that for certain."

"I didn't do enough," Jaemin says. "I got lazy, and I made hasty decisions."

"None of that, now," Silver says. "I'm sure you did as much as you could."

Jaemin wants to tell Silver that he's let down an entire kingdom. He wants Silver to know that he's one of the most disappointing people in the world. He wants to tell Silver that he failed the prince. Prince Donghyuck who was always so bright and happy and ready to cheer anyone up. Now, Jaemin is sure, he's gone. When your entire life's purpose is to rescue someone who is now dead, what do you do?

What is Jaemin supposed to do?

Without much thought, Jaemin leans his head against the large cook's shoulder. He closes his eyes tightly, picturing the thought of Donghyuck in his last hours. Did he know Jaemin was looking for him? Did he know that Jaemin has spent all his time trying to finally get on the sea, and yet once he does, he's too late?

"There, there, Lad." Silver pats Jaemin's head. "Your friend knows you tried. They know."

Jaemin let's himself cry. The stress of the kidnapping and the fight flow through as he sobs into Silver's shoulder. He fiddles with the bandages on his arm. The wounds don't hurt to much anymore, but he supposes maybe he's still in shock. Or filled with adrenaline. Or some other scientific thing he learned during his lessons.

All he knows is that when Silver sneaks him a bottle of rum, he can't help but bring it out as soon as he hears a complaint from his tavern partner.

It's an excuse, he knows, but he chugs a few gulps, enjoying the burn the rakes down his throat.

He's told to slow down, but he can't explain the amount of pain he's trying to drown. No one knows why he cared so much about becoming a pirate. No one knows why this was so important to him. He figures it doesn't matter anymore. "Sorry," he focuses on his words, trying not to trip over them in his drunken haze. "I just feel bad." (Not a lie.) "I didn't mean to make you and Jeno fight." (Not really a lie, but not his main concern either.)

He's brought out onto the deck for some fresh air, and he focuses on the beauty in the stars. He recalls Donghyuck's canopy above his bed; the sewn constellations that Donghyuck admired so much. He wonders if the king and queen think of Donghyuck when they look at the stars. He wonders if he will be able to find peace after this night.

Truthfully, he doesn't think he will.

-

It takes a few days to get back to the port where his tavern lay dormant. Jaemin and Silver walk into the building and see that — luckily — not much had changed.

"It's yours," he says, passing the key to Silver. "Thanks for everything."

And then he's back at the harbor, purchasing the small vessel he's had his eye on for years. The Peribat's mast kind of droops. The sails are a bit torn, and Jaemin thinks the melancholy ship is perfect for his mood.

He's given a coat; told not to trade it. He knows he won't, because it's getting close to winter and he has nothing else to wear.

Jaemin hugs his old tavern partner; bids them fairwell; thinks of how happy they seem after being reunited with Jeno.

He wishes he could've found Donghyuck.

-

You are nineteen years old when Jaemin hires you to join his crew. You're behind your father's lumber shop, chopping firewood when Jaemin comes around back. You know him as the tavern owner, though lately it's been run by someone new. "Good morning," you risk a smile. Your words come out in white, frosty breaths.

Jaemin is quite handsome, though objectively so. His hair is a deep and dark brown, similar to his eyes. The quirky lift of his chapped lips sets some intrigue, and you wonder if he knows how many of the villagers admire him. You also wonder what he's doing talking to you.

"You're a carpenter, yes?" He hasn't smiled much since he came back, you notice. Of course, it's widely known that the two tavern owners had been abducted by pirates. Only Jaemin came back. You wonder if the rumors around town are true; and his friend is dead.

"I'm my father's apprentice," you finally get around to correcting him. You swing the ax down and chop the log you had previously set up.

Jaemin waits for you to finish wiping your sweaty forehead with the bottom of your shirt. "Do you know about ships?"

"I can mend one, if that's what  you're asking." This is pirate and merchant territory. Everyone owns a ship, and every ship needs repairs eventually. Jaemin probably knows this and is simply using formalities.

"I'm asking if you can help me with mine."

"Name?" You grunt, heaving another heavy log onto the stump.

"Na Jaemin," he says. You're surprised that his last name is of Eastern nobility. But that isn't important, because that wasn't what you were asking.

"No, the name of the ship."

"Oh," Jaemin raises his eyebrows. "She's called The Peribat."

"That old thing?" You can only imagine how many repairs it's going to need. "You bought it?"

"Cheapest one," Jaemin shrugs. "Plus, I like the name."

"Unrequited?" You translate. The cold wind seeps through your thin coat, and despite the amount of work you've been doing, you haven't felt any warmer. You're just sweaty and cold, which is a gross combination in your humble opinion.

"Love or reward unreturned," Jaemin's eyes seem to look at something behind you. Something that isn't there. "It's interesting that that's what someone named their ship."

"I wonder who didn't return the captain's love."

Jaemin cracks a smile. It's small, but it feels like a little glimmer of sunshine peaking through a storm. "Me too."

"Do you think his ghost drifts across the dock every devil's hour, moaning about the love he never received?" You smile and lean on the handle of your ax.

Jaemin quirks a brow. "Maybe. I haven't spent the night on it yet."

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know." Something in his tone tells you that he does. "Just start anew."

"That might be nice," you say. You picture leaving your controlling stepmother and living a life on the sea. "Would you hunt for treasure?"

"Maybe," Jaemin bites his lip. "I did hear about the siren's treasure, but it never seemed important to me."

"What's the treasure?"

"No one knows," Jaemin shrugs. "All I know is that there's a key. Something belonging to the sirens. They say when you return it to it's rightful owner, you'll be given a bountiful treasure."

"How do you know if you have the key?"

"I don't know..." Jaemin trails off. "But if you want to be clueless with me, you're welcome to."

"You drive a hard bargain, Captain Na Jaemin."

-

Mending a ship takes months when only two people are up to the task. Luckily, Jaemin is good at making the days pass by quickly. Though solemn, a bit of his jovial spirit peaks through every now and again, and the two of you begin to learn a lot about each other.

You struggle to saw a piece of measured wood as you speak. "So what would you do with treasure? Assuming you found any?"

Jaemin is sitting against the wall of the ship, taking a break from nailing down planks. A goblet of water rests between his fingers. "Start anew, I suppose. I don't really want to go back to land anytime soon, so I'd probably blow some money on a brand new boat and sail as far as the eye can see."

"Sounds quite dismal," you say. You wipe the sweat off of your forehead and toss a sawed-off plank towards Jaemin. "I would go off to the Western Kingdom, I think. I'd live in a little cabin behind a bunch of trees."

Jaemin hums. He uses his hammer to nail the plank down and then sits back onto the balls of his feet. "We should get started, then, shouldn't we?"

-

Jaemin is nineteen years old when he becomes the captain of a crew. To captain a ship is one thing, but convincing an entire crew of men that you're capable of leading them towards a better life is a different ballgame entirely.

Though you are only a carpenter, Jaemin makes you his first mate. The rest of the crew are given jobs and tasks to do, and though it takes a few weeks to get a routine going, Jaemin likes to think that they're all doing a rather good job.

The pilot stays at the helm, steering the ship away from any dangers afoot (or rather, afloat.) The cabin boys — Chenle and Jisung from the Southern Kingdom — are both lovely, and Jaemin takes to them as if they're his own. The Quartermaster, a man named Jaehyun, is Jaemin's new favorite person. He's a man that Jaemin trusts, so much so that he's content to make him second-in-command.

But perhaps, Jaemin's favorite addition to the crew is a boy his age named Yangyang. He's the sea artist, the navigator. He keep tabs on where they sail and how much distance they sail each day. But mostly, he finds a secluded corner of the ship to hide in, and there he fixes the maps, or paints the seascape ahead.

He's more of a free spirit than anyone on the boat. With no set goal in mind, he truly is only here for a good time. Jaemin decides that's what he likes most about the boy.

He finds that many days at sea, he can lose himself in Yangyang's paintings for hours, memorizing the lines and strokes.

Yangyang is painting again today, and Jaemin hands him a piece of buttered toast he was given by the cook. "Here, eat up. Our rations are dwindling. We're trying to find land soon, but we should eat our best food while we can."

Yangyang bites into the bread and washes it down with the water Jaemin also brought him. "Check out my newest piece."

The worn and yellowed paper showcases a couple, backs turned on the viewers. They're leaning against the railing of the ship, hairs tossed in the wind. They're smiling at each other as if there isn't the beginning of a storm breeding around them.

It takes Jaemin a few moments to realize. "That's me and Y/n."

"Yeah," Yangyang says. "I captured the moment from a few days ago. I don't think the two of you knew I was watching."

Jaemin scrunches his nose, feeling odd. "Why'd you draw us? What's so interesting about two people talking to each other?"

"Notice your body language," Yangyang says, matter-of-factly. "Y/n is open and honest, turned towards you with arms uncrossed. You're closed up, feet pointed away, eyes on the sea while Y/n's are on you. It was just interesting to me, is all."

Jaemin thinks about the painting for the rest of the day. It settles in his waistband, behind his leather sash. He can feel it sear his skin through his shirt. He wants to take it out and study it. He wants to read between the lines and figure out what Yangyang means when he calls Jaemin closed up.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You lean against the middle mast. There's a tool belt around your waist. It's a little loose, perhaps made for a grown man rather than a young adult. There's a streak of red paint across your cheekbone, and Jaemin stares at it in order to avoid your gaze. "Ah. I'm just tired, is all."

"You're always tired, it seems," you say passively. You wait for Jaemin to defend himself, and when he doesn't, you continue. "Anyway, I've repainted the doors below deck. They were beginning to look pretty worn, and we had spare paint in the hull, so..."

"I'm sure they look wonderful," Jaemin says. He wants to mention that red is his best friends favorite color. Was.

He curses himself. What's the point of running off to sea if he can't forget about everything that happened?

"I'm gonna turn in," he says, voice a bit heavy. He knows you can sense the change of mood, but you don't mention it. Jaemin is thankful.

-

You are nearly nineteen when you decide becoming a pirate on a whim is perhaps not the greatest idea.

Firstly, rations are a thing, and it's completely normal for pirates to run out of food if they don't find land on schedule. Secondly, fights will break out between crews, and every once in awhile, someone will get hurt. As the carpenter, and in turn, the surgeon, it's up to you to keep these men alive despite no previous medical training. Thirdly, the captain is your only friend aboard, and he's more distant than ever.

Your starving and worn out crew finally reach land, and they all disperse to trade their goods and make a profit, agreeing to come back to the boat on the dawn of two weeks.

You follow Jaemin and Yangyang to the marketplace, where Yangyang plans to sell his art.

Once he's settled, and needs no additional help, you grab Jaemin's hand and pull him closer to the city. "Let's find a nice place to stay. We have the savings for it."

Jaemin holds his coat closed over his chest. "We should find the library and ask around about the siren's treasure."

You stop and turn to Jaemin, studying his face. There are dark circles beneath his eyes; chapped lips red and cracked from the salt of the ocean. He looks beyond tired, and you know that what he needs more than anything is a warm bath and a bed on land. "We have two weeks. Let's spend some time resting."

Jaemin huffs. "I was going to sleep on the ship."

"Jaehyun said he would, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but–"

"No buts, Jaemin." You tighten your grip on his hand just as his loosens. "You've been walking around the ship like a ghost for the past few weeks. You've been eating less and sleeping more. The entire crew is worried about you."

"I'm fine," Jaemin says, voice distant. He trails after you, so quiet that you have to keep looking back to make sure he hasn't left you.

But it's just Jaemin, trudging along with his eyes downcast to the dirt road in front of him. He's wearing an oversized brown shirt; one certainly stolen from one of the crew members. His hair has gotten longer, after not cutting it, and it's curling beneath his ears.

You wonder if he should tie it up; keep it out of his face. Then again, maybe the reason he's keeping it long is purely to hide his face. "In here," you call, shaking thoughts of his appearance out of your face.

Upon entering the inn, you're struck with the tender reminder of how nice it is to live on land. The hearth keeps the room warm, easing your bones, chilly from months at sea. You hesitate to approach upon seeing so many men sat around, playing cards or sipping rum straight from the bottle.

Jaemin grabs your wrist. The action is weak; even weaker when he presses his chest against your shoulder for some kind of subtle support. "I don't want to be around anyone else," he confesses, vulnerably settling in the lines of his face.

"Okay,” you say. "We'll get a room and tuck in."

As soon as the innkeeper opens your door with his key, Jaemin b-lines for the window and yanks the drapes open, eyes scanning for some unknown subject. He finally settles, "My ship. I can see her."

"Yes, it's safe, Jaemin." You leave your rucksack beside the door and stand by his side. "It won't disappear just because you aren't on it."

"Yeah," Jaemin breathes. You find yourself studying his appearance again, but this time his face. The way his lips are dark and chapped. His cheeks are sunken in, and paired with the dark bags beneath his eyes, he looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. Hasn't been happy in months.

"Jaemin?" Your touch is tentative, a gentle press of your palm against his elbow. "Let's rest now, okay?"

Jaemin deflates. You can see it in the way his hand slips from the windowsill. He nods, then turns his body to you. "Are you going to be here?"

"If you need me."

"I need you," Jaemin says quickly. He blinks slowly, eyelashes long and gentle against his cheeks. "I'm tired."

"I know," you say. "You need to sleep."

"No," Jaemin shakes his head, a stubborn pout on his face. "I'm tired of this. Of everything. Of pretending to be something I never was in the first place."

Jaemin drifts over to the beside table, where a pitcher and dish full of water are waiting. He begins to untie the front of his shirt, even though he doesn't really need to, as the neckline is too big for him anyway. He yanks the garment over his head, rolls it up, and dips it into the dish. He begins to wash his face, leaning down so that you can see just how taunt his skin is stretched over his vertebrae. He's far too skinny. Not even just from rationing food — letting his crew eat before him. This is the kind of skinny one gets from losing their battle with life. Losing their will to whatever haunts them.

Jaemin's skin is as tan as his shoulders are broad. When he straightens up again, you can't help but notice how small his waist is. That despite his large clothing, his belt tapers him at a small measurement most pirates don't have after days of hard work in the sun. Jaemin looks like he's still a noble from the Eastern Kingdom. 

Maybe in his heart, he still is.

"Why did you ever leave nobility in the first place?" you ask, tempted with the desire to figure out Jaemin's backstory.

He sits on the edge of the bed, much too small for two people, but you know you'll end up in it anyways. He looks very much like a boy in this moment, face illuminated by the lantern light. "Prince Donghyuck," he says through a sigh.

"May he rest in peace," you say almost automatically. It's been your village's reply for ages in respect to the missing prince, who most assume is already dead.

"Yeah," Jaemin laughs humorlessly. "May he rest in peace. He wasn't dead, you know. He was there, within arms reach. I was in Mortem's ship, and I couldn't save him. I couldn't find him. The ship blew up, and I failed my prince. I failed my entire country."

"Jaemin." You're quick to sit beside him and place a comforting hand on his knee. Heat radiates off of his bare skin as he leans onto his knees, face in his hands. "None of that is your fault. Everyone went looking for him. The four kingdoms sent their best sailors out. Who's to say he stayed at sea? You said you didn't see him on the ship, right? Mortem's ship?"

Jaemin sniffs and nods. Before you can speak again, he curls against you, tucking his face into your neck. "I tried, Y/n. I tried, but the ship was on fire and everyone was fighting and–"

You shush Jaemin through the action of running your fingers through his hair. He slumped against you, and you can feel the weight on his shoulders. You can feel what he's been carrying with him for the past year. "You were close? You and the prince?"

"Yeah," Jaemin chokes, "Like brothers. The only other person he confided in was Prince Mark from the North. And he had a friend on staff, but not many other people loved him as purely as he deserved. And now he's gone."

"But you did everything you could," you say, holding Jaemin tighter. "It's not your fault that Prince Donghyuck is dead."

Jaemin bursts into tears then, an uncontrollable sob that breaks your heart into a million little pieces as you listen. He's weak against your hold, so he doesn't put up a fight when you gently push him down.

The two of you lay beside each other, the only sound besides Jaemin's scattered hiccups; the sound of the uneven waves outside.

You grasp at his arm and pull him close until your foreheads are pressed together. "You know that, don't you, Jaemin? It's not your fault."

Jaemin curls against you, sobs more sporadic. He's clutching your shirt, and you can feel his wet lashes brush against your shoulder. "I know that," he says, voice low and scratchy. "I just don't know how to believe it."

-

Jaemin is nineteen years old — almost twenty — when he learns that if you're leading a group of people, you can't show weakness.

So Jaemin doesn't. He allows himself a night at the inn to cry himself out. To fall into a lethargy just for the night, where he's too tired and worn out to think of anything.

He meant what he said to you. He knows it isn't his fault. Logically, there's no way he could've saved Donghyuck. His head knows that. His heart, however, is doing everything in it's power to convince him that he could've done more.

Maybe he could've.

Jaemin sighs and looks out towards the sea. His crew is in good spirits today, now that they've figured out how to ration food properly between ports. Now, the deck is often filled with the crass sound of sea shanties.

You're busy lately, after a rough storm took off part of the top sail. You've been busy mending, sewing with a few crew members who could spare the time. But today you're alone in your task, so Jaemin takes that as an excuse to see you.

"Hey." He sits down beside you and picks up the spool of thread you're using. It's horribly tangled, so he works out the kinks while you see the sail.

He studies your face for a moment. Just a quick, fleeting moment he wants to steal from the world. You, and your long lashes, and the way your hands are rough from your work. "You're sunburnt," he finally states, reaching out to poke at your reddened nose.

"It's hot out here," you state plainly.

"We've reached the Southern borders," Jaemin guesses. He sees his crew mill about, the majority of them forgoing their shirts in an effort to keep cool. Sweat shines against their skin, and Jaemin feels the motherly urge to force them all to go wash up and take a quick nap. He's still getting the hang of this whole pirate thing.

"We need to stop again," you say, exasperation in your voice. "This sail isn't going to hold, and the mast is nearly wrecked. I need to find new wood and rework the framing of the ship."

"What?"

"The Peribat is going to wreck one way or another," you say. "From weak sails or weak foundation. We have to stop for repairs."

"The crew isn't going to want to stop," Jaemin says.

"I know." Your voice holds a sort of resolve to it. Jaemin wonders if you know how regal you sound; like you could walk right into Eastern Court and be accepted. He wonders if you'd even care about that. "But we're stopping anyway. I want to live."

You set your eyes on Jaemin before you continue. "Jaemin, how long are you going to lie to them?"

Jaemin's mouth feels dry all of a sudden, and he doesn't think it's from the humidity. "How can I tell them? How can I tell them I have no idea where the siren's treasure is?"

"You haven't even tried," you hiss. "I told you to research and ask around, but you didn't. We're sailing in circles and I'm really tired. Jaemin, the adventure was fun when that's all it was — adventure. Now it's just a chance to ignore our problems. I don't want to ignore them anymore."

Jaemin knows you're right. He's been running for years, desperate to get away from all that haunts him. But really, where has it gotten him, save perpetual exhaustion? "You're right," he says. "We'll dock are the Southern Port, and I'll give the ship to Jaehyun."

"You can find a life for yourself, Jaemin." You tear off a piece of thread with your teeth, grimacing at the taste. "If you keep running, how will you ever find where you're meant to be?"

-

The Southern Kingdom has always been a place Jaemin wanted to visit. Of course, he would prefer better circumstances; ones where he isn't giving up the ship he's grown to love so much.

But you're right. Harboring a grudge overseas only creates ghosts. Phantom memories. Wounds that won't heal.

Jaehyun is good. He'll be a good captain, and Jaemin leaves all of his goods to him, save his special coat, and enough currency to get both you and him a place to sleep for a few nights.

The spring festival is in full swing. Jaemin isn't sure how, since the air is so heavy with heat. He's not used to this sort of heat. In the East, the air is hot, but there's always a refreshing breeze to keep you cool. Here it's just sweltering heat. The Southern Kingdom is like a desert. There's moisture, but it sticks to one's skin like a parasite.

The festival is set along the village streets. What once were cobblestones are now covered in the petals of cactus flowers. Each home front is set up with wreaths of flowers and odd succulents native to the land. Children mill around, shrieking behind their papier-mâché masks deigned to look like tigers, parrots, and snakes.

You love it.

Jaemin is still mourning the loss of his ship when you run straight into the masses, b-lining straight for the carpenter's booth. When he finally reaches you — breath short and a stitch in his side — you're discussing whetting techniques with a bearded carpenter and his wife. The man is in the middle of carving a nesting doll out of wood. The woman is painting one already formed. Jaemin can see one painted like the famous Prince Yukhei, and another like the new princess consort. He wonders what the smaller ones will be: perhaps a famed knight or a small cactus flower. Maybe a ballerina from the royal ballet.

Jaemin has missed so much; he wouldn't be surprised if there were a new heir.

During his time of observation, Jaemin failed to see how you convinced the man into letting you whet your own little doll with the spare wood he had on his table.

"Jaemin, come here," you say, voice bright with childlike excitement. You're bouncing on the balls of your feet — something that makes Jaemin nervous because you're also holding a knife.

"Please, be careful." He reaches out to take the knife away from you.

"I've never really made toys before!" you exclaim. "How adorable!"

"What is it you craft?" The woman at the booth questions you. "Jewelry boxes? Chests? Furniture?"

"I mend ships!" You say, purity in your voice.

A part of Jaemin feels sharp and warm, like he's just been brushed by a candle flame. It comes suddenly, the endearment. He finds himself excited at the new feeling: a positing change from everything else in his mind.

He moves closer to you. Just to feel the warmth again.

"Mending ships?" The woman clicks her tongue. "I remember dreaming of a life on a ship. Thought the adventure would awaken my spirit and help me find my will."

"Did you?" Jaemin asks, now interested. "Did your spirit wake up?"

The woman has a bit of a sparkle in her eye. There are wrinkles beside her eyes when she stares up at Jaemin. "It woke up eventually. Didn't have to go to sea, though."

"What did you do?" And Jaemin is desperate; searching for some reason not to feel so hollow and bare on the inside. Something inside of him needs to be released. He needs to find the peace he once had.

The woman seems to understand, maybe more than Jaemin will ever truly know. She hands Jaemin the smallest nesting doll; painted on it, a sprout. "I waited. And I grew. And the things that haunted me grew more distant along with my pain."

You find Jaemin's hand before he can think to ask you for support. You squeeze it, and that warm feeling is back. Jaemin wants to wrap himself inside of it and stay there forever.

"Thank you," he passes the nestling doll back to the woman.

"Keep it," she says. "And don't forget to let yourself grow in your own time."

-

There's a cup of cactus water between your hands, but you haven't taken a sip since the ballet began.

The newest tradition of the Southern Kingdom is the artistic dance— one the princess consort began in the halls of the castle. She's there now, directing the children as the dance around the stage. They're dressed in handsome colors: gold and rose and pearl and silver.

Your eyes are alight as they follow the dancers. Jaemin wonders how long he can stare at you before you become uncomfortable. Right now, he's enjoying watching the way your eyebrows furrow when the music speeds up — the way you pout when it slows down.

Jaemin feels hot again, and it's not the same as the market. It's not the same as the humidity. This is at the back of his neck, and it tickles him when he thinks about your lips, and your skin, and your hands.

He finds himself imagining a time where he could simply gather you in his arms and kiss you senseless.

Jaemin looks away.

Maybe that's enough looking for awhile.

-

Jaemin's never been one for subtlety, and you know that better than anyone.

You get a room at another inn. Currently, Jaemin has his head in the icebox while you study the nesting dolls. "Maybe I should sell toys," you say. "To make some money for us."

"I can sell some of my stuff from the ship," Jaemin's muffled voice replies. He finally sticks his head out of the ice box, and it's endearing to see his nose and cheeks a bright shade of reddish pink. "I have this coat... my friend told me not to sell it, but we can get a lot of money off of it, so I'm sure they'll understand."

"We can have a life here, Jaemin," you say.

Jaemin visibly gulps. "We'll stay together, then?"

"You're my closest friend, Jaemin. We have to stay together. We're a team." You smile, internally thrilled at the way Jaemin's entire countenance brightens.

"A team," he repeats. He bites his lip and keeps his eyes on his shoes. "I'm glad, then."

-

Jaemin is twenty years old when he decides to do something about his feelings. To sort them out or get rid of them altogether — either one is better than this strange limbo he has been feeling lately.

You're filled with enthusiasm and new ideas. You eventually do get your own stand in the Southern Market. You carve toys out of wood and sell them to the many children of the kingdom.

Jaemin attends a trade school now; one teaching about the new technology of mechanics. Jaemin is a clever and skilled mechanic, he discovers. He makes the mechanics that go into jewelry boxes and wind-up dolls.

He thinks of the sea often still. To ease the longing, he works on the prototype for a pirate ship toy that really sails when you stick it in the water. The blueprints are laid out over the bed (one the two of you share in the small storefront you were able to afford.) Jaemin's already in his nightshirt, but he has no plans of sleeping. His designs are nearly perfect, and he desperately wants to have them perfected before the holidays.

You're in the kitchen, visible to him through the open doorway. The soft light of the mid-table lantern is the only reason he can see your face, pinched in concentration as you go over the bookings of the day. Tomorrow is the day of the week when you visit the bookkeeper, to make sure the shop is in order.

Jaemin's thankful you have so much knowledge from your father's lumber shop, because he doesn't know the first thing about business and finances and taxes.

He approaches the doorway and leans against the wall, watching as you write in corrections and equations. Your hair has gotten longer since the two of you settled down. It's soft-looking, and Jaemin knows it smells good, because he knows what soap you use. Of course, it's quite odd to think of someone's scent, so he files that thought away with any other tidbit he knows about you that he'd be embarrassed for you to find out about.

"Come to bed," he says, finding his voice in the space between the silence of the house and the loudness of his thoughts. Realistically, he knows his order holds no force behind it, and you may very well stay out all night, fretting over past transactions. He has no influence in your life, despite living with you for so long. He's your business partner, nothing more. Nothing less, either, as Jaemin knows the two of you are affectionate enough — the only source of comfort the two of you sometimes have.

Then again, Jaemin has seen you around other men his age, and you always act different around them. Less pliant, yet more willing. Jaemin is only thinking about it now because of your stubbornness, and the way it does more harm than good. He's also thinking about the way you smile at them; the fair pink of your cheeks and the laugh that's not as genuine as it is with him. He wonders why you fake it around them— rather, why they matter so much that you would.

"I have to recheck these," you say. Your voice gets softer at night, as not to awaken the slumbering peace around you. It's one of the little things Jaemin notices, and likes very much. Of course, he has an entire list of little habits and quirks he's fallen in love with in the past year, but they all stay unspoken in the fear that you'll despise him for them.

"You've been rechecking them since lunch. I don't think you can get any more accurate." Jaemin chuckles. He uncrosses his arms and holds them out to you. "Come to bed. Please."

"Clear it of your blueprints, first," you say, eyes knowing.

"Deal."

Jaemin rolls up his plans and places them under the bed. He loves this bedroom very much. It's smaller than the one he used to have in the castle, yet it's spacey compared to than his ship's quarters.

The bed is just large enough for two, covered in a thin quilt crafted specifically to battle the hot evenings. The window is hidden behind a yarn tapestry in an effort to keep the sun out. It's teal-colored ikat design is from one of the many neighboring islands, as their merchants import goods. Jaemin recognized it a long time ago as one that is usually seen in the halls of Eastern nobility, so now it hangs as a reflective reminder.

There's a small bathing tub, hidden by a dressing screen. Jaemin has always preferred to just get his washing done in the bathhouse with everyone else, but he has come to respect that you want your privacy, so the two of you saved up for a tub to stick in an unoccupied corner. Now the room often smells of orange spice and other fruity smelling soaps and oils you've purchased from the market. Sometimes, Jaemin likes to take baths as well, away from the prying eyes of nosy neighbors. Sometimes, it's nice to just sit in the hot water and relax by himself.

(Only sometimes, though. Jaemin has comes to find that he doesn't really like being left alone, and far too often he has called you into the bedroom to talk to him through the screen, so that he wouldn't have to be with his thoughts any longer.)

There's a wooden chest at the foot of the bed, with just enough clothes for the two of you to get by. Spending day in and day out in a toy shop doesn't really require all that much change in appearance, so the two of you don't have much clothing. Jaemin sits atop the latched lid and stares at his hands.

You walk in, lantern in your grasp. Jaemin can see the contours and shadows of your face in the firelight. He watches you place the lantern on the empty space beside him. "Jaemin, why aren't you in bed?"

"I was— I was waiting for you," Jaemin says. He feels his mouth dry the moment you settle your hands against his shoulders. You lean in close. You always lean in close, but it startles him every time. Jaemin thinks if he could be this close to you forever, always inches away from a kiss, he'd be satisfied.

Jaemin can't help but stare at your lips now, raw and pink from constant worrying. He wants to ask you what this is: why he feels so far away from you despite living with you. He can feel your thumbs, calloused from woodwork, rub against the junction of his shoulder. He wants to lean in, breathe you in, and forget himself in your touch. Jaemin wracks his brain to try and remember the exact moment he decided you carried a part of him, but it blends with his memories so much so that he can't form a solid conclusion.

He supposes it's everything about you. It's your dedication to your work, as well as your knowledge on the Northern political climate. It's the callouses on your palms and the hair on your arms and the way you nuzzle into his side just before you get up in the morning. It's because you always make coffee for him, even when you prefer tea. It's the fact that Jaemin is pretty sure he wouldn't have gotten through these last few years without you.

You lean into him now, climbing atop the chest so that you can properly straddle his lap. Jaemin thinks his heart is going to burst when you press your forehead against his. Warmth pools into his chest and dips down in his stomach. It's familiar and welcome, the euphoria of being around you.

"Jaemin? We should sleep." Your breath is warm across his cheeks, and it should be uncomfortable because of the climate, but he welcomes it wholly.

"I know," he says, but neither of you move.

You close the distance. Jaemin has no idea if you can read his mind or if he’s just that transparent, but you hold his jaw between your pointer finger and thumb, and lift his face to meet yours.’

And your lips remind Jaemin of the verbascum flowers that used to bloom in his private garden. They’re soft and pliant and they’re coaxing him out of his shell so easily that Jaemin begins to worry about his resolve and priorities. Your hands feel good on his shoulders, so Jaemin lets you push the sleeve of his shirt down, if just to feel your touch on his burning skin.

This is it. This is what he wants. Not just the physical closeness, but the intimacy and vulnerability that comes with it. Jaemin likes this. He likes feeling like a real person; someone with a heart and a soul; someone made of more than sadness and regret.

He loves you, he thinks. He doesn’t want to say it; figures it’s not important right now. But he can feel your love in the warmth of your chest, and you can feel it in the quickening of his heartbeat.

Jaemin likes to think that that's enough.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Just Say the Word: Eight

“Oh my god,” you groan, resting your forehead on the bar, “Nat, I can’t do any more Betty Specials. I just can’t.”

“You’re slacking,” She said downing the radioactive colored shot.

“Or I’m just getting to old to do Candy, Drugs, and a shot for dinner,” you counter.

“It’s all those fucking bougie drinks,” she said lining up another Betty Special on the counter in front of you.

“You’re gonna have to pour me into a cab,” you protest.

“That was always the plan, baby.”

You roll your eyes and jump off the stool you’re sitting on making your way to the ladies’ room. “If you puke in the sink you clean it,” Nat yelled after you, “You fuckin’ light weight.”

Your middle finger extends and you half turn so she can see it clearly as you push the door open with your hip. “It still looks like a whore’s dressing room in here!” you yell, snorting to yourself when Nat huffs a laugh. The deep red and black damask patterned paper you and Nat had picked out. The soft glow of the laps. The black tile floor. You and Nat had wanted some sophistication in the ladies’ room. And at 20, this had been tops. Real class you thought. Now it just looked like a rejected set from Moulin Rouge.  But still. It made you smile. Especially remembering all the times you and Nat had had war councils about the boys in here. The couple cases of beer and wine you’d gone through together doing the decorating. And all the nights you had to hold each others’ hair and wipe away tears.

And half way through your little trip on memory lane, as you look up and see your eyes in the mirror, you understand just how plastered you are. And it feels good. It’s a specific kind of drunk. The kind that feels warm in your belly. The kind of drunk you hadn’t been for a long time. The alcohol doesn’t sit like a rock, holding you down. It doesn’t flood over the barriers you put up. Like a river rising after a storm, carrying with it debris and things you wish would stay dead. But there’s no time for debris today. The things that give you nightmares when the moon is full or the week before your period. Nat is waiting. And there’s a Betty Special, complete with Edible gummy, waiting for you on the counter. But over the music playing from the speakers and the water running, you don’t hear the door open.

But you do hear it shut. 

And your head snaps up. And just like that. The warmth in your belly turns cold. 

“Hey, Darlin’,” Bucky mumbled, brushing hair out of his eyes. 

“Bucky,” you murmur, not able to move. Or think.  There was too much edible on one of those Betty’s. Or too much Candy. You feel like you snorted a Pixie Stick and chased it down with a four loko. Before they took the fun shit out. 

He stepped closer slowly. Not touching you, but until he’s standing so close to you that you can feel the heat of his body. And smell the cologne. The same cologne you’d bought him one year for Christmas and he’d worn since.

But when he turned you slowly, so he could look you in the eyes, “Betty Specials, huh?” he said smiling a little.

“I think one too many,” you say, looking away. 

“Yeah,” he said tiling your chin up, tutting, “You can’t run with the big dogs anymore, babycakes. Not without some practice.” You’re drunk. Really Drunk. And High. More than a little but less than fucked. It had been awhile, but he remembered this. And he could smell the liquor on your breath. It reminded him of prom. The first time. One a blanket in the park by the pond. Stars shining and moonlight. Fumbling and giggling. Scared to death but thrilled to be together. 

“I- I need-” You stutter. But you can’t get the words out. Bucky’s lips crash into yours and the dam bursts. There is no resistance to the debris. This flood is happening and you can’t stop it. And you don’t want to. “Bucky,” you sigh against his lips, and he doesn’t need any more encouragement. He picks you up and puts you on the counter, licking hungrily into your mouth. And you taste the same. You moan against his lips and his hands find your hair, tangling in the windblow curls. And you’re lost. Drowned. He knew how to push buttons. He knew what you liked. And it was clear that he’d never forgotten. 

But when he comes up for air all you can do is cry. Burst into tears like a sorority girl too many keg stands deep. Too many wine coolers and not enough to eat.

“Baby,” he stammers, reaching for you. That wasn’t what he wanted. He hadn’t even wanted to kiss you. He just has.

“Get out!” you scream. “Fuck. Fuck. God damn it!”

And all at once, Bucky can’t breathe. “Shit Y/N you didn’t-”

“Get out!”

And for once, the man who swore he’d not take orders ever again falls back into retreat. Because once again, he’d put his dick before your heart. And once again he’d ripped the rug out from under you. Because if you were nothing else, you were loyal. Hell, he was the only guy in basic that never had to worry about his girl back home. Ever. You felt guilty if you even THOUGHT you crossed a line. And Bucky knew this was definitely a line. This wasn’t a chat. This wasn’t an old friend buying you a drink. This was a tongue down your throat and a hard on against the crotch of your jeans. This was several clicks out side of okay.

“What did you do?” Nat hissed, smacking him in the head as she pushed into the bathroom to grab you, “Fuck Bucky!”

“I’ll call a cab,” he murmured, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Nice one, Barnes.”

“Damn it, Buck,” Steve sighed. 

“I know,” he breathed, “I just-”

“Didn’t think,” Steve finished. 

[the-mountainsflame]

Of Hunts and Monsters

((An ambush. Continued from this fic here! Putting this fic on this blog since it’s basically Sage and one of the Swarstral...but this is a continuation of an ongoing arc on @sword-and-lance!))

===

Thanalan was bloody loud at night, and Sage wished she had known that before making this plan of hers.

Every chitter of a vilekin too nearby made her jump; beasts of unknown shape called and chuffed in the distance, and it was only by virtue of one of her quarry’s more unusual traits that she wasn’t a twitchy wreck about it. It was, after all, very very hard to miss a giant glowing dog-angel in the middle of the night, even with the moon hanging bright as a new coin overhead.

Sweet Halone, her mothers would kill her if they knew she was doing this, though. That, or applaud her; the line between a highly ambitious decision and a very foolish one was paper thin, after all, and even she herself wasn’t certain which one this fell under. It was just her, and one of their better archers mounted on Claudius to try and outrun the monster they were trying to lure here. Not that, as an Ahtyn, she was fond of sending one of her hunters out to do that task, but...to be frank, she was a terrible shot with a bow, and on top of that, she would trust no one else with the task she had taken up.

Her grip tightened subconsciously on the thin cord she was holding, that looped around the side of the boulder she was hiding behind, only to dive under the sandy earth. She wouldn’t stick this responsibility on anyone else’s shoulders; at the very least, if this went wrong, only she would be getting the brunt of it, and the chocobo’s rider would get away from it quickly enough.

She caught a flash out of the corner of her eye, though, and she stiffened. She would later refuse to admit that she had been scared at all, but...her heart thudded painfully in her chest and her breathing quickened as she turned her head slightly and caught sight of another flash, from the depths of the canyon that they knew that monster had been hiding.

(Or was it hiding? Maebh had been curiously insistent that it was actually looking for...something, that maybe some of their war-leader’s worst traumas had imprinted themselves into the aether of the land, and that was how it was trying to attune to her that way. But all of that magic shite had always been a bit beyond Sage, and it was still beyond her now...All she knew and all she cared about was that they needed to hunt it down, they had a list of locations it could possibly be (with this area just outside of Ul’dah being one of them), and at a minimum, they needed to damage that thing so badly that it couldn’t keep doing whatever it was planning on doing to their war-leader.)

(All the rest of that nonsense regarding magic and such could be dealt with later, by people who actually knew what they were doing with it. In other words, not her.)

She saw another flash, and her grip tightened on the cord until her knuckles paled with the tension in the moonlight. She was too aware of the residual heat of the day rising from the sands below her; her breath hissed through her teeth and she had to force it to level out, with an ease only gained from practice and experience. She could hear the distant whistle of arrow shots and the thump of large chocobo feet, and the flashes were more sharp increases of brightness in an ever-present glow than discrete instances, now. 

It’s just another man-eater, Sage told herself as she strained her senses to their absolute limit. A smart man-eater, but still a man-eater. And they hadn’t been able to justify risking the entire Swarstral, when they needed to be around in case this plan didn’t work, even if Sage was at least reasonably confident it would--

It was getting closer.

She could hear the hunter’s shouts and the hisses of their each and every shot; some of them might even have hit, judging by the heavy thunk she sometimes heard after one. While mere arrows wouldn’t be good enough to bring it down entirely, that wasn’t the purpose. It was just to madden it and get it to chase Claudius and his rider without paying too much attention to its surroundings...or, rather, the filled trench it was going to run over.

The light grew so bright that it was casting the boulder’s shadow over her, and she barely dared to peek around it--but dare she did, just in time to see Claudius thundering past, the archer on his back aiming another quick shot at the glowing figure floating after her some yalms behind.

She just had to time it.

It didn’t even seem to register her presence, its hostility radiating off of it in waves that she could swear she physically felt. It dripped gold from a few arrow wounds, but it didn’t even seem to notice them.

She just had to time it.

It was still just ilms off of the ground, though, and it paid no mind to the visible line of disturbed earth as it advanced on it and then finally--

She just had to time it.

Time slowed to a mere crawl as it sailed right over the trench.

She pulled the cord.

The re-filled ground exploded with terrifying force, spraying earth and raw force up at the creature above it--but it also roared out of the sides too and even though the rock she had braced herself against had been huge and seemingly immovable it suddenly jerked at the force, slamming into her back and into the back of her head and sending her flying forward onto her face and sand filled her mouth and her eyes and her nose and her ears rang viciously after the noise of the explosion overpowered them...

How long she had lain there with her head pounding and her ears ringing and her body aching from the blow, she had no idea. But right as she rolled and pushed herself up, she cursed herself for a fool and braced herself against the boulder. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Colossal said that it was powerful stuff, and she really should have been further away. Her mothers would...well, not have tanned her hide with a switch like some arses she could name, but they certainly would have given her the verbal reaming of a lifetime for that oversight.

She wrapped an arm around herself and coughed in the choking cloud of sand and dust thrown up by the explosion, but she crept around the rock, squinting through the still-floating debris and searching for that thing’s body--

A clawed hand shot out from her left and caught her by the throat, and she barely had time to squeak out a curse before she was lifted a few good fulms off of the ground...and right level with Forgiven Mourning’s face, which filled her vision at this close a range.

She gasped and struggled against it, trying her best to pry its fingers off of her, but she could no more break its grip than she could break solid steel with her bare hands, and its not-mask-not-face stared her down for a few long moments--at least, before it spoke. 

(Or was it speaking if it was in her head?)

Away.

Stay.

Away.

MINE.

Daeyona’s face flashed through her mind, as if the thought had been placed there by some outside force.

MINE.

Oh, shite to this. She fully realized she had probably made a few mistakes, thinking this would work--it didn’t have a bloody scratch on it after all of that--but if she had to go out, this wasn’t the worst way to do it. Her mixed opinions on Daeyona aside, at least she’d be remembered (hopefully) fondly by her hunters for doing her best to save their sylbei.

She actually spat in its face, with a scornful (if choked-off) laugh. “Go to hell, monster.”

It still stared her down, however, its eyes narrowing just a fraction. But as the heavy thuds of chocobo footsteps approached it once more, it turned its gaze slightly over her shoulder and let out a chuff of air into her face.

And then it threw her down, the blow winding her and threatening to knock her unconscious entirely, but she barely managed to hold on and even managed to sit up just a bit...but it was gone, flying into the sky in a brilliant arc.

Godsdammit. Godsdammit, that had gone wrong in a hurry. But now her mind was made up: she was going to have to haul the entire Swarstral into this, even if she had been wanting to avoid putting all of them into immediate danger if she could help it. But they had no choice, now, did they?

Fine then. She spat out dirt and grit into the torn-up earth, blood tingeing it scarlet. If it wanted to try and make itself difficult? She would make all of them difficult right back at it--they would relish the chance. 

And this was her duty, personal feelings aside. It couldn’t end any other way, could it?

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Metamorphosis: Chapter 19. The Search.

HUZZAH!! The next chapter of Metamorphosis is HERE!!

Extra special thanks to @thefraserwitch for making sense of my nonsensical ramblings and @diversemediums for being my spectacular mama resource. I couldn’t do this without you guys, you’re the best and my saving grace.

You can find previous chapters here on my master list, or over here on AO3.

Mid November, 1743; Lallybroch.

“What are ye doin’, lass?”

Murtagh’s voice held more concern than consternation as he made his way towards me in the dim stable. I didn’t — couldn’t — look at him as I hoisted the saddle blanket onto the mare’s back, knowing that if I did, if I saw the fear he was trying to hide in his eyes, I would cry… or worse, lose my resolve.

“What does it look like?” I huffed as I turned my attention to the heavy saddle, “I’m coming with you.”

He was at my side before I managed to get it anywhere near the horse. A guttural Gaelic expletive left his lips and I forfeited the heavy tack to him, but made no move to surrender my position near the mare’s flank. I crossed my arms against chest, my gaze withering as he set down the saddle and turned to back me.

“Ye’ll no’ be riding with me,” he insisted with a dismissive shake of his head.

I knew better than to ask him why not, for there were a thousand and one reasons for me to stay behind while he forged ahead. I’d thought of each and every one, every horrible scenario playing out in my mind since he’d arrived with battered Ian in tow and still came to the same conclusion.

I was going to find my husband... with or without Murtagh’s approval.

My chest heaved as I stared him down. He met my gaze without so much as a twitch, but the crack and timbre of his voice betrayed his true feelings.

“Ye’ll stay here… where Jenny can tend to ye, where ye are safe,” his shoulders hunched with huge weight of the situation, his breathing labored as he tried to talk me down. “Wha’ happens to the bairns if ye fall, lass? ‘Tis a long way down and no guarantee of a bush or heather to land on.”

“I won’t fall.”

He snorted, “And if ye do?”

“I’ve fallen a good deal farther and they’re still here,” I grimly stated and shivered slightly, for the chilling nightmare I’d had while within the depths of the Thieves Hole had become a frequent visitor in the weeks since my imprisonment, each repetition more frightening than the last.

My comment tore down Murtagh’s mask of resolute strength and his hands shot out, gripping my upper arms as moisture sprang to his eyes, “I canna risk it, a nighean. Please… will ye no’ stay here?”

I shook my head, opening my mouth to protest, but he cut me off.

“I give you my word, Claire,” he vowed, desperate for me to stay behind. “I will find him and bring him back to you.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment, but in what condition?” I spat, even as my voice cracked. “They flogged Jamie within an inch of his life the last time you broke him out of prison and I can’t imagine they’ll do anything less to him this time!”

The image of a hangman’s noose around my husband’s neck knocked the air from my lungs and I felt very much like I was going to be sick. My head spun as I lifted my hands to my face. A shudder ran through me in a desperate attempt rid myself of the sudden vision of Jamie swinging from the scaffold at Fort William. I felt my legs give way beneath me and my crippling fears swallowed me whole as the floodgates opened, a sob bursting forth from my lips unchecked.

Murtagh caught me just before I hit the ground, pulling me to him in an awkward embrace as my tears flowed freely. I’d been bolstered by Jenny’s strength and carried by my own stubborn determination, but the quiet darkness of the stable had been my undoing. I knew that, on their own, my tears would solve nothing… but I also knew that I wouldn’t solve anything if I didn’t allow myself to cry… here in the stillness, protected by the arms of the man my husband trusted above all others.

Working together, we could -- and would -- save Jamie.

We had to.

..

Two weeks later; Somewhere in the Highlands.

“Thank ye, Mistress,” the young boy nodded to me, going so far as to bend forward from the waist in a slight bow.

While I understood their appreciation, the almost reverence the village folk gave in the last few hamlets we’d traveled through was beginning to grow wearisome. I hadn’t even treated the lad’s wound yet and here he was acting as though I’d cured him of leprosy with a touch of my hand. Most of this was Murtaugh’s doing, I knew, and yet if it meant word spread more quickly or even made me more identifiable to Jamie, I would go along with the harmless charade.

Placebo pebbles, I’d mentally dubbed them when Murtagh explained his idea at the start of our journey. Highlanders were equal parts superstitious and religious and Murtaugh's plan was to capitalize on both. He told me of a folkloric woman, a sort of witch who was able to see the motivations of men and women alike, who could strike an evil-doer down with a single look. He thought he could use the structure of La Dame Blanche, as she was called, to create a Holy Mother-like figure who could see the future and give protection or healing with the aid of a stone. The rumors of a pregnant Sassenach wandering about the countryside telling fortunes and healing the sick using magic rocks was sure to make it to Jamie, wherever he was hiding. I only hoped he’d hear of us before they tried me for witchcraft a second time or even for heresy.

I offered the boy my best attempt at a smile, gesturing him to come closer as I placed the small pouch of stones into a more visible part of my work space.

“Does it hurt much?” I nodded to the bandage on his right hand.

“Och, nae,” he bluffed as he extended it to me. “Jus’ it gets in the way a wee bit, now an’ then.”

I carefully unwrapped it and noticed a little girl standing near a tree about fifty yards from us. She had her eyes trained on the boy, yet made no move to come any closer as I examined him. The two shared similar cheekbone structures, a smattering of freckles, and glittering brown eyes.   

“Your sister?” I inclined my head, trying to distract him as the last layer of his bandage slowly peeled away. He nodded bravely, but I caught the wince he tried to hide as he averted his gaze to where she stood.

“What’s her name?”

“Flora, Mistress.” His voice changed, rising in timbre as his discomfort grew and I began to examine what revealed to be a minor burn.

It had already begun to heal and was relatively clean, needing only minimal cleaning before my application of a basic salve and a fresh bandage, but I took my time with him. For once, there wasn’t a flock of people hovering about my skirts waiting to be treated, and I made the effort to do the extra things Murtagh had suggested.

Use just enough Gaidhlig to make them think ye have it.

Give them every reason to believe ye can do a great deal more than what yer doin’...  an’ tha’ the wee stones will do the rest o’ the healin’ for ye.

I kept my eyes on my work, but watched the boy out the corner of my eye as I began to slip in the phrases I’d been carefully taught, “And yours, a bhalaich?”

His head lifted in surprise to look at me, eyes wide with reverent awe and answered softly, “Michael.”

I nodded and reached for my medicine box, taking out the vial of salve I needed and a roll of fresh bandage. I set both down beside the small, leather pouch of stones before I looked at him again and found him unabashedly staring at me. My cheeks warmed, but I didn’t shirk from his gaze as I began to clean the wound.

Michael flinched as I cleared a bit of debris and dropped his eyes, staring the items table. I could see his mind working, but he didn’t speak. The cogs and wheels of his brain turned over each one until he came to the leather pouch. His mouth dropped open in excitement, then shut just as quickly as he tried to contain himself. He shifted from foot to foot uneasily and I knew this was the very result Murtagh had hoped for.

Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, here we go again.

“Would you like one, Michael?” I coaxed.

Murtagh would chuffed to know that I hadn’t needed to explain the purpose of the stones with this patient. The rumors had reached this village far ahead of us and done the work for me.

My patient’s brows drew together in concern, “I dinna have anything to give ye... and ye’ve already mended my arm. I canna ask for a wee stone besides.”

“Then a gift for your sister, perhaps?”

Michael’s smile threatened to stretch right off his face as he nodded, turning to beckon the child to his side. I caught the little girl’s nervous glance between her brother and I and smiled at her in encouragement. With a final look to Michael, she stepped out from behind the tree and ran to his side, burying her face in the back of his green coat.

“Hallo, a nighean,” I murmured and finished off applying the salve, wiping my hands on my apron.

The little girl’s arms wrapped around her brother’s waist and held on for dear life. He coaxed her in Gaelic, resulting in her peering around him, but not budging so much as an inch. Michael’s tone changed and she reluctantly let go, sidestepping to reveal a dirty blue dress and smudged face. My heart melted as she grabbed for her brother’s free hand, anchoring herself to him as she tried to decide if I was friend or foe.

I reached for the pouch and loosened the drawstring. Not looking at Flora as she studied me, I, in turn, examined its contents and made a great show of selecting which one I wanted to give her. I did have quite a few options thanks to a good deal of forethought, but it really made no matter which I chose, for they were all plain, benign, everyday rocks.

I eventually selected a small, white pebble that was near the top as I tried to focus on the task before me, but — as if the brother and sister’s presence called out in greeting to them — the lives within me stirred. They turned and prodded until I, in turn, had to move to appease them. I shifted uncomfortably on my hard, wooden seat and tried to nudge one, encouraging them to remove their heel from between my ribs.

Would they be brother and sister like these cherubs? Would I have a daughter and a son? One to favor me and the other Jamie?

A small, warm hand gently covered mine and I looked up in surprise to see Flora lean in towards me, a quiet lullaby tumbling from her lips. I couldn’t understand the words, but I didn’t need to. Her soft melody possessed an almost hypnotic charm, an intonation of the purest intent, a blessing from one child’s heart to another. The baby moved their foot and the both of them stilled, as if they could hear her song and were listening intently.

I held my breath as she finished, giving my hand a pat with her final, sustained note. My throat constricted as her wide, innocent eyes met mine and she gave me a shy smile. Tears burned at the back of my eyes as I gave her one in return, lifting my right hand to cup her face. I tucked a tangled strand of hair behind her ear and her smile grew, making her brown eyes dance.

“May our Heavenly Father keep you safe, my child.”

This time I truly meant the phrase Murtaugh had taught me, though I’d uttered them to nearly every patient I had treated, and my spirit echoed it, petitioning for the both of them to be safe and well in the name of our Lord.

Flora turned her face into my palm and kissed it, then moved my hand to rest where it had been on top of the curve of my abdomen. I opened my left hand and offered her the stone, adding my own hasty benediction, my brain scrambling for the words.

“May Christ Our Lord be your solid rock and cornerstone… May He cradle you in the palm of His hand and shelter you under His feathers… from this day on and forever more.”

The sweet child accepted my token and then crossed herself before stepping back to her brother’s side. I blinked rapidly in a vain attempt to keep my tears at bay as my mind scrambled to remember what the hell I was doing before I had descended into complete sentimentality.

Bandage him, you bloody sot, I chastised myself and reached for the roll of cloth.

My fingers set about their business, pure reputation having made them deft and capable of doing the work without a connected or coherent mental direction. My tongue was thick in my mouth, my lips suddenly felt clumsy as I tried to spit out the basic care instructions that he would need.

“Keep it dry,” I muttered, adding, “and change the bandage daily.”

Michael’s head bobbed enthusiastically, “Aye, Màthair. I will.”

The bandage now fastened off and talisman administered, the children simply stood and beamed at me, waiting for dismissal or further instruction.

“Right then,” I swallowed hard. “Off you go.”

With a parting wave, they flounced off and disappeared into the village’s market.

God go with you, dear ones.

…

Another week later.

The chill from the cave’s damp, stone floor was beginning to seep through the sheepskin beneath me. I shifted, pulling my woolen blanket up and over my shoulders, but it didn’t help… the cold and dark disquiet of the night still found me. My eyelids and every muscle in my body burned with fatigue, yet my mind refused to stop churning. It’s machinations kept me forever suspended in wakeful agony.

“Canna sleep?”

A short puff of air left my nose in frustration as I tried to ease the ache in my hip and lower back, as well as in response to Murtagh’s observation.

“Of course not,” I muttered in answer.

How could I sleep when I knew we’d been unsuccessful?

When we’d paraded through every village, hamlet, and croft and had no more information on Jamie’s whereabouts than when we’d left Lallybroch over three weeks ago?

I felt Murtagh’s gaze upon me and looked across the fire to find him studying me intently.

“What is it?” I raised a brow in slight annoyance

He’d grown more accustomed to my condition as both our journey and I progressed, but he was still more than a bit tongue tied about the whole matter. I didn’t know if it was due to the century and culture in which he lived, or if it was simply from lack of exposure, having never had a wife of his own. Either way, the fact that he had questions was evident and I often had to drag them out of him.

“Are the bairns troublin’ ye?” His brows furrowed in concern as he added, “Wi’ their movin’?”

I shook my head, “I think they’re asleep.”

This surprised the Scot and he absently stroked his chin in thought, a motion that amused me as I realized my hand closely echoed his, although it was hidden from his sight beneath my blanket.

“They don't always sleep when I do,” I explained, even while wishing they did, “but they do sleep.”

“When they wake…” he searched for the right words, “a bit like ye’ve swallowed fish, aye?”

“More like a small hippo,” I grumbled, wistfully remembering the days when the movements within me could have been something akin to the brush of a fish’s tail, instead of the hooves on fire they resembled of late.

“A wha’?”

“It’s a… it looks something like a pig,” I started, my gaze lifting to the dark, stone ceiling above me as I tried to conjure up the image of the beast. One had nearly capsized our boat when I was in Cairo with Uncle Lamb and — though I’d only been eleven or twelve at the time — it was certainly an experience that stuck with me.

I heard his astonished murmured acknowledgement as he shifted his mental image from something the size of a loaf of bread to a decent sized farm animal and grinned to myself as I added, “Except it’s bigger than a horse.”

His guttural reaction was incoherent to my Sassenach ears, but the shock, disbelief, and then reverent awe was crystal clear. Murtagh didn’t quite know how to change the subject and we both let a heavy silence fall.

It was now well into December, making me officially in my sixth month of pregnancy. The babies were growing rapidly and so, in turn, was I. It felt as though they were already running out of room… though I knew we still had a long three months to go.

The blessing of living on the road was that I hadn’t seen my reflection since we’d left Lallybroch. I firmly held onto that mental image of my figure, not wanting to think of what I looked like now, nor how big I’d be come the month of March. The fit of my skirts was evidence enough of how I was changing on an almost daily basis and I half wondered if the age old tradition of confinement was so that heavily expectant mothers could get away with wearing nothing but their shift all day… but come to that, I wasn’t sure if even my shift would fit for much longer.

“Ye’ll return to Lallybroch in the morn,” my companion’s command interrupted my wandering thoughts.

I stiffened, my head snapping to the side to search for him in the dark.

“No,” I responded simply.

I hadn’t the energy or the words to plead my case just now, but giving up on my husband was not an option and neither was returning home to Jenny empty handed. I would not go back to Lallybroch without Jamie at my side.

The dim light of the fire threw deep shadows across Murtagh’s face as he insisted again, “Ye’ll go, Claire.”

“I won’t,’ I countered, my temper flaring and swallowing my fatigue as I pushed myself up onto one elbow. “He is my husband.”

He rose one brow as if taunting me, his silent ‘do ye no’ think I ken that’ ringing loud and clear in my ears and I swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to keep my tears at bay.

“You can’t possibly know how it feels!”

Murtagh rose suddenly and strode to the mouth of the cave as he burst, “An’ ye’re the only one to lose someone ye loved, then?!”

The sky was clear and the moon shone bright tonight, silhouetting his hunched shoulders, usually so proud and stalwart.  

“I lost someone too,” he murmured, his voice betraying the deep, churning waters that flowed beneath an always unbroken surface.

“‘Twas at a MacKenzie gathering, many years ago… she was a canty lassie, bonnie as the day is long… but she had another suitor. So, I thought to prove myself to her, to be the kind of man she desired… During the hunt, I alone killed the wounded boar with nothing but my dagger… The MacKenzie was so impressed by the deed, he gave me the tusks… I had them made into bracelets… and gave them to her as a wedding gift.”

The bracelets.

Jenny had given them to me the morning Murtagh and Ian had returned and they’d been in my pocket ever since, a talisman of my own to keep Jamie’s presence with me. I pushed myself the rest of the way up, my hands patting at my skirts to find them.

“It was you,” I whispered as my fingers wrapped around the curved ivory, warm from being against my body.

Murtagh turned and I staggered to my feet, closing the distance between us as I held them out to him. He was at my side long before I made it to where he’d been standing and his hands shook as he took the bracelets, bringing them to his lips as his eyes slid shut. He swayed slightly and it was my turn to place a steadying hand on his arm, .

“Ye think ye’re the only one who loves Jamie?” Murtagh murmured after a moment, the silver light of the moon making his damp cheeks shine bright as he finally looked at me. I found my own pain echoed in his eyes, multiplied tenfold.

“He is a son to me, a nighean.”

I nodded, knowing that I couldn’t possibly form accurate words to convey the acheings of my heart… the overwhelming and soul crushing realization that he did, indeed, know how I felt and he’d been carrying the weight of it around for decades.

My hand gripped his arm and he pulled me to him, supporting me as I cried. His hand lifted to gently cradle the back of my head as I sobbed into his shoulder, my tears flowing free for the first time since we’d left Lallybroch.

The doubt crept in as I let go of my facade, making me ask, “What’s going to happen to me… to us, if he’s… if Jamie is...”

“If the lad is truly gone,” Murtagh choked out, his embrace tightening, “I vow to protect ye and the bairns for the rest of my life… just as I swore to Ellen to protect Jamie.”

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Fifth Year Bonus Scene 4

One more bonus scene after this one! This is a long one, and it’s more self-indulgent than anything because I had this in my head for ages and wanted it out. It’s basically Ginny’s POV of the Department of Mysteries.

This won’t be up on AO3 for a while either. Please leave a comment! :)

Bonus Scene 1

Bonus Scene 2

Bonus Scene 3

Bonus Scene 5

**

(Read more for mobile users!)

She was a fourth year. A bloody fourth year. And yet here she was in the Ministry of Magic, inside the Department of Mysteries, poking a sleeping dragon. They were all students, and they were going up against You-Know-Who.

Shivering, Ginny looked around at the eerily glowing orbs lining the shelves around them. Dust clogged the air and the orbs, stirring with every footstep they took through the aisles. It was utterly silent except for their breathing and footsteps.

Michael should have been here. He should be helping, not…sitting on his arse because he was too scared of making a mistake.

The flight on the thestrals hadn’t exactly calmed Ginny’s anger and annoyance, only postponed it because she’d been too terrified at the sensation of flying on something invisible. Now that she was safe(er), the anger was back and she was increasingly annoyed at Michael’s reticence.

Yes, he’d made a mistake. It was a bloody awful mistake, but he couldn’t just stop altogether because of it!

Ginny hadn’t, had she? Although, maybe she would have if Michael hadn’t been there to support her. If she hadn’t made fast friends with Neville and Luna, who had no idea what exactly happened in her first year but supported her nonetheless.

She couldn’t focus on Michael for long, though, since it turned out that they had run into a trap. And then they were running after she fired a Reducto, destroying line after line of dusty crystal balls, releasing wisps and ghosts that spoke words into the air and drowned each other out.

Harry had one of those balls, too, the last Ginny had seen him before they were separated by the maze-like corridors.

But where was safety in this mess?

They stumbled into room after room filled with magical odds and ends that were both fascinating and creepy. The Death Eaters were relentless, firing off curse after curse that just missed their marks due to sheer luck.

Ginny was facing down one Death Eater, shoving Luna back as she prepared another Blasting Curse when the man in front of her suddenly vanished.

Her curse hit the wall, creating nothing more than a small dent and a small backsplash of energy that toppled over a cabinet of curious artifacts that Ginny didn’t want to investigate considering the other creepy things in the room.

“What the hell?” Ron sounded bewildered. “What just happened? Where did they go?”

Ginny pulled in a shuddering breath, heart pounding in her chest. Harry, Neville, and Hermione stumbled in from the adjoining room, ashen and looking just as bewildered. They were all fine. They were all alive.

Something swept through her bones, a wash of power and unfamiliar energy that had the hairs on her skin prickling and goosebumps rising. A violent shiver wracked her body, Ginny’s fingers giving a spasm where she was gripping her wand.

“Did they Disapparate?” Harry asked, sounding lost.

“It didn’t look like it,” Ron disagreed. “But…”

A scream ripped through the air, terrified and pained.

Ginny stepped back, waiting for it to die down, but it continued, sounding like whoever was screaming was being tortured within an inch of their lives.

“It’s coming from back here,” Harry said, turning to go back through the doorway he had just come out from.

“Harry, no.” Hermione tried and failed to snag his sleeve. “Are you nuts?” Her raised voice was drowned out by two more piercing screams, these distinctly male.

“I-I don’t want to face whatever that is,” Ron stammered, eyes wide. “If that’s the Death Eaters—”

Ginny shared looks with Luna and Neville, a faint feeling of hope stirring in her chest. Could it be Michael? If it was…what the hell was he doing?

“I don’t want to stand around here waiting,” Harry snapped. “What if it comes after us?”

“I…” Hermione exhaled loudly, looking at the room they were in with growing discomfort. “Fine. But only because this room is freaking me out.”

The other three went ahead first, Ginny lagging behind with Neville and Luna.

“Is it – is it him?” Neville whispered. “You said you spoke to him before, right?”

“I did,” Ginny whispered back, “but…he said he wasn’t going to do anything.”

A fourth scream pierced the air, making everyone jump, but this one abruptly cut out seconds later.

“We’re in danger,” Luna pointed out a breathless moment later, not lowering her voice much.

Ginny nodded, blowing out a breath. Her muscles felt jittery with nervous energy, and she couldn’t help but jump at every odd sound. The other screams had died out, but she didn’t know what was going on. If it was Michael or something else.

And if it was Michael…what was he doing? Torturing the Death Eaters?

The floor rumbled beneath their feet, buckling unexpectedly and sending them sprawling. There was agonized screaming coming from somewhere nearby, although it was drowned out by the sound of something collapsing.

Apparition cracks filled the air, and Ginny found herself hauled to her feet by Tonks, who patted her down in concern, asking her if she was okay.

“I’m – I’m fine.” Ginny brushed her off, turning to Neville and Luna. They were being helped by Lupin and Kingsley.

Sirius was by Harry, and Moody was watching the walls, eye spinning madly in its socket.

“What’s happening?” Harry demanded. He clutched at Sirius. “You’re okay? He – he never had you, did he?” He sounded lost.

Sirius returned Harry’s grip. “No,” he said reassuringly, “he didn’t. It’s okay, Harry.”

“It’s something,” Moody growled. “What the hell is going on in that room?” He stepped over a raised portion of the floor, sidestepping large cracks as he headed towards the direction they had been going in.

Sharing a look with the others, Ginny followed, feeling significantly more secure now that they had actual adults with them.

“Can you see what’s happening, Alastor?” Kingsley asked once they stopped outside the door.

“No,” Moody said. “There’s something blocking me.”

No sooner had Moody said that did the floor begin to rattle threateningly again, a blinding white light that hurt Ginny’s eyes shining through the bottom of the door. She braced herself, prepared to fall over again, but it was less violent this time, the light disappearing and the rumbling stopping quickly.

Lupin stepped forward, trying to help Moody open the door.

Someone started screaming from inside the room, although it lasted about five seconds before it stopped and dead silence filled the air.

Harry pushed his way forward, shrugging off Sirius’s restraining hand. “You can’t get it open?” he demanded.

“I’m trying,” Lupin gritted out, wand flaring as he tried spell after spell.

 And then the door slammed open, leaving Lupin and Harry standing in the doorframe with Moody just to the side.

Ginny couldn’t see inside, but something pushed Lupin back and pulled Harry inside before slamming the door shut again. This time it was Sirius who lunged forward and tried desperately to open it, screaming Harry’s name.

“It’s not him, is it?” Neville whispered, ashen. “I – what is he doing?”

 “It is,” Luna whispered back, eyes wide. “Can’t you feel him?”

Ginny couldn’t answer, as she flinched back when Harry started screaming from inside the room. There was white light sparking from underneath the door, nowhere near as painful to the eyes as it had been last time.

 “Harry!” Sirius roared. “You bastard, stop it!”

Michael – if it was Michael – didn’t stop. Harry kept screaming for what felt like an eternity.

“Blast the door off the hinges!” Moody snapped. “Get it open!”

The curses were absorbed into the door, and still Harry screamed.

Ginny was about to ask Michael to please stop when an inhuman shrieking sound ripped through the air, piercing her ears. She slammed her hands over them, but as quickly as it had started the sound stopped, Harry’s screams dying immediately afterwards.

The light disappeared from underneath the door.

Everything was dead silent.

Ginny realized Luna was clutching at her arm and she was clutching back. Neville was holding onto Ginny’s other arm.

“Harry?” Ron sounded hoarse. To his side, Hermione had a hand clasped over her mouth.

Sirius’s voice was much louder. “Harry!” He kicked at the door.

 And this time it flew open without resistance.

Ginny, Luna, and Neville were the last ones inside, and Ginny immediately wished she’d stayed outside.

Harry was on the floor, skin white except for the blood smeared over his forehead and very clearly unconscious despite Sirius yelling in his face. And when Ginny turned to the room’s center, to the podium in the middle surrounded by the smashed remnants of seats, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Rocks hovered in the air, floating around an empty space on the podium that seemed to twist strangely and hurt her eyes when she looked straight at it. More debris was scattered around, some floating and some on the floor. There were scorch marks on the floor, walls, and even the ceiling.

That was when Ginny saw the blood and bodies. There was blood sprayed all over the floor, surrounding the Death Eaters that lay motionless on the floor. Only three of them were moving, twitching and moaning hoarsely. Another oddly small shape…was surrounded by four odd shapes that took Ginny a moment too long to identify as limbs.

“Don’t go any closer, Ginny,” Tonks said lowly.

“I-I wasn’t planning on it.” Ginny stepped closer to Luna and Neville, struggling to comprehend just what the hell Michael had done.

“He did this?” Neville whispered.

“Potter’s alive,” Kingsley said reassuringly to Sirius, sounding utterly unruffled at the carnage before them.

Sirius sagged slightly but didn’t let go of Harry. Lupin clasped hold of his shoulder.

“Good,” Moody growled. “One less thing to worry about.”

 “What do you mean?” Ron demanded. “Harry’s not waking up!”

 “Look around you!” Moody snapped. “Whoever did this is damn powerful, and we have no idea who it was. Our only witnesses are the idiots down there.” He gestured to the dozen Death Eaters. “And most of them are dead.”

“Moody,” Tonks said softly, “you could have a little more tact.”

Moody snorted, giving Ginny and her friends a baleful eye. “They barged in here without even a proper plan or idea of what the hell was going on. Tact flew out the window the moment they came in here.”

Ginny didn’t step back, holding Moody’s gaze resolutely for a few moments before he turned back to the mess before them, muttering under his breath and stomping to the door as other unfamiliar Ministry officials began pouring in, panicked questions spouting from their lips.

Fingers curled around Ginny’s wrist, and she turned to Luna, breathing out shakily. “Luna?”

 “He protected us,” Luna whispered. “But at what cost?”

Neville was staring blankly at the three twitching, moaning heaps on the floor, vague horror and recognition on his face. He moved closer to Ginny when she reached out to touch his shoulder reassuringly.

Michael had protected them…but what had he done?

Ginny studied Harry’s motionless, unconscious body on the floor, who was now being watched by Sirius in his dog form.

What had he done to Harry?

[linguisticswithlester]

Let Me Memorize Your Eyes

Chapter Ten: Ding. 

Rating: NR

Chapter: 10 /?

Word Count: 2005

Warnings: Mentions of fire and burn scars 

Notes: Hey!! I am soo sorry it has been so long since the last time I uploaded. I recently moved for school and it has taken a while to get used to everything. Culture shock set in towards the end of week two so that was great.Anyway, I am sorry this is a shorter chapter than I would have liked but, I wanted to post something before 2038. The next chapter will be a good one, I promise and HOPEFULLY up by monday,,, we'll see!

Chapter Summary: In a heated game of Mario Kart, Dan gets a text message. 

[Read on AO3]

[Start at the Beginning]

   For the past two weeks, Dan has been walking Phil back to his flat at then end of every night. It makes the days pass by slow and the nights go by unbearably fast but, Dan wouldn’t change it for anything. Their talks about life and passions; what they want out of their futures and what they hide from their past. It's all been slowly coming out of the boys but, everything they have been hiding from and keeping in the dark is all starting to come to the surface.

   Dan hasn't felt this comfortable with someone in a long time. Carol felt safe but, she lost comfort along the way. Dan felt like he could tell Phil anything and everything; an old movie cliche but, it was true. Phil could make him laugh and smile; just about anything revolving around Phil could make Dan smile though. It was the happiest he has been in a long time and Dan didn’t want to screw it up.

   Dan caught feelings for Phil and ever since he started walking him home, the feelings grew at an alarming rate. It felt like a rollercoaster; going up to the first drop was butterfly filled and then the drop takes your butterflies and makes them completely disappear but it takes everything else with it. Yet when the next drop comes, you just go with it; the anticipation and unknown still remains but, it's a hell of a lot of fun when it’s over.

   Phil was one of a kind and Dan didn’t want to let him slip away;  he laughed at stupid puns and made even dumber ones. He wore mismatched socks and never ties his shoelaces quite right. He had a fringe most days but, secretly wore a quiff when he thought no one would see. He dyes his hair black and it complements his pale skin. He covers his mouth with his hands when he starts to really laugh and he does this weird thing with his hands when he tries to put them in his pockets. Those things were endearing and Dan picked up on them everytime Phil did them. Dan couldn’t help his heart from fluttering when he sees that man smile or say something incredible inappropriate on accident.

   Phil can get his heart racing from zero to a hundred and once it maxes out, it doesn’t go back down. Dan’s face is always flushed and now Becca has picked up on it. She knows they walk back home together but, Dan hasn’t told her anything else. Even though, she asks more about Phil than she does about Dan. She wants the gossip and Dan just doesn't want to give it up. Whatever it is that he has with Phil is something special and unique; it was Dan’s happy place and he didn't want to give it up even if they were just friends.

***

   It was Saturday and Dan actually had the day off. They had managed to find a new hire at the shop, however, Dan had grown partial to the evening shift...or rather the man he got to walk home every night he worked it. But, the schedule did change and Dan didn’t have to work as much anymore.

   He sat in his living room wearing his black Calvin Klein's with a switch remote in his hands racing other players in Mario Kart. He had a glass of tea balancing on the arm of his sofa that’s now gone cold as the races continued, one after another. His curly hair was pushed up in quiff fashion and his eyebrows were drawn together in a scowl.

   “Get out of the fucking way!” Dan screamed at his TV set while waving his left hand in frustration. “Can people learn how to pl-”

Ding.

Dan was in such a rage that he almost didn’t hear his phone beep. He paused the game and looked around for his phone. He knew he was getting to invested into the game when it brought out actual rage so he grabbed his now not-so-hot tea and sat back into the sofa. Reaching over to his left,  he swiped his phone that was laying face down on the spot next to him.

He had a text message.

It was from Phil.

Dan’s stomach dropped and his heart started to race a little faster. His face heated up and he knew that the red patch on his cheek would soon be a key feature to his face.

Phil (with one L): Hey Dan! I know we don’t talk much outside of the cafe but, i was just wondering if you wanted to go do something with me tonight? Maybe a movie? Or even dinner?

Ding.

Phil (with one L): I know it’s Saturday so you probably already have plans

Phil (with one L): so feel free to say no

Phil (with one L): (...)

Phil (with one L):

    Dan’s face was decorated with a smile that only makes its appearance when Phil was involved. Phil just asked him to go out with him,,, well not like out, out but like just go with him to do something and Dan was ecstatic. Any thought of Mario Kart has completely vanished from train of thought and now all he saw was Phil.  

Dan: hey phil! I would love

No, too strong.

Dan: hey phil! I would be

“So fucking excited actually,” Dan said out loud with a huff of breath twiddling his thumbs over the touch screen of his phone instead of texting it out.

Dan: that would be great i dont have any  plans tonight so im all yours

Dan hit send and threw his phone towards the other end of the couch. His stomach was still hovering above his head when his phone beeped. He flung himself over to were his phone was laying and his palms grew sweaty. He picked his phone up and slowly turned it around to view the notification.

Carol: I saw this on the way to work this morning and it reminded me of you

Dan scrolled to see that she had sent him a picture of a Bowser action figure that was laying face down on on the sidewalk.

What the hell?

Dan typed out a quick reply about how that was actually him in his natural form and set his phone back down with the face of the phone resting on the couch.

   Carol and him talk regularly. Things never went south and there wasn't a falling out; they remained friends and even became better at communication now that the pressures of a relationship were no longer present. However, she was not the person that he was looking for a response from at this moment.  

  Dan sat and tapped his foot, twiddled his thumbs, rocked back and forth, did whatever fidget that he could while sitting on the sofa and he still hadn’t gotten a reply back. It was going to drive him mad. Had Phil not liked his reply? Did phil find someone else to go with because Dan took to long thinking about what to say? Did Phil send it to Dan by accident? Maybe he really didn’t want Dan to go with him tonight; maybe it was a mistake.

    Dan hopped up into a standing position and ran his hands through his curly hair. He decided that no matter what or even if Phil replied, he should actually get dressed for the day even if was past noon. He headed for his bathroom and looked in the mirror. He was a mess. His face was flushed and palms where clammy;  he looked like a wreck. He turned his shower on and let the water heat up while he undressed which didn’t take very long because he wasn’t wearing much to begin with. He left his phone sitting in the lounge because he was the type of person that would check his phone a million times even while in the shower just to double check to make sure he didn’t miss the ding of a new message.

   The hot water started to steam and the mirror was no longer a reliable source of reflection. Standing naked, Dan stepped into the shower. The water caressed his body in a gentle manner and his muscles started to relax at the pressure. He let the water cascade down his face, washing away his worry. He ran his hands over his arms and up to his shoulders only to find them in his hair. He opened his eyes and a white mist surrounded him, comforting him. He grabbed the bottle of soap and poured a decent amount onto his palms.

    Reaching back up to his hair, he couldn’t help but see the scars that littered his body. His ribs, shoulders, arms; they all had the remains of severe burn marks. Red and painful at times, his body was a constant reminder of everything he lost and everything that fire took. A flash of red and orange appeared in his eyes; that morning replaying again and again. The screams and faces of those around and the fingers pointing towards the burning bakery. Hearing screams of panic as his grandpa was stuck inside the burning building and the smell of smoke as Dan hurled himself into the flames towards his mentor. Debris falling in flames while the fire took more of Dan’s heart as well as the room. Hitting him as he moved through the heat, the next thing that he remembers is blackness; a nothingness.

   A white light waking him up only to tell him his grandfather didn't make it and the store was reduced to a pile of charcoal. His childhood and local hero was gone and Dan was stuck in a hospital bed; bound and wrapped for burns.

   Staring out of the window that no longer held functionality, Dan was brought back to the present; his present. The shower that once held comfort and worth just felt empty and cold. He turned the water off and grabbed the towel that was sitting on the sink. Drying his scar littered body off, he headed to his bedroom to find something to wear. He settled for a black hoodie, ripped black jeans, and a pair of fuzzy socks. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he then remembered that he was waiting for a text from Phil. He jumped up and basically ran for the lounge; his hands glided across the walls as he sped through. Acting like a school-aged child, he dover for his phone. Scrolling through random notifications from tumblr and twitter; random texts from family, he had not gotten one from Phil. He leaned his head down and sighed.

   The rest of the day, he kept himself busy. He did the laundry and cleaned his room, washed the dishes and put them away. Went to the store to get random things and organized his pantry. Still nothing; no ding or beep or flutter. Dan forgot how tiring having a crush was.

   He sat down on the sofa and decided that he wasn't going to hear back from Phil tonight. He got on tumblr and starting rebloging; dogs, cats, text posts; memes, anything. Once Dan had forgotten about the text, he got one.

Ding.

Phil (with one L): Hey sorry about that, my meeting with the art gallery lasted longer than expected. How’s about we do both? Send me your address and I'll be there at 6!

Dan hastley typed up his address and could have screamed while doing so.

He spent the next 2 hours pacing back and forth and changing his outfit about 5 times only to go back to what he had on originally. He was getting more nervous with every passing second and his curls were getting more prominent the more he got anxious. He tried the internet hoping it would take his mind of things, and it did for a while until he heard his doorbell ring.

[sunnybimbo]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY @voltronhastakenovermylife <3 i’m your secret valentine @heithsecretvalentines!

not valentine’s related in the slightest but it’s still schmoopy af. 

basically: it’s an au where they’re human but Advanced and live in some other part of space with two moons (a very important not really detail!). and they rent an apartment together and have been dating for three years and they Love eachother very much ❤️💛 i hope you enjoy it! the entire plot is just Boys Being Cuddly

Also on AO3 for you!

The lights flicker once, as Hunk flips from one page to the next in his book. He glances up at them from his position on the couch, his free hand rubbing up and down Keith's back from where the latter was lounging across Hunk's belly. Keith probably didn't even notice the lights as he listened to his boyfriend's heartbeat while he half-dozed, half-daydreamed.

Hunk dog-ears the page of the book he's read a thousand times, just as a fuse blows and they're tossed into darkness.

Keith startles at the sharp noise, eyes blearily surveying the sudden darkness, only to wearily sigh into Hunk's shirt. He stays there for a few seconds, and Hunk thinks that he's going to have them stay that way until morning until he sighs again and rolls off. "I'll check it out."

It isn't quite so dark in their living room; the moon is close enough to their window that they can see just fine from her moonbeams once their eyes get used to it. Keith stretches his hands above his head until his back pops, his figure outlined in a fine line of silver-white. Hunk sinks into the couch cushions even deeper when Keith leaves him with a brief touch to his arm as he circles around the couch, disappearing down the hall.

Hunk pulls himself from his reclined position, and his book slides from his chest onto the floor with a gentle thud. He forgets about it as soon as it's out of sight, reaching instead for the throw blanket that borders the back of their couch.

He wraps it around his shoulders as if it were a shawl as he wanders towards the window, and the yarn fringe stitched into it tickles his skin. When he presses his hand against the glass, it shines with a holographic glow.

Below them, vehicles sputter through the air as they follow invisible leylines towards their destination. Space debris— star dust, really— has long since been cleared and shoved to the side to make way for the 'roads', and the piles that sit furthest away from their apartment look more like new constellations than garbage. Hunk always did think that cosmic dust bunnies were pretty, though, so maybe his opinion didn't count.

The moon— the second one of the night— doused him in her gentle light. He doesn't linger in it, not anymore after he's lived here for years, but it's comforting even in the briefest of moments.

Keith returns three moments later, steps faltering as he sees Hunk not where he left him on the couch, but leaning against the window. His face is almost pressed against it with how close he is, and his breath probably would have fogged the glass if their windows weren't made of technological magic.

He steps forward, hand easily finding its way to Hunk's lower back as he offers the other a half-hearted shrug. "The cells are completely blown. We'll have to call for repairs in the morning."

He looks vaguely bothered that they'll be without light for a few hours, and Hunk ushers him forward to press a quick, forgiving kiss to his temple.

"That's fine." He mumbles against Keith's hairline, wrapping them both in the knit blanket as he curls his arms around Keith's back. "We'll just have to go retro, I guess."

They separate to search for the old lights, heading in opposite directions of their apartment. Hunk finds himself waist deep in their storage unit, on his knees as he searches through old, discarded boxes. He finds a pair of slippers he thought he'd thrown away instead of what he's actually looking for, and gets distracted with trying them on.

Keith, on the other side, hops onto their laundry machines to search through the stuffed full duffel bags on their high shelves, packed full of batteries, screwdrivers, and other things they always forgot they owned. He gets distracted with an old photo album that didn't belong where he'd found it, and he finds himself flipping through the pictures. They were taken with a polaroid— ancient in a way that he supposes a car that runs on gas would be today— and he thumbs across the half-faded edges of a picture he doesn't even recognize.

They both end up finding candles in each of their spots. Hunk's was broken in two, the longer end dangling by its unburnt wick, while Keith's was half-melted from the heat of their laundry room, cooled into a lumpy pile of red wax.

"Well..." Hunk scratches the back of his head as he picks at the chipped candles.

"Better than nothing." Keith says with a smile, leaving him to head towards the kitchen. He steps over their tiny robot as it makes its way through the house, beeping occasionally as it vacuums up crumbs and makes note of the perimeter.

Hunk gathers the awkward looking candles and sets them on the windowsill, reaching for a panel on the wall. With a few clicks, the shape of it morphs from large and circular to a more classic square, complete with 100% decorative shutters.

In the background, he can hear Keith rifling from drawer to drawer as he searches for something to light them with. Most likely Hunk's crème brûlée torch, if he knew Keith as well as he thought he did.

Just as he's getting comfortable, angling the candles towards the corner of the windowsill, he hears Keith's cut off hiss and a muttered curse.

His eyebrows shoot up as he rolls from his knees and up to his feet, already padding towards the kitchen. "Babe?"

"I'm fine." Keith says through gritted teeth. Hunk peeks his head into the archway to watch his boyfriend as he shoves his thumb into his mouth, sucking on the cut he must have gotten from a stray baking tool.

Hunk steps in fully, letting the throw blanket drop to his feet as he reaches for Keith. "You sure?"

Keith only grunts in response, accepting the gentle touch to his hips as Hunk pulls him closer. He lifts Hunk's torch up with his free hand and gestures vaguely towards the living room with it. Before he can slip from Hunk's grasp, he finds himself being smothered with kisses.

He pulls away with a laugh bubbling in his throat, and Hunk follows him after a moment's pause to grab a box of bandaids, complete with offbrand characters emblazoned on the plastic.

The torch is loud in the soft, domestic quiet of their apartment and it burns so hot that the wax immediately drips down the candle's length, cooling just as quickly. The smell they put off isn't as enticing as a scented candle would be, but it smells strangely endearing in its own way.

Keith's eyes fall shut as he lifts his palms to take in the faint warmth of the tiny flame, and Hunk thinks that maybe they could take a candle-making class. With as creative as Keith is, he's sure they'd be able to make something incredible together. And that's not even thinking of the carving aspect they'd be sure to delve into.

Keith must feel eyes on him, because he opens his own to stare directly at Hunk. His mouth quirks up in that little half-smile he does, and Hunk feels his heart beat twice as hard against his chest. "See something you like?"

Hunk motions him closer, and Keith flops onto the couch beside him. The cushions are so lush that they sink into it a few inches. Hunk reaches over to grasp Keith's smaller hand against his warm palm to inspect the damage, though his gaze stays trapped to Keith's. "Mm... I can think of one or two things."

He runs his thumb across Keith's knuckles, and the skin is two shades lighter there than at the wrist. If he squints, he can perfectly make out the pattern that his gloves make against his skin— but it's easy to imagine when he's memorized everything about Keith, anyway.

The cut is easy to spot— an angry red against the otherwise calm expanse of his skin, and Hunk soothes it with a soft kiss before he pulls out the bandaid.

Keith watches him with half-lidded eyes, easily falling into his previous mood of adorably sleepy. His free hand taps against his thigh— not out of impatience, Hunk learned long ago— and it creates another noise that drifts in and out of the background, intimately familiar.

Hunk loves moments like these with Keith, and he mentions as much to his other as Keith dips forward to rest his head against the curve of Hunk's neck. His hair, unbrushed and tousled, tickles Hunk's lips. Hunk gives him another kiss against his head at the feel.

Keith doesn't outright respond to the sentiment, but he heats a few degrees under Hunk's touch until his cheeks are lightly dusted in a soft red. He smiles against the side of Hunk's neck, lips grazing a pulsing vein.

His hands find Hunk's sides, tripping against stretchmarks that are soft under his fingertips before he passes over them. He traces swirling patterns against his hips as he rolls Hunk back against the couch, to their first position. Keith finds himself once again atop his boyfriend, legs tangled and arms trapped under his solid weight. Hunk's heartbeat rocks against his eardrums, and its such a comforting sound that he doesn't mind that his fingers start to fall asleep.

A heavy hand comes to rest against the small of his back, pulling him even closer, and the other coils itself against the back of Keith's head, combing through the tangles until they rake through smoothly. He's lifted with every breath Hunk takes, in a pattern that quickly lulls him back to his doze.

His book lays somewhere on the floor, Hunk remembers.

He squeezes Keith tight, turning his head to yawn into the couch cushions. Oh, well. He's much more comfortable like this, anyway.

The soft candlelight paints them both in an outline of yellow-gold, and Hunk watches as that light dances across the curve of Keith's back, getting caught in the folds of his hoodie before they dissipate into the shadows.

As Hunk's breathing evens and goes deeper, Keith tilts his head up to watch him. He doesn't have the best angle, but all of Hunk's angles are pretty.

His smile is easily hidden against the fabric of Hunk's shirt as he frees one of his hands to brush a strand of hair from Hunk's forehead. He hardly twitches at the touch, and Keith climbs up his body to press a kiss against the curve of his chin.

“Love you.” He murmurs, letting his head flop to one side to cozy up for another nap.

A few minutes later, he feels Hunk part his bangs and kiss him again on the forehead. “Love you, too.”